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Mr. Punch's Pocket Ibsen

<h2>NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE</h2> <h3>(ET DIKKISVÖET)</h3> <hr /> <h3>ACT FIRST</h3> A room tastefully filled with cheap Art-furniture. Gimcracks in an étagère: a festoon of chenille monkeys hanging from the gaselier. Japanese fans, skeletons, cotton-wool spiders, frogs and lizards, scattered everywhere about. Drain-pipes with tall dyed grasses. A porcelain stove decorated with transferable pictures. Showily-bound books in book-case. Window. The Visitor's bell rings in the hall outside. The hall-door is heard to open, and then to shut. Presently Nora walks in with parcels; a porter carries a large Christmas-tree after her—which he puts down. Nora gives him a shilling—and he goes out grumbling. Nora hums contentedly, and eats macaroons. Then Helmer puts his head out of his Manager's room, and Nora hides macaroons cautiously. <center>Helmer.</center> [Playfully.] Is that my little squirrel twittering—that my lark frisking in here? <center>Nora.</center> Ess! [To herself.] I have only been married eight years, so these marital amenities have not yet had time to pall! <center>Helmer.</center> [Threatening with his finger.] I hope the little bird has surely not been digging its beak into any macaroons, eh? <center>Nora.</center> [Bolting one, and wiping her mouth.] No, most certainly not. [To herself] The worst of being so babyish is—one does have to tell such a lot of taradiddles! [To Helmer.] See what I've bought—it's been such fun! [Hums. <center>Helmer.</center> [Inspecting parcels.] H'm—rather an expensive little lark! [Takes her playfully by the ear. <center>Nora.</center> Little birds like to have a flutter occasionally. Which reminds me—— [Plays with his coat-buttons.] I'm such a simple ickle sing—but if you are thinking of giving me a Christmas present, make it cash! <center>Helmer.</center> Just like your poor father, he always asked me to make it cash—he never made any himself! It's heredity, I suppose. Well—well! [Goes back to his Bank. Nora goes on humming. [Enter Mrs. Linden, doubtfully. <center>Nora.</center> What, Christina—why, how old you look! But then you are poor. I'm not. Torvald has just been made a Bank Manager. [Tidies the room.] Isn't it really wonderfully delicious to be well off? But of course, you wouldn't know. We were poor once, and, do you know, when Torvald was ill, I—[tossing her head]—though I am such a frivolous little squirrel, and all that, I actually borrowed £300 for him to go abroad. Wasn't that clever? Tra-la-la! I shan't tell you who lent it. I didn't even tell Torvald. I am such a mere baby I don't tell him everything. I tell Dr. Rank, though. Oh, I'm so awfully happy I should like to shout, "Dash it all!" <center>Mrs. Linden.</center> [Stroking her hair.] Do—it is a natural and innocent outburst—you are such a child! But I am a widow, and want employment. Do you think your husband could find me a place as clerk in his Bank? [Proudly.] I am an excellent knitter! <center>Nora.</center> That would really be awfully funny. [To Helmer, who enters.] Torvald, this is Christina; she wants to be a clerk in your Bank—do let her! She thinks such a lot of you. [To herself.] Another taradiddle! <center>Helmer.</center> She is a sensible woman, and deserves encouragement. Come along, Mrs. Linden, and we'll see what we can do for you. [He goes out through the hall with Mrs. Linden, and the front-door is heard to slam after them. <center>Nora.</center> [Opens door, and calls.] Now, Emmy, Ivar, and Bob, come in and have a romp with Mamma—we will play hide-and-seek. [She gets under the table, smiling in quiet satisfaction; Krogstad enters—Nora pounces out upon him.] Boo!... Oh, I beg your pardon. I don't do this kind of thing generally—though I may be a little silly. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/p43.png" width-obs="100%" alt="Boo" /> <h3>"Boo!"</h3></div> <center>Krogstad.</center> [Politely.] Don't mention it. I called because I happened to see your husband go out with Mrs. Linden—from which, being a person of considerable penetration, I infer that he is about to give her my post at the Bank. Now, as you owe me the balance of £300, for which I hold your acknowledgment, you will see the propriety of putting a stop to this little game at once. <center>Nora.</center> But I don't at all—not a little wee bit! I'm so childish, you know—why should I? [Sitting upright on carpet. <center>Krogstad.</center> I will try to make it plain to the meanest capacity. When you came to me for the loan, I naturally required some additional security. Your father, being a shady Government official, without a penny—for, if he had possessed one, he would presumably have left it to you—without a penny, then—I, as a cautious man of business, insisted upon having his signature as a surety. Oh, we Norwegians are sharp fellows! <center>Nora.</center> Well, you got papa's signature, didn't you? <center>Krogstad.</center> Oh, I got it right enough. Unfortunately, it was dated three days after his decease—now, how do you account for that? <center>Nora.</center> How? Why, as poor Papa was dead, and couldn't sign, I signed for him, that's all! Only somehow I forgot to put the date back. That's how. Didn't I tell you I was a silly, unbusiness like little thing? It's very simple. <center>Krogstad.</center> Very—but what you did amounts to forgery, notwithstanding. I happen to know, because I'm a lawyer, and have done a little in the forging way myself. So, to come to the point—if I get kicked out, I shall not go alone! [He bows, and goes out. <center>Nora.</center> It can't be wrong! Why, no one but Krogstad would have been taken in by it! If the Law says it's wrong, the Law's a goose—a bigger goose than poor little me even! [To Helmer, who enters.] Oh, Torvald, how you made me jump! <center>Helmer.</center> Has anybody called? [Nora shakes her head.] Oh, my little squirrel mustn't tell naughty whoppers. Why, I just met that fellow Krogstad in the hall. He's been asking you to get me to take him back—now, hasn't he? <center>Nora.</center> [Walking about.] Do just see how pretty the Christmas-tree looks! <center>Helmer.</center> Never mind the tree—I want to have this out about Krogstad. I can't take him back, because many years ago he forged a name. As a lawyer, a close observer of human nature, and a Bank Manager, I have remarked that people who forge names seldom or never confide the fact to their children—which inevitably brings moral contagion into the entire family. From which it follows, logically, that Krogstad has been poisoning his children for years by acting a part, and is morally lost. [Stretches out his hands to her.] I can't bear a morally lost Bank-cashier about me! <center>Nora.</center> But you never thought of dismissing him till Christina came! <center>Helmer.</center> H'm! I've got some business to attend to—so good-bye, little lark! [Goes into office and shuts door. <center>Nora.</center> [Pale with terror.] If Krogstad poisons his children because he once forged a name, I must be poisoning Emmy, and Bob, and Ivar, because I forged papa's signature! [Short pause; she raises her head proudly.] After all, if I am a doll, I can still draw a logical inference! I mustn't play with the children any more—[hotly]—I don't care—I shall, though! Who cares for Krogstad? [She makes a face, choking with suppressed tears, as Curtain falls. <hr /> <h3>ACT SECOND</h3> The room, with the cheap Art-furniture as before—except that the candles on the Christmas tree have guttered down and appear to have been lately blown out. The cotton-wool frogs and the chenille monkeys are disarranged, and there are walking things on the sofa. Nora alone. <center>Nora.</center> [Putting on a cloak and taking it off again.] Bother Krogstad! There, I won't think of him. I'll only think of the costume ball at Consul Stenborg's, overhead, to-night, where I am to dance the Tarantella all alone, dressed as a Capri fisher-girl. It struck Torvald that, as I am a matron with three children, my performance might amuse the Consul's guests, and, at the same time, increase his connection at the Bank. Torvald is so practical. [To Mrs. Linden, who comes in with a large cardboard box.] Ah, Christina, so you have brought in my old costume? Would you mind, as my husband's new Cashier, just doing up the trimming for me? <center>Mrs. Linden.</center> Not at all—is it not part of my regular duties? [Sewing.] Don't you think, Nora, that you see a little too much of Dr. Rank? <center>Nora.</center> Oh, I couldn't see too much of Dr. Rank! He is so amusing—always talking about his complaints, and heredity, and all sorts of indescribably funny things. Go away now, dear; I hear Torvald. [Mrs. Linden goes. Enter Torvald from the Manager's room. Nora runs trippingly to him. <center>Nora.</center> [Coaxing.] Oh, Torvald, if only you won't dismiss Krogstad, you can't think how your little lark would jump about and twitter. <center>Helmer.</center> The inducement would be stronger but for the fact that, as it is, the little lark is generally engaged in that particular occupation. And I really must get rid of Krogstad. If I didn't, people would say I was under the thumb of my little squirrel here, and then Krogstad and I knew each other in early youth; and when two people knew each other in early youth—[a short pause]—h'm! Besides, he will address me as, "I say, Torvald"—which causes me most painful emotion! He is tactless, dishonest, familiar, and morally ruined—altogether not at all the kind of person to be a Cashier in a Bank like mine. <center>Nora.</center> But he writes in scurrilous papers—he is on the staff of the Norwegian Punch. If you dismiss him, he may write nasty things about you, as wicked people did about poor dear papa! <center>Helmer.</center> Your poor dear papa was not impeccable—far from it. I am—which makes all the difference. I have here a letter giving Krogstad the sack. One of the conveniences of living close to the Bank is, that I can use the housemaids as Bank-messengers. [Goes to door and calls.] Ellen! [Enter parlourmaid.] Take that letter—there is no answer. [Ellen takes it and goes.] That's settled—and now, Nora, as I am going to my private room, it will be a capital opportunity for you to practise the tambourine—thump away, little lark, the doors are double! [Nods to her and goes in, shutting door. <center>Nora.</center> [Stroking her face.] How am I to get out of this mess? [A ring at the visitors' bell.] Dr. Rank's ring! He shall help me out of it! [Dr. Rank appears in doorway, hanging up his great-coat.] Dear Dr. Rank, how are you? [Takes both his hands. <center>Dr. Rank.</center> [Sitting down near the stove.] I am a miserable, hypochondriacal wretch—that's what I am. And why am I doomed to be dismal? Why? Because my father died of a fit of the blues! Is that fair—I put it to you? <center>Nora.</center> Do try to be funnier than that! See, I will show you the flesh-coloured silk tights that I am to wear to-night—it will cheer you up. But you must only look at the feet—well, you may look at the rest if you're good. Aren't they lovely? Will they fit me, do you think? <center>Dr. Rank.</center> [Gloomily.] A poor fellow with both feet in the grave is not the best authority on the fit of silk stockings. I shall be food for worms before long—I know I shall! <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/p53.png" width-obs="100%" alt="not the best authority" /> <h3>"A poor fellow with both feet in the grave is not the best authority on the fit of silk stockings."</h3></div> <center>Nora.</center> You mustn't really be so frivolous! Take that! [She hits him lightly on the ear with the stockings; then hums a little.] I want you to do me a great service, Dr. Rank. [Rolling up stockings.] I always liked you. I love Torvald most, of course—but, somehow, I'd rather spend my time with you—you are so amusing! <center>Dr. Rank.</center> If I am, can't you guess why? [A short silence.] Because I love you! You can't pretend you didn't know it! <center>Nora.</center> Perhaps not—but it was really too clumsy of you to mention it just as I was about to ask a favour of you! It was in the worst taste! [With dignity.] You must not imagine because I joke with you about silk stockings, and tell you things I never tell Torvald, that I am therefore without the most delicate and scrupulous self-respect! I am really quite a good little doll, Dr. Rank, and now—[sits in rocking chair and smiles]—now I shan't ask you what I was going to! [Ellen comes in with a card. <center>Nora.</center> [Terrified.] Oh, my goodness! [Puts it in her pocket. <center>Dr. Rank.</center> Excuse my easy Norwegian pleasantry—but—h'm—anything disagreeable up? <center>Nora.</center> [To herself.] Krogstad's card! I must tell another whopper! [To Rank.] No, nothing—only—only my new costume. I want to try it on here. I always do try on my dresses in the drawing-room—it's cosier, you know. So go in to Torvald and amuse him till I'm ready. [Rank goes into Helmer's room, and Nora bolts the door upon him, as Krogstad enters from hall in a fur cap. <center>Krogstad.</center> Well, I've got the sack, and so I came to see how you are getting on. I mayn't be a nice man, but—[with feeling]—I have a heart! And, as I don't intend to give up the forged I.O.U.. unless I'm taken back, I was afraid you might be contemplating suicide, or something of that kind; and so I called to tell you that, if I were you, I wouldn't. Bad thing for the complexion, suicide—and silly, too, because it wouldn't mend matters in the least. [Kindly.] You must not take this affair too seriously, Mrs. Helmer. Get your husband to settle it amicably by taking me back as Cashier; then I shall soon get the whip-hand of him, and we shall all be as pleasant and comfortable as possible together! <center>Nora.</center> Not even that prospect can tempt me! Besides, Torvald wouldn't have you back at any price now! <center>Krogstad.</center> All right, then. I have here a letter, telling your husband all. I will take the liberty of dropping it in the letter-box at your hall-door as I go out. I'll wish you good evening! [He goes out; presently the dull sound of a thick letter dropping into a wire box is heard. <center>Nora.</center> [Softly, and hoarsely.] He's done it! How am I to prevent Torvald from seeing it? <center>Helmer.</center> [Inside the door, rattling.] Hasn't my lark changed its dress yet? [Nora unbolts door.] What—so you are not in fancy costume, after all? [Enters with Rank.] Are there any letters for me in the box there? <center>Nora.</center> [Voicelessly.] None—not even a postcard! Oh, Torvald, don't, please, go and look—promise me you won't! I do assure you there isn't a letter! And I've forgotten the Tarantella you taught me—do let's run over it. I'm so afraid of breaking down—promise me not to look at the letter-box. I can't dance unless you do. <center>Helmer.</center> [Standing still, on his way to the letter-box.] I am a man of strict business habits, and some powers of observation; my little squirrel's assurances that there is nothing in the box, combined with her obvious anxiety that I should not go and see for myself, satisfy me that it is indeed empty, in spite of the fact that I have not invariably found her a strictly truthful little dicky-bird. There—there. [Sits down to piano.] Bang away on your tambourine, little squirrel—dance away, my own lark! <center>Nora.</center> [Dancing, with a long gay shawl.] Just won't the little squirrel! Faster—faster! Oh, I do feel so gay! We will have some champagne for dinner, won't we, Torvald? [Dances with more and more abandonment. <center>Helmer.</center> [After addressing frequent remarks in correction.] Come, come—not this awful wildness! I don't like to see quite such a larky little lark as this.... Really it is time you stopped! <center>Nora.</center> [Her hair coming down as she dances more wildly still, and swings the tambourine.] I can't....I can't! [To herself, as she dances.] I've only thirty-one hours left to be a bird in; and after that—[shuddering]—after that, Krogstad will let the cat out of the bag! Curtain. <hr /> <h3>ACT THIRD</h3> The same room—except that the sofa has been slightly moved, and one of the Japanese cotton-wool frogs has fallen into the fire-place. Mrs. Linden sits and reads a book—but without understanding a single line. <center>Mrs. Linden.</center> [Laying down her book, as a light tread is heard outside.] Here he is at last! [Krogstad comes in, and stands in the doorway.] Mr. Krogstad, I have given you a secret rendezvous in this room, because it belongs to my employer, Mr. Helmer, who has lately discharged you. The etiquette of Norway permits these slight freedoms on the part of a female cashier. <center>Krogstad.</center> It does. Are we alone? [Nora is heard overhead dancing the Tarantella.] Yes, I hear Mrs. Helmer's fairy footfall above. She dances the Tarantella now—by-and-by she will dance to another tune! [Changing his tone.] I don't exactly know why you should wish to have this interview—after jilting me as you did, long ago, though? <center>Mrs. Linden.</center> Don't you? I do. I am a widow—a Norwegian widow. And it has occurred to me that there may be a nobler side to your nature somewhere—though you have not precisely the best of reputations. <center>Krogstad.</center> Right. I am a forger, and a money-lender; I am on the staff of the Norwegian Punch—a most scurrilous paper. More, I have been blackmailing Mrs. Helmer by trading on her fears, like a low cowardly cur. But, in spite of all that—[clasping his hands]—there are the makings of a fine man about me yet, Christina! <center>Mrs. Linden.</center> I believe you—at least, I'll chance it. I want some one to care for, and I'll marry you. <center>Krogstad.</center> [Suspiciously.] On condition, I suppose, that I suppress the letter denouncing Mrs. Helmer? <center>Mrs. Linden.</center> How can you think so? I am her dearest friend; but I can still see her faults, and it is my firm opinion that a sharp lesson will do her all the good in the world. She is much too comfortable. So leave the letter in the box, and come home with me. <center>Krogstad.</center> I am wildly happy! Engaged to the female cashier of the manager who has discharged me, our future is bright and secure! [He goes out; and Mrs. Linden sets the furniture straight; presently a noise is heard outside, and Helmer enters, dragging Nora in. She is in fancy dress, and he in an open black domino. <center>Nora.</center> I shan't! It's too early to come away from such a nice party. I won't go to bed! [She whimpers. <center>Helmer.</center> [Tenderly.] There'sh a naughty lil' larkie for you, Mrs. Linen! Poshtively had to drag her 'way! She'sh a capricious lil' girl—from Capri. 'Scuse me!—'fraid I've been and made a pun. Shan' 'cur again! Shplendid champagne the Consul gave us—'counts for it! [Sits down smiling.] Do you knit, Mrs. Cotton?... You shouldn't. Never knit. 'Broider. [Nodding to her, solemnly.] 'Member that. Alwaysh 'broider. More—[hiccoughing]—Oriental! Gobblesh you!—goo'ni! <center>Mrs. Linden.</center> I only came in to—to see Nora's costume. Now I've seen it, I'll go. [Goes out. <center>Helmer.</center> Awful bore that woman—hate boresh! [Looks at Nora, then comes nearer.] Oh, you prillil squillikins, I do love you so! Shomehow, I feel sho lively thishevenin'! <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/p67.png" width-obs="100%" alt="prillil squillikins" /> <h3>"Oh, you prillil squillikins!"</h3></div> <center>Nora.</center> [Goes to other side of table.] I won't have all that, Torvald! <center>Helmer.</center> Why? ain't you my lil' lark—ain't thish our lil' cage? Ver-well, then. [A ring.] Rank! confound it all! [Enter DR. Rank.] Rank, dear old boy, you've been [hiccoughs] going it upstairs. Cap'tal champagne, eh? 'Shamed of you, Rank! [He sits down on sofa, and closes his eyes gently. <center>Dr. Rank.</center> Did you notice it? [With pride.] It was almost incredible the amount I contrived to put away. But I shall suffer for it to-morrow. [Gloomily.] Heredity again! I wish I was dead! I do. <center>Nora.</center> Don't apologise. Torvald was just as bad; but he is always so good-tempered after champagne. <center>Dr. Rank.</center> Ah, well, I just looked in to say that I haven't long to live. Don't weep for me, Mrs. Helmer, it's chronic—and hereditary too. Here are my P.P.C. cards. I'm a fading flower. Can you oblige me with a cigar? <center>Nora.</center> [With a suppressed smile.] Certainly. Let me give you a light? [Doctor Rank lights his cigar, after several ineffectual attempts, and goes out. <center>Helmer.</center> [Compassionately.] Poo' old Rank—he'sh very bad to-ni'! [Pulls himself together.] But I forgot—Bishness—I mean, bu-si-ness—mush be 'tended to. I'll go and see if there are any letters. [Goes to box.] Hallo! some one's been at the lock with a hairpin—it's one of your hairpins! [Holding it out to her. <center>Nora.</center> [Quickly.] Not mine—one of Bob's, or Ivar's—they both wear hairpins! <center>Helmer.</center> [Turning over letters absently.] You must break them of it—bad habit! What a lot o' lettersh! double usual quantity. [Opens Krogstad's.] By Jove! [Reads it and falls back completely sobered.] What have you got to say to this? <center>Nora.</center> [Crying aloud.] You shan't save me—let me go! I won't be saved! <center>Helmer.</center> Save you, indeed! Who's going to save Me? You miserable little criminal. [Annoyed.] Ugh—ugh! <center>Nora.</center> [With hardening expression.] Indeed, Torvald, your singing-bird acted for the best! <center>Helmer.</center> Singing-bird! Your father was a rook—and you take after him. Heredity again! You have utterly destroyed my happiness. [Walks round several times.] Just as I was beginning to get on, too! <center>Nora.</center> I have—but I will go away and jump into the water. <center>Helmer.</center> What good will that do me? People will say I had a hand in this business. [Bitterly.] If you must forge, you might at least put your dates in correctly! But you never had any principle! [A ring.] The front-door bell! [A fat letter is seen to fall into the box; Helmer takes it, opens it, sees enclosure, and embraces Nora.] Krogstad won't split. See, he returns the forged I.O.U.! Oh, my poor little lark, what you must have gone through! Come under my wing, my little scared song-bird.... Eh? you won't! Why, what's the matter now? <center>Nora.</center> [With cold calm.] I have wings of my own, thank you, Torvald, and I mean to use them! <center>Helmer.</center> What—leave your pretty cage, and [pathetically] the old cock bird, and the poor little innocent eggs! <center>Nora.</center> Exactly. Sit down, and we will talk it over first. [Slowly.] Has it ever struck you that this is the first time you and I have ever talked seriously together about serious things? <center>Helmer.</center> Come, I do like that! How on earth could we talk about serious things when your mouth was always full of macaroons? <center>Nora.</center> [Shakes her head.] Ah, Torvald, the mouth of a mother of a family should have more solemn things in it than macaroons! I see that now, too late. No, you have wronged me. So did papa. Both of you called me a doll, and a squirrel, and a lark! You might have made something of me—and instead of that, you went and made too much of me—oh, you did! <center>Helmer.</center> Well, you didn't seem to object to it, and really I don't exactly see what it is you do want! <center>Nora.</center> No more do I—that is what I have got to find out. If I had been properly educated, I should have known better than to date poor papa's signature three days after he died. Now I must educate myself. I have to gain experience, and get clear about religion, and law, and things, and whether Society is right or I am—and I must go away and never come back any more till I am educated! <center><center>Helmer.</center></center> Then you may be away some little time? And what's to become of me and the eggs meanwhile? <center>Nora.</center> That, Torvald, is entirely your own affair. I have a higher duty than that towards you and the eggs. [Looking solemnly upward.] I mean my duty towards Myself! <center><center>Helmer.</center></center> And all this because—in a momentary annoyance at finding myself in the power of a discharged cashier who calls me "I say, Torvald," I expressed myself with ultra-Gilbertian frankness! You talk like a silly child! <center>Nora.</center> Because my eyes are opened, and I see my position with the eyes of Ibsen. I must go away at once, and begin to educate myself. <center><center>Helmer.</center></center> May I ask how you are going to set about it? <center>Nora.</center> Certainly. I shall begin—yes, I shall begin with a course of the Norwegian theatres. If that doesn't take the frivolity out of me, I don't really know what will! [She gets her bonnet and ties it tightly. <center>Helmer.</center> Then you are really going? And you'll never think about me and the eggs any more! Oh, Nora! <center>Nora.</center> Indeed, I shall—occasionally—as strangers. [She puts on a shawl sadly, and fetches her dressing-bag.] If I ever do come back, the greatest miracle of all will have to happen. Good-bye! [She goes out through the hall; the front door is heard to bang loudly. <center>Helmer.</center> [Sinking on a chair.] The room empty? Then she must be gone! Yes, my little lark has flown! [The dull sound of an unskilled latchkey is heard trying the lock; presently the door opens, and Nora, with a somewhat foolish expression, reappears.] What? back already! Then you are educated? <center>Nora.</center> [Puts down dressing-bag.] No, Torvald, not yet. Only, you see, I found I had only threepence-halfpenny in my purse, and the Norwegian theatres are all closed at this hour—and so I thought I wouldn't leave the cage till to-morrow—after breakfast. <center>Helmer.</center> [As if to himself.] The greatest miracle of all has happened. My little bird is not in the bush just yet! [Nora takes down a showily-bound dictionary from the shelf and begins her education; Helmer fetches a bag of macaroons, sits near her, and tenders one humbly. A pause. Nora repulses it, proudly. He offers it again. She snatches at it suddenly, still without looking at him, and nibbles it thoughtfully as Curtain falls. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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