A CITIZEN: You don’t like anything about this town, do you?
ANOTHER CITIZEN: Admit it, you’re a revolutionist, aren’t you? Admit it!
DR. STOCKMANN: I don’t admit it! I proclaim it now! I am a revolutionist! I am in revolt against the age-old lie that the majority is always right!
HOVSTAD: He’s an aristocrat all of a sudden!
DR. STOCKMANN: And more! I tell you now that the majority is always wrong, and in this way!
PETER STOCKMANN: Have you lost your mind! Stop talking before—
DR. STOCKMANN: Was the majority right when they stood by while Jesus was crucified? Silence. Was the majority right when they refused to believe that the earth moved around the sun and let Galileo be driven to his knees like a dog? It takes fifty years for the majority to be right. The majority is never right until it does right.
HOVSTAD: I want to state right now, that although I’ve been this man’s friend, and I’ve eaten at his table many times, I now cut myself off from him absolutely.
DR. STOCKMANN: Answer me this! Please, one more moment! A platoon of soldiers is walking down a road toward the enemy. Every one of them is convinced he is on the right road, the safe road. But two miles ahead stands one lonely man, the outpost. He sees that this road is dangerous, that his comrades are walking into a trap. He runs back, he finds the platoon. Isn’t it clear that this man must have the right to warn the majority, to argue with the majority, to fight with the majority if he believes he has the truth? Before many can know something, one must know it! His passion has silenced the crowd. It’s always the same. Rights are sacred until it hurts for somebody to use them. I beg you now—I realize the cost is great, the inconvenience is great, the risk is great that other towns will get the jump on us while we’re rebuilding—
PETER STOCKMANN: Aslaksen, he’s not allowed to—
DR. STOCKMANN: Let me prove it to you! The water is poisoned!
THIRD CITIZEN, steps up on the platform, waves his fist in Dr. Stockmann’s face: One more word about poison and I’m gonna take you outside!
The crowd is roaring; some try to charge the platform. The horn is blowing. Aslaksen rings his bell. Peter Stockmann steps forward, raising his hands. Kiil quietly exits.
PETER STOCKMANN: That’s enough. Now stop it! Quiet! There is not going to be any violence here! There is silence. He turns to Dr. Stockmann. Doctor, come down and give Mr. Aslaksen the platform.
DR. STOCKMANN, staring down at the crowd with new eyes: I’m not through yet.
PETER STOCKMANN: Come down or I will not be responsible for what happens.
MRS. STOCKMANN: I’d like to go home. Come on, Tom.
PETER STOCKMANN: I move the chairman order the speaker to leave the platform.
VOICES: Sit down! Get off that platform!
DR. STOCKMANN: All right. Then I’ll take this to out-of-town newspapers until the whole country is warned!
PETER STOCKMANN: You wouldn’t dare!
HOVSTAD: You’re trying to ruin this town—that’s all; trying to ruin it.
DR. STOCKMANN: You’re trying to build a town on a morality so rotten that it will infect the country and the world! If the only way you can prosper is this murder of freedom and truth, then I say with all my heart, “Let it be destroyed! Let the people perish!”
He leaves the platform.
FIRST CITIZEN, to the Mayor: Arrest him! Arrest him!
SECOND CITIZEN: He’s a traitor!
Cries of “Enemy! Traitor! Revolution!”
ASLAKSEN, ringing for quiet: I would like to submit the following resolution: The people assembled here tonight, decent and patriotic citizens, in defense of their town and their country, declare that Doctor Stockmann, medical officer of Kirsten Springs, is an enemy of the people and of his community.
An uproar of assent starts.
MRS. STOCKMANN, getting up: That’s not true! He loves this town!
DR. STOCKMANN: You damned fools, you fools!
The Doctor and his family are all standing together, at the right, in a close group.
ASLAKSEN, shouting over the din: Is there anyone against this motion! Anyone against!
HORSTER, raising his hand: I am.
ASLAKSEN: One? He looks around.
DRUNK, who has returned, raising his hand: Me too! You can’t do without a doctor! Anybody’ll . . . tell you . . .
ASLAKSEN: Anyone else? With all votes against two, this assembly formally declares Doctor Thomas Stockmann to be the people’s enemy. In the future, all dealings with him by decent, patriotic citizens will be on that basis. The meeting is adjourned.
Shouts and applause. People start leaving. Dr. Stockmann goes over to Horster.
DR. STOCKMANN: Captain, do you have room for us on your ship to America?
HORSTER: Any time you say, Doctor.
DR. STOCKMANN: Catherine? Petra?
The three start for the door, but a gantlet has formed, dangerous and silent, except for
THIRD CITIZEN: You’d better get aboard soon, Doctor!
MRS. STOCKMANN: Let’s go out the back door.
HORSTER: Right this way.
DR. STOCKMANN: No, no. No back doors. To the crowd: I don’t want to mislead anybody—the enemy of the people is not finished in this town—not quite yet. And if anybody thinks—
The horn blasts, cutting him off. The crowd starts yelling hysterically: “Enemy! Traitor! Throw him in the river! Come on, throw him in the river! Enemy! Enemy! Enemy!” The Stockmanns, erect, move out through the crowd, with Horster. Some of the crowd follow them out, yelling.
Downstage, watching, are Peter Stockmann, Billing, Aslaksen, and Hovstad. The stage is throbbing with the chant, “Enemy, Enemy, Enemy!” as
THE CURTAIN FALLS.
ACT THREE
Dr. Stockmann’s living room the following morning. The windows are broken. There is great disorder. As the curtain rises, Dr. Stockmann enters, a robe over shirt and trousers—it’s cold in the house. He picks up a stone from the floor, lays it on the table.
DR. STOCKMANN: Catherine! Tell what’s-her-name there are still some rocks to pick up in here.
MRS. STOCKMANN, from inside: She’s not finished sweeping up the glass.
As Dr. Stockmann bends down to get at another stone under a chair a rock comes through one of the last remaining panes. He rushes to the window, looks out. Mrs. Stockmann rushes in.
MRS. STOCKMANN, frightened: You all right?
DR. STOCKMANN, looking out: A little boy. Look at him run! He picks up the stone. How fast the poison spreads—even to the children!
MRS. STOCKMANN, looking out the window: It’s hard to believe this is the same town.
DR. STOCKMANN, adding this rock to the pile on the table: I’m going to keep these like sacred relics. I’ll put them in my will. I want the boys to have them in their homes to look at every day. He shudders. Cold in here. Why hasn’t what’s-her-name got the glazier here?
MRS. STOCKMANN: She’s getting him . . .
DR. STOCKMANN: She’s been getting him for two hours! We’ll freeze to death in here.
MRS. STOCKMANN, unwillingly: He won’t come here, Tom.
DR. STOCKMANN, stops moving: No! The glazier’s afraid to fix my windows?
MRS. STOCKMANN: You don’t realize—people don’t like to be pointed out. He’s got neighbors, I suppose, and— She hears something. Is that someone at the door, Randine?
She goes to front door. He continues picking up stones. She comes back.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Letter for you.
DR. STOCKMANN, taking and opening it: What’s this now?
MRS. STOCKMANN, continuing his pick-up for him: I don’t know how we’re going to do any shopping with everybody ready to bite my head off and—
DR. STOCKMANN: Well, what do you know? We’re e
victed.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Oh, no!
DR. STOCKMANN: He hates to do it, but with public opinion what it is . . .
MRS. STOCKMANN, frightened: Maybe we shouldn’t have let the boys go to school today.
DR. STOCKMANN: Now don’t get all frazzled again.
MRS. STOCKMANN: But the landlord is such a nice man. If he’s got to throw us out, the town must be ready to murder us!
DR. STOCKMANN: Just calm down, will you? We’ll go to America, and the whole thing’ll be like a dream.
MRS. STOCKMANN: But I don’t want to go to America— She notices his pants. When did this get torn?
DR. STOCKMANN, examining the tear: Must’ve been last night.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Your best pants!
DR. STOCKMANN: Well, it just shows you, that’s all—when a man goes out to fight for the truth he should never wear his best pants. He calms her. Stop worrying, will you? You’ll sew them up, and in no time at all we’ll be three thousand miles away.
MRS. STOCKMANN: But how do you know it’ll be any different there?
DR. STOCKMANN: I don’t know. It just seems to me, in a big country like that, the spirit must be bigger. Still, I suppose they must have the solid majority there too. I don’t know, at least there must be more room to hide there.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Think about it more, will you? I’d hate to go half around the world and find out we’re in the same place.
DR. STOCKMANN: You know, Catherine, I don’t think I’m ever going to forget the face of that crowd last night.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Don’t think about it.
DR. STOCKMANN: Some of them had their teeth bared, like animals in a pack. And who leads them? Men who call themselves liberals! Radicals! She starts looking around at the furniture, figuring. The crowd lets out one roar, and where are they, my liberal friends? I bet if I walked down the street now not one of them would admit he ever met me! Are you listening to me?
MRS. STOCKMANN: I was just wondering what we’ll ever do with this furniture if we go to America.
DR. STOCKMANN: Don’t you ever listen when I talk, dear?
MRS. STOCKMANN: Why must I listen? I know you’re right.
Petra enters.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Petra! Why aren’t you in school?
DR. STOCKMANN: What’s the matter?
PETRA, with deep emotion, looks at Dr. Stockmann, goes up and kisses him: I’m fired.
MRS. STOCKMANN: They wouldn’t!
PETRA: As of two weeks from now. But I couldn’t bear to stay there.
DR. STOCKMANN, shocked: Mrs. Busk fired you?
MRS. STOCKMANN: Who’d ever imagine she could do such a thing!
PETRA: It hurt her. I could see it, because we’ve always agreed so about things. But she didn’t dare do anything else.
DR. STOCKMANN: The glazier doesn’t dare fix the windows, the landlord doesn’t dare let us stay on—
PETRA: The landlord!
DR. STOCKMANN: Evicted, darling! Oh, God, on the wreckage of all the civilizations in the world there ought to be a big sign: “They Didn’t Dare!”
PETRA: I really can’t blame her, Father. She showed me three letters she got this morning—
DR. STOCKMANN: From whom?
PETRA: They weren’t signed.
DR. STOCKMANN: Oh, naturally. The big patriots with their anonymous indignation, scrawling out the darkness of their minds onto dirty little slips of paper—that’s morality, and I’m the traitor! What did the letters say?
PETRA: Well, one of them was from somebody who said that he’d heard at the club that somebody who visits this house said that I had radical opinions about certain things.
DR. STOCKMANN: Oh, wonderful! Somebody heard that somebody heard that she heard, that he heard . . . ! Catherine, pack as soon as you can. I feel as though vermin were crawling all over me.
Horster enters.
HORSTER: Good morning.
DR. STOCKMANN: Captain! You’re just the man I want to see.
HORSTER: I thought I’d see how you all were.
MRS. STOCKMANN: That’s awfully nice of you, Captain, and I want to thank you for seeing us through the crowd last night.
PETRA: Did you get home all right? We hated to leave you alone with that mob.
HORSTER: Oh, nothing to it. In a storm there’s just one thing to remember: it will pass.
DR. STOCKMANN: Unless it kills you.
HORSTER: You mustn’t let yourself get too bitter.
DR. STOCKMANN: I’m trying, I’m trying. But I don’t guarantee how I’ll feel when I try to walk down the street with “Traitor” branded on my forehead.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Don’t think about it.
HORSTER: Ah, what’s a word?
DR. STOCKMANN: A word can be like a needle sticking in your heart, Captain. It can dig and corrode like an acid, until you become what they want you to be—really an enemy of the people.
HORSTER: You mustn’t ever let that happen, Doctor.
DR. STOCKMANN: Frankly, I don’t give a damn any more. Let summer come, let an epidemic break out, then they’ll know whom they drove into exile. When are you sailing?
PETRA: You really decided to go, Father?
DR. STOCKMANN: Absolutely. When do you sail, Captain?
HORSTER: That’s really what I came to talk to you about.
DR. STOCKMANN: Why? Something happen to the ship?
MRS. STOCKMANN, happily, to Dr. Stockmann: You see! We can’t go!
HORSTER: No, the ship will sail. But I won’t be aboard.
DR. STOCKMANN: No!
PETRA: You fired too? ’Cause I was this morning.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Oh, Captain, you shouldn’t have given us your house.
HORSTER: Oh, I’ll get another ship. It’s just that the owner, Mr. Vik, happens to belong to the same party as the Mayor, and I suppose when you belong to a party, and the party takes a certain position . . . Because Mr. Vik himself is a very decent man.
DR. STOCKMANN: Oh, they’re all decent men!
HORSTER: No, really, he’s not like the others.
DR. STOCKMANN: He doesn’t have to be. A party is like a sausage grinder: it mashes up clearheads, longheads, fatheads, blockheads—and what comes out? Meatheads!
There is a knock on the hall door. Petra goes to answer.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Maybe that’s the glazier!
DR. STOCKMANN: Imagine, Captain! He points to the window. Refused to come all morning!
Peter Stockmann enters, his hat in his hand. Silence.
PETER STOCKMANN: If you’re busy . . .
DR. STOCKMANN: Just picking up broken glass. Come in, Peter. What can I do for you this fine, brisk morning? He demonstratively pulls his robe tighter around his throat.
MRS. STOCKMANN: Come inside, won’t you, Captain?
HORSTER: Yes, I’d like to finish our talk, Doctor.
DR. STOCKMANN: Be with you in a minute, Captain.
Horster follows Petra and Catherine out through the dining-room doorway. Peter Stockmann says nothing, looking at the damage.
DR. STOCKMANN: Keep your hat on if you like, it’s a little drafty in here today.
PETER STOCKMANN: Thanks, I believe I will. He puts his hat on. I think I caught cold last night—that house was freezing.
DR. STOCKMANN: I thought it was kind of warm—suffocating, as a matter of fact. What do you want?
PETER STOCKMANN: May I sit down? He indicates a chair near the window.
DR. STOCKMANN: Not there. A piece of the solid majority is liable to open your skull. Here.
They sit on the couch. Peter Stockmann takes out a large envelope.
DR. STOCKMANN: Now don’t tell me.
PETER STOCKMANN: Yes. He hands the Doctor the envelope.
DR. STO
CKMANN: I’m fired.
PETER STOCKMANN: The Board met this morning. There was nothing else to do, considering the state of public opinion.
DR. STOCKMANN, after a pause: You look scared, Peter.
PETER STOCKMANN: I—I haven’t completely forgotten that you’re still my brother.
DR. STOCKMANN: I doubt that.
PETER STOCKMANN: You have no practice left in this town, Thomas.
DR. STOCKMANN: Oh, people always need a doctor.
PETER STOCKMANN: A petition is going from house to house. Everybody is signing it. A pledge not to call you any more. I don’t think a single family will dare refuse to sign it.
DR. STOCKMANN: You started that, didn’t you?
PETER STOCKMANN: No. As a matter of fact, I think it’s all gone a little too far. I never wanted to see you ruined, Thomas. This will ruin you.
DR. STOCKMANN: No, it won’t.
PETER STOCKMANN: For once in your life, will you act like a responsible man?
DR. STOCKMANN: Why don’t you say it, Peter? You’re afraid I’m going out of town to start publishing about the springs, aren’t you?
PETER STOCKMANN: I don’t deny that. Thomas, if you really have the good of the town at heart, you can accomplish everything without damaging anybody, including yourself.
DR. STOCKMANN: What’s this now?
PETER STOCKMANN: Let me have a signed statement saying that in your zeal to help the town you went overboard and exaggerated. Put it any way you like, just so you calm anybody who might feel nervous about the water. If you’ll give me that, you’ve got your job. And I give you my word, you can gradually make all the improvements you feel are necessary. Now, that gives you what you want . . .
DR. STOCKMANN: You’re nervous, Peter.
PETER STOCKMANN, nervously: I am not nervous!
DR. STOCKMANN: You expect me to remain in charge while people are being poisoned? He gets up.
PETER STOCKMANN: In time you can make your changes.
DR. STOCKMANN: When, five years, ten years? You know your trouble, Peter? You just don’t grasp—even now—that there are certain men you can’t buy.
The Penguin Arthur Miller Page 35