by Henrik Ibsen
RITA [sharply]: Oh, words! Good heavens, we’re just earthly beings after all.
ALLMERS: We have a certain kinship with the sea and the sky too, Rita.
RITA: You maybe. Not me.
ALLMERS: Oh, yes. You more than you actually realize.
RITA [taking a step closer]: Alfred, listen – wouldn’t you consider taking up your work again?
ALLMERS: The work that you have hated so?
RITA: I’m more easily satisfied now. I’m willing to share you with your book.
ALLMERS: Why?
RITA: Merely to be able to keep you here with me. Close at hand, as it were.
ALLMERS: Oh, I can be of so little help to you, Rita.
RITA: But maybe I could help you.
ALLMERS: With my work, you mean?
RITA: No. With living life.
ALLMERS [shaking his head]: I don’t feel I have any life to live.
RITA: Well, with enduring life then.
ALLMERS [grimly, staring into space]: I think it would be best for both of us if we parted.
RITA [studying him]: Where would you go then? To Asta, perhaps, after all?
ALLMERS: No. Never again to Asta henceforth.
RITA: Where then?
ALLMERS: Up into the solitude.
RITA: Up among the mountains? Is that what you mean?
ALLMERS: Yes.
RITA: But this is nothing but a pipe-dream, Alfred! Up there you could never live.
ALLMERS: It’s up there that I’m drawn, nonetheless.
RITA: Why? Answer me that!
ALLMERS: Sit down. And I’ll tell you a story.
RITA: About something that happened to you up there?
ALLMERS: Yes.
RITA: And that you’ve withheld from Asta and me?
ALLMERS: Yes.
RITA: Oh, you keep things so much to yourself. You shouldn’t do that.
ALLMERS: Come and sit here. And I’ll tell you all about it.
RITA: Yes, yes – do tell me!
She sits down on the bench outside the summerhouse.
ALLMERS: I was alone up there. Out on the high fells. And I came to a vast, desolate mountain lake. And this lake I had to cross. But that I couldn’t do. Because there were no boats and no people.
RITA: Yes? And so?
ALLMERS: So I went my own way down a side valley. Because I thought that that way I could make it across the hills and between the peaks. And down again to the other side of the lake.
RITA: Oh, don’t tell me you got lost, Alfred!
ALLMERS: Yes, I took a wrong turn. Because there was no path or track. And I walked all day. And all the following night too. Until I thought I’d never find my way to the human world again.
RITA: Not come home to us? Oh, then I know that your thoughts must have flown here.
ALLMERS: No – they did not.
RITA: Not?
ALLMERS: No. It was so strange. Both you and Eyolf had drawn so far, far away from me, I felt. And so had Asta.
RITA: So what were you thinking about?
ALLMERS: I didn’t think. I kept on walking, dragging myself along the precipices – and savouring the peaceful, comforting sense of death.
RITA [leaping to her feet]: Oh, the horror of it, don’t speak of it so!
ALLMERS: That’s how I felt. Absolutely no fear. I had the sense that death and I were walking along together like two good travelling companions.3 It seemed so reasonable – so simple, the whole thing, or so I thought at the time. In my family folk don’t usually live to be very old –
RITA: Oh, enough of such talk, Alfred! You came through it all safe and sound, after all.
ALLMERS: Yes; all at once I was there. On the other side of the lake.
RITA: That was a night of terror for you, Alfred. But now that it’s behind you, you won’t admit it to yourself.
ALLMERS: That night raised me to resolution. And so it was that I turned around and walked straight home. To Eyolf.
RITA [softly]: Too late.
ALLMERS: Yes. And then – when my companion came and took him –. Then horror rose up from him. From everything. From all that – which, even so, we daren’t leave behind. So earthbound are we both, Rita.
RITA [her face brightening slightly]: Yes, isn’t that so! You too! [Coming closer] Oh, let’s just live our life together for as long as we can!
ALLMERS [with a shrug]: Live our life, yes! And have nothing with which to fill that life. Desolation and emptiness all around.4 No matter where I look.
RITA [fearfully]: Oh, sooner or later you’ll leave me, Alfred! I sense it! And I can see it in you too! You will leave me!
ALLMERS: With my travelling companion, you mean?
RITA: No, I mean something worse than that. You’ll leave me of your own free will. Because you feel that it’s only here, with me, that you have nothing to live for. Answer me! Isn’t that what you think?
ALLMERS [eyeing her steadily]: And what if I did think that –?
Sounds of uproar, voices raised in anger and agitation are heard far below.
ALLMERS walks over to the railing.
RITA: What’s that? [Crying out] Oh, they’ve found him, you’ll see!
ALLMERS: He’ll never be found.
RITA: Well, what can it be then?
ALLMERS [coming back towards her]: Just a brawl – as usual.
RITA: Down on the shore?
ALLMERS: Yes, that whole shanty town on the shore ought to be cleared away. The men have just come home. Drunk, as always. Beating the children. Hear those lads howling! And the women screaming for help for them –
RITA: Yes, shouldn’t we send someone down to help them?
ALLMERS [bitter and angry]: Help the ones who didn’t help Eyolf! No, let them perish – as they left Eyolf to perish!
RITA: Oh, you mustn’t talk like that, Alfred! Mustn’t think like that!
ALLMERS: I can’t think any other way. All those old shacks ought to be torn down.
RITA: And what will become of all those needy people then?
ALLMERS: They’ll have to betake themselves elsewhere.
RITA: And the children?
ALLMERS: Does it really matter that much where they perish?
RITA [quietly, reproachfully]: You’re forcing yourself to be this callous, Alfred.
ALLMERS [angrily]: From now on it is my right to be callous! And my duty too!
RITA: Your duty?
ALLMERS: My duty to Eyolf. He mustn’t go unavenged. That’s it, Rita! I’m telling you! Think this matter over. Have that whole shanty town down there razed to the ground – once I’m gone.
RITA [eyeing him intently]: Once you’re gone?
ALLMERS: Yes, because then at least you’ll have something with which to fill your life. And that you need to have.
RITA [firmly and resolutely]: You’re right. I do. But can you guess what I’m going to do – once you’re gone?
ALLMERS: No, what will you do?
RITA [slowly, decisively]: As soon as you leave me I’ll go down to the shore and bring all those wretched needy children up here to our house. All those rude, rough boys –
ALLMERS: What will you do with them here?
RITA: I’ll take them to me.
ALLMERS: You will?
RITA: Yes, I will. From the day you leave this is where they’ll be, all of them – as if they were my own.
ALLMERS [outraged]: In our little Eyolf’s place!
RITA: Yes, in our little Eyolf’s place. They’ll live in Eyolf’s rooms. They’ll read his books. Play with his toys. They’ll take it in turns to sit on his chair at the table.
ALLMERS: But this sounds like utter madness! I don’t know of anyone in the world less suited to such a task than you.
RITA: Then I’ll have to teach myself how to do it. Train myself. Practise.
ALLMERS: If this is your earnest intent – all that you say, then some change must have occurred in you.
RITA: And so there has, Alfre
d. And you brought it about. You’ve created an empty space inside me. And this I have to try to fill with something. Something resembling love of a sort.
ALLMERS [stands for a moment deep in thought; looks at her]: We haven’t actually done much for those needy people down there.
RITA: We’ve done nothing for them.
ALLMERS: Scarcely even thought of them.
RITA: Never thought of them with fellow feeling.
ALLMERS: Us, with our ‘gold and green forests’ –
RITA: Our hands were closed to them. And our hearts closed too.
ALLMERS [nodding]: So maybe it’s only reasonable after all, that they didn’t risk their lives to save little Eyolf.
RITA [softly]: Think about it, Alfred. Are you so sure that – that even we would have dared to?
ALLMERS [uneasily, dismissively]: No, never doubt that, Rita!
RITA: Oh, but we’re earthly beings, Alfred.
ALLMERS: What do you actually imagine yourself doing for all those wretched children?
RITA: I suppose I’ll try to see if I can ease – and enrich their lot in life.
ALLMERS: If you can do that then Eyolf will not have been born in vain.
RITA: And not taken from us in vain either.
ALLMERS [regarding her steadily]: Be clear about one thing, Rita. It’s not love that drives you to do this.
RITA: No, it’s not. Not yet, anyway.
ALLMERS: So what exactly is it then?
RITA [somewhat evasively]: You know how you’ve so often talked to Asta about human responsibility –
ALLMERS: About my book, which you hated.
RITA: I still hate that book. But I used to listen to what you said. And now I’m going to try to take that further myself. In my own way.
ALLMERS [shaking his head]: Not on account of that unfinished book –
RITA: No, I have another reason too.
ALLMERS: What’s that?
RITA [softly, smiling sadly]: I want to win favour with those big wide-open eyes, you see.
ALLMERS [impressed, eyes fixed on her]: Perhaps I could join you in that? And help you, Rita?
RITA: Would you like to?
ALLMERS: Yes – if I only knew that I could.
RITA [hesitantly]: But then you would have to stay here.
ALLMERS [softly]: Let’s try to see whether it would work.
RITA [barely audible]: Let’s do that, Alfred.
Both fall silent. Then ALLMERS walks over to the flagpole and runs the flag up to the very top.
RITA stands by the summerhouse, quietly watching him.
ALLMERS [coming back down to her]: We have a hard day’s work ahead of us, Rita.
RITA: Oh, you’ll see – the peace of the Sabbath will descend upon us now and again.
ALLMERS [quietly, deeply moved]: Then we’ll sense the presence of the spirits perhaps.
RITA [in a whisper]: The spirits?
ALLMERS [as before]: Yes. Then perhaps they’ll be around us – those whom we’ve lost.
RITA [nods slowly]: Our little Eyolf. And your big Eyolf too.
ALLMERS [gazing into space]: And maybe, now and then – on life’s road – we’ll even catch a glimpse of them.
RITA: Where should we look, Alfred –?
ALLMERS [eyes on her]: Upwards.
RITA: Yes, yes – upwards.
ALLMERS: Upwards – to the peaks. To the stars. To the great stillness.
RITA [giving him her hand]: Thank you!
JOHN GABRIEL BORKMAN
A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS
* * *
CHARACTERS
JOHN GABRIEL BORKMAN, former banker
MRS1 GUNHILD BORKMAN, his wife
ERHART BORKMAN, their son, a student
MISS2 ELLA RENTHEIM, Mrs Borkman’s twin sister
MRS FANNY WILTON
VILHELM FOLDAL,3clerk4 in a government office
FRIDA FOLDAL, his daughter
MRS BORKMAN’S MAID5
The action takes place on a winter’s evening at the Rentheim family estate, outside the capital.
Act One
Mrs Borkman’s drawing room, its old-fashioned grandeur now faded. In the background,1 an open sliding door leading into a garden room with windows and a glass door. Through it a view of the garden; driving snow at dusk. On the side wall, right, a door from the hall. Further forward, a large old cast-iron stove, the fire burning. On the left, nearer the back, a smaller single door. In front of it, on the same side, a window hung with heavy curtains. Between the window and the door a horsehair sofa;2 a table in front with a cloth, a lighted lamp and shade. Next to the stove a high-backed armchair.
MRS GUNHILD BORKMAN sits on the sofa, crocheting. She is an older lady with a cold, distinguished appearance, a stiff bearing and a set expression. Her abundant hair has turned quite grey. Delicate, transparent hands. Dressed in a gown of heavy dark silk, once elegant but now past its best and rather worn. A woollen shawl over her shoulders.
She sits up straight for a while, motionless at her crocheting. Then the bells of a sleigh passing outside are heard.
MRS BORKMAN [listening; her eyes light up with joy and she whispers involuntarily]: Erhart! At last!
She stands up and looks out through the curtain. Seems disappointed, and sits back down on the sofa with her crocheting.
A little later the MAID comes in from the hall with a visiting card on a small salver.
MRS BORKMAN [quickly]: Has our student3 come after all?
MAID: No, ma’am. But there’s a lady outside –
MRS BORKMAN [puts her crocheting to one side]: Oh, that’ll be Mrs Wilton –
MAID [approaches]: No, this lady’s a stranger –
MRS BORKMAN [reaches for the card]: Let me see –. [Reads; stands up quickly and looks intently at the MAID.] Are you sure this is for me?
MAID: Yes, I understood it was for the lady of the house.
MRS BORKMAN: Did she ask to speak to Mrs Borkman?
MAID: She did, yes.
MRS BORKMAN [brisk, decisive]: Good. Then say that I am at home.
The MAID opens the door for the stranger and leaves. MISS ELLA RENTHEIM enters. Her appearance resembles her sister’s, but her face expresses suffering rather than hardness. It still shows traces of a once great, distinctive beauty. Her long thick hair, pulled back from her forehead in natural curls, has turned almost silver-white. She is dressed in black velvet with a hat and a fur-lined coat in the same fabric.
Both sisters stand in silence for a while, looking probingly at one another; each evidently waiting for the other to speak first.
ELLA RENTHEIM [who has kept close to the door]: No doubt you’re surprised to see me, Gunhild.
MRS BORKMAN [standing straight and motionless between the sofa and the table, resting her fingertips on the cloth]: Are you sure you’ve come to the right place? The estate manager lives in the wing, you know.
ELLA RENTHEIM: It’s not the estate manager I want to speak to today.
MRS BORKMAN: Is it me you want, then?
ELLA RENTHEIM: Yes. There are a few things I want to talk to you about.
MRS BORKMAN [steps forward]: Well – in that case, do sit down.
ELLA RENTHEIM: Thank you. I’m happy to stand for the moment.
MRS BORKMAN: As you wish. But at least unbutton that coat a little.
ELLA RENTHEIM [unbuttons her coat]: Yes, it is very hot in here –
MRS BORKMAN: I’m always cold.
ELLA RENTHEIM [stands and looks at her for a while with her arm resting on the back of the armchair]: So – Gunhild, it’s been almost eight years since we last saw each other.
MRS BORKMAN [coldly]: Since we last spoke, you mean.
ELLA RENTHEIM: Since we last spoke, yes. – Because I dare say you’ve seen me now and then – when I’ve had to make my annual visits to the estate manager.
MRS BORKMAN: Once or twice, perhaps.
ELLA RENTHEIM: I have caught a glimpse of you too, a couple o
f times. At the window, there.
MRS BORKMAN: That must have been behind the curtains, then. You do have good eyesight. [Harsh and shrill] But the last time we spoke – was here in my drawing room –
ELLA RENTHEIM [pre-emptively]: Yes, yes; I know that, Gunhild!
MRS BORKMAN: – the week before he – before he got out.
ELLA RENTHEIM [walks towards the back]: Don’t start on that!
MRS BORKMAN [firmly but quietly]: It was the week before he – before the banker was released.
ELLA RENTHEIM [moving forward]: Oh, I know, I know, I know! I’m not likely to forget that moment! But it’s far too oppressive to think about! Even to dwell on for a single instant – oh!
MRS BORKMAN [tonelessly]: Even so, one’s thoughts are never allowed to turn to anything else! [In an outburst, striking her hands together] No, I’ll never understand! Never in this world! I cannot comprehend how something like that – something so appalling could happen to a single family! And imagine – our family! Such a distinguished family as ours! How could one even imagine it hitting us!
ELLA RENTHEIM: Oh, Gunhild – unfortunately it hit many, many other families besides ours.
MRS BORKMAN: Well, yes; but I don’t worry myself unduly about all those others. Because for them it was only a bit of money – or some securities –. But for us –! For me! And for Erhart! Just a child back then! [With mounting agitation] We were innocent, yet the shame we suffered! The dishonour! The appalling, ugly dishonour! And utterly ruined on top of everything else!
ELLA RENTHEIM [warily]: Tell me, Gunhild – how is he coping?
MRS BORKMAN: Erhart, you mean?
ELLA RENTHEIM: No – he, himself. How is he coping?
MRS BORKMAN [snorts contemptuously]: Do you really think I ask about that?
ELLA RENTHEIM: Ask? Surely you don’t have to ask –
MRS BORKMAN [looks at her in astonishment]: Surely you don’t think I have anything to do with him? Spend time with him? See anything of him?
ELLA RENTHEIM: Not even that!
MRS BORKMAN [as before]: With him? That man, who had to spend five years under lock and key! [Covers her face with her hands.] Oh, what crushing shame! [Flares up] And to think of everything the name John Gabriel Borkman used to stand for in the past! – No, no, no – never see him again! – Never!