by Henrik Ibsen
MRS ALVING: Osvald!
OSVALD: – then I realized that it was in her my salvation lay; because I saw the joy of life in her.
MRS ALVING [surprised]: The joy of life –? Can there be salvation in that?
REGINE [entering from the dining room with a bottle of champagne]: I’m sorry I took so long; but I had to go down to the cellar – [Puts the bottle on the table.]
OSVALD: And fetch another glass.
REGINE [looks at him in surprise]: Ma’am’s glass is there, Mr Alving.
OSVALD: Yes, but get one for yourself, Regine.
REGINE gives a start and flashes a shy, sidelong glance in MRS ALVING’s direction.
OSVALD: Well?
REGINE [quietly and hesitantly]: Is that with Ma’am’s permission –?
MRS ALVING: Fetch the glass, Regine.
REGINE goes out into the dining room.
OSVALD [watches her as she goes]: Have you noticed how she walks? So bold, so unabashed.
MRS ALVING: This isn’t happening, Osvald!
OSVALD: The matter is decided. Surely you can see that. There’s no use objecting.
REGINE comes in with an empty glass, which she keeps in her hand.
OSVALD: Sit down, Regine.
REGINE gives MRS ALVING a questioning look.
MRS ALVING: Sit down.
REGINE sits on a chair near the dining-room door, still holding the empty glass.
MRS ALVING: Osvald – what were you saying about the joy of life?
OSVALD: Yes, the joy of life, Mother – no one knows much about that here at home. I never feel it here.
MRS ALVING: Not when you’re with me?
OSVALD: Not when I’m home. But you don’t understand that.
MRS ALVING: Yes, yes, I think I almost do understand – now.
OSVALD: That – and the joy of work. Well, they’re one and the same thing really. But none of you know anything about that either.
MRS ALVING: You’re probably right. Tell me more, Osvald.
OSVALD: Well, it’s just that I think people here are taught to believe that work is a curse and punishment for their sins, that life’s something miserable, something we’d do best to get out of, sooner rather than later.
MRS ALVING: A vale of tears, yes. And we certainly succeed in making it so.
OSVALD: And that’s precisely what people refuse to accept out there. Nobody really believes in those teachings any more. Out there you can feel a kind of blessed elation at just being in the world. Mother, have you noticed that everything I’ve painted has been about the joy of life? Always, always about the joy of life? With light and sunshine65 and Sunday in the air – and radiant, happy faces. That’s why I’m afraid of staying here at home with you.
MRS ALVING: Afraid? What is it you’re afraid of here with me?
OSVALD: I’m afraid that everything that’s finest in me might turn to ugliness here.
MRS ALVING [fixes her gaze on him]: You really believe that would happen?
OSVALD: I know it for certain. Live the same life here at home as out there, and still it wouldn’t be the same life.
MRS ALVING [having listened intently, gets up with big, thoughtful eyes]: Now I see how it all fits together.
OSVALD: What do you see?
MRS ALVING: Now I see it for the first time. And now I can speak.
OSVALD [gets up]: Mother, I don’t understand.
REGINE [getting up too]: Perhaps I should go?
MRS ALVING: No, stay here. Now I can speak. Now, my boy, you shall know everything. And then you can choose. Osvald! Regine!
OSVALD: Quiet! It’s the pastor.
MANDERS [comes in through the hall door]: Well, we’ve had a most heart-warming moment down there.
OSVALD: So have we.
MANDERS: Engstrand must be helped with this sailors’ home. Regine must move in with him and help him out –
REGINE: No, thank you, pastor.
MANDERS [only just noticing her]: What –? Here – and with a glass in your hand?
REGINE [putting the glass down quickly]: Pardonnez moi –!
OSVALD: Regine will be moving, but with me, Pastor Manders.
MANDERS: Moving? With you!
OSVALD: Yes, as my wife – if she so demands.
MANDERS: Mercy on us –!
REGINE: It’s none of my doing, pastor.
OSVALD: Or she’ll stay here, if I stay.
REGINE [involuntarily]: Here?
MANDERS: I am utterly mortified by you, Mrs Alving.
MRS ALVING: Neither thing will happen; because I can speak out now.
MANDERS: No, but you won’t, surely! No, no, no!
MRS ALVING: Oh yes, I both can and will. And no ideals will be destroyed in so doing.
OSVALD: Mother, what’s being hidden from me here?
REGINE [listening]: Ma’am! Listen! There are people screaming outside.
She goes into the conservatory and looks out.
OSVALD [going towards the window on the left]: What’s going on? Where’s that light coming from?
REGINE [shouts]: The orphanage is on fire!
MRS ALVING [going towards the window]: On fire!
MANDERS: On fire? Impossible. I was only just down there.
OSVALD: Where’s my hat? Oh, never mind –. Father’s orphanage! [Runs out through the garden door.]
MRS ALVING: My shawl, Regine! The whole place is alight!
MANDERS: Terrible! Mrs Alving, there blazes the judgement on this house of disorder.
MRS ALVING: Yes, I’m sure. Come on, Regine.
MRS ALVING and REGINE hurry out through the hallway.
MANDERS [clasping his hands]: And not insured! [Follows them out.]
Act Three
The room as before. All the doors are open. The lamp is still burning on the table. It is dark outside apart from a faint glow to the left in the background.
MRS ALVING, with a large shawl over her head, is standing in the conservatory, looking out. REGINE, also wearing a shawl, stands slightly behind her.
MRS ALVING: Everything’s burned. Right to the ground.
REGINE: It’s still burning in the cellar.
MRS ALVING: Why doesn’t Osvald come up? There’s nothing to be saved.
REGINE: Shall I maybe go down to him with his hat?
MRS ALVING: He doesn’t even have his hat?
REGINE [pointing to the hall]: No, it’s hanging there.
MRS ALVING: Let it hang there. Surely he must be coming up soon. I’ll go and look for him myself.
She goes out through the garden door.
MANDERS [coming in from the hall]: Isn’t Mrs Alving here?
REGINE: She just went down into the garden.
MANDERS: This is the most horrendous night I’ve ever experienced.
REGINE: Yes, a dreadful accident, isn’t it, pastor?
MANDERS: Oh, don’t talk about it! I barely dare think about it.
REGINE: But how can it have happened –?
MANDERS: Don’t ask me, Miss Engstrand! How would I know that? Perhaps you’re also –? Isn’t it enough that your father –?
REGINE: What about him?
MANDERS: Oh, he’s put my head in a complete spin.
ENGSTRAND [comes in from the hall]: Pastor –!
MANDERS [turning round with a look of terror]: Are you after me here too?
ENGSTRAND: Yes, I’ve got to bleedin’ well –! Oh, Lord forgive me! But this is all so terrible, pastor!
MANDERS [pacing up and down]: Alas it is, alas!
REGINE: What’s going on?
ENGSTRAND: Oh, it all started with this here prayer meeting, see. [Quietly] We’ve got the old goat now, my child! [Loudly] And to think that I should be to blame for Pastor Manders’ being to blame for such a thing!
MANDERS: But I assure you, Engstrand –
ENGSTRAND: But there weren’t nobody but the pastor carrying on with the candles down there.
MANDERS [halts]: Yes, so you ins
ist. But I honestly can’t recall having a candle in my hand.
ENGSTRAND: And there’s me, what distinctly saw the pastor take the candle, snuff it out with his fingers and throw the stub right there into the shavings.
MANDERS: And you saw me do that?
ENGSTRAND: Aye, saw it plain.
MANDERS: I just cannot comprehend it. It’s not my habit to put candles out with my fingers.
ENGSTRAND: Aye, and awful careless it looked. But can it really be so bad, pastor?
MANDERS [pacing back and forth uneasily]: Oh, don’t ask!
ENGSTRAND [walks with him]: And the pastor hasn’t insured it either?
MANDERS [still pacing]: No, no, no. You heard what I said.
ENGSTRAND [following him about]: Not insured! And then to go right over and set fire to the whole lot. Jesus, Jesus, what a disaster!
MANDERS [wiping the sweat from his forehead]: Yes, you may well say that, Engstrand.
ENGSTRAND: And to think such a thing should happen to a charitable institution, what was to be of benefit to both town and country, as they says. I don’t suppose the magazines will go too gentle on the pastor.
MANDERS: No, that’s just what I keep thinking. That’s almost the worst thing about all this. All those hateful attacks and accusations –! Oh, it’s too frightful to contemplate!
MRS ALVING [comes in from the garden]: Nothing will induce him to come away from the embers.
MANDERS: Ah, there you are, Mrs Alving.
MRS ALVING: Well, you got out of giving your speech, Pastor Manders.
MANDERS: Oh, I would so gladly have –
MRS ALVING [in a low voice]: It was best it went as it did. That orphanage would not have brought any blessing with it.
MANDERS: You think not?
MRS ALVING: Do you think so?
MANDERS: But it was a terrible misfortune all the same.
MRS ALVING: Let’s keep this short and sweet, talk it over as a business matter. – Are you waiting for Pastor Manders, Engstrand?
ENGSTRAND [in the doorway to the hall]: Aye, that I am.
MRS ALVING: Then do sit down, for now.
ENGSTRAND: Thank you, I’m all right standing.
MRS ALVING [to PASTOR MANDERS]: You’ll be leaving on the steamboat presumably?
MANDERS: Yes, it leaves in an hour.
MRS ALVING: Please, be so good as to take all the papers back with you. I don’t want to hear another word about this matter. I’ve got other things to think about now –
MANDERS: Mrs Alving –
MRS ALVING: I’ll send you the power of attorney later, for you to arrange everything as you wish.
MANDERS: I’ll take that upon myself most gladly. Unfortunately the original terms of the bequest must be completely altered now.
MRS ALVING: That stands to reason.
MANDERS: Yes, my initial thoughts are that I’ll arrange for the Solvik estate to be transferred to the parish.66 The arable land cannot, of course, be said to be entirely without value. It’ll always come in useful for something. And as for the interest from the capital in the savings bank, perhaps I could best use it to support some venture that might be seen to be of benefit to the town.
MRS ALVING: Just as you wish. The matter’s of complete indifference to me now.
ENGSTRAND: Don’t forget my sailors’ home, pastor!
MANDERS: Yes, certainly, now you mention it. Although it’ll need careful evaluation.
ENGSTRAND: To hell with evaluating –. Lord, forgive me!
MANDERS [with a sigh]: And then, unfortunately, I don’t know how much longer I shall be dealing with these matters. Whether public opinion might not force me to step down. That, of course, is wholly dependent on the outcome of the fire investigation.
MRS ALVING: What are you saying?
MANDERS: And the outcome cannot possibly be guessed at beforehand.
ENGSTRAND [coming closer to him]: Oh aye, but it can. For here before you stands I, Jakob Engstrand in person.
MANDERS: Yes, but –?
ENGSTRAND [lowering his voice]: And Jakob Engstrand in’t the man to desert a worthy benefactor in his hour of need, as they says.
MANDERS: Yes, but my dear man – how –?
ENGSTRAND: Jakob Engstrand is like as to an angel of deliverance, pastor!
MANDERS: No, no, I honestly couldn’t accept such a thing.
ENGSTRAND: Oh, I reckon what will be, will be. I know someone what’s taken the blame upon himself for others once before.
MANDERS: Jakob! [Shaking his hand.] You are a rare character. Well, you shall be helped too, with your sailors’ refuge; on that you can depend.
ENGSTRAND wants to thank him but cannot from sheer emotion.
MANDERS [puts his travel bag over his shoulder]: Let’s be off. The two of us will travel together.
ENGSTRAND [by the dining-room door, quietly to REGINE]: Follow me, girl. You’ll live in a gold-feathered nest.67
REGINE [tosses her head]: Merci!
She goes out into the hall and fetches the PASTOR’s travelling clothes.
MANDERS: I wish you well, Mrs Alving! And may a spirit of orderliness and lawfulness soon enter this dwelling.
MRS ALVING: Farewell, Manders!
She walks towards the conservatory, where she sees OSVALD coming through the garden door.
ENGSTRAND [as he and REGINE help the PASTOR on with his coat]: Goodbye, my child. And if you’re ever in trouble, you know where to find Jakob Engstrand. [Quietly] Little Harbour Street, eh –! [To MRS ALVING and OSVALD] And the house for those wayfaring sailors, it’ll be called ‘Chamberlain Alving’s Home’, it will. And if I get to run it according to my designs, I dare promise it’ll be worthy of the chamberlain, God rest him.
MANDERS [at the door]: Hm – hm! Come along, my dear Engstrand. Goodbye; goodbye!
He and ENGSTRAND go out through the hall.
OSVALD [going over to the table]: What sort of house was he talking about?
MRS ALVING: Oh, it’s some kind of refuge that he and Pastor Manders want to set up.
OSVALD: It’ll burn just like this one.
MRS ALVING: What makes you say that?
OSVALD: Everything will burn. There’ll be nothing left as a reminder of Father. And I’m burning up here too.
REGINE looks at him, taken aback.
MRS ALVING: Osvald! You shouldn’t have stayed down there so long, my poor boy.
OSVALD [sits down at the table]: I think perhaps you’re right.
MRS ALVING: Let me dry your face, Osvald; you’re quite wet. [She dries his face with her handkerchief]
OSVALD [stares expressionlessly ahead of him]: Thank you, Mother.
MRS ALVING: Aren’t you tired, Osvald? Do you want to sleep perhaps?
OSVALD [afraid]: Sleep – no, no! I never sleep; I only pretend. [Gloomily] That will come soon enough.
MRS ALVING [looks worriedly at him]: I think you must be ill after all, my darling boy.
REGINE [tense]: Is Mr Alving ill?
OSVALD [impatiently]: And close all the doors! This deathly anguish –
MRS ALVING: Close them, Regine.
REGINE shuts the doors and stands by the hall door. MRS ALVING takes her shawl off; REGINE does likewise.
MRS ALVING [draws a chair close to OSVALD’s, and sits by him]: There. Let me sit beside you now –
OSVALD: Yes do. And Regine must stay here too. Regine must always be near me. You’ll reach out that helping hand to me, Regine. Won’t you?
REGINE: I don’t understand –
MRS ALVING: Helping hand?
OSVALD: Yes – when it’s called for.
MRS ALVING: Osvald, don’t you have your mother here to reach out a hand to you?
OSVALD: You? [Smiling] No, mother, that helping hand you will never give me. [Laughing sadly] You! Ha-ha! [Looks at her seriously.] Mind you, there could hardly be anyone more appropriate. [Suddenly angry] Why are you so formal with me,68 Regine? Why can’t you call me Osvald?
/> REGINE [quietly]: I don’t think ma’am would like it.
MRS ALVING: Very soon you will be allowed to. So come here and sit down with us, you too.
REGINE sits quietly and hesitantly on the other side of the table.
MRS ALVING: And now, my poor tormented boy, now I shall lift the burdens from your mind –
OSVALD: You, Mother?
MRS ALVING: – everything you’ve spoken of, guilt and regret and self-reproach –
OSVALD: And you think you can do that?
MRS ALVING: Yes, now I can, Osvald. You were talking earlier about the joy of life; and it was as though a new light was shed over everything that’s happened in my entire life.
OSVALD [shakes his head]: I don’t understand.
MRS ALVING: You should have known your father when he was a young lieutenant. He was certainly filled with the joy of life!
OSVALD: Yes, I know.
MRS ALVING: It was like a sunny Sunday69 just looking at him. And such incredible energy and vitality he had!
OSVALD: And –?
MRS ALVING: And then this joyous child, because he was like a child back then – had to while away his time here, in a middling-sized town that had no real joy to offer, only diversions. He was stuck here without any vocation in life, with nothing but a civil service appointment.70 With no glimmer of any work which he could throw himself into with all his soul – he had nothing but paperwork. Without one single friend capable of feeling what the joy of life might be; only layabouts and drinking companions –
OSVALD: Mother –!
MRS ALVING: Then what had to happen happened.
OSVALD: What had to happen?
MRS ALVING: You said yourself earlier this evening, how things would be for you if you stayed at home.
OSVALD: Are you trying to say that Father –?
MRS ALVING: Your poor father could never find any outlet for this excessive joy of life inside him. And I didn’t bring any Sunday sunshine into his home either.
OSVALD: Not even you?
MRS ALVING: They had taught me about duties and the like, things I’ve gone around believing in for so long. It always seemed to come down to duty – my duties and his duties and –. I’m afraid I made this home unbearable for your poor father, Osvald.
OSVALD: Why didn’t you ever write about any of this to me?
MRS ALVING: I’ve never seen it before in terms that meant I could touch on it with you – his son.
