Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (313 page)

ACT FIRS
T

MRS. BORKMAN’s drawing-room, furnished with old-fashioned, faded splendour. At the back, an open sliding-door leads into a garden-room, with windows and a glass door. Through it a view over the garden; twilight with driving snow. On the right, a door leading from the hall. Further forward, a large old-fashioned iron stove, with the fire lighted. On the left, towards the back, a single smaller door. In front, on the same side, a window, covered with thick curtains. Between the window and the door a horsehair sofa, with a table in front of it covered with a cloth. On the table, a lighted lamp with a shade. Beside the stove a high-backed armchair.

MRS. GUNHILD BORKMAN sits on the sofa, crocheting. She is an elderly lady, of cold, distinguished appearance, with stiff carriage and immobile features. Her abundant hair is very grey. Delicate transparent hands. Dressed in a gown of heavy dark silk, which has originally been handsome, but is now somewhat worn and shabby. A woollen shawl over her shoulders.

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.

ELLA RENTHEIM. I have caught one or two glimpses of you, too — there, at the window.

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!

ELLA RENTHEIM. Oh, Gunhild — there were many, many families besides ours that that blow fell upon.

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 ——

MRS. BORKMAN.
[Looks at her in surprise.]
You don’t suppose I ever have anything to do with him? That I ever meet him? That I see anything of him?

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?

MRS. BORKMAN. Why, it was he himself that made me do it! He insisted on our living in such an absurdly lavish style ——

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.
[Quietly.]
Well, I daresay his position forced him to do that — to some extent at any rate.

MRS. BORKMAN.
[Scornfully.]
Yes, it was always the same story — we were to “cut a figure.” And he did “cut a figure” to some purpose! He used to drive about with a four-in-hand as if he were a king. And he had people bowing and scraping to him just as to a king.
[With a laugh.]
And they always called him by his Christian names — all the country over — as if he had been the king himself. “John Gabriel,” “John Gabriel,” “John Gabriel.” Every one knew what a great man “John Gabriel” was!

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Warmly and emphatically.]
He was a great man then.

MRS. BORKMAN. Yes, to all appearance. But he never breathed a single word to me as to his real position — never gave a hint as to where he got his means from.

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 ——

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Interrupting.]
Surely not, Gunhild. He kept things back perhaps, but I am sure he did not lie.

MRS. BORKMAN.
Well, well; call it what you please; it makes no difference.
And then it all fell to pieces — the whole thing.

ELLA RENTHEIM.
[To herself.]
Yes, everything fell to pieces — for him — and for others.

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!

MRS. BORKMAN.
[With rising excitement.]
There is an avenger living, I tell you! One who will make up to me for all his father’s sins!

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.

MRS. BORKMAN.
[Smiling bitterly.]
H’m — is it indeed?
[Breaking off.]
Yes, it is true you have done a great deal for Erhart.
[With a change of tone.]
Well, of course, you could afford it.
[Smiling.]
You were so lucky, Ella; you managed to save all your money.