A DOLL'S HOUSE

                            by Henrik Ibsen

                                 1879



                      translated by William Archer











                             INTRODUCTION

                          by William Archer



   ON June 27, 1879, Ibsen wrote from Rome to Marcus Gronvold: "It 

is now rather hot in Rome, so in about a week we are going to 

Amalfi, which, being close to the sea, is cooler, and offers 

opportunity for bathing. I intend to complete there a new dramatic 

work on which I am now engaged." From Amalfi, on September 20, he 

wrote to John Paulsen: "A new dramatic work, which I have just 

completed, has occupied so much of my time during these last months 

that I have had absolutely none to spare for answering letters."  

This "new dramatic work" was Et Dukkehjem, which was published in 

Copenhagen, December 4, 1879. Dr. George Brandes has given some 

account of the episode in real life which suggested to Ibsen the 

plot of this play; but the real Nora, it appears, committed forgery, 

not to save her husband's life, but to redecorate her house. The 

impulse received from this incident must have been trifling. It is 

much more to the purpose to remember that the character and 

situation of Nora had been clearly foreshadowed, ten years earlier, in 

the figure of Selma in The League of Youth.  



   Of A Doll's House we find in the Literary Remains a first brief 

memorandum, a fairly detailed scenario, a complete draft, in quite 

actable form, and a few detached fragments of dialogue. These 

documents put out of court a theory of my own * that Ibsen 

originally intended to give the play a "happy ending," and that the 

relation between Krogstad and Mrs. Linden was devised for that 

purpose. 



   * Stated in the Fortnightly Review, July 1906, and repeated in 

the first edition of this Introduction.  



   Here is the first memorandum:-  



                  NOTES FOR THE * TRAGEDY OF TO-DAY 



                                                 ROME, 19/10/78.  

   There are two kinds of spiritual laws, two kinds of conscience, one 

in men and a quite different one in women. They do not understand each 

other; but the woman is judged in practical life according to the 

man's law, as if she were not a woman but a man. 

   The wife in the play finds herself at last entirely at sea as to 

what is right and what wrong; natural feeling on the one side, and 

belief in authority on the other, leave her in utter bewilderment. 

   A woman cannot be herself in the society of to-day, which is 

exclusively a masculine society, with laws written by men, and with 

accusers and judges who judge feminine conduct from the masculine 

standpoint.  

   She has committed forgery, and it is her pride; for she did it 

for love of her husband, and to save his life. But this husband, 

full of everyday rectitude, stands on the basis of the law and regards 

the matter with a masculine eye. 

   Soul-struggles. Oppressed and bewildered by belief in authority, 

she loses her faith in her own moral right and ability to bring up her 

children. Bitterness. A mother in the society of to-day, like 

certain insects, (ought to) go away and die when she has done her duty 

towards the continuance of the species. Love of life, of home, of 

husband and children and kin. Now and then a womanlike shaking off 

of cares. Then a sudden return of apprehension and dread. She must 

bear it all alone. The catastrophe approaches, inexorably, inevitably.  

Despair, struggle, and disaster. 



   * The definite article does not, I think, imply that Ibsen ever 

intended this to be the title of the play, but merely that the notes 

refer to "the" tragedy of contemporary life which he has had for 

sometime in his mind.  





   In reading Ibsen's statement of the conflict he meant to portray 

between the male and female conscience, one cannot but feel that he 

somewhat shirked the issue in making Nora's crime a formal rather than 

a real one. She had no intention of defrauding Krogstad; and though it 

is an interesting point of casuistry to determine whether, under the 

stated circumstances, she had a moral right to sign her father's name, 

opinion on the point would scarcely be divided along the line of 

sex. One feels that, in order to illustrate the "two kinds of 

conscience," Ibsen ought to have made his play turn upon some point of 

conduct (if such there be) which would sharply divide masculine from 

feminine sympathies. The fact that such a point would be extremely 

hard to find seems to cast doubt on the ultimate validity of the 

thesis. If, for instance, Nora had deliberately stolen the money 

from Krogstad, with no intention of repaying it, that would 

certainly have revealed a great gulf between her morality and 

Helmer's; but would any considerable number of her sex have 

sympathised with her? I am not denying a marked difference between the 

average man and the average woman in the development of such 

characteristics as the sense of justice; but I doubt whether, when 

women have their full share in legislation, the laws relating to 

forgery will be seriously altered. 

   A parallel-text edition of the provisional and the final forms of A 

Doll's House would be intensely interesting. For the present, I can 

note only a few of the most salient differences between the two 

versions.  

   Helmer is at first called "Stenborg"; * it is not till the scene 

with Krogstad in the second act that the name Helmer makes its first 

appearance. Ibsen was constantly changing his characters' names in the 

course of composition- trying them on, as it were, until he found 

one that was a perfect fit.  



   * This name seems to have haunted Ibsen. It was also the original 

name of Stensgard in The League of Youth.  

  

   The first scene, down to the entrance of Mrs. Linden, though it 

contains all that is necessary for the mere development of the plot, 

runs to only twenty-three speeches, as compared with eighty-one in the 

completed text. The business of the macaroons is not even indicated; 

there is none of the charming talk about the Christmas-tree and the 

children's presents; no request on Nora's part that her present may 

take the form of money, no indication on Helmer's part that he regards 

her supposed extravagance as an inheritance from her father. Helmer 

knows that she toils at copying far into the night in order to earn 

a few crowns, though of course he has no suspicion as to how she 

employs the money. Ibsen evidently felt it inconsistent with his 

character that he should permit this, so in the completed version we 

learn that Nora, in order to do her copying, locked herself in under 

the pretext of making decorations for the Christmas-tree, and, when no 

result appeared, declared that the cat had destroyed her handiwork. 

The first version, in short, is like a stained glass window seen  

from without, the second like the same window seen from within. 

   The long scene between Nora and Mrs. Linden is more fully worked 

out, though many small touches of character are lacking, such as 

Nora's remark that some day "when Torvald is not so much in love 

with me as he is now," she may tell him the great secret of how she 

saved his life. It is notable throughout that neither Helmer's 

aestheticism nor the sensual element in his relation to Nora is nearly 

so much emphasised as in the completed play; while Nora's tendency 

to small fibbing- that vice of the unfree- is almost an 

afterthought. In the first appearance of Krogstad, and the 

indication of his old acquaintance with Mrs. Linden, many small 

adjustments have been made, all strikingly for the better. The first 

scene with Dr. Rank,- originally called Dr. Hank- has been almost 

entirely rewritten. There is in the draft no indication of the 

doctor's ill-health or of his pessimism; it seems as though he had 

at first been designed as a mere confidant or raisonneur. This is 

how he talks:- 

  

   HANK. Hallo! what's this? A new carpet? I congratulate you! Now 

     take, for example, a handsome carpet like this; is it a luxury? I 

     say it isn't. Such a carpet is a paying investment; with it 

     underfoot, one has higher, subtler thoughts, and finer feelings, 

     than when one moves over cold, creaking planks in a comfortless 

     room. Especially where there are children in the house. The race 

     ennobles itself in a beautiful environment. 

   NORA. Oh, how often I have felt the same, but could never express 

     it. 

   HANK. No, I dare say not. It is an observation in spiritual 

     statistics- a science as yet very little cultivated. 

  

   As to Krogstad, the doctor remarks:-  

 

     If Krogstad's home had been, so to speak, on the sunny side of 

     life, with all the spiritual windows opening towards the 

     light,... I dare say he might have been a decent enough fellow, 

     like the rest of us.  

   MRS. LINDEN. You mean that he is not....? 

   HANK. He cannot be. His marriage was not of the kind to make it 

     possible. An unhappy marriage, Mrs. Linden, is like small-pox: it 

     scars the soul. 

   NORA. And what does a happy marriage do?  

   HANK. It is like a "cure" at the baths; it expels all peccant 

     humours, and makes all that is good and fine in a man grow and 

     flourish. 

  

   It is notable that we find in this scene nothing of Nora's glee 

on learning that Krogstad is now dependent on her husband; that fine 

touch of dramatic irony was an afterthought. After Helmer's 

entrance, the talk is very different in the original version. He 

remarks upon the painful interview he has just had with Krogstad, whom 

he is forced to dismiss from the bank; Nora, in a mild way, pleads for 

him; and the doctor, in the name of the survival of the fittest, *  

denounces humanitarian sentimentality, and then goes off to do his 

best to save a patient who, he confesses, would be much better dead.  

This discussion of the Krogstad question before Nora has learnt how 

vital it is to her, manifestly discounts the effect of the scenes 

which are to follow: and Ibsen, on revision, did away with it 

entirely.  

 

   * It is noteworthy that Darwin's two great books were translated 

into Danish very shortly before Ibsen began to work at A Doll's House.  

 

   Nora's romp with the children, interrupted by the entrance of 

Krogstad, stands very much as in the final version; and in the scene 

with Krogstad there is no essential change. One detail is worth 

noting, as an instance of the art of working up an effect. In the 

first version, when Krogstad says, "Mrs. Stenborg, you must see to 

it that I keep my place in the bank," Nora replies: "I? How can you 

think that I have any such influence with my husband?"- a natural 

but not specially effective remark. But in the final version she has 

begun the scene by boasting to Krogstad of her influence, and 

telling him that people in a subordinate position ought to be 

careful how they offend such influential persons as herself; so that 

her subsequent denial that he has any influence becomes a notable 

dramatic effect. 

   The final scene of the act, between Nora and Helmer, is not 

materially altered in the final version; but the first version 

contains no hint of the business of decorating the Christmas-tree or 

of Nora's wheedling Helmer by pretending to need his aid in devising 

her costume for the fancy dress ball. Indeed, this ball has not yet 

entered Ibsen's mind. He thinks of it first as a children's party in 

the flat overhead, to which Helmer's family are invited. 

   In the opening scene of the second act there are one of two  

traits that might perhaps have been preserved, such as Nora's 

prayer: "Oh, God! Oh, God! do something to Torvald's mind to prevent  

him from enraging that terrible man! Oh, God! Oh, God! I have three 

little children! Do it for my children's sake." Very natural and  

touching, too, is her exclamation, "Oh, how glorious it would be if 

I could only wake up, and come to my senses, and cry, 'It was a dream!  

It was a dream!'" A week, by the way, has passed, instead of a  

single night, as in the finished play; and Nora has been wearing  

herself out by going to parties every evening. Helmer enters  

immediately on the nurse's exit; there is no scene with Mrs. Linden in  

which she remonstrates with Nora for having (as she thinks) borrowed  

money from Dr. Rank, and so suggests to her the idea of applying to 

him for aid. In the scene with Helmer, we miss, among many other  

characteristic traits, his confession that the ultimate reason why  

he cannot keep Krogstad in the bank is that Krogstad, an old  

schoolfellow, is so tactless as to tutoyer him. There is a curious  

little touch in the passage where Helmer draws a contrast between 

his own strict rectitude and the doubtful character of Nora's 

father. "I can give you proof of it," he says. "I never cared to  

mention it before- but the twelve hundred dollars he gave you when you  

were set on going to Italy he never entered in his books: we have been  

quite unable to discover where he got them from." When Dr. Rank 

enters, he speaks to Helmer and Nora together of his failing health;  

it is an enormous improvement which transfers this passage, in a  

carefully polished form, to his scene with Nora alone. That scene,  

in the draft, is almost insignificant. It consists mainly of  

somewhat melodramatic forecasts of disaster on Nora's part, and the 

doctor's alarm as to her health. Of the famous silk-stocking scene- 

that invaluable sidelight on Nora's relation with Helmer there is 

not a trace. There is no hint of Nora's appeal to Rank for help,  

nipped in the bud by his declaration of love for her. All these 

elements we find in a second draft of the scene which has been  

preserved. In this second draft, Rank says, "Helmer himself might 

quite well know every thought I have ever had of you; he shall know 

when I am gone." It might have been better, so far as England is  

concerned, if Ibsen had retained this speech; it might have 

prevented much critical misunderstanding of a perfectly harmless and  

really beautiful episode.  

   Between the scene with Rank and the scene with Krogstad there  

intervenes, in the draft, a discussion between Nora and Mrs. Linden,  

containing this curious passage:-  

  

   NORA. When an unhappy wife is separated from her husband she is not  

     allowed to keep her children? Is that really so?  

   MRS. LINDEN. Yes, I think so. That's to say, if she is guilty. 

   NORA. Oh, guilty, guilty; what does it mean to be guilty? Has a  

     wife no right to love her husband?  

   MRS. LINDEN. Yes, precisely, her husband- and him only.  

   NORA. Why, of course; who was thinking of anything else? But that  

     law is unjust, Kristina. You can see clearly that it is the men  

     that have made it.  

   MRS. LINDEN. Aha- so you have begun to take up the woman question? 

   NORA. No, I don't care a bit about it.  

  

   The scene with Krogstad is essentially the same as in the final  

form, though sharpened, so to speak, at many points. The question of  

suicide was originally discussed in a somewhat melodramatic tone:-  

  

   NORA. I have been thinking of nothing else all these days. 

   KROGSTAD. Perhaps. But how to do it? Poison? Not so easy to get  

     hold of. Shooting? It needs some skill, Mrs. Helmer. Hanging?  

     Bah- there's something ugly in that.... 

   NORA. Do you hear that rushing sound? 

   KROGSTAD. The river? Yes, of course you have thought of that. But  

     you haven't pictured the thing to yourself. 

  

   And he proceeds to do so for her. After he has gone, leaving the 

letter in the box, Helmer and Rank enter, and Nora implores Helmer  

to do no work till New Year's Day (the next day) is over. He agrees,  

but says, "I will just see if any letters have come "; whereupon she  

rushes to the piano and strikes a few chords. He stops to listen, 

and she sits down and plays and sings Anitra's song from Peer Gynt. 

When Mrs. Linden presently enters, Nora makes her take her place at 

the piano, drapes a shawl around her, and dances Anitra's dance. It 

must be owned that Ibsen has immensely improved this very strained and  

arbitrary incident by devising the fancy dress ball and the 

necessity of rehearsing the tarantella for it; but at the best it 

remains a piece of theatricalism.  

   As a study in technique, the re-handling of the last act is  

immensely interesting. At the beginning, in the earlier form, Nora  

rushes down from the children's party overhead, and takes a 

significant farewell of Mrs. Linden, whom she finds awaiting her. 

Helmer almost forces her to return to the party; and thus the stage is  

cleared for the scene between Mrs. Linden and Krogstad, which, in 

the final version, opens the act. Then Nora enters with the two 

elder children, whom she sends to bed. Helmer immediately follows, and  

on his heels Dr. Rank, who announces in plain terms that his disease  

has entered on its last stage, that he is going home to die, and  

that he will not have Helmer or any one else hanging around his 

sick-room. In the final version, he says all this to Nora alone in the  

second act; while in the last act, coming in upon Helmer flushed  

with wine, and Nora pale and trembling in her masquerade dress, he has  

a parting scene with them, the significance of which she alone  

understands. In the earlier version, Rank has several long and heavy  

speeches in place of the light, swift dialogue of the final form, with  

its different significance for Helmer and for Nora. There is no 

trace of the wonderful passage which precedes Rank's exit. To 

compare the draft with the finished scene is to see a perfect instance  

of the transmutation of dramatic prose into dramatic poetry.  

   There is in the draft no indication of Helmer's being warmed with  

wine, or of the excitement of the senses which gives the final touch  

of tragedy to Nora's despair. The process of the action is practically  

the same in both versions; but everywhere in the final form a 

sharper edge is given to things. One little touch is very significant.  

In the draft, when Helmer has read the letter with which Krogstad 

returns the forged bill, he cries, "You are saved, Nora, you are  

saved!" In the revision, Ibsen cruelly altered this into, "I am saved,  

Nora, I am saved!" In the final scene, where Nora is telling Helmer 

how she expected him, when the revelation came, to take all the 

guilt upon himself, we look in vain, in the first draft, for this 

passage:-  

  

   HELMER. I would gladly work for you night and day, Nora- bear  

     sorrow and want for your sake. But no man sacrifices his honour, 

     even for one he loves.  

   NORA. Millions of women have done so. 

  

   This, then, was an afterthought: was there ever a more brilliant 

one? 

  

   It is with A Doll's House that Ibsen enters upon his kingdom as a  

world-poet. He had done greater work in the past, and he was to do  

greater work in the future; but this was the play which was destined  

to carry his name beyond the limits of Scandinavia, and even of 

Germany, to the remotest regions of civilisation. Here the Fates  

were not altogether kind to him. The fact that for many years he was  

known to thousands of people solely as the author of A Doll's House 

and its successor, Ghosts, was largely responsible for the extravagant  

misconceptions of his genius and character which prevailed during 

the last decade of the nineteenth century, and are not yet entirely 

extinct. In these plays he seemed to be delivering a direct assault on  

marriage, from the standpoint of feminine individualism; wherefore  

he was taken to be a preacher and pamphleteer rather than a poet. In  

these plays, and in these only, he made physical disease a  

considerable factor in the action; whence it was concluded that he had  

a morbid predilection for "nauseous" subjects. In these plays he  

laid special and perhaps disproportionate stress on the influence of  

heredity; whence he was believed to be possessed by a monomania on the  

point. In these plays, finally, he was trying to act the essentially  

uncongenial part of the prosaic realist. The effort broke down at many  

points, and the poet reasserted himself; but these flaws in the 

prosaic texture were regarded as mere bewildering errors and  

eccentricities. In short, he was introduced to the world at large 

through two plays which showed his power, indeed, almost in 

perfection, but left the higher and subtler qualities of his genius 

for the most part unrepresented. Hence the grotesquely distorted  

vision of him which for so long haunted the minds even of 

intelligent people. Hence, for example, the amazing opinion, given  

forth as a truism by more than one critic of great ability, that the  

author of Peer Gynt was devoid of humour.  

   Within a little more than a fortnight of its publication, A  

Doll's House was presented at the Royal Theatre, Copenhagen, where Fru  

Hennings, as Nora, made the great success of her career. The play 

was soon being acted, as well as read, all over Scandinavia. Nora's 

startling "declaration of independence" afforded such an inexhaustible  

theme for heated discussion, that at last it had to be formally barred  

at social gatherings, just as, in Paris twenty years later, the 

Dreyfus Case was proclaimed a prohibited topic. The popularity of 

Pillars of Society in Germany had paved the way for its successor,  

which spread far and wide over the German stage in the spring of 1880,  

and has ever since held its place in the repertory of the leading 

theatres. As his works were at that time wholly unprotected in  

Germany, Ibsen could not prevent managers from altering the end of the  

play to suit their taste and fancy. He was thus driven, under protest,  

to write an alternative ending, in which, at the last moment, the 

thought of her children restrained Nora from leaving home. He 

preferred, as he said, "to commit the outrage himself, rather than  

leave his work to the tender mercies of adaptors." The patched-up 

ending soon dropped out of use and out of memory. Ibsen's own 

account of the matter will be found in his Correspondence, Letter 142.  

   It took ten years for the play to pass beyond the limits of  

Scandinavia and Germany. Madame Modjeska, it is true, presented a 

version of it in Louisville, Kentucky, in 1883, but it attracted no 

attention. In the following year Messrs. Henry Arthur Jones and 

Henry Herman produced at the Prince of Wales's Theatre, London, a play  

entitled Breaking a Butterfly, which was described as being "founded  

on Ibsen's Norah," but bore only a remote resemblance to the original.  

In this production Mr. Beerbohm Tree took the part of Dunkley, a  

melodramatic villain who filled the place of Krogstad. In 1885, again,  

an adventurous amateur club gave a quaint performance of Miss Lord's  

translation of the play at a hall in Argyle Street, London. Not 

until June 7, 1889, was A Doll's House competently, and even  

brilliantly, presented to the English public, by Mr. Charles  

Charrington and Miss Janet Achurch, at the Novelty Theatre, London, 

afterwards re-named the Kingsway Theatre. It was this production  

that really made Ibsen known to the English-speaking peoples. In other  

words, it marked his second great stride towards world-wide, as 

distinct from merely national, renown- if we reckon as the first  

stride the success of Pillars of Society in Germany. Mr. and Mrs. 

Charrington took A Doll's House with them on a long Australian tour;  

Miss Beatrice Cameron (Mrs. Richard Mansfield) was encouraged by the  

success of the London production to present the play in New York, 

whence it soon spread to other American cities; while in London itself  

it was frequently revived and vehemently discussed. The Ibsen 

controversy, indeed, did not break out in its full virulence until  

1891, when Ghosts and Hedda Gabler were produced in London; but from  

the date of the Novelty production onwards, Ibsen was generally 

recognised as a potent factor in the intellectual and artistic life of  

the day.                

   A French adaptation of Et Dukkehjem was produced in Brussels in  

March 1889, but attracted little attention. Not until 1894 was the  

play introduced to the Parisian public, at the Gymnase, with Madame 

Rejane as Nora. This actress has since played the part frequently, not  

only in Paris but in London and in America. In Italian the play was 

first produced in 1889, and soon passed into the repertory of Eleonora  

Duse, who appeared as Nora in London in 1893. Few heroines in modern  

drama have been played by so many actresses of the first rank. To 

those already enumerated must be added Hedwig Niemann-Raabe and 

Agnes Sorma in Germany, and Minnie Maddern-Fiske and Alla Nazimova  

in America; and, even so, the list is far from complete. There is 

probably no country in the world, possessing a theatre on the European  

model, in which A Doll's House has not been more or less frequently 

acted.                  

   Undoubtedly the great attraction of the part of Nora to the average  

actress was the tarantella scene. This was a theatrical effect, of  

an obvious, unmistakable kind. It might have been- though I am not  

aware that it ever actually was- made the subject of a picture-poster.  

But this, as it seems to me, was Ibsen's last concession to the 

ideal of technique which he had acquired, in the old Bergen days, from  

his French masters. It was at this point- or, more precisely, a little  

later, in the middle of the third act- that Ibsen definitely outgrew  

the theatrical orthodox of his earlier years. When the action, in 

the theatrical sense, was over, he found himself only on the threshold  

of the essential drama; and in that drama, compressed into the final  

scene of the play, he proclaimed his true power and his true mission. 

   How impossible, in his subsequent work, would be such figures as 

Mrs. Linden, the confidant, and Krogstad, the villain! They are not 

quite the ordinary confidant and villain, for Ibsen is always Ibsen,  

and his power of vitalisation is extraordinary. Yet we clearly feel 

them to belong to a different order of art from that of his later 

plays. How impossible, too, in the poet's after years, would have been  

the little tricks of ironic coincidence and picturesque contrast which  

abound in A Doll's House! The festal atmosphere of the whole play, the  

Christmas-tree, the tarantella, the masquerade ball, with its 

distant sounds of music- all the shimmer and tinsel of the background,  

against which Nora's soul-torture and Rank's despair are thrown into  

relief, belong to the system of external, artificial antithesis 

beloved by romantic playwrights from Lope de Vega onward, and 

carried to its limit by Victor Hugo. The same artificiality is  

apparent in minor details. "Oh, what a wonderful thing it is to live  

to be happy!" cries Nora, and instantly "The hall-door bell rings" and  

Krogstad's shadow falls across the threshold. So, too, for his  

second entrance, an elaborate effect of contrast is arranged, 

between Nora's gleeful romp with her children and the sinister  

figure which stands unannounced in their midst. It would be too much  

to call these things absolutely unnatural, but the very precision of  

the coincidence is eloquent of pre-arrangement. At any rate, they 

belong to an order of effects which in future Ibsen sedulously  

eschews. The one apparent exception to this rule which I can  

remember occurs in The Master Builder, where Solness's remark,  

"Presently the younger generation will come knocking at my door," 

gives the cue for Hilda's knock and entrance. But here an 

interesting distinction is to be noted. Throughout The Master 

Builder the poet subtly indicates the operation of mysterious,  

unseen agencies- the "helpers and servers" of whom Solness speaks,  

as well as the Power with which he held converse at the crisis in 

his life- guiding, or at any rate tampering with, the destinies of the  

characters. This being so, it is evident that the effect of 

pre-arrangement produced by Hilda's appearing exactly on the given cue  

was deliberately aimed at. Like so many other details in the play,  

it might be a mere coincidence, or it might be a result of inscrutable  

design- we were purposely left in doubt. But the suggestion of  

pre-arrangement which helped to create the atmosphere of The Master 

Builder was wholly out of place in A Doll's House. In the later play  

it was a subtle stroke of art; in the earlier it was the effect of  

imperfectly dissembled artifice.  

   The fact that Ibsen's full originality first reveals itself in 

the latter half of the third act is proved by the very protests,  

nay, the actual rebellion, which the last scene called forth. Up to 

that point he had been doing, approximately, what theatrical orthodoxy  

demanded of him. But when Nora, having put off her masquerade dress,  

returned to make up her account with Helmer, and with marriage as 

Helmer understood it, the poet flew in the face of orthodoxy, and 

its professors cried, out in bewilderment and wrath. But it was just  

at this point that, in practice, the real grip and thrill of the drama  

were found to come in. The tarantella scene never, in my experience-  

and I have seen five or six great actresses in the part- produced an  

effect in any degree commensurate with the effort involved. But when  

Nora and Helmer faced each other, one on each side of the table, and  

set to work to ravel out the skein of their illusions, then one felt  

oneself face to face with a new thing in drama- an order of 

experience, at once intellectual and emotional, not hitherto  

attained in the theatre. This every one felt, I think, who was in 

any way accessible to that order of experience. For my own part, I  

shall never forget how surprised I was on first seeing the play, to 

find this scene, in its naked simplicity, far more exciting and moving  

than all the artfully-arranged situations of the earlier acts. To 

the same effect, from another point of view, we have the testimony  

of Fru Hennings, the first actress who ever played the part of Nora.  

In an interview published soon after Ibsen's death, she spoke of the  

delight it was to her, in her youth, to embody the Nora of the first  

and second acts, the "lark," the "squirrel," the irresponsible, 

butterfly Nora. "When I now play the part," she went on, "the first 

acts leave me indifferent. Not until the third act am I really  

interested- but then, intensely." To call the first and second acts 

positively uninteresting would of course be a gross exaggeration. What  

one really means is that their workmanship is still a little  

derivative and immature, and that not until the third act does the  

poet reveal the full originality and individuality of his genius. 





                        



                              CHARACTERS



                     TORVALD HELMER.

                     NORA, his wife.

                     DOCTOR RANK.

                     MRS. LINDEN. *

                     NILS KROGSTAD.

                     THE HELMERS' THREE CHILDREN.

                     ANNA, *(2) their nurse.

                     A MAID-SERVANT (ELLEN).

                     A PORTER.



   The action passes in Helmer's house (a flat) in Christiania. 



   * In the original "Fru Linde." 

   *(2) In the original "Anne-Marie." 





                              ACT FIRST 

           

   A room, comfortably and tastefully, but not expensively, furnished.  

In the back, on the right, a door leads to the hall; on the left  

another door leads to HELMER's study. Between the two doors a 

pianoforte. In the middle of the left wall a door, and nearer the 

front a window. Near the window a round table with armchairs and a  

small sofa. In the right wall, somewhat to the back, a door, and  

against the same wall, further forward, a porcelain stove; in front of  

it a couple of arm-chairs and a rocking-chair. Between the stove and  

the side-door a small table. Engravings on the walls. A what-not  

with china and bric-a-brac. A small bookcase filled with handsomely 

bound books. Carpet. A fire in the stove. It is a winter day. 

   A bell rings in the hall outside. Presently the outer door of the  

flat is heard to open. Then NORA enters, humming gaily. She is in 

outdoor dress, and carries several parcels, which she lays on the 

right-hand table. She leaves the door into the hall open, and a PORTER  

is seen outside, carrying a Christmas-tree and a basket, which he 

gives to the MAID-SERVANT who has opened the door.  

                     

   NORA. Hide the Christmas-tree carefully, Ellen; the children must  

     on no account see it before this evening, when it's lighted up.  

     [To the PORTER, taking out her purse.] How much? 

   PORTER. Fifty ore. * 

                   

   * About sixpence. There are 100 ore in a krone or crown, which is  

worth thirteenpence halfpenny.  

                   

   NORA. There is a crown. No, keep the change. 

             [The PORTER thanks her and goes. NORA shuts the door. She  

              continues smiling in quiet glee as she takes off her  

              outdoor things. Taking from her pocket a bag of 

              macaroons, she eats one or two. Then she goes on tip-toe  

              to her husband's door and listens.  

   NORA. Yes; he is at home.  

             [She begins humming again, crossing to the table on the  

              right.    

   HELMER. [In his room.] Is that my lark twittering there? 

   NORA. [Busy opening some of her parcels.] Yes, it is.  

   HELMER. Is it the squirrel frisking around?  

   NORA. Yes!           

   HELMER When did the squirrel get home? 

   NORA. Just this minute. [Hides the bag of macaroons in her pocket  

     and wipes her mouth.] Come here, Torvald, and see what I've been 

     buying.            

   HELMER. Don't interrupt me. [A little later he opens the door and  

     looks in, pen in hand.] Buying, did you say? What! All that? Has 

     my little spendthrift been making the money fly again? 

   NORA. Why, Torvald, surely we can afford to launch out a little  

     now. It's the first Christmas we haven't had to pinch. 

   HELMER. Come come; we can't afford to squander money.  

   NORA. Oh yes, Torvald, do let us squander a little, now- just the  

     least little bit! You know you'll soon be earning heaps of money.  

   HELMER. Yes, from New Year's Day. But there's a whole quarter  

     before my first salary is due. 

   NORA. Never mind; we can borrow in the meantime. 

   HELMER. Nora! [He goes up to her and takes her playfully by the  

     ear.] Still my little featherbrain! Supposing I borrowed a 

     thousand crowns to-day, and you made ducks and drakes of them  

     during Christmas week, and then on New Year's Eve a tile blew off  

     the roof and knocked my brains out-  

   NORA. [Laying her hand on his mouth.] Hush! How can you talk so  

     horridly?          

   HELMER. But supposing it were to happen- what then?  

   NORA. If anything so dreadful happened, it would be all the same to  

     me whether I was in debt or not. 

   HELMER. But what about the creditors?  

   NORA. They! Who cares for them? They're only strangers.  

   HELMER. Nora, Nora! What a woman you are! But seriously, Nora, you 

     know my principles on these points. No debts! No borrowing! Home 

     life ceases to be free and beautiful as soon as it is founded on 

     borrowing and debt. We two have held out bravely till now, and we  

     are not going to give in at the last.  

   NORA. [Going to the fireplace.] Very well- as you please, Torvald. 

   HELMER. [Following her.] Come come; my little lark mustn't droop 

     her wings like that. What? Is my squirrel in the sulks? [Takes 

     out his purse.] Nora, what do you think I have here? 

   NORA. [Turning round quickly.] Money!  

   HELMER. There! [Gives her some notes.] Of course I know all sorts  

     of things are wanted at Christmas. 

   NORA. [Counting.] Ten, twenty, thirty, forty. Oh, thank you, thank 

     you, Torvald! This will go a long way. 

   HELMER. I should hope so.  

   NORA. Yes, indeed; a long way! But come here, and let me show  

     you all I've been buying. And so cheap! Look, here's a new suit  

     for Ivar, and a little sword. Here are a horse and a trumpet for 

     Bob. And here are a doll and a cradle for Emmy. They're only 

     common; but they're good enough for her to pull to pieces. And 

     dress-stuffs and kerchiefs for the servants. I ought to have got 

     something better for old Anna. 

   HELMER. And what's in that other parcel? 

   NORA. [Crying out.] No, Torvald, you're not to see that until this 

     evening.           

   HELMER. Oh! Ah! But now tell me, you little spendthrift, have you  

     thought of anything for yourself?  

   NORA. For myself! Oh, I don't want anything. 

   HELMER. Nonsense! Just tell me something sensible you would like to  

     have.              

   NORA. No, really I don't know of anything- Well, listen, Torvald-  

   HELMER. Well?        

   NORA. [Playing with his coat-buttons, without looking him in the 

     face.] If you really want to give me something, you might, you 

     know- you might-   

   HELMER. Well? Out with it! 

   NORA. [Quickly.] You might give me money, Torvald. Only just what  

     you think you can spare; then I can buy something with it later  

     on.                

   HELMER. But, Nora-   

   NORA. Oh, please do, dear Torvald, please do! I should hang the  

     money in lovely gilt paper on the Christmas-tree. Wouldn't that  

     be fun?            

   HELMER. What do they call the birds that are always making the 

     money fly?         

   NORA. Yes, I know- spendthrifts, * of course. But please do as I 

     ask you, Torvald. Then I shall have time to think what I want  

     most. Isn't that very sensible, now? 

                   

   * "Spillefugl," literally "playbird," means a gambler. 

                   

   HELMER. [Smiling.] Certainly; that is to say, if you really kept 

     the money I gave you, and really spent it on something for 

     yourself. But it all goes in housekeeping, and for all manner of 

     useless things, and then I have to pay up again. 

   NORA. But, Torvald-  

   HELMER. Can you deny it, Nora dear? [He puts his arm round her.] 

     It's a sweet little lark, but it gets through a lot of money. No 

     one would believe how much it costs a man to keep such a little  

     bird as you.       

   NORA. For shame! How can you say so? Why, I save as much as ever I 

     can.               

   HELMER. [Laughing.] Very true- as much as you can- but that's  

     precisely nothing. 

   NORA. [Hums and smiles with covert glee.] H'm! If you only knew, 

     Torvald, what expenses we larks and squirrels have.  

   HELMER. You're a strange little being! Just like your father-  

     always on the look-out for all the money you can lay your hands  

     on; but the moment you have it, it seems to slip through your  

     fingers; you never know what becomes of it. Well, one must take  

     you as you are. It's in the blood. Yes, Nora, that sort of thing 

     is hereditary.     

   NORA. I wish I had inherited many of papa's qualities. 

   HELMER. And I don't wish you anything but just what you are- my  

     own, sweet little song-bird. But I say- it strikes me you look 

     so- so- what shall I call it?- so suspicious to-day- 

   NORA. Do I?          

   HELMER. You do, indeed. Look me full in the face.  

   NORA. [Looking at him.] Well?  

   HELMER. [Threatening with his finger.] Hasn't the little 

     sweet-tooth been playing pranks to-day?  

   NORA. No; how can you think such a thing!  

   HELMER. Didn't she just look in at the confectioner's? 

   NORA. No, Torvald; really- 

   HELMER. Not to sip a little jelly? 

   NORA. No; certainly not. 

   HELMER. Hasn't she even nibbled a macaroon or two? 

   NORA. No, Torvald, indeed, indeed! 

   HELMER. Well, well, well; of course I'm only joking. 

   NORA. [Goes to the table on the right.] I shouldn't think of 

     doing what you disapprove of.  

   HELMER. No, I'm sure of that; and, besides, you've given me your 

     word- [Going towards her.] Well, keep your little Christmas  

     secrets to yourself, Nora darling. The Christmas-tree will bring 

     them all to light, I daresay.  

   NORA. Have you remembered to invite Doctor Rank? 

   HELMER. No. But it's not necessary; he'll come as a matter of  

     course. Besides, I shall ask him when he looks in to-day. I've 

     ordered some capital wine. Nora, you can't think how I look  

     forward to this evening. 

   NORA. And I too. How the children will enjoy themselves, Torvald!  

   HELMER. Ah, it's glorious to feel that one has an assured position 

     and ample means. Isn't it delightful to think of?  

   NORA. Oh, it's wonderful!  

   HELMER. Do you remember last Christmas? For three whole weeks  

     beforehand you shut yourself up every evening till long past 

     midnight to make flowers for the Christmas-tree, and all sorts 

     of other marvels that were to have astonished us. I was never  

     so bored in my life. 

   NORA. I didn't bore myself at all. 

   HELMER. [Smiling.] But it came to little enough in the end, Nora.  

   NORA. Oh, are you going to tease me about that again? How could I  

     help the cat getting in and pulling it all to pieces?  

   HELMER. To be sure you couldn't, my poor little Nora. You did your 

     best to give us all pleasure, and that's the main point. But, all  

     the same, it's a good thing the hard times are over. 

   NORA. Oh, isn't it wonderful?  

   HELMER. Now I needn't sit here boring myself all alone; and you  

     needn't tire your blessed eyes and your delicate little fingers- 

   NORA. [Clapping her hands.] No, I needn't, need I, Torvald? Oh, how  

     wonderful it is to think of? [Takes his arm.] And now I'll tell  

     you how I think we ought to manage, Torvald. As soon as Christmas  

     is over- [The hall-door bell rings.] Oh, there's a ring! 

     [Arranging the room.] That's somebody come to call. How tiresome!  

   HELMER. I'm "not at home" to callers; remember that. 

   ELLEN. [In the doorway.] A lady to see you, ma'am. 

   NORA. Show her in.   

   ELLEN. [To HELMER.] And the doctor has just come, sir. 

   HELMER. Has he gone into my study? 

   ELLEN. Yes, sir.     

             [HELMER goes into his study. ELLEN ushers in MRS. LINDEN,  

              in travelling costume, and goes out, closing the door.  

   MRS. LINDEN. [Embarrassed and hesitating.] How do you do, Nora?  

   NORA. [Doubtfully.] How do you do? 

   MRS. LINDEN. I see you don't recognise me! 

   NORA. No, I don't think- oh yes!- I believe- [Suddenly 

     brightening.] What, Christina! Is it really you? 

   MRS. LINDEN. Yes; really I!  

   NORA. Christina! And to think I didn't know you! But how could I-  

     [More softly.] How changed you are; Christina! 

   MRS. LINDEN. Yes, no doubt. In nine or ten years-  

   NORA. Is it really so long since we met? Yes, so it is. Oh, the  

     last eight years have been a happy time, I can tell you. And now 

     you have come to town? All that long journey in mid-winter! How  

     brave of you!      

   MRS. LINDEN. I arrived by this morning's steamer.  

   NORA. To have a merry Christmas, of course. Oh, how delightful!  

     Yes, we will have a merry Christmas. Do take your things off.  

     Aren't you frozen? [Helping her.] There; now we'll sit cosily by 

     the fire. No, you take the arm-chair; I shall sit in this  

     rocking-chair. [Seizes her hands.] Yes, now I can see the dear 

     old face again. It was only at the first glance- But you're a  

     little paler, Christina- and perhaps a little thinner. 

   MRS. LINDEN. And much, much older, Nora. 

   NORA. Yes, perhaps a little older- not much- ever so little. 

     [She suddenly checks herself; seriously.] Oh, what a thoughtless 

     wretch I am! Here I sit chattering on, and- Dear, dear Christina,  

     can you forgive me!  

   MRS. LINDEN. What do you mean, Nora? 

   NORA. [Softly.] Poor Christina! I forgot: you are a widow. 

   MRS. LINDEN. Yes; my husband died three years ago. 

   NORA. I know, I know; I saw it in the papers. Oh, believe me,  

     Christina, I did mean to write to you; but I kept putting it off,  

     and something always came in the way.  

   MRS. LINDEN. I can quite understand that, Nora dear. 

   NORA. No, Christina; it was horrid of me. Oh, you poor darling! how  

     much you must have gone through!- And he left you nothing? 

   MRS. LINDEN. Nothing.  

   NORA. And no children? 

   MRS. LINDEN. None.   

   NORA. Nothing, nothing at all? 

   MRS. LINDEN.  Not even a sorrow or a longing to dwell upon.  

   NORA. [Looking at her incredulously.] My dear Christina, how is  

     that possible?     

   MRS. LINDEN. [Smiling sadly and stroking her hair.] Oh, it happens 

     so sometimes, Nora.  

   NORA. So utterly alone! How dreadful that must be! I have three of 

     the loveliest children. I can't show them to you just now; 

     they're out with their nurse. But now you must tell me 

     everything.        

   MRS. LINDEN. No, no; I want you to tell me-  

   NORA. No, you must begin; I won't be egotistical to-day. To-day  

     I'll think only of you. Oh! but I must tell you one thing- 

     perhaps you've heard of our great stroke of fortune? 

   MRS. LINDEN. No. What is it? 

   NORA. Only think! my husband has been made manager of the Joint  

     Stock Bank.        

   MRS. LINDEN. Your husband! Oh, how fortunate!  

   NORA. Yes; isn't it? A lawyer's position is so uncertain, you see, 

     especially when he won't touch any business that's the least bit 

     shady, as of course Torvald never would; and there I quite agree 

     with him. Oh! you can imagine how glad we are. He is to enter on 

     his new position at the New Year, and then he'll have a large  

     salary, and percentages. In future we shall be able to live quite  

     differently- just as we please, in fact. Oh, Christina, I feel so  

     lighthearted and happy! It's delightful to have lots of money, 

     and no need to worry about things, isn't it? 

   MRS. LINDEN. Yes; at any rate it must be delightful to have what 

     you need.          

   NORA. No, not only what you need, but heaps of money- heaps! 

   MRS. LINDEN. [Smiling.] Nora, Nora, haven't you learnt reason yet? 

     In our school days you were a shocking little spendthrift. 

   NORA. [Quietly smiling.] Yes; that's what Torvald says I am still. 

     [Holding up her forefinger.] But "Nora, Nora" is not so silly as 

     you all think. Oh! I haven't had the chance to be much of a  

     spendthrift. We have both had to work. 

   MRS. LINDEN. You too?  

   NORA. Yes, light fancy work: crochet, and embroidery, and things of  

     that sort; [Carelessly] and other work too. You know, of course, 

     that Torvald left the Government service when we were married. He  

     had little chance of promotion, and of course he required to make  

     more money. But in the first year after our marriage he  

     overworked himself terribly. He had to undertake all sorts of  

     extra work, you know, and to slave early and late. He couldn't 

     stand it, and fell dangerously ill. Then the doctors declared he 

     must go to the South.  

   MRS. LINDEN. You spent a whole year in Italy, didn't you?  

   NORA. Yes, we did. It wasn't easy to manage, I can tell you. It was  

     just after Ivar's birth. But of course we had to go. Oh, it was a  

     wonderful, delicious journey! And it saved Torvald's life. But it  

     cost a frightful lot of money, Christina.  

   MRS. LINDEN. So I should think.  

   NORA. Twelve hundred dollars! Four thousand eight hundred crowns! *  

     Isn't that a lot of money? 

                   

   * The dollar (4s. 6d.) was the old unit of currency in Norway. 

The crown was substituted for it shortly before the date of this play.  

                   

   MRS. LINDEN. How lucky you had the money to spend! 

   NORA. We got it from father, you must know.  

   MRS. LINDEN. Ah, I see. He died just about that time, didn't he? 

   NORA. Yes, Christina, just then. And only think! I couldn't go and 

     nurse him! I was expecting little Ivar's birth daily; and then I 

     had my poor sick Torvald to attend to. Dear, kind old father! I  

     never saw him again, Christina. Oh! that's the hardest thing I 

     have had to bear since my marriage.  

   MRS. LINDEN. I know how fond you were of him. But then you went to 

     Italy?             

   NORA. Yes; you see, we had the money, and the doctors said we must 

     lose no time. We started a month later.  

   MRS. LINDEN. And your husband came back completely cured.  

   NORA. Sound as a bell. 

   MRS. LINDEN. But- the doctor?  

   NORA. What do you mean?  

   MRS. LINDEN. I thought as I came in your servant announced the 

     doctor-            

   NORA. Oh, yes; Doctor Rank. But he doesn't come professionally. He 

     is our best friend, and never lets a day pass without looking in.  

     No, Torvald hasn't had an hour's illness since that time. And the  

     children are so healthy and well, and so am I. [Jumps up and 

     claps her hands.] Oh, Christina, Christina, what a wonderful 

     thing it is to live and to be happy!- Oh, but it's really too  

     horrid of me! Here am I talking about nothing but my own 

     concerns. [Seats herself upon a footstool close to CHRISTINA, and  

     lays her arms on her friend's lap.] Oh. don't be angry with me!  

     Now tell me, is it really true that you didn't love your husband?  

     What made you marry him, then? 

   MRS. LINDEN. My mother was still alive, you see, bedridden and 

     helpless; and then I had my two younger brothers to think of.  

     I didn't think it would be right for me to refuse him. 

   NORA. Perhaps it wouldn't have been. I suppose he was rich then? 

   MRS. LINDEN. Very well off, I believe. But his business was  

     uncertain. It fell to pieces at his death, and there was 

     nothing left.      

   NORA. And then-?     

   MRS. LINDEN. Then I had to fight my way by keeping a shop, a little  

     school, anything I could turn my hand to. The last three years 

     have been one long struggle for me. But now it is over, Nora. My 

     poor mother no longer needs me; she is at rest. And the boys are 

     in business, and can look after themselves.  

   NORA. How free your life must feel!  

   MRS. LINDEN. No, Nora; only inexpressibly empty. No one to live  

     for! [Stands up restlessly.] That's why I could not bear to stay 

     any longer in that out-of-the-way corner. Here it must be easier 

     to find something to take one up- to occupy one's thoughts. If I 

     could only get some settled employment- some office work.  

   NORA. But, Christina, that's such drudgery, and you look worn out  

     already. It would be ever so much better for you to go to some 

     watering-place and rest. 

   MRS. LINDEN [Going to the window.] I have no father to give me the 

     money, Nora.       

   NORA. [Rising.] Oh, don't be vexed with me.  

   MRS. LINDEN. [Going to her.] My dear Nora, don't you be vexed with 

     me. The worst of a position like mine is that it makes one so  

     bitter. You have no one to work for, yet you have to be always on  

     the strain. You must live; and so you become selfish. When I 

     heard of the happy change in your fortunes- can you believe it?- 

     I was glad for my own sake more than for yours.  

   NORA. How do you mean? Ah, I see! You think Torvald can perhaps do 

     something for you. 

   MRS. LINDEN. Yes; I thought so.  

   NORA. And so he shall, Christina. Just you leave it all to me. I 

     shall lead up to it beautifully!- I shall think of some  

     delightful plan to put him in a good humour! Oh, I should so love  

     to help you.       

   MRS. LINDEN. How good of you, Nora, to stand by me so warmly!  

     Doubly good in you, who knows so little of the troubles and  

     burdens of life.   

   NORA. I? I know so little of-? 

   MRS. LINDEN. [Smiling.] Oh, well- a little fancy-work, and so  

     forth.- You're a child, Nora.  

   NORA. [Tosses her head and paces the room.] Oh, come, you mustn't  

     be so patronising! 

   MRS. LINDEN. No?     

   NORA. You're like the rest. You all think I'm fit for nothing  

     really serious-    

   MRS. LINDEN. Well, well- 

   NORA. You think I've had no troubles in this weary world.  

   MRS. LINDEN. My dear Nora, you've just told me all your troubles.  

   NORA. Pooh- those trifles! [Softly.] I haven't told you the great  

     thing.             

   MRS. LINDEN. The great thing? What do you mean?  

   NORA. I know you look down upon me, Christina; but you have no 

     right to. You are proud of having worked so hard and so long for 

     your mother.       

   MRS. LINDEN. I am sure I don't look down upon any one; but it's  

     true I am both proud and glad when I remember that I was able to 

     keep my mother's last days free from care. 

   NORA. And you're proud to think of what you have done for your 

     brothers, too.     

   MRS. LINDEN. Have I not the right to be? 

   NORA. Yes indeed. But now let me tell you, Christina- I, too, have 

     something to be proud and glad of. 

   MRS. LINDEN. I don't doubt it. But what do you mean? 

   NORA. Hush! Not so loud. Only think, if Torvald were to hear! He 

     mustn't- not for worlds! No one must know about it, Christina- no  

     one but you.       

   MRS LINDEN. Why, what can it be? 

   NORA. Come over here. [Draws her down beside her on the sofa.] Yes,  

     Christina- I, too, have something to be proud and glad of. I 

     saved Torvald's life.  

   MRS. LINDEN. Saved his life? How?  

   NORA. I told you about our going to Italy. Torvald would have died 

     but for that.      

   MRS. LINDEN. Well- and your father gave you the money. 

   NORA. [Smiling.] Yes, so Torvald and every one believes; but-  

   MRS. LINDEN. But-?   

   NORA. Papa didn't give us one penny. It was I that found the money.  

   MRS. LINDEN. You? All that money?  

   NORA. Twelve hundred dollars. Four thousand eight hundred crowns.  

     What do you say to that? 

   MRS. LINDEN. My dear Nora, how did you manage it? Did you win it in  

     the lottery?       

   NORA. [Contemptuosly.] In the lottery? Pooh! Any one could have  

     done that!         

   MRS. LINDEN. Then wherever did you get it from?  

   NORA. [Hums and smiles mysteriously.] H'm; tra-la-la-la! 

   MRS. LINDEN. Of course you couldn't borrow it. 

   NORA. No? Why not?   

   MRS. LINDEN. Why, a wife can't borrow without her husband's  

     consent.           

   NORA. [Tossing her head.] Oh! when the wife has some idea of 

     business, and knows how to set about things- 

   MRS. LINDEN. But, Nora, I don't understand-  

   NORA. Well, you needn't. I never said I borrowed the money. There  

     are many ways I may have got it. [Throws herself back on the 

     sofa.] I may have got it from some admirer. When one is so-  

     attractive as I am-  

   MRS. LINDEN. You're too silly, Nora. 

   NORA. Now I'm sure you're dying of curiosity, Christina- 

   MRS. LINDEN. Listen to me, Nora dear: haven't you been a little  

     rash?              

   NORA. [Sitting upright again.] Is it rash to save one's husband's  

     life?              

   MRS. LINDEN. I think it was rash of you, without his knowledge-  

   NORA. But it would have been fatal for him to know! Can't you  

     understand that? He wasn't even to suspect how ill he was. The 

     doctors came to me privately and told me his life was in danger- 

     that nothing could save him but a winter in the South. Do you  

     think I didn't try diplomacy first? I told him how I longed to 

     have a trip abroad, like other young wives; I wept and prayed; I 

     said he ought to think of my condition, and not to thwart me; and  

     then I hinted that he could borrow the money. But then,  

     Christina, he got almost angry. He said I was frivolous, and that  

     it was his duty as a husband not to yield to my whims and  

     fancies- so he called them. Very well, thought I, but saved you  

     must be; and then I found the way to do it.  

   MRS. LINDEN. And did your husband never learn from your father that  

     the money was not from him?  

   NORA. No; never. Papa died at that very time. I meant to have told 

     him all about it, and begged him to say nothing. But he was so 

     ill- unhappily, it wasn't necessary. 

   MRS. LINDEN. And you have never confessed to your husband? 

   NORA. Good heavens! What can you be thinking of of? Tell him when  

     he has such a loathing of debt And besides- how painful and  

     humiliating it would he for Torvald, with his manly self-respect,  

     to know that he owed anything to me! It would utterly upset the  

     relation between us; our beautiful, happy home would never again 

     be what it is.     

   MRS. LINDEN. Will you never tell him?  

   NORA. [Thoughtfully, half-smiling.] Yes, some time perhaps- many,  

     many years hence, when I'm- not so pretty. You mustn't laugh at  

     me! Of course I mean when Torvald is not so much in love with me 

     as he is now; when it doesn't amuse him any longer to see me 

     dancing about, and dressing up and acting. Then it might be well 

     to have something in reserve. [Breaking off.] Nonsense! nonsense!  

     That time will never come. Now, what do you say to my grand  

     secret, Christina? Am I fit for nothing now? You may believe it  

     has cost me a lot of anxiety. It has been no joke to meet my 

     engagements punctually. You must know, Christina, that in  

     business there are things called instalments, and quarterly  

     interest, that are terribly hard to provide for. So I've had to  

     pinch a little here and there, wherever I could. I couldn't save 

     much out of the housekeeping, for of course Torvald had to live  

     well. And I couldn't let the children go about badly dressed; all  

     I got for them, I spent on them, the blessed darlings! 

   MRS. LINDEN. Poor Nora! So it had to come out of your own  

     pocket-money.      

   NORA. Yes, of course. After all, the whole thing was my doing. When  

     Torvald gave me money for clothes, and so on, I never spent more 

     than half of it; I always bought the simplest and cheapest 

     things. It's a mercy that everything suits me so well- Torvald 

     never had any suspicions. But it was often very hard, Christina  

     dear. For it's nice to be beautifully dressed- now, isn't it?  

   MRS.LINDEN. Indeed it is.  

   NORA. Well, and besides that, I made money in other ways. Last 

     winter I was so lucky- I got a heap of copying to do. I shut 

     myself up every evening and wrote far into the night. Oh,  

     sometimes I was so tired, so tired. And yet it was splendid to 

     work in that way and earn money. I almost felt as if I was a man.  

   MRS. LINDEN. Then how much have you been able to pay off?  

   NORA. Well, I can't precisely say. It's difficult to keep that sort  

     of business clear. I only know that I've paid everything I could 

     scrape together. Sometimes I really didn't know where to turn. 

     [Smiles.] Then I used to sit here and pretend that a rich old  

     gentleman was in love with me- 

   MRS. LINDEN. What! gentleman?  

   NORA. Oh, nobody!- that he was dead now, and that when his will was  

     opened, there stood in large letters: "Pay over at once  

     everything of which I die possessed to that charming person, Mrs.  

     Nora Helmer."      

   MRS. LINDEN. But, my dear Nora- what gentleman do you mean?  

   NORA. Oh dear, can't you understand? There wasn't any old  

     gentleman: it was only what I used to dream and dream when I was 

     at my wits' end for money. But it doesn't matter now- the  

     tiresome old creature may stay where he is for me. I care nothing  

     for him or his will; for now my troubles are over. [Springing  

     up.] Oh, Christina, how glorious it is to think of! Free from all  

     anxiety! Free, quite free. To be able to play and romp about with  

     the children; to have things tasteful and pretty in the house, 

     exactly as Torvald likes it! And then the spring will soon be  

     here, with the great blue sky. Perhaps then we shall have a  

     little holiday. Perhaps I shall see the sea again. Oh, what a  

     wonderful thing it is to live and to be happy! 

                                           [The hall-door bell rings. 

   MRS. LINDEN. [Rising.] There's a ring. Perhaps I had better go.  

   NORA. No; do stay. No one will come here. It's sure to be some one 

     for Torvald.       

   ELLEN. [In the doorway.]  If you please, ma'am, there's a gentleman  

     to speak to Mr. Helmer.  

   NORA. Who is the gentleman?  

   KROGSTAD. [In the doorway.] It is I, Mrs. Helmer.  

                    [MRS. LINDEN starts and turns away to the window. 

   NORA. [Goes a step towards him, anxiously, speaking low.] You? What  

     is it? What do you want with my husband? 

   KROGSTAD. Bank business- in a way. I hold a small post in the Joint  

     Stock Bank, and your husband is to be our new chief, I hear. 

   NORA. Then it is-?   

   KROGSTAD. Only tiresome business, Mrs. Helmer; nothing more. 

   NORA. Then will you please go to his study.  

             [KROGSTAD goes. She bows indifferently while she closes  

              the door into the hall. Then she goes to the stove and  

              looks to the fire.  

   MRS. LINDEN. Nora- who was that man? 

   NORA. A Mr. Krogstad- a lawyer.  

   MRS. LINDEN. Then it was really he?  

   NORA. Do you know him? 

   MRS. LINDEN. I used to know him- many years ago. He was in a 

     lawyer's office in our town. 

   NORA. Yes, so he was.  

   MRS. LINDEN. How he has changed! 

   NORA. I believe his marriage was unhappy.  

   MRS. LINDEN. And he is a widower now?  

   NORA. With a lot of children. There! Now it will burn up. [She 

     closes the stove, and pushes the rocking-chair a little aside.]  

   MRS. LINDEN. His business is not of the most creditable, they say? 

   NORA. Isn't it? I daresay not. I don't know. But don't let us think  

     of business- it's so tiresome. 

                   

                 DR. RANK comes out of HELMER'S room. 

                   

   RANK. [Still in the doorway.] No, no; I'm in your way. I shall go  

     and have a chat with your wife. [Shuts the door and sees MRS.  

     LINDEN.] Oh, I beg your pardon. I'm in the way here too. 

   NORA. No, not in the least. [Introduces them.] Doctor Rank- Mrs. 

     Linden.            

   RANK. Oh, indeed; I've often heard Mrs. Linden's name; I think I 

     passed you on the stairs as I came up. 

   MRS. LINDEN. Yes; I go so very slowly. Stairs try me so much.  

   RANK. Ah- you are not very strong? 

   MRS. LINDEN. Only overworked.  

   RANK. Nothing more? Then no doubt you've come to town to find rest 

     in a round of dissipation? 

   MRS. LINDEN. I have come to look for employment. 

   RANK. Is that an approved remedy for overwork? 

   MRS. LINDEN. One must live, Doctor Rank. 

   RANK. Yes, that seems to be the general opinion. 

   NORA. Come, Doctor Rank- you want to live yourself.  

   RANK. To be sure I do. However wretched I may be, I want to drag on  

     as long as possible. All my patients, too, have the same mania.  

     And it's the same with people whose complaint is moral. At this  

     very moment Helmer is talking to just such a moral incurable-  

   MRS. LINDEN. [Softly.] Ah! 

   NORA. Whom do you mean?  

   RANK. Oh, a fellow named Krogstad, a man you know nothing about- 

     corrupt to the very core of his character. But even he began by  

     announcing, as a matter of vast importance, that he must live. 

   NORA. Indeed? And what did he want with Torvald? 

   RANK. I haven't an idea; I only gathered that it was some bank 

     business.          

   NORA. I didn't know that Krog- that this Mr. Krogstad had anything 

     to do with the Bank? 

   RANK. Yes. He has got some sort of place there. [To MRS. LINDEN.]  

     I don't know whether in your part of the country, you have 

     people who go grubbing and sniffing around in search of moral  

     rottenness- and then, when they have found a "case," don't rest  

     till they have got their man into some good position, where they 

     can keep a watch upon him. Men with a clean bill of health they  

     leave out in the cold. 

   MRS. LINDEN. Well, I suppose the- delicate characters require most 

     care.              

   RANK. [Shrugs his shoulders.] There we have it! It's that notion 

     that makes society a hospital. 

             [NORA, deep in her own thoughts, breaks into half-stifled  

              laughter and claps her hands. 

   RANK. Why do you laugh at that? Have you any idea what "society" 

     is?                

   NORA. What do I care for your tiresome society? I was laughing at  

     something else- something excessively amusing. Tell me, Doctor 

     Rank, are all the employees at the Bank dependent on Torvald now?  

   RANK. Is that what strikes you as excessively amusing? 

   NORA. [Smiles and hums.] Never mind, never mind! [Walks about the  

     room.] Yes, it is funny to think that we- that Torvald has such  

     power over so many people. [Takes the bag from her pocket.]  

     Doctor Rank, will you have a macaroon? 

   RANK. What!- macaroons! I thought they were contraband here. 

   NORA. Yes; but Christina brought me these. 

   MRS. LINDEN. What! I-? 

   NORA. Oh, well! Don't be frightened. You couldn't possibly know  

     that Torvald had forbidden them. The fact is, he's afraid of me  

     spoiling my teeth. But, oh bother, just for once!- That's for  

     you, Doctor Rank! [Puts a macaroon into his mouth.] And you too, 

     Christina. And I'll have one while we're about it- only a tiny 

     one, or at most two. [Walks about again.] Oh dear, I am happy! 

     There's only one thing in the world I really want. 

   RANK. Well; what's that? 

   NORA. There's something I should so like to say- in Torvald's  

     hearing.           

   RANK. Then why don't you say it? 

   NORA. Because I daren't, it's so ugly. 

   MRS. LINDEN. Ugly!   

   RANK. In that case you'd better not. But to us you might- What is  

     it you would so like to say in Helmer's hearing? 

   NORA. I should so love to say "Damn it all!" * 

                   

   * "Dod og pine," literally "death and torture"; but by usage a 

comparatively mild oath.  

                   

   RANK. Are you out of your mind?  

   MRS. LINDEN. Good gracious, Nora-! 

   RANK. Say it- there he is! 

   NORA. [Hides the macaroons.] Hush- sh- sh! 

                   

           HELMER comes out of his room, hat in hand, with  

                       his overcoat on his arm. 

                   

   NORA. [Going to him.] Well, Torvald dear, have you got rid of him? 

   HELMER. Yes; he has just gone. 

   NORA. Let me introduce you- this is Christina, who has come to 

     town-              

   HELMER. Christina? Pardon me, I don't know-  

   NORA. Mrs. Linden, Torvald dear- Christina Linden. 

   HELMER. [To MRS. LINDEN.] Indeed! A school-friend of my wife's, no 

     doubt?             

   MRS. LINDEN. Yes; we knew each other as girls. 

   NORA. And only think! she has taken this long journey on purpose to  

     speak to you.      

   HELMER. To speak to me!  

   MRS. LINDEN. Well, not quite-  

   NORA. You see, Christina is tremendously clever at office-work, and  

     she's so anxious to work under a first-rate man of business in 

     order to learn still more- 

   HELMER. [To MRS. LINDEN.] Very sensible indeed.  

   NORA. And when she heard you were appointed manager- 

     it was telegraphed, you know- she started off at once, and-  

     Torvald, dear, for my sake, you must do something for Christina. 

     Now can't you?     

   HELMER. It's not impossible. I presume Mrs. Linden is a widow? 

   MRS. LINDEN. Yes.    

   HELMER. And you have already had some experience of business?  

   MRS. LINDEN. A good deal.  

   HELMER. Well, then, it's very likely I may be able to find a place 

     for you.           

   NORA. [Clapping her hands.] There now! There now!  

   HELMER. You have come at a fortunate moment, Mrs. Linden.  

   MRS. LINDEN. Oh, how can I thank you-? 

   HELMER. [Smiling.] There is no occasion. [Puts on his overcoat.] 

     But for the present you must excuse me-  

   RANK. Wait; I am going with you. [Fetches his fur coat from the  

     hall and warms it at the fire.]  

   NORA. Don't be long, Torvald dear. 

   HELMER. Only an hour; not more.  

   NORA. Are you going too, Christina?  

   MRS. LINDEN. [Putting on her walking things.] Yes; I must set about  

     looking for lodgings.  

   HELMER. Then perhaps we can go together? 

   NORA. [Helping her.] What a pity we haven't a spare room for you;  

     but it's impossible- 

   MRS. LINDEN. I shouldn't think of troubling you. Good-bye, dear  

     Nora, and thank you for all your kindness. 

   NORA. Good-bye for the present. Of course you'll come back this  

     evening. And you, too, Doctor Rank. What! If you're well enough? 

     Of course you'll be well enough. Only wrap up warmly. [They go 

     out, talking, into the hall. Outside on the stairs are heard 

     children's voices.] There they are! There they are! [She runs to 

     the outer door and opens it. The nurse, ANNA, enters the hall  

     with the children.] Come in! Come in! [Stoops down and kisses the  

     children.] Oh, my sweet darlings! Do you see them, Christina?  

     Aren't they lovely?  

   RANK. Don't let us stand here chattering in the draught. 

   HELMER. Come, Mrs. Linden; only mothers can stand such a 

     temperature.       

            [DR. RANK, HELMER, and MRS. LINDEN go down the stairs;  

             ANNA enters the room with the children; NORA also, 

             shutting the door. 

   NORA. How fresh and bright you look! And what red cheeks you've  

     got! Like apples and roses. [The children chatter to her during  

     what follows.] Have you had great fun? That's splendid! Oh,  

     really! You've been giving Emmy and Bob a ride on your sledge!-  

     both at once, only think, Why, you're quite a man, Ivar. Oh, give  

     her to me a little, Anna. My sweet little dolly! [Takes the  

     smallest from the nurse and dances with her.] Yes, yes; mother 

     will dance with Bob too. What! Did you have a game of snowballs? 

     Oh, I wish I'd been there. No; leave them, Anna; I'll take their 

     things off. Oh, yes, let me do it; it's such fun. Go to the  

     nursery; you look frozen. You'll find some hot coffee on the 

     stove.             

               [The NURSE goes into the room on the left. NORA takes  

                off the children's things and throws them down  

                anywhere, while the children talk all together. 

     Really! A big dog ran after you? But he didn't bite you? No; dogs  

     don't bite dear little dolly children. Don't peep into those 

     parcels, Ivar. What is it? Wouldn't you like to know? Take care- 

     it'll bite! What? Shall we have a game? What shall we play at? 

     Hide-and-seek? Yes, let's play hide-and-seek. Bob shall hide 

     first. Am I to? Yes, let me hide first.  

               [She and the children play, with laughter and shouting,  

                in the room and the adjacent one to the right. At last  

                NORA hides under the table; the children come rushing 

                in, look for her, but cannot find her, hear her 

                half-choked laughter, rush to the table, lift up the  

                cover and see her. Loud shouts. She creeps out, as  

                though to frighten them. Fresh shouts. Meanwhile there  

                has been a knock at the door leading into the hall. No  

                one has heard it. Now the door is half opened and 

                KROGSTAD appears. He waits a little; the game is  

                renewed.  

   KROGSTAD. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Helmer-  

   NORA. [With a suppressed cry, turns round and half jumps up.] Ah!  

     What do you want?  

   KROGSTAD. Excuse me; the outer door was ajar- somebody must have 

     forgotten to shut it-  

   NORA. [Standing up.] My husband is not at home, Mr. Krogstad.  

   KROGSTAD. I know it. 

   NORA. Then what do you want here?  

   KROGSTAD. To say a few words to you. 

   NORA. To me? [To the children, softly.] Go in to Anna. What? No, 

     the strange man won't hurt mamma. When he's gone we'll go on 

     playing. [She leads the children into the left-hand room, and  

     shuts the door behind them. Uneasy, in suspense.] It is to me you  

     wish to speak?     

   KROGSTAD. Yes, to you. 

   NORA. To-day? But it's not the first yet-  

   KROGSTAD. No, to-day is Christmas Eve. It will depend upon yourself  

     whether you have a merry Christmas.  

   NORA. What do you want? I'm not ready to-day-  

   KROGSTAD. Never mind that just now. I have come about another  

     matter. You have a minute to spare?  

   NORA. Oh, yes, I suppose so; although- 

   KROGSTAD. Good. I was sitting in the restaurant opposite, and I saw  

     your husband go down the street- 

   NORA. Well?          

   KROGSTAD. -with a lady.  

   NORA. What then?     

   KROGSTAD. May I ask if the lady was a Mrs Linden?  

   NORA. Yes.           

   KROGSTAD. Who has just come to town? 

   NORA. Yes. To-day.   

   KROGSTAD. I believe she is an intimate friend of yours.  

   NORA. Certainly. But I don't understand- 

   KROGSTAD. I used to know her too.  

   NORA. I know you did.  

   KROGSTAD. Ah! You know all about it. I thought as much. Now, 

     frankly, is Mrs. Linden to have a place in the Bank? 

   NORA. How dare you catechise me in this way, Mr. Krogstad- you, a  

     subordinate of my husband's? But since you ask, you shall know.  

     Yes, Mrs. Linden is to be employed. And it is I who recommended  

     her, Mr. Krogstad. Now you know. 

   KROGSTAD. Then my guess was right. 

   NORA. [Walking up and down.] You see one has a wee bit of  

     influence, after all. It doesn't follow because one's only a 

     woman- When people are in a subordinate position, Mr. Krogstad,  

     they ought really to be careful how they offend anybody who- h'm-  

   KROGSTAD. -who has influence?  

   NORA. Exactly.       

   KROGSTAD. [Taking another tone.] Mrs. Helmer, will you have the  

     kindness to employ your influence on my behalf?  

   NORA. What? How do you mean? 

   KROGSTAD. Will you be so good as to see that I retain my 

     subordinate position in the Bank?  

   NORA. What do you mean? Who wants to take it from you? 

   KROGSTAD. Oh, you needn't pretend ignorance. I can very well 

     understand that it cannot be pleasant for your friend to meet  

     me; and I can also understand now for whose sake I am to be  

     hounded out.       

   NORA. But I assure you-  

   KROGSTAD. Come come now, once for all: there is time yet, and I  

     advise you to use your influence to prevent it.  

   NORA. But, Mr. Krogstad, I have no influence- absolutely none. 

   KROGSTAD. None? I thought you said a moment ago- 

   NORA. Of course not in that sense. I! How can you imagine that I 

     should have any such influence over my husband?  

   KROGSTAD. Oh, I know your husband from our college days. I don't 

     think he is any more inflexible than other husbands. 

   NORA. If you talk disrespectfully of my husband, I must request  

     you to leave the house.  

   KROGSTAD. You are bold, madam. 

   NORA. I am afraid of you no longer. When New Year's Day is over, 

     I shall soon be out of the whole business. 

   KROGSTAD. [Controlling himself.] Listen to me, Mrs. Helmer.  

     If need be, I shall fight as though for my life to keep  

     my little place in the Bank. 

   NORA. Yes, so it seems.  

   KROGSTAD. It's not only for the salary: that is what I care least  

     about. It's something else- Well, I had better make a clean  

     breast of it. Of course you know, like every one else, that some 

     years ago I- got into trouble. 

   NORA. I think I've heard something of the sort.  

   KROGSTAD. The matter never came into court; but from that moment 

     all paths were barred to me. Then I took up the business you know  

     about. I had to turn my hand to something; and I don't think I've  

     been one of the worst. But now I must get clear of it all. My  

     sons are growing up; for their sake I must try to recover my 

     character as well as I can. This place in the Bank was the first 

     step; and now your husband wants to kick me off the ladder, back 

     into the mire.     

   NORA. But I assure you, Mr. Krogstad, I haven't the least power to 

     help you.          

   KROGSTAD. That is because you have not the will; but I can compel  

     you.               

   NORA. You won't tell my husband that I owe you money?  

   KROGSTAD. H'm; suppose I were to?  

   NORA. It would be shameful of you. [With tears in her voice.] The  

     secret that is my joy and my pride- that he should learn it in 

     such an ugly, coarse way- and from you. It would involve me in 

     all sorts of unpleasantness- 

   KROGSTAD. Only unpleasantness? 

   NORA. [Hotly.] But just do it. It's you that will come off worst,  

     for then my husband will see what a bad man you are, and then you  

     certainly won't keep your place. 

   KROGSTAD. I asked whether it was only domestic unpleasantness you  

     feared?            

   NORA. If my husband gets to know about it, he will of course pay 

     you off at once, and then we shall have nothing more to do with  

     you.               

   KROGSTAD. [Coming a pace nearer.] Listen, Mrs. Helmer: either your 

     memory is defective, or you don't know much about business. I  

     must make the position a little clearer to you.  

   NORA. How so?        

   KROGSTAD. When your husband was ill, you came to me to borrow  

     twelve hundred dollars.  

   NORA. I knew of nobody else. 

   KROGSTAD. I promised to find you the money-  

   NORA. And you did find it. 

   KROGSTAD. I promised to find you the money, on certain conditions. 

     You were so much taken up at the time about your husband's 

     illness, and so eager to have the wherewithal for your journey,  

     that you probably did not give much thought to the details. Allow  

     me to remind you of them. I promised to find you the amount in 

     exchange for a note of hand, which I drew up.  

   NORA. Yes, and I signed it.  

   KROGSTAD. Quite right. But then I added a few lines, making your 

     father security for the debt. Your father was to sign this.  

   NORA. Was to-? He did sign it! 

   KROGSTAD. I had left the date blank. That is to say, your father 

     was himself to date his signature. Do you recollect that?  

   NORA. Yes, I believe-  

   KROGSTAD. Then I gave you the paper to send to your father, by 

     post. Is not that so?  

   NORA. Yes.           

   KROGSTAD.  And of course you did so at once; for within five or six  

     days you brought me back the document with your father's 

     signature; and I handed you the money. 

   NORA. Well? Have I not made my payments punctually?  

   KROGSTAD. Fairly- yes. But to return to the point: You were in 

     great trouble at the time, Mrs. Helmer.  

   NORA. I was indeed!  

   KROGSTAD. Your father was very ill, I believe? 

   NORA. He was on his death-bed. 

   KROGSTAD. And died soon after? 

   NORA. Yes.           

   KROGSTAD. Tell me, Mrs. Helmer: do you happen to recollect the day 

     of his death? The day of the month, I mean?  

   NORA. Father died on the 29th of September.  

   KROGSTAD. Quite correct. I have made inquiries. And here comes in  

     the remarkable point- [Produces a paper.] which I cannot explain.  

   NORA. What remarkable point? I don't know- 

   KROGSTAD. The remarkable point, madam, that your father signed this  

     paper three days after his death!  

   NORA. What! I don't understand-  

   KROGSTAD. Your father died on the 29th of September. But look here:  

     he has dated his signature October 2nd! Is not that remarkable,  

     Mrs. Helmer? [NORA is silent.] Can you explain it? [NORA 

     continues silent.] It is noteworthy, too, that the words 

     "October 2nd" and the year are not in your father's handwriting, 

     but in one which I believe I know. Well, this may be explained;  

     your father may have forgotten to date his signature, and  

     somebody may have added the date at random, before the fact of 

     your father's death was known. There is nothing wrong in that. 

     Everything depends on the signature. Of course it is genuine,  

     Mrs. Helmer? It was really your father himself who wrote his name  

     here?              

   NORA. [After a short silence, throws her head back and looks 

     defiantly at him.] No, it was not. I wrote father's name.  

   KROGSTAD. Ah!- Are you aware, madam, that that is a dangerous  

     admission?         

   NORA. How so? You will soon get your money.  

   KROGSTAD. May I ask you one more question? Why did you not send the  

     paper to your father?  

   NORA. It was impossible. Father was ill. If I had asked him for his  

     signature, I should have had to tell him why I wanted the money; 

     but he was so ill I really could not tell him that my husband's  

     life was in danger. It was impossible. 

   KROGSTAD. Then it would have been better to have given up your 

     tour.              

   NORA. No, I couldn't do that; my husband's life depended on that 

     journey. I couldn't give it up.  

   KROGSTAD. And did it never occur to you that you were playing me 

     false?             

   NORA. That was nothing to me. I didn't care in the least about you.  

     I couldn't endure you for all the cruel difficulties you made, 

     although you knew how ill my husband was.  

   KROGSTAD. Mrs. Helmer, you evidently do not realise what you have  

     been guilty of. But I can assure you it was nothing more and 

     nothing worse that made me an outcast from society.  

   NORA. You! You want me to believe that you did a brave thing to  

     save your wife's life? 

   KROGSTAD. The law takes no account of motives. 

   NORA. Then it must be a very bad law.  

   KROGSTAD. Bad or not, if I produce this document in court, you will  

     be condemned according to law. 

   NORA. I don't believe that. Do you mean to tell me that a daughter 

     has no right to spare her dying father trouble and anxiety?- that  

     a wife has no right to save her husband's life? I don't know much  

     about the law, but I'm sure you'll find, somewhere or another, 

     that that is allowed. And you don't know that- you, a lawyer! You  

     must be a bad one, Mr. Krogstad. 

   KROGSTAD. Possibly. But business- such business as ours- I do  

     understand. You believe that? Very well; now do as you please. 

     But this I may tell you, that if I am flung into the gutter a  

     second time, you shall keep me company.  

                                     [Bows and goes out through hall. 

   NORA. [Stands a while thinking, then tosses her head.] Oh nonsense!  

     He wants to frighten me. I'm not so foolish as that. [Begins 

     folding the children's clothes. Pauses.] But-? No, it's  

     impossible! Why, I did it for love!  

   CHILDREN. [At the door, left.] Mamma, the strange man has gone now.  

   NORA. Yes, yes, I know. But don't tell any one about the strange 

     man. Do you hear? Not even papa! 

   CHILDREN. No, mamma; and now will you play with us again?  

   NORA. No, no; not now. 

   CHILDREN. Oh, do, mamma; you know you promised.  

   NORA. Yes, but I can't just now. Run to the nursery; I have so much  

     to do. Run along,- run along, and be good, my darlings! [She 

     pushes them gently into the inner room, and closes the door  

     behind them. Sits on the sofa, embroiders a few stitches, but  

     soon pauses.] No! [Throws down the work, rises, goes to the hall 

     door and calls out.] Ellen, bring in the Christmas-tree! [Goes to  

     table, left, and opens the drawer, again pauses.] No, it's quite 

     impossible!        

   ELLEN. [With Christmas-tree.] Where shall I stand it, ma'am? 

   NORA. There, in the middle of the room.  

   ELLEN. Shall I bring in anything else? 

   NORA. No, thank you, I have all I want.  

                          [ELLEN, having put down the tree, goes out. 

   NORA. [Busy dressing the tree.] There must be a candle here- and 

     flowers there.- That horrible man! Nonsense, nonsense! there's 

     nothing to be afraid of. The Christmas-tree shall be beautiful.  

     I'll do everything to please you, Torvald; I'll sing and dance,- 

                   

      Enter HELMER by the hall door, with a bundle of documents.  

                   

   NORA. Oh! You're back already? 

   HELMER. Yes. Has anybody been here?  

   NORA. No.            

   HELMER. That's odd. I saw Krogstad come out of the house.  

   NORA. Did you? Oh, yes, by-the-bye, he was here for a minute.  

   HELMER. Nora, I can see by your manner that he has been begging you  

     to put in a good word for him. 

   NORA. Yes.           

   HELMER. And you were to do it as if of your own accord? You were to  

     say nothing to me of his having been here. Didn't he suggest that  

     too?               

   NORA. Yes, Torvald; but- 

   HELMER. Nora, Nora! And you could condescend to that! To speak to  

     such a man, to make him a promise! And then to tell me an untruth  

     about it!          

   NORA. An untruth!    

   HELMER. Didn't you say that nobody had been here? [Threatens with  

     his finger.] My little bird must never do that again! A song-bird  

     must sing clear and true; no false notes. [Puts his arm round  

     her.] That's so, isn't it? Yes, I was sure of it. [Lets her go]  

     And now we'll say no more about it. [Sits down before the fire.] 

     Oh, how cosy and quiet it is here! [Glances into his documents.] 

   NORA. [Busy with the tree, after a short silence.] Torvald!  

   HELMER. Yes.         

   NORA. I'm looking forward so much to the Stenborgs' fancy ball 

     the day after to-morrow. 

   HELMER. And I'm on tenterhooks to see what surprise you have in  

     store for me.      

   NORA. Oh, it's too tiresome! 

   HELMER. What is?     

   NORA. I can't think of anything good. Everything seems so foolish  

     and meaningless.   

   HELMER. Has little Nora made that discovery? 

   NORA. [Behind his chair, with her arms on the back.] Are you very  

     busy, Torvald?     

   HELMER. Well-        

   NORA. What papers are those? 

   HELMER. Bank business. 

   NORA. Already!       

   HELMER. I have got the retiring manager to let me make some  

     necessary changes in the staff and the organization. I can do  

     this during Christmas week. I want to have everything straight 

     by the New Year.   

   NORA. Then that's why that poor Krogstad-  

   HELMER. H'm.         

   NORA. [Still leaning over the chair-back and slowly stroking his 

     hair.] If you hadn't been so very busy, I should have asked you a  

     great, great favour, Torvald.  

   HELMER. What can it be? Out with it. 

   NORA. Nobody has such perfect taste as you; and I should so love to  

     look well at the fancy ball. Torvald, dear, couldn't you take me 

     in hand, and settle what I'm to be, and arrange my costume for 

     me?                

   HELMER. Aha! So my wilful little woman is at a loss, and making  

     signals of distress. 

   NORA. Yes, please, Torvald. I can't get on without your help.  

   HELMER. Well, well, I'll think it over, and we'll soon hit upon  

     something.         

   NORA. Oh, how good that is of you! [Goes to the tree again; pause.]  

     How well the red flowers show.- Tell me, was it anything so very 

     dreadful this Krogstad got into trouble about? 

   HELMER. Forgery, that's all. Don't you know what that means? 

   NORA. Mayn't he have been driven to it by need?  

   HELMER. Yes; or, like so many others, he may have done it in pure  

     heedlessness. I am not so hard-hearted as to condemn a man 

     absolutely for a single fault. 

   NORA. No, surely not, Torvald! 

   HELMER. Many a man can retrieve his character, if he owns his crime  

     and takes the punishment.  

   NORA. Punishment-?   

   HELMER. But Krogstad didn't do that. He evaded the law by means of 

     tricks and subterfuges; and that is what has morally ruined him. 

   NORA. Do you think that-?  

   HELMER. Just think how a man with a thing of that sort on his  

     conscience must be always lying and canting and shamming. Think  

     of the mask he must wear even towards those who stand nearest  

     him- towards his own wife and children. The effect on the  

     children- that's the most terrible part of it, Nora. 

   NORA. Why?           

   HELMER. Because in such an atmosphere of lies home life is poisoned  

     and contaminated in every fibre. Every breath the children draw  

     contains some germ of evil.  

   NORA. [Closer behind him.] Are you sure of that? 

   HELMER. As a lawyer, my dear, I have seen it often enough. Nearly  

     all cases of early corruption may be traced to lying mothers.  

   NORA. Why- mothers?  

   HELMER. It generally comes from the mother's side; but of course 

     the father's influence may act in the same way. Every lawyer 

     knows it too well. And here has this Krogstad been poisoning his 

     own children for years past by a life of lies and hypocrisy- that  

     is why I call him morally ruined. [Holds out both hands to her.] 

     So my sweet little Nora must promise not to plead his cause. 

     Shake hands upon it. Come, come, what's this? Give me your hand. 

     That's right. Then it's a bargain