DR. STOCKMANN: When did I ever go behind your back, Peter?
PETER STOCKMANN: You have an ingrained tendency to go your own way, Thomas, and that simply can’t go on in a well-organized society. The individual really must subordinate himself to the over-all, or—groping for words, he points to himself—to the authorities who are in charge of the general welfare. He gets up.
DR. STOCKMANN: Well, that’s probably so. But how the hell does that concern me, Peter?
PETER STOCKMANN: My dear Thomas, this is exactly what you will never learn. But you had better watch out because someday you might pay dearly for it. Now I’ve said it. Good-by.
DR. STOCKMANN: Are you out of your mind? You’re absolutely on the wrong track.
PETER STOCKMANN: I am usually not. Anyway, may I be excused? He nods toward the dining room. Good-by, Catherine. Good evening, gentlemen. He leaves.
MRS. STOCKMANN, entering the living room: He left?
DR. STOCKMANN: And burned up!
MRS. STOCKMANN: What did you do to him now?
DR. STOCKMANN: What does he want from me? He can’t expect me to give him an accounting of every move I make, every thought I think, until I am ready to do it.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Why? What should you give him an accounting of?
DR. STOCKMANN, hesitantly: Just leave that to me, Catherine. Peculiar the mailman didn’t come today.
Hovstad, Billing, and Captain Horster have gotten up from the dining-room table and enter the living room. Ejlif and Morten come in a little later, Catherine exits.
BILLING, stretching out his arms: After a meal like that, by God, I feel like a new man. This house is so—
HOVSTAD, cutting him off: The Mayor certainly wasn’t in a glowing mood tonight.
DR. STOCKMANN: It’s his stomach. He has a lousy digestion.
HOVSTAD: I think two editors from the People’s Daily Messenger didn’t help either.
DR. STOCKMANN: No, it’s just that Peter is a lonely man. Poor fellow, all he knows is official business and duties, and then all that damn weak tea that he pours into himself. Catherine, may we have the toddy?
MRS. STOCKMANN, calling from the dining room: I’m just getting it.
DR. STOCKMANN: Sit down here on the couch with me, Captain Horster—a rare guest like you—sit here. Sit down, friends.
HORSTER: This used to be such an ugly house. Suddenly it’s beautiful!
Billing and Hovstad sit down at the right. Mrs. Stockmann brings a tray with pot, glasses, bottles, etc., on it, and puts it on the table behind the couch.
BILLING, to Horster, intimately, indicating Stockmann: Great man!
MRS. STOCKMANN: Here you are. Help yourselves.
DR. STOCKMANN, taking a glass: We sure will. He mixes the toddy. And the cigars, Ejlif—you know where the box is. And Morten, get my pipe. The boys go out to the left. I have a sneaking suspicion that Ejlif is snitching a cigar now and then, but I don’t pay any attention. Catherine, you know where I put it? Oh, he’s got it. Good boys! The boys bring the various things in. Help yourselves, fellows. I’ll stick to the pipe. This one’s gone through plenty of blizzards with me up in the north. Skol! He looks around. Home! What an invention, heh?
The boys sit down on the bench near the windows.
MRS. STOCKMANN, who has sat down and is now knitting: Are you sailing soon, Captain Horster?
HORSTER: I expect to be ready next week.
MRS. STOCKMANN: And then to America, Captain?
HORSTER: Yes, that’s the plan.
BILLING: Oh, then you won’t be home for the new election?
HORSTER: Is there going to be another election?
BILLING: Didn’t you know?
HORSTER: No, I don’t get mixed up in those things.
BILLING: But you are interested in public affairs, aren’t you?
HORSTER: Frankly, I don’t understand a thing about it.
He does, really, although not very much. Captain Horster is one of the longest silent roles in dramatic literature, but he is not to be thought of as characterless therefor. It is not a bad thing to have a courageous, quiet man for a friend, even if it has gone out of fashion.
MRS. STOCKMANN, sympathetically: Neither do I, Captain. Maybe that’s why I’m always so glad to see you.
BILLING: Just the same, you ought to vote, Captain.
HORSTER: Even if I don’t understand anything about it?
BILLING: Understand! What do you mean by that? Society, Captain, is like a ship—every man should do something to help navigate the ship.
HORSTER: That may be all right on shore, but on board a ship it doesn’t work out so well.
Petra in hat and coat and with textbooks and notebooks under her arm comes into the entrance hall. She is Ibsen’s clear-eyed hope for the future—and probably ours. She is forthright, determined, and knows the meaning of work, which to her is the creation of good on the earth.
PETRA, from the hall: Good evening.
DR. STOCKMANN, warmly: Good evening, Petra!
BILLING, to Horster: Great young woman!
There are mutual greetings. Petra removes her coat and hat and places the books on a chair in the entrance hall.
PETRA, entering the living room: And here you are, lying around like lizards while I’m out slaving.
DR. STOCKMANN: Well, you come and be a lizard too. Come here, Petra, sit with me. I look at her and say to myself, “How did I do it?”
Petra goes over to her father and kisses him.
BILLING: Shall I mix a toddy for you?
PETRA, coming up to the table: No, thanks, I had better do it myself—you always mix it too strong. Oh, Father, I forgot—I have a letter for you. She goes to the chair where her books are.
DR. STOCKMANN, alerted: Who’s it from?
PETRA: I met the mailman on the way to school this morning and he gave me your mail too, and I just didn’t have time to run back.
DR. STOCKMANN, getting up and walking toward her: And you don’t give it to me until now!
PETRA: I really didn’t have time to run back, Father.
MRS. STOCKMANN: If she didn’t have time . . .
DR. STOCKMANN: Let’s see it—come on, child! He takes the letter and looks at the envelope. Yes, indeed.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Is that the one you’ve been waiting for?
DR. STOCKMANN: I’ll be right back. There wouldn’t be a light on in my room, would there?
MRS. STOCKMANN: The lamp is on the desk, burning away.
DR. STOCKMANN: Please excuse me for a moment. He goes into his study and quickly returns. Mrs. Stockmann hands him his glasses. He goes out again.
PETRA: What is that, Mother?
MRS. STOCKMANN: I don’t know. The last couple of days he’s been asking again and again about the mailman.
BILLING: Probably an out-of-town patient of his.
PETRA: Poor Father, he’s got much too much to do. She mixes her drink. This ought to taste good.
HOVSTAD: By the way, what happened to that English novel you were going to translate for us?
PETRA: I started it, but I’ve gotten so busy—
HOVSTAD: Oh, teaching evening school again?
PETRA: Two hours a night.
BILLING: Plus the high school every day?
PETRA, sitting down on the couch: Yes, five hours, and every night a pile of lessons to correct!
MRS. STOCKMANN: She never stops going.
HOVSTAD: Maybe that’s why I always think of you as kind of breathless and—well, breathless.
PETRA: I love it. I get so wonderfully tired.
BILLING, to Horster: She looks tired.
MORTEN: You must be a wicked woman, Petra.
PETRA, laughing: Wicked?
MORTEN: You work so much. My teacher says t
hat work is a punishment for our sins.
EJLIF: And you believe that?
MRS. STOCKMANN: Ejlif! Of course he believes his teacher!
BILLING, smiling: Don’t stop him . . .
HOVSTAD: Don’t you like to work, Morten?
MORTEN: Work? No.
HOVSTAD: Then what will you ever amount to in this world?
MORTEN: Me? I’m going to be a Viking.
EJLIF: You can’t! You’d have to be a heathen!
MORTEN: So I’ll be a heathen.
MRS. STOCKMANN: I think it’s getting late, boys.
BILLING: I agree with you, Morten. I think—
MRS. STOCKMANN, making signs to Billing: You certainly don’t, Mr. Billing.
BILLING: Yes, by God, I do. I am a real heathen and proud of it. You’ll see, pretty soon we’re all going to be heathens!
MORTEN: And then we can do anything we want!
BILLING: Right! You see, Morten—
MRS. STOCKMANN, interrupting: Don’t you have any homework for tomorrow, boys? Better go in and do it.
EJLIF: Oh, can’t we stay in here awhile?
MRS. STOCKMANN: No, neither of you. Now run along.
The boys say good night and go off at the left.
HOVSTAD: You really think it hurts them to listen to such talk?
MRS. STOCKMANN: I don’t know, but I don’t like it.
Dr. Stockmann enters from his study, an open letter in his hand. He is like a sleepwalker, astonished, engrossed. He walks toward the front door.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Tom!
He turns, suddenly aware of them.
DR. STOCKMANN: Boys, there is going to be news in this town!
BILLING: News?
MRS. STOCKMANN: What kind of news?
DR. STOCKMANN: A terrific discovery, Catherine.
HOVSTAD: Really?
MRS. STOCKMANN: That you made?
DR. STOCKMANN: That I made. He walks back and forth. Now let the baboons running this town call me a lunatic! Now they’d better watch out. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!
PETRA: What is it, Father?
DR. STOCKMANN: Oh, if Peter were only here! Now you’ll see how human beings can walk around and make judgments like blind rats.
HOVSTAD: What in the world’s happened, Doctor?
DR. STOCKMANN, stopping at the table: It’s the general opinion, isn’t it, that our town is a sound and healthy spot?
HOVSTAD: Of course.
MRS. STOCKMANN: What happened?
DR. STOCKMANN: Even a rather unusually healthy spot! Oh, God, a place that can be recommended not only to all people but to sick people!
MRS. STOCKMANN: But, Tom, what are you—
DR. STOCKMANN: And we certainly have recommended it. I myself have written and written, in the People’s Messenger, pamphlets—
HOVSTAD: Yes, yes, but—
DR. STOCKMANN: The miraculous springs that cost such a fortune to build, the whole Health Institute, is a pesthole!
PETRA: Father! The springs?
MRS. STOCKMANN, simultaneously: Our springs?
BILLING: That’s unbelievable!
DR. STOCKMANN: You know the filth up in Windmill Valley? That stuff that has such a stinking smell? It comes down from the tannery up there, and the same damn poisonous mess comes right out into the blessed, miraculous water we’re supposed to cure people with!
HORSTER: You mean actually where our beaches are?
DR. STOCKMANN: Exactly.
HOVSTAD: How are you so sure about this, Doctor?
DR. STOCKMANN: I had a suspicion about it a long time ago—last year there were too many sick cases among the visitors, typhoid and gastric disturbances.
MRS. STOCKMANN: That did happen. I remember Mrs. Svensen’s niece—
DR. STOCKMANN: Yes, dear. At the time we thought that the visitors brought the bug, but later this winter I got a new idea and I started investigating the water.
MRS. STOCKMANN: So that’s what you’ve been working on!
DR. STOCKMANN: I sent samples of the water to the University for an exact chemical analysis.
HOVSTAD: And that’s what you have just received?
DR. STOCKMANN, waving the letter again: This is it. It proves the existence of infectious organic matter in the water.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Well, thank God you discovered it in time.
DR. STOCKMANN: I think we can say that, Catherine.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Isn’t it wonderful!
HOVSTAD: And what do you intend to do now, Doctor?
DR. STOCKMANN: Put the thing right, of course.
HOVSTAD: Do you think that can be done?
DR. STOCKMANN: Maybe. If not, the whole Institute is useless. But there’s nothing to worry about—I am quite clear on what has to be done.
MRS. STOCKMANN: But, Tom, why did you keep it so secret?
DR. STOCKMANN: What did you want me to do? Go out and shoot my mouth off before I really knew? He walks around, rubbing his hands. You don’t realize what this means, Catherine—the whole water system has got to be changed.
MRS. STOCKMANN: The whole water system?
DR. STOCKMANN: The whole water system. The intake is too low, it’s got to be raised to a much higher spot. The whole construction’s got to be ripped out!
PETRA: Well, Father, at last you can prove they should have listened to you!
DR. STOCKMANN: Ha, she remembers!
MRS. STOCKMANN: That’s right, you did warn them—
DR. STOCKMANN: Of course I warned them. When they started the damned thing I told them not to build it down there! But who am I, a mere scientist, to tell politicians where to build a health institute! Well, now they’re going to get it, both barrels!
BILLING: This is tremendous! To Horster: He’s a great man!
DR. STOCKMANN: It’s bigger than tremendous. He starts toward his study. Wait’ll they see this! He stops. Petra, my report is on my desk . . . Petra goes into his study. An envelope, Catherine! She goes for it. Gentlemen, this final proof from the University—Petra comes out with the report, which he takes—and my report—he flicks the pages—five solid, explosive pages . . .
MRS. STOCKMANN, handing him an envelope: Is this big enough?
DR. STOCKMANN: Fine. Right to the Board of Directors! He inserts the report, seals the envelope, and hands it to Catherine. Will you give this to the maid— What’s her name again?
MRS. STOCKMANN: Randine, dear, Randine.
DR. STOCKMANN: Tell our darling Randine to wipe her nose and run over to the Mayor right now.
Mrs. Stockmann just stands there looking at him.
DR. STOCKMANN: What’s the matter, dear?
MRS. STOCKMANN: I don’t know . . .
PETRA: What’s Uncle Peter going to say about this?
MRS. STOCKMANN: That’s what I’m wondering.
DR. STOCKMANN: What can he say! He ought to be damn glad that such an important fact is brought out before we start an epidemic! Hurry, dear!
Catherine exits at the left.
HOVSTAD: I would like to put a brief item about this discovery in the Messenger.
DR. STOCKMANN: Go ahead. I’d really be grateful for that now.
HOVSTAD: Because the public ought to know soon.
DR. STOCKMANN: Right away.
BILLING: By God, you’ll be the leading man in this town, Doctor.
DR. STOCKMANN, walking around with an air of satisfaction: Oh, there was nothing to it. Every detective gets a lucky break once in his life. But just the same I—
BILLING: Hovstad, don’t you think the town ought to pay Dr. Stockmann some tribute?
DR. STOCKMANN: Oh, no, no . . .
HOVSTAD: Sure, let’s all put in a word for—
; BILLING: I’ll talk to Aslaksen about it!
Catherine enters.
DR. STOCKMANN: No, no, fellows, no fooling around! I won’t put up with any commotion. Even if the Board of Directors wants to give me an increase I won’t take it—I just won’t take it, Catherine.
MRS. STOCKMANN, dutifully: That’s right, Tom.
PETRA, lifting her glass: Skol, Father!
EVERYBODY: Skol, Doctor!
HORSTER: Doctor, I hope this will bring you great honor and pleasure.
DR. STOCKMANN: Thanks, friends, thanks. There’s one blessing above all others. To have earned the respect of one’s neighbors is—is— Catherine, I’m going to dance!
He grabs his wife and whirls her around. There are shouts and struggles, general commotion. The boys in nightgowns stick their heads through the doorway at the right, wondering what is going on. Mrs. Stockmann, seeing them, breaks away and chases them upstairs as
THE CURTAIN FALLS.
SCENE II
Dr. Stockmann’s living room the following morning. As the curtain rises, Mrs. Stockmann comes in from the dining room, a sealed letter in her hand. She goes to the study door and peeks in.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Are you there, Tom?
DR. STOCKMANN, from within: I just got in. He enters the living room. What’s up?
MRS. STOCKMANN: From Peter. It just came. She hands him the envelope.
DR. STOCKMANN: Oh, let’s see. He opens the letter and reads: “I am returning herewith the report you submitted . . .” He continues to read, mumbling to himself.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Well, what does he say? Don’t stand there!
DR. STOCKMANN, putting the letter in his pocket: He just says he’ll come around this afternoon.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Oh. Well, maybe you ought to try to remember to be home then.
DR. STOCKMANN: Oh, I sure will. I’m through with my morning visits anyway.
MRS. STOCKMANN: I’m dying to see how he’s going to take it.
DR. STOCKMANN: Why, is there any doubt? He’ll probably make it look like he made the discovery, not I.
MRS. STOCKMANN: But aren’t you a little bit afraid of that?
DR. STOCKMANN: Oh, underneath he’ll be happy, Catherine. It’s just that Peter is so afraid that somebody else is going to do something good for this town.
The Penguin Arthur Miller Page 30