Podcast 315 - The Importance of Being Earnest (extract 2)

 
1) Far too many / much / few etc.

2) In any case

3) Demand (verb)

4) No guarantee that

5) Relevant

6) As for...

Gwendolen, the daughter of Lord and Lady Bracknell, has accepted an offer of marriage from Earnest. However, Lady Bracknell insists on interviewing Earnest to decide if he would make a suitable husband for her daughter…

LADY BRACKNELL. [Sitting down.] You can be seated, Mr. Worthing. [Looks in her pocket for a note-book and pencil.]

EARNEST. 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 desirable young men, although I have the same list as the dear Duchess of Bolton has. We work together, in actual fact. However, I am quite ready to enter your name, should your answers be what a really caring mother demands . Do you smoke?

EARNEST. Well, yes, I must admit I smoke.

LADY BRACKNELL. I am glad to hear it. A man should always have an activity of some kind. There are far too many lazy men in London as it is. How old are you?

EARNEST. Twenty-nine.

LADY BRACKNELL. A very good age to be married at. I have always had the feeling that a man who has a desire to get married should know either everything or nothing. Which do you know?

EARNEST. [After hesitating a bit.] I know nothing, Lady Bracknell.

LADY BRACKNELL. I am pleased to hear it. I do not approve of anything that interferes with a natural lack of knowledge. Knowledge is like a delicate, exotic fruit; touch it and its beauty disappears. The whole theory of modern education is entirely wrong. It is fortunate that in England, in any case , education has no impact at all. If it did, it would be a serious danger to the rich classes, and probably lead to acts of violence in Grosvenor Square. What is your income ?

EARNEST. Between seven and eight thousand a year.

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

EARNEST. In investments, largely .

LADY BRACKNELL. That is satisfactory . Between the taxes expected of a person during their lifetime, and the taxes demanded from them after death, land has ceased to be either a profit or a pleasure.

EARNEST. 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 actual fact, as far as I can make out, illegal hunters are the only people who make a profit 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, innocent character, like Gwendolen, could hardly be expected to live in the country.

EARNEST. Well, I own a house in Belgrave Square, but it is rented 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.

EARNEST. Oh, she goes out very little. She is a lady who is probably in her eighties.

LADY BRACKNELL. Ah, nowadays that is no guarantee of being a decent character. What number in Belgrave Square?

EARNEST. 149.

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

EARNEST. Do you mean the fashion, or the side?

LADY BRACKNELL. [ Firmly .] Both, if necessary. What are your politics?

EARNEST. Well, I am afraid I really have none. I am a Liberal Unionist.

LADY BRACKNELL. Oh, they are seen as Tories. They have dinner with us occasionally . Or come in the evening, in any case. Now to less important matters. Are your parents living?

EARNEST. I have lost both my parents.

LADY BRACKNELL. To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may be considered an unfortunate event; to lose both looks like carelessness . Who was your father? He was evidently a man who had a large fortune. Was he born into a successful family of commerce, or did he rise from the upper class?

EARNEST. I am afraid I really don’t know. In actual fact , 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!

EARNEST. The dead Mr Thomas Cardew, an old gentleman of great kindness , found me, and gave me the name of Worthing, because he happened to have a first-class train ticket for Worthing in his pocket at the time. Worthing is a place in Sussex. It is a coastal town.

LADY BRACKNELL. Where did the gentleman of great kindness who had a first-class train ticket for this coastal town find you?

EARNEST. [Calmly.] In a handbag.

LADY BRACKNELL. A handbag?

EARNEST. [Very seriously.] Yes, Lady Bracknell. I was in a handbag—quite a large, black leather handbag, with handles to it—an ordinary handbag, in actual fact.

LADY BRACKNELL. In what area did this Mr. Thomas Cardew come across this ordinary handbag?

EARNEST. In the toilets at Victoria Station. It was given to him by mistake instead of his own.

LADY BRACKNELL. The toilets at Victoria Station?

EARNEST. Yes. The Brighton train line.

LADY BRACKNELL. The train line is not relevant , Mr. Worthing, I confess I feel very confused by what you have just told me. To be born, or in any case brought up, in a handbag, whether it had handles or not, seems to me to show a complete lack of respect for the normal, decent rules of family life, and that reminds one of the worst actions of the French Revolution. And I assume you know what that unfortunate movement led to? As for the particular place in which the handbag was found, the toilets at a railway station might be used to hide a social mistake—and has probably, in actual fact, been used for that purpose before now—and it could hardly be considered a basis for a good position in society.

EARNEST. 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 relatives as soon as possible, and to make a definite effort to produce, in any case, one parent, of either gender, before the season is quite over.

EARNEST. Well, I don’t see how I could possibly manage to do that. I can produce the handbag whenever you wish. 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 greatest care—to marry into a toilet, and have connections with a handbag? Good morning, Mr. Worthing! [Lady Bracknell leaves the room in great anger.]

 

 

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