The Lady from the Sea

by Henrik Ibsen

  ARNHOLM: You never wrote.

  ELLIDA: What was the point? Anyway, you never wrote to me after you left.

  ARNHOLM: Me? It wasn’t up to me to take the first step. Not after –

  Pause.

  ELLIDA: You’ve never thought of marrying? There must have been someone who took your –

  ARNHOLM: I’m the faithful sort.

  ELLIDA: Oh, Arnholm! Find another woman! Someone to make you happy.

  ARNHOLM: I’ll have to buck up, I’m nearly forty.

  ELLIDA: Hurry up then. (She goes silent.)

  ARNHOLM: What is it?

  ELLIDA: I need to talk to you.

  ARNHOLM: Why? Is something the matter?

  ELLIDA: There’s something you should know. At the time I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t.

  ARNHOLM: Tell me what?

  ELLIDA: That I was in love with someone else. At the time when you – when we were…

  ARNHOLM: When –

  ELLIDA: When you asked me to marry you.

  ARNHOLM: But you didn’t know him back then, on Skjoldvik.

  ELLIDA: I’m not talking about Wangel.

  ARNHOLM: Who then? There was no-one else out there.

  ELLIDA: I was mad. Insane.

  ARNHOLM: Who was it?

  ELLIDA: I just wanted you to know that there was someone else at the time. That’s why I –

  ARNHOLM: You’re saying that if you weren’t – if you hadn’t been in love with someone else then you might have…we might have –

  ELLIDA: Who knows? Anyway, by the time Wangel came along things were different.

  ARNHOLM: Why are you telling me now?

  ELLIDA: (Rises, nervous.) Because I must tell someone – no, please, don’t get up.

  ARNHOLM: Does he know? The Doctor?

  ELLIDA: I told him at the time that I’d been in love with someone. He said he’d rather not know, that it was in the past. Anyway, it was madness. Over in a flash. Well, in one way.

  ARNHOLM: What do you mean – in one way? Are you saying that it’s not over?

  ELLIDA: Of course it’s over, completely over! It isn’t what you think.

  ARNHOLM: Then –

  ELLIDA: I can’t – I can’t…the whole thing is impossible, you’d say I was out of my mind if I told you.

  ARNHOLM: Perhaps you’d better try.

  ELLIDA: How could you – a reasonable man – understand something that…it’s impossible.

  ARNHOLM: Why not let me be the judge?

  ELLIDA: No. Yes…perhaps…later on, there’s someone coming.

  LYNGSTRAND enters the garden with a huge bunch of flowers, beribboned, and a flower in his buttonhole. He hovers.

  ELLIDA: Mr Lyngstrand! Are you looking for the girls?

  LYNGSTRAND: Good morning, Mrs Wangel – no – I – actually it was you I came to…if you remember you mentioned that I might call.

  ELLIDA: Did I? You’re very welcome.

  LYNGSTRAND: Thank you. And as I believe it’s a very special occasion today –

  ELLIDA: You’re well informed.

  LYNGSTRAND: …so…if I may be so bold… (He bows and presents the enormous bunch of flowers.)

  ELLIDA: Oh, but you must give them to him yourself!

  LYNGSTRAND: I’m sorry?

  ELLIDA: Dr Arnholm. Our esteemed visitor.

  LYNGSTRAND: Oh. No, it’s for the birthday!

  ELLIDA: Birthday? Whose?

  LYNGSTRAND: Oh dear, is it a secret?

  ELLIDA: What have they been saying?

  LYNGSTRAND: That today is your birthday.

  ARNHOLM: Today? No, surely not.

  ELLIDA: Who told you that?

  LYNGSTRAND: Miss Hilde. I was here earlier and the young ladies were doing the flowers – and the flags – (He waves an arm at the flagstaff.)

  ELLIDA: And –

  LYNGSTRAND: Miss Hilde said that today was your birthday.

  ELLIDA: My birthday?

  LYNGSTRAND: Yes. They told me. Mother’s birthday.

  ARNHOLM: Ah!

  He and ELLIDA exchange a glance.

  Well, Mrs Wangel, since the young man seems to know all about it –

  ELLIDA: Yes…

  LYNGSTRAND: (Offers the flowers.) May I wish you a very happy day?

  ELLIDA takes the flowers.

  ELLIDA: Thank you. Come and sit down. You’re right. It was meant to be a secret.

  ARNHOLM: Not for outsiders.

  ELLIDA: As you say, not for outsiders.

  LYNGSTRAND: I shan’t say a word.

  ELLIDA: It doesn’t matter. You’re looking better.

  LYNGSTRAND: Yes, I’m feeling much more myself. If I can get away south next year, to the sun –

  ELLIDA: So the girls were telling me.

  LYNGSTRAND: I’ve a good friend in Bergen who’s promised to help. I was at sea in one of his ships.

  ELLIDA: Sea? You’ve been to sea?

  LYNGSTRAND: Yes.

  ELLIDA: So you’re in love with the wide, wide ocean, yes?

  LYNGSTRAND: Oh, no.

  ELLIDA: No?

  LYNGSTRAND: Not in the least.

  ELLIDA: But – ?

  LYNGSTRAND: My mother died and my father couldn’t bear to keep me in the house so he…I was sent away to sea. Fortunately the boat foundered.

  ELLIDA: Foundered?

  ARNHOLM: Fortunately?!

  LYNGSTRAND: We went down in the English Channel.

  ARNHOLM: Good Lord.

  LYNGSTRAND: I was in the water for hours.

  ELLIDA: In the water?

  LYNGSTRAND: For hours. In the icy water.

  ARNHOLM: God in Heaven!

  LYNGSTRAND: I was lucky, my lungs were affected – not badly, but he had to let me give up the sea. Father. Now I can do what I always wanted – I can sculpt!

  ARNHOLM: You want to be a sculptor?

  LYNGSTRAND: Oh, yes! Clay is such wonderful stuff. It’s alive…soft, but strong…you can feel it shaping under your hands.

  ELLIDA: What are you going to sculpt? Mermaids on briny crests? Fierce Vikings, with swords aloft?

  LYNGSTRAND: Oh, no, it won’t be anything like that. As soon as I get the chance I want to make a great work of art. A composition.

  ELLIDA: What will it represent?

  LYNGSTRAND: From my own experience.

  ARNHOLM: That’s a sound notion.

  ELLIDA: What is the subject?

  LYNGSTRAND: A woman. Asleep. But restless. Dreaming.

  ELLIDA: Dreaming?

  LYNGSTRAND: You’ll see that she’s dreaming – I’ll do that somehow.

  ARNHOLM: I thought you said a group, a composition?

  LYNGSTRAND: Actually there’s only one other figure. Her man. She’s been unfaithful to him in his absence, and he’s dead. Drowned at sea.

  ELLIDA: Drowned?

  LYNGSTRAND: Drowned. But standing beside her. Shining…watery from the sea.

  ELLIDA: (A statement.) Just behind her.

  ARNHOLM: I’m sorry, I don’t understand. I thought you said you wanted to work from experience?

  LYNGSTRAND: Yes…I saw it!

  ARNHOLM: You saw a dead man…you saw a man drown?

  LYNGSTRAND: Well, no – not exactly. Not literally.

  ARNHOLM: Then how do you mean?

  ELLIDA: Tell me. I want to know. All of it.

  ARNHOLM: Yes, a story of the sea…your world.

  LYNGSTRAND: We were across the ocean, due to sail home from Halifax. The bosun got ill so we signed on an American.

  ELLIDA: An American?

  LYNGSTRAND: Yes – well, he said he was. And when we were on board he asked the Captain if he could borrow some old newspapers – he said he wanted to learn Norwegian.

  ELLIDA: And? And then what?

  LYNGSTRAND: We ran into bad weather. I was below decks, and the new bosun, the American, was there… he’d sprained his ankle. He was lying on a bunk reading the papers…all of a sudden he lets out this huge groan, like an animal
that’s been speared. It made me jump – I sat up, and his face was chalk. It was so strange.

  ELLIDA: What did he say?

  LYNGSTRAND: Nothing. Not a word. He just sat there, tearing the paper quietly – so quietly with his huge hands until there was nothing but paper all over the cabin.

  ELLIDA: And he didn’t speak?

  LYNGSTRAND: No. Not a word. Not then.

  ELLIDA: Later?

  LYNGSTRAND: Oh, yes. Hours later he said, ‘She’s married.’

  ELLIDA: ‘Married’? He said that?

  LYNGSTRAND: Yes. It was odd.

  ARNHOLM: Odd?

  LYNGSTRAND: He was so calm. Surrounded by paper. In little bits.

  ARNHOLM: Did he explain?

  LYNGSTRAND: No. He just said, in a quiet voice ‘She’s mine, and she always will be.’

  ELLIDA: ‘Mine’?

  LYNGSTRAND: Yes. And then he said, ‘Whether I’m dead or alive, on the sea or under it, I’ll have her. She’s mine and I will have her.’

  ELLIDA gets up abruptly and pours a glass of water.

  ELLIDA: I can’t breathe…it’s so close!

  LYNGSTRAND: He meant every word. You knew that that is what he would do.

  ELLIDA: Where is he? Where is he now?

  LYNGSTRAND: Oh, he’s dead. Dead for sure, Mrs Wangel.

  ELLIDA: How do you know?

  LYNGSTRAND: We foundered.

  ELLIDA stands before him, eyes wide.

  LYNGSTRAND: The ship broke up – sank. In the end I was picked up – I got away in the longboat with the captain and five other hands.

  ELLIDA: With – ?

  LYNGSTRAND: (Shakes his head.) No. The American took to the dinghy with the mate and another man.

  ELLIDA: They were lost?

  LYNGSTRAND: Nothing was ever heard of them, according to my friend in Bergen. So that’s my subject. The wife…and the mariner – drowned, but still with her…rising out of the sea beside her. It’s all in my mind’s eye.

  ELLIDA: (She rises.) It’s too close. We must go inside, find my husband.

  LYNGSTRAND: I’ll take my leave if I may. I just wanted to wish you a happy day for your birthday.

  ELLIDA: Thank you. (Indicates the flowers.) They’re lovely. Goodbye.

  LYNGSTRAND goes.

  ARNHOLM: You seem shocked.

  ELLIDA: Yes.

  ARNHOLM: Surely – you must expect it.

  ELLIDA: For him to come back? From the dead?

  ARNHOLM: (Puzzled.) What? You don’t believe all that, surely. The boy’s romancing. I thought you were upset by the flowers, the celebration of…your husband and the children remembering their…and your being excluded…

  ELLIDA: No, no, no…I’ve no right to think of Wangel as mine and mine alone.

  ARNHOLM: I think you do have that right.

  ELLIDA: Not at all. I have a life of my own. A life they have no part of.

  ARNHOLM: And what is that supposed to mean? That you don’t love him?

  ELLIDA: I do…I do love him, with all my heart.

  ARNHOLM: Then what is this all about?

  ELLIDA: Sssh, not now. Later.

  BOLETTE: (Enters.) Surgery’s over! Shall we go and sit in the conservatory?

  ELLIDA: Why not?

  WANGEL, having changed his clothes, enters.

  WANGEL: Here I am…at your disposal and ready for something deliciously cool in a very large glass.

  ELLIDA: Just a minute – (She fetches the flowers from the arbour.)

  HILDE: (Enters.) Oh, they’re pretty – where did they come from?

  She glances at ELLIDA. Throughout she watches ELLIDA compulsively.

  ELLIDA: Young Mr Lyngstrand, the sculptor.

  HILDE: Him?

  BOLETTE: (Uneasy.) He called again?

  ELLIDA: To bring these – for ‘my’ birthday.

  BOLETTE: Oh.

  HILDE: The fool.

  WANGEL: (Embarrassed.) Yes, well, you see, my dear –

  ELLIDA: (To the girls.) Shall we put them in water with the others? (She goes.)

  BOLETTE: She means well.

  HILDE: Rubbish. It’s all done to impress Father.

  WANGEL: (Following her inside.) Thank you, Ellida. Thank you, my dear.

  ELLIDA: Not at all. Why shouldn’t I celebrate Mother’s birthday with you?

  ARNHOLM: Hmm…

  ACT TWO

  A Look-Out, a hilltop with low growth. There are stones arranged for seating, and behind is the fjord, with islands and headlands, looking out the sea. A summer’s night, and the faint sound of singing. After a pause BALLESTED enters, guiding offstage foreign tourists. He is laden with their shawls and bags.

  BALLESTED: (Points upwards with his stick.) Sehen Sie, meine Herrschaften – dort away liegt eine andere hill. Das willen wir also besteigen und so on – (Leads them off.)

  HILDE enters, pauses for BOLETTE.

  BOLETTE: Hilde – you’ve left Mr Lyngstrand behind!

  HILDE: I can’t help it – he’s so slow!

  BOLETTE: He’s not well!

  HILDE: It isn’t serious.

  BOLETTE: It is.

  HILDE: Why, has he seen Father?

  BOLETTE: Yes, this afternoon.

  HILDE: And?

  BOLETTE: Patches on both lungs. Father says – well, he won’t make old bones.

  HILDE: I thought so!

  BOLETTE: For heavens’ sakes keep quiet about it.

  HILDE: What do you take me for? (Low.) Here he comes…‘Hans’. You’ve only got to look at him to know he’d be called Hans.

  BOLETTE: Behave yourself. (LYNGSTRAND enters, carrying a parasol.)

  LYNGSTRAND: Sorry to be so slow. (As HILDE points and snickers at the parasol.) Your mother was kind enough to lend me this as a walking stick.

  BOLETTE: Where are they?

  LYNGSTRAND: Your father’s in the cafe, the others are outside listening to the music. They’re coming up to join us.

  HILDE: (Staring at him.) You must be worn out.

  LYNGSTRAND: Yes, I think I’ll sit down. (Sits.)

  HILDE: There’ll be dancing by the bandstand later on.

  BOLETTE: Hilde, let Mr Lyngstrand get his breath back.

  HILDE: Do you dance?

  LYNGSTRAND: I love it. Or I would.

  HILDE: You mean you don’t know how?

  LYNGSTRAND: It’s my chest.

  HILDE: What a pity. Poor you.

  LYNGSTRAND: On the contrary, everyone’s so nice to me because of it that I don’t mind at all.

  HILDE: And of course it’s not serious.

  LYNGSTRAND: Not in the least. Your Father assures me.

  HILDE: As soon as you go to a warmer climate you’ll be fine.

  LYNGSTRAND: It’ll all clear up.

  BOLETTE: (Picking wild flowers.) Would you like a flower for your buttonhole?

  LYNGSTRAND: Thank you, Miss Wangel. Thank you very much.

  HILDE: Are they coming?

  BOLETTE: (Looking down.) Yes – oh, they’re going the wrong way.

  LYNGSTRAND: I’ll run and give them a shout.

  BOLETTE: Don’t, you’ll tire yourself!

  LYNGSTRAND: Oh, downhill’s all right… (He goes.)

  HILDE: Go on – leap about all over the place! He’s forgotten he’ll have to climb up again.

  BOLETTE: Poor boy.

  HILDE: If he asked you to marry him, would you?

  BOLETTE: Are you out of your mind?

  HILDE: I mean if he wasn’t going to die. If he was all right. What would you say, would you say yes?

  BOLETTE: What about you, he’d suit you better.

  HILDE: Me?! He hasn’t got a penny to his name!

  BOLETTE: Then why go on about him?

  HILDE: I don’t. Well, only because he’s ill.

  BOLETTE: Why? You don’t feel sorry for him.

  HILDE: Of course I don’t, but it is funny.

  BOLETTE: What?!

  HILDE: Getting him to say there’s nothing wro
ng, and he’s going to travel, and go south to the sun, and become an artist, and make statues, and none of it – none of it is going to happen because he’ll be Dead. Fascinating.

  BOLETTE: No. Not fascinating. Cruel.

  HILDE: It if annoys you, all the better. (Looks down the hill.) Old Arnholm doesn’t look very happy. Oh! – it’s true, it’s true!

  BOLETTE: What’s true?

  HILDE: He has got a bald patch – I thought I saw it at dinner.

  BOLETTE: Rubbish.

  HILDE: And he’s getting creases round his eyes. How you could have been in love with him – !

  BOLETTE: (Smiles.) I know! I can’t believe it now…once I even burst into tears because he said Bolette was an ugly name.

  HILDE: You didn’t! (Looks down.) Now he’s walking with The Lady from the Sea. I wonder if they’re getting off with each other – Father’s all on his own.

  BOLETTE: Stop it, and leave her alone! We’re all getting on so much better now.

  HILDE: No, we’re not.

  BOLETTE: Hilde!

  HILDE: She’s not our sort, she never will be, and we’re not hers. Why did he bring her here? She’ll only end up going off her head.

  BOLETTE: Hilde, that is a dreadful thing to say! How can you even think such a thing?

  HILDE: I wouldn’t be surprised. Her mother died in a lunatic asylum, I know that for a fact.

  BOLETTE: Your nose is into everything. Well, just stop it, for Father’s sake – Hilde, do you hear me?

  WANGEL, ELLIDA, ARNHOLM and LYNGSTRAND enter.

  ELLIDA: (Pointing.) There – over there!

  ARNHOLM: Where?

  ELLIDA: The sea!

  BOLETTE: (To ARNHOLM.) Isn’t it wonderful?

  ARNHOLM: Glorious views.

  WANGEL: You’ve never been up here before?

  ARNHOLM: In my day there wasn’t a path.

  BOLETTE: There’s an even better view from the Crow’s Nest, over there.

  WANGEL: Ellida, shall we?

  ELLIDA: You go. I’ll stay here.

  WANGEL: I’ll wait with you. The girls can take Dr Arnholm.

  ARNHOLM: Splendid. Is there a path?

  HILDE: Wide enough to walk arm in arm.

  ARNHOLM: (Joking.) Indeed, Miss Hilde? (To BOLETTE.) Shall we see if she’s right?

  BOLETTE laughs, takes his arm.

  HILDE: What about you? (Offers her arm.)

  LYNGSTRAND: Arm in arm?

  HILDE: If you want.

  LYNGSTRAND: Gosh.

  HILDE: What do you mean?

  LYNGSTRAND: People will think we’re engaged.

  HILDE: Haven’t you ever walked arm in arm before?