ABSTRACT
Mr. William Archer and the Ibsenites have had their grand field-day. “A Doll’s House” was last night solemnly produced, peeped into, and duly discussed. No irreverent hand has dared to soil the author’s masterpiece, and no triviality is allowed to disfigure the amiable “fads” of the gifted author. Word for word Mr. Archer has faithfully translated the original play and not allowed one suggestion, however objectionable, to be glossed over. The child-wife gambols like a kitten and munches her macaroons; she fibs and forges. The sensual and egotistical husband treats his Nora exactly like the spoiled baby that she is. The doctor discusses his hereditary aliments with coarse frankness, and enlarges on the virtues of truffles and oysters. The dramatic letter tumbles into the letter-box, whilst the distracted wife dances her celebrated tarantella, and absolutely true to the original, the baby wife, who has suddenly and miraculously developed into a thinking woman, leaves her home, breaks her marriage oath, refuses to forgive her husband, abandons her innocent children, and becomes absolutely inhuman, simply because she discovers her husband is an egotist and that she has been a petted little fool. But at the present moment we have no time or opportunity to discuss Ibsen or his theories, which we might do at great length. We do not honestly believe that those theories as expressed in “The Doll’s House” would ever find favour with the great body of English playgoers. How Torvald Helmer could by any possibility have treated his restless, illogical, fractions, and babyish little wife otherwise than he did; why Nora should ever adore with such abandonment and passion this conceited prig, whom she never professed to understand: and how it could ever be possible for any woman with the maternal instinct fully developed to desert her children because her pride was wounded, are points that may be very clear to the Ibsenites, but they require a considerable amount of argument in order to convince the common-sense playgoer. They are interesting points, and they will be freely discussed. In fact, we could sincerely wish that the “Doll’s House” could be acted for more than one week, for the performance last night was wholly interesting. The audience—a very special one—was absorbed. Everything was well done. The translation was that of a scholar: the play was perfectly mounted; the acting was really remarkable. Not even Ibsen or Mr. Archer could have desired a better Nora than Miss Janet Achurch, who entered into her difficult task heart and soul, 369and whose acting requires far more analysis than can be given to it on the present occasion. The restlessness of the child wife in the first act was a trifle forced and artificial, but nothing could have been better than the scene with the doctor, who momentarily forgets the duties of a friend when the pretty wife has been discussing underclothing with him, and the whole of her share in the last long duologue was as good as it could be. Miss Achurch, who, we regret to hear, is leaving for Australia very shortly, has considerably improved her position and reputation by this most intelligent embodiment of a most difficult character. Good also in their respective lines were Mr. Herbert Waring as the priggish husband, Mr. Charles Charrington as the doctor, Mr. Royce Carleton as the savage and desperate Krogstad, and Miss Gertrude Warden as the pale-faced and neglected widow.
