Part 9 (1/2)
If this is not effective stagecraft, I do not know what is. And the dramatist strikes a deeper, and more tragic, note in the scene later on (in the same act) where Mrs Erlynne discovers the letter of farewell that Lady Windermere had written to her husband.
(_Parker enters, and crosses towards the ballroom, R. Enter Mrs Erlynne._)
_Mrs Erlynne._ Is Lady Windermere in the ballroom?
_Parker._ Her ladys.h.i.+p has just gone out.
_Mrs Erlynne._ Gone out? She's not on the terrace?
_Parker._ No, madam. Her Ladys.h.i.+p has just gone out of the house.
_Mrs Erlynne_ (_Starts and looks at the servant with a puzzled expression on her face_). Out of the house?
_Parker._ Yes, madam--her Ladys.h.i.+p told me she had left a letter for his Lords.h.i.+p on the table.
_Mrs Erlynne._ A letter for Lord Windermere?
_Parker._ Yes, madam.
_Mrs Erlynne._ Thank you.
(_Exit Parker. The music in the ballroom stops._)
Gone out of her house! A letter addressed to her husband!
(_Goes over to bureau and looks at letter. Takes it up and lays it down again with a shudder of fear._)
No, no! it would be impossible! Life doesn't repeat its tragedies like that! Oh, why does this horrible fancy come across me? Why do I remember now the one moment of my life I most wish to forget?
Does life repeat its tragedies?
(_Tears letter open and reads it, then sinks down into a chair with a gesture of anguish._)
Oh, how terrible! the same words that twenty years ago I wrote to her father! And how bitterly I have been punished for it! No; my punishment, my real punishment is to-night, is now!
I have quoted these two episodes from the second act to demonstrate how equal was the playwright to the exigencies of his art. But it is in the third act, laid in Lord Darlington's rooms, that he reaches the level of high dramatic skill. First, in the scene between the mother and daughter, written with extraordinary power and pathos, and later on, when each of the women are hidden, the ”man's scene” which ranks with the famous club scene in Lord Lytton's ”Money.” The _blase_ and genial tone of these men of the world is admirably caught. Their conversation sparkles with wit and wisdom--of the world _bien entendu_. But it is in Mrs Erlynne's appeal to her daughter, with all its tragic intent that the author surpa.s.ses himself. Just read it over. It is a masterpiece of restrained emotion.
_Mrs Erlynne._ (_Starts with a gesture of pain. Then restrains herself, and comes over to where Lady Windermere is sitting. As she speaks, she stretches out her hands towards her, but does not dare to touch her._) Believe what you choose about me. I am not without a moment's sorrow. But don't spoil your beautiful young life on my account. You don't know what may be in store for you, unless you leave this house at once. You don't know what it is to fall into the pit, to be despised, mocked, abandoned, sneered at--to be an outcast! to find the door shut against one, to have to creep in by hideous byways, afraid every moment lest the mask should be stripped from one's face, and all the while to hear the laughter of the world, a thing more tragic than all the tears the world has ever shed. You don't know what it is. One pays for one's sin, and then one pays again, and all one's life one pays. You must never know that. As for me, if suffering be an expiation, then at this moment I have expiated all my faults, whatever they have been; for to-night you have made a heart in one who had it not, made it and broken it. But let that pa.s.s. I may have wrecked my own life, but I will not let you wreck yours. You--why you are a mere girl, you would be lost. You haven't got the kind of brains that enables a woman to get back. You have neither the wit nor the courage. You couldn't stand dishonour. No! go back, Lady Windermere, to the husband who loves you, whom you love. You have a child, Lady Windermere. Go back to that child who even now, in pain or in joy, may be calling to you. (_Lady Windermere rises._) G.o.d gave you that child. He will require from you that you make his life fine, that you watch over him. What answer will you make to G.o.d, if his life is ruined through you? Back to your house, Lady Windermere--your husband loves you. He has never swerved for a moment from the love he bears you. But even if he had a thousand loves, you must stay with your child. If he was harsh to you, you must stay with your child. If he ill-treated you, you must stay with your child. If he abandoned you your place is with your child.
(_Lady Windermere bursts into tears and buries her face in her hands._)
(_Rus.h.i.+ng to her_). Lady Windermere!
_Lady Windermere_ (_holding out her hands to her, helplessly, as a child might do_). Take me home. Take me home.
Few people who witnessed that situation could have done so without being deeply moved. It is Oscar Wilde the poet who speaks, not to the brain but to the heart.