I’ve sold the whole plantation, and

  It’s tale of live-stock, hide and hair.

  At parting, too, I served around,

  To big and little, gratis grog,

  So men and women all got drunk,

  And widows got their snuff as well.

  So that is why I trust,—provided

  The saying is not idle breath:

  Whoso does not do ill, does good,—

  My former errors are forgotten,

  And I, much more than most, can hold

  My misdeeds balanced by my virtues.

  VON EBERKOPF [Clinking glasses with him.]

  How strengthening it is to hear

  A principle thus acted out,

  Freed from the night of theory,

  Unshaken by the outward ferment!

  PEER [Who has been drinking freely during the preceding passages.]

  We Northland men know how to carry

  Our battle through! The key to the art

  Of life’s affairs is simply this:

  To keep one’s ear close shut against

  The ingress of one dangerous viper.

  MR. COTTON

  What sort of viper, pray, dear friend?

  PEER

  A little one that slyly wiles you

  To tempt the irretrievable.

  [Drinking again.]

  The essence of the art of daring,

  The art of bravery in act,

  Is this: To stand with choice-free foot

  Amid the treacherous snares of life,—

  To know for sure that other days

  Remain beyond the day of battle,—

  To know that ever in the rear

  A bridge for your retreat stands open.

  This theory has borne me on,

  Has given my whole career its colour;

  And this same theory I inherit,

  A race-gift, from my childhood’s home.

  MONSIEUR BALLON

  You are Norwegian?

  PEER

  Yes, by birth;

  But cosmopolitan in spirit.

  For fortune such as I’ve enjoyed

  I have to thank America.

  My amply-furnished library

  I owe to Germany’s later schools.

  From France, again, I get my waistcoats,

  My manners, and my spice of wit,—

  From England an industrious hand,

  And keen sense for my own advantage.

  The Jew has taught me how to wait.

  Some taste for dolce far niente51

  I have received from Italy,—

  And one time, in a perilous pass,

  To eke the measure of my days,

  I had recourse to Swedish steel.

  TRUMPETERSTRÅLE [Lifting up his glass.]

  Ay, Swedish steel——?

  VON EBERKOPF

  The weapon’s wielder

  Demands our homage first of all!

  [They clink glasses and drink with him.The wine begins to go to his head.]

  MR. COTTON

  All this is very good indeed;—

  But, sir, I’m curious to know

  What with your gold you think of doing.

  PEER [Smiling.]

  H’m; doing? Eh?

  ALL FOUR [Coming closer.]

  Yes, let us hear!

  PEER

  Well, first of all, I want to travel.

  You see, that’s why I shipped you four,

  To keep me company, at Gibraltar.

  I needed such a dancing-choir

  Of friends around my gold-calf-altar——

  VON EBERKOPF

  Most witty!

  MR. COTTON

  Well, but no one hoists

  His sails for nothing but the sailing.

  Beyond all doubt, you have a goal;

  And that is——?

  PEER

  To be Emperor.52

  ALL FOUR

  What?

  PEER [Nodding.]

  Emperor!

  THE FOUR

  Where?

  PEER

  O’er all the world.

  MONSIEUR BALLON

  But how, friend——?

  PEER

  By the might of gold!

  That plan is not at all a new one;

  It’s been the soul of my career.

  Even as a boy, I swept in dreams

  Far o’er the ocean on a cloud.

  I soared with train and golden scabbard,—

  And flopped down on all-fours again.

  But still my goal, my friends, stood fast.—

  There is a text, or else a saying,

  Somewhere, I don’t remember where,

  That if you gained the whole wide world,

  But lost yourself, your gain were but

  A garland on a cloven skull.

  That is the text—or something like it;

  And that remark is sober truth.

  VON EBERKOPF

  But what then is the Gyntish Self?

  PEER

  The world behind my forehead’s arch,

  In force of which I’m no one else

  Than I, no more than God’s the Devil.

  TRUMPETERSTRÅLE

  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 à la53 Lippe-Detmold.54

  But I must be myself en bloc,55

  Must be the Gynt of all the planet,

  Sir Gynt throughout, from top to bottom!

  MONSIEUR BALLON [Enraptured.]

  Possess the earth’s most exquisite beauty!

  VON EBERKOPF

  All century-old Johannisberger!

  TRUMPETERSTRÅLE

  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!

  TRUMPETERSTRÅLE

  Lead on! I’ll find again in Bender

  The world-renownëd spur-strap-buckles!56

  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——

  TRUMPETERSTRÅLE [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.]

  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.]

  TRUMPETERSTRÅLE

  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.

  TRUMPETERSTRÅLE

  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,57

  Which people talk so much about,

  With fall on fall, at lowest reckoning,

  Must mean a thousand horse-power good——

  TRUMPETERSTRÅLE

  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.]

  TRUMPETERSTRÅLE

  What scoundrelism!

  MONSIEUR BALLON

  A scurvy business—but—enfin!58

  [Follows the others.]

  TRUMPETERSTRÅLE

  I’ll have to follow, I suppose,—

  But I protest to all the world——!59

  [Follows.]

  SCENE SECOND

  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 though art so wise and so righteous——!

  Oh judge——!

  [With upstretched arms.]

  It is I, Peter Gynt! Oh, our 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 disap

  peared.]

  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 a 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 THIRD

  Night. An encampment of Moroccan troops on the edge of the desert. Watch-fires, with SOLDIERS resting by them.