Lady Windermere's Fan
Oscar Wilde
FIRST ACT Page 2
LADY WINDERMERE. My husband--what has HE got to do with any woman of that kind?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Ah, indeed, dear? That is the point. He goes to see her continually, and stops for hours at a time, and while he is there she is not at home to any one. Not that many ladies call on her, dear, but she has a great many disreputable men friends--my own brother particularly, as I told you--and that is what makes it so dreadful about Windermere. We looked upon HIM as being such a model husband, but I am afraid there is no doubt about it. My dear nieces--you know the Saville girls, don't you?--such nice domestic creatures--plain, dreadfully plain, but so good-- well, they're always at the window doing fancy work, and making ugly things for the poor, which I think so useful of them in these dreadful socialistic days, and this terrible woman has taken a house in Curzon Street, right opposite them--such a respectable street, too! I don't know we're coming to! And they tell me that Windermere goes there four and five times a week--they SEE him. They can't help it--and although they never talk scandal, they--well, of course--they remark on it to every one. And the worst of it all is that I have been told that this woman has got a great deal of money out of somebody, for it seems that she came to London six months ago without anything at all to speak of, and now she has this charming house in Mayfair, drives her ponies in the Park every afternoon and all--well, all--since she has known poor dear Windermere.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. But it's quite true, my dear. The whole of London knows it. That is why I felt it was better to come and talk to you, and advise you to take Windermere away at once to Homburg or to Aix, where he'll have something to amuse him, and where you can watch him all day long. I assure you, my dear, that on several occasions after I was first married, I had to pretend to be very ill, and was obliged to drink the most unpleasant mineral waters, merely to get Berwick out of town. He was so extremely susceptible. Though I am bound to say he never gave away any large sums of money to anybody. He is far too high-principled for that!
LADY WINDERMERE. (Interrupting.) Duchess, Duchess, it's impossible! (Rising and crossing stage to C.) We are only married two years. Our child is but six months old. (Sits in chair R. of L. table.)
LADY WINDERMERE. Are ALL men bad?
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Oh, all of them, my dear, all of them, without any exception. And they never grow any better. Men become old, but they never become good.
LADY WINDERMERE. Windermere and I married for love.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Yes, we begin like that. It was only Berwick's brutal and incessant threats of suicide that made me accept him at all, and before the year was out, he was running after all kinds of petticoats, every colour, every shape, every material. In fact, before the honeymoon was over, I caught him winking at my maid, a most pretty, respectable girl. I dismissed her at once without a character.--No, I remember I passed her on to my sister; poor dear Sir George is so short-sighted, I thought it wouldn't matter. But it did, though--it was most unfortunate. (Rises.) And now, my dear child, I must go, as we are dining out. And mind you don't take this little aberration of Windermere's too much to heart. Just take him abroad, and he'll come back to you all right.
LADY WINDERMERE. Come back to me? (C.)
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. (L.C.) Yes, dear, these wicked women get our husbands away from us, but they always come back, slightly damaged, of course. And don't make scenes, men hate them!
LADY WINDERMERE. It is very kind of you, Duchess, to come and tell me all this. But I can't believe that my husband is untrue to me.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Pretty child! I was like that once. Now I know that all men are monsters. (LADY WINDERMERE rings bell.) The only thing to do is to feed the wretches well. A good cook does wonders, and that I know you have. My dear Margaret, you are not going to cry?
LADY WINDERMERE. You needn't be afraid, Duchess, I never cry.
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. That's quite right, dear. Crying is the refuge of plain women but the ruin of pretty ones. Agatha, darling!
LADY AGATHA. (Entering L.) Yes, mamma. (Stands back of table L.C.)
DUCHESS OF BERWICK. Come and bid good-bye to Lady Windermere, and thank her for your charming visit. (Coming down again.) And by the way, I must thank you for sending a card to Mr. Hopper--he's that rich young Australian people are taking such notice of just at present. His father made a great fortune by selling some kind of food in circular tins--most palatable, I believe--I fancy it is the thing the servants always refuse to eat. But the son is quite interesting. I think he's attracted by dear Agatha's clever talk. Of course, we should be very sorry to lose her, but I think that a mother who doesn't part with a daughter every season has no real affection. We're coming to-night, dear. (PARKER opens C. doors.) And remember my advice, take the poor fellow out of town at once, it is the only thing to do. Good-bye, once more; come, Agatha.
(Exeunt DUCHESS and LADY AGATHA C.)
LORD WINDERMERE. Well, dear, has the fan been sent home yet? (Going R.C. Sees book.) Margaret, you have cut open my bank book. You have no right to do such a thing!
LADY WINDERMERE. You think it wrong that you are found out, don't you?
LORD WINDERMERE. I think it wrong that a wife should spy on her husband.
LADY WINDERMERE. I did not spy on you. I never knew of this woman's existence till half an hour ago. Some one who pitied me was kind enough to tell me what every one in London knows already-- your daily visits to Curzon Street, your mad infatuation, the monstrous sums of money you squander on this infamous woman! (Crossing L.)
LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret! don't talk like that of Mrs. Erlynne, you don't know how unjust it is!
LORD WINDERMERE. Your honour is untouched, Margaret. You don't think for a moment that--(Puts book back into desk.)
LADY WINDERMERE. I think that you spend your money strangely. That is all. Oh, don't imagine I mind about the money. As far as I am concerned, you may squander everything we have. But what I DO mind is that you who have loved me, you who have taught me to love you, should pass from the love that is given to the love that is bought. Oh, it's horrible! (Sits on sofa.) And it is I who feel degraded! YOU don't feel anything. I feel stained, utterly stained. You can't realise how hideous the last six months seems to me now--every kiss you have given me is tainted in my memory.
LORD WINDERMERE. (Crossing to her.) Don't say that, Margaret. I never loved any one in the whole world but you.
LORD WINDERMERE. I did not take a house for her.
LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, as far as I have known Mrs. Erlynne -
LADY WINDERMERE. Is there a Mr. Erlynne--or is he a myth?
LORD WINDERMERE. Her husband died many years ago. She is alone in the world.
LADY WINDERMERE. No relations? (A pause.)
LORD WINDERMERE. None.
LADY WINDERMERE. Rather curious, isn't it? (L.)
LORD WINDERMERE. (L.C.) Margaret, I was saying to you--and I beg you to listen to me--that as far as I have known Mrs. Erlynne, she has conducted herself well. If years ago -
LORD WINDERMERE. (C.) I am not going to give you any details about her life. I tell you simply this--Mrs. Erlynne was once honoured, loved, respected. She was well born, she had position-- she lost everything--threw it away, if you like. That makes it all the more bitter. Misfortunes one can endure--they come from outside, they are accidents. But to suffer for one's own faults-- ah!--there is the sting of life. It was twenty years ago, too. She was little more than a girl then. She had been a wife for even less time than you have.
LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, you could save this woman. She wants to get back into society, and she wants you to help her. (Crossing to her.)
LADY WINDERMERE. Me!
LORD WINDERMERE. Yes, you.
LADY WINDERMERE. How impertinent of her! (A pause.)
LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, I came to ask you a great favour, and I still ask it of you, though you have discovered what I had intended you should never have known that I have given Mrs. Erlynne a large sum of money. I want you to send her an invitation for our party to-night. (Standing L. of her.)
LADY WINDERMERE. You are mad! (Rises.)
LORD WINDERMERE. I entreat you. People may chatter about her, do chatter about her, of course, but they don't know anything definite against her. She has been to several houses--not to houses where you would go, I admit, but still to houses where women are in what is called Society nowadays do go. That does not content her. She wants you to receive her once.
LADY WINDERMERE. As a triumph for her, I suppose?
LADY WINDERMERE. No! If a woman really repents, she never wishes to return to the society that has made or seen her ruin.
LORD WINDERMERE. I beg of you.
LORD WINDERMERE. (L.C.) Margaret, you are talking foolishly, recklessly. I won't argue with you, but I insist upon your asking Mrs. Erlynne to-night.
LADY WINDERMERE. (R.C.) I shall do nothing of the kind. (Crossing L. C.)
LORD WINDERMERE. You refuse? (C.)
LADY WINDERMERE. Absolutely!
LORD WINDERMERE. Ah, Margaret, do this for my sake; it is her last chance.
LADY WINDERMERE. What has that to do with me?
LORD WINDERMERE. How hard good women are!
LADY WINDERMERE. How weak bad men are!
LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, none of us men may be good enough for the women we marry--that is quite true--but you don't imagine I would ever--oh, the suggestion is monstrous!
LADY WINDERMERE. Why should YOU be different from other men? I am told that there is hardly a husband in London who does not waste his life over SOME shameful passion.
LORD WINDERMERE. I am not one of them.
LADY WINDERMERE. I am not sure of that!
LORD WINDERMERE. You are sure in your heart. But don't make chasm after chasm between us. God knows the last few minutes have thrust us wide enough apart. Sit down and write the card.
LADY WINDERMERE. in the whole world would induce me.
LORD WINDERMERE. (Crossing to bureau.) Then I will! (Rings electric bell, sits and writes card.)
LADY WINDERMERE. You are going to invite this woman? (Crossing to him.)
LORD WINDERMERE. Yes. (Pause. Enter PARKER.) Parker!
LORD WINDERMERE. Have this note sent to Mrs. Erlynne at No. 84A Curzon Street. (Crossing to L.C. and giving note to PARKER.) There is no answer!
(Exit PARKER C.)
LADY WINDERMERE. Arthur, woman comes here, I shall insult her.
LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, don't say that.
LADY WINDERMERE. I mean it.
LORD WINDERMERE. Child, if you did such a thing, there's not a woman in London who wouldn't pity you.
LADY WINDERMERE. There is not a GOOD woman in London who would not applaud me. We have been too lax. We must make an example. I propose to begin to-night. (Picking up fan.) Yes, you gave me this fan to-day; it was your birthday present. If that woman crosses my threshold, I shall strike her across the face with it.
LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, you couldn't do such a thing.
LADY WINDERMERE. You don't know me! (Moves R.)
(Enter PARKER.)
Parker!
PARKER. Yes, my lady.
LADY WINDERMERE. I shall dine in my own room. I don't want dinner, in fact. See that everything is ready by half-past ten. And, Parker, be sure you pronounce the names of the guests very distinctly to-night. Sometimes you speak so fast that I miss them. I am particularly anxious to hear the names quite clearly, so as to make no mistake. You understand, Parker?
PARKER. Yes, my lady.
LADY WINDERMERE. That will do!
(Exit PARKER C.)
(Speaking to LORD WINDERMERE) Arthur, if that woman comes here--I warn you -
LORD WINDERMERE. Margaret, you'll ruin us!
LADY WINDERMERE. Us! From this moment my life is separate from yours. But if you wish to avoid a public scandal, write at once to this woman, and tell her that I forbid her to come here!
LORD WINDERMERE. I will not--I cannot--she must come!
LADY WINDERMERE. Then I shall do exactly as I have said. (Goes R.) You leave me no choice. (Exit R.)
LORD WINDERMERE. (Calling after her.) Margaret! Margaret! (A pause.) My God! What shall I do? I dare not tell her who this woman really is. The shame would kill her. (Sinks down into a chair and buries his face in his hands.)
ACT DROP