ROSMERSHOLM (1886)
Reading edition
2
CHARACTERS.
Johannes Rosmer, of Rosmersholm, formerly clergyman of the parish.
Rebecca West, in charge of Rosmer’s household.
Rector[8] Kroll, Rosmer’s brother-in-law.
Ulric Brendel.
Peter Mortensgård.[9]
Madam Helseth, housekeeper at Rosmersholm.
The action takes place at Rosmersholm, an old family seat near a small coast town in the west of Norway.
3ROSMERSHOLM.
PLAY IN FOUR ACTS.
ACT FIRST.
Sitting-room at Rosmersholm; spacious, old-fashioned, and comfortable. In front, on the right, a stove decked with fresh birch-branches and wild flowers. Farther back, on the same side, a door. In the back wall, folding-doors opening into the hall. To the left, a window, and before it a stand with flowers and plants. Beside the stove a table with a sofa and easy chairs. On the walls, old and more recent portraits of clergymen, officers, and government officials in uniform. The window is open; so are the door into the hall and the house door beyond. Outside can be seen an avenue of fine old trees, leading up to the house. It is a summer evening, after sunset.
Rebecca West is sitting in an easy-chair by the window, and crocheting a large white woollen shawl, which is nearly finished. She now and then looks out expectantly through the leaves of the plants. Madam Helseth presently enters from the right.
Madam Helseth.
I suppose I had better begin to lay the table, Miss?
4Rebecca West.
Yes, please do. The Pastor must soon be in now.
Madam Helseth.
Don’t you feel the draught, Miss, where you’re sitting?
Rebecca.
Yes, there is a little draught. Perhaps you had better shut the window.
[Madam Helseth shuts the door into the hall, and then comes to the window.
Madam Helseth.
[About to shut the window, looks out.] Why, isn’t that the Pastor over there?
Rebecca.
[Hastily.] Where? [Rises.] Yes, it is he. [Behind the curtain.] Stand aside—don’t let him see us.
Madam Helseth.
[Keeping back from the window.] Only think, Miss—he’s beginning to take the path by the mill again.
Rebecca.
He went that way the day before yesterday too. [Peeps out between the curtains and the window-frame.] But let us see whether——
Madam HelsethHelseth.
Will he venture across the foot-bridge?
Rebecca.
That is what I want to see. [After a pause.] No, he is turning. He is going by the upper road again. [Leaves the window.] A long way round.
5Madam Helseth.
Dear Lord, yes. No wonder the Pastor thinks twice about setting foot on that bridge. A place where a thing like that has happened——
Rebecca.
[Folding up her work.] They cling to their dead here at Rosmersholm.
Madam Helseth.
Now I would say, Miss, that it’s the dead that clings to Rosmersholm.
Rebecca.
[Looks at her.] The dead?
Madam Helseth.
Yes, it’s almost as if they couldn’t tear themselves away from the folk that are left.
Rebecca.
What makes you fancy that?
Madam Helseth.
Well, if it wasn’t for that, there would be no White Horse, I suppose.
Rebecca.
Now what is all this about the White Horse, Madam Helseth?
Madam Helseth.
Oh, I don’t like to talk about it. And, besides, you don’t believe in such things.
Rebecca.
Do you believe in it, then?
6Madam Helseth.
[Goes and shuts the window.] Oh, you’d only be for laughing at me, Miss. [Looks out.] Why, isn’t that Mr. Rosmer on the mill-path again——?
Rebecca.
[Looks out.] That man there? [Goes to the window.] No, that’s the Rector!
Madam Helseth.
Yes, so it is.
Rebecca.
This is delightful. You may be sure he’s coming here.
Madam Helseth.
He goes straight over the foot-bridge, he does. And yet she was his sister, his own flesh and blood. Well, I’ll go and lay the table then, Miss West.
[She goes out to the right. Rebecca stands at the window for a short time; then smiles and nods to some one outside. It begins to grow dark.
Rebecca.
[Goes to the door on the right.] Oh, Madam Helseth, you might let us have some little extra dish for supper. You know what the Rector likes best.
Madam Helseth.
[Outside.] Oh yes, Miss, I’ll see to it.
Rebecca.
[Opens the door to the hall.] At last—! How glad I am to see you, my dear Rector.
7Rector Kroll.
[In the hall, laying down his stick.] Thanks. Then I am not disturbing you?
Rebecca.
You? How can you ask?
Kroll.
[Comes in.] Amiable as ever. [Looks round.] Is Rosmer upstairs in his room?
Rebecca.
No, he is out walking. He has stayed out rather longer than usual; but he is sure to be in directly. [Motioning him to sit on the sofa.] Won’t you sit down till he comes?
Kroll.
[Laying down his hat.] Many thanks. [Sits down and looks about him.] Why, how you have brightened up the old room! Flowers everywhere!
Rebecca.
Mr. Rosmer is so fond of having fresh, growing flowers about him.
Kroll.
And you are too, are you not?
Rebecca.
Yes; they have a delightfully soothing effect on me. We had to do without them though, till lately.
Kroll.
[Nods sadly.] Yes, their scent was too much for poor Beata.
8Rebecca.
Their colours, too. They quite bewildered her——
Kroll.
I remember, I remember. [In a lighter tone.] Well, how are things going out here?
Rebecca.
Oh, everything is going its quiet, jog-trot way. One day is just like another.—And with you? Your wife——?
Kroll.
Ah, my dear Miss West, don’t let us talk about my affairs. There is always something or other amiss in a family; especially in times like these.
Rebecca.
[After a pause, sitting down in an easy-chair beside the sofa.] How is it you haven’t once been near us during the whole of the holidays?
Kroll.
Oh, it doesn’t do to make oneself a nuisance——
Rebecca.
If you knew how we have missed you——
Kroll.
And then I have been away——
Rebecca.
Yes, for the last week or two. We have heard of you at political meetings.
Kroll.
[Nods.] Yes, what do you say to that? Did you 9think I would turn political agitator in my old age, eh?
Rebecca.
[Smiling.] Well, you have always been a bit of an agitator, Rector Kroll.
Kroll.
Why yes, just for my private amusement. But henceforth it is to be no laughing matter, I can tell you.—Do you ever see those radical newspapers?
Rebecca.
Well yes, my dear Rector, I can’t deny that——
Kroll.
My dear Miss West, I have nothing to say against it—nothing in your case.
Rebecca.
No, surely not. One likes to know what’s going on—to keep up with the time——
Kroll.
And of course I should not think of expecting you, as a woman, to side actively with either party in the civil contest—I might almost say the civil war—that is raging among us.—But you have seen then, I suppose, how these gentlemen of “the people” have been pleased to treat me? What infamous abuse they have had the audacity to heap on me?
Rebecca.
Yes; but it seems to me you gave as good as you got.
Kroll.
So I did, though I say it that shouldn’t. For 10now I have tasted blood; and they shall soon find to their cost that I am not the man to turn the other cheek——[Breaks off.] But come come—don’t let us get upon that subject this evening—it’s too painful and irritating.
Rebecca.
Oh no, don’t let us talk of it.
Kroll.
Tell me now—how do you get on at Rosmersholm, now that you are alone. Since our poor Beata——
Rebecca.
Thank you, I get on very well. Of course one feels a great blank in many ways—a great sorrow and longing. But otherwise——
Kroll.
And do you think of remaining here?—permanently, I mean.
Rebecca.
My dear Rector, I really haven’t thought about it, one way or the other. I have got so used to the place now, that I feel almost as if I belonged to it.
Kroll.
Why, of course you belong to it.
Rebecca.
And so long as Mr. Rosmer finds that I am of any use or comfort to him—why, so long, I suppose, I shall stay here.
Kroll.
[Looks at her with emotion.] Do you know,—it is 11really fine for a woman to sacrifice her whole youth to others as you have done.
Rebecca.
Oh, what else should I have had to live for?
Kroll.
First, there was your untiring devotion to your paralytic and exacting foster-father——
Rebecca.
You mustn’t suppose that Dr. West was such a charge when we were up in Finmark. It was those terrible boat-voyages up there that broke him down. But after we came here—well yes, the two years before he found rest were certainly hard enough.
Kroll.
And the years that followed—were they not even harder for you?
Rebecca.
Oh how can you say such a thing? When I was so fond of Beata—and when she, poor dear, stood so sadly in need of care and forbearance.
Kroll.
How good it is of you to think of her with so much kindness!
Rebecca.
[Moves a little nearer.] My dear Rector, you say that with such a ring of sincerity that I cannot think there is any ill-feeling lurking in the background.
Kroll.
Ill-feeling? Why, what do you mean?
12Rebecca.
Well, it would be only natural if you felt it painful to see a stranger managing the household here at Rosmersholm.
Kroll.
Why, how on earth——!
Rebecca.
But you have no such feeling? [Takes his hand.] Thanks, my dear Rector; thank you again and again.
Kroll.
How on earth did you get such an idea into your head?
Rebecca.
I began to be a little afraid when your visits became so rare.
Kroll.
Then you have been on a totally wrong scent, Miss West. Besides—after all, there has been no essential change. Even while poor Beata was alive—in her last unhappy days—it was you, and you alone, that managed everything.
Rebecca.
That was only a sort of regency in Beata’s name.
Kroll.
Be that as it may——. Do you know, Miss West—for my part, I should have no objection whatever if you——. But I suppose I mustn’t say such a thing.
Rebecca.
What must you not say?
13Kroll.
If matters were to shape so that you took the empty place——
Rebecca.
I have the only place I want, Rector.
Kroll.
In fact, yes; but not in——
Rebecca.
[Interrupting gravely.] For shame, Rector Kroll. How can you joke about such things?
Kroll.
Oh well, our good Johannes Rosmer very likely thinks he has had more than enough of married life already. But nevertheless——
Rebecca.
You are really too absurd, Rector.
Kroll.
Nevertheless——. Tell me, Miss West—if you will forgive the question—what is your age?
Rebecca.
I’m sorry to say I am over nine-and-twenty, Rector; I am in my thirtieth year.
Kroll.
Indeed. And Rosmer—how old is he? Let me see: he is five years younger than I am, so that makes him well over forty-three.forty-three. I think it would be most suitable.
14Rebecca.
[Rises.] Of course, of course; most suitable.—Will you stay to supper this evening?
Kroll.
Yes, many thanks; I thought of staying. There is a matter I want to discuss with our good friend.—And I suppose, Miss West, in case you should take fancies into your head again, I had better come out pretty often for the future—as I used to in the old days.
Rebecca.
Oh yes, do—do. [Shakes both his hands.] Many thanks—how kind and good you are!
Kroll.
[Gruffly.] Am I? Well, that’s not what they tell me at home.
Johannes Rosmer enters by the door on the right.
Rebecca.
Mr. Rosmer, do you see who is here?
Johannes Rosmer.
Madam Helseth told me.
[Rector Kroll has risen.
Rosmer.
[Gently and softly, pressing his hands.] Welcome back to this house, my dear Kroll. [Lays his hands on Kroll’s shoulders and looks into his eyes.] My dear old friend! I knew that sooner or later things would come all right between us.
Kroll.
Why, my dear fellow—do you mean to say you 15too have been so foolish as to fancy there was anything wrong?
Rebecca.
[To Rosmer.] Yes, only think,—it was nothing but fancy after all!
Rosmer.
Is that really the case, Kroll? Then why did you desert us so entirely?
Kroll.
[Gravely, in a low voice.] Because my presence would always have been reminding you of the years of your unhappiness, and of—the life that ended in the mill-race.
Rosmer.
Well, it was a kind thought—you were always considerate. But it was quite unnecessary to remain away on that account.—Come, sit here on the sofa. [They sit down.] No, I assure you, the thought of Beata has no pain for me. We speak of her every day. We feel almost as if she were still one of the household.
Kroll.
Do you really?
Rebecca.
[Lighting the lamp.] Yes, indeed we do.
Rosmer.
It is quite natural. We were both so deeply attached to her. And both Rebec—both Miss West and I know that we did all that was possible for her in her affliction. We have nothing to reproach ourselves with.—So I feel nothing but a tranquil tenderness now at the thought of Beata.
16Kroll.
You dear, good people! Henceforward, I declare I shall come out and see you every day.
Rebecca.
[Seats herself in an arm chair.] Mind, we shall expect you to keep your word.
Rosmer.
[With some hesitation.] My dear Kroll—I wish very much that our intercourse had never been interrupted. Ever since we have known each other, you have seemed predestined to be my adviser—ever since I went to the University.
Kroll.
Yes, and I have always been proud of the office. But is there anything particular just now——?
Rosmer.
There are many things that I would give a great deal to talk over with you, quite frankly—straight from the heart.
Rebecca.
Ah yes, Mr. Rosmer—that must be such a comfort—between old friends——
Kroll.
Oh I can tell you I have still more to talk to you about. I suppose you know I have turned a militant politician?
Rosmer.
Yes, so you have. How did that come about?
Kroll.
I was forced into it in spite of myself. It is 17impossible to stand idly looking on any longer. Now that the Radicals have unhappily come into power, it is high time something should be done,—so I have got our little group of friends in the town to close up their ranks. I tell you it is high time!
Rebecca.
[With a faint smile.] Don’t you think it may even be a little late?
Kroll.
Unquestionably it would have been better if we had checked the stream at an earlier point in its course. But who could foresee what was going to happen? Certainly not I. [Rises and walks up and down.] But now I have had my eyes opened once for all; for now the spirit of revolt has crept into the school itself.
Rosmer.
Into the school? Surely not into your school?
Kroll.
I tell you it has—into my own school. What do you think? It has come to my knowledge that the sixth-form boys—a number of them at any rate—have been keeping up a secret society for over six months; and they take in Mortensgård’s paper!
Rebecca.
The “Beacon”?
Kroll.
Yes; nice mental sustenance for future government officials, is it not? But the worst of it is that it’s all the cleverest boys in the form that have banded together in this conspiracy against 18me. Only the dunces at the bottom of the class have kept out of it.
Rebecca.
Do you take this so very much to heart, Rector?
Kroll.
Do I take it to heart! To be so thwarted and opposed in the work of my whole life! [Lower.] But I could almost say I don’t care about the school—for there is worse behind. [Looks round.] I suppose no one can hear us?
Rebecca.
Oh no, of course not.
Kroll.
Well then, I must tell you that dissension and revolt have crept into my own house—into my own quiet home. They have destroyed the peace of my family life.
Rosmer.
[Rises.] What! Into your own house——?
Rebecca.
[Goes over to the Rector.] My dear Rector, what has happened?
Kroll.
Would you believe that my own children——In short, it is Laurits that is the ringleader of the school conspiracy; and Hilda has embroidered a red portfolio to keep the “Beacon” in.
Rosmer.
I should certainly never have dreamt that, in your own house——
19Kroll.
No, who would have dreamt of such a thing? In my house, the very home of obedience and order—where one will, and one only, has always prevailed——
Rebecca.
How does your wife take all this?
Kroll.
Why, that is the most incredible part of it. My wife, who all her life long has shared my opinions and concurred in my views, both in great things and small—she is actually inclined to side with the children on many points. And she blames me for what has happened. She says I tyrannise over the children. As if it weren’t necessary to——. Well, you see how my house is divided against itself. But of course I say as little about it as possible. Such things are best kept quiet. [Wanders up the room.] Ah, well, well, well.
[Stands at the window with his hands behind his back, and looks out.
Rebecca.
[Comes up close to Rosmer, and says rapidly and in a low voice, so that the Rector does not hear her.] Do it now!
Rosmer.
[Also in a low voice.] Not this evening.
Rebecca.
[As before.] Yes, just this evening.
[Goes to the table and busies herself with the lamp.
20Kroll.
[Comes forward.] Well, my dear Rosmer, now you know how the spirit of the age has overshadowed both my domestic and my official life. And am I to refrain from combating this pernicious, subversive, anarchic spirit, with any weapon I can lay my hands on? Fight it I will, trust me for that; both with tongue and pen.
Rosmer.
Have you any hope of stemming the tide in that way?
Kroll.
At any rate I shall have done my duty as a citizen in defence of the State. And I hold it the duty of every right-minded man with an atom of patriotism to do likewise. In fact—that was my principal reason for coming out here this evening.
Rosmer.
Why, my dear Kroll, what do you mean——? What can I——?
Kroll.
You can stand by your old friends. Do as we do. Lend a hand, with all your might.
Rebecca.
But, Rector Kroll, you know Mr. Rosmer’s distaste for public life.
Kroll.
He must get over his distaste.—You don’t keep abreast of things, Rosmer. You bury yourself alive here, with your historical collections. Far be it from me to speak disrespectfully of family 21trees and so forth; but, unfortunately, this is no time for hobbies of that sort. You cannot imagine the state things are in, all over the country. There is hardly a single accepted idea that hasn’t been turned topsy-turvy. It will be a gigantic task to get all the errors rooted out again.
Rosmer.
I have no doubt of it. But I am the last man to undertake such a task.
Rebecca.
And besides, I think Mr. Rosmer has come to take a wider view of life than he used to.
Kroll.
[With surprise.] Wider?
Rebecca.
Yes; or freer, if you like—less one-sided.
Kroll.
What is the meaning of this? Rosmer—surely you are not so weak as to be influenced by the accident that the leaders of the mob have won a temporary advantage?
Rosmer.
My dear Kroll, you know how little I understand of politics. But I confess it seems to me that within the last few years people are beginning to show greater independence of thought.
Kroll.
Indeed! And you take it for granted that that must be an improvement! But in any case you are 22quite mistaken, my friend. Just inquire a little into the opinions that are current among the Radicals, both out here and in the town. They are neither more nor less than the wisdom that’s retailed in the “Beacon.”
Rebecca.
Yes; Mortensgård has great influence over many people hereabouts.
Kroll.
Yes, just think of it! A man of his foul antecedents—a creature that was turned out of his place as a schoolmaster on account of his immoral life! A fellow like that sets himself up as a leader of the people! And succeeds too! Actually succeeds! I hear he is going to enlarge his paper. I know on good authority that he is on the lookout for a capable assistant.
Rebecca.
I wonder that you and your friends don’t set up an opposition to him.
Kroll.
That is the very thing we are going to do. We have to-day bought the County News; there was no difficulty about the money question. But——[Turns to Rosmer.] Now I come to my real errand. The difficulty lies in the conduct of the paper—the editing——. Tell me, Rosmer,—don’t you feel it your duty to undertake it, for the sake of the good cause?
Rosmer.
[Almost in consternation.] I!
Rebecca.
Oh, how can you think of such a thing?
23Kroll.
I can quite understand your horror of public meetings, and your reluctance to expose yourself to their tender mercies. But an editor’s work is less conspicuous, or rather——
Rosmer.
No no, my dear friend, you must not ask me to do this.
Kroll.
I should be quite willing to try my own hand at that style of work too; but I couldn’t possibly manage it. I have such a multitude of irons in the fire already. But for you, with no profession to tie you down——. Of course the rest of us would give you as much help as we could.
Rosmer.
I cannot, Kroll. I am not fitted for it.
Kroll.
Not fitted? You said the same thing when your father preferred you to the living here——
Rosmer.
And I was right. That was why I resigned it.
Kroll.
Oh, if only you are as good an editor as you were a clergyman, we shall not complain.
Rosmer.
My dear Kroll—I tell you once for all—I cannot do it.
Kroll.
Well, at any rate, you will lend us your name.
24Rosmer.
My name?
Kroll.
Yes, the mere name, Johannes Rosmer, will be a great thing for the paper. We others are looked upon as confirmed partisans—indeed I hear I am denounced as a desperate fanatic—so that if we work the paper in our own names, we can’t reckon upon its making much way among the misguided masses. You, on the contrary, have always kept out of the fight. Everybody knows and values your humanity and uprightness—your delicacy of mind—your unimpeachable honour. And then the prestige of your former position as a clergyman still clings to you; and, to crown all, you have your grand old family name!
Rosmer.
Oh, my name——
Kroll.
[Points to the portraits.] Rosmers of Rosmersholm—clergymen and soldiers; government officials of high place and trust; gentlemen to the finger-tips, every man of them—a family that for nearly two centuries has held its place as the first in the district. [Lays his hand on Rosmer’s shoulder.] Rosmer—you owe it to yourself and to the traditions of your race to take your share in guarding all that has hitherto been held sacred in our society. [Turns round.] What do you say, Miss West?
Rebecca.
[Laughing softly, as if to herself.] My dear Rector—I can’t tell you how ludicrous all this seems to me.
25Kroll.
What do you say? Ludicrous?
Rebecca.
Yes, ludicrous. For you must let me tell you frankly——
Rosmer.
[Quickly.] No no—be quiet! Not just now!
Kroll.
[Looks from one to the other.] My dear friends, what on earth——? [Interrupting himself.] H’m!
Madame Helseth appears in the doorway on the right.
Madam Helseth.
There’s a man out in the kitchen passage that says he wants to see the Pastor.
Rosmer.
[Relieved.] Ah, very well. Ask him to come in.
Madam Helseth.
Into the sitting-room?
Rosmer.
Yes, of course.
Madam Helseth.
But he looks scarcely the sort of man to bring into the sitting-room.
Rebecca.
Why, what does he look like, Madam Helseth?
26Madam Helseth.
Well, he’s not much to look at Miss, and that’s a fact.
Rosmer.
Did he not give his name?
Madam Helseth.
Yes—I think he said his name was Hekman or something of the sort.
Rosmer.
I know nobody of that name.
Madam Helseth.
And then he said he was called Uldric too.
Rosmer.
[In surprise.] Ulric Hetman! Was that it?
Madam Helseth.
Yes, so it was—Hetman.
Kroll.
I’ve surely heard that name before——
Rebecca.
Wasn’t that the name he used to write under—that strange being——
Rosmer.
[To Kroll.] It is Ulric Brendel’s pseudonym.
Kroll.
That black sheep Ulric Brendel’s—of course it is.
27Rebecca.
Then he is still alive.
Rosmer.
I heard he had joined a company of strolling players.
Kroll.
When last I heard of him, he was in the House of Correction.
Rosmer.
Ask him to come in, Madam Helseth.
Madam Helseth.
Oh, very well. [She goes out.
Kroll.
Are you really going to let a man like that into your house?
Rosmer.
You know he was once my tutor.
Kroll.
Yes, I know he went and crammed your head full of revolutionary ideas, until your father showed him the door—with his horsewhip.
Rosmer.
[With a touch of bitterness.] Father was a martinet at home as well as in his regiment.
Kroll.
Thank him in his grave for that, my dear Rosmer.—Well!
28
Madam Helseth opens the door on the right for Ulric Brendel, and then withdraws, shutting the door behind him. He is a handsome man, with grey hair and beard; somewhat gaunt, but active and well set up. He is dressed like a common tramp; threadbare frock-coat; worn-out shoes; no shirt visible. He wears an old pair of black gloves, and carries a soft, greasy felt hat under his arm, and a walking-stick in his hand.
Ulric Brendel.
[Hesitates at first, then goes quickly up to the Rector, and holds out his hand.] Good evening, Johannes!
Kroll.
Excuse me——
Brendel.
Did you expect to see me again? And within these hated walls too?
Kroll.
Excuse me——[Pointing.] There——
Brendel.
[Turns.] Right. There he is. Johannes—my boy—my best-beloved——!
Rosmer.
[Takes his hand.] My old teacher.
Brendel.
Notwithstanding certain painful memories, I could not pass by Rosmersholm without paying you a flying visit.
29Rosmer.
You are heartily welcome here now. Be sure of that.
Brendel.
Ah, this charming lady——? [Bows.] Mrs. Rosmer, of course.
Rosmer.
Miss West.
Brendel.
A near relation, no doubt. And yonder unknown——? A brother of the cloth, I see.
Rosmer.
Rector Kroll.
Brendel.
Kroll? Kroll? Wait a bit?—Weren’t you a student of philology in your young days?
Kroll.
Of course I was.
Brendel.
Why Donnerwetter, then I knew you!
Kroll.
Pardon me——
Brendel.
Weren’t you——
Kroll.
Pardon me——
Brendel.
——one of those myrmidons of morality that got me turned out of the Debating Club?
30Kroll.
Very likely. But I disclaim any closer acquaintanceship.
Brendel.
Well, well! Nach Belieben, Herr Doctor. It’s all one to me. Ulric Brendel remains the man he is for all that.
Rebecca.
You are on your way into town, Mr. Brendel?
Brendel.
You have hit it, gracious lady. At certain intervals, I am constrained to strike a blow for existence. It goes against the grain; but—enfin—imperious necessity——
Rosmer.
Oh but, my dear Mr. Brendel, you must allow me to help you. In one way or another, I am sure——
Brendel.
Ha, such a proposal to me! Would you desecrate the bond that unites us? Never, Johannes, never!
Rosmer.
But what do you think of doing in town? Believe me, you won’t find it easy to——
Brendel.
Leave that to me, my boy. The die is cast. Simple as I stand here before you, I am engaged in a comprehensive campaign—more comprehensive than all my previous excursions put together. [To Rector Kroll.] Dare I ask the Herr 31Professor—unter uns—have you a tolerably decent, reputable, and commodious Public Hall in your estimable city?
Kroll.
The hall of the Workmen’s Society is the largest.
Brendel.
And has the Herr Professor any official influence in this doubtless most beneficent Society?
Kroll.
I have nothing to do with it.
Rebecca.
[To Brendel.] You should apply to Peter Mortensgård.
Brendel.
Pardon, madame—what sort of an idiot is he?
Rosmer.
What makes you take him for an idiot?
Brendel.
Can’t I tell at once by the name that it belongs to a plebeian?plebeian?
Kroll.
I did not expect that answer.
Brendel.
But I will conquer my reluctance. There is no alternative. When a man stands—as I do—at a turning-point in his career——. It is settled. I will approach this individual—will open personal negotiations——
32Rosmer.
Are you really and seriously standing at a turning-point?
Brendel.
Surely my own boy knows that, stand he where he may, Ulric Brendel always stands really and seriously.—Yes, Johannes, I am going to put on a new man—to throw off the modest reserve I have hitherto maintained.
Rosmer.
How——?
Brendel.
I am about to take hold of life with a strong hand; to step forth; to assert myself. We live in a tempestuous, an equinoctial age.—I am about to lay my mite on the altar of Emancipation.
Kroll.
You too?
Brendel.
[To them all.] Is the local public at all familiar with my occasional writings?
Kroll.
No, I must candidly confess that——
Rebecca.
I have read several of them. My adopted father had them in his library.
Brendel.
Fair lady, then you have wasted your time. For, let me tell you, they are so much rubbish.
33Rebecca.
Indeed!
Brendel.
What you have read, yes. My really important works no man or woman knows. No one—except myself.
Rebecca.
How does that happen?
Brendel.
Because they are not written.
Rosmer.
But, my dear Mr. Brendel——
Brendel.
You know, my Johannes, that I am a bit of a Sybarite—a Feinschmecker. I have been so all my days. I like to take my pleasures in solitude; for then I enjoy them doubly—tenfold. So, you see, when golden dreams descended and enwrapped me—when new, dizzy, far-reaching thoughts were born in me, and wafted me aloft on their sustaining pinions—I bodied them forth in poems, visions, pictures—in the rough, as it were, you understand.
Rosmer.
Yes, yes.
Brendel.
Oh, what pleasures, what intoxications I have enjoyed in my time! The mysterious bliss of creation—in the rough, as I said—applause, gratitude, renown, the wreath of bays—all these I have garnered with full hands quivering with joy. 34I have sated myself, in my secret thoughts, with a rapture—oh! so intense, so inebriating——!
Kroll.
H’m.
Rosmer.
But you have written nothing down?
Brendel.
Not a word. The soulless toil of the scrivener has always aroused a sickening aversion in me. And besides, why should I profane my own ideals, when I could enjoy them in their purity by myself? But now they shall be offered up. I assure you I feel like a mother who delivers her tender daughters into their bridegrooms’ arms. But I will offer them up, none the less. I will sacrifice them on the altar of Emancipation. A series of carefully elaborated lectures—over the whole country——!
Rebecca.
[With animation.] This is noble of you, Mr. Brendel! You are yielding up the dearest thing you possess.
Rosmer.
The only thing.
Rebecca.
[Looking significantly at Rosmer.] How many are there who do as much—who dare do as much?
Rosmer.
[Returning the look.] Who knows?
Brendel.
My audience is touched. That does my heart 35good—and steels my will. So now I will proceed to action. Stay—one thing more. [To the Rector.] Can you tell me, Herr Preceptor,—is there such a thing as a Temperance Society in the town? A Total Abstinence Society? I need scarcely ask.
Kroll.
Yes, there is. I am the president, at your service.
Brendel.
I saw it in your face! Well, it is by no means impossible that I may come to you and enrol myself as a member for a week.
Kroll.
Excuse me—we don’t receive members by the week.
Brendel.
À la bonne heure, Herr Pedagogue. Ulric Brendel has never forced himself into that sort of Society. [Turns.] But I must not prolong my stay in this house, so rich in memories. I must get on to the town and select a suitable lodging. I presume there is a decent hotel in the place.
Rebecca.
Mayn’t I offer you anything before you go?
Brendel.
Of what sort, gracious lady?
Rebecca.
A cup of tea, or——
Brendel.
I thank my bountiful hostess—but I am always 36loath to trespass on private hospitality. [Waves his hand.] Farewell, gentlefolks all! [Goes towards the door, but turns again.] Oh, by the way—Johannes—Pastor Rosmer—for the sake of our ancient friendship, will you do your former teacher a service?
Rosmer.
Yes, with all my heart.
Brendel.
Good. Then lend me—for a day or two—a starched shirt—with cuffs.
Rosmer.
Nothing else?
Brendel.
For you see I am travelling on foot—at present. My trunk is being sent after me.
Rosmer.
Quite so. But is there nothing else?
Brendel.
Well, do you know—perhaps you could spare me an oldish, well-worn summer overcoat.
Rosmer.
Yes, yes; certainly I can.
Brendel.
And if a respectable pair of boots happened to go along with the coat——
Rosmer.
That we can manage too. As soon as you let us know your address, we will send the things in.
37Brendel.
Not on any account. Pray do not let me give you any trouble! I will take the bagatelles with me.
Rosmer.
As you please. Come upstairs with me then.
Rebecca.
Let me go. Madam Helseth and I will see to it.
Brendel.
I cannot think of suffering this distinguished lady to——
Rebecca.
Oh, nonsense! Come along, Mr. Brendel.
[She goes out to the right.
Rosmer.
[Detaining him.] Tell me—is there nothing else I can do for you?
Brendel.
Upon my word, I know of nothing more. Well, yes, damn it all—now that I think of it——! Johannes, do you happen to have eight crowns in your pocket?
Rosmer.
Let me see. [Opens his purse.] Here are two ten-crown notes.
Brendel.
Well well, never mind! I can take them. I can always get them changed in the town. Thanks in the meantime. Remember it was two tenners 38you lent me. Good-night my own dear boy; Good-night, respected Sir.
[Goes out to the right. Rosmer takes leave of him, and shuts the door behind him.
Kroll.
Merciful Heaven—so that is the Ulric Brendel people once expected such great things of.
Rosmer.
[Quietly.] At least he has had the courage to live his life his own way. I don’t think that is such a small matter either.
Kroll.
What? A life like his! I almost believe he has it in him to turn your head afresh.
Rosmer.
Oh no. My mind is quite clear now, upon all points.
Kroll.
I wish I could believe it, my dear Rosmer. You are so terribly impressionable.
Rosmer.
Let us sit down. I want to talk to you.
Kroll.
Yes; let us. [They seat themselves on the sofa.
Rosmer.
[After a slight pause.] Don’t you think we lead a pleasant and comfortable life here?
39Kroll.
Yes, your life is pleasant and comfortable now—and peaceful. You have found yourself a home, Rosmer. And I have lost mine.
Rosmer.
My dear friend, don’t say that. The wound will heal again in time.
Kroll.
Never; never. The barb will always rankle. Things can never be as they were.
Rosmer.
Listen to me, Kroll. We have been fast friends for many and many a year. Does it seem to you conceivable that our friendship should ever go to wreck?
Kroll.
I know of nothing in the world that could estrange us. What puts that into your head?
Rosmer.
You attach such paramount importance to uniformity of opinions and views.
Kroll.
No doubt; but we two are in practical agreement—at any rate on the great essential questions.
Rosmer.
[In a low voice.] No; not now.
Kroll.
[Tries to spring up.] What is this?
40Rosmer.
[Holding him.] No you must sit still—I entreat you, Kroll.
Kroll.
What can this mean? I don’t understand you. Speak plainly.
Rosmer.
A new summer has blossomed in my soul. I see with eyes grown young again. And so now I stand——
Kroll.
Where—where, Rosmer?
Rosmer.
Where your children stand.
Kroll.
You? You! Impossible! Where do you say you stand?
Rosmer.
On the same side as Laurits and Hilda.
Kroll.
[Bows his head.] An apostate! Johannes Rosmer an apostate!
Rosmer.
I should have felt so happy—so intensely happy, in what you call my apostasy. But nevertheless I suffered deeply; for I knew it would be a bitter sorrow to you.
Kroll.
Rosmer—Rosmer! I shall never get over this! [Looks gloomily at him.] To think that you too 41can find it in your heart to help on the work of corruption and ruin in this unhappy land.
Rosmer.
It is the work of emancipation I wish to help on.
Kroll.
Oh yes, I know. That is what both the tempters and their victims call it. But do you think there is any emancipation to be expected from the spirit that is now poisoning our whole social life?
Rosmer.
I am not in love with the spirit that is in the ascendant, nor with either of the contending parties. I will try to bring together men from both sides—as many as I can—and to unite them as closely as possible. I will devote my life and all my energies to this one thing—the creation of a true democracy in this country.
Kroll.
So you don’t think we have democracy enough already! For my part it seems to me we are all in a fair way to be dragged down into the mire, where hitherto only the mob have been able to thrive.
Rosmer.
That is just why I want to awaken the democracy to its true task.
Kroll.
What task?
Rosmer.
That of making all the people of this country noble-men.
42Kroll.
All the people——?
Rosmer.
As many as possible, at any rate.
Kroll.
By what means?
Rosmer.
By freeing their minds and purifying their wills.
Kroll.
You are a dreamer, Rosmer. Will you free them? Will you purify them?
Rosmer.
No, my dear friend—I will only try to arouse them to their task. They themselves must accomplish it.
Kroll.
And you think they can?
Rosmer.
Yes.
Kroll.
By their own strength?
Rosmer.
Yes, precisely by their own strength. There is no other.
Kroll.
[Rises.] Is this becoming language for a priest?
Rosmer.
I am no longer a priest.
43Kroll.
Well but—the faith of your fathers——?
Rosmer.
It is mine no more.
Kroll.
No more——!
Rosmer.
[Rises.] I have given it up. I had to give it up, Kroll.
Kroll.
[Controlling his agitation.] Oh, indeed——Yes, yes, yes. I suppose one thing goes with another. Was this, then, your reason for leaving the Church?
Rosmer.
Yes. As soon as my mind was clear—as soon as I was quite certain that this was no passing attack of scepticism, but a conviction I neither could nor would shake off—then I at once left the Church.
Kroll.
So this has been your state of mind all this time! And we—your friends—have heard nothing of it. Rosmer—Rosmer—how could you hide the miserable truth from us!
Rosmer.
Because it seemed to me a matter that concerned myself alone. And besides, I did not wish to give you and my other friends any needless pain. I thought I might live on here, as before, quietly, serenely, happily. I wanted to read, to bury myself in all the studies that until then had 44been sealed books to me. I wanted to make myself thoroughly at home in the great world of truth and freedom that has been revealed to me.
Kroll.
Apostate! Every word proves it. But why, then, do you confess your secret apostasy after all? And why just at this time?
Rosmer.
You yourself have driven me to it, Kroll.
Kroll.
I? Have I driven you——?
Rosmer.
When I heard of your violence on the platform—when I read all the rancorous speeches you made—your bitter onslaughts on your opponents—the contemptuous invectives you heaped on them—oh Kroll, to think that you—you—could come to this!—then my duty stood imperatively before me. Men are growing evil in this struggle. Peace and joy and mutual forbearance must once more enter into our souls. That is why I now intend to step forward and openly avow myself for what I am. I, too, will try my strength. Could not you—from your side—help me in this, Kroll?
Kroll.
Never so long as I live will I make peace with the subversive forces in society.
Rosmer.
Then at least let us fight with honourable weapons—since fight we must.
45Kroll.
Whoever is not with me in the essential things of life, him I no longer know. I owe him no consideration.
Rosmer.
Does that apply to me too?
Kroll.
It is you that have broken with me, Rosmer.
Rosmer.
Is this a breach then?
Kroll.
This! It is a breach with all who have hitherto been your friends. You must take the consequences.
Rebecca West enters from the right, and opens the door wide.
Rebecca.
There now; he is on his way to his great sacrifice. And now we can go to supper. Will you come in, Rector?
Kroll.
[Takes up his hat.] Good-night, Miss West. I have nothing more to do here.
Rebecca.
[Eagerly.] What is this? [Shuts the door and comes forward.] Have you spoken?
Rosmer.
He knows everything.
46Kroll.
We will not let you go, Rosmer. We will force you to come back to us.
Rosmer.
I can never stand where I did.
Kroll.
We shall see. You are not the man to endure standing alone.
Rosmer.
I shall not be so completely alone after all.—There are two of us to bear the loneliness together.
Kroll.
Ah——! [A suspicion appears in his face.] That too! Beata’s words——!
Rosmer.
Beata’s——?
Kroll.
[Shaking off the thought.] No, no—that was vile. Forgive me.
Rosmer.
What? What do you mean?
Kroll.
Don’t ask. Bah! Forgive me! Good-bye!
[Goes towards the entrance door.
Rosmer.
[Follows him.] Kroll! Our friendship must not end like this. I will come and see you to-morrow.
47Kroll.
[In the hall, turns.] You shall never cross my threshold again.
[He takes up his stick and goes out.
[Rosmer stands for a moment in the doorway; then shuts the door and walks up to the table.
Rosmer.
It does not matter, Rebecca. We will see it out, we two faithful friends—you[10] and I.
Rebecca.
What do you think he meant when he said “That was vile”?
Rosmer.
Don’t trouble about that, dear. He himself didn’t believe what was in his mind. To-morrow I will go and see him. Good-night!
Rebecca.
Are you going upstairs so early to-night? After this?
Rosmer.
To-night as usual. I feel so relieved, now it is over. You see—I am quite calm, Rebecca. Do you, too, take it calmly. Good-night!
Rebecca.
Good-night, dear friend! Sleep well.
[Rosmer goes out by the hall door; his steps are heard ascending the staircase.
48
[Rebecca goes and pulls a bell-rope near the stove. Shortly after, Madam Helseth enters from the right.
Rebecca.
You can take away the supper things, Madam Helseth. Mr. Rosmer doesn’t want anything, and the Rector has gone home.
Madam Helseth.
Has the Rector gone? What was the matter with him?
Rebecca.
[Takes up her crochet work.] He said he thought there was a heavy storm brewing——
Madam Helseth.
What a strange notion! There’s not a cloud in the sky this evening.
Rebecca.
Let us hope he mayn’t meet the White Horse! I’m afraid we shall soon be hearing something from the bogies now.
Madam Helseth.
Lord forgive you, Miss! Don’t say such awful things.
Rebecca.
Well, well, well——
Madam Helseth.
[Softly.] Do you really think some one is to go soon, Miss?
Rebecca.
No; why should I think so? But there are so 49many sorts of white horses in this world, Madam Helseth.—Well, good-night. I shall go to my room now.
Madam Helseth.
Good-night, Miss.
[RebeccaRebecca goes out to the right, with her crochet-work.
Madam Helseth.
[Turns the lamp down, shaking her head and muttering to herself.] Lord—Lord! That Miss West! The things she does say!
50
ACT SECOND.
Johannes Rosmer’s study. Entrance door on the left. At the back, a doorway with a curtain drawn aside, leading into Rosmer’s bedroom. On the right a window, and in front of it a writing-table covered with books and papers. Bookshelves and cases round the room. The furniture is simple. On the left, an old-fashioned sofa, with a table in front of it.
Johannes Rosmer, in an indoor jacket, is sitting in a high-backed chair at the writing-table. He is cutting and turning over the leaves of a pamphlet, and reading a little here and there.
There is a knock at the door on the left.
Rosmer.
[Without moving.] Come in.
Rebecca West.
[Enters, dressed in a morning gown.] Good morning.
Rosmer.
[Turning the leaves of the pamphlet.] Good morning, dear. Do you want anything?
Rebecca.
I only wanted to hear if you had slept well.
51Rosmer.
Oh I have had a beautiful, peaceful night. [Turns.] And you?
Rebecca.
Oh yes, thanks—towards morning——
Rosmer.
I don’t know when I have felt so light-hearted as I do now. I am so glad I managed to speak out at last.
Rebecca.
Yes, it is a pity you remained silent so long, Rosmer.
Rosmer.
I don’t understand myself how I could be such a coward.
Rebecca.
It wasn’t precisely cowardice——
Rosmer.
Oh yes, dear—when I think the thing out, I can see there was a touch of cowardice at the bottom of it.
Rebecca.
All the braver, then, to make the plunge at last.last. [Sits on a chair at the writing-table, close to him.] But now I want to tell you of something I have done—and you mustn’t be vexed with me about it.
Rosmer.
Vexed? How can you think——?
52Rebecca.
Well, it was perhaps rather indiscreet of me, but——
Rosmer.
Let me hear what it was.
Rebecca.
Yesterday evening, when Ulric Brendel was leaving—I gave him a note to Peter Mortensgård.
Rosmer.
[A little doubtful.] Why, my dear Rebecca——Well, what did you say?
Rebecca.
I said that he would be doing you a service if he would look after that unfortunate creature a little, and help him in any way he could.
Rosmer.
Dear, you shouldn’t have done that. You have only done Brendel harm. And Mortensgård is not a man I care to have anything to do with. You know of that old episode between us.
Rebecca.
But don’t you think it would be as well to make it up with him again?
Rosmer.
I? With Mortensgård? In what way do you mean?
Rebecca.
Well, you know you can’t feel absolutely secure now—after this breach with your old friends.
53Rosmer.
[Looks at her and shakes his head.] Can you really believe that Kroll or any of the others would try to take revenge on me? That they would be capable of——?
Rebecca.
In the first heat of anger, dear——. No one can be sure. I think—after the way the Rector took it——
Rosmer.
Oh, you ought surely to know him better than that. Kroll is a gentleman, to the backbone. I am going into town this afternoon to talk to him. I will talk to them all. Oh you shall see how easily it will all go——
Madam Helseth appears at the door on the left.
Rebecca.
[Rises.] What is it, Madam Helseth?
Madam Helseth.
Rector Kroll is downstairs in the hall.
Rosmer.
[Rises hastily.] Kroll!
Rebecca.
The Rector! Is it possible——
Madam Helseth.
He wants to know if he may come up and see Mr. Rosmer.
Rosmer.
[To Rebecca.] What did I tell you?—Of course 54he may. [Goes to the door and calls down the stairs.] Come up, dear friend! I am delighted to see you.
[Romer stands holding the door open. Madam Helseth goes out. Rebecca draws the curtain before the doorway at the back, and then begins arranging things in the room.
Rector Kroll enters, with his hat in his hand.
Rosmer.
[With quiet emotion.] I knew it couldn’t be the last time——
Kroll.
I see things to-day in quite a different light from yesterday.
Rosmer.
Ah yes, Kroll; I was sure you would, now that you have had time to reflect.
Kroll.
You misunderstand me completely. [Lays his hat on the table beside the sofa.] It is of the utmost importance that I should speak to you, alone.
Rosmer.
Why may not Miss West——?
Rebecca.
No no, Mr. Rosmer. I will go.
Kroll.
[Looks at her from head to foot.] And I must ask Miss West to excuse my coming at such an 55untimely hour—taking her unawares before she has had time to——
Rebecca.
[Surprised.] What do you mean? Do you see any harm in my wearing a morning gown about the house?
Kroll.
Heaven forbid! I know nothing of what may now be customary at Rosmersholm.
Rosmer.
Why, Kroll—you are not yourself to-day!
Rebecca.
Allow me to wish you good morning, Rector Kroll.
[She goes out to the left.
Kroll.
By your leave—— [Sits on the sofa.
Rosmer.
Yes, Kroll, sit down, and let us talk things out amicably.
[He seats himself in a chair directly opposite to the Rector.
Kroll.
I haven’t closed an eye since yesterday. I have been lying thinking and thinking all night.
Rosmer.
And what do you say to things to-day?
Kroll.
It will be a long story, Rosmer. Let me begin 56with a sort of introduction. I can give you news of Ulric Brendel.
Rosmer.
Has he called on you?
Kroll.
No. He took up his quarters in a low public-house—in the lowest company of course—and drank and stood treat as long as he had any money. Then he began abusing the whole company as a set of disreputable blackguards—and so far he was quite right—whereupon they thrashed him and pitched him out into the gutter.
Rosmer.
So he is incorrigible after all.
Kroll.
He had pawned the coat too; but I am told that has been redeemed for him. Can you guess by whom?
Rosmer.
Perhaps by you?
Kroll.
No; by the distinguished Mr. Mortensgård.
Rosmer.
Ah, indeed.
Kroll.
I understand that Mr. Brendel’s first visit was to the “idiot” and “plebeian.”
Rosmer.
Well, it was lucky for him——
57Kroll.
To be sure it was. [Leans over the table towards Rosmer.] And that brings me to a matter it is my duty to warn you about, for our old—for our former friendship’s sake.
Rosmer.
My dear Kroll, what can that be?
Kroll.
It is this: there are things going on behind your back in this house.
Rosmer.
How can you think so? Is it Reb—is it Miss West you are aiming at?
Kroll.
Precisely. I can quite understand it on her part. She has so long been accustomed to have everything her own way here. But nevertheless——
Rosmer.
My dear Kroll, you are utterly mistaken. She and I—we have no concealments from each other on any subject whatever.
Kroll.
Has she told you, then, that she has entered into correspondence with the editor of the “Beacon”?
Rosmer.
Oh, you are thinking of the few lines she sent by Ulric Brendel?
58Kroll.
Then you have found it out. And do you approve of her entering into relations with a scurrilous scribbler, who never lets a week pass without holding me up to ridicule, both as a schoolmaster and as a public man?
Rosmer.
My dear Kroll, I don’t suppose that side of the matter ever entered her head. And besides, of course she has full liberty of action, just as I have.
Kroll.
Indeed? Ah, no doubt that follows from your new line of thought. For Miss West presumably shares your present standpoint?
Rosmer.
Yes, she does. We two have worked our way forward in faithful comradeship.
Kroll.
[Looks at him and slowly shakes his head.] Oh, you blind, deluded being!
Rosmer.
I? Why do you say that?
Kroll.
Because I dare not—I will not think the worst. No no, let me say my say out.—You really do value my friendship, Rosmer? And my respect too? Do you not?
Rosmer.
I surely need not answer that question.
59Kroll.
Well, but there are other questions that do require an answer—a full explanation on your part.—Will you submit to a sort of investigation——?
Rosmer.
Investigation?
Kroll.
Yes; will you let me question you about certain things it may pain you to be reminded of? You see—this apostasy of yours—well, this emancipation, as you call it—is bound up with many other things that for your own sake you must explain to me.
Rosmer.
My dear Kroll, ask what questions you please. I have nothing to conceal.
Kroll.
Then tell me—what do you think was the real, the ultimate reason why Beata put an end to her life?
Rosmer.
Can you have any doubt on the subject? Or, rather, can you ask for reasons for what an unhappy, irresponsible invalid may do?
Kroll.
Are you certain that Beata was completely irresponsible for her actions? The doctors, at any rate, were by no means convinced of it.
Rosmer.
If the doctors had ever seen her as I have so 60often seen her, for days and nights together, they would have had no doubts.
Kroll.
I had no doubts either—then.
Rosmer.
Oh no, unhappily, there wasn’t the smallest room for doubt. I have told you of her wild frenzies of passion—which she expected me to return. Oh, how they appalled me! And then her causeless, consuming self-reproaches during the last few years.
Kroll.
Yes, when she had learnt that she must remain childless all her life.
Rosmer.
Yes, just think of that! Such terrible, haunting agony of mind about a thing utterly beyond her control——! How could you call her responsible for her actions?
Kroll.
H’m———. Can you remember whether you had any books in the house at that time treating of the rationale of marriage—according to the “advanced” ideas of the day.
Rosmer.
I remember Miss West lending me a work of the kind. The Doctor left her his library, you know. But, my dear Kroll, you surely cannot suppose we were so reckless as to let my poor sick wife get hold of any such ideas? I can solemnly assure you that the fault was not ours. 61It was her own distempered brain that drove her into these wild aberrations.
Kroll.
One thing at any rate I can tell you; and that is, that poor, overstrung, tortured Beata put an end to her life in order that you might live happily—live freely, and—after your own heart.
Rosmer.
[Starts half up from his chair.] What do you mean by that?
Kroll.
Listen to me quietly, Rosmer; for now I can speak of it. In the last year of her life she came to me twice to pour forth all her anguish and despair.
Rosmer.
On this same subject?
Kroll.
No. The first time she came, it was to declare that you were on the road to perversion—that you were going to break with the faith of your fathers.
Rosmer.
[Eagerly.] What you say is impossible, Kroll! Absolutely impossible! You must be mistaken.
Kroll.
And why?
Rosmer.
Because while Beata was alive I was still wrestling with myself in doubt. And that fight I 62fought out alone and in utter silence, I don’t think even Rebecca——
Kroll.
Rebecca?
Rosmer.
Oh well—Miss West. I call her Rebecca for convenience’ sake.
Kroll.
So I have remarked.
Rosmer.
So it is inconceivable to me how Beata could have got hold of the idea. And why did she not speak to me myself about it? She never did—she never said a single word.
Kroll.
Poor creature—she begged and implored me to talk to you.
Rosmer.
And why did you not?
Kroll.
At that time I never for a moment doubted that she was out of her mind. Such an accusation against a man like you!—And then she came again—about a month later. This time she seemed outwardly calmer; but as she was going she said: “They may soon expect the White Horse at Rosmersholm now.”
Rosmer.
Yes, yes. The White Horse—she often spoke of it.
63Kroll.
And when I tried to divert her mind from such melancholy fancies, she only answered: “I have not long to live; for Johannes must marry Rebecca at once.”
Rosmer.
[Almost speechless.] What do you say? I marry——?
Kroll.
That was on a Thursday afternoon——. On the Saturday evening she threw herself from the bridge into the mill-race.
Rosmer.
And you never warned us——!
Kroll.
You know very well how often she used to say that she felt her end was near.
Rosmer.
Yes, I know. But nevertheless—you should have warned us!
Kroll.
I did think of it; but not till too late.
Rosmer.
But afterwards, why did you not——? Why have you said nothing about all this?
Kroll.
What good would it have done for me to come torturing and harassing you still further? I took all she said for mere wild, empty ravings—until yesterday evening.
64Rosmer.
Then you have now changed your opinion?
Kroll.
Did not Beata see quite clearly when she declared you were about to desert the faith of your fathers?
Rosmer.
[Looks fixedly, straight before him.] I cannot understand it. It is the most incomprehensible thing in the world.
Kroll.
Incomprehensible or not—there it is. And now I ask you, Rosmer,—how much truth is there in her other accusation? The last one, I mean.
Rosmer.
Accusation? Was that an accusation?
Kroll.
Perhaps you did not notice the way she worded it. She had to go, she said—why?
Rosmer.
In order that I might marry Rebecca——
Kroll.
These were not precisely her words. Beata used a different expression. She said: “I have not long to live; for Johannes must marry Rebecca at once.”
Rosmer.
[Looks at him for a moment; then rises.] Now I understand you, Kroll.
65Kroll.
And what then? What is your answer?
Rosmer.
[Still quiet and self-restrained.] To such an unheard-of——? The only fitting answer would be to point to the door.
Kroll.
[Rises.] Well and good.
Rosmer.
[Stands in front of him.] Listen to me. For more than a year—ever since Beata left us—Rebecca West and I have lived alone here at Rosmersholm. During all that time you have known of Beata’s accusation against us. But I have never for a moment noticed that you disapproved of Rebecca’s living in my house.
Kroll.
I did not know till yesterday evening that it was an unbelieving man who was living with an—emancipated woman.
Rosmer.
Ah——! Then you do not believe that purity of mind is to be found among the unbelieving and the emancipated? You do not believe that morality may be an instinctive law of their nature!
Kroll.
I have no great faith in the morality that is not founded on the teachings of the Church.
Rosmer.
And you mean this to apply to Rebecca and me? To the relation between us two——?
66Kroll.
Not even out of consideration for you two can I depart from my opinion that there is no unfathomable gulf between free thought and—h’m——
Rosmer.
And what?
Kroll.
——and free love,—since you will have it.
Rosmer.
[In a low voice.] And you are not ashamed to say this to me! You, who have known me from my earliest youth!
Kroll.
For that very reason. I know how easily you are influenced by the people you associate with. And this Rebecca of yours—well, Miss West then—we really know little or nothing about her. In short, Rosmer—I will not give you up. And you—you must try to save yourself in time.
Rosmer.
Save myself? How——?
Madam Helseth peeps in at the door on the left.
Rosmer.
What do you want?
Madam Helseth.
I wanted to ask Miss West to step downstairs.
Rosmer.
Miss West is not up here.
67Madam Helseth.
Isn’t she? [Looks round the room.] Well, that’s strange.
[She goes.
Rosmer.
You were saying——?
Kroll.
Listen to me. I am not going to inquire too closely into the secret history of what went on here in Beata’s lifetime—and may still be going on. I know that your marriage was a most unhappy one; and I suppose that must be taken as some sort of excuse——
Rosmer.
Oh, how little you really know me——!
Kroll.
Don’t interrupt me. What I mean is this: if your present mode of life with Miss West is to continue, it is absolutely necessary that the change of views—the unhappy backsliding—brought about by her evil influence, should be hushed up. Let me speak! Let me speak! I say, if the worst comes to the worst, in Heaven’s name think and believe whatever you like about everything under the sun. But you must keep your views to yourself. These things are purely personal matters, after all. There is no need to proclaim them from the housetops.
Rosmer.
I feel it an absolute necessity to get out ofof a false and equivocal position.
Kroll.
But you have a duty towards the traditions of 68your race, Rosmer! Remember that! Rosmersholm has, so to speak, radiated morality and order from time immemorial—yes, and respectful conformity to all that is accepted and sanctioned by the best people. The whole district has taken its stamp from Rosmersholm. It would lead to deplorable, irremediable confusion if it were known that you had broken with what I may call the hereditary idea of the house of Rosmer.
Rosmer.
My dear Kroll, I cannot see the matter in that light. I look upon it as my imperative duty to spread a little light and gladness here, where the Rosmer family has from generation to generation been a centre of darkness and oppression.
Kroll.
[Looks at him severely.] Yes, that would be a worthy life-work for the last of your race! No, Rosmer; let such things alone; you are the last man for such a task. You were born to be a quiet student.
Rosmer.
Perhaps so. But for once in a way I mean to bear my part in the battle of life.
Kroll.
And do you know what that battle of life will mean for you? It will mean a life-and-death struggle with all your friends.
Rosmer.
[Quietly.] They cannot all be such fanatics as you.
69Kroll.
You are a credulous creature, Rosmer. An inexperienced creature too. You have no conception of the overwhelming storm that will burst upon you.
Madam Helseth looks in at the door on the left.
Madam Helseth.
Miss West wants to know——
Rosmer.
What is it?
Madam Helseth.
There’s a man downstairs wanting to have a word with the Pastor.
Rosmer.
Is it the man who was here yesterday evening?
Madam Helseth.
No, it’s that Mortensgård.
Rosmer.
Mortensgård?
Kroll.
Aha! So it has come to this, has it?—Already!
Rosmer.
What does he want with me? Why didn’t you send him away?
Madam Helseth.
Miss West said I was to ask if he might come upstairs.
Rosmer.
Tell him I’m engaged——
70Kroll.
[To Madam Helseth.] Let him come up, Madam Helseth.
[Madam Helseth goes.
Kroll.
[Takes up his hat.] I retire from the field—for the moment. But the main battle has yet to be fought.
Rosmer.
On my honour, Kroll—I have nothing whatever to do with Mortensgård.
Kroll.
I do not believe you. On no subject and in no relation whatever will I henceforth believe you. It is war to the knife now. We will try whether we cannot disarm you.
Rosmer.
Oh Kroll—how low—how very low you have sunk!
Kroll.
I? And you think you have the right to say that to me! Remember Beata!
Rosmer.
Still harping upon that?
Kroll.
No. You must solve the enigma of the mill-race according to your own conscience—if you have anything of the sort left.
Peter Mortensgård enters softly and quietly from the left. He is a small, wiry man with thin reddish hair and beard.
71Kroll.
[With a look of hatred.] Ah, here we have the “Beacon”—burning at Rosmersholm! [Buttons his coat.] Well, now I can no longer hesitate what course to steer.
Mortensgård.
[Deferentially.] The “Beacon” may always be relied upon to light the Rector home.
Kroll.
Yes; you have long shown your goodwill. To be sure there’s a commandment about bearing false witness against your neighbour——
Mortensgård.
Rector Kroll need not instruct me in the commandments.
Kroll.
Not even in the seventh?
Rosmer.
Kroll——!
Mortensgård.
If I needed instruction, it would rather be the Pastor’s business.
Kroll.
[With covert sarcasm.] The Pastor’s? Oh yes, unquestionably Pastor Rosmer is the man for that.—Good luck to your conference, gentlemen!
[Goes out and slams the door behind him.
Rosmer.
[Keeps his eyes fixed on the closed door and says to himself.] Well, well—so be it then. [Turns.] Will 72you be good enough to tell me, Mr. Mortensgård, what brings you out here to me?
Mortensgård.
It was really Miss West I came to see. I wanted to thank her for the friendly note I received from her yesterday.
Rosmer.
I know she wrote to you. Have you seen her then?
Mortensgård.
Yes, for a short time. [Smiles slightly.] I hear there has been a certain change of views out here at Rosmersholm.
Rosmer.
My views are altered in many respects. I might almost say in all.
Mortensgård.
So Miss West told me; and that’s why she thought I had better come up and talk things over with the Pastor.
Rosmer.
What things, Mr. Mortensgård?
Mortensgård.
May I announce in the “Beacon” that there has been a change in your views—that you have joined the party of freedom and progress?
Rosmer.
Certainly you may. In fact, I beg you to make the announcement.
Mortensgård.
Then it shall appear in to-morrow’s paper. It 73will cause a great sensation when it’s known that Pastor Rosmer of Rosmersholm is prepared to take up arms for the cause of light, in that sense too.
Rosmer.
I don’t quite understand you.
Mortensgård.
I mean that the moral position of our party is greatly strengthened whenever we gain an adherent of serious, Christian principles.
Rosmer.
[With some surprise.] Then you do not know——? Did not Miss West tell you that too?
Mortensgård.
What, Pastor Rosmer? Miss West was in a great hurry. She said I was to go upstairs and hear the rest from yourself.
Rosmer.
Well, in that case I may tell you that I have emancipated myself entirely, and on every side. I have broken with all the dogmas of the Church. Henceforth they are nothing to me.
Mortensgård.
[Looks at him in amazement.] Well—if the skies were to fall I couldn’t be more——! Pastor Rosmer himself announces——
Rosmer.
Yes, I now stand where you have stood for many years. That, too, you may announce in the “Beacon” to-morrow.
74Mortensgård.
That too? No, my dear Pastor—excuse me—I don’t think it would be wise to touch on that side of the matter.
Rosmer.
Not touch on it?
Mortensgård.
Not at present, I mean.
Rosmer.
I don’t understand——
Mortensgård.
Well you see, Pastor Rosmer—you probably don’t know the ins and outs of things so well as I do. But, since you have come over to the party of freedom—and, as I hear from Miss West, you intend to take an active share in the movement—I presume you would like to be of as much service as possible, both to the cause in general and to this particular agitation.
Rosmer.
Yes, that is my earnest wish.
Mortensgård.
Good. But now I must tell you, Pastor Rosmer, that if you openly declare your defection from the Church, you tie your own hands at the very outset.
Rosmer.
Do you think so?
Mortensgård.
Yes; believe me, you won’t be able to do much 75for the cause, in this part of the country at any rate. And besides—we have plenty of freethinkers already, Pastor Rosmer—I might almost say too many. What the party requires, is a Christian element—something that every one must respect. That is what we are sadly in need of. And therefore I advise you to keep your own counsel about what doesn’t concern the public. That’s my view of the matter, at least.
Rosmer.
I understand. Then if I openly confess my apostasy, you dare not have anything to do with me?
Mortensgård.
[Shaking his head.] I scarcely like to risk it, Pastor Rosmer. I have made it a rule for some time past not to support any one or anything that is actively opposed to the Church.
Rosmer.
Then you have yourself returned to the Church?
Mortensgård.
That concerns no one but myself.
Rosmer.
Ah, so that is it. Now I understand you.
Mortensgård.
Pastor Rosmer—you ought to remember that I—I in particular—have not full liberty of action.
Rosmer.
What hampers you?
76Mortensgård.
The fact that I am a marked man.
Rosmer.
Ah—indeed.
Mortensgård.
A marked man, Pastor Rosmer. You, above all men, should remember that; for I have chiefly you to thank for the scandal that branded me.
Rosmer.
If I had then stood where I stand now, I should have dealt more gently with your offence.
Mortensgård.
That I don’t doubt. But it is too late now. You have branded me once for all—branded me for life. I suppose you can scarcely understand what that means. But now you may perhaps come to feel the smart of it yourself, Pastor Rosmer.
Rosmer.
I?
Mortensgård.
Yes. You surely don’t suppose that Rector Kroll and his set will ever forgive a desertion like yours? I hear the “County News” is going to be very savage in future. You too may find yourself a marked man before long.
Rosmer.
In personal matters, Mr. Mortensgård, I feel myself secure from attack. My life is beyond reproach.
77Mortensgård.
[With a sly smile.] That’s a large word, Mr. Rosmer.
Rosmer.
Perhaps; but I have a right to use it.
Mortensgård.
Even if you were to scrutinise your conduct as closely as you once scrutinised mine?
Rosmer.
Your tone is very curious. What are you hinting at? Anything definite?
Mortensgård.
Yes, something definite. Only one thing. But that might be bad enough, if malicious opponents got wind of it.
Rosmer.
Will you have the kindness to let me hear what it is?
Mortensgård.
Cannot you guess for yourself, Pastor?
Rosmer.
No, certainly not. I have not the slightest idea.
Mortensgård.
Well well, I suppose I must come out with it then.—I have in my possession a strange letter, dated from Rosmersholm.
Rosmer.
Miss West’s letter, do you mean? Is it so strange?
78Mortensgård.
No, there’s nothing strange about that. But I once received another letter from this house.
Rosmer.
Also from Miss West?
Mortensgård.
No, Mr. Rosmer.
Rosmer.
Well then, from whom? From whom?
Mortensgård.
From the late Mrs. Rosmer.
Rosmer.
From my wife! You received a letter from my wife!
Mortensgård.
I did.
Rosmer.
When?
Mortensgård.
Towards the close of Mrs. Rosmer’s life. Perhaps about a year and a half ago. That is the letter I call strange.
Rosmer.
I suppose you know that my wife’s mind was affected at that time.
Mortensgård.
Yes; I know many people thought so. But I don’t think there was anything in the letter to show it. When I call it strange, I mean in another sense.
79Rosmer.
And what in the world did my poor wife take it into her head to write to you about?
Mortensgård.
I have the letter at home. She begins to the effect that she is living in great anxiety and fear; there are so many malicious people about here, she says; and they think of nothing but causing you trouble and injury.
Rosmer.
Me?
Mortensgård.
Yes, so she says. And then comes the strangest part of all. Shall I go on, Pastor Rosmer?
Rosmer.
Assuredly! Tell me everything, without reserve.
Mortensgård.
The deceased lady begs and implores me to be magnanimous. She knows, she says, that it was her husband that had me dismissed from my post as teacher; and she conjures me by all that’s sacred not to avenge myself.
Rosmer.
How did she suppose you could avenge yourself?
Mortensgård.
The letter says that if I should hear rumours of sinful doings at Rosmersholm, I am not to believe them; they are only spread abroad by wicked people who wish to make you unhappy.
Rosmer.
Is all that in the letter?
80Mortensgård.
You may read it for yourself, sir, when you please.
Rosmer.
But I don’t understand——! What did she imagine the rumours to be about?
Mortensgård.
Firstly, that the Pastor had deserted the faith of his fathers. Your wife denied that absolutely—then. And next—h’m——
Rosmer.
Next?
Mortensgård.
Well, next she writes—rather confusedly—that she knows nothing of any sinful intrigue at Rosmersholm; that she has never been wronged in any way. And if any such rumours should get about, she implores me to say nothing of the matter in the “Beacon.”
Rosmer.
Is no name mentioned?
Mortensgård.
None.
Rosmer.
Who brought you the letter?
Mortensgård.
I have promised not to say. It was handed to me one evening, at dusk.
Rosmer.
If you had made inquiries at the time, you 81would have learnt that my poor unhappy wife was not fully accountable for her actions.
Mortensgård.
I did make inquiries, Pastor Rosmer. But I must say that was not the impression I received.
Rosmer.
Was it not?—But what is your precise reason for telling me now about this incomprehensible old letter?
Mortensgård.
To impress on you the necessity for extreme prudence, Pastor Rosmer.
Rosmer.
In my life, do you mean?
Mortensgård.
Yes. You must remember that from to-day you have ceased to be a neutral.
Rosmer.
Then you have quite made up your mind that I must have something to conceal?
Mortensgård.
I don’t know why an emancipated man should refrain from livingliving his life out as fully as possible. But, as I said before, be exceedingly cautious in future. If anything should get abroad that conflicts with current prejudices, you may be sure the whole liberal movement will have to suffer for it.—Good-bye, Pastor Rosmer.
82Rosmer.
Good-bye.
Mortensgård.
I shall go straight to the office and have the great news put into the “Beacon.”
Rosmer.
Yes; omit nothing.
Mortensgård.
I shall omit nothing that the public need know.
[He bows and goes out. Rosmer remains standing in the doorway while he goes down the stairs. The outer door is heard to close.
Rosmer.
[In the doorway, calls softly.] Rebecca! Re—— H’m. [Aloud.] Madam Helseth,—is Miss West not there?
Madam Helseth.
[From the hall.] No, Pastor Rosmer, she’s not here.
[The curtain at the back is drawn aside. Rebecca appears in the doorway.
Rebecca.
Rosmer!
Rosmer.
[Turns.] What! Were you in my room? My dear, what were you doing there?
Rebecca.
[Goes up to him.] I was listening.
83Rosmer.
Oh, Rebecca, how could you?
Rebecca.
I could not help it. He said it so hatefully—that about my morning gown——
Rosmer.
Then you were there when Kroll——?
Rebecca.
Yes. I wanted to know what was lurking in his mind.
Rosmer.
I would have told you.
Rebecca.
You would scarcely have told me all. And certainly not in his own words.
Rosmer.
Did you hear everything, then?
Rebecca.
Nearly everything, I think. I had to go downstairs for a moment when Mortensgård came.
Rosmer.
And then you came back again——?
Rebecca.
Don’t be vexed with me, dear friend!
Rosmer.
Do whatever you think right. You are mistress 84of your own actions.—But what do you say to all this, Rebecca——? Oh, I seem never to have needed you so much before!
Rebecca.
Both you and I have been prepared for what must happen some time.
Rosmer.
No, no—not for this.
Rebecca.
Not for this?
Rosmer.
I knew well enough that sooner or later our beautiful, pure friendship might be misinterpreted and soiled. Not by Kroll—I could never have believed such a thing of him—but by all those other people with the coarse souls and the ignoble eyes. Oh yes—I had reason enough for keeping our alliance so jealously concealed. It was a dangerous secret.
Rebecca.
Oh, why should we care what all those people think! We know in our own hearts that we are blameless.
Rosmer.
Blameless? I? Yes, I thought so—till to-day. But now—now, Rebecca——?
Rebecca.
Well, what now?
Rosmer.
How am I to explain Beata’s terrible accusation?
85Rebecca.
[Vehemently.] Oh, don’t speak of Beata! Don’t think of Beata any more! You were just beginning to shake off the hold she has upon you, even in the grave.
Rosmer.
Since I have heard all this, she seems, in a ghastly sort of way, to be alive again.
Rebecca.
Oh no—not that, Rosmer! Not that!
Rosmer.
Yes, I tell you. We must try to get to the bottom of this. What can possibly have led her to misinterpret things so fatally?
Rebecca.
You are surely not beginning to doubt that she was on the very verge of insanity?
Rosmer.
Oh yes—that is just what I can’t feel quite certain of any longer. And besides—even if she was——
Rebecca.
If she was? Well, what then?
Rosmer.
I mean—where are we to look for the determining cause that drove her morbid spirit over the border-line of madness?
Rebecca.
Oh, why brood over problems no one can solve?
86Rosmer.
I cannot help it, Rebecca. I cannot shake off these gnawing doubts, however much I may wish to.
Rebecca.
But it may become dangerous—this eternal dwelling upon one miserable subject.
Rosmer.
[Walks about restlessly, in thought.] I must have betrayed myself in one way or another. She must have noticed how happy I began to feel from the time you came to us.
Rebecca.
Yes but, dear, even if she did——?
Rosmer.
Be sure it didn’t escape her that we read the same books—that the interest of discussing all the new ideas drew us together. Yet I cannot understand it! I was so careful to spare her. As I look back, it seems to me I made it the business of my life to keep her in ignorance of all our interests. Did I not, Rebecca?
Rebecca.
Yes, yes; certainly you did.
Rosmer.
And you too. And yet——! Oh, it’s terrible to think of! She must have gone about here—full of her morbid passion—saying never a word—watching us—noting everything—and misinterpreting everything.
87Rebecca.
[Pressing her hands together.] Oh, I should never have come to Rosmersholm!
Rosmer.
To think of all she must have suffered in silence! All the foulness her sick brain must have conjured up around us! Did she never say anything to you to put you at all on the alert?
Rebecca.
[As if startled.] To me! Do you think I should have stayed a day longer if she had?
Rosmer.
No, no, of course not.—Oh, what a battle she must have fought! And alone too, Rebecca; desperate and quite alone!—and then, at last, that heart-breaking, accusing victory—in the mill-race.
[Throws himself into the chair by the writing-table, with his elbows on the table and his face in his hands.
Rebecca.
[Approaches him cautiously from behind.] Listen, Rosmer. If it were in your power to call Beata back—to you—to Rosmersholm—would you do it?
Rosmer.
Oh, how do I know what I would or would not do? I can think of nothing but this one thing—that cannot be recalled.
Rebecca.
You were just beginning to live, Rosmer. You 88had begun. You had freed yourself—on every side. You felt so buoyant and happy——
Rosmer.
Oh yes—I did indeed.—And now this crushing blow falls on me.
Rebecca.
[Behind him, rests her arms on the chair-back.] How beautiful it was when we sat in the twilight, in the room downstairs, helping each other to lay out our new life-plans! You were to set resolutely to work in the world—the living world of to-day, as you said. You were to go as a messenger of emancipation from home to home; to win over minds and wills; to create noble-men around you in wider and wider circles. Noble-men.
Rosmer.
Happy noble-men.
Rebecca.
Yes—happy.
Rosmer.
For it is happiness that ennobles, Rebecca.
Rebecca.
Should you not say—sorrow as well? A great sorrow?
Rosmer.
Yes—if one can get through it—over it—away from it.
Rebecca.
That is what you must do.
Rosmer.
[Shakes his head gloomily.] I shall never get 89over this—wholly. There will always be a doubt—a question left. I can never again know that luxury of the soul which makes life so marvellously sweet to live!
Rebecca.
[Bends over his chair-back, and says more softly:] What is it you mean, Rosmer?
Rosmer.
[Looking up at her.] Peaceful, happy innocence.
Rebecca.
[Recoils a step.] Yes. Innocence.
[A short pause.
Rosmer.
[With his elbow on the table, leaning his head on his hand, and looking straight before him.] And what extraordinary penetration she showed! How systematically she put all this together! First she begins to doubt my orthodoxy——How could that occur to her? But it did occur to her; and then it grew to be a certainty. And then—yes, then of course it was easy for her to think all the rest possible. [Sits up in his chair and runs his hands through his hair.] Oh, all these horrible imaginings! I shall never get rid of them. I feel it. I know it. At any moment they will come rushing in upon me, and bring back the thought of the dead!
Rebecca.
Like the White Horse of Rosmersholm.
Rosmer.
Yes, like that. Rushing forth in the darkness—in the silence.
90Rebecca.
And because of this miserable figment of the brain, you will let slip the hold you were beginning to take upon the living world?
Rosmer.
You may well think it hard. Yes, hard, Rebecca. But I have no choice. How could I ever leave this behind me?
Rebecca.
[Behind his chair.] By entering into new relations.
Rosmer.
[Surprised, looks up.] New relations?
Rebecca.
Yes, new relations to the outside world. Live, work, act. Don’t sit here brooding and groping among insoluble enigmas.
Rosmer.
[Rises.] New relations? [Walks across the floor, stops at the door and then comes back.] One question occurs to me. Has it not occurred to you too, Rebecca?
Rebecca.
[Drawing breath with difficulty.] Let me—hear—what it is?
Rosmer.
What form do you think our relations will take after to-day?
Rebecca.
I believe our friendship will endure—come what may.
91Rosmer.
That is not exactly what I meant. The thing that first brought us together, and that unites us so closely—our common faith in a pure comradeship between man and woman——
Rebecca.
Yes, yes—what of that?
Rosmer.
I mean, that such a relation—as this of ours—does it not presuppose a quiet, happy, peaceful life——?
Rebecca.
What then?
Rosmer.
But the life I must now look forward too is one of struggle and unrest and strong agitations. For I will live my life, Rebecca! I will not be crushed to earth by horrible possibilities. I will not have my course of life forced upon me, either by the living or by—any one else.
Rebecca.
No, no—do not! Be an absolutely free man, Rosmer!
Rosmer.
But can you not guess what is in my mind? Do you not know? Don’t you see how I can best shake off all gnawing memories—all the unhappy past?
Rebecca.
How?
Rosmer.
By opposing to it a new, a living reality.
92Rebecca.
[Feeling for the chair-back.] A living——What do you mean?
Rosmer.
[Comes nearer.] Rebecca—if I were to ask you—will you be my second wife?
Rebecca.
[For a moment speechless, then cries out with joy.] Your wife! Your——! I!
Rosmer.
Come; let us try it. We two will be one. The place of the dead must stand empty no longer.
Rebecca.
I—in Beata’s place——!
Rosmer.
Then she will be out of the saga—completely—for ever and ever.
Rebecca.
[Softly, trembling.] Do you believe that, Rosmer?
Rosmer.
It must be so! It must! I cannot—I will not go through life with a dead body on my back. Help me to cast it off, Rebecca. And let us stifle all memories in freedom, in joy, in passion. You shall be to me the only wife I have ever had.
Rebecca.
[With self-command.] Never speak of this again. I will never be your wife.
93Rosmer.
What! Never! Do you not think you could come to love me? Is there not already a strain of love in our friendship?
Rebecca.
[Puts her hands over her ears as if in terror.] Don’t speak so, Rosmer! Don’t say such things!
Rosmer.
[Seizes her arm.] Yes, yes—there is a growing promise in our relation. Oh, I can see that you feel it too. Do you not, Rebecca?
Rebecca.
[Once more firm and calm.] Listen to me. I tell you—if you persist in this, I will go away from Rosmersholm.
Rosmer.
Go away! You! You cannot. It is impossible.
Rebecca.
It is still more impossible that I should be your wife. Never in this world can I marry you.
Rosmer.
[Looks at her in surprise.] You say “can”; and you say it so strangely. Why can you not?
Rebecca.
[Seizes both his hands.] Dear friend—both for your own sake and for mine—do not ask why. [Lets go his hands.] Do not, Rosmer.
[Goes towards the door on the left.
94Rosmer.
Henceforth I can think of nothing but that one question—why?
Rebecca.
[Turns and looks at him.] Then it is all over.
Rosmer.
Between you and me?
Rebecca.
Yes.
Rosmer.
It will never be all over between us two. You will never leave Rosmersholm.
Rebecca.
[With her hand on the door-handle.] No, perhaps I shall not. But if you ask me again—it is all over.
Rosmer.
All over? How———?
Rebecca.
For then I will go the way that Beata went. Now you know it, Rosmer.
Rosmer.
Rebecca——?
Rebecca.
[In the doorway, nods slowly.] Now you know it.
[She goes out.
Rosmer.
[Stares, thunderstruck, at the door, and says to himself.] What—is—this?
95
ACT THIRD.
The sitting-room at Rosmersholm. The window and the entrance door are open. The sun is shining outside. Forenoon.
Rebecca West, dressed as in the first Act, stands at the window, watering and arranging the flowers. Her crochet-work lies in the arm-chair. Madam Helseth is moving about, dusting the furniture with a feather-brush.
Rebecca.
[After a short silence.] I can’t understand the Pastor remaining so long upstairs to-day.
Madam Helseth.
Oh, he often does that. But he’ll soon be down now, I should think.
Rebecca.
Have you seen anything of him?
Madam Helseth.
I caught a glimpse of him when I went upstairs with his coffee. He was in his bedroom, dressing.
Rebecca.
I asked because he was a little out of sorts yesterday.
96Madam Helseth.
He didn’t look well. I wonder if there isn’t something amiss between him and his brother-in-law.
Rebecca.
What do you think it can be?
Madam Helseth.
I couldn’t say. Perhaps it’s that Mortensgård that has been setting them against each other.
Rebecca.
Likely enough.—Do you know anything of this Peter Mortensgård?
Madam Helseth.
No indeed. How could you think so, Miss? A fellow like him.
Rebecca.
Do you mean because he edits such a low paper?
Madam Helseth.
Oh, it’s not only that.—You must have heard, Miss, that he had a child by a married woman that had been deserted by her husband?
Rebecca.
Yes, I have heard of it. But it must have been long before I came here.
Madam Helseth.
It’s true he was very young at the time; and she should have known better. He wanted to marry her too; but of course he couldn’t do that. And I don’t say he hasn’t paid dear for it.—But, 97good Lord, Mortensgård has got on in the world since those days. There’s a many people run after him now.
Rebecca.
Yes, most of the poor people bring their affairs to him when they’re in any trouble.
Madam Helseth.
Ah, and others too, perhaps, besides the poor folk——
Rebecca.
[Looks at her furtively.] Indeed.
Madam Helseth.
[By the sofa, dusting away vigorously.] Perhaps the last people you would think likely to, Miss.
Rebecca.
[Busy with the flowers.] Come now, that’s only an idea of yours, Madam Helseth. You can’t be sure of what you’re saying.
Madam Helseth.
You think I can’t, Miss? But I can tell you I am. Why—if you must know it—I once took a letter in to Mortensgård myself.
Rebecca.
[Turning.] No—did you?
Madam Helseth.
Yes, indeed I did. And a letter that was written here at Rosmersholm too.
Rebecca.
Really, Madam Helseth?
98Madam Helseth.
Yes, that it was. And it was on fine paper, and there was a fine red seal on it too.
Rebecca.
And it was given to you to deliver? Then, my dear Madam Helseth, it’s not difficult to guess who wrote it.
Madam Helseth.
Well?
Rebecca.
It must have been something that poor Mrs. Rosmer, in her morbid state——
Madam Helseth.
It’s you that say that, Miss, not me.
Rebecca.
But what was in the letter? Oh, I forgot——you can’t know that.
Madam Helseth.
H’m; what if I did know it, all the same?
Rebecca.
Did she tell you what she was writing about?
Madam Helseth.
No, she didn’t exactly do that. But Mortensgård, when he’d read it, he began questioning me backwards and forwards and up and down, so that I soon guessed what was in it.
Rebecca.
Then what do you think it was? Oh my dear good Madam Helseth, do tell me.
99Madam Helseth.
Oh no, Miss. Not for the whole world.
Rebecca.
Oh you can surely tell me. We two are such good friends.
Madam Helseth.
Lord preserve me from telling you anything about that, Miss. I can only tell you that it was something horrible that they’d got the poor sick lady to believe.
Rebecca.
Who had got her to believe it?
Madam Helseth.
Wicked people, Miss West. Wicked people.
Rebecca.
Wicked——?
Madam Helseth.
Yes, I say it again. They must have been real wicked people.
Rebecca.
And who do you think it could have been?
Madam Helseth.
Oh, I know well enough what to think. But Lord forbid I should say anything. To be sure there’s a certain lady in the town—h’m!
Rebecca.
I can see that you mean Mrs. Kroll.
Madam Helseth.
Ah, she’s a fine one, she is. She has always 100been the great lady with me. And she’s never had any too much love for you neither.
Rebecca.
Do you think Mrs. Rosmer was in her right mind when she wrote that letter to Mortensgård?
Madam Helseth.
It’s a queer thing a person’s mind, Miss. Clean out of her mind I don’t think she was.
Rebecca.
But she seemed to go distracted when she learned that she must always be childless. It was that that unsettled her reason.
Madam Helseth.
Yes, poor lady, that was a dreadful blow to her.
Rebecca.
[Takes up her crochet and sits in a chair by the window.] But after all—don’t you think it was a good thing for the Pastor, Madam Helseth?
Madam Helseth.
What, Miss?
Rebecca.
That there were no children. Don’t you think so?
Madam Helseth.
H’m, I’m sure I don’t know what to say about that.
Rebecca.
Oh yes, believe me, it was fortunate for him. Pastor Rosmer is not the man to have crying children about his house.
101Madam Helseth.
Ah, Miss, little children don’t cry at Rosmersholm.
Rebecca.
[Looks at her.] Don’t cry?
Madam Helseth.
No. As long as people can remember, children have never been known to cry in this house.
Rebecca.
That’s very strange.
Madam Helseth.
Yes; isn’t it? But it runs in the family. And then there’s another strange thing. When they grow up, they never laugh. Never, as long as they live.
Rebecca.
Why, how extraordinary——
Madam Helseth.
Have you ever once heard or seen the Pastor laugh, Miss?
Rebecca.
No—now that I think of it, I almost believe you are right. But I don’t think any one laughs much in this part of the country.
Madam Helseth.
No, they don’t. They say it began at Rosmersholm. And then I suppose it spread round about, as if it was catching-like.
Rebecca.
You are a very wise woman, Madam Helseth.
102Madam Helseth.
Oh, Miss, you mustn’t sit there and make fun of me. [Listens.] Hush, hush—here’s the Pastor coming down. He doesn’t like to see dusting going on.
[She goes out to the right.
Johannes Rosmer, with his hat and stick in his hand, enters from the hall.
Rosmer.
Good morning, Rebecca.
Rebecca.
Good morning, dear. [A moment after—crocheting.] Are you going out?
Rosmer.
Yes.
Rebecca.
It’s a beautiful day.
Rosmer.
You didn’t look in on me this morning.
Rebecca.
No, I didn’t. Not to-day.
Rosmer.
Do you not intend to in future?
Rebecca.
Oh, I don’t know yet, dear.
Rosmer.
Has anything come for me?
103Rebecca.
The “County News” has come.
Rosmer.
The “County News”?
Rebecca.
There it is on the table.
Rosmer.
[Puts down his hat and stick.] Is there anything——?
Rebecca.
Yes.
Rosmer.
And you didn’t send it up?
Rebecca.
You will read it soon enough.
Rosmer.
Oh, indeed? [Takes the paper and reads, standing by the table.]—What!—“We cannot warn our readers too earnestly against unprincipled renegades.” [Looks at her.] They call me a renegade, Rebecca.
Rebecca.
They mention no names.
Rosmer.
That makes no difference. [Reads on.] “Secret traitors to the good cause.”—“Judas-natures, who make brazen confession of their apostasy as soon as they think the most convenient and—profitable moment has arrived.” “Ruthless befouling of a 104name honoured through generations”—“in the confident hope of a suitable reward from the party in momentary power.” [Lays down the paper on the table.] And they can say such things of me!—Men who have known me so long and so well! Things they themselves don’t believe. Things they know there is not a word of truth in—they print them all the same.
Rebecca.
That is not all.
Rosmer.
[Takes up the paper again.] “Inexperience and lack of judgment the only excuse”—“pernicious influence—possibly extending to matters which, for the present, we do not wish to make subjects of public discussion or accusation.” [Looks at her.] What is this?
Rebecca.
It is aimed at me, plainly enough.
Rosmer.
[Lays down the paper.] Rebecca,—this is the conduct of dishonourable men.
Rebecca.
Yes, they need scarcely be so contemptuous of Mortensgård.
Rosmer.
[Walks about the room.] Something must be done. All that is good in human nature will go to ruin, if this is allowed to go on. But it shall not go on! Oh, what a joy—what a joy it would be to me to let a little light into all this gloom and ugliness!
105Rebecca.
[Rises.] Ah yes, Rosmer. In that you have a great and glorious object to live for.
Rosmer.
Only think, if I could rouse them to see themselves as they are; teach them to repent and blush before their better natures; bring them together in mutual forbearance—in love, Rebecca!
Rebecca.
Yes, put your whole strength into that, and you must succeed.
Rosmer.
I think success must be possible. Oh, what a delight it would be then to live one’s life! No more malignant wrangling; only emulation. All eyes fixed on the same goal. Every mind, every will pressing forward—upward—each by the path its nature prescribes for it. Happiness for all—through all. [Happens to look out of the window, starts, and says sadly.] Ah! Not through me.