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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 HSNRIK IB SEN'S PLATS 
 
 LITTLE EYOLF 
 
 Translated from the Norwegian by WILLIAM ARCHER. 
 Small \to, cloth, with Portrait, $s. 
 
 THE MASTER BUILDER 
 
 Translated from the Nonvegian by EDMUND GOSSE and 
 WILLIAM ARCHER. Small 4 to, with Portrait, $s- 
 Popular Edition, paper, is. 
 *** Also a limited Large Paper Edition. Price 21s. net. 
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 
 
 Translated frotn the Nonvegian by EDMUND GOSSE. 
 Small ^to, cloth, with Portrait, 5s. Vaudeville Edition, 
 paper, is. 
 
 *»* Also a limited Large Paper Edition Price 21s. net. 
 
 BRAND 
 
 Translated in the Original Metres, with an Introduction and 
 Notes, by C. H. HER FORD. Small 4 to, cloth, 7 s. dd. 
 
 THE LIFE OF HENRIK IBSEN 
 
 By HENRIK JsECER. Translated by CLARA BELL. 
 With the Verse done into English from the Nonvegian Original 
 by EDMUND GOSSE. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 A COMMENTARY ON THE WORKS OF HENRIK 
 IBSEN. By HJA L MA R HJOR TH BO J 'ESEN, A uthor 
 0/ " Goethe and Schiller," "Essays on German Literature," 
 &C. Crown Svo, cloth, ys 6d. net. 
 
 LONDON: WILLI AM HEINEMANN
 
 THE 
 
 POCKET IBSEN 
 
 A COLLECTION OF SOME OF THE MASTER'S 
 BEST-KNOWN DRAMAS 
 
 CONDENSED, REVISED, AND SLIGHTLY 
 
 RE-ARRANGED FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE 
 
 EARNEST STUDENT 
 
 BY 
 
 F. ANSTEY 
 
 AUTHOR OF "VICE VERSA," "VOCES POPULI," ETC. 
 
 WITH 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY BERNARD PARTRIDGE 
 
 NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION 
 
 LONDON 
 WILLIAM HEINEMANN 
 
 1895 
 
 \_All rights reserved]
 
 First Edition, May iSgj
 
 ?R 
 
 in ax 
 
 ERRATA 
 
 For "Rosmersholm" read " Rosmersholm " 
 
 P. 143, 1. 9, for "My father's sight failing !" read 
 " Old Werle's sight failing ! " 
 
 1 626001
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 "Pill- Doctor Herdal" is, as the observant reader 
 will instantly perceive, rather a reverent attempt to tread 
 in the footprints of the {Norwegian dramatist, than a 
 version of any actually existing masterpiece. The author 
 is conscious that his imitation is painfully lacking in the 
 mysterious obscurity of the original, that the vein of alle- 
 gorical symbolism is thinner throughout than it should be, 
 and that the characters are not nearly so mad as persons 
 invariably are in real life — but these are the faults inevit- 
 able to a 'prentice hand, and he trusts that due allowances 
 may be made for them by the critical. 
 
 In conclusion he wishes to express his acknowledgments 
 to {Messrs. Bradbury and dgnew for their permission 
 to reprint the present volume, the contents of which tnade 
 their original appearance in the pages of" Punch."
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ROSMERSHOLM 
 
 I 
 
 nora; or, the bird-cage 
 
 • 35 
 
 HEDDA GABLER .... 
 
 • 79 
 
 THE WILD DUCK .... 
 
 • 125 
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 
 
 • 155 
 
 LITTLE MOPSKMAN .... 
 
 . 211
 
 ROSMERSHOLM 
 
 A
 
 R O S M E R S H O L M 
 
 ACT FIRST 
 
 Sitting-room at Rosmersholm, with a stove, flower- 
 stand, windoios, ancient and modem ancestors, 
 doors, and everything handsome about it. Rebecca 
 West is sitting knitting a large antimacassar 
 which is nearly finished. Noiv and then she looks 
 out of a window, and smiles and nods expectantly 
 to someone outside. Madam Helseth is laying 
 the table for supper. 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 [Folding up her work slowly '.] But tell me precisely, 
 what about this white horse ? [Smiling quietly.
 
 4 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Madam Helseth. 
 Lord forgive you, Miss ! — [fetching cruet-stand, and 
 placing it on table'] — but you're making fun of me ! 
 
 Rebecca. 
 [Gravel i/.] No, indeed. Nobody makes fun at 
 Rosmersholm. Mr. Rosin er would not understand it. 
 [Shutting window.] Ah, here is Rector Kroll. 
 [Opening door.] You will stay to supper, will you not, 
 Rector, and I will tell them to give us some little 
 extra dish. 
 
 Kroll. 
 
 [Hanging up his hat in the hall.] Many thanks. 
 [Wipes his boots.] May I come in? [Comes in, p>uts 
 down his stick, sits doivn, and looks about him.] And 
 how do you and Rosmer get on together, eh ? 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 Ever since your sister, Beata, went mad and 
 jumped into the mill-race, we have been as happy as
 
 ROSMERSHOLM 5 
 
 two little birds together. [After a paxise, sitting dovm 
 in arm-chair.] So you don t really mind my living 
 here all alone with Rosmer ? We were afraid you 
 might, perhaps. 
 
 Kroll. 
 Why, how on earth— on the contrary, I shouldn't 
 object at all if you — [looks at her meaningly] — h'm ! 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 [Interrupting, gravel)/.] For shame, Rector; how 
 can you make such jokes ? 
 
 Kroll. 
 
 [As if surprised.] Jokes ! We do not joke in these 
 parts — but here is Rosmer. 
 
 [Enter Rosmer, gently and sojtly. 
 
 Rosmer. 
 So, my dear old friend, you have come again, after 
 a year's absence. [Sits dovm.] We almost thought 
 that
 
 6 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 KllOLL. 
 
 [Nods.] So Miss West was saying — but you are 
 quite mistaken. I merely thought I might remind 
 you, if I came, of our poor Beata's suicide, so I 
 kept away. We Norwegians are not without our 
 simple tact. 
 
 RoSMER. 
 
 It was considerate — but unnecessary. Reb — I 
 
 mean, Miss West — and I often allude to the incident, 
 
 do we not ? 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 [Strikes TdndsticJcor.] Oh yes, indeed. [Lighting 
 lamj).] Whenever we feel a little more cheerful 
 than usual. 
 
 Kroll. 
 
 You dear good people ! [II 'anders up the room.] I 
 came because the Spirit of Revolt has crept into my 
 School. A Secret Society has existed for weeks in 
 the Lower Third ! To-day it has come to my know- 
 ledge that a booby trap was prepared for me by the
 
 ROSMERSHOLM 7 
 
 hand of my own son, Laurits, and I then discovered 
 that a hair had been inserted in my cane by my 
 daughter Hilda ! The only way in which a right- 
 minded Schoolmaster can combat this anarchic and 
 subversive spirit is to start a newspaper, and I 
 thought that you, as a weak, credulous, inexperienced 
 and impressionable kind of man, were the very person 
 to be the Editor. 
 
 [Rebecca laughs softly, as if to herself. 
 Rosmer jumps top and sits down again. 
 
 Rebecca. 
 [With a look at Rosmer.] Tell him now ! 
 
 ROSMER. 
 
 [Returning the look.] I can't — Some other evening. 
 
 Well, perhaps [To Kroll.] I can't be your 
 
 Editor — because [in a low voice] I — I am on 
 the side of Laurits and Hilda ! 
 
 Kroll. 
 
 [Looks from one to the other, gloomily.] H'm !
 
 8 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 ROSMER. 
 
 Yes. Since we last met, I have changed my views. 
 I am going to create a new democracy, and awaken it 
 to its true task of making all the people of this 
 country noblemen, by freeing their wills, and 
 purifying their minds ! 
 
 Kroll. 
 What do you mean ! [Takes up his hat. 
 
 Rosmer. 
 
 [Bowiny his head.] I don't quite know, my dear 
 
 friend; it was Reb I should say Miss West's 
 
 scheme. 
 
 Kroll. 
 
 H'm ! [A suspicion appears in his face.] Now I 
 begin to believe that what Beata said about schemes 
 
 no matter. But under the circumstances, I will 
 
 not stay to supper. 
 
 [Takes up his stick, and walks out.
 
 ROSMERSHOLM 9 
 
 RoSMER. 
 
 1 told you lie would be annoyed. I .shall go to bed 
 now. I don't want any supper. [lie lights a candle, 
 and goes out; presently his footsteps are heard over- 
 head, as he undresses. Rebecca r pulls a bell-rope. 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 [To Madam Helseth, who enters with dishes.] No, 
 Mr. Rosmer will not have supper to-night. [In a 
 lighter tone.] Perhaps he is afraid of the nightmare. 
 There are so many sorts of White Horses in this 
 world ! 
 
 Madam Helseth. 
 
 [Shaking.] Lord ! lord ! that Miss West — the 
 things she does say ! 
 
 [Rebecca goes out through door, knitting 
 antimacassar thoughtfully, as Curtain 
 falls.
 
 ACT SECOND 
 
 Rosmer's study. Doors and windows, bookshefces, a 
 VJriting -table. Door, with curtain, leading io 
 Rosmer's bedroom. Rosmer discovered in a 
 smoking jacket cutting a pamphlet with a paper- 
 knife. There is a knock at the door. Rosmer 
 says " Come in." Rebecca enters in a morning 
 wrapper and curlpapers. Site sits on a elm it- 
 close to Rosmer, and looks over his shoulder as 
 he cuts the leaves. Rector Kkoll is shown up. 
 
 Kroll. 
 
 [Lays his hat on the table and looks at Rebecca 
 from head to Joot.] 1 am really afraid that I am in 
 the way.
 
 ROSMERSHOLM u 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 [J$urprised.~] Because I am in my morning wrapper 
 and curl-papers ? You forget that I am emancipated, 
 Rector Kroll. 
 
 [>She leaves them and listens behind curtain 
 in Rosmeh's bedroom. 
 
 ROSMEU. 
 
 Yes, Miss West and I have worked our way 
 forward in faithful comradeship. 
 
 Kroll. 
 
 [shakes his head at him slowly.] So I perceive. 
 Miss West is naturally inclined to be forward. But, 
 
 I say, really you know However, I came to tell 
 
 you that poor Beata was not so mad as she looked, 
 though flowers did bewilder her so. [Taking off his 
 gloves meaningly^ She jumped into the mill-race 
 because she had an idea that you ought to marry 
 Miss West !
 
 12 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 RoSMER. 
 
 [Jumps half upfront his chair.] I? Marry — Miss 
 West ! My good gracious, Kroll ! I don't under- 
 stand, it is -most incomprehensible. [Looks fixedly 
 
 before him.] How can people? [Looks at him 
 
 for a moment, then rises.] Will you get out ? [Mill 
 quiet and self restrained.] But first tell me why 
 you never mentioned this before? 
 
 Kroll. 
 Why ? Because I thought you were both orthodox, 
 which made all the difference. Now I know that 
 you side with Laurits and Hilda, and mean to make 
 the democracy into noblemen, and accordingly I 
 intend to make it hot for you in my paper. Good 
 morning ! 
 
 [He slams the door icilh spite as REBECCA 
 enters from bed-room. 
 
 Rosmer. 
 \As if smyrrised.] You — in my bedroom ! You have 
 been listening, dear ? Bui you are so emancipated.
 
 Taking off his gloves meaningly."
 
 ROSMERSHOLM 1 5 
 
 Ah, well ! so our pure and beautiful friendship has 
 
 been misinterpreted, bespattered ! Just because you 
 
 wear a morning wrapper, and have lived here alone 
 
 for a year, people with coarse souls and ignoble eyes 
 
 make unpleasant remarks ! But what really did 
 
 drive Beata mad ? Why did she jump into the 
 
 mill-race ? I'm sure we did everything we could to 
 
 spare her ! I made it the business of my life to 
 
 keep her in ignorance of all our interests — didn't I, 
 
 now ? 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 You did. But why brood over it ? What does it 
 matter ? Get on with your great beautiful task, dear 
 — [approaching him cautiously Jrom behind] — win- 
 ning over minds and wills, and creating noblemen, 
 you know—; joy fid noblemen ! 
 
 Rosmer. 
 
 [Walking about restlessly, as if in thought.] Yes, I 
 know. I have never laughed in the whole course 
 of my life — we Rosmers don't — and so I felt that
 
 16 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 spreading gladness and light, and making the demo- 
 cracy joyful, was properly my mission. But now — I 
 
 feel too upset to go on, Rebecca, unless [Shakes 
 
 his head heavily.] Yes, an idea has just occurred to 
 
 me [Looks at her, and then runs his hands through 
 
 his hair] — Oh, my goodness ! ISTo — I can't. 
 
 [He leans his elbows on table. 
 
 Kebecca. 
 
 Be a free man to the full, Rosmer — tell me your 
 idea. 
 
 Rosmer. 
 
 [Gloomily. \ I don't know what you'll say to it. 
 It's this : Our platonic comradeship was all very 
 well while I was peaceful and happy. Now that I 
 am bothered and badgered, I feel — why, I can't 
 exactly explain, but I do feel that I must oppose a 
 new and living reality to the gnawing memoiies of 
 the past. I should perhaps, explain that this is 
 equivalent to an Ibsenian proposal.
 
 ROSMERSHOLM 17 
 
 Rebecca. 
 [Catches at the chairback with joy.] How ? at last — 
 a rise at last ! [Recollects herself.] But what am I 
 about ? Am I not an emancipated enigma ? [Puts 
 her hands over her ears as if in terror.] What are 
 you saying ? You mustn't. I can't think what you 
 mean. Go away, do ! 
 
 Rosmer. 
 
 [Softly.] Be the new and living reality. It is 
 
 the only way to put Beata out of the Saga. Shall 
 
 we try it ? 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 Never ! Do not — do not ask me why — for I haven't 
 
 a notion — but never ! [Nods slowly to him and rises.] 
 
 White Horses would not induce me ! [With her hand 
 
 on door-handle. ] Now you knoiv ! [She goes out / 
 
 Rosmer. 
 [Sits up, stares, thunderstruck, at the stove, and says 
 to himself] Well — I — am 
 
 Quick Curtain.
 
 ACT THIRD 
 
 Sitting-room at Rosmershblm. Sun shining outside 
 in the Garden. Inside Rebecca West is water- 
 ing a geranium with a small watering-pot. 
 Her crochet antimacassar lies in the arm-chair. 
 Madame Helseth is rubbing the chairs with 
 furniture-polish from a large bottle. Enter 
 Rosmer, ivith his hat and stick in his hand. 
 Madame Helseth corks the bottle and goes out 
 to the right. 
 
 Rebecca. 
 Good morning, dear. [A moment after— crocheting.] 
 
 Have you seen Rector Kroll's paper this morning ? 
 
 There's something about you in it 
 
 Rosmer. 
 Oh, indeed ? [Puts down hat and stick, and takes
 
 ROSMERSHOLM i 9 
 
 up paper]. H'm ! [Reads — then walks about the room.] 
 Kroll has made it hot for me. [Beads some more.] 
 Oh, this is too bad ! Rebecca, they do say such nasty 
 spiteful things ! they actually call me a renegade — 
 and I can't think why ! They mustn't go on like this. 
 All that is good in human nature will go to ruin if 
 they're allowed to attack an excellent man like me ! 
 Only think, if I can make them see how unkind the) 
 have been ! 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 Yes, dear, in that you have a great and glorious 
 object to attain — and I wish you may get it ! 
 
 Rosmer. 
 
 Thanks. I think I shall. [Happens to look through 
 window and jumps.] Ah, no, I shan't — never now, 
 I have just seen 
 
 Rebecca . 
 
 Not the White Horse, dear ? We must really not 
 overdo that White Horse !
 
 20 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 ROSMER. 
 
 No —the mill-race, where Beata— -[Puts on his hat 
 — takes it offagain.l I'm beginning to be haunted by 
 — no, I don't mean the Horse — by a terrible suspicion 
 that Beata may have been right after all ! Yes, I do 
 believe, now I come to think of it, that I must reallv 
 have been in love with you from the first. Tell me 
 your opinion. 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 {Struggling with herself, and still crocheting^ Oh 
 — I can't exactly say — such an odd question to ask 
 me ! 
 
 ROSMER. 
 
 [Shakes his head.] Perhaps ; [ have no sense of 
 
 humour — no respectable Norwegian has — and I do 
 
 want to know- — because, you see, if I vas in love 
 
 with you. it was a sin, and if I once convinced myself 
 
 of that 
 
 {Wanders across the rooii>.
 
 ROSMERSHOLM 21 
 
 Rebecca 
 
 [Breaking out.] Oh, these old ancestral prejudices! 
 
 Here is your hat, and your stick, too; go and take a 
 
 walk. 
 
 [Rosmer takes hat and stick, first, then yoes 
 out and takes a walk ; presently Madam 
 Helseth appears, and tells Rebecca 
 something. Rebecca tells her something. 
 They whisper togetlier. Madam Helseth 
 nuds, and shows in Rectok Kroll, who 
 keeps his hat in his hand, and sits on a 
 char. 
 
 Kroll. 
 
 I merely called for the purpose of informing you 
 
 that 1 consider you an artful and designing person, 
 but that, on the "whole, considering your birth and 
 moral antecedents, you know — [nod--< at her] — it is 
 not surprising. [Rebecca walks about w. inging her 
 hands.] W)>y, what is the matter? Did you really
 
 2 2 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 not know that yon had no right to your father's 
 
 name ? I'd no idea you would mind my mentioning 
 
 such a trifle ! 
 
 REBECCA. 
 
 [Breaking out.] I do mind. I am an emancipated 
 enigma, but I retain a few little prejudices still. I 
 don't like owning to my real age, and I do prefer to be 
 legitimate. And, after your information — of which 
 I was quite ignorant, as my mother, the late Mi*s. 
 Gamvik, never once alluded to it — I feel I must 
 confess everything. Strong-minded advanced women 
 are like that. Here is Rosmer. [Rosmer enters with 
 his hat and stick.] Rosmer, I want to tell you and 
 Rector Kroll a little story. Let us sit down, dear, 
 all three of us. [The]/ sit down, mechanically, on 
 cltairs.] A long time ago, before the play began — [in 
 a voice scarcely audible] — in Ibsenite dramas, all the 
 interesting things somehow do happen before the 
 play begins
 
 ROSMERSHOLM 23 
 
 RoSMER. 
 
 But, Rebecca, I know all this. 
 
 Kroll. 
 [Looks hard at her.] Perhaps I had better go '( 
 
 Rebecca. 
 No — I will be short* This was it. I wanted to 
 take my share in the life of the New Era, and march 
 onward with Rosmer. There was one dismal, insur- 
 mountable barrier — [to Rosmer, ivho nods gravely]- 
 Beata ! I understood where your deliverance lay— 
 and I acted, /drove Beata into the mill-race. . . . 
 
 There ! 
 
 Rosmer. 
 
 [After a short silence]. H'm ! Well, Kroll — [takes 
 
 u]) his hat] — if you're thinking of walking home, I'll 
 
 go too. I'm going to be orthodox once more — after 
 
 this ! 
 
 Kroll. 
 
 [Severely and impressively, to Rebecca.] A nice sort 
 of young woman you are ! [Both go out hastily, with- 
 out looking at Rebecca.
 
 24 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 [Speaks to herself, under her breath.] Now I have 
 done it. I wonder ivhy. [Pulls bell-rope.'] Madam 
 Helseth, I have just bad a glimpse of two rushing 
 White Horses. Bring down my hair-trunk. 
 
 [Enter Madam Helseth, with large hair- 
 trunk, as Curtain Jails.
 
 ACT FOUR 
 
 Late evening. Rebecca West stands by a lighted lamj>, 
 with a shade over it, packing sandwiches, <£c, in a 
 reticule, with a faint smile. The antimacassar is 
 on the sofa. Enter Rosmer. 
 
 ROSMER. 
 
 [Seeing the sandwiches, &c!\ Sandwiches ? Then 
 you are going ! Why, on earth — 1 ca^Ct understand ! 
 
 Rebecca. 
 Dear, you never can. Rosmei>holm is too much 
 for me. But how did you get on with Kroll ? 
 
 Rosmer. 
 We have made it up. He has convinced me that 
 the work of ennobling men was several sizes too large 
 for me — so I am going to let it alone
 
 20 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 [ With her faint smile.] There I almost think, dear, 
 
 that you are wise. 
 
 Rosmer. 
 
 [As if annoyed.] What, so you don't believe in me 
 either, Rebecca — you never did ! 
 
 [Sits listlessly on chair. 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 Not much, dear, when you are left to yourself — 
 but I've another confession to make 
 
 Rosmer. 
 
 What, another? I really can't stand any more 
 confessions just now ! 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 [Sitting close to him.] It is only a little one. I 
 bullied Beata into the mill-race — because of a wild 
 
 uncontrollable [Rosmer moves uneasily.] Sit still, 
 
 dear — uncontrollable fancy — for you I
 
 ROSMERSHOLM 27 
 
 ROSMER. 
 
 [Goes and sits on sofa.] Oh, my goodness, Rebecca 
 — you mustn't, you know ! , 
 
 [He jumps up and, down as if embarrassed. 
 
 Rebecca. 
 Don't be alarmed, dear, it is all over now. After 
 living alone with you in solitude, when you showed 
 me all your thoughts without reserve — little by little, 
 somehow the fancy passed oft'. I caught the Rosmer 
 view of life badly, and dulness descended on my soul 
 as an extinguisher upon one of our Northern dips. 
 The Rosmer view of life is ennobling, very — but hardly 
 lively. And I've more yet to tell you. 
 
 Rosmer. 
 [Turning it of.] Isn't that enough for one evening ? 
 
 Rebecca. 
 [Almost voiceless.] No, dear. I have a Past — behind 
 
 me !
 
 zb MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 ROSMER. 
 
 Behind you i Row strange. I had an idea of that 
 sort already. [Starts, as ij in fear.] A joke ! [Sadly.] 
 Ah, no — no, I must not give way to that! Never 
 mind the Past, Rebecca ; 1 once thought that 1 had 
 made the grand discovery that, if one is only virtuous, 
 one will be happy. I see now it was too daring, too 
 original — an immature dream. What bothers me is 
 that I can't — somehow I can't — believe entirely in 
 you — I am not even sure that I hare ennobled yon so 
 very much — isn't it terrible ? 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 [Wringing her hands.] Oh, this killing doubt ! [Looks 
 darkly at him.] Is there anything /can do to convince 
 you i 
 
 ROSMEK. 
 
 [As if impelled to speak against his will.] Yes, one 
 
 thing — only I'm afraid you wouldn't see it in the same 
 light. And yet I must mention it. It is like this.
 
 " Oh, my goodness, Rebecca — you mustn't, you know !
 
 ROSMERSHOLM 31 
 
 I want to recover faith in my mission, in my power 
 to ennoble human souls. And, as a logical thinker, 
 this I cannot do now, unless — well, unless you jump 
 into the mill-race, too, like Beata ! 
 
 Eebecca. 
 [Takes up her antimacassar, with composure, and 
 puts it on her head.~\ Anything to oblige you. 
 
 ROSMER. 
 
 [Springs up.] What ? You really will ! You are 
 
 sure you don't mind ? Then, Rebecca, I will go 
 
 further. I will even go — yes — as far as you go 
 
 yourself ! 
 
 Rebecca. 
 
 [Boivs her head towards his breast.] You will see me 
 
 off? Thanks. Now you are indeed an lbsenite. 
 
 [Smiles almost imperceptibly. 
 
 ROSMER. 
 
 [Cautiously.] I said as far as you go. I don't 
 commit myself further than that. Shall we go ?
 
 32 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSES 
 
 Rebecca. 
 First tell me this. Are you going with me, or am 
 T going with you. ? 
 
 RoSMElt. 
 
 A subtle psychological point — but wo have not time 
 
 to think it out here. We will discuss it as we go 
 nlonsr. Come ! 
 
 [Rosmer takes his hat and stick, Rebecca her reticule, 
 with sa 1 1 ih riches. They go out hand-in-hand 
 through the door, which they leave open. The 
 room (as is not uncommon with rooms in Xorvay) 
 is left empty. Then Madam IIeeseth enters 
 through another door. 
 
 Madam Helseth. 
 The cab, Miss — not here ! [Looks out.] Out to- 
 gether — at this time of night — upon my — not on the 
 garden seat ? [Looks on >,t of window. 1 My goodness! 
 what is that white thing on the bridge — the Horse at 
 last ! [Shrieks aloud. "] And those two sinfid creatures 
 running home !
 
 ROSMERSHOLM 33 
 
 Enter Rosmer and Rebecca, out of breath. 
 
 Rosmer. 
 [Scarcely able to get the words out.] It's no use, 
 Rebecca— we must put it off till another evening. 
 We can't be expected to jump off a footbridge which 
 already has a White Hoi'se on it. And if it comes to 
 that, why should we jump at all ? I know now that 
 I really have ennobled you, which was all / wanted. 
 What would be the good of recovering faith in my 
 mission at the bottom of a mill-pond ? No, Rebecca— 
 [Lays his hand on her head] — there is no judge over 
 us, and therefore 
 
 Rebecca. 
 [Interrupting gravely.] We will bind ourselves over 
 in our own recognisances to come up for judgment 
 when called upon. 
 
 [Madam Helseth holds on to a chair-back. 
 Rebecca finishes the antimacassar calmly 
 as Curtain falls.
 
 NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 
 (ET D1KKISVOET)
 
 NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 
 
 (ET DIKKISVOET) 
 
 ACT FIRST 
 
 A room tastefully Jilled with cheap Art-furniture. 
 Gimcracks in an etagere : a festoon of chenille 
 monkeys homging from the gaselier. Japanese 
 ferns, skeletons, cotton-wool spiders, frogs and 
 lizards, scattered everywhere about. Drain-pipes 
 with tall dyed grasses. A porcelain stove decorated 
 with transferable pictures. Showily -bound books 
 in book-case. Window. The Visitor's bell rings 
 in the hall outside. The hall-door is heard to 
 open, and then to shut. Presently Nora walks in 
 with parcels; a porter carries a large Christmas-
 
 38 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 tree after her — which he puts down. Nora yives 
 hvm a shilling — and he goes out grumbling. 
 
 Nora hums contentedly, and eats macaroons. Then 
 Helmer puts his head out of his Manager's room, 
 and Nora hides macaroons cautiously. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 [Playfully.] Is that my little squirrel twittering— 
 that my lark frisking in here ? 
 
 Now A. 
 
 Ess ! \To herself.] I have only been married eight 
 years, so these marital amenities have not yet had 
 time to pall ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 [Threatening with his finger.'] I hope the little bird 
 has surely not been digging its beak into any 
 macaroons, eh? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 ! Hotting one, and wiping her mouth.] No, most 
 certainly not. [To herself.] The worst of being so
 
 NORA ; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 39 
 
 babyish is — one does have to tell such a lot of tara- 
 diddles ! [To Helmer.] See what 7've bought — it's 
 been such fun ! [litems. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 [Inspecting parcels.] H'm — rather an expensive 
 
 little lark ! [Takes her playfully by the ear. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Little birds like to have a flutter occasionally. 
 Which reminds me— [Plays with his coat-bitttons.] 
 I'm such a simple ickle sing — but if you are thinking 
 of giving me a Christmas present, make it cash ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Just like your poor father, he always asked me to 
 make it cash — he never made any himself ! It's 
 heredity, I suppose. Well — well ! 
 
 [Goes back to his Bank. Nora (joes on humming.
 
 40 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Enter Mas. Linden, doubtfully. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 What, Christina — why, how old you look! But 
 then you are poor. I'm not. Torvald has just been 
 made a Bank Manager. [Tidies the room.~\ Isn't it 
 really wonderfully delicious to be well off? But of 
 course, you wouldn't know. We were poor once, and, 
 do you know, when Torvald was ill, I — [tossing her 
 head] — though I am such a frivolous little squirrel, 
 and all that, I actually borrowed ^300 for him to go 
 abroad. Wasn't that clever ? Tra-la-la ! 1 shan't 
 tell you ivho lent it. I didn't even tell Torvald. I 
 am such a mere baby 1 don't tell him everything. 
 I tell Dr. Bank, though. Oh, I'm so awfully happy 
 I should like to shout, " Dash it all ! " 
 
 l\[us. Linden. 
 
 [Stroking her hair.] Do — it is a natural and 
 innocent outburst — you are such a child ! But I am
 
 NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 41 
 
 a widow, and want employment. Do you think your 
 husband could find me a place as clerk in his Bank i 
 [Proudly..] I am an excellent knitter ! 
 
 NORA. 
 
 That would really be awfully funny. [To Helmer, 
 icho enters.] Torvald, this is Christina ; she wants to 
 be a clerk in your Bank — do let her ! She thinks 
 such a lot of you. [To herself'.] Another taradiddle ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 She is a sensible woman, and deserves encourage- 
 ment. Come along, Mrs. Linden, and we'll see what 
 we can do for you. 
 
 [lie goes out through the hall with 31j;s. 
 Linden, and the front-door is heard to 
 slam after them. 
 
 Nora. 
 [Opens door, and calls.] Now, Emmy, Ivar, and 
 Bob, come in and have a romp with Mamma — we 
 will play hide-and-seek. [She yets under the table,
 
 42 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 smiling in quiet satisfaction ; Krogstad enters — Nora 
 pounces out upon him.] Boo ! . . . Oh, I beg your 
 pardon. I don't do this kind of thing generally — 
 though I may be a little silly. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 [/'olitelg.] Don't mention it. I called because I 
 
 happened to see your husband go out with Mrs. 
 
 Linden — from which, being a person of considerable 
 
 penetration, I infer that he is about to give her my 
 
 post at the Bank. Now, as you owe me the balance 
 
 of ^300, for which I hold your acknowledgment, 
 
 you will see the propriety of putting a stop to this 
 
 little game at once. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But I don't at all — not a little wee bit ! I'm so 
 
 childish, you know — why should I ( 
 
 [Sitting upright on carpet. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 i will try to make it plain to the meanest capacity. 
 When you came to me for the loan, I naturally
 
 Boo ! "
 
 NORA ; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 45 
 
 required some additional security. Your father, being 
 a shady Government official, without a penny — for, if 
 he had possessed one, he would presumably have left 
 it to you — -without a penny, then — I, as a cautious 
 man of business, insisted upon having his signature 
 as a surety. Oh, we Norwegians are sharp fellows ! 
 
 Nora. 
 Well, you got papa's signature, didn't you ? 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Oh, I got it right enough. Unfortunately, it was 
 dated three days after his decease — now, how do you 
 account for thai ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 How? Why, as poor Papa was dead, and couldn't 
 sign, I signed for him, that's all ! Only somehow I 
 forgot to put the date back. That's how. Didn't I 
 tell you I was a silly, unbusiness like little thing ? 
 It's very simple.
 
 46 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 KltOGSTAD. 
 
 Very — but what you did amounts to forgery, not- 
 withstanding. I happen to know, because I'm a 
 lawyer, and have done a little in the forging way 
 myself. 80, to come to the point — if / get kicked 
 out, I shall not go alone ! \He botes, and </oes out. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 It can't be wrong ! Why, no one but Krogstad 
 would have been taken in by it ! If the Law says 
 it's wrong, the Law's a goose — a bigger goose than 
 poor little me even ! \To Helmer, who enters.'] Oh, 
 Torvald, how you made me jump ! 
 
 H ELMER. 
 
 Has anybody nailed ? [Nora shakes her head.] Oh, 
 my little squirrel mustn't tell naughty whoppers 
 Why, I just met that fellow Krogstad in the hall. 
 He's been asking you to get me to take him back- 
 now, hasn't he ?
 
 NORA ; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 47 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [Walking about.] Do just see how pretty the 
 Christmas-tree looks ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Never mind the tree — I want to have this out 
 about Krogstad. I can't take him back, because 
 many years ago he forged a name. As a lawyer, a 
 close observer of human nature, and a Bank Manager, 
 I have remarked that people who forge names seldom 
 or never confide the fact to their children — which in- 
 evitably brings moral contagion into the entire family. 
 From which it follows, logically, that Krogstad has 
 been poisoning his children for years by acting a part, 
 and is morally lost. [Stretches out his hands to her.~\ I 
 can't bear a morally lost Bank-cashier about me ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 But you never thought of dismissing him till 
 Christina came !
 
 48 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 H'ni ! I've got some business to attend to — so 
 good-bye, little lark ! [Goes into office and shuts door. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [Pale with terror.] If Krogstad poisons hi.-- children 
 because he once forged a name, I must be poisoning 
 Emmy, and Bob, and Ivar. because / forged papa's 
 signature ! [Short pause ; she raises her head proudly. | 
 After all, if I am a doll, I can still draw a logical 
 inference ! I mustn't play with the children any 
 mure — [1botly\— I don't care — I shall, though ! Who 
 cares for Krogstad ? 
 
 [She makes a face, choking with suppressed 
 
 tears, as Curtain falls.
 
 ACT SECOND 
 
 The room, with the cheap Art-furniture as before — 
 except that the candles on the Christmas tree have 
 guttered doivn and appear to have been lately 
 bloion out. The cotton-ioool frogs and the chenille 
 monkeys are disarranged, and there are walking 
 things on the sofa. Nora alone. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [Putting on a cloak and taking it off again.] 
 Bother Krogstad ! There, I won't think of him. 
 I'll only think of the costume ball at Consul 
 Stenborg's, over-head, to-night, where I am to dance 
 the Tarantella all alone, dressed as a Capri fisher - 
 
 D
 
 So MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 girl. It struck Torvald that, as I am a matron with 
 three children, my performance might amuse the 
 Consul's guests, and, at the same time, increase his 
 connection at the Bank. Torvald is so practical. 
 [To Mrs. Linden, who comes in with a large card- 
 board box.'] Ah, Christina, so you have brought in 
 my old costume ? Would you mind, as my husband's 
 new Cashier, just doing up the trimming for me ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 Not at all — is it not part of my regular duties ? 
 [Sewing.] Don't you think, Nora, that you see a 
 little too much of Dr. Rank ? 
 
 Nora. 
 Oh, I couldn't see too much of Dr. Rank ! He is 
 so amusing — always talking about his complaints, 
 and heredity, and all sorts of indescribably funny 
 things. Go away now, dear ; I hear Torvald. 
 
 [Mrs. Linden goes. Enter Torvald from 
 the Manager's room. Nora runs tri])- 
 pingly to him.
 
 NORA ; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 51 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [Coaxing.] Oh, Torvald, if only yon won't dismiss 
 Krogstad, yon can't think how your little lark wonld 
 jump ahout and twitter. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 The inducement would be stronger but for the fact 
 that, as it is, the little lark is generally engaged in 
 that particular occupation. And 1 really must get 
 rid of Krogstad. If I didn't, people would say I was 
 under the thumb of my little squirrel here, and then 
 Krogstad and I knew each other in early youth ; 
 and when two people knew each other in early youth 
 — [a short pause] — h'm ! Besides, he will address me 
 as, " I say, Torvald " — which causes me most painful 
 emotion ! He is tactless, dishonest, familiar, and 
 morally ruined — altogether not at all the kind of 
 person to be a Cashier in a Bank like mine. 
 
 Nora. 
 But he writes in scurrilous papers — he is on the 
 staff of the Norwegian Punch. If you dismiss him.
 
 52 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 he may write nasty things about you, as wicked 
 
 people did about poor dear papa ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Your poor dear papa was not impeccable — far 
 from it. I am — which makes all the difference. I 
 have here a letter giving Krogstad the sack. One of 
 the conveniences of living close to the Bank is, that 
 I can use the housemaids as Bank-messengers. [Goes 
 to door and calls.] Ellen ! [Enter parloitmnaid.] Take 
 that letter — there is no answer. [Ellen takes it and 
 goes.] That's settled — and now, Nora, as I am going 
 to my private room, it will be a capital opportunity 
 for you to practise the tambourine — thump away, 
 little lark, the doors are double ! 
 
 [Ifods to her and goes in, shutting door. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [Stroking her face.] How am I to get out of this 
 mess ? [A ring at the visitors' bell.] Dr. Rank's ring !
 
 "A poor fellow with both feet in the grave is not the best 
 authority on the fit of silk stockings."
 
 NORA ; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 55 
 
 He shall help me out of it ! [Dr. Rank appears in 
 doorway, hanging up his great-coat.] Dear Dr. Rank, 
 how are you ? [Takes both his hands. 
 
 Dr. Rank. 
 
 [Sitting down near the stove.] I am a miserable, 
 
 hypochondriacal wretch — that's what / am. And 
 
 why am I doomed to be dismal ? Why ? Because 
 
 my father died of a fit of the blues ! Is that fair — I 
 
 put it to you ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Do try to be funnier than that 1 See, I will show 
 
 you the flesh-coloured silk tights that I am to wear 
 
 to-night — it will cheer you up. But you must only 
 
 look at the feet — well, you may look at the rest if 
 
 you're good. Aren't they lovely ? Will they fit me, 
 
 do you think ? 
 
 Dr. Rank. 
 
 [Gloomily. 1 A poor fellow with both feet in the 
 
 grave is not the best authority on the fit of silk 
 
 stockings. I shall be food for worms before long — I 
 
 know I shall !
 
 56 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Nora. 
 
 You mustn't really be so frivolous ! Take that ! 
 
 [She hits him lightly on the ear with the stockings ; 
 
 then hums a little.] I want you to do me a great 
 
 service, Dr. Rank. [Rolling up stockings.] I always 
 
 liked you. I love Torvald most, of course — but, 
 
 somehow, I'd rather spend my time with you — you 
 
 are so amusing ! 
 
 Rank. 
 
 If I am, can't you guess why ? [A short silence.] 
 Because I love you ! You can't pretend you didn't 
 know it ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Perhaps not — but it was really too clumsy of you 
 to mention it just as I was about to ask a favour of 
 you! It was in the worst taste! [With dignity.] 
 You must not imagine because I joke with you about 
 silk stockings, and tell you things I never tell Torvald, 
 that I am therefore without the most delicate and 
 scrupulous self-respect ! I am really quite a good
 
 NORA ; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 57 
 
 little doll, Dr. Rank, and now — [sits in rocking chair 
 and smiles] — now I shan't ask you what I was going 
 to ! [Ellen comes in with a card.] 
 
 Nora. 
 [Terrified.] Oh, my goodness ! 
 
 [PiUs it in her pocket. 
 
 Dr. Rank. 
 
 Excuse my easy Norwegian pleasantry — but — h'm 
 — anything disagreeable up ? 
 
 Nora. 
 [To herself.] Krogstad's card ! I must tell another 
 whopper ! [To Rank.] No, nothing — only — only my 
 new costume. I want to try it on here. I always do 
 try on my dresses in the drawing-room — it's cosier, 
 you know. So go in to Torvald and amuse him till 
 I'm ready. 
 
 [Rank goes into Helmer's room, and Nora 
 bolts the door upon him, as Krogstad 
 enters from hall in a fur cap.
 
 58 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Well, I've got the sack, and so I came to see how 
 you are getting on. I mayn't be a nice man, but — 
 [with feeling] — I have a heart ! And, as I don't 
 intend to give up the forged I.O.U. unless I'm taken 
 back, I was afraid you might be contemplating suicide, 
 or something of that kind ; and so I called to tell you 
 that, if I were you, I wouldn't. Bad thing for the 
 complexion, suicide — and silly, too, because it wouldn't 
 mend matters in the least. [Kindly.'] You must not 
 take this affair too seriously, Mrs. Helmer. Get your 
 husband to settle it amicably by taking me back as 
 Cashier ; then I shall soon get the whip-hand of him, 
 and we shall all be as pleasant and comfortable as 
 possible together ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Not even that prospect can tempt me ! Be- 
 sides, Torvald wouldn't have you back at any price 
 now !
 
 NORA ; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 59 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 All right, then. I have here a letter, telling your 
 
 husband all. I will take the liberty of dropping it in 
 
 the letter-box at your hall-door as I go out. I'll 
 
 wish you good evening ! 
 
 [He goes out ; presently the dull sound of a 
 
 thick letter dropping into a wire box is 
 
 heard. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [Softly, and hoarsely.] He's done it ! How am I 
 to prevent Torvald from seeing it ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 [Inside the door, rattling.] Hasn't my lark changed 
 
 its dress yet? [Nora unbolts door.] What — so you 
 
 are not in fancy costume, after all ? [Enters with 
 
 Rank.] Are there any letters for me in the box 
 
 there ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [ Voicelessly.] None — not even a postcard ! Oh,
 
 60 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Torvald, don't, please, go and look — promise me you 
 won't ! I do assure you there isn't a letter ! And 
 I've forgotten the Tarantella you taught me — do let's 
 run over it. I'm so afraid of breaking down — 
 promise me not to look at the letter-box. I can't 
 dance unless you do. 
 
 Helmeb. 
 [Standing still, on his way to the letter-box.] I am a 
 man of strict business habits, and some powers of 
 observation ; my little squirrel's assurances that there 
 is nothing in the box, combined with her obvious 
 anxiety that I should not go and see for myself, 
 satisfy me that it is indeed empty, in spite of the fact 
 that I have not invariably found her a strictly truthful 
 little dicky-bird. There — there. [Sits doicn to piano.] 
 Bang away on your tambourine, little squirrel — dance 
 away, my own lark ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [Dancing, with a long gay shawl.] Just won't the 
 little squirrel ! Faster — faster ! Oh, I do feel so
 
 NORA : OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 61 
 
 gay ! We will have some champagne for dinner, 
 iixm't we, Torvald ? 
 
 [Dances with more and more abandonment. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 [After addressing frequent remarks in correction.] 
 Come, come — not this awful wildness ! I don't like 
 
 to see quite such a larky little lark as this 
 
 Really it is time you stopped ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [Her hair coming down as she dances more wildly 
 
 still, and swings the tambourine.] I can't I 
 
 can't ! [To herself, as she dances.] I've only thirty- 
 one hours left to be a bird in; and after that — 
 [shuddering] — after that, Krogstad will let the cat 
 out of the bag ! 
 
 Curtain.
 
 ACT THIRD 
 
 The same room — except that the sofa has been slightly 
 moved, and one of the Japanese cotton-wool frogs 
 has fallen into the fire-place. Mrs. Linden sits 
 and reads a book — but without understanding a 
 single line. 
 
 Mrs, Linden. 
 
 [Laying down her book, as a light tread is heard 
 outside.] Here he is at last! [Krogstad comes in, 
 and stands in the doorway.] Mr. Krogstad, I have 
 given you a secret rendezvous in this room, because it 
 belongs to my employer, Mr. Helmer, who has lately 
 discharged you. The etiquette of Norway permits
 
 NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 63 
 
 these slight freedoms on the part of a female 
 
 cashier. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 It does. Are we alone ? [Nora is heard overhead 
 dancing the Tarantella.] Yes, I hear Mrs. Helmer's 
 fairy footfall above. She dances the Tarantella 
 now — by-and-by she will dance to another tune ! 
 [Changing his tone.] I don't exactly know why you 
 should wish to have this interview — after jilting me 
 as you did, long ago, though ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 Don't you ? / do. I am a widow — a Norwegian 
 widow. And it has occurred to me that there may 
 be a nobler side to your nature somewhere — though 
 you have not precisely the best of reputations 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 Right. I am a forger, and a money-lender ; I am 
 on the staff of the Norwegian Punch — a most 
 scurrilous paper. More, I have been blackmailing
 
 64 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Mrs. Heliner by trading on her fears, like a low- 
 cowardly cur. But, in spite of all that — [clasjnng 
 his hands] — there are the niakin of a fine man 
 about me yet, Christina ! 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 I believe you — at least, I'll chance it. I want 
 some one to care for, and I'll marry you. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 
 [Suspiciously.] On condition, I suppose, that I 
 suppress the letter denouncing Mrs. Helmer ? 
 
 Mrs. Linden. 
 
 How can you think so ? I am her dearest friend ; 
 but I can still see her faults, and it is my firm 
 opinion that a sharp lesson will do her all the good in 
 the world. She is much too comfortable. So leave 
 the letter hi the box, and come home with me. 
 
 Krogstad. 
 I am wildly happy! Engaged to the female
 
 NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 65 
 
 cashier of the manager who has discharged me, our 
 future is bright and secure ! 
 
 [He goes out; and Mrs. Linden sets the 
 
 furniture straight; presently a noise 
 
 is heard outside, and Helmer enters, 
 
 dragging Nora in. She is in fct/ncy 
 
 dress, and he in an open black domino. 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I shan't ! It's too early to come away from such a 
 nice party. 1 ivon't go to bed ! [She whimpers. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 [Tenderly.'] There'sh a naughty lil' larkie for you, 
 Mrs. Linen ! Poshtively had to drag her 'way ! 
 She'sh a capricious lil' girl — from Capri. 'Sense me ! 
 — 'fraid I've been and made a pun. Shan' 'cur 
 again ! Shplendid champagne the Consul gave us — 
 counts for it ! [Sits down s?nili?ig.] Do you knit, 
 Mrs. Cotton? .... You shouldn't. Never knit. 
 'Broider. [Nodding to her, solemnly.] 'Member that. 
 
 E
 
 66 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Alwaysh 'broider. More — [hiccoughing] — Oriental !" 
 
 Gobblesh yon ! — goo'ni ! 
 
 Mks. Linden. 
 
 I only came in to — to see Nora's costume. Now 
 I've seen it, I'll go. [Goes out. 
 
 Helmer. 
 Awful bore that woman — hate boresh ! [Looks at 
 Nora, then comes nearer.] Oh, you prillil squillikins r 
 I do love you so ! Shomehow, I feel sho lively 
 thishevenin' ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [Goes to other side of table.] I won't have all that, 
 Torvald ! 
 
 Helmeb. 
 
 "Why ? ain't you my lil' lark — ain't thish our lil 
 cage? Yer-well, then. [A ring.] Rank! confound 
 it all ! [Enter Dr. Rank.] Rank, dear old boy, 
 you've been [hiccoughs] going it upstairs. Cap'tal 
 champagne, eh ? 'Shamed of you, Rank ! 
 
 [He sits down on sofa, and closes his eyes gently.
 
 "Oh, you prillil squillikins ! "
 
 NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 69 
 
 Dr. Rank. 
 
 Did you notice it? [With pride.~\ It was almost 
 incredible the amount I contrived to put away. 
 But I shall suffer for it to-morrow. [Gloomily.] 
 Heredity again ! I wish I was dead ! I do. 
 
 Nora. 
 Don't apologise. Torvald was just as bad ; but he 
 is always so good-tempered after champagne. 
 
 Doctor Rank. 
 
 Ah, well, I just looked in to say that I haven't 
 
 long to live. Don't weep for me, Mrs. Helmer, it's 
 
 chronic — and hereditary too. Here are my P. P.O. 
 
 cards. I'm a fading flower. Can you oblige me with 
 
 a cigar ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [With a sioppressed smile.] Certainly. Let me give 
 
 you a light ? 
 
 [Doctor Rank lights his cigar, after several 
 
 ineffectual attempts, and goes out.
 
 yo MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Helmer. 
 [Compassionately.] Poo' old Bank — he'sh very bad 
 to-ni' ! [Pulls himself together.] But I forgot — 
 Bishness — I mean, bu-si-ness — mush be 'tended to. 
 I'll go and see if there are any letters. [Goes to box.] 
 Hallo ! some one's been at the lock with a hairpin — 
 it's one of your hairpins ! [Holding it out to her. 
 
 Nora. 
 [Quickly.] Not mine — one of Bob's, or Ivar's — 
 they both wear hairpins ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 [Turning over letters absently.] You must break 
 them of it — bad habit ! What a lot o' lettersh ! 
 double usual quantity. [Oldens Krogstad's.] By Jove ! 
 [Reads it and falls back completely sobered.] What 
 have you got to say to this ? 
 
 Nora. 
 [Crying aloud.] You shan't save me — let me go ! 
 I won't be saved !
 
 NORA : OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 71 
 
 Helmer. 
 Save you, indeed ! Who's going to save Me ? You 
 miserable little criminal. [Annoyed.] Ugh — ugh ! 
 
 Nora. 
 [TFi^/i hardening expression^] Indeed, Torvald, your 
 singing-bird acted for the best ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 Singing-bird ! Your father was a rook — and you 
 take after him. Heredity again ! You have utterly 
 destroyed my happiness. [Walks round several times.] 
 Just as I was beginning to get on, too ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 I have — but I will go away and jump into the 
 
 water. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 What good will that do me ? People will say / had 
 
 a hand in this business. [Bitterly.] If you must forge, 
 
 you might at least put vour dates in correctly ! But 
 
 you never had any principle ! [A ring.] The front-
 
 72 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 door bell ! [J. fat letter is seen to fall into the box ; 
 Helmer takes it, opens it, sees enclosure, and embraces 
 Nora.] Krogstad won't split. See, he returns the 
 forged I.O.U. ! Oh, my poor little lark, what you 
 must have gone through ! Come under my wing, my 
 
 little scared song-bird Eh ? you won't ! 
 
 Why, what's the matter now ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [With cold calm.] I have wings of my own, thank 
 you, Torvald, and I mean to use them ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 What — leave your pretty cage, and pathetically] 
 the old cock bird, and the poor little innocent eggs ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Exactly. Sit down, and we will talk it over first. 
 [Slowly.] Has it ever struck you that this is the 
 first time you and I have ever talked seriously 
 together about serious things ?
 
 NORA ; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 73 
 
 Helmer. 
 Come, I do like that ! How on earth could we 
 talk about serious things when your mouth was 
 always full of macaroons ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [Shakes her head.] Ah, Torvald, the mouth of a 
 
 mother of a family should have more solemn things 
 
 in it than macaroons ! I see that now, too late. No, 
 
 you have wronged me. 80 did papa. Both of you 
 
 called me a doll, and a squirrel, and a lark ! You 
 
 niisrht have made something of me — and instead of 
 
 that, you went and made too much of me — oh, you 
 
 did ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Well, you didn't seem to object to it, and really I 
 don't exactly see what it is you do want ! 
 
 Nora. 
 
 No more do I — that is what I have got to find out. 
 If I had been properly educated, I should have
 
 74 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 known better than to date poor papa's signature 
 three days after he died. Now I must educate 
 myself. I have to gain experience, and get clear 
 about religion, and law, and things, and whether 
 Society is right or I am — and I must go away and 
 never come back any more till I am educated ! 
 
 Helsier. 
 Then you may be away some little time ? And 
 what's to become of me and the eggs meanwhile ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 That, Torvald, is entirely your own affair. I have 
 
 a higher duty than that towards you and the eggs. 
 
 [Looking solemnly upward.'] I mean my duty towards 
 
 Myself ! 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 And all this because — in a momentary annoyance 
 
 at finding myself in the power of a discharged 
 
 cashier who calls me " I say, Torvald," I expressed 
 
 myself with ultra-Gilbertian frankness ! You talk 
 
 like a silly child !
 
 NORA ; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 75 
 
 Nora. 
 Because my eyes are opened, and I see my position 
 with the eyes of Ibsen. I must go away at once, and 
 begin to educate myself. 
 
 Helmer. 
 May I ask how you are going to set about it ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 Certainly. I shall begin — yes, I shall begin with a 
 
 course of the Norwegian theatres. If that doesn't 
 
 take the frivolity out of me, I don't really know 
 
 what will/ [She (jets her bonnet and ties it tightly. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 Then you are really going ? And you'll never 
 think about me and the eggs any more ! Oh, Nora ! 
 
 Nora. 
 Indeed, I shall — occasionally — as strangers. 
 
 [She puts on a shawl sadly, and fetches her 
 dressing-bag.^
 
 76 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 If I ever do come back, the greatest miracle of all 
 
 will have to happen. Good-bye ! 
 
 [She goes out through the hall ; the front door 
 is heard to baivj loudly. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 [Sinking on a chair.] The l'oom empty ? Then she 
 must be gone ! Yes, my little lark has flown ! [The 
 dull sound of an unskilled latchkey is heard trying 
 the lock ; presently the door opens, and Nora, with a 
 somewhat foolish expression, reappears.] What ? back 
 already ! Then you are educated ? 
 
 Nora. 
 
 [Puts down dressing-bag.] No, Torvald, not yet. 
 Only, you see, I found I had only threepence-half- 
 penny in my purse, and the Norwegian theatres are 
 all closed at this hour — and so I thought I wouldn't 
 leave the cage till to-morrow — after breakfast. 
 
 Helmer. 
 [As if to himself '.] The greatest miracle of all has
 
 NORA : OR, THE BIRD-CAGE 77 
 
 happened. My little bird is not in the bush just 
 yet! 
 
 [Nora takes down a showily-bound diction- 
 ary from the shelf and begins her educa- 
 tion ; Helmer fetches a bay of macaroons, 
 sits near her, and tenders one humbly. A 
 pause. Nora repulses it, proudly. lie 
 offers it again. She snatches at it sud- 
 denly, still without looking at him, and 
 nibbles it thou.ghifu.il y as Curtain falls.
 
 HEDDA GABLER
 
 HEDDA GABLER 
 
 ACT FIRST 
 
 Scene — A sitting-room cheerfully decorated in dark 
 colours. Broad doorway, hung toith black crape, 
 in the wall at bach, leading to a back drawing - 
 room, in which, above a sofa in black horsehair, 
 hangs a posthumous portrait of the late General 
 Gabler. On the piano is a handsome pall. 
 Through the glass panes of the back drawing-room 
 window are seen a dead wall and a cemetery. 
 Settees, sofas, chairs, d-c, handsomely upholstered 
 in black bombazine, and studded with small round 
 nails. Bouquets of immortelles and dead grasses 
 are lying everywhere about. 
 
 F
 
 82 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Enter Aunt Julie (ci good-natured-looking lady 
 in a smart hat.) 
 
 Aunt Julie. 
 
 Well, I declare, if I believe George or Hedda are 
 up yet ! [Enter George Tesman, humming, stout, 
 careless, spectacled '.] Ah, my dear boy, I have called 
 before breakfast to inquire how you and Hedda are 
 after returning late last night from your long honey- 
 moon. Oh, dear me, yes ; am I not your old aunt, 
 and are not these attentions usual in Norway ? 
 
 George. 
 
 Good Lord, yes ! My six months' honeymoon 
 has been quite a little travelling scholarship, eh ? I 
 have been examining archives. Think of that ! Look 
 here, I'm going to write a book all about the 
 domestic interests of the Cave-dwellers during the 
 Deluge. I'm a clever young Norwegian man of 
 letters, eh ?
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 83 
 
 Aunt Julie. 
 Fancy your knowing about that too ! Now, dear 
 me, thank Heaven ! 
 
 George. 
 Let me, as a dutiful Norwegian nephew, untie 
 that smart, showy hat of yours. [Unties it, and pats 
 her under the chin.] Well, to be sure, you have got 
 yourself really up— fancy that ! 
 
 [He picts hat on chair close to table. 
 
 Aunt Julie. 
 [Giggling.] It was for Hedda's sake — to go out 
 walking with her in. [Hedda approaches from the 
 back-room ; she is pallid, with cold, open, steel-grey 
 eyes ; her hair is not very thick, but what there is of it 
 is an agreeable medium brown.] Ah, clear Hedda! 
 
 [She attempts to cuddle her. 
 
 Hedda. 
 [Shrinking back.] Ugh, let me go, do ! [Looking at 
 Aunt Julie's hat.] Tesman, you must really tell the
 
 84 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 housemaid not to leave her old hat about on the 
 drawing-room chairs. Oh, is it your hat ? Sorry I 
 spoke, I'm sure ! 
 
 Aunt Julie. 
 
 [Annoyed.] Good gracious, little Mrs. Hedda ; my 
 nice new hat that I bought to go out walking with 
 
 you in ! 
 
 George. 
 
 [Patting her on the back.~\ Yes, Hedda, she did, and 
 the parasol too ! Fancy, Aunt Julie always positively 
 thinks of everything, eh ? 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Coldly.] You hold your tongue. Catch me going 
 out walking with your aunt ! One doesn't do such 
 
 things. 
 
 George. 
 
 [Beaming.] Isn't she a charming woman ? Such 
 fascinating manners ! My goodness, eh ? Fancy 
 that !
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 85 
 
 Aunt Julie. 
 
 Ah, dear George, you ought indeed to be happy — 
 but [brings out a flat package wrapped in newspaper] 
 look here, my dear boy ! 
 
 George. 
 
 [Opens it.] What ? niy dear old morning shoes ! 
 my slippers ! [Breaks down.] This is positively too 
 touching, Hedda, eh ? Do you remember how badly 
 I wanted them all the honeymoon ? Come and just 
 have a look at them — you may ! 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 Bother your old slippers and your old aunt too ! 
 [Aunt Julie goes out annoyed, followed by George, 
 still thanking her warmly for the slippers; Hedda 
 yawns ; George comes back and places his old slippers 
 reverently on the table.] Why, here comes Mrs 
 Elvsted — another early caller ! She had irritating
 
 86 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 hair, and went about making a sensation with it — 
 
 an old flame of yours, I've heard. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Elvsted ; she is pretty and gentle, with 
 copious wavy white-gold hair and round promi- 
 nent eyes, and the manner of a frightened rabbit. 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted. 
 [Nervous. .] Oh, please, I'm so perfectly in despair. 
 Ejlert Lovborg, you know, who was our tutor ; he's 
 written such a large new book. I inspired him. Oh, 
 I know I don't look like it — but I did — he told me 
 so. And, good gracious ! now he's in this dangerous 
 wicked town all alone, and he's a reformed character, 
 and I'm so frightened about him ; so, as the wife of a 
 sheriff twenty years older than me, I came up to 
 look after Mr. Lovborg. Do ask him here — then I 
 can meet him. You will ? How perfectly lovely of 
 you ! My husband's so fond of him ! 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 George, go and write an invitation at once; do ycu 
 hear ? [George looks around for his slippers, takes
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 87 
 
 them up and goes out.] Now we con talk, my little 
 Thea. Do you remember how I used to pull your 
 hair when we met on the stairs, and say I would 
 scorch it off? Seeing people with copious hair always 
 does irritate me. 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted. 
 
 Goodness, yes, you were always so playful and 
 friendly, and I was so afraid of you. I am still. 
 And please, I've run away from my husband. Every- 
 thing around him was distasteful to me. And Mr. 
 Lovborg and I were comrades — he was dissipated, 
 and I got a sort of power over him, and he made a 
 real person out of me — which I wasn't before, you 
 know; but, oh, I do hope I'm real now. He talked 
 to me and taught me to think — chiefly of him. So, 
 when Mr. Lovborg came here, naturally I came too. 
 There was nothing else to do! And fancy, there is 
 another woman whose shadow still stands between 
 him and me ! She wanted to shoot him once, and so, 
 of course, he can never forget her. I wish I knew
 
 88 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 her name — perhaps it was that red-haired opera- 
 singer ? 
 
 Hedd-a. 
 
 [ With cold self-command .] Very likely — but nobody 
 does that sort of thing here. Hush ! Run away now. 
 Here comes Tesman with Judge Brack. [Mrs. Elvsted 
 goes out; George comes in with Judge Brack, who is 
 a short and elastic gentleman, with a round face, care- 
 fully brushed hair, and distinguished profile.~\ How 
 awfully funny you do look by daylight, Judge ! 
 
 Brack. 
 
 [Holding his hat and dropping his eye-glass.^ Sincerest 
 thanks. Still the same graceful manners, dear little 
 Mrs. Hed — Tesman ! I came to invite dear Tesman 
 to a little bachelor-party to celebrate his return from 
 his long honeymoon. It is customary in Scandinavian 
 society. It will be a lively affair, for I am a gay 
 Norwegian dog.
 
 "I am a gay Norwegian dog."
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 91 
 
 George. 
 
 Asked out — without my wife ! Think of that ! 
 Eh ? Oh, dear me, yes, i'll come ! 
 
 Brack. 
 
 By the way, Lovborg is here ; he has written a 
 wonderful book, which has made a quite extraordinary 
 sensation. Bless me, yes ! 
 
 George. 
 
 Lovborg — fancy! Well, I am — glad. Such mar- 
 vellous gifts ! And I was so painfully certain he had 
 gone to the bad. Fancy that, eh ? But what will 
 become of him now, poor fellow, eh ? I am so anxious 
 
 to know ! 
 
 Brack. 
 
 Well, he may possibly put up for the Professorship 
 against you, and, though you are an uncommonly 
 clever man of letters — for a Norwegian — it's not 
 wholly improbable that he may cut you out !
 
 92 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 George. 
 
 But, look here, good Lord, Judge Brack ! — [gesticu- 
 lating] — that would show an incredible want of con- 
 sideration for me ! I married on my chance of getting 
 that professorship. A man like Lbvborg, too, who 
 hasn't even been respectable, eh ? One doesn't do 
 such things as that ! 
 
 Brack. 
 
 Really ? You forget we are all realistic and un- 
 conventional persons here, and do all kinds of odd 
 things. But don't worry yourself ! [He goes out. 
 
 George. 
 [To Hedda.] Oh, I say, Hedda, what's to become 
 of our fairyland now, eh ? We can't have a liveried 
 servant, or give dinner parties, or have a horse for 
 riding. Fancy that ! 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Sloicly, and wearily?] No, Ave shall really have to 
 set up as fairies in reduced circumstances, now.
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 93 
 
 George. 
 
 [Cheering up.~\ Still, we shall see Aunt Julie every 
 
 day, and that will be something, and I've got back my 
 
 old slippers. We shan't be altogether without some 
 
 amusements, eh ? 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Crosses the floor.~\ Not while I have one thing to 
 
 amuse myself with, at all events. 
 
 George. 
 [Beaming with joy.~\ Oh, Heaven be praised and 
 thanked for that ! My goodness, so you have ! And 
 what may that be, Hedda, eh ? 
 
 Hedda. 
 [At the doorway, with sup^yressed scorn.~\ Yes, George 
 you have the old slippers of the attentive aunt, and 
 I have the horse-pistols of the deceased general ! 
 
 George. 
 
 [In an agony.'] The pistols ! Oh, my goodness ! 
 what pistols ?
 
 94 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Hedda. 
 [With cold eyes.'] General Gabler's pistols — same 
 which I shot — [^recollecting herself] — no, that's Thack- 
 eray, not Ibsen — a very different person. 
 
 [She goes through the bach drawing-room. 
 
 George. 
 
 [At doorway, shouting after her.] Dearest Hedda. 
 not those dangerous things, eh ? Why, they have 
 never once been known to shoot straight yet ! Don't ! 
 Have a catapult. For my sake, have a catapult ! 
 
 [Curtain.
 
 ACT SECOND 
 
 Scene — The cheerful dark drawing -room. It is after- 
 noon. Hedda stands loading a revolver in the 
 back drawing-room. 
 
 Hedda. 
 [Looking out and shouting.'] How do you do, Judge ? 
 [Aims at him.] Mind yourself ! [She fires. 
 
 Brack. 
 [Entering.] What the devil ! Do you usually take 
 pot-shots at casual visitors ? [Annoyed. 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 Invariably, when they come by the back-garden. 
 It is my unconventional way of intimating that I am
 
 96 Mi?. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 at home. One does do these things in realistic dramas, 
 
 you know. And I was only aiming at the blue sky. 
 
 Brack. 
 
 "Which accounts for the condition of my hat. 
 [Exhibiting it.] Look hei-e — riddled ! 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 Couldn't help myself. I am so horribly bored with 
 Tesman. Everlastingly to be with a professional 
 
 person ! 
 
 Brack. 
 
 [Sympathetically, .] Our excellent Tesman is certainly 
 a bit of a bore. [Looks searchingly at her.] What on 
 earth made you marry him ? 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 Tired of dancing, my dear, that's all. And then I 
 used Tesman to take me home from parties ; and we 
 saw this villa ; and I said I liked it, and so did he ; 
 and so we found some common ground, and here we
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 97 
 
 are, do you see ! And I loathe Tesman, and I don't 
 even like the villa now ; and I do feel the want of an 
 entertaining companion so ! 
 
 Brack. 
 
 Try me. Just the kind of three-cornered arrange- 
 ment that I like. Let me be the third person in the 
 compartment — [confidentially] — the tried friend, and, 
 generally speaking, cock of the walk ! 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Audibly drawing in her breath.] I cannot resist 
 your polished way of putting things. We will conclude 
 a triple alliance. But hush ! — here comes Tesman. 
 
 Enter George with a number of books under his arm. 
 
 George. 
 
 Puff! I am hot, Hedda. I've been looking into 
 Lovborg's new book. Wonderfully thoughtful — con- 
 found him ! But I must go and dress for your party, 
 Judge. [Re goes out. 
 
 G
 
 9 8 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Hedda. 
 I wish I could get Tesman to take to politics, Judge. 
 Couldn't he be a Cabinet Minister, or something ? 
 
 Brack. 
 H'm ! 
 
 [J. short pause, ; both look at one another, 
 without speaking. Enter George, in 
 evening dress with gloves. 
 
 George. 
 It is afternoon, and your party is at half -past seven 
 — but I like to dress early. Fancy that ! And I am 
 expecting Lovborg. 
 
 Ejlert Lovborg comes in from the hall ; he is worn 
 
 and pale, with red patches on his cheek-bones, and 
 
 wears an elegant perfectly new visiting-suit and 
 
 black gloves. 
 
 George. 
 
 Welcome ! [Introduces him to Brack.] Listen — I 
 
 have got your new book, but I haven't read it through 
 
 yet.
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 99 
 
 L.0VBORG. 
 
 You needn't — it's rubbish. [ Takes a packet of MSS. 
 out.] This isn't. It's in three parts ; the first about 
 the civilising forces of the future, the second about 
 the future of the civilising forces, and the third about 
 the forces of the future civilisation. I thought I'd 
 read you a little of it this evening ? 
 
 Brack and George. 
 
 \_IIastily.~\ Awfully nice of you — but there's a little 
 party this evening — so sorry we can't stop ! Won't 
 you come too ? 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 No, he must stop and read it to me and Mrs. 
 Elvsted instead. 
 
 George. 
 
 It would never have occurred to me to think of 
 such clever things ! Ave you going to oppose me for 
 the professorship, eh ?
 
 loo MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 LOVBORG. 
 
 [Modestly.] No ; I shall only triumph over you in 
 the popular judgment — that's all ! 
 
 George. 
 Oh, is that all % Fancy ! Let us go into the back 
 drawing-room and drink cold punch. 
 
 Lovborg. 
 Thanks — but I am a reformed character, and have 
 renounced cold punch — it is poison. 
 
 [George and Brack go into the back-room 
 and drink "punch, whilst Hedda shoivs 
 Lovborg a photograph album in the front. 
 
 Lovborg. 
 [Slowly, in a low tone.~\ Hedda Gabbler ! how could 
 you throw yourself away like this ! — Oh, is that the 
 
 Ortler Group ? Beautiful ! Have you forgotten 
 
 how we used to sit on the settee together behind an 
 illustrated paper, and — yes, very picturesque peaks — 
 I told you all about how I had been on the loose ?
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 101 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 Now, none of that here ! These are the Dolomites. 
 
 — Yes, I remember; it was a beautiful fascinating 
 
 Norwegian intimacy— but it's over now. See, we 
 
 spent a night in that little mountain village, Tesman 
 
 and I. 
 
 LOVBORG. 
 
 Did you, indeed ? Do you remember that delicious 
 moment when you threatened to shoot me down ? 
 [Tenderly] I do ! 
 
 Hedda. 
 [Carelessly.] Did I ! I have done that to so many 
 people. But now all that is past, and you have found 
 the loveliest consolation in dear, good, little Mrs. 
 Elvsted — ah, here she is ! [Enter Mrs. Elvsted.] 
 Now, Thea, sit down and drink up a good glass of 
 cold punch. Mr. Lovborg is going to have some. If 
 you don't, Mr. Lovborg, George and the Judge will 
 think you are afraid of taking too much if you once 
 begin.
 
 102 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted. 
 
 Oh, please, Hedcla ! When I've inspired Mr. 
 
 Lovborg so — good gracious ! don't make him drink 
 
 cold punch ! 
 
 Heuda. 
 
 You see, Mr. Lovborg, our dear little friend can't 
 
 trust you ! 
 
 Lovborg. 
 
 So that is my comrade's faith in me ! [Gloomily.] 
 
 Til show her if I am to be trusted or not. [He drinks 
 
 a glass oj punch^] Now I'll go to the Judge's party 
 
 I'll have another glass first. Your health, Thea ! 
 
 So you came up to spy on me, eh ? I'll drink the 
 
 Sheriff's health — everybody's health ! 
 
 [lie tries to get more punch. 
 
 Hedda. 
 [Stopping him.] No more now. You are going to 
 a party, remember. 
 
 George and Tesman come in from back-room.
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 103 
 
 L.6-VB0RG. 
 
 Don't be angry, Thea. I was fallen for a moment. 
 Now I'm up again ! [Mrs. Elsted beams with delight.] 
 Judge, I'll come to your party, as you are so pressing, 
 and I'll read George my manuscript all the evening. 
 I'll do all in my power to make that party go ! 
 
 George. 
 No ? fancy ! that will be amusing ! 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 There, go away, you wild rollicking creatures ! 
 
 But Mr. Lovborg must be back at ten, to take dear 
 
 Thea home ! 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted. 
 
 Oh, goodness, yes ! [In concealed agony.] Mr. 
 
 Lovborg, I shan't go away till you do ! 
 
 [The three men go out laughing merrily ; the 
 Act-drop is lowered for. a minute ; when it 
 is raised, it is 7 a.m., and Mrs. Elvsted 
 and Hedda are discovered sitting up, with 
 rugs around them.
 
 104 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted 
 [Wearily.] Seven in the morning, and Mr. Lovborg 
 not here to take me home yet! what can he be 
 
 doing ? 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Yawning.] Eeading to Tesman, with vine-leaves 
 
 in his hair, I suppose. Perhaps he has got to the 
 
 third part. 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted. 
 
 Oh, do you really think so, Hedda. Oh, if I could 
 but hope he was doing that J 
 
 Hedda. 
 You silly little ninny ! I should like to scorch 
 your hair off. Go to bed ! 
 
 [Mrs. Elvsted goes. Enter George. 
 
 George. 
 I'm a little late, eh ? But we made such a night 
 of it. Eancy ! It was most amusing. Ejlert read 
 his book to me — think of that ! Astonishing book !
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 105 
 
 Oh, we really had great fun ! I wish Td written it. 
 Pity he's so irreclaimable. 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 I suppose you mean he has more of the courage of 
 life than most people ? 
 
 George. 
 
 Good Lord ! He had the courage to get more 
 drunk than most people. But, altogether, it was 
 what you might almost call a Bacchanalian orgy. 
 We finished up by going to have early coffee with 
 some of these jolly chaps, and poor old Lovborg 
 dropped his precious manuscript in the mud, and I 
 picked it up — and here it is! Fancy if anything 
 were to happen to it ! He never could write it again. 
 Wouldn't it be sad, eh ? Don't tell any one about it. 
 
 [He leaves the packet of MSS. on a chair, 
 and Irishes out ; Hedda hides the jxicket 
 as Brack enters.
 
 106 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Brack. 
 
 Another early call, you see ! My party was such a 
 singularly animated soiree that I haven't undressed 
 all night. Oh, it was the liveliest affair conceivable ! 
 And, like a true Norwegian host, I tracked Lovborg 
 home ; and it is only my duty, as a friend of the 
 house, and cock of the walk, to take the first oppor- 
 tunity of telling you that he finished up the evening 
 by coming to mere loggerheads with a red-haired 
 opera-singer, and being taken off to the police-station ! 
 Your mustn't have him here any more. Remember 
 our little triple alliance ! 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Her smile fading aivay.] You are certainly a 
 
 dangerous person — but you must not get a hold over 
 
 me I 
 
 Brack. 
 
 [Ambiguously.] What an idea ! But I might — I 
 am an insinuating dog. Good morning ! [Goes out.
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 107 
 
 LiOVBORG. 
 
 [Bursting in, conjused and excited.] 1 suppose 
 you've heard where I've been ? 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Evasively.] I heard you had a very jolly party at 
 Judge Brack's. 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted conies in. 
 
 LiOVBORG. 
 
 It's all over. I don't mean to do any more work. 
 
 I've no use for a companion now, Thea. Go home to 
 
 your sheriff! 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted. 
 
 [Agitated.] Never ! I want to be with you when 
 your book comes out ! 
 
 Lovborg. 
 
 It won't come out — I've torn it up ! [Mrs. Elsted 
 rushes out, wringing her hands.] Mrs. Tesman, I told 
 her a lie — but no matter. I haven't torn my book 
 up — I've done worse ! I've taken it about to several
 
 io8 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 parties, and it's been through a police-row with me— 
 now I've lost it. Even if I found it again, it wouldn't 
 be the same — not to me ! I am a Norwegian literary 
 man, and peculiar. So I must make an end of it 
 altogether ! 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 Quite so — but look here, you must do it beauti- 
 fully. I don't insist on your putting vine-leaves in 
 your hah- — but do it beautifully. [Fetches pistol.] 
 See, here is one of General Gabler's pistols — do it 
 with that ! 
 
 Lovborg. 
 Thanks ! 
 
 [He takes the pistol, and goes out through the 
 hall-door ; as soon as he has gone, Hedda 
 brings out the manuscript, and puts it on 
 the fire, whispering to herself, as Curtain 
 falls.
 
 "I am a Norwegian literary man, and peculiar.
 
 ACT THREE 
 
 Scene. — The same room, but — it being evening — darker 
 than ever. The crape curtains are drawn. A 
 servant, with black ribbons in her cap, and red 
 eyes, comes in and lights the gas quietly and care- 
 fully. Chords are heard on the piano in the back 
 drawing-room. Presently Hedda comes in and 
 looks out into the darkness. A short pause. Enter 
 George Tesman. 
 
 George. 
 I am so uneasy about poor Lovborg. Fancy ! he 
 is not at home. Mrs. Elvsted told me he has been 
 here early this morning, so I suppose you gave him 
 back his manuscript, eh ?
 
 U2 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Cold and immovable, supported by arm-chair, ,] No, 
 I put it on the fire instead. 
 
 George. 
 On the fire ! Lovborg's wonderful new book that 
 he read to me at Brack's party, when we had that 
 wild revelry last night ! Fancy that ! But, I say, 
 Hedda — isn't that rather — eh ? Too bad, you know 
 — really. A great work like that. How on earth did 
 you come to think of it ? 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Suppressing an almost imperceptible smile.'] Well, 
 dear George, you gave me a tolerably strong hint. 
 
 George. 
 
 Me ? Well, to be sure — that is a joke ! Why, I 
 only said that I envied him for writing such a book, 
 and it would put me entirely in the shade if it came 
 out, and if anything was to happen to it, I should
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 113 
 
 never forgive myself, as poor Lovborg couldn't write 
 it all over again, and so we must take the greatest 
 care of it ! And then I left it on a chair and went 
 away — that was all ! And you went and burnt the 
 book all up ! Bless me, who ivoidd have expected it ? 
 
 Hedda. 
 Nobody, you dear simple old soul ! But I did it 
 for your sake — it was lo we, George ! 
 
 George. 
 
 [In an outburst between doubt and joy.] Hedda, you 
 don't mean that ! Your love takes such queer forms 
 sometimes. Yes, but yes — [laughing in excess of joy \ 
 why, you must be fond of me ! Just think of that 
 now ! Well, you are fun, Hedda ! Look here, I must 
 just run and tell the housemaid that — she will enjoy 
 the joke so, eh ? 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Coldly, in self-command.] It is surely not necessary 
 even for a clever Norwegian man of letters in a
 
 114 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 realistic social drama, to make quite such a fool of 
 
 himself as all that ? 
 
 George. 
 
 No, that's true too. Perhaps we'd better keep it 
 quiet — though I must tell Aunt Julie — it will make 
 her so happy to hear that you burnt a manuscript on 
 my account ! And. besides, I should like to ask her 
 whether that's a usual thing with young wives. [Looks 
 uneasy and pensive again.] But poor old Ejlert's 
 manuscript ! Oh Lor', you know ! Well, well ! 
 
 "Mrs. Elvsted comes in 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted. 
 
 Oh, please, I'm so uneasy about dear Mr. Lovborg. 
 Something has happened to him, I'm sure ! 
 
 [Judge Brack comes in from the hall, with a 
 new hat in his hand. 
 
 Brack. 
 
 You have guessed it, first time. Something has!
 
 HEDDA G ABLER n S 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted. 
 Oh, dear, good gracious ! What is it ? Something 
 distressing, I'm certain of it ! [Shrieks aloud. 
 
 Brack. 
 
 [Pleasantly, .] That depends on how one takes it. 
 
 He has shot himself, and is in a hospital now, 
 
 that's all ! 
 
 George. 
 
 [Sympathetically.] That's sad, eh ? poor old Lovborg ! 
 
 Well, I am cut up to hear that. Fancy, though, eh ? 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 Was it through the temple, or through the breast ? 
 The breast ? Well, one can do it beautifully through 
 the breast, too, Do you know, as an advanced woman, 
 I like an act of that sort — it's so positive to have the 
 courage to settle the account with himself — it's 
 beautiful, really ! 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted. 
 
 Oh, Hedda, what an odd way to look at it ! But 
 never mind poor dear Mr. Lovborg now. What we've
 
 n6 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 got to do is to see if we can't put his wonderful 
 manuscript, that he said he had torn to pieces, together 
 again. [Takes a bundle of small pages out of the pocket 
 of her mantle.] There are the loose scraps he dictated 
 it to me from. I hid them on the chance of some 
 such emergency. And if dear Mr. Tesman and I 
 were to put our heads together, I do think something 
 might come of it. 
 
 George. 
 Fancy ! I will dedicate my life — or all I can spare 
 of it — to the task. I seem to feel I owe him some 
 slight amends, perhaps. No use crying over spilt 
 milk, eh, Mrs. Elvsted ? We'll sit down — just you 
 and I — in the back drawing-room, and see if you can't 
 inspire me as you did him, eh ? 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted. 
 
 Oh, goodness, yes ! I should like it — if it only might 
 be possible ! 
 
 [George and Mrs. Elvsted go into the back 
 drawing-room and become absorbed in
 
 REDD A G ABLER 117 
 
 eager conversation ; Hedda sits in a chair 
 in the jront room, and a little later Brack 
 crosses over to her 
 
 JIedda. 
 I hi a low tone.] Oh, Judge, what a relief to know- 
 that everything — including Lovborg's pistol — went off 
 so well ! In the breast ! Isn't there a veil of un- 
 intentional beauty in that ? Such an act of voluntary 
 
 courage, too ! 
 
 Brack. 
 
 [Smiles."] H'm ! — perhaps, dear Mrs. Hedda 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Knthusiasticallij.] But wasn't it sweet of him ! To 
 have the courage to live his own life after his own 
 fashion — to break away from the banquet of life — so 
 early and so drunk ! A beautiful act like that does 
 appeal to a superior woman's imagination ! 
 
 Brack. 
 Sorry to shatter your poetical illusions, little Mrs. 
 Hedda, but, as a matter of fact, our lamented friend
 
 n8 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 met his end under other circumstances. The shot did 
 
 not strike him in the breast — but [Pauses. 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Excitedly.] General Gabler's pistols ! I might have 
 known it ! Did they ever shoot straight ? Where 
 was he hit, then ? 
 
 Brack. 
 
 [In a discreet undertone^ A little lower down ! 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 Oh, how disgusting ! — how vulgar ! — how ridiculous ! 
 — like everything else about me ! 
 
 Brack. 
 
 Yes, we're realistic types of human nature, and all 
 that — but a trifle squalid, perhaps. And why did you 
 give Lovborg your pistol, when it was certain to be 
 traced by the police ? For a charming cold-blooded 
 woman with a clear head and no scruples, wasn't it 
 just a leetle foolish !
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 119 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 Perhaps ; but I wanted him to do it beautifully, 
 and he didn't ! Oh, I've just admitted that I did give 
 him the pistol — how annoyingly unwise of me ! Now 
 I'm in your power, I suppose ? 
 
 Brack. 
 
 Precisely — for some reason it's not easy to under- 
 stand. But it's inevitable, and you know how you 
 dread anything approaching scandal. All your past 
 proceedings show that. [To George and Mrs. Elvsted 
 who come in together from the back-room.] "Well, how 
 are you getting on with the reconstruction of poor 
 Lovborg's great work, eh ? 
 
 George. 
 
 Capitally ; we've made out the first two parts 
 already. And really, Hedda, I do believe Mrs. 
 Elvsted is inspiring me ; I begin to feel it coming on. 
 Fancy that !
 
 120 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted. 
 
 Yes, goodness ! Hedda, won't it be lovely if I can. 
 I mean to try so hard ! 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 Do, you dear little silly rabbit ; and while you are 
 trying I will go into the back drawing-room and lie 
 down. 
 
 [She goes into the back room and draws the 
 curtains. Short pause, Suddenly she is 
 heard playing " The Bogie Man " within 
 on the piano. 
 
 George. 
 
 But, dearest Hedda, don't play " The Bogie Man " 
 
 this evening. As one of my aunts is dead, and poor 
 
 old Lovborg has shot himself, it seems just a little 
 
 pointed, eh ? 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Puts her head out between the curtains!] All right.
 
 " What ! the accounts of all those everlasting bores settled
 
 HEDDA G ABLER 123 
 
 I'll be quiet after this. I'm going to practise with the 
 late General Gabler's pistol ! 
 
 [Closes the curtains again; George gets 
 behind the stove, Judge Brack under the 
 table, and Mrs. Elvsted tinder the sofa. 
 A shot is heard within. 
 
 George. 
 [Behind the stove.] Eh, look here, I tell you what — 
 she's hit me t Think of that ! 
 
 [His legs are visibly agitated for a short 
 time. Another shot is heard. 
 
 Mrs. Elvsted. 
 [Under tJie sofa.] Oh, please, not me! Oh, good- 
 ness, now I can't inspire anybody any more. Oh ! 
 
 [Her feet, which can be seen under the valance, 
 quiver a little and then are suddenly still. 
 
 Br4.ck. 
 [Vivaciously, from under the tabled] I say, Mrs. 
 Hedda, I'm coming in every evening — we will have
 
 I2 4 MR, PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 great fun here togeth [Another shot is heard.'] 
 
 Bless me ! to bring down the poor old cock-of-tho- 
 walk — it's unsportsmanlike ! — people don't do such 
 things as that ! 
 
 [The table-cloth is violently agitated for a 
 minute, and presently the curtains open, 
 and Hedda appears. 
 
 Hedda. 
 
 [Clearly and firmly.] I've been trying in there to 
 shoot myself beautifully — but with General Gabler's 
 pistol — [She lifts the tablecloth, then looks behind the 
 stove and under the sofa.] What ! the accounts of 
 all those everlasting bores settled ? Then my suicide 
 becomes unnecessary. Yes, I feel the courage of life 
 once more ! 
 
 [She goes into the back-room and plays " The 
 Funeral March of a Marionette" as the 
 Curtain falls.]
 
 I III \\ II I) DUCK
 
 THE WILD DUCK 
 
 ACT FIRST 
 
 At Werle's house. In front a richly-upholstered study. 
 (r.) A yreen baize door leading to Werle's office. 
 At bach, open folding doors, revealing an elegant 
 dining-room, in which a brilliant Norwegian 
 dinner-party is going on. Hired Waiters in pro- 
 fusion. A glass is tapped ivith a knife. Shouts 
 of " Bravo!" Old Mr. Werle is heard making 
 a long speech, proposing — according to the custom 
 of Norwegian society on such occasions — the health 
 of his Housekeeper, Mrs. Sorby. Presently 
 several short-sighted, flabby, and thin-haired
 
 128 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Chamberlains enter from the dining-room with 
 Hialmar Ekdal, who writhes shyly under their 
 remarks. 
 
 A Chamberlain. 
 
 As we are the sole surviving specimens of Nor- 
 wegian nobility, suppose we sustain our reputation as 
 aristocratic sparklers by enlarging upon the enormous 
 amount we have eaten, and chaffing Hialmar Ekdal, 
 the friend of our host's son, for being a professional 
 photographer ? 
 
 The other Chamberlains. 
 
 Bravo ! We will. 
 
 [They do ; Might of Hialmar. Old Werle 
 comes in, leaning on his Housekeeper' 's 
 arm, followed by his son, Gregers 
 Werle. 
 
 Old Werle. 
 
 [Dejectedly.] Thirteen at table! [To Gregers, 
 with a meaning glance at Hialmar.] This is the
 
 THE WILD DUCK 129 
 
 result of inviting an old college friend who has 
 turned photographer ! Wasting vintage wines on 
 him, indeed. [He passes on gloomily. 
 
 Hialmar. 
 
 [2 T o Gregers.] I am almost sorry I came. Your 
 old min is not friendly. Yet he set me up as a 
 photographer fifteen years ago. Now he takes me 
 down ! But for him, I should never have married 
 Gina, who, you may remember, was a servant in your 
 family once. 
 
 Gregers. 
 
 What ? my old college friend married fifteen years 
 ago — and to our Gina, of all people ! If I had not 
 been up at the works all these years, I suppose I 
 should have heard something of such an event. But 
 my father never mentioned it. Odd ! 
 
 [He ponders ; Old Ekdal comes out through 
 the green baize- door, botoing, and begging 
 pardon, carrying copying work. Old 
 
 1
 
 130 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Werle says "Ugh" and "Pah" in- 
 voluntarily. Hialmar shrinks back, and 
 looks another way. A Chamberlain asks 
 him pleasantly if he knows that old man. 
 
 Hialmar. 
 I — oh no. Not in the least. No relation ! 
 
 Gregers. 
 
 [Shocked.] What, Hialmar, yon, with your great 
 soul, deny your own father ! 
 
 Hialmar. 
 
 [Vehemently.] Of course — what else can a photo- 
 grapher do with a disreputable old parent, who has 
 been in a penitentiary for making a fraudulent map ? 
 I shall leave this splendid banquet. The Chamber- 
 lains are not kind to me, and I feel the crushing 
 hand of fate on my head ! 
 
 [Goes out hastily, feeling it.
 
 /' -- 
 
 (tit. / 
 
 "Father, a word with you in private: 
 I loathe you."
 
 THE WILD DUCK 
 
 'jj 
 
 Mrs. Sorby. 
 
 [Archil/.'] Any nobleman here say " Cold Punch " ? 
 \Everij nobleman says " Cold Punch " and 
 follows her out in search of it with en- 
 thusiasm. Gregers approaches his father , 
 who wishes he would go. 
 
 Gregers. 
 
 Father, a word with you in private. I loathe you. 
 I am nothing if not candid. Old Ekdal was your 
 partner once, and it's my firm belief you deserved a 
 prison quite as much as he did. However, you surely 
 need not have married our Gina to my old friend 
 Hialmar. You know very well she was no better than 
 she should have been ! 
 
 Old Werle. 
 
 True — but then no more is Mrs. Sorby. And / 
 am going to marry her — if you have no objection, 
 that is.
 
 i 34 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Gregers. 
 
 None in the world ! How can I object to a step- 
 mother who is playing Blind Man's Buff at the 
 present moment with the Norwegian nobility ? I am 
 not so overstrained as all that. But really I cannot 
 allow my old friend Hialmar, with his great, con- 
 fiding, childlike mind, to remain in contented ignor- 
 ance of Gina's past. No, I see my mission in life at 
 last ! I shall take my hat, and inform him that his 
 home is built upon a lie. He will be so much 
 obliged to me ! [Takes his hat, and </oes out. 
 
 Old Werle. 
 
 Ha ! — I am a wealthy merchant, of dubious morals, 
 and I am about to marry my housekeeper, who is on 
 intimate terms with the Norwegian aristocracy. I 
 have a son who loathes me, and who is either an 
 Ibsenian satire on the Master's own ideals, or else an 
 utterly impossible prig — I don't know or care which. 
 Altogether, I flatter myself my household affords an 
 accui'ate and realistic picture of Scandinavian Society ! 
 
 Curtain.
 
 ACT SECOND 
 
 Hialmar Ekdal's Photographic Studio. Cameras, 
 neck-rests, and other instruments oj torture lying 
 about. Gixa Ekdal and Hedwig, her daughter, 
 aged 14, and wearing spectacles, discovered sitting 
 tip J "or Hialmar. 
 
 Hedvig, 
 Grandpapa is in his room with a bottle of brandy 
 and a jug of hot water, doing some fresh copying 
 work. Father is in society, dining out. He pro- 
 mised he would bring me home something nice ! 
 
 Hialmar. 
 \_Coming in, in evening dress.^ And he has not 
 forgotten his promise, my child. Behold ! [He
 
 136 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 presents her with the menu card ; Hedvig gulps down 
 her tears ; Hialmar notices her disappointment, with 
 annoyance.] And this all the gratitude I get ! After 
 dining out and coming home in a dress-coat and 
 boots, which are disgracefully tight ! Well well, 
 just to show you how hurt I am, I won't have any 
 bee)' now ! What a selfish brute I am ! [Relenting.] 
 You may bring me just a little drop. [He bursts into 
 tears.] I will play you a plaintive Bohemian dance 
 on my flute. [He does.] No beer at such a sacred 
 moment as this ! [He drinks.] Ha, this is real 
 domestic bliss ! 
 
 [Gregers Werle comes in, in a countrified suit. 
 
 Gregers. 
 
 I have left my father's home — dinner-party and all 
 — for ever. I am coming to lodge with you. 
 
 Hialmar. 
 
 [Still melancholy.] Have some bread and butter. 
 You won't? — then I will. I want it, after your
 
 THE WILD DUCK 137 
 
 father's lavish hospitality. [Hedvig goes to fetch 
 bread and butter.} My daughter — a poor short- 
 sighted little thing — but mine own. 
 
 Gregers. 
 My father has had to take to strong glasses, too — 
 he can hardly see after dinner. [To Old Ekdal, who 
 stumbles in very drunk.} How can you, Lieutenant 
 Ekdal, who were such a keen sportsman once, live 
 in this poky little hole ? 
 
 Old Ekdal. 
 
 1 am a sportsman still. The only difference is 
 
 that once I shot bears in a forest, and now I pot 
 
 tame rabbits in a garret. Quite as amusing — and 
 
 safer. [He goes to sleep on a sofa. 
 
 HlALMAR. 
 
 [With pride.} It is quite true. You shall see. 
 
 [He pushes back sliding doors, and reveals 
 a garret full of rabbits and poultry — 
 moonlight effect, Hedvig returns with 
 bread and butter.
 
 138 Mi?. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Hedvig. 
 
 [To Gregers.] If you stand just there, you get the 
 best view of our Wild Duck. We are very proud of 
 her, because she gives the play its title, you know, 
 and has to be brought into the dialogue a good deal. 
 Your father peppered her out shooting, and we saved 
 her life. 
 
 Hialmar. 
 
 Yes, Gregers, our estate is not large — but still we 
 preserve, you see. And my poor old father and I 
 sometimes get a day's gunning in the garret. He 
 shoots with a pistol, which my illiterate wife here 
 will call a " pigstol." He once, when he got into 
 trouble, pointed it at himself. But the descendant 
 of two lieutenant-colonels who had never quailed 
 before living rabbit yet, faltered then. He didrit 
 shoot. Then I put it to my own head. But at the 
 decisive moment, I won the victory over myself. 
 I remained in life. Now we only shoot rabbits and
 
 THE WILD DUCK 139 
 
 fowls with it. After all I am very happy and 
 contented as I am. [He eats some bread and butter. 
 
 Gregers. 
 
 But you ought not to be. You have a good deal of 
 the Wild Duck about you. So have your wife and 
 daughter. You are living in marsh vapours. To- 
 morrow I will take you out for a walk and explain 
 what I mean. It is my mission in life. Good night ! 
 
 [lie (joes out. 
 
 GlNA AND IlEDWIG. 
 
 What was the gentleman talking about, father? 
 HlALMAR. 
 
 [Eating bread and butter.] He has been dining, 
 you know. No matter — what ive have to do now, is 
 to put my disreputable old whitehaired pariah of 
 a parent to bed. 
 
 [He and Gina lift Old Eccles — vje mean Old 
 Ekdal — up by tJie legs and arms, and 
 take him off to bed as the Curtain falls.
 
 ACT THREE 
 
 Hialmar's Studio. A photograph has just been taken. 
 Gin A and Hedvig are tidying up. 
 
 Gina. 
 
 \Ap>ologet%cally^\ There shoxdd have been a luncheon- 
 party in this act, with Dr. Relling and Molvik, who 
 would have been in a state of comic " chippiness," 
 after his excesses overnight. But, as it hadn't much 
 to do with such plot as there is, we cut it out. It 
 came cheaper. Here comes your father back from 
 his walk with that lunatic, young Werle — you had 
 better go and play with the "Wild Duck. 
 
 [Hedvig goes.
 
 THE WILD DUCK 141 
 
 HlALMAR. 
 
 [Coming in.'] I have been for a walk with Gregers ; 
 he meant well — but it was tiring. Gina, he has told 
 me that, fifteen years ago, before I married you, you 
 were rather a Wild Duck, so to speak. [Severely.] 
 Why haven't you been writhing in penitence and 
 remorse all these years, eh ? 
 
 Gina. 
 
 [Sensibly.] Why ? Because I have had other things 
 to do. You wouldn't take any photographs, so I 
 had to. 
 
 HlALMAR. 
 
 All the same — it was a swamp of deceit. And 
 where am I to find elasticity of spirit to bring out 
 my grand invention now ? I used to shut myself up 
 in the parlour, and ponder and cry, when I thought 
 that the effort of inventing anything would sap my 
 vitality. [Pathetically .] I did want to leave you an 
 inventor's widow ; but I never shall now, particularly
 
 i 4 2 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 as I haven't made up my mind what to invent yet. 
 Yes, it's all over. Rabbits are trash, and even 
 poultry palls. And I'll wring that cursed Wild 
 Duck's neck ! 
 
 Gregers. 
 
 [Coming in beaming.]. Well, so you've got it over. 
 Wasn't it soothing and ennobling, eh ? and ain't you 
 both obliged to me ? 
 
 Gina. 
 
 No ; it's my opinion you'd better have minded 
 your own business. [Weeps. 
 
 Gregers. 
 
 [In great surprise.] Bless me ! Pardon my Nor- 
 wegian naivete, but this ought really to be quite a 
 new starting-point. Why, I confidently expected to 
 have found you both beaming ! — Mrs. Ekdal, being 
 so illiterate, may take some little time to see it — but 
 you, Hialmar, with your deep mind, surely you feel 
 a new consecration, eh ?
 
 THE WILD DUCK 143 
 
 HlALMAR. 
 
 [Dubiously.] Oh — er — yes. I suppose so — in a 
 sort of way. [Hedvig runs in, overjoyed. 
 
 Hedvig. 
 
 Fathei', only see what Mrs. Sorby has given me for 
 a birthday present — a beautiful deed of gift ! 
 
 [Shows it. 
 
 HlALMAR. 
 
 [Eluding her.] Ha ! Mrs. Sorby, the family house- 
 keeper. M^ — father ^ sight failing ! Hedvig in 
 goggles ! What vistas of heredity these astonishing 
 coincidences open up ! / am not short-sighted, at all 
 events, and I see it all — all ! This is my answer. [He 
 takes the deed, and tears it across.] Now I have 
 nothing more to do in this house. [Puts on over- 
 coat.] My home has fallen in ruins about me. [Bursts 
 into tears^] My hat ! 
 
 Gregers. 
 Oh, but you mustn't go. You must be all three 
 
 dM h/e*Xe 4
 
 i 4 4 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 together, to attain the true frame of mind for self- 
 sacrificing forgiveness, you know ! 
 
 H.IALMAR. 
 
 Self-sacrificing forgiveness be blowed ! 
 
 [He tears himself array, and goes out. 
 
 Hedvig. 
 
 [With despairing ei/es.] Oh, he said it might be 
 blowed ! Now he'll never come home any more ! 
 
 Gregers. 
 
 Shall I tell you how to regain your father's con- 
 fidence, and bring him home surely? Sacrifice the 
 
 Wild Duck. 
 
 Hedvig. 
 
 Do you think that will do any good ? 
 
 Gregers. 
 You just try it ! 
 
 Curtain.
 
 ACT FOURTH 
 
 Same Scene. Gregers enters, and finds Gina 
 retouching photographs. 
 
 Gregers. 
 [Pleasantly.] Hialmar not come in yet, after last 
 night, I suppose? 
 
 Gina. 
 Not he ! He's been out on the loose all night with 
 Eelling and Molvik. Now he's snoring on their 
 sofa. 
 
 Gregers. 
 \Disappointed?\ Dear ! — dear ! — when he ought to 
 
 be yearning to wrestle in solitude and self-examina- 
 tion ! 
 
 K
 
 146 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Gin a. 
 
 [Rudely.] Self-examine your grandmother ! 
 
 [She goes out ; Hedvig comes in. 
 
 Gregers. 
 [To Hedvig.] Ah, I see you haven't found courage 
 to settle the Wild Duck yet ! 
 
 Hedvig. 
 
 No — it seemed such a delightful idea at first. Now 
 it strikes me as a trifle — well, Ibsenish. 
 
 Gregers. 
 
 [Reprovingly.] I thought you hadn't grown up quite 
 unharmed in this house ! But if you really had the 
 true, joyous spirit of self-sacrifice, you'd have a shot 
 at that "Wild Duck, if you died for it ! 
 
 Hedvig. 
 
 [Slowly.] I see ; you mean that my constitution's 
 changing, and I ought to behave as such ?
 
 THE WILD DUCK i 47 
 
 Gregers. 
 Exactly, I'm what Americans would term a " crank " 
 — but I believe in you, Hedvig. 
 
 [Hedvig takes down the jnstol from the 
 'mantelpiece, and (joes into the garret with 
 flashing eyes ; Gina comes in. 
 
 Hialmar. 
 [Looking in at door with hesitation ; he is unwashed 
 and dishevelled.] Has anybody happened to see my 
 hat? 
 
 Gina. 
 Gracious, what a sight you are ! Sit done and have 
 some breakfast, do. [She brings it. 
 
 Hialmar. 
 
 [Indignantly.] What ! touch food under this roof ? 
 Never ! [Helps himself to bread-and-butter and coffee. .] 
 Go and pack up my scientific uncut books, my manu- 
 scripts, and all the best rabbits, in my portmanteau. 
 I am going away for ever. On second thoughts, I
 
 148 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 shall stay in the spare room for another day or two — 
 
 it won't be the same as living with you ! 
 
 [He takes some salt meat. 
 Grbgers. 
 Must you go ? Just when you've got nice firm 
 ground to build upon — -thanks to me ! Then there's 
 your great invention, too. 
 
 HlALMAR. 
 
 Everything's invented already. And I only cared 
 about my invention because, although it doesn't exist 
 yet, I thought Hedvig believed in it, with all the 
 strength of her sweet little shortsighted eyes ! But 
 now I don't believe in Hedvig ! 
 
 [He pours himself out another cup of coffee. 
 Gregers. 
 [Earnestly.] But, Hialmar, if I can prove to you 
 that she is ready to sacrifice her cherished Wild 
 Duck ? See ! 
 
 [He pushes back sliding-door, and discovers 
 Hedvig aim in;/ at the "Wild Duck with the 
 butt-end of the pistol. Tableau.
 
 THE WILD DUCK I49 
 
 UlNA. 
 
 [Excitedly. "\ But don't you see? It's the pigstol — 
 that fatal Norwegian weapon which, in Ibsenian 
 dramas, never shoots straight ! And she has got it by 
 the wrong end too. She will shoot herself ! 
 
 Gregers. 
 
 [Quietly. .] She will ! Let the child make amends. 
 It will be a most realistic and impressive finale ! 
 
 CtINA. 
 
 No, no — put down the pigstol, Hedvig. Do you 
 
 hear, child ? 
 
 Hedvig. 
 
 [Still aiming.] I hear — but I shan't unless father 
 
 tells me to. 
 
 Gregers. 
 
 llialmar, show the great soul I always said you had. 
 This sorrow will set free what is noble in you. Don't 
 spoil a fine situation. Be a man ! Let the child 
 shoot herself !
 
 150 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 HlALMAR. 
 
 [Irresohttelt/.] Well, really, I don't know. There's 
 a good deal in what Gregers says. H'm ! 
 
 Gina. 
 A good deal of tomfool rubbish! I'm illiterate, I. 
 know. I've been a Wild Duck in my time, and I 
 waddle. But for all that, I'm the only person in the 
 play with a grain of common-sense. And I'm sure — 
 whatever Mr. Ibsen or Gregers choose to say — that a 
 screaming burlesque like this ought not to end like a 
 tragedy — even in this queer Norway of ours ! And it 
 shan't, either ! Tell the child to put that nasty pigstol 
 down, and come away — do ! 
 
 HlALMAR. 
 
 [Yielding.] Ah, well, I am a farcical character 
 myself, after all. Don't touch a hair of that duck's 
 head, Hedvig. Come to my arms and all shall be 
 forgiven ! 
 
 [Hedvig throws down the pistol — which goes 
 off' and kills a rabbit — and rushes into her
 
 Put that nasty pigstol down !
 
 THE WILD DUCK 15 
 
 Jatker's arms. Old Ekdal comes out of a 
 corner with a foul on each shoulder, and 
 bursts into tears. Affecting family picture. 
 
 Gregers. 
 
 [Annoyed.] It's all very pretty, I daresay — but it's 
 not Ibsen ! My real mission is to be the thirteenth 
 at table. I don't know what I mean — but I fly to 
 fulfil it ! [He yoes. 
 
 Hialmar. 
 
 And now we've got rid of him, Hedvig, fetch me 
 the deed of gift I tore up, and a slip of paper, and a 
 penny bottle of gum, and we'll soon make a valid 
 instrument of it again. 
 
 [He ]xt>stes the torn deed together as the Curtain 
 slowly descends.
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 
 
 [Prefatory Note. — The original title — Mester-PjU-drogster 
 Herded — would sound a trifle too uncouth to the Philistine 
 ear, and is therefore modified as above, although the 
 term " drogster," strictly speaking, denotes a practitioner 
 who has not received a regular diploma]. 
 
 ACT FIRST 
 
 .4?? elegantly furnished drawing-room at Dr. Herdal's. 
 In front, on the left, a console-table, on which is a 
 large round bottle full of coloured, water. On the 
 right a stove, with a banner-screen made out of a 
 richly-embroidered chest-protector. On the stove, a 
 stethoscope and, a small galvanic battery. In one 
 corner, a hat and, umbrella stand, : in another, a
 
 158 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 desk, at which stands Senna Blakdraf, making 
 out the quarterly accounts. Through a glass-door 
 at the back is seen the Dispensary, where Rvbub 
 Kalomel is seated, occupied in rolling a pill. 
 Both go on working in perfect silence for four 
 minutes and a half. 
 
 Dr. Haustus Herdal. 
 
 [Enters through hall-door ; he is elderly, with a 
 'plain sensible countenance, but slightly weak hair and 
 expression.] Come here Miss Blakdraf. \Hangs up 
 hat, and throios his mackintosh on a divan.] Have 
 you made out all those bills yet ? 
 
 [Looks sternly at her. 
 
 Senna. 
 
 [In a low hesitating voice.] Almost. I have 
 charged each patient with three attendances daily. 
 Even when you only dropped in for a cup of tea and 
 a chat. [Passionately.] I felt I must — I must/
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 159 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Alters his tone, clasps her head in his hands, and 
 whispers^] I wish you could make out the bills for 
 
 me, always. 
 
 Senna. 
 
 [In nervous exaltation.] How lovely that would 
 be ! Oh, you are so unspeakably good to me ! It is 
 too enthralling to be here ! 
 
 [Sinks down and embraces his knees. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 So I've understood. [With suppressed irritation.'] 
 For goodness' sake, let go my legs ! I do wish you 
 wouldn't be so confoundedly neurotic ! 
 
 Rt BUB. 
 
 [Has risen, and comes in through glass-door, 
 breathing with difficulty ; he is a prematurely bald 
 young man of fifty -five, ivith a harelip, and squints 
 slightly.] I beg pardon, Dr. Herdal, I see I interrupt
 
 160 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 you. [.4s Senxa rises.] I have just completed this 
 
 pill. Have you looked at it ? 
 
 [He offers it for i aspect ion, diffidently. 
 
 Dr. Hebdal. 
 
 [Evasively.] It appears to be a pill of the usual 
 
 dimensions. 
 
 Rubub. 
 
 [Cast down.] All these years you have never given 
 
 me one encouraging word ! Can't you praise my 
 
 pill? 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Struggles with himselj.] I — I cannot. You should 
 not attempt to compound pills on your own account. 
 
 RfrBUB. 
 
 [Breathing laboriously.] And yet there was a time 
 
 when you, too 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Comjjlacently.] Yes, it was certainly a pill that 
 came as a lucky stepping-stone — but not a pill like 
 that !
 
 "% 
 
 "For goodness' sake, let go my legs!
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERD A L 163 
 
 RtJBUB. 
 
 [Vehemently] Listen! Is that your last word? 
 Is my aged mother to pass out of this world without 
 ever knowing whether I am competent to construct 
 -an effective pill or not ? 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [As if in desperation.'] You had better try it upon 
 your mother— it will enable her to form an opinion. 
 Only mind — I will not be responsible for the 
 result. 
 
 RtJBUB. 
 
 I understand. Exactly as you tried your pill, all 
 those years ago, upon Dr. Ryval. 
 
 [He bows and goes out. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Uneasily.'] He said that so strangely, Senna. But 
 tell me now — when are you going to marry him ?
 
 164 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Senna. 
 
 [Starts — half glancing up at him.] I — I don't 
 know. This year — next year— now — never f I can- 
 not marry him ... I cannot — I cannot — it is so 
 utterly impossible to leave you ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 Yes, I can understand that. But, my poor Senna,, 
 hadn't you better take a little walk ? 
 
 Senna. 
 
 [Clasp>s her hands gratefully .] How sweet and 
 thoughtful you are to me ! I will take a walk. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [With a suppressed smile.'] Do! And — h'm ! — you 
 needn't trouble to come back. I have advertised for 
 a male book-keeper — they are less emotional. Good- 
 night, my little Senna !
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERD A L 165 
 
 Senna. 
 [Softly and quivermgly.] Good-night, Dr. Herdal ! 
 [Staggers out of hall-door, blowing kisses. 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 [Enters through the window, plaintively.] Quite an 
 acquisition for you, Haustus, this Miss Blakdraf ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 She's — h'm — extremely civil and obliging. But I 
 am parting with her, Aline — mainly on your account. 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 [Evades him.'] Was it on my account, indeed, 
 Haustus ? You have parted with so many young 
 persons on my account — so you tell me ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 [Depressed.] Oh, but this is hopeless ! When I 
 have tried so hard to bring a ray of sunlight into 
 your desolate life! I must give Riibub Kalomel 
 notice too — his pill is really too preposterous !
 
 166 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 
 [Feels gropingly for a chair, and sits dovm on the 
 floor.~\ Him, too ! Ah, Haustus, you will never make 
 my home a real home for me. My poor first 
 husband, Halvard Solness, tried — and he couldn't ! 
 When one has had such misfortunes as I have — all 
 the family portraits burnt, and the silk dresses, too, 
 and a pair of twins, and nine lovely dolls. 
 
 [Chokes with tears. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [As if to lead her away from the subject.] Yes, yes r 
 yes, that must have been a heavy blow for you, my 
 poor Aline. I can understand that your spirits can 
 never be really high again. And then for poor Master 
 Builder Solness to be so taken up with that Miss 
 Wangel as he was — that, too, was so wretched for 
 you. To see him topple off the tower, as he did that 
 day ten years ago
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 167 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 
 Yes, that too, Haustus. But I did not mind it so 
 
 much — it all seemed so perfectly natural in both of 
 
 them. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 Natural ! For a girl of twenty three to taunt a 
 middle-aged architect, whom she knew to be con- 
 stitutionally liable to giddiness, never to let him 
 have any peace till he had climbed a spire as dizzy as 
 himself — and all for the fun of seeing him fall oft* — 
 how in the world ! 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 
 [Laying the table for supper with dried fish and 
 punch.] The younger generation have a keener sense 
 of humour than we elder ones, Haustus, and perhaps 
 after all, she was only a perplexing sort of allegory. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 Yes, that would explain her to some extent, no 
 doubt. ■ But how he could be such an old fool !
 
 1 68 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 
 That Miss Wangel was a strangely fascinating type 
 of girl. Why, even I myself 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Sits down and lakes some fish.~\ Fascinating ? 
 Well, goodness knows, I couldn't see that at all. 
 [Seriously.] Has it never struck you, Aline, that 
 elderly Norwegians are so deucedly impressionable- 
 mere bundles of overstrained nerves, hypersensitive 
 ganglia. Except, of course, the Medical Profession. 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 Yes, of course ; those in that profession are not so 
 inclined to gangle. And when one has succeeded by 
 such a stroke of luck as you have 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Drinks a glass of punch.] You're right enough 
 there. If I had not been called in to prescribe for 
 Dr. Ryval, who used to have the leading practice
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 169 
 
 here, I should never have stepped so wonderfully into 
 his shoes as I did. [Changes to a tone of quiet chuck- 
 ling merriment.] Let me tell you a funny story, 
 Aline ; it sounds a ludicrous thing — but all my good 
 fortune here was based upon a simple little pill. For 
 if Dr. Ryval had never taken it 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 
 [Anxiously .~\ Then you do think it was the pill that 
 caused him to ? 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 On the contrary ; I am perfectly sure the pill had 
 nothing whatever to do with it — the inquest made it 
 quite clear that it was really the liniment. But don't 
 you see, Aline, what tortures me night and day is the 
 thought that it might unconsciously have been the 
 
 pill which Never to be free from that ! To have 
 
 such a thought gnawing and burning always — 
 always, like a moral mustard plaster ! 
 
 [He takes more punch.
 
 170 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 Yes j I suppose there is a poultice of that sort 
 burning on every breast — and we must never take it 
 off either— it is our simple duty to keep it on. I too, 
 Haustus, am haunted by a fancy that if this Miss 
 Wangel were to ring at our bell now 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 After she has been lost sight of for ten years ? She 
 is safe enough in some sanatorium, depend upon it. 
 And what if she did come ? Do you think, my dear 
 good woman, that I — a sensible clear-headed general 
 practitioner, who have found out all I know for 
 myself — would let her play the deuce with me as she 
 did with poor Halvard ? No, general practitioners 
 don't do such things — even in Norway ! 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 
 Don't they indeed, Haustus ? [The surgery-bell 
 rings loxtdhj?^ Did you hear that ? There she is ! I 
 will go and put on my best cap. It is my duty to 
 show her that small attention.
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERD A L 171 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Laughing nervously.] Why, what on earth ! • 
 
 It's the night-bell. It is most probably the new 
 book-keeper! [Mrs. Herdal goes out; Dr. Herdal 
 rises with difficulty, and opens the door.] Goodness 
 gracious ! — it is that girl, after all ! 
 
 [Hilda Wangel enters through the dispensary door. 
 She wears a divided skirt, thick boots, and a Tain 
 0' Shanter with an eagles wing in it. Somewhat 
 freckled. Carries a green tin cylinder slung round her, 
 and a rug in a strap. Goes straight up to Herdal, 
 her eyes sparkling with happiness.] How are you ? 
 I've run you down, you see ! The ten years are up. 
 Isn't it scru captiously thrilling, to see me like this? 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Politely retreating.] It is — very much so — but still 
 I don't in the least understand
 
 172 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Measures him ivith a glance .] Ob, you will. I 
 have come to be of use to you. I've no luggage, and 
 no money. Not tbat that makes any difference. I 
 never have. And I've been allured and attracted 
 here. You surely know bow tbese tbings come 
 about ? [Throics her arms round him. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 What the deuce ! Miss Wangel, you mustn't. I'm 
 a married man ! There's my wife ! 
 
 Mrs. Herdal enters. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 As if that mattered — it's only dear, sweet Mrs. 
 
 Solness. She doesn't mind — do you, dear Mrs. Sol- 
 
 ness? 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 
 It does not seem to be of much use minding, Miss 
 Wangel. I presume you have come to stay ?
 
 FILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 173 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [In amused surprise.] Why, of course — what else 
 should I come for ? I always come to stay, until — 
 h'm ! [Nods slowly, and sits down at table. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Involuntarily.] She's drinking my punch ! If she 
 thinks I'm going to stand this sort of thing, she's 
 mistaken. I'll soon show her a pill-doctor is a 
 very different kind of person from a mere Master 
 Builder ! 
 
 [Hilda finishes the punch with an indefin- 
 able expression in her eyes, and Dr. 
 Herdal looks on gloomily as the Curtain 
 falls.
 
 ACT SECOND 
 
 Dr. Herdal's drawing-room and dispensary, as before. 
 It is early in the day. Dr. Herdal sits by the 
 little table, taking his own temperature with a 
 clinical thermometer. By the door stands the New 
 Book-keeper; he wears blue spectacles and a, dis- 
 coloured white tie, and seems slightly nervous. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 Well, now you understand what is necessary. My 
 late book-keeper, Miss Blakdraf, used to keep my 
 accounts very cleverly — she charged every visit twice 
 over.
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 175 
 
 The New Book-keeper. 
 
 I am familiar with book-keeping by double entry. 
 I was once employed at a bank. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 I am discharging my assistant, too ; he was always 
 trying to push me out with his pills. Perhaps you 
 will be able to dispense ? 
 
 The New Book-keeper. 
 
 [Modestly.'] With an additional salary, I should be 
 able to do that too. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 Capital ! You shall dispense with an additional 
 salary. Go into the dispensary, and see what you 
 can make of it. You may mistake a few drugs at first 
 — but everything must have a beginning. 
 
 [As the New Book-keeper retires, Mrs. 
 Herdal enters in a hat and cloak with a 
 watering-pot, noiselessly .
 
 176 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 
 Miss Wangel got up early, before breakfast, and 
 went for a walk. She is so wonderfully vivacious ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 So I should say. But tell me, Aline, is she really 
 going to stay with us here ? [Nervously. 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 
 [Looks at him.] So she tells me. And, as she has 
 brought nothing with her except a tooth-brush and a 
 powder-puff, I am going into the town to get her a 
 few articles. We nmst make her feel at home. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Breaking out.] I will make her not only feel but be 
 at home, wherever that is, this very day ! I will not 
 have a perambulating Allegory without a portmanteau 
 here on an indefinite visit. I say, she shall go — do 
 you hear, Aline ? Miss "Wangel will go ! 
 
 [It nps with his fist on table.
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 177 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 
 [Quietly. ~\ If you say so, Haustus, no doubt she will 
 have to go. But you must tell her so yourself. 
 
 [Puts the watering-pot on the console table, 
 and (joes out, as Hilda enters, sparkling 
 with pleasure. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Goes up straight to him.] Good morning, Dr. Herdal. 
 I have just seen a pig killed. It was ripping — I 
 mean, gloriously thrilling ! And your wife has taken 
 a tremendous fancy to me. Fancy that ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Gloomily.'] It is eccentric certainly. But my poor 
 dear wife was always a little 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Nods her head slowly several times.] So you have 
 noticed that too ? I have had a long talk with her. 
 She can't get over your discharging Mr. Kalomel — he 
 is the only man who ever really understood her. 
 
 M
 
 178 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 If I could only pay her oft' a little bit of the huge, 
 immeasurable debt I owe her — but I can't ! 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Looks hard at him.] Can't I help you ? I helped 
 Ragnar Brovik. Didn't you know I stayed with him 
 and poor little Kaia — after that accident to my 
 Master Builder ? I did. I made Ragnar build me 
 the loveliest castle in the air — lovelier, even, than 
 poor Mr. Solness's would have been — and we stood 
 together on the very top. The steps were rather too 
 much for Kaia. Besides, there was no room for her 
 on top. And he put towering spires on all his semi- 
 detached villas. Only, somehow, they didn't let. 
 Then the castle in the air tumbled down, and Ragnar 
 went into liquidation, and I continued my walking- 
 tour. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Interested against his icill.] And where did you go 
 after that, may I ask, Miss Wangel ?
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 179 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 Oh, ever so far north. There I met Mr. and Mrs. 
 Tesman — the second Mrs. Tesman — she who was Mrs. 
 Elvsted, with the irritating hair, you know. They 
 were on their honeymoon, and had just decided that 
 it was impossible to reconstruct poor Mr. Lovborg's 
 great book out of Mrs. Elvsted's rough notes. But I 
 insisted on George's attempting the impossible — with 
 Me. And what do you think Mrs. Tesman wears in 
 her hair now ? 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 Why, really I could not say. Vine-leaves, perhaps. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 Wrong — straws ! Poor Tesman didn't fancy that — 
 so he shot himself, w?i-beautifully, through his ticket- 
 pocket. And I went on and took Kosmersholm for 
 the summer. There had been misfortune in the 
 house, so it was to let. Dear good old Rector Kroll 
 acted as my reference ; his wife and children had no
 
 180 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 sympathy with his views, so I used to see him every 
 day. And I persuaded him, too, to attempt the 
 impossible — he had never ridden anything but a 
 rocking-horse in his life, but I made him promise to 
 mount the "White Horse of Rosmersholm. He 
 didn't get over that. They found his body, a fortnight 
 afterwards, in the mill-dam. Thrilling ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Shakes his finger at her.] What a girl you are, Miss 
 Wangel ! But you mustn't play these games here, you 
 know. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Laughs to herself.'] Of course not. But I suppose 
 I am a strange sort of bird. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 You are like a strong tonic. When I look at you 
 I seem to be regarding an effervescing saline draught. 
 Still, I really must decline to take you.
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERBAL 181 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [A little sulky.] That is not how you spoke ten years 
 ago, up at the mountain station, when you were such 
 a flirt ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 Was I a flirt ? Deuce take me if I remember. But 
 L am not like that now. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 Then you have really forgotten how you sat next to 
 me at the table d'hote, and made pills and swallowed 
 them, and were so splendid and buoyant and free 
 that all the old women who knitted left next 
 day ? 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 What a memory you have for trifles, Miss Wangel ; 
 it's quite wonderful !
 
 i82 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 Trifles ! There was no trifling od your part. When 
 you promised to come back in ten years, like a troll, 
 and fetch me ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 Did I say all that ? It must have been ajter table 
 d'hote ! 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 It was. I was a mere chit then — only twenty- 
 three ; but / remember. And now / have come for 
 you. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 Dear, dear ! But there is nothing of the troll 
 about me now I have married Mrs. Solness. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Lookuuj sharply at him.] Yes, I remember you 
 were always dropping in to tea in those days.
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 183 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Seems hurt.] Every visit was duly put down in the 
 
 ledger and charged for — as poor little Senna will tell 
 
 you. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 Little Senna ? Oh, Dr. Herdal, I believe there is a 
 
 bit of the troll left in you still ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Laughs a little.] No, no ; my conscience is perfectly 
 
 robust — always was. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 Are you quite quite sure that, when you went 
 
 indoors with dear Mrs. Solness that afternoon, and 
 
 left me alone with my Master Builder, you did not 
 
 foresee — perhaps wish — intend, even a little, that 
 
 H'm? 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 That you would talk the poor man into clambering 
 
 up that tower ? You want to drag Me into that 
 
 business now !
 
 184 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Hilda. 
 [Teasing I i/.] Yes, I certainly think that then you 
 went on exactly like a troll. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [With uncontrollable emotion.] Hilda, there is not a 
 
 corner of me safe from you ! Yes, I see now that 
 
 must have been the way of it. Then I was a troll in 
 
 that, too ! But isn't it terrible the price I have had 
 
 to pay for it ? To have a wife who No, I shall 
 
 never roll a pill again — never, never ! 
 
 Hilda. 
 [Lays her head on the stove, and answers as if half 
 asleep.] No more pills ? Poor Doctor Herdal ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 [Bitterly.] No — nothing but cosy commonplace grey 
 powders for a whole troop of children. 
 
 Hilda. 
 [Lively again.] Not grey powders! [Quite seriously.] 
 I will tell you what you shall make next. Beautiful
 
 "Beautiful rainbow-coloured powders that will give 
 one a real grip on the world!"
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 1S7 
 
 rainbow-coloured powders that will give one a real 
 grip on the world. Powders to make every one free 
 and buoyant, and ready to grasp at one's own happi- 
 ness, to dare what one would. I will have you make 
 them. I will — I will ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 H'm ! I am not quite sure that I clearly under- 
 stand. And then the ingredients- ? 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 What stupid people all of you pill-doctors are, to be 
 sure ! Why, they will be poisons, of course ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 Poisons ? Why in the world should they be that ? 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Without answering him.] All the thrillingest, 
 deadliest poisons — it is only such things that are 
 wholesome, nowadays.
 
 iSS MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [As if caught by her enthusiasm.] And I could colour 
 them, too, by exposing them to rays cast through a 
 prism. Oh, Hilda, how I have needed you all these 
 years ! For, you see, with her it was impossible to 
 discuss such things. [Embraces her. 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 
 [Enters noiselessly through hall-door.] I suppose, 
 Haustus, you are persuading Miss Wangel to start by 
 the afternoon steamer ? I have bought her a pair of 
 curling-tongs, and a packet of hair-pins. The larger 
 parcels are coming on presently. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Uneasily.] H'm ! Hilda — Miss Wangel I should 
 say — is kindly going to stay on a little longer, to 
 assist me in some scientific experiments. You 
 wouldn't understand them if I told you.
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERD A L m 9 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 Shouldn't I, Haustus ? I daresay not. 
 
 [The New Book-keeper looks through the glass 
 door of dispensary. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Starts violently and points — then in a whisper. ,] 
 Who is that ? 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 Only the new Book-keeper and Assistant — a very 
 intelligent person. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Looks straight in front of her with a far-away ex- 
 pression, and ivhispers to herself] I thought at first it 
 was .... But no — that would be too frightfully 
 thrilling ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [To himself] I'm turning into a regular old troll
 
 i 9 o MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 now — but I can't help myself. After all, I am only 
 an elderly Norwegian. We are made like that . . . . 
 Rainbow powders — real rainbow powders ! With 
 Hilda ! .... Oh, to have the joy of life once more ! 
 
 [Takes his temperature again as Curtain falls.
 
 ACT THIRD 
 
 [On the right, a smart verandah, attached to Dr. 
 Herdal's dwelling-house, and communicating 
 with the drawing-room and dispensary by glass 
 doors. On the left a tumble-down rockery, with 
 a headless plaster Mercury. In front, a lawn, 
 with a large silvered glass globe on a stand. 
 Chairs and tables. All the furniture is of gal- 
 vanised iron. A sunset is seen going on among 
 the trees. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Comes out of dispensary -door cautiously, and 
 whispers.] Hilda, are you in there ? 
 
 [Taps with fingers on drawing-room door.
 
 192 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Hilda. 
 [Comes out loith a half-teasing smile.] Well — and 
 how is the rainbow-powder getting on, Dr. Herdal ? 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [TF^A enthusiasm.] It is getting on simply splen- 
 didly. I sent the new assistant out to take a little 
 walk, so that he should not be in the way. There is 
 arsenic in the powder, Hilda, and digitalis too, and 
 strychnine, and the best beetle-killer ! 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [IFi^A happy, toondering eyes.] Lots of beetle- 
 killer And you will give some of it to her, to make 
 her free and buoyant. I think one really has the 
 right — when people happen to stand in the way ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 Yes, you may well say so, Hilda. Still — [dubiously] 
 — it does occur to me that such doings may perhaps be 
 misunderstood — by the narrow-minded and conven- 
 tional. [They go on the lawn, and sit down.
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 193 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [With an outburst.] Oh, that all seems to me so 
 foolish — so irrelevant ! As if the whole thing wasn't 
 intended as an allegory ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Believed.] Ah, so long as it is merely allegorical, 
 of course But what is it an allegory of, Hilda ? 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Reflects in vain.] How can you sit there and ask 
 
 such questions ? I suppose I am a symbol — of some 
 
 sort. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [As a thought flashes upon him.] A cymbal ? That 
 
 would certainly account for your bra Then, am 
 
 / a cymbal too, Hilda ? 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 "Why yes — what else ? You represent the artist- 
 worker, or the elder generation, or the pursuit of 
 
 N
 
 194 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 the ideal, or a bilious conscience — or something or 
 
 other. You've all right ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 [Shakes his head.] Am I ? But I don't quite see 
 Well, well, cymbals are meant to clash a little. 
 
 And I see plainly now that I ought to prescribe this 
 powder for as many as possible. Isn't it terrible, 
 Hilda, that so many poor souls never really die their 
 own deaths — pass out of the world without even the 
 formality of an inquest ? As the district Coroner. I 
 feel strongly on the subject. 
 
 Hilda. 
 And, when the Coroner has finished sitting on all 
 the bodies, perhaps — but I shan't tell you now. 
 [Speaks as if to a child.] There, run away and finish 
 making the rainbow-powder, do ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 [Skips up into the dispensary.] I will — I will ! Oh, 
 1 do feel such a troll — such a light-haired, light- 
 headed old devil !
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 195 
 
 Rt T BUB. 
 
 [Enters garden-gate.] I have had my dismissal — but 
 I'm not going without saying good-bye to Mrs. 
 Herdal. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 Dr. Herdal would disapprove — you really must 
 not, Mr. Kalomel. And, besides, Mrs. Herdal is not 
 at home. She is in the town buying me a reel of 
 cotton. Dr. Herdal is in. He is making real rain- 
 bow powders for regenerating everybody all round. 
 Won't that be fun ? 
 
 Rubub. 
 
 Making powders ? Ha ! ha ! But you will see he 
 won't take one himself. It is quite notorious to us 
 younger men that lie simply daren't do it. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [With a little snort of contempt^ Oh, I daresay — 
 that's so likely ! [Defiantly.] I know he can, though. 
 I've seen him !
 
 196 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 RtJBUB. 
 
 There is a tradition that he once — but not now 
 — he knows better. I think you said Mrs. Herdal 
 was in the town ? I will go and look for her. I 
 understand her so well. [Goes out by gate. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Calls.] Dr. Herdal ! Come out this minute. I 
 want you — awfully ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Puts his head out.] Just when I am making such 
 wonderful progress with the powder. [Comes down 
 and leans on a table.] Have you hit upon some way 
 of giving it to Aline ? I thought if 3'ou were to put 
 it in her arrowroot ? 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 No, thanks. I won't have that now. I have just 
 recollected that it is a rule of mine never to injure 
 anybody I have once been formally introduced to.
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL 197 
 
 Strangers don't count. No, poor Mrs. Herdal 
 mustn't take that powder ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 [Disappointed.'] Then is nothing to come of making 
 rainbow powders, after all, Hilda ? 
 
 Hilda. 
 [Looks hard at him.] People say you are afraid to 
 take your own physic. Is that true ? 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 Yes, I am. [After a pause — with cawlour.] I find 
 it invariably disagrees with me. 
 
 Hilda. 
 [With a half-dubious smile.] I think I can under- 
 stand that. But you did once. You swallowed your 
 own pills that day at the table d'hote, ten years ago. 
 And I heard a harp in the air, too ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 [Open-mouthed.] I don't think that could have been 
 me. T don't play any instrument. And that was
 
 19S MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 quite a special thing, tou. It's not every day I can 
 
 do it. Those were only bread pills, Hilda. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [With flashing eyes.] But you rolled them, you 
 took them. And I want to see you stand once more 
 free and high and great, swallowing your own pre- 
 parations. [Passionately.] I will have you do it ! 
 [Imploringly.] Just once more, Dr. Herdal ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 If I did, Hilda, my medical knowledge, slight as it 
 
 is, leads me to the conclusion that I should in all 
 
 probability burst. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Looks deeply into his eyes.] So long as you burst 
 beautifully ! But no doubt that Miss Blakdraf 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 You must believe in me utterly and entirely. I 
 will do anything — anything, Hilda, to provide you
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERD A L 199 
 
 with agreeable entertainment. I will swallow my 
 own powder ! [To himself, as he goes gravely up 
 to dispensary. \ If only the drugs are sufficiently 
 adulterated ! 
 
 [Goes in; as he does so, the New Assistant 
 enters the garden in blue spectacles, unseen 
 by Hilda, and follows him, leaving open 
 the glass door. 
 
 Senna. 
 
 [Gomes wildly out of drawing-room.] Where is dear 
 
 Dr. Herdal ? Oh, Miss Wangel, he has discharged 
 
 me — but I can't — I simply can't live away from that 
 
 lovely ledger. 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Jubilantly.] At this moment Dr. Herbal is in the 
 
 dispensary, taking one of his own powders. 
 
 Senna. 
 [Des2xtiringly.~\ But — but it is utterly impossible! 
 Miss Wangel, you have such a firm hold of him — don't 
 let him do that !
 
 200 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Hilda. 
 I have already done all I can. 
 
 [Rubub appears, talking confidentially with 
 Mrs. Herdal, at gate. 
 
 Senna. 
 
 Oh, Mrs. Herdal, Rtibub ! The Pill-Doctor is 
 going to take one of his own prepai^ations. Save him 
 — quick ! 
 
 RtTBUB. 
 
 [With cold politeness.'] I am sorry to hear it — for 
 his sake. But it would be quite contrary to pro- 
 fessional etiquette to prevent him. 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 
 And I never interfere with my husband's proceed- 
 ings. I know my duty. Miss Blakdraf, if others 
 
 don't ! 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 \Exulting with great intensity.] At last! Now I 
 see him in there, great and free again, mixing the
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERD A L 201 
 
 powder in a spoon — with jam! .... Now he raises 
 the spoon. Higher — higher still ! [A gulp is audible 
 from within.] There, didn't you hear a harp in the 
 air? [Quietly.] I can't see the spoon any more. 
 But there is one he is striving with, in blue spec- 
 tacles ! 
 
 The New Assistant's Voice. 
 [Within.] The Pill-Doctor Herdal has taken his own 
 powder ! 
 
 Hilda. 
 [As if petrified.] That voice ! Where have I heard 
 it before ? No matter — he has got the powder down ! 
 [Waves a shawl in the air, and shrieks with wild 
 jubilation.] It's too awfully thrilling ! My — my Pill- 
 Doctor ! 
 
 The New Assistant. 
 
 [Comes out on verandah.] I am happy to inform 
 you that — as, to avoid accidents, 1 took the simple 
 precaution of rilling all the dispensary-jars with 
 camphorated chalk- — no serious results may be anti-
 
 202 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 cipated from Dr. Herdal's rashness. [Removes spec- 
 tacles.] Nora, don't you know me ? 
 
 Hilda. 
 [Reflects.] I really don't remember having the 
 pleasure And I'm sure I heard a harp in the air ! 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 I fancy, Miss Wangel, it must have been merely a 
 bee in your bonnet 
 
 The New Assistant. 
 [Tenderly.'] Still the same little singing-bird ! Oh, 
 Nora, my long-lost lark ! 
 
 Hilda. 
 [Sulkily.] I'm not a lark — I'm a bird of prey — and 
 when I get my claws into anything ! 
 
 The New Assistant. 
 Macaroons, for instance 1 I remember your tastes 
 of old. See, Nora ! [Produces a paper-bag jrom his 
 coat-tail pocket?] They were fresh this morning!
 
 " My, my Pill-doctor !
 
 PILL DOCTOR HERDAL 205 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Waverixr/.] If you insist on- calling me Nora, I 
 think you must be just a little mad yourself. 
 
 The New Assistant. 
 
 We are all a little mad — in Norway. But Torvald 
 Helmer is sane enough still to recognise his own little 
 squirrel again ! Surely, Nora, your education is 
 complete at last — you have gained the experience you 
 needed ? 
 
 Hilda. 
 
 [Mods slowly.] Yes, Torvald, you're right enough 
 there. I have thought things out for myself, and 
 have got clear about them. And I have quite made 
 up my mind that Society and the Law are all wrong, 
 
 and that I am right. 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 [Overjoyed.] Then you have learnt the Great 
 Lesson, and are fit to undertake the charge of your
 
 206 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 children's education at last ! You've no notion how 
 they've grown ! Yes, Nora, our marriage will be a 
 true marriage now. You will come back to the 
 Dolls' House, won't you ? 
 
 Hilda-Nora-Helmer-Wangel. 
 
 [Hesitates.] Will you let me forge cheques if I do, 
 
 Torvald ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 
 [Ardently.] All day. And at night, Nora, we will 
 falsify the accounts — together ! 
 
 Hjlda-Nora-Helmer-\V angel. 
 
 [Throws herself into his arms, and helps herself to 
 'macaroons.] That will be fearfully thrilling ! My 
 — my Manager ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Comes out very pale, from dispensary.] Hilda I 
 did take the I'm afraid I interrupt you ? 
 
 Helmer. 
 Not in the least. But this lady is my little lark,
 
 PILL-DOCTOR HERD A L 207 
 
 and she is going back to her cage by the next 
 steamer. 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Bitterly.'] Am I never to have a gleam of hap- 
 piness? But stay — do I see my little Senna once 
 more ? 
 
 Rubub. 
 
 Pardon me — my little Senna. She always believed 
 so firmly in my pill ! 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 Well — well. If it must be. Riibub, I will take 
 you into partnership, and we will take out a patent 
 for that pill, jointly. Aline, my poor dear Aline, let 
 us try once more if we cannot bring a ray of bright- 
 ness into our cheerless home ! 
 
 Mrs. Herdal. 
 
 Oh, Haustus, if only we could — but why do you 
 propose that to me — now 2
 
 208 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Dr. Herdal. 
 
 [Softly — to himself.] Because I have tried being a 
 troll — and found that nothing came of it, and it 
 wasn't worth sixpence ! 
 
 [Hilda-Nora goes off to the right with 
 Helmer ; Senna to the left with Rubub ; 
 Dr. Herdal and Mrs. Herdal sit on 
 two of the galvanised-iron chairs, and 
 shake their heads disconsolately as the 
 Curtain falls.
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN
 
 PERSONS 
 
 Alpeed Feuyseck {Man of Letters). 
 
 Mrs. Speeta Feuyseck (his wife). 
 
 Little Mopseman (their Pudeldachs, six years 
 and nine months old). 
 
 Mopsa Beovik (alittle less than kin to Alpeed). 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdeahn. 
 
 The Vaemint-Blsk.
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 
 
 [Translator's Note.— The word "blok," like the analogous 
 Norwegian " geyser," implies merely an individual — not 
 necessarily a shady one. Cf. Elen and Chevalier, 
 imssim.] 
 
 THE FIRST ACT 
 
 A richly upholstered garden-room, full of art-pots and 
 other furniture. Mrs. Spreta Frtjyseck stands 
 beside the table, U7ipacking the traditional bag. 
 Shortly after, Miss Mopsa Brovik enters by the 
 door ; she carries a pink parasol and a rather 
 portly portfolio with a patent lock. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 [As she eriters.] Good morning, my dear Spreta ! 
 [Sees the bag.] Why, you are unpacking a travelling-
 
 212 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 bag on the drawing-room table ! Then Alfred has 
 
 actually come home ? [Takes of her things. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 [Turns and nods with a teasing smile.] As if 
 you didn't know I When you have never been 
 down in these parts all the time he has been 
 away ! [ Unpacking a flannel vest and a respi- 
 rator.] Yes, he turned up last night, quite unex- 
 pectedly. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 Then it was that that drew me out here ! I felt I 
 must. My poor dear muther, 3£aia — she that was a 
 Miss Fosli, you know — was like that. She always 
 felt she must. It's heredity. Surely you can under- 
 stand that 1 
 
 Spketa. 
 
 [Takes out a bottle of cough mixture, and closes t/ie 
 bag with a snap. I am not quite a fool, my dear.
 
 LITTLE MO PS EM AN 213 
 
 But really, when you have such a firm admirer in 
 Mr. Blochdrahn ! 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 He is such a mere bachelor. I never could feel 
 really attracted to any unmarried man. All that 
 seems to me so utterly unmaidenly. [Changing the 
 subject.] How is dear Alfred ? 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 Dear Alfred is tired, but perfectly transfigured by 
 his trip. He has never once been away from me all 
 these years. Only think ! 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 That would account for it certainly. And I really 
 think he deserved some little outing. [With an out- 
 burst of joy.] Why, I shouldn't wonder if he has 
 positively finished his great big book while he has 
 been away ! 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 [TFtfA a half smile.] Shouldn't you? / should.
 
 214 MR- PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 But he has not mentioned it — perhaps he was too 
 tired. And he has been trying to teach that miser- 
 able Little Mopseman tricks ever since he came back. 
 I never did care about dogs myself, and really Alfred 
 is so perfectly absurd about him. Oh, here he is. 
 
 [Alfred Fruyseck enters, followed by Little 
 Mopseman on his hind legs. Alfred is a 
 weedy, thin-haired man of about thirty-five 
 {or thirty-six) with tinted spectacles and 
 limp side-whiskers. Mopseman wears a 
 military tunic and a shako very much over 
 one eye, and is shouldering a small toy 
 musket. He is bandy-legged, with a broad 
 black snout and beautiful intelligent eyes. 
 His tail is drooping and has lost all its 
 hair. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Beaming.] Just see what really wonderful pro- 
 gress Little Mopseman has made already with his
 
 LITTLE MOPS EM AN 215 
 
 drill. Why, my dearest Mopsa ! [Goes up and kisses 
 her with marked pleasure!] You have come here the 
 very morning after my return ? Fancy that. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 [Gazes fixedly at him.'] I couldn't keep away. 
 You are looking quite splendid ! And how have you 
 got on with your wonderful large book, Alfred ? I 
 felt so sure it would go so easily when once you had 
 got away from dear Spreta. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Shrugging his shoulders.] It did — wonderfully 
 easily. The truth is my thick fat book on Canine 
 Idiosyncrasy — h'm — has gone — entirely out of my 
 head. I have been trying thinking for a change. 
 It's easier than writing. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 Yes, Alfred, I can understand that. And then, 
 when }'ou had never really got farther than the 
 title !
 
 216 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Smiling at her.] No farther than that. Some- 
 how, none of the Friiysecks ever do. My family is a 
 thing apart. And now I have determined to devote 
 my whole time to Little Mopse'man. I am going to 
 foster all the noble germs in him, create a conscious 
 happiness in his mind. [With enthusiasm.] That is 
 my true vocation. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 You shouldn't have dressed the poor dog up like 
 that. It does make him look so utterly ridiculous ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Speaking lower and seriously^] Only in the eyes 
 of the Philistines who couldn't see any pathos in poor 
 Mrs. Solness and her nine dolls. The truly reverent 
 have no sense whatever of the ridiculous. Still, it 
 would certainly be better in future to keep Little 
 Mopse'man indoors, because if the dogs in the streets
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 217 
 
 saw him in those clothes — [clenching his hands]— and 
 after he has had that unfortunate accident to his 
 tail, too ! 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 Alfred, I won't have you bringing up that again ! 
 There's some one knocking. Come in. 
 
 The Varmint-Blok. 
 
 [Enters softly and noiselessly. He is a slouching, 
 sinister figure, in a fur cap and a flowered comforter. 
 He has a large green gingham in one hand, and in the 
 other a bag which ivrithes unpleasantly.] Humbly 
 beg pardon, your worships, but you don't happen to 
 feel in the humour to see how this little wounded 
 warrior here — [points to Mopseman] — would polish 
 off the lovely little ratikins, do you ? 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [With suppressed indignation.] We most certainly 
 do not. He is intended for higher things. Get out, 
 you have frightened him under the sofa.
 
 218 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 The Varmint-Blok. 
 
 He'll come round right enough There, 
 
 didn't I tell you ! See how he sniffs at my legs. It's 
 wonderful what a fancy dawgs do seem to take to 
 me — follow me anywhere, they will. [With a chuck- 
 ling laugh.] Seems as if they'd got to. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 There is certainly no accounting And what 
 
 becomes of them when they do ? 
 
 The Varmint-Blok. 
 
 [With glittering eyes.] Oh, they've safe enough, the 
 sweet little creatures, lady. I'm very kind to 'em. 
 And if I could only induce you to let your lovely 
 poodlekin tackle a dozen rats, which 'ud be a holiday 
 
 to a game little sportin' dawg like him Not this 
 
 mornin' ? then here's a loving good-day to you all, 
 and thank ye kindly for nothing. 
 
 [He backs out cringingly, as Spreta retires 
 to the verandah, fanning herself elegantly
 
 " He backs out cringingly. . . . Mopscman slips out after him.
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 221 
 
 xoith her pocket-handke7*chief ; Mopseman 
 slips out after him, unnoticed by all. 
 Alfred sees Mopsa's portfolio. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [To Mopsa.] And have you positively lugged this 
 thing all the way out here. Wasn't it heavy ? 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 [Abcfe.] It had to be. It contains all the letters 
 
 written to my poor dear mother — by Master-builder 
 
 Solness, you know. My mother had such a rich, 
 
 beautiful past. I thought, Alfred, we might look 
 
 them through together quietly some evening, when 
 
 Spreta is out of the way. 
 
 [Looks attentively at him. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Uneasily, to himself. ~\ Oh, my good gracious ! 
 [^4 loud.~\ It would certainly have to be some evening 
 when But on the whole, perhaps, I — I really
 
 222 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 almost think we had better It isn't as if you 
 
 were really my second cousin ! 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 [Re-entering from verandah.] Has that horrible 
 person with the rats gone ? He has given me almost 
 a kind of turn. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 He is a sort of itinerant Trope, I suppose. Talking 
 of turns, did I tell you that I, too, have experienced 
 a kind of inward revolution away up there among the 
 peaks? ... I have. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 Oh, heavens ! Alfred, was it the cookery at those 
 high mountain hotels ? 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Soothingly, patting her head.] Not altogether — be 
 very sure of that. But it is rather a long story. I 
 should recommend you to sit down. [They sit doion
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 223 
 
 expectantly.] I will try to tell you. [Gazing straight 
 
 before him.] When I look back into the vague mists 
 
 that enshroud my earliest infancy, I seem almost 
 
 to 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 [Slaps him.] Oh, for goodness' sake, Alfred, do skip 
 
 the introduction ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Disappointed.] It was the most interesting part ! 
 But the long and short of it is that I have resolved to 
 renounce writing my wonderful work on Canine 
 Idiosyncrasy! I am going to act it out instead — on 
 Little Mopseman. [With shining eyes.] I intend to 
 perfect the rich possibilities that lie hidden in that 
 rather unprepossessing poodle. There ! 
 
 Spreta. 
 [Holding aloof from him.] And is that all ' 
 
 Alfred. 
 H'm, yes, that's all. But you never did properly 
 appreciate poor Little Mopseman ! 
 
 p
 
 224 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Mopsa. 
 [Pressing his hand] She never did, Alfred. But / 
 do. And we will teach him the loveliest new tricks 
 together. • [Fixes her eyes on him] Just you and I. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 Alfred, I won't have the dog taught any tomfoolery. 
 
 You shall not divide yourself up like that. Do you 
 
 hear ? 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 
 [Enters by the door] Aha ! so you've got your hus- 
 band thoroughly in hand, as usual, eh, Mrs. Friiyseck ? 
 [To the others] I bring glorious news. I have just 
 been called in to see to the Schoolhouse drains again ! 
 I onlv laid them last Autumn ; but there seems to 
 be a leakage somewhere. Quite a big piece of work, 
 
 really ! 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 And are you beaming with joy over that ? 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 I am indeed. And afterwards I have several
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 225; 
 
 important drains to disconnect at the great new hotel 
 in Christiania, and the most tremendous scientific 
 safeguards to grapple with and overthrow. What a 
 glorious thing it is to be a plumber and make a little 
 extra work for oneself in the world ! Miss Mopsa, 
 can I persuade you to to take a little turn in the 
 garden ? Do ! [Offers his arm. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 [Takes it.] Oh, I don't mind — provided you don't 
 talk shop or sentiment. [They go out together. 
 
 Spreta. 
 [Looks after them.~\ What a pity it is that Mopsa 
 can't take more to that Mr. Blochdrahn, isn't it, 
 Alfred ? [Looks searchingly at him . 
 
 Alfred. 
 [Wriggles.] Oh — er — I don't know. For then we 
 should see so much less of her. 
 
 Spreta. 
 [Vehemently.] Oh, come ! So much the better !
 
 226 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 [Clutching him round the neck.] I want you all to 
 myself, Alfred. I love you so much I could throttle 
 you. I've a good mind to, as it is ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Choking.'] You are. My loyal, proud, true- 
 hearted Spreta, d-don't ! [Gently releases himself. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 You have ceased to care for me. Don't deny it, 
 Alfred ! [Bursts into convulsive weeping. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 I will frankly admit that, like most married 
 Norwegians, I am — h'm — subject to the Law of 
 Change. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 [With increasing excitement.] I saw that so plainly 
 last night. I sent out for some champagne, Alfred, 
 expressly for you. And you didn't drink a drop of it ! 
 
 [Looks bitterly at him.
 
 LITTLE MO PS EM AN 227 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 I knew the brand. [With a gesture of repulsion.] 
 Gooseberry, my dear, gooseberry. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 You never even kissed me, either. But you can 
 kiss Mopsa ! Alfred, if you imagine / am the kind of 
 person to play gooseberry 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 Need dramatic dialogue descend to these sordid 
 details ? Really this is verging on mere vulgar logger- 
 heads ! And when you know, too, how I have always 
 regarded Mopsa almost as a sort of sister ! 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 I know that sort of sister, Alfred. She comes from 
 Norway ! But I am none of your fish-blooded Mrs. 
 Solnesses, or half-witted Beata Rosmers, and I'm not 
 going to stand it ! I decline to share you with any- 
 thing or anybody — whether it's a thick fat book that
 
 228 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 never gets even begun, or a designing minx that helps 
 3 T ou in your precious " vocation," or a gorging little 
 mongrel, with his evil red and green eyes, that I'm 
 often tempted to wish at the bottom of the fiord ! 
 
 [Confused cries and barks are heard outside. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Shocked.] Spreta ! When am I going to bring all 
 his desires into harmony with his digestion ! How 
 unkind of you ! [Looks for a moment.] What in the 
 world are all the dogs barking at down there ? 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 
 [Re-entering with Mopsa, by glass door.] Only some 
 organ-grinder's monkey. They have just frightened it 
 into the fiord. Such fun ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 [In an agony of dread.] Can it be our Little ? 
 
 But he is burying bones in the back garden. And he 
 is not a monkey, either. And if he were, monkeys
 
 LITTLE MOPS EM AN 229 
 
 can all swim. . . . What are they saying now ? , . . 
 Hush ! 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 
 [Leans over verandah railings.] They say, " He is 
 still shouldering the little musket ! " 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Almost paralysed.] The little it is Mopseman ! 
 
 I taught him to do it so thoroughly ! [With out- 
 stretched arms.] He cannot shoulder a musket and 
 swim too ! [Glancing darkly at Spreta.] Woman, 
 you have your wish ! Henceforth my life will be one 
 long rankle of remorse ! [Sinks down in the armchair. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 [With an affectionate expression in her eyes.] Not 
 
 alone, Alfred ! We will rankle together — just you 
 
 and I. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Rises half distracted.] Oh my gracious goodness ! 
 
 [He rushes down into the garden.
 
 THE SECOND ACT 
 
 A little narrow glen, with a slope in the background, 
 belonging to Alfred. Under the drijtying trees 
 a table and chairs, all made of thin birchstaves. 
 Everything is sodden with wet, and mist- wreaths 
 are driving about. Alfred Fruyseck, dressedj in 
 a black mackintosh, sits dejectedly on a chair. 
 Presently Mopsa Brovik comes down the slope 
 cautiously behind, and touches his shoulder; 
 Alfred jv/m/ps. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 You shouldn't really sit about on damp seats in 
 such miserable weather, Alfred. I have been hunting 
 for you everywhere. 
 
 [Closing her umbrella with quiet significance.
 
 LITTLE MOFSEMAN 231 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [To himself.} Run to earth ! Oh, Lor' ! [Aloud. 
 If you would only be kind enough to search for 
 Mopseman instead ! I cannot unravel the mystery of 
 his disappearance. There he was, just entering upon 
 conscious intelligence — full of the infinite possibilities 
 of performing poodlehood. I had charged myself with 
 his education. After having been an usher at so 
 many boarding-schools, I felt peculiarly fitted for 
 such a task. And then a shady scoundrel has only 
 to come his way with rats in a bag 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 But we don't in the least know how it really all 
 came about. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 That infernal Varmint- Blok is at the bottom of 
 it, you may depend upon that ! Though what motive 
 
 in the world [Quivering .] It's not as if Mopseman 
 
 would ever have faced a rat. He used to bolt at the
 
 232 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 mere sight of a blackbeetle even. The whole thing is 
 so utterly meaningless, Mopsa. And yet, I suppose 
 the order of the universe requires it. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 Have you indulged in these abstruse philosophical 
 speculations with Spreta ? 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Shakes his head hopelessly.] She is so utterly inca- 
 pable of [Mopsa nods.] I prefer discussing them 
 
 with you. There is something unnatural in imparting 
 confidences to a mere wife. What on earth have you 
 got there ? 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 [Takes a little housewife from her pocketi] Spreta 
 said you had lost the button off the back of your 
 collar. I thought I would sew it on for you. May 
 I? [With quiet warmth.] I'll try not to run the 
 needle into you.
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 233 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Absently. Do; it may distract my thoughts a 
 little. Where is Spreta, by the way ? 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 Only taking a little walk with Blochdrahn. [Sewing. | 
 Perhaps it is hardly the weather for a stroll ; but 
 then he was always so perfectly devoted to — h'm — to 
 Little Mopseman, you know. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Surprised.] But Spreta wasn't. She never liked 
 
 him — not even as a puppy. And now tell me — don't 
 
 you think you could take a fancy to Blochdrahn — 
 
 h'm? 
 
 Mopsa. 
 Oh, no! please ! [Covers her face with her hands. 
 
 You mustn't really ask me why. [Looks at him through 
 
 her fingers.] Because I know I should tell you ; you 
 
 have such an irresistible influence over me ! Oh 
 
 dear ! oh dear ! what will you think of me ? [Moves
 
 234 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 close up to him.] There's a button off your shirt-front 
 
 now ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Plaintively.'] Am I to have that one sewn on too ? 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 Yes, it's the right thing to do. Though how Spreta 
 can let you go about like this, I can't think ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [With a half smile.] When I have you to look after 
 me. This is quite like the dear old days ! 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 Yes. [Sewing.] I remembered I mended all your 
 things, like a sister. Even then you never had quite 
 all your buttons, had yon, dear ? 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Patting her head.] Not even then. And do you 
 remember how you used to follow me about, just like 
 a little dog ? And I used to call you " Little Mopse-
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 235 
 
 man," because your name was Mopsa ; and if I had 
 had a dog I should have called him Little Mopseman. 
 And then how you used to sit up and hold a biscuit 
 on your nose, my dear faithful Mopsa ! 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 I wonder how you can be so childish ! [Smiling 
 involuntarily.'] It teas a rich beautiful time; but it 
 was all over when you married. I hope you have 
 never mentioned all that nonsense to Spreta ? 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 I may have. One does tell one's wife some things 
 — unintentionally. [Clutching his forehead.] But oh, 
 how can I sit here and forget Little Mopseman so 
 completely ? Have I no heart ? 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 If you have lost it, I think I know where it is. 
 And your must surely give you grief a rest occasion- 
 ally, too.
 
 236 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 I mustn't. I won't. I will think of him By 
 
 the way, are we to have dried fish for dinner again ? 
 . . . Oh, there I go once more — in the very middle 
 of my agony — just when I want to be torturing my- 
 self unspeakably with this gnawing crushing regret! 
 What a wonderfully realistic touch it is, though, eh ? 
 So dramatic ! But after all, I have you, Mopsa. I'm 
 so glad of that ! 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 [Looking earnestly at him.] Surely you mean clear 
 Spreta — not me, Alfred ? 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 What relation is a wife to her husband? None 
 whatever. Now you, Mopsa, you are very nearly a 
 second cousin once removed, not quite — because our 
 family is a thing so entirely apart. We have always 
 had vowels (the very best vowels) for our initials, and 
 the same coloured spectacles, and poor relations we
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 237 
 
 invariably cut and great thick works we never get 
 really on with. You take after your mother, Kaia. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 And my aunt — she that was a Miss Kebecca West. 
 I feel so irresistibly drawn to disturb other people's 
 domestic harmony. But you must really forget me, 
 and try to care for poor Spreta a little. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Vehemently.] It's no use. I can't. You've en- 
 tranced me so thoroughly. [Helplessly .] I knew you 
 would ! Do let me remain here with you ! 
 
 [Seizes her hand. 
 Mopsa. 
 [Looks warmly at him.] Of course, if you really 
 mean that, I cannot pretend that such comradeship 
 
 is Hush ! let go my hand — there's somebody 
 
 coming ! 
 
 Spreta and BlochdrIhn enter in waterproofs, 
 sharing the same umbrella.
 
 238 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. 
 
 Alfred. 
 [Annoyed.] Why do you come bothering here ? 
 Surely you must see that such an interruption is most 
 ill-timed. 
 
 SFRETA. 
 
 [With a cutting laugh.} We did gather that, Alfred. 
 I came to see what you were about. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 Mopsa was simply sympathising with me over Little 
 Mopseman's disappearance — that was all. 
 
 Sfreta. 
 
 Sympathising and philandering, Alfred, are synony- 
 mous terms in the Norwegian Drama. And I may 
 be allowed to observe that other people can philander 
 if they're driven to it. [Glances at Blochdrahn. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 [Taking h>r umbrellx quickly, to Blochdrahx.] We 
 seem to be somewhat de trop here. Suppose we with- 
 draw ? [They do.
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 239 
 
 SPRETA. 
 Doesn't it strike you, Alfred, that all this morbid 
 harping on that missing mongrel may be just a little 
 ' monotonous — for a popular audience, I mean ? 
 
 Alfred. 
 [Gloomily] They'll have to sit through another Act 
 and a half of it — that's all. I shall harp if I choose. 
 I like harping. And you always detested Mopseman. 
 You said he ate too much, and had evil eyes. 
 
 Spreta. 
 So he did — so he had ! And you never really and 
 truly loved him either, or you would never have made 
 such a fool of the dog as you did ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 I had renounced my wonderful thick book. 1 
 needed something to fill up my life. 
 
 Spreta. 
 You might have chosen something better than a 
 miserable little poodle with no hair on his tail ! 
 
 Q
 
 2 4 o MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Alfred. 
 [Turns pale.] It is you — you, who were the guilty 
 one in that. [Harshly and coldly.] It was your hand 
 that spilt the hot water over him as he lay comfort- 
 ably on the hearthrug. It was ! And you know it ! 
 
 Spreta. 
 [Terrified, yet defiant.] Better own at once that you 
 came behind me and jogged my arm ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [In suppressed desperation.] Yes, that is true. You 
 
 looked so entrancingly beautiful as you were putting 
 
 the kettle on for tea, that I was irresistibly impelled 
 
 to kiss you ! 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 [Exasperated.] Alfred ! This is intolerable of you. 
 Do I deserve to be reproached for looking en- 
 trancingly beautiful ? 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [ With sarcasm?] Not in the least — now. You are
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN z\\ 
 
 subject to the Law of Change. Bat what does all 
 
 that matter ? "We have both sinned, if you like. 
 
 While we had him, we both shrank in secret from 
 
 him — we could not bear to see the tail he dragged 
 
 about after him ! 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 [Whispers. ~\ You were so perpetually putting 
 paraffin upon it, Alfred ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 \C aimer. ~\ Yes, that. I tried to perfect its possi- 
 bilities. But it was no use — I could never, never 
 make it good again. And after that I dressed him 
 up in military uniform, and then he had to remain 
 too much indoors, so, of course, he followed the 
 Varmint-Blok, and then the street curs chevied him 
 over the pier. And after I had trained him so 
 thoroughly to shoulder a musket, he was so totally 
 unable to swim. Oh, it all works out into quite a 
 logical Retribution. And I must go away into the 
 solitudes and writhe with remorse — by myself.
 
 242 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Spreta. 
 [Bitingly.] Unless, of course, you can induce Mopsa 
 
 to 1 think you mentioned once that she used to 
 
 follow you about like a little dog ? 
 
 Alfred. 
 [In a hollow voice.] I did. I remember now. Thi-t 
 
 time when the tea-kettle Retribution ! 
 
 [lie staggers into the thinnest birchstave chair, 
 which collapses under him. 
 
 Spreta. 
 [Menacingly standing over him.] Yes, Alfred, Retri- 
 bution ! [Mopsa and Blochdrahn return. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 [Pleasantly.] Well, my clear Spreta, have you and 
 dear Alfred talked things thoroughly out ? 
 
 Spreta. 
 Oh, yes ; quite thoroughly enough. I really will 
 not be left alone with Alfred any more ; he is too 
 depressing !
 
 " Yes, Alfred, Retribution ! "
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 245 
 
 Alfred. 
 [On the ground.] One cannot be expected to rollick 
 when one is being gnawed with remorse ! But perhaps 
 Blochdrahn would be a more cheerful companion for 
 you ; go on with him, while Mopsa helps me up 
 again. We'll follow you — presently. 
 
 [Spreta and Blochdrahn go off together ; 
 Mopsa tenderly assists Alfred to rise. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 Oh, dear me ! it does seem such a pity ! But Spreta 
 
 always was peculiar. It must be so trying for you, 
 
 dear ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 So much so that I can't stand her any longer. I 
 must get away, anywhere — quite alone. Mopsa, will 
 
 you come too ? 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 [Shocked.] Alfred ! How can you ? What have I 
 said or done to encourage such a proposal ? So 
 utterly unexpected !
 
 246 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Feebly.] I really couldn't help it. It's the troll 
 inside me. What am I saying? That belongs to 
 another Norwegian drama ! 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 All this part belongs to several other Norwegian 
 dramas, dear. But we must see if we can't get out 
 of the old groove this time ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 But why in the world ? When you showed 
 
 such a wonderful preference for my society, too ! 
 
 Mopsa. 
 [Gently.] I know, dear. But that was before 
 
 Let me tell you something. [Slow music ; Alfred 
 sits down, cautiously.] I've just been looking through 
 my big portfolio, and I've discovered — what do you 
 think ? [Alfred shakes his head hopelessly.] I'm not 
 Kaia's daughter at all, really. I'm only adopted !
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 247 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 But what difference does that make in our rela- 
 tions ? Practically, none whatever ! 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 All the difference, Alfred. I always pursued you 
 about with reluctance, and under protest. Being, as 
 I supposed, descended from Kaia Fosli, and related 
 to Rebecca West, it seemed so utterly the right thing 
 to do. But I know now that I am nothing of the 
 sort, and that if my real mother ever possessed such 
 a thing as a Past at all, it was Plu-perfect. So 
 heredity doesn't come in, and, rather than interfere 
 between you and poor dear Spreta, I have decided 
 to go right away and never see you again. I really 
 mean it, this time ! 
 
 [She opens her umbrella and runs off up the slope. 
 
 Alfred. 
 [Takes up his hat sadly.] Isn't this play going to
 
 248 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 end pessimistically after all, then ? [Shudders.] Are 
 we actually going to be — moral? [More hopefully.] 
 After all, there's another Act left. There's a chance 
 still ! [He follows hastily after Mopsa.
 
 THE THIRD ACT 
 
 An elevation and rockery in Fruyseck's back-garden, 
 from which— but for the houses in between — an 
 extensive view over the steamer-pier and fiord 
 could be obtained. In front, a summer-house, 
 covered with creepers and wild earwigs. On a 
 bench outside, Mops A is sitting. She has the 
 inevitable little travelling bag on a strap over her 
 shoulder. Blochdrahn comes up in the dusk. 
 He, too, has a travelling bag, made of straw, con- 
 taining professional implements, over his shoidder. 
 He is carrying a rolled up handbill and a small 
 paste-pot. 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 
 [Catching sight o/Mopsa's hand-bag .] So you really 
 are off at last ? So am I. Fm going by train.
 
 250 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Mopsa. 
 {With a faint smile.] Are you? Then / take the 
 steamer. Have you seen Alfred anywhere about — or 
 Spreta ? 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 
 I have been seeing a good deal of Mrs. Friiyseck. 
 She asked me to come up here and paste one of these 
 handbills on the summer-house. To offer a reward 
 for Little Mopse'man, you know. I've been sticking 
 them up everywhere. [Busied with the paste-pot.] But 
 you'll see — he'll never turn up. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 [Sighing.] Poor Spreta ! and oh, poor dear Alfred ! 
 
 I really don't know if I can have the heart to leave 
 
 him. 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 
 [Pasting up the bill.] I shall not believe it myself 
 until I actually see you do it. But why shouldn't 
 you come along with me, if you are going — h'm ?
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 251 
 
 Mopsa. 
 If you were only a married man — but I have to be 
 so careful now, you know ! 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 It tortures me to think of our two handbags each 
 taking its own way; it really does, Miss Mopsa. 
 And then for me to have to plumb all by myself, 
 Though, to be sure, one can always get round the 
 district surveyor alone. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 Ah, yes, that you can surely manage alone. 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 But it takes two to connect the ventilating shaft 
 with the main drainage. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 [Looking up at him.] Always two ? Never more ? 
 Never many ? 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 Well, then, you see, it becomes quite a different
 
 252 MR, PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 matter — it cuts down the profits. But are you sure 
 you can never make up your mind to share my great 
 new job with me ? 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 I tried that once — with Alfred. It didn't quite 
 answer — though it was delightful, all the same. 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 
 Then there really has been a bright and happy 
 
 time in your life ? I should never have suspected 
 
 it! 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 Oh, yes, you can't think how amusing Alfred Avas 
 in those days. When he distinguished himself by 
 failing to pass his examinations, and then, from time 
 to time, when he lost his post in some school or 
 other; or when his big, bulky manuscripts were 
 declined by some magazine — with thanks ! 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 Yes, I can quite see that such an existence must
 
 " It takes two to connect the ventilating shaft with the main 
 
 drainage."
 
 LITTLE MOPS EM AN 255 
 
 have had its moments of quiet merriment. [Shaking 
 his head.] But I don't see what in the world possessed 
 Alfred to go and marry as he did. 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 [With suppressed emotion. ] The Law of Change. 
 Our latest catcliphrase, you know. Alfred is so 
 subject to it. So will you be, some day or other ! 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Bloohdrahn. 
 
 Never in all my life ; whatever progress may be 
 
 made in sanitation ! [Insistently.] Can't you really 
 
 care for me ? 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 I might — [looking down~\ — if you have no objection 
 to go halves with Alfred. 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 
 I am behind the times, I daresay; but such an 
 arrangement does not strike me as a firm basis for a 
 really happy home. I should certainly object to it, 
 most decidedly. 
 
 R
 
 256 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Mopsa. 
 [Laughs bitterly.'] What creatures of convention 
 you men are, after all ! [liecollecting herself.] But I 
 quite forgot. I am conventional myself now. You 
 are perfectly right ; it would be utterly irregular ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 [Conies up the steps.] Is it you, Blochdrahn, who 
 posted up that bill ? On the new summer-house ! 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn, 
 Yes, Mrs. Friiyseck asked me to. 
 
 Alfred. 
 [Touched.] Then she does miss Little Mopscman, 
 after all ! Are you going ? Not without Mopsa ? 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 [Shaking his head.] I did invite her to accompany 
 me, but she won't. So I must do my jobs alone. 
 
 Alfred. 
 It's so horrible to be alone ; or not to be alone, if
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 257 
 
 it comes to that ! [Oppressed — to himself.] My troll is 
 at it again ! I shall press her to stay ; I know I shall, 
 and it will end in the usual way ! 
 
 Spreta. 
 [Comes up the steps, plaintively.] It is unkind of 
 you all to leave me alone like this. When I'm so 
 nervous in the dark, too ! 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 [Tenderly.] But I must leave you, Spreta, dear. 
 
 By the next steamer. That is Well, I really 
 
 ought to ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Almost inaudibly, hitting himself on tJie chest.] 
 Down, you little beggar, down ! No, it's no use ; the 
 troll will keep popping up ! [Aloud.] Can't we per- 
 suade you, dear Mopsa? Do stay — just to keep 
 Spreta company, you know ! 
 
 Mopsa. 
 [As if struggling u)ith herself] Oh, I want to so 
 much ! I'd do anything to oblige dear Spreta
 
 258 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 
 [To himself, dejectedly.] She is just like that Miss 
 
 Hilda Wangel for making herself so perfectly at 
 
 home ! 
 
 Spret i. 
 
 [Resignedly.] Oh, / don't mind. After all, I 
 would rather Alfred philandered than fretted and 
 fussed here alone with me. You had better stay, 
 and be our Little Mopse'man. It will keep Alfred 
 quiet — and that's something / 
 
 Mopsa. 
 No; it was only a temporary lapse. I keep on 
 forgetting that I am no longer an emotional Cuckoo 
 heroine. I am perfectly respectable; and I will 
 prove it by leaving with Mr. Blochdrahn at once — if 
 he will be so obliging as to escort me ? 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn. 
 Delighted, my dear Miss Mopsa, at so unexpected 
 a bit of good luck. We've only just time to catch 
 the steamer.
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 259 
 
 Mopsa. 
 
 Then, thanks so much for a quite too delightful 
 visit, Spreta. So sorry to have to run away like this ! 
 [To Alfred, ivith subdued anguish."] I am running 
 away — from you ! I entreat you not to follow me — 
 not just yet, at any rate ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Shrinking back.] Ah ! [To himself.] If it depends 
 
 upon our two trolls whether [Mopsa goes off ivith 
 
 Sanitary Engineer Blochdrahn.] There's the 
 
 steamer, Spreta By Jove, they'll have a run 
 
 for it ! Look, she's putting in. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 I daren't. The steamer has one red and one green 
 eye — just like Mopseman's at mealtimes ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Common-sensibhj.] Only her lights, you know. She 
 doesn't mean anything personal by it.
 
 260 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 But they're actually mooring her by the very pier 
 that How can they have the heart ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 Steamboat companies have no feelings. Though 
 
 why you should feel it so, when you positively 
 
 loathed the dog. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 After all, you weren't so particularly fond of him 
 yourself ; now were you, Alfred ? 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 H'm, he was a decent dog enough — for a mongrel. 
 I didn't mind him ; now you did. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 \Nods slowly \] There is a change in me now. I 
 am easier to please. I could share you with the 
 mangiest mongrel, if I were only quite sure you 
 would never again want to follow that minx Mopsa, 
 Alfred !
 
 LITTLE MO PS EM AN 261 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 I never said I did want to ; though I can't answer 
 for the troll. But I must go away someiv/iere ; I'm 
 such a depressing companion for you. I shall go 
 away up into the solitudes — which reminds me of an 
 anecdote I never told either you or Mopsa before. 
 Sit down and I will tell it you. 
 
 Speeta. 
 
 [Timidly.] Not the one about the night of terror 
 you had on the mountains, Alfred, when you lost 
 your way and couldn't find a policeman anywhere 
 about the peaks ? Because I've heard that — and I 
 don't think I can stand it again. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Coldly and bitterly.] You see that I have really 
 nothing to fill up my life with, when my own wife 
 refuses to listen to my anecdotes ! Now Mopsa 
 
 always What is all that barking clown there in 
 
 the town ?
 
 262 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 [With an outburst^ Oh, you'll see, they've found 
 Little Mopseman ! 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 Not they. He'll never be found. Those handbills 
 of yours were a mere waste of money. It is only tha 
 curs fighting in the street — as usual. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 [Slowly, and with resolution.] Only that, Alfred. 
 And do you know what I mean to do, as soon as you 
 are away solitudinising up there in the mountain 
 hotels? I will go down and bring all those poor 
 neglected dogs home with me. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [ Uneasily.] What — the whole lot of them, Spreta ? 
 [Shocked.] In our Little Mopseman's place ! 
 
 Spreta. 
 [Firmly and decidedly.] Every one. To fill Little
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN 263 
 
 Mopseman's place. They shall dig up his bones, 
 lie on his mat, take it in turns to sleep in his basket. 
 I will try to — h'm — lighten and ennoble their lot in 
 life. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [With growing uneasiness.] When you simply detest 
 all dogs ! I don't know any one less fitted than you 
 to manage a Dog's Home. I really don't ! 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 I must fill the void in my life somehow — if you go 
 and leave me. And I must educate myself to under- 
 stand dogs better, that's all. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 Yes, that you would have to do. [As if struck 
 with an idea.] Before you begin. Suppose I take 
 up my big fat book on Canine Idiosyncrasy once 
 more, eh ? That would teach you how to purify and 
 ennoble every poodle really scientifically, you know. 
 Only you must promise to wait till I've got it done. 
 
 s
 
 264 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 Spreta. 
 [With a melancholy smile.} I am in no hurry, Alfred. 
 Only to write that you would have to remain at 
 
 home. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Half evasively^ Not necessarily. I might, of 
 course— for a while, that is. But I shall have many 
 a heavy day of work before me, Spreta, and you will 
 see, now and then perhaps, a great slumberous peace 
 descend on me as I toil away in my brown study — 
 but I shall be making wonderful progress all the 
 
 same. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 I shall quite understand that, Alfred. Oh, dear, 
 who in the world's this ? 
 
 The Varmint-Blok appears mysteriously 
 in the gloom. 
 
 The Varmint-Blok. 
 
 Excuse me, Captin, and your sweet ladyship, but I 
 just happened to drop my eye on one of those lovely
 
 LITTLE MOPSEMAN .265 
 
 little hand-billikins here, and took the liberty to step 
 up, thinking it might so happen that you'd been 
 advertising the very identical dawg what followed me 
 home the other day. You may remember me passing 
 the remark how wonderful partial dawgs was to me. 
 So I brought him up on the chance like. 
 
 [He produces Little Mopseman — in mufti — 
 from a side-])OcJcet. 
 
 Spreta. 
 
 It is our Little Mopseman ! So you are not some 
 supernatural sort of shadowy symbol after all, then ? 
 
 The Varment-Blok. 
 
 [Hurt.] Now I ask you, lady — do I look it ? 
 Here's my professional card. And if you should 
 
 have the reward handy [As Alfred ^a^/s him.] 
 
 Five Rix dollarkins — correct, my lord, and thankee 
 kindly. [As he departs.] You'll find I've learned 
 that sweet little mongrel a thing or two ; take the 
 nonsense out of any rat in Norway now, he will.
 
 266 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN 
 
 And just you ask him to set up and give three cheers 
 
 for Dr. Ibsen — that's all ! 
 
 [lie goes out, chuckling softly. 
 
 Alfred. 
 
 [Holding out Little Mopseman at arms' length.] 
 H'm ; it will be a heavy day's work to purify and 
 ennoble this poodle after all he has been through, eh, 
 Spreta ? I think, as you seem to have developed 
 quite a taste for such tasks, I shall allow you to 
 undertake it — all by yourself. 
 
 Spreta. 
 [Turns away with her half-teasing smile.] Thanks ! 
 
 the end. 
 
 Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. 
 London and Edinburgh.
 
 Uelegrapbic Bfcoieas, 
 
 S unlock*. London. 
 
 2t Bedford street, w.c. 
 
 March 1895 
 
 A LIST OF 
 
 Mr WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S 
 
 Publications 
 
 The Books mentioned in this List can 
 be obtained to order by any Book- 
 seller if not in stock, or will be sent 
 by the Publisher on teceipt 0/ the 
 published price and postage.
 
 Snoej of authors. 
 
 Alexander 
 Anstey 
 Arbuthnot 
 Atherton . 
 
 7,8 
 
 16 
 
 Baddeley . 
 
 Balestier . 
 
 Barrett 
 
 Battershall 
 
 Behrs 
 
 Bendall . 
 
 Bjornson . 
 
 Bowen 
 
 Boyesen . 
 
 Briscoe 
 
 Brown 
 
 Brown and Griffiths 
 
 Buchanan . 9, 13, 23, 24 
 
 Butler . . .15 
 
 22 
 
 10 
 
 9 
 
 *3 
 
 M 
 24 
 17. 2 3 
 
 • 17 
 
 • 7 
 
 • M 
 20, 21 
 
 • IS 
 
 • 9 
 
 • 24 
 12 
 
 14 
 
 Caine (Hall) 12, 17, 22 
 
 Caine (R.j. . . 14 
 
 Cambridge 
 
 Chester 
 
 Clarke 
 
 Colmore . 
 
 Colomb 
 
 Compayre 
 
 Coppee 
 
 Couperus . 
 
 Crackanthorpe 
 
 Davidson . 
 
 Dawson 
 
 De Gonconrt 
 
 De Joinville 
 
 De Quincey 
 
 Dixon 
 
 Dowson 
 
 Eeden 
 Elhvanger . 
 Ely . 
 
 Farrar 
 Fitch 
 Fleming . 
 
 Forbes 
 Fothergill . 
 Franzos 
 Frederic . 
 Furtwanaler 
 
 Garmo 
 
 Garner 
 
 Gaulot 
 
 Gilchri-t 
 
 GontcharofF 
 
 Gore 
 
 Gosse . 10 13, 
 
 Grand 
 
 10 
 18 
 23 
 9 
 15 
 =4 
 21 
 
 24 
 
 15 
 M 
 6 
 6 
 8 
 17 
 17 
 
 11 
 9 
 
 9 
 15 
 
 16 
 
 9 
 22 
 21 
 22 
 
 3 
 
 IS 
 9 
 
 7 
 
 18 
 
 2T 
 
 14 
 
 Xi 
 17 
 
 14, 18 
 
 Gray (Maxwell) 
 Griffiths . 
 
 Hall . 
 
 Hanus 
 
 Harland . 
 
 Harris 
 
 Hauptmann 
 
 Heine 
 
 Henderson 
 
 Heussey . 
 
 Hichens . 
 
 Holdsworth 
 
 Howard . 
 
 Hughes 
 
 Hungerford 
 
 Hyne 
 
 Ibsen . 
 
 Ingersoll . 
 Irving . 
 
 Jseger 
 
 Keary 
 Keeling 
 Kennedy . 
 Kimball . 
 Kipling 
 Knight 
 Kraszewski 
 Kroeker . 
 
 Landor 
 Le Caron . 
 Lee (Vernon) 
 Leland 
 Lie . 
 Linton . 
 Locke 
 Lowe 
 Lowry 
 Lynch 
 
 Maartens . 
 
 Macnab 
 
 Maeterlinck 
 
 Malot 
 
 Masson 
 
 Maude 
 
 Maupassant 
 
 Maurice . 
 
 Merriman . 
 
 M ichel 
 
 Mitford 
 
 Monk 
 
 Moore 
 
 Murray 
 
 Nordau 
 Norris 
 
 Ogilvie 
 
 17 
 14 
 
 14 
 15 
 24 
 17 
 13 
 7. 8 
 24 
 7 
 19 
 19 
 11 
 
 IS 
 8, 22 
 
 18 
 
 13 
 12 
 
 13 
 
 11 
 *7 
 S3 
 14 
 
 iS 
 10 
 21 
 M 
 
 21 
 16 
 17 
 7, 9 
 24 
 22 
 
 23 
 17 
 13 
 16 
 6 
 
 9 
 21 
 
 9 
 10 
 
 4 
 22 
 
 19 
 
 17 
 
 9 
 
 S 
 
 18 
 
 13 
 
 Oliphant 
 Ouida 
 
 Palacio-Va 
 
 Pearce 
 
 Pendered 
 
 Pennell 
 
 Phelps 
 
 Philips 
 
 Pinero 
 
 Pugh 
 
 Raimond 
 
 Rawnsley 
 
 Rembrandt 
 
 Renan 
 
 Richter 
 
 Riddell 
 
 Rives 
 
 Roberts (A 
 
 Roberts (C. 
 
 Robinson . 
 
 Saintsbury 
 
 Salaman (J 
 
 Salaman [hi 
 
 Sarcey 
 
 Scidmore 
 
 Scudamore 
 
 Serao 
 
 Sergeant 
 
 Steel . 
 
 Stevenson 
 
 Street 
 
 Tadema 
 
 Tallentyre 
 
 Tasma 
 
 Thompson 
 
 Thurston 
 
 Tirebuck 
 
 Tolstoy 
 
 Tree . 
 
 Turgenev 
 
 Valera 
 VazofF 
 
 Wagner 
 Waliszews 
 
 Ward 
 
 Warden 
 
 Waugh 
 
 Weitemeyi 
 
 West 
 
 Whistler 
 
 White 
 
 Whitman 
 
 Williams 
 
 Wood 
 
 Zangwill 
 Zola . 
 
 z. z. 
 
 ldds 
 
 von) 
 G. D.) 
 
 PAGE 
 IO 
 17 
 
 21 
 
 18 
 16 
 
 9 
 23 
 =4 
 13 
 19 
 
 19 
 12 
 
 4 
 
 9 
 
 10 
 
 »3 
 23 
 
 21 
 12 
 16 
 
 5 
 
 9 
 
 10 
 
 7 
 12 
 
 9 
 21 
 22 
 
 17 
 17 
 24 
 
 19 
 10 
 22 
 12 
 
 14 
 16 
 13. 21 
 13 
 20 
 
 21 
 21 
 
 9 
 6 
 
 23 
 
 24 
 
 8 
 
 12 
 
 IS 
 11 
 
 23 
 12 
 11 
 
 18 
 
 10, 16, 18 
 11, 24 
 . 16
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 3 
 
 MASTERPIECES OF GREEK 
 SCULPTURE. 
 
 A SERIES OF ESSAYS ON THE HISTORY OF ART. 
 BY ADOLF FURTWANGLER. 
 
 Authorised Translation. Edited by Eugenie Sellers. 
 
 With 19 full -page and 200 text Illustrations.. In One Volume. 
 4to, cloth, j£3 3s. net. 
 
 •»* Also an Edition de luxe on Japanese vellum, limited to 50 
 numbered copies. In Two Volumes, price ^10 10s. net. 
 
 The TIMES. — "In very many ways the translation is an im- 
 provement on the original. We sincerely hope it will be read by 
 English students in the Universities and elsewhere." 
 
 The ST. JAMES'S GAZETTE.— "Not alone students of 
 archaeology, but artists, and collectors of choice books will revel in 
 this sumptuous volume. The fine series of masterpieces of Greek 
 sculpture here faultlessly reproduced is unequalled, whether in 
 instructive arrangement or in perfection of the mechanical process. 
 The illustrations are, almost without exception, photographically 
 reproduced from the statues themselves (either the originals or 
 casts), and we thus obtain the maxi.num of exact fidelity. 
 
 " But this is much more than a book of beautiful pictures : it is a 
 critical study of the chief schools of Greek sculpture in its highest 
 development by a scholar of acknowledged authority. No more 
 suggestive or, to s udents, fascinating essays on Greek art have 
 appeared for many years ; nothing so comprehensive and at the 
 same time so strictly first-hand has been achieved since the days of 
 Winckleman, or at least K. O. Miiller ; though it is obvious that 
 without the guiding influence of the late but ever-to-be lamented 
 Brunn no such minute critical study would have been possible. 
 
 " Miss Sellers' edition is in every way a real improvement upon the 
 original German edition of a year or two ago. She has rearranged 
 the materials, and thus achieved a lucidity and continuity of argu- 
 ment which were much less conspicuous in the German." 
 
 The DAILY CHRONICLE.— "The fame of these masterly 
 essays has grown in Germany since their first appearance to such a 
 point that evtn in that country of learned rivalries they are admitted 
 to be a paramount authority in their own sphere."
 
 4 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 
 
 REMBRANDT: 
 
 SEVENTEEN OF HIS MASTERPIECES 
 
 FROM THE COLLECTION OF HIS PICTURES IN THE 
 
 CASSEL GALLERY. 
 Reproduced in Photogravure by the Berlin Photographic Company. 
 
 With an Essay 
 
 By FREDERICK WEDMORE. 
 
 In large portfolio i-j\ inches x 20 inches. 
 
 The first twenty-five impressions of each plate are numbered and signed, 
 and of these only fourteen are for sale in England at the net price of Twent / 
 Guineas the set. Tlie Price of the impressions after tlie first tiventy-five is 
 Twelve Guineas net, per set. 
 
 The TIMES. — " The renderings have been made with extreme 
 care, and, printed as they are upon peculiarly soft Japanese paper, 
 they recall in a remarkable way the richness and beauty of the 
 originals." 
 
 REMBRANDT: 
 
 HIS LIFE, HIS WORK, AND HIS TIME. 
 
 BY 
 
 EMILE MICHEL, 
 
 MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE OF FRAXCB. 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 FLORENCE SIMMONDS. 
 
 EDITED AND PREFACED BY 
 
 FREDERICK WEDMORE. 
 
 A re-issue in 16 Monthly Parts, price 2s. 6d. net, per Part. 
 
 %* A few copies of the First Edition are still on sale, price £2 2.1. 
 net; also of the Edition de Luxe (printed on Japanese vellum 
 with India proof duplicates of the photogravures), price j£i2 12s. 
 net. 
 
 The TIMES. — "This very sumptuous and beautiful book has 
 long been expected by all students of Rembrandt, for M. Emile 
 Michel, the chief French authority on the Dutch School of Paint- 
 ing, has been known to be engaged upon it for many years. .... 
 Merely to look through the reproductions in M. Michel's book is 
 enough to explain the passionate eagerness with which modern 
 collectors carry on their search after Rembrandt's drawings, and 
 tlie great prices which are paid for them."
 
 MR. WILLI AM IIEINEMANN'S LIST. 5 
 
 COREA, or CHOSEN, 
 
 THE LAND OF THE MORNING CALM. 
 By A. HENRY SAVAGE-LANDOR. 
 
 With 38 Illustrations from Drawings by the Author, and a Portrait. 
 
 Demy 8vo, 18s. 
 
 The Realm. — "Mr. Landor's book .... is of extreme value, 
 for he has used his eyes, his pen, and his brush to picture scenes 
 and natural characteristics, which in all probability will be vastly 
 modified by the events of the immediate years." 
 
 The Morning Post. — " The book contains a great deal of matter 
 which is entirely new, and cannot fail to attract considerable atten- 
 tion at the present time, when so little is known about Corea and 
 the Coreans." 
 
 CORRECTED IMPRESSIONS. 
 
 ESSAYS ON VICTORIAN WRITERS. 
 By GEORGE SAINTSBURY. 
 
 Crown 8vo, gilt top, 7s. 6d. 
 
 The Times. — " He knows that in thirty years the general opinion 
 has had time to clarify itself and to assimilate itself move or less to 
 
 the more instructed opinion of the wise and the select From 
 
 this point of view there is not a little to be said for Mr. Saintsbury's 
 method; his application of it is .... instructive." 
 
 DEGENERATION. 
 
 By MAX NORDAU. 
 
 Translated from the Second Edition of the German work. 
 In One Volume, demy 8vo, 17s. net. 
 
 The Standard. — " A most suggestive, a most learned, and (may 
 we add?) a most entertaining volume." 
 
 The Daily Chronicle.—- -" A powerful, trenchant, savage attack 
 
 on all the leading literary and artistic idols of the time by a man of 
 
 great intellectual power, immense range of knowledge, and the 
 
 possessor of a lucid style This remarkable and Stirling 
 
 book, which is sure to be vehemently attacked, but which cannot 
 
 be ignored." 
 
 A 2
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 
 
 IRecent publications 
 
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 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 7 
 
 A FRIEND OF THE QUEEN. Marie Antoinette and 
 
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 THE FAMILY LIFE OF HEINRICH HEINE. Illus- 
 
 trated by one hundred and twenty-two hitherto unpublished letters ad- 
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 RECOLLECTIONS OF COUNT LEO TOLSTOY. 
 
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 QUEEN JOANNA I. OF NAPLES, SICILY, AND 
 
 JERUSALEM ; Countess of Provence, Forcalquier, and Piedmont. An 
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 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 
 
 CHARLES III. OF NAPLES AND URBAN VI.; also 
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 DE QUINCEY MEMORIALS. Being Letters and other 
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 MEMOIRS. By Charles Godfrey Lei.and (Hans Breit- 
 
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 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. A Study of His Life and 
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 THE PROSE WORKS OF HEINRICH HEINE. 
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 I. FLORENTINE NIGHTS, SCIINABELEWOPSKT, 
 THE RABBI OF BACHARACH, and SHAKE- 
 . SPEARE'S MAIDENS AND WOMEN. 
 II., III. PICTURES OF TRAVEL. 1S23-1S2S. 
 
 IV. THE SALON. Letters on Art, Music, Popular Life, 
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 V., VI. GERMANY. 
 
 VII., VIII. FRENCH AFFAIRS. Letters from Paris 1832, 
 
 and Lutetia. 
 
 THE POSTHUMOUS WORKS OF THOMAS DE 
 
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 I. SUSPIRIA DE PROFUNDIS. With other Essays. 
 
 II. CONVERSATION AND COLERIDGE. With other 
 
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 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. g 
 
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 io MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 
 
 THE WORD OF THE LORD UPON THE WATERS 
 
 Sermons read by His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Germany, while 
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 THE KINGDOM OF GOD IS WITHIN YOU. 
 
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 MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN. A Collection of some 
 
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 FROM WISDOM COURT. By Henry Seton Merriman 
 
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 WOMAN— THROUGH A MAN'S EYEGLASS. By 
 
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 STORIES OF GOLF. Collected by William Knight and 
 
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 MR. WILLIAM HEIN EM 'ANN'S LIST. u 
 
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 THE GENTLE ART OF MAKING ENEMIES. As 
 
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 A CATALOGUE OF THE ACCADEMIA DELLE 
 
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 THE HOURS OF RAPHAEL, IN OUTLINE. 
 
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 LITTLE JOHANNES. By F. Van Eeden. Translated from 
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 In One Volume. i6mo. Cloth, silver top, 3s. net.
 
 12 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 
 
 THE LITTLE MANX NATION. (Lectures delivered at 
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 man," " The Scapegoat," &c. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.; paper, 2s. 6d. 
 
 NOTES FOR THE NILE. Together with a Metrical 
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 hotep (the oldest book in the world). By Hardwicice D. Kawnsley, M. A. 
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 DENMARK: its History, Topography, Laneunge, Literature, 
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 THE REALM OF THE HABSBURGS. By Sidney 
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 IMPERIAL GERMANY. A Critical Study of Fact and 
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 THE CANADIAN GUIDE-BOOK. Part I. The Tourist's 
 
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 Lessees. By Charles G. D. Roberts, Professor of English Literature in 
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 Crown 8vo, limp cloth, 6s. 
 
 Part II. WESTERN CANADA. Including the Peninsula 
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 THE GUIDE-BOOK TO ALASKA AND THE NORTH- 
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 THE GENESIS OF THE UNITED STATES. A 
 
 Narrative of the Movement in England, 1605-1616, which resulted in the 
 Plantation of North America by Englishmen, disclosing the Contest 
 between England and Spain for the Possession of the Soil now occupied 
 by the United States of America ; set forth through a series of Historical 
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 and Brief Biographies. Collected, Arranged, and Edited by Alexander 
 Brown, F.R.H.S. With 100 Portraits, Maps, and Plans. In twovolumes. 
 Royal 8vo, buckram, £3 13^. 6d. 
 
 IN THE TRACK OF THE SUN. Readings from the Diary 
 
 of a Globe-Trotter. By Frederick Diodati Thompson. With many 
 Illustrations by Mr Harry Fenn and from Photographs. In one voluma 
 4to, 25s.
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANNS LIST. 13 
 
 ^Dramatic ^Literature. 
 
 THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY. A Play in Four 
 
 Acts. By Arthur W. Pinero. Small 4to, cloth, with a new Portrait 
 
 of the Author, $s. 
 LITTLE EYOLF. A Play in Three Acts. By Henrik 
 
 Ibsen. Translated from the Norwegian by William Archer. Small 
 
 4to, cloth, with Portrait, 5.1. 
 
 THE MASTER BUILDER. A Play in Three Acts. By 
 Henrik Ibsen. Translated from the Norwegian by Edmund Gosse 
 and William Archer. Small 4to, with Portrait, 51. Popular Edition, 
 paper, is. Also a Limited Large Paper Edition, 21s. net. 
 
 HEDDA GABLER: A Drama in Four Acts. By Henrik 
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 cloth, with Portrait, 5s. Vaudeville Edition, paper, is. Also a Limited 
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 BRAND : A Dramatic Poem in Five Acts. By Henrik Ibsen. 
 
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 HANNELE: A DREAM-POEM. By Gerhart Haupt- 
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 To be followed by 
 
 LONELY FOLK and THE WEAVERS. 
 
 THE PRINCESSE MALEINE: A Drama in Five Acts 
 
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 THE FRUITS OF ENLIGHTENMENT: A Comedy in 
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 KING ERIK. A Tragedy. By Edmund Gosse. A Re-issue, 
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 THE PIPER OF HAMELIN. A Fantastic Opera in Two 
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 4to, cloth, zs. 6d. net. 
 
 HYPATIA. A Play in Four Acts. Founded on Charles 
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 THE DRAMA : ADDRESSES. By Henry Irving. With 
 
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 SOME INTERESTING FALLACIES OF THE 
 
 Modem Stage. An Address delivered to the Playgoers' Club at St. 
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 THE PLAYS OF ARTHUR W. PINERO. With Intro- 
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 or cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 I. THE TIMES. 
 II. THE PROFLIGATE. 
 
 III. THE CABINET 
 
 MINISTER. 
 
 IV. THE HOBBY HORSE. 
 V. LADY BOUNTIFUL. 
 
 VI. THE MAGISTRATE. 
 VII. DANDY DICK. 
 
 VIII. SWEET LAVENDER. 
 IX. THE SCHOOL. 
 
 MISTRESS. 
 X. THE WEAKER SEX. 
 XL LORDS AND 
 
 COMMONS. 
 XII. THE SQUIRE.
 
 i 4 MR. WILLIAM IIEINEMANN'S LIST. 
 
 Ipoetn?* 
 
 IN RUSSET AND SILVER. POEMS. By Edmund 
 
 Gosse. Author of "Gossip in a Library," &c. In One Volume. 
 Crown 8vo, buckram, gilt top, 6s. 
 
 A CENTURY OF GERMAN LYRICS. Translated from 
 the German by Kate Freiligrath Kroeker. Fcap. 8vo, rough 
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 LOVE SONGS OF ENGLISH POETS, 1500-1800. 
 
 With Notes by Ralth H. Caine. Fcap. 8vo, rough edges, 3s. 6d. 
 
 *** Large Paper Edition, limited to 100 Copies, 10s. 6d. net. 
 
 IVY AND PASSION FLOWER: Poems. By Gerard 
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 Scotsman. — " Will be read with pleasure." 
 
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 VERSES. By Gertrude Hall. i2mo, cloth, 3*. 6d. 
 
 Manchester Guardian. — "Will be welcome to every lover of poetry who- 
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 IDYLLS OF WOMANHOOD. Ey C. Amy Dawson. 
 
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 TENNYSON'S GRAVE. By St. Clair Baddeley. 8vo, 
 
 paper, is. 
 
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 MANUAL OF ASSAYING GOLD, SILVER, COPPER, 
 
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 Chemical News. — "The man of culture who wishes for a general and accurate 
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 HEAT AS A FORM OF ENERGY. By Professor R. H. 
 
 Thurston, of Cornell University. Crown Svo, cloth, Illustrated, 5s. 
 Manchester Examiner. — " Bears out the character of its predecessors for 
 careful and correct statement and deduction under the light of the most recent 
 discoveries."
 
 MR. WILLIAM HEINEM ANN'S LIST. 15 
 
 Zhe (Sreat Educators. 
 
 A Series of Volutnes by Eminent Writers, presenting i?i their 
 entirety "A Biographical History of Education." 
 
 The Times.— " A Series of Monographs on 'The Great Educatars' should 
 prove of service to all who concern themselves with the history, theory, and 
 practice of education." 
 
 The Speaker. — "There is a promising sound about the title of Mr. Heine- 
 mann's new series, ' The Great Educators.' It should help to allay the hunger 
 and thirst for knowledge and culture of the vast multitude of young men and 
 maidens which our educational system turns out yearly, provided at least with 
 an appetite for instruction." 
 
 Each subject will form a complete volume, crown 8vo, 5s. 
 
 Now ready. 
 
 ARISTOTLE, and the Ancient Educational Ideals. By 
 Thomas Davidson, M.A., LL.D. 
 The Times. — "A very readable sketch of a very interesting subject." 
 
 LOYOLA, and the Educational System of the Jesuits. By 
 Rev. Thomas Hughes, S.J. 
 Saturday Review. — " Full of valuable information If a school- 
 master would learn how the education of the young can be carried on so as to 
 confer real dignity on those engaged in it, we recommend him to read Mr. 
 Hughes' book." 
 
 ALCUIN, and the Rise of the Christian Schools. By 
 Professor Andrew F. West, Ph.D. 
 The Tillies. — "A valuable contribution, based upon original and indepen- 
 dent study, to our knowledge of an obscure but important period in the history 
 of European learning and education." 
 
 FROEBEL, and Education by Self-Activity. By H. Court- 
 hope Bowen, M.A. 
 The Scotsman. — " After a brief sketch of Froebel's career, Mr. Bowen 
 deals exhaustively with his system of education." 
 
 ABELARD, and the Origin and Early History of Uni- 
 versities. By Jules Gabriel Compayrb, Professor in the Facully of 
 Toulouse. 
 The Manchester Courier. — " The account of the general spirit and influence 
 of the early universities are subjects scarcely less interesting than Abelard's 
 own career, and are all capably treated by the author, who has throughout 
 dealt with an important subject in a brilliant and able manner." 
 
 HERBART AND THE HERBARTIANS. By Prof, de 
 Garmo. 
 
 The Saturday Review. — " Remarkably clear, and will certainly be of the 
 greatest service to the English student of the history of education." 
 
 In preparation. 
 
 ROUSSEAU ; and, Education according to Nature. By 
 Paul H. Hanus. 
 
 HORACE MANN, and Public Education in the United 
 States. By Nicholas Murray Butler, Ph.D. 
 
 THOMAS and MATTHEW ARNOLD, and their In- 
 fluence on Education. By J. G. Fitch, LL.D., Her Majesty's 
 Inspector of Schools. 
 
 PESTALOZZI : or, the Friend and Student of Children.
 
 i6 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST 
 
 fiction* 
 
 "(Hew "Cbrec Volume Iftovcla. 
 
 IN HASTE AND AT LEISURE. 
 By Mrs. Lynn Linton, Author of " Joshua Davidson," &c. 
 
 Hew "Cwo Uolumc movels. 
 
 HER OWN FOLK. 
 
 (en famille.) 
 
 By Hector Malot, Author of " No Relations." Translated by Lady Mart 
 Loyd. Crown Svo, cloth. 12s. 
 
 A DRAMA IN DUTCH. 
 By Z. Z. Crown 8vo, cloth. 12s. 
 
 Hew One Dolumc movels. 
 
 BENEFITS FORGOT. 
 
 By Wolcott Balestier. A New Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth 6s. 
 
 A PASTORAL PLAYED OUT. 
 
 By M. L. Pendered. Crown Svo, cloth. 6s. 
 
 CHIMERA. 
 
 By F. Mabel Robinson, Author of' - Mr. Butler's Ward,' &c 
 
 MISS GRACE OF ALL SOULS'. 
 
 By W. TlREBVCK. 
 
 THE MASTER. 
 By I. Zangvvill. 
 
 TRANSITION. 
 
 By the Author of " A Superfluous Woman." 
 
 LITTLE STORIES ABOUT WOMEN. 
 
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 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. i? 
 
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 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 19 
 
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 IN GOD'S WAY. From the Norwegian of Bjornstjerne 
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 PIERRE AND JEAN. From the French of Guy de Mau- 
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 THE CHIEF JUSTICE. From the German of Karl Emil 
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 22 MR. WILLIAM HEINEMANN'S LIST. 
 
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 MR. WILLIAM HEIN EM ANN'S LIST. 23 
 
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 THE HEAD OF THE FIRM. By Mrs. Riddell, Author 
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 KITTY'S FATHER. By Frank Barrett, Author of 
 
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 MR. BAILEY-MARTIN. By Percy White. 
 
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