Chapter II: Part 2

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——

KROLL.

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._

KROLL.

[_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 trees 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 quite 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?

KROLL.

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.

ROSMER.

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.

KROLL.

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?

MADAM 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.

REBECCA.

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!

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.

ROSMER.

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?

KROLL.

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 Professor—_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?

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——

ROSMER.

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.

REBECCA.

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. I 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 good—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 loath 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.

BRENDEL.

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 you 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?

KROLL.

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?

ROSMER.

[_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 can 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.

KROLL.

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.

KROLL.

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 been 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.

KROLL.

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.

KROLL.

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.

KROLL.

[_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._

[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 many sorts of white horses in this world, Madam Helseth.—Well, good-night. I shall go to my room now.

MADAM HELSETH.

Good-night, Miss.

[REBECCA _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!

-----

Footnote 8:

“Rector” in the Scotch and Continental sense of headmaster of a
school, not in the English sense of a beneficed clergyman.

Footnote 9:

Pronounce _Mortensgore_.

Footnote 10:

From this point, and throughout when alone, Rosmer and Rebecca use the
_du_ of intimate friendship in speaking to each other.

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.

ROSMER.

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. [_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——?

REBECCA.

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.

ROSMER.

[_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 he 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 untimely 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 with 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——

KROLL.

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?

KROLL.

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.

KROLL.

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 often 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. It 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 fought 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.

KROLL.

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.

ROSMER.

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.

KROLL.

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——?

KROLL.

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.

MADAM 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 of a false and equivocal position.

KROLL.

But you have a duty towards the traditions of your 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.

KROLL.

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——

KROLL.

[_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._

KROLL.

[_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 you 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 will 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.

MORTENSGÅRD.

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 for 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?

MORTENSGÅRD.

The fact that I am a marked man.