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Modern Drama “Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life." —Oscar Wilde (The Decay of Lying, 1889) 14 © Christie’s Images/Corbis Learning Objectives After reading this chapter, you should be able to do the following:

• Describe and analyze how modern plays differ from plays in ancient Greece, Shakespearean England, and the mid-19th century.

• Analyze the themes and concepts presented in this chapter's literary selections.

• Describe the various types of comedy and its sub-genres. Introduction Chapter 14 1 4 .1 Introduction Today’s plays, both in content and production, have changed significantly from the drama genre in ancient Greece and Shakespearean England. Theaters are most often indoor “box theaters” as described in the introduction to Chapter 12: four walls with the fourth “removed,” a prosce- nium arch framing the imaginary fourth wall, curtains to conceal the stage before and after the production and between acts. The seating in the theater is “raked” or tiered, enabling all audi - ence members to more easily see the stage. Unlike outdoor Greek theaters and partially exposed Shakespearean theaters, box theaters are typically enclosed in a building, enabling creative light - ing to highlight the action on the stage and enhance the mood. Stage scenery today is often much more elaborate, although a playwright or director may choose a sparse set for special purposes.

Music and sound effects also play a role in creating the mood and sometimes in moving the story forward. Stagecraft is the term for designing sets, including scenery, props, lighting, and sound.

Although the physical place and the techniques of presentation have changed over time, the content of modern plays is the most important development in the genre of drama. In the mid- 19th century, the most popular forms of drama were farce and melodrama. Farce typically involves physical comedy and wildly exaggerated plot twists and characters. Modern examples of farce include television shows like Arrested Development (2003–2006, 2013) and films like The Hangover (2009) and The Pink Panther (19 63). Melodrama purports to be a more serious form, although the plot is predictable, the characters are stereotypical, and the ending is nearly always happy. A standard plot of melodrama would include an evil villain who ties a damsel in distress to railroad tracks and a dashing hero who rescues her from an oncoming train with only seconds to spare. Modern melodramas include soap operas, television shows, and movies with stock char - acters and highly predictable outcomes.

By the late 19th century, audiences were looking for more meaningful experiences in the the - ater than the predictability of farce and melodrama. Modern d rama was based on realism, an emerging literary movement. Realists focused on true-to-life situations involving “regular” people. They were concerned not with the lives of kings like Oedipus or Macbeth, but rather with “regular” people—middle-class folks with common problems and relatable concerns. Further, realists considered the psychological make-up of their characters. For example, if Shakespeare had been a realist, he might have considered the deeper underlying reasons for Macbeth’s ambi - tion—perhaps Macbeth’s mother was a demanding perfectionist who humiliated her young son when he fell short of her expectations.

The two fathers of modern drama were Russian short story writer and playwright Anton Chekhov (1860–1904), who wrote mostly comedies that satirized his society, and Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen (1828–1906), who wrote serious problem pl ays that presented characters strug - gling with social, cultural, personal, or psychological issues.

In this chapter, our primary focus will be on realism’s themes found in modern plays. The genre of modern drama can be divided into two broad categories: dramas (serious plays, including problem plays and modern tragedies) and comedies (lighter plays, including farce, satire, parody, romantic comedy, and comedies of manners). Of course, because modern playwrights strive to portray life realistically, plays may have aspects of both drama and comedy. Here we will study four modern plays: two dramas— Riders to the Sea (19 02) and Tr i fl e s (1916)—and two comedies— The Importance of Being Earnest (1895) and Mistaken Identity (20 0 4, 20 08). Modern Dramas Chapter 14 14 . 2 Modern Dramas Riders to the Sea (1902) John Millington Synge (1871–1909) Playwright and poet J. M. Synge was born near Dublin, Ireland and died at age 38 from Hodgkin’s disease. He graduated from Trinity College in Dublin, studied in Germany for a time, and traveled extensively in Europe. Synge was a part of the Irish Literary Revival, a realist movement that focused on por- traying the “real” Irish people, primarily those in the countryside and on the west coast who had not been influenced by the culture of the large British population in Dublin and Belfast. Between 1898 and 1901, Synge made reg- ular trips to the rocky Aran Islands off the west coast in the Atlantic. There he lived with peasant families that depended on the sea for their living—a setting captured in Riders to the Sea. His most famous play, The Playboy of the Western World , is also set in the west of Ireland.

Synge’s Riders to the Sea (1902) is an example of naturalism , an offshoot of realism. In naturalistic modern tragedies, there are no flawed heroes or calculating antagonists; there are only fragile humans battling for survival against an unfeeling natu- ral world. You can think of nature as playing the same role as fate in Greek tragedies—the protago- nist has little hope of coming through his or her trials without succumbing to disaster or death. In Synge’s play, the characters live in a harsh land, on rugged Inishmaan Island, surrounded by the tur- bulent Atlantic Ocean. The soil is rocky and unproductive, so the islanders must depend on fishing in the treacherous sea for survival. Life is a daily struggle against natural forces that are blind to those who perish. Today, we can relate to naturalism when we hear a breaking news story on television:

We learn about a hurricane, earthquake, or disaster at sea; there’s loss, tears, sadness, and feelings of hopelessness—all signaling the unanswerable question, Why? Riders to the Sea reveals the cold realities of life on Inishmaan, focusing on the theme of human strength and resilience that enables those who experience tragic loss to struggle, to face unanswerable questions head on, and to ulti- mately acquiesce and find peace. © Lebrecht Authors/Lebrecht Music & Arts/Corbis As you read, consider how naturalism is tied to the major theme. What is the theme, or big idea, Synge seeks to highlight?

(Note that a “ keen” is a traditional lament for the dead.) Riders to the Sea (first performed 1904 at Molesworth Hall, Dublin, Ireland) J. M. Synge PERSONS M A U R YA (an old woman) BARTLEY (her son) C AT H L EE N (her daughter) NORA (a younger daughter) MEN AND WOMEN SCENE: An Island off the West of Ireland. [Cottage kitchen, with nets, oil-skins, spinning wheel, some new boards standing by the wall, etc. Cathleen, a girl of about twenty, finishes kneading Modern Dramas Chapter 14 cake, and puts it down in the pot-oven by the fire; then wipes her hands, and begins to spin at the wheel. Nora, a young girl, puts her head in at the door.] NORA: [In a low voice.] Where is she?

CATHLEEN: She’s lying down, God help her, and may be sleeping, if she’s able.

[ NORA comes in softly, and takes a bundle from under her shawl.] C AT H L EE N : [Spinning the wheel rapidly.] What is it you have?

NORA: The young priest is after bringing them. It’s a shirt and a plain stocking were got off a drowned man in Donegal.

[ C AT H L EEN stops her wheel with a sudden movement, and leans out to listen.] NORA: We’re to find out if it’s Michael’s they are, some time herself will be down looking by the sea.

CATHLEEN: How would they be Michael’s, Nora. How would he go the length of that way to the far north?

NORA: The young priest says he’s known the like of it. “If it’s Michael’s they are,” says he, “you can tell herself he’s got a clean burial by the grace of God, and if they’re not his, let no one say a word about them, for she’ll be getting her death,” says he, “ with crying and lamenting.” [The door which Nora half closed is blown open by a gust of wind.] C AT H L EE N : [Looking out anxiously.] Did you ask him would he stop Bartley going this day with the horses to the Galway fair?

NORA: “I won’t stop him,” says he, “but let you not be afraid. Herself does be saying prayers half through the night, and the Almighty God won’t leave her destitute,” says he, “with no son living.” CATHLEEN: Is the sea bad by the white rocks, Nora?

NORA: Middling bad, God help us. There’s a great roaring in the west, and it’s worse it’ll be getting when the tide’s turned to the wind. [She goes over to the table with the bundle.] Shall I open it now?

CATHLEEN: Maybe she’d wake up on us, and come in before we’d done.

[ Coming to the table.] I t’s a long time we’ll be, and the two of us crying.

NORA: [Goes to the inner door and listens.] S he’s moving about on the bed. She’ll be coming in a minute.

CATHLEEN: Give me the ladder, and I’ll put them up in the turf- loft, the way she won’t know of them at all, and maybe when the tide turns she’ll be going down to see would he be floating from the east. Modern Dramas Chapter 14 [ They put the ladder against the gable of the chimney; C AT H L EEN goes up a few steps and hides the bundle in the turf-loft. M A U RYA comes from the inner room.] M A U R YA : [Looking up at Cathleen and speaking querulously.] I sn’t it turf enough you have for this day and evening?

CATHLEEN: There’s a cake baking at the fire for a short space [Throwing down the turf] and Bartley will want it when the tide turns if he goes to Connemara.

[ NORA picks up the turf and puts it round the pot-oven.] M A U R YA : [Sitting down on a stool at the fire.] H e won’t go this day with the wind rising from the south and west. He won’t go this day, for the young priest will stop him surely.

NORA: He’ll not stop him, mother, and I heard Eamon Simon and Stephen Pheety and Colum Shawn saying he would go.

MAURYA: Where is he itself?

NORA: He went down to see would there be another boat sailing in the week, and I’m thinking it won’t be long till he’s here now, for the tide’s turning at the green head, and the hooker’s tacking from the east.

CATHLEEN: I hear some one passing the big stones.

NORA: [Looking out.] He’s coming now, and he in a hurry.

BARTLEY: [Comes in and looks round the room. Speaking sadly and quietly.] Where is the bit of new rope, Cathleen, was bought in Connemara?

CATHLEEN: Coming down. Give it to him, Nora; it’s on a nail by the white boards. I hung it up this morning, for the pig with the black feet was eating it.

NORA: [Giving him a rope.] Is that it, Bartley?

MAURYA: You’d do right to leave that rope, Bartley, hanging by the boards [BARTLEY takes the rope] . It will be wanting in this place, I’m telling you, if Michael is washed up tomorrow morning, or the next morning, or any morning in the week, for it’s a deep grave we’ll make him by the grace of God.

BARTLEY: [Beginning to work with the rope.] I’ve no halter the way I can ride down on the mare, and I must go now quickly.

This is the one boat going for two weeks or beyond it, and the fair will be a good fair for horses I heard them saying below.

MAURYA: It’s a hard thing they’ll be saying below if the body is washed up and there’s no man in it to make the coffin, and I after giving a big price for the finest white boards you’d find in Connemara. [She looks round at the boards.] BARTLEY: How would it be washed up, and we after looking each day for nine days, and a strong wind blowing a while back from the west and south? Modern Dramas Chapter 14 MAURYA: If it wasn’t found itself, that wind is raising the sea, and there was a star up against the moon, and it rising in the night.

If it was a hundred horses, or a thousand horses you had itself, what is the price of a thousand horses against a son where there is one son only?

BARTLEY: [Working at the halter, to C AT H L EEN.] Let you go down each day, and see the sheep aren’t jumping in on the rye, and if the jobber comes you can sell the pig with the black feet if there is a good price going.

MAURYA: How would the like of her get a good price for a pig?

BARTLEY: [ To C AT H L EEN .] If the west wind holds with the last bit of the moon let you and Nora get up weed enough for another cock for the kelp. It’s hard set we’ll be from this day with no one in it but one man to work.

MAURYA: It’s hard set we’ll be surely the day you’re drownd’d with the rest. What way will I live and the girls with me, and I an old woman looking for the grave?

[ BARTLEY lays down the halter, takes off his old coat, and puts on a newer one of the same flannel.] BARTLEY: [ To NORA.] Is she coming to the pier?

NORA: [Looking out.] She’s passing the green head and letting fall her sails.

BARTLEY: [Getting his purse and tobacco.] I’ll have half an hour to go down, and you’ll see me coming again in two days, or in three days, or maybe in four days if the wind is bad.

M A U R YA : [Turning round to the fire, and putting her shawl over her head.] Isn’t it a hard and cruel man won’t hear a word from an old woman, and she holding him from the sea? It’s the life of a young man to be going on the sea, and who would listen to an old woman with one thing and she saying it over?

BARTLEY: [Taking the halter.] I must go now quickly. I’ll ride down on the red mare, and the gray pony’ll run behind me. . . The blessing of God on you. [He goes out.] M A U R YA : [Crying out as he is in the door.] He’s gone now, God spare us, and we’ll not see him again. He’s gone now, and when the black night is falling I’ll have no son left me in the world.

CATHLEEN: Why wouldn’t you give him your blessing and he looking round in the door? Isn’t it sorrow enough is on every one in this house without your sending him out with an unlucky word behind him, and a hard word in his ear?

[ M A U RYA takes up the tongs and begins raking the fire aimlessly without looking round.] NORA: [Turning towards her.] You’re taking away the turf from the cake. Modern Dramas Chapter 14 C AT H L EE N : [Crying out.] The Son of God forgive us, Nora, we’re after forgetting his bit of bread. [She comes over to the fire.] NORA: And it’s destroyed he’ll be going till dark night, and he after eating nothing since the sun went up.

C AT H L EE N : [Turning the cake out of the oven.] It’s destroyed he’ll be, surely. There’s no sense left on any person in a house where an old woman will be talking for ever.

[ M A U RYA sways herself on her stool.] C AT H L EE N : [Cutting off some of the bread and rolling it in a cloth; to M A U RYA .] Let you go down now to the spring well and give him this and he passing. You’ll see him then and the dark word will be broken, and you can say “God speed you,” the way he’ll be easy in his mind.

M A U R YA : [Taking the bread.] Will I be in it as soon as himself?

CATHLEEN: If you go now quickly.

M A U R YA : [Standing up unsteadily.] It’s hard set I am to walk.

C AT H L EE N : [Looking at her anxiously.] Give her the stick, Nora, or maybe she’ll slip on the big stones.

NORA: What stick?

CATHLEEN: The stick Michael brought from Connemara.

M A U R YA : [Taking a stick NORA gives her.] In the big world the old people do be leaving things after them for their sons and children, but in this place it is the young men do be leaving things behind for them that do be old. [She goes out slowly.] [ NORA goes over to the ladder.] CATHLEEN: Wait, Nora, maybe she’d turn back quickly. She’s that sorry, God help her, you wouldn’t know the thing she’d do.

NORA: Is she gone round by the bush?

C AT H L EE N : [Looking out.] She’s gone now. Throw it down quickly, for the Lord knows when she’ll be out of it again.

NORA: [Getting the bundle from the loft.] The young priest said he’d be passing tomorrow, and we might go down and speak to him below if it’s Michael’s they are surely.

C AT H L EE N : [Taking the bundle.] Did he say what way they were found?

NORA: [Coming down.] “There were two men,” says he, “and they rowing round with poteen before the cocks crowed, and the oar of one of them caught the body, and they passing the black cliffs of the north.” C AT H L EE N : [Trying to open the bundle.] Give me a knife, Nora, the string’s perished with the salt water, and there’s a black knot on it you wouldn’t loosen in a week. Modern Dramas Chapter 14 NORA: [Giving her a knife.] I’ve heard tell it was a long way to Donegal.

C AT H L EE N : [Cutting the string.] It is surely. There was a man in here a while ago —the man sold us that knife —and he said if you set off walking from the rocks beyond, it would be seven days you’d be in Donegal.

NORA: And what time would a man take, and he floating?

[ C AT H L EEN opens the bundle and takes out a bit of a stocking.

They look at them eagerly.] C AT H L EE N : [In a low voice.] The Lord spare us, Nora! isn’t it a queer hard thing to say if it’s his they are surely?

NORA: I’ll get his shirt off the hook the way we can put the one flannel on the other [she looks through some clothes hanging in the corner] . It’s not with them, Cathleen, and where will it be?

CATHLEEN: I’m thinking Bartley put it on him in the morning, for his own shirt was heavy with the salt in it [pointing to the corner] . There’s a bit of a sleeve was of the same stuff. Give me that and it will do.

[ NORA brings it to her and they compare the flannel.] CATHLEEN: It’s the same stuff, Nora; but if it is itself aren’t there great rolls of it in the shops of Galway, and isn’t it many another man may have a shirt of it as well as Michael himself?

NORA: [Who has taken up the stocking and counted the stitches, crying out.] It’s Michael, Cathleen, it’s Michael; God spare his soul, and what will herself say when she hears this story, and Bartley on the sea?

C AT H L EE N : [Taking the stocking.] It’s a plain stocking.

NORA: It’s the second one of the third pair I knitted, and I put up three score stitches, and I dropped four of them.

C AT H L EE N : [Counts the stitches.] It’s that number is in it [crying out]. Ah, Nora, isn’t it a bitter thing to think of him floating that way to the far north, and no one to keen him but the black hags that do be flying on the sea?

NORA: [Swinging herself round, and throwing out her arms on the clothes.] And isn’t it a pitiful thing when there is nothing left of a man who was a great rower and fisher, but a bit of an old shirt and a plain stocking?

C AT H L EE N : [After an instant.] Tell me is herself coming, Nora? I hear a little sound on the path.

NORA: [Looking out.] She is, Cathleen. She’s coming up to the d o o r. CATHLEEN: Put these things away before she’ll come in. Maybe it’s easier she’ll be after giving her blessing to Bartley, and we won’t let on we’ve heard anything the time he’s on the sea. Modern Dramas Chapter 14 NORA: [Helping C AT H L EEN to close the bundle.] We’ll put them here in the corner.

[They put them into a hole in the chimney corner. C AT H L EEN goes back to the spinning-wheel.] NORA: Will she see it was crying I was?

CATHLEEN: Keep your back to the door the way the light’ll not be on you.

[ NORA sits down at the chimney corner, with her back to the door.

M A U RYA comes in very slowly, without looking at the girls, and goes over to her stool at the other side of the fire. The cloth with the bread is still in her hand. The girls look at each other, and NORA points to the bundle of bread.] C AT H L EE N : [After spinning for a moment.] You didn’t give him his bit of bread?

[ M A U RYA begins to keen softly, without turning round.] CATHLEEN: Did you see him riding down?

[ M A U RYA goes on keening.] C AT H L EE N : [A little impatiently.] God forgive you; isn’t it a better thing to raise your voice and tell what you seen, than to be making lamentation for a thing that’s done? Did you see Bartley, I’m saying to you.

M A U R YA : [With a weak voice.] My heart’s broken from this day.

C AT H L EE N : [As before.] Did you see Bartley?

MAURYA: I seen the fearfulest thing.

C AT H L EE N : [Leaves her wheel and looks out.] God forgive you; he’s riding the mare now over the green head, and the gray pony behind him.

M A U R YA : [Starts, so that her shawl falls back from her head and shows her white tossed hair. With a frightened voice.] The gray pony behind him.

C AT H L EE N : [Coming to the fire.] What is it ails you, at all?

M A U R YA : [Speaking very slowly.] I’ve seen the fearfulest thing any person has seen, since the day Bride Dara seen the dead man with the child in his arms.

CATHLEEN AND NORA: Uah.

[ They crouch down in front of the old woman at the fire.] NORA: Tell us what it is you seen.

MAURYA: I went down to the spring well, and I stood there saying a prayer to myself. Then Bartley came along, and he riding on the red mare with the gray pony behind him. [She puts up her hands, as if to hide something from her eyes.] The Son of God spare us, Nora! Modern Dramas Chapter 14 CATHLEEN: What is it you seen.

MAURYA: I seen Michael himself.

C AT H L EE N : [Speaking softly.] You did not, mother; It wasn’t Michael you seen, for his body is after being found in the far north, and he’s got a clean burial by the grace of God.

M A U R YA : [A little defiantly.] I’m after seeing him this day, and he riding and galloping. Bartley came first on the red mare; and I tried to say “God speed you,” but something choked the words in my throat. He went by quickly; and “the blessing of God on you,” says he, and I could say nothing. I looked up then, and I crying, at the gray pony, and there was Michael upon it with fine clothes on him, and new shoes on his feet.

C AT H L EE N : [Begins to keen.] It’s destroyed we are from this day.

It’s destroyed, surely.

NORA: Didn’t the young priest say the Almighty God wouldn’t leave her destitute with no son living?

M A U R YA : [In a low voice, but clearly.] It’s little the like of him knows of the sea . . . Bartley will be lost now, and let you call in Eamon and make me a good coffin out of the white boards, for I won’t live after them. I’ve had a husband, and a husband’s father, and six sons in this house —six fine men, though it was a hard birth I had with every one of them and they coming to the world—and some of them were found and some of them were not found, but they’re gone now the lot of them . . .

There were Stephen, and Shawn, were lost in the great wind, and found after in the Bay of Gregory of the Golden Mouth, and carried up the two of them on the one plank, and in by that door.

[She pauses for a moment, the girls start as if they heard some - thing through the door that is half open behind them.] NORA: [In a whisper.] Did you hear that, Cathleen? Did you hear a noise in the north-east?

C AT H L EE N : [In a whisper.] There’s some one after crying out by the seashore.

M A U R YA : [Continues without hearing anything.] There was Sheamus and his father, and his own father again, were lost in a dark night, and not a stick or sign was seen of them when the sun went up. There was Patch after was drowned out of a curagh that turned over. I was sitting here with Bartley, and he a baby, lying on my two knees, and I seen two women, and three women, and four women coming in, and they crossing themselves, and not saying a word. I looked out then, and there were men coming after them, and they holding a thing in the half of a red sail, and water dripping out of it—it was a dry day, Nora—and leaving a track to the door.

[ She pauses again with her hand stretched out towards the door. It opens softly and old women begin to come in, crossing themselves on the threshold, and kneeling down in front of the stage with red petticoats over their heads.] Modern Dramas Chapter 14 M A U R YA : [Half in a dream, to C AT H L EEN.] Is it Patch, or Michael, or what is it at all?

CATHLEEN: Michael is after being found in the far north, and when he is found there how could he be here in this place?

MAURYA: There does be a power of young men floating round in the sea, and what way would they know if it was Michael they had, or another man like him, for when a man is nine days in the sea, and the wind blowing, it’s hard set his own mother would be to say what man was it.

CATHLEEN: It’s Michael, God spare him, for they’re after sending us a bit of his clothes from the far north.

[She reaches out and hands M A U RYA the clothes that belonged to Michael, M A U RYA stands up slowly, and takes them in her hands.

NORA looks out.] NORA: They’re carrying a thing among them and there’s water dripping out of it and leaving a track by the big stones. [In a whisper to the women who have come in.] Is it Bartley it is?

ONE OF THE WOMEN: It is surely, God rest his soul.

[Two younger women come in and pull out the table. Then men carry in the body of Bartley, laid on a plank, with a bit of a sail over it, and lay it on the table.] C AT H L EE N : [To the women, as they are doing so.] What way was he drowned?

ONE OF THE WOMEN: The gray pony knocked him into the sea, and he was washed out where there is a great surf on the white rocks.

[ M A U RYA has gone over and knelt down at the head of the table.

The women are keening softly and swaying themselves with a slow movement. C AT H L EEN and NORA kneel at the other end of the table. The men kneel near the door.] M A U R YA : [Raising her head and speaking as if she did not see the people around her.] They’re all gone now, and there isn’t anything more the sea can do to me . . . I’ll have no call now to be up crying and praying when the wind breaks from the south, and you can hear the surf is in the east, and the surf is in the west, making a great stir with the two noises, and they hitting one on the other. I’ll have no call now to be going down and getting Holy Water in the dark nights after Samhain, and I won’t care what way the sea is when the other women will be keening. [ To NORA .] Give me the Holy Water, Nora, there’s a small sup still on the dresser. [NORA gives it to her.] M A U R YA : [Drops Michael’s clothes across Bartley’s feet, and sprinkles the Holy Water over him.] It isn’t that I haven’t prayed for you, Bartley, to the Almighty God. It isn’t that I haven’t said prayers in the dark night till you wouldn’t know what I’d be saying; but it’s a great rest I’ll have now, and it’s time surely. It’s a great rest I’ll have now, and great sleeping in the long nights Modern Dramas Chapter 14 after Samhain, if it’s only a bit of wet flour we do have to eat, and maybe a fish that would be stinking. [She kneels down again, crossing herself, and saying prayers under her breath.] C AT H L EE N : [To an old man.] Maybe yourself and Eamon would make a coffin when the sun rises. We have fine white boards herself bought, God help her, thinking Michael would be found, and I have a new cake you can eat while you’ll be working.

THE OLD MAN: [Looking at the boards.] Are there nails with them?

CATHLEEN: There are not, Colum; we didn’t think of the nails.

ANOTHER MAN: It’s a great wonder she wouldn’t think of the nails, and all the coffins she’s seen made already.

CATHLEEN: It’s getting old she is, and broken.

[ M A U RYA stands up again very slowly and spreads out the pieces of Michael’s clothes beside the body, sprinkling them with the last of the Holy Water.] NORA: [In a whisper to C AT H L EEN.] She’s quiet now and easy; but the day Michael was drowned you could hear her crying out from this to the spring well. It’s fonder she was of Michael, and would any one have thought that?

C AT H L EE N : [Slowly and clearly.] An old woman will be soon tired with anything she will do, and isn’t it nine days herself is after crying and keening, and making great sorrow in the house?

M A U R YA : [Puts the empty cup mouth downwards on the table, and lays her hands together on Bartley’s feet.] They’re all together this time, and the end is come. May the Almighty God have mercy on Bartley’s soul, and on Michael’s soul, and on the souls of Sheamus and Patch, and Stephen and Shawn [bending her head] ; and may He have mercy on my soul, Nora, and on the soul of every one is left living in the world. [She pauses, and the keen rises a little more loudly from the women, then sinks away.] M A U R YA : [Continuing.] Michael has a clean burial in the far north, by the grace of the Almighty God. Bartley will have a fine coffin out of the white boards, and a deep grave surely. What more can we want than that? No man at all can be living for ever, and we must be satisfied. [She kneels down again and the curtain falls slowly.] This selection is in the public domain. Modern Dramas Chapter 14 RESPONSE AND REFLECTION QUESTIONS Connecting 1.

D id you have an emotional reaction to this play? If so, did your emotions change as the play con- tinued? Describe and use quotations from the text.

Considering 2.

“ Keening” is referred to several times in the play. A “keen” is a traditional lament for the dead.

What effect does the women’s keening have?

3.

H ow is a feeling of isolation developed and sustained in the play? Give examples.

4.

I dentify ways that Synge uses symbolism effectively. Give examples.

Concluding 5.

T he play is an example of naturalism, or how an indifferent universe creates a sense of powerless- ness within people. How does Maurya deal with this? Give examples. Her response is the key to the major theme. State the theme in one sentence.

6.

S ynge adapted the final line in the play from a letter he received from a woman he met on one of his visits to the Aran Islands. Explain why you think Maurya’s final statement—which is acquies- cent and passive—is (or is not) realistic in the context of the horrible details presented in the play. Tri fl e s (1916) Susan Glaspell (1876–1948) Glaspell was born in Davenport, Iowa. After graduating from Drake University, she worked as a reporter for the Des Moines Daily News before turning to writing full time. She and her husband, George Cram Cook, moved to Greenwich Village, New York and founded the Provincetown Players, an amateur group of writers who were instrumental in populariz- ing dramatic productions and supporting the first performances of Eugene O’Neill’s early plays. She and her husband lived simply in Greece for a few years; after Cook died, Glaspell returned to the United States. Glaspell wrote short stories and novels as well as plays, several of which were bestsellers.

In 1931, she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for her play Alison’s House . In her works, she explored feminist and other social issues in the search for a 20th-century American identity.

In Tr i fl e s , a problem play, Glaspell explores the role of women in the early 20th century. Note that the first performance, in 1916, was four years prior to ratification of the 19th Amendment, women’s suffrage, which gave women the right to vote. The play’s perspective is harsh; its values are oppres- sive; the women’s opinions are overlooked; their roles are considered trivial—cooking, cleaning, sewing, gossiping—rather than serious and important, like the men’s. ASSOCIATED PRESS As you read Tr i fl e s , consider and make notes on the following:

1. The importance of the title, Tr i fl e s. Look for direct and indirect references to “trifles,” things of little value, substance, or importance. Both the men and the women refer to them. In par - ticular, notice how the men’s attitudes toward trifles are different from the women’s. Modern Dramas Chapter 14 2. The plot structure. Note the stages: exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, resolution.

What is the dramatic question? Is there more than one? 3. Glaspell’s use of symbols 4. The importance of setting in creating the mood 5. How the items above contribute to the theme Tri fl e s (First performed by the Provincetown Players at the Wharf Theatre, Provincetown, MA, August 8, 1916) Susan Glaspell CHARACTERS GEORGE HENDERSON (County Attorney) HENRY PETERS (Sheriff) LEWIS HALE, A neighboring farmer MRS PETERS MRS HALE SCENE: The kitchen is the now abandoned farmhouse of JOHN WRIGHT, a gloomy kitchen, and left without having been put in order—unwashed pans under the sink, a loaf of bread outside the bread-box, a dish-towel on the table — other signs of incompleted work. At the rear the outer door opens and the SHERIFF comes in followed by the COUNT Y AT TORNEY and HALE. The SHERIFF and HALE are men in middle life, the COUNT Y AT TORNEY is a young man; all are much bundled up and go at once to the stove. They are followed by the two women—the SHERIFF’s wife first; she is a slight wiry woman, a thin nervous face. MRS HALE is larger and would ordinarily be called more comfortable looking, but she is disturbed now and looks fearfully about as she enters. The women have come in slowly, and stand close together near the door.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: [rubbing his hands] This feels good. Come up to the fire, ladies.

MRS PETERS: [after taking a step forward] I’m not— cold.

SHERIFF: [unbuttoning his overcoat and stepping away from the stove as if to mark the beginning of official business] Now, Mr Hale, before we move things about, you explain to Mr Henderson just what you saw when you came here yesterday morning.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: By the way, has anything been moved? Are things just as you left them yesterday?

SHERIFF: [looking about] It’s just the same. When it dropped below zero last night I thought I’d better send Frank out this morning to make a fire for us—no use getting pneumonia with a big case on, but I told him not to touch anything except the stove —and you know Frank.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: Somebody should have been left here yesterday. Modern Dramas Chapter 14 SHERIFF: Oh—yesterday. When I had to send Frank to Morris Center for that man who went crazy— I want you to know I had my hands full yesterday. I knew you could get back from Omaha by today and as long as I went over everything here myself— COUNT Y AT TORNEY: Well, Mr Hale, tell just what happened when you came here yesterday morning.

HALE: Harry and I had started to town with a load of potatoes. We came along the road from my place and as I got here I said, ‘I’m going to see if I can’t get John Wright to go in with me on a party telephone.’ I spoke to Wright about it once before and he put me off, saying folks talked too much anyway, and all he asked was peace and quiet— I guess you know about how much he talked himself; but I thought maybe if I went to the house and talked about it before his wife, though I said to Harry that I didn’t know as what his wife wanted made much difference to John— COUNT Y AT TORNEY: Let’s talk about that later, Mr Hale. I do want to talk about that, but tell now just what happened when you got to the house.

HALE: I didn’t hear or see anything; I knocked at the door, and still it was all quiet inside. I knew they must be up, it was past eight o’clock. So I knocked again, and I thought I heard somebody say, ‘Come in.’ I wasn’t sure, I’m not sure yet, but I opened the door—this door [indicating the door by which the two women are still standing] and there in that rocker— [pointing to it] sat Mrs Wright.

[They all look at the rocker.] COUNT Y AT TORNEY: What—was she doing?

HALE: She was rockin’ back and forth. She had her apron in her hand and was kind of—pleating it.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: And how did she —look?

HALE: Well, she looked queer.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: How do you mean— queer?

HALE: Well, as if she didn’t know what she was going to do next. And kind of done up.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: How did she seem to feel about your co m i n g?

HALE: Why, I don’t think she minded— one way or other. She didn’t pay much attention. I said, ‘How do, Mrs Wright it’s cold, ain’t it?’ And she said, ‘Is it?’—and went on kind of pleating at her apron. Well, I was surprised; she didn’t ask me to come up to the stove, or to set down, but just sat there, not even looking at me, so I said, ‘I want to see John.’ And then she —laughed.

I guess you would call it a laugh. I thought of Harry and the team outside, so I said a little sharp: ‘Can’t I see John?’ ‘No’, she says, kind o’ dull like. ‘Ain’t he home?’ says I. ‘Yes’, says she, ‘he’s Modern Dramas Chapter 14 home’. ‘Then why can’t I see him?’ I asked her, out of patience.

‘‘Cause he’s dead’, says she. ‘Dead? ’ says I. She just nodded her head, not getting a bit excited, but rockin’ back and forth.

‘Why—where is he?’ says I, not knowing what to say. She just pointed upstairs—like that [himself pointing to the room above] I got up, with the idea of going up there. I walked from there to here —then I says, ‘Why, what did he die of?’ ‘He died of a rope round his neck’, says she, and just went on pleatin’ at her apron.

Well, I went out and called Harry. I thought I might—need help.

We went upstairs and there he was lyin’— COUNT Y AT TORNEY: I think I’d rather have you go into that upstairs, where you can point it all out. Just go on now with the rest of the story.

HALE: Well, my first thought was to get that rope off. It looked . . . [stops, his face twitches] . . . but Harry, he went up to him, and he said, ‘No, he’s dead all right, and we’d better not touch anything.’ So we went back down stairs. She was still sitting that same way. ‘Has anybody been notified?’ I asked. ‘No’, says she unconcerned. ‘Who did this, Mrs Wright?’ said Harry. He said it business-like —and she stopped pleatin’ of her apron. ‘I don’t know’, she says. ‘You don’t know?’ says Harry. ‘No’, says she. ‘Weren’t you sleepin’ in the bed with him?’ says Harry. ‘Yes’, says she, ‘but I was on the inside’. ‘Somebody slipped a rope round his neck and strangled him and you didn’t wake up?’ says Harry. ‘I didn’t wake up’, she said after him. We must ‘a looked as if we didn’t see how that could be, for after a minute she said, ‘I sleep sound’. Harry was going to ask her more questions but I said maybe we ought to let her tell her story first to the coroner, or the sheriff, so Harry went fast as he could to Rivers’ place, where there’s a telephone.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: And what did Mrs Wright do when she knew that you had gone for the coroner?

HALE: She moved from that chair to this one over here [pointing to a small chair in the corner] and just sat there with her hands held together and looking down. I got a feeling that I ought to make some conversation, so I said I had come in to see if John wanted to put in a telephone, and at that she started to laugh, and then she stopped and looked at me —scared, [the COUNT Y AT TORNEY, who has had his notebook out, makes a note] I dunno, maybe it wasn’t scared. I wouldn’t like to say it was. Soon Harry got back, and then Dr Lloyd came, and you, Mr Peters, and so I guess that’s all I know that you don’t.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: [looking around] I guess we’ll go upstairs first—and then out to the barn and around there, [to the SHERIFF] You’re convinced that there was nothing important here —nothing that would point to any motive.

SHERIFF: Nothing here but kitchen things. Modern Dramas Chapter 14 [The COUNT Y AT TORNEY, after again looking around the kitchen, opens the door of a cupboard closet. He gets up on a chair and looks on a shelf. Pulls his hand away, sticky.] COUNT Y AT TORNEY: Here’s a nice mess.

[The women draw nearer.] MRS PETERS: [to the other woman] Oh, her fruit; it did freeze, [to the LAWYER] She worried about that when it turned so cold.

She said the fire’d go out and her jars would break.

SHERIFF: Well, can you beat the women! Held for murder and worryin’ about her preserves.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: I guess before we’re through she may have something more serious than preserves to worry about.

HALE: Well, women are used to worrying over trifles.

[The two women move a little closer together.] COUNT Y AT TORNEY: [with the gallantry of a young politician] And yet, for all their worries, what would we do without the ladies? [the women do not unbend. He goes to the sink, takes a dipperful of water from the pail and pouring it into a basin, washes his hands. Starts to wipe them on the roller-towel, turns it for a cleaner place] Dirty towels! [kicks his foot against the pans under the sink] Not much of a housekeeper, would you say, ladies?

MRS HALE: [stiffly] There’s a great deal of work to be done on a farm.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: To be sure. And yet [with a little bow to her] I know there are some Dickson county farmhouses which do not have such roller towels. [He gives it a pull to expose its length again.] MRS HALE: Those towels get dirty awful quick. Men’s hands aren’t always as clean as they might be.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: Ah, loyal to your sex, I see. But you and Mrs Wright were neighbors. I suppose you were friends, too.

MRS HALE: [shaking her head] I’ve not seen much of her of late years. I’ve not been in this house —it’s more than a year.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: And why was that? You didn’t like her?

MRS HALE: I liked her all well enough. Farmers’ wives have their hands full, Mr Henderson. And then— COUNT Y AT TORNEY: Yes—?

MRS HALE: [looking about] It never seemed a very cheerful place.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: No —it’s not cheerful. I shouldn’t say she had the homemaking instinct.

MRS HALE: Well, I don’t know as Wright had, either.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: You mean that they didn’t get on very well? Modern Dramas Chapter 14 MRS HALE: No, I don’t mean anything. But I don’t think a place’d be any cheerfuller for John Wright’s being in it.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: I’d like to talk more of that a little later. I want to get the lay of things upstairs now. [He goes to the left, where three steps lead to a stair door.] SHERIFF: I suppose anything Mrs Peters does’ll be all right. She was to take in some clothes for her, you know, and a few little things. We left in such a hurry yesterday.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: Yes, but I would like to see what you take, Mrs Peters, and keep an eye out for anything that might be of use to us.

MRS PETERS: Yes, Mr Henderson.

[The women listen to the men’s steps on the stairs, then look about the kitchen.] MRS HALE: I’d hate to have men coming into my kitchen, snooping around and criticising. [She arranges the pans under sink which the LAW YER had shoved out of place.] MRS PETERS: Of course it’s no more than their duty.

MRS HALE: Duty’s all right, but I guess that deputy sheriff that came out to make the fire might have got a little of this on.

[gives the roller towel a pull] Wish I’d thought of that sooner.

Seems mean to talk about her for not having things slicked up when she had to come away in such a hurry.

MRS PETERS: [who has gone to a small table in the left rear corner of the room, and lifted one end of a towel that covers a pan] She had bread set. [Stands still.] MRS HALE: [eyes fixed on a loaf of bread beside the bread-box, which is on a low shelf at the other side of the room. Moves slowly toward it] She was going to put this in there, [picks up loaf, then abruptly drops it. In a manner of returning to familiar things] It’s a shame about her fruit. I wonder if it’s all gone. [gets up on the chair and looks] I think there’s some here that’s all right, Mrs Peters. Yes—here; [holding it toward the window] this is cherries, too. [looking again] I declare I believe that’s the only one. [gets down, bottle in her hand. Goes to the sink and wipes it off on the outside] She’ll feel awful bad after all her hard work in the hot weather. I remember the afternoon I put up my cherries last summer.

[She puts the bottle on the big kitchen table, center of the room. With a sigh, is about to sit down in the rocking-chair.

Before she is seated realizes what chair it is; with a slow look at it, steps back. The chair which she has touched rocks back and for th.] MRS PETERS: Well, I must get those things from the front room closet, [she goes to the door at the right, but after looking into the other room, steps back] You coming with me, Mrs Hale?

You could help me carry them. Modern Dramas Chapter 14 [They go in the other room; reappear, MRS PETERS carrying a dress and skirt, MRS HALE following with a pair of shoes.] MRS PETERS: My, it’s cold in there. [She puts the clothes on the big table, and hurries to the stove.] MRS HALE: [examining the skirt] Wright was close. I think maybe that’s why she kept so much to herself. She didn’t even belong to the Ladies Aid. I suppose she felt she couldn’t do her part, and then you don’t enjoy things when you feel shabby. She used to wear pretty clothes and be lively, when she was Minnie Foster, one of the town girls singing in the choir. But that— oh, that was thirty years ago. This all you was to take in?

MRS PETERS: She said she wanted an apron. Funny thing to want, for there isn’t much to get you dirty in jail, goodness knows.

But I suppose just to make her feel more natural. She said they was in the top drawer in this cupboard. Yes, here. And then her little shawl that always hung behind the door. [opens stair door and looks] Yes, here it is. [Quickly shuts door leading upstairs.] MRS HALE: [abruptly moving toward her] Mrs Peters?

MRS PETERS: Yes, Mrs Hale?

MRS HALE: Do you think she did it?

MRS PETERS: [in a frightened voice] Oh, I don’t know.

MRS HALE: Well, I don’t think she did. Asking for an apron and her little shawl. Worrying about her fruit.

MRS PETERS: [starts to speak, glances up, where footsteps are heard in the room above. In a low voice] Mr Peters says it looks bad for her. Mr Henderson is awful sarcastic in a speech and he’ll make fun of her sayin’ she didn’t wake up.

MRS HALE: Well, I guess John Wright didn’t wake when they was slipping that rope under his neck.

MRS PETERS: No, it’s strange. It must have been done awful crafty and still. They say it was such a—funny way to kill a man, rigging it all up like that.

MRS HALE: That’s just what Mr Hale said. There was a gun in the house. He says that’s what he can’t understand.

MRS PETERS: Mr Henderson said coming out that what was needed for the case was a motive; something to show anger, or—sudden feeling.

MRS HALE: [who is standing by the table] Well, I don’t see any signs of anger around here, [she puts her hand on the dish towel which lies on the table, stands looking down at table, one half of which is clean, the other half messy] It’s wiped to here, [makes a move as if to finish work, then turns and looks at loaf of bread outside the breadbox. Drops towel. In that voice of coming back to familiar things.] Wonder how they are finding things upstairs. I hope she had it a little more red-up up there. You know, it seems kind of sneaking. Locking her up Modern Dramas Chapter 14 in town and then coming out here and trying to get her own house to turn against her!

MRS PETERS: But Mrs Hale, the law is the law.

MRS HALE: I s’pose ‘tis, [unbuttoning her coat] Better loosen up your things, Mrs Peters. You won’t feel them when you go out.

[MRS PETERS takes off her fur tippet, goes to hang it on hook at back of room, stands looking at the under part of the small corner t able.] MRS PETERS: She was piecing a quilt. [She brings the large sewing basket and they look at the bright pieces.] MRS HALE: It’s log cabin pattern. Pretty, isn’t it? I wonder if she was goin’ to quilt it or just knot it?

[Footsteps have been heard coming down the stairs. The SHERIFF enters followed by HALE and the COUNT Y AT TORNEY.] SHERIFF: They wonder if she was going to quilt it or just knot it!

[The men laugh, the women look abashed.] COUNT Y AT TORNEY: [rubbing his hands over the stove] Frank’s fire didn’t do much up there, did it? Well, let’s go out to the barn and get that cleared up.

[The men go outside.] MRS HALE: [resent fully] I don’t know as there’s anything so strange, our takin’ up our time with little things while we’re waiting for them to get the evidence. [she sits down at the big table smoothing out a block with decision] I don’t see as it’s anything to laugh about.

MRS PETERS: [apologetically] Of course they’ve got awful important things on their minds. [Pulls up a chair and joins MRS HALE at the table.] MRS HALE: [examining another block] Mrs Peters, look at this one. Here, this is the one she was working on, and look at the sewing! All the rest of it has been so nice and even. And look at this! It’s all over the place! Why, it looks as if she didn’t know what she was about!

[After she has said this they look at each other, then start to glance back at the door. After an instant MRS HALE has pulled at a knot and ripped the sewing.] MRS PETERS: Oh, what are you doing, Mrs Hale?

MRS HALE: [mildly] Just pulling out a stitch or two that’s not sewed very good. [threading a needle] Bad sewing always made me fidgety.

MRS PETERS: [nervously] I don’t think we ought to touch things.

MRS HALE: I’ll just finish up this end. [suddenly stopping and leaning forward] Mrs Peters?

MRS PETERS: Yes, Mrs Hale? Modern Dramas Chapter 14 MRS HALE: What do you suppose she was so nervous about?

MRS PETERS: Oh— I don’t know. I don’t know as she was nervous. I sometimes sew awful queer when I’m just tired. [MRS HALE starts to say something, looks at MRS PETERS, then goes on sewing] Well I must get these things wrapped up. They may be through sooner than we think, [putting apron and other things together] I wonder where I can find a piece of paper, and string.

MRS HALE: In that cupboard, maybe.

MRS PETERS: [looking in cupboard] Why, here’s a bird-cage, [holds it up] Did she have a bird, Mrs Hale?

MRS HALE: Why, I don’t know whether she did or not— I’ve not been here for so long. There was a man around last year selling canaries cheap, but I don’t know as she took one; maybe she did. She used to sing real pretty herself.

MRS PETERS: [glancing around] Seems funny to think of a bird here. But she must have had one, or why would she have a cage? I wonder what happened to it.

MRS HALE: I s’pose maybe the cat got it.

MRS PETERS: No, she didn’t have a cat. She’s got that feeling some people have about cats—being afraid of them. My cat got in her room and she was real upset and asked me to take it out.

MRS HALE: My sister Bessie was like that. Queer, ain’t it?

MRS PETERS: [examining the cage] Why, look at this door. It’s broke. One hinge is pulled apart.

MRS HALE: [looking too] Looks as if someone must have been rough with it.

MRS PETERS: Why, yes. [She brings the cage forward and puts it on the table.] MRS HALE: I wish if they’re going to find any evidence they’d be about it. I don’t like this place.

MRS PETERS: But I’m awful glad you came with me, Mrs Hale. It would be lonesome for me sitting here alone.

MRS HALE: It would, wouldn’t it? [dropping her sewing] But I tell you what I do wish, Mrs Peters. I wish I had come over sometimes when she was here. I— [looking around the room] — wish I had.

MRS PETERS: But of course you were awful busy, Mrs Hale —your house and your children.

MRS HALE: I could’ve come. I stayed away because it weren’t cheerful—and that’s why I ought to have come. I— I’ve never liked this place. Maybe because it’s down in a hollow and you don’t see the road. I dunno what it is, but it’s a lonesome place and always was. I wish I had come over to see Minnie Foster sometimes. I can see now— [shakes her head] Modern Dramas Chapter 14 MRS PETERS: Well, you mustn’t reproach yourself, Mrs Hale. Somehow we just don’t see how it is with other folks until— something comes up.

MRS HALE: Not having children makes less work—but it makes a quiet house, and Wright out to work all day, and no company when he did come in. Did you know John Wright, Mrs Peters?

MRS PETERS: Not to know him; I’ve seen him in town. They say he was a good man.

MRS HALE: Yes— good; he didn’t drink, and kept his word as well as most, I guess, and paid his debts. But he was a hard man, Mrs Peters. Just to pass the time of day with him— [shiver s] Like a raw wind that gets to the bone, [pauses, her eye falling on the cage] I should think she would ‘a wanted a bird. But what do you suppose went with it?

MRS PETERS: I don’t know, unless it got sick and died. [She reaches over and swings the broken door, swings it again, both women watch it.] MRS HALE: You weren’t raised round here, were you? [MRS PETERS shakes her head] You didn’t know—her?

MRS PETERS: Not till they brought her yesterday.

MRS HALE: She — come to think of it, she was kind of like a bird herself—real sweet and pretty, but kind of timid and—fluttery.

How—she — did— change. [silence; then as if struck by a happy thought and relieved to get back to everyday things] Tell you what, Mrs Peters, why don’t you take the quilt in with you? It might take up her mind.

MRS PETERS: Why, I think that’s a real nice idea, Mrs Hale. There couldn’t possibly be any objection to it, could there? Now, just what would I take? I wonder if her patches are in here —and her things.

[They look in the sewing basket.] MRS HALE: Here’s some red. I expect this has got sewing things in it. [brings out a fancy box] What a pretty box. Looks like something somebody would give you. Maybe her scissors are in here. [Opens box. Suddenly puts her hand to her nose] Why— [MRS PETERS bends nearer, then turns her face away] There’s something wrapped up in this piece of silk.

MRS PETERS: Why, this isn’t her scissors.

MRS HALE: [lifting the silk] Oh, Mrs Peters—it’s— [MRS PETERS bends closer.] MRS PETERS: It’s the bird.

MRS HALE: [jumping up] But, Mrs Peters—look at it! It’s neck!

Look at its neck! It’s all— other side to.

MRS PETERS: Somebody—wrung—its—neck. Modern Dramas Chapter 14 [Their eyes meet. A look of growing comprehension, of horror.

Steps are heard outside. MRS HALE slips box under quilt pieces, and sinks into her chair. Enter SHERIFF and COUNT Y AT TORNEY.

MRS PETERS rises.] COUNT Y AT TORNEY: [as one turning from serious things to little pleasantries] Well ladies, have you decided whether she was going to quilt it or knot it?

MRS PETERS: We think she was going to —knot it.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: Well, that’s interesting, I’m sure. [seeing the birdcage] Has the bird flown?

MRS HALE: [putting more quilt pieces over the box] We think the — cat got it.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: [preoccupied] Is there a cat?

[MRS HALE glances in a quick covert way at MRS PETERS.] MRS PETERS: Well, not now. They’re superstitious, you know. They leave.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: [to SHERIFF PETERS, continuing an interrupted conversation] No sign at all of anyone having come from the outside. Their own rope. Now let’s go up again and go over it piece by piece. [they start upstairs] It would have to have been someone who knew just the — [MRS PETERS sits down. The two women sit there not looking at one another, but as if peering into something and at the same time holding back. When they talk now it is in the manner of feel - ing their way over strange ground, as if afraid of what they are saying, but as if they can not help saying it.] MRS HALE: She liked the bird. She was going to bury it in that pretty box.

MRS PETERS: [in a whisper] When I was a girl—my kitten—there was a boy took a hatchet, and before my eyes—and before I could get there — [covers her face an instant] If they hadn’t held me back I would have — [catches herself, looks upstairs where steps are heard, falters weakly] —hurt him.

MRS HALE: [with a slow look around her] I wonder how it would seem never to have had any children around, [pause] No, Wright wouldn’t like the bird—a thing that sang. She used to sing. He killed that, too.

MRS PETERS: [moving uneasily] We don’t know who killed the bird.

MRS HALE: I knew John Wright.

MRS PETERS: It was an awful thing was done in this house that night, Mrs Hale. Killing a man while he slept, slipping a rope around his neck that choked the life out of him.

MRS HALE: His neck. Choked the life out of him. [Her hand goes out and rests on the bird-cage.] Modern Dramas Chapter 14 MRS PETERS: [with rising voice] We don’t know who killed him. We don’t know .

MRS HALE: [her own feeling not interrupted] If there’d been years and years of nothing, then a bird to sing to you, it would be awful—still, after the bird was still.

MRS PETERS: [something within her speaking] I know what stillness is. When we homesteaded in Dakota, and my first baby died— after he was two years old, and me with no other then— MRS HALE: [moving] How soon do you suppose they’ll be through, looking for the evidence?

MRS PETERS: I know what stillness is. [pulling herself back] The law has got to punish crime, Mrs Hale.

MRS HALE: [not as if answering that] I wish you’d seen Minnie Foster when she wore a white dress with blue ribbons and stood up there in the choir and sang. [a look around the room] Oh, I wish I’d come over here once in a while! That was a crime!

That was a crime! Who’s going to punish that?

MRS PETERS: [looking upstairs] We mustn’t—take on.

MRS HALE: I might have known she needed help! I know how things can be —for women. I tell you, it’s queer, Mrs Peters. We live close together and we live far apart. We all go through the same things—it’s all just a different kind of the same thing, [brushes her eyes, noticing the bottle of fruit, reaches out for it] If I was you, I wouldn’t tell her her fruit was gone. Tell her it ain’t. Tell her it’s all right. Take this in to prove it to her. She — she may never know whether it was broke or not.

MRS PETERS: [takes the bottle, looks about for something to wrap it in; takes petticoat from the clothes brought from the other room, very nervously begins winding this around the bottle.

In a false voice] My, it’s a good thing the men couldn’t hear us. Wouldn’t they just laugh! Getting all stirred up over a little thing like a— dead canary. As if that could have anything to do with—with—wouldn’t they laugh!

[The men are heard coming down stairs.] MRS HALE: [under her breath] Maybe they would—maybe they wouldn’t.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: No, Peters, it’s all perfectly clear except a reason for doing it. But you know juries when it comes to women. If there was some definite thing. Something to show— something to make a story about—a thing that would connect up with this strange way of doing it— [The women’s eyes meet for an instant. Enter HALE from outer d o o r.] HALE: Well, I’ve got the team around. Pretty cold out there. Modern Dramas Chapter 14 COUNT Y AT TORNEY: I’m going to stay here a while by myself, [to the SHERIFF] You can send Frank out for me, can’t you? I want to go over everything. I’m not satisfied that we can’t do better.

SHERIFF: Do you want to see what Mrs Peters is going to take in?

[The LAW YER goes to the table, picks up the apron, laughs.] COUNT Y AT TORNEY: Oh, I guess they’re not very dangerous things the ladies have picked out. [Moves a few things about, disturbing the quilt pieces which cover the box. Steps back] No, Mrs Peters doesn’t need supervising. For that matter, a sheriff’s wife is married to the law. Ever think of it that way, Mrs Peters?

MRS PETERS: Not—just that way.

SHERIFF: [chuckling] Married to the law. [moves toward the other room] I just want you to come in here a minute, George. We ought to take a look at these windows.

COUNT Y AT TORNEY: [scof fingly] Oh, windows!

SHERIFF: We’ll be right out, Mr Hale.

[HALE goes outside. The SHERIFF follows the COUNT Y AT TORNEY into the other room. Then MRS HALE rises, hands tight together, looking intensely at MRS PETERS, whose eyes make a slow turn, finally meeting MRS HALE’s. A moment MRS HALE holds her, then her own eyes point the way to where the box is concealed.

Suddenly MRS PETERS throws back quilt pieces and tries to put the box in the bag she is wearing. It is too big. She opens box, starts to take bird out, cannot touch it, goes to pieces, stands there helpless. Sound of a knob turning in the other room. MRS HALE snatches the box and puts it in the pocket of her big coat. Enter COUNT Y AT TORNEY and SHERIFF.] COUNT Y AT TORNEY: [facetiously] Well, Henry, at least we found out that she was not going to quilt it. She was going to —what is it you call it, ladies?

MRS HALE: [her hand against her pocket] We call it—knot it, Mr Henderson.

[CURTAIN] This selection is in the public domain. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 RESPONSE AND REFLECTION QUESTIONS Connecting 1.

G ive examples of each stage of the plot: exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, resolu- tion. The first dramatic question is “will the characters discover the motive for the murder?” When is this question answered (crisis point)? What is the second dramatic question? When is this question answered (the final crisis, always referred to as the climax)?

2.

H ow does Glaspell develop and sustain a feeling of isolation?

3.

G ive at least three examples of verbal irony—when characters use words to convey a meaning that is different from their literal meaning.

Considering 4.

H ow are the dead bird and its cage used as symbols? Are there additional symbols?

5.

T he key motif in the play is the many references, direct and indirect, to “trifles.” Give examples of references to “trifles.” A motif serves to highlight the theme; state the theme. What insights are revealed by the “trifles” the women pay attention to?

6.

G ive examples of Glaspell’s commentary about the role of women. What staging and dramatic devices does Glaspell use to emphasize the importance of the men and the comparative unim- portance of the women?

Concluding 7.

A re Mrs. Peters and Mrs. Hale justified in their actions to protect Mrs. Wright? Do you think Glaspell considers “the pursuit of justice” a theme in this play? 14.3 Modern Comedies In these chapters on drama, we have focused on serious plays: classical Greek, Shakespearean, modern tragedies, and modern problem plays. We are going to wrap up this section, and this text, on a lighter note. Comedy is the sub-genre of drama designed to make us laugh.

Like tragedies, comedies typically contain the standard plot elements—exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution—but with much different results for the comedic protago - nist. The rising action is full of humorous problems and setbacks, including misunderstandings, missed opportunities, and ill-conceived schemes. The climax, instead of providing a grim answer to the dramatic question, provides a happy reversal for the hero or heroine. The falling action neatly ties up loose ends, and the resolution provides a happy ending—a wedding, a promotion, an elevation in social status.

Comedies fall into two basic types, high and low, although modern comedies often have elements of both. High co medy is more intellectual. The focus is on witty, smart dialogue and clever plot twists. Satire, the most typical form of high comedy, points out flaws and issues in society— hypocrisy, corruption, bigotry, or unfairness of some kind. A comedy of m anners is type of satire that makes fun of the pretentious behavior of the upper classes. Low co medy , on the other hand, usually avoids any underlying serious commentary and typi - cally involves physical elements like pratfalls (think of Kramer in Seinfeld [1989–1998]) and pie- in-the-face antics. Additionally, low comedy often replaces clever, intellectual dialogue with sexual innuendo and “bathroom humor.” Parody, a classic form of low comedy, makes fun of a particular genre—for example, the films in the Scary Movie series (2000–2013) parody the genre of horror films. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 In modern drama, most comedic sub-genres, even those mentioned above, embody elements of both high and low comedy. Farce, as we discussed earlier in this chapter, typically involves physical comedy and wildly exaggerated plot twists and characters—again, consider Seinfeld, which also includes high comedy’s clever dialogue. Tragicomedies appear to be headed for tragic endings, but instead resolve happily. Character c omedies focus on the protagonist as the source of laughter, whereas situation c omedies focus on the setting or plot as the comedic source. Romantic c omedy , a favorite style in modern film, introduces two characters who are often an unlikely match, follows them through a series of misunderstandings and near-romantic moments, and ultimately results in their happy union, usually including an engagement or wed - ding. Black co medy (also known as dark comedy) combines serious, often gruesome, plot ele - ments like murder or kidnapping with comedic ones. The Coen brothers are masters of black comedy with classics of the sub-genre like Fargo (1996) and The Big Lebowski (19 9 8).

We will close this chapter with two modern comedies, Oscar Wilde’s classic comedy of man - ners, The Importance of Being Earnest (1895), and Sharon E. Cooper’s Mistaken Identity (20 0 4, revised 2008), a short, modern, one-act play that focuses on the connection, or lack of connec - tion, between two people on a blind date.

The Importance of Being Earnest (1895) Oscar Wilde (1854 –1900) Wilde was born in Dublin, Ireland, where his father was a prominent doc- tor and his mother was an accomplished poet. Wilde was witty, exuberant, and an excellent student, fluent in French, German, Latin, and Greek. After completing his studies at Trinity College in Dublin, he attended Magdalen College at Oxford on a scholarship. He began his career as a poet, living in London and giving lectures in America. In 1884, he married Constance Lloyd, a wealthy Englishwoman. The couple had two sons. Wilde published one novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891), and is remembered primar- ily for his plays, especially An Ideal Husband and The Importance of Being Earnest, both written in 1895. Also that year, Wilde was sentenced to two years in prison for having a homosexual affair. After his release, he moved to Paris, penniless and emotionally and physically exhausted. He died there three years later, at age 46, of meningitis.

Wilde’s most famous play, The Importance of Being Earnest (1895), is a comedy of manners that satirizes the superficial values, behavior, and lifestyle of the aristocracy in Victorian England. The play is full of verbal irony, when words mean the opposite of their literal definition. Even the title falsely suggests that the play will offer insights about being earnest and sincere. On the contrary, the two main characters, Jack and Algernon, are neither earnest nor sincere, but rather spoiled and self- c entered. Both have gone to the extreme of inventing fictitious people who provide excuses for each to avoid any tedious family or social obligations. They simply “must” visit the ailing “Bunbury” or the irresponsible “Ernest” any time they want to escape responsibility and pursue their own rec- reational interests. Napoleon Sarony/ The Bridgeman Art Library/ Getty As you read The Importance of Being Earnest , consider and make notes on the following:

1. The meaning of “being earnest” and the verbal irony in Wilde’s use of the name “Ernest” 2. The theme—message or idea—that permeates the play 3. The role of the women: Lady Bracknell, Gwendolen, and Cecily Modern Comedies Chapter 14 4. The role of the non-aristocrats: the servants, the governess, and the reverend 5. Examples of verbal irony (there are many!) 6. Examples of the aristocratic characters’ attitudes toward the lower classes 7. Examples of the aristocratic characters’ moral character The Importance of Being Earnest A Trivial Comedy for Serious People Oscar Wilde (1895) THE PERSONS IN THE PLAY JOHN WORTHING , J . P.

ALGERNON MONCRIEFF REV. CANON CHASUBLE , D.D.

MERRIMAN , Butler LANE , Manservant LADY BRACKNELL HON. G W EN DOLEN FAIRFA X C E C I LY C A R D E W MISS PRISM , Governess THE SCENES OF THE PLAY ACT I. A lgernon Moncrieff’s Flat in Half-Moon Street, W.

ACT II. T he Garden at the Manor House, Woolton.

ACT III. D rawing-Room at the Manor House, Woolton.

TIME The Present.

FIRST AC T SCENE: Morning-room in Algernon’s flat in Half-Moon Street. The room is luxuriously and artistically furnished. The sound of a piano is heard in the adjoining room.

LANE is arranging afternoon tea on the table, and after the music has ceased, [ ALGERNON enters.] ALGERNON: Did you hear what I was playing, Lane?

L ANE: I didn’t think it polite to listen, sir.

ALGERNON: 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 concerned, sentiment is my forte. I keep science for Life.

L ANE: Ye s , s i r.

ALGERNON: And, speaking of the science of Life, have you got the cucumber sandwiches cut for Lady Bracknell?

L ANE: Ye s , s i r. [Hands them on a salver.] ALGERNON: [Inspects them, takes two, and sits down on the sofa.] Oh! . . . by the way, Lane, I see from your book that on Modern Comedies Chapter 14 Thursday night, when Lord Shoreman and Mr. Worthing were dining with me, eight bottles of champagne are entered as having been consumed.

L ANE: Yes, sir; eight bottles and a pint.

ALGERNON: Why is it that at a bachelor’s establishment the servants invariably drink the champagne? I ask merely for information.

L ANE: I attribute it to the superior quality of the wine, sir. I have often observed that in married households the champagne is rarely of a first-rate brand.

ALGERNON: Good heavens! Is marriage so demoralising as that?

L ANE: I believe it is a very pleasant state, sir. I have had very little experience of it myself up to the present. I have only been married once. That was in consequence of a misunderstanding between myself and a young person.

ALGERNON: [Languidly.] I don’t know that I am much interested in your family life, Lane.

L ANE: No, sir; it is not a very interesting subject. I never think of it myself.

ALGERNON: Very natural, I am sure. That will do, Lane, thank you.

L ANE: Thank you, sir. [ LANE goes out.] ALGERNON: 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 responsibility.

[Enter LANE .] L ANE: Mr. Ernest Worthing.

[Enter JACK .] [ LANE goes out.] ALGERNON: How are you, my dear Ernest? What brings you up to town?

JACK: Oh, pleasure, pleasure! What else should bring one anywhere? Eating as usual, I see, Algy!

ALGERNON: [Stiffly.] I believe it is customary in good society to take some slight refreshment at five o’clock. Where have you been since last Thursday?

JACK: [Sitting down on the sofa.] In the country.

ALGERNON: 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?

JACK: [Airily.] Oh, neighbours, neighbours. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 ALGERNON: Got nice neighbours in your part of Shropshire?

JACK: Perfectly horrid! Never speak to one of them.

ALGERNON: How immensely you must amuse them! [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 extravagance in one so young? Who is coming to tea?

ALGERNON : Oh! merely Aunt Augusta and Gwendolen.

JACK : How perfectly delightful!

ALGERNON : Yes, that is all very well; but I am afraid Aunt Augusta won’t quite approve of your being here.

JACK : May I ask why?

ALGERNON : 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? . . . I call that business.

JACK : How utterly unromantic you are!

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 essence of romance is uncertainty. If ever I get married, I’ll 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 puts out his hand to take a sandwich. ALGERNON at once interferes.] Please don’t touch the cucumber sandwiches. They are ordered specially for Aunt Augusta. [Takes one and eats it.] JACK : Well, you have been eating them all the time.

ALGERNON : That is quite a different matter. She is my aunt. [ Ta ke s plate from below.] Have some bread and butter. The bread and butter is for Gwendolen. Gwendolen is devoted to bread and butter.

JACK : [Advancing to table and helping himself.] And very good bread and butter it is too.

ALGERNON : 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 Modern Comedies Chapter 14 already. You are not married to her already, and I don’t think you ever will 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 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 my first cousin. And before I allow you to marry her, you will have to clear up the whole question of Cecily. [Rings bell.] JACK : Cecily! What on earth do you mean? What do you mean, Algy, by Cecily! I don’t know any one of the name of Cecily.

[Enter LANE .] ALGERNON : Bring me that cigarette case Mr. Worthing left in the smoking-room the last time he dined here.

LANE : Yes, sir. [ LANE goes out.] JACK : Do you mean to say you have had my cigarette case all this time? I wish to 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 wish you would offer one. I happen to be more than usually hard up.

JACK : There is no good offering a large reward now that the thing is found.

[Enter LANE with the cigarette case on a salver. ALGERNON takes it at once. LANE goes out.] ALGERNON : I think that is rather mean of you, Ernest, I must say.

[Opens case and examines 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.

JACK : Of course it’s mine. [Moving to him.] You have seen me with it a hundred times, and you have no right whatsoever to read what is written inside. It is a very ungentlemanly thing to read a private cigarette case.

ALGERNON : Oh! 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. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 ALGERNON: Yes; but this isn’t your cigarette case. This cigarette case is a present from some one of the name of Cecily, and you said you didn’t know any one of that name.

JACK : Well, if you want to know, Cecily happens to be my aunt.

ALGERNON : Your aunt!

JACK : Yes. Charming old lady she is, too. Lives at Tunbridge Wells.

Just give it back to me, Algy.

ALGERNON : [Retreating to back of sofa.] But why does she call herself little Cecily if she is your aunt and lives at Tunbridge We ll s? [Reading.] ‘From little Cecily with her fondest love.’ JACK : [Moving to sofa 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! That is absurd! For Heaven’s sake give me back my cigarette case. [Follows ALGERNON round the room.] ALGERNON : Yes. But why does your aunt call you her uncle? ‘From little Cecily, 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 Ernest. It’s on your cards. Here is one of them. [Taking it from case.] ‘ M r. Ernest Worthing, B. 4, The Albany.’ I’ll 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. [Puts 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.

ALGERNON : 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? Modern Comedies Chapter 14 ALGERNON: I’ll 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 explanation, and pray make it improbable. [Sits on sofa.] JACK : My dear fellow, there is nothing improbable about my explanation at all. In fact 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 that 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 separate occasions. Now, go on. Why are you Ernest in town and Jack in the country?

JACK : My dear Algy, I don’t know whether you 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 duty 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 modern literature a complete impossibility!

JACK : That wouldn’t be at all a bad thing.

ALGERNON : 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?

ALGERNON : 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 I choose. Bunbury is Modern Comedies Chapter 14 perfectly invaluable. If it wasn’t for Bunbury’s extraordinary bad health, for 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 either no woman at all, or two. In the third place, I know perfectly well whom she will place me next to, to-night. She will 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 scandalous. It looks so bad. It is simply washing one’s clean linen in public. Besides, now that I know you to be a confirmed 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 Gwendolen accepts me, I am going to kill my brother, indeed I think I’ll 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. . . . with your invalid friend 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 charming 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.

ALGERNON : Then your wife will. You don’t seem to realise, that in married life three is company and two is none.

JACK : [Sententiously.] That, my dear young friend, is the theory that the corrupt French Drama has been propounding for the last fifty years.

ALGERNON : Yes; and that the happy English home has proved in half the time.

JACK : For heaven’s sake, don’t try to be cynical. It’s perfectly easy to be cynical. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 ALGERNON: My dear fellow, it isn’t easy to be anything nowadays.

There’s such a lot of beastly competition about. [The sound of an electric bell is heard.] 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 to.

ALGERNON : Yes, but you must be serious about it. I hate people who are not serious about meals. It is so shallow of them.

[Enter LANE .] LANE : Lady Bracknell and Miss Fairfax.

[ ALGERNON goes forward to meet them. Enter LADY BRACKNELL and GWENDOLEN .] LADY BRACKNELL : Good afternoon, dear Algernon, I hope you are behaving very well.

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 coldness.] ALGERNON : [ To GWENDOLEN .] Dear me, you are smart!

GWENDOLEN : I am always smart! Am I not, Mr. Worthing?

JACK : You’re quite perfect, Miss Fairfax.

GWENDOLEN : 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 sit down 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 I’ll have a cup of tea, and one of those nice cucumber sandwiches you promised me.

ALGERNON : Certainly, Aunt Augusta. [Goes over to tea-table.] LADY BRACKNELL : Won’t you come and sit here, Gwendolen?

GWENDOLEN : Thanks, mamma, I’m quite comfortable where I am.

ALGERNON : [Picking up empty plate in horror.] Good heavens!

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!

LANE : No, sir. Not even for ready money.

ALGERNON : That will do, Lane, thank you. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 LANE: 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 pleasure 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.] 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.

ALGERNON : I am afraid, Aunt Augusta, I shall have to give up the pleasure of dining with you to-night after all.

LADY BRACKNELL : [Frowning.] I hope not, Algernon. It would put my table completely out. Your uncle would have to dine upstairs. Fortunately 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 friend Bunbury is very ill again. [Exchanges glances with 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.

LADY BRACKNELL : 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 invalids. 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 uncle, but he never seems to take much notice . . . as far as any improvement in his ailment 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.

ALGERNON : I’ll speak to Bunbury, Aunt Augusta, if he is still conscious, and I think I can promise you he’ll 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. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 LADY BRACKNELL: Thank you, Algernon. It is very thoughtful of you. [Rising, and following ALGERNON.] I’m sure 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.

GWENDOLEN : Certainly, mamma.

[ LADY BRACKNELL and ALGERNON go into the music-room, GWENDOLEN remains behind.] 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 . . .

GWENDOLEN : I would certainly advise you to do so. Mamma has a way of coming back suddenly into a room that I have often had to speak to her about.

JACK : [Nervously.] 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. There is something in that name that 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?

GWENDOLEN : But your name is Ernest. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 JACK: Yes, I know it is. But supposing it was something else? Do you mean to say you couldn’t love me then?

GWENDOLEN : [Glibly.] Ah! that is clearly a metaphysical speculation, and like most metaphysical speculations has very little reference at all to the actual facts of real life, as we know them.

JACK : Personally, darling, to speak quite candidly, 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 names. I think Jack, for instance, a 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 John! And I pity any woman who is married to a man called John. She would probably never be allowed to know the entrancing pleasure 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 : [Astounded.] Well . . . surely. You know that I love you, and you led me to believe, Miss Fairfax, 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 even been touched on.

JACK: Well . . . may I propose to you now?

GWENDOLEN : I think it would be an admirable opportunity. 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!

GWENDOLEN : Yes, Mr. Worthing, what have you got to say to me?

JACK : You know what I have got to say to you.

GWENDOLEN : Yes, but you don’t say it.

JACK : Gwendolen, will you marry me? [Goes on his knees.] GWENDOLEN : Of course I will, darling. How long you have been about it! I am afraid you have had very little experience in how to propose. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 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! They are quite, quite, blue. I hope you will always look at me just like that, especially when there are other people present. [Enter L A DY BRACKNELL .] LADY BRACKNELL : Mr. Worthing! Rise, sir, from this semi- recumbent posture. It is most indecorous.

GWENDOLEN : Mamma! [He tries to rise; she restrains him.] I must beg you to retire. This is no place for you. Besides, Mr.

Worthing has not quite finished yet.

LADY BRACKNELL : Finished what, may I ask?

GWENDOLEN : I am engaged to Mr. Worthing, mamma. [They rise together.] 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 fact.

An engagement should come on a young girl as a surprise, pleasant or unpleasant, 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. Worthing. While I am making these inquiries, you, Gwendolen, will wait for me below in the carriage.

GWENDOLEN : [Reproachfully.] Mamma!

LADY BRACKNELL : In the carriage, Gwendolen! [GWENDOLEN goes to the door. She and Jack blow kisses to each other behind Lady Bracknell’s back. LADY BRACKNELL looks vaguely about as if she could not understand what the noise was. Finally turns round.] Gwendolen, the carriage!

GWENDOLEN : Yes, mamma. [Goes out, looking back at Jack.] LADY BRACKNELL : [Sitting down.] You can take a seat, Mr.

Worthing.

[Looks in her pocket for note-book and pencil.] JACK : Thank you, Lady Bracknell, I prefer standing.

LADY BRACKNELL : [Pencil and note-book in hand.] I feel bound to tell you that you are not down 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. There are far too many idle men in London as it is. How old are you? Modern Comedies Chapter 14 JACK: Twenty-nine.

LADY BRACKNELL : 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?

JACK : [After some hesitation.] I know nothing, Lady Bracknell.

LADY BRACKNELL : I am pleased to hear it. I do not approve of anything that tampers with natural ignorance. Ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone.

The whole theory of modern 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 probably lead to acts of violence in Grosvenor Square. What is your income?

JACK : Between seven and eight thousand a year.

LADY BRACKNELL : [Makes a note in her book.] In land, or in investments?

JACK : In investments, chiefly.

LADY BRACKNELL : That is satisfactory. What between the duties expected of one during one’s lifetime, 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 up. That’s all that can be said about land.

JACK : I have a country house with some land, of course, attached to it, about fifteen hundred acres, I believe; but I don’t depend on that for my real income. In fact, as far as I can make out, the poachers are the only people who make anything out of it.

LADY BRACKNELL : A country house! How many bedrooms? 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 respectability of character. What number in Belgrave Square?

JACK : 149.

LADY BRACKNELL : [Shaking her head.] The unfashionable side. I thought there was something. However, that could easily be altered.

JACK : Do you mean the fashion, or the side?

LADY BRACKNELL : [Sternly.] Both, if necessary, I presume. What are your politics? Modern Comedies Chapter 14 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?

JACK : 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 father? He was evidently a man of some wealth.

Was he born 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!

JACK : The late Mr. Thomas Cardew, an old gentleman of a very charitable and kindly disposition, found me, and gave me the name of Worthing, because he happened to have a first-class 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 : [Gravely.] In a hand-bag.

LADY BRACKNELL : A hand-bag?

JACK : [Very seriously.] 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. It was given to him in mistake for his own.

LADY BRACKNELL : The cloak-room at Victoria Station?

JACK : Yes. The Brighton line.

LADY BRACKNELL : The line is immaterial. Mr. Worthing, I confess I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me.

To be born, 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 reminds 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. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 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 BRACKNELL : I would strongly advise you, Mr. Worthing, 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 the 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, and form an alliance with a parcel? Good morning, Mr. Worthing!

[ LADY BRACKNELL sweeps out in majestic indignation.] JACK : Good morning! [ ALGERNON, from the other room, strikes up the Wedding March. Jack looks perfectly furious, and goes to the door.] For goodness’ sake don’t play that ghastly tune, Algy. How idiotic you are!

[The music stops and ALGERNON enters cheerily.] ALGERNON : Didn’t it go off all right, old boy? You don’t mean to say Gwendolen refused you? 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 met such a Gorgon . . . I don’t really know what a Gorgon is like, but I 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!

ALGERNON : It isn’t!

JACK : Well, I won’t argue about the matter. You always want to argue about things.

ALGERNON : That is exactly what things were originally made for.

JACK : Upon my word, if I thought that, I’d shoot myself . . . [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? Modern Comedies Chapter 14 ALGERNON: All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That’s his.

JACK : Is that clever?

ALGERNON : It is perfectly phrased! and quite as true as any observation in civilised life should be.

JACK : I am sick to death of cleverness. Everybody is clever nowadays. You can’t go anywhere without meeting clever people. The thing has become an absolute public nuisance. I wish to goodness we had a few fools left.

ALGERNON : We have.

JACK : I should extremely like to meet them. What do they talk about?

ALGERNON : The fools? Oh! about the clever people, of course.

JACK : What fools!

ALGERNON : By the way, did you tell Gwendolen the truth about your being 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. What extraordinary ideas you have about the way to behave to a woman!

ALGERNON : 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. I’ll 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.

JACK : You are sure a severe chill isn’t hereditary, or anything of that kind?

ALGERNON : Of course it isn’t!

JACK : Very well, then. My poor brother Ernest carried is off suddenly, in Paris, by a severe chill. That gets rid of him.

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 on long walks, and pays no attention at all to her lessons.

ALGERNON : I would rather like to see Cecily. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 JACK: I will 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! one doesn’t blurt these things out to people. Cecily and Gwendolen are perfectly certain to be extremely great friends.

I’ll bet you anything you like that half an hour after they have met, they will be calling each other sister.

ALGERNON : 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?

JACK : [Irritably.] Oh! It always is nearly seven.

ALGERNON : Well, I’m hungry.

JACK : I never knew you when you weren’t . . .

ALGERNON : What shall we do after dinner? Go to a theatre?

JACK : Oh no! I loathe listening.

ALGERNON : Well, let us go to the Club?

JACK : Oh, no! I hate talking.

ALGERNON : Well, we might trot round to the Empire at ten?

JACK : Oh, no! I can’t bear looking at things. It is so silly.

ALGERNON : Well, what shall we do?

JACK : Nothing!

ALGERNON : It is awfully hard work doing nothing. However, I don’t mind hard work where there is no definite object of any kind.

[Enter LANE.] LANE : Miss Fairfax.

[Enter GWENDOLEN . LANE goes out.] ALGERNON : Gwendolen, upon my word!

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 this at all.

GWENDOLEN : Algy, you always adopt a strictly immoral attitude towards life. You are not quite old enough to do that.

[ ALGERNON retires to the fireplace.] JACK : My own darling!

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-fashioned respect for the young is fast dying out.

Whatever influence I ever had over mamma, I lost at the age Modern Comedies Chapter 14 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!

GWENDOLEN : The story of your romantic origin, as related to me by mamma, with unpleasing 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, Hertfordshire.

[ ALGERNON , who has been carefully listening, smiles to himself, and writes the address on 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!

GWENDOLEN : How long do you remain in town?

JACK : Till Monday.

GWENDOLEN : Good! 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 : [ To LANE , who now enters.] I will see Miss Fairfax out.

LANE : Yes, sir. [ JACK and GWENDOLEN go of f.] [ LANE presents several letters on a salver to ALGERNON. It is to be surmised that they are bills, as ALGERNON, after looking at the envelopes, tears them up.] ALGERNON : A glass of sherry, Lane.

LANE : Yes, sir.

ALGERNON : To-morrow, Lane, I’m going Bunburying.

LANE : Yes, sir.

ALGERNON : I shall probably not be back till Monday. You can put up my dress clothes, my smoking jacket, and all the Bunbury suits . . .

LANE : Yes, sir. [Handing sherry.] ALGERNON : I hope to-morrow will be a fine day, Lane.

LANE : It never is, sir. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 ALGERNON: Lane, you’re a perfect pessimist.

LANE : I do my best to give satisfaction, sir.

[Enter JACK . LANE goes off.] JACK : There’s a sensible, intellectual girl! the only girl I ever cared for in my life. [ALGERNON is laughing immoderately.] What on earth are you so amused at?

ALGERNON : Oh, I’m a little anxious about poor Bunbury, that is all.

JACK : If you don’t take care, your friend Bunbury will get you into a serious scrape some day.

ALGERNON : I love scrapes. They are the only things that are never serious.

JACK : Oh, that’s nonsense, Algy. You never talk anything but nonsense.

ALGERNON : Nobody ever does.

[ JACK looks indignantly at him, and leaves the room. ALGERNON lights a cigarette, reads his shirt-cuff, and smiles.] AC T DROP This selection is in the public domain. To read the full text of The Importance of Being Earnest , please see Appendix C in your ebook. RESPONSE AND REFLECTION QUESTIONS Connecting 1.

W hy is the title an example of verbal irony? Explain and give examples. Why does Wilde include “A Trivial Comedy for Serious People” under the title? What does this mean?

2.

E xplain Bunburying. What do Algernon’s Bunburying activities and Jack’s visits with “Ernest” reveal about these characters?

3.

W hat role do the servants, Lane and Merriman, play? Give examples.

Considering 4.

W hat is the theme, or main idea? Can you find a quotation that sums up the theme? What was Wilde’s opinion of the upper class in Victorian England?

5.

W hat qualities do the young ladies, Gwendolen and Cecily, look for in potential husbands? Also, describe their friendship with each other.

6.

W hat role does Lady Bracknell play? Also, describe her relationship with her husband.

7.

A nalyze an incident you consider particularly humorous. How does the language contribute to the humor—verbal irony, satire, something else?

Concluding 8.

H ow is the institution of marriage portrayed in the play? Give examples from statements by at least four characters: Lane, Lady Bracknell, Jack or Algernon, Gwendolen or Cecily.

9.

T he Importance of Being Earnest is still a very popular stage play more than a century after it was first published. Why do you think it maintains this level of recognition? Modern Comedies Chapter 14 Mistaken Identity Sharon E. Cooper (b. 1975) Sharon Cooper studied English, Theatre, and Secondary Education at Longwood University (BA), and attended the Gallatin School of Individualized Study at New York University (MA), where she studied play- writing, screenwriting, and arts and public policy. She also attended the Kennedy Center’s Playwriting Intensive program. Cooper has taught English and Creative Writing in public and private schools and is a tutor, writing coach and Teaching Artist. Cooper is a Resident Playwright at The CRY HAVOC Company. Her five full-length plays and dozens of short plays have won numerous awards and have been produced in America, India, England, Hungary, and Germany. © Ginny Zapar Cohen Mistaken Identity A Ten Minute Play Sharon E. Cooper (2004, revised 2008) CHARACTERS K A L I PAT E L , 29, F. S ingle lesbian Hindu, Indian heritage, social worker who works as much as possible; lives in Leicester, England STEVE DODD , 32, M. S ingle straight guy, desperate to marry, raised Baptist but only attends church on Christmas and Easter; studying abroad for his final year SETTING The Castle, a Pub in Kirby Muxlowe in Leicester, England TIME The present L ights up on STEVE and KALI in a busy pub on their first date. They are in the middle of dinner.

STEVE: You must get tired of fish and chips all the time. Why do y’all call them “chips”? When they’re french fries, I mean. And do you ever notice when people swear, they say—“Excuse my French.” Not me. Nope. I have nothing against the French.

KALI: Right, well, I’m not French, Steve, now am I?

STEVE: I just didn’t want you to think I was prejudiced against the French or anyone else . . . . They’re like your neighbors.

The French. And your neighbors are like my neighbors. And like a good neighbor, State Farm is there. Have you heard that commercial?

KALI: What? No. Steve — STEVE: It’s for insurance. Y’all must not play it here. [pause] So, I know that you all do the “arranged marriage thing.” Raj and I had a long talk about it. Of course, Raj and I wanted you to approve, too, Kali. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 KALI: How twenty-first century of you and my brother. Steve — KALI / STEVE: I’m gay. / Will you marry me?

KALI / STEVE: Come again? / What?

KALI / STEVE: How could you ask me to — / Well, I can’t believe this.

KALI / STEVE: Bloody hell, stop talking while I’m talking . . . / This is very strange.

K ALI: So — what?

STEVE: This new information is, well, new, and changes things, I guess.

KALI: You guess? What the hell is wrong with you? I’m sorry, Steve, you just happened to show up at the end of a very long line of a lot of very bad dates. You know, movies where the bloke negotiates holding your hand while you’re just trying to eat popcorn, running across De Montfort University in the pouring rain, dropping a bowling ball on the bloke’s pizza.

STEVE: You had me until the bowling ball. Kali, this doesn’t make sense. I invite you out on a lovely date. We eat fish and chips— when I would rather be eating a burger or lasagna— KALI: Steve, I’m sorry— STEVE: I figured we would have a nice, long traditional wedding with the colorful tents; all of my family would be there —we’re more of the Christmas/Easter Christians, so we’d do your religion and I would wear— KALI [overlapping] : You don’t know anything about my people.

What are you— STEVE [overlapping] : Ooohhh—yes I do. I rented Monsoon Wedding . And watched the director’s cut! And, I saw Slum Dog Millionaire like three times. Three times. Unbelievable!

KALI: Yes, this makes loads of sense at the end of the day. I am a lesbian who has to date every Hindu bloke in England until her brother gets so desperate that he sets her up with a Cowboy— STEVE: I take offence to that.

KALI [overlapping] : But I should feel sorry for you because you watched two, count them, two movies about Indian people in your entire life and ordered fish when there are hamburgers on the menu! Forgive me for being so insensitive.

STEVE: I ordered fish because I wanted you to like me. And I’m sure I’ve seen other Asian movies. . . . Like all those fighting movies.

You know, the ones where women are jumping through the air— KALI: Aaahhh! Do you see how all of this is a moot point now?

STEVE: I’m confused. Let’s review.

KALI: Please, no, bloody hell, let’s not review. Let’s get the waiter. Haven’t you had enough? Modern Comedies Chapter 14 [She gets up. He follows.] STEVE [overlapping]: Why is your brother setting up his lesbian sister— KALI [overlapping] : Will you please keep your voice down?

STEVE [overlapping] : —up on dates for marriage and tricking well- meaning men, specifically, me, into proposing to her? I’m here to finish my business degree, but I wasn’t born yesterday. So I took a few years off and changed careers a few times, was a fireman— KALI [overlapping] : What does that have to do with anything?

STEVE: And I’m thirty-two years old, but that doesn’t mean— KALI: Mate, are you going to keep on and on?

STEVE: Why did your brother put me through this? This isn’t one of those new reality shows— “Big Brothers Set up Their Lesbian Sisters.” Is there a camera under the table? [He looks.] Let ’s talk about this. [He sits back down.] I’m a good listener. Go ahead. [pause] I’m listening. [pause] You have to say something if you want this to continue as, what we call in America, a conversation.

KALI: Are you done?

STEVE: Go ahead.

[She sits.] KALI: I guess I was hoping you wouldn’t tell Raj.

STEVE: He doesn’t know?

KALI: You are finishing your bachelor’s degree, is that right?

STEVE: If you’re so “bloody” smart, I’m wondering why you would tell me, a man that is friends with your brother and sits next to him twice a week in eight am classes—why would you tell me you’re a lesbian and not your brother.

KALI: Maybe for the same reason you would ask a woman you’ve never met before to marry you.

STEVE: Your brother made it sound like it would be easy. I’ve been looking for that.

KALI [overlapping] : Look, you seem very nice, you do.

STEVE: I am very nice.

KALI: And at the end of the day, I hope you find someone you like.

STEVE: I like how you say “at the end of the day” and I like how you say “bloke” and “mate.” It’s so endearing. And you’re beautiful and small and your hair falls on your back so — KALI: Steve, being a lesbian is not negotiable. And don’t start with how sexy it would be to be with me or to watch me and another woman— Modern Comedies Chapter 14 STEVE [overlapping]: Kali, I didn’t say any of that.

KALI: You didn’t have to. Up until a few minutes ago, you thought I was a quiet, subservient Asian toy for sale from her brother.

Steve, go get a doll. She can travel with you to America whenever you want. In the meantime, I’ll continue to be a loud, abrasive [whispering] lesbian, while my brother sets me up with every bloke on the street—and KALI [cont.] : they don’t even have to be Hindu anymore! Do you have any idea what that’s like? [pause] How would you know?

STEVE: You’re right. I wouldn’t.

KALI: Steve, why did you want to be with me? I mean, before.

STEVE: I figured that we would have visited my family in the winter when it’s so cold here. I would have been willing to stay here when I’m done with school and we would get a nice little place by the — KALI: Steve, we hadn’t even shared dessert yet.

STEVE: Don’t blame me for all of this. Five minutes ago, we were on a date.

KALI: We’re just two people in a pub.

STEVE: Kali— do you remember the last time someone —man, woman, I don’t care —had their hand down the small of your back or leaned into you like it didn’t matter where you ended and they began?

KALI: Yes, I do remember that. And that was strangely poetic.

STEVE: You don’t have to sound so surprised. Anyway, I remember that feeling. Three years ago, at a fourth of July celebration— you know, that’s the holiday— KALI: Yes, Steve, I know the holiday.

STEVE: She was the only woman I ever really loved. I knew it was ending. Could taste it. I just held her as the fireworks went off and the dust got in our skin. Figured I would hold on, hoping that would keep me for a while . . . . You know how they say babies will die if they’re left alone too long. Always wondered if it’s true for bigger people, too. Like how STEVE [cont.] : long would we last? . . . She left with her pilates mat and snoopy slippers a few days later. I bet it hasn’t been three years for you.

KALI: No, it hasn’t. But you wouldn’t want to hear about that.

STEVE: Why not?

KALI: Come on, Steve, I’m not here for your fantasies— STEVE: This thing where you assume you know what I’m thinking—it’s getting old.

KALI: I’m . . . sorry. I do have a woman in my life, Michele —she’s a teacher for people that are deaf. We’ve been together for Modern Comedies Chapter 14 nine months. The longest we were away from each other was this one time for three weeks. She was at a retreat where they weren’t allowed to talk, you know, total immersion. So she would call and I would say, “Is it beautiful there, love?” and she would hit a couple of buttons. Sometimes she would leave me messages, “beep, beep, beep beep beep beep.” It didn’t matter that she didn’t say anything. . . But I can’t take her home for Diwali.

STEVE: What’s that?

KALI: It’s a festival of lights where — STEVE: You mean like Hanukkah.

KALI: No, like Diwali. It’s a New Year’s celebration where we remember ancestors, family and friends. And reflect back and look to the future.

STEVE: It sounds nice. You know, my mother has been asking me for grandchildren since I turned twenty-seven— every year, at Christmas, it’s the same —“I can’t wait to hang another stocking for my grandchildren, if I ever get to have them.” KALI: Now imagine that same conversation, well, not about Christmas, and what if you could never give that to them— could never bring someone home for any holiday for the rest of your life?

STEVE: Then why don’t you just tell them the truth?

KALI: I can’t say, Mum, Dad, Raj, I’ve chosen women over men—it’s not a hamburger over fish. You just don’t know how they’ll react. I’d run the risk of not being allowed to see my nieces. I’m so exhausted from hiding, I can barely breathe.

STEVE: So stop hiding.

KALI: Have you been listening to what I’ve been saying?

STEVE: Have you?

KALI: Are you going to tell my brother?

STEVE: Do you want me to?

KALI: I don’t know.

STEVE: I’ve never thought about that thing that you said.

KALI: Which thing would that be?

STEVE: The one where maybe you can’t see your nieces ‘cause you’re gay. That must suck.

KALI: Yes, well, thanks for trying to make me feel better.

STEVE: Listen. You get to decide what you tell your family and when. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll tell Raj tomorrow that we’re getting married. Or I can tell him you’re a lesbian, and if he doesn’t let you be with his kids anymore, I’ll punch him in the face. That was me kidding. Modern Comedies Chapter 14 KALI: You’re funny. [pause] Maybe I told you because somewhere deep down, I do want him to know. But I don’t know if I can take the risk.

STEVE: You don’t have to rush.

KALI: I just wish it could be more simple. Like why can’t what I want be part of the whole picket fence thing? That’s pretty ridiculous, huh?

STEVE: We’re all looking for that. My grandparents met before World War II, dated for seven days in a row and my grandfather asked my grandmother to go with him to Louisiana, where he’d be stationed. She said, “Is that a proposal?” And he said “Of course, it is.” And they’ve been together ever since. And I just want that, too. Huh—asking you to marry me on a first date!

You must think I’m pretty desperate, huh?

KALI: Not any more than the rest of us. . . . Oh, hell, do you want to have some dessert?

STEVE: Oh, hell, sure. You know, we’re going to share dessert.

KALI: Hey mate, no one said anything about sharing.

STEVE: I would go home with you for Diwali. I mean, as friends. If you ever wanted one around. You’re a nice girl, Kali. I mean, woman, mate, bloke, I mean— KALI: Sssshhhh. Let’s just get some dessert.

[Lights fade as they motion for the waiter.] [Blackout.] End Play.

Copyright 2009, 2014. All rights reserved. The playwright has written a \ full-length romantic comedy screen - play inspired by “Kali” in Mistaken Identity. For more information on this screenplay or for permission to produce the ten-minute play Mistaken Identity or any of Sharon Cooper’s plays, please contact the author by email: [email protected] or through her website: http://www.sharonecooper.com. Key Terms and Concepts Chapter 14 RESPONSE AND REFLECTION QUESTIONS As we consider this play, some of the analysis and answers are provided as a guide.

1.

Theme. Discover themes by brainstorming—write down any and all words that come to mind when you think of meanings in the play. For this play, your list may look like this: making a con- nection, finding love, seeking meaning, changing society, acceptance, understanding, longing for the past and simpler times. Out of these words, several themes arise:

a. T he challenges of making a connection (not necessarily romantic) with another person b. T he ongoing struggle for acceptance by gays and lesbians c. T he longing for a simpler time F or each theme above, write a paragraph explaining the theme. Support your explanations with specific examples from the text of the play.

2.

Plot. Trace the elements of plot below. Pay attention to the key hint—the dramatic question that will be answered at the turning point.

a. E xposition:

b. R ising Action:

c. C risis, or Turning Point: Answers the dramatic question: Will these two people make a (not necessarily romantic) connection? In other words, will they understand each other? At what point in the conversation is this question answered?

d. F alling Action:

e. Re solution:

3.

C haracters. Think about how we learn about Steve and Kali through the dialogue. Choose three revealing lines or passages from each. What does each reveal about the character? How does each move the plot forward or highlight the themes?

4.

Setting. The physical setting is a pub in England, but Steve is from America and Kali is from India. The real setting is the modern world. Why is this setting important in this play?

5.

Symbols. Steve and Kali are having dinner in a pub. Look for food as symbols. Describe the sym- bolism of the foods mentioned.

6.

Y ou as director: You have been asked to direct a production of Mistaken Identity . Consider today’s actors and actresses. Whom would you choose to play Steve and Kali? What would they wear? What would the set look like? The lighting? Anything else? Now, consider your answers.

Why did you make these choices? Summary In this chapter, we have studied the modern dramatic genre. Originally developed by Henrik Ibsen and Anton Chekhov in the late 19th century as part of the literary realism movement, modern drama focuses on the lives of “regular” people in realistic situations. We’ve explored the aspects and elements of modern drama through a variety of plays, including two dramas— Riders to the Sea (1902) and Tr i fl e s (1916)—and two comedies— The Importance of Being Earnest (189 5) and Mistaken Identity (20 0 4).

Key Terms and Concepts black comedy Also known as dark comedy, a sub-genre of comedy that combines serious, often gruesome, plot elements such as murder or kidnapping with comedic ones. character comedy A comedy that focuses on the humorous qualities and actions of the protagonist. Key Terms and Concepts Chapter 14 comedy of manners A type of satire that makes fun of the pretentious behavior of the upper classes. farce A play that typically involves physical comedy and wildly exaggerated plot twists and characters. high comedy Intellectual comedy with a focus on witty, smart dialogue and clever plot twists. low comedy Comedy that usually avoids any underlying serious commentary and typi - cally involves physical elements such as pratfalls and pie-in-the-face antics; low comedy often employs sexual innuendo and “bathroom humor.” melodrama Purports to be a serious form of drama, although the plot is predictable, the char - acters are stereotypical, and the ending is nearly always happy. modern drama The style of drama developed in the late 19th century based on literary realism. naturalism A type of realism in which fragile humans battle for survival in an unfeeling natu - ral world. parody A classic form of low comedy; parody makes fun of a particular genre—for example, the five films in the Scary Movie series (2000–2013) parody the genre of horror films. problem pl ay A play that presents characters struggling with social, cultural, personal, or psychological issues. realism A literary movement of the late 19th century that focused on the choices and psycho - logical make-up of “regular” people in everyday situations. romantic comedy A comedy that introduces two characters who are often an unlikely match, follows them through a series of misunderstandings and near-romantic moments, and ulti - mately results in their happy union, usually including an engagement or wedding. satire The most typical form of high comedy; in a humorous way, satire points out flaws in society—hypocrisy, corruption, bigotry, or unfairness of some kind. situation co medy A comedy that focuses on the humorous aspects of the setting or plot. stagecraft The term for designing sets, including scenery, props, lighting, and sound. tragicomedy Plays that appear to be headed for tragic endings, but instead resolve happily.