The collected works of Henrik Ibsen

THE COLLECTED WORKS OF

HENRIK IBSEN

VOLUME VIII

V

AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE
THE WILD DUCK

THE COLLECTED WORKS OF

II E N R I K I 15 S E N

Copyright Edition. Complete in 11 Voluimii
llmo. Price $1.00 each

KNTIKKLY RKVISKI) AND KDITKI) BY

WILLLVM ARCHER

Volume I. Feast of SolhauK, I^ady Inger, Love's

Comedy
" II. The VikiiiRS at Helgeland, The Pro-

t<?nfk'rs
" III. Brand
" IV. Peer Oynt

" V. Emperor and Galilean (2 parts)
" VI. League of Youth, Pillars of Society
" VII. A Dolls House, Ghosts
" VIII. An Enemy of the People, The ^Vild

Duck
" IX. Rosmersholm, Lndy from the Sea

X. Hedda Gal.ler. :\Iaster Builder
" XI. Little Eyolf, .John Gabriel Borkman,

When We Dead Awaken

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

1/

THE COLLECTED AVOKKS OE

IIENRIK IBSEN

Copyright Edition
\ GLUME VIII

AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE
THE Wn.D DUCK

WITH INTRODUCTIONS BY

W I L L I A M ARCH K 11

NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

1908

1.VTRODUCTION8 BY WII.LTAM ARCHER
Copyright, 1907, by Charles Serihner's Sonx

£5A4

v.©
Cop X

CONTENTS

PAGE

Introduction to "An Enemy of thk People" . vii

Introduction to "The Wild Duck" . - . xvii

" An Enemy of the People " 1

Translated by Mrs. Eleanor Marx-Aveling

"The Wild Duck" 189

Translated by Mrs. Frances E. Archer

AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE.

INTRODUCTION*

From Pillars of Society to John Gabriel BorJc-
man, all Ibsen's plays, with one exception, suc-
ceeded each other at intervals of two years. The
single exception was An Enemy of the People.
The storm of obloquy which greeted Ghosts
stirred him to unwonted rapidity of production.
Ghosts had appeared in December 1881 ; already,
in the spring of 1882, Ibsen, then living in Rome,
was at work upon its successor; and he finished
it at Gossensass, in the Tyrol, in the early au-
tumn. It appeared in Copenhagen at the end
of November.

John Paulsen^ relates an anecdote of the
poet's extreme secretiveness during the process
of composition, which may find a place here:
" One summer he was travelling by rail with
his wife and son. He was engaged upon a new
play at the time; but neither Fru Ibsen nor
Sigurd had any idea as to what it was about.
Of course they were both vei-y curious. It hap-
pened that, at a station, Ibsen left the carriage
for a few moments. As he did so he dropped a

1 Samliv med Ibsen, p. 173.
* Copyright, 19o7, by Charles Scribner's Sons.

vii

Vlll AS K.NKMV OF Till: riCOPLE,

sfniji of jiapcr. His wife picked it ui», ami read
on it only the words, ' The doctor says. . . .'
Xothin^r more. Fru Ihsen showed it laughingly
to Sigurd, and said, * Now we will tease your
father a little when he comes back. He will be
horrified to find that we know anything of his
play.' When Ibsen entered his carriage his
wife looked at him roguishly, and said, ' What
doctor is it that figures in your new piece? I
am sure he must have many interesting things
to say.' But if she could have foreseen the effect
of her innocent jest, Fru Ibsen would certainly
have held her tongue. For Ibsen was speechless
with surprise and rage. When at last he re-
covered his speech, it was to utter a torrent of
reproaches. What did this mean ? W^as he not
safe in his own house ? Was he surrounded with
spies? Had his locks been tampered with, his
desk rifled? And so forth, and so forth. His
wife, who had listened with a quiet smile to the
rising tempest of his wrath, at last handed him
the scrap of paper. * We know nothing more
than what is written upon this slip which you
let fall. Allow me to return it to you.' There
stood Ibsen crestfallen. All his suspicions had
vanished into thin air. The play on which he
was occupied proved to be An Enemy of the
People, and the doctor was none other than our
f)ld friend Stockmann, the good-hearted and
muddleheaded reformer, for whom Jonas Lie
I)artly served as a model."

The indignation which glows in An Enemy of
the People was kindled, in the main, by the atti-
tude adoi)ted towards Ghosts by the Norwegian
Liberal press and the " compact majority " it

INTRODUCTION. IX

represented. But the image on which the play
rings the changes was present to the poet's mind
before Ghosts was written. On December 19,
1879 — a fortnight after the publication of A
DolVs House — Ibsen wrote to Professor Dietrich-
son : " It appears to me doubtful whether better
artistic conditions can be attained in Norway
before the intellectual soil has been thoroughly
turned up and cleansed, and all the swamps
drained off." Here we have clearly the germ of
An Enemy of the People. The image so took
hold of Ibsen that after applying it to social
life in this play, he recurred to it in The Wild
Duck, in relation to the individual life.

The mood to which we definitely owe An
Enemy of the People appears very clearly in a
letter to George Brandes, dated January 3, 1882,
in which Ibsen thanks him for his criticism of
Ghosts. " What are we to say," he proceeds,
" of the attitude taken up by the so-called Lib-
eral press — by those leaders who speak and write
about freedom of action and thought, and at the
same time make themselves the slaves of the
supposed opinions of their subscribers? I am
more and more confirmed in my belief that
there is something demoralising in engaging in
politics and joining parties. I, at any rate, shall
never be able to join a party which has the ma-
jority on its side. Bjoi'nson says, ' The majority
is always right ' ; and as a practical politician he
is bound, I suppose, to say so. I on the con-
trary, of necessity say, ' The minority is always
right.' Naturally I am not thinking of that
minority of stagnationists who are left behind by
the great middle party, which with us is called

A N i: \ i: M V t-i I" T 1 1 1: im: o !• l i-: .

Kil»eral; I iiu'iin lliat minority wliidi leads the
van, and pushes on to i)oints wliirli the majority
has not yet reaehed. 1 hokl that that man is
in the right wlio is most closely in league with
the future."

The same letter closes with a passage which
foreshadows not only An Enemy of the People,
but liosmersholm: " When I think how slow and
heavy and dull the {general intellig-ence is at
home, when I notice the low standard by which
everything is judged, a deep despondency comes
over me, and it often seems to me that I might
just as well end my literary activity at once.
They really do not need poetry at home; they
get along so well with the Parliamentary News
and the Lutheran Weekly. And then they have
their party papers. I have not the gifts that go
to make a good citizen, nor yet the gift of ortho-
doxy; and what I possess no gift for I keep out
of. Liberty is the first and highest condition for
me. At home they do not trouble much about
liberty, but only about liberties, a few more or
a few less, according to the standpoint of their
party. I feel, too, most painfully affected hy the
crudity, the plebeian element, in all our public
discussion. The very praiseworthy attempt to
make of our people a democratic community has
inadvertently gone a good way towards making
us a plebeian community, distinction of soul
seems to be on the decline at home.!-'

So early as March 16, 1882, Ibsen announces
to his publisher that he is " fully occupied with
preparations for a new play." " This time," he
says, " it will be a peaceable production which
can be read by Ministers of State and wholes

INTUODUCTION. XI

sale mercliants and their ladies, and from which
the theatres will not be obliged to recoil. Its
execution will come very easy to me, and I shall
do my best to have it ready pretty early in the
autumn." In this he was successful. From
Gossensass on September 9.^ he wrote to Hegel:
" I have the pleasure of sending you herewith
the remainder of the manuscript of my new
play. I have enjoyed writing this piece, and I
feel quite lost and lonely now that it is out of
hand. Dr. Stockmann and I got on excellently
together; we agree on so many subjects. But the
Doctor is a more muddleheaded person than I
am, and he has, moreover, several other charac-
teristics because of which people will stand hear-
ing a good many things from him which they
might perhaps not have taken in such very good
part had they been said by me."

A letter to Brandes, written six months after
the appearance of the play (June 12, 1883), an-
swers some objection which the critic seems to
have made — of what nature we can only guess:
"As to An Enemy of the People, if we had a
chance to discuss it I think we should come to a
tolerable agreement. You are, of course, right
in urging that we must all work for the spread
of our opinions. But I maintain that a fighter
at the intellectual outposts can never gather a
majority around him. In ten years, perhaps,
the majority may occupy the standpoint which
Dr. Stockmann held at the public meeting. But
during these ten years the Doctor will not have
been standing still; he will still be at least ten
years ahead of the majority. The majority, the
mass, the multitude, can never overtake him; he

AN KNKMV OK TlIK I'K<)PI,E.

can never liave the majority \rit,h liim. As for
myself, at all events, I am conscious of this in-
cessant progression. At the point where I stood
when I wrote each of my books, there now stands
a fairly compact multitude; but I myself am
there no longer; I am elsewhere, and, I hope,
further ahead." This is a fine saying, and as
just as it is fine, with respect to the series of
social plays, down to, and including, Rnsmers-
holm. To the psychological series, which begins
with The Lady from the Sea, this law of pro-
gression scarcely applies. The standpoint in
each is different; but the movement is not so
much one of intellectual advance as of deepen-
ing spiritual insight.

As Ibsen predicted, the Scandinavian theatres
seized with avidity upon An Enemii of ihe Peo-
ple. Between January and March 1883 it was
produced in Christiania, Bergen, Stockholm, and
Copenhagen. It has always been very popular
on the stage, and was the play chosen to repre-
sent Ibsen in the series of festival performances
which inaugurated the National Theatre at
Christiania. The first evening, September 1,
1899, was devoted to llolbcrg, the great founder
of Norwegian-Danish drama; An Enemy of the
People followed on September 2; and on Sep-
tember 3 BjiJmson held the stage, with Sigurd
Jorsalfar. Oddly enough, Ein Volksfeind was
four years old before it found its way to the
German stage. It was first produced in Berlin,
March 5, 1887, and has since then been very
popular throughout (lermany. It has even been
presented at the Court Theatres of Berlin and
Vienna — a fact which seems remarkable when we

INTRODUCTION. Xlll

note that in France and Spain it lias been
pressed into the service of anarchism as a revo-
lutionary manifesto. When first produced in
Paris in 1895, and again in 1899, it was made
the occasion of anarchist demonstrations. It was
the play chosen for representation in Paris on
Ibsen's seventieth birthday, March 29, 1898. In
England it was first produced by Mr. Beerbolnn
Tree at the Haymarket Theatre on the after-
noon of June 14, 1893. Mr. Tree has repeated
his performance of Stockmann a good many
times in London, the provinces, and America.
He revived the play at His Majesty's Theatre
in 1905. Mr. Louis Calvert played Stockmann
at the Gentleman's Concert Hall in Manchester,
January 27, 1894. I can find no record of any
performances of the play in America, save Ger-
man performances and those given by Mr. Tree;
but it seems incredible that no American actor
should have been attracted by the part of Stock-
mann. 'Een Vijand des Volks was produced in
Holland in 1884, before it had even been ?een in
Germany and in Italy. Un Nemico del Popolo
holds a place in the repertory of the distinguished
actor Ermete Novelli.

Of all Ibsen's plays. An Enemy of the People
is the least poetical, the least imaginative, the
one which makes least appeal to our sensibilities.
Even in The League of Youth there is a touch
of poetic fancy in the character of Selmer; while
Pillars of Society is sentimentally conceived
throughout, and possesses in Martha a figure of
great, though somewhat conventional, pathos. In
this play, on the other hand, there is no appeal
either to the imagination or to the tender emo-

A N i: N i; M \ u 1 ■ r 1 1 k i' v. o i' i, k .

tions. It is a straij?htfonvard satiric comedy.
(U-aliiiK exclusively with the everyday prose of
life. We have only to compare it with its im-
mediate predecessor. Ghosts, and its immediate
successor, The Wild Duck, to feel bow absolutely
diflFerent is the imaginative effort involved in it.
Kealising this, we no longer wonder that the poet
should have thrown it off in half the time he
usually required to mature and execute one of
his creations.

Yet All Enemy of the People takes a high
place in the second rank of the Ibsen works, in
virtue of its buoyant vitality, its great technical
excellence, and the geniality of its humour. It
seems odd, at first sight, that a distinctly polem-
ical play, which took its rise in a mood of exas-
peration, should be perhaps the most amiable of
all the poet's productions. But the reason is
fairly obvious. Ibsen's nature was far too com-
plex, and far too specifically dramatic, to per-
mit of his giving anything like direct expression
to a personal mood. The very fact that Dr.
Stockmann was to utter much of his own indig-
nation and many of his own ideas forced him
to make the worthy Doctor in temperament and
manner as unlike himself as possible. Xow bois-
terous geniality, loquacity, irrepressible rashness
of utterance, and a total absence of self-criticism
and self-irony were the very contradiction of
the poet's own characteristics — at any rate, after
he had entered upon middle life. He doubtless
looked round for models who should be his own
antipodes in these respects. John Paulsen, as
we have seen, thinks that he took many traits

INTRODUCTION. XV

from Jonas Lie ; others say ' that one of his chief
models was an old friend named Harald Thau-
low, the father of the great painter. Be this as
it may, the very effort to disguise himself natu-
rally led him to attribute to his protagonist and
mouthpiece a great superficial amiability. I am
far from implying that Ibsen's own character
was essentially unamiable; it would ill become
one whom he always treated with the utmost
kindness to say or think anything of the kind.
But his amiability was not superficial, effusive,
exuberant; it seldom reached that boiling-point
which we call geniality; and for that very rea-
son Thomas Stockmann became the most genial
of his characters. He may be called Ibsen's
Colonel Newcome. We have seen from the let-
ter to Hegel (p. xi) that the poet regarded him
with much the same ironic affection which
Thackeray must have felt for that other Thomas
who, amid many differences, had the same sim-
ple-minded, large-hearted, child-like nature.

In technical quality. An Enemy of the People
is wholly admirable. We have only to compare
it with Pillars of Society, the last play in which
Ibsen had painted a broad satiric picture of the
life of a Norwegian town, to feel how great an
advance he had made in the intervening five
years. In naturalness of exposition, suppleness
of development, and what may be called general
untheatricality of treatment the later play has
every possible* advantage over the earlier. In
one point only can it be said that Ibsen has

* See article by Julius Elias in Die neue Rundschati, De-
cember 1906, p. 1461.

X VI A N K N K M V (» K T 11 K I' Ko 1' h K

allowed a touch of artificiality to creep in. In
order to render the peripetia of the third act
more striking, he has made Hovstad, Billing,
and Aslaksen, in the earlier scenes, unnaturally
inajiprchcnsive of the sacrifices implied in Stock-
mann's scheme of reform. It is scarcely cred-
ible that they should be so free and emphatic in
their offers of support to the Doctor's aKitation,
before they have lAade the smallest inquiry as
to what it is likely to cost the town. They think,
it may be said, that the shareholders of the
Baths will have to bear the whole expense; but
surely some misgivings could not but cross their
minds as to whether the shareholders would be
prepared to do so.

THE WILD DUCK.

INTEODUCTION*

The first mention of The Wild Duck (as yet un-
named) occurs in a letter from Ibsen to George
Brandes, dated Eome, June 12, 1883, some six
months after the appearance oi An Enemy of
the People. " I am revolving in my mind just
now," he says, " the plan of a new dramatic
work in four acts. From time to time a variety
of whimsies gathers in one's mind, and one wants
to find an outlet for them. But as the play will
neither deal with the Supreme Court nor with
the Absolute Veto, nor even with the Pure Flag,
it can hardly count upon attracting much at-
tention in Norway. Let us hope, however, that
it may find a hearing elsewhere." The allusion
in this passage is to the great constitutional
struggle of 1880-84, of which some account will
have to be given in the Introduction to Ros-
mersholm. The " Pure Flag " agitation aimed
at, and obtained, the exclusion from the Nor-
wegian flag of the mark of union with Sweden,
and was thus a preliminary step towards the
severance of the two kingdoms. The word which

* Copyright, 1907, by Charles Scribner's Sons.

xvii

XVIU Tin; \VILI) UUCK.

I have translated " whimsies " is in the ori^Lual
gahkaber, which might be literally rendered
" mad fancies " or " crazy notions." This word,
or gnlsk-ab in the singular, was Ibsen's favourite
term for his conceptions as they grew up in his
mind. I well remember his saying to me, while
he was engaged on The Lady from the Sea,
" 1 hope to have some tomfoolery [galskab] ready
for next year." Sometimes he would vary the
expression and say djcevelsJcah, or "devilry."

Of this particular "tomfoolery" we hear no
more for a full year. Then, at the end of June,
1884, he writes in almost identical terms to
Brandcs and to Theodor Caspari, announcing its
completion in the rough. His letter to Caspari
is dated Rome, June 27. " All last winter," he
says, " I have been pondering over some new
whimsies, and have wrestled with them till at
last they took dramatic form in a five-act play
which I have just completed. That is to say, I
have completed the rough draft of it. Now
comes the more delicate elaboration, the more
energetic individualisation of the characters and
their methods of expression. In order to find the
requisite quiet and solitude for this work, I am
going in a few days to Gossensass, in the Tyrol."
This little glimpse into his workshop is particu-
larly interesting.

From Gossensass he wrote to Hegel on Sep-
tember 2: "Herewith I send you the manuscript
of my new play, The Wild Duck, which has occu-
pied me daily for the past four months, and from
which I cannot part without a sense of regret.
The characters in this play, despite their many
frailties, have, in the course of our long daily

INTRODUCTION. XIX

association, endeared themselves to me. How-
ever, I hope they will also find good and kind
friends among the great reading public, and not
least among the player-folk, to whom they all,
without exception, offer problems worth the solv-
ing. But the study and presentation of these
personages will not be easy. . . . This new play
in some ways occupies a place apart among my
dramatic productions; its method of develop-
ment [literally, of advance] is in many respects
divergent from that of its predecessors. But for
the present I shall say no more on this subject.
The critics will no doubt discover the points in
question; at all events, they will find a good
deal to wrangle about, a good deal to interpret.
Moreover, I think The Wild Duch may perhaps
lure some of our younger dramatists into new
paths, and this I hold to be desirable."

The play was published on November 11, 1884,
and was acted at all the leading theatres of Scan-
dinavia in January or February, 1885. Ibsen's
estimate of its acting value was fully justified.
It everywhere proved itself immensely effective
on the stage, and Hialmar, Gina, and Hedvig
have made, or greatly enhanced, the reputation
of many an actor and actress. Hialmar was one
of the chief successes of Emil Poulsen, the lead-
ing Danish actor of his day, who placed the sec-
ond act of The Wild Duck in the programme of
his farewell performance. It took more than
three years for the play to reach the German
stage. It was first acted in Berlin in March
1888; but thereafter it rapidly spread through-
out Germany and Austria, and everywhere took
firm hold. It was on several occasions, and in

XX THE WILD DUCK,

various cities, selected for performance in Ib-
sen's presence, as representing the best that
the local theatre could do. In Paris it was
produced at the Theatre Libre in 1891, and
was pronounced by Francisque Sarcey to be
" obscure, incoherent, insupportable," but never-
theless to leave " a profound impression." In
London it was first produced by the Independent
Theatre Society on May 4, 1894, Mr. W. L.
Abingdon playing Ilialmar, and Miss Winifred
Fraser giving a delightful performance of Hed-
vig. The late Clement Scott's pronouncement on
it was that "to make a fuss about so feeble a
production was to insult dramatic literature and
to outrage common sense." It was repeated at
the Globe Theatre in May, 1897, with Mr. Lau-
rence Irving as Hialmar and Miss Fraser again
as Iledvig. In October 1905 it was revived at
the Court Theatre, with Mr. Granville Barker as
Hialmar and Miss Dorothy Minto as Hedvig.
Of American performances I find no record. It
has been acted in Italy and in Greece, I know
not with what success. The fact that it has no
part for a " leading lady " has rendered it less
of an international stock-piece than A DolVs
House, Hedda Gahler, or even Rosmersholm.

There can be no doubt that The Wild Duck
marks a reaction in the poet's mood, following
upon the eager vivacity wherewith, in An Enemy
of the People, he had flung his defiance at the
" compact Liberal majority," which, as the recep-
tion of Ghosts had proved, could not endure to
be told the truth. Having said his say and lib-
erated his soul, he now began to ask himself
whether human nature was, after all, capable of

INTRODUCTION. XXI

assimilating the strong' meat of truth — whethei*
illusion might not be, for the average man, the
only thing that could make life livable. It
would be too much to say that the play gives a
generally affirmative answer to this question.
On the contrary, its last lines express pretty
clearly the poet's firm conviction that if life
cannot reconcile itself with truth, then life
may as welT go to the wall. Nevertheless his
very devotion to trutK forces him to realise and
admit that it is an antitoxin which, rashly in-
jected at wrong times or in wrong doses, maj^
produce disastrous results. It ought not to be
indiscriminately administered by " quacksal-
vers."

Gregers Werle is unquestionably a piece of
ironic self-portraiture. In his habit of " pester-
ing people, in their poverty, with the claim of
the ideal," the poet adumbrates his own conduct
from Brand onwards, but especially in Ghosts
and An Enemy of the People. Relling, again,
is an embodiment of the mood which was dom-
inant during the conception of the play — the
mood of pitying contempt for that poor thing
human nature, as embodied in Hialmar. An '^ ^
actor who, in playing the part of Relling made
up as Ibsen himself, has been blamed for hav-
ing committed a fault not only of taste, but
of interpretation, since Gregers (it is main-
tained) is the true Ibsen. But the fact is that
both characters represent the poet. They em-
body the struggle in his mind between idealism
and cynical despondency. There can be no doubt,
however, that in some measure he consciously
identified himself with Gregers. In a letter to

xxii Tin; wu.i) nucK,

Mr. Go8se, written in 1872, he had employed in
his own person the very phra.se, den ideale ford-
ring — " the chiini of the ideal " — whieh is (Ireg-
er's watchword. The use of this sufficiently ob-
vious phrase, however, does not mean much. Far
stronger evidence of identilication is afforded by
John Paulsen ' in some anecdotes he relates of
Ibsen's habits of " self-help " — evidence which
we may all the more safely accept, as Herr Paul-
sen seems to have been unconscious of its bear-
ing upon the character of Gregers. " Ibsen," he
says, " was always bent upon doing things him-
self, so as not to give trouble to servants. His
ideal was ' the self-made man.' ' Thus, if a but-
ton came off one of his garments he would re-
tire to his own room, lock the door, and after
many comical and unnecessary preliminaries pro-
ceed to sew on the button himself, with the same
care with which he w-rote the fair copy of a new
play. Such an important task he could not pos-
sibly entrust to any one else, not even to his wife.
One of his paradoxes was that * a woman never
knew how to sew on a button so that it would
hold.' But if he himself sewed it on, it held to
all eternity. Fru Ibsen smiled roguishly and
subtly when the creator of Nora came out with
such anti-feminist sentiments. Afterwards she
told me in confidence, ' It is true that Ibsen him-
self sews on his vagrant buttons; but the fact
that they hold so well is my doing, for, without
his knowledge, I always " finish them off," which

' Samliv nied Ibsen, p. 33.

' Herr Paulsen uses the Enjjlish words ; but it will appear
from the sequel that Ibsen's ideal was not so much the self-
made as the self-mended man.

INTRODUCTION. XXlll

he forgets to do. But don't disturb his convic-
tion : it makes him so happy.' "

" One winter day in Munich," Herr Paulsen
continues, " Ibsen asked me with a serious and
even anxious countenance, ' Tell me one thing,
Paulsen — do you black your own boots every
morning ? ' I was taken aback, and doubtless
looked quite guilty as I answered, * No.' I had
a vaguely uncomfortable sense that I had failed
in a duty to myself and to society. ' But you
really ought to do so. It will make you feel
a different man. One should never let others do
what one can do oneself. If you begin with
blacking your boots, you will get on to putting
your room in order, laying the fire, etc. In this
way you will at last find yourself an emancipated
man, independent of Tom, Dick, or Harry.' I
promised to follow his advice, but have unfortu-
nately not kept my word." It is evident that
Ibsen purposely transferred to Gregers this char-
acteristic of his own; and the sentiments with
which Gina regards it are probably not unlike
those which Fru Ibsen may from time to time
have manifested. We could scarcely demand
clearer proof that in Gregers the poet was laugh-
ing at himself.

To Hedvig, Ibsen gave the name of his only
sister, and in many respects she seems to have
served as a model for the character. She was the
poet's favourite among all his relatives. " You
are certainly the best of us," he wrote to her in
1869. Bjornstjeme Bjomson said, after making
her acquaintance, that he now understood what
a large element of heredity there was in Ibsen's
bent towards mysticism. We may be sure that

xxiv Tin; \vii.i> nrcK,

llfelvig's researches among the books left by the
old sea-captain, and her dislike for the frontis-
piece of Harrison's History of London, are re-
membered traits from the home-life of the poet's
childhood. It does not seem to be known who
had the honour of " sitting for" the character of
lliahiiar. Probably he is a composite of many
originals. Moreover, he is obviously a younger
brother of Peer Gynt. Deprive Peer Gynt of his
sense of humour, and clip the wings of his imagi-
nation, and you have Ilialmar Ekdal.

I confess I do not know quite definitely what
Ibsen had in mind when he spoke of The Wild
Duck holding "a place apart," among his pro-
ductions and exemplifying a technique (for he is
evidently thinking of its technical development)
" divergent " from that of its predecessors. I
should rather say that it marked the continua-
tion and consummation of the technical method
which he had been elaborating from Pillars of
Society onward. It is the first example of what
we may term his retrospective method, in its. full
comi)lexity. Pillars of Society and A Doll's
House may be called semi-retrospective; some-
thing like half of the essential action takes place
before the eyes of the audience. Ghosts is al-
most wholly retrospective; as soon as the past has
been fully unravelled the action is over, and only
the catastrophe remains; but in this case the
past to be unravelled is comparatively simple and
easy of disentanglement. An Enemy of the Peo-
ple is scarcely retrospective at all; almost the
whole of its action falls within the frame of the
picture. In The Wild Duck, on the other hand,
the unravelling of the past is a task of infinite

INTRODUCTION. XXV

subtlety and elaborate art. The execution of
this task shows a marvellous and hitherto unex-
ampled grasp of mind. Never before, certainly,
had the poet displayed such an amazing power
of fascinating and absorbing us by the gradual
withdrawal of veil after veil from the past; and
as every event was also a trait of character, it
followed that never before had his dialogue been
so saturated, as it were, with character-revela-
tion. The development of the drama reminds
one of the practice (in itself a very bad prac-
tice) of certain modern stage-managers, who are
fond of raising their curtain on a dark scene,
and then gradually lighting it up by a series of
touches on the electric switchboard. First there
comes a glimmer from the right, then a flash
from the left; then the background is suifused
with light, so that we see objects standing out
against it in profile, but cannot as yet discern
their details. Then comes a ray from this batten,
a gleam from that ; here a penetrating shaft of
light, there a lambent glow ; until at last the
footlights are turned on at full, and every nook
and cranny of the scene stands revealed in a
blaze of luminosity. But Ibsen's switchboard is
far more subtly subdivided than that of even
the most modern theatre. At eveiy touch upon
it some single, cunningly-placed, ingeniously-
dissembled burner kindles, almost unnoticed save
by the most watchful eye; so that the full light
spreads over the scene as imperceptibly as dawn
grows into day.

It seems to me, then, that The Wild Duck is a
consummation rather than a new departure.
Assuredly it marks the summit of the poet's

XXvi Till-: Wll.li DfC-K.

achicvoincnt (in modern prose) u|) to that <late.
Its only possible rival is Ghosts; and who does
not feel the greater richness, depth, suppleness,
and variety of the later play? It gives us, in a
word, a larger segment of life.

AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE

(1882)

CHARACTERS.

Doctor Thomas Stockmann, medical officer of the
Baths.

Mrs. Stockmann, his wife.

Petra, their daug/Ucr, a teacher.

ElLiF \ their sons, thirteen and ten years old rcspec-

Morten J tivcly.

Peter Stockmann, the doctor's elder brother. Burgo-
master ^ and chief of police, chairman of the Baths
Committee, etc.

Morten Kiil,'^ master ttmner, Mrs. Stockmann's adop-
tive-father.

HovSTAD, editor of the " People's Messenger.'"

BiLLiNO, on the staff of the paper.

Horster, a ship's captain.

ASLAKSEN, a printer.

Participants in a meeting of citizens : all sortis and con-
ditions of men, some women, and a band of schoolboys.

The action passes in a town on the South Coast of Norway,

1 " Burgomaster" is the most convenient substitute for
" Byfogd," but " Town Clerk " would perhaps be more nearly
equivalent. It is impossible to find e.\act counterparts in
English for the different grades of the Norwegian bureaucracy.

2 Pronounce: A'eeL

AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE.

PLAY IN FIVE ACTS.

ACT FIRST.

Evening. Dr. Stockmann's sitting-room ; simply hut
neatly decorated and furnished. In the wall to the
right are two doors, the further one leading to the
hall, the nearer one to the Doctor s study, hi the
opposite wall, facing the hall door, a door leading
to the other rooms of the house. Against the
middle of this wall stands the stove ; further for-
ward a sofa rvith a mirror above it, and in front
of it an oval table with a cover. On the table a
lighted lamp, with a shade. In the back wall an
open door leading to the dining-room, in which is
seen a supper-table, with a lamp on it.

Billing is seated at the supper-table, with a napkin
imder his chin. Mrs. Stockmann is standing by
the table and placing before him a dish with a
large joint of roast beef. The other seats round
the table are empty ; the table is in disorder, as
after a meal.

Mrs. Stockmann.
If you come an hour latCj Mr. Billing, you must
put up with a cold supper.

4 AN KNENM <)K THK I'KOl'LE. [acT I.

Billing.
[Eating.] It is excellent — really-first rate.

Mus. Stockmann.
Yoti know how Stockniunn insists on regular

meal hours

Billing.
Oh, I don't mind at all. I almost think I enjoy
my supper more when I can sit down to it like this,
alone and uiulisturbed.

Mrs. Stockmann.

Oh, well, if you enjoy it [Listening in the

(linrlion of the ha//.] I believe this is Mr. Hovstad
coming too.

Billing.
Very likely.

Burgomaster Stockmann enters, wearing an over-
coat and an official gold-laced cap, and carrying
a stick.

Burgomaster.
Good evening, sister-in-law.

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Coming forward i?ito the sitting-7'oom.] Oh, good
evening ; is it you ? It is good of you to look in.

Burgomaster.

I was just passing, and so [Looks towards the

dratving-room.] Ah, I see you have company.

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Rather em/)arrassed.] Oh no, not at all ; it's the
merest chance. [Ilurricd/i/.] \V(in't you sit down
and have a little supper.''

act i.] an enemy of the people. 5

Burgomaster.
I .'' No, thank you. Good gracious ! hot meat
m the evening I That wouldn't suit my digestion.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Oh, for once in a way

Burgomaster.
No, no, — much obliged to you. I stick to tea
and bread and butter. It's more wholesome in the
long run — and rather more economical, too.

Mrs. Stockmann.
[S7mling.] You mustn't think Thomas and I are
mere spendthrifts, either.

Burgomaster.
You are not, sister- in-law ; far be it from me to
say that. [^Pointing to the Doctor s studij .^ Is he not
at home .''

Mrs. Stockmann.

No, he has gone for a little turn after supper —
with the boys.

Burgomaster.

I wonder if that is a good thing to do } \Lis-
tening.'\ There he is, no doubt.

Mrs. Stockmann.
No, that is not he. [A knockJ^ Come in \

HovsTAD enters from the hall.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Ah, it's Mr. Hovstad

AN ENEMY OK THE I'EOI'UE. [.\tT 1.

HoVSTAI).

You must excuse me ; I was detained at the
printer's. Good evening, Burgomaster.

BriUiOMASTEU.

[Bom/ig rather uliffly.] Mr. Hovstad ? You come
on business, I presume .''

Hovstad.
Partly. About an article for the paper.

BUROOMASTER.

So I supposed. I hear my brother is an extremely
prolific contributor to the People's Messenger.

Hovstad.
Yes, when he wants to unburden his mind on
one thing or another^ he gives the Messenger the
benefit.

Mrs. Stockmann.

[To Hovstad.] But will you not ? [Points

to the dinhig-roomi]

Burgomaster.
Well, well, I am far from blaming him for writing
for the class of readers he finds most in sympathy
with him. And, personally, I have no reason to
bear your paper any ill-will, Mr. Hovstad.

Hovstad.
No, I should think not.

Burgomaster.
One may say, on the whole, that a fine spirit of
mutual tolerance prevails in our town — an excellent

ACT I.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE.

public spirit. And that is because we have a great
common interest to hold us together — an interest
in which all right-minded citizens are equally con-
cerned

HoVSTAD.

Yes — the Baths.

Burgomaster.
Just so. We have our magnificent new Baths.
Mark my words ! The whole life of the town will
centre around the Baths, Mr. Hovstad. There can
be no doubt of it !

Mrs. Stockmann.
That is just what Thomas says.

Burgomaster.
How marvellously the place has developed, even
in this couple of years ! Money has come into cir-
culation, and brought life and movement with it.
Houses and ground-rents rise in value every day.

Hovstad.
And there are fewer people out of work.

Burgomaster.
That is true. There is a gratifying diminution
in the burden imposed on the well-to-do classes by
the poor-rates; and they will be still further
lightened if only we have a really good summer
this year — a rush of visitoi-s — plenty of invalids, to
give the Baths a reputation.

Hovstad.
I hear there is every prospect of that.

8 AN KNKMN <)K TIIK I'F:<)I'I.K. [aCT 1.

Hl'ROOMASTKn.

Tilings look most promising. Inquiries about
apartments and so forth keep on pouring in.

Ho VST AD.

Then the Doctor's paper will come in very
opportunely.

Burgomaster.
Has he been writing again }

HOVSTAD.

This is a thing he wrote in the winter ; enlarging
on the virtues of the Baths, and on the excellent
Kanitary conditions of the town. But at that time
1 held it over.

Burgomaster.

Ah — I suppose there was something not quite
judicious about it ?

HoVSTAD.

Not at all. But I thought it better to keep
it till the sjiring, when people are beginning to
look about them, and think of their summer

quarters

Burgomaster.

You were right, quite right, Mr. Hovstad.

Mrs. Stockmann.
\'es, Thomas is really indefatigable where the
Baths are concerned.

Burgomaster.
It is his duty as one of the staff.

Hovstad.
And of course he was really their creator.

act i.] an enemy ok the people. 9

Burgomaster.
Was he ? Indeed ! I gather that certain persons
are of that opinion. But I should have thought
that I, too, had a modest share in that undertaking.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Yes, that it what Thomas is always saying.

Hovstad.
No one dreams of denying it, Burgomaster. You
set the thing going, and put it on a practical basis ;
everybody knows that. I only meant that the
original idea was the doctor's.

Burgomaster.
Yes, my brother has certainly had ideas enough
in his time — worse luck ! But when it comes to
realising them, Mr. Hovstad, we want men of
another stamp. I should have thought that in
this house at any rate

Mrs. Stockmann.
Why, my dear brother-in-law

Hovstad.
Burgomaster, how can you ?

Mrs. Stockmann.
Do go in and have some supper, Mr. Hovstad ;
my husband is sure to be home directly.

Hovstad.
Thanks ; just a mouthful, perhaps.

[jHe goes into the dining-room.

Burgomaster.
[Speaking in a low voice.^ It is extraordinary how

10 AN KNK.MV 0|- TlIK I'KOIM.K. [\(T I.

people who spring direct from the peasant class
never can get over their want of tact.

Mrs. Stock MANN.
But why should you care ? Surely you and
Thou)as can share the honour, like brothers.

Burgomaster.
Yes, one would suppose so ; but it seems a share
of the honour is not enough for some persons.

Mrs. Stockmann.
What nonsense ! You and Thomas always get
on so well together. [Listening.^ There, I think
I hear him. [Goes and opens (he door to the hall.

Dr Stockmann.
[Laughing and talLing loiidli/, ivUhoid.^ Here's
another visitor for you, Katrina. Isn't it capital,
eh .^ Come in. Captain Horster. Hang your coat
on that peg. What I you don't wear an overcoat ?
Fancy, Katrina, 1 caught him in the street, and I
could hardly get him to come in.

Captain Horster.
Enters and bows to Mrs. Stockmann.

Dr. Stockmann.
[In the doonvay.^ In with you, boys. They're
famishiiig again ! Come along. Captain Horster;

you must try our roast beef

[lie forces Horster itUo the dining-room.
EiLiF and Morten /w//o/i' theyn.

Mrs. Stockmann.
But, Thomas, don't you see

act 1.] an enemy of the i'eol'ue. 11

Dr. Stockmann.
[^Ttirning round in the doorway. '\ Oh, is that you,
Peter! [Goes vp to him and holds out his hand.]
Nqw this is really capital.

Burgomaster.
Unfortunately, I have only a moment to

spare

Dr. Stockmann.

Nonsense ! We shall have some toddy in a
minute. You're not forgetting the toddy, Katrina.^

Mrs. Stockmann.

Of coui'se not ; the water's boiling.

[She goes itdo the dining-room.

Burgomaster.
Toddy too !

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes ; sit down, and let's make ourselves com-
fortable.

Burgomaster.

Thanks ; I never join in drinking parties.

Dr. Stockmann.
But this isn't a party.

Burgomaster.

I don't know what else [Looks towards the

dining-room.\ It's extraordinary how they can
get through all that food.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Rubbing his hands.^ Yes, doesn't it do one good
to see young people eat .'' Always hungry ! That's

AN KNKMN oK TIIK I'KOIM-K. [.'

as it should be. They need good, solid meat to
put stamina into them ! It is they that have got
to whip up the ferment of the future, Peter.

13 L'UCiOM ASTER.

May I ask what there is to be " whipped up," as
you call it .''

Dr. Stockmann.

You'll have to ask the young people that — when
the time comes. We shan't see it, of course. Two
old fogies like you and me

Burgomaster.
Come, come ! Surely that is a very extraor-
dinary ex{)ression to use

Dr. Stockmann.
Oh, you mustn't mind my nonsense, Peter. I'm
in such glorious spirits, you see. I feel so unsjieak-
ably hapi)y in the midst of all this growing, ger-
minating life. Isn't it a marvellous time we live
in ! It seems as though a whole new world were
springing up around us.

Burgomaster.
Do you really think so .''

Dr. Stockmann.
Of course, you can't see it as clearly as I do.
You have passed your life in the midst of it all ;
and that deadens the impression. But I who had
to vegetate all those years in that little hole in
the north, hardly ever seeing a soul that could
speak a stimulating word to me — all this affects me
as if I had suddenly dropped into the heart of
some teeming metropolis.

act i.] an enemy of the people. 13

Burgomaster.
Well, metropolis

Dr. Stockmann.
Oh, I know well enough that things are on a
small scale here, compared with many other places.
But there's life here — there's promise — there's an
infinity of things to work and strive for ; and that
is the main point. [Calling.] Katrina, haven't
there been any letters .''

Mrs. Stockmann.
[In the dining-room.] No, none at all.

Dr. Stockmann.
And then a good income, Peter ! That's a
thing one learns to appreciate when one has lived
on starvation wages —

Burgomaster.
Good heavens !

Dr. Stockmann.
Oh yes, I can tell you we often had hard times
of it up there. And now we can live like princes !
To-day, for example, we had roast beef for dinner ;
and we've had some of it for supper too. Won't
you have some .'' Come along — just look at it, at

any rate

Burgomaster.
No, no ; certainly not

Dr. Stockmann.
Well then, look here — do you see we've bought
a table-cover ?

Burgomaster.
Yes, so I observed.

14 AN ENKMV OK THK I'EOIM.K. [aCT }.

Dr. Stockmann.

Ami a lamp-shade, too. Do you see f Kalrina
has been savinj; up for them. They make the
room look comfortable, don't they } Come over
here. No, no, no, not there. So — yes ! Now

you see how it concentrates the light . I

really think it ha« quite an artistic effect. Eh ?

BURGOMASTEH.

Yes, when one can afford such luxuries

Dr. Stockmann.
Oh. I can afford it now. Katrina says I make
almost as much as we spend.

Burgomaster.
Ah — almost !

Dr. Stockmann.
Besides, a man of science must live in some style.
Wh}', I believe a mere sheriff' spends much more
a year than I do.

Burgomaster.
Yes, I should think so I A member of the
superior magistracy

Dr. Stockmann.
Well then, even a common shipowner ! A
man of that sort will get through many times as

much

Burgomaster.
That is natural, in your relative positions.

Amtmand, the chief magistrate o," an Ami or county ;
consequently a high dignitary in the official hierarchy

act i.] an enemy of the people. 15

Dr. Stockmann.
And after all, Peter, I really don't squander any
money. But I can't deny myself the delight of
having people about me. I must have them.
After living so long out of the world, I find it a
necessity of life to have bright, cheerful, freedom-
loving, hard-working young fellows around me —
and that's what they are, all of them, that are
sitting there eating so heartily. I wish you knew
more of Hovstad

Burgomaster.
Ah, that reminds me — Hovstad was telling me
that he is going to publish another article of
yours.

Dr. Stockmann.
An article of mine ?

Burgomaster.
Yes, about the Baths. An article you wrote last
winter.

Dr. Stockmann.
Oh, that one ! But I don't want that to appear
for the present.

Burgomaster.
Why not ? It seems to me this is the very
time for it.

Dr. Stockmann.

Very likely — under ordinary circumstances

[C}-osses the room.

Burgomaster.
[Follonmig him with his et/es.] And what is un-
usual in the circumstances now ?

l6 AN ENKMV OK THE PEOPLE, [aCT 1.

I)u. Stock MANN.
[Sfanding still.] The fact is, Peter, I really can-
not tell you just now ; not this evening;, at all
events. 'I'hcrc- may prove to be a great deal that
is unusual in the circumstances. On the other
hand, there may be nothing at all. V^ery likely
it's only my fancy.

Burgomaster.
Upon my word, you are very enigmatical. Is
there anything in the wind ? Anything I am to
be kept in the dark about .-" I should think, as
Chairman of the Bath Committee

Dr. Stockmann.

And I should think that I Well, well, don't

let us get our backs up, Peter.

Burgomaster.

God forbid ! I am not in the habit of " getting
my back u])," as you express it. But I must
absolutely insist that all arrangements shall be
made and carried out in a businesslike manner,
and through the properly constituted authorities.
I cannot be a party to crooked or underhand
courses.

Dr. Stockmann.

Have / ever been given to crooked or under-
hand courses ?

Burgomaster. ^^ .

At any rate you have an ingrained propensity\

to taking your own course. And that, in a well- '5

f)rdfr(tl conmuiniU', is almost as iii.Miiiiissii)le. The '

\ individual must subordinate himself to society, or, .'

:T I.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 17

more precisely, to the aiuhorities whose business
it is to watch over the welfare of society.

Dr. Stockmann.
Maybe. But what the devil has that to do
with me ?

BuRGOMASTEH.

Why this is the very thing, my dear Thomas,
that it seems you will never learn. But take
care ; you will have to pay for it — sooner or later
Now I have warned yoli. Good-bye.

Dr. Stockmann.
Are you stark mad .'' You're on a totally wrong

track

Burgomaster.
I am not often on the wrong track. Moreovet,
I must protest against— — [Bomi/g towards dining-
room.^ Good-bye, sister-in-law ; good-dayto you,
gentlemen. [He goes.

Mrs. Stockmann.
^Entering the sitting-room.^ Has he gone.''

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, and in a fine temper, too.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Why, my dear Thomas, what have you been
doing to him now }

Dr. Stockmann.
Nothing at all. He can't possibly expect me to
account to him for everything — before the time
comes.

18 AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. [aCT I.

Mrs. Stock MANN.
What have you to account to him for?

Dr. Stockmann.
H'm ; — never minda bout that, Katrina. — It's
very odd the i)ostman doesn't come.

[HovsTAO, Billing and Horster have risen
from tahle and come fonrard into the
silling-room. Eilif and Morten pre-
sently follow.

Billing.

[Stretching himself] Ah I Strike me dead if
one doesn't feel a new man after such a m^al.

Hovstad.
The Burgomaster didn't seem in the best of
tempers this evening.

Dr. Stockmann.
That's his stomach. He has a very poor diges-
tion.

Hovstad.
I fancy it's the staff of the Messenger he finds
it hardest to stomach.

Mrs. Stockmann.
I thought you got on well enough with him,

Hovstad.
Oh, yes ; but it's only a sort of armistice
between us.

Billing.
That's it That word sums up the situation

i

act i.] an enemy of the people. 19

Dr. Stockmann.
We must remember that Peter is a lonely
bachelor^ poor devil ! He has no home to be
happy in ; only business, business. And then all
that cursed weak tea he goes and pours down his
throat ! Now then, chairs round the table, boys !
Katrina, shan't we have the toddy now ?

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Going towards the dining-room.^ I am just
getting it.

Dr Stockmann.
And you. Captain Horster, sit beside me on the

sofa. So rare a guest as you . Sit down,

gentlemen, sit down.

'^Tke men sit round the table ; Mrs. Stock-
mann brings in a tray with kettle, glasses,
decanters, etc.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Here you have it : here's arrak, and this is rum,
and this cognac. Now, help yourselves.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Taking a glass.'\ So we will. [While the toddy
is being mijced ] And now out with the cigars.
Eilif, I think you know where the box is. And
Morten, you may fetch my pipe. [The boys go into
(he room on the I'ight.^ I have a suspicion that
Eilif sneaks a cigar now and then, but I pretend
not to notice. [Calls.] And my smoking-cap,
Morten I Katrina, can't you tell him where I left
it. Ah, he's got it. [The hoys bring in the thifigs.]
Now, friends, help yourselves. I stick to my pipe,
you know ; — this one has been on many a stormy

20 AN ENEMY OF THE I'EOl'LE. [aCT I.

journey with me, up there in the north. [Theij
clink glaxse,s.'\ Your health ! Ah, I can tell you
it's better fun to sit cosily here, safe from wind
and weather.

Mns. Stock MANN.

\^lVho sils knitting.] Do you sail soon, Captain
Horster ?

HoRSTER.

I hope to be ready for a start by next week.

Mrs. Stockmann.
And you're going to America .''

Horster.
Yes, that's the intention.

Billing.
But then you'll miss the election of the new
Town Council.

Horster.

Is there to be an election again }

Billing.
Didn't you know ?

Horster.
No, I don't trouble myself about those things.

Billing.
But I suppose you take an interest in public
affairs ?

Horster.
No, I don't understand anything about them.

BiLLINC

Ail the same, one ought at least to vote

ACT 1.] AN ENEMY Ol" THE I'EOPLE. 21

HoRSTER.

Even those who don't understand anything
about it ?

Billing.

Understand? Why, what do you mean by that ?
Society is like a ship : every man must put his
hand to the helm.

HoRSTER.

That may be all right on shore ; but at sea it
wouldn't do at all.

HOVSTAD.

It's remarkable how little sailors care about
public affairs as a rule.

Billing.
Most extraordinary.

Dr. Stockmann.
Sailors are like birds of passage ; they are at
home both in the south and in the north. So it
behoves the rest of us to be all the more
energetic, Mr. Hovstad. Will there be anything
of public interest in the Peoples Messenger
to-morrow }

HoVSTAD.

Nothing of local interest. But the day after
to-morrow I think of printing your article

Dr. Stockmann.

Oh confound it, that article ! No, you'll have
to hold it over.

HoVSTAD.

Really } We happen to have plenty of
space, and I should say this was the very time
for it

2!2 AN ENKMV Of THE PEOPLE. [acT I.

Dh. Stockmann.
Yes, yes, you may be right ; but you must hold
it over all the same. I shall explain to you by-
and by.

Petra, wearing a hat and cloak, and with a number of
exercise-books under her arm, enters from the hall.

Petra.
Good evening.

Dr. SrocKMANN.
Good evening, Petra. Is that you }

[^General greetings. Petra puts her clonk,
hat, and books on a chair bij the door.

Petra.
Here you all are, enjoying yourselves, while I've
been out slaving.

Dr. Stockmann.
Well then, you come and enjoy yourself too.

Billing.
May I mix you a little .'*

Petra.
[Coming towards the fable.] Thank you, I'd
rather help myself — you always make it too strong.
By the way, father, I have a letter for you.

[Goes to the chair where her things are lying.

Dr. Stockmann.
A letter ! From whom .''

Petra.
[Searching in the pocket of her cloak.] I got it
from the postman just as I was going out

J

act i.] an enemy of the people. 23

Dr. Stockmann
\ Rising and going totvards her.] And you only
bring it me now ?

Petra.

I really hadn't time to run up again. Here it
is.

Dr. Stockmann.

[Seizing the letter.] Let me see, let me see, child.
[Reads the address.] Yes ; this is it !

Mrs. Stockmann.
Is it the one you have been so anxious about,
Thomas ?

Dr. Stockmann.

Yes it is. I must go at once. Where shall I
rind a light, Katrina ? Is there no lamp in my
study again !

Mrs. Stockmann.

Yes — the lamp is lighted. It's on the writing-
table.

Dr. Stockmann.

Good, good. Excuse me one moment

[He goes into the room on the right.

Petra.
What can it be, mother ?

Mrs. Stockmann.
I don't know. For the last few days he has
been continually on the look-out for the postman.

Billing.
Probably a country patient

Petra.
Poor father ! He'll soon have far too much

iit .AN BNBMV OK IIIK I'KoPI.K. \ \rr I.

to do, [Mixes her loddi/.] Ah, this will taste
good !

H0V8TAD.
Have you been teaching in the night school as
well to-day ?

Petra.
[Sipping from her glass.] Two hours.

Billing.
And four hours in the morning at the in-
stitute

Petra.

[Sitting down by the table.] Five hours.

Mrs. Stockmann.
And I see you have exercises to correct this
evening.

Petra.
Yes, a heap of them.

HoRSTER.

It seems to me you have plenty to do, too.

Petra.
Yes ; but I like it. You feel so delightfully
tired after it.

Billing
Do you like that }

Petra.
Yes, for then you sleep so well,

Morten.
I say, Petra, you must be a great sinner.

ACT I.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 25

Petra.
A sinner ?

Morten.
Yes, if you work so hard. Mr. Rorlund i says
work is a punishment for our sins.

ElLIF.

[Contemptuously.'] Bosh ! What a silly you
ai*e, to believe such stuff as that.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Come come, Eilif.

Billing.
[Laughing.] Capital, capital !

HoVSTAD.

Should you not like to work so hard, Morten ?

Morten.
No, I shouldn't.

HoVSTAD.

Then what will you do with yourself in the
world }

Morten.
I should like to be a Viking.

Eilif.
But then you'd have to be a heathen.

Morten.
Well, SO I would.

Billing.
There I agree with you, Morten ! I say just
the same thing.

See Pillars of Society.

26" AN KNKM\ Ol TIIK I'KOl'LK. [a ( T 1.

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Making a sign to him ] No, no, Mr. Hilling,
I'm sure you don't.

Buj.ING.

Strike me dead but I do, though I am a
heathen, and I'm proud of it. "You'll see we shall
all be heathens soon.

Morten.
And shall we be able to do anything we like
then }

Billing.
Well, you see, Morten

Mrs. Stockmann.
Now run away, boys ; I'm sure you have lessons
to prepare for to-morrow.

illLIF.

You might let me stay just a little longer

Mrs. Stockmann.
No, you must go too. Be off, both of you.

[7'/te boys say good-night and go into the
room on the left.

HoVSTAD.

Do you really think it can hurt the boys to
hear these things }

Mrs. Stockmann.
Well, I don't know ; I don't like it.

Petra.
Really, mother, I think you are quite wrong
there.

act i.] an enemy of the i'eol'le. 27

Mrs. Stockmann.
Perhaps. But I don't like it — not here, at
home.

Petra.

There's no end of hypocrisy both at home and
at school. At home you must hold your tongue',
and at school you have to stand up and tell lies
to the children.

HORSTER.

Have you to tell lies .''

Petra.
Yes ; do you think we don't have to tell
them many and many a thing we don't believe
ourselves ?

Billing.

Ah, that's too true.

Petra.
If only I could aflFord it, I should start a school
myself, and things should be very different there.

Billing.
Oh, afford it !

Horster.
If you really think of doing that, Miss Stock-
mann, I shall be delighted to let you have a
room at my place. You know my father's old
house is nearly empty ; there's a great big dining-
room on the ground floor

Petra.
[Laughing.] Oh, thank you very much — but
I'm afraid it won't come to anything.

28 AN KNKMN OK IllK I'KOI'LK. [aCT I.

HOVSTAD.

No, I fancy Miss I'etra is more likely to go over
to journalism. By the way, have you had time
to look into the English novel you promised to
translate for us ?

Petra.

Not yet. But you shall have it in good time.

Dr, Stockmann enters from his room, ivith the
letter open in his hand.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Flourishing the letter.] Here's news^ I can tell
you, that will waken up the town !

Billing.
News .''

Mrs. Stockmann.
What news ?

Dr. Stockmann.
A great discovery, Katrina !

HovsTAD.
Indeed .''

Mrs. Stockmann.
Made by you ?

Dr. Stockmann,
Precisely — by me ! [ Walks up and down.] Now
let them go on accusing me of fads and crack-
brained notions But they won't dare to ! Ha-
ha ! I tell you they won't dare !

Petra.
Do tell us what it is, father.

act i.] an enemv of the people. 29

Dr. Stockmann.
Well, well, give me time, and you shall hear
all about it. If only I had Peter here now ! This
just shows how we men can go about forming
judgments like the blindest moles

Hovstad.
What do you mean, doctor .''

Dr. Stockmann.
[Stopping beside the table.] Isn't it the general
opinion that our town is a healthy place .''

Hovstad.
Of course.

Dr. Stockmann.
A quite exceptionally healthy place, indeed — a
place to be warmly recommended, both to invalids
and people in health

Mrs. Stockmann.
My dear Thomas

Dr. Stockmann.
And assui-edly we haven't failed to recommend
and belaud it. I've sung its praises again and again,
both in the Messenger and in pamphlets

Hovstad.
Well, what then ?

Dr. Stockmann.
These Baths, that we have called the pulse of the
town, its vital nerve, and — and the devil knows
what else

30 AN KNKMV OK THE PEOPLE. [a ( T I.

Billing.
" Our city's palpitatinj? heart," I once ventured
to call thcni in a convivial moment

Dii. Stockmann.
Yes I daresay. ^Vell — do you know what
thev really are, these mighty, magnificent, be-
lauded Baths, that have cost so much money — do
you know wiiat they are ?

HOVSTAD.

No, what are they ?

Mrs. Stockmann.
Do tell us.

I)ii. Stockmann.
Simply a pestiferous hole.

Petra.
The Baths, fatlier ?

Mrs. Stockmann.
[At the same tirne.] Our Baths !

HoVSTAD.

[Also 0,t the same time.^ But, Doctor !

Billing.

Oh, it's incredible I

Dr. Stockmann.

I tell you the whole place is apoi.sonous whited-

sepulchre ; noxious in the hi<rhest degree! All

that filth up there in the Mill Dale— the stuff

that smells so horribly — taints the water in the

ACT I.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 31

feed-pipes of the Pump- Room ; and the same
accursed poisonous refuse oozes out by the
beach

HoVSTAD.

Where the sea-baths are ?

Dr. Stockmann.
Exactly.

HoVSTAD.

But how are you so sure of all this, Doctor }

Dr. Stockmann.
I've investigated the whole thing as conscien-
tiously as possible. I've long had my suspicions
about it. Last year we had some extraordinary
cases of illness among the patients — both typhoid
and gastric attacks

Mrs. Stockmann.
Yes, I remember.

Dr. Stockmann.
We thought at the time that the visitors had
brought the infection with them ; but afterwards
— last winter — I began to question that. So I
set about testing the water as well as I could.

Mrs. Stockmann.
It was that you were working so hard at !

Dr. Stockmann.

Yes, you may well say I've worked, Katrina.

But here, you know, I hadn't the necessary

scientific appliances ; so I sent samples both

of our drinking-water and of our sea-watei

32 AN ENKMV 0|- TlIF, I'KOl'I-E. [acT I.

to the University, for exact analysis by a
chemist.

HOVSTAD.

And you have received his report ?

Dr. Stockmann.
[Sho/vifig letlcr.] Here it is I And it proves
beyond cHspute the presence of putrefying organic
matter in the water — miUions of infusoria. It's
absolutely pernicious to health, whether used
internally or externally.

Mrs. Stockmann.
What a blessing you found it out in time

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, you may well say that.

HoVSTAD.

And what do you intend to do now, Doctor ?

Dr. Stockmann.
Why, to set things right, of course.

Hovstad.
You think it can be done, then i*

Dr. Stockmann.
It must be done. Else the whole Baths are
useless, ruined. But there's no fear. I am quite
clear as to what is required.

Mrs. Stockmann.
]?ut, my dear Thomas, why should you have
made such a secret of all this ?

act i.] an enemy of the people. 33

Dr. Stockmann.
Would you have had me rush all over the town
and chatter about it, before I was quite certain ?
No, thank you ; I'm not so mad as that.

Petra.
But to us at home

Dr. Stockmann.
I couldn't say a word to a living soul. But
to-morrow you may look in at the Badger's

Mrs. Stockmann.
Oh, Thomas !

Dr. Smockmann.
Well well, at your grandfather's. The old
fellow will be astonished! He thinks I'm not
quite right in my head — yes, and plenty of others
think the same, I've noticed. But now these
good people shall see — yes, they shall see now !
[fValks up and down rubbing his hands.] What a
stir there will be in the town, Katrina ! Just
think of it ! All the water-pipes will have to be
relaid.

HOVSTAD.

[Rising.] All the water-pipes ?

Dr. Stockmann.
Why, of course. The intake is too low down ;
it must be moved much higher up.

Petra.
So you were right, after all.

34 AN ENEMY OK THE PEOl'LE. [acT I,

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, do yoQ remember, Petra ? I wrote against
it when they were beginning the works. But no
one would listen to me then. Now, you may be
sure, I shall give them my full broadside — for of
course I've prepared a statement lor the Directors ;
it has been lying ready a whole week ; I've only
been waiting for this report. \^Points to letter.^
But now they shall have it at once. [Goes into his
room and returns with a MS. in his hand.^ See ! Four
closely-written sheets ! And I'll enclose the report.
A newspaper, Katrina ! Get me something to wrap
them up in. There — that's it. Give it to — to —
[Stamps.^ — what the devil's her name ? Give it
to the girl, I mean, and tell her to take it at once
to the Burgomaster.

[Mrs. Stockmann goes out tvith the packet
through the dining-room.

Petra.
What do you think Uncle Peter will say, father.-*

Dr. Stockmann.
What should he say } He can't possibly be
otherwise than pleased that so important a fact
has been brought to light.

Hovstad.
I suppose you will let me put a short announce-
ment of your discovery in the Messenger.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, I shall be much obliged if you will.

Hovstad.
It is highly desirable that the public should
know about it as soon as possible.

act i.] an enemy of the people. 35

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, certainly.

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Returning.^ She's gone with it.

Billing.
Strike me dead if you won't be the first man in
the town. Doctor !

Dr. Stockmann.
[Walks up and dotvn in high glee.] Oh, nonsense i
After all, I have done no more than my duty. I've
been a lucky treasure-hunter, that's all. But all

the same

Billing.
Hovstad, don't you think the town ought to
get up a torchlight procession in honour of Dr.
Stockmann }

Hovstad.
I shall certainly propose it.

Billing.
And I'll talk it over with Aslaksen.

Dr. Stockmann.
No, my dear friends ; let all such claptrap alone.
I won't hear of anything of the sort. And if the
Directors should want to raise my salary, I won't
accept it. I tell you, Katrina, I will not accept
it.

Mrs. Stockmann.
You are quite right, Thomas.

Pktra.
[Raising her glass.] Your health, father !

36 AN ENF.MY OF THE PEOPLE. [aCT I.

HovsTAD n7Hl Billing.
Your healtli, your health, Doctor !

HonSTER.

\Clinkivg glasses ivith the Doctoh.] I liope you
may have nothing but joy of your discovery.

Dr. Stockmann.
Thanks, thanks, my dear friends I I can't tell
you how happy I am — ! Oh, what a blessing it
is to feel that you have deserved well of your
native town and your fellow citizens Hurrah,
Katrina 1

\He puts both his arms round her neck,
and whirls her round with him. Mrs.
Stockmann screams and struggles. A
hurst of laughter, applause, and cheers
for the Doctor. The boys thrust their
heads in at Ike door.

ACT SECOND.

The Doctor's sitting-room. The dining-room door is
closed. Morning.

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Enters from the dining-i-oom with a sealed letter in
her hand, goes to the foremost door on the right, and
peeps ira.] Are you there, Thomas ?

Dr. Stockmann.
[Within.'] Yes, I have just come in. \Enters.'\
What is it ?

Mrs. Stockmann.
A letter from your brother. [Hands it to him.

Dr. Stockmann.
Aha, let us see. [Opens the envelope and reads.'\

" The MS. sent me is returned herewith "

[Reads on, mumbling to himself.] H'm —

Mrs. Stockmann.
Well, what does he say ?

Dr. Stockmann.
[Putting the paper in his pocket.] Nothing ; only
that he'll come up himself about midday.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Then be sure you remember to stay at home.

.SS AN KNKMV OK THE I'KOl'LE. [a ( T II.

Dr. Stockmann.
Oh, I can easily manage that ; I've finished my
moniing's visits.

Mrs. Stockmann.
I am very curious to know how he takes It.

Dr. Stockmann.
You'll see he won't be over-pleased tliat it is I
that have made the discovery, and not he him-
self.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Ah, that's just w^hat I'm afraid of.

Dr. Stockmann.
Of course at bottom he'll be glad. But still —
Peter is damnably unwilling that any one but
himself should do anything for the good of the
town.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Do you know, Thomas, I think you might
stretch a point, and share the honour with him.
Couldn't it appear that it was he that put you on
the track .''

Dr. Stockmann.
By all means, for aught I care. If only I can
get things put straight

Old Morten Kiil puts fits head in at the
hall door, and askx slyly .

Morten Kiil.
Is it— is it true ?

ACT II.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 39

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Going towards him.] Father — i& that you ?

Dr. Stockmann.
Hallo^ father-in-law ! Good morning, gootl
morning,

Mrs. Stockmann.
Do come in.

Morten Kiil.
Yes, if it's true ; if not, I'm off again.

Dr. Stockmann.
If what is true ?

Morten Kiil.
This crazy business about the water-works
Now, is it true .''

Dr. Stockmann.
Why, of course it is. But how came you to
hear of it ?

Morten Kiil.
etra looked in

Dr. Stockmann.

[Cotning i?i.] Petra looked in on her way to the
school

Oh, did she ?

Morten Kiil.

Ay ay — and she told me — . I thought she was
only making game of me ; but that's not like
Petra either.

Dr. Stockmann.
No, indeed ; how could you think so .''

40 AN KNKM\ OK TIIK I'KOl'LE. [a(T II.

Morten Kiil.
Oil, yoii can never he sure of anybody. You
may be made a fool of before you know where
you are. So it is true, after all .''

Dr. Stockmann.
Most certainly it is. Do sit down, father-in-
law. ^Forces him doivn on the !<nf(i.^ Now isn't it
a real blessing for the town .''

Morten Kiil.
[Suppressing his laughter. ^^ A blessing for the
town ?

Dr. Stockmann.

Yes, that I made this discovery in time

Morten Kiil.
[As before.] Ay, ay, ay ! — Well, I could never
have believed that you would play monkey-tricks
with your very own brother.

Dr. Stockmann.
Monkey-tricks !

Mrs. Stockmann.
Why, father dear

Morten Kiil.
[Resting his hands and chin on the top of his stick
and blinking slijli/ at the Doctor.] What was it
again ? Wasn't it that some animals had got
into the water-pipes .''

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes ; infusorial animals.

Morten Kfil.
And any number of these animals had got in,
Petra said — whole swarms of them.

I

I

act ii.] an enemy of the people. 41

Dr. Stockmann.
Certainly ; hundreds of thousands.

Morten Kiil.
But no one can see them — isn't that it ?

Dr. Stockmann.
Quite right ; no one can see them.

Morten Kiil.
[With a quiet, chuckling laugh.] I'll be damned
if that isn't the best thing I've heard of you yet.

Dr Stockman,
What do you mean ?

Morten Kiil.
But you'll never in this world make the Burgo-
master take in anything of the sort.

Dr. Stockmann.
Well, that we shall see.

Morten Kiil.
Do you really think he'll be hO crazy ?

Dr. Stockmann.
I hope the whole town will be so crazy.

Morten Kiil.
The whole town ! Well, I don't say but it
may. But it serves them right ; it'll teach them
a lesson. They wanted to be so much cleverer
than we old fellows. They hounded me out of
the Town Council. Yes ; I tell you they hounded
me out like a dog, that they did. But now it's

42 AN KNEMY OK TIIK I* KOI' I. K. [a(T II.

their turn. Just you keep up the game with
them, Stockmann.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, but, father-in-law

Morten Kiil.
Keep it up, I say. [Rixing.] If you can make
the Burgomaster and his gang eat humble pie,
I'll give a hundred crowns straight away to the
poor.

Dr. Stockmann.

Come, that's good of you.

Morten Kiil.
Of course I've little enougii to throw away ; but
if you can manage that, I shall certainly remember
the poor at Christmas-time, to the tune of fifty
crowns.

HovsTAD enters from hall.

HOVSTAD.

Good morning ! [Pausing.'] Oh ! I beg your

pardon

Dr. Stockmann.
Not at all. Come in, come in.

Morten Kiil.
[Chuckling again.'] He ! Is he in it too >

Hovstad.
What do you mean .''

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, of course he is.

act 11.] an enemv of the people. 43

Morten Kiil.
I might have known it ! It's to go into the
papers. Ah, you're the one, Stockmann ! Do
you two lay your heads together ; I'm off.

Dr. Stockmann.
Oh no ; don't go yet, father-in-law.

Morten Kiil.
No, I'm off now. Play them all the monkey-
tricks you can think of. Deuce take me but you
shan't lose by it.

[He goes, Mrs. Stockmann accompanying
him.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Laughing.^ What do you think — ? The old
fellow doesn't believe a word of all this about the
water-works.

HOVSTAD.

Was that what he }

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes ; that was what we were talking about.
And I daresay you have come on the same
business ?

HoVSTAD.

Yes, Have you a moment to spare. Doctor ?

Dr. Stockmann.
As many as you like, my dear fellow.

HoVSTAD.

Have you heard anything from the Burgo-
master .''

+ !• AN KNKMV OK THE I'EOIM-E. [aCT II.

I)ii. Stockmann.
Not yet. He'll be here presently.

HoVSTAD.

I have been thinking the matter over since last
evening.

Dr. Stockmann.
Well }

Ho VST ad.
To you, as a doctor and a man of science, this
business of the waterworks appears an isolated
artair. I daresay it hasn't occurred to you that a
good many other things are bound up with it."*

Dr. Stockmann.
Indeed ! In what way .'' Let us sit down, my
dear fellow. — No; there, on the sofa.

[HovsTAD si Is on sofa : the Doctor in an
easy-chair on the other side of the table.

Dr. Stockmann.
Well, so you think }

HoV.STAD.

You said yesterday that the water is polluted by
impurities in the soil.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, undoubtedly ; the mischiet comes from
that poisonous swamp up in the Mill Dale.

HoVSTAD.

Excuse me. Doctor, but I think it comes from
a very different swamp.

act ii.] an enemv of the people. 45

Dr. Stockmann.
What swamp may that be ?

HOVSTAD.

The swamp in which our whole municipal life
is rotting.

Dr. Stockmann.

The devil, Mr. Hovstad I What notion is this
you've got hold of?

Hovstad.
All the affairs of the town have gradually drifted
into the hands of a pack of bui'eaucrats

Dr. Stockmann.
Come now, they're not all bureaucrats.

Hovstad.
No ; but those who are not are the friends and
adherents of those who are. We are entirely under
the thumb of a ring of wealthy men, men of old
family and position in the town.

Dr. Stockmann,
Yes, but they are also men of ability and
insight.

Hovstad.

Did they show ability and insight when they
laid the water-pipes where they are ?

Dr. Stockmann.
No ; that, of course, was a piece of stupidity
But that will be set right now.

Hovstad.
Do you think it will go so smoothly ?

ICJ AN ENEMY OK THE PEOPLE. [aCT II.

Dr. vStockmann.
Well, smoothly or not, it will have to be done,

HOVSTAD.

Yes, if the press exerts its influence.

Dr. Stockmann.
Not at all necessary, my dear fellow ; I am sure
my brother

HoVSTAD.

Excuse me. Doctor, but I must tell you that I
think of taking the matter up.

Dr. Stockmann.
In the paper ?

HoVSTAD.

Yes. When I took over the People s Messenger, I
was determined to break up the ring of obstinate
old blockheads who held everything in their hands.

Dr. Stockmann.
But you told me yourself what came of it. You
nearly ruined the paper.

HoVSTAD.

Yes, at that time we had to draw in our horns,
that's true enough. The whole Bath scheme
might have fallen through if these men had been
sent about their business. But now the Baths are
an accomplished fact, and we can get on without
these august personages.

Dr. Stockmann.
Get on without them, yes; but still we owe
them a great deal.

ACT II.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 47

HOVSTAD.

The debt shall be duly acknowledged. But a
journalist of my democratic tendencies cannot let
such an opportunity slip through his fingers. We
must explode the tradition of official infallibility.
That rubbish must be got rid of, like every other
superstition.

Dr. Stockmann.
There I am with you with all my heart, Mr.
Hovstad. If it's a superstition, away with it !

HoVSTAD.

I should be sorry to attack the Burgomaster, as
he is your brother. But I know you think with
me — the truth before all other considerations.

Dr. Stockmann.
Why, of course. [^Vehemently.'\ But still — !
but still !

HoVSTAD.

You mustn't think ill of me. I am neither
more self-interested nor more ambitious than other
men.

Dr. Stockmann.

Why, my dear fellow — who says you are ?

Hovstad.
I come of humble folk, as you know ; and I have
had ample opportunities of seeing what the lower
classes really require. And that is to have a share
in the direction of public affairs, Doctor. That
is what develops ability and knowledge and self-
respect

Dr. Stockmann.
I understand that perfectly.

48 AN ENKMV OK THE PFOI'LE. [a(T 11.

IIoVSTAl).

Yes ; and I think a journalist incurs a heavy
responsibiHty if he lets slip a chance of helping; to
emancipate the downtrodden masses. I know
well enough that our oligarchy will denounce me
as an agitator, and so forth ; but what do 1 care ?
If only my conscience is clear, I

Dr. Stockmann.
Just so, just so, my dear Mr. Hovstad. But

still — deuce take it ! [A knock at ike door.]

Come in !

AsLAKSEN, the printer, appears at the door leading
to the hall. lie is hiimblii but respectably dres,<ied
in black, wears a irhite necktie, slightly crumpled,
and has a silk hat and gloves in his hand.

AsLAKSEN.

[Hon'ing.] I beg pardon, Doctor, for making

so bold

Dr. Stockmann.
[Rising.] Hallo I If it isn't Mr. Aslaksen !

AsLAKSEN.

Yes, it's me, Doctor.

Hovstad.
[Rising.] Is it me you want, Aslaksen .''

Aslaksen.
No, not at all. I didn't know you were here.
No, it's the Doctor himself

Dr. Stockmann.
Well, what can I do for you ?

ACT II.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 49

ASLAKSEN.

Is it true, what Mr. Billing tells me, that you're
going to get us a better set of water-works .''

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, for the Baths.

AsLAKSEN.

Of course, of course. Then I just looked in to
say that I'll back up the movement with all my
might.

HOVSTAD.

[To the Doctor.] You see !

Dr. Stockmann.
I'm sure I thank you heartily ; but

Aslaksen.
You may find it no such bad thing to have us
small middle-class men at your back. We form
what you may call a compact majority in the town
— when we really make up our minds, that's to
say. And it's always well to have the majority
with you. Doctor.

Dr. Stockmann.

No doubt, no doubt ; but I can t conceive that
any special measures will be necessary in this case.
I should think in so clear and straightforward a

matter

Aslaksen.

Yes, but all the same, it can do no harm. I
know the local authorities very well — the powers
that be are not over ready to adopt suggestions
from outsiders. So I think it wouldn't be amiss
if we made some sort of a demonstration.

50 AN ENEMY OK THE PEOPLE. [acT II.

HoVSTAD.

Precisely my opinion.

Dr. Stockmann.
A demonstration, you say .'' But in what way
would you demonstrate .''

AsLAKSEN.

Of course with great moderation, Doctor. 1
always insist upon moderation ; for moderation
is a citizen's first virtue — at least that's my way
of thinking.

Dr. Stockmann.

VV^e all know that, Mr. Aslaksen.

AsLAKSEN.

Yes, I think my moderation is generally recog-
nised. And this affair of the water-works is very
important for us small middle-class men. The
Baths bid fair to become, as you might say, a little
gold-mine for the town. We shall all have to live
by the Baths, especially we house-owners. So we
want to support the Baths all we can ; and as I
am Chairman of the House-owners' Associa-
tion

Dr. Stockmann.

Well ?

Aslaksen.

And as I'm an active worker for the Tem-
perance ' Society — of course you know, Doctor,
that I'm a temperance man ?

Dr. Stockmann.
To be sure, to be sure.

' The word " mtideholtl." in Norwegian, means both "mode
ration" and " temperance."

ACT II.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 51

AsLAKSEN,

Well, you'll understand that I come in con-
tact with a great many people. And as I'm known
to be a prudent and law-abiding citizen, as you
yourself remarked. Doctor, I have a certain in-
fluence in the town, and hold some power in my
hands — though I say it that shouldn't.

Dr. Stockmann.
I know that very well, Mr, Aslaksen.

AsLAKSEN.

Well then, you see — it would be easy fbr me to
get up an address, if it came to a pinch.

Dr. Stockmann.

An address .''

Aslaksen.

Yes, a kind of vote of thanks to you, from the
citizens of the town, for your action in a matter
of such general concern. Of course it will have
to be drawn up with all fitting moderation, so as
to give no offence to the authorities and parties in
power. But so long as we're careful about that,
no one can take it ill, I should think.

Hovstad.
Well, even if they didn't particularly like it

Aslaksen.
No no no ; no offence to the powers that be,
Mr. Hovstad. No opposition to people that can
take it out of us again so easily. I've had enough
of that in my time ; no good ever comes of it. But
no one can object to the free but temperate ex-
pression of a citizen's opinion.

52 AN ENEMY OK THE PEOPLE. [aCT II.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Shakhig his hand.] I can't tell you, my dear
Mr. Aslaksen, how heartily it delights me to find
so much support among my fellow townsmen.
I'm so happy — so happy! Come, you'll have a
glass of sherry ? Eh ?

Aslaksen.
No, thank you ; I never touch spirituous
liquors.

Dr. Stockmann.

Well, then, a glass of beer — what do you say to
that ?

Aslaksen.

Thanks, not that either. Doctor. I never take
anvlhing so early in the day. And now I'll be
off round the town, and talk to some of the house-
owners, and prepare public opinion.

Dr. Stockmann.
Its extremely kind of you, Mr. .Aslaksen ; but I
really cannot get it into my head that all these
preparations are necessary. The affair seems to
me so simple and self-evident.

Aslaksen.
The authorities always move slowly. Doctor —
God forbid I should blame them for it

Hovstad.

We'll stir them up in the paper to-morrow,
Aslaksen

Aslaksen.

No violence, Mr. Hovstad. Proceed with mo-
deration, or you'll do nothing with them. Take

ACT II.] AN ENEMY OE THE PEOPLE. 53

my advice ; I've picked up experience in the
school of hfe. — And now I'll say good morning,
Doctor. You know now that at least you have us
small middle-class men behind you, solid as a wall.
You have the compact majority on your side,
Doctor.

Dr. Stockmann.

Many thanks, my dear Mr. Aslaksen. [Holds
out his hand.] Good-bye, good-bye.

Aslaksen.
Are you coming to the office, Mr. Hovstad ?

HOVSTAD.

I shall come on presently. I have still one or
two things to arrange.

Aslaksen.
Very well.

[Botvs and goes. Dr. Stockmann accom-
panies him into the hall.

Hovstad.
[As the Doctor re-enters.] Well, what do you
say to that. Doctor ? Don't you think it is high
time we should give all this weak-kneed, half-
hearted cowardice a good shaking up .-*

Dr. Stockmann.
Are you speaking of Aslaksen ?

HOVSTAU.

Yes, I am. He's a decent enough fellow, but
he's one of those who are sunk in the swamp. And
most people here are just like him; they are for
ever wavering and wobbling from side to side ;

T)-!- AN ENKMV OK TIIK PEOPLE. [acT II.

what with scruples and misgivings, they never
dare advance a step.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, but Aslaksen seems to me thoroughly well-
intentioned.

HoVSTAD.

There is one thing I value more than good
intentions, and that is an attitude of manly self-
reliance.

Dr. Stockmann.

There I am quite with you.

HoVSTAD.

So I am going to seize this opportunity, and try
whether I can't for once put a little grit into their
good intentions. The worship of authority must be
rooted up in this town. This gross, inexcusable
blunder of the waterworks must be brought home
clearly to every voter.

Dr. Stockmann.
Very well. If you think it's for the good of the
community, so be it ; but not till I have spoken to
my brother.

HoVSTAD.

At all events, I shall be writing my leader in the
meantime. And if the Burgomaster won't take
the matter up

Dr. Stockmann.
But how can you conceive his refusing ?

Hovstad.
Oh, it's not inconceivable. And then

iCT II.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE

55

Dr. Stockmann.
Well then, I promise you — ; look here— in
that case you may print my paper — put it in just
as it is.

HOVSTAD.

May I ? Is that a promise .'*

Dr. Stockmann.
[Handing him the manuscript ] There it is ; take
it with you. You may as well read it in any case ;
you can return it to me afterwards.

HOVSTAU,

Very good ; I shall do so. And now, good-bye,
Doctor.

Dr. Stockmann.

Good-bye, good bye. You'll see it will all go
smoothly, Mr. Hovstad — as smoothly as possible.

Hovstad.

H'm — we shall see.

\Bows and goes out through the hall.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Going to the dining-room door and looking z».]
Katrina ! Hallo ! are you back, Petra .''

Petra.
[Entering.l Yes, I've just got back from school.

Mrs, Stockmann.
[Entering ] Hasn't he been here yet }

Dr. Stockmann.
Peter } No ; but I have been having a long

AN KNKMV OK TIIK I'Kol'I.K. [ A ( P II.

talk with Hovstad. He's quite entluisiastic about
my discovery. It turns out to be of much wider
import than' I thought at first. So he has phiced
his paper at my disposal, if 1 should require it.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Do you think you will ?

Dr. Stockmann.
Not I ! But at the same time, one cannot but
be proud to know that the enlightened, indejjen-
dent press is on one's side. And what do you
think ? I have had a visit from the Chairman of
the House-owners' Association too.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Really > What did he want ?

Dr. Stockmann.
To assure me of his support. They will all stand
by me at a pinch. Katrina, do you know what 1
have behind me .''

Mrs. Stockmann.
Behind you ? No. What have you behind
you ?

Dr. Stockmann.

The compact majority !

Mrs. Stockmann.

! Oh ! Is that good for you, Thomas ?
I

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, indeed; I should think it was good.
Rubbing his hands as he walks up and down.] Great

ACT II.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 57

God ! what a deliglit it is to feel oneself in such
brotherly unison with one'a fellow townsmen ?

Petra.

And to do so much that's good and useful,
father !

Dr. Stockmann.
And all for one's native town, too I

Mrs. Stockmann.
There's the bell.

Dr. Stockmann.
That must be he. [Knock at the door.^ Come
in !

Enter Burgomaster Stockmann from the hall.

Burgomaster,
Good morning,

Dr, Stockmann,
I'm glad to see you, Peter,

Mrs, Stockmann.
Good morning, brother-in-law. How are you .''

Burgomaster,
Oh, thanks, so-so, [To the Doctor.] Yester-
day evening, after office hours, I received from
you a dissertation upon the state of the water at
the Baths,

Dr, Stockmann.
Yes. Have you read it .''

Burgomaster.
I have.

58 AN ENKM\ OK TIIK I'EOI'LE. [acT 11

Dr. Stockmann.
And what do you think of the affair ?

Burgomaster.
H'm — [ With a sidelong glance.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Come, Petra.

[She and Petra go into the room on the lejl

Burgomaster.
[AJler a pause.] Was it necessary to make all
these investigations behind iny back ?

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, till I was absolutely certain, I

Burgomaster.
And are you absolutely certain now ?

Dr. Stockmann.
My paper must surely have convinced you of
that.

Burgomaster.
Is it your intention to submit this statement to
the Board of Directors, as a sort of official docu-
ment .''

Dr. Stockmann.
Of course. Something must be done in the
matter, and that promptly.

Burgomaster.
As usual, you use very strong expressions in your
statement. Amongst other things, you say that
what we offer our visitors is a slow poison.

act n.] an enemy of the people. 59

Dr. Stockmann,

Why, Peter, what else can it be called ? Only
think — poisoned water both internally and exter-
nally ! And that to poor invalids who come to us
in all confidence, and pay us handsomely to cure
them !

Burgomaster.

And then you announce as your conclusion that
we must build a sewer to carry off the alleged im-
purities from the Mill Dale, and must re-lay all
the water-pipes.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes. Can you suggest any other plan ? — I
know of none.

Burgomaster.
I found a pretext for looking in at the town
engineer's this morning, and — in a half-jesting
way — I mentioned these alterations as things
we might possibly have to consider, at some
future time.

Dr. Stockmann.
At some future time !

BurgomasteRo
Of course he smiled at what he thought my
extravagance. Have you taken the trouble to
think what your proposed alterations would
cost ? From what the engineer said, I gathered
that the expenses would probably mount up to
several hundred thousand crowns.

Dr. Stockmann
So much as that ?

()() AN ENK.MN OF I'llE J'EOPLK. [ACT I.

Burgomaster.
Yes. But that is not the worst The work
would take at least two years.

Dr. Stockmann.
Two years ! Do you mean to say two whole
years ?

Burgomaster.
At least. And what are we to do with the
Baths in the meanwhile f Are we to close them ?
We should have no alternative. Do you think
any one would come here, if it got abroad that the
water was pestilential ?

Dr. Stockmann.
But, Peter, that's precisely what it is.

Burgomaster.

And all this now, just now, when the Baths are
doing so well ! Xeigbouring towns, too, are not
without their claims to rank as health-resorts.
Do you think they would not at once set to work
to divert the full stream of visitors to themselves.-'
Undoubtedly they woulil ; and we should be left
stranded. VVe should ])robably have to give up
the whole costly undertaking ; and so you would
have ruined your native town.

Dr. Stockmann
I — ruined !

Burgomaster
It is only through the Baths ti)at the town has
any future worth speaking of. ^ ou surely know
that as well as I do.

act ii.] an enemy of the peopj £. 6]

Dr. Stockmann.
Then what do you think should be done .''

Burgomaster.
I have not succeeded in convincing myself that
the condition of the water at the Baths is as
serious as your statement represents.

Dr. Stockmann.
I tell you it's if anything worse — or will be in
the summer, when the hot weather sets in.

Burgomaster.
I repeat that I believe you exaggerate greatly
A competent physician should know what measures
to take — he should be able to obviate deleterious
influences, and to counteract them in case they
should make themselves unmistakably felt.

Dr. Stockmann.
Indeed — ? And then — .''

Burgomaster.
The existing water-works are, once for all, a
fact, and must naturally be treated as such. But
when the time comes, the Directors will probably
not be indisposed to consider whether it may not
be possible, without unreasonable pecuniary sacri-
fices, to introduce certain improvements.

Dr. Stockmann.
And do you imagine I could ever be a party to
such dishonesty ?

Burgomaster.
Dishonesty ?

62 AN ENEMY OK TIIK i'KOl'LK. [acT 11.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, it would be dishonesty — a fraud, a lie, an
absolute crime against the public, against society
as a whole !

Burgomaster.
I have not, as I before remarked, been able to
convince myself that there is really any such
imminent danger.

Dr. Stockmann.
You have ! You must have ! I know that my
demonstration is absolutely clear and convincing.
And you understand it perfectly, Peter, only you
won't admit it. It was you who insisted that both
the Bath-buildings and the water-works should be
placed where they now are; and it's tliat — it's
that damned blunder that you won't confess.
Pshaw ! Do you think I don't see through you ?

Burgomaster.

And even i : it were so ? If I do watch over
my reputation with a certain anxiety, I do it for
the good of the town. Without moral authority
I cannot guide and direct affairs in the way I
consider most conducive to the general welfare.
Therefore^and on various other grounds — it is
of great moment to me that your statement
should not be submitted to the Board of
Directors. It must be kept back, for the good
of the community. Later on I will bring up the
matter for discussion, and we will do the best
we can, quietly ; but not a word, not a whisper,
of this unfortunate business must come to the
public ears.

Dr. Stockmann.

But it can't be prevented now, my dear Peter.

act ii.] an enemy of the people. 63

Burgomaster.
It must and shall be prevented.

Dr. Stockmann.
It can't be, I tell you ; far too many people
know about it already.

Burgomaster.
Know about it ! Who } Surely not those fellows
on the People's Messenger .''

Dr. Stockmann.
Oh yes ; they know. The liberal, independent
press will take good care that you do your duty.

Burgomaster.
[After a short pause.] You are an amazingly
reckless man, Thomas. Have not you reflected
what the consequences of this may be to yourself.''

Dr. Stockmann.
Consequences .'' — Consequences to me .''

Burgomaster.
Yes — to you and yours.

Dr. Stockmann.
What the devil do you mean }
Burgomaster.
I believe I have always shown myself ready and
willing to lend you a helping hand.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, you have, and I thank you for it.

Burgomaster.
I ask for no thanks. Indeed, I was in some

6i AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. [atT II.

measure forced to act as I did — for my own sake.
I always hoped I should he able to keep you a
little in check, if I helped to imorove your
pecuniary position.

Dr. Stockmann.
What ! So it was only for your own sake !

Burgomaster.
In a measure, I say. It is painful for a man in
an official position, when his nearest relative goes
and compromises himself time after time.

Dr. Stockmann.
And you think i do that .''

Burgomaster.
Yes, unfortunately, you do, without knowing it.
Yours is a turbulent, unruly, rebellious spirit. And
then vou have an unhappy propensity for rushing
into print upon every possible and impossible
occasion. You no sooner hit upon an idea than
you must needs write a newspaper article or a
whole pamphet about it.

Dr. Stockmann.
Isn't it a citizen's duty, when he has conceived
a new idea, to communicate it to the public !

Burgomaster.
Oh, the public has no need for new ideas. The
public gets on best with the good old recognised
ideas it has already.

Dr. Stockmann.
You say that right out !

act 11.] an enemy of the people. 65

Burgomaster.
Yes, I must speak frankly to you for once.
Hitherto I have tried to avoid it, for I know how
irritable you are ; but now I must tell you the
truth, Thomas. You have no conception how
much you injure yourself by your officiousness.
You complain of the authorities, ay, of the
Government itself — you cry them down and main-
tain that you have been slighted, persecuted. But
what else can you expect, with your impossible
disposition .''

Dr. Stockmann.
Oh, indeed ! So I am impossible, am I .''

Burgomaster.
Yes, Thomas, you are an impossible man to
work with. I know that from experience. You
have no consideration for any one or any thing ;
you seem quite to forget that you have me to
tliank for your position as medical officer of the
Baths

Dr. Stockmann.
It was mine by right ! Mine, and no one else's !
I was the first to discover the town's capabilities
as a watering-place ; I saw them, and, at that time,
I alone. For years I fought single-handed for
this idea of mine ; I wrote and wrote

Burgomaster.
No doubt ; but then the right time had not
come. Of course, in that out-of-the-world corner,
you could not judge of that. As soon as the
propitious moment arrived, I — and others — took
the matter in hand

66 AN ENEMY OK THE PEOPLE. [a(

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, and you went and bujigled the whole of
my glorious j)lan. Oh, we see now what a set of
wiseacres you were !

Burgomaster.

All / can see is that you are again seeking an
outlet for your pugnacity. You want to make
an onslaught on your su])eriors — that is ati old
habit ot yours. You cannot endure any authority
over you ; you look askance at any one who holds
a higher post than your own ; you regard him as
a personal enemy — and then you care nothing
what kind of weapon you use against him. But
now I have shown you how much is at stake for
the town, and consequently for me too. And
therefore I warn you, Thomas, that I am in-
exorable in the demand I am about to make ot
you!

Dr. Stockmann,

What demand ?

Burgomaster.
As you have not had the sense to refrain from
chattering to outsiders about this delicate business,
which should have been kept an official secret, of
course it cannot now be hushed up. All sorts ot
rumours will get abroad, and evil-disposed j)ers()ns
will invent all sorts of additions to them. It will
therefore be necessary for you publicly to contra
diet these rumours.

Dr. Stockmann.
I ! How ? I don't understand you .''

BURGOMASTEH.

VV'e expect that, after further investigation, you

ACT II ] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 67

will come to the conclusion that the affair is not
nearly so serious or pressing as you had at first
imagined.

Dr. Stockmann.

Aha ! So you expect that ?

Burgomaster.
Furthermore, we expect you to express your
confidence that the Board of Directors will
thoroughly and conscientiously carry out all
measures for the remedying of any possible
defects.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, but that you'll never be able to do, so long
as you go on tinkering and patching. I tell you
that, Peter ; and it's my deepest, sincerest con-
viction

Burgomaster.

As an official, you have no right to hold any
individual conviction.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Slarting.] No right to ?

Burgomaster.
As an official, I say. In your private capacity,
of course, it is another matter. But as a sub-
ordinate official of the Baths, you have no right to
express any conviction at issue with that of your
superiors.

Dr. Stockmann.
This is too much ! I, a doctor, a man of science,
have no right to !

Burgomaster.
The matter in question is not a purely scientific

fig AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. [aCT II.

one ; it is a complex affair ; it has both a technical
and an economic side.

Dii. Stockmann.
What the devil do I care what it is ! I will be
free to speak my mind upon any subject under
the sun !

Burgomaster.

As you please — so long as it does not concern
the Baths. With them we forbid you to meddle.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Shouts.] You forbid ! You ! A set of

Burgomaster.
/ forbid it — /, your chief; and when I issue an
order, you have simply to obey.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Controlling himself.] Upon my word, Peter, if
you weren't my brother

Petra.
[Tears open the door.] Father, you shan't sub-
mit to this !

Mrs. Stockmann.

[Following her.] Petra, Petra !

Burgomaster.
Ah I So we have been listening !

Mrs. Stockmann.
The partition is so thin, we couldn't help

Petra.
I stood and listened on purpose.

act ii.] an enemv of the people. 69

Burgomaster.
Well, on the whole, I am not sorry

Dr. Stockmann.
[Cofning nearer to kivt.] You spoke to me of
forbidding and obeying

Burgomaster.
You have forced me to adopt that tone.

Dr. Stockmann.
And am I to give myself the lie, in a public
declaration .''

Burgomaster.
We consider it absolutely necessary that you
should issue a statement in the terms indicated.

Dr. Stockmann.
And if I do not obey ?

Burgomaster.
Then we shall ourselves put forth a statement
to reassure the public.

Dr. Stockmann.
Well and good ; then I shall write against you.
I shall stick to my point and prove that / am
right, and you wrong. And what will you do
then }

Burgomaster.

Then I shall be unable to prevent your dismissal.

Dr. Stockmann.

What !

Petra.

Father ! Dismissal

lO AN ENKMV t)K THE I'KOI'LE.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Dismissal !

BuiUiOM ASTER.

Your dismissal from the Baths. I shall be
compelled to move that notice be ^iveii you at
once, and that you have henceforth no connection
whatever with the Baths.

Dr. Stockmann.
You would dare to do that !

Buroomaster.
It is you who are playing the daring game.

Petra.
Uncle, this is a shameful way to treat a man
like father !

Mrs. Stockmann.
Do be quiet, Petra !

Burgomaster.
[Looking at Petra.] Aha I We have opinions
of our own already, eh ? To be sure, to be sure !
[To Mrs. Stockmann.] Sister-in-law, you are
presumably the most rational member of this
household. Tlse all your 'ufluence with your
husband ; try to make him realise what all this
will involve both for his family

Dr. Stockmann.
My family concerns myself alone !

Burgomaster.

both for his family, I say, and for the town

he lives in.

act ii.] an enemy of the people. 71

Dr. Stockmann.
It is I that have the real good of the town at
heart I I want to lay bare the evils that, sooner
or later, must come to light. Ah ! You shall see
whether I love my native town.

Burgomaster
YoUj who, in your blind obstinacy, want to cut
off the town's chief source of prosperity !

Dr Stockmann
That source is poisoned, man ! Are you mad ?
We live by trafficking in filth and corruption !
The whole of our flourishing social life is rooted
in a lie I

Burgomaster.
Idle fancies — or worse. The man who scatters
broadcast such offensive insinuations against his
native place must be an enemy of society,

Dr. Stockmann.
\^Goi?ig towards hmi.^ You dare to I

Mrs. Stockmann,
[Throwing herself between them.^ Thomas \

Petra.
[Seising her father s ann.] Keep calm, father !

Burgomaster.
I will not expose myself to violence. You have
had your warning now. Keflect upon what is due
to yourself and to your family. Good-bye.

[He goes.
Dr. Stockmann.
[fValki7ig up and down.] And I must put up

72 AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. [\CT II.

with such treatment ! In my own house, Katiina '
Wliat do you say to that !

Mils. Stockmann.
Indeed, it's a shame and a disgrace, Thomas »

Petra.
Oh, if I could only get hold of uncle !

Dr. Stockmann.
It's my own fault I ought to have stood up
against them long ago — to have shown my teeth
— and used them too ! — And to be called an
enemy of society! Me! I won't bear it; by
Heaven, I won't !

Mrs. Stockmann,
But my dear Thomas, after all, your brother
has the power

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, but I have the right.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Ah yes, right, right ! What good does it do to
have the right, if you haven't any might .''

Petra.
Oh, mother — how can you talk so ?

Dr. Stockmann.
What ! No good, in a free community, to have
right on your side ? What an absurd idea,
Katrina ! And besides — haven't I the free and
independent press before me — and the compact
majority at my back .^ That is might enough, I
should think I

;T II.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 13

Mrs. Stockmann.
Why, good heavens, Thomas ! you're surely not
thinking of — — ?

Dr. Stockmann.
What am I not thinking of .''

Mrs. Stockmann.
— — of setting yourself up against your brothei',
I mean.

Dr. Stockmann.
What the devil would you have me do, if not
stick to what is right and true .''

Petra
Yes, that's what I should like to know .-'

Mrs. Stockmann.
But it will be of no earthly use. If they won't,
they won't.

Dr. Stockmann.
Ho-ho, Katrina ! just wait a while, and you shall
see whether I can fight my battles to the end.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Yes, to the end of getting your dismissal ; that
is what will happen.

Dr. Stockmann.
Well then, I shall at any rate have done my duty
towards the public, towards society — I who am
called an enemy of society !

Mrs. Stockmann.
But towards your family, Thomas ? Towards us
at home .'' Do you think that is doing your duty
towards those who are dependent on you ?

AN ENKMN dl" TIIK I'KOI'l.K. [a<T II.

Petra.

Oh, mother, don't always think first of us.
Mus. Stock MANN.

Yes, it's easy for you to talk ; you can stand alone
if need be.- But renieniber the boys, Thomas;
and think a little of yourself too, and of me

Dr. Stockmann.

You're surely out of your senses, Katrina I If I

were to be such a ])itiful coward as to knuckle

under to this Peter and his confounded crew —

should I ever have another happy hour in all my life.^

Mrs. Stockmann.

I don't know about that ; but God preserve us
from the ha])piness we shall all of us have if you
persist in defying them. There you will be again,
with nothing to live on, with no regular income. I
should have thought we had had enough of that in
the old days. Remember them, Thomas ; think
of what it all means.

Dr. Stockmann.

[Struggling with Inmsclf and clenching his hands.]
And this is what these jacks-in-office can bring
upon a free and honest man ! Isn't it revolting,
Katrina f

Mrs. Stockmann.

Yes, no doubt they are treating you shamefully.
But God knows there's ])lenty of injustice one
must just submit to in this world.— Here are the
boys, Thomas. Look at them I What is to become
of them ? Oh no, no 1 you can never have the

heart

EiLiF and Morten, 7vith school-books, have meanwhile
entered.

ACT II.] AN F.N KM V OF TIIK I'EOI'LE, 75

Dr. Stockmann,
The boys—— — ! [ JVM a sudden access of Jirmness
and decision.^ Never, though the whole earth should
crumble, will I bow my neck beneath the yoke.

[Goes to?vards his room,

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Follofvi7ig Am.] Thomas — what are you going
to do }

Dr. Stockmann.
[At the doorJ\ I must have the right to look my
boys in the face when they have grown into free
men. [Goes into his room^

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Bursts into tears.^ Ah, God help us all I

Petra.
Father is true to the core. He will never give in !
[The boys ask tvonderingb/ n'hat it all
means ; Petra signs to them to be quiet.

ACT THIRD.

tl

The Editor's Room of the " Peopk's Messenger " In
the hackground , to the left, an entrance-dour ; to
the right another door, with glass panes, through
tvhich can be seen the composing-room. A door
in the right-hand wall. In the middle of the room
a large table covered with papers, newspapers, and
books. In front, on the left, a windoiv, and by it
a desk with a high stool. A couple of arm-chairs
beside the table ; some other chairs along the walls.
The room is dingy and cheerless, the furniture
shabby, the arm-chairs dirty and torn. In the
composing-room are seen a few compositors at
work ; further back, a hand-press in operation.

HovsTAD is seated at the desk, writing. Presently
BiLLiN J enters from the right, with the Doctor's
manuscript in his hand.

Billing.

Well, I must say !

HoVSTAD.

[^Writing.'\ Have you read it through ?

Billing.
[Laying the MS. on the desk.] Yes, I should think
I had.

HoVSTAD.

Don't you think the Doctor comes out strong ?

act iii.] an enemy of the people. 77

Billing.
Strong I Why, strike me dead if he isn't
crushing! Every word falls like a— well, like a
sledge-hammer.

HOVSTAD.

YeSj but these fellows won't collapse at the first
blow.

Billing.

True enough ; but we'll keep on hammering away,
blow after blow^ till the whole officialdom comes
crashing down. As I sat in there reading that
article, I seemed to hear the revolution thundering
afar.

HoVSTAD.

[Turning round.] Hush ! Don't let Aslaksen
hear that.

Billing.

[In a lower voice.] Aslaksen's a white-livered,
cowardly fellow, without a spark of manhood in
him. But this time you'll surely carry your point }
Eh ? You'll print the Doctoi*'s paper.?

HoVSTAD.

Yes. if only the Burgomaster doesn't give in

Billing.
That would be deuced annoying.

HoVSTAD. ' ^

Well, whatever happens, fortunately we can turn
the situation to account. If the Burgomaster won't
agree to the Doctor's proposal, he'll have all the
small middle-class down upon him — all the House-
owners' Association, and the rest of them. And
if he does agree to it, he'll fall out with the whole

78 AN ENKMV OK THK I'KOPLE. [aCT III.

crew of bi^ sharelioldt-rs in the Baths, who have
hitherto been his main support

Hll.MNO.

Yes, of course ; for no doubt they'll have to fork
out a lot of money

HoVSTAD.

You may take your oath of that. And then,
don't you see, when the rinjr is broken up, we'll
din it into the public day by day that tlie Hurjjo-
master is incompetent in every respect, and that
all responsible positions in the town, the whole
municipal government in short, must be entrusted
to men of liberal ideas.

Billing.
Strike me dead if that isn't the square truth ! I
see it — 1 see it : we are on the eve of a revolution !

[A knock al the door.

HoVSTAD.

Hush I [C«//,v.] Come in !

Dr. Stockmann enten- from the back, left.

HoVSTAD.

yGoing towards himi] Ah, here is the Doctor.
Well >

Dh. Stockmann.

Print away, Mr. Hovstad I

HovsTAD.
So it has come to that .''

Hilling.
Hurrah '

ACT in.] AN ENEMY CfF THE PEOPLE. 79

Dr. Stockmann.
Print away, I tell you. To be sure it has come
to that. Since they will have it so, they must.
War is declared, Mr. Billing !

Billing.
War to the knife, say I ! War to the death.
Doctor !

Dr. Stockmann.
This article is only the beginning. I have four
or five others sketched out in my head already. But
where do you keep Aslaksen .''

Billing.
[Calling into the printitig-room.^ Aslasken I just
come here a moment.

HoVSTAD.

Four or five more articles, eh .'' On the same
subject ?

Dr. Stockmann.

Oh no — not at all, my dear fellow. No ; they
will deal with quite different matters. But they're
all of a piece with the water-works and sewer
question. One thing leads to another. It's just
like beginning to pick at an old house, don't you
know ?

Billing.

Strike me dead, but that's true ! You feel you
can't leave off till you've pulled the whole lumber-
heap to pieces.

Aslaksen.

[Filters from the printing- room ^ Pulled to pieces !
Surely the Doctor isn't thinking of pulling the
Baths to pieces }

80 AN ENEMY OK THE PEOI'LE. [acT III.

Ho VST AD.

Not at all. Don't be alarmed.

Dr. Stockmann.
Xo, we were talkinn; of somethiii<r quite different.
'Veil, what do you think of my article, Mr. Hovstad.''

Ho VST AD.

I think it's simply a masterpiece

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, isn't it ? I'm glad you think so — very glad.

Hovstad.
it's so clear and to the point. One doesn't in
li.e least need to be a specialist to understand the
gist of it. I am certain every intelligent man will
be on your side.

AsLAKSEN.

And all the prudent ones too, I hope .'*

Billing.
Both the prudent and imprudent — in fact,
almost the whole town.

AsLAKSEN.

Then I suppose we may venture to print it.

Dr. Stockmann.
1 should thmk so !

Hovstad.

It shall go in to-morrow.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, plague take it, not a day must be lost.

ACT in.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 81

Look here, Mr. Aslaksen, this is what I wanted to
ask you : won't you take personal charge of the
article .''

ASLAKSEN.

Certainly I will.

Dr. Stockmann.
Be as careful as if it were gold. No printers'
errors ; every word is important. I shall look in
again presently ; perhaps you'll be able to let me
see a proof. — Ah I I can't tell you how I long to
have the thing in print — to see it launched

Billing.
Yes, like a thunderbolt !

Dr. Stockmann.

and submitted to the judgment of every

intelligent citizen. Oh, you have no idea what I
have had to put up with to-day. I've been
threatened with all sorts of things. 1 was to be
robbed of my clearest rights as a human

being

Billing.
What ! Your rights as a human being !

Dr. Stockmann.

1 was to humble myself, and eat the dust ;

I was to set my personal interests above my
deepest, holiest convictions

Billing.
Strike me dead, but that's too outrageous

Ho\sTAn.
Oh, what can you expect from that quarter .''

82 AN ENKMV OF THE PEOPLE. [aCT 111.

Dr. Stockmann.
But they shall find they were mistaken in me ;
tliev shall learn that in black and white, I promise
tht'in ! I shall throw myself into the breach every
day in the Messenger, boml)ard them with one
explosive article after another

ASLAKSEN .

Yes, but look here

Billing.
Hurrah I It's war ! VVar !

Dr. Stockmann.
I shall smite them to the earth, I shall crush
them, I shall level their entrenchments to the
;rround in the eyes of all right-thinking men !
That's what I shall do !

Aslaksen.
But above all things be temperate, Doctor ;
bombard with moderation

Billing.
Not at all, not at all ! Don't spare the dyna-
mite !

Dr. Stockmann.

\Going on i?nperturha()Ii/.] For now it's no
mere question of water-works and sewer.s, you see.
No, the whole community must be purged, dis-
infected

Billing.

There sounds the word of salvation '

Dh Stockmann
All the old biufglers must be sent j)acking, you

ACT III.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 83

understand. And that in every possible depart-
ment ! Such endless vistas have opened out before
me to day. I am not quite clear about everything
yet, but I shall see my way presently. It's young
and vigorous standard-bearers we must look for,
my friends ; we must have new captains at all the
outposts.

Billing.
Hear, hear !

Dr Stockmann.
And if only we hold together, it will go so
smoothly, so smootlily ! The whole revolution will
glide off the stocks just like a ship. Don't you
think so .'*

HoVSTAD.

For my part, I believe we have now every
prospect of placing our municipal affairs in the
right hands.

Aslaksen.

And if only we proceed with moderation, I
really don't think there can be any danger.

Dr. Stockmann.
Who the devil cares whether there's danger or
not ! What I do, I do in the name of truth and
for conscience' sake.

HoVSTAD.

You are a man to be backed up, Doctor.

Aslaksen.
Yes, there's no doubt the Doctor is a true
friend to the town ; he's what I call a friend of
society.

84 AN ENKMV OK THK PEOPLE. [aCT III.

Billing.
Strike me dead if Dr. Stockmaiin isn't a Friend
of the People, Aslaksen !

AsLAKSEN.

I have no doubt the House-owners' Association
will soon adopt that expression.

Dii. Stockmann.
\^Shaking their hands, deeplt/ 7noved.] Thanks,
thanks, my dear, faithful friends ; it does me good
to hear you. My respected brother called me
something very different. Never mind ! Trust
me to pay him back with interest ! But I must
be off now to see a poor devil of a patient. I shall
look in again, though. Be sure you look after
the article, Mr. Aslaksen ; and, whatever you do,
don't leave out any of my notes of exclamation I
Rather put in a few more ! Well, good-bye for
the present, good-bye, good-bye.

[Mutual salutations tvhile they accompany
him to the door. He goes out.

HoVSTAD.

He will be invaluable to us.

AsLAKSEN.

Yes, so long as he confines himself to this
matter of the Baths. But if he goes further, it
will scarcely be advisable to follow him.

HoVSTAD.

H'm — that entirely depends on

BiLi.iNc;.
You're always so confoundedly timid^ Aslaksen.

ACT III.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE,

85

ASLAKSEN.

Timid ? Yes, when it's a question of attacking
local authorities, I am timid, Mr. Billing; I have
learnt caution in the school of experience, let me
tell you. But start me on the higher politics,
confront me with the Government itself, and then
see if I'm timid.

Billing.
No, you're not; but that's just where your
inconsistency comes in.

AsLAKSEN.

The fact is, I am keenly alive to my responsi-
bilities. If you attack the Government, you at
least do society no harm ; for the men attacked
don't care a straw, you see — they stay where they
are all the same. But local authoritiescanbe turned
out ; and then we might get some incompetent
set into power, to the irreparable injury both of
house-owners and other people.

HOVSTAD.

But the education of citizens by self-govern-
ment— do you never think of that .^

AsLAKSEN.

When a man has solid interests to protect, he
can't think of everything, Mr. Hovstad.

HoVSTAD.

Then I hope I may never have solid interests
to protect.

Billing.
Hear, hear !

8t) AN KNKMN <)K TIIK I'KOI'LK. [a ( T 111.

AsLAKSEN.

[Smiling.] H'm ! [Pointx to the desk] Governor
StensgarcU sat in that editorial chair before you.

Billing.
[Spitting.] Pooh I A turncoat like that !

HOVSTAD.

I am no weathercock— and never will be.

AsLAKSEN.

A politician should never be too sure of any-
thing on earth, Mr. Hovst.id. And as for you,
Mr. Billing, you ought to lake in a reef or two, 1
should say, now that you are applying for the
secretaryship to the Town Council.

Billing.
I !

HoVSTAD.

Is that soj Billing ?

Billing.

Well, yes— but, deuce take it, you understand,
I'm only doing it to spite their high-mightinesses.

AsLAKSEN.

Well, that has nothing to do with me. But if
I am to be accused of cowardice and inconsistency,
I should just like to point out this : My political
record is open to every one. I have not changed
at all, except in becoming more moderate. My

• It will be remeniberedthat ./^slaksen figures in The League
of Youth, oS. which Stensgard is the central character. Stens-
gard, we see, has justified Lundestad's prophecy by attaining the
high administrative dignity of " Stiftamtmand, ' here roughly
translated " Governor."

ACi III.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 87

heart still belongs to the people ; but I don't
deny that my reason inclines somewhat towards
the authorities — the local ones, I mean.

[Goes into the printing-room.^

Billing.
Don't you think we should try to get rid of
him, Hovstad .''

HOVSTAD.

Do you know of any one else that will pay for
our paper and printing ?

Billing.
What a confounded nuisance it is to have no
capital !

Hovstad.
[Sitting down by the desk.\ Yes, if we only had

that

Billing.
Suppose you applied to Dr. Stockmann ?

Hovstad.
[Turning over his papers.] What would be the
good ? He hasn't a rap.

Billing.
No ; but he has a good man behind him — old
Morten Kiil — "The Badger," as they call him.

Hovstad.
[Writing.] Are you so sure he has money .''

Billing,
Yes, strike me dead if he hasn't ! And part of
it must certainly go to Stockmann's family. He s
bound to provide for — for the children at any rate.

88 AN ENEMY OF THE I'EOI'LE. [aCT HI.

HOVSTAD,

[Half turning.] Are you counting on that ?

Billing.

Counting ? How should I be counting on it ?

HoVSTAD.

Best not ! And that secretaryship you shouldn't
count on either; for I can assure you you won't
get it.

Billing.

Do you think I don't know that .'' A refusal is
the very thing I want. Such a rebuff fires the
spirit of opposition in you, gives you a fresh supj)ly
of gall, as it were ; and that's just what you need
in a god-forsaken hole like this, where anything
really stimulating so seldom happens,

HoVSTAD.

[Writing.] Yes, yes.

Billing.
Well — they shall soon hear from me ! — Now I'll
go and write the appeal to the House-owners'
Association. [Goes into the room on the right.

HoVSTAD.

[Sits at his desk, biting his penholder, and says
slowly :] H'm — so that's the way of it. — [A knock
at the door.] Come in.

Petra enters from the hack, left.

HoVSTAD.

[Rising.] What ! Is it you ? Here }

ACT in.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 89

Petra.
Yes ; please excuse me

H OVSTAD.

[Offering her an ar7n-chair.^ Won't you sit
down ?

Petra.
No, thanks ; I must go again directly.

H OVSTAD.

Perhaps you bring a message from your

father .''

Petra.

No, I have come on my own account. [Takes
a book from the pocket of her cloak^ Here is that
English story,

HOVSTAD,

Why have you brought it back .'*

Petra.
Because I won't translate it.

HoVSTAD.

But you promised

Petra.
Yes; but then I hadn't read it. I suppose you
have not read it either .''

HoVSTAD.

No ; you know I can't read English ; but

Petra.
Exactly ; and that's why I wanted to tell you
that you must find something else, [Putting the

f)() AN KNKMN OK T 1 1 K I'KOIM, K. [a(T III.

(}(utl{ on the tabic.] This will never do for the
Messenger.

HoVSTAD.

Why not ?

Petra.
Because it flies in tiie face of all your convictions.

Hovstad.
Well, for that matter

Petha.
You don't understand me. It makes out that a
supernatural power looks after the so-called <ro(H\
people in this world, and turns everything to their
advantage at last; while all the so-called bad
people are punished.

Hovstad.
Yes, but that's all right. That's the very thing
the jiublic like.

Petra,

And would you supply the public with such
stuff? You don't believe a word of it yourself.
You know well enough that things do not really
happen like that.

Hovstad.

Of course not ; but an editor can't always do as
he likes. He has often to humour people's fancies
in minor matters. After all, politics is the chief
thing in life — at any rate for a newspaper: and if
I want the people to follow me along the path of
emancipation and progress, I mustn't scare them
away. If they find a moral story like this down

ACT III.] AN ENKMV OK THE I'EOIM.R. })1

in the cellai*,' they ai-e all the more ready to take
in what we tell them above — they feel themselves
safer.

Petra.
For shame ! You're not such a hypocrite as to
set traps like that for your readers. You're not a
spider.

HoVSTAD.

[S7niling.] Thanks for your good opinion. It's
true that the idea is Billing's, not mine.

Petra.
Mr. Billing's !

Hovstad.
Yes, at least he was talking in that strain the
other day. It was Billing that was so anxious to
get the story into the paper ; I don't even know
the book.

Petra.
But how can Mr. Billing, with his advanced

views

Hovstad.
Well, Billing is many-sided. He's applying for
the secretaryship to the Town Council, I hear.

Petra.
I don't believe that, Mr. Hovstad. How could
he descend to such a thing ?

Hovstad.
That you must ask him.

• The reference is to the continental feuilleton at the foot of
the page.

92 AN ENEMY OK TlIK I'EOI'LE. [acT III.

Petra.
I could never have thought it of Billing !

HoVSTAD.

[Looking more closeli/ at her.'\ No ? Is it such ;i
surprise to you ?

Petra,

Yes. And yet — perhaps not. Oh, I don't

know

Hovstad.
We journalists are not worth much, Miss Petra.

Petra.
Do you really ?ay that .''

Hovstad.
I think so, now and then.

Petra.
Yes, in the little every-day squabbles — that I
can understand. But now that you have taken up

a great cause

Hovstad.
You mean this affair of your father's ?

Petra.
Of course. I should think you must feel your-
self worth more than the general run of people
now.

Hovstad.
Yes, to-day I do feel something of the sort.

Petra.
Yes, surely you must. Oh, it's a glorious career
you have chosen ! To be the pioneer of unrecog-

ACT III.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 93

nised truths and new and daring ways of thought !
— even, if that were all, to stand forth fearlessly
in support of an injured man

HoVSTAD.

Especially when the injured man is — I hardly
know how to put it

Petra.
You mean when he is so upright and true ?

HoVSTAD.

[In a tow voice.] I mean — especially when he is
your father.

Petra.
[Suddenly taken aback.] That .''

HoVSTAD.

Yes, Petra — Miss Petra.

Petra.
So that is your chief thought, is it } Not the
cause itself .'' Not the truth ? Not father's great,
warm heart .''

HoVSTAD.

Oh, that too, of course.

Petra.
No, thank you ; you said too much that time,
Mr. Hovstad. Now I shall never trust you again,
in anything.

Hovstad.
Can you be so hard on me because it's mainly

for your sake .''

Petra.
What I blame you for is that you have not acted

I

94 AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. [acT III.

straijifhtforwardly towards father. You have talked
to liim as if you cared only for the truth and the
fjood of the community. You have trifled with
hoth father and me. You are not the man you
pretended to be. And that 1 will never forgive
you — never.

HoVSTAD.

You shouldn't say that so bitterly, Miss Petra —
least of all now.

Petra.
Why not now .''

Hovstad.
Because your father cannot do without my help.

Petra.

[Measuring him from head to foot.] So you are
capable of that, too .'' Oh, shame !

HoV.5TAD.

No, no. I spoke without thinking. You mustn't
believe that of me.

Petra.
I know what to believe. Good-bye.

AsLAKSEN enters from printing-room, hirriedly
and mysteriously .

AsLAKSEN.

What do you think, Mr. Hovstad — [Seeing
Petra.] Ow, that's awkward

Pktra.
Well, there is the book. You must give it to
some one else. [Going fotrtinls the main door.

ACT III.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 95

HOVSTAD.

[Followiiig her.] But, Miss Petra

Petra.
Good-bye. [She goes.

AsLAKSEN.

1 say, Mr. Hovstad !

HovSTAD.

Well well ; what is it }

AsLAKSEN.

The Burgomaster's out there, in the printing-
office.

Hovstad.

The Burgomaster ?

AsLAKSEN.

Yes. He wants to speak to you ; he came in
by the back way— he didn t want to be seen, you
understand.

Hovstad.
What can be the meaning of this ? Stop, I'll

go myself

[Goes towards the printing- roo?n, opens the
door, bows and invites the Burgomaster
to enter.

Hovstad.
Keep a look out, Aslaksen, that no one

AsLAKSEN.

I understand [Goes into the printing-room.

Burgomaster.
You didn't expect to see me here, Mr. Hovstad.

96 AN ENEMY OK TlIK PEOPLE. [acT III.

Ho VST AD.

No, I cannot say that I did.

BuHGOMASTER.

[Lookmg about Aiw.J You are very comfortably
installed here — capital quarters.

Ho VST AD.

Oh

Burgomaster.
And here have I come, without with your leave
or by your leave, to take up your time

Ho VST ad.
You are very welcome. Burgomaster ; I am at
your service. Let me take your cap and stick.
[He does so, and puts them on a chair.^ And won't
you be seated .''

Burgomaster.
[Sitting down bi/ the table.] Thanks. [Hovstad
a/so sits by the table.] I have been much — very
much worried to-day, Mr. Hovstad.

Hovstad.
Really ? Well, I suppose with all your various
duties. Burgomaster

Burgomaster.
It is the Doctor that has been causing me
annoyance to-day.

Hovstad.
Indeed ! The Doctor ?

Burgomaster.
He has written a sort of memorandum to the

ACT III.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 97

Directors about some alleged shortcomings in the
Baths.

HOVSTAD.

Has he really ?

Burgomaster.
Yes ; hasn't he told you ? I thought he said

HoVSTAD.

Oh yesj by-the-bye, he did mention some-
ji thing——

AsLAKSEN.

[From the printing-office.] I've just come for the
manuscript

HoVSTAD.

[In a tone of vexation.'] Oh ! — there it is on the
desk.

AsLAKSEN.

[Finding it.] All right.

Burgomaster.
Why, that is the very thing

Aslaksen.
Yes, this is the Doctor's article, Burgomaster.

H OVSTAD.

Oh, is that what you were speaking of.?

Burgomaster.
Precisely. What do you think of it .?

HoVSTAD.

I have no technical knowledge of the matter,
and I've only glanced through it.

98 AN ENEMY OK THC PEOPLE. [aCT III.

Burgomaster.
And yet you are going to print it !

HOVSTAD.

I can't very well refuse a signed communica-
tion

AsLAKSEN.

I have nothing to do with the editing of the
paper, Burgomaster

Burgomaster.
Of course not.

AsLAKSEN.

I merely print what is placed in my hands.

Burgomaster.
Quite right, quite right.

AsLASKEN.

So I must [Goes towards the printing-room.

Burgomaster.
No, stop a moment, Mr. Aslaksen. With your
permission, Mr. Hovstad

HoVSTAD.

By all means, Burgomaster.

Burgomaster.
You are a discreet and thoughtful man, Mr,
Aslaksen.

Aslaksen.

I am glad you think so. Burgomaster.

Burgomaster.
And a man of very wide influence.

ACT III.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 9Q

ASLAKSEN.

Well — chiefly among the lower middle-class.

Burgomaster.
The small taxpayers form the majority — here as
everywhere.

AsLAKSEN.

That's very true.

Burgomaster.
And I have no doubt that you know the general
feeling among them. Am I right .''

Aslaksen.
Yes, I think I may say that I do, Burgomaster.

Burgomaster.
Well — since our townsfolk of the poorer class
appear to be so heroically eager to make sacri-
fices

Aslaksen.
How so ?

HoVSTAD.

Sacrifices .-'

Burgomaster.

It is a pleasing evidence of public spirit — a most
pleasing evidence. I admit it is more than I
should quite have expected. But, of course, you
know public feeling better than I do.

Aslaksen,
Yes but, Burgomaster

Burgomaster.
And assuredly it is no small sacrifice the town
will have to make.

100 AN ENRMY OF THE PEOPLE. [aCT III.

HoV.STAD.

The town .''

AsLAKSEN.

But I don't understand . It's the Baths

Burgomaster.

At a rough provisional estimate, the alterations
the Doctor thinks desiral)le will come to two or
three hundred thousand crowns.

AsLAKSEN.

That's a lot of money ; but

Burgomaster.
Of course we shall be obliged to raise a
municipal loan.

HOVSTAD,

[Rising.] You surely can't mean that the

town ?

Aslaksen.

Would you come upon the rates .'' Upon the
scanty savings of the lower middle-class .''

Burgomaster.
Why, my dear Mr. Aslaksen, where else are the
funds to come from ?

Aslaksen.
The proprietors of the Baths must see to that.

Burgomaster
The proprietors are not in a position to go to
any further expense.

Aslaksen.
Are you quite sure of that, Burgomaster .!*

ACT in.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 101

Burgomaster.
I have pof itive information. So if these exten-
sive alterations are called for, the town itself will
have to bear the cost.

ASLAKSEN.

Oh, plague take it all — I beg your pardon ! —
but this is quite another matter, Mr. Hovstad.

HOVSTAD.

Yes, it certainly is.

Burgomaster.
The worst of it is, that we shall be obliged to
close the establishment for a couple of years.

HoVSTAD.

To close it .'' Completely .''

AsLAKSEN.

For two years i

Burgomaster.
Yes, the work will require that time^at least.

AsLAKSEN.

But, damn it all ! we can't stand that. Burgo-
master. What are we house-owners to live on in
the meantime ?

Burgomaster.

It's extremely difficult to say, Mr. Aslaksen.
But what would you have us do ? Do you think
a single visitor will come here if we go about
making them fancy that the water is poisoned,
that the place is pestilential, that the whole
town

102 AN ENEMY OF TUK PEOPLE. [aCT III.

ASLAKSEN.

And it's all nothing but fancy ?

Burgomaster.
With the best will in the world, I have failed to
convince myself that it is anything else.

AsLAKSEN.

In that case it's simply inexcusable of Dr.
Stockmann — I beg your pardon, Burgomaster,

but

Burgomaster,

I'm sorry to say you are only speaking the
truth, Mr. Aslaksen. Unfortunately, my brother
has always been noted for his rashness.

Aslaksen.
And yet you want to back him up in this, Mr.
Hovstad !

HoVSTAD.

But who could possibly imagine that ?

Burgomaster.
I have drawn up a short statement of the facts,
as thev appear from a sober-minded standpoint ;
and I have intimated that any drawbacks that
m;«y possibly exist can no doubt be remedied by
measures compatible with the finances of the Baths.

HoVSTAD.

Have you the article with you. Burgomaster ?

Burgomaster.
[Feeling in his pockets.] Yes ; I brought it with
me, in case you

ACT III.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 103

AsLAKSEN.

[Qiiickli/.'\ Plague take it, there he is !

Burgomaster.
Who } My brother ?

Hovstad,
Where .'' where ?

AsLAKSEN.

He's coming through the composing-room.

Burgomaster.
Most unfortunate I I don't want to meet him
here, and yet there are several things I want to
talk to you about.

Hovstad.
\^Pointing to the door on the 7-ight.^ Go in there
for a moment.

Burgomaster.
But >

Hovstad.
You'll find nobody but Billing there.

Aslaksen,
Quick, quick, Burgomaster; he's just coming.

Burgomaster.
Very well, then. But try to get rid of him
quickly.

[He goes out by the door on the right,
which Aslaksen opens, and closes behi?id
him.

lOl' AN KN'KNn OF llli; I'Kol'I.K. [aCT III.

Ho VST AD.

Pretend to be busy, Aslaksen.

[He sil.s down ami jirites. Aslaksen turns
ov^er a heap of newspapers on a chair,
right.

I)n. Stockmann.
[Entering from the composing-roow.^ Here I am,
back again. [Puts down his hat and stick.^

HoVSTAD.

[Writing.'\ Ab'eady, Doctor.^ Make haste with
what we were s|)eaking of, Aslaksen. We've no
time to lose to-day.

Dr. Stockmann.
[To Aslaksen.] No proof yet, I hear.

Aslaksen.
[Without turning round.] No; how could you
expect it ?

Dr. Stockmann.

Of course not ; but you understand my im-
patience, I can have no rest or peace until I see
the thing in print.

HoVSTAD.

H'm; it will take a good while yet. Don't
you think so, Aslaksen .''

Aslaksen.
I'm afraid it will.

Dr. Stockmann.
All right, all right, my good friend ; then I
shall look in again. I'll look in twice if necessary.
With so much at stake — the welfare of the whole

ACT III.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE.

105

town — one mustn't grudge a little trouble. [Is on
the point of going but stops and comes back.'^ Oh, by
the way — there's one other thing I must speak to
you about.

HoVSTAD.

Excuse me ; wouldn't some other time ?

Dr. Stockmann.
I can tell you in two words. You see it's this :
when people read my article in the paper to-
morrow, and find I have spent the whole winter
working quietly for the good of the town

HoVSTAD.

Yes but, Doctor

Dr. Stockmann,
I know what you're going to say. You don't
think it was a bit more than my duty — my simple
duty as a citizen. Of course I know that, as well
as you do. But you see, my fellow townsmen —
good Lord ! the poor souls think so much of
me

ASLAKSEN.

Yes, the townspeople have hitherto thought
very highly of you. Doctor.

Dr. Stockmann.
That's exactly why I'm afraid that — . What I
wanted to say was this : when all this comes to
them — especially to the poorer classes — as a
summons to take the affairs of the town into their
own hands for the future

Hovstad,
[Rising.^ H'm, Doctor, I won't conceal from

you

10() AN ENEMY «)K THE PEOPLE. [aCT III.

Dr. Stockm.xnn.
Aha ! I thoufj;ht there was something brewing 1
But I won't hear of it. If they are getting uj)
anything of that sort--

HOVSTAD.

Of what .sort ?

Dr. Stockmann.

Well, anything of any .sort — a procession with
banners, or a banquet, or a subscription for a
testimonial, or whatever it may be — you must
give me your soleuni promise to put a stop to it.
And you too, Mr. Aslaksen ; do you hear ?

HoV.STAD.

Excuse me, Doctor ; we may as well tell you
the whole truth first as last

Mrs. Stockmann enters from the back, left

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Seeing the Doctor.] Ah ! just as I thought

Hovstad.
[Going towards her.] Mrs. Stockmann, too ?

Dr. Stockmann.
What the devil do you want here, Katrina }

Mrs. Stockmann.
You know very well what I want

Hovstad.
Won't you sit down ? Or perhaps

Mrs. Stockmann.
Thanks, please don't trouble. And you must

ACT III.] AN ENEMV OF THE PEOPLE. 107

forgive my following my husband here ; remember,
I am the mother of three children.

Dr. Stockmann.
Stuff and nonsense ! We all know that well
enough.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Well, it doesn't look as if you thought very
much about your wife and children to day, or you
wouldn't be so ready to plunge us all into ruin.

Dr. Stockmann.
Are you quite mad, Katiina I Has a man with
a wife and children no right to proclaim the
truth ? Has he no right to be an active and
useful citizen ? Has he no right to do his duty
by the town he lives in .''

Mrs. Stockmann.
Everything in moderation, Thomas !

AsLAKSEN.

That's just what I say. Moderation in every-
thing

Mrs. Stockmann

You are doing us a great wrong, Mr Hovstad,
in enticing my husband away from house and
home, and befooling him in this way.

HoVSTAD.

I am not befooling any one

Dr. Stockmann.
Befooling ! Do you think I should let myself
be befooled ?

lOS AN KNKMV OK IMK I'KOI'LK. [\( T

Mrs. Stockmann.
Yes, tliat's just what you do. I know very well
that you are the cleverest man in the town ; but
you're very easily made a fool of, Thomas [To
HovsTAi).] Remember that he loses his post at
the Baths it you print what he has written

ASLAKSEN.

What :

HOVSTED.

Well now, really, Doctor

Dr. Stockmann.
[Loiighiiig.] Ha ha ! just let them try — ! No
no, my dear, they'll think twice about that. I
have the compact majority behind me, you see !

Mrs. Stockmann.
That's just the misfortune, that you should have
such a horrid thing behind you.

Dr. Stockmann.
Nonsense, Katrina ; — you go home and look
after vour house, and let me take care of society.
How can you be in such a fright when you see me
so confident and happy ■'' [liiihhhig his hands and
ivalkingup ami dotrn] Truth and the People must
win the day ; you may be perfectly sure of that.
Oh I 1 can see all our free-souled citizens standing

shoulder to shoulder like a conquering army !

[Slopping by a chair.'\ Why, what the devil is
that?

AsLAKSEN.

[Looking at il.'] Oh Lord '

ACT III.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE 109

HOVSTAD.

[The same.] H'm —

Dr. Stockmann.
Why, here's the top knot of authority !

[He takes the Burgomaster's official cap
carefulli/ hetiveen the tips of his fingers
and holds it tip.

Mrs. Stockmann.
The Burgomaster's cap I

Dr. Stockmann.
And here's the staff of office, too ! But how in
the devil's name did they ?

HoVSTAD.

Well then

Dr. Stockmann.

Ah, I understand ! He has been here to talk
you over. Ha, ha ! He reckoned without his host
that time ! And when he caught sight of me in the
printing-room — [Blasts aid laughing] — he took to
his heels, eh, Mr. Aslaksen ?

AsLAKSEN,

[Hurriedly.] Exactly ; he took to his heels,
Doctor.

Dr. Stockmann.

Made off without his stick and . No, that

won't do ! Peter never left anything behind him.
But where the devil have you stowed him } Ah
— in here, of course. Now you shall see, Katrina

Mrs. Stockmann.
Thomas — I implore you !

110 AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. [aCT III.

ASLAKSEN.

Take care, Doctor 1

[Dr. Stockmann has put on the Burgo-
master's cfip and grasped his stick ; he
note goes up to the door, throws it open,
and makes a militaiy salute.

The Burgomaster enters, red with anger. Behind
him comes Billing.

Bl'rgomaster.
What is the meaning of these antics ?

Dr. Stockmann.
Respect, my good Peter '. Now, it's I that am in
power in this town. [He struts ttp and down.

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Almost in tears.'] Oh, Thomas I

Burgomaster.
[Following him.] Give me my cap and stick .'

Dr. Stockmann.
[As before.] You may he Chief of Police, but 1
am Burgomaster. I am master of the whole town I

tell you !

Burgomaster.

Put down my cap, I say. Remember it is an
official cap, as by law prescribed !

Dr. Stockmann.
Pshaw ! Do you think the awakening lion of the
democracy will let itself be scared by a gold-laced
cap? There's to be a revolution in the town to-
morrow, let me tell you. You threatened me with

ACT III.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. Ill

dismissal; but now / dismiss you— dismiss you
from all your offices of trust — . You think I can't
do it? — Oh, yes, I can ! I have the irresistible forces
of society on my side. Hovstad and Billing will
thunder in the People's Messenger, and Aslaksen
will take the field at the head of the House-owners'
Association • ■■

Aslaksen.

No, Doctor, I shall not.

Dr. Stockmann.
Why, of course you will

Burgomaster.
Aha ! Perhaps Mr. Hovstad would like to join
the agitation after all .''

Hovstad.
No, Burgomaster.

Aslaksen.
No, Mr. Hovstad isn't such a fool as to ruin both
himself and the paper for the sake of a delusion.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Looking about him.'] What does all this mean .^

Hovstad.
You have presented your case in a false light.
Doctor; therefore I am unable to give you my
support. ,' ; i

-BtCLTNG. i ' -^'^ ■> ' '^
And after what the Burgomaster has been so kind
as to explain to me, I

Dr. Stockmann.
In a false light ! Well, I am responsible for that.

112 AN ENF.MV OF THE PEOPLE. [aCT III.

Just you print iny article, and I promise you I shall
prove it up to the hilt.

HOVSTAD.

I shall not print it. I cannot, and will not, and
dare not print it.

Dr. Stockmann.
You dare not ? What nonsense is this .'' You
are editor ; and I suppose it's the editor that con-
trols a paper.

ASLAKSEN.

No, it's the subscribers, Doctor.

Burgomaster.
Fortunately.

AsLAKSEN.

It's public opinion, the enlightened majority,
the house-owners and all the rest. It's they who
control a paper.

Dr. Stockmann.

[Calmlt/.] And all these powers I have against
me ?

AsLAKSEN.

Yes, you have. It would mean absolute ruin
for the town if your article were inserted.

Dr. Stockmann.
So that is the way of it !

Burgomaster.
My hat and stick I

[Dr. Stockmann lakes off the cap and lai/.i
it on the lah/c alon^ with th( stick

act iii.] an enemy of the people, 113

Burgomaster.
\Taking them both.'\ Your term of office has
come to an untimely end.

Dr. Stockmann.
The end is not yet. [To Hovstad.] So you are
quite determined not to print my article in the
Messenger ?

Hovstad.
Quite ; for the sake of your family, if for no
other reason.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Oh, be kind enough to leave his family out of
the question, Mr. Hovstad.

Burgomaster.

[Takes a manuscript from his pocket.] When this
appears, the public will be m possession of all
necessary information; it is an autlientic statement.
I place it in your hands.

Hovstad.

[Taking the MS.] Good. It shall appear in due
course.

Dr. Stockmann.

And not mine ! You imagine you can kill me
and the truth by a conspiracy of silence ! But it
■won't be so easy at you think. Mr. Aslaksen, will
you be good enough to print my article at once,
as a pamphlet ? I'll pay for it myself, and be my
own publisher. I'll have four hundred copies —
no, five — six hundred.

Aslaksen.
No. If you offered me its weight in gold, I dare

1 1 i AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. [aCT III.

not lend my press to such a purpose, Doctor. I
daren't fly in the face of public opinion You won't
get it printed anywhere in the whole town.

Dr. Stockmann.
Then give it me back.

HOVSTAD.

[Handing him the MS.] By all means.

Dn. Stockmann,
[Taking up his hat and cane.] It shall be made
public all the same. I shall read it at a great mass
meeting ; all my fellow citizens shall hear the
voice of truth I

Burgomaster.
Not a single society in the town would let you
their hall for such a purpose.

AsLAKSEN.

Not one, I'm quite certain.

Billing.
No, strike me dead if they would !

Mrs. Stockmann.
That would be too disgraceful ! Why do they
turn against you like this, every one of them ?

Dr. Stoi.kv \nn.
[Irritated.] I'll tell you why. Its because in
this town all the men are old "omen — like you.
They all think of nothing but theil families, not
of the general good.

act iii.] an enemy of the people. 115

Mrs. Stockmann,
[Taking his arm.] Then I'll show them that an
—an old woman can be a man for once in a way.
For now I'll stand by you, Thomas.

Dr. Stockmann.
Bravely said, Katrina ! I swear by my soul and
conscience the truth shall out ! If they von't let
me a hall, I'll hire a drum and march through the
town with it; and I'll read my paper at every
street corner.

Burgomaster.
You can scarcely be such a raving lunatic as
that ?

Dr. Stockmann.
I am.

Aslaksen.

You would not get a single man in the whole
town to go with you.

Billing.
N», strike me dead if you would !

Mrs. Stockmann.
Don't give in, Thomas. I'll ask the boys to go
with you.

Dr. Stockmann.

That's a splendid idea !

Mrs. Stockmann.
Morten will be delighted ; and Eilif will go too,
I daresay.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, and so will Petra! And you yourself,
Katrina !

Il6 AN ENEMY OK THE PEOPLE. [aCT III.

Mrs. Stockmann.
No no, not I. But I'll stand at the window and
watch you — that I will.

Dr. Stockmann.
Thro7i'iiig his arms about her and kissing her. )
Thank you for that I Now, my jjood sirs, we re
ready for the fight I Now we shall see whether
your despicable tactics can stop the mouth of the
patriot wiio wants to purge society !

\^He and his wife go out together by the door
in the back, lef\.^

Burgomaster.
[Shaking his head dubiously. '\ Now he has turned
her head too '.

I

ACT FOURTH.

A large old-fashioned room in Captain Horster's
house. An open folding-door in the background
leads to an anteroom. In the wall on the left
are three windoivs. About the middle of the
opposite wall is a platform, and on it a small
table, two candles, a water-bottle and glass, and
a bell. For the rest, the room is lighted by
sconces placed between the windows. In frofd,
on the left, is a table with a candle on it, and
by it a chair. In front, to the right, n door, and
near it a few chairs.

Large assemblage of all classes of towns folk. In the
crowd are a few women and schoolboys. More
and more people gradually stream in from the
back until the room is quite ^ull.

First Citizen,
[To another standing near him.] So you're here
too, Lamstad ?

Second Citizen,
1 never miss a public meeting,

A Bystander.
I suppose you've brought your whistle ?

Second Citizen.
Of course I have ; haven't you .''

I

118 AN KNKM\ OK TIIK I'EOl'LE. [alT IV.

Third Citizen.
I should think so. And Skipper Evensen said
he'd bring a thumping big horn.

Second Citizen.
He's a good 'un, is Evensen !

[^Laughter in the group.

A Fourth Citizen.
[Joining them.] I say, what's it all about .''
What's going on here to-night .''

Second Citizen.
Why, it's Dr. Stockmann that's going to lecture
against the Burgomaster.

Fourth Citizen.
But the Burgomaster's his brother.

First Citizen.
That makes no difference. Dr. Stockmann's
not afraid of him.

Third Citizen.
But he's all wrong ; the People's Messenger says
so.

Second Citizen.

Yes, he must be wrong this time ; for neither
the House-owners' Association nor the Citizens'
Club would let him have a hall.

First Citizen.
They wouldn't even lend him the hall at the
Baths.

Second Citizen.
No, you may be sure they wouldn't.

ACT IV.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 119

A Man.

[In another group.] Now, who's the one to
follow in this business, eh .''

Another Man.
[In the same group.] Just keep your eye on
Aslaksen, and do as he does.

Billing.
[With a portfolio wider his arm, makes his ivay
through the cioivd.] Excuse me, gentlemen. Will
you allow me to pass } I'm here to report for the
People's Messenger. Many thanks.

[Sits by the table on the left.

A Working-man.
Who's he ?

Another Working-man.
Don't you know him } It's that fellow Billing,
that writes for Aslaksen' s paper.

Captain Horster enters by the door in front on
the right, escorting Mrs. Stockmann and Petra,
EiLiF and Mortkn follow them.

Horster.
This is where I thought you might sit ; you can
so easily slip out if anything should happen.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Do you think there will be any disturbance ?

Horster.
One can never tell— with such a crowd. But
there's no occasion for anxiety.

k

I'JO AN ENKMV OK TIIK I'KOl'LK. [a(T IV.

Mrs. Stockman n.
[Sitting down.] How kind it was of you to offer
Stockmann this room.

HORSTER.

Since no one else would, I

Petra.
[Who has also seated herself.] And it was brave
too, Captain Horster.

HoRSTER.

Oh, I don't see where the bravery comes in.

HovsTAD and Aslaksen enter at the same moment,
bid make their tvay through the c.ro7vd separately.

Aslaksen.
[Going lip to Horster.] Hasn't the Doctor
come yet }

Horster.
He's waiting in there.

[A moveynenl at the door in the background.

HoVSTAD.

[To Billing.] There's the Burgomaster!
Look!

Billing,

Yes, strike me dead if he hasn't put in an
appearance after all !

Burgomaster Stockmann makes his irai/ hlandli/
through the meeting, bowing politeli/ to both
sides, and takes his stand hi/ the wall on the left.
Soon afterwards, Dr. Stockmann enters by the
door on the right. lie wears a black frock-
coal and white necktie. Faint applause, met
by a subdued hissing. Then silence.

act iv.] an enkmv of the i'eople. 121

Dr. Stockmann.
[In a low toneJ^ How do you feel, Katrina ?

Mrs. Stockmann.
Quite comfortable, thank you. [In a low voice^l
Now do keep your temper, Thomas.

Dr. Stockmann.
Oh, I shall keep myself well in hand. [Looks
at his watch, ascends the platform, and bows.^ It's a

quarter past the hour, so I shall begin

[Takes out his MS.
Aslaksen.
But surely a chairman must be elected first.

Dr. Stockmann.
No , that's not at all necessary.

Several Gentlemen.
[Shouting.^ Yes, yes.

Burgomaster.
I should certainly say that a chairman ought to
be elected.

Dr. Stockmann.

But I've called this meetijig to give a lecture,
Peter !

Burgomaster.

Dr. Stockmann's lecture may possibly lead to
differences of opinion.

Several Voices in the Crowd.
A chairman J A chairman I

HoVSTAD.

The general voice of the meeting seems to be
for a chairman !

122 AN ENEMN oF TIIK I'KOl'LK. [aCT IV.

Dr. Stock MANN.
[Coiilrolling hms('lf.'\ V^ery well then ; let the
meeting have its way.

ASLAKSEN.

Will not the Burgomaster take the chair?

Three Gentlemen.
[Clapping.] Bravo : Bravo !

Burgomaster.
For reasons you will easily understand, I must
decline. But, fortunately, we have among us one
whom I think we can all accept. I allude to the
president of the House-owners' Association, Mr.
Aslaksen.

Manv Voices,
Ves, yes! Bravo Aslaksen I Hurrah for
Aslaksen !

[Dr. Stockmann lakes his MS. and descends
from, the platform.

Aslaksen.
Since my fellow citizens repose this trust in me,

I cannot refuse

[Applause and cheers. Aslaksen ascends
the platform.

Billing.
[Writing.'] So — " Mr. Aslaksen was elected by

acclamation

Aslaksen.

And now, as I have been called to the chair, I
take the liberty of saying a few brief words. I
am a quiet, peace-loving man ; I am in favour of
discreet moderation, and of — and of moderate

ACT IV.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 1 2i

I

discretion. Every one who knows me, knows
that.

Many Voices.

Yes, yes, Aslaksen !

Aslaksen.
I have learnt in the school of life and of
experience that moderation is the virtue in which
the individual citizen finds his best advantage

Burgomaster.
Hear, hear !

Aslaksen.

and it is discretion and moderation, too,

that best serve the community. I could there-
fore suggest to our respected fellow citizen, who
has called this meeting, that he should endeavour
to keep within the bounds of moderation.

A Man.
[% the door.'] Three cheers for the Temperance
Society !

A Voice.
Go to the devil !

Voices.
Hush I hush !

Aslaksen.
No interruptions, gentlemen ! — Does any one
wish to offer any observations.''

Burgomaster.
Mr. Chairman !

Aslaksen.
Burgomaster Stockmann will address the
meeting.

1SJ4 AN KNF.M^ OK TIIK I' K.i) IM. K. [.ACT IV.

Burgomaster.
On account of my close relatioii';hii> — of which
you are probably aware — to the present medical
officer of the Baths, I should have preferred not
to speak here this evening. But my position as
chairman of the Baths, and my care for the vital
interests of this town, force me to move a resolu-
tion. I may doubtless assume that not a single
citizen here present thinks it desirable that un-
trustworthy and exaggerated statements slionld
get abroad as to the sanitary condition of the
Baths and of our town.

Many Voices.
No, no, no ! Certainly not ! We protest

Burgomaster.
I therefore beg to move, " That this meeting
declines to hear the proposed lecture or speech
on the subject by the medical officer of the
Baths."

Dr. Stockmann.

[Flaring up.] Declines to hear I What do

you mean .'

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Coughi7ig.] H'm ! h'm !

Dr. Stockmann.
[Controlling him.se/ f.] So I am not to be heard.''

Burgomaster.

In my statement in the People' f, Messenger I have

made the public acquainted with the essential

facts, so that all well-disposed citizens can easily

form their own judgment. From that statement

ACT IV.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 12.5

it will be seen that the medical officer's proposal
— besides amounting to a vote of censure upon
the leading men of the town — at bottom only
means saddling the ratepayers with an un-
necessary outlay of at least a hundred thousand
crowns. [Sounds of protest and some kissing.

ASLAKSEN.

[Ringing the bell.] Order, gentlemen ! I must
beg leave to support the Burgomaster's resolution.
I quite agree with him that there is something
beneath the surface of the Doctor's agitation. In
all his talk about the Baths, it is really a revolu-
tion he is aiming at ; he wants to effect a redis-
tribution of power. No one doubt the excellence
of Dr. Stockmann's intentions — of course there
cannot be two opinions as to that. I, too, am in
favour of self-government by the people, if only it
doesn't cost the ratepayers too much. But in
this case it would do so ; and therefore I'll be
hanged if — excuse me — in short, 1 cannot go with
Dr. Stockmann upon this occasion. You can buy
even gold too dear ; that's my opinion.

[Loud applause on all sides.

Ho VST AD.

I, too feel bound to explain my attitude. Dr.
Stockmann's agitation seemed at first to find
favour in several quarters, and I supported it as
impartially as I could. But it presently appeared
that we had been misled by a false representation

of the facts

Dr. Stockmann.

False !

HOVSTAD.

Well then, an untrustworthy representation.

126 AN ENEMY OK THE PEOPLE. [aCT IV.

This the Burgomaster's report has proved. I
trust no one here present doubts my libera'
principles ; the attitude of the Messenger on all
great political questions is well known to you all.
But I have learned from men of judgment and
experience that in purely local matters a paper
must observe a certain amount of caution.

AsLAKSEN.

/\SLAKSEN.

I entirely agree with the speaker.

HOVSTAD.

And in the matter under discussion it is quite
evident that Dr. Stockmann has public opinion
against him. But, gentlemen, what is an editor's
clearest and most imperative duty } Is it not to
work in harmony with his readers } Has he not
in some sort received a tacit mandate to further
assiduously and unweariedly the interests of his
constituents .'' Or am I mistaken in this }

Many Voices.
No, no, no ! Hovstad is right !

Hovstad.
It has cost me a bitter struggle to break with a
man in whose house I have of late been a frequent
guest — with a man who, up to this day, has en-
joyed the unqualified goodwill of his fellow
citizens — with a man whose only, or, at any rate,
whose chief fault is that he consults his heart
rather than his head.

A Few Scattered Voices.
That's true I Hurrah for Dr. Stockmann !

ACT IV.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 127

HOVSTAD.

But my duty towards the community has con-
strained me to break with him. Then, too, there
is another consideration that impels me to oppose
him, and, if possible, to block the ill omened path
upon which he is entering : consideration for his

family

Dr. Stockmann.

Keep to the water-works and sewers I

HoVSTAD.

consideration for his wife and his unpro-
tected' children.

Morten.
Is that us, mother ?

Mrs. Stockmann.
Hush!

ASLAKSEN.

I will now put the Burgomaster's resolution to
the vote.

Dr. Stockmann.

You need not. I have no intention of saying
anything this evening of all the filth at the Baths.
No I You shall hear something quite different.

Burgomaster.
[Half aloud.] What next,, I wonder ?

A Drunken M vn
[At the main entrance.] I'm a ratepayer, so I've
a right to my opinion ! And it's my full, firm,
incomprehensible opinion that

1 Literally, " unprovided-for."

128 AN ENK.\n OK TUK PEOPLE. [aCT IV.

Several Voices,
Silence up there I

Others.
He's drunk ! Turn him out !

[TIw drunken man is turned out.

Dr. Stockmann.

Can I speak .''

ASLAKSEN.

[Ringing the bell.] Dr. Stockmann will address
the meeting.

Dr. Stockmann.
A few days ago, I should have liked to see any
one venture upon such an attempt to gag me as
has been made here to-night I I would have
fought like a lion for my sacred rights ! But now
I care little enough ; for now I have more
important things to speak of.

[T/ie people croivd closer round him.
Morten Kiil comes in sight among the
bystanders.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Contimiing.] I have been pondering a great
many things during these last days — thinking such
a multitude of thoughts, that at last my head was
positively in a whirl

Burgomaster.
[Coughing.] H'm !

Dr. Stockmann.
But presently things seemed to straighten
themselves out, and I saw them clearly in all

I

ACT IV.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 129

their bearings. That is why I stand here this even-
ing. I am about to make great revelations, my
fellow citizens ! I am going to announce to you
a far-reaching discovery, beside which the trifling
fact that our water-works are poisoned, and that
our health-resort is built on pestilential ground,
sinks into insignificance.

Many Voices.
[Shouting.^ Don't speak about the Baths ! We
won't listen to that ! No more of that !

Dr. Stockmann.
I have said I would speak of the great discovery
I have made within the last few days — the dis-
covery that all our sources of spiritual life are
poisoned, and that our whole society rests upon
a pestilential basis of falsehood.

Several Voices.
[In astonishment and half aloud.] What's he
saying .''

Burgomaster.

Such an insinuation !

ASLAKSEN.

[With his hand on the hell.] I must call upon the
speaker to moderate his expressions.

Dr. Stockmann.
I have loved my native town as dearly as any
man can love the home of his childhood. 1 was
young when I left our town, and distance, home-
sickness and memory threw, as it were, a glamour
over the place and its people.

[So7ne applause and cries of approval.

ISO AN ENEMY OF THE PF.OIM.K. [a( T IV.

Dr. Stockmann.
Then for years I was imprisoned in a horrible
hole, far away in the north. As I went about
amonjT the people scattered here and there over
the stony wilderness, it seemed to me, many a
time, that it would have been better for these
jwor famisiiiiif^ creatures to have had a cattle-doctor
to attend them, instead of a man like me.

^^Mitnuiirs ill the room.

Billing.
^Laying down his pen.^ Strike me dead if I've
ever heard !

HOVSTAD.

What an insult to an estimable peasantry !

Dr. Stockmann.
Wait a moment ! — I don't think any one can
reproach me with forgetting my native town up
there. I sat brooding like an eider duck and
what I hatched was — the plan of the Baths.

[.Ipplaiise and expressions of dissent.

Dr. Stockmann.
And when, at last, fate ordered things so happily
that I could come home again — then, fellow
citizens, it seemed to me that I hadn't another
desire in the world. Yes. one desire I had : an
eager, constant, burning desire to be of service to
my birthplace, and to its people.

Burgomaster.

[Gacing into mcanct/.] A strange method to

select i

Dr. Stockmann.
So I went about revelling in my happy illusions.

ACT IV.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 1.31

But yesterday morning — no, it was really two
nights ago — my mind's eyes were opened wide,
and the first thing I saw was the colossal stupidity

of the authorities

[Noise, dies, and laughter. Mrs. Stock-
MANN coughs repeatedly.

Burgomaster.
Mr. Chairman !

ASLAKSEN.

[Ringing his bell.] In virtue of my position — '■ — !

Dr. Stockmann.
It's petty to catch me up on a word, Mr.
Aslaksen ! I only mean that I became alive to
the extraordinary muddle our leading men had
been guilty of, down at the Baths. I cannot for
the life of me abide leading men — I've seen enough
of them in my time. They are like goats in a
young plantation : they do harm at every point ;
they block the path of a free man wherever he
turns — and I should be glad if we could exter-
minate them like other noxious animals

[Uproar in the room.

Burgomaster.
Mr. Chairman, are such expressions permissible }

Aslaksen.
[ With his hand on the bell.] Dr. Stockmann

Dr. Stockmann
I can't conceive how it is that I ha^'e only now
seen through these gentry ; for haven't I had a
magnificent example before my eyes here every

1.32 AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. [aCT IV.

(lay — my brother Peter — slow of understanding,

tenacious in jirejudice

[L(iiighter,tioi.sc,and whistling. Miis. Stock-
MANN coughs. AsLAKSEN rings violently.

The Drunken Man.
\^lVhohas come in again.] Is it me you're allud-
inijto.'* Sure enough, my name's Petersen; but
devil take me if

Angry Voices.
Out with that drunken man! Turn him out !
[ The man is again turned out.

Burgomaster.
Who is that person ?

A Bystander.
I don't know him, Burgomaster.

Another.
He doesn't belong to the town.

A Third.
I believe he's a timber-dealer from

\^rhe rest is inaudible.

Aslaksen.
The man was evidently intoxicated. — Con-
tinue, Dr. Stockmann ; but pray endeavour to be
moderate.

Dr. Stockmann.

Well, fellow citizens, I shall say no more about
our lcadin<r men. If any one imagines, from what
I have just said, that it's these gentlemen I want
to make short work of to-night, he is mistaken —
altogether mistaken. For I cherish the comfortable

ACT IV.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE, 133

conviction that these laggards^ these relics of a
decaying ordei" of thought, are dihgently cutting
their own throats. They need no doctor to hasten
their end. And it is not people of that sort that
constitute the real danger to society ; it is not they
who are most active in poisoning the sources of
our spiritual life and making a plague-spot of the
ground beneath our feet ; it is not they who are
the most dangerous enemies of truth and freedom
in our society.

Cries from All Sides.
Who, then ? Who is it .'' Name, name !

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, you may be sure I shall name them ! For
this is the great discovery I made yesterday :
[In a louder tone.] The most dangerous foe to
truth and freedom in our midst is the compact
majority. Yes, it's the confounded, compact,liberal
majority — that, and nothing else ! There, I've
told you.

[Immense disturbance in the room. Most of
the audience are shouting, stamping, and
whistling. Several elderly gentlemen ex-
change furtive glances and seem to be
enjoying the scene. Mrs. Stockmann
rises i?i alarm. Eilif a?id Morten ad-
vance threateningly towards the school-
boys, who are making noises. Aslaksen
rings the bell and calls for order. Hov-
stad and Billing both speak, but nothing
can be heard. At last quiet is restored.

Aslaksen,
I must request the speaker to withdraw his
ill-considered expressions.

l.;4 AN KNKMV OK TIIK PKOPLK. [a(T IV.

!)». SrofKMANN,

Never, Mr. Aslaksen I For it's this very majority
tliat robs me of my freedom, and wants to forbid
nie to speak the truth.

HOVSTAD.

The majority always has right on its side.

Billing.
YeSj and truth too, strike me dead '

Dr. Stockmann.
The majority never has right on its side. Never
I say ! 'liiat is one of the social lies that a free,
thinking man is bound to rebel against. Who
make up the majority in any given country ? Is
it the wise men or the fools ? I think we must
agree that the fools are in a terrible, overwhelming
majority, all the wide world over. But how in the
devil's name can it ever be right for the fools to
rule over the wise men '1 ^Uproar and yells.

Dr. SxorKMANN.

Yes, yes, you can shout me down, but you cannot

gainsay me. The majority has might - unhappily

— but right it has not. It is I. and the few, the

individuals, that are in the right. The minority

i'^ always right. [lioieiied uproar.

HoVSTAD.

Ha ha ! Dr. Stockmann has turned aristocrat
since the day before yesterday I

I)h. Stockmann.
I have said that I have no words to waste on
the little, narrow-chested, short-winded crew that
lie in our wake. Pulsating life has nothing more

I

ACT IV.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 135

to do with them. I am speaking of the few, the
individuals among us, who have made all the new,
germinating truths their own. These men stand,
as it were, at the outposts, so far in the van that
the compact majority has not yet reached them —
and there they fight for truths that are too lately
born into the world's consciousness to have won
over the majority.

HoVSTAD.

So the Doctor's a revolutionist now !

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, by Heaven, I am, Mr. Hovstad ! I am
going to revolt against the lie that truth belongs
exclusively to the majority. What sort of truths
do the majority rally round ? Truths so stricken
in years that they are sinking into decrepitude
When a truth is so old as that, gentlemen, it's in
a fair way to become a lie. [Laughter and jeers.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, yes, you may believe me or not, as you
please ; but truths are by no means the wiry
Methusalehs some people think them. A nor-
mally-constituted truth lives — let us say — as a
rule, seventeen or eighteen years ; at the outside
twenty ; very seldom more. And truths so
patriarchal as that are always shockingly
emaciated ; yet it's not till then that the
majority takes them up and recommends them
to society as wholesome food. I can assure you
there's not much nutriment in that sort of fare ;
you may take my word as a doctor for that. All
these majority-truths are like last year's salt pork ;
they're like rancid, mouldy ham, producing all the
moral scurvy that devastates society.

]36 AN k\i:m\ or tiik i'koim.k. [act iv.

AsLAKSEN.

It seems to nu- tliat the honourable speaker is
wandering rather far from the subject.

BuiUJOMASTKR.

I beg to endorse the Chairman's remark.

Dr. Stockmann.
Why you're surely mad, Peter! I'm keeping as
closely to my text as I possibly can ; for my text
is precisely this — that the masses, the majority,
this devil's own compact majority — it's that, I say,
tiiat's poisoning the sources of our spiritual life,
and making a plague-spot of the ground beneath
our feet.

HOVSTAD.

And you make this charge against the great,
independent majority, just because they have the
sense to accept only certain and acknowledged
truths ?

Dii. Stockmann.

Ah, my dear Mr. Hovstad, don't talk about
certain truths ! The truths acknowledged by the
masses, the multitude, were certain truths to the
vanguard in our grandfathers' days. We, the
vanguard of to-day, don't acknowledge them any
longer; and I don't believe there exists any other
certani truth but this — that no society can live a
healthy life upon truths so old and and marrowless.

Hovstad.
But instead of all this vague talk, suppose you
were to give us some specimens of these old
marrowless truths that we are living upon.

[Approval J'ro)/i several quarters.

act iv.] an enemy of the people. 1 s7

Dr. Stockmann.
Oh, I could give you no end of samples from
the rubbish-heap ; but, for the present, I shall
keep to one acknowledged truth, which is a
hideous lie at bottom, but which Mr. Hovstad, and
the Messenger, and all adherents of the Messenger,
live on all the same.

Hovstad.
And that is ?

Dr. Stockmann.
That is the doctrine you have inherited from
your forefathers, and go on thoughtlessly pro-
claiming far and wide — the doctrine that the
multitude, the vulgar herd, the masses, are the
pith of the people — that they are the people —
that the common man, the ignorant, undeveloped
member of society, has the same right to sanction
and to condemn, to counsel and to govern, as the
intellectually distinguished few.

Billing.
Well, now, strike me dead !

Hovstad.
\Shouting at the same timeJ\ Citizens, please note
this!

Angry Voices.

Ho-ho ! Aren't we the people .^ Is it only the
grand folks that are to govern .''

A Working Man.
Out with the fellow that talks like that !

Others.
Turn him out !

l;)8 AN KNKMN or TIIK I'KOI'I.K. [a(

A Citizen.

[Shouting.] IMow your horn, Rvensen.

[The (h'('f) notes of' a horn arc heard ; irhixt ■
ling, and terri/ic noise in the room.

Dr. Stockmann.
[When the noi.se has .somewhat subsided ] Now do
be reasonaljle I Can't you bear tven lor once in
a way to hear the voice of truth ? I don't ask you
all to agree witli me on the instant. But I certainly
should have expected Mr. Hovstad to back me up,
as soon as he had collected himself a bit. Mr.
Hovstad sets up to be a freethinker

Seveual Voices.
[Subdued and ?rondering.] Freethinker, did he
say ? What ? Mr. Hovstad a freethinker ?

Hovstad.
[Shoiding.] Prove it, Dr. Stockmann. When
have I said so in j)rint .''

Dr. Stockmann.
[Reflecting.] No, upon mysoul, vou're ri<iht there;
you've never had the frankness to do that. \\ ell,
well, I won't put you on the rack, Mr. Hovstad.
Let me be the freethinker then. And now I'll
make it clear to you all, and on scientific grounds
too, that the Messenger is leading you shamefully
by the nose, when it tells you that you, the masses,
the crowd, are the true pith of the people. I tell
you that's only a news])aper lie. 'ilie masses are
nothing butthe raw material that must he fashioned
into a People.

[Murmurs, laughter, and disturbance in the
room.

act iv.] an enemy of the i'eople. 139

Dr. Stockmann.
Is it not so with all other living creatures .'' What
a difference between a cultivated and an uncul-
tivated breed of animals ! Just look at a common
barn-door hen. What meat do you get from such
a skinny carcase ? Not much, I can tell you ! And
what sort of eggs does she lay ? A decent crow
or raven can lay nearly as good. Then take a cul-
tivated Spanish or Japanese hen, or take a fine
pheasant or turkey — ah ! then you'll see the differ-
ence ! And now look at the dog, our near rela-
tion. Think first of an ordinary vulgar cur — I
mean one of those wretched, ragged, j)lebeian
mongrels that haunt the gutters, and soil the side-
walks. Then place such a mongrel by the side of
a poodle-dog, descended through many generations
from an aristocratic stock, who have lived on deli-
cate food, and heard harmonious voices and music.
Do you think the brain of the })oo(lle isn't very
differently developed from that of the mongrel ?
Yes, you may be sure it is ! It's well-bred poodle-
pups like this that jugglers train to perform the
most marvellous tricks. A common peasant-cur
could never learn anything of the sort — not if he
tried till doomsday.

[^Noise and laughter are heard all round.

A Citizen.
[Skouti?ig.^ Do you want to make dogs of us now?

Another M.\n.
W^e're not animals. Doctor !

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, on my soul, but we are animals, my good
sir ! We're one and all of us animals, whether we

I l() AN KNK.MN «)r TIIK I'KoiM.K. f\(T IV.

like it or not. Hut truly there are few enough
aristoeratio animals anionjr us. Oh, there's a terrible
difference between poodle-men and mongrel-men I
And the ridiculous part of" it is, that Mr. Hovstad
quite agrees with me so long as it's lour-legged
animals we're talking of

Hovstad.
Oh, beasts are only beasts.

Dr. Stockmann.
Well and good — but no sooner do 1 apply the
law to two-legged animals, than Mr. Hovstad stops
short; then he daren't hold his own opinions, or
think out his own thoughts ; then he turns the
whole principle upside down, and proclaims in the
People's Messenger that the barn-door hen and the
gutter mongrel are precisely the finest specimens
in the menagerie. But that's always the way, so
long as the commonness still lingers in your
system, and you haven't worked your way up to
spiritual distinction.

Hovstad.
I make no pretence to any sort of distinction. I
come of simple peasant folk, and I am proud that
my root should lie deep down among the common
people, who are here being insulted.

Workmen.
Hurrah for Hovstad. Hurrah ! hurrah !

Dr. Stockmann.
The sort of common people I am speaking of are
not found among the lower classes alone; they
crawl and swarm all around us — up to the very

ACT IV.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 141

summits of society. .lust look at your own smug,
respectable Burgomastei* ! Why, my brother Peter
belongs as clearly to the common people as any

man that walks on two legs

[Laughter and hisses.

Burgomaster.
I protest against such personalities.

Dr. Stockmann.

[Imperturbably.] and that not because, like

myself, he's descended from a good-for-nothing old
pirate from Pomerania, or thereabouts — for that's
our ancestry

Burgomaster.
An absurd tradition ! Utterly groundless.

Dr. Stockmann.
-but he is so because he thinks the thoughts

and holds the opinions of his official superiors. Men
who do that, belong, intellectually-speaking, to
the common people ; and that is why my dis-
tinguished brother Peter is at bottom so undis-
tinguished,— and consequently so illiberal.

Burgomaster.
Mr. Chairman I

HOVSTAD.

So that the distinguished people in this country
are the Liberals ? That's quite a new light on the
subject. [Laughter.

Dr. Stockmann.

Yes, that is part of my new discovery. And
this, too, follows : that liberality of thought is

142 AN ENEMY OK THE I'EOPLE. [aCT IV.

almost preciselythe same thing as morality. There-
fore I say it's absolutely unpardonable of the Mes-
sejiger to proclaim, day out, day in, the false doctrine
that it's the masses, the multitude, the comj)act
majority, that monopolise liberality and morality,
— and that vice and corruption and all sorts of
spiritual uncleanness ooze out of culture, as all
that filth oozes down to the Baths from the Mill
Dale tan-works ! [Noise and interruptions.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Goes on iinperturhahly , sniiling in his eagerness.^
And yet this same Messenger can preach about
elevating the masses and the multitude to a higher
level of well-being ! Why, deuce take it, if the
Messenger's own doctrine holds good, the elevation
of the masses would simply mean hurling them
straight to perdition I But, happily, the notion
that culture demoralises is nothing but an old tra-
ditional lie. No it's stupidity, poverty, the ugliness
of life, that do the devils work ! In a house that
isn't aired and swept every day — my wife main-
tains that the floors ought to be scrubbed too, but
perhaps that is going too far ; — well, — in such a
house, I say, within two or three years, j)eople lose
the power of thinking or acting morally. Lack of
oxygen enervates the conscience. And there
seems to be precious little oxygen in many and
many a house in this town, since the whole com-
pact majority is unscrupulous enough to want to
found its future upon a quagmire of lies and fraud.

ASLAKSEN.

I cannot allow so gross an insult to be levelled
against a whole community.

ACT IV.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 143

A Gentleman.
I move that the Chairman order the speaker to
sit down.

Eager Voices.
Yes, yes I That's right ! Sit down ! Sit down !

Dr. Stockmann.
[Flaring ?//?.] Then I shall proclaim the truth at
every street corner I I shall write to news-
papers in other towns ! The whole country shall
know how matters stand here !

Hovstad.
It almost seems as if the Doctor's object were to
ruin the town.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, so well do I love my native town that I
would rather ruin it than see it flourishing upon a
lie.

Aslaksen.
That's plain speaking.

[Noi.se and whistling. Mrs. Stockmann
coughs in vain ; the Doctor no longer
heeds her.

Hovstad.
[Shouting amid the tumult.^ The man who would
ruin a whole community must be an enemy to his
fellow citizens !

Dr. Stockman .
[With growing excitement.^ What does it matter if
a lying community is ruined ! Let it be levelled to
the ground, say I ' All men who live upon a lie

1 J-l- AN ENEMY OF THE PEOl'LK. [aCT IV.

ou<rht to be exterminated like vermin I You'll end
by poisoning the whole countrv ; you'll brinfritto
such a pass that the whole country will deserve to
perish. And if ever it comes to that, I shall say,
from the bottom of my heart : Perish the country !
Perish all its people !

A Man.
[In the crowd. '\ Why, he talks like a regular enemy
of the people !

Billing.

Strike rae dead but there spoke the people's
voice !

The Whole Assembly.

[Shouting.^ Yes ! yes ! yes ! He's an enemy of
the people! He hates his country! He hates
the whole people !

Aslaksen.
Both as a citizen of this town and as a human
being, I am deeply shocked at what it has been my
lot to hear to-night. Dr. Stockman has unmasked
himself in a maimer I siiould never have dreamt
of. I must reluctantly subscribe to the opinion
' just expressed by some estimable citizens; and I
think we ought to formulate tliis opinion in a reso-
lution. I therefore beg to move, "That this meet-
ing declares the medical officer of the Baths, Dr.
Thomas Stockmann, to be an enemy of the people."
[Thunders of applause and cheers. Many
form a circle round the Doctor and hoot
at him. Mrs. Stockmann aiid Petra
have risen. Morten and Vaiav Jight the
other .school-boys, who have also heen hoot-
ing. Some grown-up persons separate
them.

act iv.] an enemy of the people. 145

Dr. Stockmann.
[To the people hootingi] Ah, fools that you
are ! I tell you that

ASLAKSEN.

[Ringing.^ The Doctor is out of order in speak-
ing. A formal vote must be taken ; but out of
consideration for personal feelings, it will be taken
in writing and without names. Have you any
blank paper, Mr. Billing .?

Billing.
Here's both blue and white paper

AsLAKSEN.

Capital; that will save time. Cut it up into
slips. That's it. \To the ?neeting.] Blue means
no, white means aye. I myself will go round and
collect the votes.

[^The Burgomaster leaves the room. Aslak-
SEN and a few others go 7-oiind with pieces
of paper in hats.

A Gentleman.
\To HovsTAD.] What can be the matter with
the Doctor } What does it all mean }

HovsTAD.
Why. you know what a hare-brained creature
he is.

Another Gentleman.
\To Billing.] I say, you're often at his house.
Have you evernoticed if the fellow drinks.''

Billing.
Strike me dead if I know what to say. The

146 AN KNF.MV OK TIIK I'KOl'LE. [.\(T IV.

toddy's alwaj's on the tabic when any one looks
in.

A TniHn (iknti.kman.
No, I should rather say he went oH' his head at
times.

FmsT CiENTI.RMAN.

I wonder if there's madness in the family ?

Bnj.iNG.
I shouldn't be surprised.

A FouHTn (tkntleman.
No, it's pure malice. He wants to be revenged
for some'.hin<:; or other.

Billing.
He was certainly talkint^ about a rise in ms
salary the other day ; but he dichi't '^et it.

All the Gentlemen.
[Togctficr.^ Aha I That explains everything.

The Drunken Man.
\ hi the (Vowy/.] I want a blue one, I do ! And
I'll have a white one too.

Several People
There's the tipsy man again ! Turn him out.

Morten Kiil.
[Approoc/ihif! the Doctor.] Well, Stockmann,
you see now wliat such inonkcx tricks lead to .^

Dr. Stockmann.
I have d(jne my duty.

i

ACT IV.] AN ENEMY OK THE PEOPLE. 14?

Morten Kiil.
What was that you said about the Mill Dale
tanneries ?

Dr Stockmann.
You heard what I said — that all the filth comes
from them.

Morten Kiil.
From my tannery as well .''

Dr. Stockmann.
I'm sorry to say yours is the worst of all.

Morten Kiil.
Are you going to put that in the papers, too?

Dr. Stockmann.
I can't gloze anything over.

Morten Kiil.
This may cost you dear, Stockmann !

[He goes out.
A Fat Gentleman.
[Goes up to Horster, n'ithout honnng to the ladies.^
Well, Captain, so you lend your house to enemies
of the people.

Horster.
I suppose I can do as I please with my own
property. Sir.

The Gentleman.
Then of course you can have no objection if I
follow your example ?

Horster.
What do you mean, Sir ?

148 AN ENEMY OK THE PEOPLE. [aCT IV.

The Gentleman.
You shall hear from me to-morrow.

[ Turns (iiraxi and goes out.

Petra.
Wasn't that the owner of your ship. Captain
Horster .^

H OUSTER.

Yes, that was Mr. Yik.

Aslaksen.
[ fVith the voting papers in his hands, ascends the
platform and rings.^ (jentlemen I I have now to
announce the result of the vote. All the voters,
with one exception

A Young Gentleman.
That's the tipsy man !

Aslaksen.
With the exception of one intoxicated person,
this meeting of citizens unanimously declares the
medical officer of the Baths, Dr. Thomas Stock-
mann, to be an enemy of the people. [C7/ecr.v and
applause.^ Three cheers for our fine old munici-
pality ! \Checrs.'\ Three cheers for our able and
energetic Burgomaster, who has so loyally set
family prejudice aside ! \(!heers.\ The meeting
is dissolved. \He descends.^

BiLLINO.

Three cheers for the Chairman !

All.
Hurrah lor Aslaksen

act iv.] an enemy ok the people. 119

Dr. Stockmann.
My hat and coat, Petra. Captain, have you
room for passengers to the new world ?

HORSTER.

For you and yours. Doctor, we'll make room.

Dr. Stockmann.
[fVhile Petka helps him to put on his coat.'\ Good
Come Katrina, come boys !

[i/e gives his wife his arm.

Mrs. Stockmann.
[In a low voice.'] Thomas, dear, let us go out by
the back way.

Dr. Stockmann.
No back ways, Katrina . [In a loud voice.'] You
shall hear from the enemy of the people, before
he shakes the dust from his feet ! I am not so
forbearing as a certain person ; I don't say : I
forgive you, for you know not what you do.

ASLAKSEN.

[Shouts.] That is a blasphemous comparison.
Dr. Stockmann !

Billing.

Strike me ! This is more than a serious man

can stand !

A Coarse Voice.
And he threatens us into the bargain !

Angry Cries.
Let's smash his windows! Duck him in the
fiord !

150 AN KNKMV OK TIIK I'KOI'LK. [aiT IV.

A Man.

[In the crowd.'] Blow your horn, Evensen .' Blow
man, blow !

[Horn hl()ii'i)ig, ivhi.stliiig, and iri/d ahoutitig.
The Doctor, with his farni/y, goes
towards the door. Horsteh clears the
way for them.

All.
[ Yelling after them as they go out.] Enemy of the
j)eople ! Enemy of the people ! Enemy of the
people !

Billing.
Strike me dead if I'd care to drink toddy at
Stockmann's to-niglit !

[The people throng towards the door; the
shouting is taken up by others outside;
from the street are heard cries of " Enemy
of the people 1 Enemy of the peojile ! "

\--

ACT FIFTH.

Dr. Stockmann's Studt/. Bookshelves and glass
cases w'dli various colledioiis along the walls. In
the back, a door leading to the hall ; in front, on
the left, a door to the sitting-room. In the wall
to the right are two windows, all the panes of
which are smashed. In the middle of the room
is the Doctor's writing-table, covered with books
and papers. The room is in disorder. It is
forenoon.

Dr. Stockmann, in dressing-gown, slippers, and
skull cap, is bending down and raking with an
umbrella under one of the cabinets ; at last he
rakes out a stone.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Speaking through the sittijig-room doorway. \
Katrina, I've found another !

Mrs. hTorKMANN.

[In the sitting rootn.] Oh, Tm sure you'll find
plenty more.

Dr. Stockmann.

[Placing the stone on a pile of others oti the fable.^
I shall keep these stones as sacred relics. Eilif
and Morten shall see them every day. and when I
die they shall be heirlooms. [Raking under the
bookca.se.l^ Hasn't- what the devil is her name ? —
the girl — hadn't she been for the glazier yet ?

152 AN ENE\n (»K Tin; i'Khi'i.k. [act v.

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Coming in.] Yes, but he said he didn't
know whether he would be able to come to-day.

Dr. Stockmann.
I believe, if the truth were told, he daren't
come.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Well, Randina, too, had an idea he was afraid
to come, because of the neighbours. [Speaks through
the sitlitig-room doorway.] What is it, Randina? —
Very well. [Goes out, and returns immediately.]
Here is a letter for you, Thomas.

Dr Stockmann.
Let me see. [Opens the letter and rearf.v.] Aha !

Mrs. Stockmann.
Who is it from .'

Dr. Stockmann.
From the landlord. He gives us notice.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Is it possible .'' He is such a nice man

Dr. Stockmann.
[Looking at the letter.] He daren't do otherwise,
he says. He is very unwilling to do it; but he
daren't do otherwise — on account of his fellow
citizens — out of respect for public opinion — is in
a dependent position — doesn't dare to offend
certain influential men

Mrs. Stockmann.
There, you see, Thomas.

act v.] an enemy of the people. 153

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, yes, I see well enough ; they are all
cowards, every one of them, in this town ; no one
dares do anything for fear of all the rest. [Throws
the letter on the table.'] But it's all the same to us,
Katrina, We will shape our course for the new
world, and then

Mrs. Stockmann.
But are you sure this idea of going abroad is
altogether wise, Thomas }

Dr. Stockmann.
Would you have me stay here, where they have
pilloried me as an enemy of the people, branded
me, smashed my windows ! And look here, Katrina,
they've torn a hole in my black trousers, too.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Oh dear ; and these are the best you have !

Dr. Stockmann.
A man should never put on his best trousers
when he goes out to battle for freedom and truth.
Well, I don't care so much about the trousers ;
them you can always patch up for me. But that
the mob, the rabble, should dare to attack me as
if they were my equals — that is what I can't, for
the life of me, stomach !

Mrs. Stockmann.
Yes, they have behaved abominably to you
here, "Thomas; but is that any reason for leaving
the country altogether .''

Dr. Stockmann.
Do you think the plebeians aren't j ust as insolent

16i AN KNKMN (»K T 1 1 K I'KOI'LK. [a(T V.

in other towns ? Oh yes, Ihty are, my clear ; it's
six of one and half a dozen of the other. Well,
never mind; let the ears yelp; that's not the
worst ; the worst is that every one, all over the
country, is the slave of his party. Not that I
suppose — very likely it's no better in the free
West either ; the compact majority, and en-
lightened public opinion, and all the other devil's
trash is ramj)ant there too. But you see the con-
ditions are larger there than here ; they may kill
you, but they don't slow-torture you ; they don't
screw up a free soul in a vice, as they do at home
here. And then, if need be, you can keep out of
it all. [JValk.s up and down.] If I only knew of
any primeval forest, or a little South Sea island
to be sold cheap

Mrs. Stockmann.
Yes, but the boys, Thomas.

Dr. Stockmann.

[^Comes to a standstill.] What an extraordinary
woman you are, Katrina ! Would you rather have
the boys grow up in such a society as ours .'' Why,
you could see for yourself yesterday evening that
one half of the population is stark mad, and if
the other half hasn't lost its wits, that's only
because they are brute beasts who haven't any wits
to lose.

Mrs. Stockmann.

But really, my dear Thomas, you do say such
imprudent things.

Du. Stockmann.
What : Isn't it the truth that I tell them >
Don't they turn all ideas upside down ? Don't

ACT v.] AN ENKMV OK Tilt: I'KOI'LK. 1.55

they stir up right and wrong into one hotch-potch ?
Don't they call lies everything that I know to be
the truth ? But the maddest thing of all is to
see crowds of grown men, calling themselves
Liberals, go about persuading themselves and
others that they are friends of freedom ! Did
you ever hear anything like it, Katrina ?

Mrs, Stockmann.
Yes, yes, no doubt. But

Petra enters from the sitting-room.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Back from scliool already ?

Petra.
Yes ; I have been dismissed.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Dismissed .''

Dr. Stockmann.
You too !

Petra,
Mrs. Busk gave me notice, and so I thought it
best to leave there and then.

Dr. Stockmann.
You did perfectly right !

Mrs. Stockmann.
Who could have thought Mrs. Busk was such a
bad woman !

Petra.
Oh mother, Mrs. Busk isn't bad at all ; I saw
clearly how sorry she was. But she dared not do
otherwise, she said ; and so I am dismissed.

156 AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. [acT V.

Dr. STOrKM.\NN.

[Laughing and rubbing his hands.] She dared
not do otherwise — ^just like the rest ! Oh, it's
delicious.

Mrs. Stockmann.

Oh well, after that frightful scene last night

Petra.
It wasn't only that. What do you think,

father .''

Dr. Stockmann.
Well ?

Petra.
Mrs. Busk showed me no fewer than three
letters she had received this morning

Dr. Stockmann.
Anonymous, of course ?

Petra.
Yes.

Dr. Stockmann.
They never dare give their names, Katrina !

Petra.
And two of them stated that a gentleman who
is often at our house said at the club last night
that I held extremely advanced opinions upon
various things

Dr. Stockmann.
Of course you didn't deny it.

Petra.
Of course not. You know Mrs. Busk herself is

ACT v.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 157

pretty advanced in her opinions when we're alone
together; but now that this has come out about
me, she dared not keep me on.

Mrs, Stockmann.
Some one that is often at our house, too .
There, you see, Thomas, what comes of all your
hospitality.

Dr. Stockmann.
We won't live any longer in such a pig-sty I
Pack up as quickly as you can, Katrina ; let's get
away — the sooner the better.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Hush ! I think there is some one in the
passage. See who it is, Petra.

Petra.
[Opening the door.] Oh, is it you. Captain
Horster .'' Please come in.

*HoRSTER.

[From the hall.] Good morning. I thought I
might just look in and ask how you are.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Shaking his hand.] Thanks ; that's very good
of you.

Mrs. Stockmann.
And thank you for helping us through the
crowd last night. Captain Horster.

Petra.
How did you ever get home again ?

158 AN ENEMY OK THK J'KOJ'LE. [aCT V.

HORSTER.

Oh, that was all right. I am tolerably able-
bodied, you know ; and those fellows' bark is
worse than their bite.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, isn't it extraordinary, this piggish
cowardice ? Come here, and let me show you
something ! Look, here are all the stones they
threw in at us. Only look at them .'' Upon my
soul there aren't more than two decent-sized
lumps in the whole heap ; the rest are nothing
but pebbles — mere gravel. They stood down
there, and yelled, and swore they'd half kill me ;
— but as for really doing it — no, there's mighty
little fear of that in this town !

HoRSTER.

You may thank your stars for that this time,
Doctor.

Dr. Stockmann.

So I do, of course. But it's depressing all the
same ; for if ever it should come to a serious
national struggle, you may be sure public opinion
would be for taking to its heels, and the compact
majority would scamper for their lives like a flock
of sheep. Captain Horster. That is what's so
melancholy to think of ; it grieves me to the
heart. — But deuce take it — it's foolish of me to
feel anything of the sort ! They have called me
an enemy of the people; well then, let me be an
enemy of the people!

Mrs. Stockmann.
That you'll never be, Thomas.

ACT v.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 1 5f)

Dr. Stockmann.
You'd better not take your oath of it, Katrina.
A bad name may act like a pin-scratch in the lung.
And that confounded word — I can't get rid of it ;
it has sunk deep into my heart ; and there it lies
gnawing and sucking like an acid. And no
magnesia can cure me.

Petra.
Pooh ; you should only laugh at them, father.

HORSTER.

People will think differently yet, Doctor.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Yes, Thomas, that's as certain as that you are
standing here.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, perhaps, when it is too late. Well, as they
make their bed so they must lie ! Let them go
on wallowing here in their pig-sty, and learn to
repent having driven a patriot into exile. When
do you sail. Captain Horster }

HoRSTER.

Well — that's really what I came to speak to

you about

Dr. Stockmann.
What.'' Anything wrong with the ship.''

Horster.
No ; but the fact is, I shan't be sailing in her.

Petra.
Surely you have not been dismissed .''

l60 AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. [aCT V.

HoRSTER.

[SmiUrig]. Yes, I have.

Petra.
You too !

Mrs. Stockmann.
There, you see, Thomas.

Dr. Stockmann.
And for the truth's sake ! Oh, if I could
possibly have imagined such a thing

HoRSTER.

You mustn't be troubled about this ; I shall
soon find a berth with some other company, else-
where.

Dr. Stockmann.

And this is that man Vik ! A wealthy man,
independent of every one ! Faugh !

HoRSTER,

Oh, for that matter, he's a very well-meaning-
man. He said himself he would gladly have kept
me on if only he dared

Dr. Stockmann.
But he didn't dare ? Of course not .'

HoRSTER.

It's not so easy, he said, when you belong to a

party

Dr. Stockmann.

My gentleman has hit it there ! A party is like a
sausage-machine ; it grinds all the brains together
in one mash ; and that's why we see nothing but
porridge-heads and pulp-heads all around !

ACT v.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. l6l

Mrs. Stockmann.
Now reall)'^, Thomas !

Petra.
[To HoRSTER.] If only you hadn't seen us
home, perhaps it would not have come to this.

HoHSTER.

I don't regret it.

Petra,
[^Gives him her handJ] Thank you for that !

Horster.
\To Dr. Stockmann.] And then, too, I wanted
to tell you this : if you are really determined to go
abroad, I've thought of another way

Dr. Stockmann.
That's good — if only we can get off" quickly

Mrs. Stockmann.
Hush ! Isn't that a knock.''

Petra.
I believe it is uncle.

Dr. Stockmann.
Aha ! [CallsJ] Come in !

Mrs. Stockmann.
My dear Thomas, now do promise mc

The Burgomaster enters from Vie 'nt.i

Burgomaster.
[In the doorway.^ Oh, you are engaged. Then
I'd better — —

l62 AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. [aCT V.

Dr. Stockmann.
No no ; come in.

Burgomaster.
But I wanted to speak to you alone.

Mrs. Stockmann.
We can go into the sitting-room.

HORSTER.

And I shall look in again presently.

Dr. Stockmann.
No no ; go with the ladies, Captain Horster ;
1 must hear more about

Horster.
All right, then I'll wait.

[He follows Mrs. Stockmann and Petra
into the sitting room. The Burgomaster
says nothing, but casts glances at the
windows.

Dr. Stockmann.
I daresay you find it rather draughty here to-
day ? Put on your cap.

Burgomaster.
Thanks, if I may. [Does so.] I fancy I caught
cold yesterday evening. I stood there shiver-
ing

Dr. Stockmann.

Really , On my soul, now, I found it quite warm
enough.

Burgomaster.

i regret that it was not in my power to prevent
these nocturnal excesses.

act v.] an enemy op the people. 16*3

Dr. Stockmann.
Have you anything else in particular to say to
me .''

Burgomaster.

[Producing a large letter.'] I have this document
for you from the Directors of the Baths.

Dr. Stockmann.
My dismissal ?

Burgomaster.
Yes ; dated from to-day. [Places the letter on
the table.] We are very sorry — but frankly, we
dared not do otherwise, on account of public
opinion.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Smiling.] Dared not } I've heard that phrase
already to day.

Burgomaster.
I beg you to realise your position clearly. For
the future, you cannot count upon any sort of
practice in the town.

Dr. Stockmann.

Devil take the practice ! But how can you be
so sure of that }

Burgomaster.

The House-owners' Association is sending round
a circular from house to house, in which all well-
disposed citizens are called upon not to employ you ;
and I dare swear that not a single head of a
family will venture to refuse his signature ; he
simply dare not.

Dr. Stockmann.
Well well ; I don't doubt that. But what then.?

Kit AN KNENM' OK TIIK I'KOI'LK. [aCT V.

Burgomaster.
If I inijjht advise, I would .sii<Tgest that you
should leave the town for a time

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, I've had some such idea in my mind already.

Burgomaster.
Good. And when you have had six months or
so for mature deliberation, if you could make up
your mind to acknowledge your error, with a few
words of regret

Dr. Stockmann.
I might perhaps be reinstated, you think ?

Burgomaster.
Perhaps it's not quite out of the question.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, but how about public opinion .'' You
daren't, on account of public opinion.

Burgomaster.
Opinion is extremely variable. And, to speak
candidly, it is of the greatest imjwrtance for us to
have such an admission under your own hand.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, I daresay it would be mightily convenient
for you ! But you remember what I've said to
you before about such foxes' tricks !

Burgomaster.
At that time your position was infinitely more

AN ENEMY OF THE I'EOl'LE.

1()5

favourable ; at that time you thought you had the
whole town at your back

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, and now I have the whole town on my

back [Flaring up.'\ But no — not if I had

the devil and his dam on my back — ! Never —
never, 1 tell you !

Burgomaster.
The father of a family has no I'ight ' to act as
you are doing. You have no right to do it,
Thomas.

Dr. Stockmann.
I have no right I There's only one thing in
the world that a free man has no right to do ;
and do you know what that is .''

Burgomaster.
No.

Dr. Stockmann.

Of course not ; but / will tell you. A free man
has no right to wallow in filth like a cur ; he has
no right to act so that he ought to spit in his own
face !

Burgomaster.

That sounds extremely plausible ; and if there
were not another explanation of your obstinacy —
but we all know there is

Dr. Stockmann.
What do you mean by that ?

1 "Has no right " represents the Norwegian "tor ikke" —
the phrase which, elsewhere in this scene, is translated " dare
not."' The lat'er rendering should perhaps have been adhered
to throughout ; hut in this passage the Norwegian words convey
a shade of meaning which is best represented by "has no right."

l66 AN ENKMV OF THE I'KUIM.K. [aCT V.

Burgomaster.
You understand well enough. IJut as your
brother, and as a man who knows the world, I
warn you not to build too confidently upon pros-
pects and expectations that may very likely come
to nothing.

Dr. Stockmann.
Why, what on earth are you driving at ?

Burgomaster.
Do you really want me to believe that you are
ignorant of the terms of old Morten Kiil's will }

Dr. Stockmann.
I know that the little he has is to go to a home
for old and needy artizans. But what has that
got to do with me ?

Burgomaster.
To begin with, " the little he has " is no trifle.
Morten Kiil is a tolerably wealthy man.

Dr. Stockmann.
I have never had the least notion of that !

Burgomaster.
H'm — really.'' Then I supj)ose you have no
notion that a not inconsiderable part of his fortune
is to go to your children, you and your wife
having a life-interest in it. Has he not told you
that ?

Dr. Stockmann.

No, I'll be hanged if he has ' On the contrary,
he has done nothing but grun)ble about being so
pre|)o.tcrously over-taxed. But are you really
sure of this, Peter .''

ACT v.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. l67

Burgomaster.
I have it from a thoroughly trustworthy source.

Dr. Stockmann.
Why, good heavens, then Katrina's provided
for — and the children too ! Oh, I must tell her
[Calls.] Katrina, Katrina!

Burgomaster.
[Holding him back.] Hush ! don't say anything
about it yet.

Mrs. Stockmann.

[Opening the door.] What is it ?

Dr. Stockmann.

Nothing my dear ; go in again.

[Mrs. Stockmann closes the door.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Pacing up and down.] Provided for ! Only
think — all of them provided for ! And for life !
After all, it's a grand thing to feel yourself
secure !

Burgomaster.

Yes, but that is just what you are not. Morten
Kiil can revoke his will any day or hour he
chooses.

Dr. Stockmann.

But he won't, my good Peter. The Badger is
only too delighted to see me fall foul of you and
your wiseacre friends.

Burgomaster.
[Starts and looks searchingly at him.] Aha !
That throws a new light on a good many things.

1<)S AN KNKMN i>|- TIIK l'Kl»|'|,K. [aiT V.

Dr. Stockmann.
What things ?

HnHf.OM ASTER.

So the whole affair has been a carefully-con-
cocted iutrijriie. Your recklessly violent on-
slaught— in the name of truth — upon the leading
men of the town

Dr. Stockmann.
Well, what of it ?

Burgomaster.
It was nothing but a preconcerted requital for
that vindictive old Morten Kiil's will.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Almosl speechless.^ Peter — you are the most
abominable plebeian I have ever known in all my
born days.

Burgomaster.
All is over between us. Your dismissal is
irrevocable — for now we have a weapon against
you. [He goes out.
Dr. Stockmann.
Shame ! shame I shame I [Ca/h:] Katrina
The floor must be scrubbed after him I Tell her
to come here with a pail — what's her name.'' con-
found it — the girl with the smudge on her nose

Mrs. Stockmann.
[In the sitting-room doorn'm/.^ Hush, hush
Thomas !

Petra.
[///.so in the doonrai/.'^ Father, here's grandfather;
he wants to know if he can speak to you alone.

act v.] an enemy ok the people. 1 ()<)

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, of course he can. [By the door.] Come
in, father-in-law.

Morten Kiil enters. Dr. Stockmann closes the
door behind him.

Dr. Stockmann.
Well, what is it ? Sit down.

Morten Kiil.
I won't sit down. [Looking aboid him.] It
looks cheerful here to-day, Stockmann.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, don't you think so }

Morten Kiil.
Sure enough. And you've plenty of fresh air
too ; you've got your fill of that oxygen you were
talking about yesterday. You must have a rare
good conscience to-day, I should think.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, I have,

Morten Kiil.

So I should suppose. [Tapping himself on the
breast.] But do you know what / have got here ?

Dr. Stockman.
A good conscience too, I hope.

Morton Kiil.
Pooh ! No ; something far better than that.

[Takes out a large pocket-book, opens it,
and shoivs Stockmann a bundle o/
papers.

170 AN ENF.MY <)K TIIK I'KOI'l.K. [aCT V.

Dr. Stock MANN.
[Looking at liim in (i.\i(»ii.s/i)iicnt.^ Sliares in tlie
Baths !

Morten Kiil.
They weren't difficult to get to-day.

Dh. Stockmann.
And you've gone and bought these up .''

Morten Kiil.
All I had the money to pay for.

Dr. Stockmann.
Why, my dear sir, — just when things are in
such a desperate way at the Baths

Morten Kiil.
If you behave like a reasonable being, you can
soon set the Baths all right again.

Dr. Stockmann.
Well, you can see for yourself I'm doing all I
can. But the people of this town are mad !

Morten Kiil.

You said yesterday that the worst filth came
from my tannery. Now, if that's true, then my
grandfather, and my fatlier before me, and I
myself, have for ever so many years been jioisoning
the town with filth, like three destroying angels.
Do you think I'm going to sit quiet under such a
reproach .''

Dr. Stockmann.

Unfortunately, you can't help it.

ACT v.] AN ENEMY OF THE I'EOPLE. l7l

Morten Kiil.
No, thank you. I hold fast to my good name.
I've heard that people call me " the Badger." A
badger's a sort of a pig, I know ; but I'm deter-
mined to give them the lie. I will live and die
a clean man.

Dr. Stockmann.
And how will you manage that .''

Morten Kiil.
You shall make me clean, Stockmann.

Dr. Stockmann.
I!

Morten Kiil.
Do you know what money I've used to buy
these shares with ? No, you can't know; but now
I'll tell you. It's the money Kati-ina and Petra
and the boys are to have after my death. For,
you see, I've laid by something after all.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Flaring up.] And you've taken Katrina's
money and done this with it !

Morten Kiil.
Yes ; the whole of it is invested in the Baths
now. And now I wan't to see if you're really so
stark, staring mad^ after all, Stockmann. If you
go on making out that these beasts and other
abominations dribble down from my tannery, it'll
be just as if you were to flay broad stripes of
Katrina's skin — and Petra's too, and the boys.
No decent father would ever do that — unless he
were a madman.

172 an knk>m ok iiik hkol'le. [\ct \.

Dr. Stockmann.
[H'a/kiiig up and down J Yes, but 1 am a mad-
man ; lam a madman !

MuKTEN Km,.
Voii surely can't be so raving, ramping mad
where your wife and children are concerned.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Stopping in front of him.\ Why couKln't you
have spoken to me before you went and bought
all that rubbish >

Morten Kiil.
What's done can't be undone.

Dr. Stockmann.
[ Walking rcstlexxli/ ahoul.^ If only I weren't so

certain about the affair ! But I am absolutely

convinced that I'm right.

Morten Kul.
[Weighing the pocket book in his hand.^ If you
stick to this lunacy, these aren't worth much.

[Piit.s the hook into his pocket.

Dr. Stockmann.
But, deuce take it ! surely science ought to be
able to hit upon some antidote, some sort of pro-
phylactic

Morten Kiil.
Do you mean something to kill the beasts .''

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, or at least to make them harmless.

act v.] an enemy of the people. 173

Morten Kiil.
Couldn't you try ratsbane ?

Dr. Stockmann.
Oh, nonsense, nonsense ! — But since every one
declares it's nothing but fancy, why fancy let it
be ! Let them have it their own way ! Haven't
the ignorant, narrow-hearted curs reviled me as
an enemy of the people ? — and weren't they on
the point of tearing the clothes off my back ?

Morten Kiil.
And they've smashed all your windows for you
too!

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, and then there's one's duty to one's family !
I must talk that over with Katrina ; such things
are more in her line.

Morten Kiil.
That's right! You just follow the advice of a
sensible woman.

Dr. Stockmann.
\Ttirning upon him angrily.^ How could you ac"
so preposterously ! Risking Katrina's money, and
putting me to this horrible torture ! When I look
at you, I seem to see the devil himself '

Morten Kiil.
Then I'd better be off. But I must hear from
you, yes or no, by two o'clock. If it's no, all the
shares go to the Hospital — and that this very
day.

Dr. Stockmann.
And what will Katrina get }

174 AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. [aCT V.

Morten Kiil.
Not a rap.

[^Thedoor leading to the hall opens. Hovstad
arid AsLAKSEN are seen outside it.

Morten Kiil.
Hullo ! look at these two.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Staring at them.] What! Do you actually ven-
ture to come here .''

Hovstad.
Why, to be sure we do.

AsLAKSEN.

You see, we've something to discuss with you.

Morten Kiil.
[Whispers.] Yes or no — by two o'clock.

AsLAKSEN.

[With a glance at Hovstad.] Aha !

[Morten Kiil goes out.

Dr. Stockmann.
Well, what do you want with me ? Be brief.

Hovstad.
I can quite understand that you resent our
attitude at the meeting yesterday

Dr. Stockmann.
Yo.r attitude. )'ou say .^ Yes, it was a pretty
attitude I I call it the attitude of cowards — of old
women Shame upon you !

ACT v.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 175

HOVSTAD.

Call it what you will; but we could not act
otherwise.

Dr. Stockmann.

You dare d not, I suppose ? Isn't that so ?

HoVSTAD.

Yes, if you like to put it so.

AsLAKSEN.

But why didn't you just say a word to us before-
hand .'' The merest hint to Mr. Hovstad or to

me

Dr. Stockmann.

A hint } What about }

AsLAKSEN.

About what was really behind it all.

Dr. Stockmann.
I don't in the least understand you }

AsLAKSEN.

[Nods confidentially.] Oh yes, you do. Dr. Stock-
mann.

Hovstad.

It's no good making a mystery of it any
longer.

Dr. Stockmann.

{Looking from one to the other.] Why, what in
the devil's name !

AsLAKSEN.

May I ask — isn't your father-in-law going about
the town buying up all the Bath stock

176 AN KNEMV OK TIIK I'KOIM. K.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, he has been buying Bath stock to-day
but

ASLAKSEN.

It would have been more prudent to let some-
body else do that — some one not so closely con-
nected with you.

HoVSTAD.

And then you ought not to liave appeared in
the matter under your own name. No one need
have known that the attack on the Haths came
from you. You should have taken me into your
counsels. Dr. Stockmami.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Stares straight in front of him ; a lig/U seems to
hreak in upon hivi, and he says as though thunder-
struck.^ Is this possible .'' Can such things be ?

AsLAKSEN.

[Siniling.^ It's pldn enough that they can. But
they ought to be managed delicate.y, you under-
stand.

HoVSTAD.

And there ought to be more people in it; for
the resj)onsil)ility always falls more lightly when
there are several to share it.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Cahnh/.] In one word, gentlemen — what is it
you want .''

AsLAKSEN.

Mr. Hovstad can best

ACT v.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 177

HOVSTAD.

Noj you explain, Aslaksen.

ASLAKSEN.

Well, it's this : now that we know how the
matter really stands, we believe we can venture to
place the People s Messenger at your disposal.

Dr. Stockmann.
You can venture to now, eh ? But how about
public opinion ? Aren't you afraid of bringing down
a storm upon us .''

HoVSTAD.

We must manage to ride out the storm.

Aslaksen.
And you must be ready to put about quickly,
Doctor. As soon as your attack has done itis

work

Dr. Stockmann.
As soon as my father-in-law and I have bought
up the shares at a discount, you mean .''

HoVSTAD.

I presume it is mainly on scientific grounds that
you want to take the management of the Baths
into your own hands.

Dr. Stockmann.
Of course ; it was on scientific grounds that I
got the old Badger to stand in with mr. And then
we'll tinker up the water-works a little, and potter
about a bit down at the beach, without its costing
the town sixpence. That ought to do the busi-
ness .'' Eh .''

178 AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. [acT V.

HoVSTAD.

I tliink so — if you liave the Messenger to back
you up.

ASLAKSEN.

In a free community the press is a power,
Doctor.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, indeed ; and so is public opinion. And you,
Mr. Aslaksen — I supj)ose you will answer for the
House-owners' Association }

Aslaksen.
Both for the House-owners' Association and the
Temperance Society. You may make your mind
easy.

Dr. Stockmann.
But, gentlemen — really I'm quite ashamed to
mention such a thing — but — what return ?

HoVSTAD.

Of course, we should prefer to give you our
aupport for nothing. But the Messenger is not
very firmly established ; it's not getting on as it
ought to ; and I should be very sorry to have to
stop the paper just now, when there's so much to
be done in general politics.

Dr. Stockmann.
Naturally ; that would be very hard for a friend
of the people like you. [F/aring ///).] But I — I
am an enemy of the people ! [Striding alnnd the
7oo?«.] Where's my stick .^ Where the devil is
my stick }

ACT v.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 179

HoVSTAD.

What do you mean ?

ASLAKSEN.

Surely you wouldn't

Dr. Stockmann.
[Standing still.] And suppose I don't give
you a single farthing out of all my shares ?
You must remember we rich folk don't like
parting with our money.

HoVSTAD.

And you must remember that this business of
the shares can be represented in two ways.

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, you are the man for that ; if I don't come
to the rescue of the Messenger, you'll manage to
put a vile complexion on the affair ; you'll hunt
me down, I suppose— bait me — try to throttle me
as a dog throttles a hare !

HoVSTAD.

That's a law of nature — every animal fights
for its own subsistence.

AsLAKSEN.

And must take its food where it can find it, you
know.

Dr. Stockmann.

Then see if you can't find some out in the gutter ;
[Striding about the roo7n] for now, by heaven ! we
shall see which is the strongest animal of us three.

180 AN KNEMV OK TlIK I'F.OIM.K. [aCT V.

[Finds /lis umbrella and brandishes j7.] Now, look
here !

HOVSTAD.

You surely don't mean to assault us !

ASLAKSEN.

I say, be careful with that umbrella

Dh. Stockmann.
Out at the window with you, Mr. Hovstad I

Hovstad.

[By the hall door.'\ Are you utterly crazy ?

Dr. Stockmann.
Out at the window, Mr. Aslaksen ! Jump I tell
you ! Be quick about it I

Aslaksen.
[Uunmng round the writing-table.^ Moderation,
Doctor ; I'm not at all strong ; I can't stand much
[Screams.^ Help! help!

Mrs. Stockmann, Petra, and Horster enter frovi
sitting-room.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Good heavens, Thomas ! what can be the
matter .''

Dr. Stockmann.
[Brandishing the U7nbrella.] Jump, I tell you •
Out into the gutter !

Hovstad.
An unprovoked assault I I call you to witness.
Captain Horster. [Rushes off through the hall.

ACT v.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. ISl

ASLAKSEN.

[Bewildered.^ If one only knew the local situa-
tion ! ' [He slinks out hij the sitting-room door.

Mrs. Stockmann.
[Holding back the Doctor.] Now, do restrain
yourself, Thomas !

Dr. Stockmann.
[Throwing down the umbrella.^ I'll be hanged if
they haven't got off after all.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Why, what can they have wanted with you .''

Dr. Stockmann
I'll tell you afterwards : I have other things to
think of now. [Goes to the table and writes on a
visiting-card.] Look here, Katrina : what's written
here .''

Mrs. Stockmann.

Three big Noes ; what does that mean ?

Dr. Stockmann.
That I'll tell you afterwards, too. [Handing the
card.] There, Petra ; let smudgy face run to the
Badger's with this as fast as she can. Be quick !
[Petra goes out through the hall with the
card.

Dr. Stockmann.
Well, if I haven't had visits to-day from all the

1 " De lokale forholde " — the local conditions, or the circum-
stances of the localitv, a phrase constantly in Aslaksen's mouth
in TAe League of Youth. In the present context it is about
equivalent to " the lie ol the land."

k

182 AN ENEMY OF THE PEOI'LE. [aCT V.

emissaries of the devil ! But now I'll sharpen
my pen against them till it becomes a goad ; I'll
dip it in gall and venom ; I'll hurl my inkstanf^^
straight at their skulls.

Mrs. Stockmann.
You forget we are going away, Thomas.

Petra returns.

Dr. Stockmann.
Well }

Petra.
She has gone.

Dr. Stockmann.
Good, Going away, do you say .'' No, I'll be
damned if we do ; we stay where we are, Katrina '

Petra.
Stay !

Mrs. Stockmann.
Here in the town }

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, here ; the field of battle is here ; here the
fight must be fought ; here I will conquer I As
soon as my trousers are mended, I shall go out
into the town and look for a house ; we must have
a roof over our heads for the winter.

HORSTER.

That you can have in my house.

Dr. Stockmann.
Can I >

I

ACT v.] AN ENKMY OF THE PEOPLE. 183

HoRSTER.

Yes, there's no difficulty about that. I have
room enough, and I'm hardly ever at home myself.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Ohj how kind of you. Captain Horster

Petra.
Thank you !

Dr. Stockmann.
[Shaking his handJ] Thanks, thanks ! So that is
off my mind. And this very day I shall set to
work in earnest. Oh, there's no end of work to
be done here, Katrina ! It's a good thing I shall
have all my time at my disposal now ; for you
must know I've had notice from the Baths

Mrs. Stockmann.
\SighingJ\ Oh yes, I was expecting that.

Dr. Stockmann.

And now they want to take away my

practice as well. But let them ! The poor I shall
keep anyhow — those that can't pay ; and, good
Lord ! it's they that need me most But by
heaven ! Ill make them listen to me ; I'll preach
to them in season and out of season, as the saying
goes.

Mrs. Stockmann.

My dear Thomas, I should have thought you
had learnt what good preaching does.

Dr. Stockmann.
You really are absurd, Katrina. Am I to let

1 S !• AN KNKMN ol' I'll K I'KoiM.K. [aCT

myself be beaten off the field by public opinion,
and the compact majority, and all that sort of
devilry? No, tiiaiik you ! Besides, my point is
so simple, so clear and strai<,'htforward. I only
want to drive it into the heads of these curs that
the Liberals are the craftiest foes free men have
to face ; that party-pro-rrammes wrinj^ the necks
of all young and livinf? truths ; that considera-
tions of expediency turn justice and morality
ui)side down, until life here becomes simply
unlivable. Come, Captain Horster, don't you
think I shall be able to make the people
understand that ?

Horster.

Maybe ; I don't know much about these things
myself.

Dr. Stockmann.

Well, you see — this is the way of it ! It's the
party-leaders that must be exterminated. For a
party-leader is just like a wolf, you see — like a
I'avening wolf; he must devour a certain number
of smaller animals a year, if he's to exist at all.
Just look at Hovstad and Aslaksen ! How many
small animals they polish off — or at least mangle
and luaim, so that they're fit for nothing else but
to be house-owners and subscribers to the People s
Messenger ! [Sits on the edge of the table.^ Just
come here, Katrina — see how bravely the sun
shines to-day ! And how the blessed fresh spring
air blows in upon me !

Mrs. Stockmann.
Yes, if only we could live on sunshine and spring
air, Thomas

ACT v.] AN ENEMY OK THE PEOPLE.

185

Dr. Stockmann.

Well, you'll have to pinch and save to eke them
out — and then we shall get on all right. That's
what troubles me least. No, what does trouble
me is that I don't see any man free enough and
high-minded enough to dare to take up my work
after me.

Petra.

Oh, don't think about that, father ; you have
time enough before you. — Why, see, there are the
boys already.

EiLiFawrf Morten enter from the sitting-room.

Mrs. Stockmann.
Have you a holiday to-day?

Morten.
No ; but we had a fight with the other fellows

in play-time

EiLiF. :^

That's not true ; it was the other fellows that
fought us.

Morten.
Yes, and then Mr. Rorlund said we had better
stop at home for a few days.

Dr. Stockmann.
[Snapping his fingers and springing down from the
table.] Now I have it ! Now I have it, on my
soul ! You shall never set foot in school again '

The Boys.
Never go to school !

J86 AN ENKMY OK TlIK I'KOI'LE. [aCT V.

Mns. Stockmann.
Why, Thomas

Dh. Stockmann.
Never, I say I 1 shall teach you myself — that's
to say, I won't teach you any mortal thing

Morten.
Hurrah I

Dr. Stockmann.
but I shall help you to grow into free, high-
minded men. — Look here, you'll have to help me,
Petra.

Petra.
Yes, father, you may be sure I will.

Du. Stockmann.
And we'll have our school in the room where
they reviled me as an enemy of the people. But
we must have more j)upils. I must have at least
a dozen boys to begin with.

Mrs. Stockmann.
You'll never get them in this town.

Dr. Stockmann.
We shall see. [To the hoys.] Don't you know
any street urchins — any regular ragamuffins ?

Morten.
Yes, father, I know lots !

Dk. Stockmann.
That's all right ; bring me a few of them. I

ACT v.] AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE. 187

shall experiment with the street-curs for once in a
way ; there are sometimes excellent heads amongst
them.

Morten.
But what are we to do when we've grown into
free and high-minded men .''

Dr. Stockmann.
Drive all the wolves out to the far west, boys!
[EiLiF looks rather doubtful; Mortej< jutnps
about shotding " Hurrah J "

Mrs. Stockmann.
If only the wolves don't drive you out, Thomas.

Dr. Stockmann.
Are you quite mad, Katrina ! Drive meout!
Now that I am the strongest man in the town ?

Mrs. Stockmann.
The strongest — now .-*

Dr. Stockmann.
Yes, I venture to say this : that now I am one
of the strongest men in the whole world,

Morten.
I say, v/hat fun !

Dr. Stockmann.
[In a siibdued voice.] Hush; you mustn't speak
about it yet ; but I have made a great discovery.

Mrs. Stockmann.
What, another ?

I^.S AN ENK>n OK TIIK I'KolM.E. [\(T V.

Dii. Stockmann.
Yes, of course I [OV////rT.v them ahouf him, and
spcnks coii/i(h'niia//ij.] This is what 1 have dis-
covered, you see : the strongest man in the world
is he who stands most alone.

Mrs. Stockmann.
\ Shakes her head, sviiling. ] A li, Thomas dear !

Pktiia.
[Grasping his hands checri/y.] Father !

THE END.

THE WILD DUCK

(1884)

CHARACTERS.

WeeLE, a mercfuint, manvfiicturer, etc.
GEEGERS WeRLE, his son.

Old Ekdal.

HiALMAR Ekdal, his son, a photographer.

Gin A Ekdal, Hialmar's wife.

Hedvig, their daufihtcr, a girl of fourteen.

Mrs. Sorby, Werlc's housekeeper.

Relling, a doctor.

MoLviK, ex-student of theology.

Geaberg, Werle's hookkeeper.

Pettersen, Werle's servant.

Jensen, a hired waiter.

A Flabby Gentleman.

A Thin-haired Gentleman.

A Short-sighted Gentleman.

Six other gentlemen, guests at Werle's dinner-party.

Several hired waiters.

The first act passes in Werle's house, the remaining acts at
Hialraar Ekdal's.

Pronunciation of Names: Gregers Werle = Grayghers Verle ;
Hialmar Ekdal =:Yalmar Aykdal; Gina = Gbeena; Graberg =
Groberg ; Jensen = Yensen.

THE WILD DUCK.

PLAY IN FIVE ACTS.

ACT FIRST.

At Werle's house. A richly and comfortably
furnished study ; bookcases and upholstered
furniture ; a writing-table, tvith papers and docu-
ments, in the centre of the room ; lighted lamps
tvith green shades, giving a subdued light. At
the back, open folding-doors with curtains drawn
back. Within is seen a large and handsome room,
brilliantly lighted with lamps and branching
candlesticks. In frojit, on the right (in the study),
a small baize door leads into Werle's ojfice.
On the left, in front, a fireplace with a glowing
coal fire, and farther back a double door leading
into the dining-room.

Werle's servant, Pettersen, in livery, and Jensen,
the hired waiter, in black,. are putling the study
in order. In the large room, two or three other
hired waiters are moving about, arranging things
and lighting more candles. From the dining-room,
the hum of conversation and laughter of many
voices are hea^d; a glass is tapped 7i'ilh a knife;
silence follows, and a toast is proposed; shouts of
"Bravo! " and then again a buzz of conversation*

lyii TUK WILD I)U( K. [act I.

Pettersen.
l^Lig/dx a lamp on the chivineif-place and placr.s a
shade over it.] Hark to them, Jensen ! now the
ohl man's on his legs holding a long palaver about
Mrs. Sorby.

Jensen.
■ ,:.- [Pii.s/iing forward an arm-chair.] Is it true, what
,\ folks say, that they're — very good friends, eh .''

Petterson.
Lord knows.

Jensen.
I've heard tell as he's been a lively customer in
his day.

Petterson.
May be.

Jensen.
And lit's giving this spread in honour of his
son, they say.

Pettersen.
Yes. His son came home yesterday.

Jensen.
This is the first time I ever heard as Mr. VVerle
had a son.

Pettersen.

Oh yes, he has a son, right enough. But he's
a fixture, as you might say, up at the Hoidal
works. He's never once come to town all the
years I've been in service here.

A Waiter.

{In the doonray of the other room.] Pettersen,
here's an old fellow wanting —

act i.] the wild duck. 193

Pettersen.
[Mutters.] The devil — who's this now ?

Old Ekdal appeal's from the right, in the inner
room. He is dressed in a threadbare overcoat
with a high collar ; he wears woollen mittens,
and carries in his hand a stick and a fur cap.
Under his arm, a brown paper parcel. Dirty
red-brown wig and small grey moustache.

Pettersen.
{Goes towards him.] Good Lord — what do you
want here ?

Ekdal.
\In the doorway.] Must get into the office,
Pettersen.

Pettersen.
The office was closed an hour ago, and

Ekdal.

So they told me at the front door. But Graberg's

in there still. Let me slip in this way, Pettersen;

there's a good fellow. [Points towards the baize

door.] It's not the first time I've come this way.

Pettersen.
Well, you may pass. [Opens the door.] But mind
you go out again the proper way, for we've got
company.

Ekdal.
I know, I know — h'm ! Thanks, Pettersen,
good old friend ! Thanks! [M/tlfers .softly.] Ass!
[He goes into the office ; Petteuson shuts
the door after him.

l[)i THE WILD DUCK.

Jensen.
Is he one of the office people ?

Pettersen.
No, he's only an outside hand that does odd
jobs of copyinf^. Hut he's been a tip-topper in
ills (lay, has old Ekdal.

Jensen.
You can see he's been through a lot.

Pettersen.
Yes ; he was an army officer, you know.

Jensen.
You don't say so ?

Pettersen.
No mistake about it. But then he went into
the timber trade or something of the sort. They
say he once played Mr. VVerle a very nasty trick.
They were partners in the Hoidal works at the
time. Oh, I know old Ekdal well, I do. Many
a nip of bitters and bottle of ale we two have
drunk at Madam Eriksen's.

Jensen.
He don't look as if he'd much to stand treat
with.

Pettersen.

Why, bless you, Jensen, it's me that stands
treat. I always think there's no harm in being a
bit civil to folks that have seen better days.

Jensen.
Did he go bankrupt then ?

act i.] the wild duck. 195

Pettersen.
Worse than that. He went to prison.

Jensen.
To prison I

Pettersen.
Or perhaps it was the Penitentiary. [Listens.l^
Sh ! They're leaving the table.

The dining-room door is thrown open from 7vithin, by
a couple of waiters. Mrs. Sorby comes out con-
vei'sirig with two gentlemen. Gradvnlly the whole
company follows, amongst them Werle. Last
come HiALMAR Ekdal and Gregers Werle.

Mrs. Sorby.
[/w passing, to the servant.^ Tell them to serve
the coffee in the music- room, Pettersen.

Pettersen.
Very well, Madam.

[<SAe goes with the two Gentlemen into the
inner room, and thence out to the right.
Pettersen and Jensen go out the same
way.

A Flabby Gentleman.
[To a Thin-haired Gentleman.] Whew ! What
a dinner ! — It wa^ no joke to do it justice !

The Thin-Haired Gentleman.
Oh, with a little good-will one can get through
a lot in three hours.

The Flabby Gentleman.
Yes, but afterwards, afterwards, my dear
Chamberlain !

\()6 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT I.

A TiiiHD Gentleman.
I hear the coffee and maraschino are to be
served in the music-room.

The Flauuy CJentleman.
Bravo ! Then perhaps Mrs. Sorby will play us
something.

The Thin-haired Gentleman.
[In a Ion' voice.] I hope Mrs. Sorby mayn't play
us a tune we don't like, one of these days !

The Flabby Gentleman.
Oh no, not she I Bertha will never turn against
her old friends.

[They laugh ami pass into the inner room.

Werle.
[In a J 01V Mice, dejectedly.] I don't think any-
body noticed it, Gregers.

Gregers.
[Looh at him.] Noticed what }

Werle.
Did you not notice it either }

Gregers.
What do you mean ?

Werle.
We were thirteen at table.

CJrf.oeus.
Indeed .^ Were there thirteen of us }

act i.] the wild duck. 197

Werle.
[Glances totvards Hialmar Ekdal.] Our usual
party is twelve. [To the others.] This way,
gentlemen !

[Werle and the others, all except Hialmar
and Gregers, go out by the back, to the
right.

Hialmar.
[ Who has overheard the conversation.] You ought
not to have invited me, Gregers.

Gregers.
What ! Not ask my best and only friend to a
party supposed to be in my honour .''

Hialmar.
But I don't think your father likes it. You see
I am quite outside his circle.

Gregers.
So I hear. But I wanted to see you and have
a talk with you, and I certainly shan't be staying
long. — Ah, we two old schoolfellows have drifted
far apart from each other. It must be sixteen or
seventeen years since we met.

Hialmar.

Is it so long ?

Gregers.
It is indeed. Well, how goes it with you }
You look well. You have put on flesh, and grown
almost stout.

Hialmar.
Well, " stout " is scarcely the word ; but I dare-
say I look a little more of a man than I used to.

1()S TlIK Wll.l) DLCK. [act I.

Gregers.
Yes, you do; your outer man is in first rate
condition.

Hi ALMA H.

[In a tone of gloom. \ Ah, but the inner man I
That is a very different matter, I can tell you !
Of course you know of the terrible catastrophe
that lias befallen me and mine since last we met.

Gregers.
\^Iore softly. ^ How are things going with your
father now ?

HiALM.'VR.

Don't let us talk of it, old fellow. Of course
my poor unhappy father lives with me. He
hasn't another soul in the world to care for him.
But you can understand that this is a miserable
subject for me. — Tell me, rather, how you have
been getting on up at the works.

Gregers.
I have had a delightfully lonely time of it —
plenty of leisure to think and think about things.
Come over here; we may as well make ourselves
comfortable.

[//e .scats himself in an ann-chair by the
^ire and draws Hialmar down into
another alongside of it.

Hialmar.
[Sentijnentally.] After all, Gregers, I thank you
for inviting me to your father's table ; for I take
it as a sign that you have got over your feeling
against me.

ACT I.] THE WILD DUCK. 199

Gregers.
[Surprised.^ How could you imagine I had any
feeling against you ?

HiALMAR.

You had at first, you know.

Gregers.
How at first ?

HiALMAR.

After the great misfortune. It was natural
enough that you should. Your father was within
an ace of being drawn into that— well, that terrible
business.

Gregers.

Why should that give me any feeling against
you .'* Who can have put that into your head ?

HiALMAR.

I know it did, Gregers ; your father told me
so himself

Gregers.

[Starts.] My father! Oh indeed. H'm. — Was
that why you never let me hear from you ? — not a
single word.

HiALMAR.

Yes.

Gregers.
Not even when you made up your mind to
become a photographer .''

HiALMAR.

Your father said I had better not write to you
at all, about anything.

200 TIIK WII.I) DUCK. [act I.

Gregers.
[Loo^ijif; siraight before //////.] Well well, perhaps
he was right. — But tell ine now, Hialinar : are you
pretty well satisfied with your present position ?

HiALMAR.

\^lVitli a Utile sig/i] Oh yes, I am ; 1 have really
no cause to complain. At first, as you may guess,
I felt it a little strange. It was such a totally new
state of things for me. Hut of course my whole
circumstances were totally changed. Father's
utter, irretrievable ruin, — the shame and disgrace
of it, Gregers

Gregers.
\ Affected,] Yes, yes ; I understand.

HiALMAR.

I couldn't think of remaining at college ; there
wasn't a shilling to spare ; on the contrary, there
were debts — mainly to your father I believe

Gregers.
H'm

HiALMAR.

In short, I thought it best to break, once for
all, with my old surroundings and associations,
it was your father that specially urged me to it;
and since he interested himself so much in
me

Gregers.
My father did ?

HiALMAR.

Yes, you surely knew that, didn't you ? Where
do you suppose I found the money to learn

ACT I.] THE WILD DUCK. 201

photography, and to furnish a studio and make a
start ? All that costs a pretty penny, I can tell
you.

Gregers.

And my father provided the money?

HiALMAR.

Yes, my dear fellow, didn't you know ? I
understood him to say he had written to you
about it.

Gregers.

Not a word about his part in the business. He
must have forgotten it. Our correspondence has
always been purely a business one. So it was my
father that !

HiALMAR.

Yes, certainly. He didn't wish it to be
generally known ; but he it was. And of course
it was he, too, that put me in a position to marry.
Don't you — don't you know about that either .''

Gregers.
No, I haven't heard a word of it. [Shakes him
hy the orw.] But, my dear Hialmar, I can t tell
you what pleasure all this gives me — pleasure, and
self-reproach. 1 have perhaps done my father
injustice after all — in some things. This proves
that he has a heart. It shows a sort of com-
punction

HiALMAR.

Compunction }

Gregers.
Yes, yes — whatever you like to call it. Oh, I
can't tell you how glad I am to hear this of father.

20'2 111 K W I 1.1) 1)1 (K.

— So you are a married man, Hialniar ! Tlial is

further tlian I shall ever pet. Well, I hope \

are happy in your married life ?

IIlALMAR.

Yes, thoroughly happy. She is as good and
capable a wife as any man could wish for. Anil
she is by no means without culture.

Gregers.
[Rather surprised.^ No, of course not.

HiALMAR.

You see, life is itself an education. Her daily

intercourse with me And then we know one

or two rather remarkable men, who come a good
deal about us. I assure you, you would hardly
know Gina again.

Gregers.
Gina .''

HiALMAR.

Yes ; had you forgotten that her name was
Gina }

Gregers.

Whose name .'' I haven't the slightest idea

HiALMAR.

Don't you remember that she used to i .
service here ?

Grkcjf.rs.

[Looks al fimi.] Is it (jina Hansen .-*

HiALMAR.

I'es, of course it is Gina Hansen.

l.J TUL WILD UUCK. 203

Gregers.
-who kept house for us during the last year

of my mother's ilhiess ?

HiALMAR.

Yes, exactly. But, my dear friend, I'm quite
sure your father told you that I was married.

Gregers.
[Who has risen.] Oh yes, he mentioned it ; but

not that [Walking about the 7-oo7n.] Stay —

perhaps he did — now that I think of it. My
father always writes such short letters. [Half
seats himself on the arm of the chair.\ Now, tell
me, Hialmar — this is intei'esting — how did you
come to know Gina — your wife }

Hialmar.
The simplest thing in the world. You know
Gina did not stay here long ; everything was so
much upset at that time, owing to your mother's
illness and so forth, that Gina was not equal to it
all ; so she gave notice and left. That was the
year before your mother died — or it may have
been the same year.

Gregers.
It was the same year. I was up at the works
'^i -^i But afterwards .''

Hialmar.
Well, Gina lived at home with her mother.
Madam Hansen, an excellent hard-working
woman, who kept a little eating-house. She
had a room to let too ; a very nice comfortable
room.

204 riiK wiM) i)r< K. [act i.

(illKCKRS.

And I suppose you were lucky enough to se-
cure it ?

I ll.M.MAR.

Yes ; in fact, it was your father that recom-
mended it to nie. So it was there, you see, that
I really came to know Clina.

Gregers.
And then you got engaged ?

HiALMAR.

Yes. It doesn't take young people long to fall
in love ; h m

(jKEGF.RS.

[Rises and moves ahoid a little.] Tell me : was it
after your engagement — was it then that my
father — I mean was it then that you began to
take up photography ?

Hialmar.
Yes, precisely. I wanted to make a start, and
to set up house as soon as possible ; and your
father and I agreed that this photography business
was the readiest way. Gina thought so too. Oh,
and there was anotlier thing in its favour, by-the-
bye : it liapjjened, luckily, that Gina had learnt
to retouch.

Ghegers.

That chimed in marvellously.

Hialmar.
[Pleased, rises.] Yes, didn't it ? Don't you
think it was a n)arvellous piece of luck }

act i.] the wild duck. 205

Gregers.
Oh, unquestionably. My father seems to have
been almost a kind of providence for you.

HiALMAR.

[With emotion.^ He did not forsake his old
friend's son in the hour of his need, For he has a
heart, you see.

Mrs. Sorby.
[Enters, arm-in-arm with Werle.] Nonsense,
my dear Mr. Werle; you mustn't stop there any
longer staring at all the lights. It's very bad for
you.

Werle.
[Lets go her ar7n and passes his hand over his eyes.]
I daresay you are right.

[Pettersen and Jensen ca7'}y roimd re-
fi'eshment trays.]

Mrs. Sorbv.
[To the Guests in the other room.] This way, if
you please, gentlemen. Whoever wants a glass of
punch must be so good as to come in here.

The Flabby Gentleman.
[Comes up to Mrs. Sorby.] Surely, it isn't pos-
sible that you have suspended our cherished
right to smoke }

Mrs. Sorby.
Yes. No smoking here, in Mr. Werle's sanctum.
Chamberlain.

The Thin-haired Gentleman.
When did you enact these stringent amend-
ments on the cigar law, Mrs. Sorby .''

206' TIN-; wiM) DUCK. [act I.

Mus. SttRBY.

After thf last diimer, Clmniberlain, when certain
persons permitted themselves to overstep the
mark.

The TniN-HAiRED Gentleman.

And may one never overstep the mark a little
bit, Madame Bertha.^ Not the least little bit?

Mrs. Sorbv.
Not in any respect whatsoever, Mr. Balle.

[i\/o.s< of the (iiies-ts have a.ssembled in the
.stiichj ; servants hand round glasses of
punch.

We RLE.

[To HiALMAR, ivho is standing beside a tahle.^
What are you studyinj^ so intently, Ekdal i*

HiALMAR.

Only an album, Mr, Werle.

The Thin MAinEn Gentleman.
[Who is wandering about.] \h, photographs!
They are quite in your line of course.

The Flahuv (ikatleman.
[In an arm-chair.^ Haven't you brought any of
your own with you }

Hi ALMA H.

No, I haven't.

The Flabby Gentleman.
You ought to have ; it's very good for the
digestion to sit and look at pictures.

act i.] the wild duck. 207

The Thin-haired Gentleman.
And it contributes to the entertainment, you
know.

The Short-sighted Gentleman.
And all contributions are thankfully received.

Mrs. Sorbv.
The Chamberlains think that when one is
invited out to dinner, one ought to exert oneself
a little in return, Mr. Ekdal.

The Flabby Gentleman.
Where one dines so well, that duty becomes a
pleasure.

The Thin-haired Gentleman.
And when it's a case of the struggle for
existence, you know

Mrs. Sorby.
I quite agree with you !

[ They continue the conversation, with laughter
and joking.

Gregers.
[Softly.^ You must join in, Hialmar.

Hialmar.
[Writhing.'] What am I to talk about.''

The Flabby Gentleman.
Don't you think, Mr. Werle, that Tokay may be
considered one of the more wholesome sorts of
wine ?

Werle.

[By the Jive.'] I can answer for the Tokay you

208 rnE wii-D nucK. [

had to-day, at any rate ; it's of one of the very
finest seasons. Of course you would notice that.

TiiK Fi.vHnv Gkntleman.
Yes, it had a remarkably delicate flavour.

HiALMAR.

[Shy/i/.] Is there any difference between the
seasons ?

The Flabby Gentleman.
[Laughs-I Come ! That's good !

Werle.
[Smiles.] It really doesn't pay to set fine wine
before you.

The Thin-haired Gentleman.
Tokay is like photographs, Mr. Ekdal : they
both need sunshine. Am I not right ?

Hialmar.
Yes, light is important no doubt.

Mrs. Sorby.
And it's exactly the same with Chamberlains —
they, too, depend very much on sunshine,' as the
saying is.

The Thin-haired Gentleman.
Oh fie ! That's a very threadbare sarcasm !

The Short-sighted Gentleman.
Mrs. Sorby is coming out

1 The "sunshine" of Court favour.

act i.] the wild duck. 209

The Flabby Gentleman.
-and at our expense, too. [Holds up his

finger reprovingly J] Oh, Ma<lame Bertha, Madame
Bertha !

Mrs. Sorby.
Yes, and there's not the least doubt that the
seasons differ greatly. The old vintages are the
finest.

The Short-sighted Gentleman.
Do you reckon me among the old vintages .''

Mrs. Sorby.
Oh, far from it.

The Thin-haiped Gentleman.
There now ! But me, dear Mrs. Sorby }

The Flabby Gentleman.
Yes, and me .'' What vintage should you say
that we belong to }

Mrs. Sorby.
Why, to the sweet vintages, gentlemen.

\She sips a glass of punch. The gentlemen
laugh and Jiirt with her.

Werle.
Mrs. Sorby can always find a loop-hole — when
she wants to. Fill your glasses, gentlemen !
Pettersen, will you see to it — — ! Gregers, sup-
pose we have a glass together. [Gregers does not
move.^ Won't you join us, Ekdal } I found no
opportunity of drinking with you at table.

[Gr.Iberg, the Bookkeeper, looks in at the
baize door.

210 TIIK \VII,n DUCK. [a(-

GnABEno.
pjxouse me, sir, but I can't get out.

Werle.
Have 3'ou been locked in again ?

GrAberg.
Yes, and Flakstad has carried off the keys.

Werle.
Well, you can ])ass out this way.

GrAberg.
But there's some one else

Werle.

All right; come through, both of you. Don't
be afraid.

[GrAberg and Old Ekdal come out of ihe
office.

Werle.

[Involiintorilj/.] Ugh !

\T/ic laughter and talk among the Guests
cease. Hl\lm.\u .starts at the sight of
his father, puts down his gla.ss, and turns
towards the fireplace.

Ekdal.

[Z)oe.¥ not look up, hut makes little bows to both .sides
as he passes, murmuring.^ Beg pardon, come the
wrong way. Door locked — door locked. Beg
pardon.

^He and GrAberg go out bi/ the back, to
the right. "j

lCT I.] THE WILD DUCK. 211

Werle,
[Between his teeth.] That idiot Grabei'g I

Gregers.
[Open-mouthed and staring, to Hialmar.] Why

surely that wasn't-

The Flabby Gentleman.
What's the matter } Who was it }

Gregers.
Oh, nobody, only the bookkeeper and some one
with him.

The Short-sighted Gentleman.
[To Hialmar.] Did you know that man }

Hialmar.
I don't know — I didn't notice

The Flabby Gentleman.
What the deuce has come over every one }

[He joins another group who are talking
softly.

Mrs. Sorby.
[Whispers to the Servant.] Give him something
to take with him ; — something good, mind

Pettersen.
[Nods.] I'll see to it. [Goes out.

Gregers.
[Softly and with emotion, to Hialmar.] So that
was really he !

212 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT I.

HiALMAR.

Yes.

Gregers.
And you could stand there and deny that you
knew him I

HiALMAR.

\^fV/iispers vehementli/.] But how could I '

Gregers.
acknowledge your own father .''

HiALMAR.

[With pain.] Oh, if you were in my place

[The conversation amongst the Guests, which
has been carried on in a low tone, now
swells into constrained joviality.]

The Thin-haired Gentleman.
[^Approaching Hialmar a7id Gre(;ers in a friendly
manner.] Aha ! Reviving old college memories,
eh ? Don't you smoke, Mr. Ekdal } May I give
you a light .'' Oh, by-the-bye, we mustn't

Hialmar.
No, thank you, I won't

The Flabby Gentleman.
Haven't you a nice little poem you coidd
recite to us, Mr. Ekdal .'' You used to recite so
charmingly.

Hialmar.
I am sorry I can't remember anything.

act i.] the wild duck. 213

The Flabby Gentleman,
Oh, that's a pity. Well, what shall we do,
Balle ?

[Both Gentlemen move away and pass into
the other room.

Hialmar.
\Gloomily.'\ Gregers — I am going ! When a
man has felt the crushing hand of Fate, you see
Say good-bye to your father for me.

Gregers.
Yes, yes. Are you going straight home }

Hialmar.
Yes. Why }

Gregers.
Oh, because I may perhaps look in on you
later.

Hialmar.
No, you mustn't do that. You must not come
to my home. Mine is a melancholy abode,
Gregers ; especially after a splendid banquet
like this. We can always arrange to meet
somewhere in the town.

Mrs. Sorb v.
[Who has quietly approached.^ Are you going,
Ekdal ?

Hialmar.
Yes.

Mrs. Sorby.
Remember me to Gina.

214.

THK W 11.1) DUCK. [act 1.

HiALMAR.

Thanks.

Mrs. Sorby.

And say I am coming up to see her one of these

(lays.

HiALMAR.

Yes, thank you. [To Gregers.] Stay here ; I
will slip out unobserved.

[He saunters amii/, then into the other roovi,
and so out to the right.

Mrs. Sorby.
[Sojllt/ to the Servafit, ivho has come hack.'] Well,
did you give the old man something }

Pettersen.
Yes ; I sent him off with a bottle of cognac.

Mrs. Sorby.
Oh, you might have thought of something
better than that.

Pettersen.
Oh no, Mrs. Sorby; cognac is what he likes
best in the world.

The Flabby Gentleman.
[In the doorway with a sheet of music in his hand.]
Shall we play a duet, Mrs. Sorby }

Mrs. Sorby.
Yes, suppose we do.

The Guests.
Bravo, bravo !

[She goes tvith all the Guests through the
back room, out to the right. Gregers

THE WILD DUCK. 215

remains standing by thejire. Werle is
looking fur soinething on the writing-
table, and appears to trish that Gregers
would go ; as Gregers does not move,
Werle goes towards the door.

Gregers.
Father, won't you stay a moment .''

Werle.
[Stops.] What is it }

Gregers.
I must have a woid with you.

Werle.
Can it not wait till we are alone .''

Gregers.
No, it cannot ; for perhaps we shall never be
alone together.

Werle.
\Dra7inng nearer.] What do you mean by that }
[During what follows, the pianoforte is
faintly heard from the distant mtisic-room.

Gregers.
How has that family been allowed to go so
miserably to the wall ?

Werle.
You mean the Ekdals, I suppose.

Gregers.
Yes, I mean the Ekdals. Lieutenant Ekdal was
once so closely associated with you.

2l6 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT I,

Weule.
Much too closely ; I have felt that to my cost
for many a year. It is thanks to him that I — yes
/ — have had a kind of slur cast upon my reputation.

Gregers.
[Softly.] Are you sure that he alone was to
blame ?

Werle.

Who else do you suppose .''

Gregers.
You and he acted together in that affair of the

forests

Werle.

But was it not Ekdal that drew the map of the
tracts we had bought — that fraudulent map ! It
was he who felled all that timber illegally on
Government ground. In fact, the whole manage-
ment was in his hands. I was quite in the dark as
to what Lieutenant Ekdal was doing.

Gregers.
Lieutenant Ekdal himself seems to have been
very much in the dark as to what he was doing.

Werle.
That may be. But the fact remains that he was
found guilty and I acquitted.

Gregers.
Yes, I know that nothing was proved against
you.

Werle.

Acquittal is acquittal. Why do you rake up these

ACT I.] THE WILD UUCK. 217

old miseries that turned my hair grey before its
time ? Is that the sort of thing you have been
brooding over up there, all these years ? I can
assure you, Gregers, here in the town the whole
story has been forgotten long ago — so far as /am
concerned.

Gregers.
But that unhappy Ekdal family '

Werle.
What would you have had me do for the people ?
When Ekdal came out of prison he was a broken-
down being, past all help. There are people in>
the world who dive to the bottom the moment
they get a couple of slugs in their body, and never
come to the surface again. You may take my word
For it, Gregers, I have done all I could without
positively laying myself open to all sorts of sus-
picion and gossip

Gregers.
Suspicion ? Oh, I see.

Werle.
I have given Ekdal copying to do for the office,
and I pay him far, far more for it than his work is

worth

Gregers.
[Without looking at him.'] H'm ; that I don't
doubt.

Werle.

You laugh .'' Do you think I am not telling
you the truth ^ Well, I certainly can't refer
you to my books, for I never enter payments
of that sort.

'JKS THE WILD UVVK. [acT I.

Gregeiis.
[Smih'x coldh/.] So, there are certain payments
it is best to keej) no account of,

Wkiilr.
[Taken aback.] What ilo you mean by that ?

Gregers.
[Mustering up courage.] Have you entered what
it cost you to have Hialmar Ekdal taught
protography ?

Werle.

I ? How " entered " it ?

Gregers.
I have learnt that it was you who paid (or lii-,
training. And I have learnt, too, that it was you
who enabled him to set i\p house so comfortably.

VVeiii-E.
Well, and yet you talk as though I had done
nothing for the Ekdals ! I can assure you these
people have cost me enough in all conscience.

Gregers.
Have you entered any of these expenses in your
books ?

Werle.

Why do you ask r

Gregers.
Oh, I have my reasons. Now tell me : when
you interested yourself so warmly in your old
friend's son — it was just before his marriage,

was it not .''

act i.] the wild duck. 219

Werle.
Why, deuce take it — after all these years, how

can I ?

Gregers.
You wrote me a letter about that time^a busi-
ness letter, of course ; and in a postscript you
mentioned — quite briefly — thatHialmarEkdal had
married a Miss Hansen.

Werle.
Yes, that was quite right. That was her name.

Gregers.
But you did not mention that this Miss Hansen
was Gina Hansen — our former housekeeper.

Werle.
[^With a forced laugh of derision.^ No ; to tell
the truth, it didn't occur to me that you were so
particularly interested in our former housekeeper.

Gregers.
No more I was. But [^loivers his voice] there
were others in this house who were particularly
interested in her.

Werle.
What do you mean by that .'' [Flarifig up.] You
are not alluding to me, I hope .''

Gregers.
[Sojily hut Jirmly.] Yes, I am alluding to you.

Werle.

And you dare ' You presume to ' How

can that ungrateful hound — that photographer
fellow — how dare he go making such insinuations '

220 'IIIK WILD DIUK. [act 1,

Gregers.
Hialmar has never breathed a word about this.
I don't believe he lias the faintest suspicion of such
a thing.

We RLE.

Then where have you got it from ? VV^ho can
have put such notions in your head .-'

Gregers.
My poor unhappy mother told me ; and that the
very last time I saw her.

Werle.
Your mother ! I might have known as much '
You and she — you always held together. It was
she who turned you against me, from the first.

Gregers.

No, it was all that she had to suffer and submit
to, until she broke down and came to such a pitiful
end.

Werle.

Oh, she had nothing to suffer or submit to ; not
more than most people, at all events. But there's
no getting on with morbid, overstrained creatures
— that I have learnt to my cost. — And you could
go on nursing such a suspicion — burrowing into all
sorts of old rumours and slanders against your own
father : J must say, Gregers, I really think that at
your age you might find something more useful
to do.

"* Gregers.

Yes, it is high time.

Werle.
Then perhaps your mind would be easier than it

ACT I.] THE WILD DUCK. 221

seems to be now. What can be your object in re-
maining up at the works, year out and year in,
drudging away like a common clerk, and not draw-
ing a farthing more than the ordinary monthly
wage .'' It is downright folly.

Gregers.
Ah, if I were only sure of that.

We RLE.

I understand you well enough. You want to be
independent ; you won't be beholden to me for
anything. Well, now there happens to be an
opportunity for you to become independent, your
own master in everything.

Gregers.
Indeed .'' In what way ?

Werle.
When I wrote you insisting on your coming to
town at once — h'm

Gregers.
Yes, what is it you really want of< me .'' I have
been waiting all day to know.

Werle.
I want to propose that you should enter the
firm, as partner.

Gregers.
I • Join your firm ? As partner .<*

Werle.
Yes. It would not involve our being constantly

222 THE UILD DICK. [aCT I.

tonjether. You could take over the business here
in town, and I should move up to the works.

Cregers.
You would.''

Werle.
The fact is, I am not so fit for work as I once
was. I am obliged to spare my eyes, Gregers ;
they have begun to trouble me.

Gregers.
They have always been weak.

Werle.
Not as they are now. And besides, circum-
stances might possibly make it desirable for me to
live up there — for a time, at any rate.

Gregers.
That is certainly quite a new idea to me.

Werle.
Listen, Gregers : there are many things that
stand between us ; but we are father and son after
all. We ought surely to be able to come to some
sort of understanding with each other.

Gregers.
Outwardly, you mean, of course }

Werle.
Well, even that would be something. Think it
over, Gregers. Don't you think it ought to be

possible ? Eh .''

act i.] the wild duck. 22s

Gregers.
[Looking at him coldly.^ There is something
behind all this.

Werle.
How so ?

Gregers.
You want to make use of me in some way.

Werle.
In such a close relationship as ours, the one can
always be useful to the other.

Gregers.
Yes, so people say.

Werle.
I want very much to have you at home with me
for a time. I am a lonely man Gregers ; I have
always felt lonely, all my life through ; but most
of all now that I am getting up in years. I feel
the need of some one about me

Gregers.
You have Mrs. Sorby.

Werle.
Yes, I have her ; and she has become, I may say,
almost indispensable to me. She is lively and even-
tempered ; she brightens up the house ; and that
is a very great thing for me.

Gregers.
Well then, you have everything just as you
wish it.

224 THE wii.i) DICK. [act i.

Werle.
Yes, but I am afraid it can't last. A woman so
situated may easily find herself in a false position,
in the eyes of the world. For that matter it does
a man no good, either.

Gregers.
Oh, when a man gives such dinners as you give,
he can risk a great deal.

Werle.

Yes, but how about the woman, Gregers ? I

fear she won't accept the situation much longer ;

and even if she did — even if, out of attachment

to me, she were to take her chance of gossip and

scandal and all that ? Do you think, Gregers

— you with your strong sense of justice

Greoers.
[Interrupts Am.] Tell me in one word : are you
thinking of marrying her ?

Werle.
Suppose I were thinking of it .'' What then .''

Gregers.
That's what I say : what then >

Werle.
Should you be inflexibly opposed to it !

Gregers.
Not at all. Not by any means.

Werle.
I was not sure whether your devotion to your
mothers memory

act i.] the wild duck. 225

Gregers.
I am not overstrained.

Werle.
Well, whatever you may or may not be, at all
events you have lifted a great weight from my
mind. I am extremely pleased that I can reckon
on your concurrence in this matter.

Gregers.
[Looking intently at him.] Now I see the use
you want to put me to.

Werle.
Use to put you to } What an expression !

Gregers.
Oh, don't let us be nice in our choice of words
— not when we are alone together, at any rate.
[With a short laugh.] Well well ! So this is what
made it absolutely essential that 1 should come to
town in person. For the sake of Mrs. Sorby, we
are to get up a pretence at family life in the house
— a tableau of filial affection ! That will be
something new indeed.

Werle.
How dare you speak in that tone !

Gregers.
Was there ever any family life here .'' Never
since I can remember. But now, forsooth, your
plans demand something of the sort. No doubt
it will have an excellent effect when it is reported
that the son has hastened home, on the wings
of filial piety, to the grey-haired father's wedding-
feast. What will then remain of all the rumours

226 THE WILD DUCK. [atT 1.

as to the wrongs the poor dead mother had to
submit to? Not a vestige. Her son annihilates
them at one stroke.

Werle.
Gregers — I believe there is no one in the world
you detest as you do me.

Gregers.
[Sojlly.] I have seen you at too close quarters.

Werle.
You have seen me with your mother's eyes.
[Lotvers his voice a little.] But you should remem-
ber that her eyes were — clouded now and then.

Gregers.
[Quiveri7ig.] I see what you are hinting at.
But who was to blame for mother's unfortunate

weakness ? Why you, and all those ! The

last of them was this woman that you palmed off
upon Hialmar Ekdal, when you were Ugh !

Werle.

[Shnigs his shoulders.] Word for word as if it
were your mother speaking !

Gregers.
\Without heeding.] And there he is now, with
his great, confiding, childlike mind, compassed
about with all this treachery — living under the
same roof with such a creature, and never dream-
ing that what he calls his home is built upon a
lie ! [Coynes a step nearer.] When I look back
upon your past, 1 seem to see a battle-field with
shattered lives on every hand.

act 1.] the wild duck. 227

Werle.
I begin to think the chasm that divides us is
too wide.

Gregers.
[Bowing, with self-command.^ So I have
observed ; and therefore I take my hat and go.

Werle.
You are going ! Out of the house ?

Gregers.
Yes. For at last I see my mission in life.

Werle.
What mission ?

Gregers.
You would only laugh if I told you.

Werle.
A lonely man doesn't laugh so easily, Gregers.

Gregers.
[Pointing towards the background.^ Look, father,
— the Chamberlains are playing blind-man's-buff
with Mrs. Sorby. — Good-night and good-bye.

[He goes out by the back to the right.
Sounds of laughter and merriment frotn
the Company, who are now visible iti the
outer room.

Werle.
[Muttering contemptuously after Gregers ] Ha
' Poor wretch — and he says he is not over-

strained !

ACT SECOND.

HiALMAii ]iKi)Ai/s studio, (I g()ud-sir:i'(l room, evident ly
in the top storeif of the building. On the right,
a sloping roof of large panes of glass, half-
covered hy a blue curtain. In the right-hand
corner, at the back, the entrance door ; farther
forward, on the same side, a door leading to the
sitting-room. Two doors on the opposite side,
and between them an iron stove. At the back, a
wide double sliding-door. The studio is plainly
but comfortablii Jilted up and furnished. Between
the doors on the right, standing out a little fro7n
the wall, a .sofa with a table and some chairs ; on
the table a lighted lamp with a shade ; beside the
stove an old arm-chair. Photographic imstrii-
ments and apparatus of different kinds lying
about the room. Against the back wall, to the
left of the double door, stands a bookcase contain-
ing a few books, boxes, and bottles of chemicals,
instruments, tools, and other object's. Photo-
graphs and small articles, such as camel's- hair
pencils, paper, and .so forth, lie on the table.
GiNA Ekdal sits on a chair by the tab'e, sewing.
Hedvig is sitting on the sofa, with her hands
shading her eyes and Iter thumbs in her ears,
reading a book.

GiNA.

[Glances once or twice at Hkdvio, r/.y j'/" vith secret
anjciety ; then says .•] Hedvig !

ACT II.] THE \V]I,D DUCK. 229

H EDVIG.

[Does not hear.^

GiNA.

[Repeats more loiidlj/.] Hedvig !

Hedvig.
[ Takes arvay her hands and looks tip. ] Yes, moth er ?

GiNA.

Hedvig dear, you mustn't sit reading any
longer now.

Hedvig.

Oh mother, mayn't I read a little more ? Just
a little bit ?

GiNA.

No no, you must put away your book now.
Father doesn't like it ; he never reads hisself in
the evening.

Hedvig.

[Shuts the book.] No, father doesn't care much
about reading.

GiNA.

[Puts aside her setving and takes up a lead pencil
and a little account-book from the table.] Can you re-
member how much we paid for the butter to-day ?

Hedvig.
It was one crown sixty-five.

GiNA.

That's right. [Puts it dotvn.] It's terrible what
a lot of butter we get through in this house.
Then there was the smoked sausage, and the
cheese — let me see — [IVritcv] — and the ham —
[Adds up.] Yes, that makes just

230 TIIK UIM) DIUK. [act I(.

Hedvig.
And then the beer.

GiNA.

Yes, to be sure. [ Writes.] How it do mount
up ! But we can't manage with no less.

Hedvig.
And then you and I didn't need anything hot
for dinner, as father was out.

GiNA.

No ; that was so much to the good. And then
I took eight crowns fifty for the photographs.

Hedvig.
Really ! So much as that ?

GiNA.

Exactly eight crowns fifty.

\^Silence. (jina lakes up her sewing again,
Hedvig takes paper aiid pencil and begins
to draw, shading her eyes with her left
hand.

Hedvig.
Isn't it jolly to think that father is at Mr. Werle's
big dinner-party }

GiNA.

You know he's not really Mr. Werle's guest.
It was the son invited him. [After a pause.] We
have nothing to do with that Mr. Werle,

Hedvig.
I'm longing for father to come home. He pro-
mised to ask Mrs. Sorby for something nice for me.

ACT II.] THE WILD DUCK. 231

GiNA.

Yes, there's plenty of good things going in that
house, I can tell you.

Hedvig.
\^Goes 071 drawing.^ And I believe I'm a little
hungry too.^

[Old Ekdal, with the paper parcel under his
ann and another parcel in his coat pocket,
comes in by the entraiice door.

GiNA.

How late you are to-day, grandfather !

Ekdal.
They had locked the office door. Had to wait
in Graberg's room. And then they let me through
— h'm.

Hedvig,

Did you get some more copying to do, grand-
father }

Ekdal.

This whole packet. Just look.

GiNA.

That's capital.

Hedvig.
And you have another parcel in your pocket.

Ekdal.
Eh } Oh never mind, that's nothing. [Puts his
stick away in a corjier.'] This work will keep me going
a long time, Gina. \Opens one of the sliding-doors
in the hack wall a little!] Hush ! [Peeps into the room
for a moment, then pushes the door carefully to again.].

2.'i2 riiK wiM) DUCK. [act II.

Hee-hee ! They're fast asleep, all the lot of them.
And she's gone into the basket herself. Hee-hee !

Hedvig.
Are you sure she isn't cold in that basket, grand-
father }

Ekdal.
Not a bit of it ! Cold ? With all that straw ?
[Goes towards the farther door on the left.^ There are
matches in here, I suppose.

GiNA.

The matches is on the drawers,

[Ekdal goes into his room.

Hedvig.
It's nice that grandfather has got all that
copying.

Gina.
Yes, poor old father ; it means a bit of pocket-
money for him.

Hedvig.
And he won't be able to sit the whole forenoon
down at that horrid Madam Eriksen's.

Gina.
No more he won't. [ShoH silence.

Hedvig.
Do you suppose they are still at the dinner-
table ?

Gina.
Goodness knows ; as like as not.

Hedvig,
Think of all the delicious things father is havi"

ACT II.] THE WILD DUCK. 233

to eat ! I'm certain he'll be in splendid spirits
when he comes. Don't you think so, mother ?

GiNA.

Yes ; and if only we could tell him that we'd got

the room let •

Hedvig.

But we don't need that this evening.

GiNA.

Oh, we'd be none the worse of it, I can tell you.
It's no use to us as it is.

Hedvig.
I mean we don't need it this evening, for father
will be in a good humour at any rate. It is best
to keep the letting of the room for another time.

GiNA.

\L.ooks across at her.] You like having some good
news to tell father when he comes home in the
evening ?

Hedvig.

Yes ; for then things are pleasanter somehow.

GiNA.

[Thinking to herself.] Yes, yes, there's some-
thing in that.

[Old Ekdal comes in again and is going
out by the foremost door to the left.

GiNA.

[Half turning m her chair.] Do you want some-
thing out of the kitchen, grandfather }

Ekdal.
Yes, yes, I do. Don't you trouble. [Goes out.

234 TMK WILD DUCK. TaCT

GiNA.

He's not poking away at the fire, is he ? [Waits
a mo7nent.] Hedvig, go and see what he's about.
[Ekdal comes in again ti'ith a small jug of
steaming hoi water.

Hedvig.
Have you been getting some hot water, grand-
father }

Ekdal.

Yes, hot water. Want it for something. Want
to write, and the ink has got as thick as porridge.
— h'm.

GiNA.

But you'd best have your supper, first, grand-
father. It's laid in tliere.

Ekdal.
Can't be bothered with supper, Gina. Very
busy, I tell you. No one's to come to my room.
No one — h'm.

[He goes into his room ; Gina and Hedvig
look at each other.

Gina.

[Softly.] Can you imagine where he's got money
from ?

Hedvig.

From Graberg, perhaps.

Gina.
Not a bit of it. Graberg always sends the money
to me.

Hedvig.

Then he must have got a bottle on credit some-
where.

ACT II.] THE WILD DUCK. 235

GiNA.

Poor grandfather, who'd give him credit }

HiALMAR Ekdal, ifi an overcoat and grey felt hat,
comes in from the right.

GiNA.

[Throws down her sewing and rises J\ Why,
Ekdal. Is that you already .''

Hedvig.
[At the same time jumping np.'\ Fancy your coming
so soon, father !

HiALMAR.

[Taking off his hat.'] Yes, most of the people
were coming away.

Hedvig.
So early }

HiALMAR.

Yes, it was a dinner-party, you know.

[Is taking off his overcoat.

GiNA.

Let me help you.

Hedvig.
Me too.

[They draw off his coat ; Gin a hangs it up
on the back wall.

Hedvig
Were there many people there, father ?

HiALMAR.

Oh no, not many. We were about twelve or
fourteen at table.

V

236 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT II.

GiNA.

And you had some talk with them all ?

HiALMAR.

Oh yes, a little ; but Gregers took me up most of
the time.

GiNA.

Is Gregers as ugly as ever .-'

HiALMAR.

Well, he's not very much to look at. Hasn't the
old man come home ?

H EDVIG.

Yes, grandfather is in his room, writing.

HiALMAR.

Did he say anything ?

GiNA.

No, what should he say ?

HiALMAR.

Didn't he say anything about .'' I heard

something about his having been with Graberg.
I'll go in and see him for a moment.

GiNA.

No, no, better not.

HiALMAR.

Why not ? Did he say he didn't want me to go
in?

GiNA.

I don't think he wants to see nobody this
evening

act 11.] the wild duck. 237

Hedvig.
[Making signs.] H'm — h'm !

GiNA.

[Not ?ioticitig.] he has been in to fetch hot

water — ^ —

HiALMAR.

Aha I Then he's

GiNA.

Yes, I suppose so.

HiALMAR.

Oh God ! my poor old white-haired father ! —
Well, well ; there let him sit and get all the en-
joyment he can.

[Old Ekdal, in an indoor coat and with a
lighted pipe, comes from his room.

Ekdal.
Got home } Thought it was you I heard
talking.

HiALMAR.

Yes, I have just come.

Ekdal.
You didn't see me, did you ?

HiALMAR.

No ; but they told me you had passed through
— so I thought I would follow you.

Ekdal.
H'm, good of you, Hialmar. — Who were they,
all those fellows }

Hialmar.
Oh, all sorts of people. There was Chamber-

238 THE WILD DLCK. [aCT 11.

lain Flor, and Chamberlain Balle, and Chamberlain
Kaspersen, and Chamberlain — this, that, ;:nd the
other — I don't know who all— •

Ekdal.
[Nodding.] Hear that, Gina ! Chamberlains
every one of them !

Gina.
Yes, I hear as they're terrible genteel in that
house nowadays.

Hedvig.
Did the Chamberlains sing, father } Or did
they read aloud ?

HiALMAR.

No, they only talked nonsense. They wanted
me to recite something for them ; but I knew
better than that.

Ekdal.

You weren't to be persuaded, eh ?

Gina.

Oh^ you might have done it.

Hialmar.
No ; one mustn't be at everybody's beck and
call. [IValk.s about the room.] That's not my way,
at any rate.

Ekdal.
No no ; Hialmar's not to be had for the asking,
he isn't.

Hialmar.
I don't see why / should bother myself to
entertain people on the rare occasions when I go
into society. Let the others exert themselves.

ACT II.] THE WILD DUCK. 239

These fellows go from one great dinner-table to
the next and gorge and guzzle day out and day
in. It's for them to bestir themselves and do
something in return for all the good feeding they

get- ^

(jINA.

But you didn't say that .''

HiALMAR.

[Humming.] Ho ho-ho — — ; faith, I gave them
a bit of my mind.

Ekdal.

Not the Chamberlains .''

Hialmar.
Oh, why not .^ [Ligkt/y.] After that, we had
a little^discussion about Tokay.

Ekdal.
Tokay I There's a fine wine for you !

Hialmar.
[Comes to a standstill.] It may be a fine wine.
But of course you know the vintages differ ; it all
depends on how much sunshine the grapes have
had.

GiNA.

Why, you know everything, Ekdal.

Ekdal.
And did they dispute that ?

Hialmar.
They tried to ; but they were requested to
observe that it was just the same with Chamber-

240 TiiF. wii.i) niTK. [act II

lains — that with them, too, different batches were
of different ([iialities.

GiNA.

What things you do think of!

Hee-hee ! So they got that in their pipes too?

HlALMAIl.

Right in their teeth.

Ekoal.
Do you hear that, (lina ? He said it right in
the very teeth of all the Chamberlains.

GiNA.

Fancy ! Right in their teeth !

Hialmar.
Yes, but I don't want it talked about. One
doesn't speak of such things. The whole affair
passed off quite amicably of course. They were
nice, genial fellows ; I didn't want to wound them
—not I !

Ekdal.
Right in their teeth, though !

Hedvig.
[Caressinglj/.] How nice it is to see you in a
dress coat I It suits you so well, father.

HiAI.M \R.

Yes, don't you think so ? And this one really
sits to perfection. It fits almost as if it had been
made for me ; — a little tight in the arm-holes
perhaps ; — help me, Hedvig. [7'a/ce.s off the coat.^

ACT II.] THE WILD DUCK. 241

I think I'll put on my jacket. Where is my jacket,
Gina .''

GiNA.

Here it is. [^Brings the jacket and kelps him.^

HiALMAR.

That's it ! Don't forget to send the coat back
to Molvik first thing to-morrow morning.

Gina.

[Laying it arvay.l I'll be sure and see to it.

Hialmar.
[Stretching himself.^ After all, there's a more
homely feeling about this. A free-and-easy in-
door costume suits my whole personality better.
Don't you think so, Hedvig ?

Hedvig.
Yes, father.

Hialmar.
When I loosen my necktie into a pair of flowing
ends — like this — eh .''

Hedvig.
Yes, that goes so well with your moustache and
the sweep of your curls.

Hialmar.
I should not call them curls exactly ; I should
rather say locks.

Hedvig.

Yes, they are two big for curls.

Hialmar.
Locks describes them better.

242 TiiF, wii.n nucK. [act ii.

Hedvio.

[After a pause, twitching his jacket. 1 Father .

HiALMAR.

Well, what is it?

Hedvig.
Oh, you know very well.

HiALMAR.

No, really I don't

Hedvig.

[Half laughing, halfirhlmpcring.] Oh yes, father ;
now don't tease me any longer !

HiALMAR.

Why, what do you mean .''

Hedvig.
[Shaking hiyn.] Oh what nonsense ; come, where
are they, father .'' All the good things you pro-
mised me, you know ?

HiALMAR.

Oh— if I haven't forgotten all about them !

Hedvig.
Now you're only teasing me, father! Oh, it's
too bad of you I Where have you put them }

HiALMAR.

No, I positively forgot to get anything. But
wait a little ! I have something else for you,
Hedvig.

[Goes and searches in the pockets of the coal.

act ii.] the wild duck. s4i3

Hedvig,

[Skipping and clapping her hands.] Oh mother,
mother I

GiNA.

There, you see ; if you only give him time

HiALMAR.

[With a paper.] Look, here it is.

Hedvig.
That ? Why, that's only a paper.

HiALMAR.

That is the bill of fare, my dear ; the whole bill
of fare. Here you see : " Menu " — that means
bill of fare.

Hedvig.

Haven't you anything else ?

HiALMAR.

I forgot the other things, I tell you. But you
may take my word for it, these dainties are very
unsatisfying. Sit down at the table and read the
bill of fare, and then I'll describe to you how the
dishes taste. Here you are, Hedvig.

Hedvig.
[Gulping down her tears.] Thank you.

[She seats herself, but does not read ; Gina
makes signs to her ; Hialmar notices it.

HiALMAR.

[Pacing up and down the room.] It's monstrous
what absurd things the father of a family is ex-
pected to think of; and if he forgets the smallest

2*4 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT II.

trifle, he is treated to sour faces at once. Well,
well, one gets used to that too. [Slops near the
siovc, hif the old mnu\s r//rt/r.] Have you peeped in
there this evening, father ?

Ekdal.
Yes, to be sure I have. She's gone into the
basket.

HiALMAR.

Ah, she has gone into the basket. Then she's
beginning to get used to it.

Ekdal.
Yes; just as I prophesied. But you know there
are still a few little things-

HiALMAR.

A few improvements, yes.

Ekdal.
They've got to be made, you know.

HiALMAH.

Yes, let us have a talk about the improvements,
father. Come, let us sit on the sofa.

Ekdal.
All right. H'm — think 111 just fill my pipe
first. Must clean it out, too. H'm.

[He goes into his room.

Gin A.
[Smiling to Hialmar.] His pipe !

HiALMAR.

Oh yes yes, Gina ; let him alone— the poor

ACT II.] TllK WILD DUCK. 245

shipwrecked old man. — Yes, these improvements
— we had better get them out of hand to-morrow.

GlNA.

You'll hardly have time to morrow, Ekdal.

Hedvig.
[Interposing.] Oh yes he will, mother !

GiNA.

-«.i . for remember them prints that has to be
retouched ; they've sent ibr them time after time.

HiALMAR.

There now ! those prints again ! I shall get
them finished all right ! Have any new orders
come in ?

Gin A.

No, worse luck ; to-morrow I have nothing but
those two sittings, you know.

HiALMAR.

Nothing else.'' Oh no, if people won't set about
things with a will

GiNA.

But what more can I do ? Don't I advertise in
the papers as much as we can afford ?

HiALMAR.

Yes, the papers, the papers ; you see how much
good they do. And I suppose no one has been to
look at the room either ?

GiNA.

No, not yet.

246 TllK WIM) DUCK. [act II.

HiALMAR.

That was only to be expected. If people won't

keep their eyes open -. Nothing can be done

without a real effort, Gina !

Hedvio.
[Going towards kim.\ Shall I fetch you the flute,
father }

HiALMAR.

No ; no flute for me ; / want no pleasures in
this world. [Pacing aboiit.] Yes, indeed I will
work to-morrow ; you shall see if I don't. You
may be sure I shall work as long as my strength
holds out.

GiNA.

But my dear good Ekdal, I didn't mean it in
that way.

Hedvig.
Father, mayn't I bring in a bottle of beer?

HiALMAR.

No, certainly not. I require nothing, no-
thing [Comes to a standstill.] Beer ? 'V\'as

it beer you were talking about ?

Hedvig.
[Cheerfully.] Yes, father ; beautiful fresh beer.

HiALMAR.

Well — since you insist upon it, you may bring
in a bottle.

GiNA.

Yes, do ; and we'll be nice and cosy.

[Hedvig runs tumirds the kitchen dour.

1

ACT II.] THE WILD DUCK. 247

HiALMAR.

[By the stove, stops her, looks at her, puts his arm
round her neck and presses her to hirn.] Hedvig,
Hedvig !

Hedvig.

[ With tears of joy. ^ My dear, kind father !

HiALMAR.

NOj don't call me that. Here have I been
feasting at the rich man's table, — battening at the
groaning board—— ! And I couldn't even !

GiNA.

[Sitting at the table.] Oh nonsense, nonsense,
Ekdal.

HiALMAR.

It's not nonsense ! And yet you mustn't be
too hard upon me. You know that I love you for
all that.

Hedvig.

[Throwing her arms round him.] And we love
you, oh so dearly, father!

HiALMAR.

And if I am unreasonable once in a while, — why
then — you must remember that I am a man beset
by a host of cares. There, there ! [Dries his eyes.]
No beer at such a moment as this. Give me the
flute.

[Hedvig rujis to the bookcase and fetches it.

HiALMAR.

Thanks ! That's right. With my flute in my

hand and you two at my side — ah !

[Hedvig seats herself at the table near Gina ;

248 TIIK WILD Die K. [act II.

HiALMAR paces hackivards and furirardx,
pipes up vigoruus/i/, and plays a Buheinian
peasant dance, but in a slow plaintive
tempo, and with sentimental expression.

HiALMAH.

[Breaking off' the melody, holds out his left hand to
Gin A, and says ti'ith emotion .] Our roof ni;iy be
poor and humble, Giiia ; but it is home. And
with all my heart I say : here dwells my happiness.
[He begins to j)lay again ; almost imme-
diately fij'ter, a knocking is heard at the
entrance door.

GiNA.

[Rising.] Hush, Ekdal, — I think there's some
one at the door.

HiALMAR.

[Laying the flute on the bookcase.] There !
Again ! [GiNAgoe* and opens the door.

Gregers Werle.
[In the passage.] Excuse me

GiNA.

[Starting back slightly.] Oh !

Gregers.
-does not Mr. Ekdal, the photographer, live

here ?

Gina.
Yes, he does.

HiALMAR.

[Going towards the door.] Gregers! You here
after all .'' Well, come in then.

act ii.] the wild ducr. 241)

Gregers.
[Coming in.] I told you I would come and look
you up.

HiALMAR.

But this evening ? Have you left the

party .''

Gregers.

I have left both the party and my father's
house. — Good evening, Mrs. Ekdal. I don't know
whether you recognise me .''

GiNA.

Oh yes ; it's not difficult to know young Mr.
Werle again.

Gregers.

No, I am like my mother ; and no doubt you
remember her.

HiALMAR.

Left your father's house, did you say ^

Gregers.
Yes, 1 have gone to a hotel.

HiALMAR.

Indeed. Well, since you're here, take off your
coat and sit down.

Gregers.
Thanks.

[He takes off his overcoat. He is now dressed
in a plain grey suit of a coimtiijied cut.

HiALMAR.

Here, on the sofa. Make yourself comfortable.
[Gregers seats himself on the sofa;
HiALMAR takes a chair at the table.

250 THE WILD DUCK. [acT II.

Greoers.
[Looking around him.] So these are your quarters,
Hialmar — this is your home.

HiAI.MAR.

This is the studio, as you see

GiNA.

But it's the largest of our rooms, so we generally
sit here.

Hialmar.

We used to live in a better place ; but this flat
has one great advantage : there are such capital
outer rooms

GiNA.

And we have a room on the other side of the
passage that we can let.

Gregers.
[To Hialmar.] Ah — so you have lodgers too ?

Hialmar.
No, not yet. They're not so easy to find, von
see; you have to keep your eyes open. (To
Hedvig.] What about that beer, eh ?

[Hedvig nods and goes out into the kitchen.

Gregers.
So that is your daughter .''

Hialmar.
Yes, that is Hedvig.

Gregers.
And she is your only child ?

I

ACT 11.] THE WILD DUCK. 251

HiALMAR.

Yes, the only one. She is the joy of our Hves,
and — [loweri?ig his voice] — at the same time our
deepest son-ow, Gregers.

Gregers.
What do you mean ?

HiALMAR.

She is in serious danger of losing her eyesight.

Gregers.
Becoming blind .''

HiALMAR.

Yes. Only the first symptoms have appeared
as yet, and she may not feel it much for some
time. But the doctor has warned us. It is com-
ing, inexorably.

Gregers.

What a terrible misfortune ! How do you
account for it ?

HiALMAR.

[Sighs.] Hereditary, no doubt.

Gregers.
[Starling.] Hereditary ?

GiNA.

Ekdal's mother had weak eyes.

HiALMAR.

Yes, so my father says ; I can't remember her.

Gregers.
Poor child ! And how does she take it ?

•2,0)1 TIIK Wll.l) DICK. [a( T II

HiALMAR.

Oh, you can imagine we haven't the heart to
tell her of it. She dreams of no danger. (Jay
and careless and chirping like a little bird, she
flutters onward into a life of endless night.
[Overcome.] Oh, it is cruelly hard on me,
Gregers.

[Hedvig brings a I ray ivitli heer and glasses,
which she sets upon the table.

HiALMAH.

[Sirokiug her hair.] Thanks, thanks, Hedvig.

[Hedvig puts her ann round his neck and
whispers in his tar.

HiALMAR.

No, no bread and butter just now. [Looks up.]
But perhaps you would like some, Gregers.

Gregers.
[With a gesture of refusal.] No, no thank you.

HiALMAR.

[Still vn-htmholy.] Well, you can bring in a
little all the same. If you have a crust, that is all
1 want. And plenty of butter on it, mind.

[Hedvig nods gaily and goes out into the
kitchen again.

Gregers.
[Who has been Jul lowing her with his eyes.] She
seems quite strong and healthy otherwise.

Gina.

Yes. In other ways there's nothing amiss with
her, thank goodness.

I

act ii.] the wild duck. 253

Gregers.
She promises to be very like you^ Mrs. Ekdal.
How old is she now .''

GiNA.

Hedvig is close on fourteen ; her birthday is
the day after to-morrow.

Gregers.
She is pretty tall for her age, then.

GiNA.

YeSj she's shot up wonderful this last year,

Gregers.
It makes one i-ealise one's own age to see these
young people growing up. — How long is it now
since you were married .''

GiNA.

We've been married — let me see — ^just on
fifteen years.

Gregers.
Is it so long as that .''

GiNA.

[Becomes attentive; looks at km.] Yes, it is
indeed.

HiALMAR.

Yes, so it is. Fifteen years all but a few
months. [Changing his tone.^ They must have
been long years for you, up at the works,
Gregers

Gregers.

They seemed long while I was living them ;

254 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT II.

now they are over, I hardly know how the time

has gone.

[Old Ekdal comes from his room wtthoiil
his pipe, but with his old-fashioned
imifonn cap on his head ; his gait is
somewhat tinsteady.

Ekdal.
Come now, Hialmar, let's sit down and have a
good talk about this — h'm — what was it again ?

HiALMAR.

[Going towards hhn^ Father, we have a visitor
here — Gregers Werle. — I don't know if you
remember him.

Ekdal.

[Looking a< Gregers, who hasrisen.^ Werle ? Is
that the son .'' What does he want with me ?

Hialmar.
Nothing ; it's me he has come to see.

Ekdal.
Oh ! Then there's nothing wrong }

Hialmar.
No, no, of course not.

Ekdal.
[With a large gesture.^ Not that I'm afraid, you
know ; but

GnEOERS.

[Goes over to /»;//.] I bring you a greeting from
vmir old imiiting-grounds, Lieut(.n;in( I'.kd.il.

ACT II. 1 THE WILD DUCK. 255

Ekdal.
Hunting-grounds ?

Gregers.
Yes, up in Hoidal, about the works, you know.

Ekdal.
Oh, up there. Yes, I knew all those places
well in the old days.

Gregers.
You were a great sportsman then.

Ekdal.
So I was, I don't deny it. You're looking at
my uniform cap. I don't ask anybody's leave to
wear it in the house. So long as I don't go out

in the streets with it

[Hedvig brings a plate of bread and butter,
which she puts upon the table.

HiALMAR.

Sit down, father, and have a glass of beer,
lelp yourself, Gregers.

[Ekdal mutiei's and stumbles over to the
sofa. Gregers seats himself on the chair
nearest to him, Hialmar on the other side
q/ Gregers. Gin a sits a little nmy from
the table, senmig ; Hedvig stands beside
her father.

Gregers.
Can you remember, Lieutenant Ekdal, how
Hialmar and I used to come up and visit you in
the summer and at Christmas }

256 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT II.

Ekdai..
Did you ? No, no, no ; I don't remember it.
But sure enoufjli I've been a tidy bit of a sports-
man in my day. I've shot bears too. I've shot
nine of em, no less.

Gregers.

[Loofciug stimpathcticallt) at /«w.] And now you
never get any shooting f

Ekdal.
Can't just say that, sir. Get a shot now and
then perhaps. Of course not in the old way.

For the woods you see — the woods,the woods 1

[/)?7«Ax] Are the woods fine up there now ?

Gregers.
Not so fine as in your time. They have been
Ihinned a good deal.

Ekdal.
Thinned } [More softlij, and as if afraid.] It's
dangerous work that. Bad things come of it.
The woods revenge themselves.

HiALMAR.

[Filling uj) his glass.] Come — a little more,
father.

Gregers.

How can a man like you — such a man for the
open air — live in the midst of a stuffy town, boxed
within four walls .''

Ekdal.

[Laughs quietlij and glances at 1 1 l\lmar.] Oh, it's
not so bad here. Not at all so bad.

act ii.] the wild duck. 257

Gregers.
But don't you miss all the things that used to
be a part of your very being — the cool sweeping
breezes, the free life in the woods and on the
uplands, among beasts and birds .''

Ekdal.
[Smiling.'j Hialmar, shall we let him see it ?

HiALMAR.

[Hastily and a little embarrassed.^ Oh no no,
father ; not this evening.

Gregers.
What does he want to show me .''

Hialmar.

Oh, it's only something — you can see it another
time.

Gregers.

[Continues, to the old »«zw.] You see I have been
thinking. Lieutenant Ekdal, that you should
come up with me to the works ; I am sure to be
going back soon. No doubt you could get some
copying there too. And here, you have nothing
on earth to interest you — nothing to liven you up.

Ekdal.
[Stares in astonishment at him.^ Have / nothing

on earth to !

Gregers.
Of course you have Hialmar; but then he has
his own family. And a man like you, who has
always had such a passion for what is free and
wild

258 THE WILD DUCK. [act

Ekdal.
[Thumps the table.] Hialmar, he shall see it !

HiALMAR.

Oh, do you think it's worth while, father ? It's
all dark.

Ekdal.

Nonsense ; it's moonlight. [liixes.] He shall
see it, I tell you. Let me pass 1 Come and help
me, Hialmar.

Hedvig.

Oh yes, do, father !

Hialmar.
[Rising,] Very well then.
Gregers.
[To GiNA.] What is it ?
Gina
Oh, nothing so very wonderful, after all.

[Ekdal and Hialmar have gone to the back
wall and are each pushing back a side of
the sliding door ; Hedvig helps the old
man ; Gregers remains standing by the
sofa; Gina sits still and sen's. Through
the open doonvay a large, deep irregular
garret is seen with odd iiooks and corners ;
a couple of stove-pipes running through
it, from rooms below. There are ski/-
lishts through ivhich clear moonbeamjs
shine in on some parts of the great room ;
others he in deep shadow.]

Ekdal.
[To Gregers.] You may come close up if you
hke.

act ii.] the wild duck. 259

Gregers.
[Going over to them.^ Why, what is it ?

Ekdal.
Look for yourself. H'm.

HiALMAR.

[Somewhat embarrassed.] This belongs to father,
you understand.

Gregers.

[At the door, looks into the garret.] Why, you
keep poultry. Lieutenant Ekdal

Ekdal.
Should think we did keep poultry. They've
gone to roost now. But you should just see our
fowls by daylight, sir !

Hedvig
And there's a

Ekdal.
Sh — sh ! don't say anything about it yet.

Gregers.
And you have pigeons too, I see.

Ekdal.
Oh yes, haven't we just got pigeons ! They
have their nest-boxes up there under the roof-
tree ; for pigeons like to roost high, you see

Hialmar.
They aren't all common pigeons.

Ekdal.
Common ! Should think not indeed \ We

I

260 THE WILD Di'CK. [act II.

have tumblers, and a pair of pouters, too. But
come here I Can you see that hutch down there
by the wall ?

Gregers.
Yes ; what do you use it for ?

Ekdal.
That's where the rabbits sleep, sir.

Gregers.
Dear me ; so you have rabbits too.^

Ekdal.

Yes, you may take my word for it, we have
rabbits ! He wants to know if we have rabbits,
Hialmar ! H'm! But now comes the thiiifr, let
me tell you ! Here we have it ! Move away,
Hedvig. Stand here ; that's right, — and now
look down there. — Don't you see a basket with
straw in it ?

Gregers.

Yes. And I can see a fowl lying in the basket.

Ekdal.
H'm — " a fowl "

Gregers.
Isn't it a duck ?

Ekdal.
[Hurt.] Why, of course it's a duck.

Hialmar.
But what kind of duck, do you think }

Hedvio.
It's not just a common duck

;

act ii.] the wild duck. 26l

Ekdal.

Sh!

Gregers.
And it's not a Muscovy duck either.

Ekdal.
No, Mr. — Werle ; it's not a Muscovy duck ; for
it's a wild duck !

Gregers.
Is it really ? A wild duck ?

Ekdal.
Yes, that's what it is. That " fowl " as you call
it — is the wild duck. It's our wild duck, sir.

Hedvig.
My wild duck. It belongs to me.

Gregers.
And can it live up here in the garret ? Does
it thrive ?

Ekdal.

Of course it has a trough of water to splash
about in, you know.

HiALMAR.

Fresh water every other day.

GiNA.

[Turning towards Hialmar.] But my dear
Ekdal, it's getting icy cold here.

Ekdal.
H'm, we had better shut up then. It's as well

262 THE WILD DUCK. [act II.

not to disturb their night's rest, too. Close up,
Hedvig.

[HiALMAR aTid Hedmg push the garret doors
together. •

Ekual.
Another time you shall see her properly.
\Se(ds himself in the arm-chair by the .slove.'\ Oh,
they're curious things, these wild ducks, I can tell
you.

Gregers.
How did you manage to catch it. Lieutenant
Ekdal ?

Ekdal.

/ didn't catch it. There's a certain man in
this town whom we have to thank for it.

Gregers.

[Starts slightly.'] That man was not my father,
was he ?

Ekdal.

You've hit it. Your father and no one else.
H'm.

Hialmar.

Strange that you should guess that, Gregers.

Gregers.
You were telling me that you owed so many
things to my father ; and so I thought perhaps

GiNA.

But we didn't get the duck from Mr. Werle

himself

Ekdal.

It's Hakon Werle we have to thank for her, all

ACT II.] THE WILD DUCK. 263

the same, Gina. [To Gregers.] He was shooting
from a boat, you see, and he brought her down.
But your father's sight is not very good now.
H'm ; she was only wounded.

Gregers.
Ah ! She got a couple of slugs in her body, I
suppose.

HiALMAR.

Yes, two or three.

Hedvig.
She was hit under the wing, so that she couldn't
fly.

Gregers.

And I suppose she dived to the bottom, eh .''

Ekdal.
[Sleepily, in a thick voice.] Of course. Always
do that, wild ducks do. They shoot to the
bottom as deep as they can get, sir — and bite
themselves fast in the tangle and seaweed — and
all the devil's own mess that grows down there.
And they never come up again.

Gregers.
But your wild duck came up again. Lieutenant
Ekdal.

Ekdal.
He had such an amazingly clever dog, your
father had. And that dog — he dived in after the
duck and fetched her up again.

Gregers.
[Who has turned to Hialmar.] And then she
was sent to you here .''

264 TIIK WILD DUCK. [\«

HlALMAR.

Not at once ; at first your father took lier
home. But she wouldn't thrive there ; so Petter-
sen was told to put an end to her

Ekdal.
[Half asleep.] H 'm — yes — Pettersen — that
ass

HiALMAR.

[Speaking more xoflh/.] That was how we got
her, you see ; for father knows Pettersen a little ;
and when he heard about the wild duck he got
him to hand her over to us.

Gregers.
And now she thrives as well as possible in the
garret there ?

HiALMAR.

Yes, wonderfully well. She has got fat. You
see, she has lived in there so long now that she
has forgotten her natural wild life ; and it all
depends on that.

Gregers.
You are right there, Hialmar. Be sure you
never let her get a glimpse of the sky and the

sea- . But I mustn't stay any longer ; I think

your father is asleep.

HiALMAR.

Oh, as for that

Gregers.
But, by-the bye — you said you had a room to
let — a spare room .''

ACT II.] THE WILD DUCK. 265

HiALMAR.

Yes ; what then ? Do you know of any-
body ?

Gregers.
Can 1 have that room ?

HiALMAR.

You?

GiNA.

Oh no, Mr. Werle, you

Gregers.
May I have the room } If so, I'll take possession
first thing to-morrow morning.

HiALMAR.

Yes, with the greatest pleasure

GiNA.

But, Mr. Werle, I'm sure it's not at all the sort
of room for you.

HiALMAR.

Why, Gina ! how can you say that .''

GiNA.

Why, because the room's neither large enough
nor light enough, and

Gregers.
That really doesn't matter, Mrs. Ekdal.

HiALMAR.

I call it quite a nice room, and not at all badly
furnished either.

il66 THE WII.I) DUCK. [act II.

GiNA.

But remember the pair of them underneath.

Greoers.
What pair ?

GlNA.

Well, there's one as has been a tutor

HiALMAR.

That's Molvik— Mr. Molvik, B.A.

GiNA.

And then there's a doctor, by the name of
Relling.

Gregers.

Relling } I know him a little ; he practised for
a time up in Hoidal.

GiNA.

They're a regular rackety pair, they are. As
often as not, they're out on the loose in the even-
ings ; and then they come home at all hours, and
they're not always just

Gregers.
One soon gets used to that sort of thing. I
daresay I shall be like the wild duck

GiNA.

H'm; I think you ought to sleep upon it first,
anyway.

Gregers.

You seem very unwilling to have me in the
house, Mrs. Ekdal.

Gina.
Oh no ! What makes you think that ?

ACT II.] THE WILD DUCK. 267

HiALMAR.

Well, you really behave strangely about it, Gina.
[T'o Gregers.] Then I suppose you intend to
remain in the town for the present .''

Gregers.
[Putting on his overcoat.] Yes, now I intend to
remain here.

HiALMAR.

And yet not at your father's .'' What do you
propose to do, then ?

Gregers.
Ah, if I only knew that, Hialmar, I shouldn't
be so badly off! But. when one has the mis-
fortune to be called Gregers — ! " Gregers " —
and then " Werle " after it ; did you ever hear
anything so hideous .''

HiALMAR.

Oh, I don't think so at all.

Gregers.
Ugh ! Bah ! I feel I should like to spit upon
the fellow that answers to such a name. But
when a man is once for all doomed to be Gregers
— Werle in this world, as I am

HiALMAR.

[Laughs.] Ha ha ! If you weren't Gregers
Werle, what would you like to be .''

Gregers.
If I could choose, I should like best to be a
clever dog.

GiNA.

A dog !

268 THK WILD 1)1 CK. [act H.

Hedvio.
[Involuntarili/.] Oh no !

Gregers.
Yes, an amazinjily c-lt-ver (loj; ; one that poes to
tlie bottom aftt r wild ducks wlien they dive and
bite tliemselves fast in tangle and sea-weed, down
among the ooze.

HiALMAR.

Upon my word now, Gregers — I don't in the
least know what you're ch-iving at.

Gregers.
Oh well, you might not be much the wiser if
you did. It's understood, then, that I move in
early to-morrow morning. [7'o Gina.] I won't
give you any trouble ; I do everything for myself.
[7*0 Hialmar.] We can talk about the rest to-
morrow.— Good-night, Mrs. Ekdal. [AW* to
Hedvig.] Good-night.

Gina.
Good-night, Mr. Werle.

Hedvig.
Good-night.

Hialmar.
[Who has lighted a candle.] Wait a moment ; I
must show you a light; the stairs are sure to be dark.
[Gregers and Hialmar go out by the
passage door.

Gina.

[Looking straight before her, with her sewing in
her lap.] Wasn't that queer- like talk about want-
ing to be a dog .''

act ii.] the wild duck. 26.9

Hedvig.
Do you know, mother — I believe he meant
something quite (hfferent by that.

GiNA.

Why, what should he mean ?

Hedvig.
Oh, I don't know; but it seemed to me he
meant something different from what he said — all
the time.

GiNA.

Do you think so .'' Yes, it was sort of queer.

HiALMAR.

[^Coynex hack.] The lamp was still burning. [Puts
out the caudle and sets it down.] Ah, now one can
get a mouthful of food at last. [Begins to eat the
bread and butter.] Well, you see, Gina — if only
you keep your eyes open

Gina.
How, keep your eyes open }

Hialmar.
Why, haven't we at last had the luck to get the
room let.'' And just think — to a person like
Gregers — a good old friend.

Gina.
Well, I don't know what to say about it.

Hedvig.
Oh mother, you'll see ; it'll be such fun !

270 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT II.

HiALMAR.

You're very straiifje You were so bent upon
getting the room let before ; and now you don't
like it.

GiNA.

Yes I do, Ekdal ; if it had only been to some

one else But what do you suppose Mr.

Werle will say .''

HiALMAR.

Old Werle .'' It doesn't concern him.

GiNA.

But surely you can see that there's something
amiss between them again, or the young man
wouldn't be leaving home. You know very well
those two can't get on with each other.

HiALMAR.

Very likely not, but

GiNA.

And now Mr. Werle may fancy it's you that
has egged him on

HiALMAR.

Let him fancy so, then ! Mr. Werle has done
a great deal for me ; far be it from me to deny it.
But that doesn't make me everlastingly dependent
upon him.

GiNA.

But, my dear Ekdal, maybe grandfather '11
suSer for it. He may loose the little bit of work
he gets from Graberg,

HiALMAR.

I could almost say : so much the better ! Is it

ACT II.] THE WILD DUCK. 271

not humiliating for a man like me to see his grey-
haired father treated as a pariah ? But now 1
believe the fulness of time is at hand. [ZaAre* a
fresh piece of bread and hidter.] As sure as I have
a mission in life, I mean to fulfil it now !

Hedvig,
Oh yes, father, do !

GiNA.

Hush ! Don't wake him !

HiALMAR.

[More softly.] I will fulfil it, I say. The day

shall come when And that is why I say it's

a good thing we have let the room ; for that
makes me more independent. The man who has
a mission in life must be independent. [&/ the
arm-chair, with emotion.] Poor old white-haired
father ! Rely on your Hialmar. He has broad
shoulders — strong shoulders, at any rate. You

shall yet wake up some fine day and [To

GiNA.] Do you not believe it ?

Gin A.
[Rising.] Yes, of course I do ; but in the mean-
time suppose we see about getting him to bed.

Hialmar.
Yes, come.

[They take hold of the old man carefully.

I

ACT THIRD.

HiALMAR Ekdal's stitdio. It is tnortnng : the daylight
shines through the large ivindotv in the slanting
roof; the curtain is drawn hark.

HiALMAU is sitting at the table, hiisi/ retouching a
photograph ; several others lie before him. Pre-
sently GiNA, wearing her hat and cloak, enters by
the passage door ; she has a covered basket on her
arm.

HiALMAR.

Back already, Gina ?

GiNA.

Oh yes, one can't let the grass grow under one's
feet.

[Sets her basket on a chair, and takes off her
things.

HiALMAR.

Did you look in at Gregers' room ?

Gina.
Yes, that I did. It's a rare sight, I can tell you ;
he's made a pretty mess to start off witli.

HiALMAR.

How so ?

GiNA.

He was determined to do everything for himself,
he said ; so he sets to work to light the stove, and

ACT III.] THE WILD DUCK. 273

what must he do but screw down the damper till
the whole room is full of smoke. Ugh ! There
was a smell fit to

HiALMAR.

Well, really !

GiNA.

But that's not the worst of it; for then he thinks
he'll put out the fire, and goes and empties his
water-jug into the stove, and so makes the whole
floor one filthy puddle.

HiALMAR.

How annoying !

GiNA.

I've got the porter's wife to clear up after him,
pig that he is ! But the room won't be fit to
live in till the afternoon.

HiALMAR.

What's he doing with himself in the meantime?

GiNA.

He said he was going out for a little while.

HiALMAR.

I looked in upon him too, for a moment — after
you had gone.

GiNA.

So I heard. You've asked him to lunch.

HiALMAR.

.Tust to a little bit of early lunch, you know. It's
his first day — we can hardly do less. You've got
something in the house, 1 suppose .''

I

27 ■i THE un.n 1)1 CK. [act hi.

GiNA,

I slial\ nave to find something or other.

Ill AI.M.AH.

And don't cut it too fine, for I fancy Relliiifj
and Molvik are coniin<r up too. I just happened
to meet Relling on the stairs, you see ; so I had
to

GiNA.

Oh, are we to have those two as well .''

HiALMAIl.

Good Lord — a couple more or less can't make
any difference.

Old Ekdal.

[Open,i his door and looks in.\ I say, Hialmar

[.9ewGiNA.] Oh !

GiNA.

Do you want anything, grandfather .''

Ekdal.
Oh no, it doesn't matter. H'm I

\^Retires again.

GiNA.

[7'r//.Y'.v up the. hosh'i.] Be sure you see that he
doesn't go out.

Hialmar.

All right, all right. And, Gina, a little herring-
salad wouldn't be a bad idea ; Rellingand Molvik
were out on the loose again last night.

Gina.

If only they don't come before I'm ready for
them

ACT III.] THE WILD DUCK. 275

HiALMAR.

No, of course they won't ; take your own time.

GiNA.

Very well ; and meanwhile you can be working
a bit,

HiALMAR.

Well, lam working ! I am working as hard as
I can !

GiNA.

Then you'll have that job off your hands, you see.

[She goes otd to the kitchen with her basket.

HiALMAR sits for a time pencilli7ig away at

the photograph, in an indolent and listless

manner.

Ekdal.
[Peeps in, looks round the studio, and says softly ;]
Are you busy ?

HiALMAR.

Yes I'm toiling at these wretched pictures

Ekdal.
Well well, never mind, — since you're so busy —

h'm ! [He goes out again ; the door stands open.

HiALMAR.

[Continues for some time in silence ; then he lays
down his brush and goes over to the door.^ Are you
busy, father }

Ekdal.

[In a grumbling tone, within.'] If you're busy, I'm
busy too. H'm !

HiALMAR.

Oh, very well, then. [Goes to his work again.

276 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT 111.

Ekdal.
[Presentli/, coming to the door again.] H'm ; I say,
Hialmar, I'm not so very busy, you know.

HiALMAR.

I thought you were writing.

Ekdal.
Oh, devil take it! can't Graherg wait a day or
two .'' After all, it's not a matter of life and death

Hialmar.
No ; and you're not his slave either.

Ekdal.
And about that other business in there

Hialmar.

Just what I was thinking of. Do you want to go
in. Shall I open the door for you .''

Ekdal.
Well, it wouldn't be a bad notion.

Hialmar.

[/??.9ejy.] Then we'd have that off our hands.

Ekdal.
Yes, exactly. It's got to be ready first thing to-
morrow. It is to-morrow, isn't it.'' H'm ?

Hialmar.
Yes, of course it's to morrow.

[Hialmar and Ekdal jui.s/i aside each Ins

ACT III.] THE WILD DUCK. 277

half of the sUdiiig door. The morning sun
is shining in through the skylights ; some
doves are fli/ing about ; others sit cooing,
upon the perches ; the hens are heard
clucking now and then, further back in the
garret.

HiALMAR.

There ; now you can get to work, father.

Ekdal.
[_Goes in.^ Aren't you coming too ?

HiALMAR.

Well really, do you know ; I almost think

[Sees Gin A at the kitchen door.^ I ? No ; I

haven't time ; I must work. — But now for our new
contrivance

[He pulls a cord, a curtain slips down inside,
the lower part consisting of a piece of old
sailcloth, the upper part of a stretched
fishing ?iet. The floor of the garret is
thus no longer visible.

HiALMAR.

[Goes to the tdble.] So ! Now, perhaps I can sit
in peace for a little while.

GiNA.

Is he rampaging in there again ?

HiALMAR.

Would you rather have had him slip down to
Madam Eriksen's. [Seats Imnself] Do you want
anything ? You know you said

278 THi; WILD DICK. [\CT III.

GiNA.

I only wanted to ask if you think we can lay the
table for lunch here ?

HiALMAR.

Yes ; we have no early appointment, I supjx)se ?

GiNA.

No, I expect no one to day except those two
sweethearts that are to be taken together.

HiALMAR.

Why the deuce couldn't they be taken together
another day !

GiNA.

Don't you know, I told them to come in the
afternoon, when you are having your nap.

HiALMAR.

Oh, that's capital. Very well, let us have lunch
here then.

GiNA.

All right ; but there's no hurry about laying the
cloth ; you can have the table for a good while

yet.

HiALMAR.

Do you think I am not sticking at my work }
I'm at it as hard as I can !

GiNA.

Then you'll be free later on. you know.

[^Goes out into the kitchen again. Short
pause.

Ekdal.
[/« the garret duorwai^, behind the net.'\ Hialmar '

ACT HI.] THE WILD DUCK. 279

HiALMAR.

Well ?

Ekdal.
Afraid we shall have to move the water-trough,
after all.

HiALMAR.

What else have I been saying all along ?

Ekdal.
H'm — h'm — h'm.

Goes away froin the door again.
HiALMAR goes on working a little ; glances
towards the garret and half rises. Hedvig
comes in from the kitchen.

HiALMAR.

[Sits down again hurriedly.^ What do you want .''

Hedvig.
I only wanted to come in beside you, father.

HiALMAR.

[After a pause.] What makes you go prying
around like that .'' Perhaps you are told off to
watch me .''

Hedvig.

No, no.

HiALMAR.

What is your mother doing out there ?

Hedvig.
Oh, mother's in the middle of making the her-
ring-salad. [Goes to the table.] Isn't there any
little thing I could help you with, father .''

280 TIIK WILD Dl'lK. [act III.

HlALMAR.

Oh no. It is right that I should boar the whole
burden — so h)ng as my strengtl) holds out. Set
your mind at rest, Hedvig ; if only your father
keeps his health

Hedvig.
Oh no, father ! You mustn't talk in that horrid
way.

\^She ivanders ahoul a little, .slops by the dour-
way and looks into the garret.

HlALMAR.

Tell me, what is he doing ?

Hedvig.
I think he's making a new path to the water-
trough.

HlALMAR.

He can never manage that by himself! And
here am I doomed to sit !

Hedvig.

[Goes to him.'] Let me take the brush, father;
I can do it, quite well.

HlALMAR.

Oh nonsense ; you will only hurt your eyes.

Hedvig.
Not a bit. Give me the brush.

HlALMAR.

[Rising.] Well, it won't take more than a minute
or two.

act iii.] the wild duck. 281

Hedvig.
Poohj what harm can it do then? YTakes the
brnsh.] There ! [Seats herself'.] I can begin
upon this one.

HiALMAR.

But mind you don't hurt your eyes ! Do you
hear ? I won't be answerable ; you do it on your
own responsibility — understand that.

Hedvig.
[Retouchi?ig.] Yes yes, I understand.

HiALMAR.

You are quite clever at it, Hedvig. Only a
minute or two, you know.

[He slips through by the edge of the curtain
into the garret. Hedvig sits at her work.
HiALMAR and Ekdal are heard disputing
inside.

HiALMAR.

[Appears behind the net.] I say, Hedvig — give
me those pincers that are lying on the shelf. And
the chisel. [Turns away inside.] Now you
shall see, father. Just let me show you first what
I mean !

[Hedvig has fetched the required tools from
the shelf, and hands them to him through
the net.

HiALMAR.

Ah, thanks. I didn't come a moment too soon.
[Goes back from the ctiiiain again ; they are
heard carpentering and talking inside.
Hedvig stands looking in at them. A
moment later there is a knock at the passage
door ; she does not notice it.

282 TlIK WILD DUCK. [aCT 111.

Gregers Werle.
[Bareheaded, in indoor dress, enters and stops near

the door.] H'm !

Hedvig.
[Turns and goes towards /^tw^.] Good morning.
Please come in.

Gregers.

Thank you. [Loofdfig towards' the garretl] You
seem to have workpeople in the house.

Hedvig.
No, it is only father and grandfather. I'll tell
them you are here.

Gregers.
No no, don't do that ; I would rather wait a
little. [Seats himself on the sofa.

Hedvig.

It looks so untidy here

[Begins to clear away the photographs.

Gregers.
Oh, don't take them away. Are those prints
that have to be finished off?

Hedvig.
Yes, they are a few I was helping father with.

Gregers.
Please don't let me disturb you.

Hedvig.
Oh no.

[She gathers the things to her and sits down to
work ; Gregers looks at her, meanwhile,
in silence.

act iii.] the wild duck. 283

Gregers.
Did the wild duck sleep well last night ?

Hedvig.
Yes, I think so, thanks.

Gregers.
[Turning towards the garret.^ It looks quite
different by day from what it did last night in the
moonlight.

Hedvig.
Yes, it changes ever so much. It looks different
in tlie morning and in the afternoon ; and it's
different on rainy days from what it is in fine
weather.

Gregers.
Have you noticed that ?

Hedvig.
Yes, how could I help it ?

Gregers.

Are you, too, fond of being in there with the
wild duck .''

Hedvig.
Yes, when I can manage it

Gregers.
But I suppose you haven't much spare time ; you
go to school, no doubt.

Hedvig.
No, not now ; father is afraid of my hurting ray
eyes.

Gregers.
Oh; then he reads with you himself?

284 TIIK WILD nUCK. [act III.

Hedvio.
Father has promised to read with me ; but he
has never had time yet.

CjUEGERS.

Then is there nobody else to give you a Uttle
help ?

Hedvio.

Yes, there is Mr. Molvik ; but he is not always
exactly — quite

Gregers.
Sober ?

Hedvio.
Yes, I suppose that's it !

Gregers.
Why, then you must have any amount of time
on your hands. And in there I suppose it is a
sort of world by itself.''

Hedvio.
Oh yes, quite. And there are such lots of
wonderful things.

Gregers.
Indeed ?

Hedvig.
Yes, there are big cupboards full of books ; and
a great many of the books have pictures in them.

Gregers.
Aha!

Hedvio.
And there's an old bureau with drawers and

ACT in.] THE WILD DUCK. 285

flaps, and a big clock with figures that go out and
in. But the clock isn't going now.

Gregers.
So time has come to a standstill in there — in the
wild duck's domain.

Hedvig.
Yes. And then there's an old paint-box and
things of that sort ; and all the books.

Gregers.
And you read the books, I suppose .''

Hedvig.
Oh yes, when I get the chance. Most of them
are English though, and I don't understand
English. But then I look at the pictures. — There
is one great big book called " Harrison's History
of London." ^ It must be a hundred years old ;
and there are such heaps of pictures in it. At the
beginning there is Death with an hour-glass and
a woman. I think that is horrid. But then there
are all the other pictures of churches, and castles,
and streets, and great ships sailing on the sea.

Gregers.

But tell me, where did all those wonderful things
come from ?

Hedvig.

Oh, an old sea captain once lived here, and he
brought them home with him. They used to call
him " The Flying Dutchman." That was curious,
because he wasn't a Dutchman at all.

' A New and Universal History of the Cities of Lojidon atid
Westminster, by Walter Harrison. London, 1775, folio.

286 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT III.

Gregers.
Was he not ?

Hedvio.
No. But at last he was drowned at sea ; and
so he left all those things behind him.

Gregers.
Tell me now — when you are sitting in there look-
infrat the pictures, don't you wish you could travel
and see the real world for yourself .''

Hedvig.
Oh no ! I mean always to stay at home and
help father and mother.

Gregers.
To retouch photographs ?

Hedvig.
No, not only that. I should love above every-
thing to learn to engrave pictures like those in the
English books.

Gregers.

H'm. What does your father say to that .''

Hedvig.
I don't think father likes it ; father is strange
about such things. Only think, he talks of my
learning basket-making, and straw-plaiting ! But
I don't think that would be much good.

Gregers
Oh no, I don't think so either.

Hedvig.
But father was right in saying that if I had

ACT III.] THE WILD DUCK. 287

learnt basket-making I could have made the new
basket for the wild duck.

Gregers.
So you could ; and it was you that ought to
have done it, wasn't it ?

Hedvig.
Yes, for it's my wild duck.

Gregers.
Of course it is.

Hedvig.
Yes, it belongs to me. But I lend it to father
and grandfather as often as they please.

Gregers.
Indeed .'' What do they do with it ?

Hedvig.
Oh, they look after it, and build places for it,
and so on.

Gregers.
I see ; for no doubt the wild duck is by far the
most distinguished inhabitant of the garret ?

Hedvig.
Yes, indeed she is ; for she is a real wild fowl,
you know. And then she is so much to be pitied ;
she has no one to care for, poor thing.

Gregers.
She has no family, as the rabbits have

Hedvig.
No. The hens too, many of them, were

288 THE WILD DICK. [aCT III.

chickens to<jether ; but she has been taken rif^ht
away from all lu-r friends. And then there is so
much that is strange about the wild duck. No-
bodv knows her, and nobody knows where she
came from either.

Gregers.
And she has been down in the depths of the
sea.

Hedvig.
[ With a quick glance at him, represses a smile and
asks .] Why do you say " the depths of the
sea " ?

Gregers.
What else should I say ?

Hedvig.
You could say " the bottom of the sea." ^

Gregers.
Oh, mayn't I just as well say the depths of the
sea?

Hedvig.
Yes ; but it sounds so strange to me when
other people speak of the depths of the sea.

Gregers.
Why so ? Tell me why ?

Hedvig.
No, I won't ; it's so stupid.

1 Gregers here uses the old-fashionod expression "havsens
bund," while Hedvig would have him use the more common-
place " havetb bund " or " havbunden."

ACT III.] THE WILD DUCK. 289

Gregers.
Oh no, I am sure it's not. Do tell me why you
smiled.

Hedvig.
Well, this is the reason : whenever I come to
realise suddenly — in a flash — what is in there, it
always seems to me that the whole room and
everything in it should be called " the depths of
the sea." — But that is so stupid.

Gregers.
You mustn't say that.

Hedvig.
Oh yes, for you know it is only a garret.

Gregers.
[Looks fixedly at her,] Are you so sure of that ?

Hedvig.
[Astonished.] That it's a garret .''

Gregers.
Are you quite certain of it ?

[Hedvig is silent, and looks at him open-
mouthed. GiNA comes in from the
kitchen with the table things

Gregers.
[Rising.] I have come in upon you too early.

GiNA.

Oh, you must be somewhere ; and we're nearly
ready now, any way. Clear the table, Hedvig.

[H edvig clears awaif her things ; she and

O()0 TIIK \VI '-• ni'CK. [ACT III.

GiNA /«// the < l»l/i (luring trhal follows.
Gukgeus seals himself in the ann-ehair,
and lnrn,s over an athinn.

Gregers.
I hear you can retouch, Mrs. Kkdal.

(jINA.

\lVUh a side glance. '\ Yes, I can.

Greoers.
That was exceedingly lucky.

GiNA.

How — lucky ?

Gregers.

Since Ekdal took to photography, I mean,

Hedvig.
Mother can take photographs too.

GiNA.

Oh, yes ; I was bound to learn that.

Gregers.
So it is really you that carry on the business, I
suppose ?

GiNA.

Yes, when Ekdal hasn't time himself

Gregers.
He is a great deal taken up with his old father,
I daresay.

Gin A.
Yes; and then you can't expect a man iike

ACT III,] THE ' D DUCK. 291

Ekdal to do nothing but take car-de-visits of
Dick, Tom and Harry.

Gregers.
I quite agree with you ; but having once gone
in for the thing

GiNA.

You can surely understand, Mr. Werle, that
Ekdal's not Hke one of yom* common photo-
graphers.

Gregers.

Of course not ; but still

[A shot isjired within the garret,

Gregers.
[Starting up.'\ What's that }

GiNA.

Ugh .' now they're firing again !

Gregers.
Have they firearms in there .''

Hedvig.
They are out shooting.

Gregers.
What ! [At the door of the garret."] Are you
shooting, Hialmar ?

HiALMAR.

[Inside the 7iet.'\ Are you there .'' I didn't

know ; I was so taken up [To Hedvig.]

Why did you not let us know ?

[Comes into the studio.

292 TIIK WILD ni'CK. [act III.

Greoers.

Do you go shooting in the garret ?

HiALMAH.

IShnrriiig a dnuhlc-barrcllcil pi.sio/.] Oh, only
with this thing.

GiNA.

Yes, you and grandfather will do yourselves a
mischief some day with that there pigstol.

HiALMAR.

\ JVil/i initfitio)!.] I believe I have told you that
this kind of firearm is called a pistol.

GiNA.

Oh, that doesn't make it much better, that I
can see.

Gregers.
So you have become a sportsman too, Hialmar.

Hialmar.
Only a little rabbit-shooting now and then.
Mostly to please father, you understand.

GiNA.

Men are strange beings; they must always
have something to pervert theirselves with.

Hialmar.
[Snappishly.] Just so; we must always have
something to divert ourselves with.

GiNA.

Yes, that's just what I say.

ACT III.] THE WILD DUCK. 293

HiALMAR.

H'm. [To Gregers.] You see the gaiTet is
fortunately so situated that no one can hear us
shooting. [Lai/s the pLstoI o?i the top shelf of the book-
case.] Don't touch the pistol, Hedvig I One of
the barrels is loaded ; remember that.

Gregers.
[Looking through the net.] You have a fowling-
piece too, I see.

HiALMAR.

That is father's old gun. It's of no use now ;
something has gone wrong with the lock. But it's
fun to have it all the same ; for we can take it to
pieces now and then, and clean and grease it, and
screw it together again. — Of course, it's mostly
father that fiddle-faddles with all that sort of
thing.

Hedvig.

[Beside Gregers.] Now you can see the wild
duck properly.

Gregers.
I was just looking at her. One of her wings
seems to me to droop a bit.

Hedvig.
Well, no wonder; her wing was broken, you
know.

Gregers.
And she trails one foot a little. Isn't that so .''

HiALMAR.

Perhaps a very little bit.

29^1 TIIK WII.I) DUCK. [act 111.

Hedvig.
Yes, it was by that foot the dog took hold of
her.

HiALMAR.

But otherwise she hasn't the least thing the
matter with her; and that is simply marvellous
for a creature that has a charge of shot in her
body, and has been between a dog's teeth

Gregers.

[fi'ith a glance at Hedvig] and that has lain

in the depths of the sea — so long.

Hedvig.
[^SmiHng.^ Yes.

GiNA.

[Lai/iiig the table.] That blessed wild duck .'
What a lot of fuss you do make over her.

HiALMAR

H'm ; — will lunch soon be ready .''

GiNA.

Yes, directly. Hedvig, you must come and
help me now.

[GiNA and Hedvig go out into the kitchen.

HiALMAR.

fin a low voice.] I think you had better not
stand there looking in at father ; he doesn't like
it. [Gregers moves aivni/ from the garret door.]
Besides I may as well shut up before the others
come. [Clap's his haiids to drive the fowls bad'.]
Shh— shh, in with you! [Drajvs np the curtain
and pulls the doors together.] All the contri-

ACT III.] THE WILD DUCK. 295

vances are my own invention. It's really quite
amusing to have things of this sort to potter with,
and to put to rights when they get out of order.
And it's absolutely necessary, too ; for Gina
objects to having rabbits and fowls in the studio.

Gregers.
To be sure ; and 1 suppose the studio is your
wife's special department .''

HiALMAR.

As a rule, I leave the everyday details of busi-
ness to her ; for then I can take refuge in the
parlour and give my mind to more important
things.

Gregers.

What things may they be, Hialmar?

HiALMAR.

I wonder you have not asked that question
sooner. But perhaps you haven't heard of the
invention ?

Gregers.

The invention ? No.

Hialmar.
Really ? Have you not ? Oh no, out there in
the wilds

Gregers.
So you have invented something, have you .''

Hialmar.
It is not quite completed yet ; but I am working
at it. You can easily imagine that when 1 resolved
to devote myself to photography, it wasn't simply

2f)6 TllK Wll.l) 1)1 fK. [\(T III.

with the idea of taking likenesses ot all sorts ot
commonplace people.

Gregers.
No ; your wife was saying the same thing just
now.

HlALMAH.

I swore that if I consecrated my powers to this
handicraft, I would so exalt it that it should
become both an art and a science. And to that
end I determined to make this great invention

Gregers.
And what is the nature ot the invention?
What purpose does it serve ?

HiALMAR.

Oh, my dear fellow, you mustn't ask for details
yet. It takes, time, you see. And you must not
think that my motive is vanity. It is not for my
own sake that I am working. Oh no ; it is my
life's mission that stands before me night and day.

Gregers,
What is your life's mission ?

HiALMAR.

Do you forget the old man with the silver hair ?

Gregers.
Your poor father > Well, but what can you do
for him ?

HiALMAR.

I can raise up his self-respect from the dead, by
restoring the name of Ekdal to honour and dignity.

act iii.] the wild duck. 297

Gregers.
Then that is your life's mission ?

HiALMAR.

Yes. I will rescue the shipwrecked man. For
shipwrecked he was, by the very first blast of the
storm. Even while those terrible investigations
were going on, he was no longer himself. That
pistol there — the one we use to shoot rabbits with
, — has played its part in the tragedy of the house
ofEkdal.

Gregers.
The pistol ? Indeed ?

HiALMAR.

When the sentence of imprisonment was passed
— he had the pistol in his hand

Gregers.
Had he ?

HiALMAR.

Yes; but he dared not use it. His courage
failed him. So broken, so demoralised was he
even then ! Oh, can you understaml it .'' He, a
soldier ; he, who had shot nine bears, and who
was descended from two lieutenant colonels —
one after the other of course. Can you understand
it, Gregers .''

Gregers.

Yes, I understand it well enough.

HiALMAR.

I cannot. And once more the pistol played a
part in the history of our house. When he had
put on the grey clothes and was under lock and

2.<)8 TlIK \VII,I) Die K. [act III.

key — oh, that whs a terrible time for me, I can
tell you. 1 kept the blinds drawn down over both
my windows. When I f)eej)ed «)ut, I saw the sun
shining as if nothing had hajjpened. I could not
understand it. I saw people going along the
street, laughing and talking about indifferent
things. I could not understand it. It seemed to
me that the whole of existence must be at a
standstill — as if under an eclipse.

Greoers.
I felt like that too, when my mother died.

HiALMAR.

It was in such an hour that Hialmar Ekdal
pointed the pistol at his own breast.

Gregers.
You too thought of !

Hialmar.
Yes.

Gregers.

But you did not fire ?

Hialmar.
No. At the decisive moment I won the victory
over myself. I remained in life. But I can assure
you it takes some courage to choose life under
circumstances like those.

Gregers.
Well, that depends on how you look at it.

Hialmar.
Yes, indeed, it takes courage. But I am glad I

ACT III.] THE WILD DUCK. 299

was firm : for now I shall soon perfect my inven-
tion ; and Dr. Relling thinks, as I do myself, that
father may be allowed to wear his uniform again.
I will demand that as my sole reward.

Gregers.
So that is what he meant about his uni-
form ?

HiALMAR.

Yes, that is what he most yearns for. You can't
think how my heart bleeds for him. Every time
we celebrate any little family festival — Gina's and
iny wedding day, or whatever it may be — in comes
the old man in the lieutenant's uniform of happier
days. But if he only hears a knock at the door
— for he daren't show himself to strangers, you
know — he hurries back to his room again as fast
as his old legs can carry him. Oh, it's heart-
rending for a son to see such things !

Gregers.
How long do you think it will take you to
finish your invention f

HiALMAR.

Come now, you mustn't expect me to enter into
particulars like that. An invention is not a
thing completely under one's own control. It
depends largely on inspiration — on intuition — and
it is almost impossible to predict when the inspira-
tion may come.

Gregers.

But it's advancing ?

HiALMAR.

Yes, certainly, it is advancing. I turn it over in

300 TlIK WII.I) DICK. [act

my mind every day; I am full of it. Every after-
noon, when I have had my dinner, I shut myself
up in the parlour, where I can ponder undisturbed.
But I can't be goaded to it ; it's not a bit of good ;
Railing says so too.

Gregers.
And you don't think that all that business in
the garret draws you off and distracts you too
much ?

HiAI.M AH.

No no no ; quite the contrary. You mustn't
say that. 1 cannot be everlastingly absorbed in
the same laborious train of thought. I must have
something alongside of it to fill up the time of
waiting. The inspiration, the intuition, you see —
when it comes, it comes, and there's an end of it.

Gregers.
My dear Hialmar, I almost think you have some-
thing of the wild duck in you.

Hialmar.
Something of the wild duck ? How do you
mean r

Gregers.

You have dived down and bitten yourself fast in
the undergrowth.

Hialmar.

Are you alluding to the well-nigh fatal shot that
has broken my father's wing — and mine too .''

Gregers.
Not exactly to that. I don't say that your wing
has been broken ; but you have strayed into a

ACT III.] THE WILD DUCK. 301

poisonous marsh, Hialmar ; an insidious disease has
taken hold of you, and you have sunk down to die
in the dark.

Hialmar.
I .'' To die in the dark ? Look here, Gregers,
you must really leave off talking such nonsense.

Gregers.
Don't be afraid ; I shall find a way to help you
up again. I too have a mission in life now ; I
found it yesterday.

Hialmar.
That's all very well ; but you will please leave
me out of it. I can assure you that — apart from
my very natural melancholy, of course — I am as'
contented as any one can wish to be.

Gregers.

Your contentment is an effect of the marsh
poison.

Hialmar.

Now, my dear Gregers, pray do not go on about
disease and poison ; I am not used to that sort
of talk. In my house nobody ever speaks to me
about unpleasant things,

Gregers.
Ah, that I can easily believe.

Hialmar.
It's not good for me you see. And there are
no marsh poisons here, as you express it. The poor
photographer's roof is lowly, I know — and my cir-
cumstances are narrow, But I am an inventor,
and I am the breadwinner of a family. That exalts

.'502 THK WILD DICK. [aCT III.

me above my mean surroundings. — Ah, here comes
lunch !

GiNA and Hedvig bring hollies of ale, a decanter oj
hraiidi/, g/axxe.s, etc. At the same lime, Relling
and SloLViK enter from the passage ; they are
/>()th n'ithout hat or overcoat. Molvik is dressed
in black.

GiNA.

[Placing the things upon Ike table.] Ah, you two
have come in the nick of time.

Relling.
Molvik got it into his head that he could smell
herring-salad, and then there was no holding him.
— Good morning again, Ekdal.

HiALMAR.

Gregers, let me introduce you to Mr. Molvik.
Doctor Oh, you know Relling, dont you ?

Gregers.
Yes, slightly.

Relling.
Oh, Mr. Werle, junior ! Yes, we two have had
one or two little skirmishes up at the Hoidal
works. You've just moved in ?

Gregers.
I moved in this morning.

Relling.
Molvik and I live right under you; so you haven't
far to go for the doctor and the clergyman, if you
should need anything in that line.

.] THE WILD DUCK. 303

Gregers.
Thanks, it's not quite unlikely ; for yesterday we
were thirteen at table.

HiALMAR.

Oh, come now, don't let us get upon unpleasant
subjects again !

Relling.

You may make your mind easy, Ekdal ; I'll be
hanged if the finger of fate points to you.

HiALMAR.

I should hope not, for the sake of my family.
But let us sit down now, and eat and drink and be
merry.

Gregers.

Shall we not wait for your father .''

HiALMAR.

No, his lunch will be taken in to him later.
Come along !

[The men seat themselves at table, and eat
and drink. Gina and Hedvig go in and
out and 7vait upon them.

Relling.
Molvik was frightfully screwed yesterday, Mrs.
Ekdal.

Gina.
Really ? Yesterday again .''

Relling.
Didn't you hear him when I brought him home
last night.

304 THE WILD nucK. [act hi.

GiNA.

No, I can't say I did.

Rf.i.mng.
That was a good thing, for Molvik was disgust-
ing last night.

GiNA.

Is that true, Molvik ?

MOLVIK.

Let us draw a veil over last night's proceedings.
That sort of thing is totally foreign to my better
self.

Relling.

\To Gregers ] It comes over him like a sort of
possession, and then I have to go out on the loose
with him. Mr. Molvik is daemonic, you see.

Gregers.
Daemonic ?

Relling.

Molvik is daemonic, yes.

Gregers.
H'm.

Relling.

And daemonic natures are not made to walk
straight through the world ; they must meander
a little now and then. — Well, so you still stick up
there at those horrible grimy works .''

Gregers.
I have stuck there until now.

Relling.
And did you ever manage to collect that claim
you went about presenting ?

act iii.] the wild duck. 305

Gregers.
Claim? [Understands him.] Ah, I see.

HiALMAR.

Have you been presenting claims, Gregei s }

Gregers
Ob, nonsense.

Relling.

Faitb, but he has, though ! He went round to
all the cottars' cabins presenting something he
called " the claim of the ideal."

Gregers.
I was young then.

Relling.
You're right; you were very young. And as
for the claim of the ideal — you never got it
honoured while / was up there.

Gregers.
Nor since either.

Relling.
Ah, then you've learnt to knock a little discount
off, I expect.

Gregers.

Never, when I have a true man to deal with.

HiALMAR.

No, I should think not, indeed. A little butter,
Gina.

Relling.
And a slice of bacon for Molvik.

MoLVIK.

Ugh I imt bacon ! [A knock at the garret door.

S06 TiiK wii.n DICK. [act hi.

HiALMAH.

Open the door, Iledvig ; father wants to come
out.

[Hedvig goes over and opens the door a
liltlc iratf ; \\v^V)\\, eiders with n fresh
rahbil-s/iiii ; she closes the duor aj'ler him.

Ekoal.
Good morning, gentlemen I Good sport to-day.
Shot a big one.

UlAI.MAR.

And you've gone and skinned it without waiting

for m e I

Ekdal.

Salted it too. It's good tender meat, is rabbit;
it's sweet ; it tastes like sugar. Good appetite
to you, gentlemen ! [Goes into his room.

MoLVIK.

[Hmng.^ Excuse me ; I can't ; I must

get downstairs immediately

Relling.
Drink some soda water, man !

MoLVIK.

[Hurrying awai/.] Ugh — ugh I

[Goes Old by the passage door.

Relling.
[To HiALMAR.] Let us drain a glass to the old
hunter.

HlALMAR.

[Clinics glasses trilh him.] To the imdaunted
sportsman who has looked death in the face !

act iii.] the wild duck. 307

Relling.

To the grey-haired [Drinks.] By-the-bye,

is his hair grey or white ?

HiALMAR.

Something between the two, I fancy ; for that
matter, he has very few hairs left of any colour.

Relling.
Well well, one can get through the world with
a wig. After all, you are a happy man, Ekdal ;
you have your noble mission to labour for

HiALMAR.

And I do labour, I can tell you.

Relling.
And then you have your excellent wife, shuffling
quietly in and out in her felt slippers, with that
see-saw walk of hers, and making everything cosy
and comfortable about you.

HiALMAR.

Yes, Gina — [Nods to her] — you are a good help-
mate on the path of life.

Gina.
Oh, don't sit there cricketizing me

Relling.
And your Hedvig too, Ekdal !

HiALMAR.

[Affected.] The child, yes ! The child before
everything ! Hedvig, come here to me. [Strokes
her hair.] What day is it to-morrow, eh ?

.'J08 THE WILD DUCK. [\CT III.

Hedvig.
[Shaking him.] Oh no, you're not to say any-
thing, father

HiALMAR.

It cuts me to the heart when I think what a
poor affair it will be ; only a little festivity in the

garret

Hedvig.

Oh, but that's just what I like!

Relling.
Just you wait till the wonderful invention sees
the light, Hedvig !

HiALMAR.

Yes indeed — then you shall see ! Hedvig,

I have resolved to make your future secure. You
shall live in comfort all your days. I will demand
— something or other — on your behalf That
shall be the poor inventor's sole reward.

Hedvig.

[Whispering, irith her arms round his neck.] Oh
you dear, kind father !

Relling.

[To Gregers.] Come now, don't you find it
pleasant, for once in a way, to sit at a well-spread
table in a happy family circle }

HiALMAR.

Ah yes, I really prize these social hours.

Gregers.
For my part, I don't thrive in marsh vapours.

act iii.] the wild duck. 309

Relling,
Marsh vapours ?

HiALMAR.

Oh, don't begin with that stuff again !

GiNA.

Goodness knows there's no vapours in this
house, Mr. Werle ; I give the place a good airing
every blessed day.

Gregers.
\^Leaves the table.] No airing you can give will
drive out the taint I mean.

HiALMAR.

Taint !

GiNA.

Yes, what do you say to that, Ekdal !

Relling.
Excuse me — may it not be you yourself that
have brought the taint from those mines up
there .''

Gregers.
It is like you to call what I bi'ing into this
house a taint.

Relling.
[Goes up to fmn.] Look here, Mr Werle, junior :
I have a strong suspicion that you are still cairy-
ing about that " claim of the ideal " large as life,
in your coat-tail pocket.

Gregers.
I carry it in my breast

310 TUK WILD UU( K. [aCT III.

Relling.
Well, wherever you carry it, I advise you not to
come dunning us with it here, so long as / am on
the premises.

Gregers.
And if I do so none the less ?

Relling.
Then you'll go head- foremost down the stairs ;
now I've warned you.

HiALMAR.

[Rising.] Oh, but Relling !

Gregers.
Yes, you may turn me out

GiNA.

[Interpositig between them.] We can't have that,
Relling. But I must say, Mr. Werle, it ill
becomes you to talk about vapours and taints,
after all the mess you made with your stove.

[A knock at the passage door.

Hedvig.
Mother, there's somebody knocking.

HiALMAR.

There now, we're going to have a whole lot of
people !

GiNA.

I'll go [Goes over and opens the door, starts,

and draws hack.] Oh — oh dear !

Werle, in a fur coat, advances one step
into the room.

ACT III.] THK WILD DUCK.

311

Werle,
Excuse me ; but I think my son is staying here.

GiNA.

[With a gulp.] Yes.

HiALMAR.

[Approaching ki7n.] Won't you do us the honour

to ?

Werle.
Thank you, I merely wish to speak to my son,

Gregers.
What is it .'' Here I am.

Werle.
I want a few words with you, in your room.

Gregers.
In my room ? Very well [Abotd to go.

GiNA.

No, no, your room's not in a fit state

Werle.
Well then, out in the passage here ; I want to
have a few words with you alone.

Hialmar.
You can have them here, sir. Come into tlie
parlour. Railing.

[Hialmar and Relling go off to the right.
Gina takes Hedvig with her into the
kitchen.

312 TllK WILD OrCK. [act 111.

Gregers.
[After a short pause.] Well, now we are alone.

Werle.
From something you let fall last evening, and
from your coming to lodge with the Ekdals, I
can't help inferring that you intend to make your-
self unpleasant to me, in one way or another.

Gregers.
I intend to open Hialmar Ekdals eyes. He
shall see his position as it really is — that is all.

Werle.
Is that the mission in life you spoke of yester-
day.?

Gregers.

Yes. You have left me no other.

Werle.
Is it I, then, that have crippled your mind,
Gregers .''

Gregers.
You have crippled my whole life. I am not

thinking of all that about mother But it's

thanks to you that I am continually haunted and
harassed by a guilty conscience.

Werle.
Indeed! It is your conscience that troubles
you, is it ?

Gregers.
I ought to have taken a stand against you when
the trap was set for Lieutenant Ekdal. I ought

THE WILD DUCK. 313

to have cautioned him ; for I had a misgiving as to
what was in the wind.

Werle,
Yes, that was the time to have spoken.

Gregers.
I did not dare to, I was so cowed and spiritless.
I was mortally afraid of you — not only then, but
long afterwards.

Werle.
You have got over that fear now, it appears.

Gregers.
Yes, fortunately. The wrong done to old Ekdal,
l)oth by me and by — others, can never be undone ;
but Hialmar I can rescue from all the falsehood
and deception that are bringing him to ruin.

Werle.
Do you think that will be doing him a kind-
ness ?

Gregers.
1 have not the least doubt of it.

Werle.
You think our worthy photographer is the sort
of man to appreciate such friendly offices .''

Gregers.
Yes, I do.

Werle.
H'm — we shall see.

314 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT III

GllEOERS.

Besides, if I am to <fo on living, I must try to
find some cure for my sick conscience.

Weri.k.
It will never be sound. Your conscience has
been sickly from childhood. That is a lef^acy
from your mother, Gregers — the only one she left
you.

Gregers.
[fVilh a scornful half-smile.] Have you not yet
forgiven her for the mistake you made in supposing
she would bring you a fortune .''

Werle.
Don't let us wander from the point. — Then you
hold to your purpose of setting young Kkdal upon
what you imagine to be the right scent .''

Gregers.
Yes, that is my fixed resolve.

Werle.
Well, in that case I might have spared myselt
this visit ; for of course it is useless to ask whether
you will return home with me ?

Gregers.
Quite useless.

Werle.
And I suppose you won't enter the firm either?

Gregers.
No.

act hi.] the wild duck. 315

Werle.
Very good. But as I am thinking of marrying
again, your share in the property will fall to you
at onee.i

Gregers.
[Quick/y.^ No, I do not want that.

Werle.
You don't want it }

Gregers.
No, I dare not take it, for conscience' sake.

Werle.
[After a patise.^ Are you going up to the works
again .''

Gregers.
No ; I consider myself released from your
service.

Werle.
But what are you going to do ?

Gregers.
Only to fulfil my mission ; nothing more.

Werle.
Well, but afterwards .'* What are you going to
live upon ?

Gregers.
I have laid by a little out of my salary.

* By Norwegian law, before a widower can mnrry again,
a certain proportion of his property must be settled on his
children by his former marriage.

3l6 TJIK WILD DUCK. [act III.

Werle.
How long ■will that last?

Gregers.
I think it will last my time.

Werle.
What do you mean ?

Gregers.
! shall answer no more questions.

Werle.
Good-bye then, Gregers.

Gregers.
Good-bye. [Werle goes.

HiALMAR.

[Peeping in.^ He's gone, isn't he .''

Gregers.
Yes.

HiALMAR and Relling enter ; also Gina and
Wedmg from the kitchen.

Relling.
That luncheon-party was a failure.

Gregers.
Put on your coat, Hialmar; I want you to come
for a long walk with me.

HiALMAR.

With pleasure. What was it your father wanted ?
Had it anything to do with me }

ACT III.] THE WILD DUCK. 317

Gregers.

Come along. We must have a talk. I'll go
and put on my overcoat.

'^Goes Old hy the passage door.

GiNA.

You shouldn't go out with him, Ekdal.

Relling.
No, don't you do it. Stay where you are.

HiALMAR,

\Gets his hat and overcoatJ\ Oh, nonsense ! When
a friend of my youth feels impelled to open his
mind to me in private

Relling.
But devil take it — don't you see that the fellow's
mad, cracked, demented !

GiNA.

There, what did I tell you ! His mother before
him had crazy fits like that sometimes.

HiALMAR.

The more need for a friend's watchful eye.
[T'o GiNA.] Be sure you have dinner ready in
good time. Good-bye for the present.

\^Goes out by the passage door.

Relling.
It's a thousand pities the fellow didn't go to
hell through one of the Hoidal mines.

GiNA.

Good Lord ! what makes you say that }

318 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT III.

Relling.
[Muttering.'^ Oh, I have iny own reasons.

GiNA.

Do you think young Werle is really mad }

Relling.
No, worse luck ; he's no madder than most
other people. But one disease he has certainly
got in his system.

GiNA.

What is it that's the matter with him ?

Relling.
Well, I'll tell you, Mrs. Ekdal. He is suffering
from an acute attack of integrity.

GiNA.

Integrity ?

Hedvig.
Is that a kind of disease .'*

Relling.
Yes, it's a national disease ; but it only ap-
pears sporadically. [Nods to Gina.] Thanks
for your hospitality.

[He goes out by the passage door.

Gina.

[Moving restlessly/ to and fro.] Ugh, that Gregers
Werle — he was always a wretched creature.

Hedvig.
[Standing Inj the table, and looking searcliingly at
her.] 1 think all this is very strange.

ACT FOURTH.

HiALMAR Ekdal's studio. A photograph has just
been taken ; a camera with the cloth over it, a
pedestal, two chairs, a folding table, etc., are stand-
ing out in the room. AJiernoon light ; the sun is
going down ; a little later it begins to grow dusk.

GiNA stands in the passage doorivay, ivith a little
box and a wet glass plate in her hand, and is speak-
ing to somebody outside.

GiNA.

Yes, certainly. When I make a promise I keep
it. The first dozen shall be ready on Monday.
Good afternoon.

[Some one is heard going donmstairs. Gina
shuts the door, slips the plate into the box,
and puts it into the covered camera.

Hedvig.
[Comes in from the kitchen.] Are they gone ?

Gina.
[Tidying ?</?.] Yes, thank goodness, I've got rid
of them at last.

Hedvig.

But can you imagine why father hasn't come
home yet }

Gina.

Are you sure he's not down in Relling's room ?

320 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

IIedvig.
No, he's not ; I ran down the kitchen stair just
now and asked.

GiNA.

And his dinner standing and getting cold, too.

Hedvig.
Yes, I can't understand it. Father's always so
careful to be home to dinner !

GiNA.

Oh, he'll be here directly, you'll see.

Hedvig.
I wish he would come ; everything seems so
queer to-day.

GiNA.

[Calls out.] There he is !

HiALMAR Ekdal cojues in at the passage door.

Hedvig.
[Goi?ig to hijn.] Father ! Oh what a time we've
been waiting for you !

Gina.

[Glancing sidelong at him.] You've been out a
long time, Ekdal.

Hialmar.
[Without looking at her.] Rather long, yes.

[He takes off his overcoat; Gina and Hed-
vig go to help him ; he motions them away.

Gina.

Perhaps you've had dinner with Werle .''

iCT IV.l THE WILD DUCK.

321

HiALMAR.

[Hanging up his co«/.] No.

Gin A.

[Going towards the kitchen door.] Then I'll bring
some in for you,

HiALMAR.

No ; let the dinner alone. I want nothing to eat.

Hedvig.
[Going nearer to him.] Are you not well, father ?

HiALMAR.

Well ? Oh yes, well enough. We have had a
tiring walk, Gregers and I.

GiNA.

You didn't ought to have gone so far, Ekdal
you're not used to it.

HiALMAR.

H'm ; there's many a thing a man must get used
to in this world. [ Wanders about the room.] Has
any one been here whilst I was out .''

GiNA.

Nobody but the two sweethearts.

HiALMAR.

No new orders ?

GiNA.

No, not to-day.

Hedvig.
There will be some to-morrow, father, you'll
see.

'322 THE WILD DUCK. j^ACT IV.

HiALMAR.

I hope there will ; for to morrow I am going to
set to work in real earnest.

Hedvig.
To-morrow ! Don't you remember what day it is
to-morrow ?

HiALMAR.

Oh yes, by-the-bye . Well, the day after,

then. Henceforth I mean to do everything myself;
I shall take all the work into my own hands.

GiNA.

Why, what can be the good of that, Ekdal ? It'll
only make your life a burden to you. I can manage
the photography all right ; and you can go on
working at your invention.

Hedvig.
And think of the wild duck, father, — and all the
hens and rabbits and I

HiALMAR.

Don't talk to me of all that trash ! From to-
morrow I will never set foot in the garret again.

Hedvig.
Oh but, father, you promised that we should have
a little party

HiALMAR.

H'm, true. Well then, from the day after to-
morrow. 1 should almost like to wring that cursed
wild duck's neck !

Hedvig.

\Shrie/c.s:\ The wild duck !

ACT IV.] THE WILD DUCK. 323

GiNA.

Well I never !

Hedvig.
[Shaki7ig kirn.] Oh no, father ; you know it's my
wild duck !

HiALMAR.

That is why I don't do it. I haven't the heart
to- — for your sake, Hedvig. But in my inmost
soul I feel that 1 ought to do it. I ought not to
tolerate under my roof a creature that has been
through those hands.

GiNA.

Why, good gracious, even if grandfather did get
it from that poor creature, Pettersen

HiALMAR.

[Wandering abojit.] There are certain claims —
what shall I call them ?— let me say claims of the
ideal — certain obligations, which a man cannot dis-
regard without injury to his soul.

Hedvig.
[Going after him.] But think of the wild duck,
— the poor wild duck !

HiALMAR.

[Stops.] I tell you I will spare it — for your sake.
Not a hair of its head shall be — I mean, it shall bo
spared. There are greater problems than that to
be dealt with. But you should go out a little now,
Hedvig, as usual ; it is getting dusk enough for
you now.

Hedvio,.

No, I don't care about going out now.

324 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

HiALMAR.

Yes do ; it seems to me your eyes are blinking a
great deal ; all these vapours in here are bad for
you. The air is heavy under this roof.

Hedvig.
Very well then, I'll run down the kitchen stair
and go for a little walk. My cloak and hat ? — oh,
they're in my own room. Father — be sure you don't
do the wild duck any harm whilst I'm out.

HiALMAR.

Not a feather of its head shall be touched.
[^Dratvs her to A«?h.] You and I, Hedvig — we two

! Well, go along.

[Hedvig nods to her parents and goes out
through the kitchen.

HiALMAR.

[ Walks about without looking up.'\ Gina.

GiNA,

Yes }

HiALMAR.

From to-morrow — or, say, from the day after
to-morrow — I should like to keep the household
account-book myself.

GiNA.

Do you want to keep the accounts too, now .-*

HiALMAR.

Yes ; or to check the receipts at any rate.

GiNA.

Lord help us! that's soon done.

I

ACT IV.] THE WILD DUCK. 325

HiALMAR.

One would nardly think so ; at any rate you
seem to make the money go a very long way. [Stops
and looks at her.] How do you manage it ?

GiNA.

It's because me and Hedvig, we need so little.

HiALMAR.

Is it the case that father is very liberally paid
for the copying he does for Mr. Wei'le .''

GiNA.

I don't know as he gets anything out of the way.
I don't know the rates for that sort of work.

HiALMAR.

Well, what does he get, about ? Let me hear !

GiNA.

Oh, it varies ; I daresay it'll come to about as
much as he costs us, with a little pocket-money
over.

HiALMAR.

As much as he costs us ! And you have never
told me this before !

GiNA.

No, how could I tell you } It pleased you so
much to think he got everything from you.

HiALMAR.

And he gets it from Mr. Werle.

GiNA.

Oh well, he has plenty and to spare, he has.

326 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

HiALMAR.

Light the lamp for me, please !

GiNA.

[Lighting the lainp.^ And of course we don't
know as it's Mr. VVerle himself; it may be
Graberg

HiALMAR.

Why attempt such an evasion ?

Gin A.
I don't know ; I only thought

HiALMAR.

H'm!

GiNA.

It wasn't me that got grandfather that copying.
It was Bertha, when she used to come about us.

HiALMAR.

It seems to me your voice is trembling.

GiNA.

[Putting the lamp-shade ow.] Is it ?

HiALMAR.

And your hands are shaking, are they not ?

GiNA.

[Firmly.'\ Come right out with it, Ekdal. What
has he been saying about me ?

HiALMAR.

Is it true — can it be true that — that there was
an — an understanding between you an J Mr. Werle,
while you were in service there }

ACT IV.] THE WILD DUCK. 327

GiNA.

That's not true. Not at that time. Mr. Werle
did come after me, that's a fact. And his wife
thought there was something in it, and then she
made such a hocus-pocus and hurly-burly, and she
hustled me and bustled me about so, that I left
her service.

HiALMAR.

But afterwards, then .-*

GiNA.

Well, then 1 went home. And mother — well,
she wasn't the woman you took her for, Ekdal ;
she kept on worrying and worrying at me about
one thing and another — for Mr. Werle was a
widower by that time.

HiALMAR.

Well, and then ?

GiNA.

I suppose you've got to know it. He gave me
no peace until he'd had his way.

HiALMAR.

[Striki7ig his hands together.'] And this is the
mother of my child ! How could you hide this
from me ?

GiNA.

Yes, it was wrong of me ; I ought certainly to
have told you long ago.

HiALMAR.

You should have told me at the very first ; —
then I should have known the sort of woman you
were.

328 TIIK WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

GiNA.

But would you have married me all the same ?

HiALMAR.

How can you dream that I would ?

GiNA.

That's just why I didn't dare tell you anything,
then. For I'd come to care for you so much, you
see ; and I couldn't go and make myself utterly
niisei'able

HiALMAR.

[ Walks ahout.^ And this is my Hedvig's mother.
And to know that all I see before me — [Kicks at
a chair] — all that 1 call my home — I owe to a
favoured predecessor ! Oh that scoundrel Werle !

GlNA.

Do you repent of the fourteen — the fifteen
years as we've lived together ?

HiALMAR.

[Placing himself in front of her. \ Have you not
every day, every hour, repented of the spider's-weh
of deceit you have spun around me } Answer
me that ! How could you help writhing with
penitence and remorse }

GiNA.

Oh, my dear Ekdal, I've had all I could do to
look after the house and get through the day's
work

HiALMAR.

Then you never think of reviewing your past ^

ACT IV.] THE WILD DUCK, 329

GiNA.

No ; Heaven knovi's I'd almost forgotten those
old stories.

HiALMAR.

Oh, this dull, callous contentment ! To me
there is something revolting about it. Think of
it — never so much as a twinge of remorse !

GiNA.

But tell me, Ekdal — what would have become
of you if you hadn't had a wife like me .''

HiALMAR.

Like you !

GiNA.

Yes; for you know I've always been a bit more
practical and wide-awake than you. Of course
I'm a year or two older.

HiALMAR.

What would have become of me !

GiNA.

You'd got into all sorts of bad ways when first
you met me ; that you can't deny.

HiALMAR.

" Bad ways " do you call them .'' Little do you
know what a man goes through when he is in
grief and despair — especially a man of my fiery
temperament.

GiNA.

Well, well, that may be so. And I've no reason
to crow over you, neither ; for you turned a moral

330 TiiK wiiA) niicK. [act IV.

of a husband, that you did, as soon as ever you
had a house and home of your own. — And now
we'd got everything so nice and cosy about us ;
and me and Hedvig was just thinking we'd soon
be able to let ourselves go a bit, in the way of
both food and clothes.

HiALMAR.

In the swamp of deceit, yes.

GiNA.

I wish to goodness that detestable being had
never set his foot inside our doors !

HiALMAR.

And I, too, thought my home such a pleasant
one. That was a delusion. Where shall I now
find the elasticity of spirit to bring my invention
into the world of reality.^ Perhaps it will die
with me ; and then it will be your past, Gina,
that will have killed it.

GiNA.

[Nearly crywg.] You mustn't say such things,
Ekdal. Me, that has only wanted to do the
best I could for you, all my days !

HiALMAR.

I ask you, what becomes of the breadwinner's
dream ? When I used to lie in there on the sofa
and brood over my invention, I had a clear
enough presentiment that it would sap my vitality
to the last drop. I felt even then that the day
when I held the patent in my hand — that day —
would bring my — release. And tlien it was my

I

THE WILD DUCK. 331

dream that you should live on after me, the dead
inventor's well-to-do widow.

GiNA.

[Drymg her tears.] No, you mustn't talk like
that, Ekdal. May the Lord never let me see the
day I am left a widow !

HiALMAR.

Oh, the whole dream has vanished. It is all
over now. All over !

Gregers Werle opens ike passage door cautiously
and looks in.

Gregers.
May I come in "^

Hialmar.
Yes, come in.

Gregers.
[Comes forward, his face beaviing with satisfaction,
and holds out both his hands to them.'\ Well, dear

friends ! [Looks from one to the other, and

whispers to Hialmar.] Have you not done it yet .''

Hialmar.
Aloud.] It is done.

Gregers.
It is?

Hialmar.
I have passed through the bitterest moments of
my life.

Gregers.

But also, I trust, the most ennobling.

S3^2 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

HiALMAR.

Well, at any rate, we have got through it for
the present.

GiNA.

God forgive you, Mr. Werle.

Gregers.
[In great surprise.] But I don't understand this.

HiALMAR.

What don't you understand .''

Gregers.
After so great a crisis — a crisis that is to be the
starting-point of an entirely new life — of a com-
munion founded on truth, and free from all taint
of deception

HiALMAR.

Yes yes, I know ; I know that quite well.

Gregers.

I confidently expected, when I entered the

room, to find the light of transfiguration shining

upon me from both husband and wife. And now

I see nothing but dulness, oppression, gloom

GiNA.

Oh, is that it } \_Takes off the lamp-shade.

Gregers.
You will not understand me, Mrs. Ekdal. Ah

well, you, I suppose, need time to . But you,

Hialmar ? Surely you feel a new consecration
after the great crisis.

ACT IV.] THE WILD DUCK. S3S

HiALMAR.

Yes, of course I do. That is— in a sort of way.

Gregers.
For surely nothing in the woi-ld can compare
with the joy of forgiving one who has erred, and
raising her up to oneself in love.

HiALMAR.

Do you think a man can so easily throw off the
effects of the bitter cup I have drained }

Gregers.
No, not a common man, perhaps. But a man
like you !

HiALMAR.

Good God ! I know that well enough. But you
must keep me up to it, Gregers. It takes time,
you know.

Gregers.

You have much of the wild duck in you,
Hialmar.

Relling has come in at the passage door.

Relling.
Oho I is the wild duck to the fore again .^

HiALMAR.

Yes ; Mr. Werle's wing-broken victim.

Relling.

Mr. Werle's .'' So it's him you are talking

about ?

HiALMAR.

Him and — ourselves.

.334 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

Relling.
[hi an undertone to Gregers.] May the devil fly
away with you !

HiALMAR.

What is that you are saying ?

Relling.

Only uttering a heartfelt wish that this quack-
salver would take himself off. If he stays here,
he is quite equal to making an utter mess of life,
for both of you.

Gregers.

These two will not make a mess of life, Mr.
Relling. Of course 1 won't speak of Hialmar —
him we know. But she, too, in her innermost
heart, has certainly something loyal and sin-
cere

GiNA.

[Abnost crtjing.] You might have let me alone
for what I was, then.

Relling.
[To Gregers ] Is it rude to ask what you really
want in this house ?

Gregers.
To lay the foundations of a true marriage.

Relling.
So you don't think Ekdal's marriage is good
enough as it is ?

Gregers.

No doubt it is as good a marriage as most others,
worse luck. But a true marriage it has yet to
become.

ACT IV.] THE WILD DUCK. 335

HiALMAR,

You have never had eyes for the claims of the
ideal, Relling.

Relling.
Rubbish, my boy ! — But excuse me, Mr. VVerle :
how many — in round numbers — how many true
marriages have you seen in the course ot your
life?

Gregers.
Scarcely a single one.

Relling.
Nor I either.

Gregers.
But I have seen innumerable marriages of the
opposite kind. And it has been my fate to see at
close quarters what ruin such a marriage can work
in two human souls.

HiALMAR.

A man's whole moral basis may give away be
neath his feet; that is the terrible part of it.

Relling.

Well, I can't say I've ever been exactly married,

so I don't pretend to speak with authority. But

this I know, that the child enters into the marriage

problem. And you must leave the child in peace.

HiALMAR.

Oh — Hedvig ! my poor Hedvig !

Relling.
Yes, you must be ^ood enough to keep Hedvig
outside of all this. You two are grown-up people ;
you are free, in God's name, to make what mess

336 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT

and muddle you please of your life. But you must
deal cautiously with Hedvig, I tell you ; else you
may do her a great injury.

HiALMAR.

An injury !

Relling.
Yes, or she may do herself an injury — and per-
haps others too.

GiNA.

How can you know that, Relling }

HiALMAR.

Her sight is in no immediate danger, is it }

Relling.
I am not talking about her sight. Hedvig is at
a critical age. She may be getting all sorts of
mischief into her head.

GiNA.

That's true — I've noticed it already! She's
taken to carrying on with the fire, out in the
kitchen. She calls it playing at house-on-fire.
I'm often scai'ed for fear she really sets fire to the
house.

Relling.

You see ; I thought as much.

Greger.s.
[To Relling.] But how do you account for that.-*

Relling.
[Sullenly.] Her constitution's changing, sir.

ACT IV.] THE WILD DUCK. 337

HiALMAR.

So long as the child has me ! So long as

/ am above ground ! [A knock at the door.

GiNA.

Hush, Ekdal ; there's some one in the passage.
[Cal/s out.] Come in !

[Mrs. SorbYj in walking dress, comes in.

Mrs. Sorbv.
Good evening.

GiNA.

[Going towards her\ Is it really you, Bertha }

Mrs. Sorbv.

Yes, of course it is. But I'm disturbing you,
I'm afraid .''

HiALMAR.

No, not at all ; an emissary from that house

Mrs. Sorbv.
[To GiNA.] To tell the truth, I hoped your
men-folk would be out at this time. I just ran
up to have a little chat with you, and to say good-
bye.

GiNA,

Good-bye .'' Are you going away, then }

Mrs. Sorby.
Yes, to-morrow morning, — up to Hoidal. Mr.
Werle started this afternoon. [Lightly to Gregers]
He asked me to say good-bye for him.

GlNA.

Only fancy I

338 THE \\\LT) niTK. . [act IV.

HiALMAR.

So Mr. Werle has gone ? And now you are
going after him ?

Mrs. Sorby
Yes, what do you say to that, Ekdal ?

HiALMAR.

I say ; beware !

Gregers.
I must explain the situation. My father and
Mrs. Sorby are going to be married.

HiALMAR.

Going to be married !

GiNA.

Oh Bertha ! So it's come to that at last !

Relling.
[His voice quivering a Utile.] This is surely not
true .''

Mrs. Sorby.

Yes, my dear Relling, it's true enough.

Relling.
You are going to marry again ?

Mrs. Sorby.
Yes, it looks like it. Werle has got a special
licence, and we are going to be married quite
quietly, up at the works.

Gregers.
Then I must wish you all happiness, like a
dutiful stej)Son.

act iv.] the wild duck. 339

Mrs. Sorby.
Thank you very much — it you mean what you
say. I certainly hope it will lead to happiness,
both for Werle and for me.

Relling.
You have every reason to hope that. Mr. Werle
never gets drunk — so far as 1 know ; and I don't
suppose he's in the habit of thrashing his wives,
like the late lamented horse- doctor.

Mrs. Sorby.
Come now, let Sorby rest in peace. He had
his good points too.

Relling.
Mr. Werle has better ones, I have no doubt.

Mrs. Sorby.
He hasn't frittered away all that was good in
him, at any rate. The man who does that must
take the consequences.

Relling.
I shall go out with Molvik this evening.

Mrs. Sorby.
You musn't do that, Relling. Don't do it — for
my sake.

Relling.
There's nothing else for it. [T'o Hialmar.]
If you're going with us, come along.

GiNA.

No, thank yon. Ekdal doesn't go in for that
sort of dissertation.

340 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

HiALMAR.

[Half "^o«rf, in vexation.] Oh, do hold your
tongue I

Relling.

• Good-bye, Mrs.— Werle.

[Goes out through the passage door.

Gregers.
[To Mrs. Sorby.] You seem to know Dr.
Relling pretty intimately.

Mrs. Sorby.
Yes, we have known each other for many years.
At one time it seemed as if things might have
gone further between us.

Gregers.
It was surely lucky for you that they did not.

Mrs. Sorby.
You may well say that. But I have always
been wary of acting on impulse. A woman can't
afford absolutely to throw herself away.

Gregers.
Are you not in the least afraid that I may let
my father know about this old friendship ?

Mrs. Sorby.
Why, of course I have told him all about it
myself.

Gregers.
Indeed ?

Mrs. Sorby.

Your father knows every single thing lliat can.

I

ACT IV.] THE WILD DUCK. 341

with any truth, be said about me. I have told
him all ; it was the first thing I did when I saw
what was in his mind.

Gregers.

Then you have been franker than most people,
I think.

Mrs, Sorby.

I have always been frank. We women find
that the best policy.

HiALMAR.

What do you say to that, Gina ?

GiNA.

Oh, we're not all alike, us women aren't. Some
are made one way, some another.

Mrs. Sorbv.
Well, for my part, Gina, I believe it's wisest to
do as I've done. And Werle has no secrets either,
on his side. That's really the great bond between
us, you see. Now he can talk to me as openl) as
a child. He has never had the chance to do chat,
before. Fancy a man like him, full of health and
vigour, passing his whole youth and the best years
of his life in listening to nothing but penitential
sermons ! And very often the sermons had for
their text the most imaginary offences — at least
so I understand.

GiNA.

That's true enough.

Gregers.
If you ladies are going to follow up this topic,
1 had better withdraw.

342 THK WILD ULKK. [aCT IV.

Mrs. Sorby.
You can stay so far as that's concerned. I shan't
say a word more. But I wanted you to know that
I had done nothing secretly or in an underhand
way. I may seem to have come in for a great
piece of luck ; and so I have, in a sense. But
after all, I don't think I am getting any more than
I am giving. I shall stand by him always, and I
can tend and care for him as no one else can, now
that he is getting helpless.

HiALMAR.

Getting helpless ?

Gregers.
[To Mrs. Sorby.] Hush, don't speak of that
here.

Mrs. Sorby.
There is no disguising it any longer, however
much he would like to. He is going blind.

HiALMAR.

[Starts.] Going blind .'' That's strange. He
too going blind !

GiNA.

Lots of people do.

Mrs. Sorby.
And you can imagine what that means to a
business man. Well, I shall try as well as I can
to make my eyes take the place of his. But I
musn't stay any longer; I have such heaps of
things to do.- — Oh, by-the-bye, Ekdal, I was to tell
you that if there is anything Werle can do for
you, you must just apply to Graberg.

ACT IV.] TllK WILD DUCK. 34>3

Gregers.
That offer I am sure Hialmar Ekdal will decline
with thanks.

Mrs. Sorbv.
Indeed .'' I don't think he used to be so

GiNA.

No, Bertha, Ekdal doesn't need anything Iroui
Mr. Werle now.

Hialmar.

[Slowly, and with emphasis.^ Will you present my
compliments to your future husband, and say that
I intend very shortly to call upon Mr. Graberg ■

Gregers.
What ! You don't really mean that }

Hl\lmar.
To call upon Mr. Graberg, I say, and obtain an
account of the sum I owe his principal. I will
pay that debt of honour — ha ha ha ! a debt of
hoiiour, let us call it ! In any case, I will pay the
whole, with five per cent, interest.

Gina.
But, iTfiy dear Ekdal^ God knows we haven't got
the money to do it.

Hl\lmar.
Be good enough to tell your future husband
that I am rt^orking assiduously at my invention.
Please tell tnm that what sustains me in this
laborious task is the wish to free myself from a
torturing burden of debt. That is my reason for
[jroceeding with the invezitiou. The entire jirofits

S-i* THE WILD DUCK, [aCT IV.

shall be devoted to releasing me from my pecuniary
obligations to your future husband.

Mrs. Sorbv.
Something has happened here.

HiALMAR.

Yes, you are right.

Mrs. Sorby.
Well, good-bye. I had something else to speak
to you about, Gina ; but it must keep till another
time. Good-bye.

[Hialmar and Gregers how silently, Gina
follows Mrs. Sorby to the door,

Hialmar.
Not beyond the threshold, Gina !

[Mrs. Sorby goes; Gina simts ike door
after her.

Hialmar.

There now, Gregers ; I have got that burden of
debt off my mind.

Gregers.
You soon will, at all events.

Hialmar.
I think my attitude may be called correct.

Gregers.
You are the man I have always taken you for.

Hialmar.
In certain cases, it is impossible to disregard
the claim of the ideal. Yet, as the breadwinner

ACT IV.] THE WILD DUCK. 34^5

of a family, I cannot but writhe and groan under
it. I can tell you it is no joke for a man without
capital to attempt the repayment of a long-standing
obligation, over which, so to speak, the dust of
oblivion had gathered. But it cannot be helped :
the Man in me demands his rights.

Gregers.
[Laying his hand on Hialmar's shoulder.] My
dear Hialmar — was it not a good thing I came .''

HiALMAR.

Yes.

Gregers.
Are you not glad to have had your true position-
made clear to you }

Hialmar,
[Somewhat impatient bi.] Yes, of course I am.
But there is one thing that is revolting to my
sense of justice.

Gregers.
And what is that }

Hialmar.

' It is that — but I don't know whether I ought

to express myself so unreservedly about your father.

Gregers.
Say whftt you please, so far as I am concerned.

Hialmar.
Well then, is it not exasperating to think that
it is not I, but he, who will realise the true
marriage ?

Gregers.

How can you say such a thing .''

346 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

HiALMAR.

Because it is clearly the case. Isn't the
marriage between your father and Mrs. Sorby
founded upon complete confidence, upon entire
and unreserved candour on both sides ? They
hide nothing from each other, they keep no
secrets in the background ; their relation is based,
if I may put it so, on mutual confession and abso-
lution.

Gregers.

Well, what then ?

HiALMAR.

Well, is not that the whole thing ? Did you
not yourself say that this was precisely the
difficulty that had to be overcome in order to
found a true marriage ?

Gregers.
But this is a totally different matter, Hialmar.
You surely don't compare either yourself or your

wife with those two ? Oh, you understand

me well enough.

HiALMAR.

Say what you like, there is something in all this
that hurts and offends my sense of justice. It
really looks as if there were no just providence to
rule the world.

GiNA.

Oh no, Ekdal ; for God's sake don't say such
things.

Gregers.
H'm ; don't let us get upon those questions.

ACT IV,] THE WILD DUCK. 347

HiALMAR.

And yet, after all, 1 cannot but recognise the
guiding finger of fate. He is going blind.

GiNA.

Oh, you can't be sure of that.

HiALMAR.

There is no doubt about it. At all events there
ought not to be ; for in that very fact lies the
righteous retribution. He has hoodwinked a con-
fiding fellow creature in days gone by

Gregers.
I fear he has hoodwinked many.

HiALMAR.

And now comes inexorable, mysterious Fate,
and demands Werle's own eyes.

GiNA.

Oh, how dare you say such dreadful things !
You make me quite scared.

HiALMAR.

It is profitable, now and then, to plunge deep
into the night side of existence.

Hedvig, in her hat and cloak, comes in bij the
passage door. She is pleasurably excited, and
out of breath.

GiNA.

Are you back already ?

348 THE WILD DUCK. [act IV.

Hedvig.
Yes, I didn't care to go any farther. It was a
good thing, too ; for I've just met some one at
the door.

HiALMAR.

It must have been that Mrs. Sorby.

Hedvig.
Yes.

HiALMAR.

[Walks up and donm.] I hope you have seen her
for the last time.

[Silence. Hedvig, discouraged, looks first
at one and then at the other, trying to
divine their frame of mind.

Hedvig.

[Approaching, coaxingly.^ Father.

HiALMAR.

Well — what is it, Hedvig ?

Hedvig.
Mrs. Sorby had something with her for me.

HiALMAR.

[Stops.^ For you ?

Hedvig.
Yes. Something for to morrow.

GiNA.

Bertha has always given you some little thing
on your birthday.

HiALMAR.

What is it }

act iv.] the wild duck. 349

Hedvig.
Oh, you mustn't see it now. Mother is to give
it to me to-morrow morning before I'm up.

HiALMAR.

What is all this hocus-pocus that I am to be
kept in the dark about !

Hedvig.
[Qtiickli/.] Oh no, you may see it if you like.
It's a big letter.

[Takes the letter out of her cloak pocket.

HiALMAR.

A letter too ?

Hedvig.

Yes, it is only a letter. The rest will come
afterwards, I suppose. But fancy — a letter ! I've
never had a letter before. And there's " Miss "
written upon it. [Reads.] " Miss Hedvig Ekdal."
Only fancy — that's me !

HiALMAR.

Let me see that letter.

Hedvig.
[Hands it to him.] There it is.

HiALMAR.

That is Mr. Werle's hand.

GiNA.

Are you sure of that, Ekdal ?

HiALMAR.

Look for yourself.

350 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

GiNA.

Oh, what do / know about such-like things .''

HiALMAR.

Hedvig, may I open the letter — and read it ?

Hedvig.
Yes, of course you may, if you want to.

GiNA.

No, not to-night, Ekdal ; it's to be kept till to-
morrow.

Hedvig.

/.] Oh, can't you let him read it ! It's
sure to be something good ; and then father will
be glad, and everything will be nice again.

HiALMAR.

I may open it then ?

Hedvig.
Yes do, father. I'm so anxious to know what it is.

HiALMAR.

Well and good. [Opens the tetter, takes out a
paper, reads it through, and appears bewildered.]
What is this !

GiNA.

What does it say ?

Hedvig,
Oh yes, father — tell us I

HiALMAR.

Be quiet. [Heads it through again ; he has turned

ACT IV.] THE WILD DUCK. 351

pale, bid says with self-control .] It is a deed of gift,
Hedvig

Hedvig.

Is it .^ What sort of gift am I to have }

HiALMAR.

Read for yourself.

[Hedvig goes over and reads for a time by
the lamp.

HiALMAR. •

yHalf-aloud, clenching his hands ] The eyes ! The
eyes — and then that letter !

Hedvig.
[Leaves off reading.] Yes, but it seems to me
that it's grandfather that's to have it.

HiALMAR.

[Takes the letter from her.] Gina — can you
understand this }

Gina.

I know nothing whatever about it ; tell me
what's the matter.

HiALMAR.

Mr. Werle writes to Hedvig that her old grand-
father need not trouble himself any longer with
the copving, but that he can henceforth draw on
the office for a hundred crowns a month

Gregers.
Aha!

Hedvig.
A hundred crowns, mother ! I read that.

^52 THL WILD DUCK. [aCT IT.

GiNA,

What a f^ood thing for grandfather !

HiALMAR.

-a hundred crowns a month so long as he

heeds it — that meansj of course, so long as he lives.

GiNA.

Well, so he's provided for, poor dear,

HiALMAR.

But there is more to come. You didn't read
that, Hedvig. Afterwards this gift is to pass on
to you.

Hedvig.

To me ! The whole of it .''

HiALMAR.

He saj's that the same amount is assured to you
for the whole of your life. Do you hear that,
Gina ?

GiNA.

Yes, I hear.

Hedvig.
Fancy — all that money for me ! [Sfiakes hwi.l^
Father, father, aren't you glad .''

HiALMAR.

[Eluding her.] Glad! [JValh about.] Oh what
vistas — what perspectives open up before me ! It
is Hedvig, Hedvig that he showers these bene-
factions upon !

GiNA.

Yes, because it's Hedvig's birthday

act iv.] the wild duck. 353

Hedvig.
And you'll get it all the same, father ! You
know quite well I shall give all the money to you
and mother.

HiALMAR.

To mother^ yes ! There we have it.

Gregers.
Hialmar, this is a trap he is setting for you.

HiALMAR.

Do you think it's another trap ?

Gregers.
When he was here this morning he said :
Hialmar Ekdal is not the man you imagine him
to be.

Hialmar,
Not the man !

Gregers.
That you shall see, he said,

Hialmar,
He meant you should see that I would let my-
self be bought off !

Hedvig.
Oh mother, what does all this mean ?

GiNA.

Go and take off your things.

[H EDViG goes out by the kitchen door, half-
crying.

354 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

Gregers.
Yes, Hialmar — now is the time to show who
was right, he or I.

Hialmar.

[5/ow'/// tears the paper across, laijs both pieces on
the table, and says ;] Here is my answer.

Gregers.
Just what I expected.

Hialmar.

[Goes over to Gina, who stands by the stove, and
says m a low voice ;] Now please make a clean
breast of it. If the connection between you and him
was quite over when you — came to care for me,
as you call it — why did he place us in a position
to marry }

Gina.

I suppose he thought as he could come and go
in our house.

Hialmar.

Only that.^ Was not he afraid of a possible
contingency }

Gina.
I don't know what you mean.

Hialmar.
I want to know whether — your child has the
right to live under my roof.

Gina.
[Draws herself up; her eyes Jl ash.] You ask
that !

ACT IV.] THE WILD DUCK. 355

HiALMAR.

You shall answer me this one qi'estion : Does
Hedvig belong to me — or ? Well !

GiNA.

[Looki?ig at him with cold de/iance.] I don't know,

HiALMAR.

[Quivemig a little.] You don't know !

GiNA.

How should / know ? A creature like me

HiALMAR.

[Quietlt/ turning away from her.] Then I have
nothing more to do in this house.

Gregers.
Take care, Hialmar ! Think what you are
doing !

HiALMAR.

[Puts on his overcoat.] In this case, there is
nothing for a man like me to think twice about.

Gregers.
Yes indeed, there are endless things to be con-
sidered. You three must be together if you are
to attain the true frame of mind for self-sacrifice
and forgiveness.

HiALMAR.

I don't want to attain it. Never, never ! My
hat ! [Takes his hat.] My home has fallen in
ruins about me. [Bursts into tears.] Gregers, I
have no child !

356 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

Hedvig.
[ Who has opened /he kitchen door.] What is that
you're saying ? [Coming to /«Vw.] Father, father !

GlNA.

There, you see !

HiALMAR.

Don't come near me, Hedvig ! Keep far away.

I cannot bear to see you. Oh ! those eyes !

Good-bye. [Makes for the door.

Hedvig.
[Clinging close to him and screaming loudly J\ No !
no ! Don't leave me !

GiNA.

[Cries out.'] Look at the child, Ekdal ! Look
at the child !

HiALMAR.

I will not I I cannot ! I must get out — away
from all this !

[He tears himself away from Hedvig, and
goes out hy the passage door.

Hedvig.
[With despairing eyes.] He is going away from
us, mother ! He is going away from us ! He will
never come back again !

GiNA.

Don't cry, Hedvig. Father's sure to come back
again.

Hedvig.

[ ThroTvs herself sobbing on the sofa. ] No, no, he'll
never come home to us any more.

act iv. j the wild duck. 357

Gregers.
Do you believe I meant all for the best, Mrs.
Ekdal ?

GiNA.

Yes, I daresay you did ; but God forgive you,
all the same.

Hedvig.

[Lying on the sofa^ Oh, this will kill me ! What
have I done to him .> Mother, you must fetch him
home again !

GiNA.

Yes yes yes ; only be quiet, and I'll go out and
look for him. [Puts on her outdoor things.^ Perhaps
he's gone in to Relling's. But you mustn't lie
there and cry. Promise me !

Hedvig.
[Weeping convulsively.^ Yes, I'll stop, I'll stop ;
if only father comes back !

Gregers.
[To GiNA, who is going.'] After all, had you not
better leave him to fight out his bitter fight to
the end }

GiNA.

Oh, he can do that afterwards. First of all, we
must get the child quieted.

[Goes out hy the passage door.

Hedvig.
[Sits up and dries her tears.] Now you must
tell me what all this means. Why doesn't father
want me any more ?

358 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

Gregers.
You mustn't ask that till you are a big girl —
quite grown-up.

Hedvig.
[iSbfe,?.] But I can't go on being as miserable
as this till I'm grown up. — I think I know what
it is. — Perhaps I'm not really father's child.

Gregers.
[Uneasily.] How could that be .-*

Hedvig.
Mother might have found me. And perhaps
father has just got to know it; I've read of such
things.

Gregers.
Well, but if it were so

Hedvig.
I think he might be just as fond of me for all
that. Yes, fonder almost. We got the wild duck
in a present, you know, and I love it so dearly
all the same.

Gregers.
[Tunii/ig the conversation.] Ah, the wild duck,
by-the-bye ! Let us talk about the wild duck a
little, Hedvig.

Hedvig.
The poor wild duck ! He doesn't want to see
it any more either. Only think, he wanted to
wring its neck !

Gregers.
Oh, he won't do that.

I

act iv.] the wild duck. 359

Hedvig.
No ; but he said he would like to. And I
think it was horrid of father to say it ; for I pray
for the wild duck every night, and ask that it may
be preserved from death and all that is evil.

Gregers.
[Looki?ig at her.] Do you say your prayers every
night .''

Hedvig.
Yes.

Gregers.
Who taught you to do that .?

Hedvig.
I myself ; one time when father was very ill,
and had leeches on his neck, and said that death
was staring him in the face,

Gregers.
Well ?

Hedvig.
Then I prayed for him as I lay in bed ; and since
then I have always kept it up.

Gregers.
And now you pray for the wild duck too ?

Hedvig.
I thought it was best to bring in the wild duck ;
for she was so weakly at first.

Gregers.
Do you pray in the morning, too ?

360 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

Hedvig.
No, of course not.

Gregers.
Why not in the morning as well ?

Hedvig.
In the morning it's light, you know, and there's
nothing in particular to be afraid of.

Gregers.
And your father was going .o wring the neck
of the wild duck that you love so dearly ?

Hedvig.
No ; he said he ought to wring its neck, but he
would spare it for my sake ; and that was kind of
father.

Gregers.

[Coming a little nearer.] But suppose you were
to sacrifice the wild duck of your own free will
for his sake.

Hedvig.

[Rising.] The wild duck !

Gregers.
Suppose you were to make a free-will offering,
for his sake, of the dearest treasure you have in
the world !

Hedvig.

Do you think that would do any good ?

Gregers.
Try it, Hedvig.

Hedvig.
[Softhj, with flashing eyes] Yes, I will try it.

ACT IV.] THE WILD DUCK. 36l

Gregers.
Have you really the courage for it, do you
think ?

Hedvig.

I'll ask grandfather to shoot the wild duck for
me.

Gregers.

Yes, do. But not a word to your mother about
it.

Hedvig.
Why not ?

Gregers.

She doesn't understand us.

Hedvig.
The wild duck ! I'll try it to-morrow morning .
[GiNA comes in by the passage door.

Hedvig.
[Going towards her.] Did you find him, mother ?

GiNA.

No, but I heard as he had called and taken
Relling with him.

Gregers.
Are you sure of that ?

GiNA.

Yes, the porter's wife said so, Molvik went
with them too, she said.

Gregers.
This evening, when his mind so sorely needs to
wrestle in solitude !

362 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT IV.

GiNA.

\Takes off her things.^ Yes, men are strange
creatures, so they are. The Lord only knows
where Relling has dragged him to ! I ran over
to Madam Eriksen's, but they weren't there.

Hedvig.
[Struggling to keep back her tears.^ Oh, if he
should never come home any more !

Gregers.
He will come home again. I shall have news
to give him to-morrow ; and then you shall see
how he conies home. You may rely upon that,
Hedvig, and sleep in peace. Good-night.

[He goes out by the passage door.

Hedvig.
[Throws herself subbing on Gina's neck.^ Mother,
mother .'

GlNA.

[Pats her shoii/der and sighs.^ Ah yes; Relling
was right, he was. That's what comes of it w'hen
crazy creatures go about presenting the claims of
the — what-you-may-call-it.

ACT FIFTH.

HiALMAR Ekdal's xtudio. Culcl, gfci/, moming light.
IVet snow lies tipun ihe large panes of the sloping
roof-window.
Gina comes from the kitchen with an apron and bib
on, find carrying a dusting-brush and a duster; she
goes towards the sitting-room door. At the same
moment Hedvig comes hurriedly in from the
passage.

Gina.
[Stops.] Well ?

Hedvig.
Oh, mother, I almost think he's down at
Rellinff's

There, you see !

Gina.

Hedvig.

because the porter's wife says she could

hear that Relling had two people with him when
he came home last night.

Gina.
That's just what I thought.

Hedvig.
But it's no use his being there, if he won't come
up to us.

Gina.
I'll go down and speak to him at all events.

3()^ lllE WILD DUCK. [act V.

Old Ekdal, in dresabig gotvii and slippers, andivitha
liglded pipe, appears at the door of Ids room.

Ekdal.
Hialmar Isn't Hialmar at home ?

GlNA.

No, he's gone out.

Ekdal.
So early ? And in such a tearing snowstorm ?
Well well; just as he pleases; I can take my
morning walk alone.

\^He slides the garret door aside ; Hedvig
helps him ; he goes in ; she closes it after
him.

Hedvig.
[In an undertone.] Only think, mother, when
poor grandfather hears that father is going to
leave us.

GiNA.

Oh, nonsense; grandfather mustn't hear any-
thing about it. It was a heaven's mercy he wasn't
at home yesterday in all that hurly-burly.

Hedvig.
Yes, but

[Gregers comes in by the passage door

Gregers.
Well, have you any news of him .-*

Gina.
They say he's down at Relling's.

Gregers.
At Relling's ! Has he really been out with
those creatures }

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. 365

GiNA.

Yes, like enough.

Gregers.
When he ought to have been yearning for
soUtude, to collect and clear his thoughts

GiNA.

Yes, you may well say so.

Relling enters from the passage.
Hedvig.
[Going to him.'] Is father in your room }

GiNA,

[At the same time."] Is he there ?

Relling.
Yes, to be sure he is.

Hedvig.
And you never let us know !

Relling.
Yes; I'm a brute. But in the first place I
had to look after the other brute ; I mean our
daemonic friend, of course; and then I fell so
dead asleep that

GiNA.

What does Ekdal say to-day ?

Relling.
He says nothing whatever.

Hedvig.
Doesn't he speak ?

Relling,
Not a blessed word.

S66 THE WILD DUCK. [acT V,

Gregers.
No no ; I can understand that very well.

GiNA.

But what's he doing then .''

Relling,
He's lying on the sofa, snoring.

GiNA

Oh is he ? Yes, Ekdal's a rare one to snore.

Hedvig.
Asleep .'' Can he sleep .''

Relling.
Well, it certainly looks like it.

Gregers.
No wonder, after the spiritual conflict that has
rent him

GiNA.

And then he's never been used to gadding about
out of doors at night.

Hedvig.
Perhaps it's a good thing that he's getting
sleep, mother.

GiNA.

Of course it is ; and we must take care we don't
wake him up too early. Thank you, Relling. I
must get the house cleaned up a bit now, and

then Come and help me, Hedvig.

[GiNA and Hedvig ^0 into the sitting-room

Gregers.
[Tiirni7ig to Relling.] What is your explana-

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. SGl

tion of the spiritual tumult that is now going on in
Hialmar Ekdal ?

Relling.

Devil a bit of a spiritual tumult have / noticed
in him.

Gregers.

What ! Not at such a crisis, when his whole

life has been placed on a new foundation ?

How can you think that such an individuality as

Hial mar's ?

Relling.

Oh, individuality — he ! If he ever had any
tendency to the abnormal developments you call
individuality, I can assure you it was rooted out of
him while he was still in his teens.

Gregers.
That would be strange indeed, — considering
the loving care with which he was brought up.

Relling.
By those two high-flown, hysterical maiden
aunts, you mean .''

Gregers.
Let me tell you that they were women who
never forgot the claim of the ideal — but of course
you will only jeer at me again.

Relling.
No, I'm in no humour for that. I know all
about those ladies ; for he has ladled out no end
of rhetoric on the subject of his " two soul-
mothers." But I don't think he has much to
thank them for. Ekdal's misfortune is that in his

3f)8 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT V.

own circle he has always been looked uj)on as a

shining light

Gregers.
Not without reason, surely. Look at the depth
of his mind !

Relling.
/ have never discovered it That his father
believed in it I don't so much wonder ; the old
lieutenant has been an ass all his days.

Gregers.
He has had a child-like mind all his days ; that
is what you cannot understand.

Relling.
Well, so be it. But then, when our dear, sweet
Hialmar went to college, he at once passed for the
great light of the future amongst his comrades
too ! He was handsome, the rascal — red and white
— a shop-girl's dream of manly beauty; and with
his superficially emotional temperament, and his
sympathetic voice, and his talent for declaim-
ing other people's verses and other people's
thoughts

Gregers.

{Indignantly.!^ Is it Hialmar Ekdal you are
talking about in this strain }

Relling.
Yes, with your permission ; I am simply giving
you an inside view of the idol you are grovelling
oefore.

Gregers.

I should hardly have thought I was quite stone
blind.

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK.

Relling.
Yes you are — or not far from it. You are a sick
man, too, you see.

Gregers.
You are right there.

Relling.
Yes. Yours is a complicated case. First of all
there is that plaguy integrity-fever ; and then
— what's worse — you are always in a delirium of
hero-worship ; you must always have something to
adore, outside yourself.

Gregers.
Yes, I must certainly seek it outside myself.

Relling.
But you make such shocking mistakes about
evei'y new phoenix you think you have discovered.
Here again you have come to a cotter's cabin with
your claim of the ideal ; and the people of the
house are insolvent.

Gregers.
If you don't think better than that of Hialmar
Ekdal, what pleasure can you find in being ever-
lastingly with him ?

Relling.
Well, you see, I'm supposed to be a sort of
a doctor — save the mark ! I can't but give a hand
to the poor sick folk who live under the same
roof with me.

Gregers.
Oh, indeed ! Hialmar Ekdal is sick too,
is he !

370 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT V.

Relling.
Most people are, worse luck.

Gregers.
And what remedy are you applying in Hialmar's
case ?

Relling.

My usual one. I am cultivating the life-illusion ^
in him.

Gregers.
Life — illusion .^ I didn't catch what you said.

Relling.
Yes, I said illusion. For illusion, you know, is
the stimulating principle.

Gregers.
May I ask with what illusion Hialmar is inocu-
lated ?

Relling.
No, thank you ; I don't betray professional
secrets to quacksalvers. You would probably go
and muddle his case still more than you have
already. But my method is infallible. I have
applied it to Molvik as well. I have made him
"daemonic." That's the blister I have to put on
his neck.

Gregers.
Is he not really daemonic then .''

Relling.
What the devil do you mean by daemonic ! It's
only a piece of gibberish I've invented to keep up
a spark of life in him. Hut for that, the poor

' "Livslognen," literally "the life-lie."

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. 371

harmless creature would have succumbed to self-
contempt and despair many a long year ago. And
then the old lieutenant ! But he has hit upon his
own cure, you see.

GrEGERSj

Lieutenant Ekdal ? What of him }

Relling.
.iust think of the old beai'-hunter shutting him-
self up in that dark garret to shoot rabbits ! I tell
you there is not a happier sportsman in the world
than that old man pottering about in there
among all that rubbish. The four or five withered
Christmas-ti-ees he has saved up are the same to
him as the whole great fresh Hoidal forest ; the
cock and the hens are big game-birds in the fir-
tops ; and the rabbits that flop about the garret
floor are the bears he has to battle with — the
mighty hunter of the mountains !

Gregers.
Poor unfortunate old man ! Yes ; he has in-
deed had to narrow the ideals of his youth.

Relling.
While I think of it, Mr. Werle, junior — don't
use that foreign word : ideals. We have the
excellent native word : lies.

Gregers.
Do you think the two things are related ?

Relling.

Yes, just about as closely as typhus and putrid
fever.

372 THE \vn.n duck. [act v.

Gregers.
Dr. Relling, I shall not give up the struggle
until I have rescued Hialmar from your clutches I

Relling.
So much the worse for him. Rob the average
man of his life-illusion, and you rob him of his
hapj)iness at the same stroke. [To Hedvig, jvko
Coynes in from the sil ling-room.] Well, little wild-
duck mother, I'm just going down to see whether
papa is still lying meditating U]nm that wonderful
invention of his. [Goes out by the passage door.

Gregers.
^Approaches Hedvig.] I can see by your face
that you have not yet done it.

Hedvig.
What } Oh, that about the wild duck! No.

Gregers.
I suppose your courage failed when the time
came.

Hedvig.
No, that wasn't it. But when I awoke this
morning and remembered what we had been
talking about, it seemed so strange.

Gregers.
Strange }

Hedvig.

Yes, I don't know . Yesterday evening, at

the moment, I thought there was something so
delightful about it ; but since I have sk-pt and
thought of it again, it somehow doesn't seem
worth while.

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. 373

Gregers.
Ah, I thought yoii could not have grown up
quite unharmed in this house.

Hedvig.
I don't care about that, if only father would

come up

Gregers.
Oh, if only your eyes had been opened to that
which gives life its value — if you possessed the
true, joyous, fearless spirit of sacrifice, you would
soon see how he would come up to you. — But I
believe in you still, Hedvig.

[He goes out by the passage door.
[Hedvig wanders about the room for a
time ; she is on the point of going into
the kitchen when a knock is heard at the
garret door. Hedvig goes over and
opens it a little ; old Ekdal comes out ;
she pushes the door to again.

Ekdal.
H'm, it's not much fun to take one's morning
walk alone.

Hedvig.
Wouldn't you like to go shooting, grandfather ?

Ekdal.
It's not the weather for it to-day. It's so dark
there, you can scarcely see where you're going.

Hedvig.
Do you never want to shoot anything besides
the rabbits ?

Ekdal.
Do you think the rabbits aren't good enough ?

374 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT V.

Hedvig.
Yes, but what about the wild cluck ?

Ekdal.
Ho-ho ! are you afraid I shall shoot your wild
duck ? Never in the world. Never,

Hedvig.
No, I suppose you couldn't ; they say it's very
difficult to shoot wild ducks.

Ekdal.
Couldn't ! Should rather think I could.

Hedvig.
How would you set about it, grandfather i* — I
don't mean with my wild duck, but with others ?

Ekdal.
I should take care to shoot them in the breast,
you know ; that's the surest place. And then
you must shoot against the feathers, you see — not
the way of the feathers.

Hedvig.
Do they die then, grandfather ?

Ekdal.
Yes, they die right enough — when you shoot
properly. Well, I must go and brush up a bit.
H'm — understand — h'm. [Goes into his room.

[Hedvig waits a little, glances towards the
sitting-room door, goes over to the book-
case, stands on tip-toe, takes the double-
barrelled pistol down from, the shelf, and

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK, 375

looks at it. GiKAftvitk brush and duster,
comes from the sitting- toom. Hedvig
hastili/ lays down the pistol, unobserved.

GiNA.

Don't stand raking amongst father's things,
Hedvig.

Hedvig.

[Goes away from the bookcase.^ I was only going
to tidy up a little,

GiNA.

You'd better go into the kitchen, and see if
the coffee's keeping hot; I'll take his breakfast
on a tray, when I go down to him.

[Hedvig goes oid. Gina begins to sweep
and clean up the studio. Presently the
passage door is opened with hesitation,
and Hialmar Ekdal looks in. He has
on his overcoat, bid not his hat ; he is
unwashed, and his hair is dishevelled and
unkempt. His eyes are dull and heavy.

Gina.

[Standing with the brtcsh in her hand, and looking
at him.] Oh, there now, Ekdal — so you've come
after all ?

Hialmar.

[Comes in and answers in a toneless voice.] I come
— only to depart again immediately.

Gina.
Yes, yes, I suppose so. But, Lord help us I what
a sight you are !

Hialmar.

A sight ?

376 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT V.

GiNA.

And your nice winter coat too ! Well, that's
done for.

Hedvig.

[At the kitchen door.] Mother, hadn't I

better ? [Sees Hialmar, gives a loud scream

(j/' joy, and runs to hi7n.] Oh, father, father I

Hialmar.
[Turns away and makes a gesture oj repulsion.]
Away, away, away ! [To Gina.] Keep her away
from me, I say I

Gina.
[In a low tone.] Go into the sitting-room,
Hedvig. [Hedvig does so without a word.

Hialmar.
[Fussily pulls out the table-drawer.] I must have
my books with me. Where are my books ?

Gina.
Which books ?

Hialmar.
My scientific books, of course; the technical
magazines I require for my invention.

Gina.
[Searches in the bookcase.] Is it these here paper-
covered ones ?

Hialmar.
Yes, of course,

Gina.
[Lays a heap of magazines on the table.] Shan't
I get Hedvig to cut them for you .''

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. 377

HiALMAR.

I don't require to have them cut for me.

[Short silence.

GiNA.

Then you're still set on leaving us, Ekdal ?

HiALMAR.

[Rummaging amongst the hooks.^ Yes, that is a
matter of course, I should think.

GiNA.

Well, well.

HiALMAR.

[Vehemently.^ How can I live here, to be
stabbed to the heart every hour of the day }

GiNA.

God forgive you for thinking such vile things
of me.

HiALMAR,

Prove !

GiNA.

I think it's you as has got to prove.

HiALMAR.

After a past like yours .'' There are certain
claims — I may almost call them claims of the
ideal

GiNA.

But what about grandfather } What's to become
of him, poor dear .''

HiALMAR.

I know my duty ; my helpless father will come
with me. I am going out into the town to make

;}7S THE WILD DUCK. [aCT V.

arrangements , H'm—[fiesitating/ij] has any

one found my hat on the stairs ?

GiNA.

No. Have you lost your hat ?

HiALMAR.

Of course I had it on when I came in last
night ; there's no doubt about that ; but 1 couldn't
find it this morning.

GiNA.

Lord help us! where have you been to with
those two ne'er-do-weels .''

HiALMAR.

Oh, don't bother me about trifles. Do you
suppose I am in the mood to remember details ?

GiNA.

If only you haven't caught cold, Ekdal

[^Goes out into Ihe kitchen.

HiALMAR.

[Talks to him self in a low tone of irritation , whilst
he empties the table-drawer.] You're a scoundrel,
Helling ! — You're a low fellow !— Ah, you shame-
less tempter ! — I wish I could get some one to
stick a knife into you !

[He lays some old letters on one side, finds
the torn document of yesterday, takes it
up and looks at the pieces ; pids it down
huniedly as Gina enters.

GiNA.

[Sets a tray with coffee, etc., on the table.] Here's

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. 379

a drop of something hot, if you'd fancy it. And
there's some bread and butter and a snack of salt
meat.

HiALMAR.

[Glancitig at the tray.] Salt meat ? Never under
this roof! It's true I have not had a mouthful of
solid food for nearly twenty-four hours ; but no
matter. — My memoranda ! The commencement
of my autobiography ! What has become of my
diary, and all my important papers r [Ope?is ike
sitting-room door but draws hack.] She is there too !

GiNA.

Good Lord! the child must be somewhere !

HiALMAR.

Come out.

\He makes room, Hedvig comes, scared,
i?ito the studio.

HiALMAR,

[With his hand tipon the door- handle, says to
GiNA :] In these^ the last moments I spend in
my former home, I wish lo be spared from inter-
lopers [Goes into the room.

Hedvig.
[With a hound towards her mother, asks softly,
tremhling.] Does that mean me }

GiNA.

Sta)' out in the kitchen, Hedvig ; or, no — you'd
best go into your own room. [Speaks to Hialmar
as she goes in to him.] Wait a bit, Ekd^d ; don't
rummage so in the drawers ; / know where every-
thinij is.

3S0 THE WILU DUCK. [aCT V.

Hedvig.

[Stands a moment immovahlc, in terror and per-
pk'diti/, biting her lips to keep hack the tears ; then
she clenches her hands convulsively, and says softly ;]
The wild duck .

[She steals over and takes the pistol from

the shelf , opens the garret door a little nrty,

creeps in, and draivs the door to after her,

[HiALMAR and Gina can be heard disputing

in the sitting-room.

Hialmar.

[Comes in with some manuscript books and old loose
papers, which he lays upo7i the table.] That port-
manteau is of no use ! There are a thousand and
one things I must drag with me.

Gina.

[Following with the portmanteau.] Why not leave
all the rest for the present, and only take a shirt
and a pair of woollen drawers with you .''

Hialmar.

Whew ! — all these exhausting preparations I

[Pulls off his overcoat and throws it upon
the sofa.

Gina.

And there's the coffee getting cold.

Hialmar.
H'm.

[Drinks a mouthful without thinking oj it,
mid then another.

Gina.

[Dusting the backs of the chairs.] A nice job

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. 381

you'll have to find such another big garret for the
rabbits.

HiALMAR.

What ! Am I to drag all those rabbits with me
too?

GiNA.

Ycu don't suppose grandfather can get on with-
out his rabbits.

HiALMAR.

He must just get used to doing without them.
Have not / to sacrifice very much greater things
than rabbits !

GiNA.

\^Dustmg the bookcase.] Shall I put the flute in
the portmanteau for you ?

HiALMAR.

No. No flute for me. But give me the pistol !

GiNA.

Do you want to take the pigstol with you .''

HiALMAR.

Yes. My loaded pistol.

GiNA.

[Searching for il.'\ It's gone. He must have taken
it in with him.

HiALMAR.

Is he in the garret }

GiNA.

Yes, of course he's in the garret.

382 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT V.

HiALMAR.

H'm — poor lonely old man.

[//e takes a piece of bread and butter, eat.s
it, andjinishes his cup of coffee.

GiNA.

If we hadn't have let that room, you could
have moved in there.

HiALMAR.

And continued to live under the same roof
with ! Never, — never I

GiNA.

But couldn't you put up with the sitting-room
for a day or two .'' You could have it all to your-
self.

HiALMAR.

Never within these walls !

GiNA.

Well then, down with Relling and Molvik,

HiALMAR.

Don't mention those wretches' names to me .'
The very thought of them almost takes away my
appetite. — Oh no, I must go out into the storm
and the snow-drift, — go from house to house and
seek shelter for my father and myself

GiNA.

But you've got no hat, Ekdal ! You've been
and lost your hat, you know.

HiALMAR.

Oh those two brutes, those slaves of all the

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. 383

vices ! A hat must be procured. [Takes another
piece of bread and butter.^ Some arrangement must
be made. For I have no mind to throw away my
life, either. [Looks for something on the tray.

GiNA.

What are you looking for }

HiALMAR.

Butter.

GiNA.

I'll get some at once. [Goes oid into the kitchen.

HiALMAR.

[Calls after her.] Oh it doesn't matter; dry
bread is good enough for me.

GiNA.

[Brings a dish of btdter.] Look here ; this is fresh
churned.

[She pours out another cup of coffee for
him ; he seats himself on the sofa, spreads
more butter o« the already buttered bread,
and eats and diinks awhile in silence.

HiALMAR.

Could I, without being subject to intrusion —
intrusion of any sort — could I live in the sitting-
room there for a day or two ?

GiNA.

Yes, to be sure you could, if you only would.

HiALMAR.

For I see no possibility of getting all father's
things out in such a hurry.

384 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT V.

GiNA,

And besides, you've surely got to tell him first
as you don't mean to live with us others no more.

HiALMAR.

[Pushes away his coffee cup.] Yes, there is that
too ; I shall have to lay bare the whole tangled

story to him . I must turn matters over; I

must have breathing-time ; I cannot take all these
burdens on my shoulders in a single day.

GiNA.

No, especially in such horrible weather as it is
outside.

HiALMAR.

[Tonching Werle's letter.] I see that paper is
still lying about here.

GiNA.

Yes, / haven't touched it.

HiALMAR.

So far as I am concerned it is mere waste
paper

GiNA.

Well, / have certainly no notion of making any
use of it.

HiALMAR.

-but we had better not let it get lost all the

same ;— in all the upset when I move, it might

easily

GiNA.

I'll take good care of it, Ekdal.

HiALMAR.

The donation is in the first instance made to

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. 38.5

father, and it rests with him to accept or de-
cline it.

GiNA.

[Sighs.] Yes, poor old father

HiALMAR.

To make quite safe Where shall I find

some gum .''

GiNA.

[Goes to the bookcase ] Here's the gum-pot.

HiALMAR.

And a brush ?

GiNA.

The brush is here too. [Bmig.s him the Ihings.

HiALMAR.

[Takes a pair of scissors."] Just a strip of paper

at the back [Clips and gums.] Far be it from

me to lay hands upon what is not my own — and
least of all upon what belongs to a destitute old
man — and to — the other as well. — There now,
Let it lie there for a time ; and w hen it is dry,
take it away. I wish never to see that document
again. Never !

Gregers Werle enters from the passage.

Gregers.
[Somewhat surprised.] What, — are you sitting
here, Hialmar.''

HiALMAR.

[RLies hurriedly.] I had sunk down from
fatigue.

Gregers.

You have been having breakfast, I see.

386 THE WILD DUCK.

lIlALMAR.

The bod}' sometimes makes its claims felt too.

Gkegers.
VVMiat have you decided to do .''

HiALMAR.

For a man like me, there is only one course pos-
sible. 1 am just putting my most important things
together. But it takes time, you know.

GiNA.

[ fVii/i a touch ofiwpafience.] Am I to get the room
ready for you, or am I to pack your portmanteau ?

HlALMAR.

['ij'ter a glance of amioyancc at Gregers.] Pack
— and get the room ready I

GiNA.

[Takes the portmanteau.^ Very well ; then I'll put
in the shirt and the othei things.

[Goes into the sitting-loom arid draws the
door to after her.

Gregers.
[After a short silence.] 1 never dreamed that this
would be the end of it. Do you really feel it a
necessity to leave house and home .''

HiALMAR.

[Wanders about restlessly.] What would you have
me do .'' — I am not fitted to bear unhappiness,
(iregers. I must feel secure and at peace in my
surroundings.

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. 387

Gregers.
But can you not feel that here ? Just try it I
should have thought you had firm ground to build
upon now — if only you start afresh. And re-
member, you have your invention to live for.

HiALMAR.

Oh don't talk about my invention. It's perhaps
still in the dim distance.

Gregers.
Indeed '

HiALMAR.

Why, great heavens, what would you have me
invent .'' Other pe.»ple have invented almost every-
thing already. It becomes more and more difficult

every day

Gregers.

And you have devoted so much labour to it.

HiALMAR.

It was that blackguard Relling that urged me
to it.

Gregers.
Relling ?

HiALMAR,

Yes, it was he that first made me realise my
aptitude for making some notable discovery in
photography.

Gregers.

Aha — it was Relling !

HiALMAR.

Oh, I have been so truly happy over it ! Not so

388 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT

much for the sake of the invention itself, as
because Hedvig believed in it — believed in it with
a child's whole eagerness of faith. — At least, I have
been fool enough to go and imagine that she
belreved in it.

Gregers.
Can you really think that Hedvig has been
false towards you .''

HiALMAR.

I can think anything now. It is Hedvig that
stands in my way. She will blot out the sunlight
from my whole life.

Gregers.
Hedvig I Is it Hedvig you are talking of .^ How
should she blot out your sunlight.^

HiALMAR.

[Without ansrvering.] How unutterably I have
loved that child I How unutterably happy I have
felt every time I came home to my humble room,
and she flew to meet me, with her sweet little
blinking eyes. Oh, confiding fool that I have been !
I loved her unutterably ; — and I yielded myself up
to the dream, the delusion, that she loved me
unutterably in return.

Gregers.
Do you call that a delusion ?

HiALMAR.

How should I know .'* I can get nothing out of
Gina ; and besides, she is totally blind to the ideal
side of these complications. But to you I feel
impelled to open my mind, Gregers. I cannot

v.] TIIK WILD DUCK. 889

shake off this frightful doubt — perhaps Hedvig
has never really and honestly loved me.

Gregers,
What would you say if she were to give you a
proof of her love ? [Listens.] What's that ? I
thought I heard the wild duck ?

HiALMAR.

It's the wild duck quacking. Father's in the
garret.

Gregers.

Is he .'' [His face lights up with joy.] I say you
may yet have proof that your poor misunderstood
Hedvig loves you !

Hialmar.
Oh, what proof can she give me ? I dare not
believe in any assurances from that quarter.

Gregers.
Hedvig does not know what deceit means.

Hialmar.

Oh Gregers, that is just what I cannot be sure
of. Who knows what Gina and that Mrs. Sorby
may many a time have sat here whispering and
tattling about ? And Hedvig usually has her ears
open, I can tell you. Perhaps the deed of gift
was not such a surprise to her, after all. In fact,
I'm not sure but that I noticed something of the
sort.

Gregers.

What spirit is this that has taken possession of
you }

.'jyO TIIK WII. I) OUCK, [act V.

HiALMAR.

I have had my eyes opened. Just you notice; —
you'll see, the deed of gift is only a beginning.
Mrs. Sorby has always been a good deal taken
up with Hedvig ; and now she has the power to
do whatever she likes for the child. They can
take her from me whenever they please.

Gregers.
Hedvig will never, never leave you.

HiALMAR.

Don't be so sure of that. If only they beckon

to her and throw out a golden bait ! And oh!

I have loved her so unspeakably ! I would have
counted it my highest happiness to take her ten-
derly by the hand and lead her, as one leads a
timid child through a great dark empty room ! —
I am cruelly certain now that the poor photo-
gi-apher in his humble attic has never really and
truly been anything to her. She has only cun-
ningly contrived to keep on a good footing with
him until the time came.

Gregers,
You don't believe that yourself, Hialmar.

HiALMAR.

That is just the terrible part of it — I don't know
what to believe, — I never can know it. But can
you really doubt that it must be as I say ? Ho-ho,
you have far too much faith in the claim of the
ideal, my good Gregers ! If those others came,
with the glamour of wealth about them, and called
to the child : — " Leave him • come to us : here life
awaits you— — ' ''

ACT v.] TIIK WILD DUCK. 3i)\

Gregkrs.
[Quick/y.] Well, what then ?

HiALMAR.

It" I then asked her: Hedvig, are you willing to
renounce that life for me? [Laughs scornfiilli/.]
No thank you ! ^'ou would soon hear what answer
I should get.

[A pistol shot is heard from within the
gairet.

Gregers.
[Loudly and joyfully.^ Hialmar I

HiALMAR.

There now ; he must needs go shooting too.

GiNA.

[Comes iw.] Oh Ekdal, I can hear grandfather
blazing away in the garret by hisself.

Hialmar.

I'll look in

Gregers.
[Eagerly, with emotion. ^\ Wait a moment ' Do you
know what that was }

Hialmar.
Yes, of course I know.

Gregers.
No you don't know. But / do. That was the
proof !

Hialmar.
What proof.*

'J[)2 THE wii-u i)r( K. [act v.

Gregers.
It was a child's free-will offering. She has got
your father to shoot the wild duck.

HiALMAR.

To shoot the wild duck I

GiNA.

Oh, think of that !

HiALMAR.

What was that for ?

Gregers.
She wanted to sacrifice to yoti her most cherished
possession ; for then she thought you would surely
come to love her again.

HiALMAR.

\Tenderly, with emotion J\ Oh, poor child '

Gina.
What things she does think of '

Gregers.
She only wanted your love again, Hialmar. She
could not live without it.

GiNA.

[^li'i'ggfing with her fears.] There, you can see for
yourself, Ekdal.

HiALMAR.

Gina, where is she .''

GiNA.

[Sniff's.l Poor dear, she's sitting out in the
kitchen, I dare say.

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. 3y.'i

HiALMAR.

[Goes over, tears open the kitchen door, and says :]
Hedvig, come, come in to me ! [Looks round.^ No,
she's not here.

GiNA.

Then she must be in her own little room.

HiALMAR.

[Without.'] No, she's not here either. [Comes
in!\ She must have gone out.

GiNA.

Yes, you wouldn't have her anywheres in the
house.

HiALMAR.

Oh, if she would only come home quickly, so

that I can tell her Everything will come

right now, Gregers ; now I believe we can begin
life afresh.

Gregers.

[Qidetly.'] I knew it ; I knew the child would
make amends.

Old Ekdal appears at the door of his room ; he
is in full Jiniform, and is busy buckling on his
sword,

HiALMAR.

[Astonished.] Father ! Are you there }

GiNA.

Have you been firing in your room ?

Ekdal.
[Resentfully, approaching^ So you go shooting
alone, do you, Hialmar }

394 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT V.

HiALMAK.

[Excited and coti fused.] Then it wasn't you
that fired that shot in the garret ?

Ekdai-.
Me that fired? H'm.

Gregers.
[Calls out to HiALMAR.] She has shot the wild
(luck herself!

Hialmar.
What can it mean ? [Hastens to the garret door,
tears it aside, looks in and calls lotidli/:] Hedvig !

GiNA.

[Runs to the door.^ Good God, what's that !

Hialmar.
[Goes in.] She's lying on the floor I

Gregers.
Hedvig ! lying on the floor !

[Goes in to Hialmar,

GiNA.

[At the same time.] Hedvig ! [Inside the garret.]
No, no, no !

Ekdal.
Ho-ho ! does she go shooting too, now ?

[Hialmar, Gina, and Gregers carry
Hedvig into the studio ; in her dangling
right hand she holds the pistol fast
clasped in her fingers.

Hialmar.
[Distracted.] The pistol has gone off". She has
wounded herself. Call for help ! Help '

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. 395

GiNA,

[Runs hilo the passage and calls down.] Relling !
Relling I Doctor Relling ; come up as quick as
you can !

[HiALMAR a7id Gregers lai/ Hedvig doTvn
on the sofa.

Ekdal.
[Quietly.] The woods avenge themselves.

HiALMAR.

[On his knees beside Hedvig.] She'll soon come
to now. She's coming to ; yes, yes, yes.

GiNA.

[ Who has come in again.] Where has she hurt
herself.'' I can't see anything

[Relling comes hurriedly, and immediaiclij
after him Molvik ; the latter without his
waistcoat and necktie, and with his coat
open.

Relling.
What's the matter here }

GiNA.

They say Hedvig has shot herself.

HiALMAR.

Come and help us !

Relling.
Shot herself!

[He pushes the table aside and begins to
examine her.

HiALMAR.

[Kneeling and looking ajixiously up at him.] It

3f)6 TlIK WILD I)l'( K. [act V.

can't be danpjerous ? Speak, Relling ! She is
scarcely bleeding at all. It can't be dangerous?

Relling.
How did it happen ?

HiALMAR.

Oh, we don't know !

GiNA.

She wanted to shoot the wild duck.

Relling.
The wild duck .''

HiALMAR.

The pistol must have gone off".

Relling.
H'm. Indeed.

Ekdal.
The woods avenge themselves. But I'm not
afraid, all the same.

[Goes into the garret and closes the door
after him.

HiALMAR.

Well, Relling, — why don't you saj^ something ?

Relling.
The ball has entered the breast.

HiALMAR.

Yes, but she's coming to !

Relling.
Surely you can see that Hedvig is dead.

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. 397

GiNA.

[Bursts into tears. J Oh my childj my child

Gregers.
[Huskili/.] In the depths of the sea

HiALMAR.

\ Jumps ?//;.] No, no, she must live ! Oh, for
God's sake, Relling — only a moment — only just
till I can tell her how unspeakably I loved her all
the time !

Relling.

The bullet has gone through her heart. Internal
hemorrhage. Death must have been instantaneous.

HiALMAR.

And I I I hunted her from me like an animal !
And she crept terrified into the garret and died
for love of me ! [So/)bi7ig.^ I can never atone to

her ! I can never tell her ! [Clenches his

hands and cries, upwards.] O thou above 1 If

thou be indeed ! Why hast thou done this thing
to me .''

GiNA.

Hush, hush, you mustn't go on that av/ful way.
We had no right to keep her, I suppose.

MoLVIK.

The child is not dead, but sleepeth.

Relling.
Bosh!

HiALMAR.

[Becomes calm, goes over to the sofa, folds his
arms, and looks at Hedvig.] There she lies so stiff
and still.

398 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT V.

Relling.
[Tries lo loosen f he pistol.] She's holding it so
tight, so tight.

GiNA.

No, no, Relling, don't break her fingers ; let
the pigstol be.

HiALMAR,

She shall take it with her.

GiNA.

Yes, let her. But the child mustn't lie here for
a show. She shall go to her own room, so she
shall Help me, Ekdal.

[HiALMAR and GiNA lake Hedvig between
them.

HiALMAR.

[As theij are carrying her.] Oh Gina, Gina, can
vou survive this I

Gina.

We must help each other to bear it. For now
at least she belongs to both of us.

MoLVlK.

[Stretches out his arms and mumbles.] Blessed
l)e the Lord ; to earth thou shalt return ; to earth
thou shalt return

Relling.
[ IVki.spers.] Hold your tongue, you fool ; you're
drunk.

[HiALMAR and Gina carrij the body ant
through the kitchen door. Relling .shuts
it after them. Molvik slinks out into the
passage.

ACT v.] THE WILD DUCK. 399

Relling.
[Goes over to Gregers and xaij.s :] No one shall
ever convince me that the pistol went off by
accident.

Gregers.
[Who has stood leni/ied, with convulsive Iwitchings.]
Who can say how the dreadful thing happened ?

Relling.
The powder has burnt the body of her dress.
She must have pressed the pistol right against
her breast and fired.

Gregers.
Hedvig has not died in vain. Did you not see
how sorrow set free what is noble in him ?

Relling.
Most people are ennobled by the actual presence
of death. But how long do you suppose this
nobility will last in him.^

Gregers.
Why should it not endure and increase through-
out his life .''

Relling.

Before a year is over, little Hedvig will be
nothing to him but a pretty theme for declamation.

Gregers.
How dare you say that of HialmarEkdal ?

Relling.
We will talk of this again, when the grass has
first withered on her grave. Then you'll hear

400 THE WILD DUCK. [aCT V.

luni sp(nitin<j about " the child too early torn from
her father's heart ; " then you'll see him steep
himself in a syrup of sentiment and self-admiration
and self-pity. Just you wait !

Gregers.
If you are right and I am wrong, then life is not
worth living.

Relling.

Oh, life would be quite tolerable, after all, if
only we could be rid of the confounded duns that
', keep on pestering us, in our poverty, with the
( claim of the ideal.

Gregers.
[Looking straight before Am.] In that case, I am
glad that my destiny is what it is.

Relling.
May I inquire, — what is your destiny?

Gregers.
[Going.] To be the thirteenth at table.

Relling.
The devil it is.

the end.

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