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32 Henrik Ibsen
At bottom, it s the same thing. But that too you know
nothing about. . . . Here people are brought up to be
lieve that work is a curse and a punishment for sin, and
that life is something miserable, something we want to
be done with, the sooner the better. . . . Have you
noticed that everything I have painted has turned upon
the joy of life? always, always upon the joy of life?
light and sunshine and glorious air, and faces radiant
with happiness? That is why I am afraid of remaining
at home with you.
Mrs. Alving. Oswald, you spoke of the joy of life;
and at that word a new light burst for me over my life
and all it has contained. . . . You ought to have known
your father when he was a young lieutenant. He was
brimming over wr
ith the joy of life! . . . He had no
object in life, but only an official position. He had no
work into which he could throw himself heart and soul;
he had only business. He had not a single comrade that
knew what the joy of life meant only loafers and boon
companions ... So that happened which was sure
to happen. . . . Oswald, my dear boy; has it shaken
you very much?
Oswald. Of course it came upon me as a great sur
prise, but, after all, it can t matter much to me.
Mrs. Alving. Can t matter! That your father was
so infinitely miserable!
Oswald. Of course I can pity him as I would any
body else; but
Mrs. Alving. Nothing more? Your own father!
Oswald. Oh, there!
"
Father,"
"
father "! I never
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