John Gabriel Borkman Henrik Ibsen Full Chapter
John Gabriel Borkman Henrik Ibsen Full Chapter
John Gabriel Borkman Henrik Ibsen Full Chapter
Henrik Ibsen
PERSONS.
ACT FIRST
She sits for a time erect and immovable at her crochet. Then the bells of a
passing sledge are heard.
MRS. BORKMAN. [Listens; her eyes sparkle with gladness and she
involuntarily whispers]. Erhart! At last!
[She rises and draws the curtain a little aside to look out.
Appears disappointed, and sits down to her work again, on
the sofa. Presently THE MAID enters from the hall with a
visiting card on a small tray.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Quickly.] Has Mr. Erhart come after all?
THE MAID.
No, ma'am. But there's a lady——
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Laying aside her crochet.] Oh, Mrs. Wilton, I suppose——
THE MAID.
[Approaching.] No, it's a strange lady——
MRS. BORKMAN. [Taking the card.] Let me see—— [Reads it; rises
hastily and looks intently at the girl.] Are you sure this is for me?
THE MAID.
Yes, I understand it was for you, ma'am.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Did she say she wanted to see Mrs. Borkman?
THE MAID.
Yes, she did.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Shortly, resolutely.] Good. Then say I am at home.
[THE MAID opens the door for the strange lady and goes out.
MISS ELLA RENTHEIM enters. She resembles her sister; but
her face has rather a suffering than a hard expression.
It still shows signs of great beauty, combined with strong
character. She has a great deal of hair, which is drawn
back from the forehead in natural ripples, and is snow-white.
She is dressed in black velvet, with a hat and a fur-lined
cloak of the same material.
[The two sisters stand silent for a time, and look searchingly
at each other. Each is evidently waiting for the other to
speak first.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Who has remained near the door.] You are surprised to see me,
Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN. [Standing erect and immovable between the sofa and
the table, resting her finger-tips upon the cloth.] Have you not made a
mistake? The bailiff lives in the side wing, you know.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
It is not the bailiff I want to see to-day.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Is it me you want, then?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes. I have a few words to say to you.
MRS. BORKMAN. [Coming forward into the middle of the room.] Well—
then sit down.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Thank you. I can quite well stand for the present.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Just as you please. But at least loosen your cloak.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Unbuttoning her cloak.] Yes, it is very warm here.
MRS. BORKMAN.
I am always cold.
ELLA RENTHEIM. [Stands looking at her for a time with her arms resting
on the back of the armchair.] Well, Gunhild, it is nearly eight years now
since we saw each other last.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Coldly.] Since last we spoke to each other at any rate.
ELLA RENTHEIM. True, since we spoke to each other. I daresay you have
seen me now and again—when I came on my yearly visit to the bailiff.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Once or twice, I have.
MRS. BORKMAN. You must have seen me through the curtains then. You
have good eyes. [Harshly and cuttingly.] But the last time we spoke to each
other—it was here in this room——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Trying to stop her.] Yes, yes; I know, Gunhild!
MRS. BORKMAN.
—the week before he—before he was let out.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Moving towards the back.] O, don't speak about that.
MRS. BORKMAN. [Firmly, but in a low voice.] It was the week before he
—was set at liberty.
ELLA RENTHEIM. [Coming down.] Oh yes, yes, yes! I shall never forget
that time! But it is too terrible to think of! Only to recall it for the moment
—oh!
MRS. BORKMAN. [Gloomily.] And yet one's thoughts can never get away
from it. [Vehemently; clenching her hands together.] No, I can't understand
how such a thing—how anything so horrible can come upon one single
family! And then—that it should be our family! So old a family as ours!
Think of its choosing us out!
MRS. BORKMAN. Oh yes; but those others don't trouble me very much.
For in their case it was only a matter of a little money—or some papers.
But for us——! For me! And then for Erhart! My little boy—as he then
was! [In rising excitement.] The shame that fell upon us two innocent
ones! The dishonour! The hateful, terrible dishonour! And then the utter
ruin too!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Cautiously.] Tell me, Gunhild, how does he bear it?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Erhart, do you mean?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No—he himself. How does he bear it?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Scornfully.] Do you think I ever ask about that?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Ask? Surely you do not require to ask——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Not even that!
MRS. BORKMAN. [As before.] The man was in gaol, in gaol for five
years! [Covers her face with her hands.] Oh, the crushing shame of it!
[With increased vehemence.] And then to think of all that the name of
John Gabriel Borkman used to mean! No, no, no—I can never see him
again! Never!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looks at her for a while.] You have a hard heart, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Towards him, yes.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
After all, he is your husband.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Did he not say in court that it was I who began his ruin? That
I spent money so recklessly?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Tentatively.] But is there not some truth in that?
ELLA RENTHEIM. Yes, I know. But that is just where you should have
restrained him; and apparently you didn't.
MRS. BORKMAN. How was I to know that it was not his own money he
gave me to squander? And that he himself used to squander, too—ten
times more than I did!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Warmly and emphatically.] He was a great man then.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No, no; and other people did not dream of it either.
MRS. BORKMAN. I don't care about the other people. But it was his duty
to tell me the truth. And that he never did! He kept on lying to me—lying
abominably——
MRS. BORKMAN.
Well, well; call it what you please; it makes no difference.
And then it all fell to pieces—the whole thing.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Drawing herself up menacingly.] But I tell you this, Ella,
I do not give in yet! I shall redeem myself yet—you may make
up your mind to that!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Eagerly.] Redeem yourself! What do you mean by that?
MRS. BORKMAN. Redeem my name, and honour, and fortune! Redeem
my ruined life— that is what I mean! I have some one in reserve, let me
tell you— one who will wash away every stain that he has left.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Gunhild! Gunhild!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Erhart you mean.
MRS. BORKMAN. Yes, Erhart, my own boy! He will redeem the family,
the house, the name. All that can be redeemed.—And perhaps more
besides.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And how do you think that is to be done?
MRS. BORKMAN. It must be done as best it can; I don't know how. But I
know that it must and shall be done. [Looks searchingly at her.] Come now,
Ella; isn't that really what you have had in mind too, ever since he was a
child?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No, I can't exactly say that.
MRS. BORKMAN. No? Then why did you take charge of him when the
storm broke upon—upon this house?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
You could not look after him yourself at that time, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN. No, no, I could not. And his father—he had a valid
enough excuse—while he was there—in safe keeping——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Indignant.] Oh, how can you say such things!—You!
MRS. BORKMAN. [With a venomous expression.] And how could you
make up your mind to take charge of the child of a—a John Gabriel! Just
as if he had been your own? To take the child away from me—home with
you—and keep him there year after year, until the boy was nearly grown
up. [Looking suspiciously at her.] What was your real reason, Ella? Why
did you keep him with you?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I came to love him so dearly——
MRS. BORKMAN.
More than I—his mother?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Evasively.] I don't know about that. And then, you know,
Erhart was rather delicate as a child——
MRS. BORKMAN.
Erhart—delicate!
ELLA RENTHEIM. Yes, I thought so—at that time at any rate. And you
know the air of the west coast is so much milder than here.
ELLA RENTHEIM. [Hurt.] I did not manage anything about it, I assure
you. I had no idea—until long, long afterwards—that the securities
belonging to me—that they had been left untouched.
MRS. BORKMAN. Yes, some motive you must have had. What did you
want to do with him? To make of him, I mean?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
What, then?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Slightly taken aback.] Yes, I should hope so!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Is it not rather what you demand of him?
MRS. BORKMAN. [Curtly.] Erhart and I always make the same demands
upon ourselves.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Sadly and slowly.] You are so very certain of your boy, then,
Gunhild?
MRS. BORKMAN. So I am—so far as that goes. But then, every moment,
all the rest comes rushing in upon me like a storm.
MRS. BORKMAN.
What?
MRS. BORKMAN. [Harshly.] Erhart cannot live out here with me. He has
to live in town——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
So he wrote to me.
MRS. BORKMAN. He must, for the sake of his studies. But he comes out
to me for a little while every evening.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Well, may I see him then? May I speak to him at once?
MRS. BORKMAN.
He has not come yet; but I expect him every moment.
ELLA RENTHEIM. Why, Gunhild, surely he must have come. I can hear
his footsteps overhead.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[With a rapid upward glance.] Up in the long gallery?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes. I have heard him walking up and down there ever since
I came.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Looking away from her.] That is not Erhart, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Surprised.] Not Erhart? [Divining.] Who is it then?
MRS. BORKMAN.
It is he.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Softly, with suppressed pain.] Borkman? John Gabriel Borkman?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I have heard something of this——
MRS. BORKMAN.
I daresay. People find plenty to say about us, no doubt.
ELLA RENTHEIM. Erhart has spoken of it in his letters. He said that his
father generally remained by himself—up there—and you alone down
here.
MRS. BORKMAN. Yes; that is how it has been, Ella, ever since they let
him out, and sent him home to me. All these long eight years.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I never believed it could really be so. It seemed impossible!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Nods.] It is so; and it can never be otherwise.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking at her.] This must be a terrible life, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Worse than terrible—almost unendurable.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, it must be.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, it is strange how clear the sound is.
MRS. BORKMAN.
I often feel as if I had a sick wolf pacing his cage up there in
the gallery, right over my head. [Listens and whispers.] Hark!
Do you hear! Backwards and forwards, up and down, goes the wolf.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Tentatively.] Is no change possible, Gunhild?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Could you not make the first movement, then?
MRS. BORKMAN. [Indignantly.] I! After all the wrong he has done me!
No thank you! Rather let the wolf go on prowling up there.
ELLA RENTHEIM. This room is too hot for me. You must let me take off
my things after all.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, I asked you to.
[ELLA RENTHEIM takes off her hat and cloak and lays them on a
chair beside the door leading to the hall.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Do you never happen to meet him, away from home?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[With a bitter laugh.] In society, do you mean?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I mean, when he goes out walking. In the woods, or——
MRS. BORKMAN.
He never goes out.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Not even in the twilight?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Never.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With emotion.] He cannot bring himself to go out?
MRS. BORKMAN. I suppose not. He has his great cloak and his hat
hanging in the cupboard—the cupboard in the hall, you know——
MRS. BORKMAN. [Nods.] And now and then—late in the evening—I can
hear him come down as though to go out. But he always stops when he is
halfway downstairs, and turns back—straight back to the gallery.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Quietly.] Do none of his old friends ever come up to see him?
MRS. BORKMAN.
He has no old friends.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
He had so many—once.
MRS. BORKMAN. H'm! He took the best possible way to get rid of them.
He was a dear friend to his friends, was John Gabriel.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, yes, that is true, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN. [Vehemently.] All the same, I call it mean, petty, base,
contemptible of them, to think so much of the paltry losses they may have
suffered through him. They were only money losses, nothing more.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Not answering her.] So he lives up there quite alone.
Absolutely by himself.
MRS. BORKMAN. Yes, I believe they were. But I know nothing about
him. He was quite outside our circle—when we had a circle——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
So he comes out to see Borkman now?
ELLA RENTHEIM. This Foldal—he was one of those that suffered when
the bank failed?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Carelessly.] Yes, I believe I heard he had lost some money.
But no doubt it was something quite trifling.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With slight emphasis.] It was all he possessed.
MRS. BORKMAN. [Smiling.] Oh, well; what he possessed must have been
little enough—nothing to speak of.
ELLA RENTHEIM. And he did not speak of it—Foldal I mean—during
the investigation.
MRS. BORKMAN. At all events, I can assure you Erhart has made ample
amends for any little loss he may have suffered.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With surprise.] Erhart! How can Erhart have done that?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, I daresay her father can't afford to do much.
MRS. BORKMAN.
And then Erhart has arranged for her to have lessons in music.
She has made such progress already that she can come up to—to
him in the gallery, and play to him.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
So he is still fond of music?
MRS. BORKMAN. Oh yes, I suppose he is. Of course he has the piano you
sent out here—when he was expected back——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And she plays to him on it?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, now and then—in the evenings. That is Erhart's doing, too.
ELLA RENTHEIM. Has the poor girl to come all the long way out here,
and then back to town again?
MRS. BORKMAN. No, she doesn't need to. Erhart has arranged for her to
stay with a lady who lives near us—a Mrs. Wilton——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With interest.] Mrs. Wilton?
MRS. BORKMAN.
A very rich woman. You don't know her.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I have heard her name. Mrs. Fanny Wilton, is it not——?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, quite right.
ELLA RENTHEIM. Erhart has mentioned her several times. Does she live
out here now?
MRS. BORKMAN. Yes, she has taken a villa here; she moved out from
town some time ago.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Her husband has been dead for several years.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, but they were divorced. He got a divorce.
MRS. BORKMAN. He deserted her, that is what he did. I am sure the fault
wasn't hers.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Do you know her at all intimately, Gunhild?
MRS. BORKMAN. Oh yes, pretty well. She lives close by here; and she
looks in every now and then.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And do you like her?
MRS. BORKMAN.
She is unusually intelligent; remarkably clear in her judgments.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
In her judgments of people, do you mean?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, principally of people. She has made quite a study of
Erhart; looked deep into his character—into his soul. And
the result is she idolises him, as she could not help doing.
MRS. BORKMAN. Yes, Erhart saw a good deal of her in town, before she
came out here.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Without thinking.] And in spite of that she moved out of town?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Evasively.] Oh, nothing particular.
MRS. BORKMAN.
You said it strangely—you did mean something by it, Ella!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking her straight in the eyes.] Yes, that is true, Gunhild!
I did mean something by it.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Well, then, say it right out.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
First let me tell you, I think I too have a certain claim upon
Erhart. Do you think I haven't?
MRS. BORKMAN. [Glancing round the room.] No doubt—after all the
money you have spent upon him.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, not on that account, Gunhild. But because I love him.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, it is possible—in spite of everything. And it is true.
I love Erhart—as much as I can love any one—now—at my time of
life.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Well, well, suppose you do: what then?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Threatening Erhart! Why, what should threaten him? Or who?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
You in the first place—in your way.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Vehemently.] I!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And then this Mrs. Wilton, too, I am afraid.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Lightly.] Oh, his mission!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Indignantly.] How dare you say that so scornfully?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Firmly and emphatically.] Erhart will! I know he will.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Shaking her head.] You neither know it nor believe it, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN.
I don't believe it!
ELLA RENTHEIM. It is only a dream that you cherish. For if you hadn't
that to cling to, you feel that you would utterly despair.
ELLA RENTHEIM. [With head erect.] Yes, I would rather see that than
see you "redeem" yourself at Erhart's expense.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I want to free him from your power—your will—your despotism.
MRS. BORKMAN. [Triumphantly.] You are too late! You had him in your
nets all these years—until he was fifteen. But now I have won him again,
you see!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Then I will win him back from you! [Hoarsely, half whispering.]
We two have fought a life-and-death battle before, Gunhild—for a
man's soul!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Looking at her in triumph.] Yes, and I won the victory.
ELLA RENTHEIM. [With a smile of scorn.] Do you still think that victory
was worth the winning?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Darkly.] No; Heaven knows you are right there.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
You need look for no victory worth the winning this time either.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Not when I am fighting to preserve a mother's power over my son!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No; for it is only power over him that you want.
MRS. BORKMAN.
And you?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Warmly.] I want his affection—his soul—his whole heart!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[With an outburst.] That you shall never have in this world!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking at her.] You have seen to that?
MRS. BORKMAN. [Smiling.] Yes, I have taken that liberty. Could you not
see that in his letters?
ELLA RENTHEIM. [Nods slowly.] Yes. I could see you—the whole of you
—in his letters of late.
MRS. BORKMAN. [Gallingly.] I have made the best use of these eight
years. I have had him under my own eye, you see.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Controlling herself.] What have you said to Erhart about me?
Is it the sort of thing you can tell me?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Oh yes, I can tell you well enough.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Then please do.
MRS. BORKMAN.
I have only told him the truth.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Well?
MRS. BORKMAN. I have impressed upon him, every day of his life, that
he must never forget that it is you we have to thank for being able to live
as we do—for being able to live at all.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Is that all?
MRS. BORKMAN. Oh, that is the sort of thing that rankles; I feel that in
my own heart.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
But that is very much what Erhart knew already.
MRS. BORKMAN. When he came home to me, he imagined that you did
it all out of goodness of heart. [Looks malignly at her.] Now he does not
believe that any longer, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Then what does he believe now?
MRS. BORKMAN. He knows them better now. You had got him to believe
that it was to spare me and—and him up there in gallery——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And so it was.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Erhart does not believe that for a moment, now.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
What have you put in his head?
MRS. BORKMAN. He thinks, what is the truth, that you are ashamed of us
—that you despise us. And do you pretend that you don't? Were you not
once planning to take him quite away from me? Think, Ella; you cannot
have forgotten.
MRS. BORKMAN. And it would not matter if you had. For in that case
what would become of his mission? No, thank you. It is me that Erhart
needs— not you. And therefore he is as good as dead to you—and you to
him.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Stares at her.] Here? In this house?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, here.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Here—with us? Remain all night?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I shall remain here all the rest of my days if need be.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Collecting herself.] Very well, Ella; the house is yours——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, nonsense——
MRS. BORKMAN. Yes, I know. We must be content to live upon your pity
and charity.
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, you cannot. When do you want us to move out?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking at her.] Move out?
MRS. BORKMAN. [In great excitement.] Yes; you don't imagine that I
will go on living under the same roof with you! I tell you, I would rather
go to the workhouse or tramp the roads!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Good. Then let me take Erhart with me——
MRS. BORKMAN.
Erhart? My own son? My child?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes; for then I would go straight home again.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Listening.] Is there some one coming? I thought I heard——
MRS. BORKMAN.
Then it must be Erhart.
MRS. WILTON.
Good evening, my dearest Mrs. Borkman!
MRS. BORKMAN. [Rather drily.] Good evening, Mrs. Wilton. [To THE
MAID, pointing toward the garden-room.] Take the lamp that is in there
and light it.
[THE MAID takes the lamp and goes out with it.
MRS. WILTON. [Observing ELLA RENTHEIM.] Oh, I beg your pardon—
you have a visitor.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Only my sister, who has just arrived from——
[ERHART BORKMAN flings the half-open door wide open and rushes
in. He is a young man with bright cheerful eyes. He is
well dressed; his moustache is beginning to grow.
ERHART.
[Radiant with joy; on the threshold.] What is this! Is Aunt
Ella here? [Rushing up to her and seizing her hands.] Aunt,
aunt! Is it possible? Are you here?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Throws her arms round his neck.] Erhart! My dear, dear boy!
Why, how big you have grown! Oh, how good it is to see you again!
MRS. BORKMAN. [Sharply.] What does this mean, Erhart? Were you
hiding out in the hallway?
MRS. WILTON.
[Quickly.] Erhart—Mr. Borkman came in with me.
MRS. BORKMAN. [Looking hard at him.] Indeed, Erhart! You don't come
to your mother first?
ERHART. I had just to look in at Mrs. Wilton's for a moment—to call for
little Frida.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Is that Miss Foldal with you too?
MRS. WILTON.
Yes, we have left her in the hall.
ERHART. [Addressing some one through the open door.] You can go right
upstairs, Frida.
[Pause. ELLA RENTHEIM observes ERHART. He seems embarrassed
and a little impatient; his face has assumed a nervous and
colder expression.
[THE MAID brings the lighted lamp into the garden-room, goes
out again and closes the door behind her.
MRS. WILTON. Many thanks, my dear lady, but I really can't. We have
another invitation. We're going down to the Hinkels'.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Looking at her.] We? Whom do you mean by we?
MRS. WILTON. [Laughing.] Oh, I ought really to have said I. But I was
commissioned by the ladies of the house to bring Mr. Borkman with me—
if I happened to see him.
MRS. BORKMAN.
And you did happen to see him, it appears.
MRS. BORKMAN. [Drily.] But, Erhart, I did not know that you knew that
family— those Hinkels?
ERHART.
[Irritated.] No, I don't exactly know them. [Adds rather
impatiently.] You know better than anybody, mother, what people
I know and don't know.
MRS. WILTON. Oh, it doesn't matter! They soon put you at your ease in
that house! They are such cheerful, hospitable people—the house swarms
with young ladies.
MRS. BORKMAN. [With emphasis.] If I know my son rightly, Mrs.
Wilton, they are no fit company for him.
MRS. WILTON.
Why, good gracious, dear lady, he is young, too, you know!
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, fortunately he's young. He would need to be young.
ERHART.
[Concealing his impatience.] Well, well, well, mother, it's
quite clear I can't got to the Hinkels' this evening. Of course
I shall remain here with you and Aunt Ella.
MRS. BORKMAN.
I knew you would, my dear Erhart.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No, Erhart, you must not stop at home on my account——
MRS. WILTON. [Gaily.] What nonsense! Not get out of it! When I make
my entrance into the festive halls—just imagine it!—deserted and forlorn
—then I must simply say "No" for you.
ERHART. [Hesitatingly.] Well, if you really think I can get out of it——
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Annoyed.] Son?
MRS. WILTON.
Well, adopted son then, Mrs. Borkman.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, you may well add that.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Has that been your experience?
ERHART.
[Following her.] Shan't I go a little bit of the way with you?
MRS. WILTON. [In the doorway, motioning him back.] You shan't go a
step with me. I am quite accustomed to taking my walks alone. [Stops on
the threshold, looks at him and nods.] But now beware, Mr. Borkman—I
warn you!
ERHART.
What am I to beware of?
MRS. WILTON.
[Gaily.] Why, as I go down the road—deserted and forlorn, as
I said before—I shall try if I can't cast a spell upon you.
ERHART.
[Laughing.] Oh, indeed! Are you going to try that again?
MRS. WILTON.
[Half seriously.] Yes, just you beware! As I go down the road,
I will say in my own mind—right from the very centre of my will—
I will say: "Mr. Erhart Borkman, take your hat at once!"
MRS. BORKMAN.
And you think he will take it?
MRS. WILTON. [Laughing.] Good heavens, yes, he'll snatch up his hat
instantly. And then I will say: "Now put on your overcoat, like a good boy,
Erhart Borkman! And your goloshes! Be sure you don't forget the
goloshes! And then follow me! Do as I bid you, as I bid you, as I bid you!"
ERHART.
[With forced gaiety.] Oh, you may rely on that.
MRS. WILTON.
[Raising her forefinger.] As I bid you! As I bid you!
Good-night!
[She laughs and nods to the ladies, and closes the door
behind her.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Does she really play tricks of that sort?
ERHART. Oh, not at all. How can you think so! She only says it in fun.
[Breaking off.] But don't let us talk about Mrs. Wilton. [He forces ELLA
RENTHEIM to seat herself at the armchair beside the stove, then stands
and looks at her.] To think of your having taken all this long journey, Aunt
Ella! And in winter too!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I found I had to, Erhart.
ERHART.
Indeed? Why so?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I had to come to town after all, to consult the doctors.
ERHART.
Oh, I'm glad of that!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Smiling.] Are you glad of that?
ERHART.
I mean I am glad you made up your mind to it at last.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[On the sofa, coldly.] Are you ill, Ella?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking hardly at her.] You know quite well that I am ill.
MRS. BORKMAN.
I knew you were not strong, and hadn't been for years.
ERHART.
I told you before I left you that you ought to consult a doctor.
ERHART.
Are you worse, then, Aunt?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, my dear boy; I am worse now.
ERHART.
But there's nothing dangerous?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, that depends how you look at it.
ERHART. [Emphatically.] Well, then, I tell you what it is, Aunt Ella; you
mustn't think of going home again for the present.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No, I am not thinking of it.
ERHART. You must remain in town; for here you can have your choice of
all the best doctors.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
That was what I thought when I left home.
ERHART. And then you must be sure and find a really nice place to live—
quiet, comfortable rooms.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I went this morning to the old ones, where I used to stay before.
ERHART.
Oh, well, you were comfortable enough there.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, but I shall not be staying there after all.
ERHART.
Indeed? Why not?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I changed my mind after coming out here.
ERHART.
[Surprised.] Really? Changed you mind?
MRS. BORKMAN. [Crocheting; without looking up.] Your aunt will live
here, in her own house, Erhart.
ERHART. [Looking from one to the other alternately.] Here, with us? Is
this true, Aunt?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, that is what I made up my mind to do.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[As before.] Everything here belongs to your aunt, you know.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I intend to remain here, Erhart—just now—for the present.
I shall set up a little establishment of my own, over in the
bailiff's wing.
ERHART. Ah, that's a good idea. There are plenty of rooms there. [With
sudden vivacity.] But, by-the-bye, Aunt—aren't you very tired after your
journey?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh yes, rather tired.
ERHART.
Well, then, I think you ought to go quite early to bed.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looks at him smilingly.] I mean to.
ERHART. [Eagerly.] And then we could have a good long talk to-morrow
— or some other day, of course—about this and that—about things in
general—you and mother and I. Wouldn't that be much the best plan, Aunt
Ella?
MRS. BORKMAN. [With an outburst, rising from the sofa.] Erhart, I can
see you are going to leave me!
ERHART.
[Starts.] What do you mean by that?
MRS. BORKMAN.
You are going down to—to the Hinkels'?
ERHART.
[Involuntarily.] Oh, that! [Collecting himself.] Well, you
wouldn't have me sit here and keep Aunt Ella up half the night?
Remember, she's an invalid, mother.
MRS. BORKMAN.
You are going to the Hinkels', Erhart!
ERHART. [Impatiently.] Well, really, mother, I don't think I can well get
out of it. What do you say, Aunt?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I should like you to feel quite free, Erhart.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Goes up to her menacingly.] You want to take him away from me!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Rising.] Yes, if only I could, Gunhild!
[Music is heard from above.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No. What is it?
ERHART. It's the Danse Macabre—the Dance of Death! Don't you know
the Dance of Death, Aunt?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Smiling sadly.] Not yet, Erhart.
ERHART.
[To MRS. BORKMAN.] Mother—I beg and implore you—let me go!
ERHART. There are bright lights down there, and young, happy faces; and
there's music there, mother!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Pointing upwards.] There is music here, too, Erhart.
ERHART.
Yes, it's just that music that drives me out of the house.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Do you grudge your father a moment of self-forgetfulness?
ERHART. No, I don't. I'm very, very glad that he should have it—if only I
don't have to listen.
MRS. BORKMAN. [After a short silence.] It has not taken you long to
recapture him, Ella, after all.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I wish I could believe it.
MRS. BORKMAN.
But you shall see you won't be allowed to keep him long.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Allowed? By you, do you mean?
MRS. BORKMAN.
By me or—by her, the other one——
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Then rather she than you.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Whatever should become of him in the end——
MRS. BORKMAN.
It wouldn't greatly matter, I should say.
ELLA RENTHEIM. [Taking her outdoor things upon her arm.] For the first
time in our lives, we twin sisters are of one mind. Good-night, Gunhild.
[She goes out by the hall. The music sounds louder from above.
MRS. BORKMAN. [Stands still for a moment, starts, shrinks together, and
whispers involuntarily.] The wolf is whining again—the sick wolf. [She
stands still for a moment, then flings herself down on the floor, writhing in
agony and whispering:] Erhart! Erhart!—be true to me! Oh, come home
and help your mother! For I can bear this life no longer!
ACT SECOND
The great gallery on the first floor of the Rentheim House. The walls are
covered with old tapestries, representing hunting-scenes, shepherds and
shepherdesses, all in faded colours. A folding-door to the left, and further
forward a piano. In the left-hand corner, at the back, a door, cut in the
tapestry, and covered with tapestry, without any frame. Against the middle
of the right wall, a large writing-table of carved oak, with many books and
papers. Further forward on the same side, a sofa with a table and chairs in
front of it. The furniture is all of a stiff Empire style. Lighted lamps on
both tables.
JOHN GABRIEL BORKMAN stands with his hands behind his back,
beside the piano, listening to FRIDA FOLDAL, who is playing the last
bars of the "Danse Macabre."
BORKMAN.
Can you guess where I first heard tones like these?
FRIDA.
[Looking up at him.] No, Mr. Borkman.
BORKMAN.
It was down in the mines.
FRIDA.
[Not understanding.] Indeed? Down in the mines?
BORKMAN.
I am a miner's son, you know. Or perhaps you did not know?
FRIDA.
No, Mr. Borkman.
FRIDA.
Really? Sings?
FRIDA.
Why does it do that, Mr. Borkman?
BORKMAN.
It wants to come up into the light of day and serve mankind.
[He paces up and down the gallery, always with his hands
behind his back.
FRIDA.
[Sits waiting a little, then looks at her watch and rises.]
I beg your pardon, Mr. Borkman; but I am afraid I must go.
BORKMAN.
[Stopping before her.] Are you going already?
FRIDA.
Yes.
BORKMAN.
And you are to play before the company?
FRIDA.
[Biting her lip.] No; at least I am only to play for dancing.
BORKMAN.
Only for dancing?
FRIDA.
Yes; there is to be a dance after supper.
BORKMAN.
[Stands and looks at her.] Do you like playing dance music?
At parties, I mean?
FRIDA. No; I'm generally thinking how hard it is that I mayn't join in the
dance myself.
FRIDA.
[Looking inquiringly at him.] What is that, Mr. Borkman?
BORKMAN. The knowledge that you have ten times more music in you
than all the dancers together.
FRIDA.
[Smiling evasively.] Oh, that's not at all so certain.
FRIDA.
But since no one knows it——
FRIDA.
Over at the Hinkel's.
BORKMAN.
[With a swift, keen glance at her.] Hinkel's, you say!
FRIDA.
Yes.
BORKMAN. [With a cutting smile.] Does that man give parties? Can he
get people to visit him?
FRIDA.
Yes, they have a great many people about them, Mrs. Wilton says.
BORKMAN.
[Vehemently.] But what sort of people? Can you tell me that?
FRIDA.
[A little nervously.] No, I really don't know. Yes, by-the-bye,
I know that young Mr. Borkman is to be there this evening.
BORKMAN.
[Taken aback.] Erhart? My son?
FRIDA.
Yes, he is going there.
BORKMAN.
How do you know that?
FRIDA.
He said so himself—an hour ago.
BORKMAN.
Is he out here to-day?
FRIDA.
Yes, he has been at Mrs. Wilton's all the afternoon.
FRIDA.
Yes, he looked in to see Mrs. Borkman.
BORKMAN.
[Bitterly.] Aha—I might have known it.
FRIDA.
There was a strange lady calling upon her, I think.
FRIDA. If I meet young Mr. Borkman this evening, shall I ask him to
come up and see you too?
FRIDA.
Oh, very well; I shan't say anything then. Good-night, Mr.
Borkman.
BORKMAN.
[Pacing up and down and growling.] Good-night.
FRIDA. Do you mind if I run down by the winding stair? It's the shortest
way.
BORKMAN. Oh, by all means; take whatever stair you please, so far as I
am concerned. Good-night to you!
FRIDA.
Good-night, Mr. Borkman.
BORKMAN. [Standing beside the writing-table with his left hand resting
upon it, and his right thrust in the breast of his coat.] Come in!