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.[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[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.
Rosmer.
Ah—indeed.
Mortensgård.
A marked man, Pastor Rosmer. You, above all men, should remember that; for I have chiefly you to thank for the scandal that branded me.
Rosmer.
If I had then stood where I stand now, I should have dealt more gently with your offence.
Mortensgård.
That I don’t doubt. But it is too late now. You have branded me once for all—branded me for life. I suppose you can scarcely understand what that means. But now you may perhaps come to feel the smart of it yourself, Pastor Rosmer.
Rosmer.
I?
Mortensgård.
Yes. You surely don’t suppose that Rector Kroll and his set will ever forgive a desertion like yours? I hear the “County News” is going to be very savage in future. You too may find yourself a marked man before long.
Rosmer.
In personal matters, Mr. Mortensgård, I feel myself secure from attack. My life is beyond reproach.
Mortensgård.
[With a sly smile.] That’s a large word, Mr. Rosmer.
Rosmer.
Perhaps; but I have a right to use it.
Mortensgård.
Even if you were to scrutinise your conduct as closely as you once scrutinised mine?
Rosmer.
Your tone is very curious. What are you hinting at? Anything definite?
Mortensgård.
Yes, something definite. Only one thing. But that might be bad enough, if malicious opponents got wind of it.
Rosmer.
Will you have the kindness to let me hear what it is?
Mortensgård.
Cannot you guess for yourself, Pastor?
Rosmer.
No, certainly not. I have not the slightest idea.
Mortensgård.
Well well, I suppose I must come out with it then.—I have in my possession a strange letter, dated from Rosmersholm.
Rosmer.
Miss West’s letter, do you mean? Is it so strange?
Mortensgård.
No, there’s nothing strange about that. But I once received another letter from this house.
Rosmer.
Also from Miss West?
Mortensgård.
No, Mr. Rosmer.
Rosmer.
Well then, from whom? From whom?
Mortensgård.
From the late Mrs. Rosmer.
Rosmer.
From my wife! You received a letter from my wife!
Mortensgård.
I did.
Rosmer.
When?
Mortensgård.
Towards the close of Mrs. Rosmer’s life. Perhaps about a year and a half ago. That is the letter I call strange.
Rosmer.
I suppose you know that my wife’s mind was affected at that time.
Mortensgård.
Yes; I know many people thought so. But I don’t think there was anything in the letter to show it. When I call it strange, I mean in another sense.
Rosmer.
And what in the world did my poor wife take it into her head to write to you about?
Mortensgård.
I have the letter at home. She begins to the effect that she is living in great anxiety and fear; there are so many malicious people about here, she says; and they think of nothing but causing you trouble and injury.
Rosmer.
Me?
Mortensgård.
Yes, so she says. And then comes the strangest part of all. Shall I go on, Pastor Rosmer?
Rosmer.
Assuredly! Tell me everything, without reserve.
Mortensgård.
The deceased lady begs and implores me to be magnanimous. She knows, she says, that it was her husband that had me dismissed from my post as teacher; and she conjures me by all that’s sacred not to avenge myself.
Rosmer.
How did she suppose you could avenge yourself?
Mortensgård.
The letter says that if I should hear rumours of sinful doings at Rosmersholm, I am not to believe them; they are only spread abroad by wicked people who wish to make you unhappy.
Rosmer.
Is all that in the letter?
Mortensgård.
You may read it for yourself, sir, when you please.
Rosmer.
But I don’t understand——! What did she imagine the rumours to be about?
Mortensgård.
Firstly, that the Pastor had deserted the faith of his fathers. Your wife denied that absolutely—then. And next—h’m——
Rosmer.
Next?
Mortensgård.
Well, next she writes—rather confusedly—that she knows nothing of any sinful intrigue at Rosmersholm; that she has never been wronged in any way. And if any such rumours should get about, she implores me to say nothing of the matter in the “Beacon.”
Rosmer.
Is no name mentioned?
Mortensgård.
None.
Rosmer.
Who brought you the letter?
Mortensgård.
I have promised not to say. It was handed to me one evening, at dusk.
Rosmer.
If you had made inquiries at the time, you would have learnt that my poor unhappy wife was not fully accountable for her actions.
Mortensgård.
I did make inquiries, Pastor Rosmer. But I must say that was not the impression I received.
Rosmer.
Was it not?—But what is your precise reason for telling me now about this incomprehensible old letter?
Mortensgård.
To impress on you the necessity for extreme prudence, Pastor Rosmer.
Rosmer.
In my life, do you mean?
Mortensgård.
Yes. You must remember that from to-day you have ceased to be a neutral.
Rosmer.
Then you have quite made up your mind that I must have something to conceal?
Mortensgård.
I don’t know why an emancipated man should refrain from living[living] his life out as fully as possible. But, as I said before, be exceedingly cautious in future. If anything should get abroad that conflicts with current prejudices, you may be sure the whole liberal movement will have to suffer for it.—Good-bye, Pastor Rosmer.
Rosmer.
Good-bye.
Mortensgård.
I shall go straight to the office and have the great news put into the “Beacon.”
Rosmer.
Yes; omit nothing.
Mortensgård.
I shall omit nothing that the public need know.
[He bows and goes out. Rosmer remains standing in the doorway while he goes down the stairs. The outer door is heard to close.
Rosmer.
[In the doorway, calls softly.] Rebecca! Re—— H’m. [Aloud.] Madam Helseth,—is Miss West not there?
Madam Helseth.
[From the hall.] No, Pastor Rosmer, she’s not here.
[The curtain at the back is drawn aside. Rebecca appears in the doorway.
Rebecca.
Rosmer!
Rosmer.
[Turns.] What! Were you in my room? My dear, what were you doing there?
Rebecca.
[Goes up to him.] I was listening.
Rosmer.
Oh, Rebecca, how could you?
Rebecca.
I could not help it. He said it so hatefully—that about my morning gown——
Rosmer.
Then you were there when Kroll——?
Rebecca.
Yes. I wanted to know what was lurking in his mind.
Rosmer.
I would have told you.
Rebecca.
You would scarcely have told me all. And certainly not in his own words.
Rosmer.
Did you hear everything, then?
Rebecca.
Nearly everything, I think. I had to go downstairs for a moment when Mortensgård came.
Rosmer.
And then you came back again——?
Rebecca.
Don’t be vexed with me, dear friend!
Rosmer.
Do whatever you think right. You are mistress of your own actions.—But what do you say to all this, Rebecca——? Oh, I seem never to have needed you so much before!
Rebecca.
Both you and I have been prepared for what must happen some time.
Rosmer.
No, no—not for this.
Rebecca.
Not for this?
Rosmer.
I knew well enough that sooner or later our beautiful, pure friendship might be misinterpreted and soiled. Not by Kroll—I could never have believed such a thing of him—but by all those other people with the coarse souls and the ignoble eyes. Oh yes—I had reason enough for keeping our alliance so jealously concealed. It was a dangerous secret.
Rebecca.
Oh, why should we care what all those people think! We know in our own hearts that we are blameless.
Rosmer.
Blameless? I? Yes, I thought so—till to-day. But now—now, Rebecca——?
Rebecca.
Well, what now?
Rosmer.
How am I to explain Beata’s terrible accusation?
Rebecca.
[Vehemently.] Oh, don’t speak of Beata! Don’t think of Beata any more! You were just beginning to shake off the hold she has upon you, even in the grave.
Rosmer.
Since I have heard all this, she seems, in a ghastly sort of way, to be alive again.
Rebecca.
Oh no—not that, Rosmer! Not that!
Rosmer.
Yes, I tell you. We must try to get to the bottom of this. What can possibly have led her to misinterpret things so fatally?
Rebecca.
You are surely not beginning to doubt that she was on the very verge of insanity?
Rosmer.
Oh yes—that is just what I can’t feel quite certain of any longer. And besides—even if she was——
Rebecca.
If she was? Well, what then?
Rosmer.
I mean—where are we to look for the determining cause that drove her morbid spirit over the border-line of madness?
Rebecca.
Oh, why brood over problems no one can solve?
Rosmer.
I cannot help it, Rebecca. I cannot shake off these gnawing doubts, however much I may wish to.
Rebecca.
But it may become dangerous—this eternal dwelling upon one miserable subject.
Rosmer.
[Walks about restlessly, in thought.] I must have betrayed myself in one way or another. She must have noticed how happy I began to feel from the time you came to us.
Rebecca.
Yes but, dear, even if she did——?
Rosmer.
Be sure it didn’t escape her that we read the same books—that the interest of discussing all the new ideas drew us together. Yet I cannot understand it! I was so careful to spare her. As I look back, it seems to me I made it the business of my life to keep her in ignorance of all our interests. Did I not, Rebecca?
Rebecca.
Yes, yes; certainly you did.
Rosmer.
And you too. And yet——! Oh, it’s terrible to think of! She must have gone about here—full of her morbid passion—saying never a word—watching us—noting everything—and misinterpreting everything.
Rebecca.
[Pressing her hands together.] Oh, I should never have come to Rosmersholm!
Rosmer.
To think of all she must have suffered in silence! All the foulness her sick brain must have conjured up around us! Did she never say anything to you to put you at all on the alert?
Rebecca.
[As if startled.] To me! Do you think I should have stayed a day longer if she had?
Rosmer.
No, no, of course not.—Oh, what a battle she must have fought! And alone too, Rebecca; desperate and quite alone!—and then, at last, that heart-breaking, accusing victory—in the mill-race.
[Throws himself into the chair by the writing-table, with his elbows on the table and his face in his hands.
Rebecca.
[Approaches him cautiously from behind.] Listen, Rosmer. If it were in your power to call Beata back—to you—to Rosmersholm—would you do it?
Rosmer.
Oh, how do I know what I would or would not do? I can think of nothing but this one thing—that cannot be recalled.
Rebecca.
You were just beginning to live, Rosmer. You had begun. You had freed yourself—on every side. You felt so buoyant and happy——
Rosmer.
Oh yes—I did indeed.—And now this crushing blow falls on me.
Rebecca.
[Behind him, rests her arms on the chair-back.] How beautiful it was when we sat in the twilight, in the room downstairs, helping each other to lay out our new life-plans! You were to set resolutely to work in the world—the living world of to-day, as you said. You were to go as a messenger of emancipation from home to home; to win over minds and wills; to create noble-men around you in wider and wider circles. Noble-men.
Rosmer.
Happy noble-men.
Rebecca.
Yes—happy.
Rosmer.
For it is happiness that ennobles, Rebecca.
Rebecca.
Should you not say—sorrow as well? A great sorrow?
Rosmer.
Yes—if one can get through it—over it—away from it.
Rebecca.
That is what you must do.
Rosmer.
[Shakes his head gloomily.] I shall never get over this—wholly. There will always be a doubt—a question left. I can never again know that luxury of the soul which makes life so marvellously sweet to live!
Rebecca.
[Bends over his chair-back, and says more softly:] What is it you mean, Rosmer?
Rosmer.
[Looking up at her.] Peaceful, happy innocence.
Rebecca.
[Recoils a step.] Yes. Innocence.
[A short pause.
Rosmer.
[With his elbow on the table, leaning his head on his hand, and looking straight before him.] And what extraordinary penetration she showed! How systematically she put all this together! First she begins to doubt my orthodoxy——How could that occur to her? But it did occur to her; and then it grew to be a certainty. And then—yes, then of course it was easy for her to think all the rest possible. [Sits up in his chair and runs his hands through his hair.] Oh, all these horrible imaginings! I shall never get rid of them. I feel it. I know it. At any moment they will come rushing in upon me, and bring back the thought of the dead!
Rebecca.
Like the White Horse of Rosmersholm.
Rosmer.
Yes, like that. Rushing forth in the darkness—in the silence.
Rebecca.
And because of this miserable figment of the brain, you will let slip the hold you were beginning to take upon the living world?
Rosmer.
You may well think it hard. Yes, hard, Rebecca. But I have no choice. How could I ever leave this behind me?
Rebecca.
[Behind his chair.] By entering into new relations.
Rosmer.
[Surprised, looks up.] New relations?
Rebecca.
Yes, new relations to the outside world. Live, work, act. Don’t sit here brooding and groping among insoluble enigmas.
Rosmer.
[Rises.] New relations? [Walks across the floor, stops at the door and then comes back.] One question occurs to me. Has it not occurred to you too, Rebecca?
Rebecca.
[Drawing breath with difficulty.] Let me—hear—what it is?
Rosmer.
What form do you think our relations will take after to-day?
Rebecca.
I believe our friendship will endure—come what may.
Rosmer.
That is not exactly what I meant. The thing that first brought us together, and that unites us so closely—our common faith in a pure comradeship between man and woman——
Rebecca.
Yes, yes—what of that?
Rosmer.
I mean, that such a relation—as this of ours—does it not presuppose a quiet, happy, peaceful life——?
Rebecca.
What then?
Rosmer.
But the life I must now look forward too is one of struggle and unrest and strong agitations. For I will live my life, Rebecca! I will not be crushed to earth by horrible possibilities. I will not have my course of life forced upon me, either by the living or by—any one else.
Rebecca.
No, no—do not! Be an absolutely free man, Rosmer!
Rosmer.
But can you not guess what is in my mind? Do you not know? Don’t you see how I can best shake off all gnawing memories—all the unhappy past?
Rebecca.
How?
Rosmer.
By opposing to it a new, a living reality.
Rebecca.
[Feeling for the chair-back.] A living——What do you mean?
Rosmer.
[Comes nearer.] Rebecca—if I were to ask you—will you be my second wife?
Rebecca.
[For a moment speechless, then cries out with joy.] Your wife! Your——! I!
Rosmer.
Come; let us try it. We two will be one. The place of the dead must stand empty no longer.
Rebecca.
I—in Beata’s place——!
Rosmer.
Then she will be out of the saga—completely—for ever and ever.
Rebecca.
[Softly, trembling.] Do you believe that, Rosmer?
Rosmer.
It must be so! It must! I cannot—I will not go through life with a dead body on my back. Help me to cast it off, Rebecca. And let us stifle all memories in freedom, in joy, in passion. You shall be to me the only wife I have ever had.
Rebecca.
[With self-command.] Never speak of this again. I will never be your wife.
Rosmer.
What! Never! Do you not think you could come to love me? Is there not already a strain of love in our friendship?
Rebecca.
[Puts her hands over her ears as if in terror.] Don’t speak so, Rosmer! Don’t say such things!
Rosmer.
[Seizes her arm.] Yes, yes—there is a growing promise in our relation. Oh, I can see that you feel it too. Do you not, Rebecca?
Rebecca.
[Once more firm and calm.] Listen to me. I tell you—if you persist in this, I will go away from Rosmersholm.
Rosmer.
Go away! You! You cannot. It is impossible.
Rebecca.
It is still more impossible that I should be your wife. Never in this world can I marry you.
Rosmer.
[Looks at her in surprise.] You say “can”; and you say it so strangely. Why can you not?
Rebecca.
[Seizes both his hands.] Dear friend—both for your own sake and for mine—do not ask why. [Lets go his hands.] Do not, Rosmer.
[Goes towards the door on the left.
Rosmer.
Henceforth I can think of nothing but that one question—why?
Rebecca.
[Turns and looks at him.] Then it is all over.
Rosmer.
Between you and me?
Rebecca.
Yes.
Rosmer.
It will never be all over between us two. You will never leave Rosmersholm.
Rebecca.
[With her hand on the door-handle.] No, perhaps I shall not. But if you ask me again—it is all over.
Rosmer.
All over? How———?
Rebecca.
For then I will go the way that Beata went. Now you know it, Rosmer.
Rosmer.
Rebecca——?
Rebecca.
[In the doorway, nods slowly.] Now you know it.
[She goes out.
Rosmer.
[Stares, thunderstruck, at the door, and says to himself.] What—is—this?