by Henrik Ibsen
our arrival.
MASTER OF CEREMONIES [to PEER as he offers him a drink]:
Some beer?
PEER [is immobile, gazing after SOLVEIG and her FAMILY]:
Not that much of a thirst,
but thanks. There’s dancing calls to be done!
[The MASTER OF CEREMONIES moves away. PEER gazes at the house; smiles.]
There! So fair! So modest! Her eyes cast down
to the tips of her shoes, to the hem of her gown;
the fresh white apron – how it gleams –
I see she carries a book of psalms
wrapped in trim cloth; her other hand
clasping her mother’s skirt. Beauty new-found,
[Begins to enter the room.]
I must see you again!
A BOY [comes out with several others]:
Why are you leaving
so early?
PEER: I’m not!
BOY: But you’re oddly behaving –
that’s quite the wrong way!
Takes PEER by the shoulder, attempting to turn him around.
PEER: Here, let me through!
BOY: You’re scared of Aslak, aren’t you, though!
PEER: Me? Frit?
BOY: Like at Lunde!
The crowd laughs, jeers; goes across to the dancing area.
SOLVEIG [in the doorway]:
You’re the one
that’s keen to dance?
PEER: I am indeed!
Don’t say you’d forgotten!
SOLVEIG: But not too far, so Mother said.
PEER: She said! She said! Are you still
wet behind the ears, fair chiel?
How old are you?
SOLVEIG: I was confirmed
last spring.
PEER: And have you yet been named?
SOLVEIG: They call me Solveig. Pray, what’s yours
to be remembered by your heirs?
PEER: Peer Gynt.
SOLVEIG [pulling her hand from his]:
Law’ sakes!
PEER: What now, you goose?
SOLVEIG: Ah, let me be! My garter’s loose.
Exit.
BRIDEGROOM: Mother, she won’t!
MOTHER: Won’t what? Won’t what?
BRIDEGROOM: Unbolt the door; she’s in a state!
FATHER [quietly furious]:
You should be tethered to a mule!
MOTHER: Don’t ’rate him so, poor lad; he’ll thole.
A BOY [accompanied by a large group comes across from the dancing]:
Some brandy, Peer?
PEER: No.
FIRST BOY: Wet your lips?
PEER: You have some on you?
FIRST BOY: Well, perhaps …
[Pulls out a pocket flask and drinks.]
It burns so sweetly.
PEER: Let me taste.
SECOND BOY: Have some of mine; ’twill slake your thirst.
PEER: I’ll not take more.
SECOND BOY: Ah, don’t be frit.
PEER: Then just the smallest taste of it.
Drinks again.
A GIRL [in a low voice]:
We’d best be off.
PEER: So you’re afeard
as well, my lass. The things you’ve heard?
THIRD BOY: Ay, tales she’s heard of Lunde Farm!
FOURTH BOY: We know what skills you can perform!
PEER: I can do more if I’ve a mind.
FIRST BOY [whispering]:
He’s warming to it!
A group forms around PEER.
ONE OF THE GROUP: Come, show your hand!
PEER: Tomorrow, then.
ONE OF THE GROUP: No, no, right here!
PEER: Well, I can make Old Nick appear!
A MAN: My gran did that, in years gone by.
PEER: Fool! I can do what she could not.
I conjured him into a nut.
There was this little wormhole. He
cursed and promised things, and wept …
ONE OF THE GROUP [laughing]:
And then? And then?
ANOTHER: Then in he crept!
PEER: I sealed the hole up with a pin;
he buzzed and made a merry din
just like a drunken bumble bee.
A GIRL: Well, fancy that!
D’you still keep him in the nut?
PEER: Moved with the times to kinder climes.
It’s his fault that the smith and I
no longer quite see eye to eye!
I went to Aslak’s forge to ask
him to perform a simple task,
to crack the nutshell. He agreed,
and placed it on the anvil’s head.
But he’s a heavy-handed churl;
the sledgehammer’s his favourite tool!
ONE OF THE GROUP: He struck?
PEER: Ay, like a man inspired!
That crafty devil, though, self-fired,
rushed in a flame, out through the roof,
vanished with an almighty whoof!
ONE OF THE GROUP: Aslak?
PEER: Just stood there with scorched hands.
And since that day we’ve not been friends.
General laughter.
ONE OF THE GROUP: That’s a right good ’un!
ANOTHER: Well-nigh his best!
PEER: I didn’t invent it!
A MAN: That’s true; for most
came from my grandad.
PEER: Plain truth, I swear!
MAN: Like all you tell us.
PEER [with a swagger]:
I take rides
high in the sky on airy steeds.
I can work other wonders.
Uproarious laughter again.
ONE OF THE GROUP: Peer,
ride through the skies!
MANY: Ride! Ride the air!
PEER: No need to beg; no need to bawl –
I’ll ride the storm! I’ll blast you all!
The parish at my feet shall fall!
AN OLDER MAN: He’s raving mad.
SECOND MAN: Or a mere fool.
THIRD MAN: Loudmouth I’d call him.
FOURTH MAN: Hopeless liar.
A MAN [half-drunk]:
Just wait; you’ll get your reckoning, Peer!
ONE OF THE GROUP: With a good dusting, too! Your back
beaten and aching; both eyes black.
The crowd disperses; the older ones angry, the younger ones laughing.
BRIDEGROOM [moving close to PEER]:
Peer, say it’s true. You truly can
work wonders? Ride on air, I mean?
PEER [somewhat curtly]:
You heard me, Mads.
BRIDEGROOM: That means you wear
the cloak that makes folk disappear?
PEER: Hat, Mads, hat! I do; I shall.
He turns away. SOLVEIG walks across the enclosure, holding HELGA’s hand.
PEER [goes over to them; he appears somewhat more cheerful]:
Solveig, welcome! My cup is full!
[Holds her by the wrist.]
Ah, let me swing you high! And higher!
SOLVEIG: No, let me be!
PEER: But why, my fair?
SOLVEIG: You’re crazy-wild.
PEER: The tined reindeer
is crazy-wild when summer’s near.
Come, dance, dear girl, don’t look so stricken.
SO
LVEIG [freeing her arm]:
I daren’t.
PEER: But why?
SOLVEIG [solemn]:
You have drink taken.
Walks off, with HELGA.
PEER: I could murder them all;
my knife through each loath’d caul
ere I unstuck the blade …
BRIDEGROOM [elbowing him]:
My bride, eh, my bride?
PEER [as if absent-mindedly]:
Your bride? She’s where …?
BRIDEGROOM: Oh, Peer! She’s shut
in the girls’ summer sleeping-hut.
So work your will to fetch her out,
I beg you, Peer!
PEER: Fetch her yourself.
I’ll not cast spells on your behalf.
[A sudden thought strikes him; he says, quietly but urgently.]
To the girls’ summer-hut she went …
[Approaches SOLVEIG and speaks.]
You’ve changed your mind?
[SOLVEIG tries to leave, he stands in her way.]
Seeing me here,
you grieve that I’m this man-of-mire?
SOLVEIG [quickly]:
Don’t speak as if God’s truth were spent.
PEER: Too true, alas! I’m drunk for spite
of cruel things you’ve said: a spate!
Come, girl!
SOLVEIG: But even if I so desired,
even if, mark you! I’m too scared …
PEER: Of him?
SOLVEIG: Yes, Father.
PEER: A Quietist,
a Seeker, some such pious sect,
is he not? Who bows his head
each day above his bitter bread?
A Bible-thumper? And the rest!
Who binds you with God’s interdict?
Well? Answer me!
SOLVEIG: No; let me go in peace.
PEER: Never!
[In a low-pitched voice, but vehement, terrifying]
I’ll turn myself into a troll!
Midnight tonight I shall pass through your bedroom wall.
So be well warned. Hear someone, some thing, hiss and spit;
it’s not, you know, the household cat.
It’ll be me: and your poor heart must pay the price.
I’ll drain your blood into a cup, and I’ll eat up
your little sister. A werewolf I become each night.
Your back, even your thighs, shall feel my bite …
[Suddenly his tone changes; he begs, as if terrified]
Dance, dance with me, Solveig!
SOLVEIG [looking appalled]:
That was vile!
She goes into the house.
BRIDEGROOM [wanders in, looking even more helpless than before]:
I’ll give you an ox if you’ll help me; so help me, I will!
PEER: Quickly then!
Both men go behind the house. At the same moment a large crowd leaves the dancing area; most of them are drunk. Tumult. SOLVEIG, HELGA and their PARENTS come to the door, accompanied by a number of the older folk.
MASTER OF CEREMONIES [to ASLAK, who heads the rabble]:
Order! Keep the peace!
ASLAK [pulling off his shirt]:
Not likely! Let’s see justice done.
Peer Gynt and me fight one to one!
A MAN: Ay, let ’em scrap, ’tis sound advice.
SECOND MAN: A disputation – that’s my motion!
THIRD MAN: I second that!
ASLAK: Nah, fists ’n’ blood!
Fists it shall be; words ain’t no good!
SOLVEIG’S FATHER: Restrain yourself!
HELGA: Mama, will he get hurt?
A BOY: Let’s rub his pack o’ lies in the dirt!
SECOND BOY: Boot him back where he came from!
THIRD BOY: Spit in his eyes!
FOURTH BOY [to ASLAK]:
You’re not chucking it in?
ASLAK [throwing down his shirt]:
‘The jade
to the knacker’s yard’, that’s what is said.
SOLVEIG’S MOTHER [to SOLVEIG]:
That fool’s awarded his well-earned prize.
AASE [enters, carrying a stick]:
My son, where is he? I’ll whack his bones,
ay, good and proper! I’ll tame him for once!
ASLAK [rolling up his sleeves]:
That puny switch won’t make its mark
on Peer Gynt’s hide!
FIRST BOY: Let the smith set to work!
SECOND BOY: Thrash him!
THIRD BOY: Tear him!
ASLAK [spitting on his hands and nodding to AASE]:
Hang and be sure!
AASE: Eh? Hang my Peer?
Let’s see if you dare!
Old Aase and me – you see? you see! –
still have our tooth and claw.
Where’s the lad now?
[Calls across the enclosure.]
Peer? Peer!
BRIDEGROOM [running frantically in]:
Mam! Dad! Oh, oh!
I need you so!
HIS FATHER: What’s wrong, lad?
BRIDEGROOM: That Peer Gynt …
AASE [screaming]:
You’ve killed him! Woe!
BRIDEGROOM: I can’t
believe he’s done it. Look, my wife
and him!
AASE [lowering her stick]:
Come down, come down, you thief!
BRIDEGROOM: My wife with Gynt …
ASLAK [standing as if thunderstruck]:
There! On the cliff,
nearing the crest sure-footed. It’s
like watching a pair of goats.
BRIDEGROOM [weeping]:
More as a man might heft a pig!
AASE [calls up to PEER, threateningly]:
I hope you fall!
[Screams in terror.]
Don’t fall, I beg!
BRIDE’S FATHER [rushes in, bareheaded, white with rage]:
I’ll murder him! He’s got the bride!
AASE: If I let you, then let God strike me dead!
Act Two
SCENE 1
A narrow mountain path up in the heights. It is early morning. PEER, in an ill temper, walks quickly along the path. INGRID, wearing vestiges of her wedding finery, tries to delay him.
PEER: Keep your distance.
INGRID [weeping]:
After this
what’s left for us?
And where?
PEER: As far as you can fare.
We part here.
INGRID [wringing her hands]:
Oh, I feel so betrayed.
PEER: Well, there’s no need
to quarrel.
INGRID: We are tied
by what we did.
Our crime is our bond.
PEER: The devil take
you; and all womankind,
save for her alone.
INGRID: Who is that one?
PEER: Never you mind.
INGRID: Tell me.
PEER: No. Go back
to your father; quick-
foot it to Hæggstad.
INGRID: My sweeting!
PEER: No bleating!
INGRID: I can’t believe you mean
what you say.
PEER: I can,
I do!
INGRID: Spoil and reject,
is that it?
PEER: Cash the bond!
INGRID: Hæggstad, and all I can expec
t
when my old dad’s in the ground.
PEER: But do you have a psalm book bound in cloth?
Have you long golden hair that stays unbound?
No, on my oath!
Do you glance down so modestly? Is your hand
still holding fast to your mother’s kirtle band?
How could you answer?
INGRID: I …
PEER: Were you confirmed
last spring? Have you …
INGRID: Oh, Peer …
PEER: … made me ashamed?
Could you, as she has, so disdain my thirst
for things ill-famed? No, nor the rest!
When I see you, does that day always peal
with a perpetual sabbath?
INGRID: Well …
PEER: Of course not. So what’s there to mourn?
INGRID: You do yourself an ill turn.
If you betray me, it’s no game,
it’s a hanging crime.
PEER: So I’ve heard say.
That’s no cause to stay.
INGRID: You could be a rich
man, after we wed.
PEER: Your bride-price is too much.
INGRID: But you misled me.
PEER: You were hungry to bed me.
INGRID: I was heartbroken.
PEER: And I was drunken.
INGRID [threateningly]:
This will cost you dear.
PEER: As you have made clear.
INGRID: You are set on
this ending?
PEER: As stone.
INGRID: And we fight?
PEER: Right!
INGRID walks away down the hill.
PEER [stands quietly watching for a while. Abruptly he cries out]:
To the devil with all
such memories, and to hell
with all women!
INGRID [turns and shouts up to him, scornfully]:
All save one?
PEER: All – but for her alone!
They go their separate ways.
SCENE 2
By a mountain pool; around it, marshy ground. A storm gathers. AASE, frantic, is shouting, first staring in one direction, then in another. SOLVEIG has trouble in keeping up with her. Her FATHER, MOTHER and sister HELGA follow closely behind.
AASE [waving her arms wildly; tearing her hair]:
Everything pitched against me and against him –
earth, sky, the mountains that stand so grim.
Cold fog’s on the boil, closes about his way;
moor-tarns lurking and luring where he will stray;
the mountains stride after him with their dour trek,
with rock-fall and snow-slide, forever at his back;
and now and forever the rage of our own folk;
they will murder him for the evil thing he has done.
No, they shall not kill him, my own dear changeling son,