ACT THIRD.

ACT THIRD.SCENE FIRST.Deep in the pine-woods. Grey autumn weather. Snow is falling.Peer Gyntstands in his shirt-sleeves, felling timber.Peer.[Hewing at a large fir-tree with twisted branches.]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 arms;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 the 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 rapidly.Ay, an outlaw, ay. You’ve no mother nowTo 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[[58]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 infront of him.Brave shall the building be. Tower and vaneShall 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?[Laughs angrily.Devil’s own lies! There they come again.You’re an outlaw, lad![Hewing vigorously.A bark-thatched hovelIs 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;—The thick-swarming undergrowth shudders around him![Begins 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 like 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.What a devil of a lad! An unmendable[59]finger!Right off! And with no one compelling him to it!Ho, now I remember! It’s only thusYou 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 understanding![Shakes his head a little; then goes on with his work.SCENE SECOND.A room inÅse’shouse. Everything in disorder; boxes standing open; wearing apparel strewn around. A cat is lying on the bed.Åseand theCottar’s Wifeare hard at work packing things together and putting them straight.Åse.[Running to one side.]Kari, come here!Kari.What now?Åse.[On the other side.]Come here——?Where 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.Åse.What is that rumbling?Kari.The last cart-loadThey’re driving to Hegstad.Åse.[Weeping.]How glad I’d beIn the black chest myself to be driven away!Oh, what must a mortal abide and live through!God help me in mercy; The whole house is bare!What the Hegstad-churl left now the Bailiff[60]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.Kari.But here, in this house, you may dwell till you die.Åse.Ay, the cat and I live on charity.Kari.God help you, mother; your Peer’s cost you dear.Åse.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;—He was the sinner, ay, he and none other;The ugly beast tempted my poor boyastray!astray!Kari.Had I not better send word to the parson?Mayhap you’re worse than you think you are.Åse.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.Åse.[Rummaging about.]Why, what have we here? I declare it’s an oldCasting-ladle, Kari! With this he would playButton-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!Kari.Indeed but they do.Åse.When that is done, I must get to bed;I feel so broken, and frail, and ill——[Joyfully.Two woollen-shirts, Kari;—they’ve passed them by!Kari.So they have indeed.Åse.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 Åse, I fear it’s asin.sin.Åse.Maybe; but remember the priest holds outPardon for this and our other sinnings.SCENE THIRD.In front of a settlers newly-built hut in the forest. A reindeer’s horns over the door. The snow is lying deep around. It is dusk.Peer Gyntis standing outside the door, fastening a large wooden bar to it.Peer.[Laughing between whiles.]Bars I must fix me; bars that can fastenThe door against troll-folk, and men, and women.Bars I must fix me; bars that can shut outAll 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 planksCan shut out cantankerous hobgoblin-thoughts?[Solveigcomes 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;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?Solveig.In all of God’s wide earthI 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?Solveig.Ay, to you alone;You must be all to me, friend and consoler.[In tears.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 callThe sorrow of leaving them all, ay all!Peer.And you know the doom that was passed in spring?It forfeits my farm and my heritage.Solveig.Think you for heritage, goods, and gear,I forsook the paths all my dear ones tread?Peer.And know you the compact? Outside the forestWhoever may meet me may seize me at will.Solveig.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 carry you, Solveig, and I’ll never be tired!I will not soil you. With outstretched armsI will hold 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 nightlong.Here you may see I’ve been hewing and building;—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;That was partly what drove me in fear from the dale.But here, with the fir-branches soughing o’erhead,—What 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[61]for fuel.Warm shall the fire be and bright shall it shine,You shall sit softly and never be a-cold.[He opens the door;Solveiggoes in. He stands still for a while, then laughs aloud with joy and leaps into the air.Peer.My king’s daughter! Now I have found her and won her!Hei! Now the palace shall rise, deeply founded!He seizes his axe and moves away; at the same moment anOld-looking Woman, in a tattered green gown, comes out from the wood; anUgly Brat, with an ale-flagon in his hand, limps after, holding on to her skirt.The Woman.Good evening, Peer Lightfoot!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 builded, 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 Woman.I was so before;I was when you promised such mighty fine things.Peer.I promised——? What devil’s own nonsense is this?The Woman.You’ve forgotten the night when you drank with my sire?You’ve forgot——?Peer.I’ve forgot what I never have known.What’s this that you prate of? When last did we meet?The Woman.When last we met was when first we met.[ToThe 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 lameIn 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-leggëd urchin——!The Woman.He’s shot up apace.Peer.Dare you, you troll-snout, father on me——?The Woman.Come now, Peer Gynt, you’re as rude as an ox![Weeping.Is it my fault if no longer I’m 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 me, troll-witch!The Woman.Ay, see if I do!Peer.I’ll 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!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 him.]Faugh!I’ll chop you with my hatchet; only wait, only wait!The Woman.[KissesThe 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!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 withThe Brat, who throws the flagon atPeer Gynt.Peer.[After a long silence.]The Boyg said, “Go roundabout!”—so one must here.—There fell my fine palace, with crash and clatter!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 foundRight 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 noneThat can guide me aright in the pathless wood.—Repentance? And maybe ’twould take whole yearsEre 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!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.Ingrid! And the three, they that danced on the heights!Will they too want to join us? With vixenish spiteWill they claim to be folded, like her, to my breast,To be tenderly lifted on outstretched arms?Roundabout, lad; though my arms were as longAs the root of the fir, or the pine-tree’s stem,—I think even then I should hold her too nearTo 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, but 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——?[Throws away his axe.It’s a holy-day evening. For me to keep tryst,Such as now I am, would be sacrilege.Solveig.[In the doorway.]Are you coming?Peer.[Half aloud.]Roundabout!Solveig.What?Peer.You must wait.It is dark, and I’ve got something heavy to fetch.Solveig.Wait; I will help you; the burden we’ll share.Peer.No, stay where you are! I must bear it alone.

ACT THIRD.

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

Peer Gyntstands in his shirt-sleeves, felling timber.

Peer.[Hewing at a large fir-tree with twisted branches.]

Peer.

[Hewing at a large fir-tree with twisted branches.]

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 arms;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 the 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 rapidly.Ay, an outlaw, ay. You’ve no mother nowTo 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[[58]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 infront of him.Brave shall the building be. Tower and vaneShall 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?[Laughs angrily.Devil’s own lies! There they come again.You’re an outlaw, lad![Hewing vigorously.A bark-thatched hovelIs 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;—The thick-swarming undergrowth shudders around him!

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 arms;

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 the 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 rapidly.

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

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[[58]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?

[Laughs 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;—

The thick-swarming undergrowth shudders around him!

[Begins 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 like 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.What a devil of a lad! An unmendable[59]finger!Right off! And with no one compelling him to it!Ho, now I remember! It’s only thusYou 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 understanding!

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 like 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.

What a devil of a lad! An unmendable[59]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 understanding!

[Shakes his head a little; then goes on with his work.

SCENE SECOND.

A room inÅse’shouse. Everything in disorder; boxes standing open; wearing apparel strewn around. A cat is lying on the bed.

Åseand theCottar’s Wifeare hard at work packing things together and putting them straight.

Åse.[Running to one side.]

Åse.

[Running to one side.]

Kari, come here!

Kari.

What now?

Åse.[On the other side.]

Åse.

[On the other side.]

Come here——?Where 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?

Come here——?

Where 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.

Åse.

What is that rumbling?

Kari.

The last cart-loadThey’re driving to Hegstad.

The last cart-load

They’re driving to Hegstad.

Åse.[Weeping.]

Åse.

[Weeping.]

How glad I’d beIn the black chest myself to be driven away!Oh, what must a mortal abide and live through!God help me in mercy; The whole house is bare!What the Hegstad-churl left now the Bailiff[60]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.

How glad I’d be

In the black chest myself to be driven away!

Oh, what must a mortal abide and live through!

God help me in mercy; The whole house is bare!

What the Hegstad-churl left now the Bailiff[60]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.

Kari.

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

Åse.

Ay, the cat and I live on charity.

Kari.

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

Åse.

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

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;—

He was the sinner, ay, he and none other;

The ugly beast tempted my poor boyastray!astray!

Kari.

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

Had I not better send word to the parson?

Mayhap you’re worse than you think you are.

Åse.

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?

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.

Åse.[Rummaging about.]

Åse.

[Rummaging about.]

Why, what have we here? I declare it’s an oldCasting-ladle, Kari! With this he would playButton-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!

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!

Kari.

Indeed but they do.

Åse.

When that is done, I must get to bed;I feel so broken, and frail, and ill——[Joyfully.Two woollen-shirts, Kari;—they’ve passed them by!

When that is done, I must get to bed;

I feel so broken, and frail, and ill——

[Joyfully.

Two woollen-shirts, Kari;—they’ve passed them by!

Kari.

So they have indeed.

Åse.

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.

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 Åse, I fear it’s asin.sin.

Åse.

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

Maybe; but remember the priest holds out

Pardon for this and our other sinnings.

In front of a settlers newly-built hut in the forest. A reindeer’s horns over the door. The snow is lying deep around. It is dusk.

Peer Gyntis standing outside the door, fastening a large wooden bar to it.

Peer.[Laughing between whiles.]

Peer.

[Laughing between whiles.]

Bars I must fix me; bars that can fastenThe door against troll-folk, and men, and women.Bars I must fix me; bars that can shut outAll 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 planksCan shut out cantankerous hobgoblin-thoughts?

Bars I must fix me; bars that can fasten

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?

[Solveigcomes 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.

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! 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;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.

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;

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?

Solveig.

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

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?

Solveig, you fair one—

And to come to me?

Solveig.

Ay, to you alone;You must be all to me, friend and consoler.[In tears.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 callThe sorrow of leaving them all, ay all!

Ay, to you alone;

You must be all to me, friend and consoler.

[In tears.

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!

Peer.

And you know the doom that was passed in spring?It forfeits my farm and my heritage.

And you know the doom that was passed in spring?

It forfeits my farm and my heritage.

Solveig.

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

Think you for heritage, goods, and gear,

I forsook the paths all my dear ones tread?

Peer.

And know you the compact? Outside the forestWhoever may meet me may seize me at will.

And know you the compact? Outside the forest

Whoever may meet me may seize me at will.

Solveig.

I ran upon snow-shoes; I asked my way on;They said “Whither go you?” I answered, “I go home.”

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 carry you, Solveig, and I’ll never be tired!I will not soil you. With outstretched armsI will hold 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 nightlong.Here you may see I’ve been hewing and building;—It must down again, dear; it is ugly and mean——

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 carry you, Solveig, and I’ll never be tired!

I will not soil you. With outstretched arms

I will hold 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 nightlong.

Here you may see I’ve been hewing and building;—

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;That was partly what drove me in fear from the dale.But here, with the fir-branches soughing o’erhead,—What a stillness and song!—I am here in my home.

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;

That was partly what drove me in fear from the dale.

But here, with the fir-branches soughing o’erhead,—

What 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[61]for fuel.Warm shall the fire be and bright shall it shine,You shall sit softly and never be a-cold.

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

Go in! I must go to fetch fir-roots[61]for fuel.

Warm shall the fire be and bright shall it shine,

You shall sit softly and never be a-cold.

[He opens the door;Solveiggoes in. He stands still for a while, then laughs aloud with joy and leaps into the air.

Peer.

My king’s daughter! Now I have found her and won her!Hei! Now the palace shall rise, deeply founded!

My king’s daughter! Now I have found her and won her!

Hei! Now the palace shall rise, deeply founded!

He seizes his axe and moves away; at the same moment anOld-looking Woman, in a tattered green gown, comes out from the wood; anUgly Brat, with an ale-flagon in his hand, limps after, holding on to her skirt.

The Woman.

Good evening, Peer Lightfoot!

Peer.

What is it? Who’s there?

The Woman.

Old friends of yours, Peer Gynt! My home is near by.We are neighbours.

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 builded, mine built itself too.

Peer.[Going.]

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.

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 Woman.

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

I was so before;

I was when you promised such mighty fine things.

Peer.

I promised——? What devil’s own nonsense is this?

The Woman.

You’ve forgotten the night when you drank with my sire?You’ve forgot——?

You’ve forgotten the night when you drank with my sire?

You’ve forgot——?

Peer.

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

I’ve forgot what I never have known.

What’s this that you prate of? When last did we meet?

The Woman.

When last we met was when first we met.[ToThe Brat.]Give your father a drink; he is thirsty, I’m sure.

When last we met was when first we met.

[ToThe 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 lameIn his shank, just as you too are lame in your soul?

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-leggëd urchin——!

The Woman.

He’s shot up apace.

Peer.

Dare you, you troll-snout, father on me——?

The Woman.

Come now, Peer Gynt, you’re as rude as an ox![Weeping.Is it my fault if no longer I’m 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!

Come now, Peer Gynt, you’re as rude as an ox!

[Weeping.

Is it my fault if no longer I’m 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 me, troll-witch!

The Woman.

Ay, see if I do!

Peer.

I’ll 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!

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!

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?

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 him.]

The Brat.

[Spits at him.]

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

Faugh!

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

The Woman.[KissesThe Brat.]

The Woman.

[KissesThe 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!

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.]

Peer.

[Stamping.]

Oh, would you were as far——!

The Woman.

As we now are near?

Peer.[Clenching his hands.]

Peer.

[Clenching his hands.]

And all this——!

The Woman.

For nothing but thoughts and desires!It is hard on you, Peer!

For nothing but thoughts and desires!

It is hard on you, Peer!

Peer.

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

It is worst for another!—

Solveig, my fairest, my purest gold!

The Woman.

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

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 withThe Brat, who throws the flagon atPeer Gynt.

Peer.[After a long silence.]

Peer.

[After a long silence.]

The Boyg said, “Go roundabout!”—so one must here.—There fell my fine palace, with crash and clatter!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 foundRight 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 noneThat can guide me aright in the pathless wood.—Repentance? And maybe ’twould take whole yearsEre 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!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.Ingrid! And the three, they that danced on the heights!Will they too want to join us? With vixenish spiteWill they claim to be folded, like her, to my breast,To be tenderly lifted on outstretched arms?Roundabout, lad; though my arms were as longAs the root of the fir, or the pine-tree’s stem,—I think even then I should hold her too nearTo 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.—

The Boyg said, “Go roundabout!”—so one must here.—

There fell my fine palace, with crash and clatter!

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!

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.

Ingrid! 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 arms 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, but 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——?[Throws away his axe.It’s a holy-day evening. For me to keep tryst,Such as now I am, would be sacrilege.

Go in after this? So befouled and disgraced?

Go in with that troll-rabble after me still?

Speak, yet be silent; confess, yet conceal——?

[Throws away his axe.

It’s a holy-day evening. For me to keep tryst,

Such as now I am, would be sacrilege.

Solveig.[In the doorway.]

Solveig.

[In the doorway.]

Are you coming?

Peer.[Half aloud.]

Peer.

[Half aloud.]

Roundabout!

Solveig.

What?

Peer.

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

You must wait.

It is dark, and I’ve got something heavy to fetch.

Solveig.

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

Peer.

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

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