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Complete Writings

©acar Wilttc

CQe Simportame of oscing (Eamecrt

..^^

CONTENTS

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY, . . . 8S

VSEA; om THE NIHILISTS, . . .115

PERSONNES

Hl&RODE ANTIPAS. T^tniqne de Jod^

lOKANAAN, le propMte

LB JEUNE SYRIEN, capiUine de Ia gaide

TIGELLIN, un jeime Rommin

UN CAPPADOCIEN

UN NUBIEN

PREMIER SOLDAT

SECOND SOLDAT

LE PAGE D'Hl&RODIAS

DES JUIFS, DES NAZAR^ENS, etc

UN ESCLAVE

NAAMAN, le booneui

Hl^RODIAS, Femme da T^trarque
SALOM^ fine d'H^nxlias
LES ESCLAVES DE SALOM^

SCiNB

[Uke grunde ttrrasu dans k falais fHtrode J^mmmi
sur la saiU defesHn. Des soldats samt accoudis jiur U baUofU
A droite Uy a un inorme escaHer. A gauche^ au fimd^ um§
andenne dUrm emiaurii iPum mur de bronu VirL Clair
de ImneJ]

L£ J£UN£ SYBKN

Comme la princesse Salom^ est belle ce soir I

LE PAGE d'h^RODIAS

R^fardez la lune. La lune a Fair trte
Strange. On dirait une femme qui sort d'un
tombeau. EUe ressemble k uue femme morte.
On dirait qu'elle cherche des morts.

Ue JEUNE STBIEN

EUe a Tair tr^ Strange. EUe ressemble k
une petite princesse qui porte un voile jaune,
et a des pieds d'argent. EUe ressemble k une
princesse qui a des pieds comme des petites
colombes blanches • • • On dirait qu'elle danse.

SALOME

u PAOK d*h]£bodias

EUe est ocMiiiiie one femme morte. EDe
▼a tr^ Ittitement. [Brmii dams la satU de
/fslmJ]

PmSM IKE SOLDAT

Quel vacarmel Qui scmt ces bfttes fiuives
qui hurlent ?

8BOOND SOLDAT

Les Jui£s. Ds sont toujoun minsL C'est
sur leur religion qulls dtscutoit.

PEEMEEK SOIJ>AT

Pourquoi discutoit41s sur leur religion !

8XCOND SOLDAT

Je ne smis pa& Us le fimt toujouis • . .
Ainsi les Phmridens affirment qu*il y a des
anges, et les Sadduc^ens disoit que les anges
n'existent pa&

PREMIER SOLDAT

Je trouve que e*est ridicule de discuter sur
de telles choses«

LE JEUNE SYRISN

Comme la princesse Salom^ est belle ce soir

LE PAGE D*H]£rODL18

Vous la regardes tou jours. Vous la regardes

SALOMK

trop. n ne faxA pas regarder les gens de cette
fi^pon • • • II peut aniver un malheur.

L£ JEUNE SYRIKN

Elle est trte belle ee soir.

PB£MI£K 80LDAT

Le t^trarque a Fair sombre;

SECOND SOLDAT

Oui, il a Fair sombre.

PREMIER SOLDAT

II regarde quelque chose.

SECOND SOLDAT

II regarde quelqu'un.

PREMIER SOLDAT

Qui r^arde-t-il ?

SECOND SOLDAT

Je ne sais pas.

LE JEUNE SYRIEN

Comme la princesse est p&le ! Jamais je ne
lai vue si p&le. Elle ressemble au reflet d'une
rose blanche dans un miroir d'argent.

LE PAGE d'hJ^ODIAS

II ne faut pas la r^arder. Vous la regardez
trop I

(

salom£

FREMEER 80LDAT

H^rodias a vers^ k boire au t^traique.

LE CAPPADOCIEN

C'est la reine H^rodias, celle-lk qui porte la
mitre noire sem6e de perles et qui a les che-
▼eux poudr^ de bleu ?

PREMIER SOLX>AT

Oui, c'est H^rodias. C'est la femme du
t^trarque.

SECOND SOLX>AT

Le t^trarque aime beaucoup le vin. II
possMe des vins de trois espdces. Un qui
vient de llle de Samothrace, qui est pourpre
comme le manteau de C^sar.

LE CAPPADOCIEN

Je n'ai jamais vu C^sar.

SECOND SOLX>AT

Un autre qui vient de la ville de Chjrpre,
qui est jaune comme de Tor.

LE CAPPADOCIEN

J*aime beaucoup Tor.

SECOND SOLDAT

Et le troisi^me qui est un vin sicilien. Ce
vin-12t est rouge comme le sang.
8

SALOMJ^

LE NUBIEN

Les dieux de mon pays aiment beaucoup le
sang. Deux fois par an nous leur sacrifions
des jeunes hommes et des vierges : cinquante
jeunes hommes et cent vierges. Mais il semble
que nous ne leur donnons jamais assez, car ils
sent tr^ durs envers nous.

us CAPPADOCIEN

Dans mon pays il n'y a pas de dieux k pr^
sent, les Romains les ont chass^. II y en a
qui disent qu'ils se sont r^fugi^s dans les mon-
tagnes, mais je ne le crois pas. Moi, j'ai pass^
trois nuits sur les montagnes les cherchant
partout. Je ne les ai pas trouv^s. Enfin, je les
ai appel^ par leurs noms et ils n'ont pas paru.
Je pense qu'ils sont morts.

PBEMIER 80LDAT

Lies Juifis adorent un Dieu qu'on ne pent
pas voir.

VE CAFPADOCIEN

Je ne peux pas comprendre cela.

PBEMIEa SOLDAT

Enfin, ils ne croient qu aux choses qu'on ne
pent pas voir.

salom£

LE CAPPADOCIEN

Cela me semble absolument ridicule.

LA VOIX D'iOKANAAN

Apr^s moi viendra un autre encore plus
puissant que moi. Je ne suis pas digne mdme
de d^lier la courroie de ses sandales. Quand
11 viendra la terre d&erte se r^jouira. Elie
fleurira comme le lis. Les yeux des aveugles
verront le jour, et les oreilles des sourds
seront ouvertes . . . Le nouveau-n6 mettra sa
main sur le nid des dragons, et m^nera les
lions par leurs crini^res.

SECOND SOLDAT

Faites-le taire. II dit toujours des choses
absurdes.

PREMIER SOLDAT

Mais non; c'est un saint homme. II est
tr^s doux aussi. Chaque jour je lui donne k
manger. II me remercie toujours.

LE CAPPADOCIEN

Qui est-ce ?

PREMIER SOLDAT

C'est un proph^te.
10

salom£

LE CAPPADOCIEN

Quel est son nom t

PREBOER SOLDAT

lokanaan.

L£ CAPPADOCIEN

B'oii vient-il ?

PBEMEBR SOLDAT

Du d^rt, oii il se nourrissait de sautereUes
et de miel sauvage. II ^tait v6tu de poll de
chameau, et autour de ses reins il portait line
ceinture de cuir. Son aspect ^tait tr^s farouche.
Une grande foule le suivait. II avait m6me
de disciples.

LE CAPPADOCIEN

De quoi parle-t-il f

PREMIER SOLDAT

Nous ne savons jamais. Quelquefois il dit
des choses ^pou vantables, mais il est impossible
de le comprendre.

LE CAPPADOCIEN

Peut-on le voir ?

PREMIER SOLDAT

Non. Le t^trarque ne le permet pas.

SALOME

us JSUNE flYBISN

La princesse a cach^ soo visage demure son
^v^itail I Ses petites mains blanches s'agitent
comme des cdombes qui s'envolent vers leurs
colombiers. EUes ressembl^it k des papillons
hlancs. EUes sont tout k £tit comme des
papillons blancs.

LE PAQS D'm^KODIAS

Mais qu'est-ce que cela vous £ut ? Fourquoi
la r^arder ? II ne faut pas la r^arder . • • II
peut airiver un malheur.

LE CAPPADOCIEN [mom/rani la citeme]
Quelle strange prison I

SECOND SOLDAT

C'est une ancienne citeme.

LB CAPPADOCIEN

Une ancienne citeme 1 cela doit dtre trte
malsain.

SECOND SOLDAT

Mais non. Par exemple, le fr^re du t^trar-
que, son fir^ ain^, le premier man de la reine
Hdrodias, a ^t^ enferm^ Ik-dedans pendant
douze ann^s II n'en est pas mort A la fin 11
a £a11u r^trangler.
IS

SALOME

LX CAFPADOCIEN

L*^trangler ? Qui a os^ faire cela ?

SECOND SOLDAT

[mon/ranl U baurreau, un grand nigre]
Celui-lk, Naaman.

L£ CAPPADOCIEN

II n a pas eu peur ?

SECOND SOLDAT

Mais non. Le t^trarque lui a envoy^ la
bague.

us CAFPADOCIEN

Quelle bague t

SECOND SOLDAT

La bague de la mort Ainsi, il n'a pas eu
peur.

us CAPPADOCIEN

Cependant, c*est terrible d'^t rangier un roi.

FBEMIEB SOLDAT

Pourquoi ? Les rois n'ont qu'un cou, coinme
les autres hommes.

us CAPPADOCIEN

II me semble que e'est terrible.

SALOM£

LE JEUNE SYRIEN

Mais la princesse se l^ve! ElUe quitte la
table! EUe a I'air tr^ ennuy^. Ah! elle
vient par icL Oui, elle vient vers nous.
Comme elle est pfile. Jamais je ne Tai vue si
p&le . . •

LE PAGE D'h^RODIAS

Ne la regardez pas. Je vous prie de ne pas
la r^arder.

LE JEUNE SYRIEN

Elle est comme une colombe qui s*est
6gar6e . . • Elle est comme un narcisse agit^
du vent • . • Elle ressemble k une fleur
dargent.

lEntre salom^]

SALOMl^

Je ne resterai pas. Je ne peux pas rester.
Pourquoi le t^trarque meregarde-t-iltoujours
avec ses yeux de taupe sous ses paupi^res
tremblantes? . . . C'est Strange que le mari
de ma m^re me regarde comme cela. Je ne
sais pas ce que cela veut dire. • • Au fait, si, je
le sais.

LB JEUNE SYRIEN

Vous venez de quitter le festin, princesse ?
14

salom£

aAIX)M£

Comme Fair est firais id I Enfin, ici on
respire 1 L^-dedans il y a des Juif3 de Jeru-
salem qui se d^chirent k cause de leurs
ridicules c^r^monies, et des barbares qui
boivent toujours et jettent leur vin sur les
dalles, et des Grecs de Smyme avec leurs
yeux peints et leurs joues fard^es, et leurs
cheveux fris^ en spirales, et des Egyptiens,
silendeux, subtils, avec leurs ongles de jade et
leurs manteaux bruns» et des Romains avec
leur brutality, leur lourdeur, leurs gros mots.
Ah 1 que je d^teste les Romains I Ce sont des
gens communs, et ils se donnent des airs de
grands seigneurs.

us JEUNE SYRIEN

Ne voulez-vous pas vous asseoir, princesse ?

L£ PAGE d'hERODIAS

Pourquoi lui parler ? Pourquoi la regarder ?
. • . Oh I il va arriver un malheur.

8AIjOm£

Que c'est bon de voir la lune ! Elle ressemble
k une petite pi^ce de monnaie. On dirait une
ioute petite fleur d'argent. Elle est froide et
chaste, la lune . . • Je suis s^e qu'elle est

salom£

▼ierge. Elle a la beauts d'une vierge . • .
Oui, elle est vierge. Elle ne s'est jamais
souill^ Elle ne s'est jamais donn^ aux
hommes, coimne les autres Dresses.

LA YOIX d'IOKANAAN

II est venu, le Seigneur ! II est venu, le fils
de THomme. Les centaures se sont cach&
dans les rivieres, et les sir&nes ont quitt^ les
rivieres et couchent sous les feuilles dans les
fordts.

Qui a cri^ cela f

SECOND SOLDAT

C'est le proph^te, princesse.

Ah 1 le proph^te. Celui dont le t^trarque a
peur?

SECOND SOLDAT

Nous ne savons rien de cela, princesse.
C*est le proph^te lokanaan.

LE JEUNE SYRIEN

Voulez-vous que je commande votre liti^re,
princesse ? II fait tr^ beau dans le jardin.
16

SALOME

II dit des choses monstrueuses, k propos de
ma m^re, n'est-ce pas ?

SBCOND 80LX>AT

Nous ne oomprenons jamab ce quil dit»
princesse.

Oui, il dit des choses monstrueuses d'elle.

UN ESCLAYE

Princesse, le t^trarque vous prie de retoumer
an

aALOM^

Je n'y retoumerai pas.

LE JEUNE SYRIEN

Pardon, princesse, mus si vous n'y retour-
niez pas il pourrait arriver un malheur.

8AIX>M^

Est-ce un vieillard, le proph^te ?

UL JEUNE SYRIEN

Princesse, il vaudrait mieux retoumer.
Permettez-moi de vous reconduire.

SALOMJ^

Le proph^te • • • est-oe un viei]

Ikrdf

salom£

PKKlflER 80U>AT

Non, princesse, c'est un tout j^iine homme.

8ECOND 80LX>AT

On ne le sait pa& II 7 en a qui disent que
e'est ]^e ?

SALOM^

QuiestJ^et

SECOND SOLDAT

Un tr&s ancien proph^te de ce pays, prin-

UN ESCLAYS

Quelle r^ponse dois-je donner au t^trarque
de la part de la princesse ?

LA YOIX d'iOKANAAN

Ne te r^jouis point, terre de Palestine,
parce que la verge de celui qui te frappait a
^t^ bris^ Car de la race du serpent fl sortira
un basilic, et ce qui ^i nattra d^vorera les
oiseaux.

Quelle strange voix 1 Je voudrais bien lui
parler.

PREMIER SOLDAT

«rai peur que ce soit impossible, princesse.
18

salom£

Le t^trarque ne veut pas qu*on lui parle. H
in§me d^endu au grand prdtre de lui parler.

SALOM^

Je veux lui parler.

80LX>AT

C'est impossible, princesse.

SALOM^

Je le veux.

L£ JEUNE STBISN

£n effet, princesse, il vaudndt mieux
retourner au festin.

saix}m£

Faites sortir le proph^te.

FRKMTKB SOLX>AT

Nous n'osoDs pas, princesse.

SALOM^ \s'approckafU de la citeme et y
regardant']
Comme il fait noir l^-dedansl Cela doit
dire terrible d'etre dans un trou si noir 1 Cela
ressemble 2t une tombe . . . [aux soldats] Vous
ne m avez pas entendue ? Faites-le sortir. Je
veux le voir.

SALOME

SECOND SOLDAT

Je vous prie, princesse, de ne pas nous
demander cela.

Vous me faites attendre.

FRKMTKR SOLDAT

Princesse, nos vies vous appartiennent, mais
nous ne pouvons pas faire ce que vous nous
demandez . • . Enfin, ce n'est pas k nous qu'il
faut vous adresser.

SALOM]^ [regardant Ujeune Syri€n\
Ah I

LE PAGE d'hJ^ODIAS

Oh 1 qu*est-ce qu'il va arriver ? Je suis sOr
qu'il va arriver un malheur.

SALOM^ [s'approchant dujeune Syrieii\

Vous ferez cela pour moi, n'est-ce pas,
Narraboth ? Vous ferez cela pour moi ? J'ai
toujours ^t^ douce pour vous. N'est-ce pas
que vous ferez cela pour moi ? Je veux seule-
ment le regarder, cet strange proph^te. On
a tant parl^ de lui. J'ai si souvent entendu
le t^trarque parler de lui. Je pense qu'il a
peur de lui, le t^trarque. Je suis sClre qu'il
SO

SALOMK

a peor de lui • . . Est-ce que vous aussi,
Narrmboth, est-ce que vous aussi vous en avez
peur?

LJB JEUNE 8YKIEN

Je n'ai pas peur de lui, princesse. Je n'ai
peur de personne. Mais le t^trarque a
formellement d^fendu qu*on l^ve le couvercle
de ce puits.

Vous ferez cela pour moi, Narraboth, et
demain quand je passerai dans ma liti^re sous
la porte des vendeurs dldoles, je laisserai
tomber une petite fieur pour vous, une petite
fleur verte.

LE JEUNE SYBISN

Princesse, je ne peux pas, je ne peux pas.

SALOM^ [souriatU]

Vous ferez cela pour moi, Narraboth. Vous
savez bien que vous ferez cela pour moi. Et
demain quand je passerai dans ma liti^re sur
le pont des acheteurs d'idoles je vous regarderai
k travers les voiles de mousseline, je vous
regarderai, Narraboth, je vous sourirai, peut-
£tre. Regardez-moi, Narraboth. Regardez-

salom£

moi. Ah ! vous savez bien que vous allez fiure
ce que je vous demande. Vous le savez bien,
n*est-ce pas ? . • • Moi, je sais bien.

LE JEUNS SYRIEN

[fatsant un signe au tratsthne soldo/]
Faites sortir le proph^te . • • La princesse
Salom^ veut le Toir.

SALOM^

Ah!

LE PAGE D'H]£bODIA8

Ohl comme la lune a Fair Strange! On
dirait la main d'une morte qui cherche k se
couvrir avec un linceuL

LE JEUNE STRIEN

Elle a Fair tr^ strange. On dirait une
petite princesse qui a des yeux d*ambre. A
travers les nuages de mousseline elle sourit
comme une petite princesse.

[L4 praphkte sort dg la cileme. Salome le
r€gard$ et reculej]

lOKANAAN

Oil est celui dont la coupe d'abominations
est d6]k pleine? Oh est celui qui en robe
d*argent mourra un jour devant tout le

SALOME

people? Dites-lui de venir afin qull puisse
entendre la voix de celui qui a cri^ dans les
deserts et dans les palais des rois.

De qui parle-t-il I

LE JEUNE STBIEN

On ne sait jamais, princesse.

lOKANAAN

Oii est celle qui ayant vu des hommes
peints sur la muraille, des images de Chal-
d^ns trac^es avee des couleurs, s'est laiss^e
emporter k la concupiscence de ses yeux, et a
envoys des ambassadeurs en Chald^ f

8AIX)m£

C est de ma m^re qull parle.

LE JEUNE SYBIEN

Mais non, princesse.
Si, c'est de ma m^re.

lOKANAAN

Oii est celle qui s'est abandonn^ aux capi-
taines des Assyriens, qui ont des baudriers sur
les reins, et sur la tdte des tiares de diffl^rentes
couleurs? Oil est celle qui s'est abandonn^

salom£

aux jeunes homines d'^gypte qui sont vdtus
de lin et dliyacinthe, et portent des boucliers
d'or et des casques d argent, et qui ont de
grands corps? Dites-lui de se lever de la
couche de son impudicit^, de sa couche inces-
tueuse, afin qu'elle puisse entendre les paroles
de celui qui prepare la voie du Seigneur; afin
qu*elle se repente de scs p^ch^s. Quoiqu'elle
ne se repentira jamais, mais restera dans ses
abominations, dites-lui de venir, car le Sei-
gneur a son fl^au dans la main.

Mais il est terrible, il est terrible.

LE JEUNE SYRIEN

Ne restez pas ici, princesse, je vous en prie.

8ALOM1&

Ce sont les yeux surtout qui sont terribles.
On dirait des trous noirs laissds par des flam-
beaux sur une tapisserie de Tyr. On dirait
des cavernes noires oil demeurent des dragons,
des cavernes noires d'j^gypte od les dragons
trouvent leur asile. On dirait des lacs noirs
troubles par des lunes fantastiques • • • Pensez-
▼ous qu'il parlera encore f
24

SALOMB

LE JEUNE 8YRIEN

Ne restez pas ici, princesse ! Je vous prie de
ne pas rester ici.

8aix>m£

Comme fl est maigre aussi ! il ressemble k
une mince image dlvoire. On dirait une
image d'argent. Je suis siire qu'il est chaste,
autant que la lune. II ressemble k un rayon
d'argent. Sa chair doit dtre tr^ firoide, comme
de rivoire • • • Je veux le r^arder de pr^

LE JEUNE SYKIEN

Non, non, princesse !

II faut que je le regarde de prte.

us JEUNE SYKIEN

Princesse! Princesse!

lOKANAAN

Qui est cette femme qui me regarde ? Je ne
veux pas qu'elle me r^arde. Pourquoi me
regarde-t-eUe avec ses yeux d'or sous ses
paupi^res dories ? Je ne sais pas qui c'est. Je
ne veux pas le savoir. Dites-lui de s'en aller.
Ce n'est pas k elle que je veux parler.

SALOM]^

Je suis Salom^, fille d*H^rodias» princesse
de Jud^

lOKANAAN

Arri^rel Fille de Babylonel N'approchez
pas de r^lu du Seigneur. Ta m^re a rempli
la terre du vin de ses iniquit^s, et le cri de ses
p^ch^s est arriv^ aux oreilles de Dieu.

salom^

Parle encore, lokanaan. Ta voix m'enivre.

LE JEUNE SYRIEN

Princesse 1 Princesse 1 Princesse 1

Mais parle encore. Parle encore, lokanaan,
et dis-moi ce qu'il faut que je fasse.

lOKANAAN

Ne m approchez pas, fille de Sodome, mais
couvrez votre visage avec un voile, et mettez
des cendres sur votre t^te, et allez dans le
desert chercher le fils de THomme.

SALOMI^

Qui est-ce, le fils de THomme? Est-il
aussi beau que toi, lokanaan ?
26

salom£

lOKANAAN

Arri^re I Arri^re ! J'entends dans le palais
le battement des ailes de Tange de la morL

LE JEUNE SYRIEN

Princesse, je vous supplie de rentrer i

lOKANAAN

Ange du Seigneur Dieu, que fais-tu id avee
ton glaive? Qui cherches-tu dans cet im-
monde palais ? • . • Le jour de celui qui mourra
en robe d'argent n'est pas venu.

SALOldi

lokanaan I

lOKANAAN

Qui parle f

8AIX>M^

lokanaan I Je suis amoureuse de ton corps.
Ton corps est blanc comme le lis d'un pr^ que
le faucheur n'a jamais fauch^. Ton corps est
blanc comme les neiges qui couchent sur les
montagnes, comme les neiges qui couchent
sur les montagnes de Jud^, et descendent
dans les valines. Les roses du jardin de la
reine d* Arable ne sont pas aussi blanches que

salom£

ton corps. Ni les roses du jardin de la reine
d*Arabie, ni les pieds de Taurore qui trepignent
sur les feuilles, ni le sein de la liine quand
elle couche sur le sein de la mer . . . U n'y a
rien au monde d'aussi blanc que ton corps. —
Laisse-moi toucher ton corps !

lOKANAAN

Arri^re, fille de Babylonel C'est par la
femme que le mal est entr^ dans le monde.
Ne me parlez pa& Je ne veux pas t'^outer.
Je n'^oute que les paroles du Seigneur Dieu.

SALOMi

Ton corps est hideux. U est comme le
corps d'un l^preux. II est conmie un mur de
plfttre oil les vip^res sont pass^es, comme un
mur de plfttre oii les scorpions ont fait leur
nid. II est comme un s^pulcre blanchi, et
qui est plein de choses d^goiitantes. II.
est horrible, il est horrible ton corps! . . .
C'est de tes cheveux que je suis amoureuse,
lokanaan. Tes cheveux .ressemblent k des
grappes de raisins, k des grappes de raisins
noirs qui pendent des vignes d*£dom dans
le pays des Edomites. Tes cheveux sont
comme les cadres du Liban, comme les grands
28

SALOME

cadres du Liban qui donnent de I'ombre aux
lions et aux voleurs qui veulent se cacher pen-
dant la joumee. Les longues nuits noires, les
Quits oil la lune ne se montre pas, oil les
^toUes ont peur, ne sont pas aussi noires. LiC
silence qui demeure dans les for^ts n'est pas
aussi noir. II n'y a rien au monde d'aussi noir
que tes cheveux • • . Laisse-moi toucher tes
cbeveux.

lOKANAAN

Arri^re, fille de Sodome I Ne me touchez
pa& II ne faut pas profaner le temple du
Seigneur Dieu.

SALOM^

Tes cheveux sont horribles. lis sont cou-
yerts de boue et de poussi^re. On dirait une
couronne d'^pines qu'on a plac^ sur ton fix)nt.
On dirait un noeud de serpents noirs qui se
tortillent autour de ton cou. Je naime pas
tes cheveux . . . C'est de ta bouche que je suis
amoureuse, lokanaan* Ta bouche est comme
une bande d'^carlate sur une tour d'ivoire.
'EHe est comme une pomme de grenade
ooupte par un couteau d'ivoire. Les fleurs

SALOME

de grenade qui fleurissent dans les jardins de
Tyr et sont plus rouges que les roses, ne sont
pas aussi rouges. Les oris rouges des trom-
pettes qui annoncent I'arriv^ des rois, et font
peur k Tennemi ne sont pas aussi rouges. Ta
bouche est plus rouge que les pieds de ceux
qui foulent le vin dans les pressoirs. Elle est
plus rouge que les pieds des colombes qui
demeurent dans les temples et sont nourries
par les pr^tres. Elle est plus rouge que les
pieds de celui qui revient d'une for^t ou il a
tu^ un lion et vu des tigres dor^. Ta
bouche est comme une branche de corail que
des p^cheurs ont trouv^ dans le cr^puscule
da la mer et qu'ils r^servent pour les rois • • . !
EUle est comme le vermilion que les Moabites
trouvent dans les mines de Moab et que les
rois leur prennent. Elle est comme Tare du
roi des Perses qui est peint avec du vermilion
et qui a des cornes de corail. II n'y a rien au
monde d'aussi rouge que ta bouche • • • laisse-
moi baiser ta bouche.

lOKANAAN

Jamais ! fiUe de Babylone ! Fille de Sodome !
jamais.
80

SALOME

saix)m£

Je baiserai ta bouche, lokanmaiL Je baiserai
ta bouche.

LE JEX7NE 8YRIEN

Piincesse, princesse, toi qui es comme un
bouquet de myrrhe, toi qui es la eolombe des
colombes, ne regarde pas cet homme, ne le
regarde pas ! Ne lui dis pas de telles choses.
Je ne peux pas les soufirir . . • Princesse,
princesse, ne dis pas de ces choses.

SALOM^

Je baiserai ta bouche, lokanaan.

LR JEUNS SYRIEN

Ah!

[// se tue et tombe entre Salomi et lokanaanj]

LB PAGE D'hJ^RODIAS

Le jeune Syrien s'est tu^ ! le jeune capitaine
s'est tu^ ! II s'est tu^, celui qui ^tait mon ami !
Je lui avals donn6 une petite boite de parfums,
et des boucles d'oreilles faites en argent, et
maintenant il s'est tu^ ! Ah I n'a-t-il pas pr^
dit qu'un malheur allait arriver ? . • . Je Tai
pr^t moi-m^me et il est arrivd Je savais
bien que la lune eherchait un mort, mais je ne

salom£

Mvais pas que c*^Uit lui qa*elle cherchait.
Ah ! pourquoi ne Fai-je pas cach^ de la liine ?
Si je I'avais cach^ duis une caveme elle ne
Faurait pas vu.

LE PREMIER SOLDAT

Princesse» le jeune capitaine vient de se
tuer.

SALOIC^

Laisse-moi baiser ta bouche, lokanaan.

lOKANAAN

N'avez-vous pas peur, fille d'H^rodias ? Ne
vous ai-je pas dit que j'avais entendu dans le
palais le battement des ailes de Tange de la
mort, et I'ange n'est-il pas venu ?

8AL0M1&

^-moi baiser ta bouche.

lOKANAAN

Fille d'adult^re, il n'y a qu'im homme qui
puisse te sauver. C'est celui dont je t'ai
parU. AUez le chercher. II est dsjis un
bateau sur la mer de Galilee, et il parle k sea
disciples. Agenouillez-vous au bord de la mer,
et appelez-le par son nom. Quand il viendra
vers vous, et il vient vers tous ceux qui
8S

salom£

Tappellent, prostemez-vous k ses pieds ct
demandez-lui la remission de vos p^ch^s.

Laisse-moi baiser ta bouche.

lOKANAAN

Soyez maudite, fille d'une m^ incestueuse,
soyez maudite.

SALOME

Je baiserai ta bouche, lokanaan.

lOKANAAN

Je ne veux pas te regarder. Je ne te
regarderai pas. Tu es maudite, Salom^ tu
es maudite.

[// descend dans la citeme.']

SALOM]^

Je baiserai ta bouche, lokanaan, je baiserai
ta bouche.

I£ PREMIER SOLDAT

II faut faire transporter le cadavre ailleurs.
Le t^trarque n'aime pas regarder les cadavres,
sauf les cadavres de ceux qu'il a tu^s lui-m^me.

LE PAGE d'hI^ODIAS

II ^tait moD fr^re, et plus proche qu'un
c 88

salom£

Ir^re. Je lui ai donn^ une petite botte qui
contenait des parfums, et une bague d'agate
qu'il portait toujours k la main. Le soir
nous nous promenions au bord de la riviere et
parmi les amandiers et il me racontait des
choses de son pays. II parlait toujours tr^
bas. Le son de sa voix ressemblait au son de
la flClte d'un joueur de flClte. Aussi il aimait
beaueoup k se regarder dans la riviere. Je lui
ai fait des reproches pour cela.

SECOND SOLDAT

Vous avez raison ; il faut cacher le cadavre.
II ne faut pas que le t^trarque le voie.

PREMIER SOLDAT

Le t^trarque ne viendra pas icL II ne vient
jamais sur la terrasse. 11 a trop peur du
proph^te.

[Bnir^e dHdrode^ dHirodias it de taute la
courS\

Hl^ROOE

Od est Salom^? Od est la princesse?
Pourquoi n'est-elle pas retourn^ au festin
comme je le lui avais command^? ahl la
▼oilk!
84

SALOMie

h£rodiab

II ne £Etut pas la regarder. Vous la regardez
toujours!

H^SODE

La lune a Fair tr^s Strange ce soir. N'est-
ce pas que la lune a Fair tr^ Strange ? On
dirait une femme hyst^rique, une femme
hyst^rique qui va cherchant des amants par-
tout. Elle est nue aussi. Elle est toute nue.
Les nuages cherchent k la v^tir, mais elle ne
veut pas. Elle chancelle k travers les nuages
comme une femme ivre . . . Je suis sflr qu elle
cherche des amants • . . N'est-ce pas qu elle
chancelle comme une femme ivre? Elle
ressemble k une femme hyst^rique, n'est-ce
pas?

H^ODIAS

Non. La lune ressemble k la lune, c'est
tout. Rentrons . . • Vous n'avez rien k fiiire
icL

Je resterai! Manass^, mettez des tapis Ul
Allumez des flambeaux. Apportez les tables
dlvoire, et les tables de jaspe. L'air ici est
d^deux. Je boirai encore du vin avec mes

salom£

hfttes. Aux ambassadeurs de Cdsar il f&ut
faire tout honneur.

H^RODIAS

Ce n'est pas k cause d'eux que vous restez.

Hl^RODE

Oui, I'air est d^licieux. Viens, H^rodias,
nos hdtes nous attendant. Ahl j'ai gliss^l
j'ai gliss^ dans le sang 1 C'est d'un mauvais
presage. C'est d'un tr^ mauvais pr&age.
Pourquoi y a-t-il du sang ici ? . • • Et ce
cadavre? Que fait ici ce cadavre? Pensez-
vous que je sois comme le roi d'J^gypte qui
ne donne jamais un festin sans montrer un
cadavre k ses hdtes ? Enfin, qui est-ce ? Je
ne veux pas le regarder.

PREMIER SOLDAT

C'est notre capitaine. Seigneur. C'est le
jeune Syrien que vous avez fait capitaine il y
a trois jours seulement.

H^RODE

Je n'ai donn^ aucun ordre de le tuer.

SECOND SOLDAT

II s'est tu^ lui-m^me. Seigneur.
86

salom£

H^BODK

Pourquoi ? Je Tai £ut capitaine I

SECOND SOLDAT

Nous ne savons pas. Seigneur. Mais il
s'est tu^ lui-mdme.

HJ^ODE

Cela me semble Strange. Je pensais qu'il
n'y avait que les philosophes romains qui se
tuaient N'est-ce pas, Tigellin, que les philo-
sophes k Rome se tuent ?

TIOELLIN

n 7 en a qui se tuent, Seigneur. Ce sont
les Stoiciens. Ce sont des gens tr^ grossiers.
Enfin, ce sont des gens tr^ ridicules. Moi,
je les trouve tr^ ridicules.

H^SODE

Moi aussi. C'est ridicule de se tuer.

nOELLlN

On rit beaucoup d'eux k Rome. L'em-
pereur a fait un po^me satirique contre eux.
On le recite partout.

H^RODE

Ah I il a fait un po^me satirique contre eux f
C^sar est merveilleux« II pent tout faire • . •

SALOMlg

C*est Strange qu'il se soit tu^, le jeune Sjrrien.
Je le r^rette. Oui, je le regrette beaucoup.
Car il ^tait beau. II ^tait m#me trte beau. II
avait des yeux tr^ langoureux. Je me rap-
pelle que je I'ai vu regardant Salom^ d'une
fa^on langoureuse. En effet, j'ai trouv^ qu'il
I'avait un peu trop r^ard^

Hl^RODIAS

II y en a d autres qui la regardent trop.

Hl^RODE

Son pdre ^tait roL Je I'ai chass^ de son
Foyaume. Et de sa m^re qui ^tait reine vous
avez fait une esclave, H^rodias. Ainsi, il
^tait ici comme un hdte. C'^tait k cause de
cela que je I'avais &it capitaine. Je r^rette
qu*il soit mort . • • Enfin, pourquoi avez-vous
laiss^ le cadavre ici? II faut Temporter
ailleurs. Je ne veux pas le voir . . • Emportez-
le • . • {^Om emporU le cadavre/] II fait froid icL
II y a du vent icL N*est-ce pas qu'il y a du
vent?

Hl^RODIAS

Mais non. II n'y a pas de vent.
S8

salom£

Mais si, il y a du vent . . . Et j*entends dans
I'air quelque chose comme un battement
d'ailes, comme un battement d'ailes gigantes-
ques. Ne Tentendez-vous pas ?

GD^RODIAS

Je n'entends rien.

HESODE

Je ne Tentends plus moi-mdme. Mais je Tai
entendu. C'^tait le vent sans doute. C'est
passd Mais non, je Tentends encore. Ne
Tentendez-vous pas ? C'est tout k fait comme
un battement d'ailes.

m^ODIAS

Je vous dis qu'il n'y a rien. Vous dtes
malade. Rentrons.

H^BODE

Je ne suis pas malade. C'est votre fille qui
est malade. Elle a I'air tr^ malade, votre fiUe.
Jamais je ne Vai vue si p&le.

H^RODIAS

Je vous ai dit de ne pas la regarder.

H^ODE

Versez du vin. [Oh apparte du vin.'] Salom^,

salom£

Teoez boire un peu de vin avec moL J'ai un
▼in ici qui est exquis. C'est C^sar lui-m#me
qui me la envoy^. Trempez Ik-dedans vos
petites l^vres rouges et ensuite je viderai la
coupe.

aALOM^

Je n'ai pas soif, t^trarque.

H^aODE

Vous entendez comine elle me r^pond, votre
fiUe.

HJ^RODIAS

Je trouve qu'elle a bien raison. Pourquoi
la regardez-vous toujours ?

Hl^RODE

Apportez des fruits. ^On af>porte des fruits.']
Salom^, venez manger du fruit avec moi.
J aime beaucoup voir dans un fruit la morsure
de tes petites dents. Mordez un tout petit
morceau de ce fruit, et ensuite je mangerai ce
qui reste.

SALOM^

Je n*ai pas faim» t^trarque.

H^RODE [d Hirodias\
Voilk comme vous lavez ^ev^, votre fille.
40

salom£

H^RODIAS

Ma fille et moi, nous descendons d'une race
royale. Quant k toi, ton grand-pdre gardait
des chameaux 1 Aussi, c'^tait un voleur I

H^aODE

Tu mens 1

H]^BODIAS

Tu sais bien que c'est la v^ritd

Salom^, viens fasseoir pr^ de moL Je te
donnerai le tr6ne de ta m^e.

Je ne suis pas &tigude, t^trarque.

HI^RODIAS

Vous voyez bien ce qu'elle pense de vous.

H^RODE

Apportez . . . Qu'est-ce que je veux ? Je
ne sais pas. Ah 1 Ah ! je m'en souviens • • •

LA VOIX D'IOKANAAN

Voici le temps 1 Ce que j'ai pr^dit est
arriv^, dit le Seigneur Dieu. Voici le jour
dont j'avais parl^.

salom£

H^RODIAS

Faites-le taire. Je ne veux pas entendre sa
Toix. Cet homme vomit toujours des injures
contre moL

HJ^RODE

II n a rien dit contre vous. Aussi, e'est un
trfes grand proph6te.

fiE^ODIAS

Je ne crois pas aux proph^tes. Est-ce
quun homme pent dire ce qui doit arriver?
Personne ne le sait. Aussi, il m'insulte
toujours. Mais je pense que vous avez peur
de lui . . • Enfin, je sais bien que vous avez
peur de lui

Hl^RODE

Je n'ai pas peur de lui. Je n'ai peur de
personne.

fiE^ODIAS

Si, VOUS avez peur de luL Si vous n'aviez
pas peur de lui, pourquoi ne pas le livrer aux
Juifs qui depuis six mois vous le demandent ?

UN JUIF

En effet. Seigneur, il serait mieux de nous
le livrer.
42

SALOMlg

H^RODS

Assez sur ce point. Je vous ai d6jk donn^
ma r^ponse. Je ne veux pas vous le livrer.
C'est iin homme qui a vu Dieu.

UN JUIF

Cela, c'est impossible. Personne n'a vu
Dieu depuis le proph^te !^ie. Lui c*est le
dernier qui ait vu Dieu. En ce temps ci,
Dieu ne se montre pas. II se cache. £t par
cons^uent il y a de grands malheurs dans le
pays.

UN AUTRE JUIF

Enfin, on ne sait pas si le proph^te ]^lie a
r^eilement vu Dieu. C'^tait plutdt Tombre
de Dieu qull a vue.

UN TSOISlilfE JUIF

Dieu ne se cache jamais. II se montre
toujours et dans toute chose. Dieu est dans
le mal conmie dans le bien.

UN QUAT&uibf E JUIF

II ne faut pas dire cela. C'est une id^ tr^
dangereuse. C'est une id^ qui vient des
^coles d'Alexandrie oil on enseigne la philoso-
phic grecque. Et les Grecs sont des gentils.
lis ne sont pas mdme circoncis.

SALOMfi

UN CINQUli^ME JUIF

On ne peut pas savoir comment Dieu agit,
ses voies sont tr^ myst^rieuses. Peut-Stre ce
que nous appelons le mal est le bien, et ce
que nous appelons le bien est le maL On ne
peut rien savoir. Le n^cessaire e'est de se
soumettre k tout. Dieu est tr^ fort U
brise au m#me temps les faibles et les forts.
n n'a aucun souci de personne.

lA PREMIER JUIF

C'est vrai cela. Dieu est terrible. II brise
les faibles et les forts comme on brise le bl^
dans un mortier. Mais cet homme n'a jamais
vu Dieu. Personne n'a vu Dieu depuis le
proph^te J^lie.

H^RODIAS

Faites-les taire. lis m'ennuient.

H^ODE

Mais j'ai entendu dire qu'Iokanaan lui-
mdme est votre proph^te li^ie.

LB JUIF

Cela ne se peut pas. Depuis le temps du
pioph^te £lie il y a plus de trois cents ana.
44

SALOM^

STRODE

II y en a qui disent que c'est le prophite
^ie.

UN NAZABJ^EN

Moi, je suis stir que c'est le proph^te l^lia

LB JUIF

Mais non, ce n*est pas le proph^te l^lia

LA VOIX D*IOKANAAN

Le jour est venu, le jour du Seigneur, et
j entends sur les montagiies les pieds de celui
qui sera le Sauveur du monde.

H£BODS

Qu'est-ce que cela veut dire ? Le Sauveur
du monde f

TIOELLIN

C'est un titre que prend Cdsar.

HESODE

Mais C^sar ne vient pas en Jud^. Xai
re9u hier des lettres de Rome. On ne m'a
rien dit de cela. Enfin, vous, Tigellin, qui
avez €\/k k Rome pendant lliiver, yous n'avez
rien entendu dire de cela ?

TIOELLIK

En effet. Seigneur, je n'en ai pas entendu

salom£

parler. J*explique seulement le titre. C'est
un des titres de C^ar.

HJ^aODE

II ne peut pas venir, C^sar. II est goutteux.
On dit qu'il a des pieds d*^l^phant. Aussi il
y a des raisons d'J^tat Celui qui quitte
Rome perd Rome. II ne viendra pas. Mais,
enfin, e'est le maitre, C^sar. II viendra s'il
▼eut. Mais je ne pense pas qu'il vienne.

LE PREMIER NAZAR^N

Ce n'est pas de C^sar que le proph^te a
parley Seigneur.

H^RODE

Pas de C^ar ?

LE PREMIER NAZARl^EN

Non, Seigneur.

Hl^RODE

De qui done a-t-il parl^ f

LE PREMIER NAZAR^EN

Du Messie qui est venu.

UN JUIF

Lie Messie n'est pas venu.

LB PREMIER NAZAR]^N

II est venu, et il fait des miracles partout.
46

salom£

H^BODIAS

Oh I oh 1 les miracles. Je ne crois pas aux
miracles. J'en ai vu trop. {/4^pa^^*] Mon
^entaiL

us PRKMTKK NAZABJ^EN

Get homme fait de v^ritables miracles.
Ainsi, k Toccasion d'wi manage qui a eu lieu
dans une petite ville de Gallic, une ville
assez importante, il a change de I'eau en vin.
Des personnes qui ^taient Ik me Font dit
Aussi il a gu^ri deux l^preux qui ^taient
assis devant la porte de Caphamaiim, seule-
ment en les touchant.

I^ SECOND NAZAB^EN

Non, c'^taient deux aveugles qu'il a gu^ris
k Caphamaiim.

I^ PREMIER NAZAR^EN

Non, c'^taient des l^preux. Mais il a gu^ri
des aveugles aussi, et on I'a vu sur une
montagne parlant avec des anges.

UK SADDUCl^EN

Les anges n'existent pas.

UK PHARISIEK

Les anges existent, mais je ne crois pas que
oet honmie leor ait parl^.

salom£

LB FRKKTKR NAZABJ^EN

II a 4t4 vu par une foule de passants parlant
avec des anges.

UN 8adduc]£en
Pas avec des anges.

H^RODIAS

Comme ils m'agacent, ces hommesl lis
sont bdtes. Ils sont tout k fait bdtes. [Au
page] Eh I bien, mon ^ventaiL [Le page bU
donne tiventaU^ Vous avez Tair de rdver.
U ne faut pas rdver. Les r6veurs sont des
malades. \Elle frappe le page avec son iuen-
tail]

LE SECOND NAZASI^EN

Aussi il y a le miracle de la fille de Jaire»

LE PREMIER NAZARl^EN

Mais oui, c'est tr^s certain cela. On ne
pent pas le nier.

Hl^RODIAS

Ces gens-lk sont fous. lis ont trop regard^
la lune. Dites-leur de se taire.

Hl^RODE

Qu'est-ce que c'est que cela, le miracle de
la fille de Jaire ?
48

salom£

LE FREMCER NAZARl^EN

La fille de Jaire ^tait morte. II I'a ressus-

cit^e.

II ressuscite les morts f

LE PBEMIE& NAZAin^.KN

Oui, Seigneur. U ressuscite les morts.

nisoDE

Je ne veux pas qu'il fasse cela. Je lui
defends de faire cela. Je ne permets pas
qu on ressuscite les morts. II faut chercher
cat homme et lui dire que je ne lui permets
pas de ressusciter les morts. Oil est-il k
present, cet honmie ?

LE SECOND NAZARiSN

n est partout. Seigneur, mais est-il trte
difficile de le trouver.

LE PREMIER NAZARl^N

On dit qu'il est en Samarie k present.

UN JUIF

On voit bien que ce n'est le Messie, s'il est
en Samarie. Ce n'est pas aux Samaritains
que le Messie viendra. Les Samaritains sont
9 49

SALOMfi

maudits. Us a'apporteat jamais d'ofirandes
au temple.

LE SECOND NAZARl^N

II a quitt^ la Samarie il y a quelques jom^.
Moi, je crois qu'en ce moment-ci il est dans
les environs de Jerusalem.

LE PREMIER NAZAR^EN

Mais non, il n'est pas Ik. Je viens juste-
ment d'arriver de Jerusalem. On n'a pas
entendu parler de lui depuis deux mois.

Hl^RODE

Enfin, cela ne &it rien I Mais il faut le
trouver et lui dire de ma part que je ne lui
permets pas de ressusciter les morts. Changer
de Teau en vin, gu^rir les l^preux et les
aveugles • . . il peut faire tout cela s'il le veut.
Je n ai rien k dire contre cela. En eflfet, je
trouve que gu^rir les l^preux est une boime
action. Mais je ne permets pas qu'il ressuscite
les morts . • • Ce serait terrible, si les morts
reviennent

LA VOIX D'iOKANAAN

Ah I I'impudique I la prostitute 1 Ah 1 la
fille de Babylone avec ses yeux d'or et ses
50

SALOM£

paupi^res dor^ ! Voici ce que dit le Seigneur
Dieu. Faites venir contre eUe une multitude
dlioinmes. Que le peuple prenne des pierres
et la lapide . • •

H^RODIAS

Faites-le taire !

LA VOIX d'iOKANAAN

Que les capitaines de guerre la percent de
leurs ^p^es, qulls T^crasent sous leurs bou-
cliers.

h]£bodia8
Mais, c'est infihne.

LA VOIX d'iOKANAAN

C'est ainsi que j'abolirai les crimes de
dessus la terre, et que toutes les femmes
apprendront k ne pas imiter les abominations
de celle-UL

H^BODLAS

Vous entendez ce qu'il dit contre moi?
Vous le laissez insulter votre Spouse ?

H^aoDE

Mais il n'a pas dit votre nom.

H^RODIAS

Qu'est-ce que cela £ut? Vous savez bien

salom£

que c*est moi qu*il cherche k insulter. Et je
suis votre Spouse, n'est-ce pas ?

Oui, ch^ et digne H^rodias, vous dtes
mon Spouse, et vous avez commence par 6tre
I'^pouse de mon fr^re.

C'est vous qui m'avez arrach^ de ses bras,

Hl^RODE

En effet, j*^tais le plus fort • • • mais ne
parlons pas de cela. Je ne veux pas parler de
cela. C'est k cause de cela que le proph^te a
dit des mots d'^pouvante. Peut-6tre it cause
de cela va-t-il arriver un malheur. N en
parlons pas . • • Noble H^rodias, nous oublions
nos convives. Verse-moi k boire, ma bien-
aim^, Remplissez de vin les grandes coupes
d'argent et les grandes coupes de verre. Je
vais boire k la sant^ de C^sar. II y a des
Romains ici, il faut boire k la sant^ de C^sar.

TOUS

C^sarl C^sarl

Hl^RODE

Vous ne remarquez pas comme votre fille
est pfile.
52

salom£

H^RODIAS

Qu'est-ce que cda vous fait qu*eUe soit pftle
ou non ?

Jamais je ne Fai vue si pftle.

H^BODIAS

II ne faut pas la regarder.

LA VOIX d'iOKANAAN

En ce jour-lk le soleil deviendra noir comme
un sac de poil, et la lune deviendra comme du
sang, et les ^toiles du ciel tomberont sur la
teire comme les figues vertes tombent d un
figuier, et les rois de la terre auront peur.

H^BODIAS

Ah! Ah! Je voudrais bien voir ce jour
dont il parle, oii la lune deviendra comme du
sang et oil les ^toiles tomberont sur la terre
comme des figues vertes. Ce proph^te parle
comme un homme ivre . . • Mais je ne peux
pas souffrir le son de sa voix. Je d^teste sa
voix. Ordonnez qu'il se taise.

Mais non. Je ne comprends pas ce qu'il a
diL mais cela pent 6tre un presage.

salom£

Hl^RODIAS

Je ne crois pas aux presages. II parle
comme un horn me ivre.

h:^rod£
Peut-6tre qu'il est ivre du vin de Dieu !

H^RODIAS

Quel vin est-ce, le vin de Dieu ? De quelles
vignes vient-il? Dans quel pressoir peut-on
le trouver ?

H^RODE [// ne quitte plus Salomi du regard^
Tigellin, quand tu as ^t^ it Rome demi^re-
ment, est-ce que Tempereur t'a parl^ au
sujet . . . ?

TIOELLIN

A quel sujet, Seigneur ?

Hl^BODE

A quel sujet ? Ah ! je vous ai adressd une
question, n est-ce pas? J*ai oubli^ ce queje
voulais savoir.

Hl^RODIAS

Vous regardez encore ma fille. II ne faut
pas la regarder. Je vous ai d^j2i dit cela

H^RODE

Vous ne dites que cela,
54

salom£

H]£S0DIA8

Je le redis.

HERODE

Et la restauration du temple dont on a tant
parle ? Est-ce qu'on va faire quelque chose ?
On dit, n'est-ce pas, que le voile du sanctuaire
adispara?

HJ^RODIAS

C'est toi qui Ta pris. Tu paries k tort et k
travers. Je ne veux pas rester icL Rentrons.

H^BODE

Salom^, dansez pour moL

Hl^BODIAS

Je ne veux pas qu*elle danse.

Je n'ai aucune envie de danser, t^trarque.

H^RODE

Salom^, fille d'H^rodias, dansez pour moL

Hl^RODIAS

Laissez la tranquille.

Kl^KODE

Je vous ordonne de danser, Salom^

Je ne danserai pas, t^trarque.

salom£

H^BODIAB \rianf\

Voil2i comme elle vous obSt 1

Hl^SODE

Qu'est-ce que cela me fait qu'eUe danse ou
non ? Cela ne me fait rien. Je suis hem^ux
ce soir. Je suis tr^ heureux. Jamais je n'ai
4\j6 si heureux.

LE FREMIEB 80LDAT

II a I'air sombre, le t^trarque. N'est-ce pas
qu*il a Fair sombre ?

LE SECOND SOLDAT

II a Fair sombre.

m^BODE

Pourquoi ne serais-je pas heureux ? C^sar,
qui est le maitre du monde, qui est le maitre
de tout, m'aime beaucoup. II vient de
m'envoyer des cadeaux de grande valeur.
Aussi il m'a promis de citer k Rome le roi de
Cappadoce qui est mon ennemi. Peut-6tre k
Rome il le crucifiera. II peut faire tout ce
qull veut, C^ar. Enfin, il est le maitre.
Ainsi, vous voyez, j'ai le droit d'etre heureux.
II n'y a rien au monde qui puisse gfiter mon
plaisir.
56

SALOME

LA VOIX D'iOKANAAN

II sera assis sur son trdne. II sera vdtu de
pourpre et d'^carlate. Dans sa main il portera
un vase d'or plein de ses blasphemes. Et
1 ange du Seigneur Dieu le frappera II sera
mang^ des vers.

H^RODIAS

Vous entendez ce qu'il dit de vous. II dit
que vous serez mang^ des vers.

HSRODE

Ce n'est pas de moi qu'il parte. H ne dit
jamais rien centre moi. C'est du roi de
Cappadoce qull parle, du roi de Cappadoce
qui est mon ennemL C'est celui-lit qui sera
mangd des vers. Ce n'est pas moL Jamais
U n'a rien dit contre moi, le proph^, sauf
que j*ai eu tort de prendre comme Spouse
r^pouse de mon fr^re. Peut-6tre a-t-il raison.
En efiet, vous 6tes sterile.

Hl^RODIAS

Je suis sterile, moi. Et vous dites cela,
vous qui regardez toujours ma fille, vous qui
avez voulu la faire danser pour voire plaisir.
C'est ridicule de dire cela. Moi j'ai eu un
enfant. Vous n'avez jamais eu d'eiifant,

SALOME

mdme d'une de vos esclaves. C'est vous qui
dies sterile, ce n'est pas moL

h:^rode

Taisez-vous. Je vous dis que vous dtes
sterile. Vous ne m'avez pas donn^ d'en&nt,
et le proph^te dit que notre mariage n'est pas
un vrai mariage. II dit que c est un mariage
incestueux, un mariage qui apportera des
malheurs • • . J ai peur qu'il n'ait raison. Je
8uis siir qu'il a raison. Mais ce n'est pas le
moment de parler de ces choses. En ce
moment-ci je veux #tre heureux. Au fait je
le suis. Je suis tr^ heureux. II n'y a rien
qui me manque.

H^RODIAS

Je suis bien contente que vous soyez de si
belle huroeur, ce soir. Ce n'est pas dans vos
habitudes. Mais il est tard. Rentrons. Vous
n'oubliez pas qu'au lever du soleil nous
allons tous k la chasse. Aux ambassadeurs
de C^ar il faut faire tout honneur, n'est-ce
pas?

LE SECOND SOLDAT

Comme il a I'air sombre, le t^trarque.
58

salom£

LX. PREMIER 80LDAT

Oui, il a Tair sombre.

BD^RODE

Salom^ Salom^, dansez pour moL Je vous
supplie de danser pour moi. Ce soir je suis
triste. Oui, je suis tr^s triste ce soir. Quand
je suis entr^ ici, j'ai gliss^ dans le sang, ce qui
est d'un mauvais presage, et j'ai entendu, je
suis sCbr que j'ai entendu un battement d*ailes
dans I'air, un battement d'ailes gigantesques.
Je ne sais pas ce que cela veut dire . . . Je
suis triste ce soir. Ainsi dansez pour moi.
Dansez pour moi, Salom^, je vous supplie.
Si vous dansez pour moi vous pourrez me
demander tout ce que vous voudrez et je
vous le donneraL Oui, dansez pour moi,
Salom^, et je vous donnerai tout ce que
vous me demanderez, fiit-ce la moiti^ de mon
royaume

SALOM^ [se levanf\

Vous me donnerez tout ce que je deman-
derai, t^traique ?

H^ODIAS

Ne dansez pas, ma fille.

salom£

H^BODE

Tout, f&t-ce la moiti^ de mon royaume.

baljomA

Vous le jurez, t^trarque ?

Hl^RODE

Je le jure, Salom^.

m^RODIAS

Ma fille, ne dansez pas.

AALOM]^

Sur quoi jurez-vous, t^trarque ?

Hl^RODE

Sur ma vie, sur ma couronne, sur mes
dieux. Tout ce que vous voudrez je vous le
domierai, fQt-ce la moiti^ de mon royaume, si
vous dansez pour moi. Oh 1 Salom^ Salom^
dansez pour moL

SALOME

Vous avez jur6, t^trarque.

H]^RODE

J ai jur^, Salomd

SALOMi

Tout ce que je vous demanderai, fftt-ce la
moiti^ de voire royaume ?
60

SAL0M£

H^RODIAS

Ne dansez pas, ma fille.

H^RODE

Fiit-ce la moiti^ de mon royaume. Comme
reine, tu serais trte belle, Salom^, s'il te plaisait
de demander la moiti^ de mon royamne.
N'est-ce pas qu'elle serait tr^s belle comme
reine ? • . . Ah I il £Eiit froid ici ! il y a un
vent trts froid, et j 'en tends . . . pourquoi
est-ce que j'entends dans Fair ce battement
d'ailes? Oh! on dirait qu'il y a mi oiseau,
un grand oiseau noir, qui plane sur la terrasse.
Pourquoi est-ce que je ne peux pas le voir,
cet oiseau ? Le battement de ses ailes est
terrible. Le vent qui vient de ses ailes est
terrible. C'est un vent froid . . . Mais non,
il ne fait pas froid du tout. Au contraire,
il fait tr^ chaud. II fait trop chaud. J'^touffe.
Versez-moi Teau sur les mains. Donnez-
moi de la neige k manger. Ddgrafez mon
manteau. Vite, vite, d^grafez mon manteau
. . . Non. Laissez-le. C'est ma couronne
qui me fait mal, ma couronne de roses. On
dirait que ces fleurs sont faites de feu. EUes
ont briil^ mon front. [I/arracAe de sa tHe la

sal.om£

eauranne^ et lajette sur la table.'] Ah I enfin,
je respire. Comme ils sont rouges ces p^tales !
On dirait des taches de sang sur la nappe.
Cela ne fait rien. I] ne faut pas trouver des
symboles dans chaque chose qu'on voit. Cela
rend la vie impossible. II serait mieux de
dire que les taches de sang sont aussi belles
que les p^tales de roses. II serait beaucoup
mieux de dire cela . . . Mais ne parlous pas de
cela. Maintenant je suis heureux. Je suis
tr^ heureux. J'ai le droit d'etre heureux,
n'est-ce pas ? Votre fiUe va danser pour moL
N'est-ce pas que vous allez danser pour moi,
Salom^? Vous avez promis de danser pour
moi.

h:6rodias
Je ne veux pas qu'eUe danse.

SALOM^

Je danserai pour vous, t^trarque.

H^RODE

Vous entendez ce que dit votre fiUe. Elle
va danser pour moi. Vous avez bien raison,
Salom^, de danser pour moL Et, apr^s que
vous aurez dans^ n'oubliez pas de me demander
tout ce que vous voudrez. Tout oe que vous
62

salom£

voudrez je vous le donnerai, fiit-ce la moiti^
de mon royaume. J'ai }ui4, n*est-oe pas ?

8AIX>lf£.

Vous avez jur^, t^trarque.

H^RODE.

Et je n'ai jamais manqu^ k ma parole. Je
ne suis pas de ceux qui manquent k leur
parole. Je ne sais pas mentir. Je suis
Tesclave de ma parole, et ma parole c'est la
parole d'un roL Lie roi de Cappadoce ment
toujours, mais ce n'est pas un vrai roi. C'est
un Iftche. Aussi il me doit de Targent qu*il
ne veut pas payer. II a m^me insults mes
ambassadeurs. II a dit des choses tr^ bles-
santes. Mais C^sar le crucifiera quand il
viendra k Rome. Je suis siir que C^sar le
crucifiera. Sinon U mourra mang^ des vers.
Lie proph^te la pr^t. Eh bieni Salom^,
qu'attendez-vous ?

8AIX)M]^.

J'attends que mes esclaves m'apportent des
parfiims et les sept voiles et m'dtent mes
sandales.

[JLes esclaves apporUnt des parfums et Us
sept voiles el btent les sandales de Salom/.']

SALOMA

Hl^RODE

Ah 1 VOU8 allez danser pieds nus ! C'est
bienl C'est bieni Vos petits pieds seront
comme des colombes blanches. lis ressemble-
ront k des petites fleurs blanches qui dansent
8ur un arbre • • . Ah ! non. EUe va danser
dans le sang ! II y a du sang par terre. Je ne
veux pas qu'elle danse dans le sang. Ce serait
d'un tr^s mauvais presage.

H]£eodias

Qu'est-ce que cela vous fait qu'elle danse
dans le sang ? Vous avez bien march^ dedans,
vous . . •

Hl^RODE

Qu*est-ce que cela me fait ? Ah ! regardez
la lune 1 EUe est devenue rouge. EUe est
devenue rouge comme du sang. Ahl le
proph^te la bien pr^dit. II a pr^t que la
lune deviendrait rouge comme du sang.
N est-ce pas qu'il a pr^t cela ? Vous Tavez
tons entendu. La lune est devenue rouge
comme du sang. Ne le voyez-vous pas ?

Hl^ODIAS

Je le vois bien, et les ^toiles tombent comme
des figues vertes, n*est-ce pas? Et le soldi
64

SALOME

deyient noir comme un sac de poil, et les rois
de la terre ont peur. Cela au moins on le
Yoit. Pour une fois dans sa vie le proph^te
a eu raison. Les rois de la terre ont peur.
. • . Enfin, rentrons. Vous dtes malade. On
va dire k Rome que vous 6tes fou. Rentrons,
je Yous dis.

LA YOIX d'iOKANAAN

Qui est celui qui vient d'Edom, qui vient de
Bosra avec sa robe teinte de pourpre; qui
delate dans la beauts de ses vdtements, et qui
marche avec une force toute puissante ? Pour-
quoi vos y^tements sont-ils teints d'^carlate ?

Hl^ODIAS.

Rentrons. La voix de cet homme m'exas-
p^re. Je ne veux pas que ma fiUe danse pen-
dant qu'il crie comme cela. Je ne veux pas
qu'eUe danse pendant que vous la regardez
comme cela. Enfin, je ne veux pas qu'elle
danse.

Hl^ODE

Ne te l^ve pas, mon Spouse, ma reine, c'est
inutile. Je ne rentrerai pas avant qu elle ait
dans^ Dansez, Salom^, dansez pour moi.

M 65

salom£

H]£rODIA8

Ne dansez pas, ma fille.

8alom£

Je suis prdte, t^trarque.

[Sa/om^ danse la danse cles sept vaUes.']

Hl^RODE

Ah 1 c'est magnifique, c'est magnifique I
Vous voyez qu'elle a dans^ pour moi, votre
fille. Approchez, Salom^I Approchez afin
que je puisse vous donner votre salaire. Ah 1
je paie bien les danseuses, moi. Toi, je te
paierai bien. Je te donnend tout ce que tu
voudras. Que veux-tu, dis ?

SALOM]^ \/ agenouillatW]

Je veux qu on m'apporte pr^sentement dans
un bassin d argent • . •

H^RODE [rianf]

Dans un bassin d'argent ? mais oui, dans un
bassin d'argent, certainement Elle est char-
mante, n'est-ee pas? Qu'est-ce que vous
voulez qu'on vous apporte dans un bassin
d argent, ma ch^re et belle Salom^, vous qui
Stes la plus belle de toutes les filles de Jud^ ?
Qu est-ce que vous voulez qu'on vous apporte
66

SALOME

dans un bassin d*argent? Dites-moL Quoi
que cela puisse dtre on vous le donnera. Mes
tr^sors vous appartiennenL Qu'est-ce que
c'est, Salom^ !

saijom^ [se UvaiU]
La t£te dlokanaan.

m^RODIAS.

Ah 1 c'est bien dit, ma fille.

H£RODE

Non, non.

H£RODIA8

C*est bien dit, ma fiUe.

Hl^RODE

Non, non, Salomd Vous ne me demandes
pas cela. N'^coutez pas votre m^re. Elle
vous donne toujours de mauvais conseils. II
ne faut pas I'^couter.

SALOMl^

Je n'^coute pas ma m^re. C'est pour mon
propre pliusir que je demande la t§te dlo-
kanaan dans un bassin d'argent. Vous avez
jur^, H^rode. N'oubliez pas que vous avei
jurd

salomA

It A «ni

Je le sais. J*ai jui^ par mes dieux. Je le
sais bien. Mais je vous supplie, Salom^ de
me demander autre chose. Demandez-moi la
moiti^ de mon royaume, et je vous la donnerai.
Mais ne me demandez pas ce que vous m'avez
demand^

BAUOUA

Je vous demande la t^te d'lokanaan,

H^RODK

Non, non, je ne veux pas.
Vous avez jur^, Hdrode.

Hl^RODIAS

Oui, vous avez jurd Tout le monde vous
a entendu. Vous avez jur^ devant tout le
monde.

HJ^ODE

Taisez-vous. Ce n*est pas k vous que je
parle.

HJ^RODIAS

Ma fille a bien raison de demander la tdte
de eet homme. II a vomi des insultes contre
men. II a dit des choses monstrueuses contre
68

SALOME

moi On voit qu'elle aime beaucoup sa m^re
Ne c^ez pas, ma fille. D m jur^, il a jurd

Taisez-vous. Ne me parlez pas . . . Voyons,
Salom^, il faut dtre raisomiable, n'est-ce pas ?
N*est-ce pas qu'il faut 6tre raisomiable? Je
n'ai jamais ^t^ dur envers vous. Je vous ai
toujours aim^ . . . Peut-dtre, je vous ai trop
aim^. Ainsi, ne me demandez pas cela.
C'est horrible, e'est ^pouvantable de me de-
mander cela. Au fond, je ne crois pas que
vous soyez s^euse. La tSte d'un homme
d^capit^, c'est une chose laide, n'est-ce pas!
Ce n'est pas une chose qu une vierge doive
regarder. Quel plaisir cela pourrait-il vous
donner ? Aucun. Non, non, vous ne voulez
pas cela . • • £coutez-moi un instant J'ai
une ^meraude, une grande ^meraude ronde
que le favori de C&ar m'a envoy^. Si
vous r^fardiez k travers cette ^meraude vous
pourriez voir des choses qui se passent k une
distance immense. C^sar lui-m^me en porte
une tout k fait pareille quand U va au cirque.
Blais la mienne est plus grande. C'est la pluf
grande ^meraude du monde. N'est-ce pas

SALOM16

que vous voulez cela? Demandez-moi cela
et je vous le donneraL

SALOM]^

Je demande la tdte d'lokanaan.

Rl^RODE

Vous ne m'^coutez pas, vous ne m'^outez
pas. Enfin, laissez-moi parler, Salom&

SALOM]^

La tdte d'lokanaan.

H^RODE

Non, non, vous ne voulez pas cela. Vous
me dites cela seulement pour me faire de la
peine, parce que je vous ai regard^ pendant
toute la soiree. Eh! bien, ouL Je vous ai
ref^ard^ pendant toute la soir^. Votre beauts
ma trouble. Votre beauts m*a terriblement
trouble, et je vous ai trop regard^. Mais je
ne le ferai plus. II ne faut regarder ni les
choses ni les personnes. II ne faut regarder
que dans les miroirs. Car les mi^irs ne nous
montrent que des masques . • . Oh 1 oh 1 du
vin I j'ai soif . . . Salom^, Salom^, soyons
amis. Enfin, voyez . . . Qu'est-ce que je
voulais dire ? Qu'est-ce que c*^tait ? Ah I je
m'en souviens 1 • • • Salom^ 1 Non^ venez plus
70

SALOME

prte de in<n. Xai peur que vous ne m'enten-
diez pas • • • Salom^, vous connaissez mes
paons blancs, mes beaux paons blancs, qui se
prominent dans le jardin entre les myites et
les grands cypr^ Lieurs bees sont dor^ et
les grains quails mangent sont dor^ aussi, et
leurs pieds sont teints de pourpre. La pluie
vient quand ils orient, et quand ils se
pavanent la lune se montre au cieL Ils
vont deux k deux entre les cypr^ et les
myrtes noirs et chaeun a son esclave pour
le soigner. Quelquefois ils volent k travers
les arbres, et quelquefois ils couchent sur
le gazon et autour de T^tang. II n*y a
pas dans le monde d'oiseaux si merveilleux.
II n'y aucun roi du monde qui poss^e des
oiseaux aussi merveilleux. Je suis silr que
m#me C6sslt ne possMe pas d'oiseaux aussi
beaux. Eh bien I je vous donnerai cinquante
de mes paons. lis vous suivront partout, et
au milieu d eux vous serez comme la lune dans
un grand nuage blane . . . Je vous les donne-
rai tous. Je n'en ai que cent, et il n'y a
aucun roi du monde qui poss^de des paons
oomme les miens, mais je vous les donnerai
tous. Seulement, il faut me d^lier de ma

SALOMlg

parole et ne pas me demander ce que vous
m'avez demand^. [// vide la coupe de vin.'\

8alom£

Donnez-moi la t£te dlokanaan.

HJ^RODIAS

Cast bien dit, ma fillel Vous, vous 6tes
ridicule avee vos paons.

H^RODE

Taisez-vous. Vous criez toujours. Vous
criez comma une b§te da proia. II ne faut
pas crier comma cala. Votre voix m*ennuie.
Taisaz-vous, je vous dis . . . Salom^, pensez
k ce que vous faites. Cet homme vient peut-
dtre de Dieu. Je suis stir qu'il vient de
Diau. C'est un saint homme. Lie doigt
de Dieu Ta touchy. Dieu a mis dans sa
bouche das mots terribles. Dans le palais,
comme dans le d^rt, Dieu est toujours avee
lui • . . Au moins, c'est possible. On ne
sait pas, mais il est possible que Dieu soit
pour lui et avee luL Aussi peut-dtre que s'il
mourrait, il m'arriverait un malheur. Enfin, il
a dit que le jour oti il mourrait il arriverait un
malheur k quelqu'un. Ce ne pent @tre qu'k
moL Souvenez-vous, j*ai gliss^ dans le sang
72

SALOME

quand je sois entr^ icL Aussi j'ai entendu un
battement d'ailes dans Fair, un battement
d*ailes gigantesques. Ce sont de tr^s mauvais
presages. Et il y en avait d'autres. Je suis
sCbr qu'il y en avait d'autres, quoique je ne les
aie pas vus. Eh bien I Salom^, vous ne voulez
pas qu'un malheur m'arrive ? Vous ne voulez
pas cela. Enfin, ^outez-moL

Donnez-moi la tSte d'lokanaan.

H^BODE

Vous voyez, vous ne m'^outez pas. Mais
sqyez calme. Moi, je suis tr^ calme. Je suis
tout k fait calme. l^coutez. J'ai des bijoux
cach& ici que mdme votre m^re n'a jamais
Tus, des bijoux tout k £Eut extraordinaires. J'ai
on coUier de perles k quatre rangs. On dirait
des lunes enchidn^ de rayons d'argent. On
diiait cinquante lunes captives dans un filet
d*or. Une reine Fa port^ sur llvoire de ses
seins. Toi, quand tu le porteras, tu seras
aussi belle qu'une reine. J'ai des am^thystes
de deux esp^ces. Une qui est noire comme
le vin. L*autre qui est rouge comme du vin
qa'cm a color^ avec de Teau. J'ai des topazes

SALOME

JAunes comme les yeux des tigres, et da
topazes roses comrae les yeux des pigeons, et
des topazes vertes comme les yeux des chats.
J'ai des opales qui brfilent toujours avec une
flamme qui est tr^s froide, des opales qui
attristent les esprits et ont peur des t^n^bres.
J'ai des onyx semblables aux prunelles d'une
mortc. J'ai des sdlenites ijL.i ebangent quand
la lune change et devienneiit pales quand elles
voieiit le soleil. .Fai des saphirs grands comme
des oeufs et bleus comme des fleurs bleues.
La mer erre dedans, et la lune ne vient jamais
troubler le bleu de ses flots. J'ai des chryso-
lithes et des beryls, j'ai des chrysoprases et des
rubb, j'ai des sardonyx et des hyacinthes, etj
des caIc(5doines et je vous les donnerai tons,
mais tons, et j'ajouterai d'autres choses. Le
roi des Indes vient justement de m'enroyer
quatre t^ventails faits de plumes de perro<|uets,
et le roi de Numidie une robe faite de plumes
d'autruche. J'ai un cristal qu'il n*est pas
pennis aux femmes de voir et que ro€me les
jeunes homines ne doivent regarder qu'aprtej
avoir ^t^ flagelk'^s de verges. Dans un cof"
de nacre j'ai trois turquoises merveillp-
Quand on les porte sur le front r
74

SALOM16

h:£eode [s'affaissant sur son s^ge\

Qu on lui donne ce quelle demande 1 C'est
bien la fille de sa m^rel [Le premier soUat
s'approche. Hirodias prend de la main du
titrarque la bague de la mart et la danne au
soldat qui fapporte immidiatement au dourreau.
Le bourreau a Fair effari7\ Qui a piis ma
bague? II y avait une bague k ma main
droite. Qui a bu mon vin ! II y avait du
vin dans ma coupe. EUe ^tait pleine de vin.
Quelqu*un I'a bu ? Oh I je suis sClr qull va
arriver un malheur k quelqu'un. \Le bourreau
descend dans la citeme.'\ Ah I pourquoi ai-je
donn^ ma parole? Les rois ne doivent
jamais donner leur parole. S'ils ne la garden!
pas, c'est terrible. S'ils la gardent, e'est terrible
aussi • • •

Hl^RODIAS

Je trouve que ma fille a bien fait.

Hl^RODE

Je suis silr qu'il va arriver un malheur.

SALOM^ \Elle sepenche sur la citeme et ico%UeI\
II n'y a pas de bruit Je n'entends rien.
Pourquoi ne crie-t-il pas, cet homme ? Ah !
76

SALOM&

si quelqa'un cherchait k me tuer, je crienus,
je me d^battrais, je ne voudrais pas soufiUr . • •
Frappe, frappe, Naaman. Frappe, je te
dis . • • Non. Je n'entends rien. II y a wi
silence affreux. Ah 1 quelque chose est tomb^
par tene. J'ai entendu quelque chose tomber.
C'^tait Y6p6t du bourreau. II a peur, cet
esdavel II a laiss^ tomber son ^p^. II
n'ose pas le tuer. C'est un l&che, cet esclave !
U faut envoyer des soldats. [E/le voit Upage
dHirodias et s'adresse d lui.'] Viens icL Ta
as 4it6 I'ami de celui qui est mort, n'est-ce
pas? Eh bien, il n'y a pas eu assez de
moits. Dites aux soldats qu'ils descendent
et m'apportent ce que je demande, ce que le
t^trarque m'a promis, ce qui m appartient.
[Le page recule. Elle s^adresse aux soldats.']
Venez ici, soldats. Descendez dans cette
citeme, et apportez-moi la tSte de cet honune.
[Les soldats reculent.'] T^trarque, t^trarque,
conunandez k vos soldats de m'apporter la
tfite d'lokanaan. \^Un grand bras noir^ le bras
du bourreau^ sort de la citeme apportant sur un
bauclier d' argent la tite d'lokanaan. Salami la
saisit. Hirode se cache le visage avec son
manteau. Hirodias sourit et s'ivente. Le$

SALOM6

Nazariens s^agenoutllent et cammencent d
prier.'] Ah I tu n'as pas voulu me laisser
baiser ta bouche, lokanaan. Eh bieni je
la baiserai maintenant. Je la mordrai avec
mes dents comme on mord un fiiiit miir.
Oiii, je baiserai ta bouche, lokanaan. Je te
Tai dit, n'est-ce pas? je te I'ai dit. £h
bienl je la baiserai maintenant . . . Mais
pourquoi ne me regardes-tu pas, lokanaan ?
Tes yeux qui ^taient si tembles, qui
^taient si pleins de colore et de m^pris, ils
sont ferm^ ? Ouvre tes yeux 1 Soul^ve tes
paupi^res, lokanaan. Pourquoi ne me re-
gardes-tu pas ? As-tu peur de moi, lokanaan,
que tu ne veux pas me r^arder ? . . . Et ta
langue qui ^tait comme un serpent rouge
dardant des poisons, elle ne remue plus, elle
ne dit rien maintenant, lokanaan, eette vip^re
rouge qui a vomi son venin sur moL C'est
Strange, n'est-ce pas? Comment se fait-il
que la vip^re rouge ne remue plus ! • . • Tu
n'as pas voulu de moi, lokanaan. Tu m'as
rejetie. Tu m'ms dit des choses inflELmes. Tu
m'as traits comme une oourtisane, conune
une prostitu^ moi, Salom^, (ille d'H^rodias,
Princesse de Jud^ t Eh bieo, lokanaan, moi
7S

SALOME

je vis encore, mais toi tu es mort et ta tdte
m'appartient. Je puis en faire ce que je veux.
Je puis la jeter aux chiens et aux oiseaux de
Tair. Ce que laisseront les chiens, les oiseaux
de Tair le mangeront . . . Ah ! lokanaan, loka-
naan, tu as 6t6 le seul homme que j'ai aim^.
Tous les autres hommes m'inspirent du d^goiit.
Mais, toi, tu ^tais beau« Ton corps ^tait une
colonne dlvoire sur un socle d'argent C'^tait
on jardin plein de colombes et de lis d'argent.
C'^it une tour d'argent om^ de boucliers
dlvoire. II n'y avait rien au monde d'aussi
blanc que ton corps. 11 n'y avait rien au
monde d anssi noir que tes cheveux. Dans
le monde tout entier il n'y avait rien d'aussi
rouge que ta bouche. Ta voix ^tait un en-
ooisoir qui r^pandait d'^tranges parftims, et
quand je te regardais j'entendais une musique
strange ! Ah I pourquoi ne m'as-tu pas re-
gard^, lokanaan ? Derri^re tes mains et tes
blasphemes tu as cach^ ton visage. Tu as
mis sur tes yeux le bandeau de celui qui veut
▼oir son Dieu. Eh bien, tu Tas vu, ton Dieu,
lokanaan, mais moi, moi . . . tu ne m'as
jamais vue. Si tu m'avais vue, tu m'aurais
aim^ Moi, je t'ai vu, lokanaan, et je t'ai

SALOMli

aim^. Oh ! comme je t*ai aimd Je Vdme
encore, lokanaan. Je n aime que toi • . • J*ai
foif de ta beauts. J'ai faim de ton eoipt.
Et ni le vin, ni les fruits ne peavcnt mfuwa
mon d^r. Que ferai-je, IcAanaan, nydn-
tenant ? Ni les fleuves ni les grandes
ne pourraient ^teindre ma passion,
une Princesse, tu m'as d^daign^ T4tmB une
vierge, tu m as d^or^. J*^tais diaste» ta as
rempli mes veines de feu . . . Ah! Ah!
pourquoi ne m'as-tu pas regard^, lokanaan?
Si tu m'avais regard^, tu m'aurais aim^ Je
sais bien que tu m aurais aim^, et le mysAire
de I'amour est plus grand que le myst^ de
la mort II ne &ut regarder que Tamour.

H^RODE

Elle est monstrueuse, ta fille, elle est tout
k fait monstrueuse. Enfin, ce qu'elle a fiiit
est un grand crime. Je suis siir que e'est un
crime contre un Dieu inconnu.

H^RODIAS

J'approuve ce que ma fiUe a fait, et je weax,
rester ici maintenant.

HJ^RODE [se levanf\
Ah! r^pouse incestueuse qui parle 1 ViensI
80

TaE CLULVX.

SALOME

Je ne veux pas rester icL Viens, je te dis. Je
suis siir qu*il va arriver un malheur. Manasse,
Issachar, Ozias, ^teignez les flambeaux. Je ne
veux pas regarder les choses. Je ne veux pas
que les choses me regardent Eteignez les
flambeaux. Cachez la lune! Cachez les
^toiles! Cachons-nous dans notre palais,
H^rodias. Je commence k avoir peur.

[JLes esclaves iteignent les flambeaux. Les
itoiles disparaissent. Un grand nuage
noir passe d travers la lune et la cache
compQtement La schu devient tout d
fait sombre. Le i^trarque commence d
monter lescalier.']

LJl VOIX D£ SALOMl^

Ah! j'ai bais^ ta bouche, lokanaan, j'ai
bais^ ta bouche. II y avait une &cre
saveur sur tes Idvres. !l^tait-ce la saveur du
sang? . • . Mais, peut-6tre est-ce la saveur
de I'amour. On dit que I'amour a une &cre
saveur . . . Mais, qu'importe ? Qulmporte ?
J'ai bais^ ta bouche, lokanaan, j'ai bais^ ta
bouche.

[Un rayon de lune tombe sur Saiomi et
r^laire.']

y 81

salom£

H]£rode [se retoumant et voyant Salom/]
Tuez cette femme !
\Les soldats s'ilancent et icrasent sous Uurs

boucliers ScUomi, fille €CHirodtas^

usu deJu4Ue.'\

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

wmjpUiei, The wtU-known poei, Mr, T.
Siurge Mooi% hnu wriUen a/n upetwng 9oeme
for the purpo§e$ of preienUUion^ bul otUp
0$oar Wildt^B work u given here,

AprivaU perf o r mancewoBgivenhiftheLiiorarp
Theatre Chib tn 1906. Thefrtt pubiie prt^
mntaiion wot gwen by ik€ New Engluk
Playere at The OripplegaU IntMute, Goldm
Lane, E.O., in 1907. Oerman^ French, and
Sunfforian tramlaiioni haiee beenpreeenied
an the Continental etage,

ihamatie wnd U ter w rp riffhti art the yro p e r tp
of Robert Roee»

Maw ietiwAfor thejiret time, 1907.

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

IBnter the husband]

8IMONE

My good wife, you come slowly, were it not

better
To run to meet your lord ? Here, take my

cloak.
Take this pack first. Tis heavy. I have sold

nothing :
Save a furred robe unto the Cardinal's son»
Who hopes to wear it when his father dies»
And hopes that will be soon.

But who is this f
Why you have here some friend. Some kins-
man doubtless,
Newly returned from foreign lands and fallen
Upon a house without a host to greet him ?
I crave your pardon, kinsman. For a house
Lacking a host is but an empty thing
And void of honour ; a cup without its wine»
A scabbard without steel to keep it straight.

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

A flowerless garden widowed of the sun.
Again I crave your pardon» my sweet cousin.

BIANCA

This is no kinsman and no cousin neither.

SIMONE

No kinsman^ and no cousin I You amaze

me.
Who is it then who with such courtly grace
Deigns to accept our hospitalities f

GUIDO

My name is Guido BardL

SIMONE

What ! The son
Of that great Lord of Florence whose dim

towers
Like shadows silvered by the wandering moon
I see from out my casement every night I
Sir Guido Bardi, you are welcome here.
Twice welcome. For I trust my honest wife.
Most honest if uncomely to the eye.
Hath not with foolish chatterings wearied

you.
As is the wont of women.

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

GUIDO

Tour gracious lady.
Whose beauty is a lamp that pales the stars
And robs Diana's quiver of her beams
Has welcomed me with such sweet courtesies
That if it be her pleasure, and your own,
I will come often to your simple house.
And when your business bids you walk abroad
I will sit here and charm her loneliness
Lest she might sorrow for you overmuch.
What say you, good Simone ?

SIMONS

My noble Lord,
Tou bring me such high honour that my

tongue
Like a slave's tongue is tied, and cannot say
The word it would. Yet not to give you

thanks
Were to be too unmannerly. So, I thank

you.
From my heart's core.

It is such things as these
That knit a state together, when a Prmce
So nobly bom and of such fair address.
Forgetting unjust Fortune's differences,

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

Comes to an honest burgher's honest home
As a most honest friend.

And yet, my Lord,
I fear I am too bold. Some other night
We trust that you will come here as a friend,
To-night you come to buy my merchandise.
Is it not so ? Silks, velvets, what you will,
I doubt not but I have some dainty wares
Will woo your fancy. True, the hour is late.
But we poor merchants toil both night and

day
To make our scanty gains. The tolls are high.
And every city levies its own toll.
And prentices are unskilful, and wives even
Lack sense and cunning, though Bianca here
Has brought me a rich customer to-night.
Is it not so, Bianca ? But I waste time.
Where is my pack? Where is my pack,

I say?
Open it, my good wife. Unloose the cords.
Kneel down upon the floor. You are better so.
Nay not that one, the other. Despatch,

despatch !
Buyers will grow impatient oftentimes.
We dare not keep them waiting. Ayl 'tis

that,

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

Give it to me ; with care. It is most costly.
Touch it with care. And now, my noble Lord —
Nay, pardon, I have here a Lucca damask*
The very web of silver and the roses
So cunningly wrought that they lack perfume

merely
To cheat the wanton sense. Touch it, my

Lord.
Is it not soft as water, strong as steel ?
And then the roses! Are they not finely

woven?
I think the hillsides that best love the rose.
At BeUosguardo or at Fiesole,
Throw no such blossoms on the lap of spring.
Or if they do their blossoms droop and die.
Such is the fate of all the dainty things
That dance in wind and water. Nature her-
self
Makes war on her own loveliness and slays
Her children like Medea. Nay but, my Lord,
Look closer stilL Why in this damask here
It is summer always, and no winter s tooth
Will ever blight these blossoms. For every

eU
I paid a piece of gold. Red gold, and good.
The firuit of careful thrift.

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

OUIDO

Honest Simone,
Enough, I pray you. I am well content.
To-morrow I will send my servant to you.
Who will pay twice your price.

SIMONE

My generous Prince I
I kiss your hands. And now I do remember
Another treasure hidden in my house
Which you must see. It is a robe of state :
Woven by a Venetian : the stuff, cut- velvet :
The pattern, pomegranates: each separate

seed
Wrought of a pearl : the collar all of pearls.
As thick as moths in summer streets at night.
And whiter than the moons that madmen see
Through prison bars at morning. A male ruby
Bums like a lighted coal within the clasp.
The Holy Father has not such a stone.
Nor could the Indies show a brother to it.
The brooch itself is of most curious art,
Cellini never made a fairer thing
To please the great Lorenzo. You must

wear it.
There is none worthier in our city here.
And it will suit you welL Upon one side

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

slim and homed satyr leaps in gold
TTo catch some nymph of silver. Upon the

other
Stands Silence with a cr3rstal in her hand,
^o higger than the smallest ear of com.
That wavers at the passing of a bird.
And yet so cminingly wrought that one would

say
It breathed, or held its breath.

Worthy Bianca,
Would not this noble and most costly robe
Suit young Lord Guido well ?

Nay, but entreat him ;
He will refuse you nothing, though the price
Be as a prince's ransom. And your profit
Shall not be less than mine.

BIANCA

Am I your prentice f
Why should I chaffer for your velvet robe ?

GUIDO

Nay, fiur Bianca, I will buy the robe.
And aU things that the honest merchant has
I will buy also. Princes must be ransomed.
And fortunate are all high lords who fall
Into the white hands of so £ur a foe.

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

SIMONE

I stand rebuked. But you will buy my wares ?
Will you not buy them ? Fifty thousand crowns
Would scarce repay me. But you, my Lord,

shall have them
For forty thousand. Is that price too high ?
Name your own price. I have a curious fancy
To see you in this wonder of the loom
Amidst the noble ladies of the court,
A flower among flowers.

They say, my lord.
These highborn dames do so affect your Grace
That where you go they throng like flies

around you.
Each seeking for your favour.

I have heard also
Of husbands that wear horns, and wear them

bravely,
A fashion most fantastical

OUIDO

Simone,
Your reckless tongue needs curbing; and

besides.
You do forget this gracious lady here
Whose delicate ears are surely not attuned
To such coarse music.

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

SIMONE

True : I had forgotten.
Nor will offend again. Yet, my sweet Lord,
You 11 buy the robe of state. Will you not

buy it ?
But forty thousand crowns. Tis but a trifle.
To one who is Giovanni Bardi s heir.

GUIDO

Settle this thing to-morrow with my steward

Antonio Costa. He will come to you.

And you will have a hundred thousand

crowns
If that will serve your purpose.

SOfONE

A hundred thousand !
Said you a hundred thousand? Ohl be sure
That will for aU time, and in ever)rthing
Make me your debtor. Ay ! from this time

forth
My house, with everything my house contains
Is yours, and only yours.

A hundred thousand 1
My brain is dazed. I will be riclier far
Than mil the other merchants. I will buy

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

Vineyards, and lands, and gardens. Every

loom
From Milan down to Sicily shall be mine.
And mine the pearls that the Arabian seas
Store in their silent caverns.

Grcnerous Prince,
This night shall prove the herald of my love.
Which is so great that whatsoe'er you ask
It will not be denied you.

OUIDO

What if I asked
For white Bianca here ?

SIMONE

You jest, my Lord,
She is not worthy of so great a Prince.
She is but made to keep the house and spin.
Is it not so, good wife ? It is so. Look 1
Your distaff waits for you. Sit down and

spin.
Women should not be idle in their homes.
For idle fingers make a thoughtless heart.
Sit down, I say.

BIANCA

What shall I spin ?
94

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

smoNE

Oh ! spin

Some robe which, dyed in purple, sorrow

might wear
F"or her own comforting : or some long-fringed

doth
In which a new-bom and unwelcome babe
^A>4ight wail unheeded ; or a dainty sheet
^^iThich, delicately perfumed with sweet herbs,
^BM[ight serve to wrap a dead man. Spin what

you will;
care not, I.

The brittle thread is broken,
^The dull wheel wearies of its ceaseless round,
^The duller distaff sickens of its load ;
I will not spin to-night.

smoNE

It matters not
To-morrow you shall spin, and every day
Shall find you at your distaff. So Lucretia
Was found by Tarquin. So, perchance,

Lucretia
Waited for Tarquin. Who knows ? I have
heard

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

Strange things about men's wives. And now,

my lord.
What news abroad ? I heard to-day at Pisa
That certain of the English merchants there
Would sell their woollens at a lower rate
Than the just laws allow, and have entreated
The Signory to hear thenL

Is this well ?
Should merchant be to merchant as a wolf?
And should the stranger living in our land
Seek by enforced privilege or craft
To rob us of our profits ?

OUIDO

What should I do
With merchants or their profits ? Shall I g(M
And wrangle with the Signory on your count
And wear the gown in which you buy from

fools.
Or sell to sillier bidders ? Honest Simone,
Wool-selling or wool-gathering is for you.
My wits have other quarries.

BIANCA

Noble LfOrd,
I pray you pardon my good husband here.
His soul stands ever in the market -place,
96

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

And his heart beats but at the price of wooL

Yet he is honest in his common way.

[ To simone]

AJid you, have you no shame? A gracious

Prince
Oomes to our house, and you must weary him
l^ith most misplaced assurance. Ask his

pardon.

SniONE

X ask it humbly. We will talk to-night
Of other things. I hear the Holy Father
Has sent a letter to the King of France
Bidding him cross that shield of snow, the

Alps,
And make a peace in Italy, which will be
Worse than war of brothers, and more bloody
Than civil rapine or intestine feuds.

ounx)

Oh 1 we are weary of that King of France,
Who never comes, but ever talks of coming.
What are these things to me? There arc

other things
Closer, and of more import, good Simone.

BIANCA [to SFMONE]

I think you tire our most gracious guest
• 97

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

What is the King of France to us ? As much
As are your English merchants with their
wooL

8IMONE

Is it so then ? Is all this mighty world
Narrowed into the confines of this room
With but three souls for poor inhabitants ?
Ay! there are times when the great uni-
verse.
Like cloth in some unskilful dyer's vat.
Shrivels into a handsbreadth, and perchance
That time is now 1 Well I let that time be

now.
Let this mean room be as that mighty stage
Whereon kings die, and our ignoble Uvea
Become the stakes Grod plajrs for.

I do not know
Why I speak thus. My ride has wearied me.
And my horse stumbled thrice, which is an

omen
That bodes not good to any.

Alas ! my lord^
How poor a bargain is this life of man.
And in how mean a market are we sold 1
M

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

When we are bom our mothers weep, but

when
We die there is none weep for us. No, not

one. [Passes to back of stage^

BIANCA

How like m common chapman does he speak !
I hate him, soul and body. Cowardice
Has set her pale seal on his brow. His hands
Whiter than poplar leaves in windy springs.
Shake with some palsy ; and his stammering

mouth
Blurts out a foolish froth of empty words
Like water from a conduit

GUIDO

Sweet Bianca,
He is not worthy of your thought or mine.
The man is but a very honest knave
Full of fine phrases for life's merchandise.
Selling most dear what he must hold most

cheap,
A windy brawler in a world of words.
I never met so eloquent a fooL

BIANCA

Oh, would that Death might take him where
he stands I

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

SIMONE [iurntng' roufui]

Who spake of Death ? Let no one speak of

Death.
What should Death do in such a merry house,
With but a wife, a husband, and a friend
To give it greeting ? Let Death go to houses
Where there are yile, adulterous things, chaste

wives
Who growing weary of their noble lords
Draw back the curtains of their marriage

beds.
And in polluted and dishonoured sheets
Feed some unlawful lust Ay 1 'tis so
Strange, and yet so. You do not know the

world.
Tou are too single and too honourable.
I know it well. And would it were not so.
But wisdom comes with winters. My hair

grows grey,
And youth has left my body. Enough of

that.
To-night is ripe for pleasure, and indeed,
I would be merry, as beseems a host
Who finds a gracious and unlooked-for guest
Waiting to greet him. [ Takes up a /uie.]

But what is this, my lord ?

100

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

Why, you have brought a lute to play to us.
Oh ! play, sweet Prince. And, if I am bold.
Pardon, but play.

GUIDO

I will not play to-night.
Some other night, Simone.
{^To bianca] You and I

Together, with no listeners but the stars.
Or the more jealous moon.

SIHONE

Nay, but my lord !
Nay, but I do beseech you. For I have

heard
That by the simple fingering of a string,
Or delicate breath breathed along hollowed

reeds.
Or blown into cold mouths of cunning bronze.
Those who are curious in this art can draw
Poor souls from prison-houses. I have heard

also
How such strange magic lurks within these

shells
And innocence puts vine-leaves in her hair.
And wantons like a maenad. Let that

pass.

101

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

Your lute I know is chaste. And therefore

play:
Ravish my ears with some sweet melody ;
My soul is in a prison-house, and needs
Music to cure its madness. Good Bianca»
Entreat our guest to play.

BIANCA

Be not afraid.
Our well-loved guest will choose his place and

moment :
That moment is not now. You weary, him
With your uncouth insistence.

Gumo

Honest Simone,
Some other night. To-night I am content
With the low music of Bianca's voice.
Who, when she speaks, charms the too

amorous air.
And makes the reeling earth stand still, or

fix
EUs cycle round her beauty.

SIMONS

You flatter her.
She has her virtues as most women have.
But beauty is a gem she may not wear.
102

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

It is better so, perchance.

Well, my dear lord.
If you will not draw melodies from your

lute
To charm my moody and o'er-troubled soul
You 11 drink with me at least ? ^Sees table.']

Your place is laid.
Fetch me a stool, Bianca. Close the shutters.
Set the great bar across. I would not have
The curious world with its small prying eyes
To peer upon our pleasure.

Now, my lord.
Give us a toast firom a full brimming cup.

[Starts dackJ]
What is this stain upon the cloth? It

looks
As purple as a wound upon Christ's side.
Wine merely is it ? I have heard it said
When wine is spilt blood is spilt also.
But that 's a foolish tale.

My lord, I trust
My grape is to your liking? The wine of

Naples
Is fiery like its mountains. Our Tuscan

vineyards
Yield a more wholesome juice.

108

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

GUIDO

I like it well,
Honest Simone ; and, with your good leave,
Will toast the fair Bianca when her lips
Have like red rose-leaves floated on this

cup
And left its vintage sweeter. Taste, Bianca.

[bianca drtn^.'\
Oh, all the honey of Hyblean bees.
Matched with this draught were bitter !

Good Simone,
You do not share the feast

SIMONE

It is strange, my lord,
I cannot eat or drink with you, to-night
Some humour, or some fever in my blood.
At other seasons temperate, or some thought
That like an adder creeps from point to point.
That like a madman crawls from cell to ceU,
Poisons my palate and makes appetite
A loathing, not a longing. IGoes asideJ]

OUIDO

Sweet Bianca»
This common chapman wearies me with
words.
104

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

I must go hence. To-morrow I will come.
Tell me the hour.

BIANCA

Come with the youngest dawn I
Until I see you aU my life is vain.

OUIDO

Ah ! loose the falling midnight of your hair.
And in those stars, your eyes, let me behold
Mine image, as in mirrors. Dear Bianca,
Though it be but a shadow, keep me there.
Nor gaze at anything that does not show
Some symbol of my semblance. I am jealous
Of what your vision feasts on.

BIANCA

Oh ! be sure
Your image will be with me always. Dear,
Love can translate the very meanest thing
Into a sign of sweet remembrances.
But come before the lark with its shrill song
Has waked a world of dreamers. I will stand
Upon the balcony,

GUIDO

And by a ladder
Wrou^t out of scarlet sUk and sewn with
pearls

105

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

Will come to meet me. White foot after foot.
Like snow upon a rose-tree.

BIANCA

As you will.
You know that I am yours for love or
Death.

GUIDO

Simone, I must go to mine house.

SIMONE

So soon? Why should you? the great

Duomo's bell
Has not yet tolled its midnight, and the

watchman
Who with their hollow horns mock the pale

moon,
Lie drowsy in their towers. Stay awhile.
I fear we may not see you here again.
And that fear saddens my too simple heart.

OUIDO

Be not afraid, Simone. I will stand
Most constant in my friendship. But to-night
I go to mine own home, and that at once.
To-morrow, sweet Bianca.
106

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

SIMONS

Well, well, so be it.
I would have wished for fuUer converse with

you.
My new firiend, my honourable guest.
But that it seems may not be.

And besides
I do not doubt your father waits for you,
Weaijring for voice or footstep. You, I

think.
Are his one child ? He has no other child.
You are the gracious pillar of his house.
The flower of a garden full of weeds.
Your £ither^s nephews do not love him welL
So run folk's tongues in Florence. I meant

but that ;
Men say they envy your inheritance
And look upon your vineyard with fierce eyes
As Ahab looked on Naboth's goodly field.
But that is but the chatter of a town
Where women talk too much.

Good night, my lord.
Fetch a pine torch, Bianca. The old stair-

Ii full of pitfalls, and the churlish moon
Grows, like a miser, niggard of her beams,

107

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

And hides her face behind a muslin mask
As harlots do when they go forth to snare
Some wretched soul in sin. Now, I will get
Your cloak and sword. Nay, pardon, my

good Lord,
It is but meet that I should wait on you
Who have so honoured my poor burgher's

house.
Drunk of my wine, and broken bread, and

made
Yourself a sweet familiar. Oftentimes
My wife and I will talk of this fair night
And its great issues.

Why, what a sword is this I
Ferrara's temper, pliant as a snake.
And deadlier, I doubt not. With such steel
One need fear nothing in the moil of life.
I never touched so delicate a blade
I have a sword too, somewhat rusted now.
We men of peace are taught humility.
And to bear many burdens on our backs.
And not to murmur at an unjust world.
And to endure unjust indignities.
We are taught that, and like the patient Jew
Find profit in our pain.

Yet I remember

108

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

How once upon the road to Padua

A robber sought to take my pack-horse from

me,
I slit his throat and left him. I can bear
Dishonour, public insult, many shames.
Shrill scorn, and open contumely, but he
Who filches from me something that is mine.
Ay ! though it be the meanest trencher-plate
From which I feed mine appetite — oh ! he
Perils his soul and body in the theft
And dies for his small sin. From what

strange clay
We men are moulded !

GUUK)

Why do you speak like this f

SDfONE

I wonder, my Lord Guido, if my sword
Is better tempered than this steel of yours ?
Shall we make trial ? Or is my state too low
For you to cross your rapier against mine,
In jest, or earnest ?

GUIIX)

Naught would please me better
Than to stand fronting you with naked
blade

109

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

In jest, or earnest. Give me mine o^

sword.
Fetch yours. To-night will settle the grei

issue
Whether the Prince's or the merchant's stee
Is better tempered. Was not that yoi

word ?
Fetch your own sword. Why do you tarr

sir?

SIMONE

My lord, of all the gracious courtesies
That you have showered on my barren housn
This is the highest.

Bianca, fetch my sword
Thrust back that stool and table. We mw

have
An open circle for our match at arms.
And good Bianca here shall hold the torch
Lest what is but a jest grow serious.

BIANCA [to GUIDO]

Oh! kill him, kiU him 1

SIMONS

Hold the torch, Bianc

l^Tiey i^n tofrglU
110

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

SIMONS

Have at you ! Ah 1 Ha ! would you f

{He is wounded by OUIDO.]
A scratch, no more. The torch was in mine

eyes.
Do not look sad, Bianca. It is nothing.
Vour husband bleeds, 'tis nothing. Take a

cloth.
Bind it about mine arm. Nay, not so tight.
More softly, my good wife. And be not sad,
I pray you be not sad. No : take it off.
What matter if I bleed ? \Tears bandage off^

Again! again 1
[^siMONE disarms oumo]
^y gentle Lord, you see that I was right.
]dy sword is better tempered, finer steel,
IBut let us match our daggers.

iBiANCA \to oumo]
Kill him! kiUhim!

aOfONE

Put out the torch, Bianca.

[bianca puts out torck.']
Now, my good Liord^
Now to the death of one, or both of us.
Or all the three it may be. l^^yj^£^^*]

111

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

There and there.
Ah, devil ! do I hold thee in my grip ?

[siMONE overpowers guido and throws him
down over table.'\

GUIDO

Fooll take your strangling fingers from my

throat.
I am my &ther's only son ; the State
Has but one heir, and that false enemy France
Waits for the ending of my father's line
To fall upon our city.

SIMONE

Hush ! your father
When he is childless will be happier.
As for the State, I think our state of Florence
Needs no adulterous pilot at its helm.
Your life would soil its lilies.

GUIDO

Take ofi^ your hands.
Take off your damned hands. Loose me, I
say 1

SIMONE

Nay, you are caught in such a cunning vice
That nothing will avail you, and your life
112

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

Narrowed into a single point of shame
Ends with that shame and ends most shame-
fiiUy.

auiDo

Oh 1 let me have a priest before I die 1

SUtfONE

Wlutt wouldst thou have a priest for ? Tell

thy sins
To Gk>d, whom thou shalt see this very night
And then no more for ever. Tell thy sins
'^o Him who is most just, being pitiless,
^ost pitifid being just As for myself. • • •

0^ ! help me, sweet Bianca I help me, Bianca,
^tiou knowest I am innocent of harm.

'^^^^at, is there life yet in those lying lips ?
^^ like a dog with lolling tongue! Diet

Die!
-^^^d the dumb river shall receive your corse
^^d wash it all unheeded to the sea.

^XriDO

^x>rd Christ receive my wretched soul to-
night!

R 118

A FLORENTINE TRAGEDY

8IMONE

Amen to that. Now for the other.

[Ife dies, simone rises and looks at biakca
She comes towards him as one dazea ttntl
wonder and with outstretched armsJ]

BIANCA

Why
Did you not tell me you were so strong ?

8IMONE

Why
Did you not tell me you were beautiful ?

[He kisses her on the mouthJ

CUETAIN

114

VERA

THE NIHILISTS

A DRAMA IN A
FROLOOUS, AND FOUR ACTS

)

tTdi pktg «■» mritttm in 1881, omd 4$
(1907) pubUihed for the Jint timewUk the
muthor'9 awn carreetiofu and additiom !•
ike original text, wHeh toa# privately pritUed
in New York, 1882. Pirated edUiame haoe
been printed Jrom the prompt eopiee.

The Mterary and dramatio righte are tke
pFoperi^ ^ Bebert Roet^

PERSONS IN THE PROLOGUE

PETER SABOUROFF (an Innkeeper)

VERA SABOUROFF (his Daughter)

MICHAEL (a Peasant)

DMITRI SABOUROFF

NICOLAS

COLONEL KOTEMKIN

PERSONS IN THE PLAY

IVAN THE CZAR

PRINCE PAUL MARALOFFSKI (PHme Minialer

of Rnssia)
PRINCE PETROVITCH
COUNT ROUVALOFF
MARQUIS DE POIVRARD
BARON RAFF
GENERAL KOTEMKIN
A Page
Colonel of the Guard

HIHILISTS

PETER TCHERNAVITCH, President of the

Nihilists.
MICHAEL
ALEXIS IVANACIEVITCH, known as a Student

of Medicine
PROFESSOR MARFA
VERA SABOUROFF

Scddiersj Conspirators, etc

PROLOGUE

SCENE

A Russian Itm *

Large door opening on snowy landscape at back of stage.

[PETEK SABOUBOFF and MICHAEL]

\Warming his hands at a staveJ] Has Vera
not come back yet, Michael ?

inCHAEL

No, Father Peter, not yet; 'tis a good
three miles to the post office, and she has to
milk the cows besides, and that dun one is
a rare plaguey creature for a wench to handle.

Why didn't you go with her, you young
fool ? she '11 never love you unless you are
always at her heels; women like to be
bothered.

MICHAEL

She says I bother her too much already,

119

VERA;

PROLOGUE Father Peter, and I fear she 11 never love me
after alL

FETER

Tut, tut, boy, why shouldn't she? you're
young, and wouldn't be ill-favoured either,
had God or thy mother given thee another
face. Aren't you one of Prince Maraloffski's
gamekeepers; and haven't you got a good
grass farm, and the best cow in the village 1
What more does a girl want ?

MICHAEL

But Vera, Father Peter—

PETER

Vera, my lad, has got too many ideas; I
don't think much of ideas myself ; I 've got
on well enough in life without 'em; why
shouldn't my children ? There 's Dmitri !
could have stayed here and kept the inn;
many a young lad would have jumped at the
offer in these hard times; but he, scatter-
brained featherhead of a boy, must needs go
off to Moscow to study the law 1 What does
he want knowing about the law 1 let a man
do his duty, say I, and no one will trouble
him.
120

OR, THE NIHILISTS

MICHAEL PROLOGUE

Ay 1 but. Father Peter, they say a good
lawyer can break the law as often as he likes,
and no one can say him nay. If a man knows
the law he knows his duty.

True, Michael, if a man knows the law
there is nothing illegal he cannot do when he
likes : that is why folk become lawyers. That
is about all they are good for ; and there he
stays, and has not written a line to us for
four months now — a good son that, eh ?

Come, come. Father Peter, Dmitri's letters
nust have gone astray — perhaps the new
postman can't read ; he looks stupid enough,
mnd Dmitri, why, he was the best fellow in
'the village. Do you remember how he shot
^he bear at the barn in the great winter ?

Ay, it was a good shot; I never did a
l)etter myself

mCHAEX.

And as for dancing, he tired out three
fiddlers Christmas come two years.

121

VERA;

FROLOGUB PETEE

Ay, ay, he was a merry lad. It is the girl
that has the seriousness — she goes about as
solemn as a priest for days at a time.

MICHAEL

Vera is always thinking of others.

PETEE

There is her mistake, boy. Let Gk>d and
QUI little Father the Czar look to the world.
It is none of my work to mend my neighbour's
thatch. Why, last winter old Michael was
frozen to death in his sleigh in the snowstorm,
and his wife and children starved afterwards
when the hard times came ; but what business
was it of mine ? I didn't make the world.
Let Gk>d and the Czar look to it. And then
the blight came, and the black plague with
it, and the priests couldn't bury the people
fast enough, and they lay dead on the roads
— men and women both. But what business
was it of mine? I didn't make the world.
Let God and the Czar look to it. Or two
autumns ago, when the river overflowed on a
sudden, and the children's school was carried
away and drowned every girl and boy in it.
122

OR. THE NIHILISTS

I didn't make the world — let God or the VBOWGUE
Czar look to it.

But. Father Peter—

FKTER

No. no. boy ; no man could live if he took
bis neighbour's pack on his shoulders. [£nier
yvBJL in peasant' sdressJ] Well, my girl, you Ve
been long enough away — ^where is the letter t

There is none to-day. Father.

I knew it.

But there will be one to-morrow. Father.

Curse him. for an ungrateful son.

O Father, don't say that; he must be

Ay 1 Sick of profligacy, perhaps.

128

VERA;

PBOLOGUE VERA

How dare you say that of him. Father?
You know that is not true.

PETER

Where does the money go, then ? Michael,
listen. I gave Dmitri half his mother's fortune
to bring with him to pay the lawyer folk at
Moscow. He has only written tluree times,
and every time for more money. He got it,
not at my wish, but at hers {pointing to vera],
and now for five months, close on six almost,
we have heard nothing from him.

Father, he will come back.

feter

Ay I the prodigals always return; but let
him never darken my doors again.

VERA

[Sitting dawn pensive.'] Some evil has come
on him ; he must be dead ! Oh 1 Michael,
I am so wretched about Dmitri.

MICHAEL

Will you never love any one but him.
Vera?
124

OB, THE NIHILISTS

[Smi/ing'.'] I don't know ; there is so much
else to do in the world but love.

MICHAEL

Nothing else worth doing. Vera.

PROLOOUK

What noise is that. Vera ? [A metallic clink
is heard.']

[Risii^ and going to the doorJ] I don 't know.
Father; it is not like the cattle bells, or I
would think Nicholas had come from the fair.
Oh Father I it is soldiers coming down the
hill — there is one of them on horseback. How
pretty they look 1 Byt there are some men
with them, with chains on 1 They must be
robbers. Ohl don't let them in. Father; I
couldn't look at them.

Men in chains 1 Why, we are in luck, my
diild I I heard this was to be the new road
to Siberia, to bring the prisoners to the mines ;
bat I didn't believe it My fortune is made I
Bustle, Vera, bustle 1 I 'U die a rich man

125

VERA;

PBOLOGUB after all. There will be no lack of good
customers now. An honest man should have
the chance of making his living out of rascals
now and then.

VERA

Are these men rascals. Father? What
have they done ?

FETER

I reckon they're some of those Nihilists
the priest warns us against. Don't stand
there idle, my girL

VERA

I suppose, then, they are all wicked men.

[Sound of soldiers outside; cry of 'Halt/*
enter Russian officer with a body of soldiers
end eight men in chains^ raggedly dressed; one
of them on entering^ hurriedly puts his coat above
his ears and hides his fcu:e ; some soldiers guard
the door, others sit down; the prisoners stand.']

COLONEL

Innkeeper 1

PETER

Yes, ColoneL
1S6

OR, THE NIHILISTS

COLONEL PROLOGUB

[Painting to Nihilists.'] Give these men
some bread and water.

\To kimsel/.'] I shan't make much out of
that order.

COLONEL

As for myself, what have you got fit to

Some good dried venison, your Excellency
— ^and some rye whisky.

COLONEL

Nothing else t

Why, more whisky, your Excellency.

COLONEL

What clods these peasants are 1 You have
abetter room than this ?

Yes, sir.

COLONEL

Bring me there. Sergeant, post your picket

127

VERA;

PROLOGUE outside, and see that these scoundrels do not
communicate with any one. No letter writ-
u^g» you dogs, or you 11 be flogged for it
Now for the venison. [ To peter bowing before
hifn.'\ Get out of the way, you fool I Who
is that girl ? {sees vera].

PETER

My daughter, your Highness.

COLONEL

Can she read and write t

PETER

Ay, that she can, sir.

COLONEL

Then she is a dangerous woman. No
peasant should be allowed to do anjrthing
of the kind. Till your fields, store your
harvests, pay your taxes, and obey your
masters — that is your duty.

▼ERA

Who are our masters ?

COLONEL

Young woman, these men are going to
the mines for life for asking the same foolish
question.
128

OR, THE NIHILISTS

VEBA PROLOGUB

Then they have been unjustly condemned.

Vera, keep your tongue quiet She is a
foolish girl, sir, who talks too much.

COLONEL

Every woman does talk too much. Come,
where is this venison ? Count, I am waiting
for you« How can you see anything in a girl
with coarse hands ? [He passes with feter
and his atde'de-camp into an inner room.']

[To one of the Nihilists.'] Won't you sit
down ? you must be tired.

8KBOEANT

Come now, young woman, no talking to
my prisoners.

1 shall speak to them. How much do you
want?

tUGEANT

How much have you ?

I 12^1

VERA;

PROLOGUE VERA

Will you let these men sit down if I give
you this ? [ Takes off her peasant's necklace.']
It is all I have ; it was my mother's.

SERGEANT

Well» it looks pretty enough, and is heavy
too. What do you want with these men ?

VERA

They are hungry and wretched. Liet me
go to them ?

ONE OF THE SOLDIERS

Let the wench be, if she pays us.

SERGEANT

Well, have your way. If the Colonel sees
you, you may have to come with us» my
pretty one.

VERA

[Advances to the Nihilists.'] Sit down ; jrou
must be tired. [Serves them foocL] What
are you ?

A PRISONER

Nihilists.

▼ERA

Who put you in chains f
180

OB, THE NIHILISTS

PRISONER PROLOaUB

Our Father the Czar.

Why?

PRISONER

For loving liberty too welL

VERA

[To the prisoner who hides his face.'] What
did you want to do ?

DiaxRi

To give liberty to thirty millions of people
enslaved to one man.

{Start kd at the voice.] What is your name t

DMITRI

I have no name.

Where are your friends t

DMITRI

I have no friends.

Let me see your face I

181

VERA;

PROLOGUE DMITRI

You will see nothing but suffering in it
They have tortured me.

[7>arr his cloak from his face.'] O G!od!
Dmitri I my brother I

DMITRI

Hush! Vera; be calm. You must not
let my father know; it would kill him. I
thought I could free Russia. I heard men
talk of Liberty one night in a caf<^. I had
never heard the word before. It seemed to
be a new God they spoke o£ I joined them.
It was there all the money went Five
months ago they seized us. They found me
printing the paper. I am going to the mines
for life. I could not write. I thought it
would be better to let you think I was dead ;
for they are bringing us to a living tomb.

VERA

[Looking round.'] You must escape, Dmitri
I will take your place.

DMITRI

Impossible I You can only revenge us.
182

OR, THE NIHILISTS

PROLOOOB

I shall revenge you*

Listen I there is a house in Moscow-

Prisoners, attention I — the Colonel is com-
ing-young woman, your time is up.

[£nUr COLONEL, aide-de-camp, and peter.]

I hope your Highness is pleased with the
Tenison. I shot it myself.

COLONEL

It had been better had you talked less
about it. Sergeant, get ready. [Gives purse
to PETEB.] Here, you cheating rascal 1

FETEE

My fortune is made I long live your
Highness. I hope your Highness will come
often this way.

COLONEL

By St Nicholas, I hope not. It is too
cold here for me. [To vera.] Young girl,

188

VERA;

noUKHJE don't ask questions again about what does
not concern you« I will not forget your

Nor I jfours, or what you are doing.

COLONEL

You peasants are getting too saucy since
you cea^ to be ser&, and the knout is the
best school for you to leam politics in.
Sergeant, proceed.

[7)U COLONEL turns and goes to tap of stage.

The prisoners pass out double file; as dmitri

passes yksjl ke lets apiece of paper fall on the

ground: she puts her foot on it and remains

PKTER

\WhokcLS boon counting the numey the QmjQv:E\.
gave hvnS\ Long life to your Highness. I
will hope to see another batch soon. [Sudden-
ly catches sight ofDMvrBi as he is going out oj
the door, and screams and rushes up.'] Dmitri 1
Dmitri I my Gk>dl what brings you here?
he is innocent, I tell you. I 'U pay for him.
Take your money [^Sntfr mon^ on the ground]^
184

OR, THE NIHILISTS

kt all I have, gi^e me my son. Villains I PROLOGUE
Mns 1 where are you bringimg

To Siberia, old man.

No, no ; take me instead.

COLONEL

He is a Nihilist

PETER

You lie I you lie I He is innocent \^TAe

^oidiers farce him back with their guns and

sA^ the door against him. He beats with his

J^ts against itJ] Dmitri! Dmitri 1 a Nihilist I

^ Nihilist 1 [Fa/ls down on ^fioor.']

[ Who has remained motionless, picks up paper

^^<m/rom under her foot and reads."] * 99 Rue

1*chemavaya, Moscow. To strangle whatever

Mature is in me; neither to love nor to be

V>ved; neither to pity nor to be pitied;

tieither to marry nor to be given in marriage^

till the end is come.* My brother, I shall

185

VERA; OR, THE NIHILISTS

PROLOGUS keep the oath. ^Kisses thepaper^ You shall
be revenged I

[vEBA stands immobile^ holding paper in her
lifted hand, peter is lying an the floor.
lacHAEL, who has just come in^ is tending
Offer himJ]

END OF PBOLOOUK

186

ACT I

SCENE

^ TckermnKtj^ Moscow, A large garret Ut by ail lam^
Mmt^ from ceiling. Same masked men standing sHeni
and apart from ane another. A man in a scarlet mask
is writing at a table. Door at back. Man in yellow witk
drawn sward at it. Knacks keard. Figures in cloaks and
masks enter.

Password. Per crucem ad lucenL
Answer. Per sanguinem ad libertatem.

[Clack strikes, conspiratobs farm a semu
circle in the middle of the stcige.'\

PRESIDENT

What is the word f

^IBST CONSPIEATOE

Nabat.

l^BESIDENT

The answer f

Second conspibator
Kalit

1S7

VERA;

ACTL PRESIDENT

What hour is it ?

THIRD CONSPIRATOR

Tlie hour to suffer

PRESIDENT

What day ?

FOURTH CONSPIRATOR

The day of oppression.

PRESIDENT

What year ?

FIFTH CONSPIRATOR

The year of hope.

PRESIDENT

How many are we in number ?

SIXTH CONSPIRATOR

Ten, nine, and three.

PRESIDENT

The Oalilfiean had less to conquer the work
but what is our mission ?

SEVENTH CONSPIRATOR

To give freedom.
188

OK, THE NIHILISTS

FSE8IDENT ACTL

Our creed?

^HOHTH CONSPESATOK

To annihilate.
Our duty ?

KINTH CONSPESATOB

To obey.

FRESIDENT

Brotherss the questions have been answered
welL There are none but Nihilists present.
Let us see each other's faces. {^TAe con-
spuukTOBS unmask.'] Michael, recite the
oath.

To strangle whatever nature is in us ; neither
to love nor to be loved, neither to pity nor
to be pitied, neither to marry nor to be given
in marriage, till the end is come; to stab
ttcretly by night; to drop poison in the
glass ; to set father against son, and husband
sgainst wife; without fear, without hope^
^thout fature, to 8u£Fer, to annihilate, to
icvenge.

189

VERA;

AGTL FRE8IDEMT

Are we all agreed ?

CONSPIRATORS

We are all agreed. [ Tkey disperse in vario9U^..^sm
directions about the stage.']

PRESIDSNT

Tis after the hour, Michael, and she is no
yet here.

MICHAEL

Would that she werel We can do littli
her.

ALEXIS

She cannot have been seized. President!
but the police are on her track, I know.

MICHAEL

You always do seem to know a good deal
about the movements of the police in Moscow
— ^too much for an honest conspirator.

PRESIDENT

If those dogs have caught her, the red flag
of the people will float on a barricade in
every street till we find her 1 It was foolish
of her to go to the Grand Duke's balL I
told her so, but she said she wanted to see
140

OR, THE NIHILISTS

tiie Czar and all his cursed brood Bace to ACT I.
face for once.

Gone to the State ball I

IflCHAEL

I have no fear. She is as hard to capture
as a she- wolf is, and twice as dangerous;
besides, she is well disguised. To-night it is a
masked balL But is there any news from the
Palace, President? What is that bloody
despot doing now besides torturing his only
son ? What sort of a whelp is this Czarevitch,
by the way ? Have any of you seen him ?
One hears strange stories about him. They
say he loves the people; but a king's son
never does that. You cannot breed them like
that

FRE8IDENT

Since he came back from abroad a year ago
his fitther has kept him in close prison in his
palace.

laCHASL

An excellent training to make him a tyrant
in his turn ; but is there any news, I say ?

141

VERA;

ACTL PRESIDENT

A council is to be held to-morrow, at four
o'clock, on some secret business the committee
camiot find out.

MICHAEL

A council in a king's palace is sure to be
about some bloody work or other. But in
what room is it to be held ?

PRESIDENT

[Reading from letterJ] In the yellow tapestry
room called after the Empress Catherine.

inCHAEL

I care not for such long-sounding names.
I would know where it is.

PRESIDENT

I cannot tell, Michael I know more about
the inside of prisons than of palaces.

MICHAEL

[Speaking suddenly to alexis.] Where is
this room, Alexis ?

ALEXIS

It is on the first floor, looking out on to
the inner courtyard. But why do you ask,
Michael?
142

OK, THE NIHILISTS

mCHASL ACTL

Nothing, nothing, hoy 1 I merely take a
great interest in the Czar's life and move-
ments, and I knew you could tell me all
about the palace. Every poor student of
medicine in Moscow knows all about, kings'
houses. It is their duty, is it not ?

AI.EXIS

[Aside.'] Can Michael suspect me ? There
is something strange in his manner to-night.
Why doesn't she come? The whole fire of
revolution seems fallen into dull ashes when
she is not here.

MICHAEL

Have you cured many patients, lately, mt
your hospital, boy ?

There is one who lies sick to death I would
fain cure, but cannot

MICHAEL

Ay 1 and who is that ?

Russia, our mother.

148

VERA;

ACTL MICHAEL

The curing of Rusaa is surgeon's business,
and must be done by the knife. I like not
your method of

M I ^ I

PRESIDENT

Professor, we have read the proofis of your
last article ; it is very good indeed.

What is it about. Professor ?

PROFESSOK

The subject, my good brother, is assassina-
tion considered as a method of political
reform*

MICHAEL

I think little of pen and ink in revolutions.
One dagger will do more than a hundred
epigrams. Still, let us read this scholar s last
production. Give it to me. I will read it
myself.

PROFESSOR

Brother, you never mind your stops; let
Alexis read it

MICHAEL

Ay I he is as tripping of speech as if he
14A

OR, THE NIHILISTS

were some young aristocrat ; but for my own ^qj. £
part I care not for the stops so that the sense
be plain.

[^Reading'.'] • The past has belonged to the
tyrant, and he has defiled it; ours is the
fdture, and we shall make it holy.' Ay 1 let
us make the future holy; let there be one
revolution at least which is not bred in crime,
nurtured in murder I

MICHAEL

They have spoken to us by the sword, and
by the sword we shall answer I You are too
delicate for us, Alexis. There should be none
here but men whose hands are rough with
labour or red with blood.

FBESIDENT

Peace, Michael, peace I He is the bravest
he«t amongst us.

{Aside\ He will need to be brave to-
night.

\Tke sound of sleigh bells is heard outside.']
m 145

VERA;

ACTL VOICE

lOuistde.'] Per crucem ad lucem.
Answer of man on guard.
Per sanguinem ad libertatem.

MICHAEL

Who is that ?

\Enter yera in a cloak, which she throws off^
appearing in full ball dress.'\

TERA

Gk>d save the people !

FRESIDENT

Welcome, Vera, welcome I We have been
sick at heart till we saw you ; but now me-
thinks the star of freedom has come to wake
us from the night.

VERA

It is night, indeed, brother 1 Night with-
out moon or star I Russia is smitten to the
heart ! The man Ivan whom men called the
Czar strikes now at our mother with a dagger
deadlier than any ever forged by tyranny
against a people's life 1

MICHAEL

What has the tyrant done now ?
146

OR, THE NIHILISTS

▼ERA ACT I.

To-morrow martial law is to be proclaimed
over all Russia.

OMNES

Martial law I We are lost I We are lost I

AJLEXIS

Martial law I Impossible !

MICHAEL

Fool, nothing is impossible in Russia but
reform.

Ay, martial law. The last right to which
the people clung has been taken from them.
Without trial, without appeal, without accuser
even, our brothers will be taken from their
houses, shot in the streets like dogs, sent
away to die in the snow, to starve in the
dungeon, to rot in the mine. Do you know
what martial law means? It means the
strangling of a whole nation. The streets
will be filled with soldiers night and day;
there will be sentinels at every door. No
man dare walk abroad now but the spy or the
traitor. Cooped up in the dens we hide in,

147

VERA;

ACTL meeting by stealth, speaking with bated
breath ; what good can we do now for Russia !

PRESIDENT

We can suffer at least.

VESA

We have done that too much already.
The hour is now come to annihilate and to
revenge,

PRESIDENT

Up to this the people have borne every-
thing.

VERA

Because they have understood nothing.
But now we, the Nihilists, have given them
the tree of knowledge to eat of, and the day
of silent suffering is over for Russia.

MICHAEL

Martial law. Vera 1 This is fearful tidings
you bring.

PRESIDENT

It is the death-warrant of liberty in Russia

VERA

Or the signal for revolution.
148

OR, THE NIHILISTS

MICHAEL ACT L

Are you sure it is true ?

Here is the proclamation. I stole it myself

at the hall to-night from a young fool, one of

Prince Paul's secretaries, who had heen given

it to copy. It was that which made me so

late.

[vera hands proclamation to micha£L» who

reads f/.]

IdCHAEL

' To ensure the public safety — ^martial law.
By order of the Czar, father of his people.'
The father of his people 1

Ay I a father whose name shall not be
hallowed, whose kingdom shall change to m
lepubhc, whose trespasses shall not be forgiven
him, because he has robbed us of our daily
bread ; with whom is neither might, nor right,
nor glory, now or for ever.

PRESIDENT

It must be about this time that the council
meet to-morrow. It has not yet been signed.

149

VERA;

AGTL ALEXIS

It shall not be while I have a tongue to plead
with.

MICHAEL

Qr while I have hands to smite with.

VERA

Martial law I O God, how easy it is for a
king tQ ^11 his people by thousands, but we
canndt rid ourselves of one crowned man in
Euiiope 1 What is there of awful majesty in
these men which makes the hand unsteady,
the dagger treacherous, the pistol-shot harm-
less ? Are they not men of like passions with
ourselves, vulnerable to the same diseases, of
flesh and blood not different from our own ?
What made Olgiati tremble at the supreme
crisis of that Roman life, and Guido's nerve
fail him when he should have been of iron and
of steel ? A plague, I say, on these fools of
Naples, Berlin, and Spain I Methinks that
if I stood face to face with one of the crowned
men my eye would see more clearly, my aim
be more sure, my whole body gain a strength
and power that was not my ownl Oh, to
think what stands between us and freedom in
150

OR, THE NIHILISTS

Europe! a few old men, wrinkled, feeble, ACTU
tottering dotards whom a boy eould strangle
for a ducat, or a woman stab in a night-time.
These are the things that keep us from liberty.
But now methinks the brood of men is d|ad
and the duD earth grown sick of childbearing,
else would no crowned dog pollute God's air
by living.

OlfNES

TryusI Try us! Try us! '

MICHAEL

We shall try thee, too, some day. Vera.

'VERA

I pray God thou mayest! Have I not
strangled whatever nature is in me, and shall
I not keep my oath ?

MICHAEL

[To PRESIDENT.] Martial law. President!
Come, there is no time to be lost. We have
twelve hours yet before us till the council
meet. Twelve hours I One can overthrow a
djrnasty in less time than that.

151

VERA;

ACT I. FKESIDENT

Ay 1 or lose one's own head.

[MICHAEL and the president retire to one
comer of the stage and sit whispering, teba
takes up the proclamation, and reads tt to her-
self. AiiEXis watches and suddenly rushes up
to her.]

. ALEXIS

Veral

VEBA

Alexis, you here I Foolish boy, have I not
prayed you to stay away ? All of us here are
doomed to die before our time, fated to expiate
by suflFering whatever good we do ; but you,
with your bright boyish face, you are too
young to die yet

ALEXIS

One is never too young to die for one's
country 1

VERA

Why do you come here night after night f

ALEXIS

Because I love the people.
152

OR, THE NIHILISTS

YERA ACTL

But your fellow-students must miss you.
Are there no traitors among them? You
know what spies there are in the Univerdty
here. O Alexis, you must go 1 You see how
desperate suffering has made us. There is no
room here for a nature like yours. You must
not come again.

Alexis

Why do you think so poorly of me ? Why
should I live while my brothers suffer ?

You spake to me of your mother once.
You said you loved her. Oh, think of her 1

I have no mother now but Russia, my life
18 hers to take or give away ; but to-night I
sm here to see you. They tell me you are
leaving for Novgorod to-morrow.

I must. They are getting faint-hearted
there, and I would fan the flame of this
revolution into such a blaze that the eyes
of aU kings in Europe shall be blinded. If
martial law is passed they will need me all

158

VERA;

ACT L the more there. There is no limit, it seems,
to the tyranny of one man ; but to the suffer-
ing of a whole people there shall be a limit
Too many of us have died on block and
barricade : it is their turn to be victims now.

ALEXIS

God knows it, I am with you. But you
must not go. The police are watching every
train for you. When you are seized they have
orders to place you without trial in the lowest
dungeon of the palace. I know it — no matter
how. Oh, think how without you the sun goes
from our life, how the people will lose their
leader and liberty her priestess. Vera, you
must not go !

VERA

You are right : I will stay. I would live a
little longer for freedom, a little longer for
Russia.

ALEXIS

When you die then Russia is smitten indeed ;
when you die then I shall lose all hope — alL
. . . Vera, this is fearful news you bring —
martial law — ^it is too terrible. I knew it not,
by my soul, I knew it not 1
154

OR, THE NIHILISTS

YmSLA ACT I.

How could you have known it ? It is too
well laid a plot for that This great White
Czar, whose hands are red with the blood of
the people he has murdered, whose soul is
black with his iniquity, is the cleverest con-
spirator of us alL Oh, how could Russia bear
two hearts like yours and his 1

Ai;

Vera, the Emperor was not always like this.
There was a time when he loved the people.
It is that devil, whom God curse, Prince Paul
Biaraloffski who has brought him to this. To-
morrow, I swear it, I shall plead for the people
to the Emperor.

Plead to the Czar ! Foolish boy, it is only
those who are sentenced to death that ever see
our Czar. Besides, what should he care for a
voice that pleads for mercy ? The cry of a
strong nation in its agony has not moved that
heart of stone.

AI.KXT8

{Aside.'] Yet shall I plead to him. They
can but kill me.

155

VERA;

AGTL PROFESSOR

Here are the proclamations. Vera. Do you
think they will do ?

VERA

I shall read them. How fair he looks 1
Methinks he never seemed so noble as to-
night. Liberty is blessed in having such a
lover.

ALEXIS

Well, President, what are you deep in ?

MICHAEL

We are thinking of the best way of killing
bears. [ Whispers to president and leads kim
aside.']

professor

\^To vera]. And the letters from our
brothers at Paris and Berlin. What answer
shall we send to them ?

VERA

[Takes them mechanically^ Had I not
strangled nature, sworn neither to love nor
to be loved, methinks I might have loved
him. Oh, I am a fool, a traitor myself, a
traitor myself! But why did he come
156

OR, THE NIHILISTS

amongst us with his bright young face, his ACT!
heart aflame for liberty, his pure white soul ?
Why does he make me feel at times as if I
would have him as my king. Republican
though I be? Oh, fool, fool, fool I False
to your oath I weak as water I Have done!
Remember what you are — a Nihilist, a
Nihilist 1

PRESIDENT

\^To MICHAEL.] But you will be seized,
Michael

MICHAEL

I tliink not I will wear the uniform of the
Imperial Guard, and the Colonel on duty is one
of us. It is on the first floor, you remember ;
so I can take a long shot.

PEESmENT

Shall I not tell the brethren ?

MICHAEL

Not a word, not a word I There is a traitoi
amongst us.

Come, are these the proclamations ? Yes,
they will do; yes, they will do. Send five

157

VERA;

ACTL hundred to Edev and Odessa and Nov-
gorod» five hundred to Warsaw, and have
twice the number distributed among the
Southern provinces, though these dull Russian
peasants care little for our proclamations, and
less for our martyrdoms. When the blow is
struck, it must be from the town, not from the
country.

MICHAEL

Ay, and by the sword, not by the goose*
quill.

▼ERA

Where arc the letters from Poland ?

PROFESSOR

Here.

▼ERA

Unhappy Poland I The eagles of Russia^
have fed on her heart. We must not forget
our brothers there.

PRESIDENT

Is it true, Michael ?

MICHAEL

Ay, I stake my life on it.
158

OR, THE NIHILISTS

PRESIDENT ACTL

Let the doors be locked, then. Alexis Ivan-
adevitch entered on our roll of the brothers
as a student of the School of Medicine at
Moscow. Why did you not tell us of this
bloody scheme of martial law !

▲LEXIS

I, President ?

MICHAEL

Ay, you I You knew it, none better. Such

weapons as these are not forged in a day.

Why did you not tell us of it ? A week ago

there had been time to lay the mine, to raise

the barricade, to strike one blow at least for

Kberty. But now the hour is past I It is too

J^te, it is too late ! Why did you keep it a

secret from us, I say ?

Now by the hand of freedom, Michael, my
brother, you wrong me. I knew nothing of
^is hideous law. By my soul, my brothers,
^ knew not of it I How should I know !

lOCHAEL

Because you are a traitor I Where did you

159

VERA;

ACT I. go when you left us the night of our last
meeting here ?

ALEXIS

To mine own house, MichaeL

MICHAEL

Liar 1 I was on your track. You left here
an hour after midnight. Wrapped in a large
cloak, you crossed the river by a boat a mile
below the second bridge, and gave the ferry-
man a gold piece, you, the poor student of
medicine 1 You doubled back twice, and hid
in an archway so long that I had almost made
up my mind to stab you at once,^ only that—
I am fond of hunting. So 1 you thought yoiu-
had baffled all pursuit, did you ? Fool ! IH
am a bloodhound that never loses the scent..
I followed you firom street to street. At lasH
I saw you pass swiftly across the Place St=
Isaac, whisper to the guards some secret pass^
word, enter the palace by a private door wi
your own key.

CONSPIBATORS

The palace I

VERA

Alexis 1
160

OR, THE NIHILISTS

MICHAEL ACT L

I waited. All through the dreary watches
of our long Russian night I waited, that I
might kill you with your Judas hire still hot
in your hand. But you never came back;
you never left that palace. I saw the blood-
red sun rise through the yellow fog over the
murky town ; I saw a new day of oppression
dawn on Russia; but you never came back. So
you pass nights in the palace, do you ? You
know the password for the guards ; you have
a key to a secret door. You are a spy — I
never trusted you, with your soft white hands,
your curled hair, your pretty graces. You
have no mark of suffering about you; you
cannot be of the people. You are a spy —
a spy — traitor !

OMNES

Kill him I Kill him ! [Draw their Jknwes.]

[Rushing in front ^ alexis.] Stand back,
I say, Michael I Stand back alll Do not
dare lay a hand upon him 1 He is the noblest
heart amongst us.

L 161

VERA;

AGTL OBfNES

Kill him 1 Kill him I He is a spy 1

VERA

Dare to lay a finger on him, and I leave you
all to yourselves.

PBESIDENT

Vera, did you not hear what Michael said
of him ? He stayed all night in the Czar's
palace. He has a password and a private
key. What else should he be but a spy ?

VERA

Bah 1 I do not believe MichaeL It is a lie 1
It is a lie I Alexis, say it is a lie !

ALEXIS

It is true. Michael has told what he saw*
I did pass that night in the Czar's palace.
Michael has spoken the truth.

VERA

Stand back, I say; stand back! Alexis,
I do not care. I trust you ; you would not
betray us ; you would not sell the people for
money. You are honest, true 1 Oh, say yoiB
are no spy I
162

OR, THE NIHILISTS

lis ACT L

Spy ? You know I am not. I am with you,
my brothers, to the death.

MICHASL

Ay, to your own death.

ALEXIS

Vera, you know I am true.

VERA

I know it welL

PRESIDENT

Why are you here, traitor f

ALEXIS

Because I love the people.

'sMJ

Then you can be a martyr for them f

You must kill me first, Michael, before you
lay a finger on him.

PRESIDENT

Michael, we dare not lose Vera. It is her
whim to let this boy live. We can keep him
here to-night. Up to this he has not betrayed
na.

{^Tramp of soldiers outside^ knocking at door.']

168

VERA;

ACTL VOICE

Open, in the name of the Emperor 1

MICHAEL

He has betrayed us. This is your doing,
spyl

PRESIDENT

Come, Michael, come. We have no time
to cut one another's throats while we have our
own heads to save.

VOICE

Open, in the name of the Emperor I

PRESIDENT

Brothers, be masked, all of you. Michael,
open the door. It is our only chance.

{Enter general kotemkin and soldiers?^

GENERAL

All honest citizens should be in their own
houses an hour before midnight, and not
more than five people have a right to meet
privately. Have you not noticed the pro-
clamation, fellows ?

MICHAEL

Ay, you have spoiled every honest wall in
Moscow with it.
164

OR, THE NIHILISTS

TESA ACTL

Peace, Michael, peace. Nay, Sir, we knew
it not. We are a company of strolling players
travelling from Samara to Moscow to amuse
his Imperial Majesty the Czar.

GENERAL

But I heard loud voices before I entered.
What was that ?

We were rehearsing a new tragedy.

GENERAL

Your answers are too honest to be true.
Come, let me see who you are. Take off
those players' masks. By St Nicholas, my
beauty, if your face matches your figure, you
must be a choice morsel I Come, I say, pretty
one ; I would sooner see your face than those
of all the others.

PHESIDENT

O Gk>d 1 if he sees it is Vera, we are all lost !

aENERAL

No coquetting, my girl. Come, unmask^

I say, or I shall tell my guards to do it for

you.

165

VERA;

ACTL ALEXIS

Stand back, I say. General Kotemkin !

GENERAL

Who are you, fellow, that talk with such
a tripping tongue to your betters ? [Alexis
takes his mask off.'] BDs Imperial Highness
the Czarevitch 1

OMNES

The Czarevitch 1 It is all over !

PRESIDENT

I knew he was a spy. He will give us up
to the soldiers.

MICHAEL

[To vera]. Why did you not let me kill
hira? Come, we must fight to the death
for it.

vera

Peace 1 he will not betray us.

ALEXIS

A whim of mine. General 1 You know how
my father keeps me from the world and im-
prisons me in the palace. I should really be

166

OR, THE NIHILISTS

bored to death if I could not get out at night ACT L
in disguise sometimes, and have some romantic
adventure in town. I fell in with these honest
folks a few hours ago.

OENEBAI.

Actors, are thej. Prince t

ALEXIS

Ay, and very ambitious actors, too. They
only care to play before kings.

GENERAL

I' faith, your Highness, I was in hopes I had
made a good haul of Nihilists.

Nihilists in Moscow, General 1 with you as
head of the police ? Impossible 1

OENEBAL

So I always tell your Imperial father. But
I heard at the council to-day that that woman
Vera Sabouroff, the head of them, had been
seen in this very city. The Emperor's face
turned as white as the snow outside. I think
I never saw such terror in any man before.

167

VERA;

ACTL ALEXIS

She is a dangerous woman, then, this Vera
Sabouroff?

OENERAL

The most dangerous in all Europe.

ALEXIS

Did you ever see her. General ?

GENERAL

Why, five years ago, when I was a plain
Colonel, I remember her, your Highness, a
common waiting-girl in an inn. If I had
known then what she was going to turn out,
I would have flogged her to death on the road-
side. She is not a woman at all; she is a sort
of devU 1 For the last eighteen months I have
been hunting her, and caught sight of her once
last September outside Odessa.

ALEXIS

How did you let her go. General f

GENERAL

I was by myself, and she shot one of my
horses just as I was gaining on her. If I
see her again I shan't miss my chance. The
168

OR, THE NIHILISTS

has put twenty thousand roubles on ACT I.

her head*

ALEXIS

I hope you will get it, Greneral ; but mean-
while you are frightening these honest folk
out of their wits, and disturbing the tragedy.
Good-night, General.

6£N£KAL

Yes; but I should like to see their fsLceSf
your Highness.

:is

No, G^eral ; you must not ask that ; you
know how these gipsies hate to be stared sL

OENEBAL

Yes. But, your Highness —

AlaKlLlo

[Haug'Aiily.'] Greneral, they are my friends^
that is enough. Gk>od-night. And, General,
not a word of my little adventure here, you
understand.

0£NEBAL

But shall we not see you back to the palace f
The State ball is almost over and you are

169

VERA; OR, THE NIHILISTS

ACT I. ALEXIS

I shall be there ; but I shall return alone.
Remember, not a word.

GENERAL

Or your pretty gipsy, eh. Prince? your
pretty gipsy 1 T faith, I should like to see
her before I go; she has such fine eyes
through her mask. Well, good night, your
Highness ; good night.

ALEXIS

Good night, GeneraL

[JSxeuni general and the soldiers.']

VERA

[ Throwing off her mashJ] Saved 1 and by
youl

ALEXIS

[Clasping- her hand.] Brothers, you trust
me now ? [JSxU.

Tableau

END OF ACT I

170

ACT II

SCENE

Chamber in the Emperor^s Palau^ hung
yellow tapestry. Table, with chair of State, set far the
Cutr ; window behind, opening on to a balcony. As the
sunt progresses the light outside gets darher.

Present. — prince Paul mabaloffski. prince

PETROVITCH. COUNl' ROUVALOFF, BARON
BAFF. COUNT PETOUCHOF.

PRINCE PETROVITCH

So our young scatter-brained Czarevitch
has been forgiven at last, and is to take Iiis
seat here again.

PRINCE PAUL

Yes; if that is not meant as an extra
punishment. For my own part, at least, I
find these Cabinet Councils extremely tiring.

PRINCE PETROVITCH

Naturally ; you are always speaking.

171

VERA;

ACT n. PRINCE PAUL

No ; 1 think it must be that I have to listen
sometimes. It is so exhausting not to talk.

COUNT ROUVALOFF

Still, anything is better than being kept in
a sort of prison, like he was — ^never allowed to
go out into the world.

PRINCE PAUL

My dear Count, for romantic young people
like he is the world always looks best at a
distance ; and a prison where one's allowed to
order one's own dinner is not at all a bad
place. [Enter the czarevitch. The courtiers
riseJ] Ah 1 Good afternoon. Prince. Your
Highness is looking a little pale to-day.

CZAREVITCH

[S/awly^ after a pause.'] I want change of
air.

PRINCE PAUL

ISmt/zng-J] A most revolutionary senti-
ment! Your Imperial father would highly
disapprove of any reforms even with the ther-
mometer in Russia.
172

OR, THE NIHILISTS

CZAB£VITCH ACT II.

[Bti/erlyJ] My Imperial father had kept
me for six months in this dungeon of a palace.
This morning he has me suddenly woke up to
see some wretched Nihilists hung ; it sickened
me, the bloody butchery, though it was a
noble thing to see how well these men can
die.

PRINCE PAUL

When you are as old as I am, Prince, you
will understand that there are few things
easier than to live badly and to die well.

Easy to die welll A lesson experience
cannot have taught you, much as you know
of a bad life.

PRINCE PAUL

[SArugging his shoulders.'] Experience, the
name men give to their mistakes. I never
oommit any.

CZAREVITCH

[Bitterly.'] No; crimes are more in your
line.

178

VERA;

ACT 11. PRINCE PETROVrrCH

[ To the CZAREVITCH.] The Emperor was a
good deal agitated about your late appearance
at the ball last night. Prince.

COUNT ROUVALOFF

\Lat^hing.'\ I believe he thought the
Nihilists had broken into the palace and
carried you off.

BARON RAFF

If they had you would have missed a
charming dance.

PRINCE PAUL

And an excellent supper. Gringoire really
excelled himself in his salad. Ah 1 you may
laugh, Baron; but to cook a good salad is
a much more difficult thing than cooking
accounts. To make a good salad is to be
a brilliant diplomatist — the problem is
entirely the same in both cases. To know
exactly how much oil one must put with
one s vinegar.

EARON RAFF

A cook and a diplomatist ! an excellent
parallel. If I had a son who was a fool I 'd
make him one or the other.
174

OR, THE NIHILISTS

PRINCE PAUL ACT 11

I see your father did not hold the same
opinion. Baron. But, believe me, you are
wrong to run down cookery. Culture depends
on cookery. For myself, the only immortality
I desire is to invent a new sauce. 1 have
never had time enough to think seriously
about it, but 1 feel it is in me, I feel it is
in me.

CZASEVITCH

You have certainly missed your mitier^
Prince Paul ; the cordon bleu of the kitchen
would have suited you much better than the
Grand Cross of Honour. But you know you
could never have worn your white apron well ;
you would have soiled it too soon, your hands
are not clean enougtu

PRINCE PAUL

\Bowing^ You forget— or, how could they
be ? I manage your father's business.

CZABEVITCH

\Biiterly^ You mismanage my father's
business, you mean 1 Evil genius of his life
that you arel before you came there was
some love left in him. It is you who have

175

VERA;

ACT II. embittered his nature, poured into his ear the
poison of treacherous counsel, made him hated
by the whole people, made him what he is — a
tyrant 1

[ The courtiers look significantly at eiuh other ^

FBINCE PAUL

[Co/iff/y.] 1 see your Highness does want
change of air. But I have been an eldest scm
myself. \Lights a cigarette.'] I know what it
is when a father won't die to please one.

[^The CZAREVITCH goes to the top of the stage,
and leans against the window, looking omt^

FRINCE PETROVrrCH

\To BARON RAFF.] FooUsh boy 1 He will
be sent into exile, or worse, if he is not
carefiiL

BARON RAFF

Yes. What a mistake it is to be sincerel

PRINCE PETROVrrCH

The only folly you have never committed,
BaroiL

BARON RAFF

One has only one head, you know. Prince.
176

OR, THE NIHILISTS

PRINCE PAUL ACT IL

My dear Baron, your head is the last thing
any one would wish to take from you. [Pulls
out snuff-box and offers it to prince petro-
▼itchJ.

prince PETROVrrCH

Thanks, Prince 1 Thanks 1

PRINCE PAUL

Very delicate, isn't it ? I get it direct from
Paris. But under this vulgar Republic every-
thing has degenerated over there. Cdtelettes
k rimp^riale vanished of course with the
Bonaparte, and omelettes went out with the
Orleanists. La belle France is entirely ruined.
Prince, through bad morals and worse cookery.
[Enter the marquis de poivrard.] Ah I
Marquis. I trust Madame la Marquise is
well.

MARQUIS DE POIVRARD

You ought to know better than I do.
Prince Paul ; you see more of her.

PRmCE PAUL

[BoTving.'] Perhaps I see more m her,
Marquis. Your wife is really a charming
n 177

VERA;

\CT n. woman, so fiill of esprit^ and so satirical too ;
she talks continually of you when we are
together.

PRINCE PETROVITCH

\JLooking at the clock.'] His Majesty is a
little late to-day, is he not ?

PMNCE PAUL

What has happened to you, my dear Petro^
vitch ? you seem quite out of sorts. Yoi^
haven't quarrelled with your cook, I hope^
What a tragedy that would be for you ; yo
would lose all your friends.

PRINCE PETROVITCH

I fear I wouldn't be so fortunate as that.
You forget I would still have my purse.
But you are wrong for once; my chef and
I are on excellent terms.

PRINCE PAUL

Then your creditors or Mademoiselle Vera
Sabouroff have been writing to you? They
compose more than half of my correspondents.
But really you needn't be alarmed. I find
the most violent proclamations fix)m the
178

OR, THE NIHILISTS

Executiye Committee, as thej call it, left all act ii.
over my house. I never read them ; they are
so badly spelt as a rule.

PRINCE FETROVITCH

Wrong again. Prince; the Nihilists leave
me alone for some reason or other.

FBINCE PAUL

\AsideS\ True I Indiflference is the revenge
the world takes on mediocrities.

niNCE PETBOVITCH

1 am bored with life. Prince. Since the
opera season ended I have been a perpetual
martyr to ennui.

ItmCEPAUL

The maladie du si^lel You want a new
^citement. Prince. Let me see — you have
i^een married twice already ; suppose you try
— -falling in love for once.

A^lAOK baff

I cannot understand your nature.

179

VERA;

ACT II. PRINCE PAUL

[^Smi/tn£^.'\ If my nature had been made to
suit your comprehension rather than my own
requirements, I am afraid I would have made
a very poor figure in the world.

COUNT ROUVALOFP

There seems to be nothing in life about
which you would not jest.

PRINCE PAUL

Ahl my dear Count, life is much too
important a thing ever to talk seriously
about it.

CZAREVITCH

[Coming back from window.'] I don't think
Prince Paul's nature is such a mystery. He
would stab his best friend for the sake of
writing an epigram on his tombstone.

PRINCE PAUL

Parbleul I would sooner lose my best
friend than my worst enemy. To have friends,
you know, one need only be good-natured;
but when a man has no enemy left there must
be something mean about him.
180

OR, THE NIHILISTS

CZABEVITCH ACT IL

\JBi/ierfyJ] If to have enemies is a measure
of greatness, then you must be a Colossus,
indeed, Prinee.

FRINGE PAUL

Yes, your Highness, I know I 'm the most
hated man in Russia, except your father, ex-
cept your father of course. He doesn't seem
to like it much, by the way ; but I do, I assure
you. [^BttterfyJ] I love to drive through the
streets and see how the rabble scowl at me
from every comer. It makes me feel I am a
power in Russia ; one man against millions 1
Besides, I have no ambition to be a popular
hero, to be crowned with laurels one year
and pelted with stones the next; I prefer
dying peaceably in my own bed.

CZASEVITCH

And after death f

PEmCE PAUL

[Shrugging kis shoulders J] HeaVen is a
despotism. I shall be at home there.

CiAREVTTCH

Do you never think of the people and their
rights?

181

VERA;

ACT IL FRINGE PAUL

The people and their rights bore me. I am
sick of both. In these modem d&js to be
vulgar, illiterate, common and vicious, seems
to give a man a marvellous infinity of rights
that his honest fftthers never dreamed o£
Believe me. Prince, in good democracy every
man should be an aristocrat ; but these people
in Russia who seek to thrust us out are no
better than the animals in one's preserves, and
made to be shot at, most of them.

CZAREVITCH

[Bxct^eclly.'] If they are common, illiterate,
vulgar, no better than the beasts of the field,
who made them so ? lEnler Am£-D£-CAMP.]

AIDE-DE-CAMP

His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor!
[prince PAUL /ooAs ot the czarevitch, and
smiles^

\Enter the czar, surrounded by his guard^

CZAREVITCH

[Rtishing forward to meet htm."] Sire 1

CZAR

[Nervous and frighienedJ\ Don't come too
near me, boy I Dont come too near me, I
183

OR, THE NIHILISTS

say! Theie is always something about an ACTIL
hdr to a crown unwholesome to his father.
Who is that man over there ? I don't know
him. What is he doing? Is he a con-
spirator? Have you searched him? Give
him till to-morrow to confess, then hang
him ! — hang him I

FRINGE PAUL

Sire, you are anticipating history. This is
Count Fetouchof, your new Ambassador to
Berlin. He is come to kiss hands on his
appcnntment.

To kiss my hand ? There is some plot in
it He wants to poison me. There, kiss my
son's hand ; it will do quite as welL

[PRINCK PAUL signs tO PBINCE PETOUCHOF tO

leave the room. Exeunt petouchof and the
guards, czar sinks down into his chair. The
courtiers remain silent.']

PRINCE PAUL

[Af>procuhing.'] Sire I will your Majesty

What do you startle me for like that ? No,

188

VERA;

ACTIL I won't [Watches the courtiers nervously]
Why are you clattering your sword, sir?
[To COUNT ROUVALOFF.] Take it off. I shall
have no man wear a sword in my presence
[looking cU czarevitch], least of all my son.
[To PRINCE PAUL.] You arc not angry with
me. Prince ? You won't desert me, will you ?
Say you won't desert me. What do you
want ? You can have anjrthing — anything.

PRINCE PAUL

[Bowing very lowJ] Sire, 'tis enough for
me to have your confidence. [Aside."] I was
afraid he was going to revenge himself, and
give me another decoration.

CZAR

[Returning to his chairJ] Well, gentlemen.

IfARQUIS DE POIVRARD

Sire, I have the honour to present to you
a loyal address from your subjects in the
Province of Archangel, expressing their horror
at the last attempt on your Majesty's life.

PRINCE PAUL

The last attempt but two, you ought to
have said, Marquis. Don't you see it is dated
three weeks back f
184

OR, THE NIHILISTS

CZAR ACT n.

They are good people in the Province of
Archangel — honest, loyal people. They love
ine very much — simple, loyal people; give
them a new saint, it costs nothing. Well,
Alexis [turning to the czarevitch]— how
many traitors were hung this morning ?

CZAREVITCH

There were three men strangled. Sire.

CZAB

There should have been three thousand*
I would to God that this people had but one
neck that I might strangle them with one
noose ! Did they tell anything ? whom did
they implicate ? what did they confess ?

CZAREVITCH

Nothing, Sire.

CZAR

They should have been tortured then ; why
weren't they tortured ? Must I always be
fighting in the dark ? Am I never to know
from what root these traitors spring ?

CZAREVITCH

What root should there be of discontent

185

VERA;

>ng the people but tyranny and injustice
)ngst their rulers ?

What did you say^ boy? tyranny! tyrannyl
Am I a tyrant ? I *m not. I love the people.
I *m their father. I 'm called so in every
oflBcial proclamation. Have a care, boy;
have a care. You don't seem to be cured yet
of your foolish tongue. [Goes aver to prince
PAUL and puts his hand an his shoulder.]
Prince Paul, tell me were there many
people there this morning to see the Nihilists
hung?

PRINCE PAUL

Hanging is of course a good deal less of a
novelty in Russia now. Sire, than it was three
or four years ago ; and you know how easily
the people get tired eyen of their best amuse-
ments. But the square and the tops of the
houses were really quite crowded, were they
not. Prince ? [To the czAREvrrcH, who takes no
notue.^

CZAR

That's right; all loyal citizens should be
186

OR, THE NIHILISTS

there It shows them what to look forward act n.
to. Did you arrest any one in the crowd ?

PAUL

Yes, Sire ; a woman, for cursing your name.
{^TAe CZA&ETITCH starts anxiously.'] She was
the mother of two of the criminals.

CZAB

[Lookifig at CZAREVITCH.] She should have
blessed me for having rid her of her children.
Send her to prison.

CZAREVITCH

The prisons of Russia are too full already,
Sire. There is no room in them for any more
victims.

CZAB

They don't die fast enough, then. You
should put more of them into one cell at once.
You don't keep them long enough in the
mines. If you do they 're sure to die ; but
you're all too mercifuL I'm too merciful
mysel£ Send her to Siberia. She is sure
to die on the way. \EnUr an AmE-DE-CAHP.j
Who 's that ? Who 's that ?

AmE-DE-CAHP

A letter for his Imperial Majesty.

187

VERA;

Acrn. czAK

[ To PRINCE PAUL.] I won*t Open it. There
may be something in it.

PRINCE PAUL

It would be a very disappointing letter,
Sire, if there wasn*t. \T<ik4s Utter kimselj^
and reads U^

PRINCE PETROVrrCH

[7b COUNT rouvaijoff.] It must be some
sad news. I know that smile too welL

PRINCE PAUL

From the Chief of the Police at Archangel,
Sire. *The Governor of the province was
shot this morning by a woman as he was
entering the courtyard of his own house.
The assassin has been seized.'

CZAR

I never trusted the people in Archangel
It *s a nest of Nihilists and conspirators. Take
away their saints ; they don't deserve them.

PRINCE PAUL

Your Highness would punish them more
severely by giving them an extra one. Three
governors shot in two months 1 \SmiUs to
188

OR, THE NIHILISTS

himself.'] Sire, permit me to recommend ACTIL
your loyal subject, the Marquis de Poivrard,
as the new governor of your Province of
Archangel

MARQUIS D£ POIVRARD

[Hurriedly.'] Sire, I am unfit for this post.

PRINCE PAUL

Marquis, you are too modest. Believe mCt
there b no man in Russia I would sooner
see Governor of Archangel than yoursel£
[ Whispers to czar.]

CZAR

Quite right, Prince Paul; you are always
right. See that the Marquis's letters are
made out at once.

PRINCE PAUL

He can start to-night, Sire. I shall really
miss you very much, Marquis. I always
liked your taste in wine and wives extremely.

liARQUIS DE POIVRARD

[To the CZAR.] Start to-night. Sire?
[prince PAUL whispers to the czar.]

Yes, Marquis, to-night ; it is better to go
at once.

189

VERA;

ACm. FlINCE PAUL.

I shall see that Madame la Marquise is not
too lonely while you are away ; so you need
not be alarmed forther.

COUNT ROUVALOFP

[7b PRINCE PETROvrrcH.] I should be
more alarmed for mysel£

CZAR

The Grovemor of Archangel shot in his own
courtyard by a woman ! I *m not safe here.
I'm not safe anywhere, with that she devil
of the revolution. Vera Sabouroff, here in
Moscow. Prince Paul, is that woman still
here?

PRINCE PAUL

They teU me she was at the Grand Duke's
ball last night. I can hardly believe that;
but she certainly had intended to leave for
Novgorod to-day. Sire. The police were
watching every train for her; but, for some
reason or other, she did not go. Some traitor
must have warned her. But I shall catch
her yet. A chase after a beautiful woman is
always exciting.

190

OR, THE NIHILISTS

czAK Acrn.

You must hunt her down with blood-
hounds, and when she is taken I shall hew
her limb from limb. I shall stretch her on
the rack tiU her pale white body is twisted
and curled like paper in the fire.

PRINCE PAUL

Oh, we shall have another hunt im-
mediately for her, Sire I Prince Alexis will
assist us, I am sure.

CZAREVITCH

You never require any assistance to ruin a
woman. Prince PauL

CZAR

Vera, the Nihilist, in Moscow! O Grod,
were it not better to die at once the dog's
death they plot for me than to live as I live
Qow I Never to sleep, or, if I do, to dream
such horrid dreams that hell itself were
peace when matched with them. To trust
none but those I have bought, to buy none
worth trusting I To see a traitor in every
smile, poison in every dish, a dagger in every

191

VERA;

ACT n. hand 1 To lie awake at night, listening from
hour to hour for the stealthy creeping of the
murderer, for the laying of the damned mine 1
You are all spies I you are all spies I You
worst of all — you, my own son I Which of
you is it who hides these bloody proclama-
tions under my own pillow, or at the table
where I sit ? Which of ye all is the Judas
who betrays me? O God! O God! me-
thinks there was a time once, in our war with
England, when nothing could make me
afraid. [^TAis with more calm and pathos^
I have ridden into the crimson heart of war,
and borne back an eagle which those wild
islanders had taken from us. Men said I was
brave then. My father gave me the Iron
Cross of Valour. Oh, could he see me now,
with this coward's livery ever in my cheek!
\Sinks into his chairJ] I never knew any love
when I was a boy. I was ruled by terror
myself, how else should I rule now ? [^Starts
upJ] But I will have revenge; I will have
revenge. For every hour I have lain awake
at night, waiting for the noose or the dagger,
they shall pass years in Siberia, centuries in
the mines ! Ay 1 I shall have revenge.
192

OR, THE NIHILISTS

CZABEVITCH ACT II.

Father I have mercy on the people. Give
them what they ask.

nUNCE PAUL

And begin. Sire, with your own head ; they
have a particular liking for that.

CZA&

The people ! the people ! A tiger which I
have let loose on myself; but I will fight
with it to the death. I am done with half
measures. I shall crush these Nihilists at a
Uow. There shall not be a man of them,
no, nor a woman either, left alive in Russia.
Am I Emperor for nothing, that a woman
should hold me at bay ? Vera Sabouroff shall
be in my power, I swear it, before a week is
ended, though I bum my whole city to find
her. She shall be flogged by the knout,
stifled in the fortress, strangled in the square !

CZAREVITCH

OGodI

CZAR

For two years her hands have been clutch-
ing at my throat ; for two years she has made
V 198

VERA;

ACTIL mj life a hell; but I shall have reveiigf.
Martial law. Prince, martial law over the
whole Empire; that will give me revenge.
A good measure. Prince, eh ? agood measme

PRINCE PAUL

And an economical one too. Sire. It
will carry off your surplus population in
six months, and save you any exp^ise in
courts of justice; they will not be needed
now.

CZAR

Quite right. There are too many people
in Russia, too much money spent on them,
too much money on courts of justice. IH
shut them up,

CZAREVITCH

Sire, reflect before

CZAR

When can you have the proclamations
ready. Prince Paul ?

PRINCE PAUL

They have been printed for the last six
months. Sire. I knew you would need theuL
104

OR, THE NIHILISTS

That 's good I That *s very good I Let us
b^in at once. Ah, Prince, if every king in
Europe had a minister like you

CZAREVITCH

There would be less kings in Europe than
there are.

[In frighiefud whisper^ to prince Paul.]
What does he mean ? Do you trust him ?
His prison hasn't cured him yet Shall I
banish him ? Shall I \whispers\ . . A The
Emperor Paul did it. The Empress Catherine
there [points to picture on the wal[\ did it.
Why shouldn't 1 1

PRINCE PAUL

Your Majesty, there is no need for alarm.
The Prince is a very ingenuous young man.
He pretends to be devoted to the people, and
lives in a palace; preaches socialism, and
draws a salary that would support a province.
Some day he 11 find out that the best cure for
Republicanism is the Imperial crown, and
wOl cut up the red cap of liberty to make
decorations for his Prime Minister.

195

Acrn.

VERA;

ACTIL CZAR

You are right. If he really loved the
people, he could not be my son.

PUNCE PAUL

If he lived with the people for a fortnight,
their bad dinners would soon cure him of his
democracy. Shall we begin. Sire ?

CZAR

At once. Read the proclamation. Gentle-
men, be seated. Alexis, Alexis, I say, come
and hear it 1 It will be good practice for you ;
you will be doing it yourself some day.

CZAREVITCH

I have heard too much of it already.
[ Takes his seat at the table, count rouvaix)FF
whispers to him.^

CZAR

What are you whispering about there,
Count RouvalofF?

COUNT ROUVALOFF

I was giving his Royal Highness some
good advice, your Majesty.

PRINCE PAUL

Count Rouvaioff is the typical spendthrift,
196

OR, THE NIHILISTS

Sire ; he is always jiving away whut he needs ACT ii
most. {^Lays papers before the czak.] I
think Sire, you will approve of this : — * Love
of the people/ * Father of his people,' * Martial
law/ and the usual allusions to Providence
in the last line. All it requires now is your
Imperial Majesty's signature.

CZAREVITCH

Sire!

f'RINCE PAUL

\Hurriedly^ I promise your Majesty to
c^rush every Nihilist in Russia in six months
iif you sign this proclamation ; every Nihilist

Russia.

Say that again 1 To crush every Nihilist

:in Russia ; to crush this woman, their leader,

"ip^ho makes war upon me in my own city.

Trince Paul Maraloffski, I create you Mar^

chal of the whole Russian Empire to help

you to carry out martial law.

CZAR

Give me the proclamation. I will sign it
at once.

197

VERA,

AGTIJL PBINCE PAUL

[Points on paper.'] Here, Sire.

CZAREVITCH

[Starts up and puts kis hands on the paper ^
Stayl I tell you, stay I The priests have
taken heaven from the people, and you would
take the earth away too.

PRINCE PAUL

[Hurriedly.'] We have no time. Prince, now.
This boy will ruin everything. The pen, Siie

CZAREVITCH

What 1 is it so small a thing to strangle a
nation, to murder a kingdom, to wreck an
empire ? Who are we who dare lay this ban
of terror on a people? Have we less vices
than they have, that we bring them to the
bar of judgment before us?

PRINCE PAUL

What a Communist the Prince is! He
would have an equal distribution of sin as
well as of property.

CZAREVITCH

Warmed by the same sun, nurtured by the
same air, fashioned of flesh and blood like to
our own, wherein are they different to us,
108

OR, THE NIHILISTS

save that they starve while we surfeit, that AGTIL
they toil while we idle, that they sicken while
we poison, that they die while we

CZAB

How dare ^f

CZAKEVITCH

I dare all for the people; but you would
rob them of common rights of men.

CZAB

The people have no rights.

CZAKEVITCH

Then they have great wrongs. Father,
they have won your battles for you ; from the
pine forests of the Baltic to the palms of
India they have ridden on victory's mighty
^^vings! Boy as I am in years, I have seen
^wave after wave of living men sweep up the
lieights of battle to their death; ay, and
snatch perilous conquest from the scales
of war when the bloody crescent seemed
to shake above our eagles.

CZAR

[SameivAat moved.'] Those men are dead.
What have I to do with them ?

109

VERA;

ACTIL CZAREVITCH

Nothing I The dead are safe ; you cannot
harm them now. They sleep their last long
• sleep. Some in Turkish waters, others by
the wind-swept heights of Norway and the
Dane! But these, the living, our brothers,
what have you done for them ? They asked
you for bread, you gave them a stone. They
sought for freedom, you scourged them with
scorpions. You have sown the seeds of this
revolution yourself 1

PRINCE PAUL

And are we not cutting down the harvest?

CZAREVITCH

Oh, my brothers 1 better far that ye had
died in the iron hail and screaming shell of
battle than to come back to such a doom as
this I The beasts of the forests have their
lairs, and the wild beasts their caverns, but the
people of Russia, conquerors of the world, have
not where to lay their heads.

PRINCE PAUL

They have the headsman's block.

CZAREVITCH

The block 1 Ay I you have killed their
200

OR, THE NIHILISTS

souls at your pleasure, you would kill their ACTIL
bodies now.

Insolent boy ! Have you forgotten who is
Bmperor of Russia ?

CZAREVITCH

No ! The people reign now, by the grace
of God. You should have been their shep-
herd; you have fled away like the hireling,
and let the wolves in upon them.

CZAR

Take him away ! Take him away. Prince
Paul!

CZAREVITCH

God hath given this people tongues to
speak with; you would cut them out that
they may be dumb in their agony, silent in
their torture! But He hath given them
hands to smite with, and they shall smite !
Ay ! from the sick and labouring womb of
this unhappy land some revolution, like a
bloody child, may rise up and slay you.

CZAR

[Lea/nng up.'] Devil ! Assassin ! Why do
you beard me thus to my face ?

201

VERA;

Acrn. czAKEvrrcH

Because I am a Nihilist! ^TAe ministers
start to their feet ; there is a dead silence for a
few minutesJ]

CZAB

A Nihilist 1 a Nihilist 1 Viper whom I have
nurtured, traitor whom I have fondled, is this
your bloody secret ? Prince Paul MaraloffsH
Mar^chal of the Russian Empire, arrest the
Czarevitch 1

MINISTERS

Arrest the Czarevitch I

CZAB

A Nihilist I If you have sown with them*
you shall reap with them 1 If you have talked
with them, you shall rot with them 1 If yoca
have lived with them, with them you shalX
diel

PRINCE PETROVTTCH

Diel

CZAR

A plague on all sons, I say ! There shoul<
be no more marriages in Russia when one

aoa

OR, THE NIHILISTS

breed such Serpents as you are ! Arrest the act ii.
Czarevitch, I say 1

PKINCE PAUL

Czarevitch! by order of the Emperor, I
demand your sword, [czarevitch gives up
sword ; prince vauIa places it on the tableS^

CZAREVITCH

You will find it unstained by blood.

PRINCE PAUL

Foolish boy ! you are not made for a con-
spirator; you have not learned to hold your
tongue. Heroics are out of place in a
palace.

[Sinks into kis chair with his eyes fixed on the
CZAREVITCH.] O God 1 My own son against
me, my own flesh and blood against me ; but
I am rid of them all now.

The mighty brotherhood to which I belong
'^^ a thousand such as I am, ten thousand
^^ctter still 1 [The czar starts in his seat."]

208

VERA;

ACTIL The star of freedom is risen already, ind
far off I hear the mighty wave Democracy
break on these cursed shores.

PRINCE PAUL

[ To PRINCE PETRO viTCH.] In that case you
and I must learn how to swim.

CZAREVITCH

Father, Emperor, Imperial Master, I plead
not for my own life, but for the lives of my
brothers, the people.

PRINCE PAUL

{Bitter ly.'\ Your brothers, the people,
Prince, are not content with their own lives,
they always want to take their neighbours*
too.

CZAR

[Standing up.'\ I am tired of being afraid.
I have done with terror now. From this day
I proclaim war against the people — war to
their annihilation. As they have dealt with
me, so shall I deal with them. I shall grind
them to powder, and strew their dust upon
the air. There shall be a spy in every man's
house, a traitor on every hearth, a hangman
204

OR, THE NIHILISTS

in every village, a gibbet in every square. ACTU.
Plague, leprosy, or fever shall be less deadly
than my wrath ; I will make every frontier
a graveyard, every province a lazar-house,
and cure the sick by the sword. I shall have
peace in Russia, though it be the peace of
the dead. Who said I was a coward ? Who
said I was afraid ? See, thus shall I crush this
people beneath my feet I [ Takes up sward
^CZABEVITCH off tab U and tramples an it^

Father, beware, the sword you tread on may
turn and wound you. The people suffer long,
but vengeance comes at last, vengeance with
red hands and silent feet

FRINGE PAUL

Bah I the people are bad shots ; they always
miss one.

CZAREVFTCH

There are times when the people are the
instruments of God.

Ay I and when kings are God's scourges
for the people. Take him away ! Take him

205

VERA;

ACT n. away t Bring in my guards. [EmUr the Im^
perial Guard, czar pauUs to czakbvitch,
who stands alone at the side of the stageJ] We
will bring him to prilson ourselves: prison 1
I trust no prison. He would escape and kill
me. I will have him shot here, here in the
open square by the soldiers. Lict me never
see his face again, [czarevitch is being led
out."] No, no, leave him! I don't trust.
guards. They are all Nihilists ! [To princ&
Paul]. I trust you, you have no mercy-.^
[Throws window open and goes out on dalcof^.]

czarevitch

If I am to die for the people I am ready
One Nihilist more or less in Russia, what doe^
that matter ?

PRINCE PAUL

[Looking at his watch.'] The dinner is sumfl
to be spoiled. How annoying politics are
and eldest sons 1

VOICE

[Outside, in the street.] God save th^^
people ! [czar is shot^ and staggers back inf^
the room.]
206

OR, THE NIHILISTS

CZAREVITCH ACT U.

[Breaking from the guards^ and rushing
Tver.'] Father I

Murderer 1 Murderer 1 You did it I
Murderer 1 [I?ies.]

Tableau

AND or ACT u

807

ACT III

Same scene and business as Ad L Man in yellow dress^
with drawn sward^ at the door.

Password outside. Vae tyrannis.
Answer. Vae victis [repeated three times].

[Enter conspirators who farm a semicircle,
masked and cloaked^

PRESIDENT

What hour is it ?

FIRST CONSPIRATOR

The hour to strike.

PRESIDENT

What day ?

SECOND CONSPIRATOR

The day of Marat.

PRESIDENT

In what month f
208

OR, THE NIHILISTS

THIRD CONSPIRATOR ACT III.

The month of liberty.

PRESIDENT

What is our duty f

FOURTH CONSPIRATOR

To obey.

PRESIDENT

Our creed ?

FIFTH CONSPIRATOB

Parbleu, Monsieur le President, I never
knew you had one.

X>N8PIRATORS

A spy 1 A spy 1 Unmask ! Unmask I A
jpyl

PRESIDENT

Let the doors be shut. There are others
but Nihilists present.

CONSPIRATORS

Unmask I Unmask I Kill him ! kill
him I [Masked Conspirator untpuisks.'] Prince
Paull

▼ERA

Devil 1 Who lured you into the lion's
den?
o 209

VERA;

ACrnL OON8PI11ATOB8

KiUhiml KiUhiml

PRINCE PAUL

En vinb^s Messieurs, you are not over
hospitable in your welcome.

Welcome 1 What welcome should we give
you but the dagger or the noose ?

P&INCE PAUL

I had no idea really that the Nilulists
were so exclusive. Let me assure you that
if I had not always had an aitr^ to the very
best society, and the very worst conspiraciesi
I could never have been Prime Ifinister in
Russia.

The tiger cannot change its nature, nor ^
make lose its venom ; but are you turned a
lover of the people f

PRINCE PAUL

Mon Dieu, non, Mademoiselle 1 I would

much sooner talk scandal in a drawing-room

than treason in a cellar. Besides, I hate the

common mob, who smell of garlic^

SIO

OR, THE NIHILISTS

bad tobacco, get up early, and dine off one
dish.

PRESIDENT

What have you to gain, th«i, by a revolu-
tion?

PRINCE PAUL

Mon ami, I have nothing left to lose. That
scatter-brained boy, this new Czar, has ban-
ished me.

To Siberia f

FRINGE PAUL

No, to Paris. He has confiscated my
estates, robbed me of my office and my cook.
I have nothing left but my decorations. I am
here for revenge.

PRESIDENT

Then you have a right to be one of us.
We also meet daily for revenge.

PRINCE PAUL

You want money of course. No one ever
joins a conspiracy who has any. Here.
[TArows money an table.'] You have so many
spies that I should think you want i\

211

VERA;

ACT nL tioiL WeU, you will find me the best
informed man in Russia on the abuses of
our Gk>vernment. I made them nearly all
mvself.

VERA

President, I don't trust this man. He has
done us too much harm in Russia to let him
go in safety.

PRINCE PAUL

Believe me, Mademoiselle, you are wrong.
I will be a most valuable addition to your
circle ; and as for you, gentlemen, if I had not
thought that you would be useful to me I
shouldn't have risked my neck among you, or
dined an hour earlier th^ usual so as to be in
time.

PRESIDENT

Ay, if he had wanted to spy on us. Vera,
he wouldn*t have come himself.

PRINCE PAUL

[Aside.'] No ; I should have sent my best
firiend.

PRESIDENT

Besides, Vera, he is just the man to give us

2ia

OR. THE NIHILISTS

the information we want about some business act m.
we haTe in hand to-night.

Be it so if you wish it.

FKESmSNT

Brothers, is it your will that Prince Paul
Maraloffski be admitted, and take the oath of
the Nihilist?

CONSPULATOBS

It is 1 it is I

PBESIDENT

[Holding out dagger and a paper."] Prince
Paul, the dagger or the oath ?

FEINCE PAUL

[Smiles sardonically.'] I would sooner
annihilate than be annihilated. [Takes
paper.]

PRESIDENT

Remember: Betray us, and as long as
earth holds poison or steel, as long as men
can strike or women betray, you shall not
escape vengeance. The Nihilists never forget
their friends, or forgive their enemies.

218

VERA;

ACT UL PRINCE PAUL

Really? I did not think you were so
civilised.

VEBA

[Pacing up and dawn iekind"] Why is he
not here? He will not keep the cro¥m. I
know him welL

PKESIDENT

Sign, [prince paul stgns.^ You said you
thought we had no creed. You were wrong.
Readitl

VERA

This is a dangerous thing. President. What
can we do with this man ?

PRESIDENT

We can use him. He is of value to us to-
night and to-morrow.

Perhaps there will be no morrow for any of
us ; but we have given him our word : he is
safer here than ever he was in his palace.

PRINCE PAUL

[Reading.'] * The rights of humanity ' I In
the old times men carried out their rights for
themselves as they lived, but nowadays every
214

OR, THE NIHILISTS

baby seems bom with a social manifesto in ACT m.
its mouth much bigger than itself. * Nature
is not a temple, but a workshop : we demand
the right to labour/ Ah, I shall surrender
my own rights in that respect.

[Pactng^ up and down behind.'] Oh, will he
never come ? will he never come ?

PRINCE PAUL

• The family as subversive of true socialistic
and communal unity is to be annihilated.'
Yes, President, I agree completely with
Article 5. A family is a terrible incumbrance,
especially when one is not married. [Thru
knocks at the door.^

Alexis at last 1

Password
Vce tyrannis 1

Answer

Vsd victis I [Enter Michael strooanoff.]

PRESIDENT

Michael, the regicide ! Brothers, let us do
honour to a man who has killed a king.

S15

VERA;

ACTIIL TEBA

[Astde.l Oh, he will come yet I

PRESIDENT

Michael, you have saved Russia.

MICHAEL

Ay, Russia was free for a moment when
the tyrant fell, but the sun of liberty has set
again like that false dawn which cheats our
eyes in autumn.

PRESIDENT

The dread night of tyranny is not yet past
for Russia.

MICHAEL

[Clutching his kni/eJ] One more blow, and
the end is come indeed.

VERA

[Aside.'] One more blowl What does he
mean ? Oh, impossible ! but why is he not
with us ? Alexis 1 Alexis 1 why are you not
here?

PRESIDENT

But how did you escape, Michael f They
said you had been seized.
216

OR. THE NIHILISTS

MICHAEL ACT IIL

I was dressed in the uniform of the Im-
perial Guard. The Colonel on duty was a
brother, and gave me the password. I drove
through the troops in safety with it, and,
thanks to my good horse, reached the walls
before the gates were closed.

PRESIDENT

What a chance his coming out on the
balcony was 1

MICHAEL

A chance ? There is no such thing as
chance. It was God's finger led him there.

PBESIDENT

And where have you been these three
days?

MICHAEL

Hiding in the house of the priest Nicholas
at the cross-roads.

PRESIDENT

Nicholas is an honest man.

mCHAEL

Ay, honest enough for a priest I am here
now for vengeance on a traitor !

217

VERA;

ACrm. VEBA

[AsideJ] O God, will he never come?
Alexis 1 why are you not here ? You cantiot
have turned traitor 1

laCHAEL

[Seeing prince paul.] Prince Paul Mara-
loffski here 1 By St. George, a lucky capture 1
This must have been Vera's doing. She is
the only one who could have lured that ser-
pent into the trap.

PRESIDENT

Prince Paul has just taken the oath.

VERA

Alexis, the Czar, has banished him from
Russia.

MICHAEL

Bah 1 A blind to cheat us. We will keep
Prince Paul here, and find some office for him
in our reign of terror. He is well accustomed
by this time to bloody work.

PRINCE PAUL

[Approaching Michael.] That was a long
shot of yours, mon camarade.

MICHAEL

I have had a good deal of practice shooting;
21ft

OR. THE NIHILISTS

siiioe I have been a boy, off your Highness's ACT lu.
wild boars.

PRINCE PAUL

Are my gamekeepers like moles, then,
always asleep ?

MICHAEL

No, Prince. I am one of them ; but, like
you, I am fond of robbing what I am put to
watcL

PRESIDENT

This must be a new atmosphere for you.
Prince PauL We speak the truth to one
another here.

PRINCE PAUL

How misleading you must find it! You
have an odd medley here. President.

PRESmENT

You recognise a good many friends, I dare
say?

PRINCE PAUL

Yes, there is always more brass than brains
in an aristocracy.

PRESmENT

But you are here yourself f

flO

VERA;

ACrr IIL PRINCE PAUL

I ? As I cannot be Prime Minister, I must
be a Nihilist. There is no alternative.

VERA

Grod, will he never come? The hand
is on the stroke of the hour. Will he never
come?

MICHAEL

lAstde.^ President, you know what we have
to do? TTis but a sorry hunter who leaves
the wolf cub alive to avenge his father. Ho^
are we to get at this boy ? It must be to-
night. To-morrow he will be throwing some
sop of reform to the people, and it will be too
late for a republic

PRINCE PAUL

You are quite right. Good kings are the
only dangerous enemies that modem demo-
cracy has, and when he has begun by banishing
me you may be sure he intends to be a patriot

MICHAEL

1 am sick of patriot kings; what Russia
needs is a Republic

PRINCE PAUL

Messieurs, I have brought you two docu-
220

OR, THE NIHILISTS

ments which I think will interest you — ^the ACT ill.
proclamation this young Czar intends publish-
ing to-morrow, and a plan of the Winter
Palace, where he sleeps to-night.

[Hands papers."]

I dare not ask them what they are plotting
about. Oh, why is Alexis not here ?

PBESmENT

Prince, this is most valuable information.
Michael, you were right. If it is not to-night
it will be too late. Read that

MICHAEL

Ah 1 A loaf of bread flung to a starving
nation. A lie to cheat the people. [Tears it
1^.] It must be to-night. I do not believe
him. Would he have kept his crown had
be loved the people ? But how are we to get
at him, and shall we who could not bear the
scorpions of the father suffer tlie whips of the
son? — no; whatever is, must be destroyed:
whatever is, is wrong.

PRINCE PAUL

The key of the private door in the street.

[Hands key^
221

VEBA;

Acrin.

4 AMI

Prince, we ire in your ddhfL

PmiNCE PAUL

[Smz/tmg'.'] The ncnrmal condition of the
Nihilists.

MICHAEL

Ay, bat we are paying our debts off with
interest now. Two Emperors in one wedL
That will make the balance straight. We
would have thrown in a Prime Minister if
you had not come.

FRINCE PAUL

Ah, I am sorry you told me. It robs my
▼isit of aU its picturesqueness and adventure.
I thought I was perilling my head by coming
here, and you tell me I have saved it. One
is sure to be disappointed if one tries to get
romance out of modem life.

MICHAEL

It is not so romantic a thing to lose one's
head. Prince PauL

FBINCE PAUL

No, but it must often be very dull to keep
it Don't you find that sometimes ?

IClocA strikes six.^
222

OR. THE NIHILISTS
▼KBA Acrra.

[Sinking into a seat.'] Oh, it is past the
hour 1 It is past the hour 1

MICHAEL

[ 7b PRESIDENT.] Remember to-morrow will
be too late.

PRESIDENT

Brothers, it is full time. Which of us is
absent?

CONSPIRATORS

Alexis! Alexis I

PRESIDENT

Michael, read Rule ?•

MICHAEL

'When any brother shall have disobeyed
a summons to be present, the president shall
inquire if there is anything alleged against
him.'

PRESIDENT

Is there anything against our brother
is?

CONSPIRATORS

He wears a crown ! He wears a crown 1

228

Code of

«n

is war

• X^ !• ^

sBf yimf Is

the

Wbsfc sbaB tbe pcMhj be ?

Let the lots be
nigfat.

prqfHLred; it shall be t(^

P&ESCE PAUL

Ah, this is reftUy in
afiraid consjancies

! I was getting
dull as eourts are.

OR, THE NIHILISTS

FROFE880R MARFA ACT III

My forte is more in writing pamphlets than
in taking shots. Still a regicide has always a
place in history.

MICHAEL

If your pistol is as harmless as your pen,
this young tyrant will have a long life.

FRINCE PAUL

You ought to remember, too. Professor,
that if you were seized, as you probably
would be, and hung, as you certainly would
be, there would be nobody left to read your
own articles.

PRESIDENT

Brothers, are you ready ?

[Starting upJ] Not yet 1 Not yet I I have
word to say.

[Aside.'] Plague take her! I knew it
^would come to this.

This boy has been our brother. Night
after night he has perilled his own life to
F 225

VERA;

ACTiiL come here. Night afta- night, when every
street was filled with spies, every house with
traitors. Delicately nurtured like a king's
son, he has dwelt among us.

PRSSmSNT

Ay I under a fidse name. He lied to us
at the b^inning. He lies to us now at tbe
end.

I swear he is true. There is not a man
here who does not owe him his life a thousand
times. When the bloodhounds were on
us that night, who saved us from arrest,
torture, flogging, death, but he ye sedc to
kill?

MICHAKL

To kill all tyrants is our mission I

He is no tyrant. I know him well 1 He
loves the people.

PRESIDENT

We know him too ; he is a traitor.

VERA

A traitor ! Three days ago he could have
226

OR, THE NIHILISTS

betrayed every man of you here, and the actiij
gibbet would have been your doom. He
gave you all your lives once. Give him a
little time — a week, a month, a few days;
but now I — O Gk>d, not now 1

CONSPIBATOBS

[Brandishing daggers^ To-night 1 to-night 1
to-night I

VERA

Peace, you gotgkA adders ! peace 1

MICHAEL

What, are we not here to annihilate ? Shall
we not keep our oath ?

VERA

Your oath ! your oath I Greedy that you
«re of gain, every man's hand lusting for his
neighbour's pelf, every heart set on pillage
and rapine; who, of ye all, if the crown
Were set on his head, would give an empire
up for the mob to scramble for ? The people
not yet fit for a republic in Russia.

FB£8IDENT

Every nation is fit for a republic.

227

VERA;

MCrUL MICHAKL

The man is a tyrant

A tnant ! Hath he not disnussed his evil
eounsdlois. That ill-omened raven of his
fittber's life hath had his wings clipped and
his cUws pared, and oomes to us cn>akiDg
for rcTenge. Oh, have mocy on him 1 Give
him a we^ to live !

{heading for a king !

[Prtmdfy.^ I plead not for a king, but for
a brother.

MICHAEL

FcM* a traitor to his oath, a coward v^o
l^ould have flung the purple back to the
fools that gave it him. No, Vera, na
The brood of men is not yet dead, nor the
dull earth grown sick of child-bearing. No
crowned man in Russia shall pollute Grod's
air by living.

Fil£SIDKXT

You bade us try you once. We have tried
you, and you are found wanting.

OR, THE NIHILISTS

iiacHAEL Acrm.

Vera, I am not blind ; I know your secret.
You love this boy, this young prince with
his pretty face, his curled hair, his soft white
hands. Fool that you are, dupe of a lying
tongue, do you know what he would have
done to you, this boy you think loved you ?
He would have made you his mistress, used
your body at his pleasure, thrown you away
when he was wearied of you ; you, the
priestess of liberty, the flame of revolution,
the torch of democracy.

What he would have done to me matters
little. To the people, at least, he will be
true. He loves ^e people ; at least, he loves
liberty.

PBESIDENT

So, he would play the citizen-king, would
he, while we starve ? Would flatter us with
sweet speeches, would cheat us with promises
like his father, would lie to us as his whole
race have lied.

laCHAEL

And you whose very name made every

229

VERA;

ACT m. despot tremble for his life, you. Vera Sabou-
roff, you would betray liberty for a lover
and the people for a paramour !

CONSPniATOHS

Traitress! Draw the lots; draw the
lotsl

In thy throat thou liest, Michael ! I love
him not. He loves me not.

MICHAEL

You love him not ? Shall he not die then !

▼ERA

[With an effort^ clenching her hands.'] Ay,
it is right that he should die. He hath broken
his oath. There should be no crowned man
in Europe. Have I not sworn it? To be
strong, our new republic should be drunk
with the blood of kings. He hath broken
his oath. As the father died so let the son
die too. Yet not to-night, not to-night
Russia, that hath borne her centuries of
wrong, can wait a week for liberty. Give
him a week.

S80

OR, THE NIHILISTS

FBESIDENT ACT UL

We will have none of you I Begone from
us to this boy you love.

MICHAEL

Though I find him in your anns I shaU
kill him.

CONSPIRATORS

To-night ! To-night I To-night !

MICHAEL

[Holding up his hand^ A moment I I have
something to say. {Approaches vera ; speaks
very slowly^ Vera Sabouroff, have you for-
gotten your brother? {Pauses to see effect;
VERA starts^ Have you forgotten that
young face, pale with famine; those young
limbs twisted with torture ; the iron chains
they made him walk in ? What week of
libMty did they give him ? What pity did
they show him for a day ? [vera falls in a
^Aair.'] Oh I you could talk glibly enough
then of vengeance, glibly enough of liberty.
When you said you would come to Moscow,
your old father caught you by the knees and
begged you not to leave him to die childless

281

VERA;

ACT IIL and alone. I seem to hear his cries still ringing
in my ears, but you were as deaf to him as the
rocks on the roadside. You left your fiither
that night, and three weeks after he died of
a broken heart You wrote to me to follow
you here. I did so; first because I loved
you ; but you soon cured me of that ; what-
ever gentle feeling, whatever pity, whatever
love, whatever humanity, was in my heart
you withered up and destroyed, as the canker
worm eats the com. You bade me cast
out love from my breast as a vile thing,
you turned my hand to iron, and my heart
to stone ; you told me to live for freedom
and revenge. I have done sa But you, what
have you done ?

Let the lots be drawn 1 [coNSPimATais

PRINCE PAUL

\Aside^ Ah, the Grand Duke will come
to the throne sooner than he expected. He
is sure to make a good king undo* my
guidance. He is so cruel to animals, and
never keeps his word
882

OR, THE NIHILISTS

HICHAEL ACT lU.

Now you are yourself at last, Vera.

{^Standing' motionless in the middle.^] The
lots, I say, the lots I I am no woman now.
My blood seems turned to gall ; my heart is
as cold as steel is; my hand shall be more
deadly. From the desert and the tomb the
voice of my prisoned brother cries aloud, and
bids me strike one blow for liberty. The lots,
I say, the lots 1

FRESmENT

Are ready. Michael, you have the right to
draw first : you are a regicide.

O God, into my hands I Into my hands 1
[They draw the lots from a bowl surmounted
by a shuU.^

FEESmENT

Open your lots.

lOpening". her lotJ] The lot is mine ! See^
the bloody sign upon it I Dmitri, my brother,
you shall have your revenge now.

288

VERA;

ACT III. PKE8IDENT

Vera Sabouroff, you are chosen to be a
regicide. God has been good to you. The
dagger or the poison ? [Offers her clagger and
vial.']

▼ERA

I can trust my hand better with the
dagger; it never fails, [Takes daggerJ] I
shall stab him to the heart, as he has stabbed
me. Traitor, to leave us for a ribbon, a gaud,
a bauble, to lie to me every day he came here,
to forget us in an hour. Michael was right, he
loved me not, nor the people either. Me-
thinks that if I was a mother and bore a man-
child, I would poison my breast against him,
lest he might grow to a traitor or to a king.
[prince PAUL whispers to the president.]

PRESIDENT

Ay, Prince Paul, that is the best way.
Vera, the Czar sleeps to-night in his own
room in the north wing of the palace. Here
is a key of the private door in the street. The
passwords of the guards will be given to you.
His own servants will be drugged. You will
find him alone.
284

OR, THE NIHILISTS

▼MU ACT ILL

It is welL I shall not faiL

PRESIDENT

We will wait outside in the Place Saint
Isaac, under the window. As the clock
strikes twelve firom the tower of St. Nicholas
you will give us the sign that the dog is
dead.

And what shall the sign be f

PRESIDENT

You are to throw us out the bloody dagger.

MICHAEL

Dripping with the traitor's life.

PRESIDENT

Else we shall know that you have been
seized, and we will burst our way in, drag
you from his guards.

MICHAEL

And kill him in the midst of them.

PRESmENT

Michael, you will lead us t

286

VERA;

ACTin. MICHAEL

Ay, I shall lead you. See that your hand
fidls you not. Vera Sabouroff.

Fool, is it so hard a thing to kiU one's
enemy?

FRINGE PAUL

[^AstdeJ] This is the ninth conspiracy I have
been in in Russia. They always end in s
< voyage en Sib^rie ' for my firiends and a new
decoration for myself.

It is your last conspiracy. Prince.

PBESIDENT

At twelve o'clock, the bloody dagger.

VERA

Av« red with the blood of that fidse heart
I shall not forget it. {S^andin^ in middle
0/ stage. ^ To strangle whatever nature is in
me, neither to love nor to be loved, neither to
pity nor to be pitied. Ay I it is an oath, an
oath. Methinks the spirit of Charlotte Corday
has entered my soul now. I shall carve my
name on the world, and be ranked among the
886

OR, THE NIHILISTS

great heroines. Ay I the spirit of Charlotte ACT IIL
Corday beats in each petty vein, and nerves
my woman's hand to strike, as I have nerved
my woman's heart to hate. Though he laugh
in his dreams I shall not falter. Though he
sleep peacefully I shall not miss my blow.
Be glad, my brother, in your stifled cell ; be
glad and laugh to-night. To-night this new-
fledged Czar shall post with bloody feet to
hell, and greet his father there I This
Czar ! O traitor, liar, false to his oath, false
to me ! To play the patriot among us, and
now to wear a crown ; to sell us, like Judas,
for thirty silver pieces, to betray us with a
kiss ! [ With more passion.'] O Liberty, O
mighty mother of eternal time, thy robe is
purple with the blood of those who have died
for thee ! Thy throne is the Calvary of the
people, thy crown the crown of thorns. O
crucified mother, the despot has driven a
nail through thy right hand, and the tjrrant
through thy left ! Thy feet are pierced with
their iron. When thou wert athirst thou
calledst on the priests for water, and they
gave thee bitter drink. They thrust a sword
into thy side. They mocked thee in thine

S87

VERA; OR, THE NIHILISTS

ACT III. agony of age on age. Here, on thy altar,
Liberty, do I dedicate myself to thy service ;
do with me as thou wilt ! [Brandishing the
daggerJ] The end has come now, and by
thy sacred wounds, O crucified mother,
Liberty, I swear that Russia shall be saved 1

Curtain

SND OF ACT UI

ACT IV

SCENE

Antechamber of the Czar's private roam. Large window at
the back, with drawn curtains over it.

Present. — prince peteovitch. baeon raff.

BfAEQUIS DE POIYEAED. COUNT EOUVALOFF.
PRINCE PETEOVITCH

He is beginning well, this young Czar.

BARON RAFF

[Shrugs his shoulders.'] All young Czars do
begin welL

COUNT ROUVALOFF

And end badly.

ICARQUIS DE POIYRARD

Well, I have no right to complain. He
has done me one good service, at any rate.

PRINCE PETEOVITCH

Cancelled your appointment to Archangel,
I suppose f

S80

VERA;

ACT IV. MAKQUIS DE POIVBARD

Yes; my head wouldn't have been safe
there for an hour.

lEnUr GENERAL KOTEMKIN.]
BAKON RAFF

Ah! General, any more news of our
romantic young Emperor ?

OENERAL KOTEMKIN

You are quite right to call him romantic,
Baron; a week ago I found him amusing
himself in a garret with a company of strolling
players; to-day his whim is all the convicts
in Siberia are to be recalled, and the political
prisoners, as he calls them, amnestied.

FRINGE PETROVrrCH

Pohtical prisoners ! Why, half of them are
no better than common murderers 1

COUNT ROUVAIX)FF

And the other half much worse f

BARON RAFF

Oh, you wrong them, surely. Count.
Wholesale trade has always been more
respectable than retail.

COUNT ROUVALOFF

But he is really too romantic. He objected
S40

OR, THE NIHILISTS

yesterday to my having the monopoly of the ACT iv.
salt tax. He said the people had a right to
have cheap salt

MABQUIS D£ POIYBASD

Oh, that's nothing; but he actually dis-
approved of a State banquet every night
because there is a famine in the Southern
provinces. [ The young czak enters unobserved^
and overhears the rest.']

PRINCE PETROVITCH

Quelle bStise ! The more starvation there
is among the people the better. It teaches
them self-denial, an excellent virtue. Baron.

BABON BAPF

I have often heard so.

OENEBAL KOTEMKIN

He talked of a Parliament, too, in Russia,
and said the people should have deputies to
represent them.

BABON BAFF

As if there was not enough brawling in the
streets already, but we must give the people a
room to do it in But, Messieurs, the worst

a 241

VERA;

ACT IV. is jet to come. He threatens a complete
refcurm of the public service on the gromid
that the people are too heavily taxed.

MAXQUIS DE FOrVRABD

He can't be serious there. What is the use
of the people except for us to get money out
of? But talking of the taxes,my dear Baron,
you must really let me have forty thousand
roubles to-morrow ; my wife says she must
have a new diamond bracelet.

COUNT SOUVAIX>FF

[Asid$ to BARON RAFF.] Ah, to match the
one Prince Paul gave her last week, I
suppose.

FEINCE PSTROVriCH

I must have sixty thousand roubles at once,
Baron. My son is overwhelmed with debts
of honour which he can't pay.

BARON RAFF

What an excellent son to imitate his father
so carefully!

GENERAL KOTEMKIN

You are always getting money. I never
get a single kopeck I have not got a right ta

OR, THE NIHILISTS

ACT IV.

It 's unbearable ; it 's ridiculous ! My nephew
18 going to be married I must get his dowry
forhuxL

FBINCE PETSOVITCH

My dear General, your nephew must be a
perfect Turk. He seems to ^et married three
times a week regularly.

GENERAL KOTEMKIN

Well, he wants a dowry to console him.

COUNT EOUVAIX>FF

I am sick of town. I want a house in the
country.

MAEQUIS DE POIVKABD

I am sick of the country. I want a house
in town.

BABON RAFF

Gentlemen, I am extremely sorry for you.
It is out of the question.

PRINCE PETROVrrCH

But my son. Baron f

GENERAL KOTEMKIN

But my nephew ?

MARQUIS DE POIYRARD

But my house in town ?

248

VERA;

ACT IV. COUNT EOUVAIX)FF I %

But my house in the country f | ^

MARQUIS D£ POIVBARD

But my wife's diamond bracelet ?

BARON RAFF

Gentlemen, impossible I The old regime in | i*.
Russia is dead ; the funeral b^ns to-day.

COUNT ROUVALOFF

Then I shall wait for the resurrection.

PRINCE PETROVITCH

Yes ; but, en attendant, what are we to do !

BARON RAFF

What have we always done in Russia when
a Czar suggests reform ? — nothing. You for-
get we are diplomatists. Men of thoughts
sliould have nothing to do with action^i-
Reforms in Russia are very tragic, but the]^*
always end in a farce.

COUNT ROUVALOFF

I wish Prince Paul were here. By th
by, I think this boy is rather ungrateful
him. If that clever old Prince had not pr
claimed him Emperor at once without givin
him time to think about it» he would hMV^
244

OR, THE NIHILISTS

given up his crown, I believe, to the first ACT iv.
cobbler he met in the street.

PRINCE PETROVrrCH

But do you think. Baron, that Prince Paul
is really going ?

BARON RAFF

He is exiled.

PRINCE PETROVrrCH

Yes ; but is he going f

RARON RAFF

I am sure of it ; at least he told me he had
sent two telegrams already to Paris about his
ten

COUNT ROUVALOFF

Ah ! that settles the matter.

CZAR

[Coming forward.'] Prince Paul had better
send a third telegram and order [counting
them] six extra places.

BARON RAFF

ThedevUI

CZAR

No, Baron, the Czar. Traitors! There

245

VERA;

ACT IV. would be no bad kings in the world if thoc
were no bad ministers like you. It is men
such as you are who wreck mighty empires on
the rock of their own greatness. Our mother,
Russia, hath no need of such unnatural sons.
You can make no atonement now ; it is too
late for that. The grave cannot give back
your dead, nor the gibbet your martjrrs, but
I shall be more merciful to you. I give you
your lives ! That is the curse I would lay on
you« But if there is a man of you found in
Moscow by to-morrow night your heads wiU
be off your shoulders.

SASON RAFF

You remind us wonderfiilly. Sire, of your
Imperial father.

CZAR

I banish you all from Russia. Your estates
are confiscated to the people. You ma^
carry your titles with you. Reforms im-
Russia, Baron, always end in a farce. Yoi^
will have a good opportunity. Prince Petro--
vitch, of practising self-denial, that excellent^
virtue 1 that excellent virtue 1 So, Baron, yoiB>
a Parliament in Russia would be merely
246

OIL THE NIHILISTS

a place for brawling. Well, I will see that ACT iv.
the reports of each session are sent to you
regularly.

BABONBAFF

Sire, you are adding another horror to
exile.

CZAJt

But you will have such time for literature
now. You forget you are diplomatists. Men
of thought should have nothing to do with
action.

FBINCE FETBoyrrcH
Sire, we did but jest.

CZAB

Then I banish you for your bad jokes.
Bon voyage. Messieurs. If you value your
lives you will catch the first train for Paris.
{^Exeunt MtntstersJ] Russia is well rid of
such men as these. They are the jackals that
foUow in the lion's track. They have no
courage themselves except to pillage and rob.
But for these men and for Prince Paul my
&ther would have been a good king, would
not have died so horribly as he did die. How

f47

VERA;

ACT IV. strange it is, tlie most real parts of one's life
always seem to be a dream 1 The comicil»
the fearftil law which was to kiU the people,
the arrest, the cry in the court-yard, the pistol-
shot, my father's bloody hands, and then the
crown 1 One can live for years sometimes
without living at all, and then all life comes
crowding into one single hour. I had no time
to think. Before my father's hideous shriek
of death had died in my ears I found this
crown on my head, the purple robe around
me, and heard myself called a king. I would
have given it up all then ; it seemed nothing
to me then ; but now, can I give it up now ?
Well, Colonel, well? [JSnier colonsl of

THE OUA&D.]

colonel

What password does your Imperial Majesty
desire should be given to-night ?

CZAR

Password t

COLONEL

For the cordon of guards. Sire, on nigh
duty around the palace.
248

OR, THE NIHILISTS

CZ AB Acnp IV.

You can dismiss them. I have no need of
them. [£xi/ coix)N£L..] \^Goes to the crown
lying on the tableS\ What subtle potency
lies hidden in this gaudy bauble, the crown,
that makes one feel like a god when one
wears it? To hold in one's hand this little
fiery-coloured world, to reach out one's arm
to earth's uttermost limit, to girdle the seas
with one's galley; to make the land a high-
way for one's hosts ; this is to wear a crown !
to wear a crown 1 The meanest serf in Russia
who is loved is better crowned than I. How
love outweighs the balance 1 How poor
appears the widest empire of this golden
world when matched with love I Pent up
in this palace, with spies dogging every step,
I have heard nothing of her ; I have not seen
her once since that fearful hour, three days
ago, when I found myself suddenly the Czar
of this wide waste, Russia. Oh, could I see
her for a moment ; tell her now the secret of
my life I have never dared to utter before;
tell her why I wear this crown, when I have
sworn eternal war against all crowned men 1
There was a meeting to-night I received

249

VERA;

my summoiis by sn unknown hand ; but how
could I go ? I, who have broken my oath 1
who have broken my oath ! [En/er page.]

PAOE

It is after eleven. Sire. Shall I take the
first watch in your room to-night ?

CZAR

Why should you watch me^ boy? The
stars are my best sentinels.

PAGE

It was your Imperial father's wish. Sire,
never to be left alone while he slept

CZAR

My father was troubled with bad dreams.
GrO, get to your bed, boy ; it is nigh on mid-
night, and these late hours wiU spoil those
red cheeks, [page tries to kiss his katuL]
Nay, nay ; we have played together too often
for that. Oh, to breathe the same air as her,
and not to see her 1 the light seems to have
gone from my life, the sun vanished from my
day.

PAGE

Sire — Alexis — ^let me stay with you to-
250

OR, THE NIHILISTS

night 1 There is some danger over yoo; I activ.
[eel there is.

dZAB

What should I fear ? I have banished all
tny enemies from Russia. Set the brazier
[lere, by me ; it is very cold, and I would sit
by it for a time. Go, boy, go ; I have much
to think about to-night. \^Gaes to back of
stagB^ draws aside the curtain. View of Moscow
hy moonlight.'] The snow has fallen heavily
lince sunset. How white and cold my city
looks under this pale moon 1 And yet, what
bot and fiery hearts beat in this icy Russia,
Tor all its frost and snow. Oh, to see her for
a moment ; to tell her all ; to tell her why
I am a king ! But she does not doubt me ;
she said she would trust in me. Though I
bave broken my oath, she will have trust.
It is very cold. Where is my cloak ? I shall
sleep for an hour. Then I have ordered my
sledge, and, though I die for it, I shall see
Vera to-night Did I not bid thee go, boy ?
What ! must I play the tyrant so soon ?
Gk>, go! I cannot live without seeing her.
My horses will be here in an hour ; one hour

251

VERA;

ACT IV. between me and love ! How heavy this
charcoal fire smells. [Exii the page. Liu
dawn on a couch beside brcusterS]

[Enter VEBAt in a black cloak.']

▼ERA

Asleep ! God, thou art good 1 Who shall
deliver him from my hands now? This is
he ! The democrat who would make himself
a king, the republican who hath worn a crown,
the traitor who hath lied to us. Michael was
right He loved not the people. He loved
me not. [Bends over him.] Oh, why should
such deadly poison lie in such sweet lips!
Was there not gold enough in his hair befoie»
but he should tarnish it with this crown!
But my day has come now ; the day of the
people, of liberty, has come I Your day, my
brother, has come 1 Though I have strangled
whatever nature is in me, I did not think it
had been so easy to kilL One blow and it is
over, and I can wash my hands in water
afterwards, I can wash my hands afterwards.
Come, I siiall save Russia. I have sworn it
[Raises the dagger to strike.]
25S

OR, THE NIHILISTS

CZAB ACT IV.

[Starting up^ seizes her by both hands.']
Vera, you herel My dream was no dream
at all. Why have you left me three days
alone, when I most needed you? O God,
you thmk I am a traitor, a liar, a king ? I
am, for love of you. Vera, it was for you
I broke my oath and wear my father's crown.
I would lay at your feet this mighty Russia,
which you and I have loved so well ; would
give you this earth as your footstool ; set this
crown on your head. The people will love
us. We will rule them by love, as a father
rules his children. There shall be liberty in
Russia for every man to think as his heart bids
him ; liberty for men to speak as they think.
I have banished the wolves that preyed on
us; I have brought back your brother from
Siberia ; I have opened the blackened jaws of
the mine. The courier is already on his way ;
within a week Dmitri and all those with him
will be back in their own land. The people
shall be free — are free now When they
gave me this crown first, I would have
flung it back to them, had it not been for
you, Vera. O God ! It is men's custom

258

VERA;

ACTiv. in Russia to bring gifts to those they love.
I said, I will bring to the woman I love a
people, an empire, a world ! Vera, it is for
you, for you alone, I kept this crown ; for
you alone I am a king. Oh, I have loved
you better than my oathl Why will you
not speak to me ? You love me not ! You
love me not 1 You have come to warn me
of some plot against my life. What is life
worth to me without you? [conspibatoiu
murmur outsideJ]

VERA

Oh,lostl losti losti

CZAR

Nay, you are safe here. It wants five hours
still of dawn. To-morrow, I will lead you
forth to the whole people

VESA

To-morrow—— I

CZAR

Will crown you with my own hands as
Empress in that great cathedral which my
fathers built.
254

OR, THE NIHILISTS

VEMA. ACT IV.

[^Loosens her hands violently from him, and
starts upJ] I am a Nihilist 1 I cannot wear
a crown I

[Falls at her feet.'] I am no king now. I
am only a boy who has loved you better than
his honour, better than his oath. For love of
the people I would have been a patriot. For
love of you I have been a traitor. Let us
go forth together, we will live amongst the
common people. I am no king. I will toil
for you like the peasant or the serf. Oh,
love me a little too ! [conspirators murmur
outside.]

[Clutching dagger.] To strangle whatever
nature is in me, neither to love nor to be

loved, neither to pity nor Oh, I am a

woman ! God help me, I am a woman ! O
Alexis ! I too have broken my oath ; I am
a traitor. I love. Oh, do not speak, do not
speak — [Kisses his lips] — ^the first, the last
time. [He clasps her in his arms ; they sit on
the couch tcjgether.]

255

VERA;

ACT IV. CZAR

I could die now.

TERA

What does death do in thy lips ? rhy life,
thy love are enemies of death. Speak not
of death. Not yet, not yet.

CZAR

I know not why death came into my heart.
Perchance the cup of life is filled too full of
pleasure to endure. This is our wedding
night.

VERA

Our wedding night!

CZAR

And if death came himself, methinks that
I could kiss his pallid mouth, and suck sweet
poison from it

VERA

Our wedding night 1 Nay, nay. Death
should not sit at the feast. There is no such
thing as death.

CZAR

There shall not be for us. [conspiratobs
murmur outside.']
256

OR, THE NIHILISTS

▼ERA ACT IV,

What is that? Did you not hear some-
thing?

Only your voice, that fowler's note which
lures my heart away like a poor bird upon
the Umed twig.

Methought that some one laughed.

It was but the wind and rain ; the night is
full of storm, [conspirators murmur aut^
sideJ]

It should be so, indeed. Oh, where are
your guards ? where are your guards ?

CZAB

Where should they be but at home ? I
shall not live pent round by sword and steeL
The love of a people is a king's best body-
guard.

The love of a people !

a 257

VERA;

ACT IV. CZAK

Sweet, you are safe here. Nothing can
harm you here. O love, I knew you trusted
me 1 You said you would have trust.

VEBA

I have had trust. O love, the past seems
but some dull, grey dream from which our
souls have wakened. This is life at last.

CZAB,

Ay, life at last.

▼ERA

Our wedding night I Oh, let me drink my
fill of love to-night 1 Nay, sweet, not yet,
not yet How still it is, and yet methinks
the air is fiill of music. It is some night-
ingale who, wearying of the south, has come
to sing in this bleak north to lovers such as
we. It is the nightingale. Dost thou not
hear it ?

CZAR

O sweet, mine ears are clogged to all

sweet sounds save thine own voice, and mine

eyes blinded to all sights but thee, else had

I heard that nightingale, and seen the goldra*

258

OR. THE NIHILISTS

vestured morning sun itself steal from its
sombre east before its time, for jealousy that
thou art twice as fair.

VEBA

Yet would that thou hadst heard the night-
ingale. Methinks that bird will never sing
again.

CZAK

It is no nightingale. Tis love himself
singing for very ecstasy of joy that thou art
changed into his votaress. [Clock begins
striking twelve.'] Oh, listen, sweet, it is the
lover's hour. Come, let us stand without,
and hear the midnight answered frx>m tower
to tower over the wide white town. Our
wedding night 1 What is that? What is
that? [Laud murmurs of conspisatobs m
tke strut.]

[Breaks from him and rushes across the stage.]
The wedding guests are here already ! Ay 1
you shall have your sign I [Stads herself.]
You shall have your signl [Hushes to the
window.]

259

VERA;

ACT IV. CZAR

[Intercepts her by rushing between her and
window, and snatches dagger out of h^r hand]
Veral

TERA

[Clinging to him.'] Give me back the
dagger I Give me back the dagger 1 There
are men in the street who seek your lifel
Your guards have betrayed you 1 This bloody
dagger is the signal that you are dead.
[CONSPIILATORS begin to shout below in tk$
street.] Oh, there is not a moment to be
lost 1 Throw it out 1 Throw it out I No-
thing can save me now; this dagger is
poisoned I I feel death already in my heart
There was no other way but this.

CZAR

[Holding dagger out of her reach.] Death
is in my heart too ; we shall die together !

VERA

Oh, love I love I love! be merciful to mel

The wolves are hot upon you 1 — you must live

for liberty, for Russia, for me I Oh, you do

not love mel You offered me an empire

260

OR, THE NIHILISTS

once! Give me this dagger, now ! Oh, you ACTiv.
are cruel ! My life for yours ! What does it
matter ? [Loud skaut in the street, * Vera /
Vera / To the rescue / To the rescue / *]

GZAB

The bitterness of death is past for me.

Oh, they are breaking in below 1 Seel
The bloody man behind you! [czar turns
round for an instant^ Ah I [vera snatches
da^er and flings it out of window^

CONSPIRATORS

{Below^ Long live the people 1

CZAR

What have you done ?

I have saved Russia ! \Dies^

Tableau

261

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

JOHN WORTHING, J.P.
ALGERNON MONCRIEFF
REV. CANON CHASUBLE, D.D.
MERRIMAN, Butler
LANE, Manservant

LADY BRACKNELL

HON. GWENDOLEN FAIRFAX

CECILY CARDEW

MISS PRISM, Governess

THE SCENES OF THE PLAY

Act L Algernon MoncHeft Flat in Hatf-Moon
Street, W.

Act II. The Garden at the Manor House, WooUm.

Act III. Drawing-Room ai the Manor HouUj
WooUon.

Time: The Present.

FIRST ACT

SCENE

Mommg-roam in AlgemofCs flat in Hdif-Mioan Stmt
The room is luxuriously and artistically fumishuL
Tlu sound of a piano is heard in the adjoining roam,

[ukNE is arranging afternoon tea on the
table ^ and after the music has ceased^ aloes-
NON enters^

ALOERNON

Did you hear what I was playing. Lane f

LANE

I didn't think it polite to listen, sir.

ALOEBNON

I'm sorry for that, for your sake. I
don't play accurately — any one can play
accurately — but I play with wonderful
expression. As far as the piano is con-
cerned, sentiment is my forte. I keep
science for Life.

A 1

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL LANE

Yes, sir.

AL6EBNON

And, speaking of the science of Life,
have you got the cucumber sandwiches cut
for Lady Bracknell ?

LANE

Yes, sir. {Hands them <m a saA/erJ]

AL6EBNON

[Inspects tkenty takes two^ and sits dawn
on the so/a.l Oh ! ... by the way. Lane,
I see from your book that on Thursday
night, when Lord Shoreman and Mr.
Worthing were dining with me, eight
bottles of champagne are entered as having
been consumed.

LANE

Yes, sir ; eight bottles and a pint.

ALGERNON

Why is it that at a bachelor's establish-
ment the servants invariably drink the
champagne ? I ask merely for information.
2

BEING EARNEST

LANE ACTL

I attribute it to the superior quality of
the wine, sir. I have often observed that
in married households the champagne ii
rarely of a first-rate brand*

AL6EBNON

Good Heavens 1 Is marriage so de-
moralising as that ?

LANE

I believe it ft9 a very pleasant state, sir.
I have had very little experience of it
myself up to the present I have only
bc^ married once. That was in conse-
quence of a misunderstanding between
myself and a young person.

ALGEBNON

{^Languidly.'] I don't know that I am
much interested in your family life. Lane.

LANE

No, sir; it is not a very interesting
subject I never think of it myself

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL ALOEBNON

Very natural, I am sure. That will do,
Lane, thank you.

LANE

Thank you, sir. [lane goes (n£[

ALOEBNON

Lane's views on marriage seem somewhat
lax. Really, if the lower orders don*t set
us a good example, what on earth is the
use of them ? They seem, as a class, to
have absolutely no sense of moral responsi-
bility.

\Enter lane.]

LANE

Mr. Ernest Worthing.

\Enter jack.] [lane goes wi\

ALGERNON

How are you, my dear Ernest ? What
brings you up to town ?

JACK

Oh, pleasure, pleasure I What else should
bring one anjrwhere ? Eating as usual, I
see, Algy 1

BEING EARNEST

ALGERNON ACT I.

[5/z^.] I believe it is customary in
good society to take some slight refresh-
ment at five o'clock. Where have you
been since last Thursday ?

JACK

[Sitting dawn on the sofcL\ In the
country.

AliOERNON

What on earth do you do there ?

JACK

[Pulling off his gloves.'] When one is in
town one amuses oneself. When one is in
the country one amuses other people. It
is excessively boring.

ALGERNON

And who are the people you amuse f

JACK

[Airily.'] Oh, neighbours, neighbours.

ALGERNON

Grot nice neighbours in your part of
Shropshire ?

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL JACK

Perfectly horrid 1 Never speak to one
of them.

AL.GEBNON

How immensely you must amuse them I
[Goes over and takes sandwich^ By the
way, Shropshire is your county, is it not !

JACK

Eh? Shropshire? Yes, of course. Hallo!
Why all these cups? Why cucumber
sandwiches ? Why such reckless extrava-
gance in one so young? Who is coming
to tea?

ALGERNON

Oh! merely Aunt Augusta and Gwen-
dolen.

JACK

How perfectly delightful 1

ALGERNON

Yes, that is all very well ; but I am
afraid Aunt Augusta won*t quite approve
of your being here.

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT I.

May I ask why f

AJLGERNON

My dear fellow, the way you flirt with
Gwendolen is perfectly disgraceful. It is
almost as bad as the way Gwendolen flirts
with you*

JACK

I am in love with Gwendolen. I have
come up to town expressly to propose to
her.

ALGERNON

I thought you had come up for pleasure f
I call that business.

• •

JACK

How utterly unromantic you are 1

ALGERNON

I really don't see anything romantic in
proposing. It is very romantic to be in
love. But there is nothing romantic about
a definite proposaL Why, one may be
accepted. One usually is, I believe. Then
the excitement is all over. The very

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT 1. essence of romance is uncertainty. If ever
I get married, 1 11 certainly try to forget
the fact.

JACK

I have no doubt about that, dear Algy.
The Divorce Court was specially invented
for people whose memories are so curiously
constituted.

ALGERNON

Oh ! there is no use speculating on that
subject. Divorces are made in Heaven
[jack puis out his hand to take a sand-
wich, ALGERNON at once interferes.'] Please
don't touch the cucumber sandwiches. They
are ordered specially for Aunt Augusta.
[Takes one and eats it J]

JACK

Well, you have been eating them all the
time.

ALGERNON

That is quite a different matter. She is
my aunt. [ Takes plate from below. ] Have
some bread and butter. The bread and
8

BEING EARNEST

butter is for Gwendolen. Gwendolen is ACTi.
devoted to bread and butter.

JACK

[^Auhanctng' to table and helping himself.']
And very good bread and butter it is too.

AL6EBNON

Well, my dear fellow, you need not eat
as if you were going to eat it alL You
behave as if you were married to her already.
You are not married to her already, and I
don't think you ever v^ll be.

JACK

Why on earth do you say that ?

ALGERNON

Well, in the first place girls never marry
the men they flirt with. Girls don't think
it right

JACK

Oh, that is nonsense !

ALGERNON

It isn't. It is a great truth. It accounts
for the extraordinary number of bachelors

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL that one sees all over the place. In the
second place* I don't give my consent.

JACK

Your consent !

ALGERNON

My dear fellow, Gwendolen is nciy first
cousin. And before I allow you to marry
her, you will have to clear up the whole
question of Cecily. IRtng^s belL^

JACK

Cecily 1 What on earth do you mean !
What do you mean, Algy, by Cecily 1 I
don't know any one of the name of Cecily.

[Enter lane.]

ALGERNON

Bring me that cigarette case Mr. Worth-
ing left in the smoking-room the last time
he dined here.

LANE

Yes, sir. [lane goes auL'l

JACK

Do you mean to say you have had my
10

BEING EARNEST

cigarette case all this time? I wish to actl
goodness you had let me know. I have
been writing frantic letters to Scotland
Yard about it. I was very nearly offering
a large reward.

ALGERNON

Well, I ¥rtsh you would offer or
happen to be more than usually hard

JACK

There is no good offering a large reward
now that the thing is found.

\^Eni^r lane ztn^A the cigarette case on a
salver. Algernon takes it at once, lanb
goes out']

ALGERNON

I think that is rather mean of you,
Ernest, I must say. [Opens case and ex-
amines it.'] However, it makes no matter,
for, now that I look at the inscription
inside, I find that the thing isn't yours
after alL

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL JACK

Of course it's mine. [Moving to Aim.]
You have seen me ¥dth it a hundred times,
and you have no ri^t whatsoever to read
what is written inside. It is a very un-
gentlemanly thing to read a private cigarette
case.

ALGERNON

Oh I it is absurd to have a hard and fast
rule about what one should read and what
one shouldn't More than half of modern
culture depends on what one shouldn't
read.

JACK

I am quite aware of the fact, and I don't
propose to discuss modern culture. It isn't
the sort of thing one should talk of in
private. I simply want my cigarette case
back.

ALGERNON

Yes; but this isn't your cigarette case.
This cigarette case is a present firom some
one of the name of Cecily, and you said
you didn^t know any one of that name.
18

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT L

Well, if you want to know, Cecily happens
to be my aunt.

ALOEBNON

Your aunt 1

JACK

Yes. Charming old lady she is, too.
Lives at Tunbridge Wells. Just give it
back to me, Algy.

ALGERNON

[Retreating to back of sofaJ] But why
does she call herself little Cecily if she is
your aunt and lives at Tunbridge Wells ?
[Reading.'] *From little Cecily with her
fondest love.'

JACK

[Moving to so/a and kneeling upon it.]
My dear fellow, what on earth is there in
that ? Some aunts are tall, some aunts are
not talL That is a matter that surely an
aunt may be allowed to decide for herself.
You seem to think that every aunt should
be exactly like your aunt I That is absurd I

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT I. For Heaven's sake ^ve me back my
cigarette case. [Follows alge&mon round
the room.']

ALGERNON

Yes. But why does your aunt call you
her uncle ? • From httle CecUy, with her
fondest love to her dear Uncle Jack.' There
is no objection, I admit, to an aunt being
a small aunt, but why an aunt, no matter
what her size may be, should call her own
nephew her uncle, I can't quite make out
Besides, your name isn't Jack at all; it is
Ernest.

JACK

It isn't Ernest ; it 's Jack.

ALGERNON

You have always told me it was
Ernest. I have introduced you to every
one as Ernest. You answer to the name
of Ernest You look as if your name was
Ernest You are the most earnest-looking
person I ever saw in my life. It is perfectly
absurd your saying that your name isn't
14

BEING EARNEST

Ernest It 's on your cards. Here is one of ACT L
them. [Taking it from case.'] * Mr. Ernest
Worthing, B. 4, The Albany.' 1 11 keep
this as a proof that your name is Ernest if
ever you attempt to deny it to me, or to
Gwendolen, or to any one else. [Pu/s the
card in his pocket.]

JACK

Well, my name is Ernest in town and
Jack in the country, and the cigarette case
was given to me in the country.

ALGERNON

Yes, but that does not account for the
fact that your small Aunt Cecily, who
lives at Tunbridge Wells, calls you her
dear uncle. Come, old boy, you had much
better have the thing out at once.

JACK

My dear Algy, you talk exactly as if
you were a dentist It is very vulgar to
talk like a dentist when one isn't a dentist.
It produces a false impression.

THE IMPORTANCE OF

AGTL AIX>£ItNON

Well, that is exactly what dentists always
do. Now, go on! Tell me the whole
thing. I may mention that I have always
suspected you of being a confirmed and
secret Bunburyist ; and I am quite sure of
it now.

JACK

Bunburyist? What on earth do you
mean by a Bunburyist ?

ALGERNON

I '11 reveal to you the meaning of that
incomparable expression as soon as you are
kind enough to inform me why you are
Ernest in town and Jack in the country.

JACK

Well, produce my cigarette case first

ALGERNON

Here it is. [Hands cigarette case.'} Now
produce your exphmation, and pray make
it improbable. [Sits on soJaJ]
16

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT L

My dear fellow, there is nothing im-
probable about my explanation at all. In
feet it's perfectly ordinary. Old Mr.
Thomas Cardew, who adopted me when
I was a little boy, made me in his will
guardian to his grand-daughter. Miss Cecily
Cardew. Cecily, who addresses me as her
uncle from motives of respect that you
could not possibly appreciate, lives at my
place in the country under the charge of
her admirable governess. Miss Prism*

ALGERNON

Where is tliat place in the country, by
the way ?

JACK

That is nothing to you, dear boy. You
are not going to be invited. ... I may
tell you candidly that the place is not in
Shropshire.

ALGERNON

I suspected that, my dear fellow! I
have Bunburyed all over Shropshire on two
« 17

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL separate occasions. Now, go on. Why
are you Elmest in town and Jack in the
country?

JACK

My dear Algy, I don't know whether
yoa will be able to understand my real
motives. You are hardly serious enough.
When one is placed in the position of
guardian, one has to adopt a' very high
moral tone on all subjects. It 's one's duly
to do so. And as a high moral tone can
hardly be said to conduce very much to
either one's health or one's happiness, in
order to get up to town I have always
pretended to have a younger brother of the
name of Ernest, who lives in the Albany,
and gets into the most dreadful scrapes.
That, my dear Algy, is the whole truth,
pure and simple.

ALGERNON

The truth is rarely pure and never simple.
Modern life would be very tedious if it
were either, and modem literature a com-
plete impossibility 1
18

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT I.

That wouldn't be at all a bad thing.

ALOEBKON

Literary criticism is not your forte, my
dear fellow. Don't try it You should
leave that to people who haven't been at
a University. They do it so well in the
daily papers. What you really are is a
Bunburyist. I was quite right in saying
you were a Bunburyist You are one of
the most advanced Bunburyists I know.

JACK

What on earth do you mean ?

ALOEKNON

You have invented a very useful younger
brother called Ernest, in order that you
may be able to come up to town as often
as you like. I have invented an invaluable
permanent invalid called Bunbury, in order
that I may be able to go down into the
country whenever 1 choose. Bunbury is
perfectly invaluable. If it wasn't for
Bunbury's extraordinary bad health, for

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL instance, I wouldn't be able to dine with
you at Willis's to-night, for I have been
really engaged to Aunt Augusta for more
than a week.

JACK

I haven't asked you to dine with me
anywhere to-night

ALGERNON

I know. You are absurdly careless about
sending out invitations. It is very foolish
of you. Nothing annoys people so much
as not receiving invitations.

JACK

You had much better dine with your
Aunt Augusta.

ALGERNON

I haven't the smallest intention of doing
anything of the kind. To begin with, I
dined there on Monday, and once a week
is quite enough to dine with one's own
relations. In the second place, whenever
I do dine there I am always treated as a
member of the family, and sent down with
20

BEING EARNEST

no woman at all, or two. In the act l
third place, I know perfectly well whom
she will place me next to, to-night. She
wiU place me next Mary Farquhar, who
always flirts with her own husband across
the dinner-table. That is not very pleasant
Indeed, it is not even decent . . . and that
sort of thing' is enormously on the increase.
The amount of women in London who flirt
with their own husbands is perfectly scan-
dalous. It looks so bad. It is simply
washing one's clean linen in public Be-
sides, now that I know you to be a con-
firmed Bunburyist I naturally want to talk
to you about Bunburying. I want to tell
you the rules.

JACK

I 'm not a Bunburyist at all. If Gwen-
dolen accepts me, I am going to kill my
brother, indeed I think I *11 kill him in any
case. Cecily is a little too much interested
in him. It is rather a bore. So I am
going to get rid of Ernest. And I strongly
advise you to do the same with Mr. . . •

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT L with your invalid firiend who has the absurd
name.

ALGERNON

Nothing will induce me to part with
Bunbury, and if you ever get married,
which seems to me extremely problematic,
you will be very glad to know Bunbury.
A man who marries without knowing
Bunbury has a very tedious time of it.

JACK

That IS nonsense. If I marry a charm-
ing girl like Gwendolen, and she is the
only girl I ever saw in my life that I
would marry, I certainly won't want to
know Bunbury.

ALOEBNON

Then your wife wilL You don't seem
to realise, that in married life three is
company and two is none.

JACK

[Sententiausly.'] That, my dear young
firiend, is the theory that the corrupt
22

BEING EARNEST

French Drama has been propounding for ACT L
the last fifty years.

ALGERNON

Yes ; and that the happy English home
has proved m half the tune.

JACK

For heaven's sake, don't try to be cynicaL
It 's perfectly easy to be cynicaL

ALGERNON

My dear fellow, it isn't easy to be any-
thing nowadays. There 's such a lot of
beastly competition about. [^TAe sound of
an electric bell is keardJ] Ah ! that must be
Aunt Augusta. Only relatives, or creditors,
ever ring in that Wagnerian manner. Now,
if I get her out of the way for ten minutes,
so that you can have an opportunity for
proposing to Gwendolen, may I dine with
you to-night at Willis's ?

JACK

I suppose so, if you want ta

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL ALGERNON

Yes, but you must be serious about it
I hate people who are not serious about
meals. It is so shallow of them.

IBnier lane.]

LANE

Lady Bracknell and Miss Fairfax.
[ALGERNON g'oes for7vard to meet them.
Enter lady bracknell and Gwendolen.]

LADY BRACKNELL

Good afternoon, dear Algernon, I hope
you are behaving very weU.

ALGERNON

I 'm feeling very well. Aunt Augusta.

LADY BRACKNELL

That's not quite the same thing. In
fact the two things rarely go together.
{Sees JACK and bows to him with icy cold-
ness^

ALGERNON

\To GWENDOLEN.] Dear me, you are
smart!
24

BEING EARNEST

6 WENDOUEN ACT L

I am always smart 1 Am I not» Mr.
Worthing?

JACK

You 're quite perfect, Miss Fair&x.

OWENDOLEN

Oh ! I hope I am not that. It would
leave no room for developments, and I
intend to develop in many directions.
[GWENDOLEN and JACK stt dowH together in
the corner^

LADY BRACKNELL

I 'm sorry if we are a little late, Algernon,
but I was obliged to call on dear Lady
Harbury. I hadn't been there since her
poor husband's death. I never saw a
woman so altered ; she looks quite twenty
years younger. And now 1 11 have a cup
of tea, and one of those nice cucumber
sandwiches you promised me.

ALOEBNON

Certainly, Aunt Augusta. \Goes over to
tea-tadleJ}

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT L LADY BRACKNELL

Won't you come and sit here, Gwen-
dolen ?

GWENDOLEN

Thanks, mamma, I 'm quite comfortable
where I am.

ALGERNON

[Picking up empty plate in horror. ] Grood
heavens 1 Lane ! Why are there no
cucumber sandwiches? I ordered them
specially.

LANE

[Gravely^ There were no cucumbers in
the market this morning, sir. I went down
twice.

ALGERNON

No cucumbers 1

LANE

No, sir. Not even for ready money.

ALGERNON

That will do. Lane, thank you.
26

BEING EARNEST

LANE ACT I.

Thank you, sir. [^Goes out.']

ALGERNON

I am greatly distressed, Aunt Augusta,
about there being no cucumbers, not even
for ready money.

LADY BRACKNELL

It really makes no matter, Algernon. I
had some crumpets with Lady Harbury,
who seems to me to be living entirely for
pleasiu^ now.

ALGERNON

I hear her hair has turned quite gold
from grief.

LADY BRACKNELL

It certainly has changed its colour.
From what cause I, of course, cannot say.
[ALGERNON crosses and hands tea.l Thank
you. I 've quite a treat for you to-night,
Algernon. I am going to send you down
with Mary Farquhar. She is such a nice
woman, and so attentive to her husband.
It 's delightful to watch them.

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL ALGERNON

I am afiraid, Aunt Augusta, I shall have
to give up the pleasure of dining with you
to-night after alL

LADY BRACKNELL

[^Fraumtng'.l I hope not, Algernon. It
would put my table completely out. Your
uncle would have to dine upstairs. For-
tunately he is accustomed to that.

ALGERNON

It is a great bore, and, I need hardly say,
a terrible disappointment to me, but the
fact is I have just had a telegram to say
that my poor Mend Bunbury is very ill
again. [ExcAang-es g-Zanc^s wiiA jack."] They
seem to think I should be with him.

LADY BRACKNELL

It is very strange. This Mr. Bunbury
seems to suffer from curiously bad health.

ALGERNON

Yes ; poor Bunbury is a dreadful invalid
28

BEING EARNEST

LADY BBACKNELL ACT L

Well, I must say, Algernon, that I think
it is high time that Mr. Bunbury made
up his mind whether he was going to live
or to die. This shilly-shallying with the
question is absurd. Nor do I in any way
approve of the modern sympathy with in-
valids. I consider it morbid. Illness of
any kind is hardly a thing to be encouraged
in others. Health is the primary duty of
life. I am always telling that to your poor
unde, but he never seems to take much
notice ... as far as any improvement in
his ailments goes. I should be much
obliged if you would ask Mr. Bunbury,
from me, to be kind enough not to have a
relapse on Saturday, for I rely on you to
arrange my music for me. It is my last
reception, and one wants something that
will encourage conversation, particularly at
the end of the season when every one has
practically said whatever they had to say,
which, in most cases, was probably not
much.

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL ALGERNON

I '11 speak to Bunbury, Aunt Augusta,
if he is still conscious, and I think I can
promise you he 'U be all right by Saturday.
Of course the music is a great difficulty.
You see, if one plays good music, people
don't listen, and if one plays bad music
people don't talk. But I'll run over the
programme I 've drawn out, if you will
kindly come into the next room for a
moment.

LADY BBACKNELL

Thank you, Algernon. It is very
thoughtftil of you. [^Rising, and foUawimg
ALGERNON.] I 'm surc the programme will
be delightful, after a few expurgations.
French songs I cannot possibly allow.
People always seem to think that they are
improper, and either look shocked, which
is vulgar, or laugh, which is worse. But
German sounds a thoroughly respectable
language, and indeed, I believe is so.
Gwendolen, you will accompany me.
80

BEING EARNEST

GWENDOLEN ACT L

Certainly, mamma.

[lady BRACKNELL and ALOEBNON gO

into Ike music-^oom, Gwendolen remains
AeAind.']

JACK

Charming day it has been, Miss Fairfax.

GWENDOLEN

Pray don*t talk to me about the weather,
Mr. Worthing. Whenever people talk to
me about the weather, I always feel quite
certain that they mean something else.
And that makes me so nervous.

JACK

I do mean something else.

GWENDOLEN

I thought so. In fact, I am never
wrong.

JACK

And I would like to be allowed to take
advantage of Lady Bracknell's temporary
absence • • •

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT I. GWENDOLEN

I would certwily advise you to do sa
Mamma has a way of coming back sud-
denly into a room that I have often had
to speak to her about.

JACK

[NervauslyJ] Miss Fairfax, ever since I
met you I have admired you more than
any girl ... I have ever met since • • .
I met you.

GWENDOLEN

Yes, I am quite well aware of the fact
And I often wish that in public, at any
rate, you had been more demonstrative.
For me you have always had an irresistible
fascination. Even before I met you I was
far from indifferent to you. [jack looks at
her in amazement^ We live, as I hope
you know, Mr. Worthing, in an age of
ideals. The fact is constantly mentioned
in the more expensive monthly magazines,
and has reached the provincial pulpits, I
am told ; and my ideal has always been to
love some one of the name of Ernest.
82

BEING EARNEST

There is something in that name that Acri.
inspires absolute confidence. The moment
Algernon first mentioned to me that he
had a friend called Ernest, I knew I was
destined to love you.

JACK

You really love me, Gwendolen ?

GWENDOLEN

Passionately !

JACK

Darling! You don't know how happy
you Ve made me.

GWENDOLEN

My own Ernest !

JACK

But you don't really mean to say that
you couldn't love me if my name wasn't
Ernest?

GWENDOIJCN

But your name is Ernest
c

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL JACK

Yes, I know it is. But supposing it was
something else ? Do you mean to say you
couldn't love me then ?

GWENDOLEN

[GlidlyJ] Ah ! that is clearly a meta-
physical speculation, and like most meta-
physical speculations has very little refer-
ence at aU to the actual facts of real life, as
we know them.

JACK

Personally, darling, to speak qiute can-
didly, I don't much care about the name
of Ernest. ... I don't think the name suits
me at alL

GWENDOLEN

It suits you perfectly. It is a divine
name. It has a music of its own. It
produces vibrations.

JACK

Well, really, Gwendolen, I must say that
I think there are lots of other much nicer
84

BEING EARNEST

names. I think Jack, for instance, a ACi l
charming name.

GWENDOLEN

Jack ? . . . No, there is very little music
in the name Jack, if any at all, indeed. It
does not thrill. It produces absolutely no
vibrations. ... I have known several Jacks,
and they all, without exception, were more
than usually plain. Besides, Jack is a
notorious domesticity for Johnl And I
pity any woman who is married to a man
called John. She would probably never be
allowed to know the entrancing pleasing
of a single moment's solitude. The only
really safe name is Ernest.

JACK

Gwendolen, I must get christened at
once — I mean we must get married at
once. There is no time to be lost

GWENDOLEN

Married, Mr. Worthing ?

JACK

lAs/ounded.^ Well . • . surely. You

THE IMPORTANCE OP

ACT L know that I love you, and you led me to
believe. Miss Faiifax, that you were not
absolutely indifferent to me.

GWENDOLEN

I adore you. But you haven*t proposed
to me yet. Nothing has been said at all
about marriage. The subject has not evesi
been touched on«

JACK

Well . • • may I propose to you now ?

GWENDOLEN

I think it would be an admirable oppor-
tunity. And to spare you any possible
disappointment, Mr. Worthing, I think it
only fair to tell you quite frankly before-
hand that I am fully determined to accept
you.

JACK

Gwendolen I

GWENDOLEN

Yes, Mr. Worthing, what have you got
to say to me !
86

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT L

You know what I have got to say to
you.

OWENDOUEN

Yes, but you don*t say it.

JACK

Gwendolen, will you marry me ? [^Gaes
on his knees."]

OWENDOUEN

Of course I will, darling. How long
you have been about it 1 I am afraid you
have had yery little experience in how to
propose.

JACK

My own one, I have never loved any one
in the world but you.

GWENDOLEN

Yes, but men often propose for practice.
I know my brother Gerald does. All my
girl-friends tell me so. What wonderfully
blue eyes you have, Ernest 1 They are
quite, quite, blue. I hope you wiU always

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL look at me just like that, especially when
there are other people present.
lEnter lady brackn£Lu]

LADY BRACKNELL

Mr. Worthing 1 Rise, sir, from this
semi-recumbent posture. It is most in-
decorous.

GWENDOLEN

Mamma ! [^/fe tries to rise ; she restrains
Aim.'] I must beg you to retire. This is
no place for you. ' Besides, Mr. Worthing
has iK>t quite finished yet.

LADY BRACKNELL

Finished what, may I ask ?

GWENDOLEN

I am engaged to Mr. Worthing, mamma.
[^TAey rise togetherJ]

LADY BRACKNELL

Pardon me, you are not engaged to
any one. When you do become engaged
to some one, I, or your father, should his
health permit him, will inform you of the

BEING EARNEST

fact. An engagement should come on a actl
young girl as a surprise, pleasant or un-
pleasant, as the case may be. It is hardly
a matter that she could be allowed to
arrange for herself. . . . And now I have
a few questions to put to you, Mr. Worth-
ing. While I am making these inquiries,
you, Gwendolen, will wait for me below in
the carriage.

GWENDOLEN

\Reproachfully^ Mamma 1

LADY BRACKNELL

In the carriage, Gwendolen! [Gwen-
dolen goes to the door. She and jack blow
kisses to each other behind lady Bracknell's
b(uk. LADY BRACKNELL looks vaguely obotU
as if she could not understand what the noise
was. Finally turns roundJ] Gwendolen,
the carriage 1

GWENDOLEN

Yes, mamma. IGoes out^ looking back at

JACK.]

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT L ULDY BBACKNELL

[Sitting doTvnJ] You can take a seat,
Mr. Worthing.

[Looks in her pocket far note-ioak ami
pencil.']

JACK

Thank you, Lady Bracknell, I prefer

standing.

LADY BRACKNELL

[Pencil and note-book in kand.'] I fed
bound to tell you that you are not do¥m
on my list of eligible young men, although
I have the same list as the dear Duchess
of Bolton has. We work together, in fact
However, I am quite ready to enter your
name, should your answers be what a really
affectionate mother requires. Do you
smoke?

JACK

Well, yes, I must admit I smoke.

LADY BRACKNELL

I am glad to hear it. A man should
always have an occupation of some kind.
40

BEING EARNEST

There are far too many idle men in Acri
London as it is. How old are you f

JACK

Twenty-nine.

LADY BRACKNBLL

A very good age to be married at I
have always been of opinion that a man
who desires to get married should know
either everything or nothing. Which do
you know f

JACK

[After same hesitattonS^ I know nothing.
Lady BracknelL

ULDY BRACKNELL

I am pleased to hear it. I do not approve

of anything that tampers with natural ignor-

ance. Ignorance is like a delicate exotic

fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone.

The whole theory of modem education is

radically unsound Fortunately in England,

at any rate, education produces no effect

whatsoever. If it did, it would prove a

serious danger to the upper classes, and

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL probably lead to acts of violence in
Grosvenor Square. What is your income ?

JACK

Between seven and eight thousand a
year.

LADY BRACKNELL

[if/o^ a note in her iooJL] In land, or
in investments f

JACK

In investments, chiefly.

LADY BRACKNELL

That is satisfactory. What between the
duties expected of one during one*s Ufetin^
and the duties exacted from one after one's
death, land has ceased to be either a profit
or a pleasure. It gives one position, and
prevents one from keeping it upi That^s
all that can be said about land.

JACK

I have a country house with some land,

of course, attached to it, about ^fiffceen

hundred acres, I believe; but I don^

depend on that for my real income. Is

BEING EARNEST

&ct, as far as I can make out, the poachers
are the only people who make anything
out of it.

LADY BBACKNELL

A country house! How many bed-
rooms? Well, that point can be cleared
up afterwards. You have a town house,
I hope? A girl with a simple, unspoiled
nature, like Gwendolen, could hardly be
expected to reside in the country.

JACK

Well, I own a house in Belgrave Square,
but it is let by the year to Lady Bloxham.
Of course, I can get it back whenever I
like, at six months' notice.

LADY BRACKNELL

Lady Bloxham ? I don't know her.

JACK

Oh, she goes about very little. She is a
lady considerably advanced in years.

LADY BRACKNELL

Ah, nowadays that is no guarantee of

ACTL

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT L respectability of character. What number
in Belgrave Square f

JACK

149.

ULDY BRACKNELL

'Shaking her head.^ The unfiishionable
side. I thought there was something.
However, that could easily be altered.

JACK

Do you mean the fashion, or the side ?

LADY BBACKNELL

[Siernly.'] Both, if necessary, I presume.
What are your politics ?

JACK

Well, I am afraid I really have none. I
am a Liberal Unionist,

LADY BRACKNELL

Oh, they count as Tories. They dine
with us. Or come in the evening, at any
rate. Now to minor matters. Are your
parents living f
44

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT L

I have lost both my parents.

LADY BRACKNELL

To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may
be regarded as a misfortune ; to lose both
looks like carelessness. Who was your
fiither ? He was evidently a man of some
wealth. Was he bom in what the Radical
papers call the purple of commerce, or did
he rise from the ranks of the aristocracy ?

JACK

I am afraid I really don't know. The
fact is. Lady Bracknell, I said I had lost
my parents. It would be nearer the truth
to say that my parents seem to have lost
me. ... I don^t actually know who I am
by birth. I was • • • well, I was found.

LADY BRACKNELL

Found 1

JACK

The lute Mr. Thomas Cardew, an old
gentlen/an of a very charitable and kindly
disposition, found me, and gave me the
name irf Worthing, because he happened

THE IMPORTANCE OF

4CT L to hare a first-dass ticket for Worthing in
his pocket at the time. Worthing is a
place in Sussex. It is a seaside resort

LADY BRACKNELL

Where did the charitable gentleman who
had a first-class ticket for this seaside resort
find you ?

JACK

IGrave/y.'] In a hand-bag.

LADY BRACKNELL

A hand-bag ?

JACK

[F/ry seriausfy.^ Yes, Lady BracknelL
I was in a hand-bag — a somewhat large,
black leather hand-bag, with handles to it —
an ordinary hand-bag in fact.

LADY BRACKNELL

In what locality did this Mr. James, or
Thomas, Cardew come across this ordinary
hand-bag?

JACK

In the cloak-room at Victoria Station.
46

BEING EARNEST

It was given to him in mistake for his ACTL
own.

IJLDY BBACKNELL

The cloak-room at Victoria Station f

JACK

Yes. The Brighton line.

LADY BBACKNELL

The line is immaterial. Mr. Worthing,
I confess I feel somewhat bewildered by
what you have just told me. To be bom,
or at any rate bred, in a hand-bag, whether
it had handles or not, seems to me to display
a contempt for the ordinary decencies of
family life that remind one of the worst
excesses of the French Revolution. And
I presume you know what that unfortunate
movement led to ? As for the particular
locality in which the hand-bag was found,
a cloak-room at a railway station might
serve to conceal a social indiscretion — has
probably, indeed, been used for that purpose
before now — but it could hardly be regarded
as an assured basis for a recognised position
in good society.

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL JACK

May I ask you then what you would
advise me to do? I need hardly say I
would do anything in the world to ensure
Gwendolen's happiness.

LADY BBACKNELL

I would strongly advise you, Mr. Worth-
ing, to try and acquire some relations as
soon as possible, and to make a definite
effort to produce at any rate one parent, of
either sex, before the season is quite over.

JACK

Well, I don't see how I could possibly
manage to do that I can produce ttie
hand-bag at any moment. It is in my
dressing-room at home. I really think
that should satisfy you. Lady Bracknell

LADY BRACKNELL

Me, sir ! What has it to do with me !
You can hardly imagine that I and Lord
Bracknell would dream of allowing our
only daughter — a girl brought up with the
utmost care — ^to marry into a cloak-room,
4d

BEING EARNEST

and fonn an alliance with a parcel f Good ACT L
morning, Mr. Worthing 1

[lady bbac knell sweeps out in majestU
indigncUion^

JACK

Good morning 1 [aloebnon, from the
other roam^ strikes up the Wedding March.
JACK looks perfectly furious^ and goes to the
door."] For goodness' sake don't play that
ghastly tune, Algy 1 How idiotic you
arel

l^The music steps and algebnon enters

ALGERNON

Didn't it go off all right, old hoy f You
don't mean to say Gwendolen refused you f
I know it is a way she has. She is always
refusing people. I think it is most ill-
natured of her.

JACK

Oh, Gwendolen is as right as a trivet
As far as she is concerned, we are engaged.
Her mother is perfectly unbearable. Never

D 49

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL met such a Grorgon. • • • I don't really
know what a Gorgon is like, but T am
quite sure that Lady Bracknell is one. In
any case, she is a monster, without being a
myth, which is rather unfair. ... I beg
your pardon, Algy, I suppose I shouldn't
talk about your own aunt in that way
before you.

ALGERNON

My dear boy, I love hearing my relations
abused. It is the only thing that makes
me put up with them at alL Relations
are simply a tedious pack of people, who
haven't got the remotest knowledge of
how to live, nor the smallest instinct about
when to die.

JACK

Oh, that is nonsense 1

ALGERNON

It isn't I

JACK

Well, I won't argue about the matter.
You always want to argue about things.
50

BEING EARNEST

ALGERNON ACT L

That is exactly what things were origin-
ally made for.

JACK

Upon my word, if I thought that, I 'd
shoot mysel£ . . . \A pause. "] You don't
think there is any chance of Gwendolen
becoming like her mother in about a
hundred and fifty years, do you, Algy !

ALGERNON

All women become like their mothers.
That is their tragedy. No man does.
That's his.

JACK

Is that clever f

ALGERNON

It is perfectly phrased I and quite as true
as any observation in civilised life should
be.

JACK

I am sick to death of cleverness. Every-
body is clever nowadays. You can't go
anywhere without meeting clever people.

fil

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT h The thing has become an absolute public
nuisance. I wish to goodness we had a
few fools left

ALOEBNON

We have.

JACK

I should extremely like to meet thent
What do they talk about?

ALOKaNON

The fools f Oh 1 about the dever people,
of course.

JACK

What fools 1

ALOERNON

By the way, did you tell Gwendolen the
truth about your bdng Ernest in town,
and Jack in the country ?

JACK

[In a very patronising manner^ My dear
fellow, the truth isn't quite the sort of
thing one tells to a nice, sweet, refined girL
52

BEING EARNEST

What extraordinary ideas you have about ACT l
the way to behave to a woman 1

ALOERNON

The only way to behave to a woman is
to make love to her, if she is pretty, and to
some one else, if she is plain.

JACK

Oh, that is nonsense.

ALGERNON

What about your brother ? What about
the profligate Ernest ?

JACK

Oh, before the end of the week I shall
have got rid of him. 1 11 say he died in
Paris of apoplexy. Lots of people die of
apoplexy, quite suddenly, don't they ?

ALGERNON

Yes, but it 's hereditary, my dear fellow.
It 's a sort of thing that runs in families.
You had much better say a severe chilL

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT I. JACK

You are sure a severe chill isn't hereditary,
or anything of that kind ?

ALGERNON

Of course it isn't I

JACK

Very well, then. My poor brother Ernest
is carried off suddenly, in Paris, by a severe
chilL That gets rid of hinu

ALGERNON

But I thought you said that . . . Miss
Cardew was a little too much interested
in your poor brother Ernest ? Won't she
feel his loss a good deal ?

JACK

Oh, that is all right Cecily is not a
silly romantic girl, I am glad to say. She
has got a capital appetite, goes long walks,
and pays no attention at all to her lessons.

ALGERNON

I would rather like to see Cecily.
54

B£IN6 EARNEST

JACK ACT L

I wiU take very good care you never do.
She is excessively pretty, and she is only
just eighteen.

ALGERNON

Have you told Gwendolen yet that you
have an excessively pretty ward who is
only just eighteen ?

JACK

Oh I one doesn't blurt these things out
to people. Cecily and Gwendolen are
perfectly certain to be extremely great
friends. Ill bet you anything you like
that half an hour after they have met, they
will be calling each other sister.

ALOEBNON

Women only do that when they have
called each other a lot of other things first.
Now, my dear boy, if we want to get a
good table at Willis's, we really must go
and dress. Do you know it is nearly
seven?

THE IMPORTANCE OF

AGTL JACK

[Irritably.'] Oh! it always ia nearly
seven.

ALGERNON

Well, I 'm hungry.

JACK

I never knew you when you weren't . . .

ALOERNON

What shall we do after dinner f Go to
a theatre ?

JACK

Oh no i I loathe listening.

ALGERNON

Well, let us go to the Club f

JACK

Oh, no i I hate talking.

ALGERNON

Well, we might trot round to the Empire
at ten?

JACK

Oh no 1 I can't bear looking at things.
It is so sUly.
56

BEING EARNEST

ALGERNON ACT L

Well, what shall we do f

JACK

Nothing!

AL6EBNON

It is awfully hard work doing nothing.
However, I don't mind hard work where
there is no definite object of any kind.

[jEmier lane.]

UkNE

Miss Fair&x.

[Enter owendolen. lane goes out.']

ALGERNON

Gwendolen, upon my word I

GWENDOLEN

Algy, kindly turn your back. I have
something very particular to say to Mr.
Worthing.

ALGERNON

Really, Gwendolen, I don't think I can
allow tl^ at alL

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL GWENDOLEN

Algy, you always adopt a strictly immonl
attitude towards life. You are not quite
old enough to do that [algebnon reiim
to the fireplace^

JACK

My own darling I

GWENDOLEN

Ernest, we may never be married. From
the expression on mamma's face I fear we
never shalL Few parents nowadays pay
any regard to what their children say to
them. The old-£Eushioned respect for the
young is fast djring out. Whatever influ-
ence I ever had over mamma, I lost at the
age of three. But although she may prevent
us from becoming man and wife, and I
may marry some one else, and marry often,
nothing that she can possibly do can alter
my eternal devotion to you.

JACK

Dear Gwendolen I
68

BEING EARNEST

GWENDOLEN ACT L

The Story of your romantic origin, as
related to me by mamma, with mipleasing
comments, has naturally stirred the deeper
fibres of my nature. Your Christian
name has an irresistible fascination. The
simplicity of your character makes you
exquisitely incomprehensible to me. Your
town address at the Albany I have. What
is your address in the country ?

JACK

The Manor House, Woolton, Hertford-
shire.

[ALGERNON, whohosbeencarefully listenings
smiles to himself ^ and writes the address an his
shirt-cuff. Then picks up the Railway Guide^

GWENDOLEN

There is a good postal service, I suppose ?
It may be necessary to do something
desperate. That of course will require
serious consideration. I will communicate
with you daily.

JACK

My own one 1

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTL GWENDOLEN

How long do you remain in town ?

JACK •

Till Monday.

GWENDOLEN

Good 1 Algy, you may turn round now.

ALGERNON

Thanks, I Ve turned round already.

GWENDOLEN

You may also ring the belL

JACK

You will let me see you to your carriage,
my own darling ?

GWENDOLEN

Certainly.

JACK

[7e? LANE, who now enters^ I will see
Miss Fair£ax out.

LANE

Yes, sir. [jack and Gwendolen ^^? off?[
[lane presents several letters <m a salver
60

BEING EARNEST

to ALGERNON. // is to be surmtsed that they ACT L
are bills, as Algernon, after looking at the
envelopes, tears them up.'\

ALGERNON

A glass of sherry. Lane.

LANE

Yes, sip.

ALGERNON

To-morrow, Lane, I 'm going Bunbury-
ing.

LANE

Yes, sir.

ALGERNON

I shall probably not be back till Mon-
day. You can put up my dress clothes,
my smoking jacket, and dl the Bunbury
suits

• •

LANE

Yes, sir. [Handing sherry. '\

ALGERNON

I hope to-morrow will be a fine day.
Lane.

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ICTL UkNE

It never is, sir.

ALGERNON

Lane, you 're a perfect pessimist.

LANE

I do my best to give satisfaction, sir.
[^Enier jack. LANE^<t^^ ojff^']

JACK

There's a sensible, intellectual girll
the only girl I ever cared for in my life.
[algebnon is laitghtng immaderaUfy.]
What on earth are you so amused at ?

ALOEBNON

Oh, I'm a little anxious about poor
Bunbury, that is alL

JACK

If you don't take care, your friend Bun-
bury will get you into a serious scrape some
day.

ALGERNON

I love scrapes. They are the only things
that are never serious.

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT L

Oh, that 's nonsense, Algy. You never
talk anythmg but nonsense.

ALGEBNON

Nobody ever does.

[jack looks indignantly at him^ and leaves
the room. Algernon lights a cigarette ^ reads
his shirt-cuff ^ and smiles J]

Act Dbop

If.
11

SECOND ACT

SCENE

Garden at the Manor Bouse. A flight of grey stone
steps leads up to the house. The garden^ an old-fashioned
one^ full of roses. Ttme of year ^ J^fy' Bashet chairs^
and a table covered with books^ are set under a large
yew-tree.

[miss prism discovered seated ai the table.
CECILY is ai the back watering flowers^

miss prism

{Calling^ Cecily, Cecily 1 Surely such
a utilitarian occupation as the watering of
flowers is rather Moulton's duty than yours?
Especially at a moment when intellectual
pleasures await you. Your German gram-
mar is on the table. Pray open it at page
fifteen. We will repeat yesterday's lesson.

CECILY

\Coming over very slowly^ But I don't
like German. It isn't at all a becoming

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTii. language. I know perfectly well that
I look quite plain after my German
lesson.

MISS PRISM

Child, you know how anxious your
guardian is that you should improve your-
self in every way. He laid particular stress
on your German, as he was leaving for
town yesterday. Indeed, he always lays
stress on your German when he is leaving
for town.

CECILY

Dear Uncle Jack is so very serious I
Sometimes he is so serious that I think he
cannot be quite welL

MISS PRISM

[Drawing herself up.'] Your guardian
enjoys the best of health, and his gravity
of demeanour is especially to be com-
mended in one so comparatively young as
he is. I know no one who has a high^
sense of duty and responsibility,
68

BEING EARNEST

I suppose that is why he often looks a
little bored when we three are together.

loss PBISM

Cecily I I am surprised at you« Mr.
Worthing has many troubles in his life.
Idle merriment and triviality would be out
of place in his conversation. You must
remember his constant anxiety about that
unfortunate young man his brother.

CECILY

I wish Unde Jack would allow that
unfortunate young man, his brother, to
come down here sometimes. We might
have a good influence over him, Miss
PrisnL I am sure you certainly would.
You know German, and geology, and
things of that kind influence a num very
much. [CECILT begins to write in her
diary.']

loss PRISM

[Shaking her head.] I do not think that
even I could produce any effect on a char-

ACTIT

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL acter that according to his own brothef^t
admission is irretrievably weak and vacillat-
ing. Indeed I am not sure that I would
desire to reclaim him. I am not in favour
of this modem mania for turning bad
people into good people at a moment's
notice. As a man sows so let him reap.
You must put away your diary, Cecily. I
really don't see why you should keep a
diary at alL

CECILY

I keep a diary in order to enter the
wonderful secrets of my life. If I didn't
write them down, I should probably forget
all about them.

inSS PRISM

Memory, my dear Cecily, is the diary
that we all carry about with us.

CECILY

Yes, but it usually chronicles the things
that have never happened, and couldn't
possibly have happened. I believe that
Memory is responsible for nearly all the
three- volume novels that Mudie sends us.
70

BEING EARNEST

loss PRISM ACTU

Do not speak slightingly of the three-
volume novel, Cecily. I wrote one myself
in earlier days.

CECILY

Did you really. Miss Prism? How
wonderfiiUy clever you are 1 I hope it did
not end happily ? I don't like novels that
end happily. They depress me so much.

MISS PRISM

The good ended happily, and the bad
unhappily. That is what Fiction means.

CECILY

I suppose so. But it seems very unfair.
And was your novel ever published ?

MISS PRISM

Alas! no. The manuscript unfortunately
was abandoned. [Cecily siaris.'] I use
the word in the sense of lost or mislaid.
To your work, child, these speculations
are profitless.

CECILY

[Smt/tng'.l But I see dear Dr. Chasuble
coming up through the garden.

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT IL fiiISS PRISM

[Rising and advancing.'] Dr. Chasuble !
This is indeed a pleasure.
[Enter canon chasuble.]

CHASUBLE

And how are we this morning? Miss
Prism, you are, I trust, well ?

CECILY

Miss Prism has just been complaining
of a slight headache. I think it would do
her so much good to have a short stroU
with you in the Park, Dr. Chasuble.

MISS PRISM

Cecily, I have not mentioned anything
about a headache.

CECILY

No, dear Miss Prism, I know that, but
I felt instinctively that you had a head-
ache. Indeed I was thinking about that,
and not about my German lesson, when
the Rector came in.

CHASUBLE

I hope, Cecily, you are not inattentive.
72

BEING EARNEST

CBdLY ACT IL

Oh, I am afraid I am.

CHASUBLE

That is strange. Were I fortunate
enough to be Miss Prism's pupil, I would
hang upon her lips, [miss prism glares."]
I spoke metaphorically. — My metaphor
was drawn from bees. Ahem I Mr.
Worthing, I suppose, has not returned
from town yet?

MISS FUSM

We do not expect him till Monday
afternoon.

CHASUBLE

Ah yes, he usually likes to spend his
Sunday in London. He is not one of
those whose sole aim is enjoyment, as, by
all accounts, that unfortunate young man
his brother seems to be. But I must not
disturb Egeria and her pupil any longer.

MISS F&ISM

Egeria ! My name is Laetitia, Doctor.

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL CHASUBLE

[Bowing'.'] A classical allusion merely,
drawn from the Pagan authors. I shall
see you both no doubt at Evensong ?

MISS PRISM

I think, dear Doctor, I will have a stroll
with you. I find I have a headache after
all, and a walk might do it good.

CHASUBLE

With pleasure, Miss Prism, with plea-
sure. We might go as far as the schools
and back.

MISS PRISM

That would be delightful. Cecily, you
will read your Political Economy in my
absence. The chapter on the Fall of the
Rupee you may omit. It is somewhat
too sensational Even these metallic
problems have their melodramatic side.

[Goes dozvn the garden with dr. chas-
uble.]

CECILY

[Picks up books and throws them back on

BEING EARNEST

taile.'] Horrid Political Economy I Hor- ACT IL
rid Geography ! Horrid, horrid German I
[En/er merriman tviik a card on a salver^

Mr. Ernest Worthing has just driven
over from the station. He has brought
his luggage with him.

CECILY

\TcLkes the card and reads it^ *Mr.
Ernest Worthing, B. 4, The Albany, W.'
Uncle Jack's brother! Did you tdl him
Mr. Worthing was in town ?

MERRIMAN

Yes, Miss. He seemed very much dis-
appointed. I mentioned that you and Miss
Prism were in the garden. He said he was
anxious to speak to you privately for a
moment.

CECILY

Ask Mr. Ernest Worthing to come here.
I suppose you had better talk to the house-
keeper about • room for him.

THE IMPORTANCE OF

▲CriL MERRIMAN

Yes» Miss. [mebriman goes off!\

CECILY

I have never met any really wicked
person before. I feel rather frightened
I am so afraid he will look just like every
one else.

[Enter ALGERNON, very gay OMd debtm-
fuur.']

He does I

ALGERNON

[jRatsifig kis hot.'] You are my little
cousin Cecily, I 'm sure.

CECILY

You are under some strange mistake. I
am not little. In feict, I believe I am more
than usually tall for my age. [Algernon
is rather taken aback."] But I am your
cousin Cecily. You, I see from your card,
are Unde Jack's brother, my cousin Elmest,
my wicked cousin Elmest.

ALGERNON

Oh! I am not really wicked at aU,
76

BEING EARNEST

cousin Cecily. You mustn't think that I ACT a
am wicked.

CECILY

If you are not, then you have certainly
been deceiving us all in a very inexcusable
manner. I hope you have not been leading
a double life, pretending to be wicked and
being really good all the time. That would
be hypocrisy.

ALGERNON

[Looks at her in amazement^ Oh I Of
course I have been rather reckless.

CECILT

I am glad to hear it.

ALGERNON

In fact, now you mention the subject, I
have been very bad in my own small way.

CECILY

I don't think you should be so proud of
that, though I am sure it must have been
very pleasant.

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACm. ALGERNON

It is much pleasanter being here with
you,

CECILY

I can't understand how you are here at
alL Unde Jack won't be back till Monday
afternoon.

ALGERNON

That is a great disappointment. I am
obliged to go up by the first train on
Monday morning. I have a business
appointment that I am anxious • • • to
miss?

CECILY

Couldn't you miss it anywhere but in
London ?

ALGERNON

No : the appointment is in London.

CECILY

Well, I know, of course, how important

it is not to keep a business engagement, if

one wants to retain any sense of the beauty

of life, but still I think you had better wait

BEING EARNEST

till Uncle Jack arrives. I know he wants ACT ii.
to speak to you about your emigrating.

ALGERNON

About my what f

CECILY

Your emigrating. He has gone up to
buy your outfit.

ALGERNON

I certainly wouldn't let Jack buy my
outfit. He has no taste in neckties at alL

CECILY

I don't think you will require neckties.
Uncle Jack is sending you to Australia.

ALGERNON

Australia I I 'd sooner die

CECILY

Well, he said at dinner on Wednesday
night, that you would have to choose be-
tween this world, the next worldt and
Australia.

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL ALGERNON

Oh, well ! The accounts I have received
of Australia and the next world, are not
particularly encouraging. This world is
good enough for me, cousin Cecily.

CECILY

Yes, but are you good enough for it ?

ALGERNON

I 'm afraid I 'm not that. That is why I
want you to reform me. You might make
that your mission, if you don't mind, couinn
Cecily.

CECILY

I 'm afraid I 've no time, this afternoon.

ALGERNON

Well, would you mind my reforming
myself this afternoon f

CECILY

It is rather Quixotic of you. But I
think you should try.

ALGERNON

I wilL I feel better already.
80

BEING EARNEST

CECILY ACTIL

You are looking a little worse.

ALGERNON

That is because I am hungry

CECILY

How thoughtless of me. I should have
remembered that when one is going to lead
an entirely new life, one requires regular
and wholesome meals. Won't you come
in?

ALGERNON

Thank you. Might I have a buttonhole
first ? I never have any appetite unless I
have a buttonhole first.

CECILY

A Marshal Niel f [Picks up scissors.']

ALGERNON

No, I 'd sooner have a pink rose.

CECILY

Why? [Cuts a /lower.']

w 81

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL ALOERNON

Because you are like a pink rose. Cousin
Cecily.

CECILY

I don't think it can be right for you to
talk to me like that. Miss Prism never
says such things to me.

ALGERNON

Then Miss Prism is a short-sighted old
lady. [cECiLT puts the rose in his button-
hole^ You are the prettiest girl I ever saw.

CECILY

Miss Prism says that all good looks are
a snare.

ALGERNON

They are a snare that every sensible
man would like to be caught in«

CECILY

Oh» I don't think I would care to catch
a sensible man. I shouldn't know what to
talk to him about.

\^rhey pass into the house, miss prism
«W DR. CHASUBLE retum^
82

BEING EARNEST

BOSS PRISM ACT IL

You are too much alone, dear Dr.
Chasuble. You should get married. A
misanthrope I can understand — a woman-
thrope, never !

CHASUBLE

\_lVith a scholar^ s shudder. '\ Believe me,
I do not deserve so neologistic a phrase.
The precept as well as the practice of the
Primitive Church was distinctly against
matrimony.

MISS PRISM

\Sententiously^ That is obviously the
reason why the Primitive Church has not
lasted up to the present day. And you
do not seem to realise, dear Doctor, that
by persistently remaining single, a man
converts himself into a permanent public
temptation. Men should be more careful ;
this very celibacy leads weaker vessels
astray.

CHASaBLE

But is a man not equally attractive when
married?

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT n. BOSS FRISM

No married man is ever attractive except
to his wife.

CHASUBLE

And often, I Ve been told, not even to
hen

MISS PRISM

That depends on the intellectual sympa-
thies of the woman. Maturity can always
be depended on. Ripeness can be trusted
Young women are green, [dr. chasuble
starts^] I spoke horticulturally. My meta-
phor was drawn from fruits. But where is
Cecily ?

CHASUBLE

Perhaps she followed us to the schools.

[^Enter jack slowly from the back of the
garden. He is dressed in the deepest moum^
ing-y with crape hcUband and black gloves.'\

MISS PRISM

Mr. Worthing I

CHASl'BLE

Mr. Worthing!
84

BEING EARNEST

MISS PRISM ACTU

This is indeed a surprise. We did not
look for you till Monday afternoon.

JACK

[5iia^ MISS PRISMAS hand in a tragic
mannerJ] I have returned sooner than I
expected. Dr. Chasuble, I hope you are
well?

CHASUBLE

Dear Mr. Worthing, I trust this garb
of woe does not betoken some terrible
calamity?

JACK

My brother.

BOSS PBISM

More shameful debts and extravagance f

CHASUBLE

Still leading his life of pleasure f

JACK

[Shaking his head.'] Dead 1

CHASUBLE

Your brother Ernest dead ?

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTU. JACK

Quite dead.

MISS PRISM

What a lesson for him ! I trust he will
profit by it.

CHASUBLE

Mr. Worthing, I oflfer you my sincere
condolence. You have at least the consola-
tion of knowing that you were always the
most generous and forgiving of brothers.

JACK

Poor Ernest 1 He had many faults, but
it is a sad, sad blow.

CHASUBLE

Very sad indeed. Were you with him
at the end ?

JACK

No. He died abroad ; in Paris, in fitct
I had a telegram last night fix>m the
manager of the Grand Hotel

CHASUBLE

Was the cause of death mentioned ?
86

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT II

A severe chill, it seems.

IfflSS FRISM

As a man sows, so shall he reap.

CHASUBLE

[Raising his Aand.] Charity, dear Miss
Prism, charity 1 None of us are perfect.
I myself am peculiarly susceptible to
draughts. Will the interment take place
here?

JACK

No. He seems to have expressed •
desu^ to be buried in Paris ?

CHASUBLE

In Paris ! \_SAaies his head. ] I fear that
hardly points to any very serious state of
mind at the last. You would no doubt
wish me to make some slight allusion to
this tragic domestic affliction next Sunday.
[jack presses his hand convulsively^ My
sermon on the meaning of the manna in
the wilderness can be adapted to almost any

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT Q. occasion, joyful, or, as in the present case,
distressing. \_All stg^A.'\ I have preached
it at harvest celebrations, christenings,
confirmations, on days of humiliation and
festal days. The last time I delivered it
was in the Cathedral, as a charity sermon
on behalf of the Society for the Prevention
of Discontent among the Upper Orders.
The Bishop, who was present, was much
struck by some of the analogies I drew.

JACK

Ah I that reminds me, you mentioned
christenings I think. Dr. Chasuble? I
suppose you know how to christen all
right? [dr. chasuble looks astounded.]
I mean, of course, you are continually
christening, aren't you f

Miss PRISM

It is, I regret to say, one of the Rector's
most constant duties in this parish. I
have often spoken to the poorer classes on
the subject But they don't seem to know
what thrift is.
88

BEING EARNEST

CHASUBLE ACT IL

But is there any particular in£ant in
whom you are interested, Mr. Worthing?
Your brother was, I believe, unmarried^
was he not f

Oh yes.

MISS PRISM

IBii^erfyJ] People who live entirely for
pleasure usually are.

JACK

But it is not for any child, dear Doctor.
I am very fond of children. No 1 the fact
is, I would like to be christened myself
this afternoon, if you have nothing better
to da

CHASUBLE

But surely, Mr. Worthing, you have
been christened already ?

JACK

I don't remember anjrthing about it

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACrn. CHASUBLE

But have you any grave doubts on the
subject ?

JACK

I certainly intend to have. Of course I
don't know if the thing would bother you
in any way, or if you think I am a littk
too old now.

CHASUBLE

Not at alL The sprinkling, and, indeed,
the immersion of adults is a perfectly
canonical practice.

JACK

Immersion !

CHASUBLE

You need have no apprehensions. Sprink-
ling is all that is necessary, or indeed I
think advisable. Our weather is so change-
able. At what hour would you wish the
ceremony performed ?

JACK

Oh, I might trot round about five if that
would suit you.
90

BEING EARNEST

CHASUBL£ ACT IL

Perfectly, perfectly I In fact I have two
similar ceremonies to perform at that time.
A case of twins that occurred recently in
one of the outlying cottages on your own
estate. Poor Jenkins the carter, a most
hard-working man.

JACK

Oh I I don't see much fun in being
christened along with other babies. It
would be childish. Would half-past five
do?

CHASUBLE

Admirably I Admirably! ^TaJkes out
wcUck.'] And now, dear Mr. Worthing, I
will not intrude any longer into a house of
sorrow. I would merely beg you not to
be too much bowed down by grief. What
seem to us bitter trials are often blessings
in disguise.

MISS PRISM

This seems to me a blessing of an ex-
tremely obvious kind.
[Enter csjchly from the house.']

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL CECILT

Uncle Jack ! Oh, I am pleased to see
you back. But what horrid clothes you
have got on 1 Do go and change them.

MISS PRISM

Cecily!

CHASUBLE

My child! my child! [cecily goes
towards jack ; he kisses her iraw in a
melancholy manner.']

CECILT

What is the matter. Uncle Jack? Do
look happy! You look as if you had
toothache, and I have got such a surprise
for you. Who do you think is in the
dining-room ? Your brother 1

JACK

Whof

CECILY

Your brother Ernest. He arrived about
half an hour ago.
92

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT n

What nonsense I I haven't got a brother.

Oh, don't say that. However badly he
may have behaved to you in the past he
is still your brother. You couldn't be so
heartless as to disown him. I 'U tell him
to come out. And you will shake hands
with him, won't you. Uncle Jack ?

[Jiufis iiuk into the hous€^

CHASUBLE

These are very jojrful tidings.

MISS PRISM

After we had all been resigned to his loss»
his sudden return seems to me peculiarly
distressing.

JACK

My brother is in the dining-room? I
don't know what it all means. I think it
is perfectly absurd.

\Enter ALGERNON and cecilt hand m
hand They came slowly up to jack.]

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTII* JACK

Good heavens! \Motums aijOJCRNon
awayj]

AIjGERNON

Brother John, I have come down from
town to tell you that I am very sorry for all
the trouble I have given you, and that I
intend to lead a better life in the future.
[jack glares at kim and does not take his
Aand.]

Uncle Jack, you are not going to refuse
your own brother's hand ?

JACK

Nothing wiD induce me to take his hand.
I think his coming down here disgraoefuL
He knows perfectly well why.

CECIJLY

Uncle Jack, do be nice. There is some
good in every one. Ernest has just been
telling me about his poor invalid friend
Mr. Bunbury whom he goes to visit so
often. And surely there must be much
94

BEING EARNEST

good in one who is kind to an invalid, and ACT IL
leaves the pleasures of London to sit by a
bed of pain.

JACK

Oh 1 he has been talking about Bunbury,
has he?

CECILY

Yes, he has told me all about poor Mr.
Bunbury, and his terrible state of health.

JACK

Bunbury I Well, I won't have him talk
to you about Bunbury or about anything
else. It is enough to drive one perfectly
frantic

ALGERNON

Of course I admit that the faults were
all on my side. But I must say that I
think that Brother John's coldness to me
is peculiarly painful. I expected a more
enthusiastic welcome, especially consider-
ing it is the first time I have come here.

THE IMPORTANCE OF

if Tos dont riiake hands
I wffl never fiuKgive ym.

WelL tkis is the bst time I shall erer
do iL [Si«^ kmmds wkk alocbnon and

It s pfessant, is it not, to see so perfect
a lecoociBatioii ? I tlunk we migfat leave
the two Uoih ei s together.

Cccihr, yoa will come with os.

CertaiiilT* >Gss Pnsm. My little task
of reconciliatioQ is over
96

BEING EARNEST

CHASUBLE ACT IL

You have done a beautiful action to-day,
dear child.

MISS PRISM

We must not be premature in our
judgments.

CECILY

I feel very happy. [ Th^ all go off except

JACK and AI^ERNON.]
JACK

You young scoundrel, Algy, you must
get out of this place as soon as possible.
I don't allow any Bunbuiying here.

\E7Uer MKRKIMAN.]
BCEREIMAN

I have put Mr. Ernest's things in the
room next to yours, sir. I suppose that is
all right?

JACK

What?

MEBRIMAN

Mr. Ernest's luggage, sir. I have un-
a 97

THK IMPORTANCE OF

ttcrm. jHimd it

itatke

K^'< -44

tmti

! •• I -1,1

-» *-A Ml,

^AwA I cHiY staiy

tlaai m

the dqpf-cnt at <moe.
saddcnly called back

imdk ml9 ike Jiamsg.']

tearSal Kir Toa arc JadL I
olkd hack to to wn at alL

BEING EARNEST

aijoebnon act II

I hmven't heard any one call me.

JACK

Your duty as a gentleman calls you
back.

ALOEKNON

My duty as a gentleman has never in-
terfered with my pleasures in the smallest
degree.

JACK

I can quite understand that.

AL6EBNON

WeU, Cecily is a darling.

JACK

You are not to talk of Miss Cardew like
that. I don't like it.

ALGERNON

Well, I don't like your clothes. You
look perfectly ridiculous in them. Why
on earth don't you go up and change ? It
is perfectly childish to be in deep mouniing
for a man who is actually staying for a

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT IL whole week with you m your house as a
guest. I call it grotesque.

JACK

You are certainly not staying with me
for a whole week as a guest or anything
else. You have got to leave • • • by the
four-five train.

ALGERNON

I certainly won't leave you so long as
you are in mourning. It would be most
unfriendly. If I were in mourning you
would stay with me, I suppose. I should
think it very unkind if you didn't.

JACK

Well, wiU you go if I change my
clothes ?

ALGERNON

Yes, if you are not too long. I never
saw anybody take so long to dress» and
with such little result.

JACK

Well, at any rate, that is better than
being always over-dressed as you are.
100

BEING EARNEST

ALOERNON ACT U

If I am occasionally a little over-dressed»
I make up for it by being always immensely
over-educated.

JACK

Your vanity is ridiculous, your conduct
an outrage, and your presence in my garden
utterly absurd. However, you have got
to catch the four-five, and I hope you will
have a pleasant journey back to town.
This Bunburying, as you call it, has not
been a great success for you.

l^Goes into the house.']

ALGERNON

I think it has been a great success.
I'm in love with Cecily, and that is
everything.

[Enter CECULY at the back of the garden.
She picks up the can and begins to water the
flowers^

But I must see her before I go, and make
airangements for another Bunbury. Ah,
there she is.

101

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL CECILY

Oh, I merely came back to water the
roses. I thought you were with Uncle
Jack.

ALGERNON

He 's gone to order the dog-cart for me.

CECILY

Oh, is he going to take you for a nice
drive?

ALGERNON

He 's going to send me away.

CECILY

Then have we got to part f

ALGERNON

I am afraid so. It's a very painful
parting.

CECILY

It is always painful to part from people
whom one has known for a very brief space
of time. The absence of old friends one
can endure with equanimity. But even
a momentary separation from any one to
102

BEING EARNEST

whom one has just been introduced is ACTii.
almost unbearable.

ALOERNON

Thank you.
[Bnier mkrhtman.]

IfERRIMAN

The dog-cart is at the door, sir. [aloeb-
NON loo^ appealingly at cecilt.]

CECILY

It can wait, Merriman • • . for . • • five
minutes.

MEBRIMAN

Yes» Miss. [Exii bceeriman.]

ALOERNON

I hope, Cecily, I shall not offend you if
I state quite frankly and openly that you
seem to me to be in every way the visible
personification of absolute perfection.

CECILY

I think your firankness does you great
credit, Ernest. If you will allow me, I

108

r>-

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL will copy your remarks into my diary.
[Goes over to table and begins writing in
diafy.']

ALGERNON

Do you really keep a diary ? I 'd give
anything to look at it. May I ?

CECILY

Oh na [Puts her hand over it.'] You
see, it is simply a very young girl's record
of her own thoughts and impressions, and
consequently meant for publication. When
it appears in volume form I hope you will
order a copy. But pray, Ernest, don't
stop. I delight in taking down from dicta-
tion. I have reached * absolute perfection.'
You can go on. I am quite ready for
more.

ALGERNON

[Somewhat taken aback.] Ahem! Ahem!

CECILY

Oh, don't cough, Ernest When one b
dictating one should speak fluently and not
104

BEING EARNEST

cough. Besides, I don't know how to spell ACT u
a cough. [ Writes as Algernon speaks.']

ALOERNON

[Speaking very rapidly^ Cecily, ever
since I first looked upon your wonderful
and incomparable beauty, I have dared to
love you wildly» passionately^ devotedly^
hopelessly.

CECILT

I don't think that you should tell me
that you love me wildly, passionately^
devotedly, hopelessly. Hopelessly doesn't
seem to make much sense, does it !

ALGERNON

Cecily I

\Enter merriman.]

The dog-cart is waiting, sir.

ALGERNON

Tell it to come round next week, at the
same hour.

105

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL MERRIMAN

[Looks cU CECILY^ who makes no sign?^
Yes, sir. [mebriman retires^

CECILY

Uncle Jack would be very much annoyed
if he knew you were staying on till next
week, at the same hour.

ALGERNON

Oh, I don't care about Jack. I don't
care for anybody in the whole world but
you. I love you, Cecily. You will many
me, won't you !

CECILY

You silly boy I Of course. Why, we
have been engaged for the last three
months.

ALGERNON

For the last three months ?

CECILY

Yes, it will be exactly three months on
Thursday.
10«

BEING EARNEST

AliOERNON ACT IL

But how did we become engaged ?

CECH-Y

Well, ever since dear Uncle Jack first
confessed to us that he had a younger
brother who was very wicked and bad, you
of course have formed the chief topic of
conversation between myself and Miss
Prism. And of course a man who is much
talked about is always very attractive.
One feels there must be something in him,
after alL I daresay it was foolish of me,
but I fell in love with you, Ernest.

ALGERNON

Darling I And when was the engage-
ment actually settled ?

CECILY

On the 1 4th of February last. Worn out
by your entire ignorance of my existence,
I determined to end the matter one way
or the other, and after a long struggle
with myself I accepted you under this dear
old tree here. The next day I bought this

107

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTTL little ring in your name, and this is the
little bangle with the true lovers' knot 1
promised you always to wear.

ALGERNON

Did I give you this? It's very pretty,
isn't it ?

CECILY

Yes, you've wonderfully good taste,
Ernest It 's the excuse I Ve always givta
for your leading such a bad life. And this
is the box in which I keep all your dear
letters. [/Cneels at table^ opens box^ and
produces letters tied tip tuitk blue ribbon,']

ALGERNON

My letters I But, my own sweet Cecily,
I have never written you any letters.

CECILY

You need hardly remind me of that,
Ernest I remember only too well that 1
was forced to write your letters for you.
I wrote always three times a week, and
sometimes oftener.
108

BEING EARNEST

ALGERNON ACT IL

Oh, do let me read them, Cecily f

CECH-Y

Oh, I couldn't possibly. They would
make you far too conceited. [Replaces
box.'] The three you wrote me after I had
broken off the engagement are so beautiful,
and so badly spelled, that even now I can
hardly read them without crying a little.

ALGERNON

But was our engagement ever broken
off?

CECILY

Of course it was. On the 22nd of last
March. You can see the entry if you like.
[Shows diary.] * To-day I broke off my
engagement with Ernest. I feel it is
better to do so. The weather still con-
tinues charming.'

ALGERNON

But why on earth did you break it off?
What had I done ? I had done nothing at
alL Cecily, I am very much hurt indeed

109

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT IL to hear you broke it off. Particularly when
the weather was so charming.

CECILY

It would hardly have been m really
serious engagement if it hadn't been broken
off at least once. But I forgave you befcne
the week was out.

ALGERNON

[Crossing to hcTy and kneeling.'] What a
perfect angel you are, Cecily.

CECILY

You dear romantic boy. [He kisses her,
she puts her fingers through his hair.] I
hope your hair curls naturally, does it f

ALGERNON

Yes, darling, with a little help from
others.

CECILY

I am so glad.

ALGERNON

You '11 never break off our engagement
again, Cecily ?
110

BEING EARNEST

CECILY ACT n.

I don't think I could break it off now
that I have actually met you. Besides, of
course, there is the question of your name.

ALOESNON

Yes, of course. [Nervously.']

CECILY

You must not laugh at me, darling, but
it had always been a girlish dream of mine
to love some one whose name was Ernest.
[ALGERNON rises, CECILY olso.'} Thcrc is
something in that name that seems to
inspire absolute confidence. I pity any
poor married woman whose husband is not
called Ernest.

ALGERNON

But, my dear child, do you mean to say
you could not love me if I had some other
name?

CECILY

But what name f

111

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL ALGERNON

Oh, any name you like — ^Algemon — ^for
instance • • •

CECILY

But T don't like the name of Algernon.

ALGERNON

Well, my own dear, sweet, loving little
darling, I really can't see why you should
object to the name of Algernon. It is not
at all a bad name. In fact, it is rather an
aristocratic name. Half of the chaps who
get into the Bankruptcy Court are called
Algernon. But seriously, Cecily . . .
[Maznng to her] ... if my name was
Algy, couldn't you love me f

CECILY

[RistngJ] I might respect you, Ernest,
I might admire your character, but I fear
that I should not be able to give you my
undivided attention.

ALGERNON

Ahem! Cecily! [Picking up hat.] Your
Rector here is, I suppose, thoroughly ex-
118

BEING EARNEST

perienced in the practice of all the rites ACrn
and ceremonials of the Church ?

CECILY

Oh, yes. Dr. Chasuble is a most learned
man. He has never written a single book,
so you can imagine how much he knows.

ALGERNON

I must see him at once on a most impor-
tant christening — I mean on most important
business.

CECILY

Oh!

ALGERNON

I shan't be away more than half an hour.

CECILY

Considering that we have been engaged
since February the 14th, and that I only
met you to-day for the first time. I think
it is rather hard that you should leave
me for so long a period as half an hour.
Couldn't you make it twenty minutes ?

H 118

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL ALGERNON

I li be back in no time.
[Kisses her and rushes dawn the garden.^

CECILY

What an impetuous boy he is ! I like
his hair so much. I must enter his proposal
m my diary.

[Enter biebriman.]

MERRIMAN

A Miss Fairfax has just called to see
Mr. Worthing. On very important business.
Miss Fairfax states.

CECILY

Isn't Mr. Worthing in his library ?

MERRIMAN

Mr. Worthing went over in the direction
of the Rectory some time ago.

CECILY

Pray ask the lady to come out here;
Mr. Worthing is sure to be back soon.
And you can bring tea.
114

BEING EARNEST

MEBBDfAN ACT II.

Yes, Miflg. [Goes ouiJ]

CECILY

Miss Fairfax ! I suppose one of the many
good elderly women who are associated with
Uncle Jack in some of his philanthropic
work in London. I don't quite like women
who are interested in philanthropic work.
I think it is so forward of them.

[Enier mebriman.]

MERBIMAN

Miss Fairfax.

[Bnier Gwendolen.] [Exit merriman.]

CECILY

^Advancing' to meet her^ Pray let me
introduce myself to you. My name is
Cecily Cardew.

GWENDOLEN

Cecily Cardew? {Moving to her and
shaking hands J] What a very sweet name !
Something tells me that we are going to
be great friends. I like you already more

115

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL than I can say. My first impressions of
people are never wrong.

How nice of you to like me so much
after we have known each other such a
comparatiyely short time. Pray sit down.

GWENDOLEN

[SHU standing upj] I may call you
Cecily, may I not ?

With pleasure I

OWENDOUSN

And you will always call me Gwendolen,
won't you f

If you wish.

GWENDOLEN

Then that is all quite settled, is it not ?

CECDLT

I hope so. [A pause. Tkey botk sit danm

tcgether.']
116

BEING EARNEST

GWENDOLEN ACT li

Perhaps this might be a favourable
opportunity for my mentioning who I am.
My father is Lord BracknelL You have
never heard of papa, I suppose t

CECILY

I don't think sa

GWENDOLEN

Outside the family circle, papa, I am
glad to say, is entirely unknown. I think
that is quite as it should be. The home
seems to me to be the proper sphere for
the man. And certainly once a man
begins to neglect his domestic duties he
becomes painfully effeminate, does he not ?
And I don't like that. It makes men so
very attractive. Cecily, mamma, whose
views on education are remarkably strict,
has brought me up to be extremely short-
sighted; it is part of her system; so do
you mind my looking at you through my
glasses ?

117

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL CECILT

Oh ! not at all, Gwendolen. I am yery
fond of being looked at.

OWENDOLEN

\After examining cecily carefully through
a largnetteJ] You are here on a short visit,
I suppose.

CECILT

Oh no I I live here.

OWENDOLEN

[Severely.'] Really? Your mother, no
doubt, or some female relative of advanced
years, resides here also ?

Oh no I I have no mother, nor, in ts^
any relations.

GWENDOLEN

Indeed?

CECILY

My dear guardian, with the assistance of
Miss Prism, has the arduous task of looking
after me.
118

BEING EARNEST

OWENDOLEN ACT IL

Your guardian ?

CECILY

Yes, I am Mr. Worthing's ward.

OWENDOLEN

Oh 1 It is strange he never mentioned
to me that he had a ward.

^f Wim I He grows more interesting 'hm!irfyi> x^ nr> ^ V> a.x. )
I am not sure, however, that the news
inspires me with feelings of unmixed delight.
[Rising and going to herJ] I am very fond
of you, Cecily ; I have liked you ever since
I met youl But, I am bound to state
that now that I know that you are Mr.
Worthing's ward, I cannot help exoressin g

wish you were — well, just a little older
than you seem to be — and not quite so
very alluring in appearance. In fact, if I
may speak candidly

CEcn.y

Fray do! I think that whenever one
has anything unpleasant to say, one should
always be quite candid.

119

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL OWENDOLEN

Wellt to speak with perfect candour,
Cecily, I wish that you were fully forty-
two, and more than usually plain for your
age. Ernest has a strong upri^t nature.
He is the very soul of truth and honour.
Disloyalty would beas impossible to him
asd^gtioiL^ Bul c i en mLiTuf ^o liuTfe t

rpplihla \xt ^hn Vfliiif^nfy of_ ^i^f pfai7?i ^^^

Andflnti H^^'^^^r

If it were not ^o, -mdeedf Hiatoigr would
be quite nnreidttyft, -

I beg your pardon^ Gwendolen, did you
say Ernest f

GWENDOLEN

CECILY

Oh, but it is not Mr. Ernest Worthing
120

BEING EARNEST

who is my guardian. It is his brother— his ACT n.
elder brother.

GWENDOLEN

[Sitting doTvn again.'] Ernest never
mentioned to me that he had a brother.

CECILY

I am sorry to say they have not been on
good terms for a long time.

GWENDOLEN yy

that accoT j nto fnr Hi^^ti^ " r * ^
t-f't faink of ih I ha ^ e nc i u htaiJ auj p

-t foU^le M iJi HUN' m p ii i ^^ Cecily,
you have lilteS a'load from my mind. I
was growing almost anxious. It would
have been terrible if any cloud had come
across a friendship like ours, would it no^X-
Of course you are quite, quite sure that it
is not Mr. Ernest Worthing who is your
guardian?

Quite sure. [A pause.} In &ct, I am
going to be his.

121

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACrn. OWENDOLEN

l/nyutring^/y.'] I beg your pardon f

CECILY

[Rather sky and conficUngly^ Dearest
Gwendolen, there is no reason why I should
make a secret of it to you. ^mmMM^

le
i. Mr. Ernest Worthing
and I are engaged to be married*

GWENDOLEN

[Quite politely, rising^ My darling Cecily,
I think there must be some slight error.
Mr. Ernest Worthing is engaged to me.

ml) ii ill uppuii in UU e

CECILY

[ Very politely , rising."] I am afraid you
must be under some misconception. Ernest
proposed to me exactly ten minutes ago.
[Shows diary. "]

GWENDOLEN

[Examines diary through her lorgnetti
eare/ully.'] It is certainly very curious, for
122

BEING EARNEST ^

he asked me to be his wife yesterday after- ACT IL
noon at 5.80.y/J{ you would oafo tcr-rerify
t he ineidiintj prny do s o, — [£ro(/tif€f diury

-dkffy> — On » chou ld a lw a ys have s omethin g
scnsaLiciual * to reud'ill Ilil5 Itwtfj^l am so
sorry, dear Cecily, if it is any disappoint-
ment to you, but I am afraid I have the
prior claim.

CECILY

It would distress me more than I can
tell you, dear Gwendolen, if it caused you
any mental or physical anguish, but I feel
bound to point out that since Ernest pro-
posed to you he clearly has changed his
mind.

GWENDOLEN

[MedttativelyJ] If the poor fellow has
been entrapped into any foolish promise I
shall consider it my duty to rescue him at
once, and with a firm hand.

CECILY

[ Thoughtfully and sadly. ] Whatever un-

128

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT IL fortunate oitanglement my dear boy may
have got into, I will never reproach him
with it after we are married.

GWENDOLEN

Do you allude to me. Miss Cardew, as
an entimglement ? You are presumptuous.
On an occasion of this kind it becomes
more than a moral duty to speak one's
mind. It becomes a pleasure.

Do you suggest. Miss Fairfax, that I
oitrapped Ernest into an engagement?
How dare you? This i% no, tim^ for

it a snade.

GWENDOLEN

[Sa/irica/fy.^ I am glad to say that I
have never seen a spade. It is obvious
that our social spheres have been widely
difterent.

n/er merrocan, /allowed by the foot-
w$aH. He carries a salver, table clothe and
plate stand. CECILY is about to retort. The
124

BEING EARNEST

presence of the servants exercises a restrain^ ACT ii
ing' infltunce^ under which both girls chafe^

Shall I lay tea here as usual, Miss t

CECILY

\Stemly^ in a calm voice."] Yes, as usuaL
[meri^tman begins to clear table and lay
cloth. A long pause, cecilt and Gwen-
dolen glare at each other.]

GWENDOLEN

Are there many interesting walks in the
vicinity. Miss Cardew ?

CECHiT

Oh I yes ! a great many. From the top
of one of the hills quite close one can see
five counties.

GWENDOLEN

Five counties! I don't think I should
that; I hate crowds.

CECILY

[Sweetly.'] I suppose that is why you
live in town ? [Gwendolen bites her lip^

125

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT n. ond * beats her fo(d nervimsly with ker
parasol.']

GWENDOLEN

[Looking round.'] Quite a well-kept
garden this is, Miss Cardew.

CECILY

So glad you like it, Miss Fairfax.

GWENDOLEN

I had no idea there were any flowers in
the country.

CECILY

Oh, flowers are as common here. Miss
Fair£Euc, as people are in London.

GWENDOLEN

Personally I cannot understand how
anybody manages to exist in the country,
if anybody who is anybody does. The
country always bores me to death.

CECILY

Ah 1 This is what the newspapers call
agricultural depression, is it not ? I believe
the aristocracy are sufiering very much
126

BEING EARNEST

from it just at present. It is almost an Acrn
epidemic amongst them, I have been told.
May I offer you some tea. Miss Fairfax ?

GWENDOLEN

[ With elaborate politeness.'] Thank you.
\^Aside.'] Detestable girl! But I require
tea!

CECILY

[Sweetly."] Sugar f

GWENDOLEN

[Superciliously. ] No, thank you. Sugar
is not fashionable any more, [cecilt looks
angrily at her^ takes up the tongs and puts
four lumps of sugar into the cup.]

CECILY

[Severely.] Cake or bread and butter t

GWENDOLEN

[In a bored manner^ Bread and butter,
please. Cake is rarely seen at the best
houses nowadays.

127

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTH CECILY

[^Cuts a very large slice of cake, and puts
it on the trayJ] Hand that to Miss Fairfax.

[kerriman does so, and goes out with foot-
man. GWENDOLEN drinks the tea and makes
a grimace. Puts dawn cup at once, reaches
out her hand to the bread and butter, looks
at it, and finds it is cake. Rises in indigna-
tion^

GWENDOLEN

You have filled my tea with lumps of
sugar, and though I asked most distinctly
for bread and butter, you have given me
cake. I am known for the gentleness of
my disposition, and the extraordinary sweet-
ness of my nature, but I warn you. Miss
Cardew, you may go too far.

CECILY

{Rising^ To save my poor, iimocent,
trusting boy from the machinations of any
other girl there are no lengths to which I
would not go.
128

BEING EARNEST

GWENDOLEN ACT IL

From the moment I saw you I distrusted
you. I felt that you were false and deceit-
fuL I am never deceived in such matters.
My first impressions of people are invari-

.b^ right

CECILY

It seems to me. Miss Fairfax, that I am
trespassing on your valuable time. No
doubt you have many other calls of a
similar character to make in the neighbour-
hood.

lEn/er jack.]

GWENDOLEN

[CaUAing^ sight of Aim.'] Ernest! My
own Ernest !

JACK

Gwendolen 1 Darling 1 \Pffers to kiss
her.]

GWENDOLEN

^Drawing back.] A moment 1 May I
ask if you are engaged to be married to
this young lady ? [Points to cecily.]

I 129

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL JACK

[Laughing.'] To dear little Cecily 1 Of
course notl What could have put such
an idea into your pretty little head ?

GWENDOLEN

Thank you. You may! [Offers her
cheek."]

CECILY

[Very sweetly.] I knew there must be
some misunderstanding. Miss Fair&x. The
gentleman whose arm is at present round
your waist is my dear guardian, Mr. John
Worthing.

GWENDOLEN

I beg your pardon f

This is Unde Jack.

GWENDOLEN

[Receding.] Jack 1 Oh !
Enter Algernon.]

Here is Ernest.
180

BEING EARNEST

ALGERNON ACT IL

{^Goes straight over to cecily without
noticing any one etse.'] My own lovel
\Pffers to kiss herj]

CECILY

IDrazving backJ] A moment, Ernest!
May I ask you — are you engaged to be
married to this young lady ?

ALGERNON

[Looking round.'] To what young lady t
Good heavens 1 Gwendolen 1

CECILY

Yesl to good heavens, Gwendolen^ I
mean to Gwendolen.

ALGERNON

[Laughing.^ Of course not I What
could have put such an idea into your
pretty little head ?

CECILY

Thank you. [Presenting her cheek to be
kissed.] You may. [ Algernon kisses hgrJ]

181

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACrn. OWENDOLEN

I fdt there was some slight error. Miss
Cardew. The gentleman who is now em-
bracing you IS my cousin, Mr. Algernon
Moncrie£

[Breaking away /rom AuaiOLSOV.'] Alger-
non Moncrieff ! Oh 1 [TAe two girls move
towards each other and put their arms round
each other^s waists as if for protection.']

CECILY

Are you called Algernon ?

ALGERNON

I cannot deny it.

CECILT

Oh!

GWENDOLEN

Is your name really John ?

JACK

[Standing rcU her proudly. 1 I could deny
it if I liked. I could deny anything if I
182

BEING EARNEST

liked. But my name certainly is John. ACTii
It has been John for years.

CECILY

[7b GWENDOLEN.] A gross deception
has been practised on both of us.

GWENDOLEN

My poor wounded Cecily 1

CECILY

My sweet wronged Gwendolen !

GWENDOLEN

[Slowly and seriously.'] You will call me
sister, will you not ? [ TAey embrace, jack
and ALGERNON groan and walk up and
down.]

CECILY

[Rather brightly.] There is just one
question I would like to be allowed to ask
my guardian.

GWENDOLEN

An admirable idea 1 Mr. Worthing, there
is just one question I would like to be
permitted to put to you. Where is your

188

THE IMPORTANCE OF

brother Ernest? We are both engaged
to be married to your brother Ernest,
so it is a matter of some importance to
us to know where your brother Ernest is
at present.

JACK

[^Slawfy and Aesitatingfy.^ Gwendolen —
Cecily — ^it is very painful for me to be
forced to speak the truth. It is the first
time in my life that I have ever been re-
duced to such a painful position, and I am
really quite inexperienced in doing any-
thing of the kind. However, I will tell you
quite frankly that I have no brother Ernest
I have no brother at alL I never had a
brother in my life, and I certainly have not
the smallest intention of ever having one
in the future.

CECILY

[Surprised^] No brother at all i

JACK

[Cheerily.'] None 1
184

BEING EARNEST

OWENOOLEN ACT U.

[Severe/yJ] Had you never a brother of
any kind?

JACK

[Pleasantly.'] Never. Not even of any
kind.

GWENDOLEN

I am afraid it is quite clear, Cecily, that
neither of us is engaged to be married to
any one.

CECILY

It is not a very pleasant position for a
young girl suddenly to find herself in. Is
it?

GWENDOLEN

Let US go into the house. They will
hardly venture to come after us there.

CECILY

No, men are so cowardly, aren't they f
[ TAey retire into the house with scornful
looks.]

185

THE IMPORTANCE OF

\CT1L JACK

This ghastly state of things is what you
call Bunburying, I suppose ?

ALGERNON

Yes, and a perfectly wonderful Bunbury
it is. The most wonderful Bunbury I have
ever had in my life.

JACK

Well, youVe no right whatsoever to
Bunbury here.

ALGERNON

That is absurd. One has a right to
Bunbury anywhere one chooses. Every
serious Bunburyist knows that.

JACK

Serious Bunburyist 1 Good heavens !

ALGERNON

Well, one must be serious about some-
thing, if one wants to have any amusement
in life. I happen to be serious about
Bunburying. What on earth you are
serious about I haven't i|^>t the remotest
180

BEING EARNEST

idea. About everything, I should fancy, actd
You have such an absolutely trivial nature.

JACK

Welly the only small satisfaction I have
in the whole of this wretched business is
that your friend Bunbury is quite exploded*
You won't be able to run down to the
country quite so often as you used to do,
dear AJgy. And a very good thing too.

ALGERNON

Your brother is a little off colour, isn't
he, dear Jack? You won't be able to
disappear to London quite so frequently
as your wicked custom was. And not a
bad thing either.

JACK

As for your conduct towards Miss
CardeWy I must say that your taking in a
sweet, simple, innocent girl like that is
quite inexcusable. To say nothing of the
fact that she is my ward.

ALGERNON

I can see no possible defence at all for

187

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT IL your deceiving a brilliant, clever, thoroughly
experienced young lady like Miss Fairfax.
To say nothing of the fact that she is my
cousin.

JACK

I wanted to be engaged to Gwendolm,
that is alL I love her.

ALGERNON

Well, I simply wanted to be engaged to
Cecily. I adore her.

JACK

There is certainly no chance of your
marrying Miss Cardew.

ALGERNON

I don't think there is much likelihood,
Jack, of you and Miss Fairfax being
united.

JACK

Well, that is no business of yours.

ALGERNON

If it was my business, I wouldn't talk
about it [Begins to eat mu^nsJ] It is
188

BEING EARNEST

veiy vulgar to talk about one's business, actil
Only people like stockbrokers do that,
and then merely at dinner parties.

JACK

How can you sit there, calmly eating
muffins when we are in this horrible
trouble, I can't make out. You seem to
me to be perfectly heartless.

ALGERNON

Well, I can't eat muffins in an agitated
manner. The butter would probably get
on my cuffs. One should always eat
muffins quite calmly. It is the only way
to eat them.

JACK

I say it 's perfectly heartless your eating
muffins at all, under the circumstances.

ALGERNON

When I am in trouble, eating is the only
thing that consoles me. Indeed, when I
am in really great trouble, as any one who
knows me intimately will tell you, I reftise
everything except food and drink. At the

189

THE IMPORTANCE OF

present moment I am eating muffins be-
cause I am unhappy. Besides, I am par-
ticularly fond of muffins. IRtsing^.']

JACK

lRzsing'.'\ Well, that is no reason why
you should eat them all in that greedy
way. [7a^ muffins from alge&non.]

ALGERNON

[Offering tea-cake.'] I wish you would
have tea-cake instead. I don't like tea-
cake.

JACK

Good heavens 1 I suppose a man may
eat his own muffins in his own garden.

ALGERNON

But you have just said it was perfectly
heartless to eat muffins.

JACK

I said it was perfectly heartless of you,
under the circumstances. That is a very
different thing.
140

BEING EARNEST

ALOEBNON ACT U.

That may be. But the muffins are the
same. \H4 seizes the muffin-dish from

JACK.]
JACK

Algjy I wish to goodness you would ga

ALGERNON

You can't possibly ask me to go without
having some dinner. It's absurd. I never
go without my dinner. No one ever does,
except vegetarians and people like that.
Besides I have just made arrangements
with Dr. Chasuble to be christened at a
quarter to six under the name of Ernest.

JACK

My dear fellow, the sooner you give up
that nonsense the better. I made arrange-
ments this morning with Dr. Chasuble to
be christened myself at 5.80, and I naturally
will take the name of Ernest Gwendolen
would wish it. We can't both be christened
Ernest. It's absurd. Besides, I have a
perfect right to be christened if I like.

141

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIL There is no evidence at all that I ever have
been christened by anybody. I should
think it extremely probable I never was,
and so does Dr. Chasuble. It is entirely
different in your case. You have been
christened already.

ALGERNON

Yes, but I have not been christened for

JACK

Yes, but you have been christened. That
is the important thing.

ALGERNON

Quite sa So I know my constitution
can stand it. If you are not quite sure
about your ever having been christened, I
must say I think it rather dangerous your
venturing on it now. It might make you
very unwelL You can hardly have for-
gotten that some one very closely connected
with you was very nearly carried off this
week in Paris by a severe chilL
14S

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT U.

Yes, but you said youtsdf that a severe
chill was not hereditary.

ALGERNON

It usen't to be, I know — but I daresay it
is now. Science is always making wonder-
ful improvements in things.

JACK

[Picking up the muffin-dish^ Oh, that is
nonsense ; you are always talking nonsense.

ALGERNON

Jack, you are at the muffins again I I
wish you wouldn't. There are only two
left. {Takes themJ] I told you I was
particularly fond of muffins.

JACK

But I hate tea-cake;

ALGERNON

Why on earth then do you aOow tea-
cake to be served up for your guests?
What ideas you have of hospitality I

148

IlfPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST

Algernon ! I haTc already told you to
go. 1 daoX want yoa here. Why don't
ycmtgol

I faaven^ quite finished my tea yet ! and
there is still one moflhi 1^ [jack groans,
mmd smks imU m duur. aloksnon still

Act Umat

144

THIRD ACT

I i

•I

THIRD ACT

SCENE
Moming-roinn at the Manor Hcuu*

[GWENDOLEN and CECILY are at tJu
window^ looking out into the garden^

GWENDOLEN

The fact that they did not follow us at
once into the house, as any one else would
have done, seems to me to show that they
have some sense of shame left

CECILY

They have been eating muffins. That
looks like repentance.

GWENDOLEN

\AfUr a pause.'] They don't seem to
notice us at alL Couldn't you cough ?

CECILY

But I haven't got a cough.

147

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIU. GWENDOLEN

They *re looking at us. What efironteryl

CECILY

They're approaching. That's very for-
ward of them.

GWENDOLEN

Let us preserve a dignified silence.

CECILY

Certainly. It's the only thing to do
now.

[Enter jack followed by algebnon. They
whistle some dreadful popular air from a
British Opera.'\

GWENDOLEN

This dignified silence seems to produce
an unpleasant effect.

CECILY

A most distasteful one.

GWENDOLEN

But we will not be the first to speak.

CECILY

Certainly not.
148

BEING EARNEST

GWENDOLEN ACT HI.

Mr. Worthing, I have something very
particular to ask you. Much depends on
your reply.

CECILY

Gwendolen, your common sense is in-
valuable. Mr. MoncriefF, kindly answer
me the following question. Why did you
pretend to be my guardian's brother ?

ALGERNON

In order that I might have an opportunity
of meeting you.

CECILY

[7(? GWENDOLEN.] That certainly seems
a satisfactory explanation, does it not ?

GWENDOLEN

Yes, dear, if you can believe him.

CECILY

I don't. But that does not afiect the
wonderful beauty of his answer.

149

THE IMPORTANCE OF

4CTIIL GWENDOLEN

True. In matters of grave importance,
style, not sincerity is the vital thing. Mr.
Worthing, what explanation can you offer
to me for pretending to have a brother?
Was it in order that you might have an
opportunity of coming up to town to see
me as often as possible ?

JACK

Can you doubt it, Miss Fairfax ?

GWENDOLEN

I have the gravest doubts upon the sub-
ject But I intend to crush them. This
is not the moment for German scepticism.
[Moving' to CECILY.] Their explanations
appear to be quite satisfactory, especially
Mr. Worthing's. That seems to me to
have the stamp of truth upon it.

CECILY

I am more than content with what Mr.
Moncrieff said. His voice alone inspires
one with absolute credulity.
160

BEING EARNEST

GWENDOLEN ACT III

Then you think we should forgive them ?

CECILY

Yes. I mean no.

GWENDOLEN

Truel I had forgotten. There are
principles at stake that one cannot sur-
render. Which of us should tell them?
The task is not a pleasant one.

CECILY

Could we not both speak at the same
time?

GWENDOLEN

An excellent ideal 1 nearly always
speak at the same time as other people.
Will you take the time from me ?

CECILY

Certainly. [Gwendolen beats time with
uplifted finger. ]

GWENDOLEN and CECILY

\Speaking together^ Your Christian

151

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTm. names are still an insuperable barrier.
Thatisalll

JACK and ALGEBNON

[Speaking together^ Our Christian
namesl Is that all? But we are going
to be christened this afternoon.

GWENDOLEN

[ To JACK.] For my sake you are prepared
to do this terrible thing?

JACK

I anu

CECILY

[To ALGERNON.] To please me you are
ready to face this fearful ordeal ?

ALGERNON

I ami

GWENDOI-EN

How absurd to talk of the equality of
the sexes 1 Where questions of self-sacrifice
are concerned, men are infinitely beyond
us.

158

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT IIL

We are. [Clasps hands with aloernon.]

CECILY

They have moments of physical courage
of which we women know absolutely
nothing.

GWENDOLEN

[ To JACK.] Darling I

ALOEBNON

[ To CECILY.] Darling 1 [ They faU into
each othet^s armsJ]

[Enter merriman. When he enters ke
conghs loudly^ seeing the situation^

b&ekku&an
Ahem I Ahem I Lady Bracknell '

JACK

Good heavens I

[Enter lady bsacknell. The couples
separate in alarm. Exit merriman.]

LADY BRACKNELL

Gwendolen I What does this mean ?

158

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTUL GWENDOLEN

Merely that I am engaged to be married
to Mr. Worthing, mamma.

LADT BBACKNELL

Come here. Sit down. Sit down im-
mediately. Hesitation of any kind is a
sign of mental decay in the young, of
physical weakness in the old. [^Tums to
JACK.] Apprised, sir, of my daughters
sudden flight by her trusty maid, whose
confidence I purchased by means of a small
coin, I followed her at once by a luggage
train. Her unhappy father is, I am glad
to say, under the impression that she is
attending a more than usually lengthy lec-
ture by the University Extension Scheme
on the Influence of a permanent income
on Thought. I do not propose to un-
deceive him. Indeed I have never unde-
ceived him on any question. I would
consider it wrong. But of course, you
will clearly understand that all conununi-
cation between yourself and my daughter
must cease immediately firom this moment
154

BEING EARNEST

On this point, as indeed on all points, I Acrni
am firm*

JACK

I am engaged to be married to Gwen-
dolen, Lady Bracknell I

LADT BSACKN£LL

You are nothing of the kind, sir. And
now, as regards Algernon I . . . Algernon I

ALGERNON

Yes, Aunt Augusta.

LADT BBACKNELL

May I ask if it is in this house that your
invalid friend Mr. Bunbury resides ?

ALGERNON

^Stammerings.'] Oh 1 No 1 Bunbury
doesn't live here. Bunbury is somewhere
else at present. In fact, Bunbury is dead.

LADY BRACKNELL

Dead! When did Mr. Bunbury die?
His death must have been extremely
sudden.

155

THE IMPORTANCE OF

hcrnL aijgebnon

lAirtfy.} Oh I I killed Bunbuiy this
afternoon. I mean poor Bunbury died
this afternoon.

LADY BRACKNELL

What did he die of?

ALGERNON

Bunbury ? Oh, he was quite exploded

LADY BRACKNELL

Exploded! Was he the victim of a
revolutionary outrage? I was not aware
that Mr. Bunbury was interested in social
l^slation. If so, he is well punished for
his morbidity.

ALGERNON

My dear Aunt Augusta, I mean he was
found out! The doctors found out that
Bunbury could not live, that is what I
mean — so Bunbury died.

LADY BRACKNELL

He seems to have had great confidence
in the opinion of his physicians. I am
156

BEING EARNEST

glad, however, that he made up his mind ACT m
at the last to some definite course of action,
and acted under proper medical advice.
And now that we have finally got rid of
this Mr. Bunbury, may 1 ask, Mr. Worth-
ing, who is that young person whose hand
my nephew Algernon is now holding in
what seems to me a peculiarly unnecessary
manner?

JACK

That lady is Miss Cecily Cardew, my
ward [ladt bsacknelx. bows coldly U

CECILY.]
AL6EBNON

I am engaged to be married to Cecily,
Aunt Augusta.

LADT BRACKNELL

I beg your pardon ?

CECILY

Mr. MoncriefiT and I are engaged to be
married. Lady Bracknell*

157

THE IMPORTANCE OF

JCTHL LADT BKACKKZIX

[^IViiJk a sJmer^ crossmg- to the so/a and
nitiMg dofamS\ I do not know w^hetho'
there is anjrtfaiiig peculiarly exciting in the
air <^ this particular part of Hertfordshire,
but the number of engagements that go on
seems to me conaderably above the proper
arenge that statistics have laid down for
our guklance. I think some preliminaiy
Inquiry on my part would not be out of
place: Mr. Worthing, is Miss Cardew
at an connected with any of the largo-
railway staticms in London? I merely
desire information. Until yestoday I
had no iika that there were any fiunilies
or persons whose origin was a Terminus
[jack looks p€rfKUf fmrums^ bml restrains
hkmsolf.'\

\Jn a clear^ cold voice.'] Miss Cardew is
the grand-daughter of the late Mr. Thomas
Cardew of 149 Belgrave Square, S.W.;
Gervase Park. Dorking, Surrey; and the
Sporran* Fifieshire, N.B.
158

BEING EARNEST

LADY BBACKNELL ACT IIL

That sounds not unsatisfactory. Three
addresses always inspire confidence, even
in tradesmen. But what proof have I of
their authenticity ?

JACK

I have carefully preserved the Court
Guides of the period. They are open to
your inspection. Lady BracknelL

LADT BBACKNELL

{^Grtm/y.} 1 have known strange errors
in that publication.

JACK

Miss Cardew*s family solicitors are Messrs.
Markby, Markby, and Markby.

LADY BBACKNELL

Markby, Markby, and Markby ? A firm
of the very highest position in their pro-
fession. Indeed I am told that one of the
Mr. Markby 's is occasionally to be seen at
dinner parties. So £eu* I am satisfied.

159

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACrilL JACK

{^Very irritably.'] How extremely kind
of you. Lady BrackneUI I have also in
my possession, you will be pleased to hear,
certificates of Miss Cardew's birth, baptism,
whooping cough, registration, vaccination,
confirmation, and the measles; both the
German and the English variety.

LADY BRACKNELL

Ahl A life crowded with incident, I
see ; though perhaps somewhat too exciting
for a young girL I am not myself in
favour of premature experiences. [Rises,
looks at her watch.] Gwendolen 1 the time
approaches for our departure. We have
not a moment to lose. As a matter of
form, Mr. Worthing, I had better ask you
if Miss Cardew has any little fortune ?

JACK

Oh 1 about a hundred and thirty thousand
pounds in the Funds. That is aJL Gk>od-
bye. Lady BracknelL So pleased to have
seen you. '

BEING EARNEST

LADY BRACKNELL ACT IH

[Sitting down againJ] A moment, Mr.
Worthing. A hundred and thirty thousand
pounds I And in the Funds I Miss Cardew
seems to me a most attractive young lady,
now that I look at her. Few girls of the
present day have any really solid qualities,
any of the qualities that last, and improve
with time. We live, I regret to say, in an
age of surfaces. [ To cecily.] Come over
here, dear, [cecily goes across.^ Pretty
child I your dress is . sadly simple, and your
hair seems almost as Nature might have
left it. But we can soon alter aU that. A
thoroughly experienced French maid pro-
duces a really marvellous result in a very
brief space of time. I remember recom-
mending one to young Lady Lancing, and
after three months her own husband did
not know her.

JACK

And after six months nobody knew
her.

L 181

THE IMPORTANCE OF

\CT m. LADY BRACKNELL

{Glares at jack far a few moments. Then
bends, with a practised smile, to cecilt.]
Kindly tarn round, sweet child, [cecilt
turns completely round.'] No, the side
view is what I want, [cecily presents her
profile^ Yes, quite as I expected. There
are distinct social possibilities in your
profile. The two weak points in our age
are its want of principle and its want of
profile. The chin a little higher, dear.
Style largely depends on the way the chin
is worn. They are worn very high, just at
present. Algernon I

ALGERNON

Yes, Aunt Augusta I

LADY BRACKNELL

There are distinct social possibilities in
Miss Cardew's profile.

ALGERNON

Cecily is the sweetest, dearest, prettiest

girl in tlie whole world. And I don't care

twopence about social possibilitii

162

BEING EARNEST

LADY BRACKNCLL ACT UL

Never speak disrespectfiiUy of Society,
Algernon. Only people who can't get into
it do that [To cecily.] Dear child, of
course you know that Algernon has nothing
but his debts to depend upon. But I do
not approve of mercenary marriages. When
I married Lord Bracknell I had no fortune
of any kind. But I never dreamed for a
moment of allowing that tp stand in my
way. Well, 1 suppose I must give my
consent.

ALGERNON

Thank you. Aunt Augusta.

LADY BBACKNELL

Cecily, you may kiss me !

CECILY

{^/^isses AerJ] Thank you. Lady Brack-
nell.

LADY BRACKNELL

You may also address me as Aunt
Augusta for the future.

168

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIIL CECILY

Thank you. Aunt Augusta.

LADY BRACKNELL

The marriage, I think, had better take
place quite soon.

ALGERNON

Thank you. Aunt Augusta.

CECILY

Thank you, Aunt Augusta.

LADY BRACKNELL

To speak frankly, I am not in &vour of
long engagements. They give people the
opportunity of finding out each other's
character before marriage, which I think is
never advisable.

JACK

I b^ your pardon for interrupting you,
Lady Bracknell, but this engagement is
quite out of the question. I am Miss
Cardew's guardian, and she cannot marry
¥dthout my consent tmtil she comes of age.
That consent I absolutely decline to give.
164

BEING EARNEST

LADY BRACKNELL ACT UI.

Upon what grounds may I ask ? Alger-
non is an extremely, I may almost say an
ostentatiously, eligible young man. He
has nothing, but he looks everything.
What more can one desire ?

JACK

It pains me very much to have to speak
frankly to you. Lady Bracknell, about your
nephew, but the fact is that I do not
approve at all of his moral character. I
suspect him of being mitruthful. [Alger-
non and CECILY look at him in indignant
amazement.']

LADY BRACKNELL

Untruthful! My nephew Algernon!
Impossible I He is an Oxonian.

JACK

I fear there can be no possible doubt
about the matter. This afternoon, during
my temporary absence in London on an
important question of romance, he obtained
admission to my house by means of the

185

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT ni. false pretence of being my brother. Under
an assumed name he drank, I Ve just been
mformed by my butler, an entire pint bottle
of my Perrier-Jouet, Brut, '89; a wine I
was specially reserving for myselfl Con-
tinuing his disgraceAil deception, he suc-
ceeded in the course of the afternoon in
alienating the affections of my only ward.
He subsequently stayed to tea, and de-
voured every single muffin. And what
makes his conduct all the more heartless
Is, that he was perfectly well aware from
the first that I have no brother, that I
never had a brother, and that I don't intend
to have a brother, not even of any kind. I
distinctly told him so myself yesterday
afternoon.

LADT BRACKNELL

Aheml Mr. Worthing, after careful
consideration I have decided entirely to
overlook my nephew's conduct to you.

JACK

That is very generous of you* Lady
IM

BEING EARNEST

BracknelL My own decision, however, is AGTUL
unalterable. I decline to give my consent.

LADY BRACKNELL

[TV CECILY.] Come here, sweet child.
[CECILY goes aver.^ How old are you,
dear?

CECILY

Well, I am really only eighteen, but I
always admit to twenty when I go to
evening parties.

LADY BRACKNELL

You are perfectly right in making some
slight alteration. Indeed, no woman should
ever be quite accurate about her age. It
looks so calculating. . . . [In a meditative
manner^ Eiighteen, but admitting to
twenty at evening parties. Well, it wiU
not be very long before you are of age and
free from the restraints of tutelage. So
I don't think your guardian's consent is,
after all, a matter of any importance.

JACK

Pray excuse me, Lady Bracknell, for

167

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT in. interrupting you again, but it is only fair
to tell you that according to the terms of
her grandfather's will Miss Cardew does
not come legally of age till she is thirty-
five.

LADY BRACKNELL

That does not seem to me to be a
grave objection. Thirty-five is a very
attractive age. London society is fiill of
women of the very highest birth who have,
of their own firee choice, remained thirty-
five for years. Lady Dumbleton is an
instance in point To my own knowledge
she has been thirty-five ever since she
arrived at the age of forty, which was
many years ago now. I see no reason
why our dear Cecily should not be evean
still more attractive at the age you mention
than she is at present There will be a
large accumulation of property.

CI^CILY

Algy, could you wait for me till I was
thirty-ftve ?
168

BEING EARNEST

ALGESNON ACT HI

Of course I could, Cecily. You know
I coulcL

CECILY

Yes, I felt it instinctively, but I couldn't
wait all that time. I hate waiting even
five minutes for anybody. It always makes
me rather cross. I am not punctual my-
self, I know, but I do like punctuality in
others, and waiting, even to be married, is
quite out of the question.

AL.6£ItNON

Then what is to be done, Cecily f

CECILY

I don't know, Mr. Moncrieffl

LADY BRACKNELL

My dear Mr. Worthing, as Miss Cardew
states positively that she cannot wait till
she is thirty-five — a remark which I am
bound to say seems to me to show a some-
what impatient nature — I would beg of
you to reconsider your decision.

169

THE IMPORTANCE OF

AGTUI. JACK

But my dear Lady Bracknell, the matter
is entirely in your own hands. The moment
you consent to my marriage with Gwai-
doleri, I will most gladly allow your nephew
to form an alliance with my ward.

LADY BBACKNELL

[^Rising and drawing herself up.'] You
must be quite aware that what you propose
is out of the question.

JACK

Then a passionate celibacy is all that any
of us can look forward to.

LADY BBACKNELL

That is not the destiny I propose for
Gwendolen. Algernon, of course, can
choose for himself. \_Pulls out her watch^
Come, dear; [Gwendolen rises\ we have
already missed five, if not six, trains. To
miss any more might expose us to comment
on the platform.

\Enter dr. chasuble.]
170

BEING EARNEST

CHASUBLE ACT III.

Everything is quite ready for the christen-
ings-

LADY BBACKNELL

The christenings, sir I Is not that some-
what premature ?

CHASUBLE

[Looking rather puzzled^ and pointing to
JACK and ALGERNON.] Both these gentle-
men have expressed a desire for immediate
baptism.

LADY BBACKNELL

At their age? The idea is grotesque
and irreligious I Algernon, I forbid you
to be baptized. I will not hear of such
excesses. Lord Bracknell would be highly
displeased if he learned that that was the
way in which you wasted your time and
money.

CHASUBLE

Am I to understand then that there are
to be no christenings at all this afternoon ?

171

THE IMPORTANCE OF

Acrm. JACK

I don't think that, as thmgs are now, it
would be of much practical value to either
of us, Dr. Chasuble.

CHASUBLE

I am grieved to hear such sentiments
from you, Mr. Worthing. They savour
of the heretical views of the Anabaptists,
views that I have completely refuted in
four of my unpublished sermons. How-
ever, as your present mood seems to be
one peculiarly secular, I will return to the
church at once. Indeed, I have just been
informed by the pew-opener that for the
last hour and a half Miss Prism has been
waiting for me in the vestry.

LADY BBACKN£LL

[Starting.'] Miss Prism 1 Did I hear
you mention a Miss Prism ?

CHASUBLE

Yes, Lady Bracknell. 1 am on my way
to join her.
172

BEING EARNEST

LADY BRACKNELL ACT lU

Pray allow me to detain you for a
moment. This matter may prove to be
one of vital importance to Lord Bracknell
and myself. Is this Miss Prism a female
of repellent aspect, remotely connected
with education ?

CHASUBLE

[Somewhat indignantly.'] She is the most
cultivated of ladies, and the very picture of
respectability.

LADY BRACKNELL

It is obviously the same person. May I
ask what position she holds in your house-
hold?

CHASUBLE

[Severely.'] I am a celibate, madam.

JACK

[Interposing.'] Miss Prism, Lady Brack-
nell, has been for the last three years Miss
Cardew's esteemed governess and valued
companion.

178

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT m. UkDY BRACKNELL

In spite of what I hear of her, I must
see her at once. Lict her be sent for.

CHASUBLE

[Looking off."] She approaches ; she is
nigh.

[Enter loss frism

Hiss PRISM

I was told you expected me in the
vestry, dear Canon. I have been waiting
for you there for an hour and three-
quarters. [Catches sight of lady brack-
Nell who has fixed her with a stony glare.
MISS PRISM grows pale and quails. She
looks anxiously round as if desirous to
escape.']

LADY BRACKNELL

[In a severe, judicuU voice.] Prism I
[miss prism bows her hecul in shame.] Come
here. Prism 1 [miss prism approaches in a
humble manner^ Prism 1 Where is that
baby ? [General consternation. The canon
starts back in horror. Algernon and jack
174

BEING EARNEST

pretend to be anxious to shield cecily and ACT IIL
GWENDOLEN from hearing the details of a
terrible public scandal^ Twenty-eight years
ago. Prism, you left Lord Bracknell's house.
Number 104, Upper Grosvenor Street, in
charge of a perambulator that contained a
baby of the male sex. You never returned.
A few weeks later, through the elaborate
investigations of the Metropolitan police,
the perambulator was discovered at mid-
night, standing by itself in a remote comer
of Bayswater. It contained the manuscript
of a three-volume novel of more than
usually revolting sentimentality. [boss
PRISM starts in involuntary indignation^]
But the baby was not there I Every one
looks at MISS PRISM.] Prism! Where is
that baby ? [A pause. ]

BOSS FRISM

Lady Bracknell, I admit with shame that
I do not know. I only wish I did. The
plain facts of the case are these. On the
morning of the day you mention, a day
that is for ever branded on my memory,

175

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT in. I prepared as usual to take the baby out
in its perambulator. I had also with me
a somewhat old, but capacious hand-bag
in which I had intended to place the
manuscript of a work of fiction that I had
written during my few unoccupied hours.
In a moment of mental abstraction, for
which I never can forgive myself, I de-
posited the wanuscript in the basinette,
and placed the baby in the hand-bag.

JACK

[ Who has been listening attentively.'] But
where did you deposit the hand-bag ?

MISS PRISM

Do not ask me, Mr. Worthing.

JACK

Miss Prism, this is a matter of no small
importance to me. I insist on knowing
where you deposited the hand-bag that
contained that infant.

MISS PRISM

I left it in the cloak-room of one of the
larger railway stations in London.
176

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT m.

What railway station f

MISS PRISM

[Qutie crusAed.'] Victoria. The Brighton
line. {^Sinks into a chair ^

JACK

I must retire to my room for a moment.
Gwendolen, wait here for me.

GWENDOLEN

If you are not too long, I will wait here
for you all my life.

\Exit JACK in great excitement^

CHASUBLE

What do you think this means. Lady
Bracknell ?

LADY BRACKNELL

I dare not even suspect, Dr. Chasuble.
I need hardly tell you that in families of
high position strange coincidences are not
supposed to occur. They are hardly con-
sidered the thing.

[Noises heard overhead as if some one was
throwing trunks about. Every one looks upj]

M 177

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIIL CECILY

Uncle Jack seems strangely agitated.

CHASUBLE

Your guardian has a yery emotional
nature.

LADY BRACKNELL

This noise is extremely unpleasant. It
sounds as if he was having an argument
I dislike arguments of any kind. They are
always vulgar, and often convincing.

CHASUBLE

[Looking upJ] It has stopped now. [ TAe
noise is redoubled.']

LADY BRACKNELL

I wish he would arrive at some con-
clusion.

GWENDOLEN

This suspense is terrible. I hope it will
last

[Enter jack with m hand-bag of black
leather in his hand]
178

BEING EARNEST

^^^^ ACT 111

[RusAing^ over to miss prism.] Is this
the hand-bag, Miss Prism ? Examine it
carefully before you speak. The happiness
of more than one l^e depends on your
answer.

MISS PRISM

[Ca/m^.] It seems to be mine. Yes,
here is liie injury it received through the
upsetting of a Gower Street omnibus in
younger and happier days. Here is the
stain on the lining caused by the explosion
of a temperance beverage, an incident that
occurred at Leamington. And here, on
the lock, are my initials. I had forgotten
that in an extravagant mood I had had
them placed there. The bag is undoubtedly
mine. I am delighted to have it so un-
expectedly restored to me. It has been
a great inconvenience being without it all
these years.

JACK

[In a pathetic voice.'] Miss Prism, more

179

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACrm. B l e rfa e d to yoa thin this hand-bag. I

Iht baby yoa jdaoed in it.

lAmuugd.} Ton

l£wiirmci^ AerJ] Yes • • • mother 1

Mr. WortU^g ! I am nnmairied !

Un ma rried! I do not deny that is a
KrioQS blow. Bat after all, who has the
light to cast a stone against one who has
anflet e d ? Cannot repentance wipe oat an
act of foUy ? Why shoald there be one
law for men, and another for womoi?
Mother, I foigiFe yoa. [Trkf to emirac^

]^S:iII mcrt imdignoMt^ Mr. Worthing,
there is some error. \Pointing to lady
BRACKNELL.] There is the lady who can
t^ Tou who you really are.
180

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT ni

[After a pause."] Lady Bracknell, I hate
to seem inquisitive, but would you kindly
inform me who I am ?

LADY BRACKNELL

I am afraid that the news I have to
give you will not altogether please you.
You are the son of my poor sister, Mrs.
Moncrieff, and consequently Algernon's
elder brother.

JACK

Algy's elder brother I Then I have a
brother after alL I knew I had a brother I
I always said I had a brother I Cecily, —
how could you have ever doubted that I
had a brother ? [Seizes hold ^ algebnon.]
Dr. Chasuble, my unfortunate brother.
Miss Prism, my unfortunate brother.
Gwendolen, my unfortunate brother.
Algy, you young scoundrel, you will have
to treat me with more respect in the
future. You have never behaved to me
like a brother in all your life.

181

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACTIUL ALGERNON

Well, not till to-day, old boy, I admit
I did my best, however, though I was out
of practice. [S/uUes Jkands.^

OWENDOIXN

[To JACK.] My own 1 But what own
are yoo? What is your Christian name,
now that you have become some one else ?

JACK

Good heavens! • . . I had quite for-
gotten that point. Your decision on the
subject of my name is irrevocable, I
suppose?

OWENDOIXN

I neva change, except in my affections.

What a noble nature you have, Gwen-
dolen !

JACK

Thai the question had better be cleared
up at once. Aunt Augusta^ a moment.
At the time when Miss Prism left me
182

BEING EARNEST

in the hand-bag, had I been christened Acrni.
ahready?

LADY BBACKNELL

Every luxury that money could buy,
including christening, had been lavished
on you by your fond and doting parents.

JACK

Then I was christened I That is settled.
Now, what name was I given? Let me
know the worst.

LADY BRACKNELL

Being the eldest son you were naturally
christened after your father.

JACK

l/rriiaify.'] Yes, but what was my
father's Christian name ?

LADY BRACKNELL

[Meditatively.'] I cannot at the present
moment recall what the General's Christian
name was. But I have no doubt he had
one. He was eccentric, I admit. But
only in later years. And that was the

188

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT m. result of the Indian climate, and marriage
and indigestion, and other things of that
kind.

JACK

Algyl Can't you reeoUect what our
father's Christian name was ?

ALOESNON

My dear boy, we were never even on
speaking terms. He died before I was a
year old.

JACK

His name would appear in the Army
Lists of the period, I suppose. Aunt
Augusta?

LADY BRACKNELL

The General was essentially a man of
peace, except in his domestic life. But I
have no doubt his name would appear in
any military directory.

JACK

The Army Lists of the last forty years
are here. These delightful records should
184

BEING EARNEST

liaye been my constant study. {Ruskes Acrm.
to bookcase and tears the books out.'] M.
Generals .... Mallam, Maxbohm, Magley,
what ghastly names they have — Markby,
Migsby, Mobbs, Moncrieff! Lieutenant
1840, Captain, Lieutenant-Colonel, Colonel,
Gieneral 1869, Christian names, Ernest
John. {Puts book very quietly down and
speaks quite calmly.'] I always told you,
Gwendolen, my name was Ernest, didn't
I ? Well, it is Ernest after alL I mean
it naturally is Ernest.

LADY BRACKNELL

Yes, I remember now that the G^eneral
was called Ernest I knew I had some
particular reason for disliking the name.

GWENDOLEN

Ernest ! My own Ernest I I felt from
the first that you could have no other
namel

JACK

Gwendolen, it is a terrible thing for a

185

THE IMPORTANCE OF

ACT m. man to find oot suddenly that aD his life he
has been speaking nothing but the truth.
Can you foigive me ?

GWENDOLEN

I can. For I feel that you are sure to
change.

JACK

My own one 1

CHASUBLE

ITo loss PRisn.] Laetitia! l£mdraas

loss PRISM

{Enthusiastically.^ Frederick 1 Atlastl

ALOEBNON

Cecily! [Embraces ker.'] Atlastl

JACK

Gwendolen ! [Embraces her."] At last !

LADY BRACKNELL

My nephew, you seem to be displaying
signs of triviality.
186

BEING EARNEST

JACK ACT m

On the contrary, Aunt Augusta, I've
now realised for the first tune in my life
the vital Importance of Being Earnest.

Tableau

CUETAIN

187

STANFORD UNIVERSITY UBRARIES

STANFORD, CALIFORNIA

94305