ics of the case. Not for more than one act would this capitally
written work be tolerated on the English or American stage. Until Act
IV there is hardly one genuine dramatic episode, though Bernhardi at a
directors' meeting is forced to resign and is eventually sent to
prison for two months. But in the penultimate act the priest calls on
him, and for fifteen minutes the situation is strong and splendidly
conceived. The conscience of the ecclesiastic brings him to Bernhardi,
not to confess, but to explain.

At the trial he positively insisted that he did not believe Bernhardi
had wished to insult religion, but that he followed the dictates of
his conscience; he believed that he was doing his duty in sparing the
girl the pain of discovery. But this statement was of no avail, for
the nurse swore that the professor had employed physical violence to
prevent the priest from entering the hospital ward. Later she
confesses her perjury. Bernhardi is pardoned, is convoyed home in
triumph by enthusiastic medical students, but is so disgusted by the
perfidy of some of his friends and associates that he returns to his
private practice. His argument with the priest throws light on his
obstinate character; in reality neither man retreats a jot from his
original position. I must add that the priest, because of his honest
attitude, although pressure had been put upon him, was relieved of his
duties at St. Florian's and sent to a little village on the Polish
border. He had displeased the powers that be. Again I must admire this
portrait of a sincere man, obsessed by his sense of duty, a fanatic,
if you will, but upheld by his supreme faith.

The acting throughout was artistic, Professor Bernhardi impersonated
by Bruno Decarli, and Father Reder by Alfred Abel, the latter a subtle
characterisation. The "team play" of the Kleines Theatre company was
seen at its best in the third act, where the directors hold a stormy
meeting. It was the perfection of ensemble work. The creator of Das
Suesse Maedel type of Vienna has painted a large canvas and revealed a
grip on the essentials of characterisation. To Ibsen's An Enemy of the
People he is evidently under certain obligations; Professor Bernhardi
is a variation of Doctor Stockmann, plus not a little irony and
self-complacency. But the thesis of Ibsen is less academic, sounder,
of more universal interest than Schnitzler's. There is no metaphysical
hair-splitting in An Enemy of the People, nor se