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 –?
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 insist. 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.
OSVALD: So how did you see it then?
MRS ALVING [slowly]: I saw only one thing; that your father was a broken man before you were born.
OSVALD [quietly]: Ah –!
He gets up and goes over to the window.
MRS ALVING: And day in and day out I thought about this one thing; that Regine actually belonged here in this house – as much as my own son.
OSVALD [turning suddenly]: Regine –?
REGINE [leaps up and asks quietly]: Me –?
MRS ALVING: Yes, now you know it, both of you.
OSVALD: Regine!
REGINE [to herself]: So Mother was that sort.
MRS ALVING: Your mother was good in many ways, Regine.
REGINE: Yes, but she was still that sort. Well, I’ve thought as much sometimes, but –. Well, Mrs Alving, may I have permission to leave at once?
MRS ALVING: Do you really want that, Regine?
REGINE: Yes, indeed I do.
MRS ALVING: You’re naturally free to do as you wish, but –
OSVALD [moves towards REGINE]: Leave now? But this is where you belong.
REGINE: Merci, Mr Alving – well, I suppose I can say Osvald now.71 But it really wasn’t in that way I’d thought it.
MRS ALVING: Regine, I haven’t been open with you –
REGINE: No, shame to say, you haven’t. If I’d known Osvald was sickly –. And now that there can’t ever be anything serious between us –. No, I really can’t be staying out here in the country wearing myself out on invalids.
OSVALD: Not even for somebody who’s so close to you?
REGINE: Not likely. A poor girl has to take advantage of her youth; otherwise she might end up with nothing72 before she knows it. And I have the joy of life in me too, ma’am!
MRS ALVING: Yes, unfortunately; but just don’t throw yourself away, Regine.
REGINE: Oh, whatever will be will be. If Osvald takes after his father, I probably take after my mother, I reckon. – May I ask, ma’am, if Pastor Manders knows all this about me?
MRS ALVING: Pastor Manders knows everything.
REGINE [busies herself with her shawl]: Right, then I’d better make sure to get on that steamboat as quick as I can. Pastor Manders is so nice, so easy to deal with, and I certainly think I’ve as much right to a bit of that money as him – that vile carpenter.
MRS ALVING: Indeed you have, Regine.
REGINE [staring straight at MRS ALVING]: Madam might have done better to raise me as a gentleman’s daughter; that would have suited me better. [Tossing her head] But hell – makes no difference! [With a bitter glance at the unopened bottle] I might get to drink champagne with gentlefolk yet.
MRS ALVING: And if you ever need a home, Regine, then come to me.
REGINE: No thank you, ma’am. I’m sure Pastor Manders will look after me. And if things go really wrong, then I know a house where I do belong.
MRS ALVING: Where?
REGINE: Chamberlain Alving’s Home.
MRS ALVING: Regine – I see it now – you’re going to your ruin!
REGINE: Pah! Adieu.
She curtseys and goes out through the hall.
OSVALD [looking out of the window]: Has she gone?
MRS ALVING: Yes.
OSVALD [mumbles to himself]: I think it was wrong, all this.
MRS ALVING [goes behind him and lays her hands on his shoulders]: Osvald, my dearest boy – has it shaken you badly?
OSVALD [turns to face her]: All this about Father you mean?
MRS ALVING: Yes, about your unhappy father. I’m frightened it might have affected you badly.
OSVALD: How can you think that? It came as a huge surprise, of course; but it doesn’t basically make any difference.
MRS ALVING [pulls her hands away]: No difference! That your father was desperately unhappy!
OSVALD: Of course I can feel sympathy for him, as for any other person, but –
MRS ALVING: Nothing more? For your own father!
OSVALD [impatiently]: Oh Father – Father! I’ve never known anything about Father. The only thing I remember about him is that he made me throw up once.
MRS ALVING: That’s a dreadful thought! Shouldn’t a child feel love for his father even then?
OSVALD: When a child has nothing to thank his father for? Has never known him? Are you really holding so tight to that old superstition, when you’re so enlightened otherwise?
MRS ALVING: And for you it’s just a superstition –?
OSVALD: Yes, you must surely see that, Mother. It’s one of those opinions put in circulation in the world, and then –
MRS ALVING [shaken]: Ghosts!
OSVALD [walking across the floor]: Yes, you may well call them ghosts.
MRS ALVING [agitated]: Osvald – so you don’t love me either!
OSVALD: I know you at least –
MRS ALVING: Yes, you know me; but that’s all!
OSVALD: And I know how fond you are of me; and I have to be grateful for that. And you can be so tremendously helpful to me, now that I’m ill.
MRS ALVING: Yes, I can, can’t I, Osvald? Oh, I could almost bless the illness that drove you home to me. Because I can see that now, I don’t have you – I must win you.
OSVALD [impatiently]: Yes, yes; these are just so many empty phrases. You’ve got to remember that I’m a sick man, Mother. I can’t concern myself much with others; I’ve enough to do thinking about myself.
MRS ALVING [in a soft voice]: I’ll be patient and undemanding.
OSVALD: And cheerful too, Mother!
MRS ALVING: Yes, my dearest boy, you’re quite right. [Walks over to him.] Have I taken away all the regret and self-reproach now?
OSVALD: Yes, you have. But who’ll remove this anguish?
MRS ALVING: Anguish?
OSVALD [walks across the floor]: Regine would have done it, without hesitation.
MRS ALVING: I don’t understand. What is all this about anguish – and Regine?
OSVALD: Is it very late in the night, Mother?
MRS ALVING: It’s almost morning. [Looking out into the conservatory] Dawn’s beginning to break over the mountaintops. And it’s going to be a clear day, Osvald! Soon you’ll see the sun.
OSVALD: I look forward to that. Oh, there may be many things for me to be joyful about and live for –
MRS ALVING: I should think so!
OSVALD: Even if perhaps I can’t work, then –
MRS ALVING: Oh, you’ll soon be able to work again now, my dearest boy. Now you no longer have all those nagging, oppressive thoughts to brood over.
OSVALD: Yes, it was good that you managed to lift all those illusions from me. And now that I’ve come through that – [Sits on the sofa.] We’re going to talk now, Mother –
MRS ALVING: Yes, let’s.
She pushes an armchair towards the sofa and sits close to him.
OSVALD: – and the sun will rise as we do so. And then you will know. And then I’ll no longer have this anguish.
MRS ALVING: What will I know?
OSVALD [without listening to her]: Mother, didn’t you say earlier this evening that there wasn’t a thing in the world that you wouldn’t do for me if I asked?
MRS ALVING: Yes, I did say that!
OSVALD: And you stand by that, Mother?
MRS ALVING: You can depend on it, my darling only boy! I live for nothing else, just for you alone.
OSVALD: Yes, all right, let me tell you –. Listen, Mother, you have a strong powerful mind, I know you do. Now, you’re going to sit very calmly as you listen to this.
MRS ALVING: But what terrible thing is it –?
OSVALD: You’re not to scream. You hear? Do you promise me? We’ll sit and talk very calmly about this. Do you promise me, Mother?
MRS ALVING: Yes, yes, I promise; just tell me!
OSVALD: Well, the fact is that my being tired – and my inability to think about work – that’s not the illness itself –
MRS ALVING: What is the illness then?
OSVALD: The disease that I’ve inherited,73 it – [points to his forehead and adds very quietly] it’s lodged in here.74
MRS ALVING [almost speechless]: Osvald! No – no!
OSVALD: Don’t scream. I can’t bear it. Oh, yes, it sits lurking in here. And it can break loose at any moment, any hour.
MRS ALVING: Oh, what horror –!
OSVALD: Stay calm now. That’s the way things are –
MRS ALVING [leaps to her feet]: This isn’t true, Osvald! It’s not possible! It can’t be!
OSVALD: I had one attack down there.75 It soon passed. But when I got to know what a state I’d been in, that was when the anguish came raging over me, hounding me; and so I came home to you as quickly as I could.
MRS ALVING: So that’s the anguish –!
OSVALD: Yes, because this thing is so indescribably hideous, you see. If only it had been some ordinary mortal illness –. Because I’m not afraid of dying; although, of course, I’d like to live as long as possible.
MRS ALVING: Yes, yes, Osvald, you must!
OSVALD: But this is so dreadfully hideous! Like being turned back into a baby again; having to be fed, having to be –. Oh – it can’t be described!
MRS ALVING: A child has its mother to nurse it.
OSVALD [leaps up]: No, never; that’s exactly what I don’t want! I can’t bear the idea that I might live like that for years on end – getting old and grey. And then you might die and leave me. [Sits down in MRS ALVING’s chair.] Because it wouldn’t necessarily prove fatal straight away, the doctor said. He called it a kind of softening of the brain – or something similar. [Smiles tiredly.] I think that phrase sounds so lovely. I’ll always think of cherry-coloured, velvety drapes – something that’s delicate to stroke.
MRS ALVING [screams]: Osvald!
OSVALD [leaps up again and walks across the room]: And now you have taken Regine from me! If only I had her! She’d have given me that helping hand, I’m sure.
MRS ALVING [goes over to him]: What do you mean, my darling boy? Could there possibly be any kind of helping hand I wouldn’t want to give you?
OSVALD: When I got over my attack in Paris, my doctor told me that when it comes again – and it will come again – there will be no more hope.
MRS ALVING: How could he be so heartless as to say –
OSVALD: I forced him to it. I told him I had arrangements to make –. [Smiles slyly.] And I had too. [Takes a little box from his breast pocket.] Mother, you see this?
MRS ALVING: What is it?
OSVALD: Morphine powder.
MRS ALVING [looks at him in shock]: Osvald – my boy?
OSVALD: I’ve managed to save up twelve capsules –.
MRS ALVING [snatching at it]: Give me the box, Osvald!
OSVALD: Not yet, Mother.
He hides the box away in his pocket again.
MRS ALVING: I am not going to survive this!
OSVALD: It must be survived. If I’d had Regine here now, I would have told her how things were with me – and asked her for that last helping hand. She would have helped me; I’m certain of it.
MRS ALVING: Never!
OSVALD: As soon as this dreadful thing had overtaken me, and she saw me lying there as helpless as a little baby, incurable, lost, hopeless – beyond salvation –
MRS ALVING: Regine would never have done this!
OSVALD: Regine would have done it. Regine was so admirably light-hearted. And she’d soon get bored of looking after an invalid like me.
MRS ALVING: Then thank goodness Regine’s not here!
OSVALD: So, now you must give me that helping hand, Mother.
MRS ALVING [screams loudly]: Me!
OSVALD: Who more appropriate than you?
MRS ALVING: Me? Your mother!
OSVALD: That’s precisely why.
MRS ALVING: Me, who gave you life!
OSVALD: I didn’t ask you for life. And what kind of life is it you’ve given me? I don’t want it! You’ll take it back!
MRS ALVING: Help! Help!
She runs out into the hall.
OSVALD [chasing after her]: Don’t leave me! Where are you going?
MRS ALVING [in the hall]: To fetch the doctor for you, Osvald! Let me get out!
OSVALD [in the hall]: You’re not getting out of here. And nobody’s coming in.
A key is turned.
MRS ALVING [comes back in]: Osvald! Osvald – my child!
OSVALD [following her]: Do you have a mother’s heart – when you can watch me suffering this unspeakable anguish!
MRS ALVING [after a moment’s silence, says in a controlled voice]: Here is my hand on it.
OSVALD: Will you –?
MRS ALVING: If it is necessary. But it won’t be necessary. No, never, it’s impossible!
OSVALD: Well, let’s hope so. And let’s live together as long as we can. Thank you, Mother.
He sits in the armchair that MRS ALVING has moved over to the sofa. Day is breaking; the lamp is still burning on the table.
MRS ALVING [approaches him cautiously]: Do you feel calm now?
OSVALD: Yes.
MRS ALVING [leaning over him]: This has all been a terrible figment of your imagination, Osvald. All of it a figment. All this turmoil has been too much for you. But now you’ll be able to rest. At home with your own mother, my blessed boy. Whatever you point at will be yours, just as when you were a little child. – You see. Now the attack is over. You see how easily it went! Oh, I knew it. – And do you see, Osvald, what a beautiful day we’re going to have? Bright sunshine! Now you can really get to see your home.
She goes over to the table and puts out the lamp. Sunrise. The glacier and peaks in the background are bathed in gleaming morning light.
OSVALD [sits in the armchair with his back towards the landscape, without moving; suddenly he says]: Mother, give me the sun.
MRS ALVING [by the table, looks at him, puzzled]: What did you say?
OSVALD [repeats dully and tonelessly]: The sun. The sun.
MRS ALVING [goes across to him]: Osvald, how are you feeling?
OSVALD seems to shrink in his chair; all his muscles go limp; his face is expressionless; his eyes stare vacantly.
MRS ALVING [trembling with fear]: What is this? [Screams loudly] Osvald! What’s the matter with you? [She gets on her knees and shakes him.] Osvald! Osvald! Look at me! Don’t you know me?
OSVALD [toneless as before]: The sun. – The sun.
MRS ALVING [jumps to her feet in despair, tears at her hair with both hands and screams]: This is unbearable! [Whispers as though paralysed] This is unbearable! Never! [Abruptly] Where does he keep them? [Searching his chest urgently] Here! [Shrinks back a step or two and screams] No; no; no! – Yes! – No; no!
She stands a few steps away from him with her hands twisted in her hair and stares at him in speechless horror.
OSVALD [sits motionless as before and says]: The sun. – The sun.