Rosmersholm

Full Text and Introduction (NHB Drama Classics)

Henrik Ibsen, Kenneth McLeish

• Éditeur: Nick Hern Books
• Année: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781788503051
• Sujet: Literature
• Sous-sujet: European Drama

Drama Classics: The World's Great Plays at a Great Little Price

Ibsen's great play about idealism and liberalism undermined by a deeply conservative society.

When Rosmer abandons his faith after the death of his wife, his former friends question his morality. But with guilty secrets and deception surrounding everyone, there are tragic results.

Henrik Ibsen's play Rosmersholm was first published in 1886 and first staged in 1887.

This edition, in the Nick Hern Books Drama Classics series, is translated by Kenneth McLeish, with an introduction by Stephen Mulrine.

ACT ONE

Large sitting-room in Rosmersholm, old-fashioned and comfortable. The walls are covered with portraits, old and new, of clergymen, army officers and government officials in uniform. Down right, stove trimmed with fresh birch-twigs and wild flowers. Beside it, sofa, easy chairs and table. Upstage right, door. Centre back, double doors to the hall. Left, window, in front of which is a stand covered with flowers and house-plants. The window is open. So are the double doors and the outer door beyond; through them we can see an avenue of mature trees leading to the garden.

It is a summer evening, just after sunset. REBECCA WEST is sitting in a chair by the window, crocheting a large white shawl which she has nearly finished. From time to time she looks out of the window through the plants. After a moment, enter MRS HELSETH.

MRS HELSETH. It’s getting late, Miss. I ought to lay the table?

REBECCA. Yes, please. Mr Rosmer won’t be long.

MRS HELSETH. Aren’t you in a draught there, Miss?

REBECCA. A little. Please, if you’d –

MRS HELSETH closes the doors to the hall, then returns to the window to close it.

MRS HELSETH (looking out). He’s coming, now.

REBECCA (starting). Where?

She gets up to look, keeping behind the curtain.

Keep back. Don’t let him see us.

MRS HELSETH. Look, Miss. He is using the old path again. The one by the mill.

REBECCA. Just like the day before yesterday.

She peeps out between the curtain and the window-frame.

Now, will he or won’t he – ?

MRS HELSETH. Use the foot-bridge?

REBECCA. That’s what I want to see. (Pause.) No. He’s turning. The other way again. (Coming from the window.) The long way round.

MRS HELSETH. I’m not surprised. That bridge . . . after what happened . . . if he never sets foot on it again.

REBECCA (folding the shawl). They cling to their dead, at Rosmersholm.

MRS HELSETH. Or the dead cling to Rosmersholm.

REBECCA. What d’you mean?

MRS HELSETH. As if they can’t tear themselves away.

REBECCA. What makes you think that?

MRS HELSETH. Well, the White Horse, Miss.

REBECCA. What White Horse?

MRS HELSETH. I know you don’t believe in that sort of thing.

REBECCA. Do you?

MRS HELSETH (closing the window). You’ll just make fun of me. (Looking out.) Look. There on the mill-path. Has the Pastor changed his mind?

REBECCA (looking out). No, that’s Doctor Kroll.

MRS HELSETH. Headmaster Kroll.

REBECCA. He’s coming to see us.

MRS HELSETH. Straight over the bridge. Even though she was his sister. I’d better lay the table, Miss.

Exit right. REBECCA stands at the window. She smiles and waves. Then she goes to the door, right.

REBECCA. Mrs Helseth, what about a little treat for dinner? You know what the Headmaster likes.

MRS HELSETH (off). I’ll find something, Miss.

REBECCA opens the doors to the hall.

REBECCA. Doctor Kroll. After all this time. It’s wonderful to see you.

KROLL (in the hall, putting down his walking stick). My dear Miss West. I’m not disturbing you?

REBECCA. Don’t be silly.

KROLL (coming in). Thank you.

He looks round.

Is Johannes in his study?

REBECCA. He went for a walk. Further than he expected. He won’t be long.

She gestures to him to sit on the sofa.

Please, sit down.

KROLL (putting down his hat and sitting). Thank you. My, you have brightened up in here. This stuffy old room. Flowers, everywhere!

REBECCA. Mr Rosmer loves to have fresh flowers, growing plants, all round him.

KROLL. And so do you, I imagine.

REBECCA. They fill a room with perfume. And till recently, we had to do without.

KROLL. Poor Beata. The scent was too much for her.

REBECCA. The colours made her head spin.

KROLL. Yes. Yes. (More cheerfully.) Well, how are you all, so far from town?

REBECCA. Quiet. The same as usual. One day much like another. And you . . . ? Mrs Kroll . . . ?

KROLL. Dear Miss West, don’t let’s talk about me. Family life . . . there’s always something. These days, especially.

Pause. REBECCA sits in an armchair beside the sofa.

REBECCA. The holidays’ll be over soon. You’ll be back at school. Why haven’t you been to see us, in all that time?

KROLL. Didn’t want to impose.

REBECCA. You know how we’ve missed you.

KROLL. And I was away, of course.

REBECCA. Two weeks, that’s right. I suppose it was politics.

KROLL. Who’d have guessed it? Headmaster Kroll, in his doddering old age, manning the barricades.

REBECCA (lightly). Oh, you’ve always been a hothead.

KROLL. In a quiet way. But now it’s serious. D’you read the radical papers?

REBECCA. I can’t deny I –

KROLL. Dear Miss West, it’s harmless. At least, for you.

REBECCA. We have to keep up –

KROLL. It’s not as if you were expected to take sides. A woman! But it’s a civil war. You must have seen what the ‘champions of the people’ have been saying, the way they’ve been treating me. Impertinence!

REBECCA. I think you gave as good as you got.

KROLL. I flatter myself I’ve tasted blood. They’ll find I’m not a man who’ll let himself be – (breaking off) I’m sorry. Let’s change the subject. It’s so annoying.

REBECCA. Let’s change the subject.

KROLL. How are things here for you at Rosmersholm, now that you’re on your own. Now that poor Beata’s –

REBECCA. Fine, thank you. There’s a huge gap, naturally. Sorrow, mourning. But otherwise . . .

KROLL. Are you planning to stay? For good, I mean.

REBECCA. Dear Doctor Kroll, I haven’t thought about it, one way or the other. I’m so used to Rosmersholm, it’s as if I belonged here.

KROLL. Of course you do.

REBECCA. So long as Mr Rosmer finds me useful, a comfort . . . well, I’ll stay.

KROLL (looking at her with admiration). You know, when a woman sacrifices her life for others, it’s wonderful.

REBECCA. My life. What else was I to do with it?

KROLL. All those years with that impossible man, your foster-father in his wheelchair.

REBECCA. Doctor West was fine up north in Finmark. It was the boat-journeys he couldn’t stand. Then, when we moved south, until he died, we did have two or three bad years.

KROLL. Not so bad as what happened afterwards.

REBECCA. How can you say that? Poor Beata. I was fond of her. She needed me, my care, my company . . .

KROLL (warmly). Thank you for remembering her so kindly.

REBECCA (going to him). Doctor Kroll, you mean that. You’re not irritated.

KROLL. What d’you mean?

REBECCA. It wouldn’t be surprising. A stranger, here, in Rosmersholm, running things.

KROLL. You’re joking.

REBECCA. You don’t mind! (Taking his hand.) Doctor Kroll, oh thank you.

KROLL. Whatever made you think I was irritated?

REBECCA. When you didn’t call . . .

KROLL. My dear, you were quite mistaken. In any case, nothing’s changed. When Beata was alive, you still had...