Sydney Grundy

“ Do you suppose you are the only man that’s ever made love to me? It’s a man’s business to make love; and it’s a woman’s business to stop him—when he makes love too hard. But if we can’t be lovers, Mr. Gerald, we can be friends.
GERALD.
It’s got past friendship with me, Margery. Since I came back to town, everything’s changed. My pursuits all feel so empty and so meaningless; every woman I meet seems different from what she was: and oh, how different from you!
MARGERY.
Gentry are different. We’re different breeds. That’s why we can’t be lovers.
GERALD.
We can be man and wife! ”

“ Ethel! Ethel! I distinctly see a woman. Positively—yes, a woman has arrived. She turns this way. She looks—she smiles—she bows. By jingo, Miss Carruthers! Ha, ha, ha, ha!
ETHEL. No! (runs to window) It is her! We leave here to-morrow.
EDWIN. (sitting down firmly) We stop here for two months.
ETHEL. Oh! (jumps up to window) Well, I declare. Well, did I ever? This is charming. (to some one without) How d’ you do? How are you? Quite well, thank you; so glad that you’ve come. Oh, Edwin, if there’s not that dear delightful Captain Plunger.
EDWIN. Eh?
ETHEL. You know. That darling Captain Plunger. ”

“ And when I told you of my invitation here, you didn’t tell me that you knew Sir George.
Rose. Because I wanted to surprise you, dear.
Philip. Well, you have done so most effectually. Tell me, does Lady Carlyon know of our engagement?
Rose. No, not yet. I never saw her till to-day, and I didn’t like to be so confidential.
Philip. (relieved) Ah!
Rose. You’re not angry with me for not having told her?
Philip. Not at all. We will surprise her.
Rose. Shall we?
Philip. To-night we will pretend we are strangers.
Rose. But I shall pretend very badly, I am sure.
Philip. Oh, you can keep a secret. ”

“ GERALD.
Not till I’ve told you how I love you, Margery. Seeing you again is breathing the pure air. It seems a younger and a sweeter world, now you have come again. Nothing else matters. All my life beside appears a folly and a waste of time. My real life was lived with you down yonder, out in the fields, and rambling through the woods and listening to the music of the weir. The life that we began together so pleasantly, cannot we live together to the end? I was quite honest when I said I loved you. And couldn’t you love me,—just a little bit? ”

“ Alma. Take care, Sir Humphrey! You know what they say is the greatest a man can offer a woman!
Sir H. The one I ask to be allowed to offer now. I am in earnest, Mrs. Blake. I haven’t known you long; but there are women whom men learn to love more quickly than to recognise the rest. I have lived sixteen years of lonely life, because I have never met the woman worthy to succeed the mother of my son. It is no slight to her to offer you her place. ”

“ SYLVESTER.
Then what do you propose? To sacrifice your life to an idea—to be true to a phantom? You owe no faith to one who is unfaithful. Think! You are young—your real life lies before you—would you end it before it’s begun? A widow before you’re a wife?
MARGERY.
I am a wife, and I shall not forget it. If I have lost my husband’s love, at least I’ll save his honour. A public scandal mayn’t mean much to you, but it means your wife’s ruin—it means Gerald’s. Gerald shall not be ruined! ”

“ How long have you known Miss Derwent? (front of table)
Nor. About a week. (R. end of sofa, facing her)
Bea. And don’t you think it’s dangerous, to marry on so short an acquaintance?
Nor. To marry anybody else, it would be. Not to marry her.
Bea. Have you told Philip?
Nor. No—what’s he to do with it?
Bea. (crosses to R.C.) Nothing, of course! No, nothing. Why should I tell you! (hand on chair L. of piano) Why should I publish my own humiliation? And yet, we are such old friends, how can I stand by, and see your whole life ruined? No! Lord Normantower, this marriage is impossible. ”

“ Plunger.
MRS. P. Oh! You’ve found out that, I’m married?
EDWIN. And whom to. I must say that I think you might have told me. I consider that flirtation by a married woman is most reprehensible.
MRS. P. I quite agree with you. I think it almost as abominable as flirtation by a married man.
EDWIN. Eh?
MRS. P. I congratulate you, Mr. Larkspur.
EDWIN. Then you’ve heard I’m married? Well I am. I’m married to the nicest girl in England; but ten days at Dumpington are more than flesh can stand. I got intolerably tired of its monotony, and for a little change I thought I would make love to you. ”

“ MRS. SYLVESTER.
Oh, frankness, by all means.
GERALD.
Forgive me; but we’re face to face with truth. Don’t let us flinch from it. We have both made the same mistake—not in our marriages, but in despising them. What we want in a partner is what we lack in ourselves. [Pg 79] Not sympathy only, but sex. Strength requires gentleness, sweetness asks for light; and all that is womanly in woman wants all that is manly in man. You think your husband is no mate for you. What I have missed in Margery, have you not missed in him? ”

“ Potter, it may be as you say, love never dies; but love may be so tried, and torn, and strained, that all the happiness goes out of it. (sits on chair, C.)
Tom. (crosses to Lucy) Surely, yours hasn’t been so tried?
Lucy. Not mine—but Ned’s. I always seem to be in his way now. He’s so much occupied—so taken up with other things—he never has a word or look for me. He’s out so much; and when he’s at home he’s always writing or else thinking—I am nobody—and Mrs. Blake—your wife—is everybody; only he doesn’t know she is your wife! ”

“ What chance has intellect with whiskers? I shall have to give the local barber half a sovereign to clip one off by accident. Meanwhile, the first thing I must do, must be to let him know that Ethel’s married. Oh, no, hang it, the first thing he’d do, would be to tell the tale to Miss Carruthers. I must be a bachelor again; there’s no help for it. It’ll at any rate be a relief to the monotony of Dumpington. On even terms I’d fight it out with pleasure, but I’m overweighted. Nature is not fair. She doesn’t divide the whiskers properly. ”

“ What! Captain Sylvester! you here, and Agnes not?
MARGERY.
Mrs. Sylvester is coming!
VICTORIA.
No need to apologize! A wife is just as much entitled to entertain another woman’s husband as a husband to entertain another man’s wife. You’re getting on, dear. That’s philosophy!
MARGERY.
Gerald is in the next room!
VICTORIA.
Then it’s not philosophy!
MARGERY.
I’ll go and wake him up.
[Exit, R.
VICTORIA.
Humph! [Sits.] Well, how long do you give it?
SYLVESTER.
Do you mean philosophy?
VICTORIA.
The Cazenove ménage. Another six months? These love-matches are honeymoon affairs. ”

“ Kate. You married in haste.
Phil. And by all the laws of cynical philosophy, I ought to have repented at leisure. (Beatrice Selwyn enters, L. down staircase unobserved, and crosses slowly to back of table R.C.) But I haven’t repented. To the confusion of the philosophers, I’m the happiest husband and have the best wife in the world.
Tom. (turns to Kate, his mouth full of apple) There, Miss Derwent! What do you say to that? (turns to Mildred)
Kate. That is one side of the picture, but I’ve seen the other. My mother also married for love. ”

“ When passion is burnt out, sweep the hearth clean, and clear away the ash, before you set alight another fire. It is a law of life. Old things give place to new. The loves of yesterday are like these faded flowers, fit only to be cast into the flames. (flings bouquet into fire) That is the moral: and I call it excellent. (sits, C., and looks at Philip)
Lady C. (aside) He doesn’t speak to me. Am I a faded flower? (sits, L.)
Rose. Very good, Uncle George. That ought to get the verdict. (leaning upon his shoulder)
Sir G. Let us hope it will. (looking at Philip)
Rose. ”

“ GERALD.
Surely it is a promise.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
To an empty phrase must one sacrifice one’s life? Must one stake everything on the judgment of one’s youth? By the decision of a moment must one be bound for ever? Must one go through the world “with quiet eyes unfaithful to the truth?” Does one not owe a duty to oneself? There can be but one answer!
GERALD [absently] .
Margery! [Margery winces as if struck—quite serious now. Then with energy.] But, Agnes, Margery is impossible! She’s no companion to me! I am all alone! ”

“ Mrs. D. Where’s Dionysius? (crosses to Sir Humphrey)
Sir H. Don’t be so concerned. He’s only gone for a walk with Mrs. Blake.
Mrs. D. With that play-actress?
Sir H. My dear Mrs. Dozey, there is nothing discreditable in the profession of the stage.
Mrs. D. That woman’s setting her cap at Dionysius!
Sir H. I hadn’t noticed that she wore a cap.
Mrs. D. It’d be more becoming if she did, widow as she is. But there! I have my doubts about her being a widow at all.
Sir H. (rising) Mrs. Dozey!
Mrs. D. A bright face is like charity, it covers a multitude of sins. ”

“ Sir G. Then, there’s another woman in the case.
Philip. My dear Sir George, according to your views, there is a woman in every case.
Sir G. (pointing to table) There are some twenty briefs. Open which one of them you please, and somewhere in the folds you’ll find a petticoat.
Philip. What, twenty women hidden in these briefs?
Sir G. At least. There never was a case without a woman in it, and I never leave one till I’ve found her; for I know well enough until I do I have not mastered it. There is a woman in your case, my friend.
Philip. To tell the truth, there is. ”

“ Not with laborious thought; but in one vivid flash I learned more than I ever learned at Oxford.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Really?
GERALD.
A woman! that is what one wants—that’s all. Birth, brains, accomplishments—pshaw! vanities! community of interest—sympathy of soul? mere dialectics! That’s not love.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
What is, then?
GERALD.
It defies analysis. You can’t put love into a crucible. You only know that there is something empty in you; and you don’t know what fills it; but that’s love. There’s no mistake about the real thing. ”

“ EDWIN. No other reason I assure you. Fortunately, Ethel thought she’d occupy the time in making love to [Pg 22] Captain Plunger. I didn’t like her making love to him, and so I thought she mightn’t like my making love to you, and I’m not going to do it any more. I further beg to state that Mrs. Larkspur is not on the look out for a husband, that in my opinion she has not gone off at all, and that I don’t believe she ever angled after anyone.
ETHEL. (running out) You dear old darling, you’re the greatest love that is or ever was or ever will be. I don’t care for anyone but you. ”

“ Lady Carlyon sits upon the lounge before the fire—Rose kneels beside her, on the further side from audience, so that both their faces are visible.
Lady C. I am so glad to have you with me, Rose. I wish I had you always. I am very lonely.
Rose. You have Uncle George!
Lady C. Sir George is always busy, and I do not care to interrupt him.
Rose. But he has some leisure.
Lady C. I never knew him to have any, since I was his wife. It’s not his fault. A man in his position has so much to do. When he is not in court, he is in Parliament.
Rose. He is at home to-night. ”

“ I have no right to tell you I will never see you, for the fault is mine; but if I do, it will only be painful, and I leave it to your magnanimity to go away from me for ever."
Sir H. I have done. (goes up and turns his back to them, deeply moved; pause)
Tom. And have we lost six years of this short life?
Alma. (crosses to Tom) Not lost! if we have learnt to trust appearance less, and one another more.
Tom. Is it you, Alma? Time and grief have made us almost strangers.
Alma. But time and happiness shall make us friends.
Re-enter Susan, L.C. Tom crosses to R.
Susan. Dr. and Mrs. Dozey. ”

“ Oh, everything’s a question nowadays! Nothing is sacred to a young man fresh from Oxford. Existence is a problem to be investigated; in my youth, it was a life to be lived; and, I thank Heaven, I lived it. Ah, the nights I had!
SYLVESTER.
Would it be impertinent to inquire upon what subject my wife is engaged?
GERALD.
Our subject is the Ethics of Marriage.
SYLVESTER.
Of my marriage?
GERALD.
Of marriage in the abstract.
COLONEL.
As if people married for ethics! There is no such thing, sir. There are no ethics in marriage. ”

“ I came to England, and the next I heard of her was the announcement of her death. (crosses to sofa)
Lucy. Abroad?
Tom. In Melbourne. At first the sight of the old name brought back old memories, and I forgave her. I got out the few remnants the past leaves to men—the few pale letters and the faded photograph that grows a little dimmer every day—when my eyes fell on that last note I found upon her desk. I huddled up the scraps and went my way. I took up art as a profession—changed my name in deference to my family, who look on art as a mild form of felony—and time went on. ”

“ Sir G. Of course! we never were before!
Philip. And, better still, I am engaged.
Sir G. What, to the charming girl?
Philip. The only girl in the wide world for me.
[Pg 5]
Sir G. Well, you’ve been round it, so you ought to know. I hope you will be happy. It’s a toss-up, Philip.
Philip. I’m afraid your profession makes you cynical.
Sir G. Gad, it would make an angel cynical.
Philip. No doubt, you meet with some extraordinary cases.
(turning over briefs)
Sir G. Never. All ordinary. To a man who has had twenty years’ experience, no possible case can appear extraordinary. ”

“ ETHEL. Well, Edwin dear, you said you could not [Pg 6] stand us being the only people there, so we’ve come down into the public room.
EDWIN. And now we have come, we’re the only people here. I never knew such a disgusting place. Now, if we’d had a little change——
ETHEL. You might have met that odious Miss Carruthers, I suppose you mean—the girl that threw you over.
EDWIN. Miss Carruthers is not odious, my dear, and Miss Carruthers didn’t throw me over. Miss Carruthers was uncommonly fond of me. ”

“ MARGERY.
What chance have we? we, who love with our hearts! we, who are simply what God made us—women! we, to whom love is not a cult—a problem, but just as vital as the air we breathe. Take love away from us, and you take life itself. You have your books, your sciences, your brains! What have we?—nothing but our broken hearts!
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Broken hearts heal! The things that you call hearts! One love is dead, another takes its place; one man is lost, another man is found. What is the difference to a love like yours? Oh, there are always men for such women as you! ”

“ Sir G. It must be got. (lays down cigar. Philip sinks back into seat again—Lady Carlyon, who has gone through the first processes of waking, lifts her head; at the sound of Sir George’s voice she starts half up and holds herself in that position during the rest of the conversation, but always so as not to be visible to the others. Sir George rises and stands by Philip) I feel so strongly that is the right course, because in my own life I have pursued the opposite; and I have paid—nay, I have not yet paid the penalty. I claim to be no better than my kind. ”

“ Dr. It is our duty to hate sin, but to love sinners. One may, at one and the same time, abhor the acting——
Mrs. D. And adore the actress!
Dr. I should prefer to say, regard the actress with that measure of fraternal sympathy to which all our erring sisters are entitled.
Mrs. D. But which only the good-looking ones get. (re-enter Lucy, down staircase, L.) No, Dionysius, it won’t do! A little less of that fraternal sympathy, if you please.
Lucy. What’s the matter, Mrs. Dozey? (Dr. Dozey gets up, R.)
Mrs. D. Matter! Why that stage-player——
Lucy. Mrs. Blake?
Mrs. D. Has been at her stage tricks! ”

“ VICTORIA.
Why should a woman have children and a man have none?
ENID.
But a man has children!
DOCTOR.
Only vicariously.
VICTORIA.
Here’s Dr. Mary!
[Rushing up to Doctor. Enid has rushed up to the other side of her.
DOCTOR [pragmatically] .
But I am not without hope that, when the attention of science is directed to the unequal incidence of the burden of maternity, some method of re-adjustment may be devised.
LADY WARGRAVE [who has risen] .
Pardon me, ladies; but if you are about to consult your physician, you would no doubt prefer to be alone. ”

“ Ned. I’m only too delighted.
Alma. So am I.
Ned. Alma!
Alma. It’s “Alma” now!
Ned. Yes—the old Alma!
Alma. I’m not middle-aged. You’ll make me out a grandmother directly, and say Miss Carlton is my granddaughter. Miss Carlton! Who’s Miss Carlton?
Ned. Here, keep the part and never mind Miss Carlton. I’ll tell Dick——
Alma. No! Stop! Not a word! Now, don’t you interfere between me and my manager. I shall turn up at rehearsal just as usual.
Ned. But Dick——
Alma. Bother Dick!
Ned. All right, bother him; he’s bothered me enough! But how are you to get over your notice? ”

“ EDWIN. I’ve made a horrible mistake. I ought to have pretended that it was put in the papers, every one of them, except the ones that can be got at Dumpington. A pretty mess my candour’s got me into. This is the consequence of telling one’s wife the truth. But who’d [Pg 9] have thought that fellow with the whiskers would turn up? I did think that at last I’d given him the slip. He dogs me everywhere. I never could get half a dozen words with either Ethel or that Miss Carruthers, but he put his whiskers in between us, and it was all up with me. ”

“ No, no; my love was real enough, and I love Margery still; but love doesn’t seem to bear the wear and tear of marriage—the hourly friction—the continual jar.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
There is no friction in true marriage, Gerald. You say you love your wife, and it is good and loyal of you to deceive yourself; but you can’t deceive me. Haven’t I made the same mistake myself? I was a thoughtless, inexperienced girl, Jack was a handsome, easy-going man. We married, and for a year or two we jogged along. But I grew up—the girl became a woman. ”

“ No hoarding like a human countenance, and no bill-sticker like a guilty conscience.
Ned. Alma, I am ashamed.
[Pg 15]
Alma. (crosses to Ned) Be as much ashamed of yourself as you like, but don’t be ashamed of your wife.
Ned. I’ll tell Sir Humphrey—to-morrow.
Alma. To-day. (holding her hands out)
Ned. If I can screw my courage up.
Both. (shaking hands) To-day.
Alma. I’ll screw it up for you. You won’t want much. Fathers are not such dreadful animals after all. There was a time when children were afraid of their parents, but now-a-days they’re lucky parents who’re not afraid of their children. ”

“ SYLVESTER.
I don’t think his wife is.
[Pg 49]
VICTORIA.
Ah, that will come in time; and when it does, I mean to take Margery in hand. She is neglected shamefully. She hasn’t discovered it yet, but all her friends have.
SYLVESTER.
They’re generally first in the field.
VICTORIA.
If a husband ignores his wife, the wife is entitled to ignore her husband. What would a man do under the same circumstances?
SYLVESTER.
Is not the question rather, what a man ought to do?
VICTORIA.
That is Utopian. We must take the world as we find it. ”

“ Re-enter Alma through window, from R.
Alma. Oh! such a jolly row! I’ve left them at it—hammer and tongs—tongues especially.
Sir H. Mrs. Dozey’s of a jealous disposition. A worthy woman but——
Alma. Rather inclined to go to sleep.
Sir H. Well, after five-and-twenty years of Dozey——
Alma. I don’t wonder at it.
Sir H. All women can’t have Mrs. Blake’s vivacity.
Alma. Sir Humphrey! no more compliments to-day. You said just now I was the means of reconciling you to Ned—of teaching you that your son was always your son—that forgiveness was better than resentment. ”

“ SYLVESTER.
Is it a challenge?
MARGERY.
Challenge or not, you shall! It is ignoble to desert her so! You are a coward to make love to me! If her love was unworthy, what is yours? Is it for you to cast a [Pg 96] stone at her? See! Read your letters! [Producing a packet.] Letters to me—love-letters! Letters to a woman you didn’t respect in her grief and persecuted in her loneliness—a woman who would have none of you—who tells you to your face you’re not a man! Your love’s an insult! ”

“ No, oh, no! He is a man, and he can bear it; I’m only a woman, and I can’t. My pride has all gone—gone, I don’t know where! Six years of loneliness have used it up. I don’t care who was right—I don’t care who was wrong—I want him back again. (sits L. of table)
Re-enter Susan, L.C., with Ned.
Ned. Good morning. (Exit Susan, L.C.)
Alma. (rising) Ned! What brings you here so early?
Ned. What’s this I hear from Dick? He says you’ve given him notice.
Alma. So I have.
Ned. Then who’s to play your part?
Alma. Oh, there are lots of women.
Ned. Only one Alma Blake. ”

“ LADY WARGRAVE.
Remember, you are my niece.
MARGERY.
That’s what I do remember! [Murmurs continue.] I am Gerald’s wife! That’s what she doesn’t forgive me! [Addressing Mrs. Sylvester.] You call yourself a New [Pg 90] Woman—you’re not New at all. You’re just as old as Eve. You only want one thing—the one thing every woman wants—the one thing that no woman’s life’s worth living without! A true man’s love! Ah, if we all had that, there’d be no problem of the sexes then. ”

“ Oh, this eternal babble of the sexes! [Throws book down.] Why can’t a woman be content to be a woman? What does she want to make a beastly man of herself for?
SYLVESTER.
But my wife isn’t a woman.
COLONEL.
None of them are, my boy. A woman, who is a woman, doesn’t want to be anything else. These people are a sex of their own, Sylvester. They have invented a new gender. And to think my nephew’s one of them!
[Strides up and down, seizes another antimacassar and flings it into another corner.
[Pg 10]
SYLVESTER.
Oh, he’s young. Don’t despair! ”

“ GERALD.
Simplicity itself.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Of course you think so; but you don’t know women. The simple woman hasn’t yet been born. This isn’t love, Mr. Cazenove. This is the temporary victory of the baser side of your nature. The true alliance is the union of souls. ”

“ GERALD.
Free to say how I love you—how I have always loved you! Yes, Margery, I loved you even then—then when I spoke those unjust, cruel words; but love’s so weird a thing it sometimes turns us against those we love. ”

“ MRS. SYLVESTER.
That is so like a man! Doesn’t say he’s coming home, and then expects six courses and a savoury!
GERALD.
There is a difference between cold mutton and six courses, to say nothing of the savoury.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
It is a fine distinction, and in no way affects the validity of my argument.
GERALD [smiling] .
You mean, of your statement.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Husbands are all alike. The ancient regarded his wife as a slave, the modern regards her as a cook.
GERALD.
Then they are not alike.
MRS. SYLVESTER [emphatically] .
A man thinks of nothing but his stomach. ”