Footnote 7:
_Ibid._, p. 129.
Footnote 8:
_Ibid._, p. 259.
Footnote 9:
Not included in the Copenhagen edition. See edition, Christiania,
1866, p. 115. See also Sir George Webbe Dasent’s _Popular Tales from
the Norse_, Edinburgh, 1859; new ed. 1903, p. 396. More or less
representative selections from the storehouse of Asbjörnsen and Moe
may also be found in _Tales from the Fjeld_, by G. W. Dasent, London,
1874, and in _Round the Yule Log_, by H. L. Brækstad, London 1881.
Footnote 10:
Copenhagen ed. 1896, p. 148.
Footnote 11:
In this story, however, he probably found the suggestion of the
“cross-roads” which figure so largely in the fifth act. In Asbjörnsen,
they are explicitly stated to be the point where the ways to Heaven
and Hell diverge.
Footnote 12:
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. According to this authority, he probably lived as far
back as the seventeenth 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 Asbjörnsen. (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 to Ibsen’s Letters.)
Footnote 13:
It is pretty clear that the poet designed Åse’s death as a deliberate
contrast to the death of Brand’s mother.
Footnote 14:
In all these remarks I have in mind, of course, the scenes in their
original form. The reader will easily understand the loss which they
inevitably suffer in being deprived of the crowning grace of
richly-elaborated rhyme.
Footnote 15:
London: Sonnenschein, 1892.
Footnote 16:
_Henrik Ibsen et le Théâtre Contemporain._ Paris, 1892.
Footnote 17:
Deeming it unnecessary to trouble our readers with niceties of
pronunciation, we have represented the “Böig” of the original by the
more easily pronounceable “Boyg.” The root-idea seems to be that of
bending, of sinuousness; compare Norwegian _böie_, German _biegen_, to
bend. In Aasmundstad’s version of the _Peer Gynt_ legends (see Note,
p. xvii) when the Boyg names itself, Peer answers “Antel du æ rak hell
bògjë, saa fæ du sleppe mé 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 “Böigen” 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.
Footnote 18:
Dr. A. von Hanstein (_Ibsen als Idealist_, Leipzig, 1897, p. 67),
states that Ibsen himself endorsed this interpretation; but I do not
know on what evidence his statement is founded.
Footnote 19:
_Henrik Ibsen_ 1828-1888. _Et Literært Livsbillede_, Copenhagen, 1888.
English Translation, London, Heinemann, 1890.
-----
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PEER GYNT
(1867)
CHARACTERS.
ÅSE,[20] _a peasant’s widow_.
PEER GYNT,[21] _her son_.
TWO OLD WOMEN _with corn-sacks_. ASLAK, _a smith_.
WEDDING GUESTS. A KITCHEN-MASTER, A FIDDLER, ETC.
A MAN AND WIFE, _newcomers to the district_.
SOLVEIG and LITTLE HELGA, _their daughters_.
THE FARMER AT HEGSTAD.
INGRID, _his daughter_.
THE BRIDEGROOM and HIS PARENTS.
THREE SÆTER-GIRLS. A GREEN-CLAD WOMAN.
THE OLD MAN OF THE DOVRË.
A TROLL-COURTIER. SEVERAL OTHERS. TROLL-MAIDENS and
TROLL-URCHINS. A COUPLE OF WITCHES. BROWNIES, NIXIES,
GNOMES, ETC.
AN UGLY BRAT. A VOICE IN THE DARKNESS. BIRD-CRIES.
KARI, _a cottar’s wife_.
Master COTTON, Monsieur BALLON, Herren VON EBERKOPF
and TRUMPETERSTRÅLE, _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
(_muta persona_).
PROFESSOR BEGRIFFENFELDT, Dr. phil., _director of the
madhouse at Cairo_.
HUHU, _a language-reformer from the coast of Malabar_.
HUSSEIN, _an eastern Minister_. A FELLAH, _with 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 beginning of the present [that
is the nineteenth] century, and ends towards our own days
[1867], takes place partly in Gudbrandsdale, and on the
mountains around it, partly on the coast of Morocco, in the
desert of Sahara, in a madhouse at Cairo, at sea, etc._)
-----
Footnotes:
-----
Footnote 20:
Pronounce _Oasë_. The letter _å_ is pronounced like the _o_ in
“home.”
Footnote 21:
Pronounce _Pair Günt_—the _G_ hard, the _y_ like the German
modified _ü_.
-----
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PEER GYNT.
--------------
ACT FIRST.
SCENE FIRST.
_A wooded hillside near ÅSE’S farm. A river rushes down the
slope. On the farther 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, ÅSE, a small, slightly-built woman,
follows him, scolding angrily._
ÅSE.
Peer, you’re lying!
PEER.
[_Without stopping._]
No, I am not!
ÅSE.
Well then, swear that it is true!
PEER.
Swear? Why should I?
ÅSE.
See, you dare not!
It’s a lie from first to last.
PEER.
[_Stopping._]
It is true—each blessed word!
ÅSE.
[_Confronting 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.[22]
ÅSE.
[_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——
ÅSE.
[_As before._]
Doubtless, yes!
PEER.
Breathlessly I stood and listened,
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 on.
ÅSE.
No, of course not!
PEER.
Bang! 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! 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 my legs,
Clenched me like a pair of tongs;—
Then forthwith away he flew
Right along the Gendin-Edge!
ÅSE.
[_Involuntarily._]
Jesus save us——!
PEER.
Have you ever
Chanced to see the Gendin-Edge?
Nigh on four miles long it stretches
Sharp before you like a scythe.
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[23] sprang,
Dancing, round;—they sang, they swung,
Circle-wise, past sight and hearing!
ÅSE.
[_Dizzy._]
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.
Then the buck shied half around,
Leapt sky-high, and down we plunged,
Both of us, into the depths!
[_ÅSE totters, and catches at the trunk 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.
ÅSE.
[_Gasping for breath._]
Peer! God help me——! Quickly, tell——
PEER.
Buck from over, buck from under,
In 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——
ÅSE.
But the buck, dear?
PEER.
He’s there still, for aught I know;—
[_Snaps his fingers, turns on his heel, and adds_:
Catch him, and you’re welcome to him!
ÅSE.
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-mouthed 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 Glesnë[24] it befell,
Never you, you——
PEER.
Me as well.
Such a thing can happen twice.
ÅSE.
[_Exasperated._]
Yes, a lie, turned topsy-turvy,
Can be prinked and tinselled out,
Decked in plumage new and fine,
Till none knows its lean old carcass.
That is just what you’ve been doing,
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.
ÅSE.
[_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——
ÅSE.
Silence!
Could 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?
Where are now the sacks[25] 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?
ÅSE.
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!
ÅSE.
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 tell your Christian name,
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,[26] 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”[27]
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;—
[_Crying again._
Oh, God help me, small’s the profit
You have been to me, you scamp!
Lounging by the hearth at home,
Grubbing in the charcoal embers;
Or, round all the country, frightening
Girls away from merry-makings—
Shaming me in all directions,
Fighting with the worst rapscallions——
PEER.
[_Turning away from her._]
Let me be.
ÅSE.
[_Following him._]
Can you deny
That you were the foremost brawler
In the mighty battle royal
Fought the other day at Lundë;
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?
ÅSE.
[_Hotly._]
Cottar Kari heard the yells!
PEER.
[_Rubbing his elbow._]
Maybe, but ’twas I that howled.
ÅSE.
You?
PEER.
Yes, mother,—_I_ got beaten.
ÅSE.
What d’you say?
PEER.
He’s limber, he is.
ÅSE.
Who?
PEER.
Why Aslak, to be sure.
ÅSE.
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——
ÅSE.
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——
ÅSE.
Oh, you brawler! You will bring me
With your doings to the grave!
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.
ÅSE.
[_Contemptuously._]
You!
PEER.
Who knows what may befall one?
ÅSE.
Could you but find so much sense,
One day, as to do the darning
Of your breeches for yourself!
PEER.
[_Hotly._]
I will be a king, a kaiser!
ÅSE.
Oh, God comfort me, he’s losing
All the little wits he’d left!
PEER.
Yes, I will! Just give me time!
ÅSE.
Give you time, you’ll be a prince,
So the saying goes, I think!
PEER.
You shall see!
ÅSE.
Oh, hold your tongue
You’re as mad as mad can be.—
Ah, and yet it’s true enough,—
Something might have come of you,
Had you not been 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?
ÅSE.
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 gaffer, 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!
ÅSE.
Where?
PEER.
At Hegstad!
ÅSE.
Ah, poor boy;
Hegstad way is barred to wooers!
PEER.
How is that?
ÅSE.
Ah, woe is me!
Lost the moment, lost the luck——
PEER.
Speak!
ÅSE
[_Sobbing_.
While in the Wester-hills
You in air were riding reindeer,
Here Mads Moen’s[28] won the girl!
PEER.
What! That women’s-bugbear! He——
ÅSE.
Ay, she’s taking him for husband.
PEER.
Wait you here till I have harnessed
Horse and waggon——
[_Going._
ÅSE.
Spare your pains,
They are to be wed to-morrow——
PEER.
Pooh; this evening I’ll be there!
ÅSE.
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;
’Twould take time to fetch the mare up——
[_Lifts her up in his arms._
ÅSE.
Put me down!
PEER.
No, in my arms
I will bear you to the wedding!
[_Wades out into the stream._
ÅSE.
Help! The Lord have mercy on us!
Peer! We’re drowning——
PEER.
I was born
For a braver death——
ÅSE.
Ay, true;
Sure enough you’ll hang at last!
[_Tugging at his hair._
Oh, you brute!
PEER.
Keep quiet now;
Here the bottom’s slippery-slimy.
ÅSE.
Ass!
PEER.
That’s right, don’t spare your tongue;
That does no one any harm.
Now it’s shelving up again——
ÅSE.
Don’t you drop me!
PEER.
Heisan! Hop!
Now we’ll play at Peer and reindeer;—
[_Curvetting._
I’m the reindeer, you are Peer!
ÅSE.
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——
ÅSE
[_Boxing his ears._]
This is how I thank him!
PEER.
Ow!
That’s a miserable fare!
ÅSE.
Put me down!
PEER.
First to the wedding.
Be my spokesman. You’re so clever;
Talk to him, the old curmudgeon;
Say Mads Moen’s good for nothing——
ÅSE.
Put me down!
PEER.
And tell him then
What a rare lad is Peer Gynt.
ÅSE.
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?
ÅSE.
[_Kicking with 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.
ÅSE.
Ay, but I’ll come after you!
PEER.
Mother dear, you haven’t strength——
ÅSE.
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——
ÅSE.
Nothing! I’ll to Hegstad with you!
They shall know you, what you are!
PEER.
Then you’ll even have to stay here.
ÅSE.
Never! To the feast I’m coming!
PEER.
That you shan’t.
ÅSE.
What will you do?
PEER.
Perch you on the mill-house roof.
[_He puts her up on the roof. ÅSE screams._
ÅSE.
Lift me down!
PEER.
Yes, if you’ll listen—
ÅSE.
Rubbish!
PEER.
Dearest mother, pray——
ÅSE.
[_Throwing a sod of grass at him._]
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.
ÅSE.
You beast!
PEER.
Do not kick!
ÅSE.
I’d have you blown,
Like a changeling, into space![29]
PEER.
Mother, fie!
ÅSE.
Bah!
PEER.
Rather give your
Blessing on my undertaking.
Will you? Eh?
ÅSE.
I’ll thrash you soundly,
Hulking fellow though you be!
PEER.
Well, good-bye then, mother dear!
Patience; I’ll be back ere long
[_Is going, but turns, holds up his finger warningly,
and says_:
Careful now, don’t kick and sprawl!
[_Goes._
ÅSE.
Peer!—God help me, now he’s off;
Reindeer-rider! Liar! Hei!
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?
ÅSE.
It is I!
SECOND WOMAN.
Åse! Well, you are exalted!
ÅSE.
This won’t be the end of it;—
Soon, God help me, I’ll be heaven high.
FIRST WOMAN.
Bless your passing!
ÅSE.
Fetch a ladder;
I must be down! That devil Peer——
SECOND WOMAN.
Peer! Your son?
ÅSE.
Now you can say
You have seen how he behaves.
FIRST WOMAN.
We’ll bear witness.
ÅSE.
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.
ÅSE.
[_Wringing her hands._]
Oh, God help me with my 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 the hill._
Eivind, Anders! Hei! Come here!
A MAN’S VOICE.
What’s amiss?
SECOND WOMAN.
Peer Gynt has perched his
Mother on the mill-house roof!
SCENE SECOND.
_A hillock, covered with bushes and heather. The highroad runs
behind it; a fence between._
_PEER GYNT comes along a footpath, goes quickly up to the fence,
stops, and looks out over the distant prospect._
PEER.
Yonder lies Hegstad. Soon I’ll have reached it.
[_Puts one leg over the fence; then hesitates._
Wonder if Ingrid’s alone in the house now?
[_Shades his eyes with his hand, and looks out._
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 burns right through you.
[_Moves a few 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[30] pass by,
going downwards towards the farm._
A MAN.
[_In conversation as they pass._]
His father was drunken, his mother is weak.
A WOMAN.
Ay, then it’s no wonder the lad’s good for nought.
[_They pass on. Presently PEER GYNT comes forward, his
face flushed with shame. He peers after them._
PEER.
[_Softly._]
Was 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 down upon the heathery slope; lies for
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.
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 curtseying. All the world knows him,
Kaiser Peer Gynt, and his thousands of henchmen.
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 half up._]
What, Kaiser——!
THE SMITH.
[_Leaning 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 Lundëspree yet
PEER.
[_Jumping up._]
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!
THE SMITH.
[_Winking to the others._]
Let us hear them, Peer!
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._]