Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (114 page)

TRUMPETERSTRALE
I understand now where you’re aiming!

MONSIEUR BALLON
Thinker sublime!

VON EBERKOPF
Exalted poet!

PEER
[more and more elevated]
The Gyntish Self — it is the host
of wishes, appetites, desires, —
the Gyntish Self, it is the sea
of fancies, exigencies, claims,
all that, in short, makes my breast heave,
and whereby I, as I, exist.
But as our Lord requires the clay
to constitute him God o’ the world,
so I, too, stand in need of gold,
if I as Emperor would figure.

MONSIEUR BALLON
You have the gold, though!

PEER
Not enough.
Ay, maybe for a nine-days’ flourish,
as Emperor a la Lippe-Detmold.
But I must be myself en bloc,
must be the Gynt of all the planet,
Sir Gynt throughout, from top to toe!

MONSIEUR BALLON
[enraptured]
Possess the earth’s most exquisite beauty!

VON EBERKOPF
All century-old Johannisberger!

TRUMPETERSTRALE
And all the blades of Charles the Twelfth!
MR. COTTON
But first a profitable opening for business —

PEER
That’s already found;
our anchoring here supplied me with it.
To-night we set off northward ho!
The papers I received on board
have brought me tidings of importance — !
[Rises with uplifted glass.]
It seems that Fortune ceaselessly
aids him who has the pluck to seize it —

THE GUESTS
Well? Tell us — !

PEER
Greece is in revolt.

ALL FOUR
[springing up]
What! Greece — ?

PEER
The Greeks have risen in Hellas.

THE FOUR
Hurrah!

PEER
And Turkey’s in a fix!
[Empties his glass.]

MONSIEUR BALLON
To Hellas! Glory’s gate stands open!
I’ll help them with the sword of France!

VON EBERKOPF
And I with war-whoops — from a distance!
MR. COTTON
And I as well — by taking contracts!

TRUMPETERSTRALE
Lead on! I’ll find again in Bender
the world-renowned spur-strap-buckles!

MONSIEUR BALLON
[falling on PEER GYNT’S neck]
Forgive me, friend, that I at first
misjudged you quite!

VON EBERKOPF
[pressing his hands]
I, stupid hound,
took you for next door to a scoundrel!
MR. COTTON
Too strong that; only for a fool —

TRUMPETERSTRALE
[trying to kiss him]
I, Uncle, for a specimen
of Yankee riff-raff’s meanest spawn — !
Forgive me — !

VON EBERKOPF
We’ve been in the dark —

PEER
What stuff is this?

VON EBERKOPF
We now see gathered
in glory all the Gyntish host
of wishes, appetites, and desires — !

MONSIEUR BALLON
[admiringly]
So this is being Monsieur Gynt!

VON EBERKOPF
[in the same tone]
This I call being Gynt with honour!

PEER
But tell me — ?

MONSIEUR BALLON
Don’t you understand?

PEER
May I be hanged if I begin to!

MONSIEUR BALLON
What? Are you not upon your way
to join the Greeks, with ship and money — ?

PEER
[contemptuously]
No, many thanks! I side with strength,
and lend my money to the Turks.

MONSIEUR BALLON
Impossible!

VON EBERKOPF
Witty, but a jest!

PEER
[after a short silence, leaning on a chair and assuming a dignified mien]
Witty, Come, gentlemen, I think it best
we part before the last remains
of friendship melt away like smoke.
Who nothing owns will lightly risk it.
When in the world one scarce commands
the strip of earth one’s shadow covers,
one’s born to serve as food for powder.
But when a man stands safely landed,
as I do, then his stake is greater.
Go you to Hellas. I will put you
ashore, and arm you gratis too.
The more you eke the flames of strife,
the better will it serve my purpose.
Strike home for freedom and for right!
Fight! storm! make hell hot for the Turks; —
and gloriously end your days
upon the Janissaries’ lances. —
But I — excuse me —
[Slaps his pocket.]
I have cash,
and am myself, Sir Peter Gynt.
[Puts up his sunshade, and goes into the grove, where the hammocks are partly visible.]

TRUMPETERSTRALE
The swinish cur!

MONSIEUR BALLON
No taste for glory — !
MR. COTTON
Oh, glory’s neither here nor there;
but think of the enormous profits
we’d reap if Greece should free herself.

MONSIEUR BALLON
I saw myself a conqueror,
by lovely Grecian maids encircled.

TRUMPETERSTRALE
Grasped in my Swedish hands, I saw
the great, heroic spur-strap-buckles!

VON EBERKOPF
I my gigantic Fatherland’s
culture saw spread o’er earth and sea — !
MR. COTTON
The worst’s the loss in solid cash.
God dam! I scarce can keep from weeping!
I saw me owner of Olympus.
If to its fame the mountain answers,
there must be veins of copper in it,
that could be opened up again.
And furthermore, that stream Castalia,
which people talk so much about,
with fall on fall, at lowest reckoning,
must mean a thousand horse-power good — !

TRUMPETERSTRALE
Still I will go! My Swedish sword
is worth far more than Yankee gold!
MR. COTTON
Perhaps; but, jammed into the ranks,
amid the press we’d all be drowned;
and then where would the profit be?

MONSIEUR BALLON
Accurst! So near to fortune’s summit,
and now stopped short beside its grave!
MR. COTTON
[shakes his fist towards the yacht]
That long black chest holds coffered up
the nabob’s golden nigger-sweat — !

VON EBERKOPF
A royal notion! Quick! Away!
It’s all up with his empire now!
Hurrah!

MONSIEUR BALLON
What would you?

VON EBERKOPF
Seize the power!
The crew can easily be bought.
On board then! I annex the yacht!
MR. COTTON
You — what — ?

VON EBERKOPF
I grab the whole concern!
[Goes down to the jolly-boat.]
MR. COTTON
Why then self-interest commands me to grab my share.
[Goes after him.]

TRUMPETERSTRALE
What scoundrelism!

MONSIEUR BALLON
A scurvy business — but — enfin!
[Follows the others.]

TRUMPETERSTRALE
I’ll have to follow, I suppose, —
but I protest to all the world — !
[Follows.]

SCENE SECON
D

[Another part of the coast. Moonlight with drifting clouds. The yacht is seen far out, under full steam.]
[PEER GYNT comes running along the beach; now pinching his arms, now gazing out to sea.]

PEER
A nightmare! — Delusion! — I’ll soon be awake!
She’s standing to sea! And at furious speed! —
Mere delusion! I’m sleeping! I’m dizzy and drunk!
[Clenches his hands.]
It’s not possible I should be going to die!
[Tearing his hair.]
A dream! I’m determined it shall be a dream!
Oh, horror! It’s only too real, worse luck!
My brute-beasts of friends — ! Do but hear me, oh Lord!
Since thou art so wise and so righteous — ! Oh judge — !
[With upstretched arms.]
It is I, Peter Gynt! Oh, Lord, give but heed!
Hold thy hand o’er me, Father; or else I must perish!
Make them back the machine! Make them lower the gig!
Stop the robbers! Make something go wrong with the rigging!
Hear me! Let other folks’ business lie over!
The world can take care of itself for the time!
I’m blessed if he hears me! He’s deaf as his wont is!
Here’s a nice thing! A God that is bankrupt of help!
[Beckons upwards.]
Hist! I’ve abandoned the nigger-plantation!
And missionaries I’ve exported to Asia!
Surely one good turn should be worth another!
Oh, help me on board — !
[A jet of fire shoots into the air from the yacht, followed by thick clouds of smoke; a hollow report is heard.

PEER GYNT utters a shriek, and sinks down on the sands. Gradually
the smoke clears away; the ship has disappeared.]

PEER
[softly, with a pale face]
That’s the sword of wrath!
In a crack to the bottom, every soul, man and mouse!
Oh, for ever blest be the lucky chance —
[With emotion.]
A chance? No, no, it was more than chance.
I was to be rescued and they to perish.
Oh, thanks and praise for that thou hast kept me,
hast cared for me, spite of all my sins! —
[Draws a deep breath.]
What a marvellous feeling of safety and peace
it gives one to know oneself specially shielded!
But the desert! What about, food and drink?
Oh, something I’m sure to find. He’ll see to that.
There’s no cause for alarm; —
[Loud and insinuatingly.]
He would never allow
a poor little sparrow like me to perish!
Be but lowly of spirit. And give him time.
Leave it all in the Lord’s hands; and don’t be cast down. —
[With a start of terror.]
Can that be a lion that growled in the reeds — ?
[His teeth chattering.]
No, it wasn’t a lion.
[Mustering up courage.]
A lion, forsooth!
Those beasts, they’ll take care to keep out of the way.
They know it’s no joke to fall foul of their betters.
They have instinct to guide them; — they feel, what’s a fact,
that it’s dangerous playing with elephants. —
But all the same — . I must find a tree.
There’s a grove of acacias and palms over there;
if I once can climb up, I’ll be sheltered and safe, —
most of all if I knew but a psalm or two.
[Clambers up.]
Morning and evening are not alike;
that text has been oft enough weighed and pondered.
[Seats himself comfortably.]
How blissful to feel so uplifted in spirit.
To think nobly is more than to know oneself rich.
Only trust in Him. He knows well what share
of the chalice of need I can bear to drain.
He takes fatherly thought for my personal weal; —
[Casts a glance over the sea, and whispers with a sigh:]
but economical — no, that he isn’t!

SCENE THIR
D

[Night. An encampment of Moroccan troops on the edge of the desert. Watchfires, with SOLDIERS resting by them.]

A SLAVE
[enters, tearing his hair]
Gone is the Emperor’s milk-white charger!

ANOTHER SLAVE
[enters, rending his garments]
The Emperor’s sacred robes are stolen!

AN OFFICER
[enters]
A hundred stripes upon the foot-soles
for all who fail to catch the robber!
[The troopers mount their horses, and gallop away in every direction.]

SCENE FOURT
H

[Daybreak. The grove of acacias and palms.]
[PEER GYNT in his tree with a broken branch in his hand, trying to beat off a swarm of monkeys.]

PEER
Confound it! A most disagreeable night.
[Laying about him.]
Are you there again? This is most accursed!
Now they’re throwing fruit. No, it’s something else.
A loathsome beast is your Barbary ape!
The Scripture says: Thou shalt watch and fight.
But I’m blest if I can; I am heavy and tired.
[Is again attacked; impatiently:]
I must put a stopper upon this nuisance!
I must see and get hold of one of these scamps,
get him hung and skinned, and then dress myself up,
as best I may, in his shaggy hide,
that the others may take me for one of themselves. —
What are we mortals? Motes, no more;
and it’s wisest to follow the fashion a bit. —
Again a rabble! They throng and swarm.
Off with you! Shoo! They go on as though crazy.
If only I had a false tail to put on now, —
only something to make me a bit like a beast. —
What now? There’s a pattering over my head — !
[Looks up.]
It’s the grandfather ape, — with his fists full of
filth — !
[Huddles together apprehensively, and keeps still for a while. The ape makes a motion; PEER GYNT begins coaxing
and wheedling him, as he might a dog.]
Ay, — are you there, my good old Bus!
He’s a good beast, he is! He will listen to reason!
He wouldn’t throw; — I should think not, indeed!
It is me! Pip-pip! We are first-rate friends!
Ai-ai! Don’t you hear, I can talk your language?
Bus and I, we are kinsfolk, you see; —
Bus shall have sugar to-morrow — ! The beast!
The whole cargo on top of me! Ugh, how disgusting! —
Or perhaps it was food? ‘Twas in taste — indefinable;
and taste’s for the most part a matter of habit.
What thinker is it who somewhere says:
You must spit and trust to the force of habit? —
Now here come the small-fry!
[Hits and slashes around him.]
It’s really too bad
that man, who by rights is the lord of creation,
should find himself forced to — ! O murder! murder!
the old one was bad, but the youngsters are worse!