Here was Ibsenism again--nay, worse than Ibsenism,
Dodoism, Sarah-Grandism, Keynotism, rampant on the English stage!
For had I not most impudently exhibited _The Modern Woman_ upon it?
And although there was no tragedy this time, but beautiful
reconciliation, and return to her Duty at the fall of the curtain,
was she not there, the Abomination of Desolation?
Now we know that the Modern Woman ought not to exist anywhere,
therefore she does _not_ exist, therefore she must be stamped out.
Mrs. Grundy and others have already begun the good work, and have
been diligently stamping her out ever since; with such success that
we may hope she will disappear, with infidelity, Ibsenism, the
struggle for existence, and other such objectionable things.
Meanwhile she has made her _debut_, and may cry: _J'y suis, j'y
reste!_
The _Comedy of Sighs_ was slain, waving its tiny flag in the van of
a forlorn hope; and over its dead body "Arms and the Man," its
machine-guns volleying pellets of satire, marched to victory.
I do not solace myself with that belief, so comforting to the
unsuccessful, that a play fails merely because of its goodness, or
succeeds merely because it is bad; yet it is evident, I think, that
other things besides its merits or demerits as a piece of dramatic
writing may turn the scale for or against it.
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