Quotes by Henrik Ibsen

I am going to experiment with curs, just for once; there may be some exceptional heads among them. Morten. And what are we going to do, when you have made liberal-minded and high-minded men of us? Dr. Stockmann. Then you shall drive all the wolves out of the country, my boys! (EJLIF looks rather doubtful about it; MORTEN jumps about crying "Hurrah!") Mrs. Stockmann. Let us hope it won't be the wolves that will drive you out of the country, Thomas. Dr. Stockmann. Are you out of your mind, Katherine? Drive me out! Now—when I am the strongest man in the town! Mrs. Stockmann. The strongest—now? Dr. Stockmann. Yes, and I will go so far as to say that now I am the strongest man in the whole world. Morten. I say! Dr. Stockmann (lowering his voice). Hush! You mustn't say anything about it yet; but I have made a great discovery. Mrs. Stockmann. Another one? Dr. Stockmann. Yes. (Gathers them round him, and says confidentially:) It is this, let me tell you—that the strongest man in the world is he who stands most alone. Mrs. Stockmann (smiling and shaking her head). Oh, Thomas, Thomas! Petra (encouragingly, as she grasps her father's hands). Father! *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark.

The four or five withered Christmas-trees he has saved up are the same to him as the whole great fresh Höidal forest; the cock and the hens are big game-birds in the fir-tops; and the rabbits that flop about the garret floor are the bears he has to battle with—the mighty hunter of the mountains! GREGERS. Poor unfortunate old man! Yes; he has indeed had to narrow the ideals of his youth. RELLING. While I think of it, Mr. Werle, junior—don’t use that foreign word: ideals. We have the excellent native word: lies. GREGERS. Do you think the two things are related? RELLING. Yes, just about as closely as typhus and putrid fever. GREGERS. Dr. Relling, I shall not give up the struggle until I have rescued Hialmar from your clutches! RELLING. So much the worse for him. Rob the average man of his life-illusion, and you rob him of his happiness at the same stroke. [_To HEDVIG, who comes in from the sitting-room._] Well, little wild-duck-mother, I'm just going down to see whether papa is still lying meditating upon that wonderful invention of his. [_Goes out by the passage door._ GREGERS. [_Approaches HEDVIG._] I can see by your face that you have not yet done it. HEDVIG. What? Oh, that about the wild duck! No. GREGERS. I suppose your courage failed when the time came. HEDVIG. No, that wasn’t it. But when I awoke this morning and remembered what we had been talking about, it seemed so strange. GREGERS. Strange? HEDVIG. Yes, I don’t know——. Yesterday evening, at the moment, I thought there was something so delightful about it; but since I have slept and thought of it again, it somehow doesn’t seem worth while.

OFFICIALS. He is raving! CLERGY. He is mad! BRAND. Yes, I was so, when I thought Ye in some sense also wrought For the God who hateth Lies! When I dream’d that I could lure To your hearts His Spirit pure By a feat of compromise. Small the Church was; logic thence Palter’d to the inference: Twice the size—that cannot fail; Fivefold,—that must needs prevail! O, I saw not that the call Was for _Nothing_ or else _All_. Down that easy way I reel’d, But to-day the Lord has spoken, In this very hour has peal’d Overhead the awful blast Of His Judgment-trump at last,— And I listen’d, in the wind Of my anguish, baffled, broken,— Even as David, having sinn’d—; Now all hesitation dies. Men! The Devil is _compromise_! THE MULTITUDE. [_With growing excitement._] Down with them that quench’d our light Sapp’d the marrow of our might! BRAND. In your souls the demon dwells That has bound you with his spells. You have put your powers at mart, You have cleft yourselves in twain; Discord therefore numbs your brain, Petrifies your hollow heart. To the Church to-day what drew you? But the show, the show—nought else!— Roll of organ, clash of bells,— And to feel the tingle through you Of a speaking-furnace dart, As it lisps and lilts and prattles, As it rolls and roars and rattles, By the strictest rules of Art! THE DEAN. [_To himself._] The Mayor’s chatter, he must mean. THE MAYOR.

Katherine, you can tell him where I left it. Ah, he has got it. (The boys bring the various things.) Now, my friends. I stick to my pipe, you know. This one has seen plenty of bad weather with me up north. (Touches glasses with them.) Your good health! Ah, it is good to be sitting snug and warm here. Mrs. Stockmann (who sits knitting). Do you sail soon, Captain Horster? Horster. I expect to be ready to sail next week. Mrs. Stockmann. I suppose you are going to America? Horster. Yes, that is the plan. Mrs. Stockmann. Then you won't be able to take part in the coming election? Horster. Is there going to be an election? Billing. Didn't you know? Horster. No, I don't mix myself up with those things. Billing. But do you not take an interest in public affairs? Horster. No, I don't know anything about politics. Billing. All the same, one ought to vote, at any rate. Horster. Even if one doesn't know anything about what is going on? Billing. Doesn't know! What do you mean by that? A community is like a ship; everyone ought to be prepared to take the helm. Horster. Maybe that is all very well on shore; but on board ship it wouldn't work. Hovstad. It is astonishing how little most sailors care about what goes on on shore. Billing. Very extraordinary. Dr. Stockmann. Sailors are like birds of passage; they feel equally at home in any latitude. And that is only an additional reason for our being all the more keen, Hovstad. Is there to be anything of public interest in tomorrow's "Messenger"? Hovstad. Nothing about municipal affairs. But the day after tomorrow I was thinking of printing your article— Dr. Stockmann. Ah, devil take it—my article! Look here, that must wait a bit. Hovstad. Really? We had just got convenient space for it, and I thought it was just the opportune moment— Dr. Stockmann. Yes, yes, very likely you are right; but it must wait all the same. I will explain to you later. (PETRA comes in from the hall, in hat and cloak and with a bundle of exercise books under her arm.) Petra. Good evening.

But for that, the poor harmless creature would have succumbed to self-contempt and despair many a long year ago. And then the old lieutenant! But he has hit upon his own cure, you see. GREGERS. Lieutenant Ekdal? What of him? RELLING. Just think of the old bear-hunter shutting himself up in that dark garret to shoot rabbits! I tell you there is not a happier sportsman in the world than that old man pottering about in there among all that rubbish. The four or five withered Christmas-trees he has saved up are the same to him as the whole great fresh Höidal forest; the cock and the hens are big game-birds in the fir-tops; and the rabbits that flop about the garret floor are the bears he has to battle with—the mighty hunter of the mountains! GREGERS. Poor unfortunate old man! Yes; he has indeed had to narrow the ideals of his youth. RELLING. While I think of it, Mr. Werle, junior—don’t use that foreign word: ideals. We have the excellent native word: lies. GREGERS. Do you think the two things are related? RELLING. Yes, just about as closely as typhus and putrid fever. GREGERS. Dr. Relling, I shall not give up the struggle until I have rescued Hialmar from your clutches! RELLING. So much the worse for him. Rob the average man of his life-illusion, and you rob him of his happiness at the same stroke. [_To HEDVIG, who comes in from the sitting-room._] Well, little wild-duck-mother, I'm just going down to see whether papa is still lying meditating upon that wonderful invention of his. [_Goes out by the passage door._ GREGERS. [_Approaches HEDVIG._] I can see by your face that you have not yet done it. HEDVIG. What? Oh, that about the wild duck! No. GREGERS.

Such a nice man Dr. Stockmann (looking at the letter). Does not dare do otherwise, he says. Doesn't like doing it, but dare not do otherwise—on account of his fellow-citizens—out of regard for public opinion. Is in a dependent position—dares not offend certain influential men. Mrs. Stockmann. There, you see, Thomas! Dr. Stockmann. Yes, yes, I see well enough; the whole lot of them in the town are cowards; not a man among them dares do anything for fear of the others. (Throws the letter on to the table.) But it doesn't matter to us, Katherine. We are going to sail away to the New World, and— Mrs. Stockmann. But, Thomas, are you sure we are well advised to take this step? Dr. Stockmann. Are you suggesting that I should stay here, where they have pilloried me as an enemy of the people—branded me—broken my windows! And just look here, Katherine—they have torn a great rent in my black trousers too! Mrs. Stockmann. Oh, dear!—and they are the best pair you have got! Dr. Stockmann. You should never wear your best trousers when you go out to fight for freedom and truth. It is not that I care so much about the trousers, you know; you can always sew them up again for me. But that the common herd should dare to make this attack on me, as if they were my equals—that is what I cannot, for the life of me, swallow! Mrs. Stockmann. There is no doubt they have behaved very ill toward you, Thomas; but is that sufficient reason for our leaving our native country for good and all? Dr. Stockmann. If we went to another town, do you suppose we should not find the common people just as insolent as they are here? Depend upon it, there is not much to choose between them. Oh, well, let the curs snap—that is not the worst part of it. The worst is that, from one end of this country to the other, every man is the slave of his Party. Although, as far as that goes, I daresay it is not much better in the free West either; the compact majority, and liberal public opinion, and all that infernal old bag of tricks are probably rampant there too. But there things are done on a larger scale, you see.

as the woman remained here, living in poverty, people declared that he had taken the money with him to America; and every time rumour mentioned the sum, it grew larger. Lona: And you, Karsten--? Bernick: I grasped at the rumour like a drowning man at a straw. Lona: You helped to spread it? Bernick: I did not contradict it. Our creditors had begun to be pressing, and I had the task of keeping them quiet. The result was the dissipating of any suspicion as to the stability of the firm; people said that we had been hit by a temporary piece of ill-luck--that all that was necessary was that they should not press us--only give us time and every creditor would be paid in full. Lona: And every creditor was paid in full? Bernick: Yes, Lona, that rumour saved our house and made me the man I now am. Lona: That is to say, a lie has made you the man you now are. Bernick: Whom did it injure at the time? It was Johan's intention never to come back. Lona: You ask whom it injured. Look into your own heart, and tell me if it has not injured you. Bernick: Look into any man's heart you please, and you will always find, in every one, at least one black spot which he has to keep concealed. Lona: And you call yourselves pillars of society! Bernick: Society has none better. Lona: And of what consequence is it whether such a society be propped up or not? What does it all consist of? Show and lies--and nothing else. Here are you, the first man in the town, living in grandeur and luxury, powerful and respected--you, who have branded an innocent man as a criminal. Bernick: Do you suppose I am not deeply conscious of the wrong I have done him? And do you suppose I am not ready to make amends to him for it? Lona: How? By speaking out? Bernick: Would you have the heart to insist on that? Lona: What else can make amends for such a wrong? Bernick: I am rich, Lona; Johan can demand any sum he pleases. Lona: Yes, offer him money, and you will hear what he will say. Bernick: Do you know what he intends to do? Lona: No; since yesterday he has been dumb. He looks as if this had made a grown man of him all at once. Bernick: I must talk to him.

HELMER. Nora! [_He goes up to her and takes her playfully by the ear._] Still my little featherbrain! Supposing I borrowed a thousand crowns to-day, and you made ducks and drakes of them during Christmas week, and then on New Year’s Eve a tile blew off the roof and knocked my brains out—— NORA. [_Laying her hand on his mouth._] Hush! How can you talk so horridly? HELMER. But supposing it were to happen—what then? NORA. If anything so dreadful happened, it would be all the same to me whether I was in debt or not. HELMER. But what about the creditors? NORA. They! Who cares for _them_? They’re only strangers. HELMER. Nora, Nora! What a _woman_ you are! But seriously, Nora, you know my principles on these points. No debts! No borrowing! Home life ceases to be free and beautiful as soon as it is founded on borrowing and debt. We two have held out bravely till now, and we are not going to give in at the last. NORA. [_Going to the fireplace._] Very well—as you please, Torvald. HELMER. [_Following her._] Come come; my little lark mustn’t droop her wings like that. What? Is my squirrel in the sulks? [_Takes out his purse._] Nora, what do you think I have here? NORA. [_Turning round quickly._] Money! HELMER. There! [_Gives her some notes._] Of course I know all sorts of things are wanted at Christmas. NORA. [_Counting._] Ten, twenty, thirty, forty. Oh, thank you, thank you, Torvald! This will go a long way. HELMER. I should hope so. NORA. Yes, indeed; a long way! But come here, and let me show you all I’ve been buying. And so cheap! Look, here’s a new suit for Ivar, and a little sword.

It’s a sweet little lark, but it gets through a lot of money. No one would believe how much it costs a man to keep such a little bird as you. NORA. For shame! How can you say so? Why, I save as much as ever I can. HELMER. [_Laughing._] Very true—as much as you can—but that’s precisely nothing. NORA. [_Hums and smiles with covert glee._] H’m! If you only knew, Torvald, what expenses we larks and squirrels have. HELMER. You’re a strange little being! Just like your father—always on the look-out for all the money you can lay your hands on; but the moment you have it, it seems to slip through your fingers; you never know what becomes of it. Well, one must take you as you are. It’s in the blood. Yes, Nora, that sort of thing is hereditary. NORA. I wish I had inherited many of papa’s qualities. HELMER. And I don’t wish you anything but just what you are—my own, sweet little song-bird. But I say—it strikes me you look so—so—what shall I call it?—so suspicious to-day—— NORA. Do I? HELMER. You do, indeed. Look me full in the face. NORA. [_Looking at him._] Well? HELMER. [_Threatening with his finger._] Hasn’t the little sweet-tooth been playing pranks to-day? NORA. No; how can you think such a thing! HELMER. Didn’t she just look in at the confectioner’s? NORA. No, Torvald; really—— HELMER. Not to sip a little jelly? NORA. No; certainly not. HELMER. Hasn’t she even nibbled a macaroon or two? NORA. No, Torvald, indeed, indeed! HELMER.

Such a nice man Dr. Stockmann (looking at the letter). Does not dare do otherwise, he says. Doesn't like doing it, but dare not do otherwise—on account of his fellow-citizens—out of regard for public opinion. Is in a dependent position—dares not offend certain influential men. Mrs. Stockmann. There, you see, Thomas! Dr. Stockmann. Yes, yes, I see well enough; the whole lot of them in the town are cowards; not a man among them dares do anything for fear of the others. (Throws the letter on to the table.) But it doesn't matter to us, Katherine. We are going to sail away to the New World, and— Mrs. Stockmann. But, Thomas, are you sure we are well advised to take this step? Dr. Stockmann. Are you suggesting that I should stay here, where they have pilloried me as an enemy of the people—branded me—broken my windows! And just look here, Katherine—they have torn a great rent in my black trousers too! Mrs. Stockmann. Oh, dear!—and they are the best pair you have got! Dr. Stockmann. You should never wear your best trousers when you go out to fight for freedom and truth. It is not that I care so much about the trousers, you know; you can always sew them up again for me. But that the common herd should dare to make this attack on me, as if they were my equals—that is what I cannot, for the life of me, swallow! Mrs. Stockmann. There is no doubt they have behaved very ill toward you, Thomas; but is that sufficient reason for our leaving our native country for good and all? Dr. Stockmann. If we went to another town, do you suppose we should not find the common people just as insolent as they are here? Depend upon it, there is not much to choose between them. Oh, well, let the curs snap—that is not the worst part of it. The worst is that, from one end of this country to the other, every man is the slave of his Party. Although, as far as that goes, I daresay it is not much better in the free West either; the compact majority, and liberal public opinion, and all that infernal old bag of tricks are probably rampant there too. But there things are done on a larger scale, you see.

You want to cheat me into believing it. This can never, never be true! It cannot! Never in this world——! KROLL. [_Rises._] My dear Miss West—why in heaven’s name are you so terribly excited? You quite frighten me! What am I to think—to believe——? REBECCA. Nothing! You are to think and believe nothing. KROLL. Then you must really tell me how you can take this affair—this possibility—so terribly to heart. REBECCA. [_Controlling herself._] It is perfectly simple, Rector Kroll. I have no wish to be taken for an illegitimate child. KROLL. Indeed! Well well, let us be satisfied with that explanation—in the meantime. But in that case you must still have a certain—prejudice on that point too? REBECCA. Yes, I suppose I have. KROLL. Ah, I fancy it is much the same with most of what you call your “emancipation.” You have read yourself into a number of new ideas and opinions. You have got a sort of smattering of recent discoveries in various fields—discoveries that seem to overthrow certain principles which have hitherto been held impregnable and unassailable. But all this has only been a matter of the intellect, Miss West—a superficial acquisition. It has not passed into your blood. REBECCA. [_Thoughtfully._] Perhaps you are right. KROLL. Yes, look into your own mind, and you will see! And if this is the case with you, one may easily guess how it must be with Johannes Rosmer. It is sheer, unmitigated madness—it is running blindfold to destruction—for him to think of coming openly forward and confessing himself an apostate! Only think—a man of his sensitive nature! Imagine him disowned and persecuted by the circle of which he has always formed a part—exposed to ruthless attacks from all the best people in the community! He is not—he never can be the man to endure all that. REBECCA. He _must_ endure it! It is too late now for him to retreat. KROLL. Not at all too late. By no means. What has happened can be hushed up—or at least explained away as a mere temporary aberration, however deplorable. But—one measure is certainly indispensable.