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?
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.