_A Room tastefully filled with cheap Art-furniture. Gimcracks
in an étagère; a festoon of chenille monkeys hanging from
the gaselier. Japanese fans, skeletons, cotton-wool spiders,
frogs, and lizards, scattered everywhere about. Drain-pipes
with tall dyed grasses. A porcelain stove decorated with
transferable pictures. Showily-bound books in book-case.
Window. The Visitors' bell rings in the hall outside. The
hall-door is heard to open, and then to shut. Presently
NORA walks in with parcels; a Porter carries a large
Christmas-tree after her--which he puts down. NORA gives
him a shilling--and he goes out grumbling. NORA hums
contentedly, and eats macaroons. Then HELMER puts his
head out of his Manager's room, and NORA hides macaroons
cautiously._
_Helmer_ (_playfully_). Is that my little squirrel twittering--that my
lark frisking in here?
_Nora_. Ess! (_To herself._) I have only been married eight years, so
these marital amenities have not yet had time to pall!
[Illustration: "Boo!"]
_Helmer_ (_threatening with his finger_). I hope the little bird has
surely not been digging its beak into any macaroons, eh?
_Nora_ (_bolting one, and wiping her mouth_). No, most certainly not.
(_To herself_.) The worst of being so babyish is--one _does_ have to
tell such a lot of taradiddles! (_To H._) See what _I_'ve bought--it's
been _such_ fun!
[_Hums._
_Helmer_ (_inspecting parcels_). H'm--rather an _expensive_ little
lark!
[_Takes her playfully by the ear._
_Nora_. Little birds like to have a flutter occasionally. Which
reminds me--(_Plays with his coat-buttons._) I'm such a simple ickle
sing--but if you _are_ thinking of giving me a Christmas present, make
it cash.
_Helmer_. Just like your poor father, _he_ always asked me to make it
cash--he never made any himself! It's heredity, I suppose. Well--well!
[_Goes back to his Bank. NORA goes on humming._
_Enter Mrs. LINDEN, doubtfully._
_Nora_. What, CHRISTINA--why, how old you look! But then you are
poor. I'm not. TORVALD has just been made a Bank Manager. (_Tidies the
room._) Isn't it really wonderfully delicious to be well off? But,
of course, you wouldn't know. _We_ were poor once, and, do you know,
when TORVALD was ill, I--(_tossing her head_)--though I _am_ such a
frivolous little squirrel, and all that, I actually borrowed £300 for
him to go abroad. Wasn't _that_ clever? Tra-la-la! I shan't tell you
_who_ lent it. I didn't even tell TORVALD. I am such a mere baby I
don't tell him everything. I tell Dr. RANK, though. Oh, I'm so awfully
happy I should like to shout, "Dash it all!"
_Mrs. Linden_ (_stroking her hair_). Do--it is a natural and innocent
outburst--you are such a child! But I am a widow, and want employment.
_Do_ you think your husband could find me a place as clerk in his
Bank? (_Proudly._) I am an excellent knitter!
_Nora_. That would really be awfully funny. (_To HELMER, who
enters._) TORVALD, this is CHRISTINA; she wants to be a clerk in your
Bank--_do_ let her! She thinks such a lot of _you_. (_To herself._)
Another taradiddle!
_Helmer_. She is a sensible woman, and deserves encouragement. Come
along, Mrs. LINDEN, and we'll see what we can do for you.
[_He goes out through the hall with Mrs. L., and the front-door is
heard to slam after them._
_Nora_ (_opens door, and calls_). Now, EMMY, IVAR, and BOB, come
in and have a romp with Mamma--we will play hide-and-seek. (_She
gets under the table, smiling in quiet satisfaction; KROGSTAD
enters--NORA pounces out upon him_). Boo!... Oh, I _beg_ your
pardon. I don't do this kind of thing _generally_--though I may be a
little silly!
_Krogstad_ (_politely_). Don't mention it. I called because I happened
to see your husband go out with MRS. LINDEN--from which, being a
person of considerable penetration, I infer that he is about to give
her my post at the Bank. Now, as you owe me the balance of £300,
for which I hold your acknowledgment, you will see the propriety of
putting a stop to this little game at once.
_Nora_. But I don't at all--not a little wee bit! I'm so childish, you
know--why _should_ I? [_Sitting upright on carpet._
_Krogs._ I will try to make it plain to the meanest capacity. When
you came to me for the loan, I naturally required some additional
security. Your father, being a shady Government official, without a
penny--for, if he had possessed one, he would, presumably, have left
it to you--without a penny, then, I, as a cautious man of business,
insisted upon having his signature as a surety. Oh, we Norwegians are
sharp fellows!
_Nora_. Well, you _got_ Papa's signature, didn't you?
_Krogs._ Oh, I _got_ it right enough. Unfortunately, it was dated
three days after his decease--now, how do you account for _that_?
_Nora_. How? Why, as poor Papa was dead, and couldn't sign, I signed
_for_ him, that's all! Only somehow I forgot to put the date back.
_That's_ how. Didn't I _tell_ you I was a silly, unbusinesslike little
thing? It's very simple.
_Krogs._ Very--but what you did amounts to forgery, notwithstanding.
I happen to know, because I'm a lawyer, and have done a little in the
forging way myself. So, to come to the point--if _I_ get kicked out, I
shall not go alone! [_He bows, and goes out._
_Nora_. It _can't_ be wrong! Why no one but KROGSTAD would have been
taken in by it! If the Law says it's wrong, the Law's a goose--a
bigger goose than poor little me even! (_To HELMER, who enters_.)
Oh, TORVALD, how you made me jump!
_Helmer_. Has anybody called? (_NORA shakes her head_.) Oh, my little
squirrel mustn't tell naughty whoppers! Why, I just met that fellow
KROGSTAD in the hall. He's been asking you to get me to take him
back--now, hasn't he?
_Nora_ (_walking about_). Do just see how pretty the Christmas-tree
looks!
_Helmer_. Never mind the tree--I want to have this out about KROGSTAD.
I can't take him back, because many years ago he forged a name. As a
lawyer, a close observer of human nature, and a Bank Manager, I have
remarked that people who forge names seldom or never confide the fact
to their children--which inevitably brings moral contagion into the
entire family. From which it follows, logically, that KROGSTAD has
been poisoning his children for years by acting a part, and is morally
lost. (_Stretches out his hands to her._) I can't bear a morally lost
Bank-cashier about me!
_Nora_. But you never thought of dismissing him till CHRISTINA came!
_Helmer_. H'm! I've got some business to attend to--so good-bye,
little lark! [_Goes into office and shuts door._
_Nora_ (_pale with terror_). If KROGSTAD poisons his children because
he once forged a name, I must be poisoning EMMY, and BOB, and IVAR,
because _I_ forged Papa's signature! (_Short pause; she raises
her head proudly._) After all, if I _am_ a doll, I can still
draw a logical induction! I mustn't play with the children any
more--(_hotly_)--I don't care--I _shall_, though! Who cares for
KROGSTAD?
[_She makes a face, choking with suppressed tears, as Curtain
falls._
N.B.--The tremendous psychological problem of whether NORA is as much
of a doll, a squirrel, and a lark, as she seems, and if so, whether
it is her own fault, or HELMER's or Society's, will be solved in
subsequent numbers.
* * * * *
BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.--At last by the authority of the L.C.C. his
Grace of BEDFORD has been notified that within three months from
now "Locks, bolts, and bars must fly asunder" in the parish of St.
Pancras, where henceforth existence of all such obstruction is to
cease. We hope that the gate-keepers, whose occupation is gone, have
been amply provided for, as they will now have no gates, but only
themselves to keep. _Mr. Punch_ has persistently advocated the reform.
And now, Gentlemen, how about Mud Salad Market, which, like Scotland
in _Macbeth's_ time, "stands where it did"?
* * * * *
[Illustration: FASCINATION!
"APOLLONIUS, by some probable conjectures, found her out to be a
serpent, a Lamia; and that all her furniture was, like Tantalus's
gold described by HOMER, no substance, but mere illusion."--_Burton's
Anatomy of Melancholy._]
A LAMIA, this? Nay, obvious coil, and hiss most unequivocal, betray the
Snake;
As fell ophidian as in fierce meridian of Afric ever lurked in swamp or
brake;
And yet Corinthian LYCIUS never doted on the white-throated charmer of
his soul
With blinder passion than our fools of Fashion
Feel for this gruesome ghoul.
Poor LYCIUS had excuse. Who might refuse worship to Lamia, "now a lady
bright"?
But foul-fanged here, fierce-eyed, a shape of fear, the serpent stands,
revealed to general sight,
A loathly thing, close knotted ring on ring, of guise unlovely, and
infectious breath;
And yet strong witchery draws to those wide jaws
Whose touch is shameful death.
See how the flattering things on painted wings, foolish as gnat-swarms
near the shrivelling blaze,
Flock nearer, nearer! Forms, too, quainter, queerer, frog-dupes of folly,
rabbit-thralls of craze,
Butterfly triflers, gay-plumed would-be riflers of golden chalices, of
poisoned flowers,
Flitter and flutter in delirium utter,
As drawn by wizard powers.
Oh, "Painted Lady," Summer coverts shady, the greenwood home, the sweep
of sunny fields,
A butterfly befit; but where's the wit that mire-befouled to the
swamp-demon yields?
Oh, birds of Iris-glitter, black and bitter will be the wakening when
those gaudy plumes
Fall crushed and leaden, as your senses deaden
In poisonous Python fumes!
Ye _gobemouche_ creatures of batrachian features, who "go a-wooing" such
a fate as this,
Have ye no vision of that doom's decision? Have ye no ear for rattle or
for hiss?
Salammbô's craving, morbid and enslaving, was sanity compared with your
mad love,
As well the swallow the fierce shrike might follow,
Or hawk be chased by dove!
Tantalus' gold is all such Lamias hold; 'tis Devil's dice such Mammon
vassals throw;
A sordid fever fires each fool-believer in the gross glitter, the unholy
glow.
Vile is your Dagon! Circe's venomed flagon embruted less than doth the
Lamia's wine,
Than Comus' cup more perilous to sup--
As snakes are worse than swine.
The poet's snake enchanted, who so flaunted her borrowed robes amidst the
daffodils,
Hath piteous touches. She, from Fate's clutches, free some brief space,
"escaped from so sore ills,"
Moves our compassion. But this modern fashion of Snake Enchanter looks
unlovely all.
Greed's inspiration its sole fascination.
Low selfishness its thrall.
"A Serpent!" So the Sophist murmured low, and "LYCIUS' arms were empty of
delight,"
LAMIA had fled! Would that some sage cool head, some modern APOLLONIUS,
with the might
Of sense magnanimous, would banish thus the bestial Lamia of our later day,
Whose fascination draws a noble nation
To sordid slow decay!
* * * * *
DANTE NOT "IN IT"!--The Italian language is to be excluded from the
Indian Civil Service Examination. "The story is extant, and written
in very choice Italian," said _Hamlet_, and SHAKSPEARE knew that the
reference would be intelligible to his audience. But _Hamlet_ "up to
date" in this "so-called nineteenth century" would be compelled to
give the speech thus, "The original story, I believe, is written in
the Italian language, with which none of us here are acquainted."
But, after all, the candidates may be inclined to adapt the
Gilbert-Sullivan words and music to the occasion, and sing--
"So, in spite of all temptation,
At the next examination
They'll bar I-tal-i-an!"
Though, years hence, it may happen that they'll be sorry they weren't
compelled to get up Italian as one of the subjects.
* * * * *
"O WOMAN, IN OUR HOUR OF EASE!"--which line would make a suitable
motto for our very useful, chatty, and interesting weekly contemporary
entitled _Woman. À propos_ of "headings," the only one in the
above-mentioned publication to which objection can possibly be taken
"on the face of it" is "Wrinkles." Wouldn't "Whispers" be better? It
is quite enough for _Woman_ to appear with lines, but it's too bad
that wrinkles should be added while she is yet so young.
* * * * *
"CHARLES OUR FRIEND."--Once again occurs an illustration of the
applicability of Dickensian characters to modern instances. In last
Thursday's _Times_, by special Razzle-Dalziel wire, we read of the
return of another great Arctic explorer, Mr. WASHBURTON PIKE, after
having braved dangers demanding the most dauntless courage. Here,
then, are two single gentlemen rolled into one: it is _Pike_ and
_Pluck_ combined.
* * * * *
[Illustration: BEATUS POSSIDENS.
"I'VE COME ABOUT A JOB. I HEARD THERE WAS A BOY WANTED."
"OH, YOU 'EARD AS THERE WAS A BOY WANTED, DID YER? THEN YOU'RE JUST
TOO LATE, 'COS MASTER'S SOOTED!"]
* * * * *