Fanny’s First Play

service of your country as disgraceful. It is gentlemanly to marry the lady you make love to. Gilbey Aghast. My boy is to marry this woman and be a social outcast! Juggins Your boy and Miss Delaney will be inexorably condemned by respectable society to spend the rest of their days in precisely the sort of company they seem to like best and be most at home in. Knox And my daughter? Whos to marry my daughter? Juggins Your daughter, sir, will probably marry whoever she makes up her mind to marry. She is a lady of very determined character. Knox Yes: if he’d have her with her character gone. But who would? You’re the brother of a duke. Would⁠— Bobby What’s that? Margaret Juggins a duke? Duvallet Comment! Dora What did I tell you? Knox Yes: the brother of a duke: that’s what he is. To Juggins. Well, would you marry her? Juggins I was about to propose that solution of your problem, Mr. Knox. Mrs. Gilbey Well I never! Knox D’ye mean it? Mrs. Knox Marry Margaret! Juggins Continuing. As an idle younger son, unable to support myself, or even to remain in the Guards in competition with the grandsons of American millionaires, I could not have aspired to Miss Knox’s hand. But as a sober, honest, and industrious domestic servant, who has, I trust, given satisfaction to his employer he bows to Mr. Gilbey I feel I am a man with a character. It is for Miss Knox to decide. Margaret I got into a frightful row once for admiring you, Rudolph. Juggins I should have got into an equally frightful row myself, Miss, had I betrayed my admiration for you. I looked forward to those weekly dinners. Mrs. Knox But why did a gentleman like you stoop to be a footman? Dora He stooped to conquer. Margaret Shut up, Dora: I want to hear. Juggins I will explain; but only Mrs. Knox will understand. I once insulted a servant⁠—rashly; for he was a sincere Christian. He rebuked me for trifling with a girl of his own class. I told him to remember what he was, and to whom he was speaking. He said God would remember. I discharged him on the spot. Gilbey Very properly. Knox What right had he to mention such a thing to you? Mrs. Gilbey What are servants coming to? Mrs. Knox Did it come true, what he said? Juggins It stuck like a poisoned arrow. It rankled for months. Then I gave in. I apprenticed myself to an old butler of ours who kept a hotel. He taught me my present business, and got me a place as footman with Mr. Gilbey. If ever I meet that man again I shall be able to look him in the face. Mrs. Knox Margaret: it’s not on account of the duke: dukes are vanities. But take my advice and take him. Margaret Slipping her arm through his. I have loved Juggins since the first day I beheld him. I felt instinctively he had been in the Guards. May he walk out with me, Mr. Gilbey? Knox Don’t be vulgar, girl. Remember your new position. To Juggins. I suppose you’re serious about this, Mr.⁠—Mr. Rudolph? Juggins I propose, with your permission, to begin keeping company this afternoon, if Mrs. Gilbey can spare me. Gilbey In a gust of envy, to Bobby. It’ll be long enough before you’ll marry the sister of a duke, you young good-for-nothing. Dora Don’t fret, old dear. Rudolph will teach me high-class manners. I call it quite a happy ending: don’t you, lieutenant? Duvallet In France it would be impossible. But here⁠—ah! Kissing his hand. la belle Angleterre!

Epilogue

Before the curtain. The Count, dazed and agitated, hurries to the 4 critics, as they rise, bored and weary, from their seats.

The Count	Gentlemen: do not speak to me. I implore you to withhold your opinion. I am not strong enough to bear it. I could never have believed it. Is this a play? Is this in any sense of the word, Art? Is it agreeable? Can it conceivably do good to any human being? Is it delicate? Do such people really exist? Excuse me, gentlemen: I speak from a wounded heart. There are private reasons for my discomposure. This play implies obscure, unjust, unkind reproaches and menaces to all of us who are parents.
Trotter	Pooh! you take it too seriously. After all, the thing has amusing passages. Dismiss the rest as impertinence.
The Count	Mr. Trotter: it is easy for you to play the pococurantist. Trotter, amazed, repeats the first three syllables in his throat, making a noise like a pheasant. You see hundreds of plays every year. But to me, who have never seen anything of this kind before, the effect of this play is terribly disquieting. Sir: if it had been what people call an immoral play, I shouldn’t have minded a bit. Vaughan is shocked. Love beautifies every romance and justifies every audacity. Bannal assents gravely. But there are reticences which everybody should respect. There are decencies too subtle to be put into words, without which human society would be unbearable. People could not talk to one another as those people talk. No child could speak to its parent⁠—no girl could speak to a youth⁠—no human creature could tear down the veils⁠—Appealing to Vaughan, who is on his left flank, with Gunn between them. Could they, sir?
Vaughan	Well, I don’t see that.
The Count	You don’t see it! don’t feel it! To Gunn. Sir: I appeal to you.
Gunn	With studied weariness. It seems to me the most ordinary sort of old-fashioned Ibsenite drivel.
The Count	Turning to Trotter, who is on his right, between him and Bannal. Mr. Trotter: will you tell me that you are not amazed, outraged, revolted, wounded in your deepest and holiest feelings by every word of this play, every tone, every implication;