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by Laura Lai/Review
John Worthing learned the ‘vital
importance of being Earnest’ when wanting to marry Lady Bracknell’s daughter,
Gwendolen, who at its turn could not love any other man, but the one called
‘Earnest’.
John
invented a younger brother living in London, Earnest, so that once in a while
to be able to leave for a good reason the countryside and his ward Cecily. John’s
friend in London, Algernon Moncrieff, invented a sick friend living in the
countryside, Bunbury, so that once in a while to be able to leave London for a
good reason and go to the countryside. When Algernon meets Cecily and wants to
propose to her, he discovers that she could not love any other man, but the one
called ‘Earnest’. The double meaning is so well chosen that it makes the text
funny and with a double meaning itself: While both Gwendolen and Cecily are so
emotional that they cannot think of marrying any other man, but the one who is ‘earnest’,
both John and Algernon are so pragmatic that think of rechristening themselves
with the name ‘Earnest’, just for each of them to marry the woman they like.
Oscar Wilde
(1854-1900) is known for his satire of the high society, in general. The satire
usually does not require particular metaphors and artistic epithets, but direct
lines mostly said upfront. Although some ‘inexperienced’ or too sensitive
people may associate a satirist with a mean and rude person, it is just a very
good observer of what or of whom it satirizes. And Oscar Wilde was an
extraordinary fine observer! He expressed his observations of the mentality and
of the habits of the high society vividly. The irony in the satire ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’ is sweet and funny, and to me even harmless,
although a ‘Society’ like the London one gathered many people. Some may have
taken the satire personal, because the sense of humor one has it or doesn’t
have it, regardless of whether or not it is member in a ‘Society’. If I were a member of those times ‘London
Society’ and somebody as talented as Oscar Wilde would have satirized my habits
that he perceived as an outsider, I would have felt honored, most definitely
would have begged to have the play dedicated to me and I would have sat in the
first raw to have a good laugh about myself!
I
live in the 21st century and look backwards at this 19th
century play that passed the test of time. I think Oscar Wilde accomplished the
perfect artistic mirror, which reflects the society of his time. I consider his
irony as completely harmless, because it only invites us to have a good laugh;
I do not think he intended to change anything with his ironies, but through his
art to position himself outside this mentality, which has always been a matter
of free will and free choice.
Oscar Wilde is known for some
extraordinary remarks. And one of them refers to women: He said that all women
become like their mothers. I trust his sharp intelligence and his even sharper
spirit of observation: Looking at my mother, I am glad to know that I will be
such a good looking and kind woman!
In
the ‘Importance of Being Earnest’, Lady Bracknell wants to marry his daughter,
Gwendolen and John Worthing is not on her list of eligible men. The
conversation depicts what people thought to be relevant in terms of marriage:
occupation (in the 21st century high society that would ‘career’),
age, education (now and then equally irrelevant), income per year, to have a
house in the city and in the countryside (in the 21st century a
holidays house in an exotic place is also required), to be fashionable, name
and social rank of the parents. In three centuries since the first publication
of ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’ almost nothing changed. What people were
asking upfront, they are now thinking, because marriage has been for most … a financial
business or a political alliance. Here is a dialogue between Lady Brackwell and
John, in order to have an idea about how Gwendolen may turn to be:
‘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?
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. (…) 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?
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. 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!’ (‘The Importance of Being Earnest’ – Act 1, Scene 1)
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