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?
Rebecca 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 Helseth[Helseth].
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.
Madam 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?
Madam 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.
Rector 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.
Rebecca.
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 think 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 now 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 really 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?
Rebecca.
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?
Kroll.
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.
Rebecca.
[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 too 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.
Kroll.
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 impossible 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 me. 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——
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?[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[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!