The Price of Vanity

Dramatic monologue looking at the Victoria attitudes towards beauty and religion

Setting: an extravagant, early Victorian drawing room. Lighting is dim with a spotlight on the main character.

Main character, an immaculately dressed Victorian woman aged around twenty-five, is sitting on a lounge seat facing the audience, centre-stage. She has a happy yet, thoughtful expression and is sat with excellent posture. She speaks very confidently, with a stereotypical high-class Victorian accent. She does not seem to be addressing the audience.

 

I am the living embodiment of beauty. It is simply factual. Each time I lay my gaze upon an exquisite painting from the floating city of Venice or a perfectly embroidered tapestry from the far reaches of India I see a small part of myself. In each perfectly formed sculpture and in every irrevocable smirk sealing Aphrodite's lips I see myself and all my pertinent perfection. In the scarlet lips of Anne Boleyn, I observe a similarity to my own lips; in the cardinal figure of Christ consuming his last meal I see my own being, central to the lives of so many people who are not blessed with my grace and beauty.

 

Society worships beauty and idolises vanity; if a woman is comely no one on this Earth would care if she has a vile personality. It is rather amusing when one comes to ponder it; a man would rather pander to a genial vixen than feel the sharp, blood-red pang of real love.

One can never escape the materialism of beauty: in a good home beauty caresses the walls and soaks the furniture; women and men crave beautiful garments to encase their unappealing bodies; the very words we utter are chosen for the images they create.

 

It is flattering really, to see so many men falling over themselves to-- [smirks and laughs sensually] impress me. Nothing pleases me more than to wander the high street with my chaperone and feel their-- [dark, powerful tone] lustful gazes devouring every inch of my skin, mourning as I turn corners, becoming an image glaring at the backs of their eyes.

 

Obviously, being the focus of all this attention has its negative side. There are some people who think my behaviour around men is profane and sacrilegious. Jealousy is an ugly creature, it makes even the most civil of women become vicious and blood-thirsty. [in a sarcastic tone] Oh, you should hear the stories they tell about me-- one would think I was a terribly promiscuous young woman!

 

Woman stands up and walks slowly downstage; as she walks the spotlight does not follow her but fades and a new spotlight gradually brightens, this spotlight has a tinge of red. Posture becomes meek and withdrawn. Her voice becomes less clear and her tone changes to melancholic. Her expression becomes thoughtful and almost sad. It is now clear that she is addressing the audience.

 

Of course, it does cost a lot. This appearance is not something one can get for nothing.-- I�"there was a lot of sacrifice to get me where I am. Morality is not something one can afford in modern society. If I am to believe the words of the Bible; if we are meant to follow the commandments to the letter; if we are meant to, so avidly, avoid the seven deadly sins; my soul is damned. I am set to burn in the eternal flames of Hades.

 

I have been so many vile creatures; I have done so many unspeakable things. All for the pursuit of pleasure and beauty. My youth, although it is still salvageable, has been lost in my hollow excuses for joy. I have founded my life's ambitions and journeys on the messages I perceived in art; only to realise my perceptions are wrong. I have wasted the better part of my twenty-five years in a frivolous attempt to experience the 'better' aspects of living.

 

It is a frightening thing to think about; the idea that I have caused my own damnation is rather ironic really. People always presume they only mean themselves good, one does not consider the idea that one is harming oneself so dramatically. Humans are not a very forward-thinking race, we only consider the consequences of our actions in hind-sight and more often than not our actions are selfish and primitive.

 

And after all this; when judgement has finally been passed and we are corpses; when we are lain to rest with the bones of our ancestors. The only way we are recognised is by the rings on our fingers.

 

 

Author's Note

I apologise for the errors in formatting.