Good night, Vilhelm.
[Foldal goes out to the left.
[BORKMAN stands for a moment gazing at the closed door; makes
a movement as though to call FOLDAL back, but changes his
mind, and begins to pace the floor with his hands behind
his back. Then he stops at the table beside the sofa and
puts out the lamp. The room becomes half dark. After a
short pause, there comes a knock at the tapestry door.
BORKMAN.
[At the table, starts, turns, and asks in a loud voice:] Who is
that knocking?
[No answer, another knock.
BORKMAN.
[Without moving.] Who is it? Come in!
[ELLA RENTHEIM, with a lighted candle in her hand, appears in
the doorway. She wears her black dress, as before, with
her cloak thrown loosely round her shoulders.
BORKMAN.
[Staring at her.] Who are you? What do you want with me?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Closes the door and advances.] It is I, Borkman.
[She puts down the candle on the piano and remains standing
beside it.
BORKMAN.
[Stands as though thunderstruck, stares fixedly at her, and says
in a half-whisper.] Is it--is it Ella? Is it Ella Rentheim?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, it's "your" Ella, as you used to call me in the old days;
many, many years ago.
BORKMAN.
[As before.] Yes, it is you Ella, I can see you now.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Can you recognise me?
BORKMAN.
Yes, now I begin to----
ELLA RENTHEIM.
The years have told on me, and brought winter with them, Borkman.
Do you not think so?
BORKMAN.
[In a forced voice.] You are a good deal changed--just at first
glance.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
There are no dark curls on my neck now--the curls you once loved
to twist round your fingers.
BORKMAN.
[Quickly.] True! I can see now, Ella, you have done your hair
differently.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With a sad smile.] Precisely; it is the way I do my hair that
makes the difference.
BORKMAN.
[Changing the subject.] I had no idea that you were in this
part of the world.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I have only just arrived.
BORKMAN.
Why have you come all this way now, in winter?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
That you shall hear.
BORKMAN.
Is it me you have come to see?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
You among others. But if I am to tell you my errand, I must
begin far back.
BORKMAN.
You look tired.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, I am tired.
BORKMAN.
Won't you sit down? There on the sofa.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, thank you; I need rest.
[She crosses to the right and seats herself in the furthest
forward corner of the sofa. BORKMAN stands beside the
table with his hands behind his back looking at her. A
short silence.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
It seems an endless time since we two met, Borkman, face to face.
BORKMAN.
[Gloomily.] It is a long, long time. And terrible things have
passed since then.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
A whole lifetime has passed--a wasted lifetime.
BORKMAN.
[Looking keenly at her.] Wasted!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, I say wasted--for both of us.
BORKMAN.
[In a cold business tone.] I cannot regard my life as wasted
yet.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And what about mine?
BORKMAN.
There you have yourself to blame, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With a start.] And you can say that?
BORKMAN.
You could quite well have been happy without me.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Do you believe that?
BORKMAN.
If you had made up your mind to.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Bitterly.] Oh, yes, I know well enough there was some one else
ready to marry me.
BORKMAN.
But you rejected him.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, I did.
BORKMAN.
Time after time you rejected him. Year after year----
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Scornfully.] Year after year I rejected happiness, I suppose
you think?
BORKMAN.
You might perfectly well have been happy with him. And then I
should have been saved.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
You?
BORKMAN.
Yes, you would have saved me, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
How do you mean?
BORKMAN.
He thought I was at the bottom of your obstinacy--of your
perpetual refusals. And then he took his revenge. It was so easy
for him; he had all my frank, confiding letters in his keeping. He
made his own use of them; and then it was all over with me--for
the time, that is to say. So you see it is all your doing, Ella!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh indeed, Borkman. If we look into the matter, it appears that
it is I who owe you reparation.
BORKMAN.
It depends how you look at it. I know quite well all that you
have done for us. You bought in this house, and the whole
property, at the auction. You placed the house entirely at my
disposal--and your sister too. You took charge of Erhart, and
cared for him in every way----
ELLA RENTHEIM.
As long as I was allowed to----
BORKMAN.
By your sister, you mean. I have never mixed myself up in these
domestic affairs. As I was saying, I know all the sacrifices you
have made for me and for your sister. But you were in a position
to do so, Ella; and you must not forget that it was I who placed
you in that position.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Indignantly.] There you make a great mistake, Borkman! It was
the love of my inmost heart for Erhart--and for you too--that made
me do it!
BORKMAN.
[Interrupting.] My dear Ella, do not let us get upon questions
of sentiment and that sort of thing. I mean, of course, that if
you acted generously, it was I that put it in your power to do so.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Smiling.] H'm! In my power----
BORKMAN.
[Warmly.] Yes, put it in your power, I say! On the eve of the
great decisive battle--when I could not afford to spare either kith
or kin--when I had to grasp at--when I did grasp at the millions
that were entrusted to me--then I spared all that was yours, every
farthing, although I could have taken it, and made use of it, as
I did of all the rest!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Coldly and quietly.] That is quite true, Borkman.
BORKMAN.
Yes it is. And that was why, when they came and took me, they
found all your securities untouched in the strong-room of the bank.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking at him.] I have often and often wondered what was your
real reason for sparing all my property? That, and that alone.
BORKMAN.
My reason?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, your reason. Tell me.
BORKMAN.
[Harshly and scornfully.] Perhaps you think it was that I might
have something to fall back upon, if things went wrong?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh no, I am sure you did not think of that in those days.
BORKMAN.
Never! I was so absolutely certain of victory.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Well then, why was it that----?
BORKMAN.
[Shrugging his shoulders.] Upon my soul, Ella, it is not so
easy to remember one's motives of twenty years ago. I only know
that when I used to grapple, silently and alone, with all the
great projects I had in my mind, I had something like the feeling
of a man who is starting on a balloon voyage. All through my
sleepless nights I was inflating my giant balloon, and preparing
to soar away into perilous, unknown regions.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Smiling.] You, who never had the least doubt of victory?
BORKMAN.
[Impatiently.] Men are made so, Ella. They both doubt and
believe at the same time. [Looking straight before him.] And
I suppose that was why I would not take you and yours with me
in the balloon.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Eagerly.] Why, I ask you? Tell me why!
BORKMAN.
[Without looking at her.] One shrinks from risking what one
holds dearest on such a voyage.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
You had risked what was dearest to you on that voyage. Your
whole future life----
BORKMAN.
Life is not always what one holds dearest.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Breathlessly.] Was that how you felt at that time?
BORKMAN.
I fancy it was.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I was the dearest thing in the world to you?
BORKMAN.
I seem to remember something of the sort.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And yet years had passed since you had deserted me--and married--
married another!
BORKMAN.
Deserted you, you say? You must know very well that it was
higher motives--well then, other motives that compelled me.
Without his support I could not have done anything.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Controlling herself.] So you deserted me from--higher motives.
BORKMAN.
I could not get on without his help. And he made you the price
of helping me.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And you paid the price. Paid it in full--without haggling.
BORKMAN.
I had no choice. I had to conquer or fall.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[In a trembling voice, looking at him.] Can what you tell me
be true--that I was then the dearest thing in the world to you?
BORKMAN.
Both then and afterwards--long, long, after.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
But you bartered me away none the less; drove a bargain with
another man for your love. Sold my love for a--for a directorship.
BORKMAN.
[Gloomily and bowed down.] I was driven by inexorable
necessity, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Rises from the sofa, quivering with passion.] Criminal!
BORKMAN.
[Starts, but controls himself.] I have heard that word before.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, don't imagine I'm thinking of anything you may have done
against the law of the land! The use you made of all those
vouchers and securities, or whatever you call them--do you think
I care a straw about that! If I could have stood at your side
when the crash came----
BORKMAN.
[Eagerly.] What then, Ella?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Trust me, I should have borne it all so gladly along with you.
The shame, the ruin--I would have helped you to bear it all--all!
BORKMAN.
Would you have had the will--the strength?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Both the will and the strength. For then I did not know of
your great, your terrible crime.
BORKMAN.
What crime? What are you speaking of?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I am speaking of that crime for which there is no forgiveness.
BORKMAN.
[Staring at her.] You must be out of your mind.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Approaching him.] You are a murderer! You have committed the
one mortal sin!
BORKMAN.
[Falling back towards the piano.] You are raving, Ella!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
You have killed the love-life in me. [Still nearer him.] Do
you understand what that means? The Bible speaks of a mysterious
sin for which there is no forgiveness. I have never understood
what it could be; but now I understand. The great, unpardonable
sin is to murder the love-life in a human soul.
BORKMAN.
And you say I have done that?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
You have done that. I have never rightly understood until
this evening what had really happened to me. That you deserted
me and turned to Gunhild instead--I took that to be mere common
fickleness on your part, and the result of heartless scheming
on hers. I almost think I despised you a little, in spite of
everything. But now I see it! You deserted the woman you loved!
Me, me, me! What you held dearest in the world you were ready to
barter away for gain. That is the double murder you have
committed! The murder of your own soul and of mine!
BORKMAN.
[With cold self-control.] How well I recognise your passionate,
ungovernable spirit, Ella. No doubt it is natural enough that
you should look at the thing in this light. Of course, you are
a woman, and therefore it would seem that your own heart is the
one thing you know or care about in this world.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, yes it is.
BORKMAN.
Your own heart is the only thing that exists for you.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
The only thing! The only thing! You are right there.
BORKMAN.
But you must remember that I am a man. As a woman, you were the
dearest thing in the world to me. But if the worst comes to the
worst, one woman can always take the place of another.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looks at him with a smile.] Was that your experience when you
had made Gunhild your wife?
BORKMAN.
No. But the great aims I had in life helped me to bear even
that. I wanted to have at my command all the sources of power
in this country. All the wealth that lay hidden in the soil,
and the rocks, and the forests, and the sea-- I wanted to gather
it all into my hands to make myself master of it all, and so to
promote the well-being of many, many thousands.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Lost in recollection.] I know it. Think of all the evenings
we spent in talking over your projects.
BORKMAN.
Yes, I could talk to you, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I jested with your plans, and asked whether you wanted to awaken
all the sleeping spirits of the mine.
BORKMAN.
[Nodding.] I remember that phrase. [Slowly.] All the sleeping
spirits of the mine.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
But you did not take it as a jest. You said: "Yes, yes, Ella,
that is just what I want to do."
BORKMAN.
And so it was. If only I could get my foot in the stirrup----
And that depended on that one man. He could and would secure me
the control of the bank--if I on my side----
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, just so! If you on your side would renounce the woman you
loved--and who loved you beyond words in return.
BORKMAN.
I knew his consuming passion for you. I knew that on no other
condition would he----
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And so you struck the bargain.
BORKMAN.
[Vehemently.] Yes, I did, Ella! For the love of power is
uncontrollable in me, you see! So I struck the bargain; I had to.
And he helped me half-way up towards the beckoning heights that I
was bent on reaching. And I mounted and mounted; year by year
I mounted----
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And I was as though wiped out of your life.
BORKMAN.
And after all he hurled me into the abyss again. On account of
you, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[After a short thoughtful silence.] Borkman, does it not seem
to you as if there had been a sort of curse on our whole relation?
BORKMAN.
[Looking at her.] A curse?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes. Don't you think so?
BORKMAN.
[Uneasily.] Yes. But why is it? [With an outburst.] Oh Ella,
I begin to wonder which is in the right--you or I!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
It is you who have sinned. You have done to death all the
gladness of my life in me.
BORKMAN.
[Anxiously.] Do not say that, Ella!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
All a woman's gladness at any rate. From the day when your image
began to dwindle in my mind, I have lived my life as though under
an eclipse. During all these years it has grown harder and harder
for me--and at last utterly impossible--to love any living creature.
Human beings, animals, plants: I shrank from all--from all but one----
BORKMAN.
What one?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Erhart, of course.
BORKMAN.
Erhart?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Erhart--your son, Borkman.
BORKMAN.
Has he really been so close to your heart?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Why else should I have taken him to me, and kept him as long as
ever I could? Why?
BORKMAN.
I thought it was out of pity, like all the rest that you did.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[In strong inward emotion.] Pity! Ha, ha! I have never known
pity, since you deserted me. I was incapable of feeling it. If
a poor starved child came into my kitchen, shivering, and crying,
and begging for a morsel of food, I let the servants look to it.
I never felt any desire to take the child to myself, to warm it
at my own hearth, to have the pleasure of seeing it eat and be
satisfied. And yet I was not like that when I was young; that I
remember clearly! It is you that have created an empty, barren
desert within me--and without me too!
BORKMAN.
Except only for Erhart.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, except for your son. But I am hardened to every other
living thing. You have cheated me of a mother's joy and happiness
in life--and of a mother's sorrows and tears as well. And perhaps
that is the heaviest part of the loss to me.
BORKMAN.
Do you say that, Ella?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Who knows? It may be that a mother's sorrows and tears were
what I needed most. [With still deeper emotion.] But at that
time I could not resign myself to my loss; and that was why I
took Erhart to me. I won him entirely. Won his whole, warm,
trustful childish heart--until---- Oh!
BORKMAN.
Until what?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Until his mother--his mother in the flesh, I mean--took him from
me again.
BORKMAN.
He had to leave you in any case; he had to come to town.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Wringing her hands.] Yes, but I cannot bear the solitude--
the emptiness! I cannot bear the loss of your son's heart!
BORKMAN.
[With an evil expression in his eyes.] H'm--I doubt whether
you have lost it, Ella. Hearts are not so easily lost to a
certain person--in the room below.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I have lost Erhart here, and she has won him back again. Or
if not she, some one else. That is plain enough in the letters
he writes me from time to time.
BORKMAN.
Then it is to take him back with you that you have come here?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, if only it were possible----!
BORKMAN.
It is possible enough, if you have set your heart upon it. For
you have the first and strongest claims upon him.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, claims, claims! What is the use of claims? If he is not
mine of his own free will, he is not mine at all. And have him
I must! I must have my boy's heart, whole and undivided--now!
BORKMAN.
You must remember that Erhart is well into his twenties. You
could scarcely reckon on keeping his heart very long undivided,
as you express it.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With a melancholy smile.] It would not need to be for so very
long.
BORKMAN.
Indeed? I should have thought that when you want a thing, you
want it to the end of your days.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
So I do. But that need not mean for very long.
BORKMAN.
[Taken aback.] What do you mean by that?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I suppose you know I have been in bad health for many years past?
BORKMAN.
Have you?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Do you not know that?
BORKMAN.
No, I cannot say I did----
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking at him in surprise.] Has Erhart not told you so?
BORKMAN.
I really don't remember at the moment.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Perhaps he has not spoken of me at all?
BORKMAN.
Oh, yes, I believe he has spoken of you. But the fact is, I
so seldom see anything of him--scarcely ever. There is a certain
person below that keeps him away from me. Keeps him away, you
understand?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Are you quite sure of that, Borkman?
BORKMAN.
Yes, absolutely sure. [Changing his tone.] And so you have
been in bad health, Ella?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, I have. And this autumn I grew so much worse that I had
to come to town and take better medical advice.
BORKMAN.
And you have seen the doctors already?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, this morning.
BORKMAN.
And what did they say to you?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
They gave me full assurance of what I had long suspected.
BORKMAN.
Well?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Calmly and quietly.] My illness will never be cured, Borkman.
BORKMAN.
Oh, you must not believe that, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
It is a disease that there is no help or cure for. The doctors
can do nothing with it. They must just let it take its course.
They cannot possibly check it; at most, they can allay the
suffering. And that is always something.
BORKMAN.
Oh, but it will take a long time to run its course. I am sure
it will.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I may perhaps last out the winter, they told me.
BORKMAN.
[Without thinking.] Oh, well, the winter is long.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Quietly.] Long enough for me, at any rate.
BORKMAN.
[Eagerly, changing the subject.] But what in all the world can
have brought on this illness? You, who have always lived such a
healthy and regular life? What can have brought it on?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking at him.] The doctors thought that perhaps at one time
in my life I had had to go through some great stress of emotion.
BORKMAN.
[Firing up.] Emotion! Aha, I understand! You mean that it is
my fault?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With increasing inward agitation.] It is too late to go into
that matter now! But I must have my heart's own child again before
I go! It is so unspeakably sad for me to think that I must go
away from all that is called life--away from sun, and light, and
air--and not leave behind me one single human being who will think
of me--who will remember me lovingly and mournfully--as a son
remembers and thinks of the mother he has lost.
BORKMAN.
[After a short pause.] Take him, Ella, if you can win him.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With animation.] Do you give your consent? Can you?
BORKMAN.
[Gloomily.] Yes. And it is no great sacrifice either. For in
any case he is not mine.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Thank you, thank you all the same for the sacrifice! But I have
one thing more to beg of you--a great thing for me, Borkman.
BORKMAN.
Well, what is it?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I daresay you will think it childish of me--you will not
understand----
BORKMAN.
Go on--tell me what it is.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
When I die--as I must soon--I shall have a fair amount to leave
behind me.
BORKMAN.
Yes, I suppose so.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And I intend to leave it all to Erhart.
BORKMAN.
Well, you have really no one nearer to you than he.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Warmly.] No, indeed, I have no one nearer me than he.
BORKMAN.
No one of your own family. You are the last.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Nodding slowly.] Yes, that is just it. When I die, the name
of Rentheim dies with me. And that is such a torturing thought
to me. To be wiped out of existence--even to your very name----
BORKMAN.
[Firing up.] Ah, I see what you are driving at!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Passionately.] Do not let this be my forte. Let Erhart bear
my name after me!
BORKMAN.
I understand you well enough. You want to save my son from
having to bear his father's name. That is your meaning.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No, no, not that! I myself would have borne it proudly and
gladly along with you! But a mother who is at the point of
death---- There is more binding force in a name than you think
or believe, Borkman.
BORKMAN.
[Coldly and proudly.] Well and good, Ella. I am man enough
to bear my own name alone.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Seizing and pressing his hand.] Thank you, thank you! Now
there has been a full settlement between us! Yes, yes, let it
be so! You have made all the atonement in your power. For when
I have gone from the world, I shall leave Erhart Rentheim behind
me!
[The tapestry door is thrown open. MRS. BORKMAN, with the
large shawl over her head, stands in the doorway.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[In violent agitation.] Never to his dying day shall Erhart
be called by that name!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Shrinking back.] Gunhild!
BORKMAN.
[Harshly and threateningly.] I allow no one to come up to my
room!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Advancing a step.] I do not ask your permission.
BORKMAN.
[Going towards her.] What do you want with me?
MRS. BORKMAN.
I will fight with all my might for you. I will protect you
from the powers of evil.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
The worst "powers of evil" are in yourself, Gunhild!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Harshly.] So be it then. [Menacingly, with upstretched arm.]
But this I tell you--he shall bear his father's name! And bear
it aloft in honour again! My son's heart shall be mine--mine
and no other's.
[She goes out by the tapestry door and shuts it behind her.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Shaken and shattered.] Borkman, Erhart's life will be wrecked
in this storm. There must be an understanding between you and
Gunhild. We must go down to her at once.
BORKMAN.
[Looking at her.] We? I too, do you mean?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Both you and I.
BORKMAN.
[Shaking his head.] She is hard, I tell you. Hard as the metal
I once dreamed of hewing out of the rocks.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Then try it now!
[BORKMAN does not answer, but stands looking doubtfully at her.
ACT THIRD
MRS. BORKMAN's drawing room. The lamp is still burning on
the table beside the sofa in front. The garden-room at
the back is quite dark.
MRS. BORKMAN, with the shawl still over her head, enters, in
violent agitation, by the hall door, goes up to the window,
draws the curtain a little aside, and looks out; then she
seats herself beside the stove, but immediately springs
up again, goes to the bell-pull and rings. Stands beside
the sofa, and waits a moment. No one comes. Then she
rings again, this time more violently.
THE MAID presently enters from the hall. She looks sleepy
and out of temper, and appears to have dressed in great
haste.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Impatiently.] What has become of you, Malena? I have rung
for you twice!
THE MAID.
Yes, ma'am, I heard you.
MRS. BORKMAN.
And yet you didn't come?
THE MAID.
[Sulkily.] I had to put some clothes on first, I suppose.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, you must dress yourself properly, and then you must run and
fetch my son.
THE MAID.
[Looking at her in astonishment.] You want me to fetch Mr.
Erhart?
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes; tell him he must come home to me at once; I want to speak
to him.
THE MAID.
[Grumbling.] Then I'd better go to the bailiff's and call up
the coachman.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Why?
THE MAID.
To get him to harness the sledge. The snow's dreadful to-night.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Oh, that doesn't matter; only make haste and go. It's just round
the corner.
THE MAID.
Why, ma'am you can't call that just round the corner!
MRS. BORKMAN.
Of course it is. Don't you know Mr. Hinkel's villa?
THE MAID.
[With malice.] Oh, indeed! It's there Mr. Erhart is this
evening?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Taken aback.] Why, where else should he be?
THE MAID.
[With a slight smile.] Well, I only thought he might be where
he usually is.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Where do you mean?
THE MAID.
At Mrs. Wilton's, as they call her.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Mrs. Wilton's? My son isn't so often there.