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THE  COLLECTED  WORKS  OP 

HENRIK  IBSEN 


VOLUME  IV 

PEEK  GYJMT 

(1867) 


THE  COLLECTED  WORKS  OP 

HENRIK    IBSEN 

Copyright  Edition.     Complete  in  12  Volumes, 

Croion  ivo,  price  4s  each. 
ENTIRELY    REVISED   AND  EDITED   BY 

WILLIAM   ARCHER 

Vol.  I.         Lady  Inger,  The  Feast  at  Solhoug,  Love's 

Comedy 
Vol.  II.       The  Vikings,  The  Pretenders 
Vol.  III.      Brand 
Vol.  IV.      PeerGynt 
Vol.  V.        Emperor  and  Galilean  (2  parts) 
Vol.  VI.      The  League  of  Youth,  Pillars  of  Society 
Vol.  VII.    A  Doll's  House,  Ghosts 
Vol.  VIII.  An  Enemy  of  the  People,  The  Wild  Duck 
Vol.  IX.      Rosmersholm,  The  Lady  from  the  Sea 
Vol.  X         Hedda  Gabler,  The  Master  Builder 
Vol.  XI.      Little  Eyolf,  John  Gabriel  Borkham, 

When  We  Dead  Awaken 
Vol.  XII.    From  Ibsen's  Workshop 

London  :  WILLIAM  HEINEMANN 
21  Bedford  Street,  W.C. 


THE  COLLECTED  WORKS  OF 

HENRIK    IBSEN 

Copyright  Edition 
VOLUME    IV 

PEER   GYNT 

A  DRAMATIC  POEM 

TRANSLATED     BY 

WILLIAM  AND  CHARLES  ARCHER 


LONDON 

WILLIAM   HEINEMANN 

1912 


Collected  Edition,  fint  printed  March  1907 
New  Impressions,  April  1909,  November  1911 


Copyright  1907 


CONTENTS 

PA0E 

Introduction  to  "  Peer  Gynt  "    ,        «       vii 

By  WlJLIilAM  AllCHBR 

"Peer  Gynt"       .        .        .        ,        ,         1 

Translated  by  William  and  Charles  Archer 


PEER  GYNT. 


INTRODUCTION. 

The  publication  of  Brandy  in  March  1866,  brought 
Ibsen  fame  (in  Scandinavia)  and  relieved  him  from 
the  immediate  pressure  of  poverty.  Two  months  later 
the  Storthing  voted  him  a  yearly  "  poet-pension  "  of 
£90  ;  and  with  this  sum,  as  he  wrote  to  the  Minister 
who  had  been  mainly  instrumental  in  furthering  his 
claim,  he  felt  "  his  future  assured,"  so  that  he  could 
henceforth  *'  devote  himself  without  hindrance  to  his 
calling."  This  first  glimpse  of  worldly  prosperity,  no 
doubt,  brought  with  it  the  lighter  mood  which  dis- 
tinguishes Peer  Gynt  from  its  predecessor.  To  call  it 
the  gayest  of  Ibsen's  works  is  not,  perhaps,  to  say 
very  much.  Its  satire,  indeed,  is  bitter  enough  ;  but 
it  is  not  the  work  of  an  unhappy  man.  The  character 
of  Peer  Gynt,  and  many  of  his  adventures,  are  con- 
ceived with  unmistakable  gusto.  Some  passages 
even  bear  witness  to  an  exuberance  of  animal  spirits 
which  reminds  one  of  Ben  Jonson's  saying  with  regard 
to  Shakespeare — "  aliquando  sufflaminandus  erat." 

The  summer  of  1866  Ibsen  spent  at  Frascati,  in  the 
Palazzo  Gratiosi,  where  he  lived  *♦  most  comfortably 
and   cheaply."     He   found  Frascati   and  Tusculum 


Vlll  PEER    GYNT. 


"indescribably  delightful."  From  the  windows  of 
his  study  he  could  see  Soracte,  "  rising  isolated  and 
beautiful  from  the  level  of  the  immense  plain  .  .  . 
the  battlefield  where  the  chief  engagement  in  the 
world's  history  took  place."  So  he  writes  in  a  letter 
to  Paul  Botten-Hansen,  and  immediately  afterwards 
proceeds :  "  I  shall  soon  be  setting  to  work  in  good 
earnest.  I  am  still  wrestling  with  my  subject,  but  I 
know  that  I  shall  get  the  upper  hand  of  the  brute 
before  long,  and  then  everything  will  go  smoothly.'* 
But  was  the  play  here  referred  to  Peer  Gynt  f  Per- 
haps not.  From  a  letter  to  his  publisher,  Hegel, 
written  three  months  later,  we  learn  that  at  that  time 
he  was  still  turning  over  several  themes  in  his  mind,  and 
that  one  of  them  dealt  with  the  period  of  Christian  IV. 
of  Denmark.  It  is  in  a  letter  to  Hegel,  dated  from 
Rome,  January  5,  1867,  that  we  find  the  first  un- 
mistakable reference  to  Peer  Gynt :  "  Now  I  must 
tell  you  that  my  new  work  is  well  under  way,  and 
will,  if  nothing  untoward  happens,  be  finished  early 
in  the  summer.  It  is  to  be  a  long  dramatic  poem, 
having  as  its  chief  figure  one  of  the  Norwegian 
peasantry's  half -mythical,  fantastic  heroes  of  recent 
times.  It  will  bear  no  resemblance  to  Brandy  contain 
no  direct  polemics  and  so  forth.  I  have  long  had  the 
subject  in  my  thoughts  ;  now  the  entire  plan  is  worked 
out  and  written  down,  and  the  first  act  begun.  The 
thing  grows  as  I  work  at  it,  and  I  am  certain  tha;fc  you 
will  be  satisfied  with  it." 

Two  months  later  (March  8)  the  poem  has  "  ad- 
vanced to  the  middle  of  the  second  act."  On  August  8, 
he  sends  to  Hegel,  from  Yilla  Pisani,  Casamicciola, 
Ischia,  the  complete  manuscript  of  the  first  three  acts, 
and  writes  :  "  I  am  curious  to  hear  how  you  like  the 
poem,    I  am  very  hopeful  myself.     It  may  interest 


NTRODUCTION.  IX 


you  to  know  that  Peer  Gynt  is  a  real  person,  who 
lived  in  Gudbrandsdal,  probably  at  the  end  of  last,  or 
beginning  of  this,  century  ;  but  of  his  exploits  not 
much  more  is  known  than  is  to  be  found  in  Asbjorn- 
sen's  Norwegian  Fairy  Tales,  in  the  section  Pictures 
from  the  Mountains.  Thus  I  have  not  had  very  much 
to  build  upon  ;  but  so  much  the  more  liberty  has  been 
left  me.  It  would  interest  me  to  know  what  Clemens 
Petersen  thinks  of  the  work."  What  Clemens  Petersen 
did  think  we  shall  presently  learn. 

On  October  18  Ibson  despatched  from  Sorrento  the 
remainder  of  his  manuscript,  and  the  book  was  pub- 
lished on  November  14.  It  has  often  been  pointed 
out  (by  myself  among  others)  as  a  very  remarkable 
fact  that  two  such  gigantic  creations  as  Brand  and 
Peer  Gynt  should  have  been  given  to  the  world  in 
two  successive  years  ;  but  on  examination  the  marvel 
somewhat  dwindles.  Peer  Gynt  did  not  follow  so 
hot-foot  upon  Brand  as  the  bare  dates  of  publication 
would  lead  us  to  suppose.  Brand  was  written  in  the 
summer  of  1865,  Peer  Gynt  (as  we  have  seen)  in  1867 ; 
so  that  the  poet's  mind  had  lain  fallow  for  a  whole 
year  (1866)  between  the  two  great  efforts.  It  was  a 
long  delay  in  the  publication  of  Brand  that  made  its 
successor  seem  to  tread  so  close  upon  its  heels. 

One  or  two  other  references  to  the  origin  of  Peer 
Gynt  may  be  found  in  Ibsen's  letters.  The  most 
important  occurs  in  an  autobiographical  communica- 
tion to  Peter  Hansen,  dated  Dresden,  October  28> 
1870:  "After  Brand  came  Peer  Gynt,  as  though 
of  itself.  It  was  written  in  Southern  Italy,  in 
Ischia  and  at  Sorrento.  So  far  away  from  one's 
readers  one  becomes  reckless.  This  poem  contains 
much  that  has  its  origin  in  the  circumstances  of  my 
own  youth.      My  own   mother — with  the  necessary 


PEER    OYNT. 


exaggerations — served  as  the  model  for  Ase.  (Like- 
wise for  Inga  in  The  Pretender s).^^  Twelve  years 
later  (1882)  Ibsen  wrote  to  George  Brandes :  "  My 
father  was  a  merchant  with  a  large  business  and  wide 
connections,  and  he  enjoyed  dispensing  reckless  hospi- 
tality. In  1836  he  failed,  and  nothing  was  left  to  us 
except  a  farm  near  the  town.  ...  In  writing  Peer 
Gynt,  1  had  the  circumstances  and  memories  of  my 
own  childhood  before  me  when  I  described  the  life  in 
the  house  of  '  the  rich  Jon  Gynt.'  " 

Returning  to  the  above-quoted  letter  to  Peter 
Hansen,  we  find  this  further  allusion  to  Peer  Gynt 
and  its  immediate  predecessor  and  successor  in  the 
list  of  Ibsen's  works  :  "Environment  has  great  influ- 
ence upon  the  forms  in  which  imagination  creates. 
May  I  not,  like  ChristofE  in  Jahoh  von  Tyhoe^  point 
to  Brand  and  Peer  Gynt,  and  say  :  '  See,  the  wine-cup 
has  done  this  ? '  And  is  there  not  something  in  The 
League  of  Youth  [written  in  Dresden]  that  suggests 
*  Knackwurst  und  Bier '  ?  Not  that  I  would  thereby 
imply  any  inferiority  in  the  latter  play."  The  transi- 
tion to  prose  was  no  doubt  an  inevitable  step  in  the 
evolution  of  Ibsen's  genius  ;  but  one  wishes  he  had 
kept  to  the  "  wine-cup  "  a  little  longer. 

A  masterpiece  is  not  a  flawless  work,  but  one  which 
has  sufl&cient  vitality  to  live  down  its  faults,  until  at 
last  we  no  longer  heed,  and  almost  forget,  them.  Peer 
Gynt  had  real  faults,  not  a  few;  and  its  great  merit,  as 
Bome  of  us  think — its  magnificent,  rejkless  profusion 
of  fantasy — could  not  but  be  bewildering  to  its  first 
critics,  who  had  to  pronounce  upon  it  before  they  had 
(as  Ballested  2  would  put  it)  acclimatised  themselves 
to  its  atmosphere.   Iti  reception,  then,  was  much  more 

»  One  of  Holberg's  most  famous  comedies. 
*  See  The  Lady  from  the  Sec. 


INTRODUCTION. 


dubious  than  that  of  Brand  had  been.  "We  find  even 
George  Brandes  writing  of  it :  "  What  great  and  noble 
powers  are  wasted  on  this  thankless  material !  Except  n^^^^^yh^  Ac^ 
in  the  fourth  act,  which  has  no  connection  with  what 
goes  before  and  after,  and  is  witless  in  its  satire,  crude 
in  its  irony,  and  in  its  latter  part  scarcely  comprehen- 
sible, there  is  almost  throughout  a  wealth  of  poetry 
and  a  depth  of  thought  such  as  we  do  not  find,  perhaps, 
in  any  of  Ibsen's  earlier  works.  ...  It  would  be  un- 
just to  deny  that  the  book  contains  great  beauties,  or 
that  it  tells  us  all,  and  Norwegians  in  particular,  some 
important  truths  ;  but  beauties  and  truths  are  of  far 
less  value  than  beauty  and  truth  in  the  singular,  and 
Ibsen's  poem  is  neither  beautiful  nor  true.  Contempt 
for  humanity  and  self -hatred  make  a  bad  foundation 
on  which  to  build  a  poetic  work.  What  an  unlovely 
and  distorting  view  of  life  this  is  !  What  acrid  plea- 
sure can  a  poet  find  in  thus  sullying  human  nature  ?"i 
The  friendship  between  Brandes  and  Ibsen  was  at  this 
time  just  beginning,  and — much  to  Ibsen's  credit — 
it  appears  to  have  suffered  no  check  by  reason  of  this 
outspoken  pronoimcement. 

On  the  other  hand,  he  deeply  resented  a  criticism 
by  Clemens  Petersen,  who  seems  to  have  been  at 
this  time  regarded  as  the  aesthetic  lawgiver  of  Copen- 
hagen. Why  he  should  have  done  so  is  not  very  clear  ; 
for  Petersen  professed  to  prefer  Peer  Gynt  to  Brandy 
and  his  criticism  on  Brand  Ibsen  had  apparently  ac- 
cepted without  demur.  Most  of  Petersen's  article  is 
couched  in  a  very  heavy  philosophic  idiom  ;  but  the 
following  extract,  though  it  refers  chiefly  to  Brand, 

»  Brandes  :  Ibsen  andBjSrnson,  p.  35.  London,  Heineraann, 
1899.  Except  in  regard  to  the  fovirth  act,  Dr.  Brandes  has,  in 
the  introduction  to  Peer  Gynt  in  the  German  collected  edition, 
tecanted  his  early  condemnation  of  the  poem. 


Xll  PEER    OYNT. 


may  convey  some  idea  of  his  general  objection  to  both 
poems:  —  "When  a  poet,  as  Ibsen  does  in  Brand,  depicts 
an  error,  aonenaidedness,  which  is  from  first  to  last  pre- 
sented in  an  imposing  light,  it  is  not  sufficient  that  he 
should  eventually,  through  a  piece  of  sensational  sym- 
bolism, let  that  one-sidedness  go  to  ruin,  and  it  is  not 
sufficient  that  in  the  last  word  of  the  drama  *  he  should 
utter  the  name  of  that  with  which  the  one-sidedness 
should  have  blended  in  order  to  become  truth.  If  he 
throughout  his  work  shows  us  this  error — in  virtue  of 
its  strength,  if  for  no  other  reason — justifying  itself 
as  against  everything  that  comes  in  contact  with  it, 
then  it  is  not  only  in  the  character  depicted  that  some- 
thing is  lacking,  but  in  the  work  of  art  itself.  That 
something  is  the  Ideal,  without  which  the  work  of 
art  cannot  take  rank  as  poetry — the  Ideal  which  here, 
as  so  often  in  art,  lies  only  in  the  lighting  of  the 
picture,  but  which  is  nevertheless  the  saving,  the  up- 
lifting element.  It  is  to  poetry  what  devotion  is  to 
religion.  ...  In  Peer  Gynt,  as  in  Brandy  the  ideal  is 
lacking.  But  this  must  be  said  rather  less  strongly  of 
Peer  Gynt.  There  is  more  fantasy,  more  real  freedom 
of  spirit,  less  strain  and  less  violence  in  this  poem  than 
in  Brand.'*  The  critic  then  speaks  of  Peer  Gynt  as 
being  "full  of  riddles  which  are  insoluble,  because  \/ 
there  is  nothing  in  them  at  all."  Peer's  identifica- 
tion of  the  Sphinx  with  the  Boyg  (Act  IV.  Sc.  12)  he 
characterises  as  "  Tankesvindel  " — thought-swindling, 
or,  as  we  might  say,  juggling  with  thought.  The 
general  upshot  of  his  considerations  is  that  Peer  Gynt 
belongs,  with  Goldschmidt's  Corsaren^  to  the  domain 
of  polemical  journalism.  It  "  is  not  poetry,  because  i/ 
in  the  transmutation  of  reality  into  art  it  falls  half- 
way short  of  the  demands  both  of  art  and  of  reality." 
*  The  last  words  are  "  deus  caritatis." 


I 


INTRODUCTION.  XUl 

Petersen's  review  is  noteworthy,  not  for  its  own 
sake,  but  for  the  effect  it  produced  on  Ibsen.    His 
letters  to  Bjornson  on  the  subject  are  the  most  vivid 
and  spontaneous  he  ever  wrote.    Bjornson  happened 
to  be  in  Copenhagen  when  Petersen's  article  appeared 
in  Fcedrelandet,  and  Ibsen  seems  somehow  to  have 
blamed  him  for  not  preventing  its  appearance.     '*  All 
I  reproach  you  with,"  he  says,  "is  inaction."    But 
Petersen  he  accuses  of  lack  of  "  loyalty,"  of  "  an  in- 
tentional crime  against  truth  and  justice."     •'  There  is 
a  lie  involved  in  Clemens  Petersen's  article,  not  in  what 
he  says,  but  in  what  he  refrains  from  saying.    And  he 
intentionally  refrains  from  saying  a  great  deal.  .  .  . 
Tell  me,  now,  is  Peer  Gynt  himself  not  a  personality, 
complete  and  individual  ?    /  know  that  he  is.     And 
the  mother  ;  is  she  not  ?  "     But  the  most  memorable 
passage  in  this  memorable  letter  is  the  following  piece 
of  splendid  arrogance  :  "  My  book  is  poetry  ;  and  if 
it  is  not,  then  it  will  be.     The  conception  of  poetry 
in  our  country,  in  Norway,  shall  be  made  to  conform 
to  the  book."     It  certainly  seems  that  any  definition 
of  poetry  which  should  be  so  framed  as  to  exclude 
Peer  Gynt  must  have  something  of  what  Petersen  him- 
self called  •'  Tankesvindel  "  about  it. 

Ibsen's  burst  of  indignation  relieved  his  mind,  and 
three  weeks  later  we  find  him  writing,  half  apologeti- 
cally, of  the  "  cargo  of  nonsense  "  he  had  "  shipped 
off  "  to  Bjornson,  immediately  on  reading  Petersen's 
review.  He  even  sends  a  friendly  "  greeting  "  to  the 
offending  critic.  But  this  is  his  last  (published)  letter 
to  Bjornson  for  something  like  fifteen  years.  How 
far  the  reception  of  Peer  Gynt  may  have  contributed 
to  the  breach  between  them,  I  do  not  know.  Bjorn- 
son's  own  criticism  of  the  poem,  as  we  shall  presently 
see,  was  very  favourable. 


Xiv  PEER    OYNT. 


Peer  Gynt  was  not,  on  its  appearance,  quite  so  popular 
as  Brand,  A  second  edition  was  called  for  in  a  fort- 
night ;  but  the  third  edition  did  not  appear  until  1874, 
by  which  time  the  seventh  edition  of  Brand  was 
already  on  the  market.  Before  the  end  of  the  century 
ten  editions  of  Peer  Gynt  had  appeared  in  Copenhagen 
as  against  fourteen  of  Brand.  The  first  German 
translation  appeared  in  1881,  and  the  present  English 
translation  in  1892.  A  French  translation,  by  Count 
Prozor,  appeared  in  the  Nouvelle  Revue  in  1896,  but 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  published  in  book  form. 

After  a  great  deal  of  discussion  as  to  the  stage- 
arrangement.  Peer  Gynt,  largely  abbreviated,  was  pro- 
duced, with  Edvard  Grieg's  now  famous  incidental 
music,  at  the  Christiania  Theatre  in  February  1876. 
Henrik  Klausen  playing  the  title-part.  It  was  acted 
thirty-seven  times  ;  but  a  fire  which  destroyed  some 
of  the  scenery  put  a  stop  to  the  performances.  In 
1892,  at  the  same  theatre,  the  first  three  acts  were 
revived,  with  Bjorn  Bjornson  as  Peer,  and  repeated  fifty 
times.  In  the  repertory  of  the  National  Theatre,  too 
(opened  in  1899),  Peer  Gh/nt  has  taken  a  prominent 
place.  It  was  first  given  in  1902,  and  has  up  to  the 
present  (1906)  been  performed  eighty-four  times.  In 
the  version  which  has  established  itself  on  the  Nor- 
wegian stage,  all  five  acts  are  given,  but  the  fourth 
and  fifth  acts  are  greatly  abbreviated.  In  the  season 
of  1886  the  play  was  produced  at  the  Dagmar 
Theatre,  Copenhagen.  August  Lindberg's  Swedish 
Company  acted  it  in  Gothenburg  in  1892,  in  Stock- 
holm in  1895,  and  afterwards  toured  with  it  in 
Norway  and  Sweden.  Count  Prozor's  translation  was 
acted  by  "  L'CEuvre "  at  the  Nouveau  Theatre, 
Paris,  in  November,  1896,  of  which  remarkable 
production   a  lively  account  by  Mr.  Bernard  Shaw 


INTRODUCTION.  XV 


I 


may  bs  found  in  the  Saturday  Review  of  that  period. 
At  the  Deutsches  Volkstheater  in  Yienna,  in  May 
1902,  two  performances  of  Peer  Gynt  were  given  by 
the  "  Akademisch-Litterarische  Yerein."  I  can  find 
no  record  of  any  other  German  production  of  the  play. 
The  first  production  in  the  English  language  took 
place  at  the  Grand  Opera  House,  Chicago,  on  October 
29,  1906,  when  Mr.  Richard  Mansfield  appeared  as 
Peer  Gynt.  Mr.  Mansfield  would  seem  to  have  acted 
the  greater  part  of  the  play,  but  to  have  omitted  the 
Sseter-Girl  scene  and  the  madhouse  scene. 

We  have  seen  that  the  name.  Peer  Gynt,  was  sug- 
gested to  Ibsen  by  a  folk- tale  in  Asbjornsen  and  Moe'a 
invaluable  collection.  It  is  one  of  a  group  of  tales 
entitled  Reindeer-Hunting  in  the  Ronde  Hills  ;*  and  in 
the  same  group  occurs  the  adventure  of  Gudbrand 
Glesne  on  the  Gendin-Edge,  which  Peer  Gynt  works 
up  so  unblushingly  in  Act  I.  Sc.  1.  The  text  of  both 
these  tales  will  be  found  in  the  Appendix,  and  the 
reader  will  recognise  how  very  slight  are  the  hints 
which  set  the  poet's  imagination  to  work.  The 
encounter  with  the  Sseter-Girls  (Act  II.  Sc.  3)  and 
the  struggle  with  the  Boyg  (Act  II.  Sc.  7)  are  fore- 
shadowed in  Asbjornsen,  and  the  concluding  remark 
of  Anders  Ulsvolden  evidently  suggested  to  Ibsen  the 
idea  of  incarnating  Fantasy  in  Peer  Gynt,  as  in  Brand 
he  had  given  us  incarnate  Will.  But  the  Peer  Gynt 
of  the  drama  has  really  nothing  in  common  with  the 
Peer  Gynt  of  the  story,  and  the  rest  of  the  characters 
are  not  even  remotely  suggested.  Many  scattered 
traits  and  allusions,  however,  are  borrowed  from  other 
legends  in  the  same    storehouse  of  grotesque  and 

*  Norske  Huldre-Eventyr  og  Folkesagn,  Christiania,  1848, 
p.  47.    See  also  Copenhagen  edition,  1896,  p.  163. 

IV  b 


XVI  PEER    GYNT. 


marvellous  imaginings.  Thus  the  story  of  the  devil  in 
a  nutshell  (Act  I.  Sc.  3)  figures  in  Asbjornsen  under 
the  title  of  The  Boy  and  the  Devils  The  appearance 
of  the  Green-Clad  One  with  her  Ugly  Brat,  who  offers 
Peer  Gynt  a  goblet  of  beer  (Act  III.  Sc.  3),  is  ob- 
viously suggested  by  an  incident  in  Berthe  Tuppen- 
hmig's  Stories.^  Old  Berthe,  too,  supplies  the  idea  of 
correcting  Peer  Gynt's  eyesight  according  to  the 
standard  of  the  hill-trolls  (Act  II.  Sc,  6),  as  well  as 
the  germ  of  the  fantastic  thread-ball  episode  in  the  last 
Act  (Sc.  6).  The  castle,  "  East  of  the  Sun  and  West 
of  the  Moon  "  (Act  III.  Sc.  4),  gives  its  title  to  one 
of  Asbjornsen's  stories,'  which  maybe  read  in  English 
in  Mr.  Andrew  Lang's  Blue  Fairy  Book  ;  and  "  Soria 
Moria  Castle  "  is  the  title  of  another  legend.^  Herr 
Passarge  (in  his  Henrik  Ibsen,  Leipzig,  1883)  goes  so 
far  as  to  trace  the  idea  of  Peer  Gynt's  shrinking  from 
the  casting-ladle,  even  though  hell  be  the  alternative 
(Act  Y.  Sc.  7,  &c.),  to  Asbjornsen's  story  of  The 
Smith  whom  they  Dared  not  let  into  Hell  ;^  but  the  cir- 
cumstances are  so  different,  and  Ibsen's  idea  is  such 
an  inseparable  part  of  the  ethical  scheme  of  the  drama, 
that  we  can  scarcely  take  it  to  have  been  suggested 
by  this  (or  any  other)  individual  story .^     At  the  same 

*  Norske  Folke-og  Huldre-Eventyr^  Copenhagen,  1896,  p.  48. 

*  Ibid.,  p.  129. 

*  Ibid.^  p.  259. 

*  Not  included  in  the  Copenhagen  edition.  See  edition, 
Christiania,  1866,  p.  115.  See  also  Sir  Georg^e  Webbe  Dasent's 
Popular  Tales  from  the  Norse,  Edinburgh,  1859  ;  new  ed.  1903, 
p.  396.  More  or  less  representative  selections  from  the  store- 
house of  Asbjornsen  and  Moe  may  also  be  found  in  Tales  from 
the  Fjeld,  by  G.  W.  Dasent,  London,  1874,  and  in  Kourid  the 
Yule  Log,  by  H.  L.  Braekstad,  London  1881. 

5  Copenhagen  ed.  1896,  p.  148. 

6  In  this  story,  ho\vever,'he  probably  found  the  suggestion  of 
the  "  cross-roads  "  which  figure  so  largely  in  the  fifth  act.  In 
Asbjornsen,  they  are  explicitly  stated  to  be  the  point  where  the 
ways  to  Heaven  and  Hell  diverge. 


INTRODUCTION. 


xvii 


I 

^■^  time  there  is  no  doubt  that  The  Folk-Lore  of  Peer 
^B  Gynt  might  form  the  subject  of  a  much  more  extended 
^B  study  than  our  space  or  our  knowledge  admits  of.* 
^H  The  whole  atmosphere  of  the  first  three  acts  and  of 
^H  the  fifth  is  that  of  the  Norwegian  Folk  and  Fairy 
^H  Tales.  It  must  be  remembered,  too,  that  in  the  early 
^K  'sixties  Ibsen  was  commissioned  by  the  Norwegian 
^B  Government  to  visit  Romsdal  and  Sondmore  for  the 
^B  purpose  of  collecting  folk-songs  and  legends.  To 
these  journeys,  no  doubt,  we  are  mainly  indebted  for 
the  local  colour  of  Brand  and  Peer  GynU 


What  are  we  to  say  now  of  the  drift,  the  interpre- 
tation of  Peer  Gynt?  The  first  and  most  essential 
thing  may  be  said  in  Ibsen's  own  words.  On  February 
24,  1868,  he  wrote  from  Rome  to  Frederik  Hegel  : 
"  I  learn  that  the  book  has  created  much  excitement 
in  Norway.  This  does  not  trouble  me  in  the  least ; 
but  both  there  and  in  Denmark  they  have  discovered 
much  more  satire  in  it  than  was  intended  by  me.  Why 
can  they  not  read  the  book  as  a  poem  ?  For  as  such  I 
wrote  it.     The  satirical  passages  are  tolerably  isolated. 

*  Further  gleanings  of  legendary  lore  concerning  Peer  Gynt 
may  be  found  in  the  Norwegian  periodical  Syn  og  Segn,  1903, 
pp.  119-130.  The  writer,  Per  Aasmundstad,  is  of  opinion  that 
Peer  Gynt's  real  name  was  Peer  Haagaa  (the  owner  of  Haagaa 
farm)  and  that  Gynt  was  either  a  name  given  him  by  the  huldra- 
folk,  or  else  a  local  nickname  for  humorists  of  his  kind.  Accord- 
ing to  this  authority,  he  probably  lived  as  far  back  as  the  seven- 
teenth century.  Per  Aasmundstad's  article  is  written  in  the  local 
dialect,  with  such  ruthless  phonetic  accuracy  that  I  read  it  with 
difficulty;  but  he  does  not  seem  to  have  discovered  anything  that 
has  a  definite  bearing  on  Ibsen's  work.  From  the  wording  of 
Ibsen's  letters  to  Hegel,  however  (p.  viii),  it  would  seem  that  he 
had  some  knowledge  of  the  Gynt  legend  over  and  above  what 
was  to  be  found  in  Asbjomsen.  (For  access  to  Syn  og  Segn^ 
and  for  other  obliging  assistance,  I  am  indebted  to  Herr  Halvdan 
Koht,  the  author  of  the  excellent  biographical  introduction  lo 
Ibsen's  Letters.) 


.^J^  Xviii  PEER    GYNT. 

^,  a/^-f  

fv/il'*  ^  */^  But  if  the  Norwegians  of  the  present  time  recognise 

)p  ^  themselves,  as  it  would  appear  they  do,  in  the  character 

of  Peer  Gynt,  that  is  the  good  people's  own  afEair." 
In  the  last  sentence  the  innocence  of  intention  is, 
no  doubt,  a  little  overdone  ;  but  there  is  still  less 
doubt  that  Ibsen  was  absolutely  sincere  in  declaring 
that  he  wrote  it  primarily  as  a  poem,  a  work  of  pure 
imagination,  and  that  as  a  work  of  pure  imagination  it 
ought  primarily  to  be  read.  There  is  undeniably  an 
undercurrent  of  ethical  and  satirical  meaning  in  the 
play  ;  but  no  one  can  properly  enjoy  or  value  it  who 
is  not  swept  along  irresistibly  by  the  surface  stream 
of  purely  poetic  invention  and  delineation.  Peer  him- 
self is  a  character- creation  on  the  heroic  scale,  as  vital 
a  personality  as  Falstaff  or  Don  Quixote.  It  is  here 
that  the  poem  (as  Clemens  Petersen  vaguely  discerned) 
has  a  marked  advantage  over  its  predecessor.  In  spite 
of  the  tremendous  energy  with  which  he  is  depicted, 
Brand  remains  an  abstraction  or  an  attitude,  rather 
than  a  human  being.  But  Peer  Gynt  is  human  in  every 
fibre — too  human  to  be  alien  to  any  one  of  us.  We 
know  him,  we  understand  him,  we  love  him — for  who 
does  not  love  a  genial,  imaginative,  philosophic  rascal  ? 
As  for  his  adventures  and  vicissitudes,  if  they  do  not 
give  us  pleasure  in  and  for  themselves,  quite  apart 
from  any  symbolic  sub-intention — just  as  the  adven- 
tures of  Sindbad,  or  Gil  Bias,  or  Tom  Jones,  or  Huckle- 
berry Finn  give  us  pleasure — then  assuredly  the  poem 
does  not  affect  us  as  Ibsen  intended  that  it  should. 
Readers  who  approach  it  for  the  first  time  may  there- 
jfore  be  counselled  to  pay  no  heed  to  its  ethical  or 
I  political  meanings,  and  to  take  it  as  it  comes,  simply 
I  as  a  dramatic  romance  or  phantasmagoria  of  purely 
human  humour  and  pathos.  Reading  it  in  this  way, 
they  will  naturally  find  a  good  deal  that  seems  obscuie 


INTRODUCTION.  xix 


and  arbitrary  ;  but  much  of  this  will  be  cleared  up  on 
a  second  reading,  by  the  aid  of  such  sidelights  as  this        ^  a 

Introduction  can  afford.     No  assiduity  of  study,  how-     '^A     i   ^^^*«^*» 
ever,  can  find  in  Peer  Gynt  a  clear,  consistent,  cut-and-  '^^'^         .  fgjf^ 

dried  allegory,  with  a  place  for  everything  and  every-  /^^i^  ( '^ 
thing  in  its  place.  It  is  not  an  allegory,  but  (as  afore- 
said) a  phantasmagory.  This  is  what  the  early  critics 
did  not  realise.  They  quarrelled  with  it  for  the  very 
luxuriance  of  its  invention,  the  buoyant  irrepressible 
whimsicality  of  its  humour,  the  shimmering  iridescence 
of  its  style.  They  stood  before  an  "  undulant  and 
diverse  "  carnival-pageant,  and  grumbled  because  it 
would  not  fit  into  any  recognised  form,  sanctioned  by 
their  preconceived  aesthetic  principles. 

I  am  far  from  maintaining  that  the  reckless,  elusive 
capriciousness  of  the  poem  is  an  unmixed  merit.  It 
would  probably  have  done  no  harm  if,  after  the  first  rap- 
ture of  composition  had  died  away,  Ibsen  had  gone  over  x-^ 
it  and  pruned  it  a  little  here  and  there.  I  can  by  no  n^-^^l-  n^i 
means  endorse  the  critics'  sweeping  condemnation  of 
the  fourth  act,  which  contains  some  of  the  most  de- 
lightful passages  in  the  whole  poem  ;  but  the  first 
scene  of  this  act  is  unquestionably  shallow  in  concep- 
tion and  diffuse  in  style — a  piece  of  satiric  journalism 
rather  than  of  literature.  The  concluding  scenes  of 
the  last  act,  too,  would  certainly  have  been  none  the 
worse  of  a  little  compression.  The  auction  scene 
(Act  Y.  Sc.  4),  though  it  has  a  sort  of  fantastic  im- 
pressiveness,  seems  to  me  hopelessly  baffling  in  its 
relation  both  to  the  outward  story  and  to  the  inner 
significance  of  the  poem.  Here,  and  perhaps  at  some 
half-dozen  other  points,  one  may  admit  that  Ibsen 
appears  to  have  let  his  fancy  run  away  with  him  ;  but 
the  inert,  excessive,  or  utterly  enigmatic  passages  in 
Peer  Gynt  are  sijrely  few  and  brief  in  comparison  with 


XX  PEER    GYNT. 


the  passages  in  Faust  to  which  the  same  epithets  may 
be  applied.  On  the  other  hand,  the  scenes  of  poignant 
and  thrilling  and  haunting  poetry  are  too  many  to  be 
severally  indicated.  The  first  act,  with  its  inimitable 
life  and  movement,  Ase's  death-scene,  and  the  Pastor's 
speech  in  the  last  act,  are  usually  cited  as  the  culminat- 
ing points  of  the  poem  ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  Ase's  death-scene,  at  any  rate,  is  one  of  the 
supreme  achievements  of  modern  drama.^  But  there 
are  several  other  scenes  that  I  would  place  scarcely,  if 
at  all,  lower  than  these.  In  point  of  weird  intensity, 
there  is  nothing  in  the  poem  more  marvellous  than 
the  Saeter-Girl  scene  (Act  II.  Sc.  3)  ;  in  point  of  lyric 
movement.  Peer  Gynt's  repudiation  of  Ingrid  (Act  II. 
Sc.  1)  is  incomparable  ;  and  in  point  of  sheer  beauty 
and  pathos,  Solveig's  arrival  at  the  hut  (Act  III. 
Sc.  3),  with  the  whole  of  the  scene  that  follows,  stands 
supreme.2  For  my  own  part,  I  reckon  the  shipwreck 
scenes  at  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  act  among  the 
most  impressive,  as  they  are  certainly  not  the  least 
characteristic,  in  the  poem.  And,  in  enumerating  its 
traits  of  undeniable  greatness,  one  must  by  no  means 
forget  the  character  of  Ase,  on  which  Ibsen  himself 
dwelt  with  justified  complacency.  There  is  not  a  more 
life-like  creation  in  the  whole  range  of  drama. 

Having  now  warned  the  reader  against  allowing  the 
jearch  for  symbolic  or  satiric  meanings  to  impair  his 
enjoyment  of  the  pure  poetry  of  Peer  Gynt,  I  may  pro- 
ceed to  point  out  some  of  the  implications  which  do  in- 
dubitably underlie  the  surface  aspects  of  the  poem. 

»  It  is  pretty  clear  that  the  poet  designed  Ase's  death  as  a 
^  deliberate  contrast  to  the  death  of  Brand's  mother. 

»  In  all  these  remarks  I  have  in  mind,  of  course,  the  scenes  in 
their  original  form.  The  reader  will  eas'ly  understand  the  loss 
which  they  inevitably  suffer  in  being  deprived  of  the  crowning 
grace^fjickl^laborated  rhyme.  '^     —  ' 


i 


INTRODUCTION. 


xxi 


These  meanings  fall  under  three  heads.  First,  we 
have  universal-human  satire  and  symbolism7T55aring 
upon  human  nature  in  general,  irrespective  of  race  or 
nationality.  Next  we  h  ave  satire  upon  Norwegian  human 
nature  in  particular,  upon  the  religious  and  political 
life  of  Norway  as  a  nation.  Lastly,  we  find  a  certain 
number  of  local  and  ephemeral  references — what,  in 
the  slang  of  our  stage,  are  called  "  topical  allusions." 

In  order  to  provide  the  reader  with  a  clue  to  the 
complex  meanings  of  Peer  Gynt,  on  its  higher  lines  or 
planes  of  significance,  I  cannot  do  better  than  quote 
some  paragraphs  from  the  admirable  summary  of  the 
drama  given  by  Mr.  P.  H.  Wicksteed  in  his  Four  Lec- 
tures on  Henrih  Ihsen}  Mr.  Wicksteed  is  in  such 
perfect  sympathy  with  Ibsen  in  the  stage  of  his  de- 
velopment marked  by  Brand  and  Peer  Gynt,  that  he 
has  understood  these  poems,  in  my  judgment,  at  least 
as  well  as  any  other  commentator,  whether  German  or 
Scandinavian.     He  writes  as  follows  : 

"  In  Brand  the  hero  is  ja  embodied  protest  against 
the  poverty  of  spirit  and  half-heartedness  that  Ibsen 
rebelled  against  in  his  countrymen.  In  Peer  Gynt  the 
hero  is  himself  the  embodiment  of  that  spirit.  In 
Brand  the  fundamental  antithesis,  upon  which,  as  its 
central  theme,  the  drama  is  constructed,  is  the  contrast 
between  the  spirit  of  compromise  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  motto  '  everything  or  nothing  '  on  the  other.  And 
Peer  Gynt  is  the  very  incarnation  of  a  compromising 
dread  of  decisive  committal  to  any  one  course.  In 
Brand  the  problem  of  self-realisation  and  the  relation 
of  the  individual  to  his  surroundings  is  obscurely 
struggling  for  recognition,  and  in  Peer  Gynt  it  becomes 
the  formal  theme  upon  which  all  the  fantastic  varia- 
tions of  the  drama  are  built  up.  In  both  plays  alike 
*  l-or^don :  Sonnenschein,  1S92. 


XXU  PEER    GYNT. 


the  problems  of  heredity  and  the  influence  of  early 
surroundings  are  more  than  touched  upon  ;  and  both 
alike  culminate  in  the  doctrine  that  the  only  redeeming 
power  on  earth  or  in  heaven  is  the  power  of  love. 

"  Peer  Gynt,  as  already  stated,  stands  for  the  Nor- 
wegian people,  much  as  they  are  sketched  in  Brand. 
though  with  more  brightness  of  colouring.  Hence  his 
perpetual  '  hedging '  and  determination  never  so 
to  commit  himself  that  he  cannot  draw  back.  Hence 
his  fragmentary  life  of  smatterings.  Hence  his  per- 
petual brooding  over  the  former  grandeur  of  his 
family,  his  idle  dreams  of  the  future,  and  his  neglect 
of  every  present  duty.  Hence  his  deep-rooted  selfish- 
ness and  cynical  indifference  to  all  higher  motives  ;  and 
hence,  above  all,  his  sordid  and  superstitious  religion  ; 
for  to  him  religion  is  the  apotheosis  of  the  art  of 
*  hedging.' 

'•  But  Ibsen's  allegories  are  never  stiffly  or  pedanti- 
cally worked  out.  His  characters,  though  typical,  are 
personal.  We  could  read  Brand,  and  could  feel  the 
tragedy  and  learn  the  lessons  of  the  drama  without 
any  knowledge  whatever  of  the  circumstances  or 
feelings  under  which  it  was  written,  or  the  references 
to  the  Norwegian  character  and  conduct  with  which  it 
teems. 

"  So,  too,  with  Peer  Gynt.  We  may  forget  the 
national  significance  of  the  sketch,  except  where 
special  allusions  recall  it  to  our  minds,  and  may  think 
only  of  the  universal  problems  with  which  the  poem 
deals,  and  which  will  retain  their  awful  interest  when 
Ibsen's  polemic  against  his  countrymen  has  sunk  into 
oblivion.  The  study  of  Peer  Gynt  as  an  ocjcasional 
poem  should  be  strictly  subsidiary  and  introductory  to 
its  study  as  the  tragedy  of  a  lost  soul. 

"  What  is  it  to  be  one's  self  ?    Qod  meant  somethinp 


INTRODUCTION.  XXlll 


when  he  made  each  one  of  us.  For  a  man  to  embody 
fchat  meaning  of  God  in  his  words  and  deeds,  and  so 
become  in  his  degree  a  '  word  of  God  made  flesh,'  is  to 
be  himself.  But  thus  to  be  himself  he  must  slay  him- 
self. That  is  to  say,  he  must  slay  the  craving  to  make 
himself  the  centre  round  which  others  revolve,  and 
must  strive  to  find  his  true  orbit  and  swing,  self -poised, 
round  the  great  central  light.  But  what  if  a  poor 
devil  can  never  puzzle  out  what  on  earth  God  did 
mean  when  he  made  him  ?  Why,  then,  he  must  feel 
it.  But  how  often  your  *  feeling  '  misses  fire  !  Ay  ! 
there  you  have  it.  The  devil  has  no  stauncher  ally 
than  want  of  perception!     [Act  V.  Sc.  9.] 

"  But,  after  all,  you  may  generally  find  out  what 
God  meant  you  for,  if  you  will  face  facts.  It  is  easy 
to  find  a  refuge  from  facts  in  lies,  in  self-deception, 
and  in  self-sufficiency.  It  is  easy  to  take  credit  to 
yourself  for  what  circumstances  have  done  for  you, 
and  lay  upon  circumstances  what  you  owe  to  yourself. 
It  is  easy  to  think  you  are  realising  yourself  by  refusing 
to  become  a  '  pack-horse  for  the  weal  and  woe  of  others ' 
[Act  IV.  Sc.  1],  keeping  alternatives  open  and  never 
closing  a  door  behind  you  or  burning  your  ships,  and 
so  always  remaining  the  master  of  the  situation  and 
self-possessed.  If  you  choose  to  do  these  easy  things 
you  may  always  '  get  round  '  your  difficulties  [Act  II. 
Sc.  7],  but  you  will  never  get  through  them.  You  will 
remain  master  of  the  situation  indeed,  but  the  situa- 
tion will  become  poorer  and  narrower  every  day.  If 
you  never  commit  yourself,  you  never  express  your- 
self, and  yourself  becomes  less  and  less  significant  and 
decisive.  Calculating  selfishness  is  the  annihilation  of 
self." 

So  far  Mr.  Wicksteed.  The  general  significance  of 
t-he  poem,  in  the  terms  of  that  theism  which  may  or 


XXIV  PEER    QYNT. 


may  not  have  been  Ibsen's  personal  creed  during  the 
years  of  its  incubation,  could  scarcely  be  better  ex- 
pounded. 

When  we  come  to  subsidiary  meanings,  we  must  pro- 
ceed more  carefully,  for  we  have  the  poet's  own  word 
for  it  that  many  have  been  read  into  the  poem  whereof 
he  never  dreamt.  For  example,  in  his  first  letter  to 
Bjornson  after  reading  Clemens  Petersen's  criticism, 
he  protested  against  that  critic's  assumption  that  the 
Strange  Passenger  (Act  Y.  Scs.  1  and  2)  was  symbolic 
of  "  dread."  "  If  my  head  had  been  on  the  block,"  he 
said,  "and  such  an  explanation  would  have  saved  my  life, 
it  would  never  have  occurred  to  me.  I  never  thought 
of  such  a  thing.  I  stuck  in  the  scene  as  a  mere 
caprice."  For  this  element  of  caprice  we  must  always 
allow.  The  whole  fourth  act,  the  poet  told  the 
present  writer,  was  an  afterthought,  and  did  not  belong 
to  the  original  scheme  of  the  play. 

Here  we  come  upon  the  question  whether  Ibsen 
consciously  designed  Peer  Gynt  as  a  counterblast  to 
Bjornson's  idyllic  peasant-novel,  Synnove  Solhakken. 
This  theory,  put  forward  by  a  judicious  French  critic 
M.  Auguste  Ehrhard,^  among  others,  has  always 
seemed  to  me  very  far-fetched  ;  but  as  Dr.  Brandes, 
in  the  introduction  to  Peer  Gynt  in  the  German  col- 
lected edition,  appears  to  give  it  his  sanction,  I  quote 
what  he  says  on  the  point:  "German  critics  have 
laid  special  emphasis  on  the  fact  that  Ibsen  here 
placed  himself  in  conscious  opposition  to  Bjornson's 
glorification,  in  his  early  novels,  of  the  younger  gene- 
ration of  Norwegian  peasants.  Quarrelsomeness  and 
love  of  fighting  were  represented  in  Thorbjorn,  the 
hero  of  Synnove  Solbakken,  as  traits  of  the  traditional 
old-Norse  viking  spirit;  in  Arne  the  poetic  proclivities 

»  //enrii  Ibsen  et  le  Theatre  Contemporain.    Paris,  1892. 


NTRODUCTION.  XXV 


of  the  people  were  placed  in  an  engaging  light. 
The  vaunted  fisticuff -heroism  was,  in  Ibsen's  view, 
nothing  but  rawness,  and  the  poetic  proclivities  of 
Norwegian  youth  appeared  to  him,  in  the  last  analysis, 
simply  a  very  prevalent  love  of  lying  and  gasconading. 
The  Norwegians  appear  in  the  caricaturing  mirror  of 
this  brilliant  poem  as  a  people  who,  in  smug  content- 
ment, are  '  to  themselves  enough,'  and  therefore  laud 
everything  that  is  their  own,  however  insignificant  it 
may  be,  shrink  from  all  decisive  action,  and  have  for 
Iheir  national  vice  a  tendency  to  fantastication  and 
braggadocio."  That  Peer  Gynt  is  a  counterblast  to 
national  romanticism  and  chauvinism  in  general  there 
can  of  course  be  no  doubt ;  but  I  see  no  reason  to  sup- 
pose that  Ibsen  hadBjornson's  novels  specially  in  view, 
or  intended  anything  like  a  "  caricature  "  of  them.  It 
is  pretty  clear,  too,  that  Bjornson  himself  had  no  such 
idea  in  bis  mind  when  he  reviewed  the  poem  in  the 
Norsk  FolheUad  for  November  23,  1867.  His  long 
article  is  almost  entirely  laudatory,  and  certainly  shows 
no  smallest  sign  of  hostile  party-spirit.  "Peer  Gynt^' 
says  Bjornson,  "is  a  satire  upon  Norwegian  egoism, 
narrowness,  and  self-sufficiencj^ so  executed  as'fo^ave 
made  nienoFonly  again~and  again  laugh  till  I  was 
sore,  but  again  and  again  give  thanks  to  the  author  in 
my  heart — as  I  here  do  publicly."  Beyond  remarking 
upon  the  over-exuberance  of  detail,  and  criticising 
the  versification,  Bjornson  says  little  or  nothing  in 
dispraise  of  the  poem.  On  the  other  hand  he  says 
curiously  little  of  its  individual  beauties.  He  never 
mentions  Ase,  says  nothing  of  her  death-scene,  or 
of  the  Pastor's  speech,  and  picks  out  as  the  best 
thing  in  the  play  the  thread-ball  scene  (Act  V.  Sc.  6). 
The  most  obviously  satirical  passage  of  the  first 
three  acts  is  the  scene  in  the   Do  vre -King's  palacQ 


XXVI  PEER    GYNT. 


(Act  II.  Sc.  6),  with  its  jibe  at  Norwegian  national 

vanity  : 

The  cow  eives  cakes  and  the  bullock  mead, 
Ask  not  if  its  taste  be  sour  or  sweet ; 
The  main  matter  is,  and  you  mustn't  forget  it, 
It's  all  of  it  home-brewed. 

Much  more  difficult  is  the  interpretation  of  the  Boyg/ 
that  vague,  shapeless,  ubiquitous,  inevitable,  invulner- 
able Thing  which  Peer  encounters  in  the  following 
scene  (Act  II.  Sc.  7).  Ibsen  found  it  in  the  folk-tale, 
and  was  attracted,  no  doubt,  by  the  sheer  uncanniness 
and  eerieness  of  the  idea.  Neither  can  one  doubt,  how- 
ever, that  in  his  own  mind  he  attributed  to  the  monster 
some  symbolic  signification.  Dr.  Brandes  would  have 
us  see  in  it  the  Spirit  of  Compromise — the  same  evil 
spirit  which  is  assailed  in  Bi'and.  The  Swedish  critic, 
Vasenius,  interprets  it  as  Peer  Gynt's  own  conscious- 
ness of  his  inability  to  take  a  decisive  step — to  go 
through  an  obstacle  in  place  of  skirting  round  it. 
Herr  Passarge  reads  in  it  a  symbol  of  the  mass  of 
mankind,  perpetuum  immobile^  opposing  its  sheer  force 
of  inertia  to  every  forward  movement.'^  This  would 
make  it  nearly  equivalent  to  "  the  compact  majority  " 

^  Deeming  it  unnecessary  to  trouble  our  readers  with  nice- 
ties of  pronunciation,  we  have  represented  the  "Boig"  of  the 
original  by  the  more  easily  pronounceable  "  Boyg."  The  root- 
idea  seems  to  be  that  of  bending,  of  sinuousness ;  .compare 
Norwegian  dote,  German  biegen,  to  bend.  In  Aasmundstad's  ver- 
sion of  the  Peer  Gynt  legends  (see  Note,  p.  xvii;  when  the  Boyg 
names  itself,  Peer  answers  "Antel  du  as  rak  hell  b6gje,  saafae  du 
sleppe  m6  fram" — "Whether  you  are  straight  or  crooked, 
you  must  let  me  pass."  The  German  translator,  both  in  the 
folk-tale  and  in  the  drama,  renders  "Boigen"  by  "  der 
Krumme."  So  far  as  we  are  aware,  the  name  occurs  in  no 
other  folk-tale  save  that  of  Peer  Gynt.  It  is  not  generic,  but 
denotes  an  individual  troll-monster. 

»  Dr.  A.  von  Hanstein  {Ibsen  als  Idealist,  Leipzig,  1897,  p.  67), 
states  that  Ibsen  himself  endorsed  this  interpretation;  but  I  dp 
not  know  on  what  evidence  his  statemeijt  is  founded. 


[NTRODUCTION.  XXVll 


ot  An  Enemy  of  the  People  ;  or,  looking  at  it  from  a 
slightly  different  angle,  we  might  see  in  the  scene  an 
illustration  in  action  of  that  despairing  cry  of  Schiller's 
Talbot  :  ''  Mit  der  Dummheit  kampfen  Gotter  selbst 
vergebens."  The  truth  probably  is  that  the  poet 
vaguely  intended  this  vague  monster  to  be  as  elusive 
in  its  symbolism  as  in  its  physical  constitution.  But 
when,  in  Act  lY.  Sc.  12,  he  formally  identifies  the 
Boyg  with  the  Sphinx,  we  may  surely  conclude  that 
one  of  the  interpretations  present  to  his  mind  was 
metaphysical.  In  this  aspect,  the  Boyg  would  typify 
the  riddle  of  existence,  with  which  we  grapple  in 
vain,  and  which  we  have  to  "  get  round  "  as  best  we 
can. 

The  fourth  act  contains  a  good  many  special  allu- 
sions, in  addition  to  the  general,  and  somewhat  crude, 
satire  in  the  opening  scene  on  the  characteristics  of 
different  nationalities,  with  particular  reference  to 
their  conduct  in  theDano-German  crisis.  Peer's  dreams 
of  African  colonisation  (Act  lY.  Sc.  5)  are  said  to  refer 
to  certain  projects  which  Ole  Bull  had  about  this  time 
been  ventilating.  But  it  is  especially  in  the  madhouse 
scene  (Act  lY.  Sc.  13)  that  satiric  sallies  abound. 
"  The  Fellah  with  the  royal  mummy  on  his  back," 
says  Henrik  Jaeger,i  "  is — like  TrumpeterstrSle — a  cut 
at  the  Swedes,  the  mummy  being  Charles  the  Twelfth. 
Like  the  Fellah,  it  is  implied,  the  Swedes  are  ex- 
tremely proud  of  their  '  Hero-king,'  and  yet  during 
the  Dano-German  war  they  showed  not  the  smallest 
sign  of  having  anything  in  common  with  him,  unless 
it  were  that  they,  like  him,  '  kept  still  and  completely 
dead.'  In  the  delusion  of  the  minister  Hussein,  who 
imagines  himself  a  pen,  there  is  a  general  reference 

1  Henrik  Ibsen  1828-1888.  Et  Litercert  Livsbillede,  Copen- 
hagen, 1888.     English  Translation,  London,  Heinemann,  189a 


XXVlll  PEER    OYNT. 


to  the  futile  address-  and  note-mongering  whicli  T^rent 
on  in  Norwegian-Swedish  officialdom  during  the  Dano- 
German  War,  and  a  more  special  one  to  an  eminent 
Swedish  statesman  [Grev  Maaderstrom],  who,  during 
the  war,  had  been  extremely  proud  of  his  official  notes, 
and  had  imagined  that  by  means  of  them  he  might 
exercise  a  decisive  influence  on  the  course  of  events." 
Most  prominent  and  unmistakable  of  all  the  satiric 
passages,  however,  is  the  attack  on  the  language- 
reformers  in  the  personage  of  Huhu.  In  the  list  of 
characters,  Huhu  is  set  down  as  a  "  M§.Istraever  from 
Zanzibar."  Now  the  MSlstrsevers  are  a  party  which 
desires  to  substitute  a  language  compounded  from  the 
various  local  dialects,  for  the  Norwegian  of  the  towns- 
folk and  of  literature.  This  they  call  Danish,  and 
declare  to  be  practically  a  foreign  tongue  to  the 
peasants,  who  form  the  backbone  of  the  Norwegian 
nation.  Ibsen's  satire,  it  must  be  said,  has  had  little 
or  no  effect  on  the  movement,  which  has  gone  on 
slowly  but  steadily,  and  has  of  late  years  met  with 
official  and  legislative  recognition.  There  is  a  large 
and  increasing  literature  in  the  "  MSI "  ;  it  is  taught 
in  schools  and  it  is  spoken  in  the  Storthing.  Where 
the  movement  may  end  it  is  hard  to  say.  It  must 
seem  to  a  foreigner,  as  it  seemed  to  Ibsen,  retrograde 
and  obscurantist ;  but  there  is  doubtless  some  genuine 
impulse  behind  it  which  the  foreigner  cannot  appre- 
ciate. 

The  principles  which  have  guided  us  in  the  follow- 
ing transcript  demand  a  few  words  of  explanation. 
Peer  Gynt  is  written  from  first  to  last  in  rhymed  verse. 
Six  or  eight  different  measures  are  employed  in  the 
various  scenes,  and  the  rhymes  are  exceedingly  rich 
and  complex.     The  frequency  of  final  light  syllables  in 


INTRODUCTION.  XXlX 


Norwegian  implies  an  exceptional  abundance  of  double 
rhymes,  and  Ibsen  has  taken  full  advantage  of  this 
peculiarity.  In  the  short  first  scene  of  the  second 
act,  for  example,  twenty-five  out  of  the  forty  lines 
end  in  double  rhymes,  and  there  are  three  double- 
rhymed  triplets.  The  tintinnabulation  of  these  double 
rhymes,  then,  gives  to  most  of  the  scenes  a  metrical 
character  which  it  might  puzzle  Mr.  Swinburne  him- 
self to  reproduce  in  English.  Moreover,  the  ordinary 
objections  to  rhymed  translations  seemed  to  apply 
with  exceptional  force  in  the  case  of  Peer  Gynt.  The 
characteristic  quality  of  its  style  is  its  vernacular  ease 
and  simplicity.  It  would  have  been  heart-breaking 
work  (apart  from  its  extreme  difficulty)  to  substitute 
for  this  racy  terseness  the  conventional  graces  of 
English  poetic  diction,  padding  here  and  perverting 
there.  To  a  prose  translation,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
objections  seemed  even  greater.  It  is  possible  to  give 
in  prose  some  faint  adumbration  of  epic  dignity  ;  but 
we  had  here  no  epic  to  deal  with.  We  found  (though 
the  statement  may  at  first  seem  paradoxical)  that  the 
same  vernacular  simplicity  of  style  which  forbade  a 
translation  in  rhyme,  was  no  less  hostile  to  a  trans- 
lation in  prose.  The  characteristic  quality  of  the 
poet's  achievement  lay  precisely  in  his  having,  by  the 
aid  of  rhythm  and  rhyme,  transfigured  the  most  easy 
and  natural  dialogue,  without  the  least  sacrifice  of  its 
naturalness.  Entirely  to  eliminate  these  graces  of  form 
would  have  been  to  reduce  the  poem  to  prose  indeed. 
It  seemed  little  better  than  casting  a  silver  statue  into 
the  crucible  and  asking  the  world  to  divine  from  the 
ingot  something  of  the  sculptor's  power.  A  prose 
translation,  in  short,  could  not  but  strip  Fantasy  of  its 
pinions,  rob  Satire  of  its  barbs.  The  poet  himself, 
moreover,  expressly  declared  that  he  would  rather  let 


XXX  PEER    GYNT. 


Peer  Gynt  remain  untranslated  than  see  it  rendered  in 
prose.  After  a  good  deal  of  reflection  and  experiment, 
we  finally  suggested  to  him  a  middle  course  between 
prose  and  rhyme  :  a  translation  as  nearly  as  possible 
in  the  metres  of  the  original,  but  with  the  rhymes 
suppressed.  To  this  compromise  he  assented,  and  the 
following  pages  are  the  result. 

We  had  no  precedent — within  our  knowledge,  at  any 
rate — to  guide  us,  and  were  forced  to  lay  down  our 
own  laws.  Even  at  the  risk  of  falling  between  two 
stools,  we  proposed  to  ourselves  a  dual  purpose.  We 
sought  to  produce  a  translation  which  should  convey 
to  the  general  reader  some  faint  conception  of  the 
movement  and  colour,  the  wit  and  pathos,  of  the 
original,  and  at  the  same  time  a  transcript  which 
should  serve  the  student  as  a  "  crib  "  to  the  Norwegian 
text.  This,  then,  the  reader  must  be  good  enough  to 
bear  in  mind  :  that  the  following  version  is  designed 
to  facilitate,  not  to  supersede,  the  study  of  the  original. 
But,  apart  from  our  desire  to  provide  a  "crib"  to 
Peer  Gyyit^  we  felt  that,  in  taking  the  liberty  of  sup- 
pressing the  rhymes,  we  abjured  our  right  to  any 
other  liberty  whatsoever.  A  rhymed  paraphrase  of  a 
great  poem  may  have  a  beauty  of  its  own  ;  an  un- 
rhymed  version  must  be  no  paraphrase,  but  a  faithful 
transcript,  else  "  the  ripple  of  laughing  rhyme  "  has 
been  sacrificed  in  vain.  Our  fundamental  principle 
then,  has  been  to  represent  the  original  line  for  line  ; 
and  to  this  principle  we  have  adhered  with  the  utmost 
fidelity.  There  are  probably  not  fifty  cases  in  the 
whole  poem  in  which  a  word  has  been  transferred  from 
one  line  to  another,  and  then  only  some  pronoun  or 
auxiliary  verb.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  in  adhering 
to  this  principle  we  have  often  had  to  resist  tempta- 
tion.    Many  cases  presented    themselves    in  which 


INTRODUCTION.  XXXI 


greater  clearness,  grace,  and  vigour  might  easily  have 
been  attained  by  transferring  a  word  or  phrase  from 
this  line  to  that,  or  even  altering  the  sequence  of  a 
whole  group  of  lines.  In  no  case  have  we  yielded  to 
such  temptation,  feeling  that,  our  rule  once  relaxed, 
we  should  insensibly  but  inevitably  lapse  into  mere 
paraphrase.  Temptation  beset  us  with  especial  force 
in  the  less  vital  passages  of  the  poem.  In  these  places 
it  would  have  been  easy  to  give  our  rendering  some 
approach  to  grace  and  point  by  disregarding  inversions 
and  other  defects  of  expression,  justified  in  the  original 
by  the  wit  and  spirit  of  the  rhymes,  but  of  course  de- 
prived in  our  transcript  of  any  such  excuse.  Here,  as 
elsewhere,  we  were  proof  against  temptation  ;  it  is 
for  our  readers  to  decide  whether  our  constancy  was 
heroic  or  pedantic. 

It  would  be  folly  to  pretend  either  that  we  have  re- 
produced every  word  of  the  original,  or  that  we  have 
avoided  all  necessity  for  "  padding."  The  chief  draw- 
back of  our  line-for-line  principle  is  that  it  has 
debarred  us  from  eking  out  the  deficiency  of  one  line 
with  the  superfluity  of  the  next.  We  trust,  however, 
that  few  essential  ideas,  or  even  words,  of  the  original 
will  be  found  quite  unaccounted  for  ;  while  with  regard 
to  padding,  we  have  tried,  where  we  found  it  abso- 
lutely forced  upon  us,  to  use  only  such  mechanical 
parts  of  speech  as  introduced  no  new  idea  into  the 
context.  We  have  found  by  experiment  that  the  fact 
of  writing  in  measure  has  frequently  enabled  us  to 
keep  much  closer  to  the  original  than  would  have  been 
possible  in  prose.  This  is  not  in  reality  so  strange  as 
it  may  at  first  sight  appear.  A  prose  translation  of 
verse  can  avoid  paraphrase  only  at  the  cost  of  gro 
tesque  inelegance  ;  whereas  in  rendering  metre  into 
metre,  we  are  working  under  the  same  laws  which 


XXXll  PEER    GYNT. 


govern  the  original,  and  are  therefore  enabled  in  many 
cases  to  adopt  identical  forms  of  expression,  which 
>^ould  be  quite  inadmissible  in  prose. 

Thirty  out  of  the  thirty-eight  scenes  into  which  the 
five  acts  are  divided  are  written  almost  entirely  in  an 
irregular  measure  of  four  accents,  evidently  designed 
to  give  the  greatest  possible  variety  and  suppleness  to 
the  dialogue.  The  four  accents  constitute  almost  the 
only  assignable  law  of  this  measure,  the  feet  being  of 
any  length,  from  two  to  four  syllables,  and  of  all  pos- 
sible denominations — iambics,  trochees,  dactyls,  ana- 
paests, amphibrachs.  The  effect  is  at  first  rather 
baffling  to  the  unaccustomed  ear  ;  but  when  one  gets 
into  the  swing  of  the  rub-a-dub  rhythm,  if  we  may 
venture  to  call  it  so,  the  feeling  of  ruggedness 
vanishes,  and  the  verse  is  found  to  be  capable  of 
poignantly  pathetic,  as  well  as  of  buoyantly  humorous, 
expression. 

We  have  not  attempted  to  reproduce  each  line 
of  this  measure  accurately,  foot  for  foot,  holding  it 
enough  to  observe  the  law  of  the  four  accents.  Where 
the  four-accent  rule  is  obviously  departed  from,  it  will 
generally  be  found  to  be  in  obedience  to  the  original ; 
for  Ibsen  now  and  then  (but  very  rarely)  introduces  a 
line  or  couplet  of  three  or  of  five  accents. 

Of  the  eight  scenes  in  which  this  measure  is  not  em- 
ployed, three— Act  I.  Sc.  1,  Act  II.  Sc.  1,  and  Act  IV. 
Sc.  7 — are  in  a  perfectly  regular  trochaic  measure  of 
four  accents,  the  lines  containing  seven  or  eight  sylla- 
bles, according  as  the  rhymes  are  single  or  double.  In 
dealing  with  this  measure,  we  have  not  thought  it 
necessary  to  follow  the  precise  arrangement  of  the 
original  in  the  alternation  of  seven  and  eight  syllable 
lines.  In  other  words,  we  have  sometimes  represented 
a  seven-syllable  line  by  one  of  eight  syllables,  an  eight- 


INTRODUCTION.  XXXlll 


syllable  line  by  one  of  seven.  In  the  short  first  scene 
of  the  second  act,  however,  every  line  represents  accu- 
rately the  length  of  the  corresponding  line  in  the 
original. 

The  fourth  scene  of  Act  II.  is  written  in  lines  of 
three  accents  ;  the  last  scene  of  the  third  act — Ase's 
death-scene — in  lines  of  three  accents  with  alternate 
double  and  single  rhymes.  In  rendering  this  scene, 
we  have  been  careful  to  preserve  the  alternation  of 
strong  with  light  endings,  which  gives  it  its  metrical 
character. 

Two  scenes — Act  IV.  Sc.  1,  and  Act  V.  Sc.  2 — con- 
sist of  four-accent  iambic  lines,  differing  from  the 
octosyllabic  verse  of  Marmion  or  The  Giaour  chiefly  in 
the  greater  prevalence  of  double  and  even  treble 
rhymes.  Finally,  the  sixth  scene  of  Act  V.  consists 
mainly  of  eight-line  lyrical  stanzas,  with  two  accents 
in  each  line,  Peer  Gynt's  interspersed  remarks  being 
in  trochaic  verses,  like  those  of  Act  I.  Sc.  1.  In  such 
intercalated  passages,  so  to  speak,  as  the  rhapsodies  of 
Huhu  and  the  Fellah  in  Act  IV.  Sc.  13,  and  the 
Pastor's  speech  at  the  grave  in  Act  V.  Sc.  3,  we  have 
accurately  reproduced  the  measures  of  the  original. 
The  Pastor's  speech  is  the  only  passage  in  the  whole 
poem  which  is  couched  in  iambic  decasyllables. 

In  dealing  with  idioms  and  proverbial  expressions, 
our  practice  has  not  been  very  consistent.  We  have 
sometimes,  where  they  seemed  peculiarly  racy  and 
expressive,  translated  them  literally;  in  other  cases  we 
have  had  recourse  to  the  nearest  English  equivalent, 
even  where  the  metaphor  employed  is  quite  different. 
In  the  latter  instances  we  have  usually  given  the  literal 
rendering  of  the  phrase  in  a  footnote. 

For  the  present  edition  the  text  has  been  carefully 
revised,  and  some  rough  edges  have,  it  is  hoped,  been 


XXXIV  PEER    GVNT. 


smoothed  away  ;  but  no  very  essential  alteration  has 
been  made.  While  we  are  keenly  conscious  of  all  that 
the  poem  loses  in  our  rendering,  we  cannot  but  feel 
that  it  has  justified  its  existence,  inasmuch  as  it  has 
brought  home  to  thousands  of  readers  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlantic  a  not  Avholly  inadequate  sense  of  the 
greatness  of  the  original. 

W.A. 


PEER  GYNT 

(1867) 


CHAUACTERS. 

ASBS,"  a  peasant'' s  mdow. 
Pbeh  Gynt,'-*  her  son. 

Two  Old  Women  with  eorn-sachs.      Aslak,  a   tmith. 
Wedding  Guests.  A  Kitchen -Master,  A  Fiddler, 

ETC. 

A  Man  and  Wife,  neiecomers  to  the  district. 

SOLVEIG  and  Little  Helga,  their  daughters. 

The  Farmer  at  Hegstad. 

IngRID,  his  daughter. 

The  Bridegroom  and  Hrs  Parents. 

Three  vSjstbr-Girls.    A  Green-Clad  Woman. 

The  Old  Man  of  the  Dovrb. 

A   Troll  -  Courtier.      Several    Others.      Troll  - 

Maidens   and   Troll  -  Urchins.     A  Couple   op 

Witches.    Brownies,  Nixies,  Gnomes,  etc. 
An  Ugly  Brat.    A  Voice  in  the  Darkness.    Bibd- 

Cries. 
Kari,  a  cottar's  wife. 
Master     Cotton,     Monsieur     Ballon,     Herren     von 

Eberkopp  and    Trumpetersteale,   gentlemen  on 

their  travels.     A  Thief  and  A  Receiver. 
Anitra,  daughter  of  a  Bedouin  chief. 
Arabs,  Female  Slaves,  Dancing-Girls,  etc. 
The    Memnon-Statue    (singing).      The    Sphinx   at 

Gizeh  {vtuta  persona). 
Professor  Begriffenfbldt,  Dr.  phil.,  director  of  the 

m'xdhouse  at  Cairo. 
Huhu,  a  language-reformer  from  the   coast   of  Malabar. 

Hussein,  an  eastern  Miniver.     A  Fa;llah,  toith  a 

royal  mummy. 
Several  Madmen,  with  their  Keepers. 
A  Norwegian  Skipper  and  His  Crew.    A  Strange 

Passenger. 
A  Pastor.    A  Funeral-Party.     A  Parish -Officer. 

A  Button-Moulder.    A  Lean  Person. 

{The  action,  which  opens  in  the  heginnirtg  of  the  present 
[that  is  the  nineteenth}  century,  and  ends  towards  our  own 
days  [1367],  takes  place  partly  in  Oudhrandsdale,  a/nd  on 
the  Tuountains  around  it,  partly  on  the  coast  of  Morocco,  in 
the  desert  of  Sahara,  in  a  madhouse  at  Cairo,  at  sea,  etc. ) 

Pronounce  Case.    The  ktter  a  is  pronounced  like  the  *  in 
••'  home." 

2  Pronounce  Pair  GUnt—the  G  hard,  tiie  jr  Uke  the  German 
'8K>dified  a. 


PEER   GYNT. 


ACT  FIRST. 


SCENE   FIRST. 

A  wooded  hillside  near  Apse's  farm.  A  river  rushes 
down  the  slope.  On  the  Jurther  side  of  it  an  old 
mill-shed.     It  is  a  hot  day  in  summer. 

Peer  Gynt,  a  strongly-built  youth  of  twenty,  comes 
down  the  pathway.  His  mother,  Ase,  a  small, 
slighLlij -built  woman,follows  him,scolding  angrily. 

AsE. 
Peer,  you're  lying ! 

Peer. 
[Without  stopping.'] 
No,  I  am  not ! 

AsE. 

Well  then,  swear  that  it  is  true  ! 

Peer. 

Swear  ?    Why  should  I  ? 

AsE. 

See^  you  dare  not ! 
It's  a  lie  from  first  to  last. 


4  PEER    QYNT.  [aCT   I. 

Peer. 

[Stopping.] 
It  is  true — each  blessed  word  ! 

AsE. 

[Conjroniing  him.] 
Don't  you  blush  before  your  mother  ? 
First  you  skulk  among  the  mountains 
Monthlong  in  the  busiest  season. 
Stalking  reindeer  in  the  snows  ; 
Home  you  come  then,  torn  and  tattered, 
Gun  amissing,  likewise  game ; — 
And  at  last,  with  open  eyes. 
Think  to  get  me  to  believe 
All  the  wildest  hunters' -lies  ! — 
Well,  where  did  you  find  the  buck,  then  ? 

Peer. 
West  near  Gendin.^ 

AsE. 
[Laughing  scornfully.] 
Ah !    Indeed 

Peer. 
Keen  the  blast  towards  me  swept ; 
Hidden  by  an  alder-clump. 
He  was  scraping  in  the  snow-crust 
After  lichen 

AsE. 

[As  before.] 
Doubtless,  yes ! 

Peer. 
Breathlessly  I  stood  and  listened, 
*  Fr  on  ounce  Yendeen. 


sc. 


•] 


PEER    GYNT. 


Heard  the  crunching  of  his  hoof, 

Saw  the  branches  of  one  antler. 

Softly  then  among  the  boulders 

I  crept  forward  on  my  belly. 

Crouched  in  the  moraine  I  peered  up ; — 

Such  a  buck,  so  sleek  and  fat. 

You,  I'm  sure,  have  ne'er  set  eyes  en. 

AsE. 

No,  of  course  not ! 

Peer. 
Bang  I  I  fired. 
Clean  he  dropped  upon  the  hillside. 
But  the  instant  that  he  fell, 
I  sat  firm  astride  his  back, 
Gripped  him  by  the  left  ear  tightly, 
And  had  almost  sunk  my  knife-blade 
In  his  neck,  behind  his  skull — 
When,  behold  I  the  brute  screamed  wildly. 
Sprang  upon  his  feet  like  lightning, 
With  a  back-cast  of  his  head 
From  my  fist  made  knife  and  sheath  fly. 
Pinned  me  tightly  by  the  thigh. 
Jammed  his  horns  against  m)-^  legs, 
Clenched  me  like  a  pair  of  tongs ; — 
Then  forthwith  away  he  flew 
Right  along  the  Gendin-Edge ! 

AsE. 
[Involuntarily. "l 
.  I 

Peer. 

Have  you  ever 
Chanced  to  see  the  Gendin-Edge  ? 
Nigh  on  four  miles  long  it  stretches 
Sharp  before  you  like  a  scythe. 


Jesus  save  us- 


6  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    L 


Down  o'er  glaciers,  landslips,  screes, 
Down  the  toppling  grey  moraines, 
You  can  see,  both  right  and  left. 
Straight  into  the  tarns  that  slumber, 
Black  and  sluggish,  more  than  seven 
Hundred  fathoms  deep  below  you. 

Right  along  the  Edge  we  two 
Clove  our  passage  through  the  air. 

Never  rode  I  such  a  colt ! 
Straight  before  us  as  we  rushed 
'Twas  as  though  there  glittered  suns. 
Brown-backed  eagles  that  were  sailing 
In  the  wide  and  dizzy  void 
Half-way  'twixt  us  and  the  tarns. 
Dropped  behind,  like  motes  in  air. 

On  the  shores  crashed  hurtling  ice-floes. 
But  no  echo  reached  my  ears. 
Only  sprites  of  dizziness  ^  sprang, 
Dancing,  round  ; — they  sang,  they  swu?ig, 
Circle-wise,  past  sight  and  hearing  ! 

AsE. 

[Dizz?/.] 
Oh,  God  save  me  ' 

Peer. 
All  at  once, 
At  a  desperate,  break-neck  spot, 
Rose  a  great  cock-ptarmigan. 
Flapping,  cackling,  terrified. 
From  the  crack  where  he  lay  hidden 
At  the  buck's  feet  on  the  Edge. 

Tlien  the  buck  shied  half  around, 

*  This  is  the  poet's  own  explanation  of  this  difficult  passage. 
•'Hvirvlens  vajtter,"  he  writes,  is  equivalent  to  "  Sviramelhedens 
S,nder  "—ix.,  spirits  of  dizziness  or  vertigo. 


»C.    I.J  PRBR     OYNT. 


Leapt  sky-high,  and  down  we  plunged, 
Both  of  us,  into  the  depths  ! 

[AsE  totters,  and  catches  at  the  trHu/c  of  a 
tree.     Peer  Gynt  continues : 

Mountain  walls  behind  us,  black. 
And  below  a  void  unfathomed  ! 

First  we  clove  through  banks  of  mist. 
Then  we  clove  a  flock  of  sea-gulls. 
So  that  they,  in  mid-air  startled. 
Flew  in  all  directions,  screaming. 

Downward  rushed  we,  ever  downward. 
But  beneath  us  something  shimmered, 
Whitish,  like  a  reindeer's  belly. — 
Mother,  'twas  our  own  reflection 
In  the  glass-smooth  mountain  tarn. 
Shooting  up  towards  the  surface 
With  the  same  wild  rush  of  speed 
Wherewith  we  were  shooting  downwards. 

AsE. 
[Gasping for  breath.] 
Peer  !     God  help  me ^  !     Quickly,  tell 

Peeh. 
Buck  from  over,  buck  from  under, 
JH  a  moment  clashed  together. 
Scattering  foam-flecks  all  around. 

There  we  lay  then,  floating,  plashing,-— 
But  at  last  we  made  our  way 
Somehow  to  the  northern  shore ; 
Swam  the  buck,  I  clung  behind  him  : — 
I  ran  homewards 

AsE. 

But  the  b«ck,  dear  > 


8  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    I. 

Peer. 
He's  there  still,  for  aught  I  know  ; — 

[S/iaps  his  fingers,  turns  on  his  heel,  and 
adds  : 
Catch  him,  and  you're  welcome  to  him  ! 

AsE. 

And  your  neck  you  haven't  broken  ? 

Haven't  broken  both  your  thighs  ? 

And  your  backbone,  too,  is  whole  ? 

Oh,  dear  Lord — what  thanks,  what  praise. 

Should  be  thine  who  helped  my  boy  ! 

There's  a  rent,  though,  in  your  breeches ; 

But  it's  scarce  worth  talking  of 

When  one  thinks  what  dreadful  things 

Might  have  come  of  such  a  leap ! 

\Stops  suddenly,  looks  at  him  open-motdhcd 
and  wide-eyed;  cannot  find  words  for 
some  time,  but  at  last  bursts  out  : 

Oh,  you  devil's  story-teller. 

Cross  of  Christ,  how  you  can  lie  ! 

All  this  screed  you  foist  upon  me, 

I  remember  now,  I  knew  it 

When  I  was  a  girl  of  twenty. 

Gudbrand  Glesne  ^  it  befeU, 

Never  you,  you 

Peer. 

Me  as  well. 

Such  a  thing  can  happen  twice. 

AsE. 

[Exasperated.] 
Yes,  a  lie,  turned  topsy-turvy. 
Can  be  prinked  and  tinselled  out, 
Decked  in  plumage  new  and  fine, 

^  See  Appendix. 


8C.    I.]  PEER    GYNT  9 

Till  none  knows  its  lean  old  carcass. 
That  is  just  what  you've  been  doinj^. 
Vamping  up  things,  wild  and  grand, 
Garnishing  with  eagles'  backs 
And  with  all  the  other  horrors, 
Lying  right  and  lying  left. 
Filling  me  with  speechless  dread. 
Till  at  last  I  recognised  not 
What  of  old  I'd  heard  and  known ! 

Peer. 
If  another  talked  like  that 
I'd  half  kill  him  for  his  pains. 

AsE. 
[Weeping.] 
Oh,  would  God  I  lay  a  corpse ; 
Would  the  black  earth  held  me  sleeping . 
Prayers  and  tears  don't  bite  upon  him. — 
Peer,  you're  lost,  and  ever  will  be  ' 

Peer. 

Darling,  pretty  little  mother, 
You  are  right  in  every  word ; — 
Don't  be  cross,  be  happy 

AsE. 

Silence  .' 
G)uld  I,  if  I  would,  be  happy. 
With  a  pig  like  you  for  son  ? 
Think  how  bitter  I  must  find  it, 
I,  a  poor  defenceless  widow. 
Ever  to  be  put  to  shame  ! 

[Weeping  again. 
How  much  have  we  now  remaining 
From  your  grandsire's  days  of  glory  } 


10  PEBR    eVNT.  [act   L 

Where  are  now  the  sacks^  of  coin 
Left  behind  by  Rasmus  Gynt  ? 
Ah,  your  father  lent  them  wings, — 
Lavished  them  abroad  like  sand, 
Buying  land  in  every  parish. 
Driving  round  in  gilded  chariots. 
Where  is  all  the  wealth  he  wasted 
At  the  famous  winter-banquet. 
When  each  guest  sent  glass  and  bottle 
Shivering  'gainst  the  wall  behind  him  ? 

Peer. 
Where's  the  snow  of  yester-year  ? 

ASE. 

Silence,  boy,  before  your  mother  ! 
See  the  farmhouse  !     Every  second 
Window-pane  is  stopped  with  clouts. 
Hedges,  fences,  all  are  down. 
Beasts  exposed  to  wind  and  weather. 
Fields  and  meadows  lying  fallow. 
Every  month  a  new  distraint 

Peer. 
Come  now,  stop  this  old-wife's  talk  ! 
Many  a  time  has  luck  seemed  drooping. 
And  sprung  up  as  high  as  ever  ' 

AsE. 

Salt  strewn  is  the  soil  it  grew  from. 
Lord,  but  you're  a  rare  one,  you, — 
Just  as  pert  and  jaunty  still. 
Just  as  bold  as  when  the  Pastor, 
Newly  come  from  Copenhagen, 
Bade  you  teU  your  Christian  name, 

*  Literally  "bushels." 


iC.    I,]  PEER    6YNT.  11 

And  declared  that  such  a  headpiece 
Many  a  Prince  down  there  might  envy  ; 
Till  the  cob  your  father  gave  him, 
With  a  sledge  to  boot,  in  thanks 
For  his  pleasant,  friendly  talk. — 
Ah,  but  things  went  bravely  then ' 
Provost,^  Captain,  all  the  rest. 
Dropped  in  daily,  ate  and  drank. 
Swilling,  till  they  well-nigh  burst. 
But  'tis  need  that  tests  one's  neighbour. 
Lonely  here  it  grew,  and  silent. 
From  the  day  that  "  Gold-bag  Jon  "  * 
Started  with  his  pack,  a  pedlar. 

[Dries  her  eyes  with  her  apron 
Ah,  you're  big  and  strong  enough. 
You  should  be  a  staff  and  pillar 
For  your  mother's  frail  old  age, — 
You  should  keep  the  farm-work  going. 
Guard  the  remnants  of  your  gear ; — 

[Crj/ing  again. 
Oh,  God  help  mc,  smaU's  the  profit 
You  have  been  t©  me,  y©u  scamp  I 
Lounging  by  the  hearth  at  home. 
Grubbing  in  the  cbareeal  embers ; 
Or,  round  all  the  eoimtry,  frightenin;; 
Girls  away  from  merry-makings — 
Shaming  me  in  all  directions. 
Fighting  with  the  worst  rapscallions 


Let  me  be, 


Peer. 
[Turning  away  from  her  J] 


'  An  ecclesiastical  dignitary — something  equivalent  to  a  rural 
dean. 

2  "  Jon  med  Skjaeppen " — literaHy,  "John  with  the  Bu^el" 
— a  nickname  given  him  in  his  days  of  prosperity,  in  allnsion  to 
bis  supposed  bushels  of  money. 


12 


PEER    GYNT. 


[ACT    I. 


AsE. 

[Following  him.^ 
Can  you  deny 
That  you  were  the  foremost  brawler 
111  the  mighty  battle  royal 
Fought  the  other  day  at  Lunde, 
When  you  raged  like  mongrels  mad  ? 
Who  was  it  but  you  that  broke 
Blacksmith  Aslak's  arm  for  him, — 
Or  at  any  rate  that  wrenched  one 
Of  his  fingers  out  of  joint  ? 

Peer. 
Who  has  filled  you  with  such  prate  ? 

AsE. 

[Hotly.] 
G)ttar  Kari  heard  the  yells  I 

Peer. 
[Rubbing  his  elbow.'] 
Maybe,  but  'twas  I  that  howled. 

AsE. 

You? 

Peer. 
Yes,  mother, — /  got  beaten. 

AsE. 

What  d'you  say  ? 

Peer. 
*  He's  limber,  he  is. 

AsE. 

Who? 


8C.    I.]  PEER    eVNT.  IS 


Peer. 
Why  Aslak,  to  be  sure. 

AsE. 

Shame — and  shame  ;  I  spit  upon  you ! 
Such  a  worthless  sot  as  that. 
Such  a  brawler,  such  a  sodden 
Dram-sponge  to  have  beaten  you  ! 

[  Weeping  again. 
Many  a  shame  and  slight  I've  suffered ; 
But  that  this  should  come  to  pass 
Is  the  worst  disgrace  of  all. 
What  if  he  be  ne'er  so  limber. 
Need  you  therefore  be  a  weakling  ? 

Peer. 
Though  I  hammer  or  am  hammered, — 
Still  we  must  have  lamentations. 

[Laughing 
Cheer  up,  mother 

AsE. 

What }     You're  lying 
Now  again  ? 

Peer. 
Yes,  just  this  once. 
Come  now^  wipe  your  tears  away ; — 

[Clenching  his  left  hand. 
See, — with  this  same  pair  of  tongs. 
Thus  I  held  the  smith  bent  double. 
While  my  sledge-hammer  right  fist 

AsE. 

Oh,  you  brawler !     You  will  bring  me 
With  your  doin^^s  to  the  grave  I 


H  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   I. 

Peer. 
No,  you're  worth  a  better  fate ; 
Better  twenty  thousand  times ! 
Little,  ugly,  dear  old  mother, 
You  may  safely  trust  my  word, — 
All  the  parish  shall  exalt  you  ; 
Only  wait  till  I  have  done 
Something — something  really  grand 

AsE. 
[Contemptuously^] 
Youl 

Peer. 
Who  knows  what  may  befall  one 

AsE. 

Could  you  but  find  so  much  sense, 
One  day,  as  to  do  the  darning 
Of  your  breeches  for  yourself ' 

Peer. 
1  will  be  a  king,  a  kaiser ' 

AsE. 

Oh,  God  comfort  me,  he's  losing 
All  the  little  wits  he'd  left  ! 

Peer. 
Yes,  I  will !     Just  give  me  time  ! 

AsE. 

Give  you  time,  you'll  be  a  prince. 
So  the  saying  goes,  I  think ! 

Peer. 

You  shall  see  ? 


SC.  I.]  rEEn    OYNT. 

Lb. 
Oh,  hold  your  tongue 
You're  as  mad  as  mad  can  be.— 

Ah,  and  yet  it's  true  enough, — 
Somethwig  might  have  come  of  you, 
Had  you  not  be^n  steeped  for  ever 
In  your  lies  and  trash  and  moonshine. 
Hegstad's  girl  was  fond  of  you. 
Easily  you  could  have  won  her 
Had  you  wooed  her  with  a  will— — 

Peer. 
Could  I  ? 

AsE. 

The  old  man's  too  feeble 
Not  to  give  his  child  her  way. 
He  is  stiff-necked  in  a  fashion ; 
But  at  last  'tis  Ingrid  rules  ; 
And  where  she  leads,  step  by  step 
Stumps  the  ga&r,  grumbling,  after. 

[Begins  to  cry  again. 
Ah,  my  Peer ! — a  golden  girl — 
Land  entailed  on  her !     Just  think, 
Had  you  set  your  mind  upon  it. 
You'd  be  now  a  bridegroom  brave, — 
You  that  stand  here  grimed  and  tattered  \ 

Peer. 
[Briskly. '\ 
Come,  we'll  go  a-wooing  then  f 

Asfi. 
Where  ? 

Peer. 
At  Hegstad ! 


15 


lb  PEER    OYNT.  rACT   1. 


AsE. 

Ah,  poor  boy; 
Hegstad  way  is  barred  to  wooers  ! 

Peer. 

How  is  that  ? 

Abe. 
Ah,  woe  is  me  ! 
Lost  the  moment,  lost  the  luck 


Peer. 
Speak ' 

AsE. 

[Sobbing.l 
While  in  the  Wester-hills 
You  in  air  were  riding  reindeer, 
Here  Mads  Moen's  *  won  the  girl ! 

Peer. 
What !     That  women' s-bugbear  !     He . 

AsE. 

Ay,  she's  taking  him  for  husband. 

Peer. 
Wait  you  here  till  I  have  harnessed 
Hoi*se  and  waggon [^Going. 

AsE. 

Spare  your  pains. 
They  are  to  be  wed  to-morrow 

Peer. 
Pooh ;  this  evening  I'll  be  there  I 

1  Ftonoxincc  A  faass' Moo-en. 


sc.  l]  pber  oynt.  17 

AsB. 

Fie  now  !     Would  you  crown  our  miseries 
With  a  load  of  all  men's  scorn  ? 

Peer. 

Never  fear ;  'twill  all  go  well. 

[Shouting  and  laughing  at  the  same  time 
Mother,  jump  !     We'll  spare  the  waggon  ; 

'T would  take  time  to  fetch  the  mare  up 

[Lifts  her  up  in  his  arms. 

AsE. 
Put  me  down  ! 

Peer. 

No,  in  my  arms 
I  will  bear  you  to  the  wedding ! 

[  Wades  out  into  the  stream. 

AsE. 

Help  !     The  Lord  have  mercy  on  us  ! 
Peer !     We're  drowning 

Peer. 

1  was  bom 
For  a  braver  death 

AsE. 

Ay,  true ; 
Sure  enough  you'll  hang  at  last ! 

[Tugging  at  htshaii. 
Oh,  you  brute ! 

Peer. 
Keep  quiet  now ; 
Here  the  bottom's  slippery-slimy, 

As£. 

Ass ! 

IV  B 


J8  PEER    GYNT.  [acT   ». 

Peer. 
That's  right,  don't  spare  your  tongue ; 
That  does  no  one  any  harm. 
Now  it's  shelving  up  again . 

AsE. 
Don't  you  drop  me  ! 

Peer. 

Heisan !    Hop ! 
Now  we'll  play  at  Peer  and  reindeer ; — 

[Curveitifig, 
I'm  the  reindeer^  you  are  Peer! 

AsE. 

Oh,  I'm  going  clean  distraught ! 

Peer. 

See  now— we  have  reached  the  shallows ; — 

[Wades  ashore. 
Come,  a  kiss  now,  for  the  reindeer ; 
Just  to  thank  him  for  the  ride 

Ase. 
[Boxing  his  ears."] 
This  is  how  I  thank  him ! 

Peer. 

Ow! 

That's  a  miserable  fare ! 

Ase. 
Put  me  down ! 

Peer. 

First  to  the  wedding. 


I 


8C.    I.J  PEEH    GYNT.  19 

Be  my  spokesman.     You're  so  clever; 
Talk  to  him,  the  old  curmudgeon  ; 
Say  Mads  Moen's  good  for  nothing • 

AsE. 
Put  me  down! 

Peer. 
And  tell  him  then 
What  a  rare  lad  is  Peer  Gynt. 

AsE. 
Truly,  you  may  swear  to  that ! 
Fine's  the  character  I'll  give  you. 
Through  and  through  I'll  show  you  up ; 
All  about  your  devil's  pranks 
I  will  tell  them  straight  and  plain 

Peer. 

Will  you  ? 

AsE. 

[Kicking  rviih  rage.] 
I  won't  stay  my  tongue 
Till  the  old  man  sets  his  dog 
At  you,  as  you  were  a  tramp  ! 

Peer. 
H'm ;  then  I  must  go  alone. 

AsE. 

Ay,  but  I'll  come  after  you  I 

Peer. 
Mother  dear,  you  haven't  strength 


to  PEER    OYNT.  [act   1. 

AsE. 

Strength  ?     When  I'm  in  such  a  rage, 
I  could  crush  the  rocks  to  powder  ! 
Hu  !  I'd  make  a  meal  of  flints ! 
Put  me  down  ! 

Peer. 
You'll  promise  then 

AsE. 

Nothing  !     I'll  to  Hegstad  with  you  ' 
They  shall  know  you,  what  you  are ! 

Peer. 
Then  you'll  even  have  to  stay  here. 

AsE. 

Never  '     To  the  feast  I'm  coming ! 

Peer. 
That  you  shan't. 

AsE. 

What  will  you  do  ? 

Peer. 
Perch  you  on  the  mill-house  roof. 

[He  pits  her  up  on  the  roof.     Ase  screams. 

AsE. 

Lift  me  down ! 

Peer. 
Yes,  if  you'll  listen 

AsE. 

Rubbish  ! 

Peer. 
Dearest  mother,  pray 


«C.    I.] 


PEER    GYNT. 


21 


A 


SE. 


[Throwing  a  sod  of  grass  at  kim.] 
Lift  me  down  this  moment.  Peer ! 

Peer. 
If  I  dared,  be  sure  I  would.  [Coming  nearer. 

Now  remember,  sit  quite  still. 
Do  not  sprawl  and  kick  about ; 
Do  not  tug  and  tear  the  shingles, — 
Else  'twill  be  the  worse  for  you ; 
You  might  topple  down. 

AsE. 

You  beast 


Do  not  kick ! 

Peer. 

AsE. 

I'd  have  you  blown, 
Like  a  changeling,  into  space  !  ^ 

Mother,  fie ! 

Peer. 

AsE. 

Bah 


Peer. 


Rather  give  your 
Blessing  on  my  undertaking. 
Will  you  ?     Eh  .? 

AsE. 

I'll  thrash  you  soundly, 
Hulking  fellow  though  you  be  ' 

1  It  is  believed  in  some  parts  of  Norway  that  "  changelings" 
(elf-children  left  in  the  stead  of  those  taken  away  by  the  fairies) 
can,  by  certain  spells,  be  made  to  fly  away  up  the  chimney. 


22  PEER     GYMT.  [aCT    1. 

Peer. 

Well,  good-bye  then,  mother  dear ! 
Patience  ;  I'll  be  back  ere  long. 

[Is  goingf   but   turns,   holds  up  his  fingct 
wamingJyy  and  says  : 
Careful  now,  don't  kick  and  sprawl !  [Goes. 

Peer! — God  help  me, now  he's  off; 
Reindeer-rider  !     Liar !    Hei  i 
Will  you  listen  ! — No,  he's  striding 

O'er  the  meadow !     [Shrieks.]     Help.     I'm 

dizzy ! 

Two  Old  Women,  with  sacks  on  their  backs, 
come  down  the  path  to  the  mill. 

First  Woman. 
Christ,  who's  screaming  ? 

AsE. 

It  is  I! 

Second  Woman. 
Ase  !     Well,  you  are  exalted  ! 

ASE. 

This  won't  be  the  end  of  it; — 

Soon,  God  help  me,  I'll  be  heaven  high 

First  Woman. 
Bless  your  passing ! 

Ase. 
Fetch  a  ladder ; 
I  must  be  down  !     That  devil  Peer 


•  c.  i.]  peer  ovtjt.  23 

Second  Woman. 
Peer !     Your  son  ? 

AsE. 

Now  you  can  say 
You  have  seen  how  he  behaves. 

First  Woman. 
We'll  bear  witness. 

AsE. 

Only  help  me ; 
Straight  to  Hegstad  will  I  hasten 

Second  Woman. 
Is  he  there  ? 

First  Woman. 
You'll  be  revenged,  then  ; 
Aslak  Smith  will  be  there  too. 

AsE. 

[  Wringing  her  hands. ^ 
Oh,  God  help  me  with  ray  boy ; 
They  will  kill  him  ere  they're  done ! 

First  Woman. 
Oh,  that  lot  has  oft  been  talked  of; 
Comfort  you  :  what  must  be  must  be  ' 

Second  Woman. 
She  is  utterly  demented.  [Calls  up  ike  hill. 

Eivind,  Anders  !     Hei !     Come  here  1 

A  Man's  Voice. 
What's  amiss  ? 

Second  Woman. 

Peer  Gynt  has  perched  his 
Mother  on  the  mill-house  roof ! 


24  PEER    GYNT.  FaCT   I. 


SCENE  SECOND. 

A  hillock,  covered  with  hushes  and  heather.     The  high- 
road runs  behind  it ;  a  fence  between. 
Peer  Gynt  comes  along  a  footpath,  goes  quickly  up 
to  the  fonce,  stops,  and  looks  out  over  the  distant 
prospect. 

Peer. 
Yonder  lies  Hegstad.     Soon  Pll  have  reached  it. 
[Puts  07ie  leg  over  thefince;  then  hesitates. 
Wonder  if  Ingrid's  alone  in  the  house  now  ? 

[Shades  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  and  looks  oiU. 
No;  to  the  farm  guests  are  swarming  like  midges. — 
H'm,  to  turn  back  now  perhaps  would  be  wisest. 

[Draws  back  his  leg. 
Still  they  must  titter  behind  your  back. 
And  whisper  so  that  it  bums  right  through  you. 
[Moves  afow  steps  away  from  the  fence,  and 
begins'  absently  plucking  leaves. 
Ah,  if  I'd  only  a  good  strong  dram  now. 
Or  if  I  could  pass  to  and  fro  unseen. — 
Or  were  I  unknown. — Something  proper  and  strong 
Were  the  best  thing  of  all,  for  the  laughter  don't 
bite  then. 

[Looks  around  suddenly  as  though  afraid  ; 
then  hides  among  the  bushes.  Some 
Wedding-guests  ^  pass  by,  going  down- 
wards towards  thefai-m, 

A  Man. 

[In  conversation  as  they  pass.^ 

His  father  was  drunken,  his  mother  is  weak. 

*  "  Sendingsfolk,"  literally,  "  folks  with  presents."  When  the 
Norwegian  peasants  are  bidden  to  a  wedding- feast,  they  bring 
with  them  presents  of  eatables. 


8C.    II.]  PEER    GYNT.  85 

A  Woman. 
Ay,  then  it's  no  wonder  the  lad's  good  for  nought. 
[They  i^ass   on.      Presently    Peer   Gynt 
comes  forward,    his  face  flushed    wiih 
shame.     He  peers  after  them. 

Peer. 
[Sofily.] 
W&s  it  me  they  were  talking  of? 

[With  a  forced  shrug. 
Oh,  let  them  chatter  ? 
After  all,  they  can't  sneer  the  life  out  of   my 
body. 

[Casts   himself  dofvn    upon    the    heathery 

slope  ;  lies  Jor  some  time  flat  on  his  back 

with  his  hands  under  his  head,  gazing  up 

into  the  sky. 

What  a  strange  sort  of  cloud  !     It  is  just  like  a 

horse. 
There's  a   man    on    it   too — and   a  saddle — and 

bridle. — 
And  after  it  comes  an  old  crone  on  a  broomstick. 
[Laughs  quietly  to  himself. 
It  is  mother.     She's  scolding  and  screaming  :  You 
beast ! 

Hei  you.  Peer  Gynt [His  eyes  gradually  close. 

Ay,  now  she  is  frightened. — 
Peer  Gynt  he  rides  first,  and  there  follow  him 
many. — 
His    steed   it   is   gold-shod   and  crested   with 
silver. 
Himself  he  has  gauntlets  and  sabre  and  scabbard. 

His  cloak  it  is  long,  and  its  lining  is  silken. 
Full  brave  is  the  company  riding  behind  him. 
None   of  them,   though,    sits    his   charger  so 
stoutly. 


26  PEER    OYNT.  [act   I. 

None  of  them  glitters  like  him  in  the  sunshine. — 
Down  by  the  fence  stand  the  people  in  clusters, 
Lifting  their  hats,  and  agape  gazing  upwards. 
Women  are  curtsepng.     All  the  world  knows 
him. 
Kaiser  Peer  Gynt,  and  his  thousands  of  hench- 
men. 
Sixpenny  pieces  and  glittering  shillings 
Over  the  roadway  he  scatters  like  pebbles. 

Rich  as  a  lord  grows  each  man  in  the  parish. 
High  o'er  the  ocean  Peer  Gynt  goes  a-riding. 

Engelland's  Prince  on  the  seashore  awaits  him  ; 
There  too  await  him  all  Engelland's  maidens. 
Engelland's  nobles  and  Engelland's  Kaiser, 
See  him  come  riding  and  rise  from  their  banquet. 
Raising   his   crown,   hear   the    Kaiser  address 

him 

AsLAK  THE  Smith. 

[To  some  other  young  men,  passing  along  the  road.^ 

Just   look   at   Peer   Gynt   there,    the    drunken 

swine ! 

Peer. 
[Starting  halfup.^ 
What,  Kaiser ! 

The  Smith. 
[Leajiing  against  the  fence  and  grinning.] 

Up  with  you.  Peer,  my  lad 

Peer. 
What   the  devil?      The   smith!     What  do  you 
want  here  ? 

The  Smith. 
[To  the  others.] 
He  hasn't  got  over  the  Lundespree  yet 


8C.    II.] 


PEER    OYNT. 


2T 


Peer. 

[Jumping  M/>.] 
You'd  better  be  off ' 

The  Smith. 

I  am  going,  yes. 
But  tell  us,  where  have  you  dropped  from,  man  ? 
You've  been  gone  six  weeks.     Were  you  troll- 
taken,  eh  ? 

Peer. 
I  have  been  doing  strange  deeds,  Aslak  Smith  I 

The  Smith. 
[Wi?i/dng  to  the  others.^ 
I^et  us  hear  them.  Peer  I 

Peer. 

They  are  nought  to  you. 

The  Smith. 
[After  a  pause.^ 
You're  going  to  Hegstad  ? 

Peer. 

No. 

The  Smith. 

Time  was 
They  said  that  the  girl  there  was  fond  of  you. 

Peer. 
You  grimy  crow — —  ! 

The  Smith. 
[Falling  back  a  little.^ 

Keep  your  temper,  Peer 
Though  Ingrid  has  jilted  you,  others  are  left  ;— 
Think — son  of  Jon  Gynt !     Come  on  to  the  feast; 


28  PEER    GYNT,  [ACT    I. 

You'll  find  there  both  lambkins  and  well  seasoned 

widows 

Peer. 

To  hell > 

The  Smith. 
You  will  surely  find  one  that  will 
have  you. — 
Good   evening !     I'll  give  your  respects   to  the 
bride. — 

[They  go  off,  laughing  and  whispering. 

Peer. 
[Looks  after  them  a  while,  then  makes  a  defiant 
motion  and  turns  half  round. ^ 
For  my  part,  may  Ingrid  of  Hegstad  go  marry 
Whoever  she  pleases.     It's  all  one  to  me. 

[Looks  down  at  his  clothes. 
My  breeches  are  torn.  I  am  ragged  and  grim. — 
If  only  I  had  something  new  to  put  on  now. 

[Stamps  on  the  ground. 
If  only  I  could,  with  a  butcher-grip, 
Tear  out  the  scorn  from  their  very  vitals ! 

[Looks  round  suddenly. 
What  was  that  ?     Who  was  it  that  tittered  behind 
there .'' 

H'm,  I  certainly  thought No  no,  it  was  no 

one. — 
I'll  go  home  to  mother. 

[Begins  to  go  upwards,  hut  stops  again  and 
listens  towards  Hegstad. 

They're  playing  a  dance  ! 

[Ga2es  and  listens  ;  moves  downwards  step 

by   step,  his  eyes  glisten;    he  rubs    his 

hands  down  his  thighs. 

How  the  lasses  do  swarm  !   Six  or  eight  to  a  man  ! 

Oh,  galloping  death, — I  must  join  in  the  frolic! — 


8a 


.1..] 


PEER    OYNT. 


29 


TJut  how  about  mother,  perched  up  on  the  mill- 
house 

[His  eyes  are  drarvn  downwards  again  ;  he 
leaps  and  laughs. 
Hei,  how  the  Hailing  ^  flies  over  the  green  ! 
Ay,  Guttorm,  he  can  make  his  fiddle  speak  out ! 
It  gurgles  and  booms  like  a  foss  "^  o'er  a  scaur. 
And  then  all  that  glittering  bevy  of  girls  ! — 
Yes,  galloping  death,  I  must  join  in  the  frolic ! 

[Leaps  over  the  fence  and  goes  down  the 
road. 


SCENE  THIRD. 

The  farm-place  at  Hegstad.  In  the  background,  the 
dwelling-house.  A  Throng  of  Guests.  A 
livelij  dance  in  progress  on  the  green.  The 
Fiddler  sits  on  a  table.  The  Kitchen-master  ^ 
is  standing  in  the  doorway.  Cookmaids  are 
going  to  andjro  between  the  different  buildings. 
Groups  of  Elderly  People  sit  here  and  there, 
talking. 

A  Woman. 

[JoiTis  a  group  thai  is  seated  on  some  logs  of  wood.^ 

The  bride  ?     Oh  yes,  she  is  crying  a  bit; 

But  that,  you  know,  isn't  worth  heeding. 

The  Kitchen-master. 

[In  another  group.'\ 

Now  then,  good  folk,  you  must  empty  the  barrel. 

A  Man. 

Thanks  to  you,  friend  ;  but  you  fill  up  too  quick. 

^  A  somewhat  violent  peasant  dance. 

2  Foss  (in  the  North  of  England  "  force  ")— a  waterfall. 

'  A  sort  of  master  of  ceremonies. 


80  PEER    OYNT.  [act   I. 

A  Lad. 
[To  the  Fiddler,  as  Itejlies  past,  holding  a  Girl  by 

the  hand.] 
To  it  now,  Guttorm,  and  don't  spare  the  fiddle- 
strings  ! 

The  Girl. 
Scrape  till  it  echoes  out  over  the  meadows  ! 

Other  Girls. 
[Standing  in  a  ring  round  a  lad  who  is  dancing."] 
That's  a  rare  fling  ! 

A  Girl. 
He  has  legs  that  can  lift  him  ' 

The  Lad. 

[Danx^ing.] 

The  roof  here  is  high,i  and  the  walls  wide  asunder ! 

The  Bridegroom. 

[Comes  whimpering  up  to  his  Father,  who  is  stand- 
ing talking  with  some  other  men,  and  twitches  his 
Jacket.] 

Father,  she  will  not ;  she  is  so  proud ! 

His  Father. 
What  won't  she  do  ? 

The  Bridegroom. 

She  has  locked  herself  in. 

His  Father. 
Well,  you  must  manage  to  find  the  key. 

»  To  kick  the  rafters  is  considered  a  great  feat  in  the  Halling- 
dance.  The  boy  means  that,  in  the  open  air,  his  leaps  are  not 
limited  even  by  the  rafters. 


8c.  iii.]  peer  oynt.  81 

The  Bridegroom 
I  don't  know  how. 

His  Father. 
You're  a  nincompoop ! 
[Turns  away  to  the  others.     The  Bride- 
groom drifts  across  the  yard. 

A  Lad. 
[Comes  Jrom  behind  the  house.'\ 
Wait  a  bit,  girls !     Things  11  soon  be  lively ! 
Here  comes  Peer  Gynt. 

The  Smith. 
[Who  has  just  come  wp.] 

Who  invited  him  ? 

The  Kitchen-master. 

No  one. 
[Goes  towards  the  house. 

The  Smith 
[To  the  girls.] 
If  he  should  speak  to  you,  never  take  notice  1 

A  Girl. 
[To  the  others.] 
No,  we'll  pretend  that  we  don't  even  see  him. 

Peer  Gynt. 

[Comes  in  heated  and  full  of  animation,  stops  right 
in  front  of  the  group,  and  claps  his  hands.] 
Which  is  the  liveliest  girl  of  the  lot  of  you  .'* 

A  Girl. 
[As  he  approaches  her.] 
I  am  not. 


S2  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   L 

Another. 
[Similarli/.^ 
I  am  not. 

A  Third. 

No  ;  nor  I  either. 

Peer. 
[To  a  fourth.^ 
You  come  along,  then,  for  want  of  a  better. 

The  Girl. 
Haven't  got  time. 

Peer. 

\ToaJiftk] 
Well  then,  you ! 

The  Girl. 
[GoiTig.^ 

I'm  for  home. 
Peer. 
To-night }  are  you  utterly  out  of  your  senses  }  ^ 

The  Smith. 
[After  a  moment,  in  a  low  voice. ^ 
See,  Peer,  she's  taken  a  greybeard  for  partner. 

Peer. 
[Ttirns  sharply  to  an  elderly  man.^ 
Where  are  the  unbespoke  girls  ? 

The  Man. 

Find  them  out. 
[Goes  away  from  him. 

^  A  marriage  party  among  the  peasants  will  often  last  several 
days. 


SC.    III.]  PEER    GYNT.  85 

Peer  Gynt  has  suddenly  become  subdued.  He 
glances  shyly  and  furtively  at  the  group.  Al^ 
look  at  him,  but  no  one  speaks.  Me  apjjroacher. 
other  groups.  Wherever  he  goes  there  is  silence  £ 
whan  lie  moves  away  they  look  after  him  and 
smile. 

Peer. 
[To  himself.] 
Mocking  looks;  needle-keen  whispers^  and  smiles. 
They  grate  like  a  sawblade  under  the  file  ! 

[He  slinks  along  close  to  the  fence.  Solveig, 
leading  little  Helga  by  the  hand,  comes 
into  the  yard,  along  with  her  Parents. 

A  Man. 
[To  another,  close  to  Peer  Gynt.] 
Look;  here  are  the  new  folk. 

The  Other. 

The  ones  from  the  west? 

The  First  Man. 
Ay,  tiic  people  from  Hedal. 

The  Other. 

Ah  yes,  so  they  are. 
Peer. 
[Places  himself  in  the  path  of  the  new-comers,  points 

to  SoLVEiG,  and  asks  the  Father  :] 
May  I  dance  with  your  daughter  ? 
The  Father. 
[Quietly. '\ 

You  may  so ;  but  first 
We  must  go  to  the  farm-house  and  greet  the  good 

people.  V^^^y  S^  ^^• 

1  Literally,  "thoughts." 
IV 


Si  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    I. 

The  Kitchen-master. 
[To  Peer  Gynt,  offering  him  drink.'\ 
Since  you  are  here,  you'd  best  take  a  pull  at  the 
liquor. 

Peer. 
\LookingJixedly  after  the  new-comers. "] 
Thanks ;  I'm  for  dancing  ;  I  am  not  athirst. 

\The    Kitchen-master  goes   away    from 
him.      Peer   Gynt  gap^:es  towards  the 
house  and  laugJis. 
How  fair  !     Did  ever  you  see  the  like  ! 
Looked  down  at  her  shoes  and  her  snow-white 

apron — ! 
And  then  she  held  on  to  her  mother's  skirt-folds, 
And   carried   a   psalm-book    wrapped    up    in    a 

kerchief —  ! 
I  must  look  at  that  girl. 

[Going  into  the  house. 

A  Lad. 

[Coming  out  of  the  house,  with  several  others."] 

Are  you  off  so  soon,  Peer, 
From  the  dance  ? 

Peer. 

No,  no. 

The  Lad, 
Then  you're  heading  amiss  ! 
[Takes  hold   of  his  shoulder  to  turn  him 
round. 

Peer. 
Let  me  pass ! 

The  L<ad. 
I  believe  you're  afraid  of  the  smith. 


sc.  iii.]  peer  gynt.  85 

Peeu. 
I  afraid  i 

The  Lad. 

You  remember  what  happened  at  Lunde  ? 
[T/icy  go   off]    Idugldngj  to   the   dancing- 
green. 

SOLVEIO. 

[/ra  the  doorivay  of  the  house.^ 
Are  you  not  the  lad  that  was  wanting  to  dance  ? 

Peer. 
Of  course  it  was  me  ;  don't  you  know  me  again  ? 

[Takes  her  hand. 
Come,  then ! 

SOLVEIG. 

We  mustn't  go  far,  mother  said. 

Peer. 

Mother  said !     Mother   said !      Were   you  bom 
yesterday  ?  * 

SOLVEIO. 

Now  you're  laughing ! 

Peer. 
Why  sure,  you  are  almost  a  child. 
Are  you  grown  up  } 

SOLVEIG. 

I  read  with  the  pastor  last  spring.* 

Peer. 
Tell  me  your  name,  lass,  and  then  we'll  talk 
easier. 

1  Litemlly,  "  last  year." 

»  "  To  read  with  the  pastor,"  the  preliminary  to  confirmation, 
i$  currently  used  as  synonymous  with  "  to  be  confirmed." 


S6  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   I. 

Solve  I G. 
My  name  is  Solveig.     And  what  are  you  called  ? 

Peer. 
Peer  Gynt 

Solveig. 
[  Withdrawing  her  hand  J] 
Oh  heaven ! 

Peer. 

Why,  what  is  it  now  ? 

Solveig. 
My  garter  is  loose  ;  I  must  tie  it  up  tighter. 

[Goes  away  from  him. 

The  Bridegroom. 
[Pulling  at  his  Mother's  gown.J 
Mother,  she  will  not ! 

His  Mother. 

She  will  not }    What  ? 

The  Bridegroom. 
She  won't,  mother 

His  Mother. 
What  ? 

The  Bridegroom. 

Unlock  the  door. 
His  Father. 
[Angrily,  below  his  breath.'\ 
Oh,  you're  only  fit  to  be  tied  in  a  stall  ! 


sc.  iii.]  peer   gynt.  s7 

His  Mother. 
Don't  scold  him.    Poor  dear,  he'll  be  all  right  yet. 

[They  move  arvaij. 

A  Lad. 

[Comijig  with  a  whole  crowd  of  others  from 
the  dancing-green.^ 
Peer,  have  some  brandy } 

Peer. 

No. 

The  Lad. 

Only  a  drain  ? 

Peer. 

[Looking  darkly  at  him.^ 
Got  any  ? 

The  Lad. 
Well,  I  won't  say  but  I  have. 

[Pulls  out  a  pocket  Jlask  and  drinks. 
Ah  !     How  it  stings  your  tliroat ! — Well  ? 

Peer. 

Let  me  try  it. 

[Drinks. 

Another  Lad. 
Now  you  must  try  mine  as  well,  you  know. 

Peer. 
No! 

The  Lad. 
Oh,  what  nonsense ;  now  don't  be  a  fool. 
Take  a  pull,  Peer  ! 


S8  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   I. 

Peer. 
Well  then,  give  me  a  drop. 

[Dri7iks  again. 
A  Girl. 
[Half  aloud.] 
Come,  let's  be  going. 

Peer. 
Afraid  of  me,  wench  ? 

A  Third  Lad. 
Who  isn't  afraid  of  you  .^ 

A  Fourth. 

At  Lunde 
You  showed  us  clearly  what  tricks  you  could  play. 

Peer. 
I  can  do  more  than  that,  when  I  once  get  started  ! 

The  First  Lad. 
[Whisjjering.] 
Now  he's  forging  ahead  ! 

Several  Others. 
[Forming  a  circle  around  him.'] 

Tell  away !     Tell  away ! 
What  can  you ? 

Peer. 

To-morrow  ! 

Others. 

No,  now,  to-night  I 
A  Girl. 
Can  you  conjure,  Peer  ? 


SC.    III.] 


PEER    GYNT. 


S9 


Peer. 

I  can  call  up  the  devil ! 

A  Man. 
My  grandam  could  do  that  before  I  was  born  I 


Liar  !     What  /  can  do,  that  no  one  else  can. 
I  one  day  conjured  him  into  a  nut. 
It  was  worm-bored,  you  see  ' 

Several. 
[Laughmg.] 

Ay,  that's  easily  guessed  I 

Peer. 
He  cursed,  and  he  wept,  and  he  wanted  to  bribe  me 
With  all  sorts  of  things 

One  of  the  Crowd. 

But  he  had  to  go  in  .'' 
Peer. 
Of  course.     I  stopped  up  the  hole  with  a  peg. 
Hei !    If  you'd  heard  him  rumbling  and  grumbling ! 

A  Girl. 
Only  think  ! 

Peer. 

It  was  just  like  a  humble-bee  buzzing. 

The  Girl. 
Have  you  got  him  still  in  the  nut  ? 

Peer. 

Why,  no ; 
By  this  time  that  devil  has  flown  on  his  way. 
The  grudge  the  smith  bears  me  is  all  his  doing. 


40  PEER   GYNT.  [aCT   L 

A  Lad. 
Indeed  ? 

Peer. 
I  went  to  the  smithy,  and  begged 
Tliat  he  would  crack  that  same  nutshell  for  me. 
He  promised  he  would  ! — laid  it  down  on  bis  anvil ; 
But  Aslak,  you  know,  is  so  heavy  of  hand  ; — 
For  ever  swinging  that  great  sledge-hammer 

A  Voice  from  the  Crowd. 
Did  he  kill  the  foul  fiend  > 

Peer. 

He  laid  on  like  a  man. 
But  the  devil  showed  fight,  and  tore  off  in  a  flame 
Through  the  roof,  and  shattered  the  wall  asunder. 

Several  Voices. 
And  the  smith .-* 

Peer. 
Stood  therewith  his  hands  all  scorched. 
And  from  that  day  onwards,  we've  never  been 
friends.  [GeyiereU  laughter. 

Some  of  the  Crowd. 
That  yam  is  a  good  one. 

Others. 

About  his  best. 

Peer. 
Do  you  think  I  am  making  it  up  ? 


SC.    III.]  PEER    GYNT.  41 

A  Man. 

Oh  no. 
That  you're  certainly  not ;  for  I've  heard  the  most 

on't 
From  ray  grandfather 

Peer. 

Liar  !    It  happened  to  me  ! 

The  Man. 
Yes,  like  everything  else. 

Peer. 

[With  a  fling.] 

I  can  ride,  I  can. 
Clean  through  the  air,  on  the  bravest  of  steeds  ! 
Oh,  many's  the  thing  I  can  do,  I  tell  you ! 

[Another  roar  oj  laughter. 

One  of  the  Group. 
Peer,  ride  through  the  air  a  bit ! 

Many. 
Do,  dear  Peer  Gynt ! 

Peer. 
You  may  spare  you  the  trouble  of  begging  so  hard, 
I  will  ride  like  a  hurricane  over  you  all ! 
Every  man  in  the  parish  shall  fall  at  my  feet  I 

An  Elderly  Man. 
Now  he  is  clean  off  his  head. 

Another. 

The  dolt ! 


42  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   I. 

Braggart ! 


A  Third. 
A  Fourth. 


Liar ! 

Peer. 
l^Threatening  them.'] 

Ay,  wait  till  you  see ! 

A  Man. 
[Half  drujik."] 
Ay,  wait ;  you'll  soon  get  your  jacket  dusted ! 

Others. 
Your  back  beaten  tender !     Your  eyes  painted 
blue  ' 

[The  crowd  disperses,  the  elder  men  angry, 
the  youngei'  laughing  and  jeering. 

The  Bridegroom. 
[Close  to  Peer  Gynt.] 
Peer,  is  it  true  you  can  ride  through  the  air? 

Peer. 
[Shortly.] 
It's  all  true,  Mads  !     You  must  know  I'm  a  rare 
one  I 

The  Bridegroom. 
Then  have  you  got  the  Invisible  Cloak  too  ? 

Peer. 
The  Invisible  Hat,  do  you  mean  }  Yes,  I  have. 

[Turns  away  from  him.     Solveig  crosses 
the  yard,  leading  little  Helga. 


■] 


PEER    GYNT. 


43 


Peer. 
[Goes  towards  them  ;  his  fax:e  lights  up!] 
Solveig  !     Oh,  it  is  well  you  have  come  ! 

[Takes  hold  oj  her  nrist* 
Now  will  I  swing  you  round  fast  and  fine ! 


Loose  me ' 


Solveig. 

Peer. 
Wherefore  } 


Solveig. 

You  are  so  wild. 

Peer. 
The  reindeer  is  wild,  too, when  summer  is  dawning. 
Come  then,  lass ;  do  not  be  wayward  now  ! 

Solveig. 
[  Withdrawing  her  arm.'\ 


Dare  not. 


Peer. 
Wlierefore  ? 


Solveig. 

No,  you've  been  drinking. 
[Moves  off  with  Helga. 

Peer. 
Oh,  if  I  had  but  my  knife-blade  driven 
Clean  through  the  heart  of  them, — one  and  all ! 

The  Bridegroom. 
[Nudging  him  with  his  elbow.^ 
Peer,  can't  you  help  me  to  get  at  the  bride  } 


44  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   1. 

Peer. 

[Absently. '\ 
The  bride  ?     Where  is  she  ? 

The  Bridegroom. 

In  the  store-house. 

Peer. 

Ah. 
The  Bridegroom. 
Oh,  dear  Peer  Gynt,  you  must  try  at  least ! 

Peer. 
No,  you  must  get  on  without  my  help. 

[J  thought  strikes  him  ;  he  says  softly  hut 
sharply. 
Ingrid  !     The  store-house  ! 

[Goes  up  to  Solveio. 

Have  you  thought  better  on't? 

[SoLVEiG  tries  to  go  ;  he  blocks  her  path. 

You're  ashamed  to,  because  I've  the  look  of  a  tramp. 

SOLVEIG. 

[Hastily.'] 
No,  that  you  haven't ;  that's  not  true  at  all ! 

Peer. 
Yes  !     And  I've  taken  a  drop  as  well ; 
But  that  was  to  spite  you,  because  you  had  hurt  me. 
Come  then ! 

Solveig. 
Even  if  I  wished  to,  I  daren't. 

Peer. 
Who  are  you  frightened  of  ? 


SC.    III.] 


PEER    GYNT, 


45 


SOLYEIO. 

Father,  most. 

Pber. 
Father?     Ay,  ay;  he  is  one  of  the  quiet  ones! 
One  of  the  godly,  eh  ? — Answer,  come  ! 

SOLVEIO. 

What  shall  I  say  ? 

Peer. 
Is  your  father  a  psalm-singer?^ 
And  you  and  your  mother  as  well,  no  doubt? 
Come,  will  you  speak  ? 

SOLVEIG. 

Let  me  go  in  peace. 


Peer, 


No! 


[In  a  low  but  sharp  and  threatening  tone. 
I  can  turn  myself  into  a  troll ! 
I'll  come  to  your  bedside  at  midnight  to-night. 
If  you  should  hear  some  one  hissing  and  spitting. 
You  mustn't  imagine  it's  only  the  cat. 
It's  me,  lass  I     I'll  drain  out  your  blood  in  a  cup. 
And  your  little  sister,  I'll  eat  her  up  ; 
Ay,  you  must  know  I'm  a  were -wolf  at  night ; — 

I'll  bite  you  all  over  the  loins  and  the  back 

[Suddenly  changes  his  tone,  and  entreats,  as 

if  in  dread  ; 
Dance  with  me,  lass  I 

SOLVEIO. 

[Looking  darkly  at  Mm.'] 

You  were  ugly  then. 

[Goes  into  the  house 
Literally,  "A reader." 


ii6  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   I, 

The  Bridegroom. 
[Comes  sidling  up  again.] 
I'll  give  you  an  ox  if  you'll  help  me  ! 

Peer. 

Then  come  ! 
[Tker/  go  out  behind  the  house.  At  the  sarne 
momejit  a  crowd  of  men  comefoiTvardfrovi 
the  dancing  green ;  most  of  them  are  drunk. 
Noise  and  hubbub.  Solveig,  Helga,  and 
their  Parents  appear  amo7ig  a  number  of 
elderly  people  in  the  doorway. 

The  Kitchen-master. 
\To  the  Smith,  who  is  the  foremost  of  the  crowd."] 
Keep  peace  now  ' 

The  Smith. 
[Pulling  off  his  jacket.] 

No,  we  must  fight  it  out  here.^ 
Peer  Gynt  or  I  must  be  taught  a  lesson.^ 

Some  Voices. 
Ay,  let  them  fight  for  it ! 

Others. 

No,  only  wrangle  I 

The  Smith. 
Fists  must  decide  ;  for  the  case  is  past  words. 

Solveig's  Father. 
Control  yourself,  man ! 

«  Literally,  "  Here  shall  judgment  be  called  for." 
«  Literally,  "  Must  be  bent  to  the  hillside,"  made  to  bite  tho 
dust  —but  not  in  the  sense  of  being  killed. 


sc.  iii.]  peer  gynt.  47 

Helga. 

Will  they  beat  hiiHj  mother? 

A  Lad. 
Let  us  rather  taunt  him  with  all  his  lies  I 

Another. 
Kick  hira  out  of  the  company. 

A  Third. 

Spit  in  his  eyes  . 

A  Fourth. 

[To  the  Smith.] 
You're  not  backing  out,  smith  ? 

The  Smith. 
[Flinging  away  his  jacket.^ 

The  jade  shall  be  slaughtered! 

Solveig's  Mother. 
[To  Solveig.] 
There,  you  can  see  how  that  windbag  is  thought 
of. 

Ase. 

[Coming  up  with  a  stick  in  her  hand."] 

Is  that  son  of  mine  here  }     Now  he's  in  for  a 

drubbing  ! 
Oh  !  how  heartily  I  will  dang  him ! 

The  Smith. 
[Ilolling  up  his  shirt-sleeves. "] 
That  switch  is  too  light  for  a  carcase  like  his 


48  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   I, 

Some  of  the  Crowd. 
The  smith  will  dang  him  ! 

Others. 

Bang  him ! 

The  Smith. 
[Spits  on  his  hands  and  nods  to  Ase.] 

Hang  him  i 
Ase. 
What?     Hang    my  Peer.^     Ay,  just  try  if  you 

dare  ; — 
Ase  and  I,^  we  have  teeth  and  claws  ! — 
Where  is  he  .'*     [Calls  across  ike  yard.^     Peer ! 

The  Bridegroom. 
\Comes  running  up."] 
Oh,  God's  death  on  the  cross ! 
Come  father,  come  mother,  and ! 

Hi«  Father. 

What  is  the  matter  ? 

The  Bridegroom. 
Just  fancy,  Peer  Gynt ! 

AsE. 

[ScreaKTis.'] 

Have  you  taken  his  life  ? 

The  Bridegroom. 
No,  but  Peer  Gynt !     Look,  there  on  the  hill- 
side  ! 

The  Crowd. 
With  the  bride 

A  peasant  idiom. 


SC    in.]  PEER    GYNT.  49 

AsE. 

[Lets  her  stick  sink.^ 
Oh,  the  beast ! 

The  Smith. 
l^As  if  thunder siruc1c.'\ 

Where  the  slope  rises  sheerest 
He's  clambering  upwards,  by  God,  like  a  goat ' 

The  Bridegroom. 
[Crying.] 
He's  shouldered  her,  mother,  as  I  might  a  pig  I 

AsE. 

[Shaking  her  fist  up  at  him.] 

Would  God  you  might  fall,  and ! 

[Screams  out  in  terror. 
Take  care  of  your  footing  ] 

The  Hegstad  Farmer. 
[Comes  in,  hare-headed  and  white  with  rage.'] 
I'll  have  his  life  for  this  bride-rape  yet ! 

AsE. 

Oh  no,  God  punish  me  if  I  let  you  I 


IV 


ACT  SECOND 
SCENE   FIRST. 

A  narrow  path,  high   up  m  ike  mountains,     Earlif 

morning. 
Peer  Gynt  comes  hastily  and  sullenly  along  the  path. 

Ingrid,  still  wearing  some  of  her  biidal  onia- 

m^ntSj  is  trying  to  hold  him  back. 

Peer. 
Get  you  frwii  me  ! 

Ingrid. 

[Weeping.^ 

After  this,  Peer  ? 
Whither  ? 

Peer. 
Where  you  will  for  me. 

Ingrid. 
[  Wringing  her  hands. '\ 
Oh,  what  falsehood ! 

Peer. 

Useless  railing. 
Each  alone  must  go  his  way. 

Ingrid. 
3in — an<l  sin  again  unites  us  ! 


8C.    I.] 


PEER    GYNT. 


51 


Peer. 
Devil  take  all  recollections  ! 
Devil  take  the  tribe  of  women- 
All  but  one ! 

Ingrid. 

Who  is  that  one,  pray  ? 


'Tis  not  you. 


Peer. 

Ingrid. 
Who  is  it  then  ? 


Peer. 
Go  !     Go  thither  whence  you  came! 
Off !     To  your  father  ! 

Ingrid. 
Dearest,  sweetest 

Peer. 
Peace ! 

Ingrid. 

You  cannot  mean  it,  surely. 
What  you're  saying  } 

Peer. 

Can  and  do.  ^ . 

Ingrid. 
First  to  lure — and  then  forsake  me ! 

Peer. 
And  what  terms  have  you  to  offer  ? 

Ingrid. 
Hegstad  Farm,  and  more  besides. 


52  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   II. 


Peer. 
Is  your  psalm-book  in  your  kerchief  ? 
Where's  the  gold-mane  on  your  shoulders  ? 
Do  you  glance  adown  your  apron  ? 
Do  you  hold  your  mother's  skirt-fold  ? 
Speak  ! 

Inorid. 
No,  but 

Peer. 
Went  you  to  the  Pastor  ^ 
This  last  spring-tide  ? 

Inorid. 
No,  but  Peer 

Peer. 
Is  there  shyness  in  your  glances  ? 
When  I  beg,  can  you  deny  ? 

Ingrid. 
Fleaven !  I  think  his  wits  are  going . 

Peer. 
Does  your  presence  sanctify  ?  * 
Speak  ! 


Ingrid, 


No,  but- 


Peer. 
What's  all  the  rest  then  } 
[Going. 
*  See  note  on  pas^e  35. 

'  "  Blir  der  Uelg  nar  en  dig  ser  ?  "  literally,  *'  Does  it  become 
a  lioly-day  (or  holy-tide)  when  one  sees  you?  " 


sc.  i.]  peer  gynt. 

Ingrid. 
[Blocking  his  way.] 
Know  you  it  -will  cost  your  neck 
Should  you  fail  me? 

Peer. 

What  do  I  care  ? 

Ingrid. 
You  may  win  both  Mcalth  and  honour 

If  you  take  me 

Peer. 

Gin't  afford. 

Ingrid. 
[Bursting  into  tears.] 
Oh,  you  lured  me ! 

Peer. 

You  were  willing* 

Ingrid. 
I  was  desperate  ! 

Peer. 
Frantic  I. 

Ingrid. 
[Threatening.] 
Dearly  shall  you  pay  for  this  ! 

Peer. 
Dearest  payment  cheap  I'll  reckon. 

Ingrid. 
Is  your  purpose  set  ? 


5S 


54  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    II< 

Peer. 
Like  flint. 

Ingrid. 
Good  !  we'll  see,  then,  who's  the  winner  ! 

[Goes  downwards. 

Peer. 
[Stands  silent  a  moment ,  then  cries ;] 
Devil  take  all  recollections  ! 
Devil  take  the  tribe  of  women  ! 

Ingrid. 
[Turning  her  head,  and  calling  mockingly  upwards  ;] 
All  but  one ! 

Peer. 
Yes,  all  but  one. 

[They  go  their  several  ways. 


SCENE  SECOND. 

Near  a  mountain  tarn  ;  the  ground  is  soft  and  marshy 
round  about.     A  sioi'^n  is  gathering. 

Ase  enters j  calling  and  gazing  around  her  despairingly, 
in  every  direction.  Solveig  has  difficulty  in 
keeping  up  with  her,  Solveig's  Father  and 
Mother,  with  Helga,  are  some  way  behind. 

Ase. 

[Tossing  ahoid  her  arms,  and  teaiivg  her  hair."] 

All  things  are  against  me  with  wrathful  might ! 

Heaven,  and  the  waters,  and  the  grisly  mountains  ! 

Fog-scuds   from   heaven   roll   down   to   bewilder 

him 


tC.    II.]  PEEll    OVNt.  i6 

The  treacherous  waters   are   lurking   to  murder 

him! 
The  mountains  would  crush  him  with  landslip  and 

rift!— 
And  the  people  too  !    They're  out  after  his  life  ! 
God  knows  they  shan't  have  it !     I  can't  bear  to 

lose  him ! 
Oh,  the  oaf !  to  think  that  the  fiend  should  tempt 

him! 

[T2im{7tg  to  SOLVEIG. 

Now  isn't  it  clean  unbelievable  this  ? 
He,  that  did  nought  but  romance  and  tell  lies ; — 
He,  whose  sole  strength  was  the  strength  of  his 

jaw; 
He,  that  did  never  a  stroke  of  true  work  ; — 

He !   Oh,  a  body  could  both  cry  and  laugh  I — 

Oh,  we  clung  closely  in  sorrow  and  need. 
Ay,  you  must  know  that  my  husband,  he  drank, 
Loafed  round  the  parish  to  roister  and  prate. 
Wasted  and  trampled  our  gear  under  foot. 
And    meanwhile    at    home    there    sat    Pecrkin 

and  I — 
The  best  we  could  do  was  to  try  to  forget ; 
For  ever  I've  found  it  so  hard  to  bear  up. 
It's  a  terrible  thing  to  look  fate  in  the  eyes ; 
And  of  course  one  is  glad  to  be  quit  of  one's 

cares, 
And  try  all  one  can  to  hold  thinking  aloof. 
Some  take  to  brandy,  and  others  to  lies ; 
And  we — why  we  took  to  fairy-tales 
Of  princes  and  trolls  and  of  all  sorts  of  beasts ; 
And  of  bride-rapes  as  well.     Ah,  but  who  could 

have  dreamt 
That  those  devil's  yams  would  have  stuck  in  his 

head? 

[In  a  fresh  access  of  terror. 


66  i»EER    GYl^T.  [act    n. 

Hu  !     What  a  scream  !     It's  the  nixie  or  droug !  ^ 

Peer  !     Peer!— Up  there  on  that  hillock ! 

[She  runs  to  the  top  oj  a  little  rise,  and  looks 

out  over  the  tarn.       Solveig's   Father 

and  Mother  come  up. 

Abe. 
Not  a  sign  to  be  seen ! 

The  Father. 
[Quietli/.] 

It  is  worst  for  him  1 

AsE. 

[Weeping. '\ 
Oh,  my  Peer  !     Oh,  my  own  lost  lamb  ! 

The  Father. 
[Nods  mildlt/.'j 
You  may  well  say  lost. 

Ase:. 
Oh  no,  don't  talk  like  that ! 
He  is  so  clever.     There's  no  one  like  him. 

The  Father. 
You  foolish  woman ! 

Ase. 
Oh  ay  ;  oh  ay ; 
Foolish  I  am,  but  the  boy's  all  right ! 

The  Father. 
[Still  softly  and  with  mild  eyes."] 
His  heart  is  hardened,  his  soul  is  lost. 
•  A  malevolent  water-monster. 


BC,    II.]  PEER    GYNT.  57 

AsE. 

[Ill  terror.^ 
No,  no,  he  can't  be  so  hard,  our  Lord ! 

The  Father. 
Do  you  think  he  can  sigh  for  his  debt  of  sin  ? 

AsE. 

[Eagerhj.] 
No,  but  he  can  ride  through  the  air  on  a  buck, 
though ! 

The  Mother. 
Christ,  are  you  mad  ? 

The  Father. 

Why,  what  do  you  mean  ? 

AsE. 
Never  a  deed  is  too  great  for  him. 
You  shall  see,  if  only  he  lives  so  long 

The  Father. 
Best  if  you  saw  him  on  the  gallows  hanging. 

AsE. 
[Shrieks.^ 
Oh,  cross  of  Christ ! 

The  Father, 

In  the  hangman's  hands. 
It  may  be  his    heart   would   be  turned  to  re- 
pentance. 

Ase. 
[Bewildered.] 
Oh,  you'll  soon  talk  me  out  of  my  senses ! 
We  must  find  him  I 


S8  PEEft    GVNT.  [acI"    1L 

The  Father. 

To  rescue  his  souL 

ASE. 

And  his  body ! 
If  he's  stuck  in  the  swamp,  we  must  drag  him 

out ; 
If  he's  taken  by  trolls,  we  must  ring  the  bells  for 
him. 

The  Father. 
H'm ! — Here's  a  sheep- path 

AsE. 

The  Lord  will  repay  you 
Your  guidance  and  help  ! 

The  Father. 

It's  a  Christian's  duty. 

Asfi. 
Then  the  others,  fie !  they  are  heathens  all ; 
There  was  never  a  one  that  would  go  with  us 

The  Father. 
They  knew  him  too  well. 

AsE. 

He  was  too  good  for  them  ! 

[Wriiigs  her  hands. 

And  to  think — and  to  think  that  his  life  is  at  stake ! 

The  Father. 
Here  are  tracks  of  a  man. 

AsE. 
Then  it's  here  we  must  search ! 


SC.    III.]  PEER    SYNT.  59 

The  Father. 
We'll  scatter  around  on  this  side  of  our  saeter.* 

[He  and  his  wife  go  on  ahead, 

SOLVEIG. 

[To  AsE.] 
Say  on ;  tell  me  more. 

AsE. 

[Diying  her  eyes.^ 

Of  my  son,  you  mean  ? 

SoLVEIG. 

Yes;— 

Tell  everything ! 

AsE. 
[Smiles  and  losses  her  head.'\ 

Everything  f — Soon  you'd  be  tired  ! 

SOLVEIG. 

Sooner  by  far  will  you  tire  of  the  telling 
Than  I  of  the  hearing. 


SCENE   THIRD. 

Low,  treeless  heights,  close  wider  the  mountain  moor- 
lands ;  peaks  in  the  distance.  The  shadows  are 
long  ;  it  is  late  in  the  day. 

Peer  Gynt  comes  rimning  at  full  speed,  and  stops 
short  on  the  hillside. 

Peer. 
The  parish  is  all  at  my  heels  in  a  pack  ! 

*  Sater — a  chalet,  or  small  mountain  farm,  where  the  cattle 
are  sent  to  pasture  in  the  summer  months. 


60  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   II. 

Everyman  of  them  armed  or  with  gun  or  with  club. 
Foremost  I  hear  the  old  Hegstad-churl  howling. — 
Now  it's  noised  far  and  wide  that  Peer  Gynt  is 

abroad  ! 
It  is  different,  this,  from  a  bout  with  a  smith ! 
This  is  life  !     Every  limb  grows  as  strong  as  a 

bear's. 

[Strikes  out  with  his  arms  and  leaps  in  the 
air. 
To  crush,  overturn,  stem  the  rush  of  the  foss  !  ^ 
To  strike  !     Wrench  the  fir-tree  right  up  by  the 

root ! 
This  is  life  !    This  both  hardens  and  lifts  one  high  I 
To  hell  then  with  all  of  the  savourless  lies  ! 

Three  S^eter  Girls.^ 
[Rush  across  the  hillside,  screa7nivg  and  singing.] 
Trond  of  the  Valfjeld  ! »     Bard  and  Kare  ! 
Troll-pack !      To-night  would  you   sleep   in  our 
arms .'' 

Peer. 
To  whom  da  you  call  ? 

The  Girls. 

To  the  trolls  !  to  the  trolls  ! 

First  Girl. 
Trond,  come  with  kindness ! 

Second  Girl. 

Bard,  come  with  force  ' 

Third  Girl. 

The  cots  in  the  sajter  are  all  standing  empty  ' 

*  See  note,  p.  29.  «  See  Appendix. 

'  Pronounce  Vaal-fyeld, 


SC.    III.]  PEER    OYNT.  6l 

First  Girl. 
Force  is  kindness ! 

Second  Girl. 

And  kindness  is  force  ! 

Third  GiRL. 
If  lads  are  awantin^,  one  plays  with  the  trolls ! 

Peer. 
Why,  where  are  the  lads,  then  ? 

All  Three. 
[With  a  horse ■laugh.'\ 

They  cannot  come  hither  I 

First  Girl. 
Mine  called  me  his  sweetheart  and  called  me  his 

darling. 
Now  he  has  married  a  grey-headed  widow. 

Second  Girl. 
Mine  met  a  gipsy-wench  north  on  the  upland. 
Now  they  are  tramping  the  country  together. 

Third  Girl. 
Mine  put  an  end  to  our  bastard  brat. 
Now  his  head's  grinning  aloft  on  a  stake. 

All  Three. 
Trond  of  the  Valfjeld  !  Bard  and  Kare ! 
Troll-pack !  To-night  would  you  sleep  in  our  arms : 

Peer. 

\ Stands,  with  a  sudden  leap,  in  the  midst  of  them.] 
I'm  a  three-headed  troll,  and  the  boy  for  three 
girls  ! 


6f  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    II. 

The  Girls. 
Are  you  such  a  lad,  eh  ? 

Peer. 
You  shall  judge  for  yourselves ! 

First  Girl. 
To  the  hut!     To  the  hut! 

Second  Girl. 

We  have  mead  ! 
Peer. 

Let  it  flow ! 
Third  Girl. 
No  cot  shall  stand  empty  this  Saturday  night ! 

Second  Girl. 
[Kissing  him.^ 
He  sparkles  and  glisters  like  white-heated  iron. 

Third  Girl 
[Doing  likewise.^ 
Like  a  baby*s  eyes  from  the  blackest  tarn. 

Peer. 
[Danciiig  in  the  midst  of  them."] 
Heavy  of  heart  and  wanton  of  mind. 
The  eyes  full  of  laughter,  the  throat  of  tears ! 

The  Girls. 
[Making  mocHng  gestures  towards  the  mountain-tops , 

screaming  and  singing.] 
Trond  of  the  Valfjeld  I     Bard  and  Kare  ! 
Troll-pack! — To-night  who  shall  sleep  in  our  arms? 
[They  dance  away  over  the  heights ^  with 
Peer  Gynt  m  their  midst. 


SC.    IV.]  FEER    GYNT.  6S 


SCENE   FOURTH. 

Among  the  Rond'c  mountaint.    Sunset.    Shining  snow- 
peaks  all  aroujid. 
Peer  Gynt  enters ^  dizzy  and  bewildered. 

Peer. 
Tower  over  tower  arises  ! 
Hei,  whit  a  glittering  gate  ! 
Stand  !     Will  you  stand  !     It's  drifting 
Further  and  further  away  ! 
High  on  the  vane  the  wind-cock 
Arches  his  wings  for  flight ; — 
Blue  spread  the  rifts  and  bluer. 
Locked  is  the  fell  and  barred. — 

What  are  those  trunks  and  tree-roots. 
That  grow  from  the  ridge's  clefts  ? 
They  are  warriors  heron-footed ! 
Now  they,  too,  are  fading  away. 

A  shimmering  like  rainbow-streamers 
Goes  shooting  through  eyes  and  brain. 
What  is  it,  that  far-off  chiming  ? 
What's  weighing  my  eyebrows  down  .'* 
Hu,  how  my  forehead's  throbbing — 

A  tightening  red-hot  ring ! 

I  cannot  think  who  the  devil 
Has  bound  it  around  my  head  ! 


Flight  o'er  the  Edge  of  Gendin- 
Stuff  and  accursed  lies  ! 
Up  o'er  the  steepest  hill- wall 
With  the  bride, — and  a  whole  day  drunk ; 
Hunted  by  hawks  and  falcons. 
Threatened  by  trolls  and  sock. 


[Sinks  down. 


64  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    II. 

Sporting  with  crazy  wenches  :— 
Lies  and  accursed  stuff ! 

[Gazes  long  upwards. 

Yonder  sail  two  brown  eagles. 
Southward  the  wild  geese  fly. 
And  here  I  must  splash  and  stumble 
In  quagmire  and  filth  knee-deep  ! 

[Springs  up. 

I'll  fly  too  !     I  will  wash  myself  clean  in 
The  bath  of  the  keenest  winds ! 
I'll  fly  high  !     I  will  plunge  myself  fair  in 
The  glorious  christening-font ! 
I  will  soar  far  over  the  saeter ; 
I  will  ride  myself  pure  of  soul ; 
I  will  forth  o'er  the  salt  sea  Avaters, 
And  high  over  Engelland's  prince  ! 
Ay,  gaze  as  ye  may,  young  maidens  ; 
My  ride  is  for  none  of  you  ; 
You're  wasting  your  time  in  waiting —  ! 
Yet  maybe  I'll  swoop  down,  too. — 

What  has  come  of  the  two  brown  eagles —  ? 
They've  vanished,  the  devil  knows  whei'e ! — 

There's  the  peak  of  a  gable  rising; 
It's  soaring  on  every  hand  ; 
It's  growing  from  out  the  ruins ; — 
See,  the  gateway  is  standing  wide  ! 
Ha-ha,  yonder  house,  I  know  it ; 
It's  grandfather's  new-built  farm  j 
Gone  are  the  clouts  from  the  windows ; 
The  crazy  old  fence  is  gone. 
The  lights  gleam  from  every  casement ; 
There's  a  feast  in  the  hall  to-night. 

There,  that  was  the  provost  clinking 
The  back  of  his  knife  on  his  glass ; — 
There's  the  captain  flinging  his  bottle. 
And  shivering  the  mn-ror  to  bits. — 


:.    v.]  PEER   GYNT.  65 


Let  them  waste  ;  let  it  all  be  squandered ! 
Peace,  mother ;  what  need  we  care  ! 
'Tis  the  rich  Jon  Gjnt  gives  the  banquet ; 
Hurrah  for  the  race  of  Gynt ! 
What's  all  this  bustle  and  hubbub  ? 
Why  do  they  shout  and  bawl  ? 
The  captain  is  calling  the  son  in ; — 
Oh,  the  provost  would  drink  my  health. 
In  then.  Peer  Gynt,  to  the  judgment ; 
It  rings  forth  in  song  and  shout : 
Peer  Gynt,  thou  art  come  of  great  things, 
And  great  things  shall  come  of  thee  I 

[Leaps  forward f  bid  runs  his  head  against 
a  rock,  falls,  and  remains  stretched  on 
the  ground. 


SCENE  FIFTH. 

A  hillside,  wooded  with  great  soughing  trees.  Stars 
are  gleaming  througli  the  leaves  ;  birds  are  singing 
in  the  tree-tops. 
A  Green-clad  VVoman  is  crossing  the  hillside  ;  Peer 
Gynt  follows  her,  with  all  sorts  of  lover-like 
antics. 

The  Green-clad  One. 
[Stops  and  turns  round. ^ 
Is  it  true  ? 

Peer. 
[Drawing  his  finger  across  his  th'oat\ 
^^  As  true  as  my  name  is  Peer; — 

^H   As  true  as  that  you  are  a  lovely  woman  ! 
^H  Will  you  have  me  }     You'll  see  what  a  fine  man 
H  I'll  be; 

I 


66  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   II. 

You  shall  neither  tread  the  loom  nor  turn  the 

spindle. 
You  shall  eat  all  you  want,  till  you're  ready  to  burst. 
I  never  will  drag  you  about  by  the  hair 

The  Grekn-clad  One. 
Nor  beat  me ! 

Peer. 
No,  can  you  think  I  would  .' 
We  kings'  sons  never  beat  women  and  such. 

The  Green-clad  One. 
You're  a  king's  son 

Peer. 
Yes. 

The  Green-clad  One. 

I'm  the  Dovre-King's  daughter. 

Peer. 
Are  you  !     See  there,  now,  how  well  that  fits  in  1 

The  Green-clad  One. 
Deep  ia  the  Ronde  has  father  his  palace. 

Peer. 
My  mother's  is  bigger,  or  much  I'm  mistaken. 

The  Green-clad  One. 
Do  yott  know  my  father  ?   His  name  is  King  Brose.^ 

Peer. 
Do  you  know  my  mother  }  Her  name  is  Queen  Ase. 

The  Green-clad  One. 
When  my  father  is  angry  the  mountains  are  riven. 

»  Pronounce  Broase. 


8C.    v.]  PEER    OYNT  67 

Peer. 
They  reel  -when  my    mother    by   chance    falls 
a-scolding. 

The  Green-clad  One. 
My  father  can  kick  e'en  the  loftiest  roof-tree.^ 

Peer. 

My  mother  can  ride  through  the  rapidest  river. 

The  Green-clad  One. 
Have  you  other  garments  besides  those  rags  ? 

Peer. 
Ho,  you  should  just  see  my  Sunday  clothes  I 

The  Green-clad  One. 
My  week-day  gown  is  of  gold  and  silk. 

Peer. 
It  looks  to  me  liker  tow  and  straws. 

The  Green-clad  One. 
Ay,  there  is  one  thing  you  must  remember  :— 
This  is  the  Ronde-folk's  use  and  wont : 
All  our  possessions  have  two-fold  forni. 
When  shall  you  come  to  my  father's  hall. 
It  well  may  chance  that  you're  on  the  point 
Of  thinking  you  stand  in  a  dismal  moraine. 

Peer. 

Well  now,  with  us  its  precisely  the  same. 

Our  gold  will  seem  to  you  litter  and  trash  I 

And  you'll  think,  mayhap,  every  glittering  pane 

Is  nought  but  a  bunch  of  old  stockings  and  clouts. 

»  Kicking  the  rafters  is  a  much -admired  exploit  in  peasant 
dancirig.    bee  note,  page  3a 


k 


6s  PEER    OYNT.  [act   II. 

The  Green-clad  One. 
^lack  it  seems  white,  and  ugly  seems  fair. 

Peer. 
Big  it  seems  little,  and  dirty  seems  clean. 

The  Green-clad  One. 
[Falling  on  his  neck.^ 
Ay,  Peer,  now  I  see  that  we  fit,  you  and  1 1 

Peer, 
Like  the  leg  and  the  trouser,  the  hair  and  the 
comb. 

The  Green-clad  One. 
[Calls  away  over  the  hillside J\ 
Bridal -steed  I     Bridal-steed  !     Come,  bridal-steed 
mine  ' 

[A  gigantic  pig  comes  running  in  with  a 
ropes  end  for  a  bridle  and  an  old  sack 
for  a  saddle.  Peer  Gynt  vaults  on  tts 
back,  and  seats  the  Green-clad  One  in 
front  of  him. 

Peer. 
Hark-away!      Through    the   Ronde-gate   gallop 

we  in! 
Gee-up,  gee-up,  my  courser  line  I 

The  Green-clad  One. 
[Tenderly. '\ 
Ah,  but  lately  I  wandered  and  moped  and  pined — 
One  never  can  tell  what  may  happen  to  one  ! 

Peer. 
[Thrashing  the  pig  and  trotting  off.] 
You  may  know  the  great  by  their  riding  gear ! 


8C.    VI.]  PEER    OYNT.  69 


SCENE   SIXTH. 

The  Royal  Hall  of  the  King  of  the  Dovr'e-  Trolls.  A 
great  assembly  of  Troll-courtiers,  Gnomes, 
and  Brownies.  The  Old  Man  of  the  Dovre 
sits  on  the  throne,  crowned,  and  with  his  sceptre 
in  his  hand.  His  children  and  nearest 
relations  are  ranged  on  both  sides.  Peer 
Gynt  stands  before  him.  Violent  commotion  in 
the  hall. 

The  Troll-courtiers. 

Slay  him !  a  Christian-man's  son  has  deluded 
The  Dovre- King's  loveliest  maid  ! 

A  Troll-imp. 
May  1  hack  him  on  the  fingers  ? 

Another. 
May  I  tug  him  by  the  hair  ? 

A  Troll-maiden. 
Hu^  heij  let  me  bite  him  in  the  haunches  \ 

A  Troll-witch. 
[With  a  ladle.] 
Shall  he  be  boiled  into  broth  and  bree  ? 

Another  Troll-witch. 
[  With  a  chopper.] 
Shall  he   roast   an  a   spit  or   be   browned  in  a 
stewpan  ? 

The  Old  Man  op  the  DovrK. 
Ice  to  your  blood,  friends  ! 

[Beckons  his  counsellors  closer  around  him. 


70  PEER    GYNT.  [\CT   II. 

Don't  let  us  talk  big. 
We've  been  drifting  astern  in  these  latter  years ; 
We  can't  tell  what's  going  to  stand  or  to  fall, 
And  there's  no  sense  in  turning  recruits  away. 
Besides  the  lad's  body  has  scarce  a  blemish. 
And  he's  strongly-built  too,  if  I  see  aright. 
It's  true,  he  has  only  a  single  head  ; 
But  my  daughter,  too,  has  no  more  than  one. 
Three-headed  trolls  are  gone  clean  out  of  fashion  ; 
One  hardly  sees  even  a  two-header  now. 
And  even  those  heads  are  but  so  so  ones. 

[To  Peer  Gynt.] 
It's  my  daughter,  then,  you  demand  of  me  ? 

Peer, 
Your  daughter  and  the  realm  to  her  dowry,  yes. 

The  Old  Man. 
You  shall  have  the  half  while  I'm  still  alive. 
And  the  other  half  when  I  come  to  die. 

Peer. 
I'm  content  with  that. 

The  Old  Man. 

Ay,  but  stop,  my  lad ; — 
You  also  have  some  undertakings  to  give. 
If  you  break  even  one,  the  whole  pact's  at  an  end. 
And  you'll  never  get  away  from  here  living. 
First  of  all  you  must  swear  that  you'll  never  give 

heed 
To  aught  that  lies  outside  the  Ronde-hills'  bounds; 
Day  you  must  shun,  and  deeds,  and  each  sunlit 
spot. 

Peer. 
Only  call  me  king,  and  that's  easy  to  keep. 


sc.  vi.]  peer  gynt.  71 

The  Old  Man. 
And  next — now  for  putting  your  wits  to  the  test. 
[Draws  himself  up  in  his  seat 

The  Oldest  Troll-courtier. 
[To  Peer  Gynt.] 
Let  us  see  if  you  have  a  wisdom-tooth 
That  can  crack  the  Dovre-King's  riddle-nut ! 

The  Old  Man. 
What  difference  is  there  'twixt  trolls  and  men  ? 

Peer. 
No  difference  at  all,  as  it  seems  to  me. 
Big  trolls  would  roast  you  and  small  trolls  would 

claw  you ; — 
With  us  it  were  likewise,  if  only  they  dared. 

The  Old  Man, 
True  enough ;  in  that  and  in  more  we're  alike. 
Yet  morning  is  morning,  and  even  is  even. 
And  there  is  a  difference  all  the  same. — 
Now  let  me  tell  you  wherein  it  lies  : 
Out  yonder,  under  the  shining  vault. 
Among  men  the  saying  goes  ;  Man,  be  thyself !  *' 
At  home   here  with  us,  'mid  the  tribe  of  the 

trolls. 
The  saying  goes ;  "  Troll,  to  thyself  be — enough  !  " 

The  Troll-courtier 
[To  Peer  Gynt.] 
Can  you  fathom  the  depth  } 

Peer. 

It  strikes  me  as  misty. 


72  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    II. 

The  Old  Man. 
My  son,  that  "  Enough/'  that  most  potent  and 

sundering 
Word,  must  be  graven  upon  your  escutcheon. 

Peer. 

[^Scraichi7/g  his  keadA 

Well,  but 

The  Old  Man. 
It  must,  if  you  here  would  be  master! 

Peer. 
Oh  well,  let  it  pass  ;  after  all,  it's  no  worse 

The  Old  Man. 
And  next  you  must  learn  to  appreciate 
Our  homely,  everyday  way  of  life. 

[He  beckons  ;  two  Trolls  with  pigs' -heads, 
white  night-caps,  and  so  forth,  bring  in 
food  and  drink. 
The  cow  gives  cakes  and  the  bullock  mead  ; 
Ask  not  if  its  taste  be  sour  or  sweet ; 
The  main  matter  is,  and  you  mustn't  forget  it. 
It's  all  of  it  home-brewed. 

Peer. 

[Pushing  the  things  away  from  him.'] 
The  devil  fly  off  with  your  home-brewed  drinks 
I'll  never  get  used  to  the  ways  of  this  land. 

The  Old  Man. 
The  bowl's  given  in,  and  it's  fashioned  of  gold. 
Whoso  own  the  gold  bowl,  him  my  daughter  holds 
de^r. 


JC.    VI. 


PEER    GYNT 


7S 


Peer. 
[Pondering.] 

It  is  written  :  Thou  shalt  bridle  the  natural  man  ;— 
And  I  daresay  the  drink  may  in  time  seem  less 

sour. 
So  be  it !  [Complies, 

The  Old  Man. 
Ay,  that  was  sagaciously  said. 
You  spit  ? 

Peer. 
One  must  trust  to  the  force  of  habit. 


The  Old  Man. 
And  next  you  must  throw  off  your  Christian-man's 

garb; 
For  this  you  must  know  to  our  Dovre's  renown  : 
Here  all  things  are  mountain-made,  nought's  from 

the  dale. 
Except  the  silk  bow  at  the  end  of  your  tail. 


I  haven't  a  tail ! 


Peer. 
[Indignant.] 


The  Old  Man. 
Then  of  course  you  must  get  one. 
See  my  Sunday- tail.  Chamberlain,  fastened  to  him. 

Peer. 
I'll  be  hanged  if  you  do !     Would  you  make  me  a 
fool? 

The  Old  Man. 
None  comes  courting  my  child  with  no  tail  at 
his  rear. 


74  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   II. 

Peer. 
Make  a  beast  of  a  man ! 

The  Old  Man. 

Nay,  my  son,  you  mistake ; 
I  make  you  a  mannerly  wooer,  no  more. 
A  bright  orange  bow  we'll  allow  you  to  wear. 
And  that  passes  here  for  the  highest  of  honours. 

Peer. 
[Reflectively. "l 
It's  true,  as  the  saying  goes :  Man's  but  a  mote. 
And  it's  wisest  to  follow  the  fashion  a  bit. 
Tie  away ! 

The  Old  Man. 
You're  a  tractable  fellow,  I  see. 

The  Courtier. 
Just  try  with  what  grace  you  can  waggle  and 
whisk  it ! 

Peer. 
[Peevishli/.] 
Ha,  would  you  force  me  to  go  still  further  ? 
Do  you  ask  me  to  give  up  my  Christian  faith  ? 

The  Old  Man. 
No,  that  you  are  welcome  to  keep  in  peace. 
Doctrine  goes  free  ;  upon  that  there's  no  duty; 
It's  the  outward  cut  one  must  tell  a  troll  by. 
If  we're  only  at  one  in  our  manners  and  dress. 
You  may  hold  as  your  faith  what  to  us  is  a  horror. 

Peer. 
Why,  in  spite  of  your  many  conditions,  you  are 
A  more  reasonable  chap  than   one   might  have 
expected. 


bc.  vi.]  peer  gynt.  75 

The  Old  Man. 
We  troll-folk,  my  son,  are  less  black  than  we're 

painted ;  ^ 
That's  another  distinction  between  you  and  us. — 
But  the  serious  part  of  the  meeting  is  over ; 
Now  let  us  gladden  our  ears  and  our  eyes. 
Music-maid,  forth  !  Set  the  Dovre-harp  sounding ! 
Dancing-maid,    forth !     Tread    the    Dovre-hall's 

floor !  [Music  and  a  dance. 

The  Courtier. 
How  like  you  it } 

Peer. 
Like  it.?     H'm 

The  Old  Man. 

Speak  without  fear ! 
What  see  you  ? 

Peer, 
Why  something  unspeakably  grim  :  ^ 
A  bell-cow  with  her  hoof  on  a  gut-harp  strumming. 
A  sow  in  socklets  a-trip  to  the  tune. 

The  Courtiers. 
Eat  him ! 

The  Old  Man. 
His  sense  is  but  human,  remember  ! 

Troll-Maidens. 
Hu,  tear  away  both  his  ears  and  his  eyes  ' 

*  Literally,  "  Better  than  our  reputation." 

»  "  Ustyggelig  stygt."  "  Usty^jgelig  "  seems  to  be  what  Mr. 
Lewis  Carroll  calls  a  portmanteau  word,  compounded  of 
"  usigelig  "  =  unspeakable,  and  "  styg  "  =  ugly.  The  words 
might  be  rendered  "  beyond  grimness  grim." 


76  PEER    OYNT.  [act   II, 

The  Green-clad  One. 

[Weeping.] 
Hu-hu  !    And  this  we  must  hear  and  put  up  with, 
When  I  and  my  sister  make  music  and  dance. 

Peer. 
Oho,  was  it  you  ?     Well,  a  joke  at  the  feast, 
You  must  know,  is  never  unkindly  meant. 

The  Green  clad  One. 
Can  you  swear  it  was  so  ? 

Peer. 
Both  the  dance  and  the  music 
Were  utterly  charming,  the  cat  claw  me  else. 

The  Old  Man. 
This  same  human  nature's  a  singular  thing ; 
It  sticks  to  people  so  strangely  long. 
If  it  gets  a  gash  in  the  fight  with  us, 
It  heals  up  at  once,  though  a  scar  may  remain. 
My  son-in-law,  now,  is  as  pliant  as  any ; 
He's  willingly    thrown   off    his   Christian  -  man's 

garb. 
He's  willingly  drunk  from  our  chalice  of  mead. 
He's  willingly  fastened  the  tail  to  his  back, — 
So  willing,  in  short,  did  we  find  him  in  all  things, 
I  thought  to  myself  the  old  Adam,  for  certain, 
Had  for  good  and  all  been  kicked  out  of  doors ; 
But  lo  !  in  two  shakes  he's  atop  again  i 
Ay  ay,  my  son,  we  must  treat  you,  I  see. 
To  cure  this  pestilent  human  nature. 

Peer. 
What  will  you  do  ? 


8C.    ▼!.] 


PEBR    OYNT 


77 


The  Old  Man. 

In  your  left  eye,  first, 
I'll  scratch  you  a  bit,  till  you  see  awry ; 
But  all  that  you  see  will  seem  fine  and  brave. 
And  then  I'll  just  cut  your  right  window-pane 

out 

Peer. 
Are  you  drunk  ? 

The  Old  Man. 

[Lai/s  a  number  of  sharp  instruments  on  the  tahie.  j 
See,  here  are  the  glazier's  tools. 
Blinkers  you'll  wear,  like  a  raging  bull. 
Then  you'll  recognise  that  your  bride  is  lovely, — 
And  ne'er  will  your  vision  be  troubled,  as  now, 
With  bell-cows  harping  and  sows  that  dance. 


Peer. 


This  is  madman's  talk  ! 


The  Oldest  Courtier. 

It's  the  Dovre-King  speaking  ; 
'Tis  he  that  is  wise,  and  'tis  you  that  are  crazy  ! 

The  Old  Man. 
Just  think  how  much  worry  and  mortification 
You'll  thus  escape  from,  year  out,  year  in. 
You  must  remember,  your  eyes  are  the  fountain 
Of  the  bitter  and  searing  lye  of  tears. 

Peer. 
That's  true ;  and  it  says  in  our  sermon-book  : 
If  thine  eye  offend  thee,  then  pluck  it  out. 
But  tell  me,  when  will  my  sight  heal  up 
Into  human  sight } 


78  PEER    OYNT.  [act  IL 

The  Old  Man. 

Nevermore,  my  friend. 

Peer. 
Indeed  !     In  that  case,  I'll  take  my  leave. 

The  Old  Man. 
What  would  you  without  .'* 

Peer. 

I  would  go  my  way. 

The  Old  Man. 
No,  stop  !     It's  easy  to  slip  in  here. 
But  outward  the  Dovre-King's  gate  opens  not. 

Peer. 
You  wouldn't  detain  me  by  force,  I  hope  ? 

The  Old  Man. 
Come  now,  just  listen  to  reason.  Prince  Peer ! 
You  have  gifts  for  trolldom.     He  acts — does  he 

not  ?— 
Even  now  in  a  passably  troll-like  fashion  ? 
And  you'd  fain  be  a  troll  ? 

Peer. 

Yes,  I  would,  sure  enough. 
For  a  bride,  and  a  well-managed  kingdom  to  boot, 
I  can  put  up  with  losing  a  good  many  things. 
But  there  is  a  limit  to  all  things  on  earth. 
The  tail  I've  accepted,  it's  perfectly  true ; 
But  no  doubt  I  can  loose  what  the  Chamberlain 

tied. 
My  breeches  I've  dropped  ;  they  were  old  and 

patched ; 
But  no  doubt  I  can  button  them  on  again. 


SC.   VI.]  PEER    GYNT.  79 

And  lightly  enoucrh  I  can  slip  my  cable 

From  these  your  Dovrefied  ways  of  life. 

I  am  willing  to  swear  that  a  cow  is  a  maid ; 

An  oath  one  can  always  eat  up  again  ; — 

But  to  know  that  one  never  can  free  oneself. 

That  one  can't  even  die  like  a  decent  soul ; 

To  live  as  a  hill-troll  for  all  one's  days — 

To  feel  that  one  never  can  beat  a  retreat, — 

As  the  book  has  it,  that's  what  your  heart  is 

set  on ; 
But  that  is  a  thing  I  can  never  agree  to. 

The  Old  Man. 
Now,  sure  as  I  live,  I  shall  soon  lose  my  temper ; 
And  then  I  am  not  to  be  trifled  with. 
You  pasty-faced  loon  !    Do  you  know  who  I  am  ? 
First  with  my  daughter  you  make  too  free 

Peer. 
There  you  lie  in  your  throat ! 

The  Old  Man. 
•  You  must  marry  het. 

Peer. 
Do  you  dare  to  accuse  me .'* 

The  Old  Man. 

What  ?     Can  you  deny 
Tliat  you  lusted  for  her  in  heart  and  eye  } 

Peer. 

[With  a  snort  of  contempt.] 

No  more  >  Who  the  deuce  cares  a  straw  £or  that  ? 

The  Old  Man. 
It's  ever  the  same  with  this  humankind 


80  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   II. 

The  spirit  you*re  ready  to  own  with  your  lips, 
But  in  fact  nothing  counts  that  your  fists  cannot 

handle. 
So    you    really    think,    then,   that   lust   matters 

nought  ? 
Wait ;  you  shall  soon  have  ocular  proof  of  it 

Peer. 
You  don't  catch  me  with  a  bait  of  lies ! 

The  Green-clad  One. 
My  Peer,  ere  the  year's  out,  your  child  will  be  bom. 

Peer 
Open  doors '  let  me  go ! 

The  Old  Man. 

In  a  he-goat*s  skin. 
You  shall  have  the  brat  after  you. 

Peer. 

[Moppitig  the  sweat  off  his  brow.^ 

Would  I  could  waken  ! 

The  Old  Man. 
Shall  we  send  him  to  the  palace  } 

Peer. 
You  can  send  him  to  the  parish ! 

The  Old  Man. 
Well  well,  Prince  Peer  ;  that's  your  own  look-out. 
But  one  thing's  certain,  what's  done  is  done ; 
And  your  offspring,  too,  will  be  sure  to  grow ; 
Such  mongrels  shoot  up  amazingly  fast 


8c.  vi.]  peer  gynt.  81 

Peer. 
Old  man,  don't  act  like  a  headstrong  ox  ! 
Hear  reason,  maiden !     Let's  come  to  terms. 
You  must  know  I'm  neither  a  prince  nor  rich  ; — 
And  whether  you  measure  or  whether  you  weiglii 

me. 
Be  sure  you  won't  gain  much  by  making  me  yours. 
[The  Green-clad  One  is  taken  ill,  and  is 
carried  out  hy  Troll-maids. 

The  Old  Man. 
\Looks  at  him  for  a  while  in  high  disdain;  then  says ;] 
Dash  him  to  shards  on  the  rock- walls,  children  ! 

The  Troll-imps, 
Oh  dad,  mayn't  we  play  owl-and-eagle  first ! 
The  wolf-game !    Grey-mouse  and  glow-eyed  cat  \ 

The  Old  Man. 
Yes,  but  quick.    I  am  worried  and  sleepy.    Good- 
night !  \He  goes. 
Peer. 
[Hunted  hy  the  Troll-imps.] 

Let  me  be,  devil's  imps ! 

[Tries  to  escape  up  the  chimney. 

The  Imps. 
Come  brownies  !     Come  nixies ! 
Bite  him  behind  ! 

Peer. 
Ow! 
[Tries  to  slip  down  the  cellar  trap-door. 

The  Imps. 

Shut  up  all  the  crannies! 
nr  * 


I 


8S  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   II. 

The  TmoLL-couRTiER. 
Now  the  small-fry  are  happy  ' 

Peer. 

[Sii'uggling  with  a  little  Imp  that  has  hit  himself 

fast  to  his  ear.'] 

Let  go  will  you,  beast 

The  Courtier. 
[Hitting  him  across  theJingersJ] 
Gently,  you  scamp,  with  a  scion  of  royalty ! 

Peer. 

A  rat-hole !  [RiOSi  to  it. 

The  Imps. 
Be  quick,  Brother  Nixie,  and  block  it ! 

Peer. 

The  old  one  was  bad,  but  the  youngsters  are  worse ! 

The  Imps. 
Slash  himl 

Peer. 
Oh,  would  I  were  small  as  a  mouse .' 
[Rushing  around. 
The  Imps. 
[Swarming  round  him^ 
Close  the  ring !    Close  the  ring  ! 

Peer. 
[Weeping.] 

Ware  I  only  a  louse  ! 
'[He  falls. 
The  Imps. 
Now  into  his  eyee  ! 


SC.    VII.] 


PEER    OYN?*, 


8S 


Peer. 
[Buried  in  a  heap  ©/"Imps] 

Mother,  help  me,  I  die 
[Church  hells  sound  far  away. 

The  Imps. 
Bells  in  the  mountain !     The  Black-Frock's  cows  ! 
[The  Trolls  tale  to  flight,  amid  a  confused 
uproar  of  yells  and  shrieks.     The  palace 
collapses ;  everything  disappears. 


SCENE  SEVENTH. 

Pitch  darkness. 

Peer  Gynt  is  heard  beating  and  slashing  about  him 
with  a  large  bough. 

Peer. 
Answer !     Who  are  you  ? 

A  Voice  in  the  Darkness. 
Myself. 

Peer. 

Clear  the  way  ! 
The  Voice. 
Go  roundabout;  Peer !     The  hill's  roomy  enough. 

Peer. 
[Tries  to  force  a  passage  at  another  place,  hut  strikes 

against  something.^ 
Who  are  you  } 

The  Voice. 
Myself.     Can  you  say  the  same  ? 


84  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   II. 

Peer. 

I  can  say  what  I  will ;  and  my  sword  can  smite  ! 

Mind  yourself!  Hu,  hei,  now  the  blow  falls 
crushing  I 

King  Saul  slew  hundreds ;  Peer  Gynt  slew  thou- 
sands !  [CtiUhig  and  slashing. 

Who  are  you  ? 

The  Voice. 
Myself. 

Peer. 

That  stupid  reply 
You  may  spare  ;  it  doesn't  clear  up  the  matter. 
What  are  you-f* 

The  Voice. 
The  great  Boyg.* 

Peer. 

Ah,  indeed  ! 
The  riddle  was  black ;  now  I'd  call  it  grey. 
Clear  the  way  then,  Boyg  ! 

The  Voice. 

Go  roundabout.  Peer ! 

Peer. 
No,  through  !  [Cuts  and  slashes. 

There  he  fell ! 
\l\ies  to  advance,  hut  strikes  against  some- 
things 

Ho  ho,  are  there  more  here  ? 

The  Voice. 
The  Boyg,  Peer  Gynt  I  the  one  only  one 

»  See  Introduction  and  Appendix. 


8C.    VII.]  PEER    GYNT.  85 

It's  the  Boyg  that's  un wounded,  and  the  Boyg 

that  was  hurt. 
It's  the  Boyg  that  is  dead^  and  the  Boyg  that's 

alive. 

Peer. 

[Throws  away  the  branch.l 
The  weapon  is  troll-smeared;^  but  I  have  my  fists ! 

[Fights  his  way  forward. 

The  Voice. 
Ay,  trust  to  your  fists,  lad,  trust  to  your  body. 
H'»e-hee,  Peer  Gynt,  so  you'll  reach  the  summit. 

Peer. 

[Falling  hack  againi] 
Forward  or  back,  and  it's  Just  as  far ; — 
Out  or  in,  and  it's  just  as  strait !  2 
He  is    there!     And  there!     And   he's   round 

the  bend ! 
No  sooner  I'm  out  than  I'm  back  in  the  ring. — 
Name  who  you  are  !     Let  me  see  you  !    What  are 
you.^ 

The  Voice. 
The  Boyg. 

Peer. 
[Groping  around.^ 
Not  dead,  not  living ;  all  slimy ;  misty. 
Not  so  much  as  a  shape  !     It's  as  bad  as  to 

battle 
In  a  cluster  of  snarling,  half- wakened  bears  * 

[!Screams. 
Strike  back  at  me,  can't  you  ! 

»  Rendered  harmless  by  magical  anointing. 
•  "Attar  og  fram,  det  er  lige  langt ; — 
ud  og  ind,  det  er  lige  trangt  1 " 


86  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   II. 

The  Voice. 

The  Boyg  isn't  mad. 
Peer. 
Strike ! 

The  Voice. 
The  Boyg  strikes  not. 

Peer. 

Fight !     You  shall ! 

The  Voice. 
The  great  Boyg  conquers,  but  does  not  fight. 

Peer. 
Were  there  only  a  nixie  here  that  could  prick  me  ! 
Were  there  only  as  much  as  a  year-old  troll ! 
Only  something  to  fight  with.     But  here  there  is 

nothing. — 
Now  he's  snoring  !     Boyg ! 

The  Voice. 

What's  your  will } 

Peer. 

Use  force  I 
The  Voice. 
The  great  Boyg  conquers  in  all  things  without  it,' 

Peer. 

[Biting  his  own  arms  and  hands. ^ 

Claws  and  ravening  teeth  in  my  flesh  I 

I  must  feel  the  drip  of  my  own  warm  blood. 

[A  sound  is  heard  like  the  wing-strokes  of 

great  birds. 

>  "  Med  lempe,"  literally  "by  gentleness"  or  "easy-going* 
ness."    "  Quiescence  "  is  somewhere  near  the  idea. 


8C.    VU.]  FEER    OYNT,  87 

Bird-cries. 
G)mes  he  now^  Boyg  ? 

The  Voice. 

Ay,  step  by  step. 

Bird-cries. 
All  our  sisters  far  off  !     Gather  here  to  the  tryst ! 

Peer. 
If  you'd  save  me  now,  lass,  you  must  do  it  quick  1 
Gaze  not  adown  so,  lowly  and  bending. — 
Your  clasp-book  I     Hurl  it  straight  into  his  eyes  I 

Bird-cries. 
He  totters ! 

The  Voice. 
We  have  him. 

Bird-cries. 

Sisters  !    Make  haste  ! 

Peer. 
Too  dear  the  purchase  one  pays  for  life 
In  such  a  heart-wasting  hour  of  strife. 

[Sinks  dorvn, 
BiRB -cries. 
Boyg,  there  he's  fallen  !     Seize  him  !     Seize  him  ! 
[A  sound  of  bells  and  of  ^aim-sin ^ing  is 
heard  far  mvay. 

The  Boyg. 
[Shrinks  up  to  nothing,  and  says  in  a  gasp-] 
He  was  too  strong.     There  were  women  behind 
him. 


S8  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    II. 


SCENE   EIGHTH. 

Sunrise.     The  mountain-side  in  front  of  Ase's  sceter. 

The  door  is  shut  ;  all  is  silent  and  deserted. 
Peer  Gynt  is  lying  asleep  hy  the  wall  of  the  sceter. 

Peer. 

[  Wakens  J  and  looks  about  him  with  dull  and  heavy 
eyes.     He  spits. ^ 
What  wouldn't  I  give  for  a  pickled  herring ! 

[Spits  again,  and  at  the  same  moment  catches 
sight  of  Helga,  who  appears  carrying  a 
basket  of  food. 
Ha,  child,  are  you  there  ?     What  is  it  you  want  ? 


Helga. 


It  is  Solveig- 


Peer. 
[Jumping  M/).] 
Where  is  she? 

Helga. 

Behind  the  saeter. 

Solveio. 
[Unseen.^ 
If  you  come  nearer,  I'll  run  away ! 

Peer. 

[Stopping  short."] 
Perhaps  you're  afraid  I  might  take  you  in  my 
arms  ? 


SC.    VIII.]  PEER    GYNT.  89 

SoLVEIG. 

For  shame ' 

Peer. 
Do  you  know  where  I  was  last  night  ? — 
Like  a  horse-fly  the  Dovre- King's  daughter  is  after 
me. 

SOLVEIG. 

Then  it  was  well  that  the  bells  were  set  ringing. 

Peer, 

Peer  Gynt*s  not  the  lad  they  can  lure  astray.— 
What  do  you  say  ? 

Helga. 

[Crying.] 

Oh,  she's  running  away  ! 

[Running  ajler  her. 
Wait! 

Peer. 
[Catches  her  hy  the  arwi.] 
Look  here,  what  I  have  in  my  pocket  I 
A  silver  button,  child !     You  shall  have  it, — 
Only  speak  for  me  I 

Helga. 
Let  me  be  ;  let  me  go ! 

Peer. 
There  you  have  it. 

Helga. 
Let  go ;  there's  the  basket  of  food. 

Peer. 
God  pity  you  if  you  don't 


I 


90 


PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    II. 


Helga. 

Uf,  how  you  scare  me  I 
Peer. 
[Genth/  ;  letting  her  go.] 
No,  I  only  meant :  beg  her  not  to  forget  me  ! 

[Helga  rum  off^ 


ACT  THIRD. 
SCENE   FIRST. 

Deep  in  the  pine-woods.    Grey  autumn  weather.    Snow 

is  falling. 
Peer  Gynt  stands  in  his  shirt-sleeves y  felling  timber. 

Peer. 

[Hewing  at  a  large  fir-tree  with  twisted  brandies.^ 
Oh  ay,  you  are  tough,  you  ancient  churl ; 
But  it's  all  in  vain,  for  you'll  soon  be  down. 

[Hews  at  it  again. 
I  see  well  enough  you've  a  chain-mail  shirt. 
But  I'll  hew  it  through,  were  it  never  so  stout. — 
Ay,  ay,  you're  shaking  your  twisted  arras  ; 
You've  reason  enough  for  your  spite  and  rage  ; 

But  none  the  less  you  must  bend  the  knee ! 

[Breaks  off  suddenly. 
Lies  !     'Tis  an  old  tree  and  nothing  more. 
Lies  !     It  was  never  a  steel-clad  churl ; 
It's  only  a  fir-tree  with  fissured  bark. — 
It  is  heavy  labour  this  hewing  timber  ; 
But  th  2  devil  and  all  when  you  hew  and  dream 

too. — 
I'll  have  done  with  it  all — with  this  dwelling  in 

mist, 
And,  broad-awake,  dreaming  your  senses  away. — 
You're  an  outlaw,  lad  !     You  are  banned  to  the 

woods.  [Hews  for  a  while  rapidl}^. 

Ay,  an  outlaw,  ay.     You've  no  mother  now 


92       *  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    III. 

To  spread  your  table  and  bring  your  food. 
If  you'd  eat,  my  lad,  you  must  help  yourself. 
Fetch   your   rations    raw   from    the   wood    and 

stream. 
Split  your  own  fir-roots^    and  light  your   own 

fire. 
Bustle  around,  and  arrange  and  prepare  things. 
Would  you  clothe  yourself  warmly,  you  must  stalk 

your  deer ; 
Would  you  found  you  a  house,  you  must  quarry 

the  stones ; 
Would  you  build  up  its  walls,  you  must  fell  the 

logs. 
And  shoulder  them  all  to  the  building-place. — 

[His  axe  sinks  down ;  he  gazes  straight  in 
front  of  him. 
Brave  shall  the  building  be.     Tower  and  vane 
Shall  rise  from  the  roof-tree,  high  and  fair. 
And  then  I  will  carve,  for  the  knob  on  the  gable, 
A  mermaid,  shaped  like  a  fish  from  the  navel. 
Brass  shall  there  be  on  the  vane  and  the  door- 
locks. 
Glass  I  must  see  and  get  hold  of  too. 
Strangers,  passing,  shall  ask  amazed  : 
What  is  that  glittering  far  on  the  hillside  ? 

[Lavghs  angrily. 
Devil's  own  lies  !     There  they  come  again. 
You're  an  outlaw,  lad  !  [Hewing  vigorously. 

A  bark-thatched  hovel 
Is  shelter  enough  both  in  rain  and  frost. 

[Looks  up  at  the  tree. 
Now  he  stands  wavering.     There ;  only  a  kick. 
And  he  topples  and  measures  his  length  on  the 

ground; — 

1  •*Tyri,"  resinous  pine-wood  which  burns  with  a  bright 
6Iaze. 


8C.    I.]  PEER    GYNT.  93 


The  thick-swarming  undergrowth  shudders  around 
him  ! 

[BegiTis   lopping    the    branches   from    the 
trunk ;  suddenly  he    listens,   and  stands 
motionless  with  his  axe  in  the  air. 
There's  some  one  after  me ; — Ay,  are  you  that 

sort. 
Old  Hegstad-churl ;  would  you  play  me  false  ? 

[Crouches  behind  the  tree,  and  peeps  over  it. 
A  lad  !     One  only.     He  seems  afraid. 
He  peers  all  round  him.     What's  that  he  hides 
'Neath  his  jacket  }     A  sickle.    He  stops  and  looks 

round, — 
Now  he  lays  his  hand  on  a  fence-rail  flat. 
What's    this    now.'*      Why   does    he    lean    Hke 

that ? 

Ugh,  ugh  !     Why,  he's  chopped  his  finger  off ! 
A  whole  finger  off! — He  bleeds  like  an  ox. — 
Now  he  takes  to  his  heels  with  his  fist  in  a  clout. 

[Rises. 
W^hat  a  devil  of  a  lad  !  An  unmendable  ^  finger ! 
Right  off !      And  with  no   one   compelling   him 

to  it! 
Ho,  now  I  remember !     It's  only  thus 
You  can  'scape  from  having  to  serve  the  King. 
That's  it.     They  wanted  to  send  him  soldiering. 
And  of  course  the  lad  didn't  want  to  go. — 

But  to  chop  off ?     To  sever  for   good   and 

all ? 

Ay,   think    of   it — wish    it    done — will   it   to 

boot, — 
But   do    it !     No,    that's    past    my    under- 
standing ! 

[Shakes  his  head  a  little  ;  then  goes  on  with 
his  work. 
*  "  Umistelig  "— unlosable.  indispen.'jable,  irreplaceable. 


94  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    III. 


SCENE  SECOND. 

A  room  in  Asrs  house.  Everything  in  disorder ;  boxes 
standing  open  ;  wearing  apparel  strewn  around, 
A  cat  is  tying  on  the  bed. 

AsE  and  /Ae  Cottar's  Wife  are  hard  at  work  packing 
things  together  and  putting  them  straight, 

AsE. 
\Iiunning  to  one  side.^ 
Kari,  come  here ! 

Kari. 
What  now  ? 

AsE. 

[On  the  other  side."] 

Come  here ? 

Wliere  is ?     Where  shall  I  find }    Tell 

me  where } 

What  am  I  seeking  ?     I'm  out  of  my  wits  ! 
Where  is  the  key  of  the  chest  ? 

Kari. 

In  the  key-hole. 

AsE. 

Wliat  is  that  rumbling  ? 

Kari. 

The  last  cart-load 
They're  driving  to  Hegstad. 

AsE. 

\Weeping.'\ 

IJow  glad  I'd  be 


SC.    11.]  PEER    OYNT.  ^5 

In  the  black  chest  myself  to  be  driven  away  ! 
Oh,  what  must  a  mortal  abide  and  live  through  ! 
God  help  me   in  mercy  i     The  whole   house  ij 

bare ! 
What  the  Hegstad-churl  left  now  the  Bailiff  ^  has 

taken. 
Not  even  the   clothes   on  my  back  have  they 

spared. 
Fie  !     Shame  on  them  all  that  have  judged  so 

hardly  ! 

[Seats  herself  on  the  edge  of  the  bed. 
Both  the  land  and  the  farm-place  are  lost  to  our 

line ; 
The  old    man  was  hard,  but   the   law  was   still 

harder ; — 
There  was  no  one  to  help  me,  and  none  would 

show  mercy ; 
Peer  was  away ;  not  a  soul  to  give  counsel. 

Karl 
But  here,  in  this  house,  you  may  dwell  till  you  die. 

AsE. 

Ay,  the  cat  and  I  live  on  charity. 

Kari. 
God  help  you,  mother  ;  your  Peer's  cost  you  dear. 

AsE. 

Peer  ?     Why,  you're  out  of  your  senses,  sure ! 
Ingrid  came  home  none  the  worse  in  the  end. 
The  right   thing   had   been    to   hold    Satan    to 
reckoning ; — 

»  "Lensmand,"  the  lowest  functionary   in   the  Norwegian 
official  scale— a  sort  of  parish  officer. 


I 


96  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    III. 

He  was  the  sinner,  ay,  he  and  none  other ; 
The  ugly  beast  tempted  my  poor  boy  astray 

Kari. 
Had  I  not  better  send  word  to  the  parson  ? 
Mayhap  you're  worse  than  you  think  you  are, 

AsE. 
To  the  parson  ?     Truly  I  almost  think  so. 

[Starts  up. 
But,  oh  God,  I  can't  !     I'm  the  boy's  own  mother ; 
And  help  him  I  must ;  it's  no  more  than  my  duty  ; 
I  must  do  what  I  can  when  the  rest  forsake  him. 
They've  left  him  his  coat ;  I  must  patch  it  up. 
I  wish  I  dared  snap  up  the  fur-rug  as  well ! 
What's  come  of  the  hose? 

Kari. 
They  are  there,  *mid  that  rubbish. 

Ass. 
[Rummaging  about."] 
Why,  what  have  we  here  ?     I  declare  it's  an  old 
Casting-ladle,  Kari !     With  this  he  would  play 
Button-moulder,  would  melt,  and  then  shape,  and 

then  stamp  them. 
One  day — there  was  company — in  the  boy  came. 
And  begged  of  his  father  a  lump  of  tin. 
"  Not  tin,"  says  Jon,  "  but  King  Christian's  coin; 
Silver ;  to  show  you're  the  son  of  Jon  Gynt." 
God  pardon  him,  Jon;  he  was  drunk,  you  see. 
And  then  he  cared  neither  for  tin  nor  for  gold. 
Here  are  the   hose.     Oh,    they're    nothing  but 

holes ; 
They  want  darning,  Kari  I 


sc.  iii.]  peer  oynt,  97 

Kari. 

Indeed  but  they  do. 

AsE. 

When  that  is  done,  I  must  get  to  bed ; 

I  feel  so  broken,  and  frail,  and  ill 

[Joyfully. 
Two  woollen-shirts,  Karl ; — they've  passed  them 
by! 

Kari. 
So  they  have  indeed. 

AsE. 

It's  a  bit  of  luck. 
One  of  the  two  you  may  put  aside  ; 
Or  rather,  I  think  we'll  e'en  take  them  both ; — 
The  one  he  has  on  is  so  worn  and  thin. 

Kari. 
But  oh,  Mother  Ase,  I  fear  it's  a  sin 

AsE. 

Maybe ;  but  remember  the  priest  holds  out 
Pardon  for  this  and  our  other  sinnings. 


SCENE   THIRD. 

In  jront  of  a  settler  s  newly-  built  hut  in  the  forest. 

A  reindeers  horns  over  the  door.     The  snow  is 

lying  deep  around.     It  is  dusk. 
Peer  Gynt  is  standing  outside  the  door,  fastening  a 

large  wooden  bar  to  it. 

Peer. 

[Laughing  between  whiles !\ 
Bars  I  must  fix  me ;  bars  that  can  fasten 
IV  <» 


L 


98  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    III. 

The  door  against  troll- folk,  and  men,  and  women. 
Bars  I  must  fix  me  ;  bars  that  can  shut  out 
All  the  cantankerous  little  hobgoblins.— 

They  come  with  the  darkness,  they  knock  and 
they  rattle  : 
Open,  Peer  Gynt,  we*re  as  nimble  as  thoughts  are  ! 
'Neath  the  bedstead  we  bustle,  we  rake  in  the 
ashes, 
Down    the    chimney  we  hustle  like    fiery-eyed 
dragons. 
Hee-hee!   Peer  Gynt;    think  you  staples  and 
planks 
Can  shut  out  cantankerous  hobgoblin-thoughts  } 
[SoLVEiG    comes   on    snow-shoes    over  the 
heath ;  she  has  a  shawl  over   her  head, 
and  a  bundle  in  her  hand, 

SOLVEIG. 

God  prosper  your  labour.     You  must  not  reject 

me. 
You  sent  for  me  hither,  and  so  you  must  take  me. 

Peer. 

Solveig  !     It  cannot  be !     Ay,  but  it  is  ! — 

And  you're  not  afraid  to  come  near  to  me  ! 

Solveig. 
One  message  you  sent  me  by  little  Helga ; 
Others  came  after  in  storm  and  in  stillness. 
All  that  your  mother  told  bore  me  a  message. 
That  brought  forth  others  when  dreams  sank  upon 

me. 
Nights  full  of  heaviness,  blank,  empty  days. 
Brought  me  the  message  that  now  I  must  come. 
It  seemed  as  though  life  had  been  quenched  down 

there ; 


SC.    in.]  PEER    GYNT.  99 

I  could  nor  laugh  nor  weep  from  the  depths  of  my 

heart. 
I  knew  not  for  sure  how  you  might  be  minded  ; 
I  knew  but  for  sure  what  I  should  do  and  must  do. 

Peer. 
But  your  father  ? 

SOLVEIO. 

In  all  of  God's  wide  earth 
I  have  none  I  can  call  either  father  or  mother. 
I  have  loosed  me  from  all  of  them. 

Peer. 

Solveig,  you  fair  one— 
And  to  come  to  me  ? 

Solveio. 
Ay,  to  you  alone  ; 
You  must  be  all  to  me,  friend  and  consoler. 

[In  fears. 
The  worst  was  leaving  my  little  sister ; — 
But  parting  from  father  was  worse,  still  worse  ; 
And  worst  to  leave  her  at  whose  breast  I  was 

borne ; — 
Oh  no,  God  forgive  me,  the  worst  I  must  call 
The  sorrow  of  leaving  them  all,  ay  all  I 

Peer. 
And   you  know  the  doom    that  was   passed    in 

spring  ? 
It  forfeits  my  farm  and  ray  heritage. 

Solveig. 
Think  you  for  heritage,  goods,  and  gear, 
I  forsook  the  paths  all  my  dear  ones  tread  ? 


100  PEER    GVNT.  [act   III. 

Peer. 

And  know  you  the  compact  ?     Outside  the  forest 
Whoever  may  meet  mc  may  seize  me  at  will. 

SoLVEIO. 

I  ran  upon  snow-shoes ;  I  asked  my  way  on ; 

They  said  "  Whither  go  you .'' "  I  answered,  "  I  go 
home." 

Peer. 

Away,  away  then  with  nails  and  planks ! 

No  need  now  for  bars  against  hobgoblin-thoughts. 

If  you  dare  dwell  with  the  hunter  here, 

I  know  the  hut  will  be  blessed  from  ill. 

Solveig  !     Let  me  look  at  you  !     Not  too  near  ! 

Only  look  at  you  !     Oh,  but  you  are  bright  and 
pure  ! 

Let  me  lift  you  !     Oh,  but  you  are  fine  and  light ' 

Let  me  enrisy  you,  Solveii^-,  and  I'll  never  be  tired ! 

I  will  nfft  soil  you.     With  outstretched  arms 

I  will  hoH  you  far  out  from  me,  lovely  and  warm 
one  ! 

Oh,  who  would  have  thought  I  could  draw  you  to 
me, — 

Ah,  but  I  have  longed  for  you,  daylong  and  night- 
long. 

Here  you  may  see  I've  been  hewing  and  build- 
ing ;— 

It  must  down  again,  dear ;  it  is  ugly  and  mean 

Solveig. 
Be  it  mean  or  brave, — here  is  all  to  my  mind. 
One  so  lightly  draws  breath  in  the  teeth  of  the 

wind. 
Down  below  it  was  airless;   one  felt  as  though 

choked ; 


SC.    in.]  PEER    GYNT.  101 


Tliat  was  partly  what  drove  me  in  fear  from  the 

dale. 
But  here,   with   the  fir-branches    soughing  o'er- 

hesd,— 
WTiat  a  stillness  and  song  !— I  am  here  in  my  home. 

Peer. 
And  know  you  that  surely  ?     For  all  your  days  ? 

SOLVEIG. 

The  path  I  have  trodden  leads  back  nevermore. 

Peer. 

You  are  mine  then !     In  !     In  the  room  let  me  see 

you  ! 
Go  in  !     I  must  go  to  fetch  fir-roots  ^  for  fuel. 
Warm  shall  the  fire  be  and  bright  shall  it  shine, 
You  shall  sit  softly  and  never  be  a-eold. 

[He  opens  the  door  ;  Solyeig  goes  in.  He 
stands  still  for  a  ivhile,  ihen  lavglis  aloud 
rviihjoi)  and  leaps  itito  the  air. 

Peer. 
My  king's  daughter !     Now  I  have  found  her  and 

won  her ! 
Kei !    Now  the  palace  shall  rise,  deeply  founded ! 

He  seizes  his  axe  and  moires  arvai/ ;  at  the  same 
moment  an  Old-looking  Woman,  in  a  tatteied 
green  gown,  comes  out  frwn  the  wood  ;  an  Ugly 
Brat,  with  an  ale-Jiagon  in  his  hand,  limps  ajler, 
holding  on  to  her  skirt. 

The  Woman. 

Good  evening.  Peer  Lightfoot ! 

*  See  note,  p.  9a. 


102  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   III. 

Peer. 

What  is  it  ?    Who's  there  ? 

The  Woman. 
Old  friends  of  yours,  Peer  Gynt !     My  home  is 

near  by. 
We  are  neighbours. 

Peer. 
Indeed  !     That  is  more  than  I  know. 

The  Woman. 
Even  as  your  hut  was  build  ed,  mine  built  itself 
too. 

Peer. 
[Going.] 
I'm  in  haste 

The  Woman. 
Yes,  that  you  are  always,  my  lad  ; 
But  I'll  trudge  behind  you  and  catch  you  at  last. 

Peer. 
You're  mistaken,  good  woman  ! 

The  W^oman. 

I  was  so  before ; 
I  was  when  you  promised  such  mighty  fine  things. 

Peer. 

I  promised ?    What  deviPs  own  nonsense  is 

this? 

The  Woman. 
You've  forgotten  the  night  when  you  drank  with 

my  sire  ? 
You've  forgot ? 


SC.    III.] 


PEER    QYNT. 


103 


Peer. 
I've  forgot  what  I  never  have  known. 
What's  this  that  you  prate  of  .'*     When  last  did  we 
meet  ? 

The  W^oman. 
When  last  we  met  was  when  first  we  met. 

[To  The  Brat.] 
Give  your  father  a  drink ;  he  is  thirsty,  I'm  sure. 

Peer. 
Father  ?    You're    drunk,  woman !    Do  you  call 
him } 

The  Woman. 
I  should  think  you  might  well  know  the  pig  by 

its  skin  ! 
Why,  where  are  your  eyes  ?     Can't  you  see  that 

he's  lame 
In  his  shank,  just  as  you  too  are  lame  in  your 
soul } 

Peer. 
Would  you  have  me  believe ? 

The  Woman. 

Would  you  wriggle  away ? 


Peer, 
This  long-legged  urchin — 


The  Woman. 

He's  shot  up  apace. 

Peer. 
Dare  you,  you  troll-snout,  father  on  me ? 


104  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   III. 

The  Woman. 
Come  now,  Peer  Gynt,  you're  as  rude  as  an  ox  ! 

[  Weeping. 
Is  it  my  fault  if  no  longer  Tm  fair, 
As  I  was  when  you  lured  me  on  hillside  and  lea  ? 
Last  fall,  in  my  labour,  the  Fiend  held  my  back, 
And  so  'twas  no  wonder  I  came  out  a  fright. 
But  if  you  would  see  me  as  fair  as  before. 
You  have  only  to  turn  yonder  girl  out  of  doors, 
Drive   her   clean    out   of   your    sight   and  your 

mind ; — 
Do  but  this,  dear  my  love,  and  I'll  soon  lose  my 

snout ! 

Peer. 
Begone  from  rae,  troll-witch ! 

The  Woman. 

Ay,  see  if  I  do  ! 
Peer. 
Ill  split  your  skull  open ! 

The  Woman. 

Just  try  if  you  dare  ! 
Ho-ho,  Peer  Gynt,  I've  no  fear  of  blows  ! 
Be  sure  I'll  return  every  day  of  the  year. 
Through  the  door,  set  ajar,  I'll  peep  in  at  you  both. 
When  you're  sitting  with  your  girl  on  the  fireside 

bench, — 
When  you're  tender,  Peer  Gynt, — ^when  you'd  pet 

and  caress  her, — 
I'll  seat  myself  by  you,  and  ask  for  my  share. 
She  there  and  I — we  will  take  you  by  turns. 
Farewell,  dear  my  lad,  you  can  marry  to-morrow  ! 

Peer, 
You  nightmare  of  hell  I 


sc.  iii.]  peer  gynt.  105 

The  Woman. 

By-the-bye,  I  forgot ! 
You  must   rear   your  own  youngster,  you  light- 
footed  scamp ! 
Little  imp,  will  you  go  to  your  father  ? 

The  Brat. 
\Spits  at  kim.l 

Faugh ! 
I'll  chop  you  with  my  hatchet ;  only  wait,  only 
wait! 

The  Woman. 
[Kisses  The  Brat.] 
What  a  head  he  has  got  on  his  shoulders,  the 

dear! 
You'll  be  dad's  living  image  when  once  you're  a 
man ! 

Peer. 
[Stamping,^ 
Oh,  would  you  were  as  far ! 

The  Woman. 

As  we  now  are  near  ? 

Peer. 
[Clenching  his  hands,"] 
And  all  this ! 

The  Woman. 
For  nothing  but  thoughts  and  desires  ' 
It  is  hard  on  you.  Peer ! 

Peer. 

It  is  worst  for  another  ! — • 
Solveig,  my  fairest,  my  purest  gold  ' 


I 


106  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   III 

The  Woman. 
Oh  ay,  'tis  the  guiltless  must  smart,  said  the  devil : 
His  mother  boxed  his  ears  when  his  father  was 
drunk  ! 

[She  trudges  off  into  the  thicket  with  The 
Brat,  who  throws  the  Jiagon  at  Peer 
Gynt. 

Peer. 

[After  a  long  silence.^ 
The  Boyg  said,  "  Go  roundabout !  " — so  one  must 

here. — 
There  fell  my  fine  palace,  with  crash  and  clatter  I 
There's  a  wall  around  her  whom  I  stood  so  near. 
Of  a  sudden  all's  ugly — my  joy  has  grown  old. — 
Roundabout,  lad  !     There's  no  way  to  be  found 
Right  through  all  this,  from  where  you  stand  to  her. 
Right  through  ?    H'm,  surely  there  should  be  one. 
There's  a  text  on  repentance,  unless  I  mistake. 
But  what  ?     What  is  it  ?     I  haven't  the  book, 
I've  forgotten  it  mostly,  and  here  there  is  none 
That  can  guide  me  aright  in  the  pathless  wood. — 
Repentance  }    And  maybe  'twould  take  whole 

years 
Ere  I  fought  my  way  through.     'Twere  a  meagre 

life,  that. 
To  shatter  what's  radiant,  and  lovely,  and  pure, 
And  clinch  it  together  in  fragments  and  shards  ? 
You  can  do  it  with  a  fiddle,  but  not  with  a  bell. 
Where  you'd  have  the  sward  green,  you  must  mind 

not  to  trample. 
'Twas  nought  but  a  lie  though,  that  witch -snout 

business  I 
Now  all  that  foulness  is  well  out  of  sight, — 
Ay,  out  of  sight  maybe,  but  not  out  of  mind. 
Thoughts  will  sneak  stealthily  in  at  my  heel. 


SC.    III.]  PEER    GYNT.  107 

Ingrid  I     And  the  three,  they  that  danced  on  the 

heights ! 
Will  they  too  want  to  join  us  ?   With  vixenish  spite 
Will  they  claim  to  be  folded,  like   her,   to   my 

breast. 
To  be  tenderly  lifted  on  outstretched  arms  ? 
Roundabout,  lad ;  though  my  arras  were  as  long 
As  the  root  of  the  fir,  or  the  pine-tree's  stem, — 
I  think  even  then  I  should  hold  her  too  near 
To  set  her  down  pure  and  untarnished  again. — 
I  must  roundabout  here,  then,  as  best  I  may. 
And  see  that  it  bring  me  nor  gain  nor  loss. 
One  must  put  such  things  from  one,  and  try  to 
forget. — 

[Goes  a  few  steps  towards  the  hut,  hut  stops 
again. 
Go  in  after  this  ?      So  befouled  and  disgraced  ? 
Go  in  with  that  troll-rabble  after  me  still  ? 

Speak,  yet  be  silent ;  confess,  yet  conceal r 

[Throws  away  his  axe. 
It's  a  holy-day  evening.     For  me  to  keep  tryst. 
Such  as  now  I  am,  would  be  sacrilege. 

SOLVEIG. 

\ln  the  doorway."] 
Are  you  coming  } 

Peer. 
[Half  aloud.] 
Roundabout ! 

SOLVEIO. 

What? 
Peer. 

You  must  wait. 
It  is  dark,  and  I've  got  something  heavy  to  fetch. 


\on 


PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    III. 


SOLVEIO. 

Wait ;  I  will  help  you  ;  the  burden  we'll  share. 

Peer. 
No,  stay  where  you  are  !    I  must  bear  it  alone. 

SOLVEIQ. 

But  don't  go  too  far,  dear  ! 

Peer. 

Be  patient,  my  girl ; 
Be  my  way  long  or  short — you  must  wait. 

SOLVEIO. 

[Nodding  to  him  as  he  goes.'] 

Yes,  ril  wait ! 
[Peer   Gynt  goes  down   the    wood -path. 
Solveig   revmlns  standing  in   the  open 
half-door.^ 

SCENE    FOURTH. 

AsE*s  room.  Evening.  The  room  is  lighted  hy  a  wood 
fire  on  the  open  hearth.  A  cat  is  lying  on  a  chair 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

AsE  lies  in  the  bed,  fumbling  abozU  restlessly  with  her 
hands  on  the  coverlet. 

AsE. 
Oh,  Lord  ray  God,  isn't  he  coming  r 

The  time  drags  so  drearily  on. 
1  have  no  one  to  send  with  a  message ; 

And  I've  much,  oh  so  much,  to  say. 
I  haven't  a  moment  to  lose  now  ! 

So  quickly  !     Who  could  have  foreseen 


SC.    IV.]  PEER    GYNT.  109 

Oh  me,  if  I  only  were  certain 
I'd  not  been  too  strict  with  him ! 

Peer  Gynt. 

[Eniers.'\ 
Good  evening ! 

AsE. 

The  Lord  give  you  gladness  ! 
You've  come  then,  my  boy,  my  dear  ! 
But  how  dare  you  show  face  in  the  valley  ? 
You  know  your  life's  forfeit  here. 

Peer. 
Oh,  life  must  e'en  go  as  it  may  go ; 
I  felt  that  I  must  look  in. 

AsE. 

Ay,  now  Kari  is  put  to  silence. 
And  I  can  depart  in  peace  I 

Peer. 
Depart  ?    Why,  what  are  you  saying  ? 
Where  is  it  you  think  to  go  } 

AsE. 

Alas,  Peer,  the  end  is  nearing ; 
I  have  but  a  short  time  left. 

Peer. 
[JVnlking,  and  walking  towards  the  back  of  ike  room.'\ 
See  there  now  !     I'm  fleeing  from  trouble  ; 

I  thought  at  least  here  I'd  be  free ! 

Are  your  hands  and  your  feet  a-cold,  then  ? 

AsE. 

Ay,  Peer  ;  all  will  soon  be  o'er. — 
When  you  see  that  my  eyes  are  glazing, 


110  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    III. 


You  must  close  them  carefully. 
And  then  you  must  see  to  my  coffin ; 

And  be  sure  it's  a  fine  one,  dear. 
Ah  no,  by-the-bye 

Peer. 

Be  quiet ! 
There's  time  yet  to  think  of  that 

AsE. 
Ay,  ay.  [Looks  restlessly  round  the  room. 

Here  you  see  the  little 
They've  left  us  !     It's  like  them,  just. 

Peer. 
[  With  a  writhe.'] 
Again !  [Harshly. 

Well,  I  know  it  was  my  fault. 
What's  the  use  of  reminding  me  } 

Ase. 
You  !     No,  that  accursed  liquor. 

From  that  all  the  mischief  came  ! 
Dear  my  boy,  you  know  you'd  been  drinking ; 

And  then  no  one  knows  what  he  does ; 
And  besides,  you'd  been  riding  the  reindeer ; 

No  wonder  your  head  was  turned  I 

Peer. 
Ay,  ay  ;  of  that  yarn  enough  now. 

Enough  of  the  whole  affair. 
All  that's  heavy  we'll  let  stand  over 
Till  after— some  other  day. 

[Sits  on  the  edge  of  the  bed. 
Now,  mother,  we'll  chat  together ; 


SC.    IV.]  PEER    GYNT.  IH 

But  only  of  this  and  that, — 
Forget  what's  awry  and  crooked. 

And  all  that  is  sharp  and  sore. — 
Why  see  now,  the  same  old  pussy 

So  she  is  alive  then,  still  ? 

AsE. 
She  makes  such  a  noise  o'  nights  now ; 
You  know  what  that  bodes,  my  boy  ! 

Peer. 
\C1ia7igmg  the  subject.'] 
What  news  is  there  here  in  the  parish  ? 

AsE. 

[Smiling.'] 
There's  somewhere  about,  they  say, 
A  girl  who  would  fain  to  the  uplands 

Peer. 
[Hastilj/.] 
Mads  Moen,  is  he  content  ? 

AsE. 
They  say  that  she  hears  and  heeds  not 

The  old  people's  prayers  and  tears. 
You  ought  to  look  in  and  see  them  ; — 

You,.  Peer,  might  perhaps  bring  help • 

Peer. 
The  smith,  what's  become  of  him  now  ? 

AsE. 
Don't  talk  of  that  filthy  smith. 


112  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   III. 

Her  name  I  would  rather  tell  3^0 u. 
The  name  of  the  girl,  you  know 

Peer. 

Nay,  now  we  will  chat  together, 

But  only  of  this  and  that, — 
Forget  what's  awry  and  crooked, 

And  all  that  is  sharp  and  sore. 
Are  you  thirsty  ?     I'll  fetch  you  water. 

Can  you  stretch  you  }     The  bed  is  short. 
Let  me  see  ; — if  I  don't  believe,  now, 

It's  the  bed  that  I  had  when  a  boy  I 
Do  you  mind,  dear,  how  oft  in  the  evenings 

You  sat  at  my  bedside  here. 
And  spread  the  fur- coverlet  o'er  me. 

And  sang  many  a  lilt  and  lay  ? 

AsE. 
Ay,  mind  you  ?    And  then  we  played  sledges. 

When  your  father  was  far  abroad. 
The  coverlet  served  for  sledge-apron. 

And  the  floor  for  an  ice-bound  fiord. 

Peer. 
Ah,  but  the  best  of  all,  though, — 

Mother,  you  mind  that  too  ? 
The  best  was  the  fleet-foot  horses 


AsE. 

Ay,  think  you  that  I've  forgot? — 
It  was  Kari's  cat  that  we  borrowed ; 
It  sat  on  the  log-scooped  chair 

Peer. 
To  the  castle  west  of  the  moon,  and 
The  castle  east  of  the  sun. 


SC.    lY.]  PEER    GYNT.  US 

To  Soria-Moria  Castle 

The  road  ran  both  high  and  low. 
A  stick  that  we  found  in  the  closet. 

For  a  whip-shaft  you  made  it  serve. 

AsE. 

Ptight  proudly  I  perked  on  the  box-seat 

Peer. 

Ay,  ay ;  you  threw  loose  the  reins. 
And  kept  turning  round  as  we  travelled. 

And  asked  me  if  I  was  cold. 
God  bless  you,  ugly  old  mother, — 

You  were  ever  a  kindly  soul ! 

What's  hurting  you  now  ? 

AsE. 

My  back  aches. 
Because  of  the  hard,  bare  boards. 

Peer. 
Stretch  yourself;  I'll  support  you. 
There  now,  you're  lying  soft. 

AsE. 
>  [  Uneasily. "^ 

No,  Peer,  Td  be  moving ! 

Peer. 

Moving  ? 

AsE. 
Ay,  moving ;  'tis  ever  my  wish. 

Peer. 
Ol),  noDsense  !     Spread  o'er  you  the  bed- fur. 
IV  '  H 


I 


114  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   III. 

Let  me  sit  at  your  bedside  here. 
There  ;  now  we'll  shorten  the  evening 
With  many  a  lilt  and  lay. 

AsE. 

Best  bring  from  the  closet  the  prayer-book : 
I  feel  so  uneasy  of  soul. 

Peer. 
In  Soria-Moria  Castle 

The  King  and  the  Prince  give  a  feast. 
On  the  sledge-cushions  lie  and  rest  you ; 

I'll  drive  you  there  over  the  heath 

AsE. 

Butj  Peer  dear,  am  I  invited  ? 

Peer. 
Ay,  that  we  are,  both  of  us. 

[iJ«  throws  a  string  round  the  hade  of  tks 
chair  on  which  the  cat  is  lying,  takes  up  a 
stick,  and  seats  himself  at  the  foot  of  the 
bed. 
Gee-up  !     Will  you  stir  yourself.  Black-boy  ? 

Mother,  you're  not  a-cold  ? 
Ay,  ay  ;  by  the  pace  one  knows  it. 
When  Grane  ^  begins  to  go  ! 

AsE. 

Why,  Peer,  what  is  it  that's  ringing ? 

Peer. 
The  glittering  sledge-bells,  dear  ! 

*  Grane  (Grani)  was  the  name  of  Sigurd  Fafnirsbane's  horse, 
descended  from  Odin's  Sleiprir.  Sigtird's  Grane  was  grey ; 
Peer  Gjmt  calls  his  "  Svarten,"  Black-boy,  or  Blackey.— See  the 
"Volsunga  Saga,"  translated  by  Morris  and  Magnussen. 
Camelot  edition,  p.  43. 


SC,    IV.]  PEER    GYNT.  115 

AsE. 

Oh,  mercy,  how  hollow  it's  rumbling 

Peer. 

We're  just  driving  over  a  fiord. 

ASE. 

I'm  afraid  !    What  is  that  I  hear  rushing 
And  sighing  so  strange  and  wild  ? 

Peer. 

It's  the  sough  of  the  pine-trees,  mother. 
On  the  heath.     Do  you  but  sit  still. 

AsE. 
There's  a  sparkling  and  gleaming  afar  now ; 
Whence  comes  all  that  blaze  of  light. 

Peer. 
From  the  castle's  windows  and  doorways. 
Don't  you  hear,  they  are  dancing  ? 

AsE. 

Yes. 
Peer. 
Outside  the  door  stands  St.  Peter, 
And  prays  you  to  enter  in. 

AsE. 

Does  he  greet  us  ? 

Peer. 

He  does,  with  honour. 
And  pours  out  the  sweetest  wine. 

AsE. 

Wine  !     Has  he  cakes  as  well,  Peer  ? 


116  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   III. 

Peer. 

Cakes  ?     Ay,  a  heaped-up  dish. 
And  the  dean's  wife^  is  getting  ready 
Your  coffee  and  your  dessert. 

AsE. 
Lord,  Lord  !  shall  we  two  come  together  ? 

Peer. 
As  freely  as  ever  you  will. 

AsE. 

Oh,  deary.  Peer,  what  a  frolic 
You're  driving  me  to,  poor  soul ! 

Peer. 
[Cracking  his  whip.'j 
Gee-up ;  will  you  stir  yourself,  Black-boy  i 

AsE. 

Peer,  dear,  you're  driving  right  ? 

Peer. 

[Cracking  his  whip  again.l^ 
Ay,  broad  is  the  way. 

AsE. 

This  journey, 
It  makes  me  so  weak  and  tired. 

Peer. 
There's  the  castle  rising  before  us  ; 
The  drive  will  be  over  soon. 

*  "Salig  provstinde,"  literally  "the  late  Mrs.  Provost" 


SG.    IV.]  PEER    GYNT.  Il7 


A 


SE. 


I  will  lie  back  and  close  ray  eyes  then. 
And  trust  me  to  you,  my  boy ! 

Peer. 

Come  up  with  you,  Grane,  my  trotter ! 

In  the  castle  the  throng  is  great ; 
They  bustle  and  swarm  to  the  gateway  : 

Peer  Gynt  and  his  mother  are  here  ! 
What  say  you.  Master  Saint  Peter  ? 

Shall  mother  not  enter  in  ? 
You  may  search  a  long  time,  I  tell  you. 

Ere  you  find  such  an  honest  old  soul. 
Myself  1  don't  want  to  speak  of; 

I  can  turn  at  the  castle  gate. 
If  you'll  treat  me,  I'll  take  it  kindly ; 

If  not,  I'll  go  off  just  as  pleased. 
I  have  made  up  as  many  flim-flams 

As  the  devil  at  the  pulpit  desk. 
And  called  my  old  mother  a  hen,  too. 

Because  she  would  cackle  and  crow. 
But  her  you  shall  honour  and  reverence. 

And  make  her  at  home  indeed ; 
There  comes  not  a  soul  to  beat  her 

From  the  parishes  nowadays. — 
Ho-ho  ;  here  comes  God  the  Father ! 

Saint  Peter !  you're  in  for  it  now  ! 

[In  a  deep  voice. 
"  Have  done  with  these  jack-in-ofiice  airs,  sir  ,* 

Mother  Ase  shall  enter  free  ! " 

\Lauglis   lovdly,   and  turns    towards    his 
motfier. 
Ay,  didn't  I  know  what  would  happen  ? 

Now  they  dance  to  another  tune  !        [Uneasily. 
Why,  what  makes  your  eyes  so  glassy  ? 


118  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   III. 

Mother  !     Have  you  gone  out  of  jour  wits- 


[Goes  to  the  head  of  the  bed. 

You  mustn't  lie  there  and  stare  so ! 

Speak,  mother ;  it's  I,  your  boy  ! 

[Feels  her  forehead  and  hands  cautiously  ; 
then  throws  the  string  on  the  chair,  and 
says  softly  : 
^y>  ay  • — You  can  rest  yourself,  Grane ; 
For  e'en  now  the  journey's  done. 

[Closes  her  eyes,  and  bends  over  Jier. 
For  all  of  your  days  I  thank  you, 

For  beatings  and  lullabys  ! 
But  see,  you  must  thank  me  back,  now — 

[Presses  his  cheek  against  her  mouth. 
There ;  that  was  the  driver's  fare.^ 

The  Cottar's  Wife. 
[Entering.^ 
What  ?     Peer !     Ah,  then  we  are  over 

The  worse  of  the  sorrow  and  need  I 
Dear  Lord,  but  she's  sleeping  soundly — 
Or  can  she  be ? 

Peer. 

Hush  ;  she  is  dead. 
[Kari  weeps  besides  the  body  ;  Peer  Gynt 
walks  up  and  down  the  room  for  some 
time  ;  at  last  he  stops  beside  the  bed. 

Peer. 
See  mother  buried  with  honour. 
I  must  try  to  fare  forth  from  here. 

Kari. 
Are  you  faring  afar  ? 

1  Tak/or  skydSf  literally  "  thanks  for  the  drive." 


SC.    IV.]  PEER    GYNt.  Up 

Peer. 

To  seaward. 

Kari. 
So  far ! 

Peer. 

Ay,  and  further  stilL  [He  goes. 


ACT  FOURTH 

SCENE   FIRST. 

On  the  south-west  coast  of  Morocco.  A  pahn-grove. 
Under  an  aivning,  on  ground  covered  with  mat- 
ting, a  table  spread  for  dinner.  Further  back  in 
the  grove  hammocks  are  slung,  hi  the  offing  lies 
a  steam-yacht,  filling  the  ISorwegian  aiid  American 
colours.  A  jolly-boat  drawn  up  on  the  beach.  It 
is  toivards  sunset. 

Peer  Gynt,  a  handsome  middle-aged  gentleman,  in 
an  elegant  travelling-dress,  with  a  gold-rimmed 
double  eyeglass  hanging  at  his  waistcoat,  is  doing 
the  honours  at  the  head  of  the  table.  Mr.  Cotton,^ 
Monsieur  Ballon,  Herr  von  Eberkopf,  and 
Herr  TrumpeterstrAle,2  are  seated  at  theiable 
finishing  dinner. 

Peer  Gynt. 
Drink,  gentlemen  !     If  man  is  made 
For  pleasure,  let  him  take  his  fill  then. 
You  know  'tis  written  ;  Lost  is  lost, 
And  gone  is  gone .     What  may  I  hand  you  ? 

TrumpeterstrIle. 
As  host  you're  princely,  Brother  Gynt ! 

*  In  the  original,  "  Master  Cotton." 

*  A  Swede.    The  name  means  "  trumpet-blast.'* 


8C.    I.j  PEER    GYNT.  12] 

Peer. 
I  share  the  honour  with  my  cash. 
With  cook  and  steward 


Mr.  Cotton. 

Very  well ;  * 
Let's  pledge  a  toast  to  all  the  four  ! 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
Monsieur,'  you  have  a  goutl^  a  ion,^ 
That  nowadays  is  seldom  met  with 
Among  men  living  en  garcon, — ^ 
A  certain — what's  the  word — — ? 

Von  Eberkopf. 

A  dash, 
A  tinge  of  free  soul-conteraplation, 
And  cosmopolitanisation,^ 
An  outlook  through  the  cloudy  rifts 
By  narrow  prejudice  unhemmed, 
A  stamp  of  high  illumination. 
An  Ur-Natur^  with  lore  of  life. 
To  crown  the  trilogy,  united. 
Nicht  wahr,  Monsieur,  'twas  that  you  meant  ? 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
Yes,  very  possible;  not  quite 
So  loftily  it  sounds  in  French. 

Von  Eberkopf. 
Ei  was  !  *     That  language  is  so  stiff. — 

I  In  the  original  (early  editions),  "  Werry  well." 

•  So  in  original. 

»  This  may  not  be  a  very  lucid  or  even  very  precise  rendering 
of  Verdensborgerdomsforpagtning ;  but  this  line,  and  indeed  the 
whole  speech,  is  pure  burlesque ;  and  the  exact  sense  of  non- 
sense is  naturally  elusive. 

*  So  in  original. 


122  PEER    GYNT.  [act   IV. 

But  the  phenomenon's  final  cause 

If  we  would  seek 

Peer. 
It's  found  already. 
The  reason  is  that  I'm  unmarried. 
Yes,  gentlemen,  compel ety  clear 
The  matter  is.     What  should  a  man  be  ? 
Himself,  is  my  concise  reply. 
He  should  regard  himself  and  his. 
But  can  he,  as  a  sumpter-mule  ^ 
For  others*  woe  and  others'  weal  ? 

Von  Eberkopf. 
But  this  same  in-and-for-yourself-ness, 
I'll  answer  for't,  has  cost  you  strife 

Peer. 
Ah  yes,  indeed  ;  in  former  days  ; 
But  always  I  came  off  with  honour. 
Yet  one  time  I  ran  very  near 
To  being  trapped  against  my  will. 
I  was  a  brisk  and  handsome  lad. 
And  she  to  whom  my  heart  was  given, 
She  was  of  royal  family 


Of  royal- 


MoNsiEUR  Ballon. 

p 

Peer. 
[Careless!?/.^ 
One  of  those  old  stocks. 


You  know  the  kind- 


TrumpeterstrIle. 
[Thumping  the  table.] 

Those  noble-trolU 
•  Literally,  "  pack-cameL" 


sc.  i.]  peer  gynt.  123 

Peer. 

[Shrugging  his  shoulders.^ 
Old  fossil  Highnesses  who  make  it 
Their  pride  to  keep  plebeian  blots 
Excluded  from  their  line's  escutcheon. 

Mr.  Cotton. 
Then  nothing  came  of  the  affair  ? 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
The  family  opposed  the  marriage  ? 

Peer. 
Far  from  it ! 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
Ah! 

Peer. 

[  With  forbearance.^ 
You  understand 
That  certain  circumstances  made  for 
Their  marrying  us  without  delay. 
But  truth  to  tell,  the  whole  affair 
Was,  first  to  last,  distasteful  to  me. 
I'm  finical  in  certain  ways. 
And  like  to  stand  on  my  own  feet. 
And  when  my  father-in-law  came  out 
With  delicately  veiled  demands 
That  I  should  change  my  name  and  station, 
And  undergo  ennoblement. 
With  much  else  that  was  most  distasteful, 
Not  to  say  quite  inacceptable. — 
Why  then  I  gracefully  withdrew, 
Point-blank  declined  his  ultimatum — 
And  so  renounced  my  youthful  bride. 

[Drums  on  the  table  with  a  devout  air. 


1X4  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV. 

Yes,  yes  ;  there  is  a  ruling  Fate  ! 
On  that  we  mortals  may  rely  ; 
And  'tis  a  comfortable  knowledge. 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
And  so  the  matter  ended,  eh  ? 

Peer. 
Oh  no,  far  otherwise  I  found  it ; 
For  busy-bodies  mixed  themselves, 
With  furious  outcries,  in  the  business. 
The  juniors  of  the  clan  were  worst ; 
With  seven  of  them  I  fought  a  duel. 
That  time  I  never  shall  forget. 
Though  I  came  through  it  all  in  safety. 
It  cost  me  blood  ;  but  that  same  blood 
Attests  the  value  of  my  person. 
And  points  encouragingly  towards 
The  wise  control  of  Fate  aforesaid. 

Von  Eberkopf. 
Your  outlook  on  the  course  of  life 
Exalts  you  to  the  rank  of  thinker. 
Whilst  the  mere  commonplace  empiric 
Sees  separately  the  scattered  scenes. 
And  to  the  last  goes  groping  on. 
You  in  one  glance  can  focus  all  things. 
One  norm^  to  all  things  you  apply. 
You  point  each  random  rule  of  life. 
Till  one  and  all  diverge  like  rays 
From  one  full-orbed  philosophy. — 
And  you  have  never  been  to  college  ? 

Peer. 
I  am,  as  I've  already  said, 

*  So  in  originaL 


SC.   I.]  PEER    GYNT.  125 

Exclusively  a  self-taught  man. 
IMetbodically  naught  I've  learned ; 
But  I  have  thought  and  speculated. 
And  done  much  desultory  reading. 
I  started  somewhat  late  in  life. 
And  then,  you  know,  it's  rather  hard 
To  plough  ahead  through  page  on  page. 
And  take  in  all  of  everything. 
I've  done  my  histoiy  piecemeal ; 
I  never  have  had  time  for  more. 
And,  as  one  needs  in  days  of  trial 
Some  certainty  to  place  one's  trust  in, 
I  took  religion  intermittently. 
That  way  it  goes  more  smoothly  down. 
One  should  not  read  to  swallow  all. 
But  rather  see  what  one  has  use  for. 

Mr.  Cotton, 
Ay,  that  is  practical ! 

Peer. 
[Lights  a  cigarJ] 

Dear  friends 
Just  thuik  of  my  career  in  general. 
In  what  case  came  1  to  the  West  ? 
A  poor  young  fellow,  empty-handed ; 
1  had  to  battle  sore  for  bread ; 
Trust  me,  I  often  found  it  hard. 
But  life,  my  friends,  ah,  life  is  dear. 
And,  as  the  phrase  goes,  death  is  bitter. 
Well !  Luck,  you  see,  was  kind  to  me  ; 
Old  Fate,  too,  was  accommodating. 
I  prospered ;  and,  by  versatility, 
I  prospered  better  still  and  better. 
In  ten  years'  time  I  bore  the  name 
Of  Croesus  'mongst  the  Charleston  shippers. 


126  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV. 

My  fame  flew  wide  from  port  to  port, 

And  fortune  sailed  on  board  my  vessels 

Mil.  Cotton. 
What  did  you  trade  in  ? 

Peer. 

I  did  most 
In  negro  slaves  for  Carolina, 
And  idol-images  for  China. 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
Fidoncn 

TrumpeterstrIle. 
The  devil,  Uncle  Gynt ! 

Peer. 

You  think,  no  doubt,  the  business  hovered 

On  the  outer  verge  of  the  allowable  ? 

Myself  I  felt  the  same  thing  keenly. 

It  struck  me  even  as  odious. 

But,  trust  me,  when  you've  once  begun. 

It's  hard  to  break  away  again. 

At  any  rate  it's  no  light  thing. 

In  such  a  vast  trade-enterprise, 

That  keeps  whole  thousands  in  emplo}'^, 

To  break  off  wholly,  once  for  all. 

That  "  once  for  all  "  I  can't  abide. 

But  own,  upon  the  other  side. 

That  I  have  always  felt  respect 

For  what  are  known  as  consequences  ; 

And  that  to  overstep  the  bounds 

Has  ever  somewhat  daunted  me. 

Besides,  I  had  begun  to  age. 

»  So  in  original 


SC.    I.]  PEER    GYNT.  127 

Was  getting  on  towards  the  fifties  ;— 
My  hair  was  slowly  f^rowing  grizzled ; 
And,  though  my  liealth  was  excellent. 
Yet  painfully  the  thought  beset  me  : 
Who  knows  how  soon  the  hour  may  strike, 
The  jury-verdict  be  delivered 
That  parts  the  sheep  and  goats  asunder  ? 
What  could  I  do  ?    To  stop  the  trade 
With  China  was  impossible. 
A  plan  I  hit  on — opened  straightway 
A  new  trade  with  the  self-same  land. 
I  shipped  off  idols  every  spring, 
Each  autumn  sent  forth  missionaries. 
Supplying  them  with  all  they  needed. 
As  stockings.  Bibles,  rum,  and  rice • 

Mr.  Cotton. 
Yes,  at  a  profit  ? 

Peer. 
Why,  of  course. 
It  prospered.     Dauntlessly  they  toiled. 
For  every  idol  that  was  sold 
They  got  a  coolie  well  baptized. 
So  that  the  effect  was  neutralised. 
The  mission-field  lay  never  fallow. 
For  still  the  idol-propaganda 
The  missionaries  held  in  check. 

Mr.  Cotton. 
Well,  but  the  African  commodies  ? 

Peer. 
There,  too,  my  ethics  won  the  day. 
I  saw  the  traffic  was  a  wrong  one 
For  people  of  a  certain  age. 


I 


128  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV. 

One  may  drop  off  before  one  dreams  of  it. 
And  then  there  were  the  thousand  pitfalls 
Laid  by  the  philanthropic  camp ; 
Besides,  of  course,  the  hostile  cruisers, 
And  all  the  wind-and-weather^risks. 
All  this  together  won  the  day. 
I  thought :  Now,  Peter,^  reef  your  sails  ! 
See  to  it  you  amend  your  faults  ! 
So  in  the  South  I  bought  some  land, 
And  kept  the  last  meat-importation. 
Which  chanced  to  be  a  superfine  one. 
They  throve  so,  grew  so  fat  and  sleek. 
That  'twas  a  joy  to  me,  and  them  too. 
Yes,  without  boasting,  I  may  say 
I  acted  as  a  father  to  them, — 
And  found  my  profit  in  so  doing. 
I  built  them  schools,  too,  so  that  virtue 
Might  uniformly  be  maintained  at 
A  certain  general  niveau,^ 
And  kept  strict  watch  that  never  its 
Thermometer  should  sink  below  it. 
Now,  furthermore,  from  all  this  business 
I've  beat  a  definite  retreat ; — 
I've  sold  the  whole  plantation,  and 
It's  tale  of  live-stock,  hide  and  hair. 
At  parting,  too,  I  served  around, 
To  big  and  little,  gratis  grog,^ 
So  men  and  women  all  got  drunk. 
And  widows  got  their  snuff  as  well. 
So  that  is  why  I  trust, — provided 
The  saying  is  not  idle  breath  : 
Whoso  does  not  do  ill,  does  good,— 
My  former  errors  are  forgotten. 
And  I,  much  more  than  most,  can  hold 
My  misdeeds  balanced  by  my  virtues. 
*  So  in  original. 


sc.  i.]  peer  oynt.  129 

Von  Eberkopf. 
[Clinking  glasses  with  him.'] 
How  strengthening  it  is  to  hear 
A  principle  thus  acted  out. 
Freed  from  the  night  of  theory. 
Unshaken  by  the  outward  ferment  I 

Peer. 
[Who  has  heen  drinking  freely  during  the  preceding 
passages.] 
We  Northland  men  know  how  to  carry 
Our  battle  through  !     The  key  to  the  art 
Of  life's  affairs  is  simply  this  : 
To  keep  one's  ear  close  shut  against 
The  ingress  of  one  dangerous  viper. 

Mr.  Cotton. 
What  sort  of  viper,  pray,  dear  friend  ? 

Peer. 
A  little  one  that  slyly  wiles  yon 
To  tempt  the  irretrievable. 

[DnnMng  again. 
The  essence  of  the  art  of  daring. 
The  art  of  bravery  in  act. 
Is  this  :  To  stand  with  choice-free  foot 
Amid  the  treacherous  snares  of  life, — 
To  know  for  sure  that  other  days 
Remain  beyond  the  day  of  battle, — 
To  know  that  ever  in  the  rear 
A  bridge  for  your  retreat  stands  open. 
This  theory  has  borne  me  on, 
Has  given  my  whole  career  its  colour ; 
And  this  same  theory  I  inherit, 
A  race-gift,  from  my  childhood's  home. 
IV  I 


ISO  PEER    GYNT. 


ACT   IV. 


Monsieur  Ballon, 
You  are  Norwegian  ? 

Peer, 

Yes,  by  birth ; 
Bat  cosmopolitan  in  spirit. 
For  fortune  such  as  I've  enjoyed 
I  have  to  thank  America. 
My  amply-fumished  hbrary 
I  owe  to  Germany's  later  schools. 
From  France,  again,  I  get  my  waistcoats. 
My  manners,  and  my  spice  of  wit, — 
From  England  an  industrious  hand, 
And  keen  sense  for  my  own  advantage. 
The  Jew  has  taught  me  how  to  wait. 
Some  taste  for  dolccfar  niente^ 
I  have  received  from  Italy, — 
And  one  time,  in  a  perilous  pass, 
To  eke  the  measure  of  my  days, 
I  had  recourse  to  Swedish  steel. 

TrumpeterstrIle. 
[Lifting  up  his  glass.] 
Ay,  Swedish  steel ? 

Von  Eberkopf. 

The  weapon's  wielder 
Demands  our  homage  first  of  all ! 

[Tkeij  clink  glasses  and  drink   with  him. 
The  wine  begins  to  go  to  his  head. 

Mr.  Cotton. 
All  this  is  very  good  indeed ; — 
But,  sir,^  Tm  curious  to  know 
What  with  your  gold  you  think  of  doing. 

*  So  ia  (»-ig^naL 


SC.    I.]  PEER    OYNT.  ISl 

Peer. 

[Smiling.^ 
H*m  ;  doing  ?     Eh  ? 

All  Four. 

[Coming  closer.'^ 
Yes,  let  us  hear ! 

Peer. 
Well,  first  of  all,  I  want  to  travel. 
You  see,  that's  why  I  shipped  you  four. 
To  keep  me  company,  at  Gibraltar. 
I  needed  such  a  dancing-choir 
Of  friends  around  my  gold-calf-altar 

Von  Eberkopf. 
Most  witty ! 

Mr.  Cotton. 
Well,  but  no  one  hoists 
His  sails  for  nothing  but  the  sailing. 
Beyond  all  doubt,  you  have  a  goal ; 

And  that  is ? 

Peer. 
To  be  Emperor.^ 

All  Four. 
What? 

Peer. 

[Nodding.'] 
Emperor ! 

The  Four. 

^Vhere  ? 

»  In  the  original  "  kejser."  We  have  elsewhere  used  the 
word  "  Kaiser,"  but  in  this  scene,  and  in  Scenes  7  and  8  of  this 
act,  the  ordinary  En-llsh  form  seenied  preferable. 


I 


132  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV. 

Peer. 

O'er  all  the  world. 

Monsieur  Ballon. 

But  how,  friend ? 

Peer. 

By  the  might  of  gold ! 
That  plan  is  not  at  all  a  new  one ; 
It's  been  the  soul  of  my  career. 
Even  as  a  boy,  I  swept  in  dreams 
Far  o'er  the  ocean  on  a  cloud. 
I  soared  with  train  and  golden  scabbard, — 
And  flopped  down  on  all-fours  again. 
But  still  my  goal,  my  friends,  stood  fast. — 
There  is  a  text,  or  else  a  saying. 
Somewhere,  I  don't  remember  where. 
That  if  you  gained  the  whole  wide  world. 
But  lost  yourself,  your  gain  were  but 
A  garland  on  a  cloven  skull. 
That  is  the  text — or  something  like  it ; 
And  that  remark  is  sober  truth. 

VoN  Eberkopf. 
But  what  then  is  the  Gyntish  Self? 

Peer. 
The  world  behind  my  forehead's  arch, 
In  force  of  which  I'm  no  one  else 
Than  I,  no  more  than  God's  the  DeviL 

TrumpeterstrIle. 
I  understand  now  where  you're  aiming  I 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
Thinker  sublime  ! 


aC.    I.]  PEER    GYNT.  133 


Von  Eberkopf. 
Exalted  poet ! 


Peer. 
[^More  and  more  elevated.'^ 
The  Gyntish  Self— it  is  the  host 
Of  wishes,  appetites,  desires, — 
The  Gyntish  Self,  it  is  the  sea 
Of  fancies,  exigencies,  claims. 
All  that,  in  short,  makes  my  breast  heave. 
And  whereby  I,  as  I,  exist. 
But  as  our  Lord  requires  the  clay 
To  constitute  him  God  o'  the  world, 
So  I,  too,  stand  in  need  of  gold, 
If  I  as  Emperor  would  figure. 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
You  have  the  gold,  though  ? 

Peer, 

Not  enough. 
Ay,  maybe  for  a  nine-days'  flourish. 
As  Emperor  d  la^  Lippe-Detmold. 
But  I  must  be  myself  en  bloc,^ 
Must  be  the  Gyat  of  all  the  planet. 
Sir  Gynt^  throughout,  from  top  to  bottom ! 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
[Enraptured.] 
Possess  the  earth's  most  exquisite  beauty  ' 

Von  Eberkopf. 
Ail  century-old  Johannisberger  I 

»  So  in  original 


134  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    IV. 

TrumpeterstrIle. 
And  all  the  blades  of  Charles  the  Twelfth ! 

Mr.  Cotton. 
But  first  a  profitable  opening 

For  business 

Peer. 

That's  already  found ; 
Our  anchoring  here  supplied  me  with  it. 
To-night  we  set  off,  northward  ho  I 
The  papers  I  received  on  board 

Have  brought  me  tidings  of  importance- i 

^Rises  with  uplifted  glass. 
It  seems  that  Fortune  ceaselessly 
Aids  him  who  has  the  pluck  to  seize  it 

The  Guests. 

Well.>    Tell  us ! 

Peer. 
Greece  is  in  revolt. 

All  Four. 
[Springing  up.^ 

What !  Greece ? 

Peer. 
The  Greeks  have  risen  in  Hellas. 

The  Four. 
Hurrah ' 

Peer. 
And  Turkey's  in  a  fix  ! 

[Empties  his  glass. 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
To  Hellas  !     Glorj^'s  gate  stands  open  ! 
m  help  them  with  the  sword  of  France  ! 


6C.    I.] 


PEER    OYNT. 


185 


Von  Eberkopf. 
And  I  with  war-whoops — from  a  distance. 

Mr.  Cotton. 
And  I  as  well — by  taking  contracts  ! 

TrumpeterstrIle. 
Lead  on !     I'll  find  again  in  Bender 
The  world- renowned  spur-strap-buckles  !  ^ 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
[Falling  on  Peer  Gynt's  neck.'\ 
Forgive  me,  friend,  that  I  at  first 
Misjudged  you  quite ! 

Von  Eberkoff. 
[Pressing  his  hands.^ 

I,  stupid  hound^ 
Took  you  for  next  door  to  a  scoundrel ! 

Mr    Cotton. 
Too  strong  that ;  only  for  a  fool 

TrumpeterstrIle. 

[Trying  to  kiss  him.^ 
I,  Uncle,  for  a  specimen 
Of  Yankee  riff-raff's  meanest  spawn  ! 

Forgive  me ! 

Von  Eberkopf. 

We've  been  in  the  dark- 


*  An  allusion  to  the  spurs  with  which  Charles  XII.  is  said  to 
have  torn  the  caftan  of  the  Turkish  Vizier  who  announced  to 
him  that  the  Sultan  had  concluded  a  truce  with  Russia.  The 
boots  and  spurs,  it  would  appear,  have  been  preserved,  but  with 
the  bucldes  missing. 


136  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    IY. 

Peer. 
What  stuff  is  this? 

Von  Eberkopf. 

We  now  see  gathered 
In  glory  all  the  Gyntish  host 
Of  wishes,  appetites,  and  desires ! 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
[Admiringli/.'] 
So  this  is  being  Monsieur  ^  Gynt ! 

Von  Eberkopf. 
[/w  the  same  tone.'\ 
This  I  call  being  Gynt  with  honour ! 

Peer. 
But  tell  me ? 

Monsieur  Ballon. 

Don't  you  understand  ? 

Peer. 
May  I  be  h&nged  if  I  begin  to ! 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
What  .^     Are  you  not  upon  your  way 
To  join  the  Greeks,  with  ship  and  money } 

Peer. 
[CorUemptuouslij.  ] 
No,  many  thanks  !     I  side  with  strength, 
And  lend  my  money  to  the  Turks. 

Monsieur  Ballon. 

Impossible ! 

1  So  in  original 


SC.    1.]  PEER    GYNT.  137 

Von  Eberkopf. 
Witty,  but  a  jest ! 

Peer. 
[After  a  short  silence,  leaning  on  a  chair  and 

assuming  a  dignified  mien.'\ 
Come,  gentlemen,  I  think  it  best 
We  part  before  the  last  remains 
Of  friendship  melt  away  like  smoke. 
Who  nothing  owns  will  lightly  risk  it. 
When  in  the  world  one  scarce  commands 
The  strip  of  earlh  one's  shadow^  covers. 
One's  bom  to  serve  as  food  for  powder. 
But  when  a  man  stands  safely  landed. 
As  I  do,  then  his  stake  is  greater. 
Go  you  to  Hellas.     I  will  put  you 
Ashore,  and  arm  you  gratis  too. 
The  more  you  eke  the  flames  of  strife. 
The  better  will  it  serve  my  purpose. 
Strike  home  for  freedom  and  for  right ! 
Fight !  storm  !  make  hell  hot  for  the  Turks ; — 
And  gloriously  end  your  days 
Upon  the  Janissaries  lances. — 

But  I — excuse  me [Slaps  his  pocket, 

I  have  cash, 
And  am  myself.  Sir  Peter  Gynt.^ 

[Puts  up  his  simshade,  and  goes  into  the 

grove,  where  the  hammocks  are  partly 

visible.] 

TrumpeterstrIue. 
The  swinish  cur ! 

Monsieur  Ballon. 

No  taste  for  glory ! 

*  So  in  original 


I 


138  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV. 

Mr.  Cotton. 
Oh,  glory's  neither  here  nor  there ; 
But  think  of  the  enormous  profits 
We'd  reap  if  Greece  should  free  herself. 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
I  saw  myself  a  conqueror. 
By  lovely  Grecian  maids  encircled. 

TrumpeterstrIle. 
Grasped  in  my  Swedish  hands,  I  saw 
Tiie  great,  heroic  spur-strap-buckles ! 

Von  Eberkopf. 
I  my  gigantic  Fatherland's 
Culture  saw  spread  o'er  earth  and  sea 1 

Mr.  Cotton. 
The  worst's  the  loss  in  solid  cash. 
God  dam !  ^     I  scarce  can  keep  from  weeping  \ 
I  saw  me  owner  of  Olympus. 
If  to  its  fame  the  mountain  answers, 
There  must  be  veins  of  copper  in  it. 
That  could  be  opened  up  again. 
And  furthermore,  that  stream  Castalia,' 
Which  people  talk  so  much  about. 
With  fall  on  fall,  at  lowest  reckoning. 
Must  mean  a  thousand  horse-power  good 

TrumpeterstrIle. 
Still  I  will  go !     My  Swedish  sword 
Is  worth  far  more  than  Yankee  gold ! 

Mr.  Cotton. 
Perhaps  ;  but,  jammed  into  the  ranks, 

*  So  in  original. 

»  Mr.  Cotton  seems  to  have    confounded    Olympus    with 
Parnassus. 


SC.    I.]  PEER    GYNT.  139 

Amid  the  press  we'd  all  be  drowned  ; 
And  then  where  would  the  profit  be  ? 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
Accurst !     So  near  to  fortune's  summit, 
And  now  stopped  short  beside  its  grave  ! 

Mr.  Cotton. 
[Shakes  his  fist  towards  the  yachW] 
That  long  black  chest  holds  coffered  up 
The  nabob's  golden  nigger-sweat ! 

Von  Eberkopf. 
A  royal  notion !     Quick  !     Away ! 
It's  all  up  with  his  empire  now  ! 
Hurrah ' 

Monsieur  Ballon. 
What  would  you  } 

Von  Eberkopf. 

Seize  the  power ! 
The  crew  can  easily  be  bought. 
Ou  board  then.     I  annex  the  yacht ! 

Mr.  Cotton. 
You — what ? 

Von  Eberkopf. 
I  grab  the  whole  concern  ! 

[Goes  down  to  the  jollj/-hoat. 

Mr.  Cotton. 
Why  then  self-interest  commands  me 
To  grab  my  share.  [Goes  after  him. 

TrumpeterstrAle. 

What  scoundrelism ! 


140  PEER    GYNT.  TaCT   IV. 


Monsieur  Ballon. 
A  scurvy  business — but — enjin  !  ^ 

[Follows  the  others. 

TrumpeterstrAle. 
I'll  have  to  follow,  I  suppose, — 
But  1  protest  to  all  the  world !  ^         [Follows. 


SCENE    SECOND. 

Another  part  of  the  coast.  Moonlight  with  drifting 
clouds.  The  yacht  is  seen  Jar  out,  under  full 
steam. 

Peer  Gynt  comes  running  along  the  beach;  now 
pinching  his  arins,  now  gazing  oid  to  sea. 

Peer. 
A  nightmare  ! — Delusion  ! — I'll  soon  be  awake  ! 
She's  standing  to  sea  !     And  at  furious  speed  ! — 
Mere   delusion !    I'm    sleeping !    I'm   dizzy    and 

drunk  !  [Clenches  his  hands. 

It's  not  possible  I  should  be  going  to  die ! 

[  Tearing  his  hair. 
A  dream  !     I'm  determined  it  shall  be  a  dream ! 
Oh,  horror !     It's  only  too  real,  worse  luck ! 
My  brute-beasts   of  friends !     Do   but  hear 

me,  oh  Lord  ! 
Since  though  art  so  wise  and  so  righteous ! 

Oh  judge !  [  With  upstretched  arms. 

*  So  in  original. 

'  An  allusion  to  the  attitude  of  Sweden  during  the  Danish 
War  of  1863-64,  with  special  reference  to  the  diplomatic  notes 
of  the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  Grev  Manderstrom.  He  is 
also  aimed  at  in  the  character  of  Hussein  in  the  last  scene  of 
this  act.    See  Introduction. 


QC.    II.]  PEER    GYNT.  Ill 

It  is  /,  Peter  ^  Gynt !  Oh,  our  Lord,  give  but  heed ! 
Hold  thy  hand  o'er  me,  Father ;  or  else  I  must 

perish  ! 
Make  them  back  the  machine  !   Make  them  lower 

the  gig ! 
Stop  the  robbers  !      Make  something  go  wrong 

with  the  rigging ! 
Hear  me  !     Let  other  folks'  business  lie  over ! 
The  world  can  take  care  of  itself  for  the  time  ! — 
I'm  blessed  if  he  hears  me !     He's  deaf  as   his 

wont  is ! 
Here's  a  nice  thing  !     A  God  that  is  bankrupt  of 
help  !  [BeckoJis  upwards. 

Hist ;  I've  abandoned  the  nigger-plantation  I 
And  missionaries  I've  exported  to  Asia ! 
Surely  one  good  turn  should  be  worth  another! 

Oh,  help  me  on  board ! 

[^  jet  of  jire  shoots  into  the  mr  from  the 
yachty  followed  hy  thick  clouds  of  smoke  ; 
a  hollow  report  is  heard.  Peer  Gynt 
utters  a  shriek,  and  sinks  dotvn  on  the 
sands.  Gradually  the  smoke  clears  away  ; 
the  ship  has  disappeared. 

Peer. 

[Softly,  with  a  paleface.^ 

That's  the  sword  of  wrath  ! 
In  a  crack  to  the  bottom,  every  soul,  man  and 
mouse ! 

Oh,  for  ever  blest  be  the  lucky  chance 

[  With  emotion, 
A  chance  ?     No,  no,  it  was  more  than  a  chance. 
I  was  to  be  rescued  and  they  to  perish. 
Oh,  thanks  and  praise  for  that  thou  hast  kept  me, 

*  So  in  {^iginal. 


142  PEER    GVNT.  [act   IV. 

Hast  cared  for  me,  spite  of  all  my  sins  ! — 

[Draws  a  deep  breath. 
What  a  marvellous  feeling  of  safety  and  peace 
It  gives  one  to  know  oneself  specially  shielded ! 
But  the  desert !     What  about  food  and  drink  ? 
Oh,  something  I'm  sure  to  find.     He'll  see  to 

that. 
There's  no  cause  for  alarm ; — 

[Loud  and  insinuatingly. 
H  e  would  never  allow 
A  poor  little  sparrow  like  me  to  perish  ! 
Be  but  lowly  of  spirit.     And  give  him  time. 
Leave  it  all  in  the  Lord's  hands ;  and  don't  be 

cast  down. —  [With  a  start  of  terror. 

Can  that  be  a  lion  that  growled  in  the  reeds } 

[His  teeth  chattering. 
No,  it  wasn't  a  lion.  [Mustering  up  courage. 

A  lion,  forsooth  ! 
Those  beasts,  they'll  take  care  to  keep  out  of 

the  way. 
They  know  it's  no  joke  to  fall  foul  of  their  betters. 
They  have  instinct  to  guide  them; — they  feel, 

what's  a  fact. 
That  it's  dangerous  playing  with  elephants. — 

But  all  the  same .     I  must  find  a  tree. 

There's  a  grove  of  acacias  and  palms  over  there  ; 
If  I  once  can  climb  up,  I'll  be  sheltered  and  safe, — 
Most  of  all  if  I  knew  but  a  psalm  or  two. 

[Clambers  up. 
Morning  and  evening  are  not  alike ; 
That   text   has  been  oft   enough  weighed  and 

pondered.  [Seats  himself  comfortably. 

How  blissful  to  feel  so  uplifted  in  spirit ! 
To  think  nobly  is  more  than  to  know  oneself  rich. 
Only  trust  in   him.     He  knows  well  what  share 
Of  the  chalice  of  ne#d  I  can  bear  to  drain. 


SC.    III.]  PEER    GYNT.  14S 

He  takes  fatherly  thought  for  my  personal  weal ; — 
[Casts  a  glance  over  Ike  sea^  and  whispers 
with  a  sigh  : 
But  economical — no,  that  he  isn't ! 


SCENE   THIRD. 

Night.  An  encampment  of  Moroccan  troops  on  the 
edge  of  the  desert.  fVatch-Jires,  with  Soldiers 
resting  hy  them. 

A  Slave. 
[Enters,  tearing  his  hair.^ 
Gone  is  the  Emperor's  milk-white  charger  ! 

Another  Slave. 
[Enters,  rending  his  garments.'] 
The  Emperor's  sacred  robes  are  stolen  ! 

An  Officer. 
[E}iters.] 
A  hundred  stripes  upon  the  foot-soles 
For  all  who  fail  to  catch  the  robber ! 

[The  troopers  mount  their  horses,  and  gallop 
away  in  every  direction, 

SCENE    FOURTH. 

Dayhreak.     The  grove  of  acacias  and  palms. 
Peer  Gynt  in  his  tree  with  a  broken  branch  in  his 
hand,  trying  to  beat  off  a  swarm  of  monkeys. 

Peer. 
Confound  it !     A  most  disagreeable  night. 

[Laying  about  him. 


144  PEER    OYNT.  [act    IV. 

Are  you  there  again  ?    This  is  most  accursed  ! 
Now  they're  throwing  fruit.     No,  it's  something 

else. 
A  loathsome  beast  is  your  Bavbary  ape  ! 
The  Scripture  says :  Thou  shalt  watch  and  fight. 
But  I'm  blest  if  1  can  ;  I  am  heavy  and  tired, 

[Is  again  attacked  ;  ivipatiejitly : 
I  must  put  a  stopper  upon  this  nuisance! 
I  must  see  and  get  hold  of  one  of  these  scamps, 
Get    him    hung    and    skinned,   and   then   dress 

myself  up. 
As  best  I  may,  in  his  shaggy  hide. 
That  the  others  may  tie  me  for  one  of  them- 
selves.— 
What  are  we  mortals  ?     Motes,  no  more ; 
And  it's  wisest  to  follow  the  fashion  a  bit. — 
Again  a  rabble  !     They  throng  and  swarm. 
OS  with  you !     Shoo !     They  go  on   as   though 

crazy. 
If  only  I  had  a  false  tail  to  put  on  now, — 
Only  something  to  make  me  a  bit  like  a  beast. — 
What     now.^      There's    a     pattering     over    my 

head !  [Looks  up. 

It's  the  grandfather  ape, — with   his  fists  full  of 

filth ! 

[Huddles  together  apprehensively,  and  keeps 

still  for  a   while.       The   ape  makes  a 

motion  ;  Peer  Gvnt  begins  coaxing  and 

rvheedling  hiniy  as  he  might  a  dog. 

Ay, — are  you  there,  my  good  old  Bus ! 

He's  a  good   beast,  he  is  !     He  will  listen  to 

reason ! 
He  wouldn't  throw ; — I  should  think  not,  indeed ! 
It  is  me  !     Pip-pip !     We  are  first-rate  friends ! 
Ai-ai !    Don't  you  hear,  I  can  talk  your  language? 
Bus  and  I,  we  ai*e  kinsfolk,  you  see ; — 


SC.    v.]  PEER    GYNT.  145 

Bus  shall  have  sugar  to-morrow !    The  beast ' 

The    whole   cargo    on   top   of  me !     Ugh,   how 
disgusting  ! — 

Or  perhaps  it  was  food  !     'Twas  in  taste — inde- 
finable ; 

And  taste's  for  the  most  part  a  matter  of  habit. 

What  thinker  is  it  who  somewhere  says  : 

You  must  spit  and  trust  to  the  force  of  habit  ? — 

Now  here  come  the  small-fry  ! 

[Hits  and  slashes  around  kirn. 
It's  really  too  bad 

That  man,  who  by  rights  is  the  lord  of  creation. 

Should  find  himself  forced  to !     O  murder  ! 

murder ! 

The  old  one  was  bad,  but   the  youngsters   are 
worse  ! 


SCENE     FIFTH. 

Earl?^  morning.  A  stony  region,  with  a  mew  out  over 
the  desert.  On  one  side  a  cleft  in  the  hill,  and  a 
cave. 

A  Thief  and  a  Receiver  hidden  in  the  cleft,  with  the 
Emperor  s  horse  and  robes.  The  horse,  richly 
caparisonedy  is  tied  to  a  stone.  Horsemen  are 
seen  afar  off. 

The  Thief. 
The  tongues  of  the  lances 
All  flickering  and  flashing, — 
See,  see ! 

The  Receiver, 
Already  my  head  seems 
To  roll  on  the  sand-plain ! 
Woe,  woe  ! 

IV  K 


146  REIER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV. 

The  Thief. 
[Folds  his  arms  over  his  hreast,'\ 
My  father  he  thieved ; 
So  his  son  must  be  thieving. 

The  Receiver. 
My  father  received ; 
Still  his  son  is  receiving.^ 

The  Thiep. 
Thy  lot  shalt  thou  bear  still ; 
Thyself  shalt  thou  be  still. 

The  Receiver, 
\ListeningJ\ 
Steps  in  the  brush vi^ood  ! 
Flee,  flee  !     But  where  ? 

The  Thief, 
The  cavern  is  deep, 
And  the  Prophet  great ! 

[They  make  off,  leaving  the  booty  behind 
them.  The  horsemen  gradually  disappear 
in  the  distance. 

Peer  Gynt. 
[Enters,  cutting  a  reed  whistle.'] 
What  a  delectable  morning-tide  I — 
The  dung-beetle's  rolling  his  ball  in  the  dust ; 
The  snail  creeps  out  of  his  dwelling-house. 
The  morning ;  ay,  it  has  gold  in  its  mouth. — 
It's  a  wonderful  power,  when  you  think  of  it, 

»  This  is  not  to  be  taken  as  a  burlesque  instance  of  the  poetV 
supposed  preoccupation  with  questions  of  heredity,  but  simply 
as  an  allusion  to  the  fact  that,  in  the  E^ast,  thieving  aa4 
receiving  are  regular  and  hereditary  professions. 


SC.    v.]  PEER    OYNT.  147 

That  Nature  has  given  to  the  light  of  day. 

One   feels   so  secure,   and   so  much  more  cour- 
ageous,— 

One  would  gladly,  at  need,  take  a  bull  by  the 
horns. — 

What    a   stillness   all    round!     Ah,   the    joys  of 
Nature, — 

Strange  enough  I  should  never  have  prized  them 
before. 

Why  go  and  imprison  oneself  in  a  city. 

For  no  end  but  just  to  be  bored  by  the  mob. — 

Just  look  how  the  lizards  are  whisking  about^ 

Snapping,  and  thinking  of  nothing  at  all. 

What  innocence  ev'n  in  the  life  of  the  beasts  I 

Each  fulfils  the  Creator's  behest  unimpeachably. 

Preserving  its  own  special  stamp  undefaced ; 

Is  itself,  is  itself,  both  in  sport  and  in  strife. 

Itself,  as  it  was  at  his  primal :  Be  ! 

[Puts  on  his  cye-glassex. 

A  toad.     In  the  middle  of  a  sandstone  block. 

Petrifaction   all   around    him.     His    head   alone 
peering. 

There  he's  sitting  and  gazing  as  though  through 
a  window 

At  the  world,  and  is — to  himself  enough. — 

\^ReJlectwehf. 

Enough  .''     To  himself }     Where  is  it  that's 

written  } 

I've  read  it,  in  youth,  in  some  so-called  classic. 

In  the  family  prayer-book.^     Or  Solomon's  Pro- 
verbs .'* 

Alas,  I  notice  that,  year  by  year. 

My  memory  for  dates  and  for  places  is  fading. 

[Seats  himself  in  the  shade. 

Here's  a  cool  spot  to  rest  and  to  stretch  out  one's 
feet. 


148  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IT. 

Why,  look,  here  are  ferns  growing — edible  roots 

[Eats  a  lilUe. 
'Twould  be  fitter  food  for  an  animal ; — 
But  the  text  says :  Bridle  the  natural  man  ! 
Furthermore  it  is  written :    The  proud   shall  be 

humbled, 
And  whoso  abaseth  himself,  exalted.        [  Uneasily. 
Exalted  ?     Yes,   that's    what   will    happen   with 

me ; — 
No  other  result  can  so  much  as  be  thought  of. 
Fate  will  assist  me  away  from  this  place. 
And  arrange  matters  so  that  I  get  a  fresh  start. 
This  is  only  a  trial ;  deliverance  will  follow,— 
If  only  the  Lord  let's  me  keep  my  health. 

[Dismisses  his  misgivings,    lights  a   cigar, 
stretches  himself]  and  gases  out  over  the 
desert. 
What  an  enormous,  limitless  waste  I — 
Far  in  the  distance  an  ostrich  is  striding.— 
What  can  one  fancy  was  really  God's 
Meaning  in  all  of  this  voidness  and  deadness  ? 
This  desert,  bereft  of  all  sources  of  life  ; 
This  burnt-up  cinder,  that  profits  no  one  ; 
This  patch  of  the  world,  that  for  ever  lies  fallow ; 
This  corpse,  that  never,  since  earth's  creation. 
Has  brought  its  Maker  so  much  as  thanks, — 
Why    was     it     created?  —  How     spendthrift    is 

Nature ! — 
Is  that    sea    in   the    east   there,   that   dazzling 

expanse 
All  gleaming  ?     It  can't  be  ;  'tis  but  a  mirage. 
The  sea's  to  the  west ;  it  lies  piled  up  behind  me. 
Dammed  out  from  the  desert  by  a  sloping  ridge. 

[A  thovght  flashes  through  Ids  mind. 
Dammed  out  ?     Then  I  could }     The  ridge  is 

narrow. 


4C.    T.]  PEER    GYNT.  149 

Dammed  out  ?     It  wants  but  a  gap,  a  canals- 
Like  a  flood  of  life  would  the  waters  rush 
In  through  the  channel,  and  fill  the  desert !  * 
Soon  would  the  whole  of  yon  red-hot  grave 
Spread  forth,  a  breezy  and  rippling  sea. 
The  oases  would  rise  in  the  midst,  like  islands ; 
Atlas  would  tower  in  green  cliffs  on  the  north  ; 
Sailing-ships  would,  like  stray  birds  on  the  wing, 
Skim  to  the  south,  on  the  caravans'  track. 
Life-giving  breezes  would  scatter  the  choking 
Vapours,  and  dew  would  distil  from  the  clouds. 
People  would  build  themselves  town  on  town. 
And  grass  would  grow  green  round  the  swaying 

palm-trees. 
The  southland,  behind  the  Sahara's  wall. 
Would  make  a  new  seaboard  for  civilisation. 
Steam  would  set  Timbuctoo's  factories  spinning; 
Bornu  would  be  colonised  apace ; 
Th«  naturalist  would  pass  safely  through  Habes 
In  his  railway-car  to  the  Upper  Nile. 
In  the  midst  of  my  sea,  on  a  fat  oasis, 
1  will  replant  the  Norwegian  race; 
The  Dalesman's  blood  is  next  door  to  royal ; 
Arabic  crossing  will  do  the  rest. 
Skirting  a  bay,  on  a  shelving  strand, 
I'll  build  the  chief  city,  Peeropolis. 
The  world  is  decrepit !     Now  comes  the  turn 
Of  Gyntiana,  my  virgin  land  !  [Sjmngs  up. 

Had  I  but  capital,  soon  'twould  be  done. — 
A  gold  key  to  open  the  gate  of  the  sea  ! 
A  crusade  against  Death  !  The  close-fisted  old  churl 
Shall  open  the  sack  he  lies  brooding  upon. 
Men  rave  about  freedom  in  every  land ; — 
Like  the  ass  in  the  ark,  I  will  send  forth  a  cry 

*  This  proposal  was  seriously  mooted  about  ten  years  after 
the  appearance  of  Fecr  Gynt. 


150  PEER    QYNT.  [aCT   IV. 

O'er  the  world,  and  will  baptize  to  liberty 
The  beautiful,  thrall-bounden  coasts  that  shall  be. 
I  must  on  !     To  find  capital,  eastward  or  west ! 
My  kingdom — well,  half  of  it,  say — for  a  horse  ! 

[TAe  horse  in  ike  cleft  neighs. 
A   horse  !     Ay,  and   robes ! — Jewels  too, — and  a 

sword  I  [Goes  closer. 

It  can't  be  !     It  is  though !     But  how  ?     I 

have  read, 
I  don't  quite  know  where,  that  the  will  can  move 

mountains ; — 

But  how  about  moving  a  horse  as  well ? 

Pooh  !     Here  stands  the  horse,  that's  a  matter  of 

fact ; — 
For  the  rest,  why,  ah  esse  ad  posse,  et  cetera. 

[Puts  on  the  dress  mid  looks  doivn  at  it. 
Sir  Peter — a  Turk,  too,  from  top  to  toe  ! 
Well,  one  never  knows  what  may  happen  to  one. — 
Gee-up,  now,  Grane,  my  trusty  steed ! 

[Mounts  the  horse. 
Gold-shpper  stirrups  beneath  my  feet  I — 
You  may  know  the  great  by  their  riding-gear ! 

[Gallops  off  into  the  desed. 


SCENE    SIXTH. 

The  tent  of  an  Arab  chief,  standing  alone  on  an  oasis. 
Peer  Gynt,  in  his  eastern  dress,  resting  on  cushions. 

He  is  drinking  coffee,  and  smoking  a  long  pipe. 

Anitra,    and   a  bevy  of  Girls,  dancing  and 

singing  before  him. 

Chorus  op  Girls. 
The  Prophet  is  come  ! 
The  Prophet,  the  Lord,  the  All- Knowing  One, 


8C.    VI.]  PEER    OYNT.  151 

To  US,  to  US  is  he  come. 

O'er  the  sand-ocean  riding  ! 

The  Prophet,  the  Lord,  the  Unerring  One, 

To  us,  to  us  is  he  come. 

O'er  the  sand-ocean  sailing  ! 

Wake  the  flute  and  the  drum  ! 
The  Prophet,  the  Prophet  is  come  ! 

Anitra. 
His  courser  is  white  as  the  milk  is 
That  streams  in  the  rivers  of  Paradise. 
Bend  every  knee  !     Bow  every  head ! 
His  eyes  are  as  bright -gleaming,  mild -beaming 

stars. 
Yet  none  earth-bom  endure th 
The  rays  of  those  stars  in  their  blinding  splendour ! 

Through  the  desert  he  came. 
Gold  and  pearl-drops  sprang  forth  on  his  breast. 
Where  he  rode  there  was  light. 
Behind  him  was  darkness ; 
Behind  him  raged  drought  and  the  simoom. 
He,  the  glorious  one,  came ! 
Through  the  desert  he  came, 
Like  a  mortal  apparelled. 
Kaaba,  Kaaba  stands  void; — 
He  himself  hath  proclaimed  it ! 

The  Chorus  of  Girls. 
Wake  the  flute  and  the  drum  ! 
The  Prophet,  the  Prophet  is  come  ! 

[They  continue  the  dancer  to  soft  music. 

Peer. 
I  have  read  it  in  print — and  the  saying  is  true — 
That  no  one's  a  prophet  in  his  native  land. — 
This  position  is  very  much  more  to  my  mind 


152  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV. 

Than  my  life  over  there   'mong  the  Charleston 

merchants. 
There  was  something  hollow  in  the  whole  affair. 
Something   foreign  at    the    bottom,    something 

dubious  behind  it ; — 
I  was  never  at  home  in  their  company. 
Nor  felt  myself  really  one  of  the  guild. 
What  tempted  me  into  that  galley  at  all  ? 
To  grub  and  grub  in  the  bins  of  trade  — 
As  I  think  it  all  over,  I  can't  understand  it  ;— 
It  happened  so;  that's  the  whole  affair. — 

To  be  oneself  on  a  basis  of  gold 
Is  no  better  than  founding  one's  house  on  the 

sand. 
For  your  watch,  and  your  ring,  and  the  rest  of  your 

trappings. 
The  good  people  fawn  on  you,  grovelling  to  earth  ; 
They  lift  their  hats  to  your  jewelled  breast-pin  ; 
But  your  ring  and  your  breast-pin  are  not  your 

Person. — ^ 
A  prophet ;  ay,  that  is  a  clearer  position. 
At  least  one  knows  on  what  footing  one  stands. 
If  you  make  a  success,  it's  yourself  that  receives 
The  ovation,  and  not  your  pounds-sterling  and 

shillings.^ 
One  is  what  one  is,  and  no  nonsense  about  it ; 
One  owes  nothing  to  chance  or  to  accident, 
And  needs  neither  licence  nor  patent  to  lean  on. — 
A  prophet ;  ay,  that  is  the  thing  for  me. 
And  I  slipped  so  utterly  unawares  into  it, — 
Just  by  coming  galloping  over  the  desert. 
And  meeting  these  children  of  nature  en  route. 
The  Prophet  had  come  to  them;  so  much  was  clear. 

It  was  really  not  my  intent  to  deceive ; 

There's  a  difference* twist  liesand  oracular  answers; 

*  Or  •'  ego."  ■  bi  original,  "  Pundsterling  og  shilling." 


SC.    VI.]  PEER    GYNT.  153 

And  then  I  can  always  withdraw  again. 

I'm  in  no  way  bound ;  it's  a  simple  matter — ; 

The  whole  thing  is  private,  so  to  speak  ; 

I  can  go  as  I  came;  there's  my  horse  ready  saddled; 

I  am  master,  in  short,  of  the  situation. 

Anitra. 
[Approaching  the  teni-door.^ 
Prophet  and  Master ! 

Peer. 
What  would  ray  slave  } 

Anitra. 
The  sons  of  the  desert  await  at  thy  tent-door ; 
They  pray  for  the  light  of  thy  countenance 

Peer. 

Stop ! 
Say  in  the  distance  I'd  have  them  assemble ; 
Say  from  the  distance  I  hear  all  their  prayers. 
Add  that  I  suffer  no  menfolk  in  here  ! 

Men,  my  child,  are  a  worthless  crew, — 
Inveterate  rascds  you  well  may  call  tliem  ! 
Anitra,  you  can't  think  how  shamelessly 

They  have  swind 1  mean  they  have  sinned,  my 

child !— 1 
Well,  enough  now  of  that ;  you  may  dance  for  me, 

damsels ! 
The  Prophet  would  banish  the  memories  that  gall 
him. 

The  Girls. 
[Dancing.'] 
The  Prophet  is  good  !     The  JProphet  is  grieving 
For  the  ill  that  the  sons  of  the  dust  have  wrought ! 

»  In  the  original,  "  De  kar  snydt hm  ;  jeg  mener  syadet, 

mit  barn ! " 


154  PEER    GYNT.  |^ACT    IV. 

The  Prophet  is  mild  ;  to  his  mildness  be  praises ; 
He  opens  to  sinners  his  Paradise  ! 

Peer. 
[His  eyes  following  Anitra  during  the  dance!] 
Legs  as  nimble  as  drumsticks  flitting. 
She's  a  dainty  morsel  indeed,  that  wench  ! 
It's  true  she  has  somewhat  extravagant  contours, — 
Not  quite  in  accord  with  the  norms  of  beauty. 
But  what  is  beauty  ?     A  mere  convention, — 
A  coin  made  current  by  time  and  place. 
And  just  the  extravagant  seems  most  attractive 
When  one  of  the  normal  has  drunk  one's  fill. 
In  the  law-bound  one  misses  all  intoxication. 
Either  plump  to  excess  or  excessively  lean  ; 
Either  parlously  young  or  portentously  old ; — 
The  medium  is  mawkish. — 
Her  feet — they  are  not  altogether  clean  ; 
No  more  are  her  arms  ;  in  especial  one  of  them. 
But  that  is  at  bottom  no  drawback  at  all. 
I  should  rather  call  it  a  qualification — 
Anitra,  come  listen  ! 

Anitra. 
[Approaching!] 

Thy  handmaiden  hears ! 

Peer. 
You  are  tempting,  my  daughter !    The  Prophet  is 

touched. 
If  you  don't  believe  me,  then  hear  the  proof; — 
I'll  make  you  a  Houri  in  Paradise  ! 

Anitra. 
Impossible,  Lord ! 


8C.    VI.]  PEER    GYNT.  155 

Peer. 
What  ?  You  think  I  am  jesting  ? 
I'm  in  sober  earnest,  as  true  as  I  live  ! 

Anitra. 
But  I  haven't  a  soul. 

Peer. 
Then  of  course  you  must  get  one  ! 

Anitra. 
How,  Lord  ? 

Peer. 
Just  leave  me  alone  for  that; — 
I  shall  look  after  your  education. 
No  soul  ?     Why,  truly  you're  not  over  bright. 
As  the  saying  goes.     I've  observed  it  with  pain. 
But  pooh  !  for  a  soul  you  can  always  find  room. 
Come  here !  let  me  measure  your  brain-pan, child. — 
There  is  room,  there  is  room,  I  was  sure  there  was. 
It's  true  you  never  will  penetrate 
Very  deep;  to  a  large  soul  you'll  scarcely  attain ; — 
But  never  you  mind  ;  it  won't  matter  a  bit ; — 
You'll    have    plenty  to  carry  you  through  with 
credit 

Anitra. 
The  Prophet  is  gracious 

Peer. 

You  hesitate  ?    Speak ! 

Anitra. 
But  Fd  rather 


Peer. 
Say  on  ;  don't  waste  time  about  it ! 


156  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IY. 

Anitra. 
r  don't  care  so  much  about  having  a  soul  ;— 

Give  me  rather 

Peer. 
What,  child  ? 

Anitra. 
[Pointing  to  his  turhan."] 

That  lovely  opal ! 

Peer. 

[Enchanted,  handing  her  the  jeivel.^ 
Anitra  I  Anitra !  true  daughter  of  Eve ! 
I  feel  thee  magnetic ;  for  I  am  a  man. 
And,  as  a  much-esteemed  author  has  phrased  it : 
"  Das  Ewig-Weibliche  ziehet  uns  an  !  "  ^ 


SCENE  SEVENTH. 

A  moonlight  night.    The  palm-grove  outside  Anitra's 

tent. 
Peer  Gynf  is  sitting  beneath  a  tree,  with  an  Arabian 

lute  in  his  hands.  His  beard  and  hair  are  clipped; 

he  looks  considei'ably  younger. 

Peer  Gynt. 
[Plaijs  and  sings.^ 
I  double-locked  my  Paradise, 
And  took  its  key  with  me. 
The  north-wind  bore  me  seaward  ho  ! 
While  lovely  women  all  forlorn 
Wept  on  the  ocean  strand. 

*  In  the  previous  edition  we  restored  the  exact  wording  of 
Goethe's  line,  "  zieht  uns  hinan."  We  ought  to  have  under- 
stood that  the  point  of  the  speech  lay  in  the  misquotation. 


»C.    VII.] 


PEER    GYNT. 


157 


Still  southward,  southward  clove  my  keel 

The  salt  sea-currents  through. 
Where  palms  were  swaying  proud  and  fair, 
A  garland  round  the  ocean-bight, 

I  set  my  ship  afire. 

I  climbed  aboard  the  desert  ship, 

A  ship  on  four  stout  legs. 
It  foamed  beneath  the  lashing  whip;— . 
Oh,  catch  me  ;  I'm  a  flitting  bird; — 

I'm  twittering  on  a  bough ! 

Anitra,  thou'rt  the  palm-tree's  must ; 

That  know  I  now  full  well ! 
Ay,  even  the  Angora  goat- milk  cheese 
Is  scarcely  half  such  dainty  fare, 

Anitra,  ah,  as  thou  ! 

[He  hangs  the  lute  over  his  shoulder^  and 
comes  foi'ward.  ] 
Stillness  !     Is  the  fair  one  listening  ? 
Has  she  heard  my  little  song  ? 
Peeps  she  from  behind  the  curtain. 
Veil  and  so  forth  cast  aside  } — 
Hush  !     A  sound  as  though  a  cork 
From  a  bottle  burst  amain  ! 
Now  once  more  !     And  yet  again  ! 
Love-sighs  can  it  be  }  or  songs  ? — 
No,  it  is  distinctly  snoring. — 
Dulcet  strain !     Anitra  sleepeth ! 
Nightingale,  thy  warbling  stay  ! 
Every  sort  of  woe  betide  thee. 
If  with  gurgling  trill  thou  darest — 
But,  as  says  the  text :  Let  be  ! 
Nightingale,  thou  art  a  singer ; 
Ah,  even  such  an  one  am  I. 
He,  like  me,  ensnares  with  music 
Tender,  slirinking  little  hearts 


158  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT 

Balmy  night  is  made  for  music ; 
Music  is  our  common  sphere ; 
In  the  act  of  singing,  we  are 
We,  Peer  Gynt  and  nightingale. 
And  the  maiden's  very  sleeping 
Is  my  passion's  crowning  bliss  ;— 
For  the  lips  protruded  o'er  the 

Beaker  yet  untasted  quite 

But  she's  coming,  I  declare  ! 
After  all,  it's  best  she  should. 

Anitra. 
[From  ike  tent.^ 
Master,  call'st  thou  in  the  night  ? 

Peer. 
Yes  indeed,  the  Prophet  calls. 
I  was  wakened  by  the  cat 
With  a  furious  hunting-hubbub—— 

Anitra. 
Ah,  not  hunting-noises.  Master; 
It  was  something  much,  much  worse. 

Peer. 
What,  then,  was't } 

Anitra. 

Oh,  spare  me ' 
Peer. 


IV. 


Anitra, 

Oh,  I  blush  to 

Peer. 
[Approaching.  ] 

Was  it,  mayhap. 
That  which  filled  me  so  completely 
When  I  let  you  have  my  opal  ? 


Speak  I 


I 


8C.   VII.]  PEER    GYNT.  159 

Anitra. 
[Horri/ied.] 
Liken  thee,  O  earth's  great  treasure, 
To  a  horrible  old  cat ! 

Peer. 
Child,  from  passion's  standpoint  viewed. 
May  a  tom-cat  and  a  prophet 
Come  to  very  much  the  same. 

Anitra. 
Master,  jest  like  honey  floweth 
From  thy  lips. 

Peer. 
My  little  friend. 
You,  like  other  maidens,  judge 
Great  men  by  their  outsides  only, 

■  I  am  full  of  jest  at  bottom. 
Most  of  all  when  we're  alone. 
I  am  forced  by  my  position 
To  assume  a  solemn  mask. 
Duties  of  the  day  constrain  me ; 
All  the  reckonings  and  worry 
That  I  have  with  one  and  all. 
Make  me  oft  a  cross-grained  prophet ; 
But  it's  only  from  the  tongue  out. — 
Fudge,  avaunt !    En  tete-d-tete 
I'm  Peer — well,  the  man  I  am. 
Hei,  away  now  with  the  prophet; 
Me,  myself,  you  have  me  here  ! 
■  [Seais  himself  under  a  tree,  and  draws  her 

I^B  to  him, 

'^"  Come,  Anitra,  we  will  rest  us 

Underneath  the  palm's  green  fan-shade  * 

I  I'll  lie  whispering,  you'll  lie  smiling; 
Afterwards  cmr  roles  exchange  we ; 


lf)0  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    IY. 

Then  shall  your  lips,  fresh  and  balmy. 
To  my  smiling,  passion  whisper  ! 

Anitra. 
[Lies  down  at  his  feet!\ 
All  thy  words  are  sweet  as  singing. 
Though  I  understand  but  little. 
Master,  tell  me,  can  thy  daughter 
Catch  a  soul  by  listening  ? 

Peer. 
Soul,  and  spirit's  light  and  knowledge. 
All  in  good  time  you  shall  have  them. 
When  in  east,  on  rosy  streamers 
Golden  types  print :  Here  is  day, — 
Then,  rny  child.  Til  give  you  lessons ; 
You'll  be  well  brought  up,  no  fear. 
But,  'mid  night's  delicious  stillness. 
It  were  stupid  if  I  should. 
With  a  threadbare  wisdom's  remnants, 
Play  the  part  of  pedagogue. — 
And  the  soul,  moreover,  is  not. 
Looked  at  properly,  the  main  thing. 
It's  the  heart  that  really  matters. 

Anitra. 
Speak,  O  Master  !    When  thou  speakest, 
I  see  gleams,  as  though  of  opals ! 

Peer. 
Wisdom  in  extremes  is  folly ; 
Coward  blossoms  into  tyrant ; 
Truth,  when  carried  to  excess. 
Ends  in  wisdom  written  backwards. 
Ay,  ray  daughter,  I'm  forsworn 
As  a  dog  if  there  are  not 


SC.    VII.] 


PEER    OYNT. 


16) 


Folk  with  o'erfed  souls  on  earth 
Who  shall  scarce  attain  to  clearness. 
Once  I  met  with  such  a  fellow. 
Of  the  flock  the  very  flower ; 
And  even  he  mistook  his  goal. 
Losing  sense  in  blatant  sound. — 
See  the  waste  round  this  oasis. 
Were  I  but  to  swing  my  turban, 
I  could  force  the  ocean-flood 
To  fill  up  the  whole  concern. 
But  I  were  a  blockhead,  truly 
Seas  and  lands  to  go  creating. 
Know  you  what  it  is  to  live  ? 


Anitra. 


Teach  me ! 


It  is  to  be  wafted 
Dry-shod  down  the  stream  of  time. 
Wholly,  solely  as  oneself. 
Only  in  full  manhood  can  I 
Be  the  man  I  am,  dear  child  ! 
Aged  eagle  moults  his  plumage. 
Aged  fogey  lags  declining, 
Aged  dame  has  ne'er  a  tooth  left. 
Aged  churl  gets  withered  hands, — 
One  and  all  get  withered  souls. 
Youth  !     Ah  Youth !     I  mean  to  reign. 
As  a  sultan,  whole  and  fiery, — 
Not  on  Gyntiana's  shores. 
Under  trellised  vines  and  palm-leaves, — 
But  enthroned  ^  in  the  freshness 
Of  a  woman's  virgin  thoughts. — 
See  you  now,  my  little  maiden. 
Why  I've  graciously  bewitched  you,^ 

1   Uterally,  "  on  the  basis  of." 


l62  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    IV. 

Why  I  have  your  heart  selected, 
And  established,  so  to  speak, 
There  my  being's  Caliphate  ? 
All  your  longings  shall  be  mine. 
I'm  an  autocrat  in  passion  ! 
You  shall  live  for  me  alone. 
I'll  be  he  who  shall  enthrall 
You  like  gold  and  precious  stones. 
Should  we  part,  then  life  is  over, — 
That  is,  your  life,  nota  bene  ! 
Every  inch  and  fibre  of  you, 
Will-less,  without  yea  or  nay, 
I  must  know  filled  full  of  me. 
Midnight  beauties  of  your  tresses, 
All  that's  lovely  to  be  named. 
Shall,  like  Babylonian  gardens, 
Tempt  your  Sultan  to  his  tryst. 

After  all,  I  don't  complain,  then. 
Of  your  empty  forehead- vault. 
With  a  soul,  one's  oft  absorbed  in 
Contemplation  of  oneself. 
Listen,  while  we're  on  the  subject, — 
If  you  like  it,  faith,  you  shall 
Have  a  ring  about  your  ankle  ; — 
'Twill  be  best  for  both  of  us. 
/  will  be  your  soul  by  proxy  ; 
For  the  rest — why,  status  quo.  [Anitra  snores. 

What !     She  sleeps  !     Then  has  it  glided 
Bootless  past  her,  all  I've  said  ? — 
No ;  it  marks  my  influence  o'er  her 
That  she  floats  away  in  dreams 
On  my  love-talk  as  it  flows. 

[Rises,  and  lays  trinkets  in  her  lap. 
Here  are  jewels  !     Here  are  more  ! 

Sleep,  Anitra !     Dream  of  Peer . 

Sleep !     In  sleeping,  you  the  crown  have 


^K        SC.   Vltl.] 


PEER    OYNT. 


Placed  upon  your  Emperar's  ^jrow  I 

Victory  on  his  Person's  basis 

Has  Peer  Gynt  this  night  achieved. 


If 


SCENE  EIGHTH. 

A  caravan  route.     The  oasis  is  seen  far  off  in  the 

background. 
Peer  Gynt  comes  galloping  across  the  desert  on  his 

white   horse,  niih   Anitra    before  him   on  his 

saddle-bow. 

Anitra. 
Let  be,  or  Til  bite  you  ! 

Peer. 

You  little  rogue  f 

Anitra. 
What  would  you  ? 

Peer. 
What  would  i  }     Play  hawk  and  dove . 
Run  away  with  you !     Frolic  and  frisk  a  bit ! 

Anitra. 
For  shame !     An  old  prophet  like  you  ! 


Peer. 

The  prophet's  not  old  at  all,  you  goose  ! 
Do  you  think  all  this  is  a  sign  of  age  ? 

A.NITRA. 

Let  me  go  !     I  want  to  go  home  I 


Oh,  stuff! 


l64r  *»EER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV. 

Peer. 

Coquette  ! 
What,  home  !    To  papa-in-law !    That  would  be 

fine! 
We  madcap  birds  that  have  flown  from  the  cage 
Must  never  come  into  his  sight  again. 
Besides,  my  child,  in  the  self-same  place 
It's  wisest  never  to  stay  too  long ; 
For  familiarity  lessens  respect ; — 
Most  of  all  when  one  comes  as  a  prophet  or  such. 
One  should  show  oneself  glimpse-wise  and  pass 

like  a  dream. 
Faith,  'twas  time  that  the  visit  should  come  to  an 

end. 
They're  unstable  of  soul,  are  these  sons  of  the 

desert ; — 
Both  incense  and  prayers  dwindled  off  towards  the 

end. 

Anitra. 
Yes,  but  are  you  a  prophet } 

Peer. 

Your  Emperor  I  am 
[Tries  to  kiss  her. 
Why  just  see  now  how  coy  the  wee  woodpecker  is ' 

Anitra. 
Give  me  that  ring  that  you  have  on  your  finger. 

Peer. 
Take,  sweet  Anitra,  the  whole  of  the  trash  I 

Anitra. 
Thy  words  are  as  songs  1     Oh,  how  dulcet  their 
sound ! 

Peer. 
How  blessed  to  know  oneself  loved  to  this  pitch 


8C.    VIII.] 


PEER    GYNT. 


165 


ni  dismount !     Like  your  slave,  I  will  lead  your 
palfrey  ! 

[Hands  her  his  riding-whip,  and  dismounts. 
There  now,  my  rosebud,  you  exquisite  flower  ! 
Here  I'll  go  trudging  my  way  through  the  sand. 
Till  a  sunstroke  o'ertakes  me  and  finishes  me. 
I'm  young,  Anitra ;  bear  that  in  mind ! 
You  mustn't  be  shocked  at  my  escapades. 
Frolics  and  high-jinks  are  youth's  sole  criterion ! 
And  so,  if  your  intellect  weren't  so  dense. 
You  would  see  at  a  glance,  oh  ray  fair  oleander,— 
Your  lover  is  frolicsome — ergOf  he's  young  ! 

Anitra. 
Yes,  you  are  young.     Have  you  any  more  rings  ? 

Peer. 
Am  I  not  ?    There,  grab !    I  can  leap  like  a  buck ! 
Were  there  vine-leaves  around,  I  would  garland 

my  brow. 
To  be  sure  I  am  young !     Hei,  I'm  going  to  dance  ! 

[Dances  and  sings. 
I  am  a  blissful  game-cock ! 
Peck  me,  my  little  pullet ! 
Hop-sa-sa !     Let  me  trip  it  ;— 
I  am  a  blissful  game-cock  I 

Anitra. 
You  are  sweating,  my  prophet;  I  fear  you  will 

melt ; — 
Hand  me  that  heavy  bag  hung  at  your  belt. 

Peer. 
Tender  solicitude  !     Bear  the  purse  ever ; — 
Hearts  than  can  love  are  content  without  gold ! 

[Da7ices  and  sirigs  again* 


l66  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV. 

Young  Peer  Gynt  is  the  maddest  wag  ;— 
He  knows  not  what  foot  he  shall  stand  upon. 

Pooh,  says  Peer ; — pooh,  never  mind ! 
Young  Peer  Gynt  is  the  maddest  wag  ! 

Anitra. 
What  joy  when  the  Prophet  steps  forth  in  the 
dance ! 

Peer. 
Oh,  bother  the    Prophet ! — Suppose   we  change 

clothes  ! 
Heisa !     Strip  off! 

Anitra. 

Your  caftan  were  too  long, 
Your   girdle   too   wide,  and   your   stockings   too 

tight 

Peer. 
Eh  hien  /  ^                                                [Kneels  down. 
But  vouchsafe  me  a  vehement  sorrow; — 
To  a  heart  full  of  love,  it  is  sweet  to  suffer ! 
Listen ;  as  soon  as  we're  home  at  ray  castle 

Anitra. 
In  your  Paradise ; — have  we  far  to  ride  ? 

Peer. 
Oh,  a  thousand  miles  or 

Anitra. 

Too  far ' 

Peer. 

Oh,  listen ; — 
You  shall   have   the  soul  that  I   promised  you 
once 

*■  So  in  origioaL 


SC.    IX.J  fEER    GYNf.  l67 

Anitra 
Oh,  thank  you  ;  I'll  get  on  without  the  soul. 
But  you  asked  for  a  sorrow 

Peer. 

[Rising.^ 

Ay,  curse  me,  I  did ! 
A  keen  one,  but  short, — to  last  two  or  three  days  I 

Anitra. 
Anitra  obeyeth  the  Prophet ! — Farewell ! 

[  Gives  him  a  smaii  cut  across  the  fingers ,  and 
dashes  off,  at  a  tearing  gallop,  back  across 
the  desert. 

Peer. 

[Stands  for  a  long  time  thunderstruck.'^ 
Well  now,  may  I  be ! 


SCENE   NINTH. 

77ie  same  place,  an  hour  later. 

Peer  Gynt  is  stripping  off  his  Turkish  costume, 
soberly  and  thoughtfully,  bit  by  bit.  Last  of  all, 
he  takes  his  little  travelling-cap  out  of  his  coat 
pocket,  jmts  it  on,  and  stands  once  more  in  Euro- 
pean  dress. 

Peer. 
[Throwing  the  turban  far  away  from  him.'\ 
There  lies  the  Turk,  then,  and  here  stand  I ! — 
These  heathenish  doings  are  no  sort  of  good. 
It's  lucky  'twas  only  a  matter  of  clothes, 
And  not,  as  the  saying  goes,  bred  in  the  bone. — 


1^9  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV 

What  tempted  me  into  that  galley  at  all  ? 

It's  best,  in  the  long  run,  to  live  as  a  Christian, 

To  put  away  peacock-like  ostentation. 

To  base  all  one's  dealings  on  law  and  morality, 

To  be  ever  oneself,  and  to  earn  at  tlie  last  a 

Speech  at  one's  grave-side,  and  wreaths  on  one's 

coffin.  [Walks  a  few  steps. 

The  hussy ; — she  was  on  the  very  verge 
Of  turning  my  head  clean  topsy-turvy. 
May  I  be  a  troll  if  I  understand 
What  it  was  that  dazed  and  bemused  me  so. 
Well ;  it's  well  that's  done :  had  the  joke  been 

carried 
But  one  step  on,  I'd  have  looked  absurd. — 

I  have  erred  ; but  at  least  it's  a  consolation 

That  my  error  was  due  to  the  false  situation. 

It  wasn't  my  personal  self  that  fell. 

'Twas  in  fact  this  prophetical  way  of  life. 

So  utterly  lacking  the  salt  of  activity. 

That  took  its  revenge  in  these  qualms  of  bad  taste. 

It's  a  sorry  business  this  prophetising ! 

One's  office  compels  one  to  walk  in  a  mist ; 

In  playing  the  prophet,  you  throw  up  the  game^ 

The  moment  you  act  like  a  rational  being.^ 

In  so  far  I've  done  what  the  occasion  demanded. 

In  the  mere  fact  of  paying  my  court  to  that  goose. 

But,  nevertheless [Bursts  out  laughing. 

H'm,  to  think  of  it  now  ! 
To  try  to  make  time  stop  by  jigging  and  dancing, 
And  to  cope  with  the  current  by  capering  and 

prancing ! 
To  thrum  on  the  lute-strings,  to  fondle  and  sigh. 
And  end,  like  a  rooster, — by  getting  well  plucked ' 
Such  conduct  is  truly  prophetic  frenzy. — 

'  Literally,  "you're  Inoed"  or  "euchred." 

•  Literally,  "  behave  as  though  sober  and  wakeful. 


;c.   iX. 


tEER    GYNT. 


169 


Yes,  plucked  ! — Phew  !  I'm  plucked  clean  enough 
indeed. 

Well,  well,  I've  a  trifle  still  left  in  reserve; 

I've  a  little  in  America,  a  little  in  my  pocket ; 

So  I  won't  be  quite  driven  to  beg  my  bread. — 

And  at  bottom  this  middle  condition  is  best. 

I'm  no  longer  a  slave  to  my  coachman  and  horses ; 

I  haven't  to  fret  about  postchaise  or  baggage ; 

I  am  master,  in  short,  of  the  situation. — 

What   path   should   I   choose  ?     Many  paths   lie 
before  me ; 

And  a  wise  man  is  known   from  a  fool   by  his 
choice. 

My  business  life  is  a  finished  chapter  ; 

My  love-sports,  too,  are  a  cast-off  garment. 

I  feel  no  desire  to  live  back  like  a  crab. 

"  Forward  or  back,  and  it's  just  as  far ; 

Out  or  in,  and  it's  just  as  strait," — 

So  I  seem  to  have  read  in  some  luminous^  work. — 

I'll  try  something  new,  then;  ennoble  my  course  ; 

Find  a  goal  worth  the  labour  and  money  it  costs. 

Siiall  I  write  my  life  without  dissimulation, — 

A  book  for  guidance  and  imitation  ? 

Or,  stay !     I  have  plenty  of  time   at   com- 
mand ; — 

What  if,  as  a  travelling  scientist, 

I  should  study  past  ages  and  time's  voracity  ? 

Ay,  sure  enough,  that  is  the  thing  for  me  ! 

Legends  I  read  e'en  in  childhood's  days. 

And   since   then   I've   kept   up   that    branch   of 
learning. — 

I  will  follow  the  path  of  the  human  race  ! 

Like  a  feather  I'll  float  on  the  stream  of  history 

Make  it  all  live  again,  as  in  a  dream, — 

See  the  heroes  battling  for  truth  and  right, 
*  Literally,  "  spirit ucl" 


170  PEER    GVNT.  [act    IV. 


As  an  onlooker  only,  in  safety  ensconced, — 
See  thinkers  perish  and  martyrs  bleed. 
See  empires  founded  and  vanish  away, — 
See  world-epochs  grow  from  their  trifling  seeds  ; 
In  short,  I  will  skim  off  the  cream  of  history. — 
I  must  try  to  get  hold  of  a  volume  of  Becker, 
And  travel  as  far  as  I  can  by  chronology. — 
It's  true — my  grounding's  by  no  means  thorough. 
And  history's  wheels  within  wheels  are  decep- 
tive ; — 
But  pooh  ;  the  wilder  the  starting-point. 
The  result  will  oft  be  the  more  original. — 
How  exalting  it  is,  now,  to  choose  a  goal. 
And  drive  straight  for  it,  like  flint  and  steel ! 

[With  quiet  emotion. 
To  break  off  all  round  one,  on  every  side, 
The  bonds  that  bind  one  to  home  and  friends, — 
To  blow  into  atoms  one's  hoarded  wealth, — 
To  bid  one's  love  and  its  joys  good  night, — 
All  simply  to  find  the  arcana  of  truth, — 

[  Wiping  a  tear  from  his  eye. 
That  is  the  test  of  the  true  man  of  science  ! — 
I  feel  myself  happy  beyond  all  measure. 
Now  I  have  fathomed  my  destiny's  riddle. 
Now  'tis  but  persevering  through  thick  and  thin  ! 
It's  excusable,  sure,  if  I  hold  up  my  head. 
And  feel  my  worth,  as  the  man.  Peer  Gjmt, 
Also  called  Human-life's  Emperor. — 
I  will  own  the  sum-total  of  bygone  days ; 
I  '11  nevermore  tread  in  the  paths  of  the  living. 
The  present  is  not  worth  so  much  as  a  shoe-sole ; 
All  faithless  and  marrowless  the  doings  of  men ; 
Their    soul    has   no  wings   and   their   deeds   no 

weight ; [Shrugs  his  shoulders. 

And  women, — ah,  they  are  a  worthless  crew ! 

[Goes  oJJ, 


SC.    X.] 


PEER    GYNT. 


171 


SCENE  TENTH. 

A  summer  day.  Far  up  in  the  North.  A  hut  in  the 
forest.  The  door,  with  a  large  wooden  bar, 
stands  open.  Reindeer-horns  over  it.  A  Jiock  oj 
goats  hy  the  wall  of  the  hut. 

A  Middle-aged  Woman,  fair-haired  and  comely, 
sits  spinning  outside  in  the  sunshine. 

The  Woman. 
[Glances  down  the  path  and  sings.^ 
Maybe  both  the  winter  and  spring  will  pass  by. 
And  the  next  summer  too,  and  the  whole  of  the 

year  ;— 
But  thou  wilt  come  one  day,  that  know  I  full  well; 
And  I  will  await  thee,  as  I  promised  of  old.^ 

\Calls  the  goats,  spins,  and  sings  again. 
God  strengthen  thee,  whereso  thou  goest  in  the 

world  ! 
God  gladden  thee,  if  at  his  footstool  thou  stand  ! 
PI  ere  will  I  await  thee  till  thou  comest  again ; 
And  if  thou  wait  up  yonder,  then  there  we'll  meet, 
my  friend ! 


SCENE  ELEVENTH. 

In  Egypt.     Daybreak.     Memnon's  Statue  amid  the 

sands. 
Peer  Gynt  enters  on  foot,  and  looks  around  him  for 
a  while. 

Peer  Gynt. 

Here  I  might  fittingly  start  on  my  wanderings.— 

1  .Sirfj^-Uterally,  "  when  last  we  met," 


172  PEER    GYNT.  (aCT   IV. 

So  now,  for  a  change,  I've  become  an  Egyptian; 
But  Egyptian  on  the  basis  of  the  Gyntish  I. 
To  Assyria  next  I  will  bend  my  steps. 
To  begin  right  back  at  the  world's  creation 
Would  lead  to  nought  but  bewilderment. 
I  will  go  round  about  ^  all  the  Bible  history ; 
It's  secular  traces  I'll  always  be  coming  on  ; 
And  to  look,  as  the  saying  goes,  into  its  seams. 
Lies   entirely   outside    both    my   plan    and    my 
powers.  [Sits  upon  a  stone. 

Now  I  will  rest  me,  and  patiently  wait 
Till  the  statue  has  sung  its  habitual  dawn-song. 
When  breakfast  is  over,  I'll  climb  up  the  pyramid; 
If  I've  time,  I'll  look  through  its  interior  after- 
wards. 
Then  Til  go  round  the  head  of  the  Red  Sea  by 

land  ; 
Perhaps  I  may  hit  on  King  Potiphar's  grave. — 
Next  I'll  turn  Asiatic.     In  Babylon  I'll  seek  for 
The  far-renowned  harlots  and  hanging  gardens, — 
That's  to  say,  the  chief  traces  of  civilisation. 
Then  at  one  bound  to  the  ramparts  of  Troy. 
From  Troy  there's  a  fareway  by  sea  direct 
Across  to  the  glorious  ancient  Athens  ; — 
There  on  the  spot  will  I,  stone  by  stone. 
Survey  the  Pass  that  Leonidas  guarded. 
I  will  get  up  the  works  of  the  better  philosophers, 
Find    the    prison    where     Socrates     suffered,    a 

martyr ; 

Oh  no,  by-the-bye — there's  a  war  there  at  pre- 
sent  ! 

Well,  my  studies  in  Hellas  must  e'en  be  postponed. 

[LjOoIcs  at  his  watch. 
It's  really  too  bad,  such  an  age  as  it  takes 
For  the  sun  to  rise.     I  am  pressed  for  time. 
1  "Ga  udenom,"  the  phrase  used  by  the  Boyg,  Act  il  sc.  7. 


6C.   XI. 


PEER    GYNT. 


173 


Well  then,  from  Troj' — it  was  there  I  left  off- 


I 


[Rises  and  listens. 
What  is  that  strange  sort  of  murmur  that's  rush- 
ing  ?  [Stmrise. 

Memnon's  Statue. 
[Sings,] 
From  the  demigod's  ashes  there  soar,  youth- 
renewing. 

Birds  ever  singing. 
Zeus  the  Omniscient 
Shaped  them  contending. 
Owls  of  wisdom. 
My  birds,  where  do  they  slumber  ? 
Thou  must  die  if  thou  rede  not 
The  song's  enigma ! 

Peer. 
How  strange  now, — I  really  fancied  there  came 
From   the  statue   a   sound.     Music,  this,  of  the 

Past. 
I    heard     the    stone-accents    now    rising,    now 

sinking. — 
I  will  register  it,  for  the  learned  to  ponder. 

[Notes  in  his  pocket-book 
"  The  statue  did  sing.     I  heard  the  sound  plainly. 
But  didn't  quite  follow  the  text  of  the  song. 
The  whole  thing,  of  course,  was  hallucination. — 
Nothing  else  of  importance  observed  to-day." 

[Proceeds  on  his  way. 


174  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV. 


SCENE  TWELFTH. 

Near  the  village  of  Gizek.  The  great  Sphinx  carved 
out  of  the  rock.  In  the  distance  the  spires  and 
minarets  of  Cairo. 

Peer  Gynt  enters  ;  he  examines  the  Sphinx  atten- 
tively,  now  through  his  eyeglass,  now  through  his 
hollowed  hand. 

Peer  Gynt. 
Now,  where  in  the  world  have  I  met  before 
Something  half  forgotten  that's  like   this  hob- 
goblin ? 
For  met  it  I  have,  in  the  north  or  the  south. 
Was  it  a  person  ?     And,  if  so,  who  ? 
That  Memnon,  it  afterwards  crossed  my  mind. 
Was  like  the  Old  Man  of  the  Dovre,  so  called. 
Just  as  he  sat  there,  stiff  and  stark. 
Planted  on  end  on  the  stumps  of  pillars. — 
But  this  most  curious  mongrel  here, 
This  changeling,  a  lion  and  woman  in  one, — 
Does  he  come  to  me,  too,  from  a  fairy-tale. 
Or  from  a  remembrance  of  something  real  ? 
From  a  fairy-tale  ?     Ho,  I  remember  the  fellow  ! 
Why,  of  course  it's  the  Boyg,  that  I  smote  on  the 

skull, — 
That  K,  I  dreamt  it, — I  lay  in  fever. — 

[Going  closer. 
The  self-same  eyes,  and  the  self-same  lips  ; — 
Not  quite  so  lumpish ;  a  little  more  cunning ; 
But  the  same,  for  the  rest,  in  all  essentials. — 
Ay,  so  that's  it,  Boyg  ;  so  you're  like  a  lion 
When  one  sees  you  from  behind  and  meets  you  in 

the  day-time  ! 
Are  you  still  good  at  riddling  >    Come,  let  us  try. 


SC.    XII.]  PEER    GYNT.  175 

Now  we  shall  see  if  you  answer  as  last  time  ! 

[Calls  out  towards  the  Sphinx. 
Hei,  Boyg,  who  are  you  ? 

A  Voice. 
[Behind  the  Sphinx.] 

Ach,  Sphinx,  wer  bist  du  ? 

Peer. 
What !   Echo  answers  iu  German  !   How  strange  ! 

The    Voice. 
Wer  bist  du  ? 

Peer. 

It  speaks  it  quite  fluently  too ! 
That  observation  is  new,  and  my  own. 

[Notes  in  his  book. 
'^  Echo  in  German.     Dialect,  Berlin." 

[Begriffenfeldt  comes  out  from  behind 
the  Sphinx. 

BfiORIFFENFELD^ 

A  man 

Peer. 
Oh,  then  it  was  he  that  was  chattering. 

[Notes  again. 
"  Arrived  in  the  sequel  at  other  results." 

Begriffenfeldt. 
[  With  all  sorts  of  restless  antics.] 

Excuse    me,  mein    Herr  ^ !      Eine  Lebeiis- 

frage !  ^ 

What  brings  you  to  this  place  precisely  to-day  ? 

Peer, 
A  visit.     I'm  greeting  a  friend  of  my  youth. 
1  So  in  originaL 


176  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV. 

Begriffenfeldt, 
\\liat  ?    The  Sphinx ? 

Peer. 
[Nods.] 
Yes,  I  knew  him  in  days  gone  by. 

Begriffenfeldt. 
Famos  !  ^ — And  that  after  such  a  night ! 
My  temples  are  hammering  as  though  they  would 

burst ! 
You  know  him,  man  !     Answer !     Say  on  !     Can 

you  tell 
What  he  is  ? 

Peer. 

What  he  is  ?    Yes,  that's  easy  enough. 
He's  himself. 

Begriffenfeldt. 
[With  a  bound.] 
Ha,  the  riddle  of  life  lightened  forth 
In  a  flash  to  my  vision  ! — It's  certain  he  is 
Himself  ? 

Peer. 
Yes,  he  says  so,  at  any  rate. 

Begriffenfeldt. 
Himself !     Revolution  !  thine  hour  is  at  hand  ! 

[Takes  off  his  hat. 
Your  name,  pray,  me  in  Herr  ?  ^ 

Peer. 

I  was  christened  Peer  Gynt. 

^  So  in  original. 


sc.  xii.]  peer  oynt.  177 

Begriffenfeldt. 
[In  rapt  admiration."] 
Peer  Gynt !  Allegoric !  I  might  have  foreseen  it. — 
Peer  Gynt  ?    That  must  clearly  imply  ;  The  Un- 
known,— 
The  Comer  whose  coming  was  augured  to  me 

Peer. 
What,  really  ?  And  now  you  are  here  to  meet » 

Begriffenfeldt. 
Peer  Gynt !     Profound  !     Enigmatic  !     Incisive  ! 
Each  word,  as  it  were,  an  abysmal  lesson  1 
What  are  you  ? 

Peer. 
[Modestli/.] 
I've  always  endeavoured  to  be 
Myself.     For  the  rest,  here's  my  passport,  you  see, 

Begriffenfeldt. 
Again  that  mysteripus  word  at  the  bottom. 

[Seizes  him  by  ike  wrist. 
To  Cairo !    The  Interpreters*  Kaiser  is  found  1 

Peer. 
Kaiser  ? 

Begrifffjjfeldt. 

Come  on ! 

Peer. 

Am  I  really  known } 

Begriffenfeldt. 
[Dragging  him  away.] 
Tlie  Interpreters'  Kaiser — on  the  basis  of  Self  I 
IV  l^ 


178  PEER    GYNT.  [acT  IV. 


SCENE    THIRTEENTH. 

In  Cairo.  A  large  courtyard,  surrounded  hy  high 
walls  and  buildings.  Barred  windows;  iron 
cages. 

Three  Keepers  in  the  courtyard,  A  Fourth 
comes  in. 

The  Newcomer. 
Schafmann,  say,  where's  the  director  gone  ? 

A  Keeper 
He  drove  out  this  morning  some  time  before 
dawn. 

The  First. 
I  think  something  must  have  occurred  to  annoy 
him  ; 

For  last  night 

Another. 
Hush,  be  quiet ;  he's  there  at  the  door ' 
[Begriffenfeldt    leads    Peer  Gynt  in, 
locks  the  gate,  and  puts  tJie  key  in  his 
pocket. 

Peer. 
[To  himself.] 
Indeed  an  exceedingly  gifted  man ; 
Almost  all  that  he  says  is  beyond  comprehension. 

[Looks  arotind. 
So  this  is  the  Club  of  the  Savants,  en  ? 

Begriffenfeldt 
Here  you    will   find    them,  every  man  jack   of 
them ; — 


8C.    XIII.]  PEER    OYNT.  179 

Tile  group  of  Interpreters  threescore  and  ten ;  ^ 
Of  late  it  has  grown  by  a  hundred  and  sixty- 


[Shouls  to  the  Keepers. 
Mikkel,  Schlingelberg,  Schafmann,  Fuchs, — 
Into  the  cages  with  you  at  once  ! 

The  Keepers. 
We! 

Begriffenfeldt. 
Who  else,  pray  >     Get  in,  get  in  ! 
Wlien  the  world  twirls  around,  we  must  twirl  with 
it  too.  [Forces  them  into  a  cage. 

He's  arrived  this  morning,  the  mighty  Peer ; — 
The  rest  you  can  guess, — I  need  say  no  more. 

[Locks  the  cage  door,  and  throws  the  key 
into  a  well. 

Peer. 
But,  my  dear  Herr  Doctor  and  Director,  pray ? 


Begriffenfeldt. 

Neither  one  nor  the  other  !     I  was  before 

Herr  Peer,  are  you  secret.'*     I   must  ease   m;- 

heart 

Peer. 
[With  increasing  uneasiness."] 
What  is  it  ? 

Begriffenfeldt. 
Promise  you  will  not  tremble. 

Peer. 
I  will  do  my  best,  but 

»  This  is  understood  to  refer  to  the  authors  of  the  Grcfik 
version  of  the  Old  Testament,  known  as  the  Septuagint.  We 
are  luiable  to  account  for  the  hundred  and  sixt^  recruits  to  tbeir 
companj.  . 


180  PEER    OYNT.  [act   IY. 

Begriffknfeldt. 
[Draws  him  into  a  comer,  and  mhispers.'] 

The  Absolute  Reason 
Departed  tliis  life  at  eleven  last  night. 

Peer. 
God  help  me—  I 

Begriffenfeldt. 
Why,  yes,  it's  extremely  deplorable. 
And  as   I'm  placed,  you  see,  it  is  doubly  un- 
pleasant ; 
For  this  institution  has  passed  up  to  now 
For  what's  called  a  madhouse. 

Peer. 

A  madhouse,  ha  I 

Begriffenfeldt. 
Not  now,  understand  ! 

Peer. 

[Softly,  pale  with  fear. "] 

Now  I  see  what  the  place  is  ! 

And  the  man  is  mad; — and  there's  none    that 

knows  it  1  [Tries  to  steal  away. 

Begriffenfeldt. 
[Following  him.'] 
However,  I  hope  you  don't  misunderstand  me  ? 
When  I  said  he  was  dead,  I  was  talking  stuff. 
He's  beside  himself.     Started  clean  out   of   his 

skin,— 
Just  like  my  compatriot  Munchausen's  fox. 

Peer. 
Excuse  me  a  moment 


ec.    XIII.]  PEER    GYNT.  181 

Begriffenfeld  T. 
[Holding  him  back.^ 

1  meant  like  an  eel ; — 
It  was  not  like  a  fox.  A  needle  through  his  eye  ;— 
And  he  writhed  on  the  wall 

Peer. 
Where  can  rescue  be  found  f 

Begriffenfeldt. 
A  snick  round  his  neck,  and  whip !  out  of  his  skin 

Peer 
He's  raving  !    He's  utterly  out  of  his  wits  1 

Begriffenfeldt. 
Now  it's  patent,  and  can't  be  dissimulated. 
That  this  from-himself-going  must  have  for  result 
A  complete  revolution  by  sea  and  land. 
The  persons  one  hitherto  reckoned  as  mad. 
You  see,  became  normal  last  night  at  eleven. 
Accordant  with  Reason  in  its  newest  phase. 
And  more,  if  the  matter  be  rightly  regarded. 
It's  patent  that,  at  the  aforementioned  hour. 
The  sane  folks,  so  called,  began  forthwith  to  rave. 

Peer. 
You  mentioned  the  hour,  sir ;    my  time  is  but 

scant 

Begriffenfeldt. 
Your  time,  did  you  say?     There   you  jog  my 
remembrance  ! 

[Opens  a  door  and  calls  out. 
Come  forth  all !     The  time  that  shall  be  is  pro- 
claimed ! 
Reason  is  dead  and  gone  ;  long  live  Peer  Gynt ! 


182  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV. 


Peer. 

Now,  my  dear  good  fellow ! 

\^rhe  Lunatics  come  one  by  one,  and  at 
intervals,  into  the  court^^urd. 

Begrifb'enfeldt. 

Good  morning !    Come  forth. 
And  hail  the  dawn  of  emancipation ! 
Your  Kaiser  has  come  to  you  ! 

Peer. 

Kaiser  } 

Begri  ffenfeldt. 

Of  course  ! 
Peer. 
But  the  honour's  so  great,  so  entirely  excessive 

Begriffenfeldt. 
Oh,  do  not  let  any  false  modesty  sway  you 
At  an  hour  such  as  this. 

Peer. 

But  at  least  give  me  time ~ 

No,  indeed,  I'm  not  fit ;  I'm  completely  dumb- 
founded ! 

Begriffenfeldt. 
A  man  who  has  fathomed  the  Sphinx's  meaning 
A  man  who's  himself ! 

Peer. 
Ay,  but  that's  just  the  rub. 
It's  true  that  in  everything  I  am  myself; 
But  here  the  point  is,  if  I  follow  your  meaning, 
To  be,  so  to  phrase  it,  outside  oneself. 


8C.    XnxJ  PEER    GYNT.  183 


Begriffenfeldt. 
Outside  ?     No,  there  you  are  strangely  mistaken ! 
It's  here,  sir,  that  one  is  oneself  with  a  vengeance; 
Oneself,  and  nothing  whatever  besides. 
We  go,  full  sail,  as  our  very  selves. 
Each  one  shuts  himself  up  in  the  barrel  of  self. 
In  the  self-fermentation  he  dives  to  the  bottom,— 
With  the  self-bung  he  seals  it  hermetically. 
And  seasons  the  staves  in  the  well  of  self. 
No  one  has  tears  for  the  other's  woes ; 
No  one  has  mind  for  the  other's  ideas. 
We're  our  very  selves,  both  in  thought  and  tone. 
Ourselves  to  the  spring-board's  uttermost  verge, — ■ 
And  so,  if  a  Kaiser's  to  fill  the  Throne, 
It  is  clear  that  you  are  the  very  man. 

Peer. 
O  would  that  the  devil ! 

Begriffenfeldt. 

Come,  don't  be  cast  down  ; 
Almost  all  things  in  nature  are  new  at  the  first. 
"Oneself" ; — come,  here  you  shall  see  an  example ; 
I'll    choose   you   at   random   the   first  man  that 

comes \To  a  gloomy  fgure. 

Good-day,    Huhu }      Well,   my    boy,    wandering 

round 
For  ever  with  misery's  impress  upon  you  ? 

HUHU.^ 

Can  I  help  it,  when  the  people. 
Race  2  by  race,  dies  untranslated.^ 

\To  Peer  Gynt. 
You're  a  stranger ;  will  you  listen  } 

'  See  Introduction.  »  Literally,  "  generation." 

»  Literally, "  uninterpreted,** 


184  PEER    GVNT.  [act   IV. 

Peer. 
[Bowing.] 
Oh,  by  all  means  ! 

HUHU. 

Lend  your  ear  then.— 
Eastward  far,  like  brow-borne  garlands. 
Lie  the  Malabarish  seaboards. 
Hollanders  and  Portugueses 
Compass  all  the  land  with  culture. 
There,  moreover,  swarms  are  dwelling 
Of  the  pure-bred  Malabaris. 
These  have  muddled  up  the  language, 
They  now  lord  it  in  the  country. — 
But  in  long-departed  ages 
There  the  orang-outang  was  the  ruler. 
He,  the  forest's  lord  and  master. 
Freely  fought  and  snarled  in  freedom. 
As  the  hand  of  nature  shaped  him, 
Just  so  grinned  he,  just  so  gaped  he. 
He  could  shriek  unreprehended ; 
He  was  ruler  in  his  kingdom. — 
Ah,  but  then  the  foreign  yoke  came. 
Marred  the  forest-tongue  primeval. 
Twice  two  hundred  years  of  darkness  ^ 
Brooded  o'er  the  race  of  monkeys  ; 
And,  you  know,  nights  so  protracted 
Bring  a  people  to  a  standstill. — 
Mute  are  now  the  wood-notes  primal ; 
Grunts  and  growls  are  heard  no  longer ; — 
If  we'd  utter  our  ideas. 
It  must  be  by  means  of  language. 
What  constraint  on  all  and  sundry  ! 
Hollanders  and  Portugueses, 

*  An  allusion  to  the  long  period  of  stagnation  in  the  history  of 
Norway  under  the  Danish  rule — say,  from  140c  to  1800. 


1^0 


SC.    XIII.]  PEER    GYNT.        i  185 

Half-caste  race  and  Malabaris, 
All  alike  must  suffer  by  it. — 
I  have  tried  to  fight  the  battle 
Of  our  real,  primal  wood-speech, — 
Tried  to  bring  to  life  its  carcass,- — 
Proved  the  people's  right  of  shrieking, — 
Shrieked  myself,  and  shown  the  need  ot 
Shrieks  in  poems  for  the  people. — 
Scantly,  though,  ray  work  is  valued. — 
Now  1  think  you  grasp  my  sorrow. 
Thanks  for  lending  me  a  hearing;— 
Have  you  counsel,  let  me  hear  it ! 

Peer. 
[Softly.] 
It  is  written  :  Best  be  howling 
With  the  wolves  that  are  about  you.  [Aloud. 

Friend,  if  I  remember  rightly, 
There  are  bushes  in  Morocco, 
Where  orang-outangs  in  plenty 
Live  with  neither  bard  nor  spokesman  ;— 
Their  speech  sounded  Malabarish  ; — 
It  was  classical  and  pleasing. 
Why  don't  you,  like  other  worthies. 
Emigrate  to  serve  your  country  ? 

HUHU. 

Thanks  for  lending  me  a  hearing ; — 
I  will  do  as  you  advise  me. 

[With  a  large  gesture. 
East !  thou  hast  disowned  thy  singer  ! 
West !  thou  hast  orang-outangs  still  !  [Goes. 

Begriffenfeldt. 
Well,  was  he  himself.'*    I  should  rather  think  so. 
He's  filled  with  his  own  affairs,  simply  and  solely. 


186  I'fcKK     GVN'T.  [act   IV. 

He's  himself  in  all  that  comes  out  of  him, — 
Himself,  just  because  he's  beside  himself. 
Come  here  !     Now  I'll  show  you  another  one 
Who's  no  less,  since  last  evening,  accordant  with 
Reason. 

[To  a  Fellah,  with  a  mummy  on  his  hai.^ 
King  Api;i,  how  goes  it,  my  mighty  lord  ? 

The  Fellah. 
[  Wildly,  to  Peer  Gynt.] 
Am  I  King  Apis  .'* 

Peer. 
[Getting  behind  the  Doctor.] 
I'm  sorry  to  say 
I'm  not  quite  at  home  in  the  situation ; 
But  I  certainly  gather,  to  ludge  by  your  tone 

The  Fellah. 
Now  you  too  are  lying. 

Begriffenfeldt. 

Your  Highness  should  state 
How  the  whole  matter  stands. 

The  Fellah. 

Yes,  I'll  tell  him  my  tale. 
[Turns  to  Peer  Gynt. 
Do  you  see  whom  I  bear  on  my  shoulders .'' 
His  name  was  King  Apis  of  old. 
Now  he  goes  by  the  title  of  mummy. 
And  withal  he's  completely  dead. 

All  the  pyramids  yonder  he  builded. 
And  hewed  out  the  mighty  Sphinx, 
And  fought,  as  the  Doctor  puts  it. 
With  the  Turks,  both  to  rechts  and  links. 


1 


8C.    XIII.}  PEER    GYNT.  187 

And  therefore  the  whole  of  Egypt 
Exalted  him  as  a  god, 
And  set  up  his  image  in  temples. 
In  the  outward  shape  of  a  bull. — 

But  /am  this  very  King  Apis, 
I  see  that  as  clear  as  day ; 
And  if  you  don't  understand  it. 
You  shall  understand  it  soon. 

King  Apis,  you  see,  was  out  huntmg. 
And  got  off  his  horse  awhile. 
And  withdrew  himself  unattended 
To  a  part  of  my  ancestor's  land. 

But  tlie  field  that  King  Apis  manured 
Has  nourished  me  with  its  corn  ; 
And  if  further  proofs  are  demanded, 
Know,  I  have  invisible  horns. 

Now,  isn't  it  most  accursed 
That  no  one  will  own  my  might ! 
By  birth  I  am  Apis  of  Egypt, 
But  a  fellah  in  other  men's  sight. 

Can  you  tell  me  what  course  to  follow  .^— 
Then  counsel  me  honestly. — 
The  problem  is  how  to  make  me 
Resemble  King  Apis  the  Great. 

Peer. 
Build  pyramids  then,  your  highness. 
And  carve  out  a  greater  Sphinx, 
And  fight,  as  the  Doctor  puts  it. 
With  the  Turks,  both  to  rechts  and  link-^. 

The  Fellah. 
Ay,  that  is  all  mighty  fine  talking ! 
A  fellah  !     A  hungry  louse  ! 
I,  who  scarcely  can  keep  my  hovel 
Clear  even  of  rats  and  mice. 


188  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT  IV. 

Quick,  man, — think  of  something  better. 
That'll  make  me  both  great  and  safe. 
And  further,  exactly  like  to 
King  Apis  that's  on  my  back ! 

Peer. 
What  if  your  highness  hanged  you. 
And  then,  in  the  lap  of  earth, 
'Twixt  the  coffin's  natural  frontiers, 
Kept  still  and  completely  dead. 

The  Fellah. 
I'll  do  it !     My  life  for  a  halter ! 
To  the  gallows  with  hide  and  hair ! — 
At  first  there  will  be  some  difference. 
But  that  time  will  smooth  away. 

[Goes  off  and  prepares  to  hang  himself. 

Begriffenfeldt. 
There's  a  personality  for  you,  Herr  Peer, — 
A  man  of  method 

Peer. 

Yes,  yes  ;  I  see ; 

But  he'll  really  hang   himself!      God   grant   us 

grace  ! 
I'll  be  ill; — I  can  scarcely  command  my  thoughts  ! 

Begriffenfeldt. 
A  state  of  transition  ;  it  won't  last  long. 

Peer. 
Transition .''     To  what }     With  your  leave — I  must 

go 

Begriffenfeldt, 
[Holding  kim.'\. 
Are  you  crazy  ? 


b 

^V  5C.    XIII.]  PEER    GYNT.  189 

^^m  Peer. 

^^R  Not  yet Crazy  ?     Heaven  forbid ! 

^^B  [/4    commotion.     The   Minister   Hussein  ^ 

^^m  forces  his  way  through  the  crowd, 

^^F  Hussein. 

^H  They  tell  me  a  Kaiser  has  come  to-day. 

■  {To  Peer  Gynt. 

^H  It  is  you  } 

^^fe  Peer. 

^^B  [/ti  desperation.'] 

^H|  Yes,  that  is  a  settled  thing  1 

Hussein. 
Good.— Then  no  doubt  there  are  notes  to  be 
answered .'' 

Peer. 
[Tearing  his  hair.^ 
Come  on!     Right  you  are,  sir; — the  madder  the 
better ! 

Hussein. 
Will  you  do  me  the  honour  of  taking  a  dip  ? 

[Bowing  deeply. 
I  am  a  pen. 

Peer. 
[Bowing  still  deeper."] 
Why  then  I  am  quite  clearly 
A  rubbishy  piece  of  imperial  parchment. 

Hussein. 

My  story,  my  lord,  is  concisely  this : 

They  take  me  for  a  pounce-box,^  and  I  am  a  pen. 

'  See  note,  p.  140. 

•  The  pounce-box  (for  strewing  "pounce"  or  sand  on  iindried 
ink)  had  not  yet  been  quite  superseded  by  blotting-paper. 


190  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV 

Peer. 
My  story,  Sir  Pen,  is,  to  put  it  briefly  : 
I'm  a  blank  sheet  of  paper  that  no  one  will  write 
on. 

Hussein. 
No  man  understands  in  the  least  what  I'm  good 

for ; 
They  all  want  to  use  me  for  scattering  sand  with  ! 

Peer. 
I   was   in  a  woman's   keeping  a    silver-clasped 

book ; — 
It's  one  and  the  same  misprint  to  be  either  mad 
or  sane  ! 

Hussein. 
Just  fancy,  what  an  exhausting  life  . 
To  be  a  pen  and  never  taste  the  edge  of  a  knife  ! 

Peer. 

[With  a  high  leap.] 
Just  fancy,  for  a  reindeer  to  leap  from  on  high — 
To    fall   and    fall — and   never   feel   the    ground 
beneath  your  hoofs  I 

Hussein. 
A  knife  !  I  am  blunt ; — quick,  mend  me  and  slit 

me ! 
The  world  will  go  to  ruin  if  they  don't  mend  my 

point  for  me ! 

Peer. 
A  pity  for  the  world  which,  like  other  self-made 

thinjnrs, 
Was  reckoned  by  the  Lord  to  be  so  excellently 

good. 


SC.    XIII.]  PEER    GVNT.  IQl 

Begriffenfeldt. 
Flere's  a  knife ! 

Hussein. 
[Seizing  it.] 
Ah,  how  I  shall  lick  up  the  ink  now  ! 
Oh,  what  rapture  to  cut  oneself  !  [Cuts  his  throat. 

Begriffenfeldt. 
[Stepping  aside.] 

Pray  do  not  sputter 
Peer. 
[In  increasing  terror.] 
Hold  him! 

Hussein. 
Ay,  hold  me  !     That  is  the  word  ! 
Hold!     Hold  the  pen!     On  the  desk  with  the 

paper !  [Falls. 

I'm  outworn.    The  postscript — remember  it,  pray  : 
He  lived  and  he  died  as  a  fate-guided  pen   ^ 

Peer. 
[  Diszili/.] 

What  shall  I !  What  am  I. ?»  Tliou  mighty 

hold  fast ! 
I    am   all   that   thou  wilt, — I'm   a   Turk,  I'm  a 

sinner 

A  hill-troll ;  but  help; — there  was  somethinjt 

that  burst !  [Shrieks. 

I  cannot  just  hit  on  thy  name  at  the  moment ; — 
Oh,  come  to  my  aid, thou — all  madmen's  protector ! 

[Sinks  down  insensible, 

*  •*  En  pdholden  pen."    "  Underskrive  med  piholden  pen**— 
to  sign  by  touching  a  pen  which  is  guided  by  another. 


192  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   IV. 

Begriffenfeldt. 
\With  a  wreath  of  straw  in  his  hand,  gives  a  hound 

and  sits  astnde  of  him..'\ 
Ha  !     See  him  in  the  mire  enthroned ; — 

Beside  himself To  crown  him  now  ! 

[Presses  the  wreath  on  Peer  Gynt's  headf 
and  shouts  : 
Long  life,  long  life  to  Self-hood's  Kaiser  I 

SCHAFMANN. 

[In  the  cageJ\ 
Es  lebe  hoch  der  grosse  Peer  ' 


ACT  FIFTH. 

SCENE   FIRST. 

On  board  a  skip  on  the  North  Sea,  off  the  Norwegian 
coast.     Sunset.     Stormy  weather. 

Peer  Gynt,  a  vigorous  old  man,  with  grizzled  hair 
and  heardj  is  standing  aft  on  the  poop.  He  is 
dressed  half  sailor-fashion,  with  a  pea-jacket  and 
long  boots.  His  clothing  is  rather  the  worse  for 
wear  ;  he  himself  is  weather-beaten,  and  has  a 
somewhat  harder  expression.  The  Captain  is 
standing  beside  the  steersman  at  the  wheel.  The 
crew  are  forward. 

Peer  Gynt, 
[Leans  with  his  arms  on  the  bulwark,  and  gazes 
towards  the  land.^ 
Look  at  Hallingskarv^  in  his  winter  furs  ; — 
He's  ruffling  it,  old  one,  in  the  evening  glow. 
The  Jokel,^  his  brother,  stands  behind  him  askew; 
He's  got  his  green  ice-mantle  still  on  his  back. 
The  Folgefann,^  now,  she  is  mighty  fine, — 
Lying  there  like  a  maiden  in  spotless  white. 
Don't  you  be  madcaps,  old  boys  that  you  are  ! 
Stand  where  you  stand ;  you're  but  granite  knobs. 

The  Captain. 

[Shouts  forward.  ] 
Two  hands  to  the  wheel,  and  the  lantern  aloft  I 

»  Mountains  and  glaciers 


194  PEER    GYNT.  -  [aCT  ▼. 

Peer. 
It's  blowing  up  stiff 

The  Captain. 

for  a  gale  to-night. 

Peer. 
Can  one  see  the  Ronde  Hills  from  the  sea  ? 

The  Captain. 
No,  how  should  you  ?    They  lie  at  the  back  of 
the  snowfields. 

Peer. 
OrBlaho?! 

The  Captain. 
No  ;  but  from  up  in  the  rigging, 
YouVe  a    glimpse,   in  clear   weather,   of  Gald- 
hopiggen.i 

Peer. 
Where  does  Harteig^  lie  ? 

The  Captain. 
[Pointing.] 

About  over  there. 

Peer. 
I  thought  so. 

The  Captain. 
You  know  where  you  are,  it  appears. 

Peer. 
When  I  left  the  country,  I  sailed  by  here ; 
And  the  dregs,  says  the  proverb,  hang  in  to  the 
last.  [Spits,  and  gazes  at  the  coast. 

In  there,  where  the  screes  and  the  clefts  lie  blue,— 

1  Mountains  and  glaciers. 


8C.  L  PEER    OYNT.  195 


Where  the  valleys,  like  trenches,  gloom  narrow 

and  black, — 
And  underneath,  skirting  the  open  fiords, — 
It's  in  places  like  these  human  beings  abide. 

[Looks  at  the  Captain. 
They  build  far  apart  in  this  country. 

The  Captain. 

Ay; 
Few  are  the  dwellings  and  far  between. 

Peer. 
Shall  we  get  in  by  day-break  ? 

The  Captain. 

Thereabouts ; 
If  we  don't  have  too  dirty  a  night  altogether. 

Peer. 
It  grows  thick  in  the  west. 

The  Captain. 

It  does  so. 
Peer. 

Stop  a  bit ! 
You  might  put  me  in  mind  when  we  make  up 

accounts — 
I'm  inclined,  as  the  phrase  goes,  to  do  a  good  turn 
To  the  crew 

The  Captain. 
I  thank  you. 

Peer. 

It  won't  be  much 
I  have  dug  for  gold,  and  lost  what  I  found ;— 


196  pee'r  gy'NT.  [act  v. 

We  are  quite  at  loggerheads,  Fate  and  I. 

You  know  what  I've  got  in  safe  keeping  on  board — 

That's  all  I  have  left ; — the  rest's  gone  to  the  devil. 

The  Captain. 
It's  more  than  enough,  though,  to  make  you  of 

weight 
Among  people  at  home  here. 

Peer. 

I've  no  relations. 
There's  no  one  awaiting  the  rich  old  curmudgeon. — 
Well ;  that  saves  you,  at  least,  any  scenes  on  the 
pier ! 

The  Captain. 
Here  comes  the  storm. 

Peer. 
Well,  remember  then — 
If  any  of  your  crew  are  in  real  need, 
I  won't  look  too  closely  after  the  money 

The  Captain. 
That's  kind.     They  are  most  of  them  ill  enough 

off; 
They  have  all  got  their  wives  and  their  children 

at  home. 
With  their  wages  alone  they  can  scarce  make  ends 

meet ; 
But  if  they  come  home  with  some  cash  to  the 

good. 
It  will  be  a  return  not  forgot  in  a  hurry. 

Peer. 
What  do  you  say  ?    Have  they  wives  and  children  ? 
Are  they  married  ? 


sc. 


■] 


PEER    GYNT. 


197 


The  Captain. 
Married  ?     Ay,  every  man  of  them. 
But  the  one  that  is  worst  off  of  all  is  the  cook  ; 
Black  famine  is  ever  at  home  in  his  house. 

Peer. 
Married  ?      They've   folks   that   await   them    at 

home  ? 
Folks  to  be  glad  when  they  come  ?     Eh  ? 


The  Captain. 
In  poor  people's  fashion. 


Of  course. 


Peer. 
And  come  they  one  evening, 
What  then  ? 

The  Captain. 
Why,  I  daresay  the  goodwife  will  fetch 
Something  good  for  a  treat 

Peer. 

And  a  light  in  the  sconce  } 

The  Captain. 
Ay,  ay,  may  be  two  ;  and  a  dram  to  their  supper 

Peer. 
And  there  they  sit  snug !     There's  a  fire  on  the 

hearth  ! 
They've  their  children  about  them  !     The  room's 

full  of  chatter; 
Not  one  hears  another  right  out  to  an  end, 
For  the  joy  that  is  on  them 1 


198  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V. 

The  Captain. 

It's  likely  enough. 
So  it's  really  kind,  as  you  promised  just  now. 
To  help  eke  things  out. 

Peer. 
[Thumping  the  bulwark.^ 

I'll  be  damned  if  I  do . 
Do  you  think  I  am  mad  }     Would  you  have  me 

fork  ^ut 
For  the  sake  of  a  parcel  of  other  folks'  brats  ? 
I've  slaved  much  too  sorely  in  earning  my  cash 
There's  wobody  waiting  for  old  Peer  Gynt. 

The  Captain. 
W  l\\  well ;  as  you  please  then  ;  your  money's  your 

own. 

Peer. 
Right  I     Mine  it  is,  and  no  one  else's. 
We'll  reckon  as  soon  as  your  anchor  is  down ! 
Take  my  fare,  in  the  cabin,  from  Panama  here. 
Then  brandy  all  round  to  the  crew.      Nothing 

more. 
If  I  give  a  doit  more,  slap  my  jaw  for  me,  Captain. 

The  Captain. 
I  owe  you  a  quittance,  and  not  a  thrashing  ; — 
But  excuse  me,  the  wind's  blowing  up  to  a  gale, 
[i/e  goes  foifvard.      It  has  fallen  dark; 
lights  are   lit  in  the   cabin.       The  sea 
increases.     Fog  and  thick  clouds. 

Peer. 
To  have  a  whole  bevy  of  youngsters  at  home  ; — 
Still  to  dwell  in  their  minds  as  a  coming  delight  j — 


8C.    I.] 


PEER    OYNT. 


199 


To  have  others'  thoughts  follow  you  still  on  youi 

path  I— 
There's  never  a  soul  gives  a  thought  to  me. — 
Lights  in  the  sconces !     I'll  put  out  those  lights. 
I  will  hit  upon  something ! — I'll  make  them  all 

drunk ; — 
Not  one  of  the  devils  shall  go  sober  AsLore. 
They  shall  all  come  home  drunk  t^o  their  children 

and  wives ! 
They  shall  curse ;    bang  the  table  till  it  rings 

again,— 
They  shall  scare  those  that  wait  for  them  out  of 

their  wits .' 
The  good  wife  shall  scream  and  rush  forth  from 

the  house, — 
Clutch  her  children  along !     All  their  joy  gone  to 

ruin } 

\The  skip  gives  a  heavy  lurch  ;  he  staggers 
and  keeps  his  balance  with  difficulty. 
Why,  that  was  a  buffet  and  no  mistake. 
The  sea's  hard  at  labour,  as  though  it  were  paid 

for  it ; — 
It's  still  itself  here  on  the  coasts  of  the  north  ; — 
A  cross-sea,  as  wry  and  wrong-headed  as  ever- 


Why,  what  can  those  scretms  be  ? 


[Listens, 


The  Look-out. 
[Forward.'] 


A  wreck  a-lee 


The  Captain. 

[On  the  main  deck,  shouts.] 

Starboard  your   helm !      Bring   her   up  to    the 

wind! 


200  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V. 


The  Mate, 
Are  there  men  on  the  wreck  ? 

The  Look-out. 

I  can  just  see  three  ? 
Peer. 
Quick  ;  lowei  the  stern  boat 

The  Captain. 

She'd  fill  ere  she  floated. 
[Goes  forward. 

Peer. 
Who  can  think  of  that  now  } 

[To  some  of  the  crew. 
If  you're  men,  to  the  rescue  ! 
What  the  devil,  if  you  should  get  a  bit  of  a  duck- 
ing. 

The  Boatswain. 

It's  out  of  the  question  in  such  a  sea. 

Peer. 
They  are  screaming  again !     There's  a  lull  in  the 

wind. — 
Cook,  will  you  risk  it  }     Quick !     I  will  pay 

The  Cook. 

No,  not  if  you   offered  me  twenty  pounds-ster- 
ling i 

Peer. 
You  hounds!      You  chicken-hearts!      Can   you 

forget 
These  are  men  that  have  goodwives  and  children 
at  home  ? 

There  they're  sitting  and  waiting 

^  So  in  original. 


6C. 


'•] 


PEEK    GYNT. 


201 


The  Boatswain. 

Well,  patience  is  wholesome. 

The  Captain. 
;ar  away  from  that  sea ! 

The  Mate. 

There  the  wreck  capsized  ' 

Peer. 
All  is  silent  of  a  sudden ' 

The  Boatswain. 

Were  they  married,  as  you  think. 
There  are  three  new-baked  widows  even  now  in 
the  world. 

[The  storm  increases.     Peer  Gynt  moves 
away  aft. 

Peer. 
There  is  no  faith  left  among  men  any  more, — 
No  Christianity, — well  may  they  say  it  and  wiite 

it;— 
Their  good  deeds  are  few  and  their  prayers  are 

still  fewer, 
And  they  pay  no  respect  to  the  Powers  above 

them. — 
In  a  storm  like  to-night's,  he's  a  terror,  the  Lord  is. 
These  beasts  should  be  careful,  and  think,  what's 

the  truth, 
That  it's  dangerous  playing  with  elephants  ; — 
And  yet  they  must  openly  brave  his  displeasure  ! 
/  am  no  whit  to  blame  ;  for  the  sacrifice 
I  can  prove  I  stood  ready,  my  money  in  hand. 
But    how   does  it  profit  me? — What    says  the 

proverb  ? 
A  conscience  at  ease  is  a  pillow  of  doxvn. 


202  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V. 

Oh  ay,  that  is  all  very  well  oii  dry  land. 

But  I'm  blest  if  it  matters  a  snufT  on  board  ship. 

When  a  decent  man's  out  on  the  seas  with  such 

riff-raff. 
At  sea  one*  can  never  be  one's  self ; 
One  must  go  with  the  others  from  deck  to  keel ; 
If  for  boatswain  and  cook  the  hour  of  vengeance 

should  strike, 
I  shall  no  doubt  be  swept  to  the  deuce  with  the 

rest ; — 
One's  personal  welfare  is  clean  set  aside ; — 
One   counts   but   as  a  sausage   in   slaughtering- 
time. — 
My  mistake  is  this  :  I  have  been  too  meek ; 
And  I've  had  no  thanks  for  it  after  all. 
Were  I  younger,  I  think  I  would  shift  the  saddle, 
A-nd  try  how  it  answered  to  lord  it  awhile. 
There  is  time  enough  yet !       They  shall  know 

in  the  parish 
That  Peer  has  come  sailing  aloft  o'er  the  seas ! 
I'll  get  back  the  farmstead  by  fair  means  or 

foul ; — 
I  will  build  it  anew ;  it  shall  shine  like  a  palace. 
But  none  shall  be  suffered  to  enter  the  hall ! 
They  shall  stand  at  the  gateway,  all  twirling  their 

caps ; — 
They  shall  beg  and  beseech — that  they  freely 

may  do ; 
But  none  gets  so  much  as  a  farthing  of  mine. 
If  I '  ve  had  to  howl  'neath  the  lashes  of  fate. 
Trust  me  to  find  folks  I  can  lash  in  my  turn 

The  Strange  Passenger. 
[Stands  in  the  darkness  at  Peer  Gynt's  side,  and 

salutes  him  in  friendly  fashion.'^ 
Good  evening ! 


l.c.  ..] 


PEER    GYNT. 


£03 


Peer, 
Good  evening  !  What ?  Who  are  you'' 

The  Passenger. 
Your  fellow- passenger,  at  your  service. 

Peer. 
Indeed  }     I  thought  I  was  the  only  one. 

The  Passenger. 
A  mistaken  impression,  which  now  is  set  right. 

Peer. 
But  it's  singular  that,  for  the  first  time  to-ni"-ht, 
I  should  see  you 

The  Passenger. 
I  never  come  out  in  the  day-time. 

Peer. 
Perhaps    you    are    ill }    You're    as   white    as  a 

sheet 

The  Passenger. 
No,  thank  you — my  health  is  unconmionly  good. 

Peer. 
What  a  raging  storm ! 

The  Passenger. 

Ay,  a  blessed  one,  man ! 

Peer. 
A  blessed  one  ? 

The  Passenger. 

Sea's  running  high  as  houses 
Ah,  one  can  feel  one's  mouth  watering  J 


204  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V 

Just  think  of  the  wrecks  that  to-night  will  be 

shattered ; — 
And  think,  too,  what  corpses  will  drive  ashore ! 

Peer. 
Lord  save  us  ' 

The  Passenger. 

Have  ever  you  seen  a  man  strangled, 
Or  hanged, — or  drowned  ? 

Peer. 
This  is  going  too  far 1 

The  Passenger. 

The    corpses    all  laugh.     But  their    laughter  is 

forced  ; 
And  the  most  part  are  found  to  have  bitten  their 

tongues. 

Peer. 
Hold  off  from  me ! 

The  Passengert. 

Only  one  question,  pray  I 
If  we,  for  example,  should  strike  on  a  rock, 
And  sink  in  the  darkness 

Peer. 
You  think  there  is  danger  } 

The  Passenger. 
I  really  don't  know  what  1  ought  to  say. 
But    suppose,  now,    I    float   and  you   go  to  the 

bottom 

Peer. 
Oh,  rubbish — r- 


.c.  ..] 


PEER    GYNT. 


205 


The  Passenger. 

It's  just  a  hypothesis. 
But  when  one  is  placed  with  one  foot  in  the  grave. 
One  grows  soft  hearted  and  open-handed 

Peer. 

[Puts  his  hand  in  his  pocket.^ 

Ho,  money  ? 

The  Passenger 

No,  no  ;  but  perhaps  you  would  kindly 
Make    me    a    gift     of    your     much  -  esteemed 

carcass ? 

Peer. 
This  is  too  much  ! 

The  Passenger. 
No  more  than  your  body,  you  know  ! 
To  help  my  researches  in  science 

Peer. 

Begone ! 
The  Passenger. 
But  think,  my  dear  sir — the  advantage  is  yours  ! 
I'll  liave  you  laid  open  and  brought  to  the  light. 
What  I  specially  seek  is  the  centre  of  dreams, — 
And    with    critical    care    I'll    look    into      your 

seams 

Peer. 
Away  with  you ! 

The  Passenger. 
Why,  my  dear  sir — a  drowned  corpse 1 

Peer. 
Blasphemer !  You're  goading  the  rage  of  the  storm ! 
I  call  it  too  bad !      Here  it's  raining  and  blowing, 


206  PEER    OYNT.  [act   V. 

A  terrible  sea  on,  and  all  sorts  of  signs 

Of  something  that's  likely  to  shorten  our  days;— 

And  you  carry  on  so  as  to  make  it  come  quicker 

The  Passenger. 
You're  in  no  mood,  I  see,  to  negotiate  further ; 
But    time,   you   know,   brings   with    it   many   a 

change [^Nods  in  a  friendly  fashion. 

We'll  meet  when  you're  sinking,  if  not  before ; 
Perhaps  I  may  then  find  you  more  in  the  humour. 

[Goes  into  the  cabin. 
Peer. 
Unpleasant  companions  these  scientists  are  ! 

With  their  freethinking  ways 

[To  the  Boatswain,  who  is  'passing. 
Hark,  a  word  with  you,  friend  ! 
That  passenger  ?     What  crazy  creature  is  he  .'* 

The  Boatswain. 
I  know  of  no  passenger  here  but  yourself. 

Peer. 
No  others  ?     This  thing's  getting  worse  and  worse. 
[To  the  Ship's  Boy,  who  comes  out  of  the 
cabin. 
Who  went  down  the  companion  just  now  .'* 

The  Boy. 

The  ship's  dog,  sir ! 
[Passes  on. 
The  Look-out. 
[Shouts.^ 
Land  close  ahead  ! 

Peer. 
Where's  my  box  }     Where's  my  trunk  } 
All  the  baggage  on  deck ! 


9C.  ILJ 


PEER    GYNT. 


207 


The  Boatswain. 

We  have  more  to  attend  to  ! 

Peer. 
It  was  nonsense,  captain  !     'Twas  only  my  joke  ; — 
As  sure  as  I'm  here  I  will  help  the  cook    ■-  ■ 

The  Captain. 
The  jib's  blown  away  ! 

The  Mate. 
And  there  went  the  foresail  1 

The  Boatswain. 

[Shrieks  from  forward J\ 
Breakers  under  the  bow  ! 

The  Captain. 

She  will  go  to  shivers  ! 
\Theship  strikes.     Noise  and  confusion. 


SCENE  SECOND. 

Close  under  the  land,  among  sunken  rocks  and  surf. 
The  ship  sinks.  The  jolly -boat,  rvith  two  men  in 
her,  is  seen  for  a  moment  through  the  scud.  A  sea 
strikes  her;  shefilh  and  upsets.  A  shriek  is  heard; 
then  all  is  silent  for  a  while.  Shortly  afterwards 
the  boat  appears  floating  bottom  upwards. 

Peer  Gynt  comes  to  the  surface  near  the  boat. 

Peer. 
Help  !  Help  !     A  boat !  Help  !  I'll  be  drowned  ! 
Save  me,  oh  Lord — as  saith  the  text ! 

[Clutches  hold  of  the  boaCs  keel. 


208  PEER    GYNT  [aCT   V. 

The  Cook. 
[Comes  up  on  the  other  side!] 
Oh,  Lord  God — for  my  children's  sake. 
Have  mercy !     Let  me  reach  the  land ! 

[Seizes  hold  of  the  keel 

Peer. 
Let  go ! 

The  Cook. 
Let  go ! 

Peer. 
I'll  strike ! 

The  Cook. 

So'll  1 1 

Peer, 
I'll  crush  you  down  with  kicks  and  blows  I 
Let  go  your  hold !     She  won't  float  two  ! 

The  Cook. 
I  know  it!     Yield! 

Peer. 
Yield  you ! 

The  Cook. 

Oh  yes! 
[They  Jight ;  one  of  the  Cook's  hands  is 
disabled  ;  he  clings  on  with  the  other. 

Peer. 
Off  with  that  hand  ! 

The  Cook. 

Oh,  kind  sir — spare  I 
Think  of  my  little  ones  at  home 


SC.    II.]  PEER    QYNT.  20d 

Peer. 
I  need  my  life  far  more  than  you, 
For  I  am  lone  and  childless  still. 

The  Cook. 
Let  go !     You've  lived,  and  I  am  young  I 

Peer. 
Quick  j  haste  you  ;  sink  ; — you  drag  us  down. 

The  Cook. 
Have  mercy !     Yield  in  heaven's  name  ! 
There's  none  to  miss  and  mourn  for  you — 

[His  hands  slips  ;  he  screams  • 
I'm  drowning ! 

Peer. 
\Seizing  him.] 
By  this  wisp  of  hair 
I'll  hold  you  ;  say  your  Lord's  Prayer,  quick  I 

The  Cook. 
I  can't  remember ;  all  turns  black 

Peer. 
Come,  the  essentials  in  a  word ! 

The  Cook. 
Give  us  this  day ! 

Peer. 
Skip  that  part,  Cock; 
You'll  get  all  you  need,  safe  enough. 

The  Cook. 

Give  us  this  day 

IV  o 


210  PEER    OYNT.  [act  V. 

Peer- 
The  same  old  song ! 

Tis  plain  you  were  a  cook  in  life 

[The  Cook  sUpsfrom  Jus  grasp. 

The  Cook. 

[Sinking.^ 

Give  us  this  day  our [Disappears. 

Peer. 

Amen,  lad ! 
To  the  last  gasp  you  were  yourself. — 

[Draws  himself  up  on  to  the  bottom  of  the 
boat. 
So  long  as  there  is  life  there's  hope 

The  Strange  Passenger. 
[Catches  hold  of  the  boat,! 
Good  morning ! 

Peer 
Hoy! 
The  Passenger. 

I  heard  you  shout. — 
It's  pleasant  finding  you  again. 
Well }    So  my  prophecy  came  true  ! 

Peer. 
Let  go  I     Let  go  !     'Twill  scarce  float  one  ! 

The  Passenger. 
I'm  striking  out  with  my  left  leg. 
I'll  float,  if  only  with  their  tips 
My  fingei*s  rest  upon  this  ledge. 
But  apropos :  your  body 

Peer. 

Hush ! 


8C.    II.]  P«ER   OYNT.  211 

The  Passenger. 
The  rest,  of  course,  is  done  for,  clean 

Peer. 
No  more  ! 

The  Passenger. 

Exactly  as  you  please.  [Silence. 

Peer. 
Well } 

The  Passenger. 
I  am  silent. 

Peer. 

Satan's  tricks ! — 
What  now  ? 

The  Passenger. 
I'm  waiting. 

Peer. 
[Tearing  1m  hair.'\ 

111  go  mad  I — 
What  are  you  ? 

The  Passenger. 

[Nods.] 
Friendly. 

Peer. 

What  else  !     Speak  I 

The  Passenger. 
What  think  you  }     Do  you  know  none  other 
That's  like  me  ? 

Peer. 

Do  I  know  the  devil ? 


212  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT  V. 

The  Passenger. 

[In  a  low  voice.'] 
Is  it  his  way  to  light  a  lantern 
For  life's  night-pilgrimage  through  fear  ? 

Peer. 
Ah,  come  !   When  once  the  thing's  cleared  up, 
You'd  seem  a  messenger  of  light  ? 

The  Passenger. 
Friend, — have  you  once  in  each  half-year 
Felt  all  the  earnestness  of  dread  ?  ^ 

Peer. 
Why,  one's  afraid  when  danger  threatens  ; — 
But  all  your  words  have  double  meanings.^ 

The  Passenger. 
Ay,  have  you  gained  but  once  in  life 
The  victory  that  is  given  in  dread  ? 

Peer. 
\Looks  at  him.] 
Came  you  to  ope  for  me  a  door, 
*Twas  stupid  not  to  come  before. 
What  sort  of  sense  is  there  in  choosing 
Your  time  when  seas  jjape  to  devour  one  .'' 

The  Passenger. 
Were,  then,  the  victory  more  likely 
Beside  your  hearthstone,  snug  and  quiet  ? 

Peer. 

Perhaps  not ;  but  your  talk  was  quizzical. 

How  could  you  fancy  it  awakening  .'* 

*  "Angst" — literally,  "dread"  or  " terror  "—probably  means 
here  something  like  "conviction  of  sin."  The  influence  of  the 
Danish  theologian,  SOren  Kierkeglu"d,  may  be  traced  in  this 
passage.  •  Literally,  "  Are  set  on  screws." 


8C.    111.] 


PEER    GYNT. 


213 


The  Passenger. 
Where  I  come  from,  there  smiles  are  prized 
As  highly  as  pathetic  style. 

Peer. 
All  has  its  time ;  what  fits  the  taxman,^ 
So  says  the  text,  would  damn  the  bishop. 

The  Passenger. 
The  host  whose  dust  inurned  has  slumbered 
Treatls  not  on  week-days  the  cothurnus. 

Peer. 
Avaunt  thee,  bugbear  !     Man,  begone  ! 
I  will  not  die  !     I  must  ashore  ! 

The  Passenger. 
Oh,  as  for  that,  be  reassured  ; — 
One  dies  not  midmost  of  Act  Five.     [Glides  away. 

Peer. 
Ah,  there  he  let  it  out  at  last ; — 
He  was  a  sorry  moralist. 


SCENE  THIRD. 

Churchyard  in  a  high  lying  mountain  paiish. 

/I  funeral  is  going  on.  By  the  grave,  the  Priest  and  a 
gathering  oj  people.  The  last  verse  of  the  psalm 
is  being  sung.    Peer  Gyht  passes  by  on  the  road. 

Peer. 
[At  the  gate.\ 
Here's  a  countryman  going  the  way  of  all  flesh. 
God  be  thanked  that  it  isn't  me. 

[Enters  the  churchyard, 
*  "  Tolder,"  the  biblical  "  publican." 


214  PEER    GYNT.  [acT   V. 

The  Priest. 
[Speaking  beside  the  grave."] 

Now,  when  the  soul  has  gone  to  meet  its  doom. 
And  here  the  dust  lies,  like  an  empty  pod, — 
Now,  my  dear  friends,  we'll  speak  a  word  or  two 
About  this  dead  man's  pilgrimage  on  earth. 

He  was  not  wealthy,  neither  was  he  wise, 
His  voice  was  weak,  his  bearing  was  unmanly. 
He  spoke  his  mind  abashed  and  faltering^ 
He  scarce  was  master  at  his  own  fireside  ; 
He  sidled  into  church,  as  though  appealing 
For  leave,  like  other  men,  to  take  his  place. 

It  was  from  Gudbrandsdale,  you  know,  he  came. 
When  here  he  settled  he  was  but  a  lad ; — 
And  you  remember  how,  to  the  very  last. 
He  kept  his  right  hand  hidden  in  his  pocket. 

That  right  hand  in  the  pocket  was  the  feature 
That  chiefly  stamped  his  image  on  the  mind, — 
And  therewithal  his  writhing,  his  abashed 
Shrinking  from  notice  wheresoe'er  he  went. 

But,  though  he  still  pursued  a  path  aloof. 
And  ever  seemed  a  stranger  in  our  midst. 
You  all  know  what  he  strove  so  hard  to  hide, — 
The  hand  he  muffled  had  four  fingers  only. — 

I  well  remember,  many  years  ago. 
One  morning ;  there  were  sessions  held  at  Lunde. 
'Twas  war-time,  and  the  talk  in  every  mouth 
Turned  on  the  country's  sufferings  and  its  fate. 

I  stood  there  watching.     At  the  table  sat 
The  Captain,  'twixt  the  Bailiff"^  and  the  sergeants ; 
Lad  after  lad  was  measured  up  and  down. 
Passed,  and  enrolled,  and  taken  for  a  soldier. 
The  room  was  full,  and  from  the  green  outside, 
Where  thronged  the  young  folks,loud  the  laughter 
rang. 

»  See  footnote,  p.  95. 


8C.    III.] 


PEER    GYNT. 


215 


A  name  was  called,  and  forth  another  stepped. 
One  pale  as  snow  upon  the  glacier's  edge. 
They  bade  the  youth  advance ;   he  reached  the 

table ; 
We  saw  his  right  hand  swaddled  in  a  clout ; — 
He  gasped,  he  swallowed,  battling  after  words, — 
But,  though  the  Captain   urged  him,  found  no 

voice. 
Ah  yes,  at  last !     Then  with  his  cheek  aflame. 
His  tongue  now  failing  him,  now  stammering  fast 
He  mumbled  something  of  a  scythe  that  slipped 
By  chance,  and  shore  his  finger  to  the  skin. 
Straightway  a  silence  fell  upon  the  room. 
Men    bandied     meaning    glances ;     they    made 

mouths ; 
They  stoned  the  boy  with  looks  of  silent  scorn.' 
Me  felt  the  hail-storm,  but  he  saw  it  not. 
Then  up  the  Captain  stood,  the  grey  old  man  ; 
He  spat,  and  pointed  forth,  and  thundered  "  Go !  ** 
And  the    lad    went.     On  both  sides  men  fell 

back, 
Till    through    their   midst    he    had    to    run  the 

gauntlet. 
He  reached   the  door;    from    there  he    took  to 

flight;— 
Up,  up  he  went, — through  wood  and  over  hillside, 
Up  through  the  stone-screes,  rough,  precipitous. 
He  had    his   home   up  there  among  the  moun- 
tains.— 
It  was  some  six  months  later  he  came  here. 
With  mother,  and  betrothed,  and  little  child. 
He  leased  some  ground  upon  the  high  hill-side. 
There  where  the  waste  lands  trend  away  towards 

Lomb. 
He  married  the  first  moment  that  he  could ; 
He  built  a  house ;  he  broke  the  stubborn  soil  5 


216  PEER    GYNT,  [aCT   V. 

He  throve,  as  many  a  cultivated  patch 

Bore  witness,  bravely  clad  in  waving  gold. 

At  church  he  kept  his  right  hand  in  his  pocket, — 

But  sure  I  am  at  home  his  fingers  nine 

Toiled  every  whit  as  hard  as  others'  ten. — 

One  spring  the  torrent  washed  it  all  away. 

Their  lives  were  spared.     Ruined  and  stripped 
of  all. 
He  set  to  work  to  make  another  clearing ; 
And,  ere  the  autumn,  smoke  again  arose 
From   a    new,  better-sheltered,  mountain    farm- 
house. 
Sheltered  ?     From  torrent — not  from  avalanche ; 
Two  years,  and  all  beneath  the  snow  lay  buried. 
But   still    the  avalanche    could  not  daunt  his 
spn-it. 
He    dug,    and    raked,  and   carted — cleared   the 

ground — 
And  the  next  winter,  ere  the  snow-blasts  came, 
A  third  time  was  his  little  homestead  reared. 
Three  sons  he  had,  three  bright  and  stirring 
boys ; 
They  must  to  school,  and  school  was  far  away ; — 
And  they   must    clamber,  where    the    hill-track 

failed. 
By  narrow  ledges  past  the  headlong  scree. 
What  did  he  do  ?     The  eldest  had  to  manage 
As  best  he  might,  and,  where  the  path  was  worst, 
His  father  bound  a  rope  round  him  to  stay  him ; — 
The  others  on  his  back  and  arms  he  bore. 

Thus  he  toiled,  year  by  year,  till  they  were  men. 
Now  might  he  well  have  looked  for  some  return. 
In  the  New  World,  three  prosperous  gentlemen 
Their  school -going  and  their  father  have  forgotten. 
He  was  short-sighted.     Out  beyond  the  circle 
Of  tl«nse  most  near  to  him  he  nothing  saw. 


8C. 


•] 


PEER    GVNT. 


217 


To  him  seemed  meaningless  as  cymbals'  tinkling 
Those  words  that  to  the  heart  should  ring  like 

steel. 
His   race,  his   fatherland,    all    things   high   and 

shining. 
Stood  ever,  to  his  vision,  veiled  in  mist. 

But  he  was  humble,  humble,  was  this  man ; 
And  since  that  sessions-day  his  doom  oppressed 

him. 
As  surely  as  his  cheeks  were  flushed  with  shame. 
And  his  four  fingers  hidden  in  his  pocket. — 
Offender  'gainst  his  country's  laws  ?     Ay,  true  ! 
But  there  is  one  thing  that  the  law  outshineth 
Sure  as  the  snow-white  tent  of  Glittertind  ^ 
Has  clouds,  like  higher  rows  of  peaks,  above  it. 
No  patriot  was  he.     Both  for  church  and  state 
A  fruitless  tree.     But  there,  on  the  upland  ridge. 
In  the  small  circle  where  he  saw  his  calling. 
There  he  was  great,  because  he  was  himself. 
His  inborn  note  rang  true  unto  the  end. 
His  days  were  as  a  lute  with  muted  strings. 
And  therefore,  peace  be  with  thee,  silent  warrior. 
That  fought  the  peasant's  little  fight,  and  fell ! 

It  is  not  ours  to  search  the  heart  and  reins ; — 
That  is  no  task  for  dust,  but  for  its  ruler  ; — 
Yet  dare  I  freely,  firmly,  speak  my  hope  : 
He  scarce  stands  crippled  now  before  his  God ! 

[The   gathering    disperses.     Peer    Gynt 
remains  behind,  alone. 

Peer. 
Now  that  is  what  I  call  Christianity  ! 
Nothing  to  seize  on  one's  mind  unpleasantly. — 
And  the  topic — immovably  being  oneself, — 


'  A  mountain  ia  the  Jotunheim. 
peak." 


The  name  means  "glittering 


218  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V. 

That  the  pastor's  homily  turned  upon, — 
Is  full,  in  its  essence,  of  edification. 

[Looks  down  upmi  the  grave. 
Was  it  he,  I  wonder,  that  hacked  through    his 

knuckle 
That  day  I  was  out  hewing  logs  in  the  forest  ? 
Who  knows  ?    If  I  weren't  standing  here  with  my 

staff 
By  the  side  of  the  grave  of  this  kinsman  in  spirit, 
I  could  almost  believe  it  was  I  that  slept. 
And  heard  in  a  vision  my  panegyric. — 
It's  a  seemly  and  Christianlike  custom  indeed 
This  casting  a  so-called  memorial  glance 
In  charity  over  the  life  that  is  ended. 
I  shouldn't  at  all  mind  accepting  my  verdict 
At  the  hands  of  this  excellent  parish  priest. 
Ah  well,  I  dare  say  I  have  some  time  left 
Ere  the  gravedigger  comes  to  invite  me  to  stay 

with  him  ; — - 
And  as  Scripture  has  it :  What's*  best  is  best, — 
And  :  Enough  for  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof, —  ^ 
And  further  .-Discount  not  thy  funeral. — 
Ah,  the  Church,  after  all,  is  the  true  consoler. 
I've  hitherto  scarcely  appreciated  it ; — 
But  now  I  feel  clearly  how  blessed  it  is 
To  be  well  assured  upon  sound  authority : 
Even  as  thou  sowest  thou  shalt  one  day  reap. — 
One  must  be  oneself;  for  oneself  and  one's  own 
One  must  do  one's  best,  both  in  great  and  in  small 

things. 
If  the  luck  goes  against  you,  at  least  you've  the 

honour 
Of  a  life    carried   through   in   accordance    with 

principle, — 

*  "Den  tid  den  sorg "—literally,  " That  time  that  sorrow  "  or 
*'  care." 


8C.    IV.]  PEER    OYNT.  219 

Now  homewards !     Though  narrow  and  steep  the 

path. 
Though  fate  to  the  end  may  be  never  so  biting — 
Still  old  Peer  Gynt  will  pursue  his  own  way. 
And  remain  what  he  is  :  poor,  but  virtuous  ever. 

[Goes  out. 


SCENE   FOURTH. 

A  hill-side  seamed  by  the  dry  bed  of  a  torrent.  A 
ruined  mill- house  beside  the  stream.  The  ground 
IS  torn  up,  and  the  whole  place  waste.  Further 
up  the  hill,  a  large  J'artn-kouse. 

An  auction  is  going  on  in  front  of  the  farm-house. 
There  is  a  great  gathering  of  people,  who  are 
drinking,  with  much  noise.  Peer  Gynt  is  sit- 
ting on  a  iiibbish-heap  beside  the  mill. 

Peer. 
Forward  and  back,  and  it's  just  as  ftir ; 
Out  and  in,  and  it's  just  as  strait. — 
Time  wears  away  and  the  river  gnaws  on. 
Go  roundabout,  the  Boyg  said; — and  here  one  must. 

A  Man  Dressed  in  Mourning. 
Now  there  is  only  rubbish  left  over. 

[Caiches  sight  of  Peer  Gynt. 
Are  there  strangers  here  too  .^     God  be  with  you, 
good  friend ! 

Peer. 
Well  met  I     Yon  have  lively  times  here  to-day. 
Is't  a  christening  junket  or  wedding  feast  ? 

The  Man  in  Mourning. 
I'd  rather  call  it  a  house-warming  treat ; — 
The  bride  is  laid  in  a  wormy  bed. 


220  PEER    GYNT.  [acT   V. 

Peer. 
And  the  worms  are  squabbling  for  rags  and  clouts. 

The  Man  in  Mourning. 
That's  the  end  of  the  ditty ;  it's  over  and  done. 

Peer. 
All  the  ditties  end  just  alike  ; 
And  they're  all  old  together  ;  I  knew  'em  as  a  boy. 

A  Lad  of  Twenty. 
[With  a  casting-ladle.'] 
Just  look  what  a  rare  thing  I've  been  buying ! 
In  this  Peer  Gynt  cast  his  silver  buttons. 

Another. 
Look  at  mine,  though  !     The  money-bag  ^  bought 
for  a  halfpenny. 

A  Third. 
No  more,  eh  }    Twopence  for  the  pedlar's  pack 

Peer. 
Peer  Gynt .''     Who  was  he .'' 

The  Man  in  Mourning. 

All  I  know  is  this  : 
He  was  kinsman  to    Death   and    to   Aslak    the 
Smith. 

A  Man  in  Grey. 

You're   forgetting  me,  man  !     Are   you  mad  or 
drunk  ? 

The  Man  in  Mourning. 

You  forget  that  at  Hegstad  was  a  storehouse  door 

*  Literally  "the  bushel."    See  note,  p.  ii. 


SC.    IV.]  PEER    GYNT.  221 

The  Man  in  Grey. 
Ay,  true  ;  but  we  know  you  were  never  dainty. 

The  Man  in  Mourning. 
If  only  she  doesn't  give  Death  the  slip 

The  Man  in  Grey 
Come,  kinsman  !     A  dram,  for  our  kinship's  sake  ! 

The  Man  in  Mourning. 
To  the  deuce  with  your  kinship !   You're  maunder- 
ing in  drink 

The  Man  in  Grey. 
Oh,  rubbish  ;  blood's  never  so  thin  as  all  that ; 
One  cannot  but  feel  one's  akin  to  Peer  Gynt. 

[Goes  off  with  him. 
Peer. 
[To  himself i\ 
One  meets  with  acquaintances- 

A  Lad. 

[Calls  after  the  Man  in  Mourning.] 

Mother  that's  dead 
Will  be  after  you,  Aslak,  if  you  wet  your  whistle. 

Peer. 

[Rises. '\ 
The  husbandman'ssayingseemsscarce  to  hold  here: 
The  deeper  one  harrows  the  better  it  smells. 

A   Lad. 

[  With  a  bears  shtn.^ 

Look,  the  cat  of  the  Dovre  !  ^     Well,  only  his  fell. 

It  was  he  chased  the  trolls  out  on  Christmas  Ev«» 

See  Appendix. 


222  peer  gynt.  [act  v. 

Another. 
[With  a  reindeer  skull] 
Here  is  the  wonderful  reindeer  that  bore, 
At  Gendin,  Peer  Gynt  over  edge  and  scree. 

A  Third. 
[With  a  hammer,  calls  out  to  the  Man  in  Mourning.] 
Hei,  Aslak,  this  sledge-hammer,  say,  do  you  know 

it  ? 
Was  it  this  that  you  used  when  the  devil  clove 
the  wall  ? 

A  Fourth. 
[  Empty-handed.  ] 
Mads  Moen,  here's  the  invisible  cloak 
Peer  Gynt  and  Ingrid  flew  off  through   the  air 
with. 

Peer. 
Brandy  here,  boys  !     I  feel  I'm  grown  old  ; — 
I  must  put  up  to  auction  my  rubbish  and  lumber  ! 

A  Lad. 
What  have  you  to  sell,  then  } 

Peer. 

A  palace  I  have; — 
It  lies  in  the  Ronde ;  it's  solidly  built. 

The  Lad. 
A  button  is  bid ! 

Peer. 
You  must  run  to  a  dram. 
'Twere  a  sin  and  a  shame  to  bid  anything  less. 

Another. 
He's  a  jolly  old  boy  this  ! 

I  The  bystanders  crowd  around  him 


sc.  iv.]  peer  gynt.  223 

Peer. 
[Shouts.] 

Grane,*  my  steed ; 
Who  bids  > 

One  of  the  Crowd. 
Where's  he  running  ? 

Peer. 

Why,  far  in  the  west ! 
Near  the  sunset,  my  lads  !     Ah,  that  courser  can 

fly 
As  fast,  ay,  as  fast  as  Peer  Gynt  could  lie. 

Voices. 
What  more  have  you  got  ? 

Peer. 

I've  both  rubbisli  and  gold  ! 
I  bought  it  with  ruin  ;  I'll  sell  it  at  a  loss. 

A  Lad. 
Put  it  up ! 

Peer. 
A  dream  of  a  silver-clasped  book  ! 
That  you  can  have  for  an  old  hook  and  eye. 

The  Lad. 
To  the  devil  with  dreams ! 

Peer. 

Here's  my  Kaiserdom ! 
I  throw  it  in  the  midst  of  you  ;  scramble  for  it  I 

The  Lad. 
Is  the  crown  given  in? 

*  See  footnote,  p.  114. 


I 


224  PEER    OYNT.  [act    V. 

Peer. 

Of  the  loveliest  straw. 
It  will  fit  whoever  first  puts  it  on. 
Hei,  there  is  more  yet !     An  addled  egg ! 
A   madman's   grey    hair !     And    the    Prophet's 

beard ! 
All  these  shall  be  his  that  will  show  on  the  hillside 
A  post  that  has  writ  on  it ;  Here  lies  your  path  I 

The  Bailiff.* 

[  Who  has  come  up.] 

You're  carrying  on,  my  good  man,  so  that  almost 

I  think  that  your  path  will  lead  straight  to  the 

lock-up. 

Peer. 

[Hat  in  hand.] 
Quite  likely.     But,  tell  me,  who  was  Peer  Gynt  ? 

The  Bailiff. 

Oh,  nonsense 

Peer. 
Your  pardon  !    Most  humbly  I  beg 1 


The  Bailiff. 
Oh,  he's  said  to  have  been  an  abominable  liar ' 

Peer. 

A  liar ? 

The  Bailiff. 
Yes — all  that  was  strong  and  great 
He  made  believe  always  that  he  had  done  it. 

But,  excuse  me,  friend — I  have  other  duties 

[Goes. 
t  Sec  footnote,  p.  95. 
"  "Digter";  means  also  "  poet." 


sc.  iv.]  peer  gynt.  225 

Peer. 
And  where  is  he  now,  this  remarkable  man  ? 

An  Elderly  Man. 
He  fared  over  seas  to  a  foreign  land  ; 
It  went  ill  with  him  there,  as  one  well  might 

foresee ; — 
It's  many  a  year  now  since  he  was  hanged. 

Peer. 
Hanged  r     Ay,  ay  I     Why,  I  thought  as  much ; 
Our  lamented  Peer  Gynt  was  himself  to  the  last. 

[Bows. 
Good-bye, — and  best  thanks  for  to-day's  merry 
meeting. 

[Goes  a  few  steps,  but  stops  again. 
You  joyous  youngsters,  you  comely  lasses, — 
Shall  I  pay  my  shot  with  a  traveller's  tale  ? 

Several  Voices, 
Yes ;  do  you  know  any  ? 

Peer. 

Nothing  more  easy. — 
[He  comes  nearer;  a  look  of  strangeness 
comes  over  him. 
I  was  gold- digging  once  in  San  Francisco. 
There  were  mountebanks  swarming  all  over  the 

town. 
One  with  his  toes  could  perform  on  the  fiddle  ; 
Another  could  dance  a  Spanish  hailing^  on  his 

knees ; 
A  third,  I  was  told,  kept  on  making  verses 
While  his  brain-pan   was   having   a   hole   bored 
right  through  it. 

»  See  footnotes,  pp.  29  and  3a 
IV  P 


226  PEER    GYNT.  [acT   V. 

To    the    mountebank-meeting    came    also    the 

devil ; — 
Thought  he  'd  try  his  luck  with  the  rest  of  them. 
His  talent  was  this  :  in  a  manner  convincing. 
He  was  able  to  grunt  like  a  flesh -and-blood  pig. 
He  was  not  recognised,  yet  his  manners^  attracted. 
The  house  was  well  filled ;  expectation  ran  high. 
He  stepped  forth  in  a  cloak  with  an  ample   ^ape 

to  it; 
Man  mus  sick  drappiren,  as  the  Germans  say. 
But  under  the  mantle — what  none  suspected — 
He'd  managed  to  smuggle  a  real  live  pig. 
And  now  he  opened  the  representation ; 
The  devil  he  pinched,  and  the  pig  gave  voice. 
The  whole  thing  purported  to  be  a  fantasia 
On  the  porcine  existence,  both  free  and  in  bonds ; 
And  all  ended  up  with  a  slaughter-house  squeal — 
Whereupon  the  performer  bowed  low  and  retired. — 
The  critics  discussed  and  appraised  the  affair ; 
The  tone  of  the  whole  was  attacked  and  defended. 
Some  fancied  the  vocal  expression  too  thin. 
While  some  thought  the  death-shriek  too  care- 
fully studied ; 
But  all  were  agreed  as  to  one  thing  :  qua  grunt. 
The  performance  was  grossly  exaggerated. — 
Now  that,  you  see,  came  of  the  devil's  stupidity 
In  not  taking  the  measure  of  his  public  first. 

[He  hows  and  goes  off.      A  puzzled  silence 
comes  over  the  crowd. 

1  In  the  original,  "  Personlighed  "—personality. 


8C.    v.]  PEER    GYNT.  227 


SCENE    FIFTH. 

Whitsun  Eve. — In  the  depths  of  the  forest.  To  the 
back,  ill  a  clearing,  is  a  hut  with  a  pair  of 
reindeer  horns  over  the  porch- gable. 

Peer  Gynt  is  creeping  among  the  undei growth, 
gathering  wild  onions. 

Peer. 
Well,  this  is  one  standpoint.     Wheve  is  the  next? 
One  should  try  all  things  and  choose  the  best. 
Well,  I  have  done  so, — beginning  from  Caesar, 
And  downwards  as  far  as  to  Nebuchadnezzar. 
So  I've  had,after  all, to  go  through  Bible  history; — 
The  old  boy  has  come  back  to  his  mother  again. 
After  all  it  is  written :    Of  the  earth  art  thou 

come. — 
The  main  thing  in  life  is  to  fill  one's  belly. 
Fill  it  with  onions  }     That's  not  much  good  ; — 
I  must  take  to  cunning,  and  set  out  snares. 
There's  water  in  the  beck  here ;  I  shan't  suffer 

thirst ; 
And  I  count  as  the  first  'raong  the  beasts  after  all. 
When  my  time  comes  to  die — as  most  likely  it 

will,— 
I  shall  crawl  in  under  a  wind-fallen  tree  ; 
Like  the  bear,  I  will  heap  up  a  leaf-mound  above 

me, 
And  I'll  scratch  in  big  print  on  the  bark  of  the 

tree: 
Here  rests  Peer  Gynt,  that  decent  soul 
Kaiser  o'er  all  of  the  other  beasts. — 
Kaiser  ?  [Laughs  inwardli). 

Why,  you  old  soothsayer's-duj^e  I 


228  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V, 


No  Kaiser  are  you  ;  you  are  nought  but  an  onion. 
I'  m  going  to  peel  you  now,  my  good  Peer  I 
You  won't  escape  either  by  begging  or  howling. 
\^Takes  an   onion  and  strips  off  one   coal 
after  another. 
There  lies  the  outermost  layer,  all  torn ; 
That's  the  shipwrecked  man  on  the  jolly-boat's 

keel. 
Here's  the  passenger  layer,  scanty  and  thin  ; — 
And  yet  in  its  taste  there's  a  tang  of  Peer  Gynt. 
Next  underneath  is  the  gold-digger  ego  ; 
The  juice  is  all  gone — if  it  ever  had  any. 
This  coarse-grained  layer  with  the  hardened  skin 
Is  the  peltry  hunter  by  Hudson's  Bay. 
The  next  one  looks  like  a  crown ; — oh,  thanks  ! 
We'll  throw  it  away  without  more  ado. 
Here's  the  archaeologist,  short  but  sturdy , 
And  here  is  the  Prophet,  juicy  and  fresh. 
He  stinks,  as  the  Scripture  has  it,  of  lies, 
Enough  to  bring  the  water  to  an  honest  man's 

eyes. 
This  layer  that  rolls  itself  softly  together 
Is  the  gentleman,  living  in  ease  and  good  cheer. 
The  next  one  seems  sick.     There  are  black  streaks 

upon  it ; — 
Black  symbolises  both  parsons  and  niggers. 

\Pulls  off  several  layers  at  once. 
What  an  enormous  number  of  swathings  I 
Is  not  the  kernel  soon  coming  to  light  > 

[Pulls  the  whole  onion  to  pieces. 
I'm  blest  if  it  is  !     To  the  innermost  centre, 
It's   nothing   but   swathings — each  smaller   and 

smaller. — 
Nature  is  witty  !         [Throws  the  fragments  away. 

The  devil  take  brooding! 
If  one  goes  about  thinking,  one's  apt  to  stumble. 


SC.    v.]  PEER    OYNT.  229 

Well,  /  can  at  any  rate  lau^h  at  that  danger ; — 
For  here  on  all  fours  I  am  firmly  planted. 

[Scratches  his  head, 
A  queer  enough  business,  the  whole  concern  I 
Life,  as  they  say,  plays  with  cards  up  its  sleeve  ;  * 
But  when  one  snatches  at  them,  they've  dis- 
appeared, 
And  one  grips  something  else, — or  else  nothing 
at  all. 

[He  has  come  near  to  the  hut ;  he  catches 
sight  of  it  and   starts. 

This  hut  ?     On  the  heath !     Ha ! 

[Ruhs  his  eyes. 

It  seems  exactly 

As   though    I    had   known   this   same   building 

before. — 
The  reindeer-horns  jutting  above  the  gable  ! — 
A  mermaid,  shaped  like  a  fish  from  the  navel  ! — 
Lies !     there's    no    mermaid !      But    nails — and 

planks, — 
Bars  too,  to  shut  out  hobgoblin  thoughts' !  — 

SoLVEIG. 

\Sin^ng  in  the  hut?^ 

Now  all  is  ready  for  Whitsun  Eve. 
Dearest  boy  of  niine,  far  away. 

Com  est  thou  soon  ? 
Is  thy  burden  heavy. 

Take  time,  take  time  ; — 

I  will  await  thee  ; 

I  promised  of  old.^ 

'  This  and  the  following  line,  literally  translated,  nin  thus : 

Life,  as  it's  called,  has  a  fox  behind  its  ear.     But  when  one 

prasps  at  him,  Reynard  takes  to  his  heels."    "To  have  a  fox 

behind  the  ear"   is  a  proverbial  expression    for  insincerity, 

doHble-dealing. 

*  Sec  footnote,  p.  171. 


230  PEER    OYNT.  [act  V. 

Peer. 
[^Rises,  quiet  and  deadly  pale."] 
One  that's  remembered, — and  one  that's  forgot. 
One   that   has   squandered, — and    one    that  has 

saved. — 
Oh,  earnest ! — and  never  can  the  game  be  played 

o'er ! 
Oh,  dread!  ^ — here  was  my  Kaiserdom  ! 

l^Hurries  off  along  the  wood  path. 


SCENE    SIXTH. 

Night.  A  heath,  with  fir-trees.  A  forest  Jire  has 
been  raging  ;  charred  tree-trunks  are  seen  stretch- 
ing for  miles.  White  mists  here  and  there 
clinging  to  the  earth. 

Peer  Gynt  comes  running  over  the  heath. 

Peer. 
Ashes,  fog-scuds,  dust  wind-driven, — 
Here's  enough  for  building  with  ! 
Stench  and  rottenness  within  it ; 
All  a  whited  sepulchre. 
Figments,  dreams,  and  still-born  knowledge 
Lay  the  pyramid's  foundation  ; 
O'er  them  shall  the  work  mount  upwards. 
With  its  step  on  step  of  falsehood. 
Earnest  shunned,  repentance  dreaded. 
Flaunt  at  the  apex  like  a  scutcheon, 
Fill  the  trump  of  judgment  with  their . 
'^  Petrus  Gyntus  Caesar  fecit ! "  [Listens. 

What  is  this,  like  children's  weeping  ? 
Weeping,  but  half-way  to  song. — 
*  See  footnote,  p.  212. 


SC.    VI.]  PEER    GVNT.  2S1 

Thread-balls^  at  my  feet  are  rolling  ! — 

[Kicking  at  them. 
Off  with  you  !     You  block  my  path  ! 

The  Thread 'BALLS. 
[On  the  ground.] 
We  are  thoughts ; 
Thou  shouldst  have  thought  us ; — 
Feet  to  run  on 
Thou  shouldst  have  given  us ! 

Peer. 
[Going  round  about.] 
I  have  given  life  to  one  ; — 
'Twas  a  bungled,  crook-legged  thing  ! 

The  Thread-balls. 
We  should  have  soared  up 
Like  clangorous  voices,— » 
And  here  we  must  trundle 
As  grey-yarn  thread-balls. 

Peer. 
[Stumbling.] 
Thread-clue  !    you  accursed  scamp ! 
Would  you  trip  your  father's  heels  ?  [Flees. 

Withered  Leaves. 
[Flying  before  the  wind.] 
We  are  a  watchword  ; 
Thou  shouldst  have  proclaimed  us ! 
See  how  thy  dozing 
Has  wofuUy  riddled  us. 
The  worm  has  gnawed  us 

^  See  Introductioa. 


232  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V, 

In  every  crevice ; 

We  have  never  twined  us 

Like  wreaths  round  fruitage. 

Peer. 
Not  in  vain  your  birth,  however; — 
Lie  but  still  and  serve  as  manure. 

A  Sighing  in  the  Air. 
We  are  songs ; 

Thou  shouldst  have  sung  us  ! — 
A  thousand  times  over 
Hast  thou  cowed  us  and  smothered  us. 
Down  in  thy  heart's  pit 
We  have  lain  and  waited  ; — 
We  were  never  called  forth. 
Thy  gorge  we  poison  ! 

Peer. 
Poison  thee,  thou  foolish  stave  * 
Had  I  time  for  verse  and  stuff  ? 

\ Attempts  a  short  cut. 

Dewdrops. 
[Dripping  from  the  branches.^ 
We  are  tears 
Unshed  for  ever. 
Ice-spears,  sharp-wounding. 
We  could  have  melted. 
Now  the  barb  rankles 
In  the  shaggy  bosom  ; — 
The  wound  is  closed  over ; 
Our  power  is  ended. 

Peer. 
Thanks  ; — I  wept  in  Ronde-cloisters,— 
None  the  less  my  tail-part  smarted  I 


8c.  vi.]  peer  gynt.  233 

Broken  Straws. 
We  are  deeds ; 

Thou  shouldst  have  achieved  us ! 
Doubt,  the  throttler. 
Has  crippled  and  riven  us. 
On  the  Day  of  Judgment 
We'll  come  a-flock. 
And  tell  the  story, — 
Then  woe  to  you  ! 

Peer. 
Rascal- tricks  !     How  dare  you  debit 
What  is  negative  against  me  ?      [Hastens  away. 

Ase's  Voice, 

[Far  away.l 
Fie,  what  a  post-boy  ! 
Hu,  you've  upset  me 
Here  in  the  slush,  boy  ! 
Sadly  it's  smirched  me. — 
You've  driven  me  the  wrong  way. 
Peer,  where's  the  castle  ? 
The  Fiend  has  misled  you 
With  the  switch  from  the  cupboard 

Peer. 

Better  haste  away,  poor  fellow  ! 

With  the  devil's  sins  upon  you, 

Soon  you'll  faint  upon  the  hillside ; — 

Hard  enough  to  bear  one's  own  sins.        [Runs  off. 


2S4t  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V. 

SCENE  SEVENTH. 
Another  pari  of  tJie  heath. 

Peer  Gynt. 

[Sings.] 
A  sexton !     A  sexton !  where  are  you,  hounds  ? 
A  song  from  braying  precentor-mouths ; 
Around  your  hat-brim  a  mourning  band ;— • 
My  dead  are  many ;  I  must  follow  their  biers  ! 

The  Button-moulder,  with  a  box  of  tools  and  a 
large  casting-ladle ^  comes  from  a  side  path. 

The   BuTTON-MOULDERg 

Well  met,  old  gaffer  I 

Peer. 
Good  evening,  fri<*nd ! 

The  Button-moulder. 
The  man's  in  a  hurry.     Why,  where  is  he  going  .? 

Peer. 
To  a  grave-feast. 

The  Button-moulder. 
Indeed  ?     My  sight's  not  very  good  ; — > 
Excuse  me, — your  name   doesn't  chance  to  be 
Peer  ? 

Peer. 
Peer  Gynt,  as  the  saying  is. 

The  Button-moulder. 

That  I  call  luck  ! 
It's  precisely  Peer  Gynt  I  am  sent  for  to-night. 


SC.    VII.] 


PEER    GYNT. 


885 


Peer. 
You're  sent  for  ?    What  do  you  want  ? 

The  Button-moulder. 

Why,  see  here ; 
I   mould  buttons ;    and  you   must  go  into  my 
ladle. 

Peer. 
What  to  do  there  ? 

The  Button-moulder. 

To  be  melted  up. 

Peer. 
To  be  melted  ? 

The  Button-moulder. 

Here  it  is,  empty  and  scoured. 
Your  grave  is  dug  ready,  your  coffin  bespoke. 
The  worms  in  your  body  will  live  at  their  ease ; — 
But  I  have  orders,  without  delay. 
On  Master's  behalf  to  fetch  in  your  soul. 

Peer. 
It  can't  be  !     Like  this,  without  any  warning ! 

The  Button-moulder. 
It's  an  old  tradition  at  burials  and  births 
To  appoint  in  secret  the  day  of  the  feast. 
With  no  warning  at  all  to  the  guest  of  honour. 

Peer. 
Ay,  ay,  that's  true.     All  my  brain's  awhirl. 
You  are ? 

The  Button-moulder. 

Why,  I  told  you — a  button-moulder. 


236  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT  V. 

Peer. 
I  see  !     A  pet  child  has  many  nicknames. 
So  that's  it.  Peer ;  it  is  there  you're  to  harbour 
But  these,  my  good  man,  are  most  unfair  pro- 
ceedings ! 
I'm  sure  I  deserve  better  treatment  than  this ; — 
I'm  not  nearly  so  bad  as  perhaps  you  think, — 
Indeed  I've  done  more  or  less  good  in  the  world ; — 
At  worst  you  may  call  me  a  sort  of  a  bungler, — 
But  certainly  not  an  exceptional  sinner. 

The  Button-moulder. 
Why  that  is  precisely  the  rub,  my  man  ; 
You're  no  sinner  at  all  in  the  higher  sense  ; 
That's  why  you're  excused  all  the  torture-pangs, 
And,  like  others,  land  in  the  casting-ladle. 

Peer. 
Give  it  what  name  you  please — call  it  ladle  or 

pool ;  ^ 
Spruce  ale  and  swipes,  they  are  both  of  them 

beer. 
Avaunt  from  me,  Satan ! 

The  Button-moulder. 

You  can't  be  so  rude 
As  to  take  my  foot  for  a  horse's  hoof  ? 

Peer. 
On  horse's  hoof  or  on  fox's  claws  ^ — 
Be  off;  and  be  careful  what  you're  about! 

The  Button-moulder. 
My  friend,  you're  making  a  great  mistake. 

*  *'Pol,"  otherwise  "Svovlpol"— the  sulphur  pool  of  hell 
'  See  footnote,  p.  229. 


SC.    VII.]  PEER    GYNT.  237 

We're  both  in  a  hurry,  and  so,  to  save  time, 
I'll  explain  the  reason  of  the  whole  affair. 
You  are,  with  your  own  lips  you  told  me  so, 
No  sinner  on  the  so-called  heroic  scale, — 
Scarce  middling  even 

Peer. 

Ah,  now  you're  beginning 
To  talk  common  sense 


The  Button-moulder. 

Just  have  patience  a  bit — 
But  to  call  you  a  good  man  were  going  too  far.  — 

Peer. 
Well,  you  know  I  have  never  laid  claim  to  that. 

The  Button-moulder. 
You're  nor  one  thing  nor  t'other  then,  only  so-so. 
A  sinner  of  really  grandiose  style 
Is  nowadays  not  to  be  met  on  the  highways. 
It  wants  much  more  than  merely  to  wallow  in  mire ; 
For  both  vigour  and  earnestness  go  to  a  sin. 

Peer. 
Ay,  it's  very  true  that  remark  of  yours  ; 
One  has  to  lay  on,  like  the  old  Berserkers. 

The  Button-moulder- 
You,  friend,  on  the  other  hand,  took    your  sin 
lightly. 

Peer. 
Only  outwardly,  friend,  like  a  splash  of  mud. 

The  Button-moulder. 
Ah,  we'll  soon  be  at  one  now.     The  sulphur  pool 
Is  no  place  for  you,  who  but  plashed  in  the  mire. 


238  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V. 

Peer. 
And  in  consequence,  friend,  I  may  go  as  I  came  ? 

The  Button-moulder. 
No,  in  consequence,  friend,  I  must  melt  you  up. 

Peer. 
What  tricks  are  these  that  youVe  hit  upon 
At  home  here,  while  I've  been  in  foreign  parts  } 

The  Button-moulder. 
The  custom's  as  old  as  the  Snake's  creation ; 
It's  designed  to  prevent  loss  of  good  material. 
You've  worked  at  the  craft — ^you  must  know  that 

often 
A  casting  turns  out,  to  speak  plainly,  mere  dross ; 
The  buttons,  for  instance,  have  sometimes  no  loop 

to  them. 
What  did  you  do  then  ? 

Peer. 

Flung  the  rubbish  away. 

The  Button-moulder. 
Ah,  yes  ;  Jon  Gynt  was  well  known  for  a  waster, 
So  long  as  he'd  aught  left  in  wallet  or  purse. 
But  Master,  you  see,  he  is  thrifty,  he  is  ; 
And  that  is  why  he's  so  well-to-do. 
He  flings  nothing  away  as  entirely  worthless 
That  can  be  made  use  of  as  raw  material. 
Now,  you  were  designed  for  a  shining  button 
On  the  vest  of  the  world ;  but  your  loop  gave 

way; 
So  into  the  waste-box  you  needs  must  go. 
And  then,  as  they  phrase  it,  be  merged  in  the 

mass. 


sc.  vii.]  peer  gynt.  239 

Peer. 
You're  surely  not  meaning  to  melt  me  up. 
With  Dick,  Tom,  and  Hal,i  into  something  new? 

The  Button-moulder. 
That  just  what  I  do  mean,  and  nothing  else. 
We've  done  it  already  to  plenty  of  folks. 
At  Kongsberg  ^  they  do  just  the  same  with  coin 
That's  been  current  so  long  that  its  impress  is 
lost. 

Peer. 
But  this  is  the  wretchedest  miserliness  ! 
My  dear  good  friend,  let  me  get  off  free ; — 
A  loopless  button,  a  worn  out  farthing, — 
What  is  that  to  a  man  in  your  Master's  position ? 

The  Button-moulder. 
Oh,  so  long  as,  and  seeing,  the  spirit  is  in  you, 
You  always  have  value  as  so  much  metal. 

Peer. 
No,  I  say  !     No !     With  both  teeth  and  claws 
I'll  fight  against  this  !     Sooner  anything  else  I 

The  Button-moulder. 
But  what  else  ?     Come  now,  be  reasonable. 
You  know  you're  not  airy  enough  for  heaven 

Peer. 
I'm  not  hard  to  content ;  I  don't  aim  so  high  ;^ 
But  I  won't  be  deprived  of  one  doit  of  my  Self. 

»  Literally,  "With  Peter  and  Paul." 

■  The  Royal  Mint  is  at  Kongsberg,  a  town  in  southern 
Norway. 


240  PEER    GYNT.  [acT   V. 

Have  me  judged  by  the  law  in  the  old-fashioned 

way  ! 
For  a  certain  time  place  me  with  Him  of  the  Hoof; — 
Say  a  hundred  years,  come  the  worst  to  the  worst; 
That,  now,  is  a  thing  that  one  surely  can  bear ; 
They  say  that  the  torment  is  moral  no  more. 
So  it  can't  be  so  pyramid-Hke  after  all. 
It  is,  as  'tis  written,  a  mere  transition  ; 
And  as  the  fox  said  :  One  waits ;  there  comes 
An  hour  of  deliverance  ;  one  lives  in  seclusion. 
And  hopes  in  the  meantime  for  happier  days. — 
But  this  other  notion — to  have  to  be  merged. 
Like  a  mote,  in  the  carcass  of  some  outsider, — 
This  casting-ladle  business,  this  Gynt-cessation, — 
It  stirs  up  my  innermost  soul  in  revolt ! 

The  Button-moulder. 
Bless  me,  my  dear  Peer,  there  is  surely  no  need 
To  get  so  wrought  up  about  trifles  like  this. 
Yourself  you  never  have  been  at  all ; — 
Then  what  does  it  matter,  your  dying  right  out  ? 

Peer, 

Have  /  not  been ?     I  could  almost  laugh ! 

Peer  Gynt,  then,  has  been  something  else,  I  sup- 
pose! 

No,  Button-moulder,  you  judge  in  the  dark. 

If  you  could  but  look  into  my  very  reins, 

You'd  find  only  Peer  there,  and  Peer  all 
through, — 

Nothing  else  in  the  world,  no,  nor  anything  more. 

The  Button-moulder. 
It's  impossible.     Here  I  have  got  my  orders. 
Look,  here  it  is  written  :  Peer  Gynt  shalt  thou 
summon. 


SC.    VII.]  PEER    GYNT.  241 

He  lias  set  at  defiance  his  life's  design  ; 

Clap  him  into  the  ladle  with  other  spoilt  goods. 

Peer. 
What  nonsense!     They  must  mean  some  other 

person. 
Is  it  really  Peer  ?     It's  not  Rasmus,  or  Jon  ? 

The  Button-moulder. 
It  is  many  a  day  since  I  melted  them. 
So  come  quietly  now,  and  don't  waste  my  time. 

Peer. 
I'll  be  damned  if  I  do !     Ay,  'twould  be  a  fine 

thing 
If  it  turned  out  to-morrow  some  one   else  was 

meant. 
You'd  better  take  care  what  you're  at,  my  good 

man! 
Think  of  the  onus  you're  taking  upon  you ^ 

The  Button-moulder, 
I  have  it  in  writing 

Peer. 

At  least  give  me  time  ' 

The  Button- moulder. 
What  good  would  that  do  you  ? 

Peer. 

I'll  use  it  to  prove 
That  I've  been  myself  all  the  days  of  my  life ; 
And  that's  the  question  that's  in  dispute. 

The  Button-moulder. 
You'll  prove  it }     And  how  ? 

IT  Q 


242  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V. 

Peer. 
Why,  by  vouchers  and  witnesses. 

The  Button-moulder. 
I'm  sadly  afraid  Master  will  not  accept  them. 

Peer. 
Impossible !     However,  enough  for  the  day^ — ! 
My  dear  man,  allow  me  a  loan  of  m^^self ; 
I'll  be  back  again  shortly.     One  is  born  only  once. 
And  one's  self,  as  created,  one  fain  would  stick  to. 
Come,  are  we  agreed  ? 

The  Button-moulder. 

Very  well  then,  so  be  it. 
But  remember,  we  meet  at  the  next  cross-roads. 

[Peer  Gynt  runs  off. 


SCENE  EIGHTH. 
A  further  point  on  the  heath. 

Peer. 
[Running  hard.] 
Time  is  money,  as  the  Scripture  says. 
If  I  only  knew  where  the  cross-roads  are  ; — 
They  may  be  near  and  they  may  be  far. 
The  earth  bums  beneath  me  like  red-hot  iron. 
A  witness  !     A  witness  !     Oh,  where  shall  I  find 

one? 
It's  almost  unthinkable  here  in  the  forest. 
The  world  is  a  bungle  !    A  wretched  arrangement. 
When  a  right  must  be  proved  that  is  patent  as 

day  I 

1  See  footnote,  p.  218. 


SC.    VIII.]  PEER    GYNT.  243 

An  Old  Man,  bent  with  age,  with  a  staff  in  his  hand 
and  a  bag  on  his  back,  is  trudging  in  front  of 
him. 

The  Old  Man. 
[Stops. ^ 
Dear,  kind  sir — a  trifle  to  a  houseless  soul ! 

Peer. 
Excuse   me ;  I've   got  no   small   change   in   my 

pocket 

The  Old  Man. 
Prince   Peer !     Oh,   to   think  we    should    meet 

again ! 

Peer. 
Who  are  you  ? 

The  Old  Man. 
You  forget  the  Old  Man  in  the  Ronde  ? 

Peer. 
Why,  you're  never ? 

The  Old  Man. 
The  King  of  the  Dovre,  my  boy  ! 

Peer. 

The  Dovre- King.?  Really.?  The  Dovre- King  ? 
Speak  ! 

The  Old  Man. 
Oh,  I've  come  terribly  down  in  the  world ! 

Peer. 
Ruined  ? 

The  Old  Man. 
Ay,  plundered  of  every  stiver. 
Here  am  I  tramping  it,  starved  as  a  wolf. 


244  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    V. 

Peer. 
Hurrah!  Such  a  witness  doesn't  grow  on  the  trees. 

The  Old  Man. 
My  Lord  Prince,  too,  has  grizzled  a  bit  since  we  met. 

Peer. 
My  dear  father-in-law,  the  years  gnaw  and  wear 

one. — 
Well  well,  a  truce  to  all  private  affairs, — 
And  pray,  above  all  things,  no  family  jars. 
1  was  then  a  sad  madcap 

The  Old  Man. 

Oh  yes  ;  oh  yes  ; — 
His  Highness  was  young ;  and  what  won't  one  do 

then  ? 
But  his  Highness  was  wise  in  rejecting  his  bride. 
He  saved  himself  thereby  both  worry  and  shame. 
For  since  then  she's  utterly  gone  to  the  bad 

Peer, 
Indeed ! 

The  Old  Man. 
She  has  led  a  deplorable  life ;  ^ 
And,  just  think, — she  and  Trond  are  now  living 
together. 

Peer. 
Which  Trond  } 

The  Old  Man. 
Of  the  ValQeld. 

Peer. 

It's  he  ?    Aha ; 
It  was  he  I  cut  out  with  the  saeter-girls. 

•  "  Hun  gik  nu  for  koldt  vand  og  lud  " — literally,  "  to  live  on 
gold  water  and  lye"— to  live  wretchedly  and  be  badly  treated, 


SC.    VIII.] 


PEER    GYNT. 


S45 


r 


The  Old  Man, 
But  my  grandson  has   shot  up   both   stout  and 

tall. 
And     has    flourishing    children     all    over     the 

land 

Peer. 
Now,  my  dear  man,  spare  us  this  flow  of  words  ; — 
I've    something    quite    different    troubling    my 

mind. — 
I've  got  into  rather  a  ticklish  position. 
And  am  greatly  in  need  of  a  witness  or  voucher  ;— 
That's  how  you  could  help  me  best,  father-in- 
law. 
And  I'll  find  you  a  trifle  to  drink  my  health. 

The  Old  Man. 
You  don't  say  so  ;  can  I  be  of  use  to  his  Highness  ? 
You'll  give  me  a  character,  then,  in  return  ? 

Peer. 
Most  gladly.     I'm  somewhat  hard   pressed   for 

cash. 
And  must  cut  down  expenses  in  every  direction. 
Now    hear  what's    the    matter.     No  doubt  you 

remember 
That    night  when   I    came    to    the    Ronde    a- 

wooing 

The  Old  Man. 
Why,  of  course,  my  Lord  Prince  ! 

Peer. 

Oh,  no  more  of  the  Prince  ! 
But  no   matter.     You  wanted,   by  sheer  brute 

force. 
To  bias  my  sight,  with  a  slit  in  the  lens. 


246  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V. 

And  to  change  me  about  from  Peer  Gynt  to  a 

troll. 
What  did  1  do  then  ?     I  stood  out  against  it,— 
Swore  I  would  stand  on  no  feet  but  my  own ; 
Love,  power,  and  glory  at  once  I  renounced, 
And  all  for  the  sake  of  remaining  myself. 
Now   this  fact,   you  see,  you  must  swear  to  in 

Court 

The  Old  Man. 
No,  I'm  blest  if  I  can. 

Peer. 
Why,  what  nonsense  is  this .'' 

The  Old  Man. 
You  surely  don't  want  to  compel  me  to  lie  ? 
You    pulled    on    the    troll-breeches,   don't  you 

remember, 
And  tasted  the  mead 


Peer. 
Ay,  you  lured  me  seductively ; — 
But  I  flatly  declined  the  decisive  test. 
And  that  is  the  thing  you  must  judge  your  man 

by. 
It's  the  end  of  the  ditty  that  all  depends  on. 

The  Old  Man. 
But  it  ended.  Peer,  just  in  the  opposite  way. 

Peer, 
What  rubbish  is  this  ? 

The  Old  Man. 

When  you  left  the  Ronde, 
You  inscribed  my  motto  upon  your  escutcheon.* 
»  Literally,  "  Wrote  my  motto  behind  your  ear  " 


SC.    VIII.]  PEER    GYNT.  247 

What  motto  ? 


Peer. 


The  Old  Man. 
The  potent  and  sundering  word. 

Peer. 


The  word  ? 


The  Old  Man. 
That  which  severs  the  whole  race  of  men 
From   the   troll-folk:     Troll!     To  thyself  be 
enough  I 

Peer. 
[Recoils  a  siep.\ 
Enough ! 

The  Old  Man. 
And  with  every  nerve  in  your  body, 
You've  been  living  up  to  it  ever  since. 

Peer. 
What,  I?     PeerGynt? 

The  Old  Man. 
[Weeps. ^ 

It's  ungrateful  of  you  ! 
You've  lived  as   a  troll,  but  have  still  kept  it 

secret. 
The  word  I  taught  you  has  shown  you  the  way 
To  swing  yourself  up  as  a  man  of  substance ; — 
And  now  you  must  needs  come  and  turn  up  your 

nose 
At  me  and  the  word  you've  to  thank  for  it  all. 

Peer. 
Enough  !     A  hill-troll !     An  egoist ! 
This  must  be  all  rubbish ;  that's  perfectly  certain  I 


248  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT  V. 

The  Old  Man. 
[^Pulls  out  a  bwidle  of  old  newspapers."] 
I  daresay  you  think  we  don't  take  in  the  papers  ? 
Wait ;  h  ere  ]  '11  show  you  in  red  and  black  ^ 
How  the  "  Bloksberg  Post "  eulogises  you  ; 
And  the  "  Heklefjeld  Journal  "  has  done  the  same 
Ever  since  the  winter  you  left  the  country. — 
Do  you  care   to  read  them?     You're   welcome 

Peer. 
Here's  an  article,   look   you,   signed  "  Stallion- 
hoof." 
And  here  too  is  one  :  "  On  Troll-Nationalism." 
The  writer  points  out  and  lays  stress  on  the  truth 
That  horns  and  a  tail  are  of  little  importance. 
So  long  as  one  has  but  a  strip  of  the  hide. 
"Our  enough/'  he  concludes,  " gives  the  hall- 
mark of  troUdom 
To  man," — and  proceeds  to  cite  you  as  an  instance. 

Peer. 
A  hill-troll.?    I? 

The  Old  Man. 
Yes,  that's  perfectly  clear. 

Peer. 

Might  as  well  have  stayed  quietly  where  I  was  ? 

Might  have  stayed  in  the  Ronde  in  comfort  and 
peace  r 

Saved  my  trouble  and  toil  and  no  end  of  shoe- 
leather  } 

Peer  Gynt— a   troll  ?      Why,  it's   rubbish  !     It's 
stuff! 

Good-bye !        There's    a  halfpenny  to  buy  you 
tobacco. 
»  Clearly  the  troll-substitute  for  "  in  black  and  white." 


SC.   VIII.]  PEER    GYNT.  249 


The  Old  Man. 
Nay,  my  good  Prince  Peer ! 

Peer. 
Let  me  go  !     You're  mad. 
Or  else  doting.     Off  to  the  hospital  with  you  ! 

The  Old  Man. 
Oh,  that  is  exactly  what  I'm  in  search  of. 
But,  as  I  told  you,  my  grandson's  offspring 
Have  become  overwlielmingly  strong  in  the  land. 
And  they  say  that  I  only  exist  in  books, 
The  saw  says  :  One's  kin  are  unkindest  of  all ; 
I've  found  to  my  cost  that  that  saying  is  true. 
It's  cruel  to  count  as  mere  figment  and  fable 

Peer. 
My  dear  man,  there  are  others  who  share  the  same 
fate. 

The  Old  Man. 
And  ourselves  we've  no  Mutual  Aid  Society, 
No  alms-box  or  Penny  Savings  Bank  ; — 
In  the  Ronde,  of  course,  they'd  be  out  of  place. 

Peer. 
No,  that  curs'd  :  To  thyself  be  enough  was  the 
word  there ! 

The  Old  Man. 
Oh,  come  now,  the  Prince  can't  complain  of  the 

word. 
And  if  he  could  manage  by  hook  or  by  crook 

Peer. 
My  man,  you   have   got  on   the    wrong    scent 
entirely ; 


250  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V. 

I'm  myself,  as  the    saying  goes,  fairly  cleaned 

out^ 

The  Old  Man. 
You    surely  can't    mean    it?    His    Highness  a 
beggar  ? 

Peer. 
Completely.     His  Highness's  ego's  in  pawn. 
And  it's  all  your  fault,  you  accursed  trolls ! 
That's  what  comes  of  keeping  bad  company. 

The  Old  Man. 
So  there  came  my  hope  toppling  down  from  its 

perch  again ! 
Good-bye!       I    had   best  struggle    on    to    the 

town 

Peer. 

What  would  you  do  there  ? 

The  Old  Man. 

I  will  go  to  the  theatre. 
The  papers  are  clamouring  for  national  talents 

Peer. 
Good  luck  on  your  journey  ;  and  greet  them  from 

me. 
If  I  can  but  get  free,  I  will  go  the  same  way. 
A  farce  I  will  write  them,  a  mad  and  profound 

one; 
It's  name  shall  be  :  "Sic  transit  gloria  mundi." 

[He  runs  off  along  ike  road  ;  the  Old  Man 
shouts  after  him. 

*  Literally, "  On  a  naked  hilL* 


SC.    IX.]  PEER    GYNT.  851 

SCENE  NINTH. 

[At  a  cross-road.^ 

Peer  Gynt. 
Now  comes  the  pinch,  Peer,  as  never  before  ! 
This  Dovrish  Enough  has  passed  judgment  upon 

you. 
The  vessel's  a  wreck;  one  must  float  with  the 

spars. 
All  else  ;  but  to  go  to  the  scrap-heap — no,  no  ! 

The  Button-moulder. 
[At  the  cross-road.] 
Well  now.   Peer  Gynt,  have    you    found    your 
voucher  ? 

Peer. 
Is   this,   then,    the    cross-road?     Well,    that  is 
short  work ! 

The  Button-moulder. 
I  can  see  on  your  face,  as  it  were  on  a  signboard. 
The  gist  of  the  paper  before  I  have  read  it. 

Peer. 
I  got  tired  of  the  hunt; — one  might  lose  one's 

way 

The  Button-moulder. 
Yes  ;  and  what  does  it  lead  to,  after  all  ? 

Peer. 
True   enough ;    in  the  wood,  and  by  night  as 
well 


252  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V. 

The  Button-moulder. 
There's  an  old  man,  though,  trudging.     Shall  we 
call  him  here  ? 

Peer. 
No,  let  him  go.     He  is  drunk,  my  dear  fellow  f 

The  Button-moulder. 
But  perhaps  he  might 

Peer. 
Hush  ;  no — let  him  alone  ' 

The  Button-moulder. 
Well,  shall  we  begin  then  ? 

Peer. 

One  question — just  one  : 
What  is  it,  at  bottom,  this  "  being  oneself  "  j* 

The  Button-moulder. 
A  singular  question,  most  odd  in  the  mouth 
Of  a  man  who  but  now 

Peer. 
Come,  a  straightforward  answer. 

The  Button-moulder. 

To  be  oneself  is :  to  slay  oneself. 

But  on  you  that  answer  is  doubtless  lost ; 

And  therefore  we'll  say :  to  stand  forth  every- 
where 

With  Master's  intention  displayed  like  a  sign* 
board. 


gC.    IX.]  PEER    GYNT.  259 

Peer. 
But  suppose  a  man  never  has  come  to  know 
What  Master  meant  with  him  ? 

The  Button-moulder. 

He  must  divine  it. 
Peer. 
But  how  oft  are  divinings  beside  the  mark, — 
Then  one's  carried  "  ad  undas  "  ^  in  middle  career. 

The  Button-moulder. 
That  is  certain.  Peer  Gynt ;  in  default  of  divining 
The  cloven-hoofed  gentleman  finds  his  best  hook. 

Peer. 
This  matter's  excessively  complicated. — 
See  here  !     I  no  longer  plead  being  myself;^ 
It  might  not  be  easy  to  get  it  proven. 
That  part  of  my  case  I  must  look  on  as  lost. 
But  just  now,  as  I  wandered  alone  o'er  the  heath, 
I  felt  my  conscience-shoe  pinching  me  ; 
I  said  to  myself :  After  all,  you*re  a  sinner 

The  Button-moulder. 
You  seem  bent  on  beginning  all  over  again 

Peer. 
No,  very  far  from  it ;  a  great  one  I  mean  ; 
Not  only  in  deeds,  but  in  words  and  desires. 
I've  lived  a  most  damnable  life  abroad 

The  Button-moulder. 
Perhaps;    I    must    ask    you    to    show   me    the 
schedule ! 

*  So  in  original. 


254  PEER    OYNT.  [act   V. 

Peer. 
Well  well,  give  me  time ;  I  will  find  out  a  parson, 
Confess  with  all  speed,  and  then  bring  you  his 
voucher. 

The  Button-moulder. 
Ay,  if  you  can  bring  me  that,  then  it  is  clear 
You  may  yet  escape  from  the  casting-ladle. 
But  Peer,  I'd  ray  orders 

Peer. 

The  paper  is  old  ; 
It  dates  no  doubt  from  a  long  past  period  ; — 
At  one  time  I  lived  with  disgusting  slackness. 
Went  playing  the  prophet,  and  trusted  in  Fate. 
Well,  may  I  try.^ 

The  Button-moulder. 
But 1 

Peer. 

My  dear,  good  man, 
I'm  sure  you  can't  have  so  much  to  do. 
Here,  in  this  district,  the  air  is  so  bracing. 
It  adds  an  ell  to  the  people's  ages. 
Recollect  what  the  Justedal  parson  wrote  : 
"  It's  seldom  that  any  one  dies  in  this  valley.** 

The  Button-moulder. 
To  the  next  cross-roads  then;    but  not  a  step 
further. 

Peer. 
A  priest  I  must  catch,  if  it  be  with  the  tongs. 

[He  starts  running. 


SC.   X.]  PEER    OYNT.  255 


SCENE  TENTH. 

A  heather-clad  killnde  with  a  path  following  the 
windings  of  the  ridge. 

Peer. 
This  may  come  in  useful  in  many  ways. 
Said  Esben  as  he  picked  up  a  magpie's  wing. 
Who  could  have  thought  one's  account  of  sins 
Would  come  to  one's  aid  on  the  last  night  of  all  ? 
Well,  whether  or  no,  it's  a  ticklish  business; 
A  move  from  the  frying-pan  ^  into  the  fire ; — 
But  then  there's  a  proverb  of  well-tried  validity 
Which  says  that  as  long  as  there's  life  there  is 
hope. 

A  Lean  Person  in  a  priest's  cassock,  kilted- 
up  high,  and  with  a  birding-net  over  his 
shoulder,  comes  hurrying  along  the  ridge. 

Peer. 
Who  goes  there  ?     A  priest  with  a  fowling-net ! 
Hei,  hop  !     I'm  the  spoilt  child  of  fortune  indeed ! 
Good  evening,  Herr  Pastor  !  the  path  is  bad 

The  Lean  One. 
Ah  yes ;  but  what  wouldn't  one  do  for  a  soul  ? 

Peer. 
Aha !  then  there's  some  one  bound  heavenwards  ? 

The  Lean  One. 

No; 
I  hope  he  is  taking  a  different  road. 

^  Literally,  "the  ashes." 


256  PEER    OVNT.  [act   V. 

Peer. 
May  I  walk  with  Herr  Pastor  a  bit  of  the  way  ? 

The  Lean  One. 
With  pleasure  ;  I'm  partial  to  company. 

Peer. 
I  should  like  to  consult  you . 

The  Lean  One. 

Heraus  !  ^     Go  ahead  ! 

Peer. 
You  see  here  before  you  a  good  sort  of  man. 
The  laws  of  the  state  I  have  strictly  observed. 
Have    made    no    acquaintance    with    fetters   or 

bolts ; — 
But  it  happens  at  times  that  one  misses  one's 

footing 
And  stumbles 

The  Lean  One. 

Ah  yes ;  that  occurs  to  the  best  of  us. 

Peer. 
Now  these  trifles  you  see 

The  Lean  One. 

Only  trifles  ? 
Peer. 

Yes; 
From  sinning  en  gros  *  I  have  ever  refrained. 

The  Lean  One. 
Qh  then,  my   dear   fellow,   pray   leave    me   in 
peace ; — 

1  So  in  origm^l. 


SC.    X.J  PEER    GYNT.  257 


I'm  not  the  person  you  seem  to  think  me. — 
You  look  at  ray  fingers  i     What  see  you  in  them  ? 

Peer. 
A  nail-system  somewhat  extremely  developed. 

The  Lean  One. 
And  now  ?    You  are  casting  a  glance  at  my  feet  ? 

Peer. 
l^Pointing,^ 
That's  a  natural  hoof  .^ 

The  Lean  One. 

So  I  flatter  myself. 

Peer. 

[Raises  Ms  hai.] 

I'd  have  taken  my  oath  you  were  simply  a  parson ; 

And  I  find  I've  the  honour .     Well,  best  is 

best ; — 
When   the   hall   door   stands   wide,  —  shun   the 

kitchen  way ; 
When  the   king's  to  be  met  with, — avoid  the 

lackey. 

The  Lean  One. 
Your  hand  !   You  appear  to  be  free  from  prejudice. 
Say  on  then,  my  friend ;  in  what  way  can  I  serve 

you? 
Now  you  mustn't  ask  me  for  wealth  or  power ; 
I  couldn't  supply  them  although  I  should  hang 

for  it. 
You  can't  think  how  slack  the  whole  business  is  ;— 
Transactions  have  dwindled  most  pitiably. 
Nothing  doing  in  souls ;  only  now  and  again 

A  stray  one • 

lY  ^ 


258  PEER    GYNT.  [acT  V. 

Peer. 
The  race  has  improved  so  remarkably  ? 

The  Lean  One. 

No,  just  the  reverse ;  it's  sunk  shamefully  low ; — 
The  majority  end  in  a  casting-ladle. 

Peer. 
Ah  yes — I  have  heard  that  ladle  mentioned ; 
In  fact,  'twas  the  cause  of  my  coming  to  you. 

The  Lean  One. 
Speak  out ! 

Peer. 
If  it  were  not  too  much  to  ask, 
I  should  like 

The  Lean  One. 
A  harbour  of  refuge  ?  eh  ? 

Peer. 
You've  guessed  my  petition  before  I  have  asked. 
You  tell  me  the  business  is  going  awry ; 
So  I  daresay  you  will  not  be  over-particular, 

Thb  Lean  One. 
But,  my  dear 

Peer. 

My  demands  are  in  no  way  excessive. 
I  shouldn't  insist  on  a  salary  ; 
But  treatment  as  friendly  as  things  will  permit. 

The  Lean  One. 
.A  fire  in  your  room  ? 


SC.    X.] 


PEER    GYNT. 


259 


Peer. 
Not  too  much  fire ; — and  chiefly 
The  power  of  departing  in  safety  and  peace, — 
The  right,  as  the  phrase   goes,  of   freely  with- 
drawing 
Should  an  opening  offer  for  happier  days. 

The  Lean  One. 
My  dear  ft*iend,  I  vow  I'm  sincerely  distressed ; 
But  you  cannot  imagine  how  many  petitions 
Of  similar  purport  good  people  send  in, 
When  they're  quitting  the  scene  of  their  earthly 
activity. 

Peer. 
But  now  that  I  think  of  my  past  career, 
1  feel  I've  an  absolute  claim  to  admission-^— 

The  Lean  One. 
'Twas  but  trifles,  you  said 

Peer. 

In  a  certain  sense ; — 
But,  now  I  remember,  I've  trafficked  in  slaves • 


The  Lean  One. 

There  are  men  that  have  trafficked  in  wills  and 

souls. 
But  who  bungled  it  so  that  they  failed  to  ^et  in. 

Peer. 
I've  shipped  Bramah-figures  in  plenty  to  China. 

The  Lean  One. 
Mere  wish-wash  again !     Why,  we  laugh  at  such 
things. 


t60  PEER    OYNT.  [act    V. 

There  are    people  that  ship  off  far    gruesomer 

figures 
In  sermons,  in  art,  and  in  literature. 
Yet  have  to  stay  out  in  the  cold 

Peer. 

Ah,  but  then, 
Do    you    know — I  once  went  and   set   up  as   a 
prophet ! 

The  Lean  One. 

In  foreign  parts  ?     Humbug  !     Why  most  people's 

Sehen 
Ins  Blaue  ^  ends  in  the  casting-ladle. 
If  you've  no  more  than  that  to  rely  upon, 
Withthebest  of  goodwill,!  can't  possibly  house  you. 

Peer. 

But  hear  this :  In  a  shipwreck — I  clung  to  a 
boat's  keel, — 

And  it's  written:  A  drowning  man  grasps  at  a 
straw, — 

Furthermore  it  is  written :  You're  nearest  your- 
self,— 

So  I  half-way  divested  a  cook  of  his  life. 

The  Lean  One. 
It  were  all  one  to  me  if  a  kitchen-maid 
You  had  half-way  divested  of  something  else. 
What  sort  of  stuff  is  this  half-way  jargon, 
Saving  your  presence  ?    Who,  think  you,  would 

care 
To  throw  away  dearly-bought  fuel,  in  times 
Like  these,  on  such  spiritless  rubbish  as  this  .'* 
There  now,  don't  be  enraged ;  'twas  your  sins  that 

I  scoffed  at ; 

i  So  in  original 


8C.    X.]  PEER    OYNT.  26l 

And  excuse  my  speaking  my  mind  so  bluntly. — 
Come,  my  dearest  friend,  banish  this  stuff  from 

your  head,^ 
And  get  used  to  the  thought  of  the  casting-ladle. 
What  would  you  gain  if  I  lodged  you  and  boarded 

you  ? 
Consider ;  I  know  you're  a  sensible  man. 
Well,  you'd    keep  your    memory;    that's  so   far 

true ; — 
But  the  retrospect  o'er  recollection's  domain 
W^ould  be,  both  for  heart  and  for  intellect. 
What   the    Swedes   call   ''  Mighty   poor  sport  "  ^ 

indeed. 
You  have  nothing  either  to  howl  or  to  smile  about ; 
No  cause  for  rejoicing  nor  yet  for  despair ; 
Nothing  to  make  you  feel  hot  or  cold ; 
Only  a  sort  of  a  something  to  fret  over. 

Peer. 
It  is  written :  It's  never  so  easy  to  know 
Where  the  shoe  is  tight  that  one  isn't  wearing. 

The  Lean  One. 
Very  true  ;  I  have — praise  be  to  so-and-so  ! — 
No  occasion  for  more  than  a  single  odd  shoe. 
But  it's  lucky  we  happened  to  speak  of  shoes ; 
It  reminds  me  that  I  must  be  hurrying  on  ; — 
I'm  after  a  roast  that  I  hope  will  prove  f^t ; 
So  I  really  mustn't  stand  gossiping  here. — 

Peer. 
And  may  one  inquire,  then,  what  sort  of  sin-diet 
The  man  has  been  fattened  on  ? 

^  Literally,  *'  knock  out  that  tooth." 
2  "  Bra  litet  rolig." 


262  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    V. 


The  Lean  One. 

I  understand 
He  has  been  himself  both  by  night  and  by  day. 
And  that,  after  all,  is  the  principal  point. 

Peer. 
Himself?    Then  do  such  folks  belong  to  your 
parish  ? 

The  Lean  One. 
That  depends ;  the  door,  at  least,  stands  ajar  for 

them. 
Remember,  in  two  ways  a  man  can  be 
Himself — there's  a  right  and  wrong  side  to  the 

jacket. 
You  know  they  have  lately  discovered  in  Paris 
A  way  to  take  portraits  by  help  of  the  sun. 
One  can  either  produce  a  straightforward  picture 
Or  else  what  is  known  as  a  negative  one. 
In  the  latter  the  lights  and  the   shades  are  re- 
versed. 
And  they're  apt  to  seem  ugly  to  commonplace 

eyes; 
But  for  all  that  the  likeness  is  latent  in  them. 
And  all  you  require  is  to  bring  it  out. 
If,  then,  a  soul  shall  have  pictured  itself 
In  the  course  of  its  life  by  the  negative  method. 
The  plate  is  not  therefore  entirely  cashiered, — 
But  without  more  ado  they  consign  it  to  me. 
For  ulterior  treatment  I  take  it  in  hand. 
And  by  suitable  methods  effect  its  development. 
I  steam  it,  I  dip  it,  I  bum  it,  I  scour  it. 
With  sulphur  and  other  ingredients  like  that, 
Till  the  image  appears  which  the  plate  was  de- 
signed for, — 
That,  namely,  which  people  call  positive. 


SC.    X.]  PEER    GYNT,  263 


But  for  one  who,  like  you,  has  smudged  himself  out, 
Neither  sulphur  nor  potash  avails  in  the  least. 

Peer. 
I  see ;  one  must  come  to  you  black  as  a  raven 
To  turn  out  a  white  ptarmigan  ?     Pray  what's  the 

name 
Inscribed  'neath  the  negative  counterfeit 
That  you're  now  to  transfer  to  the  positive  side  f 

The  Lean  One. 
The  name's  Peter  ^  Gynt. 

Peer. 

Peter  Gynt  ?    Indeed  ? 
Is  Herr  Gynt  himself  ? 

The  Lean  One. 

Yes,  he  vows  he  is. 

Peer. 
Well,  he's  one  to   be   trusted,  that  same  Herr 
Peter. 

The  Lean  One. 
You  know  him,  perhaps  ? 

Peer, 
Oh  yes,  after  a  fashion ; — 
One  knows  all  sorts  of  people. 

The  Lean  Onh. 

I'm  pressed  for  time ; 
Where  saw  you  him  last  ? 

*  So  in  originaL 


264  PEER    GYNT.  [acT  V. 

Peer. 
It  was  down  at  the  Cape. 

The  Lean  One, 
Di  Buona  Speranza  ? 

Peer. 

Just  so ;  but  he  sails 
Very  shortly  again,  if  I'm  not  mistaken 

The  Lean  One. 
I  must  hurry  off  then  without  delay. 
I  only  hope  I  may  catch  him  in  time ! 
That  Cape  of  Good  Hope — I  could  never  abide  it; — 
It's  ruined  by  missionaries  from  Stavanger. 

[He  rushes  off  southwards. 

Peer. 

The  stupid  hound  !     There  he  takes  to  his  heels 

With  his  tongue  lolling  out.     He'll  be  finely  sold. 

It  delights  me  to  humbug  an  ass  like  that. 

He  to  give  himself  airs,  and  to  lord  it  forsooth  ! 

He's  a  mighty  lot,  truly,  to  swagger  about ! 

He'll  scarcely  grow  fat  at  his  present  trade  ; — 

He'll  soon  drop  from  his  perch  with  his  whole 
apparatus. — 

H'm,  I '  m  not  over-safe  in  the  saddle  either ; 

I'm   expelled,    one    may  say,  from    self-owning 
nobility.^ 

[A  shooting  star  is  seen  ;  he  nods  afier  it. 

Greet  all  friends  from  Peer  Gynt,  Brother  Starry- 
Flash! 

*  "5^/vejer-Adlen."  **Selvejer"  (literally,  "self-owner")  means 
a  freeholder,  as  opposed  to  a  "husmand"  or  tenant.  There  is 
of  course  a  play  upon  words  in  the  original. 


I 


8C.    X.] 


PEER    GYNT. 


265 


To  flash  forth,  to  go  out,  and  be  naught  at  a  gulp — 
[Pulls  himself  together  as  though  in  terror, 
and  goes  deeper  in  among  the  mists  ;  still" 
ness  for  awhile  ;  then  he  cries  : 

Is  there  no  one,  no  one  in  all  the  whirl, — 

In  the  void  no  one,  and  no  one  in  heaven —  ! 

[He  comes  forward  again  further  doTvn, 
throws  his  hat  upon  the  ground,  and  tears 
at  his  hair.  By  degrees  a  stillness  comet 
over  him. 

So  unspeakably  poor,  then,  a  soul  can  go 

Back  to  nothingness,  into  the  grey  of  the  mist. 

Thou  beautiful  earth,  be  not  angry  with  me 

That  I  trampled  thy  grasses  to  no  avail. 

Thou  beautiful  sun,  thou  hast  squandered  away 

Thy  glory  of  light  in  an  empty  hut. 

There  was  no  one  within  it  to  hearten  and  warm; — 

The  owner,  they  tell  me,  was  never  at  home. 

Beautiful  sun  and  beautiful  earth, 

You  were  foolish  to  bear  and  give  light  to  my 
mother. 

The  spirit  is  niggard  and  nature  lavish ; 

And  dearly  one  pays  for  one's  birth  with  one's  life. — 

I  will  clamber  up  high,  to  the  dizziest  peak ; 

I  will  look  once  more  on  the  rising  sun. 

Gaze  till  I'm  tired  o'er  the  promised  land ; 

Then  try  to  get  snowdrifts  piled  up  over  me. 

They  can  write  above  them  :  "  Here  No  One  lies 
buried  " ; 

And  afterwards, — then !     Let  things  go  as 

they  can. 

Church-goers. 
[Singing  on  the  forest  path  J] 
Oh,  morning  thrice  blest. 
When  the  tongues  of  God's  kingdom 


266  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT   V. 


Struck  the  earth  like  to  flaming  steel  1 
From  the  earth  to  his  dwelling 
Now  the  heirs'  song  ascendeth 
In  the  tongue  of  the  kingdom  of  God. 

Peer. 
[Crouches  as  in  terror.^ 
Never  look  there  !  there  all's  desert  and  waste.— • 
I  fear  I  was,dead  long  before  I  died. 

[Tries  to  slink  in  among  the   bushes t  but 
comes  upon  the  cross-roads. 

The  Button-moulder. 
Good  morning,   Peer  Gynt !     Where's  the  list  of 
your  sins  } 

Peer. 
Do  you  think  that  I  haven't  been  whistling  and 

shouting 
As  hard  as  1  could  ? 

The  Button-moulder. 

And  met  no  one  at  all  ? 

Peer. 
Not  a  soul  but  a  tramping  photographer. 

The  Button-moulder. 
Well,  the  respite  is  over. 

Peer. 

Ay,  everything's  over. 
The  owl  smells   the  daylight.     Just  list  to  the 
hooting ! 

The  Button-moulder. 
It's  the  matin-bell  ringing 


SC.    X. 


PEER    GYNT. 


267 


Peer. 
^Pointing.] 
What's  that  shining  yonder  ? 

The  Button-moulder. 
Only  hght  from  a  hut. 

Peer. 
And  that  wailing  sound ? 

The  Button-moulder. 
But  a  woman  singing. 

Peer. 

Ay,  there — there  I'll  find 
The  list  of  my  sins 

The  Button-moulder. 
[Seizing  kirn.] 

Set  your  house  in  order ! 
[They  have  come  out  of  ike  underwood,  and 
are    standing    near    the  hut.       Day  is 
dawning. 

Peer. 
Set  my  house  in  order  }     It's  there !     Away . 
Get  you  gone  !   Though  your  ladle  were  huge  as  a 

coffin. 
It  were  too  small,  I  tell  you,  for  me  and  my  sins 

The  Button-moulder. 
Well,  to  the  third  cross-road.  Peer ;  but  then- 


[Tums  aside  and  goes. 

Peer. 
[Approaches  the  hut."] 
Forward  and  back,  and  it's  just  as  far. 


268  PEER    GYNT.  [aCT    V. 

Out  and  in,  and  it's  just  as  strait.  [Stops. 

No  ! — like  a  wild,  an  unending  lament. 
Is  the  thought ;  to  come  back,  to  go  in,  to  go  home. 
[Takes  a  few  steps  on,  but  stops  again. 
Round  about,  said  the  Boyg ! 

[Hears  singing  in  the  hut. 
Ah  no  ;  this  time  at  least 
Right  through,  though  the  path  may  be  never  so 
strait ! 

[He  runs  towards  the  hut;  at  the  same 
moment  Solveig  appears  in  the  doommy^ 
dressed  for  churchy  with  a  psalm-book 
wrapped  in  a  kerchiej,  and  a  staff  in  her 
hand.     She  stands  there  erect  and  mild. 

Peer. 

[Flings  himself  down  on  the  threshold.] 
Hast  thou  doom  for  a  sinner,  then  speak  it  forth  ! 

Solveig. 
He  is  here  !     He  is  here  I     Oh,  to  God  be  the 
praise ! 

[Stretches  out  her  arms  as  though  groping 
for  him. 

Peer. 
Cry  out  all  my  sins  and  my  trespasses  ! 

Solveig. 
In  nought  hast  thou  sinned,  oh  my  own  only  boy. 
[Gropes  for  him  again,  and  finds  him 

The  Button -moulder. 
[Behind  the  house.'\ 
The  sin-list.  Peer  Gynt  ? 


SC.    X.] 


PEER    GYNT. 


269 


Peer. 

Cry  aloud  my  crime  ! 

SOLVEIG. 

[Sits  down  he  side  him.'\ 
Thou  hast  made  all  my  life  as  a  beautiful  song. 
Blessed  be  thou  that  at  last  thou  hast  come  ! 
Blessed,  thrice  blessed  our  Whitsun-mom  meeting ! 

Peer. 
Then  I  am  lost ! 

SoLVEIG. 

There  is  one  that  rules  all  things. 

Peer. 
[Laughs.^ 
Lost !     Unless  thou  canst  answer  riddles. 

Solveio. 
Tell  me  them. 

Peer. 
Tell  them  !     Come  on  I     To  be  sure  I 
Canst  thou  tell  where  Peer  Gynt  has  been  since 
we  parted  ? 

SOLVEIG. 

Been? 

Peer. 
With  his  destiny's  seal  on  his  brow  ; 
Been,  as  in  God's  thought  he  first  sprang  forth  ! 
Canst  thou  tell  me?  If  not,  I  must  get  me  home^ — 
Go  down  to  the  mist-shrouded  regions. 

Solveio. 
[SmiUng.^ 
Oh,  that  riddle  is  easy. 


270  PEER    GYNT.  [aOT   V. 

Peer. 
Then  tell  what  thou  knowest ! 
Where  was  I,  as  myself,  as  the  whole  man,  the  true 

man? 
Where  was  I,  with  God's  sigil  upon  my  brow  ? 

SOLVEIG. 

In  my  faith,  in  my  hope,  and  in  my  love.^ 

Peer. 
[Starts  back.'] 
What  sayest  thou ?     Peace  I     These  are  jug- 
gling words. 
Thou  art  mother  thyself  to  the  man  that's  there. 

SOLVEIG. 

Ay,  that  I  am ;  but  who  is  his  father  ? 
Surely  he  that  forgives  at  the  mother's  prayer. 

Peer. 

[A  light  shines  in  his  face;  he  cries ;] 
My  mother;  my  wife ;  oh,  thou  innocent  woman! — 
In  thy  love — oh,  there  hide  me,  hide  me  ! 

[Clings  to  her  and  hides  his  face  in  her  lap, 
A  long  silence.     The  sun  rises. 

SOLVEIG. 

\Sings  softly.] 
Sleep  thou,  dearest  boy  of  mine ! 
I  will  cradle  thee,  I  will  watch  thee 

*  "  I  min  Tro,  i  mit  Hab  og  i  min  Kjaerlighed." 
We  have  entirely  sacrificed  the  metre  of  the  line,  feeling  it 
Impossible  to  mar  its  simplicity  by  any  padding.    "  Kjaerlighed" 
gtlso  means  "  charity,"  in  the  biblical  sense. 


PEER    GYNT.  271 


I'he  boy  has  been  sitting  on  his  mother's  lap. 
They  two  have  been  playing  all  the  life-day  long. 

The  boy  has  been  resting  at  his  mother's  breast 
All  the  life-day  long.     God's  blessing  on  my  joy  ! 

The  boy  has  been  lying  close  in  to  my  heart 
All  the  life-day  long.     He  is  weary  now. 

Sleep  thou,  dearest  boy  of  mine  I 
I  will  cradle  thee,  I  will  watch  thee. 

The  Button-moulder's  voice. 
[Behind  the  house.^ 
At  the  last  cross-road  we  will  meet  again,  Peer ; 
And  then  we'll  see  whether ;  I  say  no  more. 

SOLVEIG. 

[Sings  louder  in  the  full  daylight.'] 
I  will  cradle  thee,  I  will  watch  thee ; 
Sleep  and  dream  thou,  dear  my  boy ! 


THE   END. 


APPENDIX. 


[The  stories  of  Peer  Gynt  and  Gudbrand  GlesnS 
both  occur  in  Asbjornsen's  "  Reindeer-hunting  in  the 
Ronde  Hills"  (Norske  Huldre- Evenly r  og  Follcesagn, 
Christiania,  1848).  They  are  told  by  the  peasant 
guides  or  gillies  who  accompany  a  shooting-party  into 
the  mountains — the  first  by  Peer  Fugleskjelle,  tho 
second  by  Thor  Ulvsvolden.  Our  translation  of 
Asbjornsen's  "Peer  Gynt"  is  based  on  Mr.  H.  L. 
Brsekstad's  version,  published  in  Round  the  Tule  Log^ 
London,  1881.] 

PEER  GYNT. 

In  the  old  days  there  lived  in  Kvam  a  hunter,  whose 
name  was  Peer  Gynt.  He  was  always  up  in  the 
mountains  shooting  bears  and  elks  ;  for  in  those  days 
there  were  more  forests  on  the  mountains  to  harbour 
such  wild  beasts.  One  time,  late  in  the  autumn, 
long  after  the  cattle  had  been  driven  home.  Peer  set 
out  for  the  hills.  Every  one  had  left  the  uplands 
except  three  soeter-girls.  When  Peer  came  up  towards 
Hovring,  where  he  was  to  pass  the  night  in  a  saeter,  it 
was  so  dark  that  he  could  not  see  his  fist  before  him, 
and  the  dogs  fell  to  barking  and  baying  so  that  it  waa 
quite  uncanny.  All  of  a  sudden  he  ran  against  some- 
thing, and  when  he  put  his  hand  out  he  felt  it  wa? 


APPENDIX. 


273 


cold  and  slippery  and  big.  Yet  he  did  not  seem  to 
have  strayed  from  the  road,  so  he  couldn't  think  what 
this  could  be  ;  but  unpleasant  it  was  at  any  rate. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  asked  Peer,  for  he  felt  it  moving. 

"  Oh,  it's  the  Boyg,"  i  was  the  answer. 

Peer  was  no  wiser  for  this,  but  skirted  along  it  for  a 
bit,  thinking  that  somewhere  he  must  be  able  to  pass. 
Suddenly  he  ran  against  something  again,  and  when 
he  put  out  his  hand,  it  too  was  big,  and  cold,  and 
slippery. 

"  Who  is  it  r'  asked  Peer  Gynt. 

"  Oh,  it's  the  Boyg,"  was  the  answer  again. 

"  Well,  straight  or  crooked,  you'll  have  to  let  me 
pass,"  said  Peer  ;  for  he  understood  that  he  was 
walking  in  a  ring,  and  that  the  Boyg  had  curled  itself 
round  the  saeter.  Thereupon  it  shifted  a  little,  so 
that  Peer  got  past.  When  he  came  inside  the  saeter, 
it  was  no  lighter  there  than  outside.  He  was  feeling 
along  the  wall  for  a  place  to  hang  up  his  gun  and  his 
bag  ;  but  as  he  was  groping  his  way  forward  he  again 
felt  something  cold,  and  big,  and  slippery. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  shouted  Peer. 

'*  Oh,  it's  the  great  Boyg,"  was  the  answer.  Where- 
ever  he  put  his  hands  out  er  tried  to  ^et  past,  he  felt 
the  Boyg  encircling  him. 

"  It's  not  very  pleasant  to  be  here,"  thought  Peer, 
"  since  this  Boyg  is  both  out  and  in  ;  but  I  think  I 
can  make  short  work  of  the  nuisance." 

So  he  took  his  gun  and  went  out  again,  groping  his 
way  till  he  found  the  creature's  head. 

"  What  are  you  ?  "  asked  Peer. 

"  Oh,  I  am  the  big  Boyg  from  Etnedale,"  said  the 
Troll-Monster.  Peer  did  not  lose  a  moment,  bat 
fired  three  shots  right  into  its  head. 

1  See  footnote,  p.  zxvL 
IV  8 


274  PEER    GYNT. 


"Fire  another,"  said  the  Boyg.  But  Peer  knew 
better  ;  if  he  had  fired  another  shot,  the  bullet  would 
have  rebounded  against  himself. 

Thereupon  Peer  and  his  dogs  took  hold  of  the 
Troll-Monster  and  dragged  him  out,  so  that  they 
could  get  into  the  sseter.  Meanwhile  there  was 
jeering  and  laughing  in  all  the  hills  around. 

"Peer  Gynt  dragged  hard,  but  the  dogs  dragged 
harder,"  said  a  voice. 

Next  morning  he  went  out  stalking.  When  he 
came  out  on  the  uplands  he  saw  a  girl,  who  was  calling 
some  sheep  up  a  hillside.  But  when  he  came  to  the 
place  the  girl  was  gone  and  the  sheep  too,  and  he  saw 
nothing  but  a  great  flock  of  bears. 

"  Well,  I  never  saw  bears  in  a  flock  before,"  thought 

Peer  to  himself.    When  he  came  nearer,  they  had  all 

disappeared  except  one. 

"Look  after  your  pig : 
Peer  Gynt  is  out 
with  his  gun  so  big,"* 

shouted  a  voice  over  in  a  hillock. 

"  Oh,  it'll  be  a  bad  business  for  Peer,  but  not  for 
my  pig  ;  for  he  hasn't  washed  himself  to-day,"  said 
another  voice  in  the  hill.  Peer  washed  his  hands 
with  the  water  he  had,  and  shot  the  bear.  There  was 
more  laughter  and  jeering  in  the  hill. 

"  You  should  have  looked  after  your  pig  I "  cried  a 
voice. 

"  I  didn't  remember  he  had  a  water-jug  between 
his  legs,"  answered  the  other. 

Peer  skinned  th^  bear  and  buried  the  carcass  among 
the  atones,  but  the  head  and  the  hide  he  took  with 
him.    On  his  way  home  he  met  a  fox. 

1  Literally,  "with  his  tail."  A  gun  loosely  slung  over  the 
shoulder  bears  a  certain  resemblance  to  a  tail  sticking  up  in  the  air. 


APPENDIX. 


275 


*'  Look  at  my  lamb,  how  fat  it  is,"  said  a  voice  in  a 

hm. 

**  Look  at  that  guni  of  Peer's,  how  high  it  is,"  said 
a  voice  in  another  hill,  just  as  Peer  took  aim  and  shot 
the  fox.  He  skinned  the  fox  and  took  the  skin  with 
him,  and  when  he  came  to  the  saeter  he  put  the  heads 
on  the  wall  outside,  with  their  jaws  gaping.  Then  he 
lighted  a  fire  and  put  a  pot  on  to  boil  some  soup,  but 
the  chimney  smoked  so  terribly  that  he  could  scarcely 
keep  his  eyes  open,  and  so  he  had  to  set  wide  a  small 
window.  Suddenly  a  Troll  came  and  poked  his  nose 
in  through  the  window  ;  it  was  so  long  that  it  reached 
across  the  room  to  the  fireplace. 

"Here's  a  proper  snout  for  you  to  see,"  said  the  Troll. 

•*  And  here's  proper  soup  for  you  to  taste,"  said  Peer 
Gynt ;  and  he  poured  the  whole  potf  ul  of  soup  over 
the  Troll's  nose.  The  Troll  ran  away  howling  ;  bat 
in  all  the  hills  around  there  was  jeering  and  laughing 
and  voices  shouting — 

"  Soup-snout  Gyri  I    Soup-snout  Gyri !  " 

All  was  quiet  now  for  a  while  ;  but  before  long 
there  was  a  great  noise  and  hubbub  outside  again. 
Peer  looked  out  and  saw  that  there  was  a  cart  there, 
drawn  by  bears.  They  hoisted  up  the  Troll-Monster, 
and  carted  him  away  into  the  mountain.  Just  then  a 
bucket  of  water  came  down  the  chimney  and  put  out 
the  fire,  so  that  Peer  was  left  in  the  dark.  Then  a 
jeering  and  laughing  began  in  all  the  corners  of  the 
room,  and  a  voice  said — 

"  It'll  go  no  better  with  Peer  now  than  with  the 
saster-girls  at  Vala." 

Peer  made  up  the  fire  again,  took  his  dogs  with 
him,  shut  up  the  house,  and  set  off  northward  to  the 
Yala  saeter,  where  the  three  girls  were.  When  he  had 
1  Literally,  "tail" 


276  PEER    GYNT. 


gone  some  distance  he  saw  such  a  glare  of  light  that 
it  seemed  to  him  the  saeter  must  be  on  fire.  Just 
then  he  came  across  a  pack  of  wolves  ;  some  of  them 
he  shot,  and  some  he  knocked  on  the  head.  When  he 
came  to  the  Yala  saeter  he  found  it  pitch  dark  ;  there 
was  no  sign  of  any  fire  ;  but  there  were  four  strangers 
in  the  house  carrying  on  with  the  saeter-girls.  They 
were  four  Hill- Trolls,  and  their  names  were  Gust  of 
Vasre,  Tron  of  the  Valf  jeld,  Tjostol  Aabakken,  and 
Kolf  Eldforpungen.  Gust  of  Vsere  was  standing  at 
the  door  to  keep  watch,  while  the  others  were  in  with 
the  girls  courting.  Peer  fired  at  Gust,  but  missed 
him,  and  Gust  ran  away.  When  Peer  came  inside  he 
found  the  Trolls  carrying  on  desperately  with  the 
girls.  Two  of  the  girls  were  terribly  frightened  and 
were  saying  their  prayers,  but  the  third,  who  was 
called  Mad  Kari,  wasn't  afraid  ;  she  said  tliey  might 
come  there  for  all  she  cared  ;  she  would  like  to  see 
what  stuff  there  was  in  such  fellows.  But  when  the 
Trolls  found  that  Peer  was  in  the  room  they  began  to 
howl,  and  told  Eldforpungen  to  make  up  the  fire. 
At  that  instant  the  dogs  set  upon  Tjostol  and  pulled 
him  over  on  his  back  into  the  fireplace,  so  that  the 
ashes  and  sparks  flew  up  all  round  him. 

**Did  you  see  my  snakes.  Peer?"  asked  Tron  of 
the  Valf  jeld — that  was  what  he  called  the  wolves. 

"  You  shall  go  the  same  way  as  your  snakes,"  said 
Peer,  and  shot  him  ;  and  then  he  killed  Aabakken 
with  the  butt-end  of  his  rifle.  Eldforpungen  had 
escaped  up  the  chimney.  After  this  Peer  took  the 
girls  back  to  their  homes,  for  they  didn't  dare  to  stay 
any  longer  up  at  the  saster. 

Shortly  before  Christmas-time  Peer  set  out  again. 
He  had  heard  of  a  farm  on  the  Dovref  jeld  which  was 
invaded  by  such  a  number  of  Trolls  every  Christmas- 


APPENDIX. 


277 


eve  that  the  people  of  the  farm  had  to  turn  out  and 
get  shelter  with  some  of  their  neighbours.  He  was 
anxious  to  go  there,  for  he  was  very  keen  upon  the 
Trolls.  He  dressed  himself  in  some  old  ragged 
clothes,  and  took  with  him  a  tame  white  bear  that  he 
had,  as  well  as  an  awl,  some  pitch,  and  waxed  twine. 
When  he  came  to  the  farm  he  went  in  and  begged  for 
houseroom. 

"  God  help  us  !  "  said  the  farmer  ;  **  we  can't  put 
you  up.  We  have  to  clear  out  of  the  house  ourselves, 
for  every  blessed  Christmas-eve  the  whole  place  is 
fuU  of  Trolls." 

But  Peer  Gynt  said  he  thought  he  should  be  able 
to  clear  the  house  of  Trolls  ;  and  then  he  got  leave 
to  stay,  and  they  gave  him  a  pig's  skin  into  the 
bargain.  The  bear  lay  down  behind  the  fireplace, 
and  Peer  took  out  his  awl,  and  pitch,  and  twine,  and 
set  to  making  a  big  shoe,  that  took  the  whole  pig's 
skin.  He  put  a  strong  rope  in  for  laces,  so  that  he 
could  pull  the  shoe  tight  together  at  the  top  ;  and  he 
had  a  couple  of  handspikes  ready. 

All  of  a  sudden  the  Trolls  came,  with  a  fiddle  and 
a  fiddler  ;  some  began  dancing,  while  others  fell  to 
eating  the  Christmas  fare  on  the  table  ;  some  fried 
bacon,  and  some  fried  frogs  and  toads,  and  other 
disgusting  things  :  these  were  the  Christmas  dainties 
ihey  had  brought  with  them.  In  the  meantime  some 
of  the  Trolls  found  the  shoe  Peer  had  made  ;  they 
thought  it  must  be  for  a  very  big  foot.  Then  they 
all  wanted  to  try  it  on  ;  and  when  each  of  them  had 
put  a  foot  into  it,  Peer  tightened  the  rope,  shoved 
one  of  the  handspikes  into  it,  and  twisted  it  up  till 
they  were  all  stuck  fast  in  the  shoe. 

Just  then  the  bear  put  his  nose  out  and  smelt 
the  fry. 


^78  PEER    OYNT. 


"  Will  you  have  a  sausage,  white  pussy  ?  "  said  one 
of  the  Trolls,  and  threw  a  red-hot  frog  right  into  the 
bear's  jaws. 

"  Claw  and  smite-  Bruin  !  "  said  Peer  Gynt. 

And  then  the  bear  got  into  such  a  rage  that  he 
rushed  at  tlie  Trolls  and  smote  and  clawed  them 
all,  and  Peer  Gynt  took  the  other  handspike  and 
hammered  away  at  them  as  if  he  wanted  to  beat  their 
brains  out.  So  the  Trolls  had  to  clear  out,  and  Peer 
stayed  and  enjoyed  himself  on  the  Christmas  cheer 
the  whole  feast-time.  After  that  the  Trolls  were  not 
heard  of  again  for  many  years.  The  farmer  had  a 
light-coloured  mare,  and  Peer  advised  him  to  breed 
from  her,  and  let  her  foals  in  /iieir  turn  run  and 
breed  among  the  hills  there. 

Many  years  afterwards,  about  Christmas-time,  the 
farmer  was  out  in  the  forest  cutting  wood  for  the 
feast-time,  when  a  Troll  came  towards  him  and 
shouted — 

"  Have  you  got  that  big  white  pussy  of  yours 
yet?" 

"Yes,  she's  at  home  behind  the  stove,"  said  the 
farmer ;  "  and  she's  got  seven  kittens  now,  much 
bigger  and  fiercer  than  herself." 

"  We'll  never  come  to  you  any  more,  then,"  shouted 
the  Troll. 

"  That  Peer  Gynt  was  a  strange  one,"  said  Anders. 
"  He  was  such  an  out-and-out  tale-maker  and  yarn- 
spinner,  you  couldn't  have  helped  laughing  at  him. 
He  always  made  out  that  he  himself  had  been  mixed 
up  in  all  the  stories  that  people  said  had  happened  in 
the  olden  times." 


APPENDIX.  279 


GUDBRAND  GLESNfi. 

"There  was  a  hunter  in  the  West-Hills/'  said 
Thor  Ulvsvolden,  "  called  Gudbrand  Glesne.  He  was 
married  to  the  grandmother  of  the  lad  you  saw  at  the 
soeter  yesterday  evening,  and  a  first-rate  hunter  they 
say  he  was.  One  autumn  he  came  across  a  huge  buck. 
He  shot  at  it,  and  from  the  way  it  fell  he  couldn't 
tell  but  that  it  was  stone  dead.  So  he  went  up  to  it, 
and,  as  one  often  does,  seated  himself  astride  on  its 
back,  and  was  just  drawing  his  knife  to  cleave  the 
neck-bone  from  the  skull.  But  no  sooner  had  he  sat 
down  than  up  it  jumped,  threw  its  horns  back,  and 
jammed  him  down  between  them,  so  that  he  was  fixed 
as  in  an  arm-chair.  Then  it  rushed  away  ;  for  the 
bullet  had  only  grazed  the  beast's  head,  so  that  it  had 
fallen  in  a  swoon.  Never  any  man  had  such  a  ridei  as 
that  Gudbrand  had.  Away  they  went  in  the  teeth  of 
the  wind,  over  the  ugliest  glaciers  and  moraines. 
Then  the  beast  dashed  along  the  Gjende-edge  ;  and 
now  Gudbrand  prayed  to  the  Lord,  for  he  thought  he 
would  never  see  sun  or  moon  again.  But  at  last  the 
reindeer  took  to  the  water  and  swam  straight  across 
with  the  hunter  on  its  back.  By  this  time  he  had  got 
his  knife  drawn,  and  the  moment  the  buck  set  foot 
on  shore,  he  plunged  it  into  its  neck,  and  it  dropped 
dead.  But  you  may  be  sure  Gudbrand  Glesne 
wouldn't  have  taken  that  ride  again,  not  for  all  the 
riches  in  the  world. 

"  I  have  heard  a  story  like  that  in  England,  about 

a  deer-stalker  that  became  a  deer-rider,"  said  Sir 

Tottenbroom.i 

1  "Skyds" — conveyance. 

3  An  English  sportsman  who  accompanied  Asbjbrnsen  on 
bis  rambles. 


280  PEER    GYNT. 


^ 


5 


"  Bliecher,  in  Jutland,  tells  a  similar  one,"  I  said. 

"  But  what  sort  of  a  place  was  this  Gjender-edge 
you  spoke  of,  Thor  ?  "  he  interrupted  me. 

"  Gjende-edge,  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Thor.  "  It's  the 
ridge  i  of  a  mountain  lying  between  the  Gjende-lakes, 
and  so  horribly  narrow  and  steep  that  if  you  stand  on 
it  and  drop  a  stone  from  each  hand,  they  will  roll 
down  into  the  lakes,  one  on  each  side.  The  reindeer- 
hunters  go  over  it  in  fine  weather,  otherwise  it's 
impassable  ;  but  there  was  a  devil  of  a  fellow  up  in 
Skiager — Ole  StorebrSten  was  his  name — who  went 
over  it  carrying  a  full-sized  reindeer  on  his  shoulders." 

"  How  high  is  it  above  the  lakes  ? "  asked  Sir 
Tottenbroom. 

*'  Oh,  it's  not  nearly  so  high  as  the  Ronde-hills," 
said  Thor.     "But  it's  over  seven  hundred  ells  high." 

1  *•  Rygge" — backbone,  aritc 


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