THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST
BY
OSCAR WILDE
ABOUT WILDE
Oscar Wilde, born in 1854, in Dublin, Ireland, was an illustrious author, playwright, and poet, renowned for his brilliant wit, flamboyant style, and scathing criticism of Victorian society. His early life was marked by academic excellence; he attended Trinity College, Dublin, and later Oxford University, where he excelled in classics.
In London, Wilde made a name for himself as a writer in the early 1880s. His distinctive fusion of satire and irony was evident in the many writings and chats he penned. His lone book, "The Picture of Dorian Gray" (1890), generated controversy due to its examination of morality and hedonism. But it was his plays—like "The Importance of Being Earnest" (1895) and "Lady Windermere's Fan" (1892)—that cemented his reputation because of their wit and social commentary.
Despite his professional success, Wilde's personal life was fraught with controversy. His relationship with Lord Alfred Douglas led to his arrest for "gross indecency" in 1895. Wilde's trial and subsequent imprisonment were a public scandal, and he was sentenced to two years of hard labor. This experience profoundly impacted his health and spirit.
Wilde stayed in France after being freed in 1897 and went under the pseudonym "Sebastian Melmoth," which was a nod to the Gothic book by Charles Maturin. In "The Ballad of Reading Gaol," he reflects on the terrible reality of life behind bars at this period. Sadly, his health worsened further, and on November 30, 1900, in Paris, he tragically died at the age of 46.
Wilde's legacy endures as a symbol of the perils of societal judgment and the endurance of art in the face of adversity. His works, celebrated for their wit and poignancy, continue to be widely read and adapted, underscoring his lasting influence on literature and culture.
SUMMARY
This book is a sparkling comedy of manners that satirizes the customs and attitudes of the Victorian upper class. The play, teeming with Wilde’s signature wit and clever dialogue, revolves around two young gentlemen, Jack Worthing and Algernon Moncrieff, who use fictitious identities to escape the burdens of their social obligations.
Jack, who goes by the name "Ernest" in London, falls in love with Gwendolen Fairfax, who is smitten with him largely because she loves the name Ernest. Meanwhile, Algernon, intrigued by Jack's description of his young and beautiful ward Cecily, decides to visit Jack’s country estate, posing as the mysterious Ernest.
The plot thickens with a series of comical misunderstandings and revelations. The women are both engaged to a man named Ernest, leading to hilarious confrontations. The arrival of the formidable Lady Bracknell, Gwendolen's mother, adds to the chaos with her absurdly stringent standards for marriage.
The climax reveals the true identities and origins of the characters, resolving the conflicts in an unexpected yet satisfying conclusion. Themes of identity, social hypocrisy, and the triviality of norms are explored with a light-hearted yet incisive tone. Wilde’s masterful use of irony and farce makes "The Importance of Being Earnest" a timeless classic, offering a delightful and scathing critique of Victorian society.
CHARACTERS LIST
This book is features a cast of vibrant and memorable characters. Here's a list of the main characters in the play:
Jack Worthing (Ernest): The play's protagonist, Jack is a young gentleman who leads a double life. In the country, he is known as Jack, but in the city, he assumes the identity of his fictional brother, Ernest, to escape social obligations and enjoy a more carefree existence.
Algernon Moncrieff: Jack's friend and a charming, witty bachelor. Algernon also leads a double life by inventing an invalid friend named Bunbury, whom he uses as an excuse to escape social engagements.
Gwendolen Fairfax: Algernon's cousin and Lady Bracknell's daughter. She is sophisticated, elegant, and deeply in love with Jack, whom she knows as Ernest.
Cecily Cardew: Jack's ward, a young, romantic, and imaginative girl living in the countryside. She becomes enamored with the idea of Jack's brother Ernest, who in reality is Algernon.
Lady Bracknell: Gwendolen's mother, a formidable, aristocratic woman who embodies the Victorian ideals and prejudices. She is obsessed with social status and propriety.
Miss Prism: Cecily's governess, a somewhat romantic and whimsical woman with a mysterious past. She harbors feelings for Dr. Chasuble.
Rev. Canon Chasuble: The local rector, a kindly but somewhat pompous clergyman. He is attracted to Miss Prism.
Lane: Algernon's manservant, who displays a dry sense of humor and is unfazed by his master's schemes.
Merriman: The butler at Jack's country house. He is a minor character who helps to maintain the household's routine.
Each character in the play contributes to the intricate web of lies, misunderstandings, and comic situations that make "The Importance of Being Earnest" a masterpiece of satire and farce.
Contents
The Persons In The Play
First Act
Second Act
Third Act
The Persons In The Play
John Worthing, J.P.Algernon MoncrieffRev. Canon Chasuble, D.D.Merriman, Butler
Lane, ManservantLady Augusta BracknellHon. Gwendolen FairfaxCecily CardewMiss Prism, Governess
First Act
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?
Lane. 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.
Lane. Yes, sir.
Algernon. And, speaking of the science of Life, have you got the cucumber sandwiches cut for Lady Bracknell?
Lane. Yes, sir. [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 Thursday night, when Lord Shoreman and Mr. Worthing were dining with me, eight bottles of champagne are entered as having been consumed.
Lane. 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.
Lane. 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?
Lane. 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.
Lane. 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.
Lane. 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.]
Lane. 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.
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.