Federico García
Lorca
The House of Bernarda Alba
(La
casa de Bernarda Alba)
1936
A
drama of women in the villages of
Act I
A. S. Kline © 2007 All Rights Reserved
This work may be freely reproduced, stored, and transmitted, electronically or otherwise, for any non-commercial purpose. Permission to perform this version of the play, on stage or film, by amateur or professional companies, and for commercial purposes, should be requested from the translator,
Contents
Bernarda, aged sixty
María Josefa,
(Bernarda’s mother), aged eighty
Angustias,
(Bernarda’s daughter), aged thirty-nine
Amelia,
(Bernarda’s daughter), aged twenty-seven
Martirio,
(Bernarda’s daughter), aged twenty-four
Adela, (Bernarda’s daughter), aged
twenty
Servant, aged fifty
La Poncia (a servant), aged sixty
Prudencia, aged fifty
Beggar
woman with little girl
Women
mourners
Woman
1
Woman
2
Woman
3
Woman
4
Young
girl
The
poet declares that these three acts are intended as a photographic record.
(The bright white interior of
Bernarda’s house. Thick walls. Arched doorways with
canvas curtains edged with tassels and ruffles. Rush chairs. Paintings
of non-realistic landscapes with nymphs and legendary kings. It is
summer. A vast shadowy silence fills the scene. When the curtain rises the
stage is empty. The tolling of bells is heard. The Servant enters.)
SERVANT: I can feel the tolling of those bells right
between my temples.
LA PONCIA: (She
enters eating bread and sausage) They’ve been
making that row for more than two hours now. There are priests here from all
the villages. The church looks lovely. During the first response
SERVANT: She’s the one who’ll be most bereft.
LA PONCIA: She was the only one who loved her father.
Ay! Thank God we’re alone for a while! I was hungry.
SERVANT: If Bernarda could see you…!
LA PONCIA: Now she’s not eating, she wants us all to die
of hunger! So strict! So domineering! But hard luck! I’ve opened the sausage
jar.
SERVANT: (Sadly,
with longing) Poncia, won’t you give me some for
my little girl?
LA PONCIA: Go on, and take a handful of chick-peas too. She
won’t notice it, today!
VOICE: (From
within) Bernarda!
LA PONCIA: The old woman. Is she locked in?
SERVANT: Two turns of the key.
LA PONCIA: You should use the bolt too. She’s got
fingers like picklocks.
VOICE: Bernarda!
LA PONCIA: (Shouting)
She’s coming! (To
the Servant) Make sure the whole place is clean. If Bernarda doesn’t find
everything gleaming she’ll pull out the little hair I have left.
SERVANT: What a woman!
LA PONCIA: Tyrant of all she surveys. She could squat on
your chest for a year and watch you die slowly without wiping that cold smile
from her cursed face! Clean those pots: go
on!
SERVANT: My hands are red raw from endless cleaning.
LA PONCIA: She’s the cleanest; she’s the most decent;
she’s the loftiest of beings. Her poor husband deserves a good rest.
(The bells cease ringing.)
SERVANT: Are all the relatives here?
LA PONCIA: On her side. His family detests her. They
came to make sure he was dead, and make the sign of the cross.
SERVANT: Are there enough chairs?
LA PONCIA: Plenty. Let them sit on the floor. Since
Bernarda’s father died no one has set foot inside these walls. She doesn’t want
them to see her in her stronghold! Curse her!
SERVANT: She’s always been good to you.
LA PONCIA: For thirty years I’ve laundered her sheets;
for thirty years I’ve eaten her leftovers; spent nights awake when she had a
cough; whole days peering through the cracks to spy on the neighbours and bring
her the news; there are no secrets between us, and yet I curse her! May needles
prick out her eyes!
SERVANT: Woman!
LA PONCIA: But I’m a good bitch and bark when I’m told,
and bite the heels of the beggars when she whips me on; my sons work her fields
and they’re both married too, but one day I’ll have had enough.
SERVANT: And then…
LA PONCIA: Then I’ll lock myself in a room with her, and
spit on for her a year. ‘Bernarda, here’s for this, and that, and the other,’
until she looks like a lizard the children squashed, because that’s what she
is, and all her family. But I don’t envy her life, that’s for sure. She’s five
women on her hands, five ugly daughters. Except for Angustias, the eldest,
who’s the first husband’s daughter and has some money, the rest of them have
lots of fine lace, and linen camisoles, but their only inheritance is bread and
water.
SERVANT: I wouldn’t mind having what they have!
LA PONCIA: We have our hands, and we’ll have a hole in
God’s earth.
SERVANT: That’s the only earth they’ll give us, who
have nothing.
LA PONCIA: (By the
cupboard) This glass has marks on it.
SERVANT: They won’t come off even with soap and water.
(The bells sound.)
LA PONCIA: The final prayers. I’m off to hear them. I
love the priest’s singing. In the paternoster his voice rose up, and up, and up
like a pitcher slowly filling with water. Of course at the end he gave a
screech, but it was a glory to hear him! There’s no one these days to match the
old sexton, Tronchapinos. He sang at the Mass for my
mother, who is in glory. The walls would shake, and when he said Amen it was if
a wolf was in church. (Imitating him)
Ameeeen! (She
begins coughing)
SERVANT: You’ll strain your windpipe.
LA PONCIA: I may have strained something else! (She goes out laughing)
(The servant goes on cleaning. The
bells ring)
SERVANT: (Picking
up the sound) Ding, ding, dong. Ding, ding, dong.
May God grant him forgiveness!
BEGGARWOMAN: (With
her little girl) Praise be to God!
SERVANT: Ding, ding. dong.
May he wait long years for us. Ding, ding, dong.
BEGGARWOMAN: (Loudly
with annoyance) Praise be to God!
SERVANT: (Annoyed)
Forever!
BEGGARWOMAN: I’ve come for the leavings.
(The bells cease ringing.)
SERVANT: The street’s that way.
Today’s leavings are for me.
BEGGARWOMAN: You’ve someone to feed you, woman. My child
and I are on our own!
SERVANT: The dogs are on their own
too, but they survive.
BEGGARWOMAN: They always give me the scraps.
SERVANT: Get out of here. Who said you could enter?
You’ve left dirty footmarks already. (The
woman leaves. The Servant goes on cleaning.) Polished floors, cupboards,
pedestals, iron bed-frames, while those of us who live in a mud hut with only a
plate and a spoon have a bitter pill to swallow. I pray for the day when
there’s none of us left to tell the tale! (The
bells ring out again) Yes, yes, go on ringing! Bring on the box with its
gold trimmings and the silk straps to lift it by! We’ll both end up the same! Rot
then, Antonio María Benavides, stiff in your wool
suit and your tall boots. Rot! You’ll not be lifting my skirts again behind the
stable door!
(At the back of the stage the
Women Mourners enter in pairs. They wear voluminous black skirts and shawls and
carry black fans. They enter slowly until they have filled the stage.)
SERVANT: (Beginning
to wail) Ay, Antonio María Benavides, never will
you see these walls again or eat bread in this house! I was the one of all your
servants who loved you most. (Pulling at
her hair) Must I live on when you are gone? Must I live on?
(The crowd of women have now
entered, and Bernarda appears with her five daughters.)
BERNARDA: (To the
Servant) Be silent!
SERVANT: (Weeping)
Bernarda!
BERNARDA: Less wailing and more work. You should have
made sure this house was clean for the mourners. Go. This isn’t your place. (The Servant exits sobbing.)
The poor are like animals. It’s as if they’re made of some other substance.
FIRST WOMAN: The poor have their sorrows too.
BERNARDA: But they forget them faced with a plate of
chickpeas.
YOUNG GIRL: (Timidly)
You have to eat to live.
BERNARDA: At your age you shouldn’t speak in front of
your elders.
FIRST WOMAN: Hush, child.
BERNARDA: I never let anyone lecture me. Be seated. (They sit. Pause.) (Firmly)
SECOND WOMAN: (To
Bernarda) Have you started harvesting?
BERNARDA: Yesterday.
THIRD WOMAN: The sun feels as heavy as lead.
FIRST WOMAN: I’ve not known heat like this for years!
(Pause. They
fan themselves.)
BERNARDA: Is the lemonade ready?
LA PONCIA: (Entering
with a large tray, full of small white jars which she hands around.) Yes, Bernarda.
BERNARDA: Give some to the men.
LA PONCIA: They’ve already have theirs in the yard.
BERNARDA: Let them leave the way they entered. I don’t
want them coming through here.
YOUNG GIRL: (To
Angustias) Pepe el Romano was with the mourners.
ANGUSTIAS: He was there.
BERNARDA: It was his mother. She saw his mother. No one
saw Pepe, neither she nor I.
YOUNG GIRL: I thought…
BERNARDA: The widower from Darajali
was there. By your aunt. We all saw him.
SECOND WOMAN: (Aside,
in a low voice) Evil, worse than evil!
THIRD WOMAN: (To the
Servant) A tongue like a knife!
BERNARDA: Women shouldn’t look at any man in church
except the priest, and only because he wears a skirt. Gazing
around is for those seeking the warmth of a pair of trousers.
FIRST WOMAN: (In a
low voice) Dried up old lizard!
LA PONCIA: (Muttering)
A crooked vine to be looking for a man’s heat!
BERNARDA: (Striking
the floor with her stick) Praise be to God!
ALL: (Crossing
themselves) May He be blessed and praised forever!
BERNARDA: Rest
in peace, with the host
of saints above your head!
ALL: Rest
in peace!
BERNARDA: With
St Michael the
armed with his sword of justice.
ALL: Rest
in peace!
BERNARDA: With
the key that opens all gates
and the hand that closes them.
ALL: Rest
in peace!
BERNARDA: With all
those who are blessed
and the little lights of the field.
ALL: Rest
in peace!
BERNARDA: With
holy charity
and the souls of earth and sea.
ALL: Rest
in peace!
BERNARDA: Grant rest to your servant Antonio María Benavides, and the crown of your sacred glory.
ALL: Amen.
BERNARDA: (Rises
and chants) ‘Requiem aeternam dona
eis, Domine’.
ALL: (Rising
and chanting in Gregorian mode) ‘Et lux perpetua luceat eis’. (They cross
themselves.)
FIRST WOMAN: May you have health to pray for his soul.
(They begin to file out.)
THIRD WOMAN: You shall never want for a loaf of warm
bread.
SECOND WOMAN: Nor a roof over your daughters’ heads.
(They file out past Bernarda.
Angustias exits through the door leading to the courtyard.)
FOURTH WOMAN: May you enjoy the true harvest of your
marriage.
LA PONCIA: (Entering
with a bag) This money is from the men, for
prayers.
YOUNG GIRL: (To
BERNARDA: (To
LA PONCIA: You’ve no room for complaint. The whole
village was there.
BERNARDA: Yes, to fill my house with the sweat from
their clothing and the venom of their tongues.
AMELIA: Mother, don’t speak like that!
BERNARDA: It’s the only way to speak when you live in a
cursed village without a river, without wells, where one drinks the water
fearing always that it’s poisoned.
LA PONCIA: Look what they’ve done to the floor!
BERNARDA: As if a flock of goats had trampled over
it. (La
Poncia scrubs at the floor.) Child, pass me a
fan.
AAMELIA: Take this one. (She hands her a circular fan decorated with flowers in red and green.)
BERNARDA: (Throwing
the fan on the ground) Is this the fan to hand to
a widow? Give me a black one, and learn to respect your father’s memory.
MARTIRIO: Take mine.
BERNARDA: And you?
MARTIRIO: I don’t feel hot.
BERNARDA: Find another one, you’ll need it. Through the
eight years of mourning not a breeze shall enter this house. Consider the doors
and windows as sealed with bricks. That’s how it was in my father’s house and
my grandfather’s. Meanwhile, you can embroider your trousseaux. In the chest
I’ve twenty pieces of cloth from which you can cut sheets and covers.
ADELA: (Sourly)
If you don’t want to embroider them, leave them plain.
Yours will look better that way.
BERNARDA: That’s what it is to be a woman.
BERNARDA: Here, you do what I say. You can’t go telling
tales to your father. A needle and thread for women. A whip
and a mule for men. That’s how it is for people born without wealth.
(Adela exits)
A VOICE: Bernarda! Let me out!
BERNARDA: (In a
loud voice.) Let her out, now!
(The servant enters.)
SERVANT: It was an effort to hold her down. She may be
eighty years old but your mother is tough as an oak tree.
BERNARDA: It runs in the family. My grandmother was the
same.
SERVANT: While the mourners were here I had to gag her
several times with an empty sack because she wanted to shout for you to bring
her a drink of dishwater, and the dog meat she says you give her.
MARTIRIO: She’s a troublemaker!
BERNARDA: (To the
Servant) She can let off steam in the yard.
SERVANT: She’s taken the rings and amethyst earrings
from her box, and put them on, and she tells me she wants to get married.
(The daughters laugh.)
BERNARDA: Go with her and take care she doesn’t go near
the well.
SERVANT: I doubt she’ll throw herself in.
BERNARDA: No, not that…but if she’s there the
neighbours can see her from their windows.
(The
Servant exits)
MARTIRIO: We’ll go and change our clothes.
BERNARDA: Very well, but keep your headscarves on. (Adela enters.) And where’s Angustias?
ADELA: (Pointedly)
I saw her peeping through a crack in the gate. The men have just left.
BERNARDA: And why were you at the gate, yourself?
ADELA: I went to see if the hens had laid.
BERNARDA: But the male mourners should already have
left!
ADELA: (Deliberately)
There was a group of them still standing outside.
BERNARDA: (Angrily)
Angustias! Angustias!
ANGUSTIAS: (Entering)
What is it?
BERNARDA: What were you gazing at, and whom?
ANGUSTIAS: No one.
BERNARDA: Is it proper for a woman of your class to be
trying to attract a man on the day of your father’s funeral? Answer me! Who
were you gazing at?
(Pause)
ANGUSTIAS: I…
BERNARDA: You!
ANGUSTIAS: No one!
BERNARDA: (Advancing
with her stick) Spineless, sickly creature! (She hits her.)
LA PONCIA: (Rushing
over) Bernarda, be calm! (She holds
her: Angustia weeps.)
BERNARDA: All of you, leave! (They exit)
LA PONCIA: She did it without thinking what she was
doing, and that is was wrong of course. I was shocked to see her sneaking
towards the courtyard! Then she stood by the window listening to the men’s
conversation, which as always was not fit to hear.
BERNARDA: That’s what they come to funerals for! (With curiosity) What were they saying?
SERVANT: They were talking about Paca
la Roseta. Last night they tied her husband to the
manger, and carried her off on horseback to the heights of the olive grove.
BERNARDA: And she…?
LA PONCIA: She was willing enough. They said she went
with her breasts exposed and Maximiliano held her
tight as if he were gripping a guitar. Disgraceful!
BERNARDA: And what happened?
LA PONCIA: What was bound to happen.
They came back at daybreak. Paca la Roseta had her hair down, and a
garland of flowers on her head.
BERNARDA: She’s the only loose woman in the village.
LA PONCIA: Because she’s not from here. She’s from far
off. And those who went with her are sons of foreigners too. Men from here
aren’t up to such things.
BERNARDA: No, but they like to look on, and gossip, and
smack their lips over what occurred.
LA PONCIA: They said other things too.
BERNARDA: (Looking
round with some apprehension.) What sort of things?
LA PONCIA: I’m ashamed to mention them.
BERNARDA: And my daughter heard them.
LA PONCIA: She must have done?
BERNARDA: She takes after her aunts; white and sickly
and making sheep’s eyes at any old flatterer’s compliments. How we have to
suffer and struggle to make sure people act decently and don’t slide downhill!
LA PONCIA: Your daughters are of an age to receive
compliments! They scarcely oppose you. Angustias must be over thirty by now.
BERNARDA: Thirty nine to be exact.
LA PONCIA: Imagine. And she’s never had a suitor…
BERNARDA: (Angrily)
No, none of them has, and they don’t need them! They’re fine as they are.
LA PONCIA: I didn’t mean to offend you.
BERNARDA: There’s no one who can compare to them for
miles around. The men here are not of their class. Would you have me give them up
to any beggar who asks?
LA PONCIA: You should have moved
to some other village.
BERNARDA: Indeed, to sell them off!
LA PONCIA: No, Bernarda, for a change…Of course anywhere
else they’d be poor!
BERNARDA: Hold your spiteful tongue!
LA PONCIA: There’s no talking to you. Are we not
friends?
BERNARDA: No, we’re not. You serve me, and I pay you.
Nothing more!
SERVANT: (Entering)
Don Arturo is here, he’s come to discuss the will.
BERNARDA: I’m coming. (To the Servant) Start whitewashing the courtyard. (To Poncia) And
you: go and put all the dead one’s clothes in the big chest.
LA PONCIA: We could give some of the things….
BERNARDA: Nothing. Not a button! Not even the
handkerchief we covered his face with! (She
goes out slowly, leaning on her stick and looks back at her servants as she
goes. The servants leave. Amelia and Martirio enter.)
AMELIA: Have you taken your medicine?
MARTIRIO: For all the good it will do!
AMELIA: But you’ve taken it.
MARTIRIO: I do things without any faith in them, like a
piece of clockwork.
AMELIA: You seem better since the new doctor arrived.
MARTIRIO: I feel the same.
AMELIA: Did you notice? Adelaida
wasn’t there at the funeral.
MARTIRIO: I knew she wouldn’t be. Her fiancé won’t let
her walk in the streets. She used to be happy: now she doesn’t even powder her
face.
AMELIA: I no longer know if it’s better to have a
fiancé or not.
MARTIRIO: It makes no difference.
AMELIA: It’s all the gossip that’s to blame, they
won’t let you live. Adelaida must have had a bad time
of it.
MARTIRIO: They’re afraid of mother. She’s the only one
who knows the truth about Adelaida’s father and how
he got his land. Whenever she comes here, mother sticks the knife in. Her
father killed his first wife’s husband, in
AMELIA: And why is the wretch not in jail?
MARTIRIO: Because men cover up things of that nature
among themselves, and no one’s willing to speak out.
AMELIA: But Adelaida’s not
to blame for all that.
MARTIRIO: No, but tales are repeated. And to me it all
seems one dreadful repetition. Her fate is the same as her mother’s and her
grandmother’s, both wives of the man who engendered her.
AMELIA: What a terrible thing!
MARTIRIO: It’s preferable never to see a man. Since
childhood they make me afraid. I’d see them in the yard yoking the oxen and
lifting the sacks of wheat, shouting and stamping, and I was always afraid of
growing older and suddenly finding myself in their arms. God has made me feeble
and ugly and has always kept them away from me.
AMELIA: Don’t say such things! Enrique Humanes was after you and he liked you.
MARTIRIO: People invent things! Once I stood by the
window in my nightgown till dawn, because his farmhand’s daughter told me he
was going to stop by, but he never came. It was all talk. Then he married
another girl with more money than I.
AMELIA: And she, as ugly as the devil!
MARTIRIO: What does beauty mater to them? What matters are
land, oxen, and a submissive bitch to fetch them their food.
AMELIA: Ay!
(
MARTIRIO: Standing here.
AMELIA: And you?
MARTIRIO: God only knows what used to go on!
AMELIA: (To
AMELIA: You’ll step on it and fall!
MARTIRIO: Where’s Adela?
AMELIA: If mother had seen her!