=Jeppe= (alone)--There that sow goes in to eat breakfast, and I, poor man,
must walk four miles before I can get anything to eat; can anyone have
such a damned woman as I have? I really believe she is a cousin to
Lucifer. Folks around here say that Jeppe drinks, but they don't say why
Jeppe drinks; why, I never got so many poundings in the ten years I was
in the army as I get every day from that awful woman. She pounds me, the
overseer drives me to work like a beast; and the sexton pays court to my
wife. Mustn't I drink, mustn't I use all the means nature has given us
to drive away sorrow? If I were a fool, such things wouldn't trouble me
so much, and then I wouldn't drink; but it is certain that I am a clever
man, and therefore I feel such things more than others, so I must drink.
My neighbor, Mo'ns Christopherson, often tells me, as he is my friend:
"Confound you, Jeppe, why don't you defend yourself, then the old woman
will come to her senses." But I can't strike back for three reasons.
First, because I haven't any courage; second, because of that damned
Master Erik hanging behind the bed, which my back cannot think of
without crying; third, because I am, if I do say it myself, a good sort
of soul and a good Christian, who never seeks revenge. I am so
kind-hearted that I have never even wished that the old woman would die.
On the contrary, when she lay sick of jaundice last year, I wished that
she would live; for, as hell is already full of bad women, Lucifer would
probably send her back, and then she would be still worse than before.
But if the sexton died, then I would be glad, for my own sake as well as
for others; since he does me only harm and is of no use to the
congregation. He is an ignorant devil, for he has no voice at all for
singing, nor can he cast an honest wax candle. No, then his predecessor,
Christopher, was a different sort of a person. He beat twelve sextons at
singing in his day, such a voice had he. One time I got into a quarrel
with the deacon, while Nille was listening, and when he scolded me for
being run by my wife, I said: "The devil take you, Sexton Mads." But
what happened? Master Erik was taken from the wall to settle the quarrel
and my back got so sore that I had to beg the sexton's pardon and thank
him, mind you, that he, a learned man, would honor my house by his
visits. Since that time I have never thought of making any opposition.
Oh, yes, yes, Mo'ns Christopherson! You and other peasants whose wives
have no Master Erik hanging behind the bed, can talk like that. If I had
a single wish in the world it would be either that my wife had no arms
or I no back; since she may use her tongue as much as she likes. But
I'll have to stop in at Jakob Skomager's on the way. He'll give me a
penny's worth of brandy on credit all right; for I must have something
to quench my thirst. Hey, Jakob Skomager! Are you up yet? Open the door,
Jakob!