Arthur Pinero wrote The Second Mrs. Tanqueray in 1893 after penning several successful farces. Playing on the “woman with a past” plot that was popular in melodramas, Pinero steered it in a more serious direction, centering the play around the social consequences arising when Aubrey Tanqueray remarries in an attempt to redeem a woman with a questionable past.
The play’s structure is based on the principles of the “well-made play” popular throughout the 19th-century. But just as Wilde manipulated the conventions of the “well-made play” to produce a new form of comedy, so did Arthur Pinero manipulate it, forgoing the happy ending to produce an elevated form of tragedy.
The Second Mrs. Tanqueray was first performed in 1893, at the St. James Theatre, London, at a time when England was still resisting the growing movement in Europe towards realism and the portrayal of real social problems and human misconduct. But while it was regarded as shocking, it ran well and made a substantial profit. Theatre historian J. P. Wearing phrased it thus: “although not as avant-garde as Ibsen’s plays, Tanqueray confronted its fashionable St. James’s audiences with as forceful a social message as they could stomach.”
epub:type="z3998:persona">Lady Orreyed
Rising. Dodo!
Sir George
Jus’ because I’ve married beneath me, to be chucked over! Aunt Lydia, the General, Hooky Whitgrave, Lady Sugnall—my own dear sister!—all turn their backs on me. It’s more than I can stan’!
Lady Orreyed
Approaching him with dignity. Sir George, wish Mrs. Tanqueray good night at once and come upstairs. Do you hear me?
Sir George
Rising angrily. Wha’—
Lady Orreyed
Be quiet!
Sir George
You presoom to order me about!
Lady Orreyed
You’re making an exhibition of yourself!
Sir George
Look ’ere—!
Lady Orreyed
Come along, I tell you!
He hesitates, utters a few inarticulate sounds, then snatches up a fragile ornament from the table, and is about to dash it on to the ground. Lady Orreyed retreats, and Paula goes to him.
Paula
George!
He replaces the ornament.
Sir George
Shaking Paula’s hand. Good ni’, Mrs. Tanqueray.
Lady Orreyed
To Paula. Good night, darling. Wish Aubrey good night for me. Now, Dodo?
She goes out.
Sir George
To Paula. I say, are you goin’ to sit up for ol’ Aubrey?
Paula
Yes.
Sir George
Shall I keep you comp’ny?
Paula
No, thank you, George.
Sir George
Sure?
Paula
Yes, sure.
Sir George
Shaking hands. Good night again.
Paula
Good night.
She turns away. He goes out, steadying himself carefully. Drummle appears outside the window, smoking.
Drummle
Looking into the room, and seeing Paula. My last cigar. Where’s Aubrey?
Paula
Gone down to The Warren, to see Mrs. Cortelyon home.
Drummle
Entering the room. Eh? Did you say Mrs. Cortelyon?
Paula
Yes. She has brought Ellean back.
Drummle
Bless my soul! Why?
Paula
I—I’m too tired to tell you, Cayley. If you stroll along the lane you’ll meet Aubrey. Get the news from him.
Drummle
Going up to the window. Yes, yes. Returning to Paula. I don’t want to bother you, only—the anxious old woman, you know. Are you and Aubrey—?
Paula
Good friends again?
Drummle
Nodding. Um.
Paula
Giving him her hand. Quite, Cayley, quite.
Drummle
Retaining her hand. That’s capital. As I’m off so early tomorrow morning, let me say now—thank you for your hospitality.
He bends over her hand gallantly, then goes out by the window.
Paula
To herself. “Are you and Aubrey—?” “Good friends again?” “Yes.” “Quite, Cayley, quite.”
There is a brief pause, then Aubrey enters hurriedly, wearing a light overcoat and carrying a cap.
Aubrey
Paula dear! Have you seen Ellean?
Paula
I found her here when I came down.
Aubrey
She—she’s told you?
Paula
Yes, Aubrey.
Aubrey
It’s extraordinary, isn’t it! Not that somebody should fall in love with Ellean or that Ellean herself should fall in love. All that’s natural enough and was bound to happen, I suppose, sooner or later. But this young fellow! You know his history?
Paula
His history?
Aubrey
You remember the papers were full of his name a few months ago?
Paula
Oh, yes.
Aubrey
The man’s as brave as a lion, there’s no doubt about that; and, at the same time, he’s like a big good-natured schoolboy, Mrs. Cortelyon says. Have you ever pictured the kind of man Ellean would marry some day?
Paula
I can’t say that I have.
Aubrey
A grave, sedate fellow I’ve thought about—hah! She has fallen in love with the way in which Ardale practically laid down his life to save those poor people shut up in the Residency. Taking off his coat. Well, I suppose if a man can do that sort of thing, one ought to be content. And yet—Throwing his coat on the settee. I should have met him tonight, but he’d gone out. Paula dear, tell me how you look upon this business.
Paula
Yes, I will—I must. To begin with, I—I’ve seen Mr. Ardale.
Aubrey
Captain Ardale?
Paula
Captain Ardale.
Aubrey
Seen him?
Paula
While you were away he came up here, through our grounds, to try to get a word with Ellean. I made her fetch him in and present him to me.
Aubrey
Frowning. Doesn’t Captain Ardale know there’s a lodge and a front door to this place? Never mind! What is your impression of him?
Paula
Aubrey, do you recollect my bringing you a letter—a letter giving you an account of myself—to the Albany late one night—the night before we got married?
Aubrey
A letter?
Paula
You burnt it; don’t you know?
Aubrey
Yes; I know.
Paula
His name was in that letter.
Aubrey
Going back from her slowly, and staring at her. I don’t understand.
Paula
Well—Ardale and I once kept house together. He remains silent, not moving. Why don’t you strike me? Hit me in the face—I’d rather you did! Hurt me! hurt me!
Aubrey
After a pause. What did you—and this man—say to each other—just now?
Paula
I—hardly—know.
Aubrey
Think!
Paula
The end of it all was that I—I told him I must inform you of—what had happened … he didn’t want me to do that … I declared that I would … he dared me to. Breaking down. Let me alone!—oh!
Aubrey
Where was my daughter while this went on?
Paula
I—I had sent her out of the room … that is all right.
Aubrey
Yes, yes—yes, yes.
He turns his head towards the door.
Paula
Who’s that?
A Servant enters with a letter.
Servant
The coachman has just run up with this from The Warren, sir. Aubrey takes the letter. It’s for Mrs. Tanqueray, sir; there’s no answer.
The Servant withdraws. Aubrey goes to Paula and drops the letter into her lap; she opens it with uncertain hands.
Paula
Reading it to herself. It’s from—him. He’s going away—or gone—I think. Rising in a weak way. What does it say? I never could make out his writing.
She gives the letter to Aubrey and stands near him, looking at the letter over his shoulder as he reads.
Aubrey
Reading. “I shall be in Paris by tomorrow evening. Shall wait there, at Meurice’s, for a week, ready to receive any communication you or your husband may address to me. Please invent some explanation to Ellean. Mrs. Tanqueray, for God’s sake, do what you can for me.”
Paula and Aubrey speak in low voices, both still looking at the letter.
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