A Doll's House and Other Plays (Penguin)

by Henrik Ibsen

ENGSTRAND: ’Cos, as it happens there’s an opportunity for that now. With the money I’ve been blessed to put aside out here, I’m thinking of setting up a kind of sailors’ home down in town.

  MRS ALVING: You?

  ENGSTRAND: Aye, it would be a kind of refuge you might say. The temptations of this world are manifold for the sailor who wanders on dry land. But in this home of mine, he could feel like he was under a father’s watchful eye, I thought.

  MANDERS: What do you say to that, Mrs Alving?

  ENGSTRAND: It’s not too much I have to offer, Lord knows; but if I could just get a charitable helping hand, then –

  MANDERS: Yes, yes, we’ll have to weigh the matter up carefully. Your venture appeals to me hugely. But go on ahead now and prepare everything and get the candles lit, to make it a bit festive. And we’ll have an edifying moment together, my dear Engstrand; because I do believe now that you’re in the right frame of mind.

  ENGSTRAND: I feel I am, aye. Goodbye, then, Mrs Alving, and thank you for everything; and take good care of Regine for me. [Wiping a tear from his eye] My dearest Johanne’s little girl – hm, it’s strange – but it’s as though she’d grown attached to the roots of my heart. Aye, that she has.

  He bows and goes out through the hall.

  MANDERS: Well, Mrs Alving, now what do you have to say about the man! That was quite a different explanation we got there.

  MRS ALVING: Yes, it certainly was.

  MANDERS: You see how terribly cautious one has to be in condemning a fellow human being. But what an intense joy it is to discover that one’s been mistaken. What do you say?

  MRS ALVING: I say you are, and always will be, a big child, Manders.

  MANDERS: Me?

  MRS ALVING [placing both her hands on his shoulders]: And I say that I’d like to fling both my arms around your neck.

  MANDERS [withdrawing quickly]: No, no, Lord bless you – such impulses –

  MRS ALVING [with a smile]: Oh, you mustn’t be frightened of me.

  MANDERS [near the table]: You have such an exaggerated way of expressing yourself sometimes. Now then, let me gather up these documents and put them in my case. [Does as he says.] There we go. Well, goodbye for now. Keep your eyes about you when Osvald comes back. I’ll look in on you later.

  He takes his hat and goes out through the hall door.

  MRS ALVING [sighs, looks out of the window for a moment, tidies the room a little and goes to the dining room but stops in the doorway with a stifled cry]: Osvald, are you still sitting at the table!

  OSVALD [from the dining room]: I’m just finishing my cigar.

  MRS ALVING: I thought you’d taken a little walk up the road.

  OSVALD: In this weather?

  A glass clinks. MRS ALVING lets the door stand open and sits with her knitting on the sofa by the window.

  OSVALD [from inside]: Wasn’t that Pastor Manders leaving just now?

  MRS ALVING: Yes. He went down to the orphanage.

  OSVALD: Hm.

  The glass and carafe clink again.

  MRS ALVING [with a worried glance]: Osvald dear, you should be careful with that liqueur. It’s strong.

  OSVALD: It keeps the damp out.

  MRS ALVING: Wouldn’t you rather come in here and sit with me?

  OSVALD: I’m not allowed to smoke in there.

  MRS ALVING: You know you can smoke cigars.

  OSVALD: All right, I’m coming, then. Just a tiny little drop more. – There.

  He comes into the living room with a cigar and closes the door after him. Brief silence.

  OSVALD: Where’s the pastor gone?

  MRS ALVING: I just told you; he went down to the orphanage.

  OSVALD: Oh yes, that’s right.

  MRS ALVING: You shouldn’t sit at the table so long, Osvald.

  OSVALD [holding his cigar behind his back]: But I find it so pleasant, Mother. [Pats and caresses her.] Imagine how it feels – to be back home, to sit at my mother’s very own table, in my mother’s dining room, and to eat my mother’s delicious food.

  MRS ALVING: My darling, darling boy!

  OSVALD [somewhat impatient, paces up and down, smoking]: How else should I occupy myself here? I can’t get anything done –

  MRS ALVING: Can’t you?

  OSVALD: In this dull weather? Without a glimmer of sun all day? [Crosses the room.] Oh, this inability to work –

  MRS ALVING: Perhaps it wasn’t so wise of you to come home.

  OSVALD: Yes, Mother; I had to come.

  MRS ALVING: Well, I’d sacrifice the pleasure of having you here with me ten times over, rather than see you –

  OSVALD [stopping by the table]: But tell me, Mother – is it really such a pleasure for you to have me home?

  MRS ALVING: A pleasure to have you home?

  OSVALD [folding up a newspaper]: It seems to me it would almost be the same to you whether I existed or not.

  MRS ALVING: And you have the heart to say that to your mother, Osvald?

  OSVALD: But you’ve been able to live perfectly well without me before.

  MRS ALVING: Yes, I have lived without you – that’s true.

  Silence. The evening is slowly drawing in. OSVALD paces around. He has put his cigar down.

  OSVALD [stops by MRS ALVING]: Mother, may I sit next to you on the sofa?

  MRS ALVING [making room for him]: Yes, do, my dear boy.

  OSVALD [sitting down]: I have to tell you something now, Mother.

  MRS ALVING [anxiously]: All right!

  OSVALD [staring straight ahead]: Because I can’t bear it any longer.

  MRS ALVING: Bear what? What’s the matter?

  OSVALD [as before]: I couldn’t bring myself to write to you about it; and ever since I got home –

  MRS ALVING [gripping him by the arm]: Osvald, what is all this?

  OSVALD: I tried both yesterday and today to drive these thoughts away – to free myself of them. But I can’t.

  MRS ALVING [gets up]: Speak out plainly now, Osvald!

  OSVALD [pulls her down on the sofa again]: Just sit there, and I’ll try to tell you. – I’ve been complaining a lot of being tired from the journey –

  MRS ALVING: Well, yes! And?

  OSVALD: But that’s not what’s wrong with me, this is no ordinary tiredness –

  MRS ALVING [wants to jump up]: You’re not ill, are you Osvald?

  OSVALD [drags her back down yet again]: Sit down, Mother. Just calm down. I’m not exactly ill either; not what one would normally call ill. [Brings his hands to his head.] Mother, I’m spiritually broken – wrecked – I can never work again!

  He buries his head in her lap and sobs, with his hands in front of his face.

  MRS ALVING [pale and trembling]: Osvald! Look at me! No, no, this isn’t true.

  OSVALD [looking up in despair]: Never able to work again! Never – never! To be like a dead man alive. Mother, can you think of anything so awful?

  MRS ALVING: My poor boy. How did this awful thing happen to you?

  OSVALD [sitting up again]: That’s just what I can’t comprehend. I’ve never lived a riotous life. Not in any respect. You mustn’t think that of me, Mother. I’ve never done that.

  MRS ALVING: No, I am sure you haven’t, Osvald.

  OSVALD: And yet this thing happens to me! This appalling disaster!

  MRS ALVING: Oh, but it’ll pass, my dear, sweet boy. It’s nothing but over-exertion. Trust me on that.

  OSVALD [heavily]: I thought that at first too; but that’s not how it is.

  MRS ALVING: Tell me from beginning to end.

  OSVALD: Yes, I shall.

  MRS ALVING: When did you first notice it?

  OSVALD: It was soon after I’d been at home last, and arrived back in Paris. I started getting these violent pains in my head – mostly at the back of my head, I think. It was as though a tight iron band had been screwed around my neck and up.

  MRS ALVING: And then?

  OSVALD: At first I didn’t think it was anything
other than the usual headaches I suffered from so badly when I was growing up.

  MRS ALVING: Yes, yes –

  OSVALD: But that wasn’t it; I soon realized that. I couldn’t work any longer. I wanted to start on a big new painting; but it was as though my talents had failed me; all my strength was somehow paralysed; I couldn’t focus on any firm ideas; the world swam before me – racing round. Oh, it was a dreadful state to be in. I sent for a doctor in the end – and from him I got my answer.

  MRS ALVING: How do you mean?

  OSVALD: He was one of the top doctors down there. First I had to describe to him what I was feeling; and then he started asking me a whole lot of questions that I couldn’t see the relevance of; I couldn’t comprehend what the man was driving at –

  MRS ALVING: Well?

  OSVALD: Then he finally said it: right from your very birth something in you has been worm-eaten – he used exactly that expression, ‘vermoulu’.62

  MRS ALVING [tense]: What did he mean by that?

  OSVALD: I didn’t understand it either, and I asked him for a more detailed explanation. And then the old cynic said – [Clenches his fist.] Oh –!

  MRS ALVING: What did he say?

  OSVALD: He said: the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children.63

  MRS ALVING [rises slowly]: The sins of the fathers –!

  OSVALD: I nearly punched him in the face –

  MRS ALVING: The sins of the fathers –

  OSVALD [smiles grimly]: Yes, what do you think? Naturally I assured him that such a thing was out of the question. But do you think he gave up even then? No, he held on to his notion; and it was only when I brought out your letters and translated all the passages that were about Father –

  MRS ALVING: What then –?

  OSVALD: Well, then, of course he had to admit that he was on the wrong track; and so I learned the truth. The inconceivable truth! That I ought to have abstained from those youthful years spent in light-hearted, blessed happiness with my companions. It had been too much for my strength. I have myself to blame!

  MRS ALVING: Osvald! Oh no; don’t think that!

  OSVALD: There was no other possible explanation, he said. That’s the dreadful thing. An incurable wreck for the rest of my life – due to my own folly! Everything I wanted to accomplish here in the world – not to dare think about it – not to be able to think about it. Oh, if only I could just live over again – undo everything I’ve done!

  He throws himself face down on to the sofa.

  MRS ALVING wrings her hands and walks back and forth, silently struggling with herself.

  OSVALD [after a while, he looks up and props himself up on his elbow]: If it had been something inherited at least – something I couldn’t have helped. But this! To have thrown away in such a shameful, thoughtless, frivolous way one’s own happiness, one’s own health, everything in the world – one’s future, one’s life –!

  MRS ALVING: No, no, my dear, darling boy; this is impossible! [Bending over him] Your situation isn’t as desperate as you think.

  OSVALD: Oh, you don’t know –. [Leaps up.] And then, Mother, that I should cause you all this sorrow! Many’s the time I’ve practically wished and hoped that you didn’t really care so much about me.

  MRS ALVING: I, Osvald; my only boy! The only thing I have in this world; the only thing I care about.

  OSVALD [grasps both her hands and kisses them]: Yes, yes, of course, I know that. When I’m at home, of course, I see it. And that’s one of the hardest things for me. – But now at least you know. And we shan’t talk about it any more today. I can’t cope with thinking about it for too long at a time. [Pacing] Get me something to drink, Mother!

  MRS ALVING: Drink? What do you want to drink now?

  OSVALD: Oh, anything. You’ve got some cold punch in the house.

  MRS ALVING: Yes, but Osvald my dear –!

  OSVALD: Don’t make it difficult, Mother. Please! I must have something to wash down all these nagging thoughts. [Walks into the conservatory.] Oh, how – how dark it is here!

  MRS ALVING rings a bell cord to the right.

  OSVALD: And this interminable rain! Week after week it can go on; whole months. Never to get a glimmer of sun! On all my visits home, I can’t remember ever seeing the sun shine.

  MRS ALVING: Osvald – you’re thinking about leaving me!

  OSVALD: Hm – [Drawing a heavy breath] I’m not thinking about anything. Can’t think about anything! [In a low voice] But I probably won’t.

  REGINE [from the dining room]: Did you ring, ma’am?

  MRS ALVING: Yes, let’s have the lamp in here.

  REGINE: At once, ma’am. It’s already lit. [Goes out.]

  MRS ALVING [goes over to OSVALD]: Osvald, don’t hold back with me.

  OSVALD: I’m not, Mother. [Goes over to the table.] I feel I’ve told you a great deal.

  REGINE brings the lamp in and puts it on the table.

  MRS ALVING: Listen, Regine, perhaps you could fetch us a half bottle of champagne.

  REGINE: Yes, ma’am. [Goes out again.]

  OSVALD [strokes his mother’s head]: That’s more like it. I knew my mother wouldn’t let her boy go thirsty.

  MRS ALVING: My poor, dear Osvald; how could I possibly refuse you anything now?

  OSVALD [eagerly]: 64 Is that really true, Mother? Do you mean that?

  MRS ALVING: In what way? What do you mean?

  OSVALD: That you couldn’t refuse me anything?

  MRS ALVING: But my dear Osvald –

  OSVALD: Shh!

  REGINE [brings in a tray with a half-bottle of champagne and two glasses, which she puts on the table]: Shall I open –?

  OSVALD: No thank you. I’ll do it.

  REGINE goes out again.

  MRS ALVING [sits at the table]: What was it you meant – that I shouldn’t refuse you?

  OSVALD [busy opening the bottle]: First a glass – or two.

  The cork pops; he fills one glass and is about to fill the other.

  MRS ALVING [holding her hand over it]: Thank you – not for me.

  OSVALD: Well, for me then!

  He empties his glass, refills it, and empties it again; then he sits at the table.

  MRS ALVING [expectant]: Well?

  OSVALD [without looking at her]: Tell me – I thought you and Pastor Manders looked strangely – hm, subdued at the supper table.

  MRS ALVING: You noticed?

  OSVALD: Yes. Hm – [After a brief pause] Tell me – what do you think of Regine?

  MRS ALVING: What do I think?

  OSVALD: Yes, isn’t she splendid?

  MRS ALVING: Osvald dear, you don’t know her as well as I do –

  OSVALD: So?

  MRS ALVING: I’m afraid Regine remained at home too long. I should have brought her here earlier.

  OSVALD: Yes, but isn’t she splendid to look at, Mother? [Fills his glass.]

  MRS ALVING: Regine has many serious flaws –

  OSVALD: Oh, what does that matter?

  He drinks again.

  MRS ALVING: But I am fond of her nonetheless; and I am responsible for her. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her for all the world.

  OSVALD [jumps to his feet]: Mother, Regine is my only salvation!

  MRS ALVING [gets up]: What do you mean?

  OSVALD: I can’t bear this mental torment on my own here.

  MRS ALVING: Don’t you have your mother to bear it with you?

  OSVALD: Yes, that was what I thought; and that’s why I came home to you. But it won’t work. I can see it; it won’t work. Life will be unbearable for me out here!

  MRS ALVING: Osvald!

  OSVALD: I must live differently, Mother. Which is why I must leave you. I shan’t have you seeing it.

  MRS ALVING: My poor, unhappy boy! Oh but Osvald, while you’re as ill as you are now –

  OSVALD: If it was just the illness alone, I’d probably stay with you, Mother. You’re the best friend I have in the world.

&nbs
p; MRS ALVING: Yes, that’s right, Osvald; I am, aren’t I!

  OSVALD [wandering restlessly about]: But it’s the agony, the gnawing, the regret – and then this terrible anguish. Oh – this deathly anguish.

  MRS ALVING [following him]: Anguish? What anguish? What do you mean?

  OSVALD: Oh, you mustn’t ask me more. I don’t know. I can’t describe it for you.

  MRS ALVING goes over to the right and pulls the bell rope.

  OSVALD: What do you want?

  MRS ALVING: I want my boy to be happy, that’s what. He shan’t go around here brooding. [To REGINE, who appears in the doorway] More champagne. A whole bottle.

  REGINE goes.

  OSVALD: Mother!

  MRS ALVING: Don’t you think we know how to live out here on the estate too?

  OSVALD: Isn’t she splendid to look at? Look how she’s built! So strong and healthy.

  MRS ALVING [sits at the table]: Sit down, Osvald, and let’s talk calmly together.

  OSVALD [sitting]: You probably don’t know this, Mother, but I’ve done Regine a wrong that I must make good.

  MRS ALVING: You!

  OSVALD: Or a little foolishness – whatever you want to call it. Very innocent, by the way. When I was last home –

  MRS ALVING: Yes?

  OSVALD: – she often asked me about Paris, so I’d tell her a bit about things down there. Then I remember one day I found myself saying: wouldn’t you like to come down there yourself?

  MRS ALVING: And?

  OSVALD: I saw her turn bright red, and then she said: yes, I’d really like that. All right, I answered, I’m sure that can be arranged – or something of the sort.

  MRS ALVING: And?

  OSVALD: Naturally I’d forgotten the whole thing. But when I asked her the day before yesterday whether she was pleased I was staying at home for so long –

  MRS ALVING: Yes?

  OSVALD: – she looked at me really oddly, and then asked: but what’s going to happen about my trip to Paris?

  MRS ALVING: Her trip!

  OSVALD: And then I got it out of her that she’d taken the whole thing seriously, that she’d gone around here thinking about me the whole time, and that she’d even tried to learn French –

  MRS ALVING: So that’s why –

  OSVALD: Mother – when I saw that splendid, beautiful, healthy young girl standing before me – I’d never of course noticed her much before – but when she stood there, as if with open arms ready to receive me –