James Herne’s Margaret Fleming is surprisingly bold and realistic in regard to the time period in which it was written. The subject of infidelity is dealt with candidly, and other aspects, such as the breast-feeding of an infant, are depicted in a true-to-life form. The content, then, seems quite modern for the play’s 1890 date. Yet, Herne is the successor of a playwright like Henrik Ibsen rather than Bronson Howard or, even, Augustin Daly. As Watt and Richardson note, Margaret Fleming is “unequaled in realism by any other known American drama of its century” (236, emphasis mine).
The plot of the play centers on the marriage relationship of Margaret and her husband Phillip. He has been unfaithful with another woman, and a child has been born as a result of that adulterous affair. One can imagine that audiences may have been shocked by such a topic. Yet Margaret handles the situation which she is forced into openly, honestly, and courageously. Upon hearing the news of her husband’s affair, she wishes to confront him immediately. The words in the note she dispatches demonstrate her urgency and forthrightness: “‘Phillip: I am waiting for you, here.
That girl is dead'” (258). In the last act, the doctor remarks on Margaret’s character, saying, “‘What a brave, cheery little woman you are. ‘” To which Margaret replies, “‘What’s the use in being anything else? I don’t see any good in living in this world, unless you can live right'” (261). She has motivations for her actions, as all realistic characters should. In comparison, the plot of Howard’s Shenandoah seems unbelievable. That play centers on the relationships of Northerners and Southerners which survive the Civil War and its aftermath by ignoring the problems that would divide them.
Likewise, Daly’s Under the Gaslight has a plot which depends so much on chance, the character’s motives, desires, and reactions are irrelevant; circumstances impose themselves over the entire drama. Yet in Margaret Fleming one finds that responsibilities must be shouldered and issues discussed. One would have to look abroad to find another example of such a tenable plot in the 19th century. A Doll’s House would show that overseas playwrights already had a firm grasp of the issues of the day and how one might deal with them. In terms of language as well Margaret Fleming is representative of reality.
In Shenandoah, Gertrude addresses her horse, Jack, as easily as another person, or even while addressing another person. Here is one illustration of such an exchange: Kerchival: You are the only woman, Miss Gertrude, that I– Gertrude: Dear Jack! Kerchival: Jack embarrasses me. He’s a third party. (200) The tendency of melodrama is to overstate everything (even love for one’s horse). Under the Gaslight ends with Laura declaring fervently, “‘We shall have cause to bless it, for it will bring the long sought sunlight of our lives'” (191).
However, in a realistic play such as Margaret Fleming, there are times, as in life, when words are not needed at all. Margaret, trying to cope with her marital situation, is still loving and nurturing enough not to ignore a child’s hunger. Keeping in character, she nurses the infant without word or question or complaint. She does this instinctively almost. Margaret, in silence, simply, “scarcely conscious of what she is doing, . . . unbuttons her dress [and gives] nourishment to the child” (260).
Obviously it is the carefully drawn person of Margaret which is the heart of this realistic play. She is reminiscent of the multi-faceted Nora of A Doll’s House. Both are shown to be at once dependent, then independent. Each woman makes difficult decisions which she must live by, and each bear responsibilities which are to be accepted or discarded. Finally, each is aware that others, too, carry burdens and need to make their own choices. While other heroines and heroes are flat and are subject to fate and circumstance, Margaret, like Nora, exists in the consequences of human behavior.
While Under the Gaslight may end with Laura’s hopeful, but nevertheless melodramatic, words, and Shenandoah with the unlikely marriage of the leads, A Dolls House ends in a whisper. And Margaret Fleming? This play ends with the gentle reminder of the responsibility to make choices, bravely and honestly. Margaret tells her husband that the children, both legitimate and illegitimate are waiting for his attentions; “‘They are both out there. In the garden'” (264).
