14. An Ideal Husband

An Ideal Husband. Oscar Wilde. 1893. 78 pages. [Source: Bought]

First sentence:

Mrs. Marchmont. Going on to the Hartlocks’ to-night, Margaret?

Lady Basildon. I suppose so. Are you?

Mrs. Marchmont. Yes. Horribly tedious parties they give, don’t they?

Premise/plot: An Ideal Husband is a play by Oscar Wilde originally published in 1893. It opens with a party of sorts. Mrs. Cheveley finds a way to get an invitation so that she can blackmail Sir Robert Chiltern, an under-secretary for foreign affairs. She has a letter from his past--they had a mutual friends years ago--that could do him major damage politically if it's brought to light. She wants him to change his mind and more importantly change his speech and public stance on a matter. (She'll benefit financially from this change of opinion). He wants to say NO, NO, NEVER...but the idea of losing his wife's good opinion not to mention the good opinion of society at large and the government...well...he's tempted to give in. He confides in his oldest friend, Lord Goring; Goring's advice NEVER GIVE IN, NEVER SURRENDER. He wants a chance to find a different solution to this problem. But can he outwit Mrs. Cheveley? 

Of course there are a few more under stories going on that make this one a wee bit more complex than my summary. (Like Mabel Chiltern (Robert's sister) courtship with Lord Goring).

My thoughts: I am really enjoying reading Wilde's plays! This one has to do with discretion/indiscretion, public opinion, morality, and relationships. And POLITICS. It was really such a treat to read this one.

Quotes:

Mabel Chiltern. [Coming up to Lord Caversham.] Why do you call Lord Goring good-for-nothing?
Lord Caversham. Because he leads such an idle life.
Mabel Chiltern. How can you say such a thing? Why, he rides in the Row at ten o’clock in the morning, goes to the Opera three times a week, changes his clothes at least five times a day, and dines out every night of the season. You don’t call that leading an idle life, do you?

Sir Robert Chiltern. What an appalling philosophy that sounds! To attempt to classify you, Mrs. Cheveley, would be an impertinence. But may I ask, at heart, are you an optimist or a pessimist? Those seem to be the only two fashionable religions left to us nowadays.
Mrs. Cheveley. Oh, I’m neither. Optimism begins in a broad grin, and Pessimism ends with blue spectacles. Besides, they are both of them merely poses.
Sir Robert Chiltern. You prefer to be natural?
Mrs. Cheveley. Sometimes. But it is such a very difficult pose to keep up.

 Mrs. Cheveley. Ah! the strength of women comes from the fact that psychology cannot explain us. Men can be analysed, women . . . merely adored.

Mrs. Cheveley. Questions are never indiscreet. Answers sometimes are.

Mabel Chiltern. What an absurd reason!
Lord Goring. All reasons are absurd.

Lord Goring. I love talking about nothing, father. It is the only thing I know anything about.
Lord Caversham. You seem to me to be living entirely for pleasure.
Lord Goring. What else is there to live for, father? Nothing ages like happiness.

Lord Goring. I adore political parties. They are the only place left to us where people don’t talk politics.
Lady Basildon. I delight in talking politics. I talk them all day long. But I can’t bear listening to them. I don’t know how the unfortunate men in the House stand these long debates.
Lord Goring. By never listening.
Lady Basildon. Really?
Lord Goring. [In his most serious manner.] Of course. You see, it is a very dangerous thing to listen. If one listens one may be convinced; and a man who allows himself to be convinced by an argument is a thoroughly unreasonable person.

Lord Goring. You should go to bed, Miss Mabel.
Mabel Chiltern. Lord Goring!
Lord Goring. My father told me to go to bed an hour ago. I don’t see why I shouldn’t give you the same advice. I always pass on good advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself.

Lord Goring. Life is never fair, Robert. And perhaps it is a good thing for most of us that it is not.

Lord Goring. [Turning round.] Well, she wore far too much rouge last night, and not quite enough clothes. That is always a sign of despair in a woman.

Lord Goring. It is always worth while asking a question, though it is not always worth while answering one.

Lord Goring. [After a long pause.] Nobody is incapable of doing a foolish thing. Nobody is incapable of doing a wrong thing.

Lord Goring. [Rising.] No, Lady Chiltern, I am not a Pessimist. Indeed I am not sure that I quite know what Pessimism really means. All I do know is that life cannot be understood without much charity, cannot be lived without much charity. It is love, and not German philosophy, that is the true explanation of this world, whatever may be the explanation of the next. And if you are ever in trouble, Lady Chiltern, trust me absolutely, and I will help you in every way I can. If you ever want me, come to me for my assistance, and you shall have it. Come at once to me.

Mabel Chiltern. Well, Tommy has proposed to me again. Tommy really does nothing but propose to me. He proposed to me last night in the music-room, when I was quite unprotected, as there was an elaborate trio going on. I didn’t dare to make the smallest repartee, I need hardly tell you. If I had, it would have stopped the music at once. Musical people are so absurdly unreasonable. They always want one to be perfectly dumb at the very moment when one is longing to be absolutely deaf. Then he proposed to me in broad daylight this morning, in front of that dreadful statue of Achilles. Really, the things that go on in front of that work of art are quite appalling. The police should interfere. At luncheon I saw by the glare in his eye that he was going to propose again, and I just managed to check him in time by assuring him that I was a bimetallist. Fortunately I don’t know what bimetallism means. And I don’t believe anybody else does either. But the observation crushed Tommy for ten minutes. He looked quite shocked. And then Tommy is so annoying in the way he proposes. If he proposed at the top of his voice, I should not mind so much. That might produce some effect on the public. But he does it in a horrid confidential way. When Tommy wants to be romantic he talks to one just like a doctor. I am very fond of Tommy, but his methods of proposing are quite out of date. I wish, Gertrude, you would speak to him, and tell him that once a week is quite often enough to propose to any one, and that it should always be done in a manner that attracts some attention.

Lady Markby. [Reflecting.] You are remarkably modern, Mabel. A little too modern, perhaps. Nothing is so dangerous as being too modern. One is apt to grow old-fashioned quite suddenly. I have known many instances of it.

Lord Goring. Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible society is oneself.
Phipps. Yes, my lord.
Lord Goring. To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance, Phipps.

Lord Goring. I am glad you have called. I am going to give you some good advice.
Mrs. Cheveley. Oh! pray don’t. One should never give a woman anything that she can’t wear in the evening.

 

 

© 2021 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

13. Lady Windermere's Fan

Lady Windermere's Fan. Oscar Wilde. 1893. 70 pages. [Source: Bought]

First sentence:

Parker.  Is your ladyship at home this afternoon?

Lady Windermere.  Yes—who has called?

Parker.  Lord Darlington, my lady.

Lady Windermere.  [Hesitates for a moment.]  Show him up—and I’m at home to any one who calls.

Parker.  Yes, my lady.

 Premise/plot: Lady Windermere's Fan is a play by Oscar Wilde. Lady Winderemere (Margaret) learns on her birthday that her husband has been keeping company with a 'bad woman' with a past. They've just been married two years, and she's always thought he was most trustworthy. But when one person strongly hints and another out and out tells her that her husband has been paying to keep another woman, well, she's shaken. She confronts her husband, and he insists that she invites her to her birthday party--or birthday ball as the case may be. She's insulted, upset, adamant. She will NOT put up with such treatment! But a card and invitation is sent out--and she comes, Mrs. Erlynne comes. 

 Meanwhile while this 'bad woman' is dancing and charming the men at the party, one man in particular is trying to charm Lady Windermere. Lord Darlington is professing his love; he truly, madly, deeply loves, loves, loves her. Won't she run away with him? After all who could blame her?! Her husband is inviting THAT WOMAN to her birthday party, and openly socializing with her!!! Surely a good woman would be justified in leaving her husband for another man? Even if she does have a baby with her husband...

Will Lady Windermere say YES to Lord Darlington? Will Lady Windermere forgive her husband? What would a good woman do under the circumstances?

My thoughts:  I really enjoyed this one!!! I am thinking this one might be less well known--as opposed to The Importance of Being Earnest--so I won't spoil the secrets of Lady Windermere's Fan...but it's a GOOD read. In some ways it reminds me of HIGH SOCIETY which is one of my most favorite, favorite, favorite musicals. (Although Wilde's play doesn't have Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, and Louis Armstrong.) 

I definitely enjoyed the writing and the characters.

Quotes: 

Lord Darlington.  [Still seated L.C.]  Oh, nowadays so many conceited people go about Society pretending to be good, that I think it shows rather a sweet and modest disposition to pretend to be bad.  Besides, there is this to be said.  If you pretend to be good, the world takes you very seriously.  If you pretend to be bad, it doesn’t.  Such is the astounding stupidity of optimism.

Lady Windermere.  [Leaning back on the sofa.]  You look on me as being behind the age.—Well, I am!  I should be sorry to be on the same level as an age like this.
Lord Darlington.  You think the age very bad?
Lady Windermere.  Yes.  Nowadays people seem to look on life as a speculation.  It is not a speculation.  It is a sacrament.  Its ideal is Love.  Its purification is sacrifice.
Lord Darlington.  [Smiling.]  Oh, anything is better than being sacrificed!
Lady Windermere.  [Leaning forward.]  Don’t say that.

 Lord Darlington.  Do you know I am afraid that good people do a great deal of harm in this world.  Certainly the greatest harm they do is that they make badness of such extraordinary importance.  It is absurd to divide people into good and bad.  People are either charming or tedious.  I take the side of the charming, and you, Lady Windermere, can’t help belonging to them.

Lady Windermere.  Why do you talk so trivially about life, then?
Lord Darlington.  Because I think that life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about it. 

Duchess of Berwick.  That’s quite right, dear.  Crying is the refuge of plain women but the ruin of pretty ones.   

Lord Darlington.  My life—my whole life.  Take it, and do with it what you will. . . . I love you—love you as I have never loved any living thing.  From the moment I met you I loved you, loved you blindly, adoringly, madly!  You did not know it then—you know it now!  Leave this house to-night.  I won’t tell you that the world matters nothing, or the world’s voice, or the voice of society.  They matter a great deal.  They matter far too much.  But there are moments when one has to choose between living one’s own life, fully, entirely, completely—or dragging out some false, shallow, degrading existence that the world in its hypocrisy demands.  You have that moment now.  Choose!  Oh, my love, choose.

Cecil Graham.  My own business always bores me to death.  I prefer other people’s.

Cecil Graham.  [Coming towards him L.C.]  My dear Arthur, I never talk scandal.  I only talk gossip.
Lord Windermere.  What is the difference between scandal and gossip?
Cecil Graham.  Oh! gossip is charming!  History is merely gossip.  But scandal is gossip made tedious by morality.  Now, I never moralise.  A man who moralises is usually a hypocrite, and a woman who moralises is invariably plain.  There is nothing in the whole world so unbecoming to a woman as a Nonconformist conscience.  And most women know it, I’m glad to say.

Dumby.  I congratulate you, my dear fellow.  In this world there are only two tragedies.  One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.  The last is much the worst; the last is a real tragedy!  But I am interested to hear she does not love you.

Cecil Graham.  What is a cynic?  [Sitting on the back of the sofa.]
Lord Darlington.  A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.
Cecil Graham.  And a sentimentalist, my dear Darlington, is a man who sees an absurd value in everything, and doesn’t know the market price of any single thing.
Lord Darlington.  You always amuse me, Cecil.  You talk as if you were a man of experience.
Cecil Graham.  I am.  [Moves up to front off fireplace.]
Lord Darlington.  You are far too young!
Cecil Graham.  That is a great error.  Experience is a question of instinct about life.  I have got it.  Tuppy hasn’t.  Experience is the name Tuppy gives to his mistakes.  That is all.  [Lord Augustus looks round indignantly.]
Dumby.  Experience is the name every one gives to their mistakes.

Dumby.  It’s no use talking to Tuppy.  You might just as well talk to a brick wall.
Cecil Graham.  But I like talking to a brick wall—it’s the only thing in the world that never contradicts me!  Tuppy!

Lady Windermere.  We all have ideals in life.  At least we all should have.  Mine is my mother.
Mrs. Erlynne.  Ideals are dangerous things.  Realities are better.  They wound, but they’re better.
Lady Windermere.  [Shaking her head.]  If I lost my ideals, I should lose everything.
Mrs. Erlynne.  Everything?

© 2021 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

The Jungle Book

The Jungle Book. Rudyard Kipling. 1893/1894. 138 pages. [Source: Bought]

First sentence: It was seven o’clock of a very warm evening in the Seeonee hills when Father Wolf woke up from his day’s rest, scratched himself, yawned, and spread out his paws one after the other to get rid of the sleepy feeling in their tips.

Premise/plot: The Jungle Book is a collection of seven short stories and seven poems by Rudyard Kipling. The stories are: "Mowgli's Brothers," "Kaa's Hunting," "Tiger, Tiger," "The White Seal," "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi," "Toomai of the Elephants," and "Her Majesty's Servants." The poems are: "Hunting Song of the Seeonee Pack," "Road Song of the Bandar-Log," "Mowgli's Song," "Lukannon," "Darzee's Chaunt," "Shiv and the Grasshopper," and "Parade Song of the Camp Animals."

A few of the stories do go together. These are probably the stories you'll remember as being THE JUNGLE BOOK. Stories featuring Mowgli, Bagheera, Baloo, Kaa, Shere Khan, etc. But these stories are just a fraction of the book.

The best non-connected story is Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, a story about a brave mongoose's showdown with cobra snakes.

My thoughts: I really did enjoy the stories featuring Mowgli and friends. If ALL the stories were about these characters, no doubt I would want to reread it every few years and spend more time with my friends. But the Mowgli stories only make up THREE out of the seven. (Rikki-Tikki-Tavi is EXCELLENT. So that makes FOUR out of the seven worth reading.) The other stories range from boring to extremely boring. I got no pleasure, no joy, from reading the other stories. If I do ever reread this one, I will know to SKIP, SKIP, SKIP.

Quotes:

• Lie still, little frog. O thou Mowgli — for Mowgli the Frog I will call thee — the time will come when thou wilt hunt Shere Khan as he has hunted thee.
• I speak for the man’s cub. There is no harm in a man’s cub. I have no gift of words, but I speak the truth. Let him run with the Pack, and be entered with the others. I myself will teach him.
• Now you must be content to skip ten or eleven whole years, and only guess at all the wonderful life that Mowgli led among the wolves, because if it were written out it would fill ever so many books.
• “All the jungle is thine,” said Bagheera, “and thou canst kill everything that thou art strong enough to kill; but for the sake of the bull that bought thee thou must never kill or eat any cattle young or old. That is the Law of the Jungle.” Mowgli obeyed faithfully.
• And he grew and grew strong as a boy must grow who does not know that he is learning any lessons, and who has nothing in the world to think of except things to eat.
• “I was born in the jungle. I have obeyed the Law of the Jungle, and there is no wolf of ours from whose paws I have not pulled a thorn. Surely they are my brothers!”
• By Red Flower Bagheera meant fire, only no creature in the jungle will call fire by its proper name. Every beast lives in deadly fear of it, and invents a hundred ways of describing it.
• The boy could climb almost as well as he could swim, and swim almost as well as he could run.
• “Is there anything in the jungle too little to be killed? No. That is why I teach him these things, and that is why I hit him, very softly, when he forgets.”
• Kaa was not a poison snake — in fact he rather despised the poison snakes as cowards — but his strength lay in his hug, and when he had once lapped his huge coils round anybody there was no more to be said.
• “We are great. We are free. We are wonderful. We are the most wonderful people in all the jungle! We all say so, and so it must be true,” they shouted.
• One of the beauties of Jungle Law is that punishment settles all scores. There is no nagging afterward.
• It is the hardest thing in the world to frighten a mongoose, because he is eaten up from nose to tail with curiosity.
• The motto of all the mongoose family is “Run and find out,” and Rikki-tikki was a true mongoose.

        
© 2019 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews