Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (121 page)

SCENE SEVENT
H

[Another part of the heath.]

PEER GYNT
[sings]
A sexton! A sexton! where are you, hounds?
A song from braying precentor-mouths;
around your hat-brim a mourning band; —
my dead are many; I must follow their biers!
[THE BUTTON-MOULDER, with a box of tools, and a large casting-ladle, comes from a side-path.]

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
Well met, old gaffer!

PEER
Good evening, friend.

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
The man’s in a hurry. Why, where is he going?

PEER
To a grave-feast.

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
Indeed? My sight’s not very good; —
excuse me, — your name doesn’t chance to be Peer?

PEER
Peer Gynt, as the saying is.

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
That I call luck!
It’s precisely Peer Gynt I am sent for to-night.

PEER
You’re sent for? What do you want?

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
Why, see here;
I’m a button-moulder. You’re to go into my ladle.

PEER
And what to do there?

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
To be melted up.

PEER
To be melted?

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
Here it is, empty and scoured.
Your grave is dug ready, your coffin bespoke.
The worms in your body will live at their ease; —
but I have orders, without delay,
on Master’s behalf to fetch in your soul.

PEER
It can’t be! Like this, without any warning — !

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
It’s an old tradition at burials and births
to appoint in secret the day of the feast,
with no warning at all to the guest of honour.

PEER
Ay, ay, that’s true. All my brain’s awhirl.
You are — ?

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
Why, I told you — a button-moulder.

PEER
I see! A pet child has many nicknames.
So that’s it, Peer; it is there you’re to harbour!
But these, my good man, are most unfair proceedings!
I’m sure I deserve better treatment than this; —
I’m not nearly so bad as perhaps you think, —
I’ve done a good deal of good in the world; —
at worst you may call me a sort of a bungler, —
but certainly not an exceptional sinner.

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
Why that is precisely the rub, my man;
you’re no sinner at all in the higher sense;
that’s why you’re excused all the torture-pangs,
and land, like others, in the casting-ladle.

PEER
Give it what name you please — call it ladle or pool;
spruce ale and swipes, they are both of them beer.
Avaunt from me, Satan!

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
You can’t be so rude
as to take my foot for a horse’s hoof?

PEER
On horse’s hoof or on fox’s claws —
be off; and be careful what you’re about!

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
My friend, you’re making a great mistake.
We’re both in a hurry, and so, to save time,
I’ll explain the reason of the whole affair.
You are, with your own lips you told me so,
no sinner on the so-called heroic scale, —
scarce middling even —

PEER
Ah, now you’re beginning
to talk common sense

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
Just have patience a bit —
but to call you virtuous would be going too far. —

PEER
Well, you know I have never laid claim to that.

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
You’re nor one thing nor t’other then, only so-so.
A sinner of really grandiose style
is nowadays not to be met on the highways.
It wants much more than merely to wallow in mire;
for both vigour and earnestness go to a sin.

PEER
Ay, it’s very true, that remark of yours;
one has to lay on, like the old Berserkers.

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
You, friend, on the other hand, took your sin lightly.

PEER
Only outwardly, friend, like a splash of mud.

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
Ah, we’ll soon be at one now. The sulphur pool
is no place for you, who but plashed in the mire.

PEER
And in consequence, friend, I can go as I came?

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
No, in consequence, friend, I must melt you up.

PEER
What tricks are these that you’ve hit upon
at home here, while I’ve been in foreign parts?

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
The custom’s as old as the Snake’s creation;
it’s designed to prevent loss of good material.
You’ve worked at the craft — you must know that often
a casting turns out, to speak plainly, mere dross;
the buttons, for instance, have sometimes no loop to them.
What did you do, then?

PEER
Flung the rubbish away.

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
Ah, yes; Jon Gynt was well known for a waster,
so long as he’d aught left in wallet or purse.
But Master, you see, he is thrifty, he is;
and that is why he’s so well-to-do.
He flings nothing away as entirely worthless
that can be made use of as raw material.
Now, you were designed for a shining button
on the vest of the world; but your loop gave way;
so into the waste-box you needs must go,
and then, as they phrase it, be merged in the mass.

PEER
You’re surely not meaning to melt me up,
with Dick, Tom, and Harry, into something new?

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
That’s just what I do mean, and nothing else.
We’ve done it already to plenty of folks.
At Kongsberg they do just the same with money
that’s been current so long that its stamp’s worn away.

PEER
But this is the wretchedest miserliness!
My dear good friend, let me get off free; —
a loopless button, a worn out farthing, —
what is that to a man in your Master’s position?

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
Oh, so long, and inasmuch as, the spirit’s in one,
one always has value as so much metal.

PEER
No, I say! No! With both teeth and claws
I’ll fight against this! Sooner anything else!

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
But what else? Come now, be reasonable.
You know you’re not airy enough for heaven —

PEER
I’m not hard to content; I don’t aim so high; —
but I won’t be deprived of one doit of my Self.
Have me judged by the law in the old-fashioned way!
For a certain time place me with Him of the Hoof; —
say a hundred years, come the worst to the worst;
that, now, is a thing that one surely can bear;
for they say the torment is only moral,
so it can’t after all be so pyramidal.
It is, as ‘tis written, a mere transition;
and as the fox said: One waits; there comes
an hour of deliverance; one lives in seclusion,
and hopes in the meantime for happier days. —
But this other notion — to have to be merged,
like a mote, in the carcass of some outsider, —
this casting-ladle business, this Gynt-cessation, —
it stirs up my innermost soul in revolt!

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
Bless me, my dear Peer, there is surely no need
to get so wrought up about trifles like this.
Yourself you never have been at all; —
then what does it matter, your dying right out?

PEER
Have I not been — ? I could almost laugh!
Peer Gynt, then, has been something else, I suppose!
No, Button-moulder, you judge in the dark.
If you could but look into my very reins,
you’d find only Peer there, and Peer all through, —
nothing else in the world, no, nor anything more.

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
It’s impossible. Here I have got my orders.
Look, here it is written: Peer Gynt shalt thou summon.
He has set at defiance his life’s design;
clap him into the ladle with other spoilt goods.

PEER
What nonsense! They must mean some other person.
Is it really Peer? It’s not Rasmus, or Jon?

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
It is many a day since I melted them.
So come quietly now, and don’t waste my time.

PEER
I’ll be damned if I do! Ay, ‘twould be a fine thing
if it turned out to-morrow some one else was meant.
You’d better take care what you’re at, my good man!
think of the onus you’re taking upon you —

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
I have it in writing —

PEER
At least give me time!

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
What good would that do you?

PEER
I’ll use it to prove
that I’ve been myself all the days of my life;
and that’s the question that’s in dispute.

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
You’ll prove it? And how?

PEER
Why, by vouchers and witnesses.

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
I’m sadly afraid Master will not accept them.

PEER
Impossible! However, enough for the day — !
My dear man, allow me a loan of myself;
I’ll be back again shortly. One is born only once,
and one’s self, as created, one fain would stick to.
Come, are we agreed?

THE BUTTON-MOULDER
Very well then, so be it.
But remember, we meet at the next cross-roads.
[PEER GYNT runs off.]

SCENE EIGHT
H

[A further point on the heath.]

PEER
[running hard]
Time is money, as the scripture says.
If I only knew where the cross-roads are; —
they may be near and they may be far.
The earth burns beneath me like red-hot iron.
A witness! A witness! Oh, where shall I find one?
It’s almost unthinkable here in the forest.
The world is a bungle! A wretched arrangement,
when a man must prove a right that’s as patent as day!
[AN OLD MAN, bent with age, with a staff in his hand and a bag on his back, is trudging in front of him.]

THE OLD MAN
[stops]
Dear, kind sir — a trifle to a houseless soul!

PEER
Excuse me; I’ve got no small change in my
pocket —

THE OLD MAN
Prince Peer! Oh, to think we should meet again — !

PEER
Who are you?

THE OLD MAN
You forget the Old Man in the Ronde?

PEER
Why, you’re never — ?

THE OLD MAN
The King of the Dovre, my boy!

PEER
The Dovre-King? Really? The Dovre-king?
Speak!

THE OLD MAN
Oh, I’ve come terribly down in the world — !

PEER
Ruined?

THE OLD MAN
Ay, plundered of every stiver.
Here am I tramping it, starved as a wolf.

PEER
Hurrah! Such a witness doesn’t grow on the trees!

THE OLD MAN
My Lord Prince, too, has grizzled a bit since we met.

PEER
My dear father-in-law, the years gnaw and wear one. —
Well well, a truce to all private affairs, —
and pray, above all things, no family jars.
I was then a sad madcap —

THE OLD MAN
Oh yes; oh yes; —
His Highness was young; and what won’t one do then?
But his Highness was wise in rejecting his bride;
he saved himself thereby both worry and shame;
for since then she’s utterly gone to the bad —

PEER
Indeed!

THE OLD MAN
She has led a deplorable life;
and, just think, — she and Trond are now living together.

PEER
Which Trond?

THE OLD MAN
Of the Valfjeld.

PEER
It’s he? Aha;
it was he I cut out with the saeter-girls.

THE OLD MAN
But my grandson has flourished — grown both stout and great,
and has strapping children all over the country —

PEER
Now, my dear man, spare us this flow of words; —
I’ve something quite different troubling my mind. —
I’ve got into rather a ticklish position,
and am greatly in need of a witness or voucher; —
that’s how you could help me best, father-in-law,
and I’ll find you a trifle to drink my health with.

THE OLD MAN
You don’t say so; can I be of use to his Highness?
You’ll give me a character, then, in return?

PEER
Most gladly. I’m somewhat hard pressed for cash,
and must cut down expenses in every direction.
Now hear what’s the matter. No doubt you remember
that night when I came to the Ronde a-wooing —

THE OLD MAN
Why, of course, my Lord Prince!

PEER
Oh, no more of the Prince!
But no matter. You wanted, by sheer brute force,
to bias my sight, with a slit in the lens,
and to change me about from Peer Gynt to a troll.
What did I do then? I stood out against it, —
swore I would stand on no feet but my own;
love, power, and glory at once I renounced,
and all for the sake of remaining myself.
Now this fact, you see, you must swear to in Court —

THE OLD MAN
No, I’m blest if I can.

PEER
Why, what nonsense is this?

THE OLD MAN
You surely don’t want to compel me to lie?
You pulled on the troll-breeches, don’t you remember,
and tasted the mead —

PEER
Ay, you lured me seductively; —
but I flatly declined the decisive test,
and that is the thing you must judge your man by.
It’s the end of the ditty that all depends on.

THE OLD MAN
But it ended, Peer, just in the opposite way.

PEER
What rubbish is this?

THE OLD MAN
When you left the Ronde,
you inscribed my motto upon your ‘scutcheon.

PEER
What motto?

THE OLD MAN
The potent and sundering word.

PEER
The word?

THE OLD MAN
That which severs the whole race of men
from the troll-folk. Troll! To thyself be enough!

PEER
[falls back a step]
Enough!

THE OLD MAN
And with every nerve in your body,
you’ve being living up to it ever since.

PEER
What, I? Peer Gynt?

THE OLD MAN
[weeps]
It’s ungrateful of you!
You’ve lived as a troll, but have still kept it secret.
The word I taught you has shown you the way
to swing yourself up as a man of substance; —
and now you must needs come and turn up your nose
at me and the word you’ve to thank for it all.

PEER
Enough! A hill-troll! An egoist!
This must be all rubbish; that’s perfectly certain!

THE OLD MAN
[pulls out a bundle of old newspapers]
I daresay you think that we’ve no newspapers?
Wait; here I’ll show you in red and black,
how the Bloksberg Post eulogises you;
and the Heklefield Journal has done the same
ever since the winter you left the country. —
Do you care to read them? You’re welcome, Peer.
Here’s an article, look you, signed “Stallionhoof.”
And here too is one: “On Troll-Nationalism.”
The writer points out and lays stress on the truth
that horns and a tail are of little importance,
so long as one has but a strip of the hide.
“Our enough,” he concludes, “gives the hall-mark of trolldom
to man,” — and proceeds to cite you as an instance.

PEER
A hill-troll? I?

THE OLD MAN
Yes, that’s perfectly clear.

PEER
Might as well have stayed quietly where I
was?
Might have stopped in the Ronde in comfort and peace?
Saved my trouble and toil and no end of shoe-leather?
Peer Gynt — a troll? Why it’s rubbish! It’s stuff!
Good-bye! There’s a halfpenny to buy you tobacco.

THE OLD MAN
Nay, my good Prince Peer!

PEER
Let me go! You’re mad,
or else doting. Off to the hospital with you!

THE OLD MAN
Oh, that is exactly what I’m in search of.
But, as I told you, my grandson’s offspring
have become overwhelmingly strong in the land,
and they say that I only exist in books.
The saw says: One’s kin are unkindest of all;
I’ve found to my cost that that saying is true.
It’s cruel to count as mere figment and fable

PEER
My dear man, there are others who share the same fate.

THE OLD MAN
And ourselves we’ve no Mutual Aid Society,
no alms-box or Penny Savings Bank; —
in the Ronde, of course, they’d be out of place.

PEER
No, that cursed: To thyself be enough was the word there!

THE OLD MAN
Oh, come now, the Prince can’t complain of the word.
And if he could manage by hook or by crook —

PEER
My man, you have got on the wrong scent entirely;
I’m myself, as the saying goes, fairly cleaned out —

THE OLD MAN
You surely can’t mean it? His Highness a beggar?

PEER
Completely. His Highness’s ego’s in pawn.
And it’s all your fault, you accursed trolls!
That’s what comes of keeping bad company.

THE OLD MAN
So there came my hope toppling down from its perch again!
Good-bye! I had best struggle on to the town —

PEER
What would you do there?

THE OLD MAN
I will go to the theatre.
The papers are clamouring for national talents —

PEER
Good luck on your journey; and greet them from me.
If I can but get free, I will go the same way.
A farce I will write them, a mad and profound one;
its name shall be: “Sic transit gloria mundi.”
[He runs off along the road; the OLD MAN shouts after him.]