|
 |
|
Existentialism
Jean Paul Sartre (1905 - 1980)
No Exit (1) |
Nous
sommes un condamné à mort qui se prépare bravement au
dernier supplice, qui met tous ses soins à faire belle
figure sur l'échafaud et qui, entre temps, est enlevé
par une grippe espagnole. |
1
2 3
4
| GARCIN: |
(enters,
accompanied by the VALET, and glances around him): So
here we are? |
| VALET: |
Yes,
Mr. Garcin. |
| GARCIN: |
And
this is what it looks like? |
| VALET |
Yes.
|
| GARCIN: |
Second
Empire furniture, I observe... Well, well, I dare say
one gets used to it in time. |
| VALET |
Some
do, some don't. |
| GARCIN: |
Are
all the rooms like this one? |
| VALET |
How
could they be? We cater for all sorts: Chinamen and Indians,
for instance. What use would they have for a Second Empire
chair? |
| GARCIN: |
And
what use do you suppose I have for one? Do you know who
I was?...Oh, well, it's no great matter. And, to tell
the truth, I had quite a habit of living among furniture
that I didn't relish, and in false positions. I'd even
come to like it. A false position in a Louis-Philippe
dining room-- you know the style?--well, that had its
points, you know. Bogus in bogus, so to speak. |
| VALET |
And
you'll find that living in a Second Empire drawing-room
has its points. |
| GARCIN: |
Really?...Yes, yes, I dare say...Still I certainly didn't
expect-- this! You know what they tell us down there?
|
| VALET: |
What
about? |
| GARCIN: |
About...this-
er--residence. |
| VALET: |
Really,
sir, how could you believe such cock-and-bull stories?
Told by people who'd never set foot here. For, of course,
if they had-- |
| GARCIN: |
Quite
so. But I say, where are the instruments of torture? |
| VALET: |
The
what? |
| GARCIN: |
The
racks and red-hot pincers and all the other paraphernalia?
|
| VALET: |
Ah,
you must have your little joke, sir. |
| GARCIN: |
My
little joke? Oh, I see. No, I wasn't joking. No mirrors,
I notice. No windows. Only to be expected. And nothing
breakable. But damn it all, they might have left me my
toothbrush! |
| VALET: |
That's
good! So you haven't yet got over your--what-do-you-call-it?--sense
of human dignity? Excuse my smiling. |
| GARCIN: |
I'll
ask you to be more polite. I quite realize the position
I'm in, but I won't tolerate... |
| VALET: |
Sorry,
sir. No offense meant. But all our guests aske me the
same questions. Silly questions, if you'll pardon my saying
so. Where's the torture-chamber? That's the first thing
they ask, all of them. They don't bother their heads about
the bathroom requisites, that I can assure you. But after
a bit, when they've got their nerve back, they start in
about their toothbrushes and what-ot. Good heavens, Mr.
Garcin, can't you use your brains? What, I ask you, would
be the point of brushing your teeth? |
| GARCIN: |
Yes,
of course you're right. And why shouild one want to see
oneself in a looking- glass? But that bronze contraption
on the mantelpiece, that's another story. I suppose there
will be times when I stare my eyes out at it. Stare my
eyes out--see what I mean?...All right, let's put our
cards on the table. I assure you I'm quite conscious of
my position. Shall I tell you what it feels like? A man's
drowning, choking, sinking by inches, till only his eyes
are just above water. And what does he see? A bronze atrocity
by-- what's the fellow's name?--Barbedienne. A collector's
piece. As in a nightmare. That's their idea, isn't it?...No,
I suppose you're under orders not to answer questions;
and I won't insist. But don't forget, my man, I've a good
notion of what's coming to me, so don't you boast you've
caught me off my guard. I'm facing the situation, facing
it. So that's that; no toothbrush. And no bed, either.
One never sleeps, I take it? |
| VALET: |
That's
so. |
| GARCIN: |
Just
as I expected. WHY should one sleep? A sort of drowsiness
steals on you, tickles you behind the ears, and you feel
your eyes closing-- but why sleep? You lie down on the
sofa and-- in a flash, sleep flies away. Miles and miles
away. So you rub your eyes, get up, and it starts all
over again. |
| VALET: |
Romantic,
that's what you are. |
| GARCIN: |
Will
you keep quiet, please! ...I won't make a scene, I shan't
be sorry for myself, I'll face the situation, as I said
just now. Face it fairly and squarely. I son't have it
springing at me from behind, before I've time to size
it up. And you call that being "romantic!" So it comes
to this; one doesn't need rest. Why bother about sleep
if one isn't sleepy? That stands to reason, doesn't it?
Wait a minute, there's a snag somewhere; something disagreeable.
Why, now, should it be disagreeable? ...Ah, I see; it's
life without a break. |
| VALET: |
What
are you talking about? |
| GARCIN: |
Your
eyelids. We move ours up and down. Blinking, we call it.
It's like a small black shutter that clicks down and makes
a break. Everything goes black; one's eyes are moistened.
You can't imagine how restful, refreshing, it is. Four
thousand little rests per hour. Four thousand little respites--just
think!...So that's the idea. I'm to live without eyelids.
Don't act the fool, you know what I mean. No eyelids,
no sleep; it follows, doesn't it? I shall never sleep
again. But then--how shall I endure my own company? Try
to understand. You see, I'm fond of teasing, it's a second
nature with me-- and I'm used to teasing myself. Plaguing
myself, if you prefer; I don't tease nicely. But I can't
go on doing that without a break. Down there I had my
nights. I slept. I always had good nights. By way of compensation,
I suppose. And happy little dreams. There was a green
field. Just an ordinary field. I used to stroll in it...Is
it daytime now? |
| VALET: |
Can't
you see? The lights are on. |
| GARCIN: |
Ah,
yes, I've got it. It's your daytime. And outside? |
| VALET: |
Outside?
|
| GARCIN: |
Damn
it, you know what I mean. Beyond that wall. |
| VALET: |
There's
a passage. |
| GARCIN:
|
And
at the end of the passage? |
| VALET: |
There's
more rooms, more passages, and stairs. |
| GARCIN: |
And
what lies beyond them? |
| VALET: |
That's
all. |
| GARCIN: |
But
surely you have a day off sometimes. Where do you go?
|
| VALET: |
To my uncle's place. He's the head valet here. He has
a room on the third floor. |
| GARCIN: |
I
should have guessed as much. Where's the light-switch?
|
| VALET:
|
There
isn't any. |
| GARCIN: |
What?
Can't one turn off the light? |
| VALET: |
Oh,
the management can cut off the current if they want to.
But I can't remember their having done so on this floor.
We have all the electricity we want. |
| GARCIN: |
So
one has to live with one's eyes open all the time? |
| VALET: |
To
live, did you say? |
| GARCIN:
|
Don't
let's quibble over words. With one's eyes open. Forever.
Always broad daylight in my eyes-- and in my head. And
suppose I took that contraption on the mantelpiece and
dropped it on the lamp-- wouldn't it go out? |
| VALET: |
You
can't move it. It's too heavy. |
| GARCIN: |
You're
right. It's too heavy. |
| VALET: |
Very well, sir, if you don't need me any more, I'll be
off. |
| GARCIN: |
What?
You're going? Wait. That's a bell, isn't it? And if I
ring, you're bound to come? |
| VALET: |
Well,
yes, that's so-- in a way. But you can never be sure about
that bell. There's something wrong with the wiring, and
it doesn't always work. |
| GARCIN: |
It's working all right. |
| VALET: |
So
it is. But I shouldn't count on it too much if I were
you. It's-- capricious. Well, I really must go now. Yes,
sir? |
| GARCIN:
|
No,
never mind. What's this? |
| VALET: |
Can't
you see? An ordinary paper-knife. |
| GARCIN: |
Are
there books here? |
| VALET: |
No.
|
| GARCIN: |
Then
what's the use of this? Very well. You can go. (Garcin
is by himself. He goes to the bronze ornament and strokes
it reflectively. He sits down; then gets up, goes to the
bell-push, and presses the button. The bell remains silent.
He tries two or three times, without success. Then he
tries to open the door, also without success. He calls
the VALET several times, but gets no result. He beats
the door with his fists, still calling. Suddenly he grows
calm and sits down again. At the same moment the door
opens and INEZ enters, followed by the VALET)
|
| VALET: |
Did
you call, sir? |
| GARCIN: |
(About
to answer "yes", but sees INEZ and says) No. |
| VALET: |
This
is your room, madam. If there's any information you require--?
Most of our guests have quite a lot to ask me. But I won't
insist. Anyhow, as regards the toothbrush, and the electric
bell, and that thing on the mantelshelf, this gentleman
can tell you anything you want to know as well as I could.
We've had a little chat, him and me. (Exits.) |
| INEZ: |
Where's
Florence? Didn't you hear? I asked you about Florence.
Where is she? |
| GARCIN: |
I
haven't an idea. |
| INEZ: |
Ah,
that's the way it works, is it? Torture by separation.
Well, as far as I'm concerned, you won't get anywhere.
Florence was a tiresome little fool, and I shan't miss
her in the least. |
| GARCIN: |
I
beg your pardon. Who do you suppose I am? |
| INEZ: |
You?
Why, the torturer, of course. |
| GARCIN: |
Well, that's a good one! Too comic for words. I the torturer!
So you came in, had a look at me, and thought I was--er--one
of the staff. Of course, it's that silly fellow's fault;
he should have introduced us. A torturer indeed! I'm Joseph
Garcin, journalist and man of letters by profession. And
as we're both in the same boat, so to speak, might I ask
you, Mrs.--? |
| INEZ: |
Not
"Mrs." I'm unmarried. |
| GARCIN: |
Right.
That's a start, anyway. Well, now that we've broken the
ice, do you really think I look like a torturer? And,
by the way, how does one recognize torturers when one
sees them? Evidently you've ideas on the subject. |
| INEZ: |
They
look frightened. |
| GARCIN: |
Frightened?
But how ridiculous! Of whom should they be frightened?
Of their victims? |
| INEZ: |
Laugh
away, but I know what I'm talking about. I've often watched
my face in the glass. |
| GARCIN: |
In
the glass? How beastly of them! They've removed everything
in the least resembling a glass. Anyhow, I can assure
you I'm not frightened. Not that I take my position lightly;
I realize its gravity only too well. But I'm not afraid.
|
| INEZ: |
That's
your affair. Must you be here all the time, or do you
take a stroll outside, now and then? |
| GARCIN: |
The
door's locked. |
| INEZ: |
Oh!..
That's too bad. |
| GARCIN: |
I can quite understand that it bores you having me here.
And I too--well, quite frankly, I'd rather be alone. I
want to think things out, you know; to set my life in
order, and one does that better by oneself. But I'm sure
we'll manage to pull along together somehow. I'm no talker,
I don't move much; in fact I'm a peaceful sort of fellow.
Only, if I may venture on a suggestion, we should make
a point of being extremely courteous to each other. That
will ease the situation for us both. |
| INEZ: |
I'm not polite. |
| GARCIN: |
Then
I must be polite for two. |
| INEZ: |
Your
mouth! |
| GARCIN: |
I
beg your pardon. |
| INEZ: |
Can't
you keep your mouth still? You keep twisting it about
all the time. It's grotesque. |
| GARCIN: |
So
sorry. I wasn't aware of it. |
| INEZ: |
That's
just what I reproach you with. Ther you are! You talk
about politeness, and you don't even try to control your
face. Remember you're not alone; you've no right to inflict
the sight of your fear on me. |
| GARCIN: |
How
about you? Aren't you afraid? |
| INEZ: |
What
would be the use? There was some point in being afraid
before, while one still had hope. |
| GARCIN: |
There's
no more hope--but it's still "before." We haven't yet
begun to suffer. |
| INEZ: |
That's
so. Well? What's going to happen? |
| GARCIN: |
I
don't know. I'm waiting. (Enter ESTELLE with the VALET.
She looks at GARCIN whose face is still hidden by his
hands.) |
| ESTELLE: |
No.
Don't look up. I know what you're hiding with your hands.
I know you've no face left. What! But I don't know you!
|
| GARCIN: |
I'm
not the torturer, madam. |
| ESTELLE: |
I never thought you were. I --I thought someone was trying
to play a rather nasty trick on me. Is anyone else coming?
|
| VALET: |
No, madam. No one else is coming. |
| ESTELLE: |
Oh!
Then we're to stay by ourselves, the three of us, this
gentleman, this lady and myself. (laughs.) |
| GARCIN: |
There's
nothing to laugh about. |
| ESTELLE: |
It's
those sofas. They're so hideous. ANd justlook how they've
been arranged. It makes me think of New Year's Day--when
I used to visit that boring old aunt of mine, Aunt Mary.
Her house is full of horror like that...I suppose each
of us has a sofa of his own. Is that one mine? But you
can't expect me to sit on that one. It would be too horrible
for words. I'm in pale blue and it's vivid green. |
| ESTELLE: |
It's
those sofas. They're so hideous. ANd justlook how they've
been arranged. It makes me think of New Year's Day--when
I used to visit that boring old aunt of mine, Aunt Mary.
Her house is full of horror like that...I suppose each
of us has a sofa of his own. Is that one mine? But you
can't expect me to sit on that one. It would be too horrible
for words. I'm in pale blue and it's vivid green. |
| INEZ: |
Would
you prefer mine? |
| ESTELLE: |
That
claret-colored one, you mean? That's very sweet of you,
but really- no, I don't hink it'd be so much better. What's
the good of worrying, anyhow? We've got to take what comes
to us, and I'll stick to the green one. The only one which
might do at a pinch, is that gentleman's. |
| INEZ: |
Did
you hear, Mr. Garcin? |
| GARCIN: |
Oh-- the sofa, you mean. So sorry. Please take it, madam.
|
| ESTELLE: |
Thanks.
Well, as we're to live together, I suppose we'd better
introduce ourselves. My name's Rigault. Estelle Rigault.
|
| INEZ: |
And
I'm Inez Serrano. Very pleased to meet you. |
| GARCIN: |
Joseph
Garcin. |
| VALET: |
Do
you require me any longer? |
| ESTELLE: |
No,
you can go. I'll ring when I want you. |
| INEZ: |
You're
very pretty. I wish we'd had some flowers to welcome you
with. |
| ESTELLE: |
Flowers?
Yes, I loved flowers. Only they'd fade so quickly here,
wouldn't they? It's so stuffy. Oh, well, the great thing
is to keep as cheerful as we can, don't you agree? Of
course, you, too, are-- |
| INEZ: |
Yes.
Last week. What about you? |
| ESTELLE: |
I'm--
quite recent. Yesterday. As a matter of fact, the ceremony's
not quite over. The wind's blowing my sister's veil all
over the place. She's trying her best to cry. Come, dear!
Make another effort. That's better. Two tears, two little
tears are twinkling under the black veil. Oh dar! What
a sight Olga looks this morning! She's holding my sister's
arm, helping her along. She's not crying, and I don't
blame her, tears always mess one's face up, don't they?
Olga was my bosom friend, you know. |
| INEZ: |
Did
you suffer much? |
| ESTELLE: |
No.
I was only half conscious, mostly. |
| INEZ: |
What
was it? |
| ESTELLE: |
Pneumonia. It's over now, they're leaving the cemetery.
Good-by. Good-by. Quite a crowd they are. My husband's
stayed at home. Prostrated with grief, poor man. How about
you? |
| INEZ: |
The
gas stove. |
| ESTELLE: |
And
you, Mr. Garcin? |
| GARCIA: |
Twelve
bullets through my chest. Sorry! I fear I'm not good company
among the dead. |
| ESTELLE: |
Please,
please don't use that word. It's so--so crude. In terribly
bad taste, really. It doesn't mean much, anyhow. Somehow
I feel we've never been so much alive as now. If we've
absolutely got to mention this--this state of things,
I suggest we call ourselves--wait!--absentees. Have you
been--been absent for long? |
| GARCIN: |
About
a month. |
| ESTELLE:
|
Where
do you come from? |
| GARCIN:
|
From
Rio. |
| ESTELLE: |
I'm from Paris. Have you anyone left down there? |
| GARCIN: |
Yes,
my wife. She's waiting at the entrance of the barracks.
She comes there every day. But they won't let her in.
Now she's trying to peep between the bars. She doesn't
yet know I'm-- absent, but she suspects it. Now she's
going away. She's wearing her black dress. So much the
better, she won't need to change. She isn't crying, but
she never did cry, anyhow. It's a bright, sunny day and
she's like a black shadow creeping down the empty street.
Those big tragic eyes of hers-- with that martyred look
they always had. Oh, how she got on my nerves! |
| INEZ: |
Estelle!
|
| ESTELLE: |
Please,
Mr. Garcin! |
| GARCIN: |
What
is it? |
| ESTELLE:
|
You're sitting on my sofa. |
| GARCIN: |
I beg your pardon. |
| ESTELLE: |
You
looked so--so far away. Sorry I disturbed you. |
| GARCIN: |
I was setting my life in order. You may laugh but you'd
do better to follow my example. |
| INEZ: |
No
need. My life's in perfect order. It tidied itself up
nicely of its own accord. So I needn't bother about it
now. |
| GARCIN: |
Really?
You imagine it's so simple as that. Whew! How hot it is
here! Do you mind if-- |
| ESTELLE: |
How
dare you! No, please don't. I loathe men in their shirt-sleeves.
|
| GARCIN: |
All right. Of course, I used to spend my nights in the
newspaper office, and it was a regular Black Hole, so
we never kept our coats on. Stiflingly hot it could be.
Stifling, that it is. It's night now. |
| ESTELLE: |
That's
so. Olga's undressing; it must be after midnight. How
quickly the time passes, on earth! |
| INEZ: |
Yes,
after midnight. They've sealed up my room. It's dark,
pitch-dark, and empty. |
| GARCIN: |
They've
strung their coats on the backs of the chairs and rolled
up their shirt-sleeves above the elbow. The air stinks
of men and cigar-smoke. I used to like living among men
in their shirt-sleeves. |
| ESTELLE: |
Well,
in that case our tastes differ. That's all it proves.
What about you? Do you like men in their shirt-sleeves?
|
| INEZ: |
Oh,
I don't care much for men any way. |
| ESTELLE: |
Really
I can't imagine why they put us three together. It doesn't
make sense. |
| INEZ: |
What's
that you said? |
| ESTELLE: |
I'm
looking at you two and thinking that we're going to live
together...It's so absurd. I expected to meet old friends,
or relatives. |
| INEZ: |
Yes,
a charming old friend-- with a hole in the middle of his
face. |
| ESTELLE: |
Yes,
him too. He danced the tango so divinely. Like a professional...But
why, why should we of all people be put together? |
| GARCIN: |
A
pure fluke, I should say. They lodge folks as they can,
in the order of their coming. Why are you laughing? |
| INEZ: |
Because
you amuse me with your "flukes."As if they left anything
to chance! But I suppose you've got to reassure yourself
somehow. |
| ESTELLE: |
I
wonder, now. Don't you think we may have met each other
at some time in our lives? |
| INEZ: |
Never.
I shouldn't have forgotten you. |
| ESTELLE: |
Or
perhaps we have friends in common. I wonder if you know
the Dubois-Seymours? |
| INEZ: |
Not likely. |
| ESTELLE: |
But everyone went to their parties. |
| INEZ: |
What's
their job? |
| ESTELLE: |
Oh,
they don't do anything. But they have a lovely house in
the country, and hosts of people visit them. |
| INEZ: |
I
didn't. I was a post-office clerk. |
| ESTELLE: |
Ah,
yes... Of course, in that case-- And you, Mr. Garcin?
|
| GARCIN: |
We've
never met. I always lived in Rio. |
| ESTELLE: |
Then
you must be right. It's mere chance that has brought us
together. |
| INEZ: |
Mere
chance? Then it's by chance this room is furnished as
we see it. It's an accident that the sofa on the right
is a livid green, and that one on the left's wine-red.
Mere chance? Well, just try to shift the sofas and you'll
see the difference quick enough. And that statue on the
mantelpiece, do you think it's there by accident? And
what about the heat here? How about that? I tell you they've
thought it all out. Down to the last detail. Nothing was
left to chance. This room was all set for us. |
| ESTELLE: |
But really! Everything here's so hideous; all in angles,
so uncomfortable. I always loathed angles. |
| INEZ: |
And
do you think I lived in a Second Empire drawing-room?
|
1
2 3
4
Ce
qu'on fait n'est jamais compris mais seulement loué ou blâmé.
Nietzsche, Gay Science |
|
|
|
|
|
