Each one shuts himself up in the barrel of self,

  In the self-fermentation he dives to the bottom,—

  With the self-bung he seals it hermetically,

  And seasons the staves in the well of self.

  No one has tears for the other’s woes;

  No one has mind for the other’s ideas.

  We’re our very selves, both in thought and tone,

  Ourselves to the spring-board’s uttermost verge,—

  And so, if a Kaiser’s to fill the Throne,

  It is clear that you are the very man.

  PEER

  O would that the devil——!

  BEGRIFFENFELDT

  Come, don’t be cast down;

  Almost all things in nature are new at the first.

  “Oneself ”;—come, here you shall see an example;

  I’ll choose you at random the first man that comes——

  [To a gloomy figure.]

  Good-day, Huhu? Well, my boy, wandering round

  For ever with misery’s impress upon you?

  HUHU78

  Can I help it, when the people,

  Race79 by race, dies untranslated.80

  [To PEER GYNT.]

  You’re a stranger; will you listen?

  PEER [Bowing.]

  Oh, by all means!

  HUHU

  Lend your ear then.—

  Eastward far, like brow-borne garlands,

  Lie the Malabarish seaboards.

  Hollanders and Portugueses

  Compass all the land with culture.

  There, moreover, swarms are dwelling

  Of the pure-bred Malabaris.

  These have muddled up the language,

  They now lord it in the country.—

  But in long-departed ages

  There the orang-outang was the ruler.

  He, the forest’s lord and master,

  Freely fought and snarled in freedom.

  As the hand of nature shaped him,

  Just so grinned he, just so gaped he.

  He could shriek unreprehended;

  He was ruler in his kingdom.—

  Ah, but then the foreign yoke came,

  Marred the forest-tongue primeval.

  Twice two hundred years of darkness81

  Brooded o’er the race of monkeys;

  And, you know, nights so protracted

  Bring a people to a standstill.—

  Mute are now the wood-notes primal;

  Grunts and growls are heard no longer;—

  If we’d utter our ideas,

  It must be by means of language.

  What constraint on all and sundry!

  Hollanders and Portugueses,

  Half-caste race and Malabaris,

  All alike must suffer by it.—

  I have tried to fight the battle

  Of our real, primal wood-speech,—

  Tried to bring to life its carcass,—

  Proved the people’s right of shrieking,—

  Shrieked myself, and shown the need of

  Shrieks in poems for the people.—

  Scantly, though, my work is valued.—

  Now I think you grasp my sorrow.

  Thanks for lending me a hearing;—

  Have you counsel, let me hear it!

  PEER [Softly.]

  It is written: Best be howling

  With the wolves that are about you.

  [Aloud.]

  Friend, if I remember rightly,

  There are bushes in Morocco,

  Where orang-outangs in plenty

  Live with neither bard nor spokesman;—

  Their speech sounded Malabarish;—

  It was classical and pleasing.

  Why don’t you, like other worthies,

  Emigrate to serve your country?

  HUHU

  Thanks for lending me a hearing;—

  I will do as you advise me.

  [With a large gesture.]

  East! thou hast disowned thy singer!

  West! thou hast orang-outangs still!

  [Goes.]

  BEGRIFFENFELDT

  Well, was he himself? I should rather think so.

  He’s filled with his own affairs, simply and solely.

  He’s himself in all that comes out of him,—

  Himself, just because he’s beside himself.

  Come here! Now I’ll show you another one

  Who’s no less, since last evening, accordant with Reason.

  [To a FELLAH,82 with a mummy on his back.]

  King Apis, how goes it, my mighty lord?

  THE FELLAH [Wildly, to PEER GYNT.]

  Am I King Apis?

  PEER [Getting behind the DOCTOR.]

  I’m sorry to say

  I’m not quite at home in the situation;

  But I certainly gather, to judge by your tone——

  THE FELLAH

  Now you too are lying.

  BEGRIFFENFELDT

  Your Highness should state

  How the whole matter stands.

  THE FELLAH

  Yes, I’ll tell him my tale.

  [Turns to PEER GYNT.]

  Do you see whom I bear on my shoulders?

  His name was King Apis of old.

  Now he goes by the title of mummy,

  And withal he’s completely dead.

  All the pyramids yonder he builded,

  And hewed out the mighty Sphinx,

  And fought, as the Doctor puts it,

  With the Turks, both to rechts and links.

  And therefore the whole of Egypt

  Exalted him as a god,

  And set up his image in temples,

  In the outward shape of a bull.—

  But I am this very King Apis,

  I see that as clear as day;

  And if you don’t understand it,

  You shall understand it soon.

  King Apis, you see, was out hunting,

  And got off his horse awhile,

  And withdrew himself unattended

  To a part of my ancestor’s land.

  But the field that King Apis manured

  Has nourished me with its corn;

  And if further proofs are demanded,

  Know, I have invisible horns.

  Now, isn’t it most accursëd

  That no one will own my might!

  By birth I am Apis of Egypt,

  But a fellah in other men’s sight.

  Can you tell me what course to follow?—

  Then counsel me honestly.—

  The problem is how to make me

  Resemble King Apis the Great.

  PEER

  Build pyramids then, your highness,

  And carve out a greater Sphinx,

  And fight, as the Doctor puts it,

  With the Turks, both to rechts and links.

  THE FELLAH

  Ay, that is all mighty fine talking!

  A fellah! A hungry louse!

  I, who scarcely can keep my hovel

  Clear even of rats and mice.

  Quick, man,—think of something better,

  That’ll make me both great and safe,

  And further, exactly like to

  King Apis that’s on my back!

  PEER

  What if your highness hanged you,

  And then, in the lap of earth,

  ’Twixt the coffin’s natural frontiers,

  Kept still and completely dead.

  THE FELLAH

  I’ll do it! My life for a halter!

  To the gallows with hide and hair!—

  At first there will be some difference,

  But that time will smooth away.

  [Goes off and prepares to hang himself.]

  BEGRIFFENFELDT

  There’s a personality for you, Herr Peer,—

  A man of method——

  PEER

  Yes, yes; I see——;

  But he’ll really hang himself! God grant us grace!

  I’ll be ill;—I can scarcely command my thoughts.

  BEGRIFFENFELDT

  A state of transition; it won’t last long.

  PEER

  Transition? To what? With your leave—I must go——

  BEGRIFFENFELDT [Holding him.]

  Are you crazy?

  PEER

  Not yet——. Crazy? Heaven forbid!

  [A commotion. The Minister HUSSEIN83 forces his way through the

  crowd.]

  HUSSEIN

  They tell me a Kaiser has come to-day.

  [To PEER GYNT.]

  It is you?

  PEER [In desperation.]

  Yes, that is a settled thing!

  HUSSEIN

  Good.—Then no doubt there are notes to be answered?

  PEER [Tearing his hair.]

  Come on! Right you are, sir;—the madder the better!

  HUSSEIN

  Will you do me the honour of taking a dip?

  [Bowing deeply.]

  I am a pen.

  PEER [Bowing still deeper.]

  Why then I am quite clearly

  A rubbishy piece of imperial parchment.

  HUSSEIN

  My story, my lord, is concisely this:

  They take me for a pounce-box,84 and I am a pen.

  PEER

  My story, Sir Pen, is, to put it briefly:

  I’m a blank sheet of paper that no one will write on.

  HUSSEIN

  No man understands in the least what I’m good for;

  They all want to use me for scattering sand with!

  PEER

  I was in a woman’s keeping a silver-clasped book;—

  It’s one and the same misprint to be either mad or sane!

  HUSSEIN

  Just fancy, what an exhausting life.

  To be a pen and never taste the edge of a knife!

  PEER [With a high leap.]

  Just fancy, for a reindeer to leap from on high—

  To fall and fall—and never feel the ground beneath your hoofs!

  HUSSEIN

  A knife! I am blunt;—quick, mend me and slit me!

  The world will go to ruin if they don’t mend my point for me!

  PEER

  A pity for the world which, like other self-made things,

  Was reckoned by the Lord to be so excellently good.

  BEGRIFFENFELDT

  Here’s a knife!

  HUSSEIN [Seizing it.]

  Ah, how I shall lick up the ink now!

  Oh, what rapture to cut oneself!

  [Cuts his throat.]

  BEGRIFFENFELDT [Stepping aside.]

  Pray do not sputter.

  PEER [In increasing terror.]

  Hold him!

  HUSSEIN

  Ay, hold me! That is the word!

  Hold! Hold the pen! On the desk with the paper——!

  [Falls.]

  I’m outworn. The postscript—remember it, pray:

  He lived and he died as a fate-guided pen.85

  PEER [Dizzily.]

  What shall I——! What am I? Thou mighty——hold fast!

  I am all that thou wilt,—I’m a Turk, I’m a sinner——

  A hill-troll——; but help;—there was something that burst——!

  [Shrieks.]

  I cannot just hit on thy name at the moment;—

  Oh, come to my aid, thou—all madmen’s protector!

  [Sinks down insensible.]

  BEGRIFFENFELDT [With a wreath of straw in his hand, gives a bound and sits astride of him.]

  Ha! See him in the mire enthronëd;—

  Beside himself——To crown him now!

  [Presses the wreath on PEER GYNT’s head, and shouts:]

  Long life, long life to Self-hood’s Kaiser!

  SCHAFMANN [In the cage.]

  Es lebe hoch der grosse Peer!

  ACT FIFTH

  SCENE FIRST

  On board a ship on the North Sea, off the Norwegian coast. Sunset. Stormy weather.

  PEER GYNT, a vigorous old man, milk grizzled hair and beard, is standing aft on the poop. He is dressed half sailor-fashion, with a pea-jacket and long boots. His clothing is rather the worse for wear; he himself is weather-beaten, and has a somewhat harder expression.The CAPTAIN is standing beside the steersman at the wheel.The crew are forward.

  PEER GYNT [Leans with his arms on the bulwark, and gazes towards the land.]

  Look at Hallingskarv86 in his winter furs;—

  He’s ruffling it, old one, in the evening glow.

  The Jokel, his brother, stands behind him askew;

  He’s got his green ice-mantle still on his back.

  The Folgefånn, now, she is mighty fine,—

  Lying there like a maiden in spotless white.

  Don’t you be madcaps, old boys that you are!

  Stand where you stand; you’re but granite knobs.

  THE CAPTAIN [Shouts forward.]

  Two hands to the wheel, and the lantern aloft!

  PEER

  It’s blowing up stift——

  THE CAPTAIN

  ——for a gale to-night.

  PEER

  Can one see the Rondë Hills from the sea?

  THE CAPTAIN

  No, how should you? They lie at the back of the snowfields.

  PEER

  Or Blåhö?87

  THE CAPTAIN

  No; but from up in the rigging,

  You’ve a glimpse, in clear weather, of Galdhöpiggen.

  PEER

  Where does Hårteig lie?

  THE CAPTAIN [Pointing.]

  About over there.

  PEER

  I thought so.

  THE CAPTAIN

  You know where you are, it appears.

  PEER

  When I left the country, I sailed by here;

  And the dregs, says the proverb, hang in to the last.

  [Spits, and gazes at the coast.]

  In there, where the screes and the clefts lie blue,—

  Where the valleys, like trenches, gloom narrow and black,—

  And underneath, skirting the open fiords,—

  It’s in places like these human beings abide.

  [Looks at the CAPTAIN.]

  They build far apart in this country.

  THE CAPTAIN

  Ay;

  Few are the dwellings and far between.

  PEER

  Shall we get in by day-break?

  THE CAPTAIN

  Thereabouts;

  If we don’t have too dirty a night altogether.

  PEER

  It grows thick in the west.

  THE CAPTAIN

  It does so.

  PEER

  Stop a bit!

  You might put me in mind when we make up accounts—

  I’m inclined, as the phrase goes, to do a good turn

  To the crew——

  THE CAPTAIN

  I thank you.

  PEER

  It won’t be much

  I have dug for gold, and lost what I found;—

  We are quite at loggerheads, Fate and I.

  You know what I’ve got in safe keeping on board—

  That’s all I have left;—the rest’s gone to the devil.

  THE CAPTAIN

  It’s more than enough, though, to make you of weight

  Among people at home here.

  PEER

  I’ve no relations.

  There’s no one awaiting the rich old curmudgeon.—

  Well; that saves you, at least, any scenes on the pier!

  THE CAPTAIN

  Here comes the storm.

  PEER

  Well, remember then—

  If any of your crew are in real need,

  I won’t look too closely after the money——

  THE CAPTAIN

  That’s kind. They are most of them ill enough off;

  They have all got their wives and their children at home.

  With their wages alone they can scarce make ends meet;

  But if they come home with some cash to the good,

  It will be a return not forgot in a hurry.

  PEER

  What do you say? Have they wives and children?

  Are they married?

  THE CAPTAIN

  Married? Ay, every man of them.

  But the one that is worst off of all is the cook;

  Black famine is ever at home in his house.

  PEER

  Married? They’ve folks that await them at home?

  Folks to be glad when they come? Eh?

  THE CAPTAIN

  Of course,

  In poor people’s fashion.

  PEER

  And come they one evening,

  What then?

  THE CAPTAIN

  Why, I daresay the goodwife will fetch

  Something good for a treat——

  PEER

  And a light in the sconce?

  THE CAPTAIN

  Ay, ay, may be two; and a dram to their supper.

  PEER

  And there they sit snug! There’s a fire on the hearth!

  They’ve their children about them! The room’s full of chatter;.

  Not one hears another right out to an end,

  For the joy that is on them——!

  THE CAPTAIN

  It’s likely enough.

  So it’s really kind, as you promised just now,

  To help eke things out.

  PEER [Thumping the bulwark.]

  I’ll be damned if I do!

  Do you think I am mad? Would you have me fork out

  For the sake of a parcel of other folks’ brats?

  I’ve slaved much too sorely in earning my cash.

  There’s nobody waiting for old Peer Gynt.

  THE CAPTAIN

  Well well; as you please then; your money’s your own.