[Coldly and sharply, standing in the middle of the room.] I
will not try to hold any one in all the world. Let them go away
from me--both the one and the other! As far--as far as ever they
please. [Suddenly, with a piercing shriek.] Erhart, don't leave
me!
[She rushes with outstretched arms towards the door. ELLA
RENTHEIM stops her.
ACT FOURTH
An open space outside the main building, which lies to the right.
A projecting corner of it is visible, with a door approached by
a flight of low stone steps. The background consists of steep
fir-clad slopes, quite close at hand. On the left are small
scattered trees, forming the margin of a wood. The snowstorm
has ceased; but the newly fallen snow lies deep around. The
fir-branches droop under heavy loads of snow. The night is
dark, with drifting clouds. Now and then the moon gleams out
faintly. Only a dim light is reflected from the snow.
BORKMAN, MRS. BORKMAN and ELLA RENTHEIM are standing upon the
steps, BORKMAN leaning wearily against the wall of the house.
He has an old-fashioned cape thrown over his shoulders, holds
a soft grey felt hat in one hand and a thick knotted stick in
the other. ELLA RENTHEIM carries her cloak over her arm. MRS.
BORKMAN's great shawl has slipped down over her shoulders, so
that her hair is uncovered.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Barring the way for MRS. BORKMAN.] Don't go after him, Gunhild!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[In fear and agitation.] Let me pass, I say! He must not go
away from me!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
It is utterly useless, I tell you! You will never overtake him.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Let me go, Ella! I will cry aloud after him all down the road.
And he must hear his mother's cry!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
He cannot hear you. You may be sure he is in the sledge already.
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, no; he can't be in the sledge yet!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
The doors are closed upon him long ago, believe me.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[In despair.] If he is in the sledge, then he is there with
her, with her--her!
BORKMAN.
[Laughing gloomily.] Then he probably won't hear his mother's
cry.
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, he will not hear it. [Listening.] Hark! what is that?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Also listening.] It sounds like sledge-bells.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[With a suppressed scream.] It is her sledge!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Perhaps it's another.
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, no, it is Mrs. Wilton's covered sledge! I know the silver
bells! Hark! Now they are driving right past here, at the foot
of the hill!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Quickly.] Gunhild, if you want to cry out to him, now is the
time! Perhaps after all----! [The tinkle of the bells sounds
close at hand, in the wood.] Make haste, Gunhild! Now they are
right under us!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Stands for a moment undecided, then she stiffens and says
sternly and coldly.] No. I will not cry out to him. Let Erhart
Borkman pass away from me--far, far away--to what he calls life
and happiness.
[The sound dies away in the distance.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[After a moment.] Now the bells are out of hearing.
MRS. BORKMAN.
They sounded like funeral bells.
BORKMAN.
[With a dry suppressed laugh.] Oho--it is not for me they are
ringing to-night!
MRS. BORKMAN.
No, but for me--and for him who has gone from me.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Nodding thoughtfully.] Who knows if, after all, they may not
be ringing in life and happiness for him, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[With sudden animation, looking hard at her.] Life and
happiness, you say!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
For a little while at any rate.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Could you endure to let him know life and happiness, with her?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With warmth and feeling.] Indeed, I could, with all my heart
and soul!
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Coldly.] Then you must be richer than I am in the power of
love.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking far away.] Perhaps it is the lack of love that keeps
the power alive.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Fixing her eyes on her.] If that is so, then I shall soon be
as rich as you, Ella.
[She turns and goes into the house.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Stands for a time looking with a troubled expression at BORKMAN;
then lays her hand cautiously on his shoulder.] Come, John--you
must come in, too.
BORKMAN.
[As if wakening.] I?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, this winter air is too keen for you; I can see that, John.
So come--come in with me--into the house, into the warmth.
BORKMAN.
[Angrily.] Up to the gallery again, I suppose.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No, rather into the room below.
BORKMAN.
[His anger flaming forth.] Never will I set foot under that
roof again!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Where will you go then? So late, and in the dark, John?
BORKMAN.
[Putting on his hat.] First of all, I will go out and see to
all my buried treasures.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking anxiously at him.] John--I don't understand you.
BORKMAN.
[With laughter, interrupted by coughing.] Oh, it is not hidden
plunder I mean; don't be afraid of that, Ella. [Stopping, and
pointing outwards.] Do you see that man there? Who is it?
[VILHELM FOLDAL, in an old cape, covered with snow, with his
hat-brim turned down, and a large umbrella in his hand,
advances towards the corner of the house, laboriously
stumbling through the snow. He is noticeably lame in
his left foot.
BORKMAN.
Vilhelm! What do you want with me again?
FOLDAL.
[Looking up.] Good heavens, are you out on the steps, John
Gabriel? [Bowing.] And Mrs. Borkman, too, I see.
BORKMAN.
[Shortly.] This is not Mrs. Borkman.
FOLDAL.
Oh, I beg pardon. You see, I have lost my spectacles in the
snow. But how is it that you, who never put your foot out of
doors----?
BORKMAN.
[Carelessly and gaily.] It is high time I should come out
into the open air again, don't you see? Nearly three years in
detention--five years in prison--eight years in the gallery up
there----
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Distressed.] Borkman, I beg you----
FOLDAL.
Ah yes, yes, yes!
BORKMAN.
But I want to know what has brought you here.
FOLDAL.
[Still standing at the foot of the steps.] I wanted to come up
to you, John Gabriel. I felt I must come to you, in the gallery.
Ah me, that gallery----!
BORKMAN.
Did you want to come up to me after I had shown you the door?
FOLDAL.
Oh, I couldn't let that stand in the way.
BORKMAN.
What have you done to your foot? I see you are limping?
FOLDAL.
Yes, what do you think--I have been run over.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Run over!
FOLDAL.
Yes, by a covered sledge.
BORKMAN.
Oho!
FOLDAL.
With two horses. They came down the hill at a tearing gallop.
I couldn't get out of the way quick enough; and so----
ELLA RENTHEIM.
And so they ran over you?
FOLDAL.
They came right down upon me, madam--or miss. They came right
upon me and sent me rolling over and over in the snow--so that I
lost my spectacles and got my umbrella broken. [Rubbing his leg.]
And my ankle a little hurt too.
BORKMAN.
[Laughing inwardly.] Do you know who were in that sledge,
Vilhelm?
FOLDAL.
No, how could I see? It was a covered sledge, and the curtains
were down. And the driver didn't stop a moment after he had sent
me spinning. But it doesn't matter a bit, for---- [With an
outburst.] Oh, I am so happy, so happy!
BORKMAN.
Happy?
FOLDAL.
Well, I don't exactly know what to call it. But I think happy
is the nearest word. For something wonderful has happened! And
that is why I couldn't help--I had to come out and share my
happiness with you, John Gabriel.
BORKMAN.
[Harshly.] Well, share away then!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, but first take your friend indoors with you, Borkman.
BORKMAN.
[Sternly.] I have told you I will not go into the house.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
But don't you hear, he has been run over!
BORKMAN.
Oh, we are all of us run over, sometime or other in life. The
thing is to jump up again, and let no one see you are hurt.
FOLDAL.
That is a profound saying, John Gabriel. But I can easily tell
you my story out here, in a few words.
BORKMAN.
[More mildly.] Yes, please do, Vilhelm.
FOLDAL.
Well, now you shall hear! Only think, when I got home this
evening after I had been with you, what did I find but a letter.
Can you guess who it was from?
BORKMAN.
Possibly from your little Frida?
FOLDAL.
Precisely! Think of your hitting on it at once! Yes, it was
a long letter from Frida. A footman had brought it. And can
you imagine what was in it?
BORKMAN.
Perhaps it was to say good-bye to her mother and you?
FOLDAL.
Exactly! How good you are at guessing, John Gabriel! Yes, she
tells me that Mrs. Wilton has taken such a fancy to her, and she
is to go abroad with her and study music. And Mrs. Wilton has
engaged a first-rate teacher who is to accompany them on the
journey--and to read with Frida. For unfortunately she has been
a good deal neglected in some branches, you see.
BORKMAN.
[Shaken with inward laughter.] Of course, of course--I see it
all quite clearly, Vilhelm.
FOLDAL.
[Eagerly continuing.] And only think, she knew nothing about
the arrangement until this evening; at that party, you know, h'm!
And yet she found time to write to me. And the letter is such a
beautiful one--so warm and affectionate, I assure you. There is
not a trace of contempt for her father in it. And then what a
delicate thought it was to say good-bye to us by letter--before
she started. [Laughing.] But of course I can't let her go like
that.
BORKMAN.
[Looks inquiringly at him.] How so?
FOLDAL.
She tells me that they start early to-morrow morning; quite
early.
BORKMAN.
Oh indeed--to-morrow? Does she tell you that?
FOLDAL.
[Laughing and rubbing his hands.] Yes; but I know a trick worth
two of that, you see! I am going straight up to Mrs. Wilton's----
BORKMAN.
This evening?
FOLDAL.
Oh, it's not so very late yet. And even if the house is shut
up, I shall ring; without hesitation. For I must and will see
Frida before she starts. Good-night, good-night!
[Makes a movement to go.
BORKMAN.
Stop a moment, my poor Vilhelm; you may spare yourself that
heavy bit of road.
FOLDAL.
Oh, you are thinking of my ankle----
BORKMAN.
Yes; and in any case you won't get in at Mrs. Wilton's.
FOLDAL.
Yes, indeed I will. I'll go on ringing and knocking till some
one comes and lets me in. For I must and will see Frida.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Your daughter has gone already, Mr. Foldal.
FOLDAL.
[Stands as though thunderstruck.] Has Frida gone already! Are
you quite sure? Who told you?
BORKMAN.
We had it from her future teacher.
FOLDAL.
Indeed? And who is he?
BORKMAN.
A certain Mr. Erhart Borkman.
FOLDAL.
[Beaming with joy.] Your son, John Gabriel? Is he going with
them?
BORKMAN.
Yes; it is he that is to help Mrs. Wilton with little Frida's
education.
FOLDAL.
Oh, Heaven be praised! Then the child is in the best of hands.
But is it quite certain that they have started with her already?
BORKMAN.
They took her away in that sledge which ran you over in the road.
FOLDAL.
[Clasping his hands.] To think that my little Frida was in that
magnificent sledge!
BORKMAN.
[Nodding.] Yes, yes, Vilhelm, your daughter has come to drive
in her carriage. And Master Erhart, too. Tell me, did you notice
the silver bells?
FOLDAL.
Yes, indeed. Silver bells did you say? Were they silver? Real,
genuine silver bells?
BORKMAN.
You may be quite sure of that. Everything was genuine--both
outside and in.
FOLDAL.
[In quiet emotion.] Isn't it strange how fortune can sometimes
befriend one? It is my--my little gift of song that has transmuted
itself into music in Frida. So after all, it is not for nothing
that I was born a poet. For now she is going forth into the great
wide world, that I once yearned so passionately to see. Little
Frida sets out in a splendid covered sledge with silver bells on
the harness----
BORKMAN.
And runs over her father.
FOLDAL.
[Happily.] Oh, pooh! What does it matter about me, if only
the child----! Well, so I am too late, then, after all. I must
go home again and comfort her mother. I left her crying in the
kitchen.
BORKMAN.
Crying?
FOLDAL.
[Smiling.] Yes, would you believe it, she was crying her eyes
out when I came away.
BORKMAN.
And you are laughing, Vilhelm?
FOLDAL.
Yes, _I_ am, of course. But she, poor thing, she doesn't know
any better, you see. Well, good-bye! It's a good thing I have
the tramway so handy. Good-bye, good-bye, John Gabriel. Good-bye,
Madam.
[He bows and limps laboriously out by the way he came.
BORKMAN.
[Stands silent for a moment, gazing before him.] Good-bye,
Vilhelm! It is not the first time in your life that you've
been run over, old friend.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Looking at him with suppressed anxiety.] You are so pale,
John, so very pale.
BORKMAN.
That is the effect of the prison air up yonder.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I have never seen you like this before.
BORKMAN.
No, for I suppose you have never seen an escaped convict before.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, do come into the house with me, John!
BORKMAN.
It is no use trying to lure me in. I have told you----
ELLA RENTHEIM.
But when I beg and implore you----? For your own sake----
[THE MAID opens the door, and stands in the doorway.
THE MAID.
I beg your pardon. Mrs. Borkman told me to lock the front door
now.
BORKMAN.
[In a low voice, to ELLA.] You see, they want to lock me up
again!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[To THE MAID.] Mr. Borkman is not quite well. He wants to have
a little fresh air before coming in.
THE MAID.
But Mrs. Borkman told me to----
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I shall lock the door. Just leave the key in the lock.
THE MAID.
Oh, very well; I'll leave it.
[She goes into the house again.
BORKMAN.
[Stands silent for a moment, and listens; then goes hastily
down the steps and out into the open space.] Now I am outside
the walls, Ella! Now they will never get hold of me again!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Who has gone down to him.] But you are a free man in there,
too, John. You can come and go just as you please.
BORKMAN.
[Softly, as though in terror.] Never under a roof again! It
is so good to be out here in the night. If I went up into the
gallery now, ceiling and walls would shrink together and crush
me--crush me flat as a fly.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
But where will you go, then?
BORKMAN.
I will simply go on, and on, and on. I will try if I cannot
make my way to freedom, and life, and human beings again. Will
you go with me, Ella?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I? Now?
BORKMAN.
Yes, at once!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
But how far?
BORKMAN.
As far as ever I can.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, but think what you are doing! Out in this raw, cold winter
night----
BORKMAN.
[Speaking very hoarsely.] Oho--my lady is concerned about her
health? Yes, yes--I know it is delicate.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
It is your health I am concerned about.
BORKMAN.
Hohoho! A dead man's health! I can't help laughing at you,
Ella! [He moves onwards.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Following him: holding him back.] What did you call yourself?
BORKMAN.
A dead man, I said. Don't you remember, Gunhild told me to lie
quiet where I was?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With resolution, throwing her cloak around her.] I will go
with you, John.
BORKMAN.
Yes, we two belong to each other, Ella. [Advancing.] So come!
[They have gradually passed into the low wood on the left.
It conceals them little by little, until they are quite
lost to sight. The house and the open space disappear.
The landscape, consisting of wooded slopes and ridges,
slowly changes and grows wilder and wilder.
ELLA RENTHEIM's VOICE.
[Is heard in the wood to the right.] Where are we going, John?
I don't recognise this place.
BORKMAN's VOICE.
[Higher up.] Just follow my footprints in the snow!
ELLA RENTHEIM's VOICE.
But why need we climb so high?
BORKMAN's VOICE.
[Nearer at hand.] We must go up the winding path.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Still hidden.] Oh, but I can't go much further.
BORKMAN.
[On the verge of the wood to the right.] Come, come! We are
not far from the view now. There used to be a seat there.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Appearing among the trees.] Do you remember it?
BORKMAN.
You can rest there.
[They have emerged upon a small high-lying, open plateau in
the wood. The mountain rises abruptly behind them. To
the left, far below, an extensive fiord landscape, with
high ranges in the distance, towering one above the other.
On the plateau, to the left, a dead fir-tree with a bench
under it. The snow lies deep upon the plateau.
[BORKMAN and, after him, ELLA RENTHEIM enter from the right
and wade with difficulty through the snow.
BORKMAN.
[Stopping at the verge of the steep declivity on the left.]
Come here, Ella, and you shall see.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Coming up to him.] What do you want to show me, John?
BORKMAN.
[Pointing outwards.] Do you see how free and open the country
lies before us--away to the far horizon?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
We have often sat on this bench before, and looked out into a
much, much further distance.
BORKMAN.
It was a dreamland we then looked out over.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Nodding sadly.] It was the dreamland of our life, yes. And
now that land is buried in snow. And the old tree is dead.
BORKMAN.
[Not listening to her.] Can you see the smoke of the great
steamships out on the fiord?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No.
BORKMAN.
I can. They come and they go. They weave a network of
fellowship all round the world. They shed light and warmth over
the souls of men in many thousands of homes. That was what I
dreamed of doing.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Softly.] And it remained a dream.
BORKMAN.
It remained a dream, yes. [Listening.] And hark, down by the
river, dear! The factories are working! My factories! All those
that I would have created! Listen! Do you hear them humming? The
night shift is on--so they are working night and day. Hark! hark!
the wheels are whirling and the bands are flashing--round and
round and round. Can't you hear, Ella?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No.
BORKMAN.
I can hear it.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Anxiously.] I think you are mistaken, John.
BORKMAN.
[More and more fired up.] Oh, but all these--they are only like
the outworks around the kingdom, I tell you!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
The kingdom, you say? What kingdom?
BORKMAN.
My kingdom, of course! The kingdom I was on the point of
conquering when I--when I died.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Shaken, in a low voice.] Oh, John, John!
BORKMAN.
And now there it lies--defenceless, masterless--exposed to all
the robbers and plunderers. Ella, do you see the mountain chains
there--far away? They soar, they tower aloft, one behind the
other! That is my vast, my infinite, inexhaustible kingdom!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Oh, but there comes an icy blast from that kingdom, John!
BORKMAN.
That blast is the breath of life to me. That blast comes to
me like a greeting from subject spirits. I seem to touch them,
the prisoned millions; I can see the veins of metal stretch out
their winding, branching, luring arms to me. I saw them before
my eyes like living shapes, that night when I stood in the
strong-room with the candle in my hand. You begged to be
liberated, and I tried to free you. But my strength failed
me; and the treasure sank back into the deep again. [With
outstretched hands.] But I will whisper it to you here in the
stillness of the night: I love you, as you lie there spellbound
in the deeps and the darkness! I love you, unborn treasures,
yearning for the light! I love you, with all your shining train
of power and glory! I love you, love you, love you!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[In suppressed but rising agitation.] Yes, your love is still
down there, John. It has always been rooted there. But here, in
the light of day, here there was a living, warm, human heart that
throbbed and glowed for you. And this heart you crushed. Oh worse
than that! Ten times worse! You sold it for--for----
BORKMAN.
[Trembles; a cold shudder seems to go through him.] For the
kingdom--and the power--and the glory--you mean?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
Yes, that is what I mean. I have said it once before to-night:
you have murdered the love-life in the woman who loved you. And
whom you loved in return, so far as you could love any one. [With
uplifted arm.] And therefore I prophesy to you, John Gabriel
Borkman--you will never touch the price you demanded for the
murder. You will never enter in triumph into your cold, dark
kingdom!
BORKMAN.
[Staggers to the bench and seats himself heavily.] I almost
fear your prophecy will come true, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Going up to him.] You must not fear it, John. That is the
best thing that can happen to you.
BORKMAN.
[With a shriek; clutching at his breast.] Ah----! [Feebly.]
Now it let me go again.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Shaking him.] What was it, John?
BORKMAN.
[Sinking down against the back of the seat.] It was a hand of
ice that clutched at my heart.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
John! Did you feel the ice-hand again!
BORKMAN.
[Murmurs.] No. No ice-hand. It was a metal hand.
[He sinks right down upon the bench.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Tears off her cloak and throws it over him.] Lie still where
you are! I will go and bring help for you.
[She goes a step or two towards the right; then she stops,
returns, and carefully feels his pulse and touches his
face.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Softly and firmly.] No. It is best so, John Borkman. Best
for you.
[She spreads the cloak closer around him, and sinks down in
the snow in front of the bench. A short silence.
[MRS. BORKMAN, wrapped in a mantle, comes through the wood
on the right. THE MAID goes before her carrying a lantern.
THE MAID.
[Throwing the light upon the snow.] Yes, yes, ma'am, here are
their tracks.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Peering around.] Yes, here they are! They are sitting there
on the bench. [Calls.] Ella!
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Rising.] Are you looking for us?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Sternly.] Yes, you see I have to.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Pointing.] Look, there he lies, Gunhild.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Sleeping?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
A long, deep sleep, I think.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[With an outburst.] Ella! [Controls herself and asks in a low
voice.] Did he do it--of his own accord?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Relieved.] Not by his own hand then?
ELLA RENTHEIM.
No. It was an ice-cold metal hand that gripped him by the heart.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[To THE MAID.] Go for help. Get the men to come up from the
farm.
THE MAID.
Yes, I will, ma'am. [To herself.] Lord save us!
[She goes out through the wood to the right.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Standing behind the bench.] So the night air has killed him----
ELLA RENTHEIM.
So it appears.
MRS. BORKMAN.
----strong man that he was.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Coming in front of the bench.] Will you not look at him,
Gunhild?
MRS. BORKMAN.
[With a gesture of repulsion.] No, no, no. [Lowering her
voice.] He was a miner's son, John Gabriel Borkman. He could
not live in the fresh air.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
It was rather the cold that killed him.
MRS. BORKMAN.
[Shakes her head.] The cold, you say? The cold--that had
killed him long ago.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[Nodding to her.] Yes--and changed us two into shadows.
MRS. BORKMAN.
You are right there.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
[With a painful smile.] A dead man and two shadows--that is
what the cold has made of us.
MRS. BORKMAN.
Yes, the coldness of heart.--And now I think we two may hold
out our hands to each other, Ella.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
I think we may, now.
MRS. BORKMAN.
We twin sisters--over him we have both loved.
ELLA RENTHEIM.
We two shadows--over the dead man.
[MRS. BORKMAN behind the bench, and ELLA RENTHEIM in front
of it, take each other's hand.