me of the handwriting of a woman I used to know years ago.
MRS. ALL. Who?
LORD ILL. Oh! no one. No one in particular. A woman of no
importance. [Throws letter down, and passes up the steps of the
terrace with Mrs. Allonby. They smile at each other.]
ACT-DROP
SECOND_ACT
SECOND ACT
SCENE - Drawing-room at Hunstanton Chase after dinner,lamps lit. Door L. C. Door R. C.
[Ladies seated on sofas.]
MRS. ALL. What a comfort it is to have got rid of the men for a
little!
LADY STU. Yes; men persecute us dreadfully, don't they?
MRS. ALL. Persecute us? I wish they did.
LADY HUN. My dear!
MRS. ALL. The annoying thing is that the wretches can be perfectly
happy without us. That is why I think it is every woman's duty
never to leave them alone for a single moment, except during
this short breathing space after dinner, without which I believewe poor women would be absolutely worn to shadows.
[Enter Servants with coffee.]
LADY HUN. Worn to shadows, dear?
MRS. ALL. Yes, Lady Hunstanton. It is such a strain keeping men up
to the mark. They are always trying to escape from us.
LADY STU. It seems to me that it is we who are always trying to
escape from them. Men are so very, very heartless. They know
their power and use it.
LADY CAR. [Takes coffee from Servant.] What stuff and nonsense all this about men is! The thing to do is to keep men in their
proper place.
MRS. ALL. But what is their proper place, Lady Caroline?
LADY CAR. Looking after their wives, Mrs. Allonby.
MRS. ALL. [Takes coffee from Servant.] Really? And if they’re not
married?
LADY CAR. If they are not married, they should be looking after a
wife. It’s perfectly scandalous the amount of bachelors who are
going about society. There should be a law passed to compel them
all to marry within twelve months.
LADY STU. [Refuses coffee.] But if they’re in love with some one
who, perhaps, is tied to another?
LADY CAR. In that case, Lady Stutfield, they should be married off
in a week to some plain respectable girl, in order to teach them
not to meddle with other people’s property.
MRS. ALL. I don’t think that we should ever be spoken of as other
people’s property. All men are married women’s property. That is
the only true definition of what married women’s property really
is. But we don’t belong to any one.
LADY STU. Oh, I am so very, very glad to hear you say so.
LADY HUN. But do you really think, dear Caroline, that legislation
would improve matters in any way? I am told that, now-a-days,
all the married men live like bachelors, and all the bachelors
like married men.
MRS. ALL. I certainly never know one from the other.
LADY STU. Oh, I think one can always know at once whether a man has
home claims upon his life or not. I have noticed a very, very
sad expression in the eyes of so many married men.
MRS. ALL. Ah, all that I have noticed is that they are horribly
tedious when they are good husbands, and abominably conceited
when they are not.
LADY HUN. Well, I suppose the type of husband has completely
changed since my young days, but I’m bound to state that poor
dear Hunstanton was the most delightful of creatures, and as
good as gold.
MRS. ALL. Ah, my husband is a sort of promissory note. I am tired
of meeting him.
LADY CAR. But you renew him from time to time, don’t you?
MRS. ALL. Oh, no, Lady Caroline. I have only had one husband as
yet. I suppose you look upon me as quite an amateur.
LADY CAR. With your views on life I wonder you married at all.
MRS. ALL. So do I.
LADY HUN. My dear child, I believe you are really very happy in
your married life, but that you like to hide your happiness from
others.
MRS. ALL. I assure you I was horribly deceived in Ernest.
LADY HUN. Oh, I hope not, dear. I knew his mother quite well. She
was a Stratton, Caroline, one of Lord Crowland’s daughters.
LADY CAR. Victoria Stratton? I remember her perfectly. A silly
fair-haired woman with no chin.
MRS. ALL. Ah, Ernest has a chin. He has a very strong chin, a
square chin. Ernest’s chin is far too square.
LADY STU. But do you really think a man’s chin can be too square? I
think a man should look very, very strong, and that his chin
should be quite, quite square.
MRS. ALL. Then you should certainly know Ernest, Lady Stutfield. It
is only fair to tell you beforehand he has got no conversation
at all.
LADY STU. I adore silent men.
MRS. ALL. Oh, Ernest isn’t silent. He talks the whole time. But he
has got no conversation. What he talks about I don’t know. I
haven’t listened to him for years.
LADY STU. Have you never forgiven him then? How sad that seems! But
all life is very, very sad, is it not?
MRS. ALL. Life, Lady Stutfield, is simply a mauvais quart d’heure
made up of exquisite moments.
LADY STU. Yes, there are moments, certainly. But was it something
very, very wrong that Mr. Allonby did? Did he become angry with
you, and say anything that was unkind or true?
MRS. ALL. Oh dear, no. Ernest is invariably calm. That is one of
the reasons he always gets on my nerves. Nothing is so
aggravating as calmness. There is something positively brutal
about the good temper of most modern men. I wonder we women
stand it as well as we do.
LADY STU. Yes: men’s good temper shows they are not so sensitive as
we are, not so finely strung. It makes a great barrier often
between husband and wife, does it not? But I would so much like
to know what was the wrong thing Mr. Allonby did.
MRS. ALL. Well, I will tell you, if you solemnly promise to tell
everybody else.
LADY STU. Thank you, thank you. I will make a point of repeating it.
MRS. ALL. When Ernest and I were engaged he swore to me positively
on his knees that he never had loved any one before in the whole
course of his life. I was very young at the time, so I didn’t
believe him, I needn’t tell you. Unfortunately, however, I made
no enquiries of any kind till after I had been actually married
four or five months. I found out then that what he had told me
was perfectly true. And that sort of thing makes a man so
absolutely uninteresting.
LADY HUN. My dear!
MRS. ALL. Men always want to be a woman’s first love. That is their
clumsy vanity. We women have a more subtle instinct about
things. What we like is to be a man’s last romance.
LADY STU. I see what you mean. It’s very, very beautiful.
LADY HUN. My dear child, you don’t mean to tell me that you won’t
forgive your husband because he never loved any one else? Did
you ever hear of such a thing, Caroline? I am quite surprised.
LADY CAR. Oh, women have become so highly educated, Jane, that
nothing should surprise us now-a-days, except happy marriages.
They apparently are getting remarkably rare.
MRS. ALL. Oh, they’re quite out of date.
LADY STU. Except amongst the middle classes, I have been told.
MRS. ALL. How like the middle classes!
LADY STU. Yes- is it not- very, very like them?
LADY CAR. If what you tell us about the middle classes is true,
Lady Stutfield, it redounds greatly to their credit. It is much
to be regretted that in our rank of life the wife should be so
persistently frivolous, under the impression apparently that it
is the proper thing to be. It is to that I attribute the
unhappiness of so many marriages we all know of in society.
MRS. ALL. Do you know, Lady Caroline, I don’t think the frivolity
of the wife has ever anything to do with it. More marriages are
ruined now-a-days by the common sense of the husband than by
anything else. How can a woman be expected to be happy with a
man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly
rational being?
LADY HUN. My dear!
MRS. ALL. Man, poor, awkward, reliable, necessary man belongs to a
sex that has been rational for millions and millions of years.
He can’t help himself. It is in his race. The History of Woman
is very different. We have always been picturesque protests
against the mere existence of common sense. We saw its dangers
from the first.
LADY STU. Yes, the common sense of husbands is certainly most, most
trying. Do tell me your conception of the Ideal Husband. I think
it would be so very, very helpful.
MRS. ALL. The Ideal Husband? There couldn’t be such a thing. The
institution is wrong.
LADY STU. The Ideal Man, then, in his relations to us .
LADY CAR. He would probably be extremely realistic.
MRS. ALL. The Ideal Man! Oh, the Ideal Man should talk to us as if
we were goddesses, and treat us as if we were children. He
should refuse all our serious requests, and gratify every one of
our whims. He should encourage us to have caprices, and forbid
us to have missions. He should always say much more than he
means, and always mean much more than he says.
LADY HUN. But how could he do both, dear?
MRS. ALL. He should never run down other pretty women. That would
show he had no taste, or make one suspect that he had too much.
No; he should be nice about them all, but say that somehow they
don’t attract him.
LADY STU. Yes, that is always very, very pleasant to hear about
other women.
MRS. ALL. If we ask him a question about anything, he should give
us an answer all about ourselves. He should invariably praise us
for
