Henrik Ibsen (1828-1906)

Peer Gynt

Translated by Robert Farquharson Sharp

Act V

Scene 4

(A hillside 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 farm-house.)

(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 sitting on a rubbish-heap beside the mill.)

PEER. Forward and back, and itís just as far; out and in, and itís just as strait.óTime wears away and the river gnaws on. Go roundabout, the Boyg said;óand here one must.

A MAN DRESSED IN MOURNING. Now there is only rubbish left over. (Catches sight of Peer Gynt.) Are there strangers here too! God be with you, good friend!

PEER. Well met! You have lively times here to-day. Isít a christening junket or a wedding feast?

THE MAN IN MOURNING. Iíd rather call it a house-warming treat;óthe bride is laid in a wormy bed.

PEER. And the worms are squabbling for rags and clouts.

THE MAN IN MOURNING. Thatís the end of the ditty; itís over and done.

PEER. All the ditties end just alike; and theyíre all old together; I knew íem as a boy.

A LAD OF TWENTY (with a casting-ladle). Just look what a rare thing Iíve 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 pedlarís 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. Youíre forgetting me, man! Are you mad or drunk?

THE MAN IN MOURNING. You forget that at Hegstad was a storehouse door.

THE MAN IN GREY. Ay, true; but we know you were never dainty.

THE MAN IN MOURNING. If only she doesnít give Death the slipó

THE MAN IN GREY. Come, kinsman! A dram, for our kinshipís sake!

THE MAN IN MOURNING. To the deuce with your kinship! Youíre maundering in drinkó

THE MAN IN GREY. Oh, rubbish; bloodís never so thin as all that; one cannot but feel oneís akin to Peer Gynt.

(Goes off with him.)

PEER (to himself). One meets with acquaintances.

A LAD (calls after the man in mourning). Mother thatís dead will be after you, Aslak, if you wet your whistle.

PEER (rises). The agriculturistsí saying seems scarce to hold here: The deeper one harrows the better it smells.

A LAD (with a bearís skin). Look, the cat of the Dovre! Well, only his fell. It was he chased the trolls out on Christmas Eve.

ANOTHER (with a reindeer-skull). Here is the wonderful reindeer that bore, at Gendin, Peer Gynt over edge and scaur.

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, hereís the invisible cloak Peer Gynt and Ingrid flew off through the air with.

PEER. Brandy here, boys! I feel Iím grown old;óI must put up to auction my rubbish and lumber!

A LAD. What have you to sell, then?

PEER. A palace I haveóit lies in the Ronde; itís solidly built.

THE LAD. A button is bid!

PEER. You must run to a dram. íTwere a sin and a shame to bid anything less.

ANOTHER. Heís a jolly old boy, this!

(The bystanders crowd round him.)

PEER (shouts). Grane, my steed; who bids?

ONE OF THE CROWD. Whereís 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. Iíve both rubbish and gold! I bought it with ruin; Iíll 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. Hereís my Kaiserdom! I throw it in the midst of you; scramble for it!

THE LAD. Is the crown given in?

PEER. Of the loveliest straw. It will fit whoever first puts it on. Hei, there is more yet! An addled egg! A madmanís grey hair! And the Prophetís beard! All these shall be his that will show on the hillside a post that has writ on it: Here lies your path!

THE BAILIFF (who has come up). Youíre 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, nonsenseó

PEER. Your pardon! Most humbly I begó!

THE BAILIFF. Oh, heís said to have been an abominable liaró

PEER. A liaró?

THE BAILIFF. Yesóall that was strong and great he made believe always that he had done it. But, excuse me, friendóI have other dutiesó

(Goes.)

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;óitís many a year now since he was hanged.

PEER. Hanged! Ay, ay! Why, I thought as much; our lamented Peer Gynt was himself to the last. (Bows.) Good-bye,óand best thanks for to-dayís merry meeting. (Goes a few steps, but stops again.) You joyous youngsters, you comely lasses,óshall I pay my shot with a travellerís tale?

SEVERAL VOICES. Yes; do you know any?

PEER. Nothing more easy.ó (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 halling on his knees; a third, I was told, kept on making verses while his brain-pan was having a hole bored right through it. To the mountebank-meeting came also the devil;óthought heíd 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 cape to it; man muss sich drappiren, as the Germans say. But under the mantleówhat none suspectedóheíd 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 squealówhereupon the performer bowed low and retired.óThe 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 carefully studied; but all were agreed as to one thing: qua grunt, the performance was grossly exaggerated.óNow that, you see, came of the devilís stupidity in not taking the measure of his public first.

(He bows and goes off. A puzzled silence comes over the crowd.)

Act V Scene 3

Act V Scene 5