(Enter Abrahams and Sanderus.)
ABRAHAMS. Isn't the burgomaster at home?
HENRICH. Yes, he's sitting under the table. Mr. Burgomaster!
SANDERUS. What? Are you sitting under the table, your Honor?
HERMAN. Oh, good sirs, I never asked to be made burgomaster. Why have you got me into all this trouble?
ABRAHAMS. You certainly accepted it at one time. Do come out, your Honor! We have come to point out the great wrong you did the foreign minister when you dismissed him so haughtily-because of which the city may get into difficulties. We thought that the burgomaster understood Jus publicum and ceremony better than that.
HERMAN. Oh, good gentlemen, you can depose me, and then I shall be relieved of a burden I am too weak to bear, and the foreign minister will get satisfaction at the same time.
SANDERUS. Far be it from us, your Honor, to depose you! You must come with us straight to the City Hall to consider with the syndics how the error can be remedied.
HERMAN. I won't go to the City Hall, even if I'm dragged by the hair. I don't want to be burgomaster, I never did want to be burgomaster, and I'd rather you killed me. I am a tinker, before God and honor, and a tinker I shall die.
SANDERUS. Will you make fools of the entire council? Listen, colleague, did he not accept the office of burgomaster?
ABRAHAMS. Certainly, and it is a fact which we have already reported to the council.
SANDERUS. We must consider the matter. The whole Senate is not going to allow itself to be made game of in this way. [Exeunt Abrahams and Sanderus.]
HERMAN. Henrich! (He comes out from under the table.)
HENRICH. Mr. Burgomaster!
HERMAN. What do you think these councillors are going to do to me?
HENRICH. I don't know; they were very angry, I could see. I am surprised that they dared use such language in the burgomaster's own room. If I had been burgomaster, I should have come right out and said to them: "Shut up, you scurvy-necks! Stick your fingers on the floor and smell whose house you are in!"
HERMAN. I wish you were burgomaster, Henrich! I wish you were burgomaster! Oh—oh—oh'
HENRICH. If I might interrupt your business, sir, I should like to make one humble request, and that is that henceforth I might be called "von Henrich."
HERMAN. You shameless rogue! Is this the time to come to me with such talk, now, when you see that I am caught in a net of nothing but misfortunes and troublesome business!
HENRICH. On my word, I don't ask out of ambition, but only to command a little respect in the house from my fellow servants, especially from Anneke, who—
HERMAN. If you don't shut up, I'll break your neck into little pieces! Henrich!
HENRICH. Mr. Burgomaster!
HERMAN. Can't you help me get this straightened out, you stupid dog? Look here, if you don't clear up my affairs for me, there'll be trouble.
HENRICH. It's a wonder that you should ask such a thing of me, you who are such a clever man, and have been called to this high station solely on account of your wisdom.
HERMAN. Are you going to make fun of me into the bargain? (He picks up a chair and makes as if to hit him. Henrich runs out.)
HERMAN (sits down with his head in his hands and ponders a long time. Then he jumps up, startled). Didn't some one knock? (Goes softly to the door, but sees no one. He sits down again, and ponders; falls to weeping, and dries his eyes with papers; he jumps up again and yells as if he were in a frenzy.) A whole pack of papers from the syndics! The alderman of the hatters! The alderman's opponent! Complaint in twenty headings! Riot of sailors! A foreign president! Impeachment by the council! Threats! Isn't there a rope here at hand? Yes, I think there really is—there's one behind the stove. (Takes the rope and prepares a noose.) It was predicted of me, that I should be elevated by my political studies. The prophecy will come true, if only the rope holds. Let the council come, then, with all their threats, I scoff at them, once I am dead. But there is one thing I could wish for—to see the author of The Political Stockfish hanged by my side with sixteen copies of The Council of State and Political Dessert hung round his neck. (Takes the book from the table and tears it apart.} You brute! You shall never mislead another honest tinker. So, that's the last bit of comfort before I die! Now I must look for a hook to hang myself from. It will be especially noteworthy to have it said after my death: "What burgomaster in Hamburg was ever more vigilant than Herman von Bremenfeld, who in his whole term of office never slept a wink?"
(Herman climbs up on a chair, where he remains all through the scene. Enter Antonius.)
ANTONIUS. Here, here! What the devil are you doing?
HERMAN. I have no intention of doing anything; on the contrary, I am about to hang myself to avoid everything. If you will keep me company, it will be a pleasure to me.
ANTONIUS. Indeed I will not; but what brings you to such a desperate intention?
HERMAN. Listen, Antonius! it won't do any good to discuss it. I am to be hanged; if it doesn't happen to-day, it will happen to-morrow. I only beg, before I die, that you will pay my respects to Madam Burgomaster and the young lady, and instruct them to give me the following epitaph:
Traveller, stand and heed!Here hangsBurgomaster von Bremenfeld,Who in his whole term of officeSpent not a minute in sleep:Go forth and do likewise.
You may not know, dear Antonius, that I have been made burgomaster, that I have attained a position in which I don't know black from white, and where I find myself utterly incompetent; for I have observed, from the various tribulations which I have already met, that there is a great difference between being the government and criticising the government.
ANTONIUS. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
HERMAN. Don't laugh at me, Antonius! It is a sin to do it.
ANTONIUS. Ha, ha, ha! Now I see how it all works out. I was at the inn just now, and I heard people there bursting with laughter over a joke which had been played on Herman von Bremen, who had been made to believe by some young men that he had been elected burgomaster, to see how he would act. That pained me through and through and I came straight here, to warn you.
HERMAN. Ah, then I'm not a burgomaster at all?
ANTONIUS. No; the story was made out of whole cloth, to show you the foolishness of arguing about high subjects that you don't understand.
HERMAN. Then it's not true about the foreign president?
ANTONIUS. Certainly not.
HERMAN. Or the master hatter either?
ANTONIUS. All fabricated.
HERMAN. Nor the sailors?
ANTONIUS. No, no.
HERMAN. To the devil with hanging, then! Geske! Engelke! Peiter!Henrich! Come here, all of you!
(Enter Geske, Engelke, Peiter, Henrich.)
HERMAN. My dear wife! Go back to work; our burgomaster business is all over.
GESKE. Over?
HERMAN. If I were sure that you used that title out of malice, it would go hard with you.
HENRICH. No, indeed, I didn't, master, but it's hard to get things straight again so quickly.
HERMAN. Take hands, you two. So, that's the way. To-morrow we shall have a wedding. Henrich!
HENRICH. Mr. Burgomaster—Beg your pardon, I mean master!
HERMAN. Burn up all my political books, for I can't have them before my eyes any more, after the foolish ideas they put into my head. (To the audience.)
To take the leading statesman's partIs harder far than sneering,For squinting at a seaman's chartIs not the whole of steering:With books on politics at handA dolt may criticise,But judging right our fatherlandIs only for the wise.All craftsmen who have seen my fate,Pray, profit by its ending:Though all's not sound within the state,That's not our kind of mending.And when we drop our humble toolsAnd set us up as thinkers,We look the sorry lot of foolsThat statesmen would as tinkers.
1731
JEPPE BERG, a well-to-do peasant.
NILLE, his wife.
RASMUS BERG, called ERASMUS MONTANUS, their elder son a student at the University.
JACOB, the younger son.
JERONIMUS, a wealthy freeholder.
MAGDELONE, his wife.
LISBED, their daughter, betrothed to Rasmus.
PEER, the deacon.
JESPER, the bailiff.
A Lieutenant.
NIELS, the corporal.
ACTS II AND III A room in Jeppe's house.
(A village street showing Jeppe's house. Jeppe, with a letter in his hand.)
JEPPE. It is a shame that the deacon is not in town, for there's so much Latin in my son's letter that I can't understand. Tears come to my eyes when I think that a poor peasant's son has got so much book-learning, especially as we aren't tenants of the university. I have heard from people who know about learning that he can dispute with any clergyman alive. Oh, if only my wife and I could have the joy of hearing him preach on the hill, before we die, we shouldn't grudge all the money we have spent on him! I can see that Peer the deacon doesn't much relish the idea of my son's coming. I believe that he is afraid of Rasmus Berg. It is a terrible thing about these scholarly people. They are so jealous of each other, and no one of them can endure the thought that another is as learned as he. The good man preaches fine sermons here in the village and can talk about envy so that the tears come to my eyes; but it seems to me that he is n't entirely free from that fault himself. I can't understand why it should be so. If any one said that a neighbor of mine understood farming better than I, should I take that to heart? Should I hate my neighbor for that? No, indeed, Jeppe Berg would never do such a thing. But if here is n't Peer the deacon!
(Enter Peer the Deacon.)
JEPPE. Welcome home again, Peer.
PEER. Thank you, Jeppe Berg.
JEPPE. Oh, my dear Peer, I wish you could explain to me some Latin in my son's last letter.
PEER. That's nothing! Do you think I don't understand Latin as well as your son? I am an old Academicus, I'd have you know, Jeppe Berg.
JEPPE. I know it,—I just wondered if you understood the new Latin, for that language must change, just as the language of Sjaelland has done. In my youth the people here on the hill didn't talk the way they do now; what they now call a "lackey" used to be called a "boy;" what they now call a "mysterious" used to be called a "whore;" a "mademoiselle," a "house-maid;" a "musician," a "fiddler;" and a "secretary," a "clerk." So I suppose Latin may have changed, too, since you were in Copenhagen. Will you please explain that? (Pointing to a line in the letter.} I can read the letters, but I don't get the meaning.
PEER. Your son writes that he is now studying his Logicam,Rhetoricam, and Metaphysicam.
JEPPE. What does Logicam mean?
PEER. That's his pulpit.
JEPPE. I'm glad of that. I wish he could become a pastor!
PEER. But a deacon first.
JEPPE. What is the second subject?
PEER. That is Rhetorica, which in Danish means the Ritual. The third subject must be written wrong, or else it must be in French, because if it were Latin, I could read it easily. I am able, Jeppe Berg, to recite the whole Aurora: ala, that's a wing; ancilla, a girl; barba, a beard; coena, a chamber-pot; cerevisia, ale; campana, a bell; cella, a cellar; lagena, a bottle; lana, a wolf; ancilla, a girl; janua, a door; cerevisia, butter;—
JEPPE. You must have the devil's own memory, Peer!
PEER. Yes, I never thought I should have to stay in a poverty-stricken deacon's-living so long. I could have been something else years ago, if I had been willing to tie myself to a girl. But I prefer to help myself rather than have people say of me that I got a living through my wife.
JEPPE. But, my dear Peer, here is more Latin that I can't understand. Look at this line.
PEER. Die Veneris Hafnia domum profecturus sum. That's rather high-flown, but I understand it perfectly, though any other man might cudgel his brains over it. That means in Danish: There is come profecto a lot of Russes to Copenhagen.
JEPPE. What are the Russians doing here again?
PEER. These aren't Muscovites, Jeppe Berg, but young students, who are called "Russes."
JEPPE. Oh, I see. I suppose there is a great celebration on the days when the boys get their salt and bread and become students.
PEER. When do you expect him home?
JEPPE. To-day or to-morrow. Wait a bit, my dear Peer; I will run and tell Nille to bring us out a drink of ale.
PEER. I'd rather have a glass of brandy—it's early in the day to drink ale. [Exit Jeppe into house.
PEER. To tell the truth, I am not very anxious to have Rasmus Berg come home. Not that I am afraid of his learning, for I was an old student when he was still at school, getting beatings—saving your presence—on his rump. They were different fellows who graduated in my time from what they are now. I graduated from Slagelse School with Peer Monsen, Rasmus Jespersen, Christen Klim, Mads Hansen,—whom we used to call Mads Pancake in school,—Poul Iversen,—whom we called Poul Barlycorn,—all boys with bone in their skulls and beards on their chins, able to argue on any subject that might come up. I'm only a deacon, but I'm content so long as I get my daily bread and understand my office. I have made the income a deal bigger, and get more than any of my predecessors did; so my successors won't curse me in my grave. People think that there are no fine points for a deacon to know, but I can tell you a deacon's position is a hard one if you want to keep it on such a footing that it will support a man. Before my time people here in the village thought one funeral-song as good as another, but I have arranged things so that I can say to a peasant, "Which hymn will you have? This one costs so much and this one so much;" and when it comes to scattering earth on the body, "Will you have fine sand or just common or garden dirt?" Then there are various other touches that my predecessor, Deacon Christoffer, had no idea of; but he was uneducated. I can't understand how the fellow ever came to be a deacon; yet deacon he was, all the same. I tell you, Latin helps a man a great deal in every sort of business. I wouldn't give up the Latin I know for a hundred rix-dollars. It has been worth more than a hundred rix-dollars to me in my business; yes, that and a hundred more.
Enter Nille and Jeppe.
NILLE (offering the deacon a glass of brandy). Your health, Peer!
PEER. Thank you, mother. I never drink brandy unless I have a stomach-ache, but I have a bad stomach most of the time.
NILLE. Do you know, Peer, my son is coming home to-day or to-morrow! You'll find him a man you can talk to, for the boy's not tongue-tied, from all I hear.
PEER. Yes, I suppose he can talk a lot of Cloister-Latin.
NILLE. Cloister-Latin? That must be the best Latin, just as cloister-linen is the best linen.
PEER. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
JEPPE. What are you laughing at, Peer?
PEER. At nothing at all, Jeppe Berg. Just another drop! Your health, mother! It's true, as you say: cloister-linen is good linen, but—
NILLE. If that linen isn't made in a cloister, why is it called cloister-linen?
PEER. Yes, that's right enough, ha, ha, ha! But won't you give me a bite to eat with my brandy?
NILLE. Here's a little bread and cheese already cut, if you will eat it. (Gets a plate from the house.)
PEER. Thank you, mother. Do you know what bread is in Latin?
NILLE. No, indeed, I don't.
PEER (eating and talking at the same time). It's called panis; genitive, pani; dative, pano; vocative, panus; ablative, pano.
JEPPE. Goodness, Peer! That language is long-winded. What is coarse bread in Latin?
PEER. That's panis gravis; and fine bread is panis finis.
JEPPE. Why, that's half Danish!
PEER. True. There are many Latin words that were originally Danish. I'll tell you why: there was once an old rector at the school in Copenhagen, called Saxo Grammatica, who improved Latin in this country, and wrote a Latin grammar, and that's why he was called Saxo Grammatica. This same Saxo greatly enriched the Latin language with Danish words, for in his day Latin was so poor that a man couldn't write one sentence which people could understand.
JEPPE. But what does that word "Grammatica" mean?
PEER. The same as "Donat." When it is bound in a Turkish cover it is called "Donat," but when it's in white parchment it's called "Grammatica," and declined just like ala.
NILLE. I never shall see how people can keep so much in their head.My head swims just from hearing them talk about it.
JEPPE. That's why learned folk usually aren't quite right in their heads.
NILLE. What nonsense! Do you think our son Rasmus Berg isn't quite right?
JEPPE. It only seems a little queer, mother, that he should write aLatin letter to me.
PEER. Jeppe's right there, certainly. That was a little foolish. It is just as if I were to talk Greek to the bailiff, to show him that I understood the language.
JEPPE. Do you know Greek, Peer?
PEER. Why, twenty years ago I could repeat the whole Litany inGreek, standing on one foot. I still remember that the last word was"Amen."
JEPPE. Oh, Peer, it will be splendid, when my son comes back, to get you two together!
PEER. If he wants to dispute with me, he will find that I can hold my own; and if he wants to have a singing match with me, he will get the worst of it. I once had a singing contest with ten deacons and beat every one of them, for I outsang them in the Credo, all ten of them. Ten years ago I was offered the position of choir-master in Our Lady's School, but I didn't want it. Why should I take it, Jeppe? Why should I leave my parish, which loves and honors me, and which I love and honor in return? I live in a place where I earn my daily bread, and where I am respected by every one. The governor himself never comes here but he sends for me at once to pass the time with him and sing for him. Last year on this occasion he gave me two marks for singing "Ut, re, mi, fa, sol." He swore that he took more pleasure in that than in the best vocal music he had heard in Copenhagen. If you give me another glass of brandy, Jeppe, I will sing the same thing for you.
JEPPE. Do, please. Pour another glass of brandy, Nille.
[Exit Nille.]
PEER. I don't sing for every one, but you are my good friend, Jeppe, whom I serve with pleasure. (He sings.) Ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si, ut; now down—ut, si, la, sol, fa, mi, re, ut. (Reenter Nille with brandy. He drinks.} Now you shall hear how high I can go. Ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si, ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si, ut, re—
JEPPE. Heavens! That last was fine. Our little pigs can't go any higher with a squeak.
PEER. Now I will sing rapidly: Ut, re, mi, re—No! that wasn't right. Ut, re, mi, do, re, mi, ut—No, that went wrong, too. It's cursed hard, Jeppe, to sing so fast. But there comes Monsieur Jeronimus.
(Enter Jeronimus, Magdelone, and Lisbed.)
JERONIMUS. Good morning, kinsman! Have you any news from your son?
JEPPE. Yes; he is coming to-day or to-morrow.
LISBED. Oh, is it possible? Then my dream has come true.
JERONIMUS. What did you dream?
LISBED. I dreamed that I slept with him last night.
MAGEDELONE. There is something in dreams, I tell you. Dreams are not to be despised.
JERONIMUS. That's true enough, but if you girls didn't think so much about the menfolk in the daytime, you wouldn't have so many dreams about them at night. I suppose you used to dream just as much about me in the days when we were engaged, Magdelone?
MAGEDELONE. I did, indeed, but upon my word I haven't dreamed about you for some years now.
JERONIMUS. That's because your love isn't as hot now as it used to be.
LISBED. But is it possible that Rasmus Berg is coming home to-morrow?
JERONIMUS. Come, daughter, you shouldn't show that you are so much in love.
LISBED. Oh, but is it sure that he is coming home to-morrow?
JERONIMUS. Yes, yes; you hear, don't you, that's when he is coming?
LISBED. How long is it till to-morrow, father dear?
JERONIMUS. What confounded nonsense! These people in love act as if they were crazy.
LISBED. I tell you, I shall count every hour.
JERONIMUS. You should ask how long an hour is, so that people would think that you were completely mad. Stop this twaddle and let us elders talk together.—Listen, my dear Jeppe Berg! Do you think it is wise for these two young people to marry before he gets a position?
JEPPE. That is as you think best. I can support them well enough, but it would be better that he should get a position first.
JERONIMUS. I don't think it would be wise for them to marry until then. (Lisbed weeps and wails.) Fie, shame on you! It's a disgrace for a girl to carry on so!
LISBED (sobbing). Can't he get a position soon, then?
JEPPE. There's no doubt about it; he'll get a position soon enough, for from what I hear he is so learned he can read any book there is. He wrote me a Latin letter just lately.
NILLE. And, marry, it's one that can stand alone, as the deacon can tell you.
LISBED. Was it so well written?
PEER. Yes, well written for one so young. He may amount to something, Mamsell! But there's a lot left to learn. I thought I was learned, myself, at his age, but—
JEPPE. Yes, you learned folk never praise one another—
PEER. Nonsense! Do you think I am jealous of him? Before he was born I had been up for a flogging before the school three times, and when he was in the fourth form I had been eight years a deacon.
JEPPE. One man may have a better head than another; one may learn as much in a year as others in ten.
PEER. For that matter, the deacon dares set his head against any one's.
JERONIMUS. Yes, yes, you may both be right. Let us go home, children. Good-bye, Jeppe! I happened to be passing, and I thought I might as well talk to you on the way.
LISBED. Be sure to let me know as soon as he comes!
[Exeunt Jeronimus, Magdelone, and Lisbed.
(Enter Jacob.)
JEPPE. What do you want, Jacob?
JACOB. Father! Have you heard the news? Rasmus Berg is back.
JEPPE. Heavens, is it possible! How does he look?
JACOB. Oh, he looks mighty learned. Rasmus Nielsen, who drove him, swears that he did nothing all the way but dispute with himself in Greek and Elamite; and sometimes with so much zeal that he struck Rasmus Nielsen in the back of the neck three or four times, with his clenched fist, shouting all the while, "Probe the Major! Probe the Major!" I suppose he must have had a dispute with a major before he started out. Part of the way he sat still and stared at the moon and the stars with such a rapt expression that he fell off the wagon three times and nearly broke his neck from sheer learning. Rasmus Nielsen laughed at that, and said to himself, "Rasmus Berg may be a wise man in the heavens, but he is a fool on earth."
JEPPE. Let us go and meet him. Come with us, dear Peer. It may be that he has forgotten his Danish and won't be able to talk anything but Latin. In that case you can be interpreter.
PEER (aside). Not if I know it! (Aloud.) I have other things to attend to.
[A room in Jeppe's house. Montanus (whose stockings are falling down around his ankles).]
MONTANUS. I have been away from Copenhagen only a day, and I miss it already. If I didn't have my good books with me, I couldn't exist in the country. Studia secundas res ornant, adversis solatium praebent. I feel as if I had lost something, after going three days without a disputation. I don't know whether there are any learned folk in the village, but if there are, I shall set them to work, for I can't live without disputation. I can't talk much to my poor parents, for they are simple folk and know hardly anything beyond their catechism; so I can't find much comfort in their conversation. The deacon and the schoolmaster are said to have studied, but I don't know how much that has amounted to; still, I shall see what they are good for. My parents were astonished to see me so early, for they had not expected me to travel by night from Copenhagen. (He strikes a match, lights his pipe, and puts the bowl of his pipe through a hole he has made in his hat.) That's what they call smoking studentikos—it's a pretty good invention for any one who wants to write and smoke at the same time. (Sits down and begins to read.)
(Enter Jacob. He kisses his own hand and extends it to his brother.)
JACOB. Welcome home again, my Latin brother!
MONTANUS. I am glad to see you, Jacob. But as for being your brother, that was well enough in the old days, but it will hardly do any more.
JACOB. How so? Aren't you my brother?
MONTANUS. Of course I don't deny, you rogue, that I am your brother by birth, but you must realize that you are still a peasant boy, whereas I am a Bachelor of Philosophy. But listen, Jacob,—how are my sweetheart and her father?
JACOB. Very well. They were here a while ago and asked how soon brother would be at home.
MONTANUS. Brother again! It's not from mere pride that I object,Jacob, but it simply won't do.
JACOB. Then what shall I call you, brother?
MONTANUS. You must call me "Monsieur Montanus," for that is what I am called in Copenhagen.
JACOB. If I could only keep it in my head. Was it "MonsieurDromedarius"?
MONTANUS. Can't you hear? I say "Monsieur Montanus."
JACOB. Mossur Montanus, Mossur Montanus.
MONTANUS. That's right. "Montanus" in Latin is the same as "Berg" inDanish.
JACOB. Then can't I be called "Jacob Montanus"?
MONTANUS. When you have been to school as long as I have and passed your examinations, then you can give yourself a Latin name, too; but as long as you are a peasant boy, you must be satisfied with plain Jacob Berg. By the way, have you noticed that my sweetheart has been longing for me?
JACOB. Indeed she has. She has been very impatient at your staying away so long, brother.
MONTANUS. There you go again, yokel!
JACOB. I meant to say: Mossur's sweetheart has been impatient because brother stayed away so long.
MONTANUS. Well, I'm here now, Jacob, and all for her sake; but I shall not stay very long, for as soon as we've had the wedding I shall take her to Copenhagen with me.
JACOB. Won't Mossur take me along?
MONTANUS. What would you do there?
JACOB. I should like to look around in the world a bit.
MONTANUS. I wish you were six or seven years younger, so that I could put you into a Latin school, and then you could be a college man, too.
JABOC. No, that wouldn't do.
MONTANUS. Why not?
JABOC. If that happened, our parents would have to go begging.
MONTANUS. Hear how the fellow talks!
JACOB. Oh, I am full of ideas. If I had studied, I should have been the devil of a rogue.
MONTANUS. I have been told that you had a good head. But what else should you like to do in Copenhagen?
JACOB. I should like to see the Round Tower and the cloister where they make the linen.
MONTANUS. Ha, ha, ha! They're busy with other things besides linen-making in the cloister. But tell me, has my future father-in-law as much money as they say?
JACOB. He surely has. He is a rich old man, and owns nearly a third of the village.
MONTANUS. Have you heard whether he intends to give his daughter a dowry?
JACOB. Oh, I think he will give her a good one, especially if he once hears Mossur preach here in the village.
MONTANUS. That will never happen. I should lower myself too much by preaching here in the country. Besides, I am interested only in disputation.
JACOB. I thought it was better to be able to preach.
MONTANUS. Do you know what disputation really means?
JACOB. Of course! I dispute every day here at home with the maids, but I don't gain anything by it.
MONTANUS. Oh, we have plenty of that kind of disputation.
JACOB. What is it, then, that Mossur disputes about?
MONTANUS. I dispute about weighty and learned matters. For example: whether angels were created before men; whether the earth is round or oval; about the moon, sun, and stars, their size and distance from the earth; and other things of a like nature.
JACOB. That's not the sort of thing I dispute about, for that's not the sort of thing that concerns me. If only I can get the servants to work, they can say the world is eight-cornered, for all I care.
MONTANUS. Oh, animal brutum!—Listen, Jacob, do you suppose any one has let my sweetheart know that I have come home?
JACOB. I don't believe so.
MONTANUS. Then you had better run over to Master Jeronimus's and inform him of the event.
JACOB. Yes, I can do that, but shall I not tell Lisbed first?
MONTANUS. Lisbed? Who is that?
JACOB. Don't you know, brother, that your betrothed's name isLisbed?
MONTANUS. Have you forgotten all I have just taught you, you rascal?
JACOB. You may call me "rascal" as much as you like, but I'm your brother just the same.
MONTANUS. If you don't shut up, I'll profecto hit you over the head with this book.
JACOB. It wouldn't be proper to throw the Bible at people.
MONTANUS. This is no Bible.
JACOB. Marry, I know a Bible when I see one. That book is big enough to be the Bible. I can see that it's not a Gospel Book, nor a Catechism. But whatever it is, it's a bad thing to throw books at your brother.
MONTANUS. Shut up, rascal!
JACOB. I may be a rascal, but I earn with my hands the money for my parents that you spend.
MONTANUS. If you don't shut up, I'll maim you. (Throws the book at him.)
JACOB. Ow, ow, ow!
(Enter Jeppe and Nille.)
JEPPE. What is all this noise?
JACOB. Oh, my brother Rasmus is beating me.
NILLE. What does this mean? He wouldn't hit you without good reason.
MONTANUS. No, mother, that is so. He comes here and bandies words with me as though he were my equal.
NILLE. What a devil's own rogue! Don't you know enough to respect such a learned man? Don't you know that he is an honor to our whole family? My dear and respected son, you mustn't pay any attention to him, he is an ignorant lout.
MONTANUS. I sit here speculating about important questions, and this importunissimus and audacissimus juvenis comes and hinders me. It is no child's play to have to deal with these transcendentalibus. I wouldn't have had it happen for two marks.
JEPPE. Oh, don't be angry, my dear son! This shall never happen again. I am so much afraid that my honored son has allowed himself to get over-excited. Learned folk can't stand many shocks. I know that Peer the deacon got excited once and didn't recover for three days.
MONTANUS. Peer the deacon! Is he learned?
JEPPE. I should say he was! As far back as I can remember, we have never had a deacon here in the village who could sing as well as he can.
MONTANUS. For all that, he may have no learning at all.
JEPPE. He preaches beautifully, too.
MONTANUS. For all that, too, he might have no learning at all.
NILLE. Oh, honored son! How can a man lack learning if he preaches well?
MONTANUS. Surely, mother! All the ignorant folk preach well, for inasmuch as they can't compose anything out of their own heads, they use borrowed sermons, and learn good men's compositions by heart, though sometimes they don't understand them themselves. A learned man, on the other hand, won't use such methods; he composes out of his own head. Believe me, it is a common mistake in this country to judge a student's learning altogether too much from his sermons. But let the fellow dispute as I do—there's the touchstone of learning. If any one says this table is a candlestick, I will justify the statement. If any one says that meat or bread is straw, I will justify that, too; that has been done many a time. Listen, father! Will you admit that the man who drinks well is blessed?
JEPPE. I think rather that he is accursed, for a man can drink himself out of both reason and money.
MONTANUS. I will prove that he is blessed. Quicunque bene bibit, bene dormit. But, no,—you don't understand Latin; I must say it in Danish. Whoever drinks well, sleeps well. Isn't that so?
JEPPE. That's true enough, for when I am half-drunk I sleep like a horse.
MONTANUS. He who sleeps well does not sin. Isn't that true, too?
JEPPE. True, too; so long as a man's asleep he doesn't sin.
MONTANUS. He who does not sin is blessed.
JEPPE. That is also true.
MONTANUS. Ergo: he who drinks well is blessed.—Little mother, I will turn you into a stone.
NILLE. Oh, nonsense! That is more than even learning can do.
MONTANUS. You shall hear whether it is or not. A stone cannot fly.
NILLE. No, indeed it can't, unless it is thrown.
MONTANUS. You cannot fly.
NILLE. That is true, too.
MONTANUS. Ergo: little mother is a stone. (Nille cries.} Why are you crying, little mother?
NILLE. Oh! I am so much afraid that I shall turn into a stone. My legs already begin to feel cold.
MONTANUS. Don't worry, little mother. I will immediately turn you into a human being again. A stone neither thinks nor talks.
NILLE. That is so. I don't know whether it can think or not, but it surely cannot talk.
MONTANUS. Little mother can talk.
NILLE. Yes, thank God, I talk as well as a poor peasant woman can!
MONTANUS. Good! Ergo: little mother is no stone.
NILLE. Ah! That did me good! Now I am beginning to feel like myself again. Faith, it must take strong heads to study. I don't see how your brains can stand it.—Jacob, after this you shall wait on your brother; you have nothing else to do. If your parents see that you annoy him, you shall get as many blows as your body can stand.
MONTANUS. Little mother, I should like very much to break him of the habit of calling me "brother." It is not decent for a peasant boy to call a learned man "brother." I should like to have him call me "Monsieur."
JEPPE. Do you hear that, Jacob? When you speak to your brother after this, you are to call him Mossur.
MONTANUS. I should like to have the deacon invited here to-day, so that I can see what he is good for.
JEPPE. Yes, surely, it shall be done.
MONTANUS. In the mean time I will go to visit my sweetheart.
NILLE. But I am afraid it is going to rain. Jacob can cany your cloak for you.
MONTANUS. Jacob.
JACOB. Yes, Mossur.
MONTANUS. Walk behind me and carry my cloak.
[Exit Montanus followed by Jacob bearing the cloak.]
JEPPE. Haven't we cause to be pleased with a son like that, Nille?
NILLE. Yes, indeed, not a penny has been wasted on him.
JEPPE. We shall hear to-day what the deacon is good for. But I am afraid that he won't come if he hears that Rasmus Berg is here,—there is no need of our letting him know that. We will write the bailiff, too; he is glad enough to come, for he likes our ale.
NILLE. It is very dangerous, husband, to treat the bailiff; a man like that mustn't find out how our affairs stand.
JEPPE. He is welcome to know. Every man here in the village is aware that we are well-to-do folks. As long as we pay our taxes and land rent, the bailiff can't touch a hair of our head.
NILLE. Oh, dear husband, I wonder if it is too late to let our Jacob get an education. Just think, if he could be a learned lad like his brother, what a joy it would be for his old parents!
JEPPE. No, wife, one is enough; we must have one at home who can give us a hand and do our work.
NILLE. Oh, at such work as that a man cannot do more than live from hand to mouth. Rasmus Berg, who is a scholar, can do our family more good, with his brain, in an hour than the other in a year.
JEPPE. That makes no difference, little mother; our fields must be tilled and our crops looked after. We can't possibly get along without Jacob. Look, here he is now, coming back again!
Enter Jacob.
JACOB. Ha! ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! My brother may be a very learned man, but he is a great simpleton for all that.
NILLE. You wicked rascal! Do you call your brother a simpleton?
JACOB. I really don't know what I ought to call such a thing, little mother. It rained until it poured, and yet he let me walk along behind him with the cloak on my arm.
JEPPE. Couldn't you have been civil enough to have said, "Mossur, it is raining. Won't you put on your cloak?"
JACOB. It seems to me, little father, it would have been very strange for me to say to the person whose parents had spent so much money upon him to teach him wisdom and cleverness, when so much rain was falling on him that he was wet to his shirt, "It is raining, sir; won't you put on your cloak?" He had no need of my warning; the rain gave him warning enough.
JEPPE. Did you walk the whole way, then, with the cloak on your arm?
JACOB. Marry, I did not; I wrapped myself up comfortably in the cloak; so my clothes are perfectly dry. I understand that sort of thing better than he, though I've not spent so much money learning wisdom. I grasped it at once, although I don't know one Latin letter from another.
JEPPE. Your brother was plunged in thought, as deeply learned folk usually are.
JACOB. Ha, ha! the devil split such learning!
JEPPE. Shut up, you rogue, or shame on your mouth! What does it matter if your brother is absent-minded about such things as that, when in so many other matters he displays his wisdom and the fruit of his studies?
JACOB. Fruit of his studies! I shall tell you what happened next on our trip. When we came to Jeronimus's gate, he went right to the side where the watch-dog stood, and he would have had his learned legs well caulked if I had not dragged him to the other side; for watch-dogs are no respecters of persons: they measure all strangers with the same stick, and bite at random whatever legs they get hold of, whether Greek or Latin. When he entered the court, Mossur Rasmus Berg absent-mindedly went into the stable and shouted, "Hey, is Jeronimus at home?" But the cows all turned their tails to him and none of them would answer a word. I am certain that if any of them could have talked, they would have said, "What a confounded lunk-head that lad must be!"
NILLE. Oh, my dear husband, can you stand hearing him use such language?
JEPPE. Jacob, you will get into trouble if you talk like that any more.
JACOB. Little father ought rather to thank me, for I set him to rights and took him out of the stable toward the house. Just think what might happen to such a lad if he should go on a long journey alone; for I'm sure that if I had not been with him, he would have been standing in the stable yet, gazing at the cows' tails, from sheer learning.
JEPPE. A plague on your impudent mouth!
[Jacob runs off, Jeppe after him.
NILLE. The confounded rogue!—I have sent word to the bailiff and the deacon, so that my son can have some one to dispute with when he comes back.
Same as Act II.
NILLE (alone). My son Montanus is gone a long time. I wish he would come home before the bailiff goes, for he wants very much to talk with him, and is eager to ask him about several things which—But there, I see him coming.
Enter Montanus.
NILLE. Welcome home, my dear son. Our kind friend Jeronimus was no doubt very glad to see our honored son in good health after so long an absence.
MONTANUS. I have spoken neither to Jeronimus nor to his daughter, on account of that fellow with whom I got into a dispute.
NILLE. What kind of a man was he? Perhaps it was the schoolmaster.
MONTANUS. No, it was a stranger, who is going away to-day. I know him, although I have not associated with him in Copenhagen. I am annoyed almost to death by these people who imagine they have absorbed all wisdom, and still are idiots. I'll tell you, mother, how it is: This fellow has been ordinarius opponens once or twice; therein lies his sole achievement. But how did he perform his Partes? Misere et haesitanter absque methodo. Once when Praeses wished to distinguish inter rem et modum rei, he asked, Quid hoc est?—Wretch, you should have known that antequam in arenam descendis. Quid hoc est? Quae bruta! A fellow who ignores the distinctiones cardinales, and then wants to dispute publice!
NILLE. Oh, my respected son, you mustn't take such things as that to heart. I can see from what you say that he must be a fool.
MONTANUS. An ignoramus.
NILLE. Nothing could be plainer.
MONTANUS. An idiot.
NILLE. I can't see that he is anything else.
MONTANUS. Et quidem plane hospes in philosophia. Let the dog turn away from what he committed in the presence of so many worthy people.
NILLE. Is that what he did? By that you may know a swine.
MONTANUS. No, little mother, he did something worse than that; he openly confounded materiam cum forma.
NILLE. Plague take him!
MONTANUS. Does the fellow imagine that he can dispute?
NILLE. The devil he can!
MONTANUS. Not to mention the mistake he made in his Proemio, when he said "Lectissimi et doctissimi auditores."
NILLE. What a fool he must be!
MONTANUS. For putting "lectissimi" in front of "doctissimi," when "lectissimi" is a predicate, one can give a Deposituro.
NILLE. But didn't you get a chance to talk with Jeronimus, my son?
MONTANUS. No, just as I was about to go into the house, I saw the fellow passing by the gate, and as we knew each other, I went out to speak to him, whereupon we immediately began to talk of learned matters, and finally to dispute, so that I had to postpone my visit.
NILLE. I am very much afraid that Monsieur Jeronimus will be offended when he hears that my son has been in his yard, but went away without talking with him.
MONTANUS. Well, I can't help that. When any one attacks philosophy, he attacks my honor. I am fond of Mademoiselle Lisbed, but my Metaphysica and my Logica have priority.
NILLE. Oh, my dear son, what did I hear? Are you engaged to two other girls in Copenhagen? That will be a bad business in the matrimonial courts.
MONTANURS. You don't understand me; I didn't mean it in that way.They are not two girls, but two sciences.
NILLE. Oh, that is another matter. But here comes the bailiff. Don't be angry any more.
MONTANUS. I can't be angry with him, for he is a simple, ignorant man, with whom I cannot get into a dispute.
Enter Jeppe and Jesper the Bailiff.
JEPPE. Serviteur, Monsieur. I congratulate you on your arrival.
MONTANUS. I thank you, Mr. Bailiff.
JESPER. I am glad that we have such a learned man here in the village. It must have cost you many a racking of the brain to have advanced so far. I congratulate you, too, Jeppe Berg, upon your son. Now, happiness has come to you in your old age.
JEPPE. Yes, that is true.
JESPER. But listen, my dear Monsieur Rasmus, I should like to ask you something.
MONTANUS. My name is Montanus.
JESPER (aside to Jeppe). Montanus? is that the Latin for Rasmus?
JEPPE. Yes, it must be.
JESPER. Listen, my dear Monsieur Montanus Berg. I have heard that learned folk have such extraordinary ideas. Is it true that people in Copenhagen think the earth is round? Here on the hill no one believes it; for how can that be, when the earth looks perfectly flat?
MONTANUS. That is because the earth is so large that one cannot notice its roundness.
JESPER. Yes, it is true, the earth is large; it is almost a half of the universe. But listen, Monsieur, how many stars will it take to make a moon?
MONTANUS. A moon! In comparison to the stars the moon is likePebling Pond in comparison with all Sjaelland.
JESPER. Ha, ha, ha! Learned folk are never just right in the head.Will you believe it, I have heard people say that the earth movesand the sun stands still. You certainly don't believe that, too,Monsieur?
MONTANUS. No man of sense doubts it any longer.
JESPER. Ha, ha, ha! If the earth should move, surely we should fall and break our necks.
MONTANUS. Can't a ship move with you, without your breaking your neck?
JESPER. Yes, but you say that the earth turns round. Now. if a ship should turn over, wouldn't the people fall off then into the sea?
MONTANUS. No. I will explain it to you more plainly, if you will have the patience.
JESPER. Indeed, I won't hear anything about it. I should have to be crazy to believe such a thing. Could the earth turn over, and we not fall heels over head to the devil and clear down into the abyss? Ha, ha, ha! But, my Monsieur Berg, how is it that the moon is sometimes so small and sometimes so big?
MONTANUS. If I tell you why, you won't believe me.
JESPER. Oh, please tell me.
MONTANUS. It is because, when the moon has grown large, pieces are clipped off it to make stars of.
JESPER. That certainly is curious. I really didn't know that before. If pieces were not clipped off, it would get too large and grow as broad as all Sjaelland. After all, nature does regulate everything very wisely. But how is it that the moon doesn't give warmth like the sun, although it is just as big?
MONTANUS. That is because the moon is not a light, but made of the same dark material as the earth, and gets its light and brilliance from the sun.
JESPER. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Let us talk of something else.That's stuff and nonsense; a man might go stark mad over it.
(Enter Peer.)
JEPPE. Welcome, Peer. Where good folk are gathered, good folk come.Here, you see, is my son, who has just come back.
PEER. Welcome, Monsieur Rasmus Berg!
MONTANUS. In Copenhagen, I am accustomed to be called "Montanus." I beg you to call me that.
PEER. Yes, surely, it's all the same to me. How are things inCopenhagen? Did many graduate this year?
MONTANUS. About as many as usual.
PEER. Was any one rejected this year?
MONTANUS. Two or three conditionaliter.
PEER. Who is Imprimatur this year?
MONTANUS. What does that mean?
PEER. I mean, who is Imprimatur of the verse and the books which are published?
MONTANUS. Is that supposed to be Latin?
PEER. Yes, in my day it was good Latin.
MONTANUS. If it was good Latin then, it must be so still. But it has never been Latin in the sense in which you use it.
PEER. Yes, it is,—good Latin.
MONTANUS. Is it a nomen or a verbum?
PEER. It is a nomen.
JESPER. That is right, Peer, just speak up for yourself.
MONTANUS. Cuius declinationis is Imprimatur, then?
PEER. All the words that can be mentioned may be referred to eight things, which are: nomen, pronomen, verbum, principium, conjugatio, declinatio, interjectio.
JESPER. Yes, yes, just listen to Peer when he shakes his sleeves!That's right, keep at him!
MONTANUS. He's not answering what I ask him. What is the genitive of"Imprimatur"?
PEER. Nominativus, ala; genitivus, alae; dativus, ala; vocativus, ala; ablativus, ala.
JESPER. Ah, ha, Monsieur Montanus, we have some folk here on the hill, too!
PEER. I should say so. In my time the fellows that graduated were of a different sort from nowadays. They were lads who got shaved twice a week, and could scan all kinds of verse.
MONTANUS. That is certainly a wonderful thing! Boys in the second class can do that to-day. Nowadays there are graduates from the schools in Copenhagen who can write Hebrew and Chaldean verse,
PEER. Then they can't know much Latin.
MONTANUS. Latin! If you went to school now, you couldn't get above the bottom class.
JESPER. Don't say that, Montanus. The deacon is, I know, a thoroughly educated man; that I have heard both the district bailiff and the tax-collector say.
MONTANUS. Perhaps they understand Latin just as little as he
JESPER. But I can hear that he answers splendidly.
MONTANUS. Yes, but he doesn't answer what I ask him—E qua schola dimissus es, mi Domine?
PEER. Adjectivum et substantivum genere, numero et caseo conveniunt.
JESPER. He's giving him his bucket full. Good for you, Peer; as sure as you live, we shall drink a half pint of handy together.
MONTANUS. If you knew, Mr. Bailiff, what his answers were, you would laugh until you split. I ask him from what school he graduated and he answers at random something entirely different.
PEER. Tunc tua res agitur, paries cum proximus ardet.
JESPER. Yes, yes, that's a good lead for you. Answer that, now.
MONTANUS. I can't answer that; it is mere mincemeat. Let us talk Danish, so the others can understand; then you will be able to hear what kind of a fellow he is. (Nille cries.)
JESPER. What are you crying for, my good woman?
NILLE. Oh, I am so sorry that my son must admit himself beaten inLatin.
JESPER. Oh, it's no wonder, my good woman. Peer is, of course, much older than he; it is no wonder. Let them talk Danish, then, as we all understand it.
PEER. Yes, certainly. I am ready for whichever one of the two he wishes. We shall propose certain questions to each other; for example, who was it that screamed so loud that he could be heard over the whole world?
MONTANUS. I know no one who screams louder than asses and country deacons.
PEER. Nonsense! Can they be heard over the whole world? It was the ass in Noah's ark; for the whole world was in the ark.
JESPER. Ha, ha, ha! That is true, to be sure. Ha, ha, ha! Peer the deacon has a fine head on his shoulders.
PEER. Who was it killed a quarter of the world?
MONTANUS. Bah! I refuse to answer such stupid questions.
PEER. It was Cain, who killed his brother Abel.
MONTANUS. Prove that there were no more than four human beings at the time. of course, much older than he; it is no wonder. Let them talk Danish, then, as we all understand it.
PEER. You prove that there were more.
MONTANUS. That isn't necessary; for affirmante incumbit probatio. Do you understand that?
PEER. Of course I do. Omnia conando docilis solertia vincit. Do you understand that?
MONTANUS. I am a perfect fool to stand here and dispute with a dunce. You wish to dispute, and yet know neither Latin nor Danish; much less do you know what logic is. Let's hear once, quid est logica?
PEER. Post molestam senectutam, post molestam senectutam nos habebat humus.
MONTANUS. Are you trying to make a fool of me, you rascal? (He grabs him by the hair. The Deacon escapes and shouts, "Dunce, dunce!") [Exeunt all except the Bailiff.]
(Enter Jeronimus.)
JERONIMUS. Your servant, Mr. Bailiff. I am surprised to find you here. I have come to see my future son-in-law, Rasmus Berg.
JESPER. He will be here in a moment. It is a shame that you didn't come a half hour sooner. You would then have heard him and the deacon disputing together.
JERONIMUS. How did it come out?
JESPER. Shame on Peer the deacon! He is worse than I thought. I see well enough that he has forgot nothing either of his Latin or Hebrew.
JERONIMUS. I believe that well enough, for he probably never knew much of either.
JESPER. Don't say that, Monsieur Jeronimus! He has a devilish clever tongue. It is really a joy to hear the man talk Latin.
JERONIMUS. That is more than I should have expected. But how does my son look?
JESPER. He looks confoundedly learned. You would hardly recognize him. He has another name, too.
JERONIMUS. Another name! What does he call himself?
JESPER. He calls himself Montanus, which is said to be the same asRasmus in Latin.
JERONIMUS. Oh, shame! that is wicked. I have known many who have changed their Christian names in that way, but they never have prospered. Some years ago I knew a person who was christened Peer, and afterwards, when he had become a man of consequence, wanted to be coined again, and called himself Peter. But that name cost him dear, for he broke his leg and died in great misery. Our Lord doesn't allow such a thing, Mr. Bailiff.
JESPER. I don't care what his name is, but I don't like it that he has such peculiar opinions in religion.
JERONIMUS. What kind of opinions has he, then?
JESPER. Oh, it's terrible! My hair stands on end when I think of it. I can't remember all that I heard, but I know that among other things he said that the earth was round. What can I call such a thing, Monsieur Jeronimus? That is nothing else than overthrowing all religion and leading folk away from the faith. A heathen certainly cannot speak worse.
JERONIMUS. He must have said that only in jest.
JESPER. It is going rather too far to joke about such things as that. See, here he comes himself.