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 Cornell University Library 
 PT 8083.E5C18 
 
 Comedies by Holber 
 
 3 1924 026 286 306 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924026286306 
 
This series of Scandinavian Classics is published 
 by The American-Scandinavian Foundation in the 
 belief that greater familiarity vs^ith the chief literary 
 monuments of the North will help Americans to a 
 better understanding of Scandinavians, and thus serve 
 to stimulate their sympathetic cooperation to good ends 
 
SCANDINAVIAN CLASSICS 
 VOLUME I 
 
 COMEDIES BY HOLBERG 
 
v- 
 
 ioiy 
 
 :\\ 
 
 ESTABLISHED BY 
 NIELS POULSON 
 
COMEDIES BY HOLBERG 
 
 JEPPE OF THE HILL, THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 A 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH BY 
 
 OSCAR JAMES CAMPBELL, Jr., Ph.D. 
 
 Assistant Professor of English in the Uni-versity of Wisconsin 
 
 AND 
 
 FREDERIC SCHENCK, B.Litt, Oxon. 
 
 Instructor in English in Harnjard Uni'versity 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 OSCAR JAMES CAMPBELL, Jr. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE AMERICAN-SCANDINAVIAN 
 
 FOUNDATION 
 
 I914 
 
 tt 
 
A: 
 J ■ 
 
 Copyright, igi4, by The American-Scandinavian Foundation 
 
 
 D. 5. Updike, The Merrymount Press, Boston, U. S. A. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 THE POLITICAL TINKER 5 1 
 
 ERASMUS MONTANUS HO 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 1UDVIG HoLBERG is generally considered the most 
 J remarkable of Danish writers. Though he produced 
 books on international law, finance, and history, as well 
 as satires, biographies, and moral essays, he is chiefly cele- 
 brated for his comedies, which still — nearly two hundred 
 years after their composition — delight large audiences in 
 Denmark, and bid fair to be immortal. These comedies 
 were the fruit of the author's actual experience; they are 
 closely related to his other works and reflect the range and 
 diversity of his pursuits. To understand fully Holberg's cre- 
 ations, one must first become acquainted with the events of 
 his life. 
 
 Ludvig Holberg was born in Bergen, December 3, 
 1684, of good parentage on both sides. His mother was 
 a granddaughter of a distinguished bishop, and his father 
 an army ofBcer who had risen from the ranks by personal 
 merit. Bergen had long been a trading-post of the Hanse- 
 atic League, and in the seventeenth century was distinctly 
 cosmopolitan in character. Perhaps as a result of his envi- 
 ronment, Holberg seemed early to have acquired a desire 
 to travel. In any case, he devoted most of the years of his 
 young manhood to seeing the world. 
 
 In 1704, shortly after receiving his degree at the Uni- 
 versity of Copenhagen, he made a journey to the Nether- 
 lands. About a year later, he went to England, where he 
 spent more than two years, partly in Oxford and partly 
 in London, studying history and absorbing new ideas. In 
 1 708, as the tutor of a young Danish boy, he visited Dres- 
 den, Leipzig, and Halle. Soon after his return to Copen- 
 hagen, he obtained a small stipend in a foundation for 
 
viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 students, called Borch's College. While there he wrote 
 two historical treatises of enough value to win him an 
 appointment as "extraordinary" professor in the univer- 
 sity. Though this position gave him the right to the first 
 vacancy that might occur in the faculty, it did not entitle 
 him to any salary, and it was only through the good offices 
 of a friend at court that he obtained a stipend of about 
 ^150 a year for four years, during which time he was to be 
 a sort of travelling fellow of the university. In the spring 
 of 1 7 14, Holberg, then thirty years of age, left Copenha- 
 gen for his fourth journey abroad. 
 
 This excursion was far more extensive and picturesque 
 than any he had undertaken before. He travelled first to 
 Paris, by way of Amsterdam and Brussels, and later to 
 Genoa and Rome, by way of Marseilles. Except for the 
 necessary sea voyages, most of the journey was made on • 
 foot. After staying in Rome for six months, harassed the 
 entire time by malarial fever, he turned his face towards 
 home. In order to escape the discomforts and perils of 
 travel by sea, he decided to return to Paris overland, and 
 walked from Rome to Florence in fourteen days. Finding 
 his health improved by the regular exercise, he continued 
 on foot over the Alps to Lyons, and subsequently to Paris 
 and Copenhagen, where he arrived in the autumn of 1 716. 
 Holberg had gone abroad to satisfy his keen intellectual 
 curiosity; he remained to study in foreign lands, and to 
 observe life as a philosopher and artist. Without his seem- 
 ingly aimless years of wandering, he might conceivably 
 have become an able historian ; he could hardly have de- 
 veloped his brilliant talent for satire and comedy. 
 
 When Holberg returned home, he found no vacancy 
 in the faculty. While waiting in penury for the death of 
 
INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 some professor, he wrote one of his most successful works 
 of scholarship, an Introduction to International Law. At last, 
 in December, 1 717, he inherited, as it were, the chair of 
 metaphysics in the university, being thus forced to begin 
 his academic career by teaching a subject that he held in 
 contempt. Fortunately this situation was not permanent. 
 In 1 7 1 9, he became professor of Latin ; in the following 
 year, a member of the university council ; later in life, pro- 
 fessor of history, the subject he liked best ; and finally he 
 was elected treasurer of the corporation. Holberg was thus 
 associated all his life with academic pursuits. The greater 
 part of his intellectual work was devoted to regular uni- 
 versity duties and to the composition of scholarly treatises 
 and moral essays, while the writing of the comedies that 
 won him permanent fame formed but a short interlude in 
 his busy life. He became a dramatist almost by chance. 
 
 In 1721, some influential citizens of Copenhagen de- 
 cided that the time was ripe for establishing native drama 
 in Denmark. A company was formed under the direction 
 of a cashiered French actor, Montaigu, who obtained royal 
 permission to bring out plays in Danish. Holberg, having 
 become well known by his mock-heroic poem Peder Paars, 
 was at once invited to furnish the company with original 
 comedies, and responded enthusiastically. For the next few 
 months he wrote with almost incredible swiftness, and 
 by the time the theatre was opened, on August 23, 1722, 
 he had finished five of his best plays, among which were 
 feppe of the Hill {Jeppe paa Bjergei) and The Political Tinker 
 (Den politiske Kandest0her). During the six years in which 
 the company eked out its precarious existence, Holberg 
 produced twenty-six comedies, most of which were success- 
 fully performed. His literary fecundity seems the more 
 
X INTRODUCTION 
 
 remarkable when it is remembered that he had no Danish 
 models. 
 
 The theatre was not well supported by the public. After 
 the first year, the receipts of an evening amounted to no 
 more than ^^13, and sometimes the actors were compelled 
 to tell the spectators who had gathered that they could not 
 afford to present the play to so small an audience. In 1728, 
 the company was at last granted a royal subvention of 
 about ^2500 a year by Frederick VI, and it had begun to 
 play under the proud title of Royal Actors, when Copen- 
 hagen was swept by a devastating fire. The theatre itself 
 was not destroyed, but the town was so badly impover- 
 ished that for the moment all forms of public amusement 
 had to be discontinued. Furthermore, the pietists, to whose 
 doctrines the crown prince was a devout adherent, asserted 
 that the fire was God's scourge for the wickedness of Co- 
 penhagen, the most impudent form of which, they believed, 
 was the drama. Before conditions in the city were enough 
 improved to warrant the resumption of his subsidy to the 
 actors,the king died, on October 12, 1730. Under the reign 
 of his pietistic successor, Christian VI (1730—1746), no 
 dramatic performances of any sort were sanctioned ; the the- 
 atre building was sold at auction, the company disbanded, 
 and Holberg ceased writing plays. 
 
 In the year of Christian VI's accession to the throne, 
 Holberg was made Professor of History at the university. 
 Pietist though he was, the new monarch was an enthusi- 
 astic patron of scholarship, and during his reign Holberg 
 devoted himself almost exclusively to research, particularly 
 for his History of Denmark, on which his present reputa- 
 tion as an historian rests. The one important work of pure 
 literature that he produced at this time was his Niels Klim's 
 
INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 Subterranean Journey (1741), written in Latin, and pub- 
 lished in Leipzig to evade the Danish censor. It is an ac- 
 count of a series of visits that Niels Klim pays to certain 
 strange nations within the hollow of the earth. Like Rob- 
 inson Crusoe, its partial prototype, it contains much pointed 
 satire on the customs of contemporary society. It was soon 
 translated into most other languages of Europe, and it is 
 one of the very few among Holberg's works that have been 
 put into English in any form. 
 
 At the death of Christian VI, in 1746, the obscurantist 
 character of the court immediately changed. One of the 
 first forms of amusement to be restored was the Danish 
 theatre. Although Holberg had no official connection with 
 the actors, he seems to have agreed to advise them about 
 their repertory, and soon his association with the stage 
 revived his interest in dramatic composition. During the 
 year 1 751—52, he wrote six new plays; but they lacked the 
 spirited criticism of contemporary society which gave life to 
 his earlier work. They are either founded on Latin models, 
 or are heavily didactic plays, in which the author's humor 
 fails under the burden of the moral. 
 
 The latter part of Holberg's life was spent in peace and 
 affluence. His interests were more and more devoted to his 
 large estates, and particularly to improving the conditions 
 under which his own peasants labored. In 1747, he was 
 elevated to the rank of baron, after bequeathing his estates 
 to the crown to endow the old academy at Soro. He died 
 on January 28, 1754, and was buried in the abbey church 
 of Soro, beside the great Bishop Absalom. 
 
 The plays in this volume will give a fair idea of Hol- 
 berg's best work. They are all domestic comedies of char- 
 
xii INTRODUCTION 
 
 acter, in which the foibles of some one central figure are 
 held up to ridicule, particularly as they are revealed in his 
 relations with a well-defined family group. The scene in 
 such comedies, usually the home of a peasant or a member 
 of the bourgeoisie, is pictured with uncompromising realism. 
 Holberg insisted that his audiences should see everything 
 that he saw. If a Danish peasant actually lay at times in a 
 drunken stupor on a dunghill, he saw no reason why Jeppe 
 should not appear on the stage in an equally disgusting con- 
 dition. If a peasant girl in life was not averse to simpering 
 vulgarity, why should Lisbed talk any more circumspectly 
 to Erasmus Montanus ? Holberg, however, had none of the 
 interest of the modern scientific naturalist in analyses of 
 motive and conduct. His sense of fact was, therefore, 
 picturesque rather than profound. Yet he never wasted his 
 accurate realism upon insignificant things. Vulgar facts 
 invariably led beyond themselves to situations of univer- 
 sal interest and significance. 
 
 yeppe of the Hill is a very old story. The original ver- 
 sion is found in the Arabian Nights, and it has been told 
 over and over again. Shakespeare embodies it in The Tam- 
 ing of the Shrew, and seven other versions occur in Eliza- 
 bethan literature alone. This hackneyed farce, amplified 
 by material from Biedermann's Utopia, Holberg made the 
 vehicle of profound delineation of character. Dr. Georg 
 Brandes says of Jeppe, "All that we should hke to know of 
 a man when we become acquainted with him, and much 
 more than we usually do know of men with whom we be- 
 come acquainted in real life or in drama, we know of Jeppe. 
 All our questions are answered."' We know not only how 
 he has lived, but even how he will meet death. Jeppe pos- 
 
 * Om Ludvig Holbergs jfeppe paa Bjerget^ page I- 
 
INTRODUCTION xiii 
 
 sesses enough of the common stuff of human nature always 
 to awaken comprehension and delight; yet he is more than 
 an extraordinarily complete and convincing individual, and 
 his story is more than an amusing farce. Widely prevalent 
 social conditions of a past time are here expressed in human 
 terms of lasting truth and vitality. In Jeppe the peasant of 
 the eighteenth-century Sjaelland lives for all time. 
 
 The Political Tinker, while it contains no such deep 
 study of personality as Jeppe of the Hill, is no less clearly 
 a comedy of character and no less obviously a good human 
 satire. In it the foibles of the central figure are displayed 
 more definitely in their relation to the rest of his family.' 
 "The satire," says Holberg, in his introduction to the first 
 published edition of the play, " is directed against those 
 boasters among common people in free cities who sit in 
 taverns and criticise the mayor and Council; they know 
 everything and yet nothing. ... I doubt if any one can 
 show me a comedy more honorable and more moral. . . . 
 The comedy, besides, is not less merry than moral, for it 
 has kept spectators laughing from beginning to end, and 
 for that reason, of all my comedies, it is played with the 
 greatest profit for those concerned." The word "moral" 
 as applied to this work illustrates the somewhat unusual 
 meaning which Holberg attaches to it. Though he is con- 
 tinually at pains to speak of his "moral" comedies, it is 
 manners and not morals that he satirizes. He is interested, 
 not so much in effecting a fundamental reform in the lives 
 
 ^ The play is probably founded upon the story of the political upholsterer 
 which appears in an essay of T^he TatUr. For a general discussion of Hol- 
 berg'a relations to foreign literature,the reader is referred to The Comediet of 
 Holberg, by O. J. Campbell, Jr. {Harvard Studies in Comparati-ve Literature, 
 vol. iii. Harvard University Press, 1914). This is the only full treatment of 
 Holberg in English. Ed. 
 
xiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 of his characters, as in giving them a little social sense. 
 He preaches, not against distinct moral turpitude like hy- 
 pocrisy and avarice, but against inordinate affection for 
 lap-dogs {Melampe), pietistic objections to masked balls 
 {Masquerades)^ and superstitious belief in legerdemain 
 {Witchcraft). Holberg voices the urbane humanistic spirit 
 that characterized the eighteenth century at its best. 
 
 Erasmus Montanus seems at first sight a mere farce, in 
 which the author ridicules academic pedantry and the 
 vapid formalism of logic as once taught at the University 
 of Copenhagen. But it is much more than that. Holberg 
 gives us a memorable series oi genre paintings of Danish 
 life of his day, and at the same time presents a situation 
 of universal interest. Erasmus is a prig who has adopted 
 some new ideas, not so much from righteous conviction as 
 from the feeling that they will give him intellectual caste. 
 His revolutionary theories raise an uproar in the village. 
 Each apostle of the old order opposes them in his charac- 
 teristic way, and Erasmus has not enough real faith within 
 himself to prevail against the combined attacks of the Philis- 
 tines; he renounces with oaths the assertions that the world 
 is round. Still, there is nothing tragic in his renunciation, 
 for we feel that he is as great a fool as any one in the play. 
 Erasmus Montanus is a pure comedy, in which the author's 
 humor plays freely upon all the figures in the drama; and it 
 is just because the characters rather than the action absorb 
 our interest that we do not regard it as a farce. Professor Vil- 
 helm Andersen correctly described it as a " Danish culture- 
 comedy of universal significance." 
 
 Holberg is often called the Danish Moliere. It is true 
 that he learned many lessons of technique from the great 
 French dramatist, and borrowed freely and often from his 
 
INTRODUCTION xv 
 
 work; but he differs from Moliere both in the quality of 
 his humor and in the spirit that animates his critical view 
 of life. He might as justly be called the Danish Plautus, 
 or the Danish Spectator. The truth is, not only that Hol- 
 berg possessed a profoundly original comic spirit, but also 
 that his work is clearly related to many dramatic and lit- 
 erary traditions besides those of French comedy, notably 
 to the commedia delV arte., and the essays of The Tatler and 
 The Spectator. Out of these various and diverse elements, 
 nevertheless, he contrived to construct dramas at once 
 original and national. 
 
 In a large sense, Holberg's comedies are closely related 
 to the rest of his work. His treatises, histories, essays, 
 satires, and comedies are all diverse expressions of one 
 definite purpose. Holberg's early life and natural cosmo- 
 politan interests made him a citizen of eighteenth-century 
 Europe, as a whole, and he strove steadily to bear the in- 
 tellectual light of that urbane age to his native country, 
 then backward in culture. Holberg — professor, scholar, 
 and philosopher — seized with avidity the opportunity to 
 write comedy, not from a desire to display his own ver- 
 satility, or from an absorbing devotion to the drama as a 
 form of art, but because he believed that through his plays 
 he could fulfil most completely what he conceived to be 
 his intellectual mission. 
 
 OSCAR JAMES CAMPBELL, JR. 
 May 20, 1 9 14. 
 
JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 OR THE TRANSFORMED PEASANT 
 
 [JEPPE PAA BIERGET] 
 
 A COMEDY IN FIVE ACTS 
 
 1722 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 Jeppe of the Hill, a peasant. 
 
 NiLLE, his wife. 
 
 Jacob Shoemaker, an innkeeper. 
 
 Baron Nilus, lord of the district. 
 
 Secretary to the Baron. 
 
 Eric, a lackey. 
 
 A Valet. 
 
 Magnus, the village gossip. 
 
 A fudge, two Lawyers, two Doctors, a Bailiff and his 
 Wife, Lackeys, Retainers, and others. 
 
 ACTS I, IV, AND V 
 Scene : A village road; on the left, feppe's house; on the right, 
 Jacob Shoemaker's inn. The court in Act IV is held in the open, 
 and a tree is used for the gallows in Act V. 
 
 ACT II 
 A bedroom in the Baron's castle. 
 
 ACT III 
 
 Dining-room in the same. 
 
ACT I 
 
 Scene i 
 Nille, alone. 
 Nille. I hardly believe there's such another lazy lout in 
 all the village as my husband; it 's as much as I can do to 
 get him up in the morning by pulling him out of bed by 
 the hair. The scoundrel knows to-day is market-day, and 
 yet he lies there asleep at this hour of the morning. The 
 pastor said to me the other day, "Nille, you are much 
 too hard on your husband; he is and he ought to be the 
 master of the house." But I answered him, " No, my good 
 pastor! If I should let my husband have his way in the 
 household for a year, the gentry would n't get their rent 
 nor the pastor his offering, for in that length of time he 
 would turn all there was in the place into drink. Ought 
 I let a man rule the household who is perfectly ready to 
 sell his belongings and wife and children and even him- 
 self for brandy ? " The pastor had nothing to say to that, 
 but stood there stroking his chin. The bailiff agrees with 
 me, and says, "My dear woman, pay no attention to the 
 pastor. It 's in the wedding-service, to be sure, that you must 
 honor and obey your husband, but it 's in your lease, which 
 is more recent than the service, that you shall keep up 
 your farm and meet your rent — a thing you can never do 
 unless you haul your husband about by the hair every day 
 and beat him to his work." 
 
 I pulled him out of bed just now and went out to the 
 barn to see how things were getting along; when I came in 
 again, he was sitting on a chair, asleep, with his breeches 
 — saving your presence — pulled on one leg; so the switch 
 
4 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 had to come down from the hook, and my good Jeppe got 
 a basting till he was wide awake again. The only thing he 
 is afraid of is "Master Eric," as I call the switch. Hey, 
 Jeppe, you cur, have n't you got into your clothes yet.? 
 Would yoii like to talk to Master Eric some more ? Hey, 
 Jeppe! Come in here! 
 
 Scene 2 
 
 Enter "Jeppe. 
 
 Jeppe. I 've got to have time to get dressed, Nille ! I can't 
 
 go to town like a hog without my breeches or my jacket. 
 
 Nille. Scurvy-neck I Have n't you had time to put on ten 
 pairs of breeches since I waked you this morning.? 
 
 Jeppe. Have you put away Master Eric, Nille .? 
 
 Nille. Yes, I have, but I know mighty well where to find 
 him again, if you don't step lively. Come here ! — See how 
 he crawls. — Come here ! You must go to town and buy 
 me two pounds of soft soap; here 's the money for it. But 
 see here; if you 're not back on this very spot inside of four 
 hours. Master Eric will dance the polka on your back. 
 
 Jeppe. How can I walk four leagues in four hours, 
 Nille? 
 
 Nille. Who said anything about walking, you cuckold ? 
 You run. I've said my say once for all; now do as you 
 like. [^Exit Nille. 
 
 Scene 3 
 
 Jeppe. Now the sow 's going in to eat her breakfast, while 
 I, poor devil, must walk four leagues without bite or sup. 
 Could any man have such a damnable wife as I have? I 
 honestly think she 's own cousin to Lucifer. Folks in the 
 
ACT FIRST 5 
 
 village say that Jeppe drinks, but they don't say why Jeppe 
 drinks : I did n't get as many blows in all the ten years I 
 was in the militia as I get in one day from my malicious 
 wife. She beats me, the bailiff drives me to work as if I 
 were an animal, and the deacon makes a cuckold of me. 
 Have n't I good reason to drink? Don't I have to use the 
 means nature gives us to drive away our troubles? If I 
 were a dolt, I should n't take it to heart so, and I should n't 
 drink so much, either; but it 's a well-known fact that I am 
 an intelligent man; so I feel such things more than others 
 would, and that's why I have to drink. My neighborMoens 
 ChristofFersen often says to me, speaking as my good friend, 
 " May the devil gnaw your fat belly, Jeppe ! You must hit 
 back, if you want your old woman to behave." But I can't 
 do anything to prote£i: myself, for three reasons: in the 
 the first place, because I have n't any courage; in the sec- 
 ond, because of that damned Master Eric hanging behind 
 the bed, which my back can't think of without blubbering; 
 and thirdly, because I am, if I do say it who should n't, a 
 meek soul and a good Christian, who never tries to revenge 
 himself, even on the deacon who puts one horn on me after 
 another. I put my mite in the plate for him on the three 
 holy-days, although he has n't the decency to give me so 
 much as one mug of ale all the year round. Nothing ever 
 wounded me more deeply than the cutting speech he made 
 me last year: I was telling how once a savage bull, that had 
 never been afraid of any man, took fright at the sight of 
 me ; and he answered, " Don't you see how that happened, 
 Jeppe? The bull saw that you had bigger horns than he, so 
 he didn't think it prudent to lock horns with his superior." 
 I call you to witness, good people, if such words would not 
 pierce an honorable man to the marrow of his bones. Still, 
 
6 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 I am so gentle that I have never even wished my wife 
 dead. On the contrary, when she lay sick of a jaundice 
 last year, I hoped she might live; for as hell is already full 
 of bad women, Lucifer might send her back again, and then 
 she 'd be worse than ever. But if the deacon should die, I 
 should be glad, for my own sake and for others' as well, 
 for he does me nothing but evil and is no use to the par- 
 ish. He 's an ignorant devil, for he can't sing a note, much 
 less mould a decent wax candle. Oh, but his predecessor, 
 ChristofFer, was a different sort of fellow. He had such a 
 voice in his time that he sang down twelve deacons in the 
 Credo. Once I started to quarrel openly with the dea- 
 con, when Njlle herself heard him call me a cuckold. I 
 said, " May the devil be your cuckold, deacon ! " But what 
 good did it do .'' Master Eric came right down off the wall 
 to stop the quarrel, and my back got such a drubbing that 
 I had to ask the deacon's leave to thank him, that he, as 
 a well-educated man, should dosuch an honor toour house. 
 Since that time I have n't thought of making any opposi- 
 tion. Yes, yes, Moens Christoffersen ! You and the other 
 peasants can very well talk, because your wives have n't 
 any Master Eric hanging behind the bed. If I had one wish 
 in the world, it would be either that my wife had no arms, 
 or that I had no back. She may use her mouth as much 
 as she pleases. But I must stop at Jacob Shoemaker's on 
 the way — he'll surely let me have a pennyworth of brandy 
 on credit — for I must have something to quench my thirst. 
 Hey, Jacob Shoemaker! Are you up yet? Open the door, 
 Jacob ! 
 
ACT FIRST 7 
 
 Scene 4 
 Enter Jacob Shoemaker., in his shirt. 
 Jacob. Who the dickens wants to get in so early? 
 
 Jeppe. Good morning to you, Jacob Shoemaicer. 
 
 Jacob. Thank you, Jeppe ! You are up and about bright 
 and early to-day. 
 
 Jeppe. Let us have a pennyworth of brandy, Jacob ! 
 
 Jacob. With all my heart, when you show me the penny. 
 
 Jeppe. I '11 give it to you when I come back here to- 
 morrow. 
 
 Jacob. Jacob Shoemaker does n't give credit; I know 
 you must have a penny or two about you to pay with. 
 
 Jeppe. Honestly, Jacob, I have nothing but what my 
 wife gave me to spend in town for her. 
 
 Jacob. You can easily beat them down a few pence on 
 what you buy. What is it you're to get her? 
 
 Jeppe. I have to buy two pounds of soft soap. 
 
 Jacob. Why, can't you tell her the soap cost a penny or 
 two more than you give for it? 
 
 Jeppe. I 'm so afraid my wife would find out about it, 
 and then I 'd be in trouble. 
 
 Jacob. Nonsense! How could she find out? Can't you 
 swear that you paid out all the money? You 're as stupid 
 as an ox. 
 
 Jeppe. That 's true, Jacob ! I can do that well enough. 
 
 Jacob. Out with your penny. 
 
 Jeppe. Here you are; but you must give me a penny 
 change. 
 
 Jacob (coming in with the glass, drinks to him). Your 
 health, Jeppe ! 
 
 Jeppe. What a lot you take, you rogue ! 
 
8 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 Jacob. Oh, yes, but it's the custom for the host to drink 
 his guest's health. 
 
 'Jeppe. I know it is, but bad luck to the man that started 
 the custom. Your health, Jacob! 
 
 Jacob. Thanks, Jeppe ! You '11 drink the other penny- 
 worth next, so there's no use your troubling about change. 
 Or do you want a glass to your credit when you come 
 again? For I give you my word I have n't any change. 
 
 Jeppe. I 'm damned if I do! If it 's got to be spent, it 
 might as well be spent now, so that I can feel I have some- 
 thing under my belt; but if you drink any of it, I won't pay. 
 
 "Jacob. Your health! 
 
 Jeppe. God save our friends and ill befall our enemies. 
 That does my belly good. Um-m-m. 
 
 Jacob. Good luck on your way, Jeppe. 
 
 Jeppe. Thanks, Jacob Shoemaker. \_Exit Jacob. 
 
 Scene 5 
 
 Jeppe feels happy and begins to sing. 
 
 A white hen and a speckled hen 
 Got into a row with a rooster — 
 
 Oh, if I only dared drink another pennyworth! Oh, if I 
 only dared drink another pennyworth ! I think I '11 do it. 
 No, ill will come of it. If I could once get the inn out of my 
 sight, I shouldn't need to; but it's as if some one were hold- 
 ing me back. I 've got to go in again. But what is this you 
 are doing, Jeppe? I seem to see Nille standing in my path 
 with Master Eric in her hand. I must turn round again. 
 Oh, if I only dared drink another pennyworth! My belly 
 says, "Doit;" my back, "Don't." Which shall I obey? 
 
ACT FIRST 9 
 
 Is n't my belly bigger than my back ? I think it is. Shall I 
 knock? Hey, Jacob Shoemaker, come out here! But that 
 cursed woman comes before my eyes again. If she only 
 did n't break the bones of my back when she beats me, I 'd 
 let her go to the devil, but she lays on like . . . Oh, God help 
 me, miserable creature ! What shall I do.? Control your na- 
 ture, Jeppe ! Is n't it a shame to get into trouble for a paltry 
 glass of brandy.? No, I shan't do it this time; I must go 
 on. Oh, if I only dared drink another pennyworth! It was 
 my undoing that I got a taste of it; now I can't get away 
 from it. Go on, legs ! May the devil split you if you don't ! 
 Marry,the rogues won't budge. They want to go back to the 
 inn. My limbs wage waron each other : my bellyand my legs 
 want to go to the inn, and my back wants to go to town. 
 Will you go on,you dogs ! you beasts ! you scurvy wretches ! 
 The devil take them, they will go back to the inn ; I have 
 more trouble getting my own legs away from the inn than 
 I have getting my piebald horse out of the stable. Oh, if 
 I only dared drink another pennyworth ! Who knows but 
 Jacob Shoemaker might trust me for a penny or two, if I 
 begged enough f Hey, Jacob ! Another twopenny glass of 
 brandy ! 
 
 Scene 6 
 
 Enter °Jacoh. 
 
 'Jacob. Hello, Jeppe ! back again ? I thought you had had too 
 
 little. What good is a farthing's worth of brandy? That's 
 
 hardly enough to wet your whistle. 
 
 Jeppe. That's so, Jacob! I '11 spend another farthing! 
 (Aside^ Once I 've got it down, he '11 have to trust me 
 whether he wants to or not. 
 
10 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 'Jacob. Here 's your farthing's worth of brandy, Jeppe, 
 but money first. 
 
 'Jeppe. You certainly can trust me while I 'm drinking, 
 as the proverb says. 
 
 Jacob. We don't give credit on proverbs, Jeppe! If you 
 don't pay up, you won't get a drop ; we have sworn off 
 trusting any one, even the bailiff himself. 
 
 Jeppe {weeping). Can't you really trust me ? I 'm an hon- 
 est man. 
 
 Jacob. No credit. 
 
 Jeppe. Here 's your twopence, then, you beggar! Now 
 it's done, drink, Jeppe! Oh, that goes to the right spot. 
 
 Jacob. It certainly does warm a man's insides. 
 
 Jeppe. The best thing about brandy is that it gives you 
 courage. Now I don't think any more about my wife or 
 Master Eric, I 've been so changed by that last glass. Do 
 you know this song, Jacob? 
 
 Herr Peder and Kirsten sat at the table, Peteheia! 
 Said all the bad words that they were able, Polemeia! 
 In summer the happy starlings sing, Peteheia! 
 May devil take Nille, the dirty thing, Polemeia ! 
 One day I went out upon the grass, Peteheia! 
 The deacon, he is a hangman's ass, Polemeia! 
 On my dappled horse I ride to the east, Peteheia! 
 The deacon, he is a nasty beast, Polemeia! 
 If you would know my wife's real name, Peteheia ! 
 I'll tell you: it is Lust and Shame, Polemeia! 
 
 I made up that song myself, Jacob! 
 
 Jacob. The devil you did! 
 
 Jeppe. Jeppe 's not as dull as you think; I 've also made 
 up a song about shoemakers, which goes like this : 
 
ACT FIRST II 
 
 The shoemaker sits with his big bass viol, 
 Philepotn, Philepom! 
 
 "Jacob. You poor fool, that 's about a fiddler. 
 
 Jeppe. So it is. See here, Jacob! Give me twopence 
 worth more of brandy. 
 
 Jacob. All right; I see you're a good fellow; you don't 
 grudge spending a penny or two in my house. 
 
 Jeppe. Hey, Jacob! make it fourpence. 
 
 Jacob. Certainly. 
 
 Jeppe {singing again"). 
 
 The earth drinks water, j 
 
 The sea drinks sun, [ 
 
 The sun drinks sea, c 
 
 Everything on earth drinks; 
 Why not me ^ J 
 
 Jacob. Your health, Jeppe ! 
 
 Jeppe. Mir zu! 
 
 Jacob. Here 's to you in half of it ! 
 
 Jeppe. Ich tank you, Jacob. Drink, man, and the devil 
 take you and welcome! 
 
 Jacob. I see that you can talk German. 
 
 Jeppe. Yes, I have for a long time, but I don't like to 
 except when I 'm full. 
 
 Jacob. Then you must speak it at least once a day. 
 
 Jeppe. I was ten years in the militia; don't you think 
 I ought to understand the language? 
 
 Jacob. I know, Jeppe ! We were in the same company 
 for two years. 
 
 Jeppe. So we were; I remember it now. You were 
 hanged once when you ran away at Vissmar. 
 
12 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 'Jacob. I was going to be hanged, but I was pardoned. 
 A miss is as good as a mile. 
 
 Jeppe. It 's too bad you were n't hanged, Jacob ! But 
 were n't you with us at the auction on the heath — you 
 know the one? 
 
 yacob. Why, where was n't I with you ? 
 
 Jeppe. I never shall forget the first salt the Swedes made. 
 I think 3000 men — or even 4000 — fell all at once. Das 
 ging fordeviled zu, Jacob ! Du kannst das wohl remem- 
 beren. Ich kan nicht deny dass ich bange war at dat battle. 
 
 Jacob. Yes, yes, death is hard to face; a man always 
 feels pious when he goes against the enemy. 
 
 Jeppe. Yes, that 's so. I don't know how it happens. 
 For I spent the whole night before the auction reading the 
 Qualms of David. 
 
 Jacob. I wonder that you, who have been a soldier, should 
 let yourself be browbeaten by your wife. 
 
 Jeppe. I ? If I only could have her here now, you 'd see 
 how I should drub her! Another glass, Jacob! I still have 
 eightpence, and when that 's all drunk up I shall drink on 
 credit. Give me a mug of ale, too. {Sings^ 
 
 In Leipzig war ein Mann, 
 
 In Leipzig war ein Mann, 
 
 In Leipzig war ein lederner Mann, 
 
 In Leipzig war ein lederner Mann, 
 
 In Leipzig war ein Mann. 
 
 Der Mann sie nahm ein Frau — 
 
 Jacob. Your health, Jeppe ! 
 Jeppe. Hey! he — y! he y! 
 
 Here 's to you, and here 's to me. 
 And here 's to all the company I 
 
ACT FIRST 13 
 
 Jacob. Won't you drink the bailifPs health? 
 
 Jeppe. Sure enough ; give me credit for another penny- 
 worth. The baihff is an honest man ; when we slip a rix- 
 dollar into his fist, he'll swear to his lordship that we can't 
 pay our rent. Now I 'm a villain if I have any more money ; 
 you must trust me for a farthing or two. ■^ 
 
 Jacob. No, Jeppe, you can't stand any more now. I 'm / 
 not the kind of man to let his patrons force themselves to / 
 drink more than is good for them. I 'd rather lose my trade I 
 than do that. It would be a sin. -/ 
 
 Jeppe. Just another farthing's worth! 
 
 Jacob. No, Jeppe, you can't have any more. Just think 
 what a long way you have to walk. 
 
 Jeppe. Cur! Carrion! Beast! Scoundrel! Hey, hey, 
 h — e — y ! 
 
 Jacob. Good-bye, Jeppe ! Good luck to you ! 
 
 \_Exit Jacob. 
 
 Scene 7 
 
 Jeppe. Oh, Jeppe, you are as full as a beast! My legs 
 don't want to carry me. Will you stand still, you carrion ? 
 Let 's see, what time is it ? Hey, Jacob, you dog of a shoe- 
 maker ! I want another drink. Will you stay still, you dogs ! 
 May the devil take me if they will keep quiet. Thank you, 
 Jacob Shoemaker ! I '11 have another. Listen, friend ! which 
 way does the road to town go ? Stand still, I say ! See, the 
 brute is full. You drank like a rogue, Jacob ! Is that a far- 
 thing's worth of brandy . . . You pour Hke a Turk, (y/j he 
 speaks, he falls and lies on the ground.) 
 
14 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 Scene 8 
 Enter Baron Nilus, Secretary, Valet, Eric, and another Lackey. 
 Baron. It looks as if we were going to have a good har- 
 vest this year; see how thick that barley is growing. 
 
 Secretary. True, my lord, but that means that a barrel 
 of barley won't bring more than five marks this year. 
 
 Baron. That makes no difference. The peasants are al- 
 ways better off in good seasons. 
 
 Secretary. I don't know how that may be, my lord, but 
 the peasants always complain and ask for seed-corn, no 
 matter whether the year is fruitful or not. When they have 
 something, they drink so much the more. There is an inn- 
 keeper who lives near here, called Jacob Shoemaker, who 
 helps a good deal to keep the peasants poor; they say he 
 puts salt in his ale to make them thirsty so they will drink 
 more. 
 
 Baron. We shall have to drive the fellow out. But what 
 is that lying in the road ? It must be a dead man. One 
 hears of nothing but misfortune nowadays. Run and see 
 what it is, one of you ! 
 
 Lackey. That is Jeppe of the Hill, whose wife is such 
 a terror. Get up, Jeppe ! No, he would n't wake even if we 
 pummelled him and pulled his hair. 
 
 Baron. Let him be, then. I want to play a little joke 
 on him. You are usually full of ingenious ideas. Can't you 
 think of something to divert me ? 
 
 Secretary. I think it would be good fun to tie a paper 
 collar round his neck, or else cut off his hair. 
 
 Valet. I think it would be more amusing to smear his 
 face with ink and then send some one to see how his wife 
 takes it when he comes home in that condition. 
 
ACT FIRST 15 
 
 Baron. That 's not bad. But what do you wager that 
 Eric won't hit on something better still? Let 's hear your 
 suggestion, Eric. 
 
 Eric. My idea is that we take off all his clothes and 
 put him in my lord's best bed, and in the morning when 
 he wakes, all of us treat him as if he were the lord of the 
 domain, so he won't know how he has got so transformed. 
 And when we have convinced him that he is the baron, we 
 can get him drunk again, as he is now, and lay him on the 
 same dunghill in his own old clothes. If all this is skilfully 
 carried out, it will work wonderfully, and he will imagine 
 that he had dreamt of his good fortune, or has actually been 
 in paradise. 
 
 Baron. Eric, you 're a big man and therefore you have 
 big ideas. But what if we should wake him in the process.? 
 
 Eric. I'm sure we shall n't do that, my lord! for this 
 same Jeppe is one of the heaviest sleepers in the whole 
 district. Last year they tried setting off a rocket under his 
 head, but when the rocket went off he never even stirred 
 in his sleep. 
 
 Baron. Then let us do it. Drag him right off, put a fine 
 shirt on him, and lay him in my best bed. 
 
ACT II 
 
 Scene i 
 
 "Jeppe is lying in the baron's bed with a cloth-of-gold dress- 
 ing-gown on a chair beside him. He wakes up^rubs his eyes .,looks 
 about., and becomes frightened i he rubs them again., puts a hand 
 to his head., and finds a gold-embroidered nightcap on it; he 
 moistens his fingers and wipes out his eyes., then rubs them again., 
 turns the nightcap around and looks at it., looks at the fine shirt 
 he is wearing., at the dressing-gown and the other fine things in 
 the room., making strange faces. Meanwhile., soft music begins to 
 play., and feppe clasps his hands and weeps. When the music 
 stops., he speaks. 
 
 feppe. What is all this? What splendor! How did I get 
 here ? Ami dreaming, or am I awake ? I certainly am awake. 
 Where is my wife, where are my children, where is my 
 house, and where is Jeppe? Everything is changed, and I 
 am, too — Oh, what does it all mean? What does it mean? 
 {He calls softly in a frightened voice.) Nille ! Nille ! Nille ! — I 
 think I 'm in heaven — Nille! — and I don't deserve to be a 
 
 .bit. But is this myself? I think it is, and then I think it isn't. 
 When I feel my back, which is still sore from the last beating 
 I got, when I hear myself speak, when I stick my tongue 
 in my hollow tooth, I think it is myself. But when I look 
 
 --at my nightcap, my shirt, and all the splendor before my 
 eyes, when I hear the delicious music, then the devil split 
 me if I can get it through my head that it is myself. No, it 
 is not me, I 'm a thousand times a low dog if it is. But am 
 I not dreaming? I don't think I am. I '11 try and pinch my 
 arm; if it does n't hurt, I 'm dreaming. Yes, I feel it; I 'm 
 awake, sure enough; no one could argue that, because 
 
ACT SECOND 17 
 
 if I were n't awake, I couldn't . . . But how can I be 
 awake, now that I come to think it over? There is no 
 question that I am Jeppe of the Hill; I know that I 'm a 
 poor peasant, a bumpkin, a scoundrel, a cuckold, a hun- 
 gry louse, a maggot, a lump of carrion ; then how can I 
 be an emperor and lord of a castle ? No, it 's nothing but a 
 dream. So I 'd better be calm and wait till I wake up. (The 
 music strikes up again and feppe bursts into tears.^ Oh, can 
 a man hear things like that in his sleep.? It's impossible. 
 But if it 's a dream, I hope I may never wake, and if I am 
 crazy, I hope I may never be sane again ; I 'd sue the doc- 
 tor that cured me, and curse the man that waked me. But 
 I'm neither dreaming nor crazy, for I can remember every- 
 thing that has happened to me : I remember that my blessed 
 father was Niels of the Hill, my grandfather Jeppe of the 
 Hill; my wife's name is Nille; her switch is Master Eric; 
 my sons are Hans, ChristofFer, and Niels. I've got it! I 
 know what it is; this is the other life, this is paradise, this 
 is heaven. I must have drunk myself to death yesterday 
 at Jacob Shoemaker's, and when I died I went straight 
 to heaven. Death can't be as hard to go through as they 
 make out, for I don't feel a thing. Now, perhaps the pas- 
 tor is standing this very minute in the pulpit delivering 
 a funeral sermon over me, and is saying, " So ended Jeppe 
 of the Hill. He lived like a soldier, and he died like a sol- 
 dier." There might be some doubt as to whether I died 
 on land or on sea, for I was easily half-seas-over when I 
 left the world. Oh, Jeppe ! how different this is from walk- 
 ing four leagues to town for soap, lying on straw, being 
 beaten by your wife, and having horns put on you by the 
 deacon. Oh, to what delights are your troubles and your 
 bitter days now turned! Oh, I 'm ready to weep for joy. 
 
1 8 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 particularly when I think how all this has happened to me 
 without my deserving it ! But one thing bothers me, and 
 that is that I 'm so thirsty that my lips are sticking together. 
 If I wanted to be alive again, it would be just so I could 
 get a mug of ale to quench my thirst, for what good is all 
 this finery to my eyes and ears, if I 'm going to die all over 
 again of thirst ? I remember, the priest often said that man 
 neither hungers nor thirsts in heaven, and also that a man 
 finds all his friends there. But I 'm ready to faint with thirst, 
 and I'm all alone — I don't see a soul: I should at least 
 find my grandfather, who was such a fine man that he 
 did n't owe his lordship a penny when he died. I 'm sure 
 lots of people have lived as good lives as I have; so why 
 should I be the only one to go to heaven ? Then it can't 
 be heaven. But what can it be? I 'm not asleep, I 'm not 
 awake, I 'm not dead, I 'm not alive, I 'm not crazy, I 'm 
 not sane, I am Jeppe of the Hill, I 'm not Jeppe of the 
 Hill, I 'm poor, I 'm rich, I 'm a miserable peasant, I 'm 
 an emperor. O — o — o — ! Help! Help! Help \ (^He roars 
 loudly.') 
 
 Scene 2 
 
 Enter the Valet., Eric, and others who have been watching his 
 behavior from the doorway. 
 
 Valet. I wish his lordship a very good morning. Here is the 
 dressing-gown, if his lordship wishes to rise. Eric ! run for 
 the towel and basin. 
 
 "Jeppe. Oh, worthy chamberlain I I will gladly get up, 
 but I beg of you, don't hurt me. 
 
 Valet. God forbid that we should harm his lordship! 
 
 "Jeppe. Oh, before you kill me, would you do me the 
 kindness of telling me who I am? 
 
ACT SECOND 19 
 
 Valet. Does not your lordship know who he is? 
 
 Jeppe. Yesterday I was Jeppe of the Hill, but to-day — 
 Oh, I don't know what to say. 
 
 Valet. We are glad that his lordship is in such good 
 humor to-day as to deign to jest. But, God help us, why 
 does my lord weep ? 
 
 'Jeppe. I 'm not your lordship. I can take my oath on it, 
 for, as far as I can remember, I am Jeppe Nielsen of the 
 Hill, and one of the baron's peasants. If you will send for 
 my wife, she '11 bear witness to it, but don't let her bring 
 Master Eric along. 
 
 Eric. This is strange. What is the matter? Perhaps my 
 lord is not awake, for he is not accustomed to joke like 
 this. 
 
 "Jeppe. Whether I am awake or not, I can't say; but I do 
 know and can say that I am one of my lord's peasants, who 
 is called Jeppe of the Hill, and I never have been a baron 
 nor a count in all my life. 
 
 Valet. Eric ! what can this mean ? I am afraid my lord has 
 been taken ill. 
 
 Eric. I imagine he is walking in his sleep, for it often 
 happens that people get out of bed, dress, talk, eat, and 
 drink — all while they are still asleep. 
 
 Valet. No, Eric! I think that his lordship is having 
 hallucinations brought on by an illness; run quickly and 
 fetch some doctors. {Exit Eric.) Oh, my lord, pray drive 
 such thoughts from your head. His lordship will otherwise 
 strike fear into the whole household. Does not my lord 
 know me ? 
 
 Jeppe. I don't even know myself, so how should I know 
 you? 
 
 Valet. Is it possible that I should hear such words from 
 
20 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 my gracious lord's mouth and see him in such a plight! 
 Alas, our unlucky house, to be plagued with an evil spell ! 
 Does not my lord remember what he did yesterday, when 
 he went out hunting? 
 
 'Jeppe. I have never done any hunting or poaching, for 
 I know that 's a thing that will get a man hard labor; no 
 living soul can prove that I ever hunted as much as a hare 
 in my lord's woods. 
 
 Valet. Why, my gracious lord, I was out hunting with 
 you myself yesterday. 
 
 yeppe. Yesterday I was at Jacob Shoemaker's, and I 
 drank twelve pennyworth of brandy, so how could I have 
 been hunting? 
 
 Valet. Oh, I beg his gracious lordship on my bare knees 
 to stop talking such nonsense. Eric ! have the doctors been 
 sent for? 
 
 Eric. Yes, they are coming immediately. 
 
 Valet. Then let us put on his lordship's dressing-gown, 
 for perhaps he might feel better if we took him out into the 
 open air. Will my lord be so good as to put on his dressing- 
 gown ? 
 
 Jeppe. With all my heart. You may do what you like 
 with me, so long as you don't kill me, for I am as innocent 
 as a babe unborn. 
 
 Scene 3 
 Enter Eric with two Doctors. 
 First Doctor. We hear with the greatest sorrow that his 
 lordship is indisposed. 
 
 Valet. Yes, Doctor. He is in a serious condition. 
 Second Doctor. How are you feeling, gracious lord ? 
 
ACT SECOND 21 
 
 "Jeppe. Splendidly, except that I 'm a little thirsty from 
 the brandy I drank at Jacob Shoemaker's yesterday. If some 
 one would only give me a mug of ale and let me go, why 
 then they might hang you and all the rest of the doctors, for 
 I need no medicine. 
 
 First Doctor. I call that pure hallucination, my good col- 
 league ! 
 
 Second Doctor. The more violent it is, the quicker it will 
 spend its rage. Let us feel your lordship's pulse. §u'id tibi 
 videtur^ Domine Fraterf 
 
 First Doctor. I think he should be bled immediately. 
 
 Second Doctor. I do not agree with you ; such remarkable 
 weakness must be treated otherwise. My lord has had a 
 strange and forbidding dream, which has caused a commo- 
 tion in his blood and has set his brain in such a whirl that 
 he imagines himself to be a peasant. We must endeavor to 
 divert his lordship with those things in which he usually 
 takes the greatest pleasure. Give him the wines and the 
 dishes that he likes best, and play the music that it pleases 
 him most to hear. {Cheerful music strikes up.) 
 
 Valet. Is not this my lord's favorite piece? 
 
 yeppe. Like enough. Is there always such merrymaking 
 here in the manor.? 
 
 Valet. Whenever his lordship pleases, for he gives us 
 all our board and wages, 
 
 yeppe. But it is strange I can't remember the things I 
 have done before. 
 
 Second Doctor. It is the result of this illness, your lordship, 
 that one forgets all he has done previous to it. I remember, 
 a few years ago, one of my neighbors became so confused 
 after drinking heavily that for two days he thought he had 
 no head. 
 
22 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 feppe. I wish Squire Christoffer would do that; he must 
 have an illness that works just the other way, for he thinks 
 he has a great big head, while he really has n't got one at 
 all, as any one can tell from his decisions. (//// laugh.) 
 
 Second Doctor. It is a great pleasure to us to hear his lord- 
 ship jest. But to return to my story, this fellow went all 
 over the town asking people if they had found the head he 
 had lost; he recovered, however, and is now a sexton in 
 Jutland. 
 
 "Jeppe. Hecould be that even if he hadn't found his head. 
 (All laugh again.) 
 
 First Doctor. Does my honored colleague remember the 
 case that occurred ten years ago, of the man who thought 
 his head was full of flies ? He could not get over the no- 
 tion, no matter how much they argued with him, until a 
 clever doctor cured him in this way : he put on his head a 
 plaster which was covered with dead flies, and after a while 
 took it off and showed the flies on it to the patient, who 
 thought they had been drawn out of his head, and was 
 immediately well again. 
 
 I also have heard of another man who, after a long 
 fever, got the idea that if he made water the country would 
 suffer from a flood. No one could make him think other- 
 wise; he said he was willing to die for the common good. 
 This is how he was cured: a message was sent to him, 
 supposedly from the commandant, saying that the town 
 was threatened with a siege and there was no water in the 
 moat, and asking him to fill it to keep the enemy out. The 
 patient was delighted to be able to save both his father- 
 land and himself; so he got rid of his water and of his 
 sickness both at once. 
 
 Second Doctor. I recall another case that occurred in Ger- 
 
ACT SECOND 23 
 
 many. A nobleman came to an inn, and when he had 
 dined and wanted to go to bed, he hung the gold chain 
 which he wore round his neck on a nail in the wall of the 
 bedroom. The innkeeper took careful note of this as he 
 followed him to bed and wished him good-night. When 
 he thought that the nobleman was asleep, he stole into 
 the room, cut sixty links out of the chain, and hung it up 
 again. The guest got up in the morning, had his horse sad- 
 dled, and put on his clothes. But when he came to put on 
 the chain, he noticed that it had lost half its length, and 
 began to call out that he had been robbed. The host, who 
 was watching outside the door,ran in, putting on an expres- 
 sion of the greatest consternation, and exclaimed, " Oh, 
 what a terrible transformation!" When the guest asked 
 him what he meant by that, he said, "Alas, my lord ! your 
 head is as big again as it was yesterday." Then the host 
 brought him a distorting mirror, which made everything 
 appear twice as big as it really was. When the nobleman 
 saw how big his head looked in the mirror, he burst into 
 tears and said, " Oh, now I see why my chain will not 
 go on ! " Whereupon he mounted his horse, wrapping his 
 head in his cloak, that none might see it on the road. They 
 say that he kept the house for several days, unable to get 
 over the idea that it was not the chain that had grown too 
 short, but his head that had grown too big. 
 
 First Doctor. There are countless examples of such illu- 
 sions. I also remember hearing of a man who imagined 
 his nose was ten feet long, and warned every one he met 
 not to come too near. 
 
 Second Doctor. Domine Frater has undoubtedly heard the 
 story of the man who thought he was dead .'' A young per- 
 son got it into his head that he was dead, and consequently 
 
24 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 laid himself out on a bier, and would neither eat nor drink. 
 His friends endeavored to show him the absurdity of his 
 conduct and tried every means of making him eat, but in 
 vain, for he merely dismissed them with scorn, asserting 
 that it was contrary to all rule for the dead to eat and 
 drink. At last an experienced physician undertook to cure 
 him by this unusual method: He got a servant to pre- 
 tend that he too was dead, and had him laid out in the same 
 place with the patient. For a long time the two lay and 
 looked at each other. After a while the patient began to ask 
 the other man what he was doing there, and he answered 
 that he was dead. Then they began to question each other 
 as to how they had died, and both explained in full. Later, 
 some people who had been instructed what to do came 
 and brought the second man his supper, whereupon he sat 
 up in his coffin and ate a hearty meal, saying to the other, 
 " Are n't you going to eat pretty soon ?" The sick man pon- 
 dered over this, and asked if it was proper for a dead man 
 to eat, and was answered that if he did not eat soon, he 
 could not stay dead very long. He therefore allowed him- 
 self to be persuaded first to eat with the other man, sub- 
 sequently to sleep, get up, dress, — in fact, in all matters 
 copy the other, until finally he came to life and regained his 
 senses. 
 
 I could give innumerable other examples of such odd 
 illusions. That is just what has happened in this case to 
 make his gracious lordship think that he is a poor peasant. 
 But if my lord will get the notion out of his head, he will 
 speedily be himself again. 
 
 Jeppe. But can it be only illusion ? 
 
 First Doctor. Certainly; my lord has heard from these 
 stories what illusions can do. 
 
ACT SECOND 25 
 
 "Jeppe. Am I not Jeppe of the Hill ? 
 
 First Doctor. Certainly not. 
 
 Jeppe . Isn't that wicked Nille my wife? 
 
 First Doctor. By no means, for my lord is a widower. 
 
 "Jeppe. Is it pure illusion that she has a switch called 
 Master Eric? 
 
 First Doctor. Pure illusion. 
 
 Jeppe. Is n't it true either that I was to go to town yes- 
 terday and buy soap ? 
 
 First Doctor. No. 
 
 Jeppe. Nor that I drank up the money at Jacob Shoe- 
 maker's ? 
 
 Valet. Why, your lordship was with us out hunting all 
 day yesterday. 
 
 Jeppe. Nor that I am a cuckold ? 
 
 Valet. Why, her ladyship has been dead for years. 
 
 Jeppe. I 'm beginning to realize my own stupidity. I 
 won't think about the peasant any more; I see that it 
 was a dream that led me into my delusion. It certainly is 
 wonderful how men get such ideas. 
 
 Valet. Does my lord wish to walk in the garden for a 
 time while we make ready his breakfast? 
 
 Jeppe. Very well ; but hurry up, for I am both hungry 
 and thirsty. 
 
ACT III 
 
 Scene i 
 
 yeppe comes in from the garden with his suite. A small table 
 
 is set. 
 
 Jeppe. Ah, ha ! I see that the table is all set. 
 
 Valet. Yes, everything is ready when his lordship wishes 
 to be seated. 
 
 {yeppe sits down. The others stand behind his chair and laugh 
 at his bad manners when he sticks all five fingers in the dish., 
 belches, and blows his nose with his fingers and wipes them on 
 his clothes.) 
 
 Valet. Will my lord order what wine he desires ? 
 
 yeppe. You know yourself what wine I usually drink in 
 the morning. 
 
 Valet. Here is Rhine-wine, which my lord usually 
 drinks. But if this does n't suit his lordship's taste, he can 
 have something else immediately. 
 
 yeppe. That 's a little too sour. Put some mead in it, and 
 it will be all right; I am for sweet things. 
 
 Valet. Here is some port-wine, if my lord would like to 
 taste it. 
 
 yeppe. That 's fine wine. Shout, all of you ! {Each time he 
 drinks, trumpets blow.) Hurry up, lad ! another glass of pork- 
 wine. Do you understand.? — Where did you get that ring 
 on your finger? 
 
 Secretary. My lord gave it to me himself. 
 
 yeppe. I don't remember it; give it back to me. I must 
 have been drunk when I did it. A man does n't give away 
 rings like that for nothing. Later on I '11 look into things 
 and see what else you 've got away with. Servants ought 
 
ACT THIRD 27 
 
 not to get anything more than board and wages. I can 
 swear I don't remember making you any special present; 
 why should I? That ring must be worth more than ten 
 rix-dollars. No, no, my good fellows ! That won't do at all. 
 You must not take advantage of your master's feebleness 
 and drunkenness. When I 'm drunk, I 'm perfectly ready 
 to give away my breeches ; but when I have slept ofF my 
 liquor, I take back my gifts. Otherwise I should get into 
 trouble with Nille, my old woman. But what am I saying? 
 I am falling back into my mad notions again and don't real- 
 ize who I am. Give me another glass of pork-wine. More 
 noise! (Trumpets.) Pay attention to what I say, lads. I want 
 you to understand that after this, if I give anything away in 
 the evening when I 'm drunk and you don't bring it back 
 in the morning, you will have to answer for it. When ser- 
 vants are given more than they can eat, they get proud and 
 turn up their noses at the master. What wages do you get? 
 
 Secretary. My lord has heretofore given me two hun- 
 dred rix-dollars a year. 
 
 Jeppe. The devil a two hundred you get after this! 
 What do you do to earn two hundred rix-dollars? I myself 
 have to slave like a beast, and be on my feet in the hay 
 loft from morning till night, and can scarcely — See how 
 I come back to my cursed peasant notions. Give me 
 another glass of wine. {^He drinks ; trumpets blow again.) 
 Two hundred rix-dollars ! Why, that 's pulling the very hide 
 ofFyour master. Listen, do you know what, you good lads ? 
 When I have dined, I have a good mind to hang half you 
 fellows here on the estate. You '11 find out that I am not 
 to be trifled with in money matters. 
 
 Valet. We will give back all that we have received from 
 his lordship. 
 
28 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 Jeppe. Yes, yes," his lordship "this, "his lordship " that ! 
 We get compliments and ceremonies cheap enough now- 
 adays. You want to flatter me with " his lordship " until 
 you've got all my money away from me and you are the 
 lordships yourselves. Your mouths say "his lordship," but 
 your hearts say "his foolship." You don't say what you 
 mean, my lads. You servants are like Abner when he came 
 and greeted Roland, saying, " Hail, brother," and so say- 
 ing thrust a dagger into his heart. Take my word for it, 
 Jeppe is no fool. (T'hey all fall on their knees and heg for 
 mercy.) Get up, lads ! Wait till I have finished eating. Then 
 I shall see how it works out and decide which of you de- 
 serve to be hanged and which don't. For the present I shall 
 make merry. 
 
 Scene 2 
 
 feppe. Where is my bailiff? 
 
 Valet. He is waiting outside. 
 
 feppe. Tell him to come in immediately. 
 Enter the Bailiff' in a coat with silver buttons and a sword- 
 belt over his shoulder. 
 
 Bailiff. Has his lordship any orders? 
 
 feppe. Only that you are to be hanged. 
 
 Bailiff. I have surely done no wrong, my lord! Why 
 should I be hanged? 
 
 feppe. Are you not the bailiff? 
 
 Bailiff. Yes, indeed, your lordship. 
 
 feppe. And yet you ask why you should be hanged? 
 
 Bailiff. I have served your lordship so honestly and 
 faithfully and have been so diligent in my office that your 
 lordship has always praised me more than any other of his 
 servants. 
 
ACT THIRD 49 
 
 Jeppe. Indeed, you have been diligent in your office, as 
 your solid silver buttons plainly show. What wages do you 
 get? 
 
 Bailiff'. Fifty rix-doUars a year. 
 
 "Jeppe (^gets up and walks to and fro). Fifty ? You surely 
 shall be hanged. 
 
 Bailiff. It couldn't well be less, my lord, for a whole 
 year's hard work. 
 
 Jeppe. That 's just the reason you are to be hanged — 
 because you only get fifty rix-dollars. You have money 
 enough for a coat with silver buttons, frills at your wrists, 
 and a silk queue for your hair — and all on fifty rix-dollars 
 a year. If you did n't rob me, poor man, where else could 
 you get it? 
 
 Bailiff (on his knees'). Oh, gracious lord! For the sake 
 of my unfortunate wife and innocent children, spare me! 
 
 Jeppe. Have you many children ? 
 
 Bailiff. Seven children living, my lord. 
 
 Jeppe. Ha ! Ha ! Seven children living ! Have him hanged 
 immediately. Sectary. 
 
 Secretary. Oh, gracious lord, I am no hangman. 
 
 Jeppe. If you 're not, you can soon learn to be. You look 
 fit for any trade. And when you have hanged him, I shall 
 have you hanged yourself. 
 
 Bailiff. Oh, gracious lord, is there no reprieve ? 
 
 Jeppe (walks to and fro, sits down, drinks, and gets up 
 again). Half a hundred rix-dollars, a wife and seven chil- 
 dren. If no one else will hang you, I '11 do it myself. I know 
 what sort you are, you bailiffs! I know how you have 
 cheated me and other miserable peasants — Oh, there come 
 those damned peasant illusions into my head again. I 
 meant to say, that I know your games and your goings-on 
 
30 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 / so well, I could be a bailiffmyself if I had to. You get the 
 
 cream off the milk, and your master gets dung, to speak 
 
 i modestly. I really think that if the world keeps on, the 
 
 \ bailiffs will all be noblemen and the noblemen all bailiffs. 
 
 When a peasant slips something into your hand or your 
 
 ^ wife's, here is what your master is told: "The poor man 
 
 J is willing and industrious enough, but certain misfortunes 
 
 have befallen him which make it impossible for him to pay : 
 
 he has a poor piece of land, his cattle have got the scab," — 
 
 or something like that, — and with such babble your master 
 
 has to let himself be cheated. Take my word for it, lad .'I'm 
 
 not going to let myself be fooled in that way, for I'm a 
 
 peasant and a peasant's son myself — see how that illusion 
 
 keeps cropping up ! I was about to say that I am a peasant's 
 
 son myself, for Abraham and Eve, our first parents, were 
 
 tillers of the soil. 
 
 Secretary (on his knees). Oh, gracious lord! Pray take pity 
 on him for the sake of his unfortunate wife; for how 
 can she live if he is not there to feed her and the chil- 
 dren ? 
 
 Jeppe. Who says they should live either ? We can string 
 them up along with him. 
 
 Secretary. Oh, my lord ! she is such a lovely, beautiful 
 woman. 
 
 yeppe. So ? Perhaps you are her lover, seeing you feel so 
 badly about her. Send her here. 
 
 Scene 3 
 Enter Bailiff's wife; she kisses "Jeppe' s hand. 
 
 feppe. Are you the bailiff's wife? 
 tVife. Yes, your lordship, I am. 
 
ACT THIRD 31 
 
 "Jeppe (takes her by the breasts). You are pretty. Would 
 you like to sleep with me to-night? 
 
 fVife. My lord has only to command, for I am his ser- 
 vant. 
 
 yeppe (to the Bailiff'). Do you consent to my lying with 
 your wife to-night? 
 
 Bailiff. I thank his lordship for doing my humble house 
 the honor. 
 
 "Jeppe. Here! Bring her a chair; she shall eat with me. 
 (She sits at the table., and eats and drinks with him. He he- 
 comes jealous of the Secretary.) You '11 get into trouble, if you 
 look at her like that. (Whenever he looks at the Secretary, the 
 Secretary takes his eyes off the ivoman and gazes at the fioor. 
 Jeppe sings an old love-ballad as he sits at the table with her. 
 He orders a polka to be played and dances with her, but he is so 
 drunk that he falls down three times, and finally lies where he 
 fills and goes to sleepy 
 
 Scene 4 
 Enter the Baron and Eric. 
 Baron. He is sound asleep. Now we have played our game, ] 
 but we have nearly been made the bigger fools ourselves, / 
 for he intended to tyrannize over us, so that we must either ( 
 have spoiled our trick, or else have let ourselves be mauled / 
 by the rude yokel, from whose conduct one can learn how ( 
 haughty and overbearing such people become when they \ 
 suddenly rise from the mire to a station of worth and honor. J 
 If I had, in an unlucky moment, impersonated a secretary 
 myself, I might have got a thrashing, and the whole affair 
 would have been a failure, for people would have laughed 
 more at me than at the peasant. We had better let him 
 
32 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 sleep awhile before we put him back into his dirty farm 
 clothes again. 
 
 Eric. Why, my lord, he is sleeping like a log; look, I can 
 pound him and he doesn't feel it. 
 
 Baron. Take him out, then, and complete our little com- 
 edy. 
 
ACT IV 
 
 Scene i 
 
 feppe is lying on a dungheap in his old peasant clothes. He 
 wakes and calls out. 
 
 Jeppe. Hey, Sectary, Valet, Lackeys! another glass of 
 pork-wine! {He looks about him, rubs his eyes as before, feels 
 his head, and finds his old broad-brimmed hat on it; rubs his 
 eyes again, turns the hat over and over, looks at his clothes, 
 recognizes himself again, and begins to talk^ How long was 
 Abraham in paradise? Now, alas, I recognize everything 
 again — my bed, my jacket, my old cuckold-hat, myself; 
 this is different, Jeppe, from drinking pork-wine out of a 
 gilt-edged glass, and sitting at a table with lackeys and a 
 sectary behind my chair. Good fortune, worse luck, never 
 lasts very long. Oh, that I, who such a short time ago was 
 "my lord," should now find myself in such a miserable 
 plight, with my fine bed turned into a dungheap, my gold- 
 embroidered cap changed into my old cuckold-hat, my lack- 
 eys into pigs, and I myself from "my lord" to a wretched 
 peasant once more! I thought when I woke up again I 
 should find my fingers covered with gold rings, but, saving 
 your presence, they 're covered with something very differ- 
 ent. I thought I should be calling servants to account, but 
 now I must get my back ready for my home-coming, when 
 I shall have to give an account of my own doings. I thought 
 that when I woke up I should reach out and grasp a glass 
 of pork-wine, but instead, to speak modestly, I get a hand- 
 ful of dung. Alas, Jeppe, your sojourn in paradise was pretty 
 short, and your happiness came quickly to an end. But 
 who knows that the same thing might not happen again 
 
34 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 if I were to lie down for a while ? Oh, if it only would ! 
 Oh, if I could get back there again ! {Lies down and goes to 
 sleep,') 
 
 Scene 2 
 Enter Mile. 
 Nille. I wonder if anything has happened to him ? What 
 could it be ? Either the devil has taken him, or, what I fear 
 more, he's sitting at an inn drinking up the money. I was 
 a goose to trust the drunkard with twelve pence at once. 
 But what do I see ? Is n't that himself lying there in the 
 filth and snoring ? Oh, miserable mortal that I am, to have 
 such a beast for a husband ! Your back will pay dearly for 
 this ! (She steals up to him and gives him a whack on the rump 
 with Master Eric.) 
 
 Jeppe. Hey, hey ! Help, help ! What is that ? Where am 
 I.' Who am I? Who is beating me? and why? Hey! 
 
 Nille. I '11 teach you what it is soon enough. (Beats him 
 and pulls his hair.) 
 
 Jeppe. Oh, dear Nille, don't beat me any more; you don't 
 know all that has happened to me. 
 
 Nille. Where have you been all this time, you guzzler? 
 Where is the soap you were to buy? 
 
 Jeppe. I couldn't get to town, Nille. 
 
 Nille. Why not? 
 
 Jeppe. I was taken up to paradise on the way. 
 
 Nille. To paradise ! {Hits him.) To paradise. {Hits him 
 again.) Are you going to make sport of me into the bar- 
 gain ? 
 
 Jeppe. O — o — o — ! As true as I'm an honest man, 
 it's so! 
 
 Nille. What's so? 
 
ACT FOURTH 35 
 
 feppe. That I have been in paradise. (JSlille repeats " in 
 paradise" hitting him each time.) Oh, Nille, dear, don't beat 
 me! 
 
 Nille. Quick, confess where you 've been, or I '11 trounce 
 the life out of you. 
 
 'Jeppe. Oh, I 'II confess, if you won't beat me any more. 
 
 Nille. Go on, confess. 
 
 Jeppe. Swear not to beat me? 
 
 Nille. No. 
 
 Jeppe. As true as I'm an honest man called Jeppe of the 
 Hill, as sure as that 's true, I have been in paradise and have 
 seen things that it will stun you to hear of. 
 (Nille beats him again and drags him into the house by the 
 hair.) 
 
 Scene 3 
 Enter Nille. 
 Nille. Now, then, you drunken hound! Sleep ofF your 
 liquor first ; then we shall have more to say about it. Such 
 swine as you don't go to paradise ! Think of it, the beast 
 has drunk himself clean out of his wits. But if he did it at 
 my expense, then he'll do heavy penance for it; he shan't 
 get a thing to eat or drink for two whole days. By that time 
 he '11 get over his notions about paradise. 
 
 Scene 4 
 Enter three armed men. 
 First Man. Does a man named Jeppe live here? 
 Nille. Yes, he does. 
 First Man. Are you his wife? 
 Nille. Yes, God help me, so much the worse for me. 
 
36 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 First Man. We must go in and talk with him. 
 
 Nille. He 's dead drunk. 
 
 First Man. That makes no difference; fetch him out or 
 the whole household will suffer. 
 
 (Nille goes in, and pushes °Jeppe out so hard that he knocks over 
 one of the men and rolls on the ground with him.^ 
 
 Scene 5 
 
 "Jeppe. Now, good friends, you see what a wife I have to 
 put up with. 
 
 First Man. You deserve no better, for you're a male- 
 factor. 
 
 Jeppe. What have I done now? 
 
 First Man. You'll see when justice takes its course. 
 
 Scene 6 
 
 Enter the Judge, followed by two Lawyers. He sits down. 
 Jeppe, his hands tied behind him, is brought to the bar. One 
 of his captors steps forward. 
 
 First Man. Here is a man, your honor, whom we can 
 swear to have seen sneaking into the baron's house, where 
 he posed as his lordship, put on his clothes, and tyrannized 
 over the servants. As this is a piece of unheard-of impu- 
 dence, we demand on behalf of his lordship that it be pun- 
 ished with such severity that it shall serve as an example 
 and a warning to other evil-doers. 
 
 Judge. Is this accusation true ? Speak out whatever you 
 may have to say in answer to it, for we do not wish to 
 convict any one unheard. 
 
 Jeppe. Alas, what a God-forsaken man I am ! What can 
 I say? I admit I deserve punishment, but only for the money 
 
ACT FOURTH 37 
 
 I squandered on drink instead of buying soap with it. I also 
 admit that 1 have recently been in the castle, but how 
 I got there and how I got out again, I haven't the least 
 idea. 
 
 First Lawyer. Your honor has it on his own admission : 
 he got drunk and in his drunkenness committed this un- 
 heard-of outrage. All that remains is to decide whether the 
 guilt of such a gross misdeed can be held devoid of criminal 
 intent because of intoxication. I argue that it cannot, for 
 if it could, neither fornication nor murder could be pun- 
 ished, for every criminal could seek that escape and assert 
 that he had committed his crime while intoxicated. And 
 although he can prove that he was drunk, his case is none 
 the stronger, for the law is: What a man does under the 
 influence of drink he shall answer for when sober. It is 
 well known that in a recent case of the same nature the 
 misdeed was punished, although the criminal was led into 
 passing himself ofF as a lord through his own simplicity ; 
 his ignorance and foolishness could not save him from 
 death. The penalty is imposed purely as a warning to oth- 
 ers. I would tell the circumstances, were it not that I fear 
 to delay justice thereby. 
 
 Second Lawyer. Your honor ! This story appears so re- 
 markable to me that I cannot accept it without the testi- 
 mony of several witnesses. How could a simple peasant 
 get into his lord's house and impersonate his lordship unless 
 he could imitate his very form and features? How could 
 he get into the lord's bedroom, how could he put on his 
 clothes, without any one being aware of it.? No, your honor, 
 one can plainly see that this is the outcome of a conspiracy 
 on the part of this poor man's enemies. I hope, therefore, 
 that he may be discharged. 
 
38 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 Jeppe {weeping). God bless your mouth. I have a bit of 
 tobacco in my breeches pocket which perhaps you won't 
 refuse ; it 's good enough for any honorable man to chew. 
 
 Second Lawyer. Keep your tobacco, Jeppe ! I speak for 
 you not in the hope of receiving gifts, but merely from 
 Christian charity. 
 
 Jeppe. Pardon me, Master Attorney ! I did n't know you 
 folks were so honorable. 
 
 First Lawyer. What my colleague advances in favor of 
 this man's acquittal is based entirely on conjecture. The 
 question is not whether such a thing could happen or not, 
 because that it did happen is proved both by witnesses and 
 by the man's own confession. 
 
 Second Lawyer. What a man says from fear and awe has 
 no weight as a confession. It seems to me, therefore, that 
 it is best to give the simple fellow time to collect his wits, 
 then question him over again. 
 
 'Judge. Listen, Jeppe! Be careful what you say. Do you 
 admit the charges against you? 
 
 Jeppe. No ; I will swear my most sacred oath that it 's 
 all lies that I swore to before; I haven't been outside my 
 door for the last three days. 
 
 First Lawyer. Your honor, it is my humble opinion that 
 he should not be allowed to testify on a matter already 
 established by witnesses, particularly inasmuch as he has 
 already confessed his misdeed. 
 
 Second Lawyer. I think he should. 
 
 First Lawyer. I think he should not. 
 
 Second Lawyer. The case is of so unusual a nature — 
 
 First Lawyer. That does not affect witnesses and a con- 
 fession. 
 
 Jeppe. Oh, if they would only go for each other's throats, 
 
ACT FOURTH 39 
 
 then I could set upon the judge and give him such a beat- 
 ing he would forget both law and procedure. 
 
 Second Lawyer. But listen, worthy colleague ! Although 
 the deed is confessed, the man has deserved no punish- 
 ment, for he did no murder nor robbery nor harm of any 
 kind while on the premises. 
 
 First Lawyer. That makes no difference ! Intentio furandi 
 is the same 2& furtum. 
 
 yeppe. Talk Danish, you black hound! Then I can 
 answer for myself. 
 
 First Lawyer. For when a man is taken, whether he was 
 about to steal or had already stolen, he is a thief. 
 
 feppe. Gracious judge! I am perfectly willing to be 
 hanged if that attorney can be hanged alongside of me. 
 
 Second Laiuyer. Stop talking like that, Jeppe ! You are 
 merely injuring your own case. 
 
 "Jeppe. Then why don't you answer him? (Jside.) He 
 stands like a dumb beast. 
 
 Second Lawyer. But wherein is proof oi furandi preposi- 
 tumF 
 
 First Lawyer, ^uicunque ; in aedes alienas noctu irrumpit 
 tanquam fur aut nocturnus grassator existimandus est; atqut 
 reus hie ita, ergo — 
 
 Second Lawyer. Nego majorem, quod scilicet irruperit. 
 
 First Lawyer. Res manifesto est., tot legitimis testibus ex- 
 istantibus, ac confitente reo. 
 
 Second Lavjyer. ^uicunque ; vi vel metu coactus fuerit con- 
 fit eri — 
 
 First Lawyer. Oh, but where is the visf Where is the 
 metusf That is a quibble. 
 
 Second Lawyer. You 're the one that quibbles. 
 
 First Lawyer, ^o honorable man shall accuse me of that. 
 
40 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 {They grab each other by the throat, and Jeppe jumps behind 
 them and pulls off the First Lawyer's wig.) 
 
 fudge. Respect for the law! Stop, I have heard enough. 
 [Reads aloud.) Inasmuch as Jeppe of the Hill, son of Niels 
 of the Hill, grandson of Jeppe of the same, has been proved 
 both by legal evidence and by his own confession to have 
 introduced himself by stealth into the Baron's castle, to 
 have put on his clothes and maltreated his servants ; he is 
 sentenced to be put to death by poison, and when he is 
 dead, his body to be hanged on a gallows. 
 
 'Jeppe. Oh, oh, your honor! Have you no mercy? 
 
 Judge. None is possible. The sentence shall be carried 
 out forthwith in the presence of the court. 
 
 Jeppe. May I have a glass of brandy first, before I drink 
 the poison, so I can die with courage? 
 
 Judge. That is permissible. 
 
 Jeppe {drinks off three glasses of brandy., and falls on his 
 knees). Will you not have mercy ? 
 
 Judge. No, Jeppe ! It is now too late. 
 
 Jeppe. Oh, it's not too late. A judge can reverse his 
 decision and say he judged wrong the first time. We're all 
 merely men, so we're all likely to make mistakes. 
 
 Judge. No; you yourself will feel in a few minutes that 
 it is too late, for you have already drunk the poison in the 
 brandy. 
 
 Jeppe. Alas, what an unfortunate man I am ! Have I 
 taken the poison already? Oh, farewell, Nille! But the 
 beast doesn't deserve that I should take leave of her. Fare- 
 well, Jens, Niels, and Christoffer ! Farewell, my daughter 
 Marthe! Farewell, apple of my eye! I know I am your 
 father because you were born before that deacon came 
 around, and you take after me so we're like as two drops 
 
ACT FOURTH 41 
 
 of water. Farewell, my piebald horse, and thank you for 
 all the times I have ridden you; next to my own children 
 I never loved any animal as I love you. Farewell, Feierfax, 
 my good watchdog ! Farewell, Moens, my black cat ! Fare- 
 well, my oxen, my sheep, my pigs, and thank you for your 
 good company and for every day I have known you ! . . . 
 Farewell, . . . Oh, now I can say no more, I feel so heavy 
 and so weak. {He falls ^ and lies on the floor ^ 
 
 "Judge. That worked well; the sleeping-potion has al- 
 ready taken effect, and he is sleeping like a log. Hang him 
 up now, but be careful not to hurt him, and see that the 
 rope goes only under his arms. Then we shall see what he 
 does when he wakes up and finds himself hanging. 
 
 \T^hey drag him out. 
 
r 
 
 ACT V 
 
 Scene i 
 
 feppe 15 discovered hanging from a gallows. The Judge stands 
 aside, unseen by Nille. 
 
 Nille. Oh, oh, can it be that I see my good husband 
 
 hanging on the gallows ? Oh, my dearest husband ! Forgive 
 
 me all the wrong I have done you. Oh, now my conscience 
 
 is roused; now I repent, but too late, for the ill nature I 
 
 showed you ; now that I miss you, for the first time I can 
 
 realize what a good husband I have lost. Oh, that I could 
 
 only save you from death with my own life's blood. 
 
 (She wipes her eyes, and weeps bitterly. Meanwhile the effects 
 
 of the sleeping-potion have worn off, and feppe wakes. lie 
 
 sees that he is hanging on the gallows, and that his hands are 
 
 tied behind him, and he hears his wife's laments!) 
 
 Jeppe. Be calm, my dear wife, we must all go the same 
 way. Go home and look after the house and take good 
 care of my children. You can have my red jacket made 
 over for little ChristofFer, and what's left will do for a cap 
 for Marthe. Above all, see to it that my piebald horse is 
 well cared for, for I loved that beast as if he had been my 
 own brother. If I weren't dead, I'd have more to say to 
 you. 
 
 Nille. O — o — o — ! What is that? What do I hear.? 
 Can a dead man talk.? 
 
 Jeppe. Don't be afraid, Nille, I shan't hurt you. 
 
 Nille. But, my dearest husband, how can you talk when 
 you 're dead .? 
 
 Jeppe. I don't know myself how it happens. But listen, 
 my dear wife ! Run like wildfire and bring me eightpence 
 
ACT FIFTH 43 
 
 worth of brandy, for I am thirstier now than I ever was 
 when I was alive. 
 
 Nille. Shame, you beast ! You scoundrel ! You hopeless 
 drunkard ! Haven't you drunk enough brandy in your liv- 
 ing lifetime? Are you still thirsty, you sot, now that you 
 are dead ? I call that being a full-blown hog. 
 
 yeppe. Shut your mouth, you scum of the earth ! and 
 run for the brandy. If you don't, devil take me if I don't 
 haunt you in the house every night. You shall soon find 
 out that I am not afraid of Master Eric any more, for now 
 I can't feel a beating. 
 
 {Nille runs home after Master Eric, comes out again, and beats 
 him as he hangs.') 
 
 feppe. Ow, ow, ow! Stop it, Nille, stop ! You'll kill me 
 all over again. Ow! ow! ow! 
 
 The fudge {coming forward). Listen, my good woman ! 
 You must not beat him any more. Be reassured; for your 
 sake we will pardon your husband's transgression, and fur- 
 thermore sentence him back to life again. 
 
 Nille. No, no, good sir ! Let him hang, for he 's not worth 
 letting live. 
 
 fudge. Fie, you are a wicked woman; away with you, 
 or we shall have you hanged alongside of him. 
 
 \Nille runs away. 
 
 Scene 2 
 
 Enter the fudge's servants, "who take feppe down from the 
 gallows. 
 
 feppe. Oh, kind judge, am I surely all alive again, or am 
 I spooking ? 
 ) fudge. You are quite alive, for the law that can take 
 
44 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 away a man's life can also give it back again. Can you not 
 comprehend that? 
 
 "Jeppe. No, indeed, I can't get it through my head, but 
 I keep on thinking I 'm a ghost, and am spooking. 
 
 "Judge. Foolish fellow! It's perfectly easy to understand. 
 \ He who takes a thing away from you can give it back 
 again. 
 
 yeppe. Then may I try it and hang the judge just for 
 fun to see if I can sentence him back to life again ? 
 
 Judge. No, that won't work, because you're not a 
 judge. 
 
 Jeppe. But am I really alive again? 
 
 Judge. Yes, you are. 
 
 Jeppe. Then I'm not just a spook? 
 
 Judge. Certainly not. 
 
 Jeppe. I'm not a ghost at all? 
 
 Judge. No. 
 
 Jeppe. Am I the same Jeppe of the Hill as I was be- 
 fore ? 
 
 Judge. Yes. 
 
 Jeppe. I'm no mere spirit? 
 
 Judge. No, certainly not. 
 
 Jeppe. Will you give me your oath that's true? 
 
 Judge. Yes, I swear to it ; you 're alive, 
 
 Jeppe. Swear that the devil may split you if it's not 
 so. 
 
 Judge. Come, take our word for it, and thank us for 
 so graciously sentencing you back to life again. 
 
 Jeppe. If you hadn't hanged me yourselves, I would 
 gladly thank you for taking me down from the gallows. 
 
 Judge. Be satisfied, Jeppe! Tell us if your good wife 
 beats you too often, and we shall find a remedy. Here are 
 
ACT FIFTH 45 
 
 four rix-doUars with which you can make merry for a while, 
 and don't forget to drink our health. 
 (yeppe kisses his hand and thanks him.) 
 
 \_Exit Judge, followed by his servants. 
 
 Scene 3 
 
 Jeppe. Now I've lived half a hundred years, but in all 
 that time I have n't had so much happen to me as in these 
 two days. It is a devil of a story, now that I come to think 
 of it: one hour a drunken peasant, the next a baron, then 
 another hour a peasant again ; now dead, now alive on a 
 gallows, which is the most wonderful of all. Perhaps it is 
 that when they hang living people they die, and when they 
 hang dead people they come to life again. It seems to me 
 that, after all, a glass of brandy would taste magnificent. 
 Hey, Jacob Shoemaker ! Come out here ! 
 
 Scene 4 
 Enter "Jacob Shoemaker. 
 Jacob. Welcome back from town ! Did you get the soap for 
 your wife? 
 
 Jeppe. You scoundrel! You shall soon find out what sort 
 of people you 're talking to. Take off your cap, for you 're 
 no more than carrion compared to the likes of me. 
 
 Jacob. I wouldn't stand such words from any one else, 
 Jeppe, but as you bring the house a good penny a day, I 
 don't mind it so much. 
 
 Jeppe. Take off your cap, I say, you cobbler ! 
 
 Jacob. What's happened to you on the way to make you 
 so lofty? 
 
46 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 "Jeppe. I would have you know that I've been hanged 
 since I saw you last. 
 
 'Jacob. There 's nothing so splendid about that. I don't 
 grudge you your luck. But listen, Jeppe: where you drink 
 your liquor, there you pour out the dregs; you have gone 
 and got full somewhere else, and now you come here to 
 do your brawling. 
 
 Jeppe. Quick, take oiF your cap, scoundrel ! Don't you 
 hear what jingles in my pocket ? 
 
 Jacob {his cap under his arni). Heavens, man, where 
 did you get the money .? 
 
 Jeppe. From my barony, Jacob. I will tell you all that's 
 happened to me ; but get me a glass of mead, for I 'm much 
 too high and mighty to drink Danish brandy. 
 
 Jacob. Your health, Jeppe ! 
 
 Jeppe. Now I shall tell you all that's happened to me: 
 When I left you, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was 
 a baron, and got drunk all over again on pork-wine. I 
 woke up on a dungheap and went to sleep again, hoping to 
 sleep myself back to my baron's estate. I found it doesn't 
 always work, for my wife woke me up again with Master 
 Eric and pulled me home by the hair, not showing the 
 least respect for the kind of man I had been. When I got 
 back to my room, I was thrown out again by the neck, and 
 found myself in the midst of a lot of constables, who sen- 
 tenced me to death and killed me with poison. When I 
 was dead, I was hanged; and when I was hanged, I came 
 to life again; and when I came to life again, I got four 
 rix-doUars. That is my story, but as to how it happened, I 
 leave that to you to think out. 
 
 Jacob. Ha, ha, ha! It's all a dream, Jeppe! 
 
 Jeppe. If it weren't for my four rix-dollars here, I might 
 
ACT FIFTH 47 
 
 think it was a dream, too. Give me another, Jacob ! I shan't 
 think about all that rubbish any more, but get myself de- 
 cently drunk. 
 
 "Jacob. Your health, my lord baron ! Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 "Jeppe. Perhaps you can't grasp it, Jacob ? 
 
 "Jacob. No, not if I stood on my head. 
 
 Jeppe. It can be true for all that, Jacob ! For you 're a 
 dunce, and there are simpler things than this that you can't 
 understand. 
 
 Scene 5 
 Enter Magnus. 
 Magnus. Ha, ha, ha ! I '11 tell you the damn'dest tale, about 
 a man called Jeppe of the Hill, who was found lying on 
 the ground dead drunk : they changed his clothes and put 
 him in the best bed up at the baron's castle, made him 
 believe that he was the baron when he woke up, got him 
 full, and laid him in his own dirty clothes back on the 
 dungheap again, and when he came to, he thought he had 
 been in paradise. I nearly laughed myself to death when 
 I heard the story from the bailifPs men. By the Lord, I'd 
 give a rix-dollar to see the fool! Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Jeppe. What do I owe, Jacob \ 
 
 Jacob. Twelvepence. 
 \yippe strokes his chin and goes out looking very shame-faced. 
 
 Magnus. Why is that fellow in such a hurry? 
 
 Jacob. It's the very man they played the joke on. 
 
 Magnus. Is that possible.? I must run after him. Listen, 
 Jeppe! Just a word — How are things in the other world.? 
 
 Jeppe. Let me be. 
 
 Magnus. Why did n't you stay longer ? 
 
48 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 yeppe. What business is that of yours? 
 
 Magnus. Come, do tell us a little about the journey. 
 
 "Jeppe. Let me be, I say, or there '11 be a calamity com- 
 ing to you. 
 
 Magnus. But, Jeppe, I am so anxious to know about it. 
 
 "Jeppe. Jacob Shoemaker, help ! Will you let this man 
 do me violence in your house? 
 
 Magnus. I 'm not doing you any harm, Jeppe, I 'm just 
 asking you what you saw in the other world. 
 
 yeppe. Hey, help, help ! 
 
 Magnus. Did you see any of my forefathers there ? 
 
 yeppe. No, your forefathers must all be in the other 
 place, where you and all the rest of the carrion go when 
 they die. ^Shakes himself loose and runs away. 
 
 Scene 6, Epilogue 
 Enter the Baron., his Secretary, Valet, and Lackeys. 
 Baron. Ha, ha, ha! That experiment was worth money. 
 I never thought it would work out so well. If you could 
 amuse me like that more often, Eric, you would stand 
 even better with me than you do now. 
 
 Eric. No, my lord ! I should not dare to play that kind 
 of comedy again. For if he had beaten your lordship as he 
 threatened, it would have turned into an ugly tragedy. 
 
 Baron. That's very true. I was afraid of that, but I was 
 somuch engrossed in keepingup the deception that I really 
 think I should have let myself be pummelled, or even let 
 you be hanged, Eric, as he threatened, rather than give it 
 away. Did n't you feel the same ? 
 
 Eric. No, indeed, my lord ! It would be an odd sensa- 
 
ACT FIFTH 49 
 
 tion, to let yourself be hanged for fun; that sort of fun 
 would be too expensive. 
 
 Baron. Why, Eric, such things happen every day : people 
 throw away their lives for fun in one way or another. For 
 instance, a man has a weak nature and sees that he is 
 ruining his life and his health by excessive drinking; yet 
 he still keeps on maltreating his body and risks his life for 
 an evening's enjoyment. Then, again: it often happens 
 in Turkey that grand viziers are strangled or choked to 
 death with a cord the very day they are made viziers, or 
 a few days after; yet every one is eager to take the office, 
 just so that he may be hanged with a great title. Still an- 
 other instance : officers gladly risk body and soul to get a 
 reputation for bravery, and fight duels about anything at all 
 even with men known to be their superiors. I think, too, 
 that one could find hundreds and hundreds of men in love 
 who for the sake of a night of pleasure would let them- 
 selves be killed in the morning. And you see in sieges how 
 soldiers will desert in droves and flock to the beleaguered 
 city, which they know must shortly surrender, and in order 
 to live in luxury for one day will get themselves hanged the 
 next. One way is no more rational than the other. In olden 
 times even philosophers used to subject themselves delib- 
 erately to misfortune in order that after their death they 
 might be praised. Therefore, Eric, I thoroughly believe that 
 you would rather have allowed yourself to be hanged than 
 have spoiled our beautiful practical joke. 
 
50 JEPPE OF THE HILL 
 
 Epilogue 
 Spoken by the Baron 
 Of this adventure, children, the moral is quite clear: 
 To elevate the low^ly above their proper sphere 
 Involves no less a peril than rashly tumbling down 
 The great who rise to power by deeds of just renown. 
 Permit the base-born yokel untutored sway to urge. 
 The sceptre of dominion as soon becomes a scourge. 
 Let once despotic power drive justice from the realm, 
 In every peaceful hamlet a Nero grasps the helm. 
 Could Phalaris or Caius in days of yore have been 
 More merciless a tyrant than him we here have seen? 
 Before the seat of justice had time his warmth to feel 
 He threatened us with torture, the gallows, and the wheel. 
 Nay, never shall we tremble beneath a boor's dictates 
 Or set a plowman over us, as oft in ancient states — 
 For if we sought to pattern us on follies such as those, 
 Each history of dominion in tyranny would close. 
 
THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 [DEN POLITISKE KyiNDEST0BER] 
 
 A COMEDY IN FIVE ACTS 
 
 1722-I73I 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 Herman von Bremen, a tinker, 
 
 Geske, his wife. 
 
 Engelke, his daughter. 
 
 Henrich" 
 
 Anneke ■ his servants, 
 
 Peiter 
 
 Antonius, Engelke' s lover. 
 
 Jens, a tavern-keeper 
 
 Richard, a hrushmaker 
 
 Gert, a furrier 
 
 SiVERT, a baggage inspector 
 
 Franz, a cutler 
 
 Abrahams 
 
 Sanderus 
 
 Madame Abrahams. 
 
 Madame Sanderus. 
 
 Arianke, a blacksmith'' s wife. 
 
 A Man pretending to be Alderman of the Hatters' Guild,, 
 Petitioners, Women., Boys, Lackeys, and others. 
 
 Members of the 
 Collegium Politicum. 
 
 Practical jokers. 
 
 ACTS I AND III 
 
 Scene: Hamburg. A street, showing Herman's house. 
 
 ACTS II, IV, AND V 
 A room in Herman's house. 
 
ACT I 
 
 Scene i 
 
 A Street in front of Herman von Bremen's house. Antonius is 
 standing before the door. 
 
 Antonius. I swear my heart 's in my mouth, for I've got to 
 talk to Master Herman and ask him for his daughter, to 
 whom I 've been engaged for ever so long, but secretly. 
 This is the third start I have made, but each time I have 
 turned back again. If it were not for the disgrace of it, 
 and the reproaches I should have to take from my mother, 
 it would be the same story over again. This bashfulness 
 of mine is an inborn weakness, and it's not easy to get 
 the better of it. Each time I go to knock on the door, it 
 is as if some one were holding back my hand. But cour- 
 age, Antonius, is half the battle ! There is no help for it, 
 you must go on. I should spruce myself up a bit first, for 
 they say Master Herman is getting finicky of late. {^He 
 takes off' his neck-band and ties it on again., takes a comb from 
 his pocket and combs his hair., and dusts his shoes.) Now, I 
 think I will do. This is the moment to knock. See! as sure 
 as I 'm an honest man, it 's just as if some one were hold- 
 ing back my hand. Come, courage, Antonius! I know that 
 you have n't done anything wrong. The worst that can 
 happen to you is a "no." (^He knocks.') 
 
 Scene 2 
 Enter Henrich., eating a sandwich. 
 Henrich. Your servant. Master Antonius. Whom do you 
 want to see? 
 
54 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Antonius. I wanted to talk with Master Herman, if he 
 was alone. 
 
 Henrich. Oh, yes, certainly he is alone. He is at his 
 reading. 
 
 Antonius. Then he is more God-fearing than I am. 
 
 Henrich. If an ordinance were issued decreeing that the 
 Herculus should count as a book of sermons, I believe he 
 could qualify as a preacher. 
 
 Antonius. Then has he time to spare from his work for 
 reading such books as that.? 
 
 Henrich. You must realize that the master has two pro- 
 fessions: he is both tinker and politician. 
 
 Antonius. The two don't seem to go together very well. 
 
 Henrich. The same idea has occurred to us. For when 
 he does a piece of work, which is rarely, there is such a 
 political look to the job that we have to do it all over again. 
 But if you want to talk to him, go right into the sitting- 
 room. 
 
 Antonius. I have an important errand, Henrich, for be- 
 tween you and me, I want to ask him for his daughter, 
 whom I 've been engaged to for a long time. 
 
 Henrich. My word, that is an important errand, indeed. 
 But listen, Master Antonius, you must not take it amiss 
 if I warn you of just one thing: if you want your suit to 
 prosper, you must tune up your language and make a 
 graceful speech, for he has become devilish particular re- 
 cently. 
 
 Antonius. No, I can't do that, Henrich! I'm a good 
 honest workman, and I 've never learned to pass compli- 
 ments. I can only speak out straight and plain that I love 
 his daughter and want her for my wife. 
 
 Henrich. Nothing more .? Then I '11 risk my neck that 
 
ACT FIRST 55 
 
 you don't get her. At the very least you must start with 
 "Whereas" or "Inasmuch." You must realize. Master 
 Antonius, that you have to do with a learned man, who 
 spends his days and nights in reading political works, till 
 he 's on the verge of madness. The one thing that he 's 
 found fault with lately about the people in the house is 
 that we have such vulgar ways with us all, and myself 
 especially — he never mentions me without calling me 
 " You low, dirty rascal." A week or so ago he swore by 
 the devil that Mother Geske should wear an Adrienne; 
 still, he did n't make any headway, because mistress is an 
 old-fashioned God-fearing woman, who had rather lay down 
 her life than part with her lapelled bodice. He is always 
 about to bring forth something or other, the devil knows 
 what. So if you wish to succeed in your wooing, you had 
 better take my advice. 
 
 Antonius. Well, on my word, I don't believe in beating 
 about the bush. I go straight to the point. \Exit into house. 
 
 Scene 3 
 
 Henrich. The greatest difficulty about proposing is to hit 
 on something to start off with. I went courting once 
 myself, but for two weeks I could n't make up my mind 
 what to say. I knew, of course, that you ought to begin 
 with " Whereas " or " Inasmuch," but the trouble was that 
 I could n't pick out the next word to hitch on to that 
 " Whereas." So I did n't bother about it any longer, but 
 went and bought a formula for eightpence from Jacob the 
 schoolmaster — he sells them for that. But it all went 
 wrong with me, for when I got into the middle of my 
 speech I could n't remember the rest of it, and I was 
 
56 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 ashamed to pull the paper out of my pocket. I swear I 
 could recite the thing both before and afterwards like my 
 paternoster; yet when I came to use it I stuck fast. It went 
 like this: 
 
 " With humble wishes for your good health, I, Henrich 
 Andersen, have come here deliberately of my own free 
 will and on my own initiative to inform you that I am no 
 more of a stock and a stone than others, and inasmuch as 
 every creature on earth, even the dumb brute, is subject 
 to love, I, unworthv as I am, have come in the name of 
 God and Honor to beg and urge you to be the darling of my 
 heart — " (To the audience) If any one will pay me back my 
 eightpence, I will turn the thing over to him, for I believe 
 that any one who made such a speech could get any good 
 man's daughter that he had a mind to. Will you give me 
 sixpence, then? Honestly, I paid eightpence for it myself. 
 I 'm damned if I sell it for less. But here comes the old man. 
 I must be oiF. \_Exit. 
 
 Scene 4 
 Enter Herman and Antonius. 
 Herman. Many thanks, Monsieur Antonius, for your kind 
 offer. You are a fine worthy fellow. I feel sure that you could 
 take good care of my daughter. But I should very much like 
 to have a son-in-law who had studied his politics. 
 
 Antonius. But, my dear Monsieur Herman von Bremen, 
 no one can support a wife and family on that! 
 
 Herman. You think not ? Do you suppose I intend to die 
 a tinker ? You shall see, before half a year is over. I hope, 
 when I have read through The European Herald., that I shall 
 be urged to take a place in the council. I have already 
 
ACT FIRST 57 
 
 got The Political Dessert at my fingers' ends, but that is not 
 enough. Confound the author! He might have spun it out 
 a little. You know the book, of course ? 
 
 Jntonius. No, not I. 
 
 Herman. Then I will lend you my copy. It is as good as 
 it is brief. I have learned all my statecraft from that book, 
 together with the Herculus and the Herculiscus. 
 
 Antonius. That last one — is n't that just a romance? 
 
 Herman. Indeed it is, and I wish the world were full of 
 such romances. I was at a certain place yesterday, and a 
 man of the foremost rank whispered in my ear : " Any one 
 who has read that book with understanding may fill the 
 most important posts, ay, rule a whole nation." 
 
 Antonius. Very good, master, but when I take to reading, 
 I neglect my trade. 
 
 Herman. I tell you, monsieur, that I do not expect to 
 confine myself to tinkering forever. I should have aban- 
 doned it long since, for hundreds of fine men here in town 
 have said to me, " Herman von Bremen, you ought to be 
 something else." It was only the other day that one of the 
 burgomasters let fall these words in the council : " Herman 
 von Bremen could surely be something more than a tinker. 
 That man has stuff in him that many of us in the coun- 
 cil itself might be glad to own." From which you may con- 
 clude that I shall not die a tinker. And therefore I wish to 
 have a son-in-law who will apply himself to affairs of state, 
 for I hope that in time both he and I shall become mem- 
 bers of the council. And now, if you will start in with The 
 Political Dessert, I shall examine you every Saturday even- 
 ing and see what progress you make. 
 
 Antonius. No, indeed, I will not. I am too old to go to 
 school all over again. 
 
58 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Herman. Then you are not the sort to be my son-in- 
 law. Adieu! [^Exit. 
 
 Scene 5 
 Enter Geske. 
 Geske. It is awful about my husband ; he is never at home 
 attending to business. I would give a good deal to find out 
 where he keeps himself. But look, here is Monsieur An- 
 tonius ! Are you all alone .? Won't you come in ? 
 
 Antonius. No, thank you, mother, I am not worthy of 
 that. 
 
 Geske. What nonsense is this? 
 
 Antonius. Your husband has his head full of political 
 whims, and has a burgomastership on his brain. He turns 
 up his nose at working-people like me and my kind. He 
 imagines that he is cleverer than the notary public him- 
 self. 
 
 Geske. The fool ! The idiot ! Will you heed him ? I be- 
 lieve he 's more likely to become a vagrant and have to beg 
 his bread, than to become a burgomaster. Dear Antonius ! 
 you must n't pay attention to him, and you must n't lose 
 the affection you have for my daughter. 
 
 Antonius. Von Bremen swears she shall take no one who 
 is not a politician. 
 
 Geske. I'll wring her neck before I see her married to 
 a politician. In the old days they used to call a rogue a 
 politician. 
 
 Antonius. Nor do I wish to become one. I want to earn 
 ■ my living honestly as a wheelwright. That trade gave my 
 honored father his daily bread, and I hope it will feed me, 
 too. But here comes a boy who seems to be looking for 
 you. 
 
ACT FIRST 59 
 
 Enter Boy. 
 
 Geske. What do you want, my boy? 
 
 Boy. I want to talk to Master Herman. 
 
 Geske. He 's not at home. Won't you tell me? 
 
 Boy. I was to find out for my mistress, if the dish was 
 done that she ordered three weeks ago. We have sent after 
 it twenty times, but they always put us ofF with talk. 
 
 Geske. Ask your mistress, my son, please not to be angry. 
 It will surely be done to-morrow. [£*■/'< Boy. 
 
 Enter another Boy. 
 
 Second Boy. I am to find out once and for all if the soup- 
 plates will ever be finished. They could have been made 
 and worn out since we ordered them. Mistress swore you 
 shouldn't do any work for us again in a hurry. 
 
 Geske. Listen, my dear child, when you order anything 
 again, order it from me. At times my husband has bats in 
 his belfry, and it does no good to talk to him. Believe me, 
 on my word, it will be done by Saturday. Good-bye. (Exit 
 Boy.\ You see, my dear Antonius, how it goes in our house. 
 We lose one job after another from my husband's neglect. 
 
 Antonius. Is he never at home? 
 
 Geske. Seldom; and when he is, he builds castles in the air 
 so that he has no thought for work. I ask nothing of him 
 except that he keep an eye on the workmen, for if he does 
 anything himself, the apprentices have to do it over again. 
 Here is Henrich: he will tell you what I say is true. 
 
 Scene 6 
 Enter Henrich. 
 Henrich. There 's a man out here, mistress, who wants to 
 be paid for the eight barrels of coal we got yesterday. 
 
6o THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Geske. Where can I get the money from ? He will have 
 to wait till my husband comes home. Can't you tell me 
 where my husband is all day long? 
 
 Henrich. If you will keep quiet about it, I can tell you 
 right enough. 
 
 Geske. I swear, Henrich, that I won't give you away. 
 
 Henrich. There 's a college that meets every day — Col- 
 legium Politicum, they call it — where a dozen or more 
 people come together and chatter about affairs of state. 
 
 Geske. Where does the meeting take place? 
 
 Henrich. You mustn't call it a meeting, it is a Collegium. 
 
 Geske. Where does the Collegium meet, then? 
 
 Henrich. It meets in turn, now at one member's house, 
 now at another's. To-day — don't tell on me — it will meet 
 here. 
 
 Geske. Ha, ha ! Now I understand why he wants to have 
 me out to-day calling on Arianke, the smith's wife. 
 
 Henrich. You might go out, but come back in an hour 
 and surprise them. Yesterday this Collegium of theirs met 
 at Jens the tavern-keeper's. I saw them all there sitting at 
 a table, and the master at the head of it. 
 
 Geske. Did you know any of them ? 
 
 Henrich. I should say I did — all of them. Let me see: 
 master and the tavern-keeper makes two, and Franz the 
 cutler, three; Christopher the painter, four; Gilbert the 
 paper-hanger, five; Christian the dyer, six; Gert the fur- 
 rier, seven; Henning the brewer, eight; Si vert the baggage 
 inspector, nine; Niels the clerk, ten; David the school- 
 master, eleven ; and Richard the brushmaker, twelve. 
 
 jlntonius. They are fine fellows to discuss affairs of state! 
 Did n't you hear what they talked about ? 
 
 Henrich. I heard well enough, but I understood very 
 
ACT FIRST 6i 
 
 little. I heard them depose emperors and kings and electors, 
 and set up others in their places. Then they talked about 
 excise and consumption, about the stupid people who were 
 in the council, and about the development of Hamburg 
 and the promotion of trade ; they looked things up in books 
 and traced things out on maps. Richard the brushmaker 
 sat with a toothpick in his hand; so I think he must be the 
 secretary of their council. 
 
 Jntonius. Ha, ha, ha! The first time I see him I shall 
 certainly say, "Good-day, Mr. Secretary!" 
 
 Henrich. Yes, but don't you give me away. To the devil 
 with fellows who put down kings and princes and even 
 burgomaster and council! 
 
 Geske. Does my husband join in the talk, too .? 
 
 Henrich. Not much. He just sits and ponders and takes 
 snuff while the others talk, and when they have talked it 
 all out, he gives his decision. 
 
 Geske. Did n't he see you there ? 
 
 Henrich. He did n't see me because I was in another 
 room, but if he had, his dignity would n't have allowed him 
 to recognize me, for he had the air of a colonel, or of the 
 first burgomaster when he gives audience to a minister. 
 As soon as people get into colleges they gather a sort of 
 mist before their eyes, and they can't see even their best 
 friends. 
 
 Geske. Oh, unfortunate creature that I am ! That hus- 
 band of mine will surely get us into trouble if the burgo- 
 master and the council find he is setting up to reform the 
 government. The good gentlemen don't want any reform 
 here in Hamburg. You just see if we don't have a guard in 
 front of the house before we know it, and my poor Her- 
 man von Bremen will be dragged off to jail. 
 
62 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Henrich. That may happen, like enough; for the coun- 
 cil has never had more power than now, ever since the 
 troops were camped in Hamburg. All the citizens together 
 aren't powerful enough to take his part. 
 
 Antonius. Nonsense ! Such fellows are only to be laughed 
 at. What can a tinker, a painter, or a maker of brushes 
 know about statecraft? The council is more likely to be 
 amused than to be anxious about it. 
 
 Geske. I will see if I can't surprise them. Let us go in 
 till they come. ^Exeunt. 
 
ACT II 
 
 Scene i 
 
 A Room in Herman's house. Herman and Henrich are mak- 
 ing preparations for the meeting. 
 
 Herman. Henrich, get everything ready: mugs and pipes 
 on the table. They will be here in a minute. {^Henrich sets 
 everything in order. One by one the members of the Collegium 
 Politicum enter and sit at the table. Herman takes the seat at 
 the head of the table.) Welcome to you all, good sirs. Where 
 did we leave off last time? 
 
 Richard. I think it was the interests of Germany. 
 
 Gert. That is right. I remember now. That will all be 
 decided at the next session of the Reichstag. I wish I 
 might be there for an hour: I should whisper something into 
 the ear of the Elector of Mainz that he would thank me for. 
 Those good people do not understand on what the inter- 
 ests of Germany depend. Where has one ever heard of an 
 imperial capital like Vienna without a fleet or, at the very 
 least, galleys? They could just as well maintain a war- 
 fleet for the defence of the kingdom. There are surely war- 
 taxes enough, and imperial subsidies. See how much more 
 shrewd the Turk is. We can never learn to make war from 
 any one better than from him. There are certainly plenty 
 of forests both in Austria and in Prague, if one only will 
 use them, to make ships, or masts, for that matter. If we 
 had a fleet in Austria, or in Prague, the Turks and the 
 French would give up besieging Vienna, you may be sure, 
 and we could go straight to Constantinople. But no one 
 thinks of such a thing. 
 
 Sivert. No, never a mother's soul of them. Our forefa- 
 
/ 
 
 / 
 
 64 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 thers had more sense. It is all a question of preparation. 
 Germany is no bigger now than it was in the old days when 
 we not only defended ourselves honorably against all our 
 neighbors, but took in large parts of France besides, and 
 besieged Paris by land and sea. 
 
 Franz,. But Paris is not a seaport, is it.? 
 
 Sivert. Then I must have my map all wrong. I know 
 well enough where Paris is. Here is England, clear enough, 
 right where I have my finger; here flows the Channel; 
 here is Bordeaux; and here is Paris. 
 
 Franz,. No, brother, here is Germany, and here, right 
 next, is France, which is joined on to Germany ; ergo Paris 
 cannot be a seaport. 
 
 Sivert. Is n't there any seacoast to France, then .? 
 
 Franz. Certainly not. A Frenchman who has not trav- 
 elled abroad has never heard about ships and boats. Just 
 ask Master Herman. Is it not as I say, Master Herman? 
 
 Herman. I shall settle the dispute at once. Henrich, give 
 us the map of Europe — Danckwart's map. 
 
 "Jens. Here is one, but it is a bit torn. 
 
 Herman. That makes no difference. I know well enough 
 where Paris is, and I only need the map to convince the 
 others. Now, look, Sivert, here is Germany. 
 
 Sivert. That 's right. I can see that by the Danube, which 
 is here. (^As he points out the Danube he upsets a mug with 
 his elbow., and the map is flooded^ 
 
 yens. The Danube is flowing too strongly, (y/// laugh.) 
 
 Herman. Listen, my friends. We are talking too much 
 about foreign afFairs/Let us discuss Hamburg for a while 
 — that subject will give us material enough. I have often 
 pondered on the question of how it happens that we own 
 no cities in India, but are forced to buy the wares of others. 
 
ACT SECOND 65 
 
 That is a matter that the burgomaster and council ought 
 to consider. 
 
 Richard. Don't speak of the burgomaster and council. 
 If we wait until they think of it, we shall wait a long time. 
 Here in Hamburg a burgomaster is commended for noth- 
 ing but holding the law-abiding burgesses in subjection. 
 
 Herman. I believe, my good friends, that it is not too 
 late : for why should not the king of India trade with us 
 as well as with the Hollanders, who have nothing to send 
 out there but cheese and butter, which usually spoil on the 
 way? I maintain that we should do well to send a proposal 
 to the council to that effect. How many of us are here ? 
 
 yens. We are only six, for I don't believe the other six 
 are coming. 
 
 Herman. That is enough. What is your opinion, Mr. 
 Tavern-keeper? Let us vote. 
 
 Jens. I am entirely opposed to that plan, because such ' 
 voyages take away from the city a great many good men 
 from whom I get my daily penny. 
 
 Sivert. I hold that we ought to consider the develop- 
 ment of the city rather than our own interests, and that 
 Master Herman's proposal is the most admirable that can 
 ever be made. The more trade we have, the more the city 
 must flourish; the more ships that come in, the better for 
 us minor officials. But the latter is not the main reason I 
 have for favoring this plan. The city's need and its pro- 
 gress are the only things that persuade me to support such 
 a scheme. 
 
 Gert. I can by no means agree to this proposal. I advise 
 instead the founding of a company in Greenland and on 
 Davis Strait, for that trade is much better and more use- 
 ful to the state. 
 
66 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Franz,. I see that Gert's vote regards his own advantage 
 more than the welfare of the republic; for people do not 
 need a furrier so much on the voyages to India as on voy- 
 ages to the North. For my part, I contend that India sur- 
 passes all in importance; in India you can often trade a 
 knife, a fork, or a pair of scissors with the savages for its 
 full weight in gold. We must contrive it so that the plan 
 we put before the council will not smell of self-interest, 
 or else we shall get nowhere with it. 
 
 Richard. I am of the same opinion as Niels the clerk. 
 
 Herman. You certainly vote like a brushmaker. Niels 
 the clerk is not here. But what is the woman doing here? 
 Good Heavens, it is my wife! 
 
 Scene 2 
 Enter Geske. 
 Geske. Is this where you are, you dawdler? It would be bet- 
 ter if you were at work on something, or at least superin- 
 tending your workmen ; for we lose one job after another 
 from your neglect. 
 
 Herman. Quiet, wife ! You will be Madam Burgomas- 
 ter before you know it. Do you think that I go out just 
 to pass the time ? Ay, I do ten times as much work as all 
 of you in the house : the rest of you work with your hands 
 only; I work with my brain. 
 
 Geske. All crazy people work that way, building castles 
 in the air just as you do, cudgelling their brains with bosh 
 and nonsense, imagining that they are doing something of 
 importance when it is really nothing at all. 
 
 Gert. If she were my wife, she would not talk that way 
 more than once. 
 
ACT SECOND 67 
 
 Herman. Ah, Gert, a statesman must pay no attention 
 to that sort of thing. Two or three years ago I should have 
 made my wife's back smart for such words, but since I 
 have begun to look into works on politics, I have learned 
 to despise such trifles, ^ui nescit simulare., nescit regnare, 
 says an ancient statesman, who was no fool. I think his 
 name was Agrippa, or Albertus Magnus. It is a funda- 
 mental principle of all the politics in the world; for he 
 who cannot endure an evil speech from an angry and un- 
 reasonable woman is not fit to hold any high ofSce. Self- 
 control is the highest virtue and the jewel which most 
 adorns rulers and magistrates. Therefore I maintain that 
 no one should sit in our council here in the city until he 
 has given proof of his self-control, and made it clear that 
 he can take words of abuse, blows, and boxes on the ear. 
 I am by nature quick-tempered, but I try to overcome it 
 by study. I once read in the preface of a book called The 
 Political Stockfish that when one is overwhelmed with anger 
 he must count twenty, and his anger will pass. 
 
 Gert. It would do me no good to count up to a hundred. 
 
 Herman. Then you are good for nothing but a subordi- 
 nate. Henrich, give my wife a mug of ale at the side table. 
 
 Geske. Oh, you beast ! Do you think I have come here 
 to drink? 
 
 Herman. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, 
 nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen — Now, it is all over. 
 Listen, mother, you must not speak so harshly to your hus- 
 band — it sounds utterly vulgar. 
 
 Geske. Is it aristocratic to beg ? Has n't any woman rea- 
 son enough to scold when she has such a good-for-noth- 
 ing for a husband — a man who neglects his house like 
 this, and leaves his wife and children in want.? 
 
68 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Herman. Henrich, give her a glass of brandy, for she 
 has worked herself into a passion. 
 
 Geske. Henrich, give my husband a couple of boxes on 
 the ear, the scoundrel ! 
 
 Henrich. You must do that yourself. I decline such a 
 commission. 
 
 Geske. Then I take it on myself. {Boxes both his ears.) 
 
 Herman. One, two, three — (counts to twenty, starts to 
 strike her., hut begins counting again). Eighteen, nineteen, 
 twenty — If I had n't been a statesman, you would have 
 caught it that time ! 
 
 Gert. If you don't keep your wife in check, I will. Get 
 out of here. Go! Out with you! 
 
 \_Exit Geske, still scolding. 
 
 Scene 3 
 
 Gert. I '11 teach her to keep quiet at home another time. I 
 confess that if it is statesmanlike to let yourself be dragged 
 about by the hair by your wife, I shall never be a statesman. 
 
 Herman. Oh, qui nescit simulare, nescit regnare; that is 
 easily said, but less easily done. I admit it was a great in- 
 dignity my wife did me. I believe I shall run after her yet 
 and beat her on the street. But one, two, three, four (and so 
 on\ nineteen, twenty. Now, that 's all over. Let us talk of 
 other things. 
 
 Fran-z.. The women have altogether too much to say 
 here in Hamburg. 
 
 Gert. Yes, that is so. I have often thought of bringing 
 forward a proposal on the subject. But it is dangerous to 
 fall out with them. Still, the proposal has its good points. 
 
 Herman. What is the proposal? 
 
ACT SECOND 69 
 
 Gert. It consists of several articles. First, I argue that 
 the marriage contract should not be eternal, but should be 
 made for a term of years, so that if a man were not con- 
 tent with his wife, he could make a new contract with an- 
 other one. A man ought to be bound, as he is with a rented 
 house, to give a quarter's notice before moving-day, which 
 should be at Easter or Michaelmas. If he were satisfied, 
 the contract could be renewed. Believe me, if such a law 
 were passed, there would n't be a bad woman to be found 
 in Hamburg. Every one of them would try to gain favor 
 in her husband's eyes so that her contract might be re- 
 newed. Have you good men anything to say against that 
 article? Franz, you smile so knowingly, you surely have 
 something to say against it. Let us hear it ! 
 
 Franz. But could n't a woman sometimes take the 
 opportunity to separate from a husband who either was 
 cruel to her or was an idler and only ate and drank, and 
 refused to work to support his wife and children ? Or she 
 might take a fancy to some one else and make it so hot for 
 her husband that, contrary to his intention, he would let 
 her go. I argue that worse trouble might arise from such 
 an arrangement. There are methods enough for coercing a 
 woman. If every one would count twenty like you, Mas- 
 ter Herman, when he got a box on the ear, we should 
 have a fine lot of women. My humble opinion is that the 
 best way when a woman is unruly is for the husband to 
 threaten to sleep alone and share no bed with her till she 
 improves. 
 
 Gert. I could n't stick to that. To many men that would 
 be as much of a hardship as it would be to the woman. 
 
 Franz. But a man can go elsewhere. 
 
 Gert. But a woman can go elsewhere. 
 
70 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Franx. Anyhow, Gert, let us hear the other articles. 
 
 Gert. I see myself! You just want to scofF some more. 
 Nothing is so good that no fault can be found with it. 
 
 Herman. Let us talk of other things. People who heard 
 us talk would think we were holding a consistory or a di- 
 vorce court. I was thinking last night, as I lay awake, how 
 the administration in Hamburg could be best arranged so 
 that certain families whose members are born, as it were, 
 to be burgomasters and councillors could be excluded from 
 the highest positions of authority and complete freedom 
 be introduced. I figured that the burgomasters should be 
 taken in turn, now from one trade-guild, now from another, 
 so that all citizens might share in the government and all 
 classes flourish. For instance, when a goldsmith was bur- 
 gomaster he could look after goldsmiths' interests, and 
 a tailor after tailors', a tinker after tinkers'; and no one 
 should be burgomaster for more than a month, so no one 
 trade should prosper more than another. When the gov- 
 ernment was arranged like that, we might be called a really 
 free people. 
 
 jill. The proposition is splendid. Master Herman, you 
 talk like a Solomon. 
 
 Franz. The plan is good enough, but — 
 
 Gert. You always come in with a "but." I believe your 
 father was a butler. 
 
 Herman. Let him express his opinion. What were you 
 going to say? What does that "but" of yours mean.? 
 
 Franz. I wonder if it might not be hard at times to get 
 a good burgomaster from every common trade.? Master 
 Herman would do, for he is well educated. But when he is 
 dead, where shall we find another among the tinkers fitted 
 for such responsibility .? For when the republic is brought to 
 
ACT SECOND 71 
 
 its knees, it is not so easy to make it over into another form 
 as it is to make over a plate or a pot that is spoiled. 
 
 Gert. Oh, nonsense ! We shall find capable men a-plenty, 
 and among artisans, too. 
 
 Herman. Listen, Franz. You are still a young man and 
 so you can't see so deep into things as the rest of us, al- 
 beit I perceive that you have a good head and in time may 
 amount to something. I can show you, briefly, that this 
 objection of yours has no foundation, by a consideration 
 of ourselves alone. We are twelve men in this guild, all 
 artisans ; each one of us can surely see hundreds of mis- 
 takes which the council makes. Imagine, now, that one 
 of us becomes burgomaster and corrects all the mistakes 
 that we have talked about so many times and that the 
 council cannot see. Do you suppose the city of Hamburg 
 would lose by such a burgomaster? If you good gentlemen 
 are so disposed, I shall make that motion. 
 
 All. Yes, indeed. 
 
 Herman. But enough of these matters. Time flies, and 
 we have not read the newspaper yet. Henrich, let us have 
 the latest paper. 
 
 Henrich. Here are all the latest newspapers. 
 
 Herman. Give them to Richard the brushmaker, who 
 usually does the reading. 
 
 Richard. It is reported from headquarters on the Rhine 
 that recruits are expected. 
 
 Herman. Oh, they have reported that twelve times in 
 succession. Skip the Rhine. I could worry myself to death 
 when I hear of such things. What is the news from Italy? 
 
 Richard. From Italy it is reported that Prince Eugene 
 has broken camp, crossed the Po, and gone past all the for- 
 tifications to surprise the enemy, who thereupon retreated 
 
72 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 four miles in the greatest haste. The Duke of Vendotne 
 laid waste and burned right and left in his own territory 
 as he retreated. 
 
 Herman. Upon my soul his Excellency is struck blind. 
 We are done for. I would n't give fourpence for the whole 
 army of Italy. 
 
 Gert. I maintain that the prince did right, for that has 
 always been my plan. Did n't I say last time, Franz, that 
 they ought to do that? 
 
 Franz. I don't remember that you did. 
 
 Gert. Of course I have said so, a hundred times. For 
 why should an army lie idle? The prince has done right. 
 I dare maintain it against any one, whoever he be. 
 
 Herman. Henrich, give us a glass of brandy. I swear, 
 gentlemen, it went black before my eyes when I heard 
 this news read. — Your health, gentlemen ! — I must admit 
 I consider it a fatal mistake to go past all the forts. 
 
 Sivert. On my word, I should have done the same thing 
 if the army had been entrusted to me. 
 
 Franz. You will see when they make generals of bag- 
 gage inspectors. 
 
 Sivert. You have no call to sneer. I should have been 
 as good as another. 
 
 Gert. You are right there, Sivert. The prince did well 
 to make straight for the enemy. 
 
 Herman, Ah, my good Gert, you are much too self- 
 satisfied. You still have something to learn. 
 
 Gert. But not from Franz the cutler. 
 (They get into a violent quarrel and talk all at once. They 
 rise from their chairs, threaten, and shout ^ 
 
 Herman (knocking on the table and bellowing). Silence! Si- 
 lence ! Gentlemen ! Let us say no more about it, and each 
 
ACT SECOND 73 
 
 one hold to his own opinion. Listen, gentlemen ! Keep 
 still, will you? Do you think that it was from fear that the 
 Duke of Vendome retired and set fire to the countryside ? 
 No, the fellow has been reading the Chronicle of Alexan- 
 der the Great^ for that 's what he did when Darius followed 
 him, and thereby he won as great a victory as we won be- 
 fore Hochstadt. 
 
 °Jem. It has just struck twelve by the postmaster's clock. 
 
 Herman. Then we must go. 
 
 [They go out disputing^ and make a great noise as they 
 continue the argument. 
 
ACT III 
 
 Scene i 
 In front of Herman's house stand Abrahams and Sanderus, 
 with Christopher and fochum^ their servants. 
 Abrahams. I have a story for you that will amuse the whole 
 town. Do you know what I have arranged with three or 
 four gentlemen here in the city? 
 
 Sanderus. No, I don't know. 
 
 Abrahams. Do you know Herman von Bremen ? 
 
 Sanderus. That must be the tinker who is such a great 
 politician and who lives in this house. 
 
 Abrahams. That 's the man. I was with some of the mem- 
 bers of the council awhile ago, and they were very angry 
 with the fellow because he talked so boldly at the tavern 
 about the government, and wanted to reform everything. 
 They thought it would be worth while to set spies on him 
 to find out just what he says, so that he could be punished 
 as an example to others. 
 
 Sanderus. It would be a good thing to punish such fel- 
 lows, for they sit over a jug of ale and criticise kings and 
 princes and magistrates and generals in a way that is dread- 
 ful to listen to. And it is dangerous, too, for the common 
 people have not the discretion to appreciate how absurd it 
 is for a tinker, a hatter, and a maker of brushes to talk 
 about such things, of which they know little or nothing, and 
 settle matters that are too much for the whole council. 
 
 Abrahams. That is so; for that same tinker could re- 
 form the whole Roman Empire while he patched a kettle, 
 and play both mender of dishes and mender of diets at the 
 same time. But I did not approve the plan of those coun- 
 
ACT THIRD 75 
 
 cillors, because to arrest such a man would only start an 
 uproar among the populace and make a person of impor- 
 tance out of a mere fool. My idea, then, is to play a joke 
 on him, instead, which might have better effect. , 
 
 Sanderus. How would you go about it? 
 
 Abrahams. Send him a deputation, supposedly from the 
 council, to congratulate him on his election as burgo- 
 master, and immediately set him some hard duty to per- 
 form. Then every one will see how miserable it will make 
 him, and he himself will realize what a difference there is 
 between talking about an office and doing the work of it. 
 
 Sanderus. But what will come of it ? 
 
 Abrahams. The result will be that he will either run 
 away from the city out of sheer desperation, or else hum- 
 bly beg for his deposition and confess his incompetence. 
 It is only for this purpose that I have come to you. Mas- 
 ter Sanderus, to beg your help in putting this scheme into 
 operation, for I know that you are skilful at that sort of 
 thing. 
 
 Sanderus. That can be arranged. We will play the part 
 of the deputation ourselves, and call on him immediately. 
 
 Abrahams. Here is his house. Jochum or Christopher, 
 knock, one of you, and say that two gentlemen of the 
 council are outside and wish to talk with Herman von 
 Bremen. (They knock.') 
 
 Scene 2 
 Enter Herman. 
 Herman. Whom do you wish to see ? 
 
 'Jochum. Here are two gentlemen of the council, who 
 have the honor of waiting upon you. 
 
76 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Herman. Heavens! What's up? I look as dirty as a pig. 
 
 Jbrahams. Your most humble servant, honorable Bur- 
 gomaster ! We have been sent here by the council to con- 
 gratulate you on your election to the office of burgomaster 
 of the city ; for the council, after considering your merits 
 more than your condition and circumstances, has elected 
 you burgomaster. 
 
 Sanderus. The council looks upon it as unjust that so 
 wise a man should be occupied with such base affairs and 
 should bury his great talent in the earth. 
 
 Herman. Honored colleagues ! Convey my respects and 
 gratitude to the just and upright councillors and assure 
 them of my protection. I am delighted that this idea has 
 occurred to them, not for my own sake, but for that of the 
 city. If I had cared for rank, I might perhaps have attained 
 something long ago. 
 
 Abrahams. Honored Burgomaster! The council and the 
 burgesses can expect nothing but the prosperity of the city 
 under so wise a magistrate. 
 
 Sanderus. And for that reason they have passed over 
 so many rich and distinguished men who have sought this 
 high office. 
 
 Herman. Yes, yes. I hope that they will not regret their 
 choice, either. 
 
 Abrahams and Sanderus. We recommend ourselves, both 
 of us, to the favor of the honorable Burgomaster. 
 
 Herman. It will be a pleasure to do you some service. 
 Pardon me for not attending you further. 
 
 Sanderus. Oh, it would hardly be fitting for your Honor 
 to go further. 
 
 Herman {calling one of the lackeys). Listen, my friend ! 
 Here is something for a pot of ale. 
 
ACT THIRD 77 
 
 Lackeys. Oh, we do not do that, your Honor. 
 
 \Exeunt Abrahams, Sanderus, and Lackeys. 
 
 Scene 3 
 
 Herman. Geske! Geske! 
 
 Geske (off stage). I have n't time. 
 
 Herman. Come out here ! I have something to tell you 
 that you never dreamed of in all your life. 
 Enter Geske. 
 
 Geske. Now, what is it ? 
 
 Herman. Have you any coffee in the house ? 
 
 Geske. What nonsense ! When did I use coffee last ? 
 
 Herman. You will need it from now on. Within half 
 an hour you will receive calls from the wives of all the 
 members of the council. 
 
 Geske. I think the man is dreaming. 
 
 Herman. Yes, I am dreaming, in such a way that I have 
 dreamed us into a burgomastership. 
 
 Geske. Listen, husband, don't make me angry again ! 
 You know what happened last time. 
 
 Herman. Did n't you see the two gentlemen and their 
 lackeys who went past? 
 
 Geske. Yes, I saw them. 
 
 Herman. They stopped here, and brought me word from 
 the council that I have been made burgomaster. 
 
 Geske. The devil you have ! 
 
 Herman. Now, my dear wife, see that you strive here- 
 after to acquire more correct manners, and that you retain 
 none of your old tinker-tricks. 
 
 Geske. Oh, is it really true, my dear husband ? 
 
 Herman. It is as true as I 'm standing here. Before 
 
78 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 we know it, we shall have the house full of congratula- 
 tors, of most-humble-servants, of I-have-the-honors, and 
 of I-kiss-your-handers. 
 
 Geske {on her knees). Ah, my dear husband, forgive me 
 if I have ever done you an injustice! 
 
 Herman. Everything is forgiven; only try to behave 
 more like gentlefolk, and you shall find favor with me. But 
 where shall we get a servant in a hurry ? 
 
 Geske. We must manage to get Henrich into some of 
 your clothes until we can buy a livery. But listen, my 
 dear: since you have become a burgomaster, I beg of you 
 that Gert the furrier may be punished for the wrong he 
 did me to-day. 
 
 Herman. Oh, my dear wife! The burgomaster's wife 
 must not think of avenging the injury done to the tinker's 
 wife. Let us call in Henrich. 
 
 Scene 4 
 Geske. Henrich! 
 
 Henrich {off stage). Hey! 
 
 Enter Henrich. 
 
 Geske. Henrich ! you must not answer like that after this. 
 Don't you know what has happened to us.' 
 
 Henrich. No, I don't know. 
 
 Geske. My husband has been made burgomaster. 
 
 Henrich. What of? 
 
 Geske. What of? Of Hamburg! 
 
 Henrich. The deuce you say ! That certainly is the 
 devil's own jump for a tinker! 
 
 Herman. Henrich, speak with more respect. You must 
 know that you are now the lackey of a man of prominence. 
 
ACT THIRD 79 
 
 Henrich. Lackey! Then I don't advance nearly so 
 much! 
 
 Herman. You shall advance in time. You may even be 
 a reutendkner some day. Only keep still. Your duty for a 
 few days is to act as lackey until I can get a servant. — 
 He can wear my brown coat, my dear, till we get a livery. 
 
 Geske. But I am afraid it will be much too long for him. 
 
 Herman. Of course it is too long, but a man must help 
 himself as best he can when he 's in a hurry. 
 
 Henrich. Good Lord ! It goes down to my heels. I shall 
 look like a Jewish priest. 
 
 Herman. Listen, Henrich — 
 
 Henrich. Yes, master. 
 
 Herman. You rascal! Don't address me by any such 
 title any more; from henceforth, when I call, you an- 
 swer " Mr. Burgomaster ! " and when any one comes to ask 
 after me, you may say, "Burgomaster von Bremenfeld is 
 at home." 
 
 Henrich. Must I say that whether your Honor is at 
 home or not? 
 
 Herman. What nonsense ! When I am not at home, you 
 must say," Burgomaster von Bremenfeld is not at home;" 
 and when I do not wish to be at home, you shall say, " The 
 burgomaster is not giving audience to-day." — Listen, my 
 dear, you must make some coffee immediately, so that you 
 will have something to entertain the councillors' wjves 
 with when they come. For our reputation will from now 
 on depend on having people say, " Burgomaster von Bre- 
 menfeld gives good counsel, and his wife good coffee." 
 I am so much afraid, my dear, that you will make some 
 mistake before you get accustomed to the position that 
 you have attained. — Henrich, run get a tea-table and 
 
8o THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 some cups, and tell the girl to run out and get fourpence' 
 worth of coffee — one can always buy more later. — You 
 must make it a rule, my dear, not to talk much until you 
 learn to carry on refined conversation. You must not be 
 too humble, either, but stand upon your dignity, and strive 
 in every way to get the old tinkering habits out of your 
 head, and try to imagine that you have been a burgomas- 
 ter's wife for years. In the morning a tea-table must be 
 set for callers, and in the afternoon a coffee-table, and 
 that can be used for cards. There is a game that they call 
 Allumber; I would give a hundred thalers if you and our 
 daughter. Miss Engelke, knew how to play it. You must 
 pay close attention when you see other people play, so 
 you can learn it. You must lie abed in the morning till 
 nine or half past, for it 's only common people who get 
 up in the summer with the sun. But on Sunday you must 
 get up a little earlier, as I expect to take physic on that 
 day. You must get hold of a fine snuff-box, and let it lie 
 on the table near you when you are playing cards. When 
 any one drinks your health, you mustn't say "Thanks," 
 but " Tres humble servitoor." And when you yawn, you 
 must n't hold your hand before your mouth, because that 
 is n't done any more among the gentry. And lastly, when 
 you are in company, you must n't be too squeamish, but 
 leave your propriety a little to one side. — Listen, I forgot 
 something: you must also get a lap-dog and love it like 
 your own daughter, for that 's fashionable. Our neighbor 
 Arianke has a pretty dog that she might lend you till we 
 can get one for ourselves. You must give the dog a French 
 name, which I shall think up when I have time. It must 
 lie in your lap constantly, and you must kiss it at least 
 half a dozen times, when there are callers. 
 
ACT THIRD 8 1 
 
 Geske. No, my dear husband, I can't possibly do that, 
 for there 's no telling what a dog has been lying in and 
 getting itself all dirty — you might get a mouthful of filth 
 or fleas. 
 
 Herman. Here, here, no nonsense! If you want to be a 
 lady, you must act like a lady. Besides, a dog like that can 
 supply you with conversation; when you have run short of 
 topics, you can talk about the dog's qualities and accom- 
 plishments. Just do as I say, my dear; I understand high 
 society better than you do. Take me as your model. You 
 shall find that not even the smallest of my old habits will 
 remain. It won't happen to me as it did to a butcher, 
 once, when he was made a councillor. Whenever he had 
 written a page and wanted to turn over the leaf, he put 
 his pen in his mouth, as he used to do with his butcher's 
 knife. The rest of you go in now and get things ready. I 
 want to talk awhile with Henrich alone. \^Exit Geske. 
 
 Scene 5 
 
 Herman. Listen, Henrich! 
 
 Henrich. Mr. Burgomaster! 
 
 Herman. Don't you think people will envy me because 
 of this preferment ? 
 
 Henrich. Well, what do you care about people who envy 
 you, your Honor.? If only I had been made a burgomaster 
 like that, I should have sent my enviers to death and the 
 devil. 
 
 Herman. The one thing I am a little anxious about is 
 the matter of small ceremonies, for the world is governed 
 by pedantry, and people notice trifles more than solid 
 things. If only the first day were over, when I make my 
 
82 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 entry into the City Hall, I should be glad; for as far as 
 substantial business is concerned, that is bread and butter 
 to me. But I must arrange how I am to meet my col- 
 leagues for the first time and make sure that I do not run 
 counter to any of the traditional ceremonies. 
 
 Henrich. Oh, fiddlesticks, Mr. Burgomaster! No true 
 man lets himself be bound by fixed ceremonies. I, for my 
 part, should do nothing, if I were to make my entry, except 
 give the gentlemen of the council my hand to kiss, and 
 wear a fine scowl on my brow so that they might gather 
 what my intentions were, and silently make them realize 
 that a burgomaster was no goose and no dumpling. 
 
 Herman. But think, there must be an oration at the 
 City Hall the first day that I am introduced. I can cer- 
 tainly make as good a speech as any one in town, and I 
 should make bold to preach if it were to-morrow morning. 
 But inasmuch as I have never been present at such a cere- 
 mony before, I really don't know what is the customary 
 formula. 
 
 Henrich. Oh, sir, no one but schoolmasters limit them- 
 selves by a formula. If I were burgomaster, I should be 
 content with a brief and emphatic address, such as this: 
 "It may seem a rather remarkable thing, wise and noble 
 councillors, to see a miserable tinker suddenly turned into 
 a burgomaster — " 
 
 Herman. Fie, that would be a shabby start. 
 
 Henrich. No, that would n't be the start. I should begin 
 my speech like this: "I thank you, wise and noble gen- 
 tlemen, for the honor you have done a wretched tinker 
 like me in making him burgomaster — " 
 
 Herman.Yon always bring in your confounded "tinker." 
 It is not proper to talk like that at the City Hall, where I 
 
ACT THIRD 83 
 
 must act as if I had been born a burgomaster. If I were 
 to make such a speech, I should only be scorned and 
 mocked. No, no, Henrich, you would make a poor orator. 
 He is a rogue who says I was ever a tinker. I have merely 
 tinkered a little to pass the time away when I have been 
 tired of studying. 
 
 Henrich. He is a rogue who says I was ever a tinker's ■( 
 apprentice. 
 
 Herman. Then why do you want me to make such a 
 speech ? 
 
 Henrich. Oh, have a little patience ! Your Honor is too 
 hasty. I should politely tell them at the start that if any 
 one made fun of me for having been a tinker, he would 
 get into trouble. And if I noticed the least expression of 
 mockery on any one's face, I should say, "Wise and 
 noble sirs, do you for a moment allow yourselves to ima- 
 gine that you have made me burgomaster to ridicule me? 
 And at that I should pound hard on the desk while I spoke, 
 so that they might see from my introductory speech that I 
 was not to be fooled with, and that they had made a burgo- 
 master who was the man for the place. For if his Honor 
 lets himself be imposed on at the start, the council will 
 continue to look on him as a rascal. 
 
 Herman. You talk like a rascal, but still I shall manage 
 to hit on the kind of speech I want to make. Let us go in. 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
ACT IV 
 
 Scene i 
 
 A Room in Herman's house. Henrich^ alone. He has braid 
 on both sleeves of his coat, which reaches to his heels, and is 
 trimmed with white paper. 
 
 Henrich. I am a cur if I can see how the council hit on 
 the idea of making my master burgomaster, because I can 
 see no connection between a tinker and a high official like 
 that, unless it is that just as a tinker throws plates and 
 dishes into a mould and melts them up into new ones, so 
 a good burgomaster can remould the republic, when it is 
 declining, by making good laws. But the good men did not 
 take into consideration the fact that my master is the worst 
 tinker in Hamburg,and therefore,if theyhavebyanychance 
 chosen him on that basis, he will be the worst burgomas- 
 ter, too, that we have ever had. The only useful thing 
 about their choice is that it makes me a reutendiener, and 
 that is a position for which I have both talent and incUna- 
 tion, for ever since I was a boy I have enjoyed seeing people 
 arrested. It is a good place, too, for one who knows how 
 to make something out of it. First of all I must appear to 
 have a great deal of say with the burgomaster, and when 
 people get that article of faith through their heads, Henrich 
 will make at least a hundred or two hundred thalers a year, 
 which I shall take not out of greed, but only to show that 
 I understand my business as reutendiener. If any one wants 
 to talk to the burgomaster, I say he is not at home. If they 
 say they saw him at the window, I answer that it makes 
 no difference, he is still not at home. People in Hamburg 
 know at once what that answer means ; they slip a thaler 
 
ACT FOURTH 85 
 
 into Henrich's hand, and his Honor promptly comes 
 home. If he has been ill, he recovers at once; if he has 
 had visitors, they leave at once ; if he has been lying down, 
 he gets up at once. I run about with the lackeys of the 
 gentry, now and then, and I know well enough what goes 
 on in those houses. In the old days when folks were as 
 stupid as horses and asses, such things were called steal- 
 ing, but now they are known as " extras," " tips," or " un- 
 classified income." But look, here comes Anneke; she 
 does n't know yet about the transformation, for she still 
 has her vulgar tinker-look and tinker-walk. 
 
 Scene 2 
 Enter Anneke. 
 Anneke. Ha, ha, ha ! He looks like a mummer. I believe 
 that 's an Adrienne that he 's got on him. 
 
 Henrich. Listen, you tinker's trash! have you never seen 
 a livery or a lackey before? Faith, these common people 
 are like animals, they stand and stare like cows, when 
 they see a man in different clothes one day from what he 
 wears another. 
 
 Anneke. No, a joke 's one thing, and sober truth 's an- 
 other. Don't you know that I 've learned to tell fortunes? 
 An old woman came here to-day who reads people's hands. 
 I gave her a bit of bread and she taught me the art of see- 
 ing in people's hands what is going to happen to them. If 
 I may look at your hand, I can tell your fortune at once. 
 
 Henrich. Yes, yes, Anneke ! Henrich is n't as stupid as 
 you think. I smell a rat already. You have got wind of the 
 promotion that is promised me to-day. 
 
 Anneke. No, indeed, I know nothing about it. 
 
86 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Henrich. See how straight she keeps her face. Indeed 
 you have heard it, and that is why you know how to tell 
 fortunes so well. No, Henrich has an old head on his 
 shoulders, and he can't be led by the nose. 
 
 Anneke. I give you my oath that I have n't heard a word 
 of what you are talking about. 
 
 Henrich. Have n't you been talking to madam the bur- 
 gomaster's wife? 
 
 Anneke. The fellow is mad. What burgomaster's wife do 
 I know? 
 
 Henrich. Then I believe the young lady has told you. 
 
 Anneke. Here, enough of this nonsense, Henrich. 
 
 Henrich. Look here, Anneke, here is my hand. Tell my 
 fortune all you want. I see well enough that you have got 
 wind of the affair, although you act as if you knew noth- 
 ing about it. But it can do no harm to have you so wily; 
 our whole household must be like that from now on. Now, 
 what do you see in my hand? 
 
 Anneke. I see, Henrich, that master's custos which hangs 
 back of the stove will dance a merry step on your back 
 this day. Are n't you ashamed to go round like a mummer 
 when there is so much work to do in the house, and to 
 treat the master's coat like that? 
 
 Henrich. Listen, Anneke! I can tell fortunes without 
 reading hands. I prophesy that you are a rascal, and for 
 your shameless talk you are going to get a box on the ear, 
 or two, as the case may be. See, there 's a prophecy come 
 true. (Boxes her ear.\ 
 
 Anneke. Ow, ow, ow ! You shall pay dear for that. 
 
 Henrich. Learn to show ordinary respect another time 
 for a great gentleman's lackey — [Boxes her ear again^ 
 
 Anneke. Just you wait; mistress will be here in a minute. 
 
ACT FOURTH 87 
 
 Henrich {again). — for the burgomaster's most distin- 
 guished servant — 
 
 Anneke. She will take it out on your back. 
 
 Henrich (again). — for a reutendiener — 
 
 Anneke. Yes, yes ! I say it again : that will cost you dear. 
 
 Henrich (again). — for a person of great influence with 
 the burgomaster — 
 
 Anneke. Oh,oh! No one in this house has ever struck me 
 before. 
 
 Henrich (again). — whom all the citizens will cherish 
 and compliment henceforth. 
 
 Anneke. I think the fellow is stark mad. Oh, mistress! 
 mistress! Come here! 
 
 Henrich. Hush, hush! You will get into trouble with 
 your mistress. I see now that you don't know what has 
 happened, so, like a Christian, I forgive your fault. The 
 council has unanimously elected the master burgomaster, 
 mistress madam burgomaster, and decreed Engelke out of 
 mere maidenhood into the degree of young lady. There- 
 fore you can easily understand that it won't do for me 
 to work any more. For the same reason, too, I wear this 
 livery that you notice. 
 
 Anneke. Well, don't stand and stare at me into the bar- 
 gain. 
 
 Henrich. It is as I say, Anneke! Here comes the young 
 lady, who shall vouch for my words. 
 
 Scene 3 
 Enter Engelke. 
 Engelke. Oh, God help me, poor creature ! Now I see that 
 all hope is gone. 
 
88 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Henrich. Oh, my young lady, is this the time to weep, 
 when your parents have come into such good fortune ? 
 
 Engelke. Hold your tongue, Henrich, I don't want to be 
 "my young lady." 
 
 Henrich. What are you going to be, then ? You 're not a 
 mere maiden, so you must be a young lady. That is surely 
 the next degree of honor to which you rise when you lose 
 your maidenhood. 
 
 Engelke. I had rather be a peasant's daughter. Then I 
 could be sure of getting the man on whom I have set my 
 heart. 
 
 Henrich. Oh, is that all the young lady is crying about 
 — that she wants to get married? Now she can get mar- 
 ried in the shortest possible time to any man she points at, 
 for half the town will besiege the house to be a burgo- 
 master's son-in-law. 
 
 Engelke. I won't have any one but Antonius,whom I 've 
 already promised to marry. 
 
 Henrich. Fie, Mamsell ! Will you take a wheelwright 
 now, a man I can scarcely associate with, — I, who am 
 only a reuUndiener? You should have a higher sense of 
 honor after this. 
 
 Engelke. Be quiet, you lout ! I would give up my life 
 rather than let myself be forced to marry any one else. 
 
 Henrich. Now reassure yourself, my young lady; we 
 shall see, I and the burgomaster, if we can't help An- 
 tonius into office, and then you can take him and wel- 
 come. {Exit Engelke. Anneke weeps.) Why are you crying, 
 Anneke ? 
 
 Anneke. I am crying for joy over the fortune that has 
 come to our house. 
 
 Henrich. True enough, Anneke, you have cause to 
 
ACT FOURTH 89 
 
 rejoice. Who the devil would have thought that such a 
 sow as you are could ever become a lady's maid? 
 
 Anneke. And who the dickens could have thought that 
 such a hog as you might become a reutendiener? 
 
 Henrich. Listen, little girl, I haven't time to talk to 
 you any longer now. Madam expects guests; I must pre- 
 pare coffee. See, here she is; let us go. I must run get the 
 cofFee-table. [^Exeunt. 
 
 Scene 4 
 
 Enter Geske with a dog in her arms. Henrich returns with 
 the coffee-table and sets it busily. 
 
 Geske. Listen, Henrich, is there syrup in the cofFee? 
 
 Henrich. No, Mistress! 
 
 Geske. No more " Master" and "Mistress," Henrich! I 
 say that once for all. Run get some syrup and put it into the 
 pot. {^Exit Henrich.') I was free from all this hubbub before. 
 But I suppose that once I am used to it, it will come easier 
 to me. 
 
 Enter Henrich. 
 
 Henrich. Here is the syrup. 
 
 Geske. Pour it into the pot. Goodness me, some one is 
 knocking. It must be the wives of councillors to call on me. 
 
 Henrich (at the door'). Whom do you want to speak to? 
 
 Girl. Tell your master that he can lie like ten tinkers. 
 I have worn out a pair of shoes running to and fro after 
 the dripping-pan. 
 
 Henrich. I say, whom do you want to speak to? 
 
 Girl. I want to speak to Master Herman. 
 
 Henrich. You are on a wild-goose chase. Burgomaster 
 von Bremenfeld lives here. 
 
90 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Girl. It is a scandal when people can't get their things 
 done, and have to let themselves be made fools of by a 
 miserable tinker. 
 
 Henrich. If you have any fault to find with tinkers, you 
 must go to the Council Hall; you will get justice there, or 
 I don't know Burgomaster von Bremenfeld. 
 
 Two Lackeys. Our ladies are desirous of announcing 
 that if it suits the convenience of Madam Burgomaster, 
 they should like to have the honor of waiting on her. 
 
 Henrich {to the Girl). Now, do you see, you scum of 
 the earth, that it 's no tinker that lives here? (To the ser- 
 vants.) I will inquire if the burgomaster's lady is at home. 
 
 \The Girl goes. 
 
 Henrich (to Geske). Here are two councillors' ladies out- 
 side, who want to talk to the mistress. 
 
 Geske. Let them in. 
 
 Scene 5 
 
 Enter Madame Abrahams and Madame Sanderus. They kiss 
 Geske' s apron. 
 
 Mme. Abrahams. We have come here to-day to offer our 
 most humble congratulations and to temoigner the heart- 
 felt joy and delight that we feel at your advancement, and 
 at the same time to recommend ourselves to your favor and 
 affection. 
 
 Geske. Tres humble servitoor! I wonder if you would n't 
 like to drink a cup of coffee. 
 
 Mme. Abrahams. We thank Madam Burgomaster, but 
 this time we have come only to offer congratulations. 
 
 Geske. Tres humble servitoor ! But I know you like cof- 
 fee. Perhaps you just want to be urged. Be so good as to 
 sit down; the coffee is all ready. Henrich! 
 
ACT FOURTH 91 
 
 Henrich. Gracious madam ? 
 
 Geske. Have you put the syrup in the coffee ? 
 
 Henrich. Yes, I have. \_Exit. 
 
 Geske. Please, good ladies, w^on't you have some? 
 
 Mme. Sanderus. I hope you will be so good as to excuse 
 us, but we never drink coffee. 
 
 Geske. Oh, nonsense, I know better I beg you be seated. 
 
 Mme. Sanderus (aside to Mme. JbrahamsyOh, ma sceur, 
 I am sick at the mere thought of that syrup. 
 
 Geske. Henrich, come fill the cups. 
 Enter Henrich. 
 
 Mme. Sanderus. That is enough, my good man. I can 
 drink only half a cup. 
 
 Henrich. I am to ask Madam Burgomaster to step in 
 for a moment and speak to the burgomaster. 
 
 Geske. Excuse me, good ladies, I must go for an instant. 
 You shall shortly have the honor of seeing me again. 
 
 ^Exeunt Henrich and Geske. 
 
 Scene 6 
 
 Mme. Abrahams. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ! Whom 
 is the joke on now, my sister, she whom we laugh at in 
 our sleeves as we sit here, or we who have to drink coffee 
 with syrup in it? 
 
 Mme. Sanderus. For Heaven's sake don't mention the 
 syrup again ! My stomach comes up into my throat when 
 I think of it. 
 
 Mme. Abrahams. Did you notice the airs she put on 
 when we kissed her apron ? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ! I shall never 
 forget as long as I live that " Tres humble servitoor." Ha, 
 ha, ha, ha, ha! 
 
92 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Mme. Sanderus. Don't laugh so loud, sister, I'm afraid 
 they can hear it. 
 
 Mme. Abrahams. Oh, it is a real art to be able to keep 
 from laughing. And wasn't that the sweetest dog she had 
 in her arms ? The loveliest watch-dog one might wish for. 
 I am sure it was called " Joli" into the bargain. Heavens, 
 C heavens, how true it is, as people always say, that no one 
 3 is more arrogant than those who come up from the dregs 
 V. into positions of honor ! That is why nothing is more dan- 
 gerous than these sudden changes. People who are of good 
 stock and are properly brought up are only too glad to stay 
 as they were, or even to become more humble, when they 
 rise to higher distinction. But those who grow up quickly 
 out of nothing, like mushrooms, seem to come naturally 
 by intolerable pride. 
 
 Mme. Sanderus. I wonder what the reason can be? I 
 
 should think such people ought rather to be humbled by the 
 
 thought of their former position. 
 
 y^ — Mme. Abrahams. The reason must be that those who 
 
 ( come from good families have never suspected any one of 
 
 V despising them, and consequently don't worry about how 
 
 \ they are received, whereas common people have always 
 
 ] suspected every one, and think that every word and every 
 
 S glance is intended as a reflection on their previous state, 
 
 / and so they seek to assert their dignity by making them- 
 
 / selves imperious and tyrannous. Believe me, dear sister! 
 
 j There is something in springing from good stock. But here 
 
 \ comes the boy; we had better be still. 
 
ACT FOURTH 93 
 
 Scene 7 
 Enter H enrich. 
 Henrich. The good ladies must not let the time seem long. 
 The madam is coming back in a minute. The burgomas- 
 ter has presented her with a new collar for her dog, but 
 it was a little too wide ; so the tailor is in there taking the 
 measure of the dog's neck. As soon as that's settled, she 
 will come back. But I hope you good ladies won't take it 
 amiss, if I ask you a favor: will you be so good as to think 
 of me in a little remembrance, for I have heavy work, and 
 slave like a beast here in the house. 
 
 Mme. Abrahams. Gladly, my friend! Here is a gulden, 
 — you will accept it. 
 
 Henrich. Ah, my best thanks! I hope that I may serve 
 you ladies again. Now, you must drink your fill while the 
 mistress is out; she won't be angry, or if she is, I will 
 make it all right. 
 
 Mme. Abrahams. My good man, the greatest service you 
 can do us is not to urge us. 
 
 Henrich. As I say, gentle ladies, I know the mistress 
 won't mind; you simply must drink. Perhaps it is n't sweet 
 enough. I will go get some more syrup. — But here she 
 comes herself. 
 
 Scene 8 
 Enter Geske. 
 Geske. I beg your pardon for staying away so long. Why, 
 ladies, you have n't drunk a thing in all this time ! We sim- 
 ply must empty the pot, and then when you have drunk 
 the coffee, you must taste our ale. If I do say it myself, 
 it is as good as any ale in town. 
 
94 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Mme. Sanderus. Oh, I feel so very bad, you must par- 
 don me if I am unable to stay any longer. My sister will 
 stay and try it. 
 
 Mme. Abrahams. Oh, no, it would be a sin to desert my 
 sister. We commend ourselves to the affection of Madam 
 Burgomaster. 
 
 Geske. Then you must have a glass of brandy — it will 
 make you perfectly well again — it drives out the wind. 
 Henrich ! run get a glass of brandy — the lady 's not feel- 
 ing well. 
 
 Mme. Sanderus. No, excuse me; I must go. \_Exeunt. 
 
 Scene 9 
 Enter another Councillor s Wife. 
 Councillor's Wife. Your humble servant. I have come duti- 
 fully to extend my felicitations. 
 (Geske reaches out her hand to be kissed., and the lady kisses 
 
 Geske. It will be a pleasure to me if I or the burgomas- 
 ter can be of any service. Won't you sit down, please? 
 Don't stand on ceremony, just imagine that you are among 
 your equals. 
 
 Councillor's Wife. I am deeply obliged, madam! (Sits 
 down.') 
 
 Geske. Some of your colleagues were just here and drank 
 some coffee with me; I think there must be a couple of 
 cups left, if you should like some. The bottom's the best. 
 I don't believe I can drink any more, because I've got so 
 much in me already that my stomach's like a drum. 
 
 Councillor's Wife. I thank you humbly, but I have just 
 had some cofFee. 
 
ACT FOURTH 95 
 
 Geske. As you wish. We gentlefolk don't urge any one. 
 Oh, listen, dear madam — do you know of any French- 
 woman to recommend for my young lady ? 1 want her to 
 learn French. 
 
 Councillor's Wife. Yes, my lady, I know one who is very 
 satisfactory. 
 
 Geske. Good ; but I want to have her understand at the 
 outset that I cannot tolerate having her call me '•'•Ma- 
 dame" as the French people usually do. Not that I am 
 proud, but I have my own ideas on the point. 
 
 Councillor's Wife. Oh, no, of course she must not. But 
 might I not also have the privilege of kissing your daugh- 
 ter's hand? 
 
 Geske. I should be delighted. Henrich! Call the young 
 lady and tell her that a lady of the council is here and 
 wishes to kiss her hand. 
 
 Henrich. I don't think she can come, because she's darn- 
 ing her stockings. \_Exit. 
 
 Geske. Just listen to that lout, how he stands there and 
 talks at random! Ha, ha, ha! He means to say "embroi- 
 dering." 
 
 Scene 10 
 
 Enter Arianke, the Blacksmith's Wife. (This part is played 
 by a man.) 
 
 Arianke. Oh, my dear sister Geske! Is it true that your 
 husband has been made burgomaster.'' I am as pleased as 
 if I had been given two marks. Let us see now that you 
 have n't become proud, but acknowledge your old cronies. 
 (Geske does not answer.) When was your husband made 
 burgomaster.? (Geske says not a word.) You are getting ab- 
 
96 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 sent-minded, sister. I am asking you when your husband 
 was made burgomaster. 
 
 Councillor's Wife. You must show a little more respect, 
 dear madam, to a burgomaster's wife. 
 
 Arianke. No, I don't have to stand on ceremony with 
 sister Geske, for we have been like body and soul. But 
 what is the matter, sister? It seems to me that you have 
 grown a bit haughty. 
 
 Geske. My good woman, I don't know you. 
 
 Arianke. The Lord preserve us ! When you needed 
 money, you knew me well enough. You can't be sure but 
 my husband may come to be the same as yours some time 
 before he dies. 
 {Geske turns faint and uses a bottle of smelling-salts \ 
 
 Henrich. Get out, you smith's hag! Do you think you 're 
 standing in a smithy and talking.? 
 
 flakes her by the hand and leads her off. 
 
 Geske. Oh, madam, it is a sorrow to associate with 
 these low-born people. Henrich ! you will get into trouble 
 if you let in any more commoners' wives after this. 
 
 Henrich. She was drunk as a pig; the brandy fairly 
 stuck out ofF her throat. 
 
 Councillor's Wife. The incident pains me, for I fear 
 that Madam Burgomaster has been overcome by anger. 
 People of rank cannot endure much. The higher one ad- 
 vances in position, the more delicate one's health becomes. 
 
 Geske. Yes, I can assure you that I am far from hav- 
 ing the health now that I had in my former rank. 
 
 Councillor's Wife. I can believe that easily. Madam will 
 have to take physic every day. All other burgomaster's 
 wives have had to do it. 
 
 Henrich {aside to the audience\ I think, by Jove, that I 
 
ACT FOURTH 97 
 
 haven't the health I used to have, since I became reu- 
 tendiener. I've got a stitch — oh, oh! — right here in my 
 left side. You laugh at it, good people, but I am really in 
 earnest. Mafoi, I am afraid that before I knovi^ it I shall 
 have gout on me. 
 
 Councillor's Wife. Madam must also engage a doctor by 
 the year for her whole household, and he can give her some 
 drops wfhich she can at least leave standing in a bottle, 
 vifhether she uses them or not. 
 
 Geske. Yes, I certainly shall follow^ your advice. Hen- 
 rich! Later on you must run to Doctor Hermelin's and 
 ask him to make me a visit when he has time. 
 
 Councillor's Wife. I must now take my leave, madam, 
 and commend myself to your affection. 
 
 Geske. Already so commended, my dear lady ! You have 
 but to speak frankly to me or to Master Herman — I mean 
 to Burgomaster von Bremenfeld. What service we can 
 do to you or to those dear to you, you shall never lack. 
 
 Councillor's Wife (kissing her apron). Your most humble 
 servant ! 
 
 Geske. Adieu! (Exit the Councillor's Wife.) Let us go in, 
 for my husband is giving audience here. 
 
ACT V 
 
 Scene i 
 Same as Act IV. Henrich, alone, 
 Henrich. Well, well, here comes grist to my mill; it's the 
 audience hour. Now, you shall see, good people, if a man 
 who had been twenty years in the service could bear him- 
 self better than I. — There's some one knocking. Whom 
 do you wish to see, my good men ? 
 
 Enter two Lawyers. 
 
 First Lawyer. We should very much like to have the 
 honor of speaking to the burgomaster. 
 
 Henrich. He is not up yet. 
 
 First Lawyer. Not up at four in the afternoon? 
 
 Henrich. Oh, he is up, to be sure, but he has gone out. 
 
 First Lawyer. But we just met a man at the door who 
 had been talking to him. 
 
 Henrich. He really is in, but he is not well. {Jside.') These 
 fellows are as stupid as cattle, they don't seem to grasp my 
 meaning. 
 
 First Lawyer {aside'). I perceive, monfrere., that this fel- 
 low wants to be oiled; we must slip a gulden into his fist, 
 and then the burgomaster will come fast enough. Listen, 
 my friend! You will not refuse a couple of gulden to drink 
 our healths with? 
 
 Henrich. Oh, no, my dear sirs, I never take anything as 
 a present. 
 
 First Lawyer. What shall we do, then, mon frere? Evi- 
 dently we must go away until another day. 
 
 Henrich (beckons to them\ Hey, gentlemen! you are in 
 too much of a hurry. For your sake I will accept the two 
 
ACT FIFTH 99 
 
 guldens; otherwise you might think that I was proud and 
 our house would be ill spoken of in consequence. 
 
 First Lawyer. Here, comrade ! Here are two guldens, if 
 you will accept them; now be good enough to obtain us 
 an audience. 
 
 Henrich. Your most humble servant. For your sake I 
 shall do all I can. The burgomaster is really as sound as 
 a horse, but still he is not well enough to talk with every 
 one. But seeing that it is you, gentlemen, it is another 
 story. If you will be so good as to wait a moment, gen- 
 tlemen, I will announce you. But there's some one else 
 knocking. Whom do you want to see, my good man.' 
 Enter a Man. 
 
 Man {feeling in his breeches pocket). I should like to have 
 the honor of talking with the burgomaster. 
 
 Henrich (aside). This man knows the ropes: he goes 
 right for his pocket. [Aloudi) Yes, sir, he is at home. You 
 may speak to him immediately. 
 
 (Henrich reaches out his hand., but the other instead of money 
 merely pulls out his watch.\ 
 
 Man. I see it is already four o'clock. 
 
 Henrich. Who was it you wished to see.? 
 
 Man. The burgomaster. 
 
 Henrich. He is not at home, sir. 
 
 Man. You just said that he was at home. 
 
 Henrich. Perhaps I did, sir, but if I did, I made a mis- 
 take. (^Exit Man. Henrich goes on, aside.) Look at that 
 sharper ! Now you shall see if the burgomaster is at your 
 beck and call! (To the lawyers.) I shall announce you im- 
 mediately. \_Exit. 
 
 First Lawyer. Just see how that rascal knows how to fit 
 
loo THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 into his place already. Keep good countenance, mon frere, 
 it is we who shall start the plaguing of the good tinker. 
 Our comrades will complete the tale. But here he comes. 
 
 Scene 2 
 Enter Herman and Henrich. 
 First Lawyer. From the bottom of our hearts we wish the 
 honorable Burgomaster the greatest success in his high 
 position in our city, and hope that in gentleness, foresight, 
 and vigilance he may not fall behind his predecessors, 
 inasmuch as his Excellency has made his way to this high 
 office not through wealth, family, or friends, but purely by 
 reason of his well-known great virtues, learning, and expe- 
 rience in affairs of state. 
 
 Herman. Trh humble servitoor! 
 
 Second Lawyer. Especially do we rejoice that we have 
 now an administration endowed not only with almost god- 
 like understanding — 
 
 Herman. I thank God — 
 
 Second Lawyer. — but one who has the reputation of 
 being friendly to all and of making it his greatest delight 
 to hear the people's grievances and to help to right them. 
 I may say that I almost fainted with joy when I first 
 heard the news that the choice had fallen on Burgomaster 
 von Bremen. 
 
 Henrich. You. must say " Bremenfeld," gentlemen. 
 
 Second Lawyer. I humbly beg your pardon : I should say, 
 "Burgomaster von Bremenfeld." To-day we have come 
 here, in the first place to extend our respectful congratu- 
 lations; in the second place to consult your Magnificence 
 on a difference that has arisen between our clients, which 
 
ACT FIFTH lor 
 
 difFerence we had both agreed to have judged according 
 to the common law of the land and the statutes. But we 
 subsequently changed our mind and decided, in order to 
 save time and costs, to submit ourselves to your judgment, 
 and we promise to abide by that. 
 {^Herman sits down, leaving the others standing.") 
 
 First Lawyer. Our clients are neighbors, but there is 
 running water separating their land. Now it happened that 
 three years ago the water loosened a large piece of earth 
 from my client's estate and deposited it on my opponent's 
 field. Shall he now own it? Is it not stated: Nemo alte- 
 rius damno debet locufletari? Here his client wishes to en- 
 rich himself at my client's expense, which aperte conflicts 
 with aequitatem naturalem. Is that not so, Mr. Burgomaster.? 
 
 Herman. Of course; it is unjust to ask that. You are 
 right, monsieur! 
 
 Second Lawyer. But does not Justinian say expressly, libro 
 secundo Institutionum, titulo primo, de Alluvione. . . . 
 
 Herman. What the deuce do I care for what Justinian 
 or Alexander the Great says .? They lived a few thousand 
 years, perhaps, before Hamburg was founded. How can 
 they decide in cases which did n't exist in their time? 
 
 Second Lawyer. I hope, however, that your Honor is not 
 going to reject the laws that all Germany has submitted to. 
 
 Herman. That was not the way I meant it; you mis- 
 understood me, I only meant to say — {He has a coughing 
 fit.) Kindly continue your case. 
 
 Second Lawyer. There are the words of Justinian : ^od 
 per alluvionem agro tuo flumen adjecit^jure gentium tibi ac- 
 quiritur. 
 
 Herman. Mr. Lawyer, you speak so devilish fast — say 
 that over, more distinctly. {The lawyer repeats the Latin 
 
102 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 slowly.) Monsieur, you have a devilish bad Latin pronun- 
 ciation. Speak your mother-tongue, and you will do bet- 
 ter. I don't say this because I have any prejudice against 
 Latin, for I sometimes sit and talk Latin with my servant 
 for hours at a time. Is n't that so, Henrich? 
 
 Henrich. It is wonderful to hear his Honor talk Latin ; 
 I swear the tears come into my eyes when I think of it. 
 It is like listening to peas boiling in a pot, the words come 
 so quickly from his mouth. The devil himself does n't know 
 how a man can manage to talk so fluently. But what won't 
 long practice do for you? 
 
 Second Lawyer. Justinian's words, your Magnificence, 
 are as follows : Whatsoever a river wears off another's field 
 and casts up on yours, that belongs to you. 
 
 Herman. Yes, Justinian is right so far, for he was a fine 
 man. I have much too much respect for him to question 
 his decision. 
 
 First Lawyer. But, your Honor, my opponent interprets 
 law as the devil does the Bible. He forgets what follows 
 right after: Per alluvionem autem videtur id adjici, quod ita 
 paulatim adjicitur, ut intellegere non possis, quantum quoquo 
 temporis momento adjiciatur. 
 
 Herman. Messieurs ! I must go to the City Hall. The 
 clock has just struck half-past four. Henrich ! See to it that 
 you adjust this suit in the entry. 
 
 First Lawyer. Ah, your Honor ! Give us your opinion in 
 a word. 
 
 Herman. Messieurs, you are both right, each one in his 
 own way. 
 
 Second Lawyer. How can we both be right ? I maintain 
 that if I am right, my antagonist is wrong. The law of 
 Justinian is expressly in my favor. 
 
ACT FIFTH 103 
 
 Herman. Excuse me, I must be off to the City Hall 
 immediately. 
 
 First Lawyer {seizing hold of him). I have certainly proved 
 that Justinian's opinion is on my side. 
 
 Herman. Yes, that is so. Justinian is for both of you. 
 Why the devil, then, don't you compromise? You don't 
 know Justinian as well as I do; when he wears the man- 
 tle on both shoulders, it is as much as to say: Get out, 
 you scurvy-necks, and compromise! 
 
 Second Lawyer. Your Honor, in order to grasp the ju- 
 rist's meaning correctly, one must compare one article 
 with another. Is it not written in the very next paragraph : 
 ^uodsi vis Jluminis de tuo praedio — ? 
 
 Herman. Here, let me go, you pettifoggers ! Don't you 
 hear me say I must go to the City Hall? 
 
 First Lavoyer. Oh, your Honor! A moment! Let us now 
 hear what Hugo Grotius says. 
 
 Herman. To the devil with both you and Hugo Gro- 
 tius! What have I to do with Hugo Grotius? He was an 
 Arminian. What in the devil have laws to do with us 
 that people make way ofFin Armenia ? Henrich, put them 
 straight out the door. \_Exeunt Lawyers. 
 
 Scene 3 
 
 Henrich remains in the entry squabbling with some one, then 
 shoots in head first.^ followed by a man dressed up as a woman. 
 JVoman (taking the Burgomaster by the lapels of his coat., 
 and screaming). Oh, what kind of a government is this 
 that passes such damnable laws that a man may have two 
 wives ? Do you think that the judgment of God is n't on 
 you? 
 
104 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Herman. Are you mad, woman ? Who the devil ever 
 thought of such a thing ? 
 
 Woman. Hey, hey, hey! I shall not go away until I have 
 your heart's blood! 
 
 Herman. A ah, help I Henrich ! Peiter ! 
 
 {Enter Peiter. He drags the woman off. Henrich., who has 
 been hidings finally comes on and helps him out. Exeunt strug- 
 gling-) 
 
 Scene 4 
 
 Herman. Henrich, there will be trouble for you if you let 
 in any more women or lawyers after this, for both of them 
 kill me in their own way. If any others come and want to 
 talk to me, you must tell them to be careful not to talk 
 Latin, as I have given it up for a special reason. 
 
 Henrich. I havegiven it up,too,for just the same reason. 
 
 Herman. You can say that I talk only Greek. 
 (Another knock. Henrich goes to the door and returns with 
 a huge bundle of papers.) 
 
 Henrich. Here is a heap of papers from the syndics, 
 which the burgomaster must look over and give his opin- 
 ion on. 
 (Herman sits down at a table and fumbles among the papers.) 
 
 Herman. It is n't so easy to be a burgomaster as I thought, 
 Henrich. I 've got some things here to look over that the 
 devil himself could n't make sense of. {Begins to write, gets 
 up, wipes the sweat from his brow, sits down, and scratches out 
 what he wrote before.) Henrich ! 
 
 Henrich. Mr. Burgomaster! 
 
 Herman. What 's that noise you are making? Can't you 
 keep quiet.? 
 
 Henrich. I 'm not moving, Mr. Burgomaster. 
 
ACT FIFTH 105 
 
 Hermani^gets up,wipeshis face, and throws his wig upon the 
 floor, to see if he can think better with his head bare. He steps 
 over the wig, kicks it to one side, sits down to write again, and 
 calls out). Henrich! 
 
 Henrich. Mr. Burgomaster! 
 
 Herman. You '11 get into trouble if you don't stand still. 
 That 's the second time you have interrupted my train of 
 thought. 
 
 Henrich. Honestly I did n't do anything but tuck my 
 shirt in and measure on my leg how much too long my 
 livery coat is. 
 
 Herman {gets up again and pummels his forehead with his 
 fists to make the thoughts come). Henrich! 
 
 Henrich. Mr. Burgomaster! 
 
 Herman. Go out and tell the women that are hawking 
 oysters on the street that they must n't yell in the street I 
 live in, because they disturb my political deliberations. 
 
 Henrich (calls from the doorway, three times in succession). 
 Listen, you oyster-women ! You rabble ! You carrion ! You 
 shameless wenches ! You married men's whores ! Is there 
 no decency in you, that you dare to yell like that in the 
 burgomaster's street and disturb him in his business? 
 
 Herman. Henrich! 
 
 Henrich. Mr. Burgomaster! 
 
 Herman. Shut up, you brute ! 
 
 Henrich. It does no good, anyhow, to shout any more, 
 because the town is full of people like that, and as soon 
 as one goes by another comes in his place and — 
 
 Herman. No more talk. Stand still and keep your mouth 
 shut. (Sits down, and again scratches out what he has writ- 
 ten; writes more, gets up, stamps in anger, and calls.) Hen- 
 rich! 
 
io6 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Henrich. Mr. Burgomaster! 
 
 Herman. I wish the devil would run off with this burgo- 
 mastership. Do you want to be burgomaster in my place ? 
 
 Henrich. I 'd rather be damned. [Aside.) And any one who 
 would want the office deserves to be damned. 
 
 Herman (tries to sit down and go on writings but he ab- 
 sent-mindedly picks the wrong place and lands on the floor). 
 Henrich! 
 
 Henrich. Mr. Burgomaster! 
 
 Herman. I 'm lying on the floor. 
 
 Henrich. So I see. 
 
 Herman. Come help me up. 
 
 Henrich. But the burgomaster has just said I must n't 
 move from where I stand. 
 
 Herman. That boy is damnable. (Gets up unassisted.) 
 Is n't some one knocking ? 
 
 Henrich. Yes. [Goes to the door.) Whom do you want? 
 
 Citizen {off stage). I am the alderman of the hatters' 
 guild, and I have a complaint to make to the burgomaster. 
 
 Henrich. Here 's the alderman of the hatters with some 
 grievances. 
 
 Herman. Oh, I can't keep more than one thing in my 
 head at a time. Ask him what it is. 
 (Henrich asks what he wants.) 
 
 Citizen. It 's too long. I must speak to the burgomaster 
 in person. It can be attended to in an hour, for my com- 
 plaint consists of only twenty points. 
 
 Henrich. He says he must talk to the burgomaster in 
 person, for his point consists of only twenty complaints. 
 
 Herman. Oh, God help me, poor man, I am all jum- 
 bled up in my head already. Let him in. 
 
ACT FIFTH 107 
 
 Scene 5 
 Enter the Citizen. 
 Citizen. Ah, honored Burgomaster, poor man that I am, I 
 have suffered great injustice, which the burgomaster will 
 at once understand when he has heard about it. 
 Herman. You must put it in writing. 
 Citizen. Here it is, all written out, in four sheets. 
 Herman. Henrich! Some one is knocking again. 
 Henrich. Whom do you want to talk to? 
 Another Citizen (off stage'). I have a complaint to lodge 
 before the burgomaster against the alderman of the hatters' 
 guild. 
 
 Herman. Who is that, Henrich ? 
 Henrich. It is this man's adversary. 
 Herman. Make him hand you his memorial. Both you 
 good men wait in the anteroom meanwhile. 
 
 \_Exit the Citizen. 
 
 Scene 6 
 
 Herman. Henrich! 
 Henrich. Yes, sir! 
 
 Herman. Can't you help me put this to rights .? I don't 
 know what to do first. Read aloud that hatter's statement. 
 
 Henrich (^falteringly reads). "Noble, learned, stern, and 
 steadfast Burgomaster. As the first-fruits of the worthy 
 company of lawful citizens of this glorious city, I the 
 undersigned, N. N., present myself, unworthy Alderman 
 of the worthy Hatters' Guild ; and after having extended 
 congratulations both respectful and hearty on beholding 
 a man so worthy and highly raised on high to so high a 
 height, in deepest humility submit for your consideration 
 
io8 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 one of the greatest,most dangerous, and abominable abuses 
 which wicked times and still more wicked men have 
 brought into practice in this city, in hope that your Mag- 
 nificence will afford a remedy. This, then, is the case : The 
 hucksters here in the city, utterly without fear or shame, 
 openly sell and offer for sale whole pieces of a sort of cloth 
 which they cause to be woven of beaver — indeed they even 
 descend to the dismal audacity of having stockings made 
 of it — though it is well known that beaver-hair belongs 
 exclusively to our profession, whereby we poor hatters are 
 unable at any price to obtain the hair necessary for the 
 pursuit of our means of subsistence, especially as good 
 people have got into such a way that few will pay, as they 
 used to do, from ten to twenty rix-dollars for a hat, to the 
 irreparable damage of the reputation and profit of our trade. 
 If it might now please his Magnificence the Burgomas- 
 ter to consider the appended twenty-four weighty causes 
 and reasons which have led us hat-makers presumably to 
 presumethat we alone are entitled towork in beaver,towit: 
 (i) that since ancient times it has been a universal usage 
 and custom of the country, not only this country but over 
 the whole world, to wear beaver hats, as can be proved by 
 manifold citations from history and by legally sworn wit- 
 nesses. (<?) As to history — " 
 
 Herman. Skip the history. 
 
 Henrich.'-'-ib') As to witnesses, Adrian Nilsen,in the sev- 
 enty-ninth year of his age, can remember that his father's 
 great-grandfather said — " 
 
 Herman. Skip what he said, too. 
 
 Henrich. " (2) That it is an immoderate luxury to use 
 such expensive hair for stockings and clothes, a practice 
 at variance with all good order and usage, especially since 
 
ACT FIFTH 109 
 
 there are so many expensive cloths imported from Eng- 
 land, France, and Holland that one might well be satisfied 
 without depriving an honest man of his living — " 
 
 Herman. Enough, enough ! Henrich ! I see that the mas- 
 ter is right. 
 
 Henrich. But I have heard that an official ought always 
 to hear both sides before he makes his decision. Shall I not 
 read the opponents' retort also? 
 
 Herman. To be sure. [He hands him the other memorial^ 
 
 Henrich (reads). " High-born Excellency, highly enlight- 
 ened and highly statesmanlike Burgomaster. As high as 
 your understanding soars above others', so high soared my 
 joy above others' when I heard that you had become bur- 
 gomaster; but what I have come for is because the hatters 
 are annoying me and do not want to let me sell fabrics and 
 stockings made of beaver. I understand well enough what 
 they want: they want to have the business in beaver all to 
 themselves and have beaver used for nothing but hats ; but 
 they do not understand the situation. It is idiotic to wear 
 beaver hats: men go about with them under their arms, 
 they are neither warm nor useful, and a straw hat would 
 do just as well. On the other hand, beaver stockings and 
 clothing are both warm and soft, and if the burgomaster 
 had only tried them, as he may in time, he would see for 
 himself." 
 
 Herman. Stop, that is enough; this man is right, too. 
 
 Henrich. But I am sure they can't both be right. 
 
 Herman. Which is right, then ? 
 
 Henrich. That our Lord and the burgomaster must know. 
 
 Herman [gets up and walks to and fro). This is devilish 
 nonsense, Henrich! Can't you tell me, you stupid ani- 
 mal, who is right ? Why should I give a dog like you board 
 
no THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 and wages? (A racket outside^ What's the noise in the 
 hall? 
 
 Henrich. The two citizens have each other by the hair. 
 
 Herman. Go out and bid them respect the burgomas- 
 ter's house. 
 
 Henrich. It is better, sir, to let them fight, so they may 
 perhaps become good friends again all the sooner. Gra- 
 cious! I think they will break in; listen how they are beat- 
 ing on the door! (Herman crawls under the table.\ Who 
 knocks ? 
 
 A Lackey (outside). I have come from a foreign resi- 
 dent. My master has something to discuss with the burgo- 
 master which is most important. 
 
 Henrich. Where the deuce is the burgomaster ? Has the 
 devil flown off with the burgomaster? Mr. Burgomaster! 
 
 Herman (under the tahle^whispering). Henrich I Who was 
 that ? 
 
 Henrich. A foreign president wants to talk with your 
 Honor. 
 
 Herman. Tell him to come again in half an hour, and 
 say that there are two hat-makers here to see me whom I 
 must despatch. Henrich ! Ask the citizens to go away till 
 to-morrow. Oh, God help me, poor man! I am so jumbled 
 up in my head that I don't know myself what I am say- 
 ing or doing. Can't you help me to get it straightened out, 
 Henrich ? 
 
 Henrich (returning from the door). I know no better ad- 
 vice for his Honor than to go and hang himself. 
 
 Herman. Go and get me The Political Stockfish. It is 
 lying on the sitting-room table — a German book in a white 
 binding. Perhaps I can find in it how I should receive for- 
 eign presidents. 
 
ACT FIFTH III 
 
 Henrich. Does the burgomaster want mustard and but- 
 ter with it? 
 
 Herman. No, it is a book in a white binding. 
 (^Exit Henrich. While he is gone Herman absent-mindedly 
 tears the hatters' document to pieces. Reenter Henrich with 
 the booi.) 
 
 Henrich. Here is the book. But what is it, sir, that you 
 are tearing up ? I believe it 's the master hatters' complaint. 
 
 Herman. Oh, I did that without thinking. {^He takes the 
 book and throws it on the floor.') I believe, Henrich, I had 
 better take your advice and hang myself. 
 
 Henrich. Oh, Lord ! Another knock ! (Exit. Reenter in 
 tears.") Oh, Mr. Burgomaster! Help, Mr. Burgomaster! 
 
 Herman. What's upi" 
 
 Henrich. There is a whole regiment of sailors in front of 
 the door yelling, "If we don't get justice, we shall smash 
 all the burgomaster's windows in." One of them hit me in 
 the back with a stone. Oh, oh, oh ! 
 
 Herman (crawls under the table again). Henrich, ask 
 Madam Burgomaster to come hold them in check. They 
 may show respect for a woman. 
 
 Henrich. Yes, yes, you shall see how much respect sail- 
 ors have for a woman. If she goes out there, they may 
 rape her, and then you would be worse off in the end than 
 you were in the beginning. 
 
 Herman. Oh, but she is an old woman. 
 
 Henrich. Sailors are n't so particular. I should n't risk 
 my wife like that. They are knocking again. Shall I open 
 the door? 
 
 Herman. No, I'm afraid it's the sailors. Oh, I wish I 
 were in my grave. Henrich, run to the door and listen to 
 see who it is. 
 
112 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Henrich. Look, they are coming right in. It is two coun- 
 cillors. 
 
 Scene 7 
 Enter Abrahams and Sanderus. 
 Abrahams. Is n't the burgomaster at home? 
 
 Henrich. Yes, he's sitting under the table. Mr. Burgo- 
 master ! 
 
 Sanderus. What.? Are you sitting under the table, your 
 Honor i" 
 
 Herman. Oh, good sirs, I never asked to be made bur- 
 gomaster. Why have you got me into all this trouble 1 
 
 Abrahams. You certainly accepted it at one time. Do 
 come out, your Honor! We have come to point out the 
 great wrong you did the foreign minister when you dis- 
 missed him so haughtily — because of which the city may 
 get into difficulties. We thought that the burgomaster 
 understood yus publicum and ceremony better than that. 
 
 Herman. Oh, good gentlemen, you can depose me, and 
 then I shall be relieved of a burden I am too weak to bear, 
 and the foreign minister will get satisfaction at the same 
 time. 
 
 Sanderus. Far be it from us, your Honor, to depose you ! 
 You must come with us straight to the City Hall to consider 
 with the syndics how the error can be remedied. 
 
 Herman. I won't go to the City Hall, even if I 'm 
 dragged by the hair. I don't want to be burgomaster, I never 
 did want to be burgomaster, and I 'd rather you killed me. I 
 am a tinker, before God and honor, and a tinker I shall die. 
 
 Sanderus. Will you make fools of the entire council .? 
 Listen, colleague, did he not accept the office of burgo- 
 master.? 
 
ACT FIFTH 113 
 
 Abrahams. Certainly, and it is a fact which we have 
 already reported to the council. 
 
 Sanderus. We must consider the matter. The whole 
 Senate is not going to allow itself to be made game of in this 
 way. \_Exeunt Abrahams and Sanderus. 
 
 Scene 8 
 
 Herman. Henrich ! {He comes out from under the table.) 
 
 Henrich. Mr. Burgomaster! 
 
 Herman. What do you think these councillors are going 
 to do to me? 
 
 Henrich. I don't know; they were very angry, I could 
 see. I am surprised that they dared use such language 
 in the burgomaster's own room. If I had been burgomas- 
 ter, I should have come right out and said to them: "Shut 
 up, you scurvy-necks! Stick your fingers on the floor and 
 smell whose house you are in ! " 
 
 Herman. I wish you were burgomaster, Henrich! I 
 wish you were burgomaster! Oh — oh — oh! 
 
 Henrich. If I might interrupt your business, sir, I should 
 Hke to make one humble request, and that is that hence- 
 forth I might be called "von Henrich." 
 
 Herman. You shameless rogue ! Is this the time to come' 
 to me with such talk, now, when you see that I am caught 
 in a net of nothing but misfortunes and troublesome busi- 
 ness ! 
 
 Henrich. On my word, I don't ask out of ambition, but 
 only to command a little respect in the house from my fel- 
 low servants, especially from Anneke, who — 
 
 Herman. If you don't shut up, I '11 break your neck into 
 little pieces! Henrich! 
 
114 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Henrich. Mr. Burgomaster! 
 
 Herman. Can't you help me get this straightened out, 
 you stupid dog ? Look here, if you don't clear up my affairs 
 for me, there '11 be trouble. 
 
 Henrich. It 's a wonder that you should ask such a thing 
 of me, you who are such a clever man, and have been 
 called to this high station solely on account of your wisdom. 
 
 Herman. Are you going to make fun of me into the bar- 
 gain ? (^He picks up a chair and makes as if to hit him. Henrich 
 runs out.) 
 
 Scene 9 
 
 Herman (sits down with his head in his hands and ponders 
 a long time. Then he jumps up., startled\. Did n't some one 
 knock? (Goes softly to the door., but sees no one. He sits down 
 again., and ponders ; falls to weeping., and dries his eyes with 
 papers; he jumps up again and yells as if he were in a frenzy^ 
 A whole pack of papers from the syndics ! The alderman 
 of the hatters! The alderman's opponent! Complaint in 
 twenty headings ! Riot of sailors ! A foreign president ! Im- 
 peachment by the council ! Threats ! Is n't there a rope 
 here at hand.? Yes, I think there really is — there's one 
 behind the stove. (Takes the rope and prepares a noose.") It 
 was predicted of me, that I should be elevated by my politi- 
 \ cal studies. The prophecy will come true, if only the rope 
 holds. Let the council come, then, with all their threats, 
 I scoff at them, once I am dead. But there is one thing I 
 could wish for — to see the author of The Political Stockfish 
 hanged by my side with sixteen copies of The Council of 
 
 \ State a.nd Political Dessert hung round his neck. (Takes the 
 
 book from the table and tears it apart.) You brute ! You shall 
 never mislead another honest tinker. So, that 's the last bit 
 
ACT FIFTH 115 
 
 of comfort before I die! Now I must look for a hook to 
 hang myself from. It will be especially noteworthy to have 
 it said after my death: "What burgomaster in Hamburg 
 was ever more vigilant than Herman von Bremenfeld, who 
 in his whole term of office never slept a wink ? " 
 
 Scene 10 
 
 Herman climbs up on a chair ^ where he remains all through 
 
 the scene. Enter Antonius. 
 
 Antonius. Here, here! What the devil are you doing? 
 
 Herman. I have no intention of doing anything ; on 
 the contrary, I am about to hang myself to avoid every- 
 thing. If you will keep me company, it will be a pleasure 
 to me. 
 
 Antonius. Indeed I will not; but what brings you to such 
 a desperate intention ? 
 
 Herman. Listen, Antonius! it won't do any good to dis- 
 cuss it. I am to be hanged ; if it does n't happen to-day, 
 it will happen to-morrow. I only beg, before I die, that 
 you will pay my respects to Madam Burgomaster and the 
 young lady, and instruct them to give me the following 
 epitaph : 
 
 Traveller, stand and heed! 
 
 Here hangs 
 
 Burgomaster von Bremenfeld, 
 
 Who in his whole term of office 
 
 Spent not a minute in sleep: 
 
 Go forth and do likewise. 
 
 You may not know, dear Antonius, that I have been made 
 burgomaster, t.hat I have attained a position in which I don't 
 know black from white, and where I find myself utterly 
 
ii6 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 incompetent; for I have observed, from the various trib- 
 ulations which I have already met, that there is a great, 
 difference between being the government and criticising 
 the government. 
 
 Antonius. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Herman. Don't laugh at me, Antonius ! It is a sin to do it. 
 
 Antonius. Ha, ha, ha! Now I see how it all works out. 
 I was at the inn just now, and I heard people there burst- 
 ing with laughter over a joke which had been played on 
 Herman von Bremen, who had been made to believe by 
 some young men that he had been elected burgomaster, 
 to see how he would act. That pained me through and 
 through and I came straight here, to warn you. 
 
 Herman. Ah, then I 'm not a burgomaster at all? 
 
 Antonius. No; the story was made out of whole cloth, 
 to show you the foolishness of arguing about high subjects 
 that you don't understand. 
 
 Herman. Then it's not true about the foreign president? 
 
 Antonius. Certainly not. 
 
 Herman. Or the master hatter either? 
 
 Antonius. All fabricated. 
 
 Herman. Nor the sailors ? 
 
 Antonius. No, no. 
 
 Herman. To the devil with hanging, then ! Geske! En- 
 gelke! Peiter! Henrich! Come here, all of you! 
 
 Scene i i 
 Enter Geske., Engelke., Peiter., Henrich. 
 Herman. My dear wife! Go back to work; our burgomas- 
 ter business is all over. 
 Geske. Over? 
 
ACT FIFTH 117 
 
 Herman. Yes, yes, all over! Some rascals got together 
 and planned a joke on us. 
 
 Geske.]oke on us ! There'll be trouble for whoever played 
 a joke on us, and for you, too. {She boxes his ear, and he 
 thrashes her.) Oh, my dear husband, don't beat me any 
 more. Oh, dear husband, do stop! 
 
 Herman. You shall find out, woman, that I 'm not a poli- 
 tician any longer, and so I don't count twenty any more 
 when I get a box on the ear. I expect to lead a different life 
 from now on, to throw my books into the fire, and pay no 
 attention to anything except my craft. I warn you, too,once 
 for all, that if I see any of you reading a book on politics or 
 bringing one into my house, there will be the devil to pay. 
 
 Better. As far as I 'm concerned, I am in no danger of 
 that, Mr. Burgomaster, for I can neither read nor write. 
 
 Herman. Leave off the "burgo"and call me plain "mas- 
 ter" as you used to, for I am a tinker, and a tinker I w^ill 
 die. Listen, Mr. Antonius! I know you have a feeling for 
 my daughter. My past vagaries stood in the way of your 
 happiness, but now you have the consent of both father 
 and mother, so if you are still of the same mind and will, 
 all the obstacles are cleared away. 
 
 Antonius. Yes, indeed, I have the same intentions, and 
 I ask that she may be my wife. 
 
 Herman. Do you, too, give your leave, Geske? 
 
 Henrich. There 's no need to ask that — Madam Burgo- 
 master has always been for that match. 
 
 Geske. Shut up, you fool ! I can answer for myself. My 
 dear husband, I consented three years ago. 
 
 Herman. I shan't ask you, Engelke; I know you are as 
 much in love with him as a rat with cheese; is n't it so.' 
 
 Henrich. Answer, Mamsell Engelke! 
 
ii8 THE POLITICAL TINKER 
 
 Herman. If I were sure that you used that title out of 
 malice, it would go hard with you. 
 
 Henrich. No, indeed, I did n't, master, but it 's hard to 
 get things straight again so quickly. 
 
 Herman. Take hands, you two. So, that 's the way. To- 
 morrow we shall have a wedding. Henrich! 
 
 Henrich. Mr. Burgomaster — Beg your pardon, I mean 
 master ! 
 
 Herman. Burn up all my political books, for I can't have 
 them before my eyes any more, after the foolish ideas they 
 put into my head. (To the audience. \ 
 
 To take the leading statesman's part 
 
 Is harder far than sneering. 
 
 For squinting at a seaman's chart 
 
 Is not the whole of steering: 
 
 With books on politics at hand 
 
 A dolt may criticise, 
 
 But judging right our fatherland 
 
 Is only for the wise. 
 
 All craftsmen who have seen my fate. 
 
 Pray, profit by its ending: 
 
 Though all 's not sound within the state. 
 
 That 's not our kind of mending. 
 
 And when we drop our humble tools 
 
 And set us up as thinkers. 
 
 We look the sorry lot of fools 
 
 That statesmen would as tinkers. 
 
ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 OR 
 
 RASMUS BERG 
 
 A COMEDY IN FIVE ACTS 
 
 1731 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 Jeppe Berg, a well-to-do peasant. 
 
 NiLLE, hh wife. 
 
 Rasmus Berg, called Erasmus Montanus, their elder son, 
 a student at the University. 
 
 Jacob, the younger son. 
 
 Jeronimus, a wealthy freeholder. 
 
 Magdelone, his wife. 
 
 LiSBED, their daughter, betrothed to Rasmus. 
 
 Peer, the deacon. 
 
 Jesper, the bailiff. 
 
 A Lieutenant. 
 
 Niels, the corporal. 
 
 ACTS I, IV. AND V 
 Scene: A village street, showing feppe's house. 
 
 ACTS II AND III 
 A room in feppe's house. 
 
ACT I 
 
 Scene i 
 
 A village street showing "Jeppe's house. "Jeppe^ with a letter tn 
 his hand. 
 
 yeppe. It is a shame that the deacon is not in town, for 
 there's so much Latin in my son's letter that I can't under- 
 stand. Tears come to my eyes when I think that a poor 
 peasant's son has got so much book-learning, especially as 
 we are n't tenants of the university. I have heard from 
 people who know about learning that he can dispute with 
 any clergyman alive. Oh, if only my wife and I could 
 have the joy of hearing him preach on the hill, before we 
 die, we should n't grudge all the money we have spent on 
 him! I can see that Peer the deacon doesn't much relish 
 the idea of my son's coming. I believe that he is afraid of 
 Rasmus Berg. It is a terrible thing about these scholarly 
 people. They are so jealous of each other, and no one of 
 them can endure the thought that another is as learned as 
 he. The good man preaches fine sermons here in the village 
 and can talk about envy so that the tears come to my eyes ; 
 but it seems to me that he isn't entirely free from that fault 
 himself. I can't understand why it should be so. If any one 
 said that a neighborof mine understood farming better than 
 I, should I take that to heart ? Should I hate my neighbor 
 for that? No, indeed, Jeppe Berg would never do such a 
 thing. But if here is n't Peer the deacon ! 
 
 Scene 2 
 Enter Peer the Deacon. 
 Jeppe. Welcome home again, Peer. 
 
122 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 Peer. Thank you, Jeppe Berg. 
 
 feppe. Oh, my dear Peer, I wish you could explain to 
 me some Latin in my son's last letter. 
 
 Peer. That 's nothing! Do you think I don't understand 
 Latin as well as your son? I am an old jicademicus, I'd 
 have you know, Jeppe Berg. 
 
 'Jeppe. I know it, — I just wondered if you understood 
 the new Latin, for that language must change, just as the 
 language of Sjaelland has done. In my youth the people 
 here on the hill didn't talk the way they do now; what they 
 now call a "lackey" used to be called a "boy;" what they 
 now call a '■'■mysterious" used to be called a " whore;" a 
 "mademoiselle," a "house-maid;" a "musician," a "fid- 
 dler;" and a "secretary," a "clerk." So I suppose Latin 
 may have changed, too, since you were in Copenhagen. 
 Will you please explain that ? {Pointing to a line in the letter^ 
 I can read the letters, but I don't get the meaning. 
 
 Peer. Your son writes that he is now studying his Logi- 
 cam^ Rhetoricam^ and Metaphysicam. 
 
 Jeppe. What does Logicam mean ? 
 
 Peer. That 's his pulpit. 
 
 Jeppe. I'm glad of that. I wish he could become a pastor! 
 
 Peer. But a deacon first. 
 
 Jeppe. What is the second subject ? 
 
 Peer. That is Rhetorica, which in Danish means the 
 Ritual. The third subject must be written wrong, or else it 
 must be in French, because if it were Latin, I could read it 
 easily. I am able, Jeppe Berg, to recite the whole Aurora : 
 a/fl, that 's a wing; ancilla, a girl; barba, a beard; coena, a 
 chamber-pot; cerevisia, ale; campana, a bell; cella, a cellar; 
 lagena, a bottle; lana, a wolf; ancilla, a girl; janua, a door; 
 cerevisia, butter; — 
 
ACT FIRST 123 
 
 "Jeppe. You must have the devil's own memory, Peer! 
 
 Peer. Yes, I never thought I should have to stay in a 
 poverty-stricken deacon's-living so long. I could have been 
 something else years ago, if I had been willing to tie my- 
 self to a girl. But I prefer to help myself rather than have 
 people say of me that I got a living through my wife. 
 
 "Jeppe. But, my dear Peer, here is more Latin that I can't 
 understand. Look at this line. 
 
 Peer. Die Veneris Hafnia domum profecturus sum. That's 
 rather high-flown, but I understand it perfectly, though any 
 other man might cudgel his brains over it. That means in 
 Danish: There is come profecto a lot of Russes to Copen- 
 hagen. 
 
 Jeppe. What are the Russians doing here again? 
 
 Peer. These aren't Muscovites, Jeppe Berg, but young 
 students, who are called "Russes." 
 
 Jeppe. Oh, I see. I suppose there is a great celebration 
 on the days when the boys get their salt and bread and be- 
 come students. 
 
 Peer. When do you expect him home? 
 
 Jeppe. To-day or to-morrow. Wait a bit, my dear Peer; 
 I will run and tell Nille to bring us out a drink of ale. 
 
 Peer. I'd rather have a glass of brandy — it's early in the 
 day to drink ale. \_Exit Jeppe into house. 
 
 Scene 3 
 
 Peer. To tell the truth, I am not very anxious to have 
 Rasmus Berg come home. Not that I am afraid of his learn- 
 ing, for I was an old student when he was still at school, 
 getting beatings — saving your presence — on his rump. 
 They were different fellows who graduated in my time 
 
124 ERASMUS MONT ANUS 
 
 from what they are now. I graduated from Slagelse School 
 with Peer Monsen, Rasmus Jespersen, Christen Klim, 
 Mads Hansen, — whom we used to call Mads Pancake 
 in school, — Poul Iversen, — whom we called Poul Barly- 
 corn, — all boys with bone in their skulls and beards on 
 their chins, able to argue on any subject that might come 
 up. I 'm only a deacon, but I 'm content so long as I get my 
 daily bread and understand my office. I have made the in- 
 come a deal bigger, and get more than any of my predeces- 
 sors did; so my successors won't curse me in my grave. 
 People think that there are no fine points for a deacon to 
 know, but I can tell you a deacon's position is a hard one if 
 you want to keep it on such a footing that it will support 
 a man. Before my time people here in the village thought 
 one funeral-song as good as another, but I have arranged 
 things so that I can say to a peasant, " Which hymn will 
 you have? This one costs so much and this one so much;" 
 and when it comes to scattering earth on the body, " Will 
 you have fine sand or just common or garden dirt?" Then 
 there are various other touches that my predecessor, Dea- 
 con ChristofFer, had no idea of; but he was uneducated. 
 I can 't understand how the fellow ever came to be a dea- 
 con; yet deacon he was, all the same. I tell you, Latin helps 
 a man a great deal in every sort of business. I wouldn't 
 give up the Latin I know for a hundred rix-dollars. It has 
 been worth more than a hundred rix-dollars to me in my 
 business ; yes, that and a hundred more. 
 
 Scene 4 
 Enter Nille and "Jeppe. 
 Nille {offering the deacon a glass of brandy). Your health. 
 Peer! 
 
ACT FIRST 125 
 
 Peer. Thank you, mother. I never drink brandy unless 
 I have a stomach-ache, but I have a bad stomach most of 
 the time. 
 
 Nille. Do you know, Peer, my son is coming home to- 
 day or to-morrow! You'll find him a man you can talk to, 
 for the boy's not tongue-tied, from all I hear. 
 
 Peer. Yes, I suppose he can talk a lot of Cloister-Latin. 
 
 Nille. Cloister-Latin ? That must be the best Latin, just 
 as cloister-linen is the best linen. 
 
 Peer. Ha, ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Jeppe. What are you laughing at. Peer? 
 
 Peer. At nothing at all, Jeppe Berg. Just another drop ! 
 Your health, mother ! It 's true, as you say : cloister-linen 
 is good linen, but — 
 
 Nille. If that linen isn't made in a cloister, why is it 
 called cloister-linen ? 
 
 Peer. Yes, that 's right enough, ha, ha, ha ! But won't 
 you give me a bite to eat with my brandy ? 
 
 Nille. Here's a little bread and cheese already cut, if 
 you will eat it. (^Gets a plate from the house.^ 
 
 Peer. Thank you, mother. Do you know what bread is 
 in Latin ? 
 
 Nille. No, indeed, I don't. 
 
 Peer (eating and talking at the same time). It 's called 
 panis; genitive, ^a«/; dative, />a«»; wocdXiye., panus ; abla- • 
 tive, pano. 
 
 Jeppe. Goodness, Peer! That language is long-winded. 
 What is coarse bread in Latin? 
 
 Peer. That 's panis gravis ; and fine bread is panis finis. 
 
 Jeppe. Why, that 's half Danish ! 
 
 Peer. True. There are many Latin words that were 
 originally Danish. I '11 tell you why : there was once an old 
 
126 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 rector at the school in Copenhagen, called Saxo Gram- 
 matica, who improved Latin in this country, and wrote 
 a Latin grammar, and that 's why he was called Saxo 
 Grammatica. This same Saxo greatly enriched the Latin 
 language with Danish words, for in his day Latin was so 
 poor that a man could n't write one sentence which people 
 could understand. 
 
 feppe. But what does that word " Grammatica" mean ? 
 
 Peer. The same as "Donat." When it is bound in a 
 Turkish cover it is called " Donat," but when it 's in white 
 parchment it's called "Grammatica," and declined just 
 like ala. 
 
 Nille. I never shall see how people can keep so much in 
 their head. My head swims just from hearing them talk 
 about it. 
 
 Jeppe. That's why learned folk usually aren't quite right 
 in their heads. 
 
 Nille. What nonsense !• Do you think our son Rasmus 
 Berg is n't quite right ? 
 
 Jeppe. It only seems a little queer, mother, that he should 
 write a Latin letter to me. 
 
 Peer. Jeppe 's right there, certainly. That was a little 
 foolish. It is just as if I were to talk Greek to the bailiff, 
 to show him that I understood the language. 
 
 Jeppe. Do you know Greek, Peer? 
 
 Peer. Why, twenty years ago I could repeat the whole 
 Litany in Greek, standing on one foot. I still remember 
 that the last word was " Amen." 
 
 Jeppe. Oh, Peer, it will be splendid, when my son comes 
 back, to get you two together ! 
 
 Peer. If he wants to dispute with me, he will find that 
 I can hold my own ; and if he wants to have a singing 
 
ACT FIRST 127 
 
 match with me, he will get the worst of it. I once had 
 a singing contest with ten deacons and beat every one 
 of them, for I outsang them in the Credo, all ten of them. 
 Ten years ago I was offered the position of choir-master 
 in Our Lady's School, but I did n't want it. Why should 
 I take it, Jeppe? Why should I leave my parish, which 
 loves and honors me, and which I love and honor in re- 
 turn? I live in a place where I earn my daily bread, and 
 where I am respected by every one. The governor himself 
 never comes here but he sends for me at once to pass the 
 time with him and sing for him. Last year on this occasion 
 he gave me two marks for singing " Ut, re, mi, fa, sol." 
 He swore that he took more pleasure in that than in the 
 best vocal music he had heard in Copenhagen. If you give 
 me another glass of brandy, Jeppe, I will sing the same 
 thing for you. 
 
 Jeppe. Do, please. Pour another glass of brandy, Nille. 
 
 lExit Nille. 
 
 Peer. I don't sing for every one, but you are my good 
 friend, Jeppe, whom I serve with pleasure. {He sings.') Ut, 
 re, mi, fa, sol, la, si, ut; now down — ut, si, la, sol, fa, mi, 
 re, ut. (Reenter Nille with brandy. He drinks.") Now you 
 shall hear how high I can go. Ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si, ut, 
 re, mi, fa, sol, la, si, ut, re — 
 
 "Jeppe. Heavens ! That last was fine. Our little pigs can't 
 go any higher with a squeak. 
 
 Peer. Now I will sing rapidly: Ut, re, mi, re — No! that 
 wasn't right. Ut, re, mi, do, re, mi, ut — No, that went 
 wrong, too. It's cursed hard, Jeppe, to sing so fast. But 
 there comes Monsieur Jeronimus. 
 
128 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 Scene 5 
 Enter "Jeronimus^ Magdelone^ and Lisbed. 
 Jeronimus. Good morning, kinsman ! Have you any news 
 from your son? 
 
 Jeppe. Yes; he is coming to-day or to-morrow. 
 
 Lisbed. Oh,is it possible ? Then my dream has come true. 
 
 Jeronimus. What did you dream? 
 
 Lisbed. I dreamed that I slept with him last night. 
 
 Magdelone. There is something in dreams, I tell you. 
 Dreams are not to be despised. 
 
 'Jeronimus. That's true enough, but if you girls didn't 
 think so much about the menfolk in the daytime, you 
 wouldn't have so many dreams about them at night. 1 
 suppose you used to dream just as much about me in the 
 days when we were engaged, Magdelone ? 
 
 Magdelone. I did, indeed, but upon my word I have n't 
 dreamed about you for some years now. 
 
 Jeronimus. That's because your love isn't as hot now 
 as it used to be. 
 
 Lisbed. But is it possible that Rasmus Berg is coming 
 home to-morrow? 
 
 Jeronimus. Come, daughter, you shouldn't show that 
 you are so much in love. 
 
 Lisbed. Oh, but is it sure that he is coming home to- 
 morrow ? 
 
 Jeronimus. Yes, yes; you hear, don't you, that's when 
 he is coming? 
 
 Lisbed. How long is it till to-morrow, father dear? 
 
 Jeronimus. What confounded nonsense ! These people 
 in love act as if they were crazy. 
 
 Lisbed. I tell you, I shall count every hour. 
 
ACT FIRST 129 
 
 "Jeronimus. You should ask how long an hour is, so that 
 people would think that you were completely mad. Stop this 
 twaddle and let us elders talk together. — Listen, my dear 
 Jeppe Berg! Do you think it is wise for these two young 
 people to marry before he gets a position.? 
 
 Jeppe. That is as you think best. I can support them 
 well enough, but it would be better that he should get a 
 position first. 
 
 Jeron'tmus. I don't think it would be wise for them to 
 marry until then. [Lhhed weeps and wails.') Fie, shame on 
 you! It's a disgrace for a girl to carry on so! 
 
 Lisbed {sobbing). Can't he get a position soon, then ? 
 
 Jeppe. There's no doubt about it; he'll get a position 
 soon enough, for from what I hear he is so learned he can 
 read any book there is. He wrote me a Latin letter just 
 lately. 
 
 Nille. And, marry, it 's one that can stand alone, as the 
 deacon can tell you. 
 
 Lisbed. Was it so well written ? 
 
 Peer. Yes, well written for one so young. He may 
 amount to something, Mamsell! But there's a lot left to 
 learn. I thought I was learned, myself, at his age, but — 
 
 Jeppe. Yes, you learned folk never praise one another — 
 
 Peer. Nonsense! Do you think I am jealous of him? 
 Before he was born I had been up for a flogging before the 
 school three times, and when he was in the fourth form 
 I had been eight years a deacon. 
 
 Jeppe. One man may have a better head than another; 
 one may learn as much in a year as others in ten. 
 
 Peer. For that matter, the deacon dares set his head 
 against any one's. 
 
 Jeronimus. Yes, yes, you may both be right. Let us 
 
130 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 go home, children. Good-bye, Jeppe ! I happened to be 
 passing, and I thought I might as well talk to you on 
 the way. 
 
 Lished. Be sure to let me know as soon as he comes! 
 \_Exeunt yeronimus^ Magdelone^ and Listed. 
 
 Scene 6 
 Enter yacob. 
 yeppe. What do you want, Jacob ? 
 
 yacoi. Father! Have you heard the news? Rasmus Berg 
 is back. 
 
 yeppe. Heavens, is it possible! How does he look? 
 
 yacob. Oh, he looks mighty learned. Rasmus Nielsen, 
 who drove him, swears that he did nothing all the way 
 but dispute with himself in Greek and Elamite; and some- 
 times with so much zeal that he struck Rasmus Nielsen in 
 the back of the neck three or four times, with his clenched 
 fist, shouting all the while, " Probe the Major ! Probe the 
 Major!" I suppose he must have had a dispute with a 
 major before he started out. Part of the way he sat still and 
 stared at the moon and the stars with such a rapt expres- 
 sion that he fell ofFthe wagon three times and nearly broke 
 his neck from sheer learning. Rasmus Nielsen laughed at 
 that, and said to himself, "Rasmus Berg may be a wise 
 man in the heavens, but he is a fool on earth." 
 
 yeppe. Let us go and meet him. Come with us, dear Peer. 
 It may be that he has forgotten his Danish and won't be 
 able to talk anything but Latin. In that case you can be 
 interpreter. 
 
 Peer(aside^. Not if I know it ! (^Jloud.) I have other things 
 to attend to. 
 
ACT II 
 
 Scene i 
 
 A room in "jfeppe's house. Mont anus {whose stockings are fall- 
 ing down around his ankles). 
 
 Montanus. I have been away from Copenhagen only a day, 
 and I miss it already. If I did n't have my good books v/ith 
 me, I could n't exist in the country. Studia secundas res orn- 
 ant, adversis solatium praebent. I feel as if I had lost some- 
 thing, after going three days without a disputation. I don't 
 know whether there are any learned folk in the village, but 
 if there are, I shall set them to work, for I can't live with- 
 out disputation. I can't talk much to my poor parents, for 
 they are simple folk and know hardly anything beyond their 
 catechism; so I can't find much comfort in their conver- 
 sation. The deacon and the schoolmaster are said to have 
 studied, but I don't know how much that has amounted to ; 
 still, I shall see what they are good for. My parents were 
 astonished to see me so early, for they had not expected 
 me to travel by night from Copenhagen. {He strikes a match, 
 lights his pipe, and puts the bowl of his pipe through a hole 
 he has made in his hat.) That's what they call smoking 
 studentikos — it's a pretty good invention for any one who 
 wants to write and smoke at the same time. {Sits down and 
 begins to read.) 
 
 Scene 2 
 
 Enter facob. He kisses his own hand and extends it to his 
 
 brother. 
 
 "Jacob. Welcome home again, my Latin brother! 
 
 Montanus. I am glad to see you, Jacob. But as for being 
 
132 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 your brother, that was well enough in the old days, but it 
 will hardly do any more. 
 
 'Jacob. How so? Aren't you my brother? 
 
 Montanus. Of course I don't deny, you rogue, that I am 
 your brother by birth, but you must realize that you are 
 still a peasant boy, whereas I am a Bachelor of Philosophy. 
 But listen, Jacob, — how are my sweetheart and her father? 
 
 yacob.Y ery well. They were here a while ago and asked 
 how soon brother would be at home. 
 
 Montanus. Brother again! It's not from mere pride that 
 I object, Jacob, but it simply won't do. 
 
 Jacob. Then what shall I call you, brother? 
 
 Montanus. You must call me "Monsieur Montanus," 
 for that is what I am called in Copenhagen. 
 
 Jacob. If I could only keep it in my head. Was it "Mon- 
 sieur Dromedarius " ? 
 
 Montanus. Can'tyou hear? I say "Monsieur Montanus." 
 
 Jacob. Mossur Montanus, Mossur Montanus. 
 
 Montanus. That's right. "Montanus" in Latin is the 
 same as "Berg" in Danish. 
 
 Jacob. Then can't I be called "Jacob Montanus"? 
 
 Montanus. When you have been to school as long as I 
 have and passed your examinations, then you can give 
 yourself a Latin name, too; but as long as you are a peas- 
 ant boy, you must be satisfied with plain Jacob Berg. By 
 the way, have you noticed that my sweetheart has been 
 longing for me ? 
 
 Jacob. Indeed she has. She has been very impatient at 
 your staying away so long, brother. 
 
 Montanus. There you go again, yokel ! 
 
 Jacob. I meant to say: Mossur's sweetheart has been 
 impatient because brother stayed away so long. 
 
ACT SECOND 133 
 
 Montanus. Well, I 'm here now, Jacob, and all for her 
 sake; but I shall not stay very long, for as soon as we've 
 had the wedding I shall take her to Copenhagen with me. 
 
 Jacob. Won't Mossur take me along? 
 
 Montanus. What would you do there? 
 
 Jacob. I should like to look around in the world a bit. 
 
 Montanus. I wish you were six or seven years younger, 
 so that I could put you into a Latin school, and then you 
 could be a college man, too. 
 
 Jacob. No, that wouldn't do. 
 
 Montanus. Why not? 
 
 Jacob. If that happened, our parents would have to go 
 begging. 
 
 Montanus. Hear how the fellow talks ! 
 
 Jacob. Oh, I am full of ideas. If I had studied, I should 
 have been the devil of a rogue. 
 
 Montanus. I have been told that you had a good head. 
 But what else should you like to do in Copenhagen? 
 
 Jacob. I should like to see the Round Tower and the 
 cloister where they make the linen. 
 
 Montanus. Ha, ha, ha ! They 're busy with other things 
 besides linen-making in the cloister. But tell me, has my 
 future father-in-law as much money as they say? 
 
 Jacob. He surely has. He is a rich old man, and owns 
 nearly a third of the village. 
 
 Montanus. Have you heard whether he intends to give 
 his daughter a dowry? 
 
 Jacob. Oh, I think he will give her a good one, espe- 
 cially if he once hears Mossur preach here in the village. 
 
 Montanus. That will never happen. I should lower my- 
 self too much by preaching here in the country. Besides, 
 I am interested only in disputation. 
 
134 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 'Jacob, I thought it was better to be able to preach. 
 
 Montanus. Do you know what disputation really means ? 
 
 Jacob. Of course ! I dispute every day here at home with 
 the maids, but I don't gain anything by it. 
 
 Montanus. Oh, we have plenty of that kind of disputa- 
 tion. 
 
 Jacob. What is it, then, that Mossur disputes about ? 
 
 Montanus. I dispute about weighty and learned matters. 
 For example : whether angels were created before men ; 
 whether the earth is round or oval; about the moon, sun, 
 and stars, their size and distance from the earth; and other 
 things of a like nature. 
 
 Jacob. That's not the sort of thing I dispute about, for 
 that's not the sort of thing that concerns me. If only I can 
 get the servants to work, they can say the world is eight- 
 cornered, for all I care. 
 
 Montanus. Oh, animal hrutum ! — Listen, Jacob, do you 
 suppose any one has let my sweetheart know that I have 
 come home.'' 
 
 Jacob. I don't believe so. 
 
 Montanus. Then you had better run over to Master 
 Jeronimus's and inform him of the event. 
 
 Jacob. Yes, I can do that, but shall I not tell Lisbed first ? 
 
 Montanus. Lisbed.? Who is that.? 
 
 Jacob. Don't you know, brother, that your betrothed's 
 name is Lisbed? 
 
 Montanus. Have you forgotten all I have just taught you, 
 you rascal ? 
 
 Jacob. You may call me "rascal" as much as you like, 
 but I 'm your brother just the same. 
 
 Montanus. If you don't shut up, I '11 profecto hit you over 
 the head with this book. 
 
ACT SECOND 135 
 
 Jacob. It would n't be proper to throw the Bible at people. 
 
 Montanus. This is no Bible. 
 
 "Jacob. Marry, I know a Bible when I see one. That book 
 is big enough to be the Bible. I can see that it's not a 
 Gospel Book, nor a Catechism. But whatever it is, it's a 
 bad thing to throw books at your brother. 
 
 Montanus. Shut up, rascal! 
 
 Jacob, I may be a rascal, but I earn with my hands the 
 money for my parents that you spend. 
 
 Montanus. If you don't shut up, I'll maim you. {Throws 
 the book at him.\ 
 
 Jacob. Ow, ow, ow! 
 
 Scene 3 
 Enter Jeppe and Nille. 
 
 Jeppe. What is all this noise.? 
 
 Jacob. Oh, my brother Rasmus is beating me. 
 
 Nille. What does this mean ? He would n't hit you with- 
 out good reason. 
 
 Montanus. No, mother, that is so. He comes here and 
 bandies words with me as though he were my equal. 
 
 Nille. What a devil's own rogue! Don't you know 
 enough to respect such a learned man.? Don't you know 
 that he is an honor to our whole family? My dear and 
 respected son, you mustn't pay any attention to him; he 
 is an ignorant lout. 
 
 Montanus. I sit here speculating about important ques- 
 tions, and this importunissimus and audacissimus juvenis 
 comes and hinders me. It is no child's play to have to deal 
 with these transcendentalihus. I wouldn't have had it happen 
 for two marks. 
 
136 ERASMUS MONT ANUS 
 
 feppe. Oh, don't be angry, my dear son! This shall 
 never happen again. I am so much afraid that my honored 
 son has allowed himself to get over-excited. Learned folk 
 can't stand many shocks. I know that Peer the deacon got 
 excited once and didn't recover for three days. 
 
 Montanus. Peer the deacon ! Is he learned ? 
 
 yeppe. I should say he was ! As far back as I can remem- 
 ber, we have never had a deacon here in the village who 
 could sing as well as he can. 
 
 Montanus. For all that, he may have no learning at all. 
 
 yeppe. He preaches beautifully, too. 
 
 Montanus. For all that, too, he might have no learning 
 at all. 
 
 Nille. Oh, honored son ! How can a man lack learning 
 if he preaches well.? 
 
 Montanus. Surely, mother ! All the ignorant folk preach 
 well, for inasmuch as they can't compose anything out 
 of their own heads, they use borrowed sermons, and learn 
 good men's compositions by heart, though sometimes they 
 don't understand them themselves. A learned man, on the 
 other hand, won't use such methods ; he composes out of 
 his own head. Believe me, it is a common mistake in this 
 country to judge a student's learning altogether too much 
 from his sermons. But let the fellow dispute as I do — 
 ^here's the touchstone of learning. If any one says this 
 table is a candlestick, I will justify the statement. If any 
 one says that meat or bread is straw, I will justify that, too; 
 that has been done many a time. Listen, father ! Will you 
 admit that the man who drinks well is blessed? 
 
 yeppe. I think rather that he is accursed, for a man can 
 drink himself out of both reason and money. 
 
 Montanus. I will prove that he is blessed, ^icunque bene 
 
ACT SECOND 137 
 
 hibit., bene dormit. But, no, — you don't understand Latin; 
 I must say it in Danish. Whoever drinks well, sleeps well. 
 Is n't that so ? 
 
 Jeppe. That's true enough, for when I am half-drunk 
 I sleep like a horse. 
 
 Montanus. He who sleeps well does not sin. Isn't that 
 true, too ? 
 
 5'i?/>^^.True,too;so longas a man's asleep he does n't sin. 
 
 Montanus. He who does not sin is blessed. 
 
 feppe. That is also true. 
 
 Montanus. Ergo: he who drinks well is blessed. — Little 
 mother, I will turn you into a stone. 
 
 Nille. Oh, nonsense! That is more than even learning 
 can do. 
 
 Montanus. You shall hear whether it is or not. A stone 
 cannot fly. 
 
 Nille. No, indeed it can't, unless it is thrown. 
 
 Montanus. You cannot fly. 
 
 Nille. That is true, too. 
 
 Montanus. Ergo: little mother is a stone. (Nille cries.) 
 Why are you crying, little mother ? 
 
 Nille. Oh! I am so much afraid that I shall turn into 
 a stone. My legs already begin to feel cold. 
 
 Montanus. Don't worry, little mother. I will immedi- 
 ately turn you into a human being again. A stone neither 
 thinks nor talks. 
 
 Nille. That is so. I don't know whether it can think or 
 not, but it surely cannot talk. 
 
 Montanus. Little mother can talk. 
 
 Nille. Yes, thank God, I talk as well as a poor peasant 
 woman can! 
 
 Montanus. Good! Ergo: little mother is no stone. 
 
138 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 Nille. Ah ! That did me good ! Now I am beginning to 
 feel like myself again. Faith, it must take strong heads to 
 study. I don't see how your brains can stand it. — Jacob, 
 after this you shall wait on your brother; you have noth- 
 ing else to do. If your parents see that you annoy him, 
 you shall get as many blows as your body can stand. 
 
 Montanus. Little mother, I should like very much to 
 break him of the habit of calling me "brother." It is not 
 decent for a peasant boy to call a learned man "brother." 
 I should like to have him call me " Monsieur." 
 
 yeppe. Do you hear that, Jacob? When you speak to 
 your brother after this, you are to call him Mossur. 
 
 Montanus. I should like to have the deacon invited here 
 to-day, so that I can see what he is good for. 
 
 yeppe. Yes, surely, it shall be done. 
 
 Montanus. In the mean time I will go to visit my sweet- 
 heart. 
 
 Nille. But I am afraid it is going to rain. Jacob can 
 carry your cloak for you. 
 
 Montanus. Jacob. 
 
 yacob. Yes, Mossur. 
 
 Montanus. Walk behind me and carry my cloak. 
 
 \_Exit Montanus followed by yacob bearing the cloak. 
 
 Scene 4 
 
 yeppe. Have n't we cause to be pleased with a son like 
 that, Nille? 
 
 Nille. Yes, indeed, not a penny has been wasted on him. 
 
 yeppe. We shall hear to-day what the deacon is good 
 for. But I am afraid that he won't come if he hears that 
 Rasmus Berg is here, — there is no need of our letting him 
 
ACT SECOND 139 
 
 know that. We will write the bailiff, too; he is glad enough 
 to come, for he likes our ale. 
 
 Nille. It is very dangerous, husband, to treat the bailiff; 
 a man like that must n't find out how our affairs stand. 
 
 yeppe. He is welcome to know. Every man here in the 
 village is aware that we are well-to-do folks. As long as we 
 pay our taxes and land rent, the bailiff can't touch a hair 
 of our head. 
 
 Nille. Oh, dear husband, I wonder if it is too late to 
 let our Jacob get an education. Just think, if he could be 
 a learned lad like his brother, what a joy it would be for 
 his old parents! 
 
 Jeppe. No, wife, one is enough; we must have one at 
 home who can give us a hand and do our work. 
 
 Nille. Oh, at such work as that a man cannot do more 
 than live from hand to mouth. Rasmus Berg, who is a 
 scholar, can do our family more good, with his brain, in 
 an hour than the other in a year. 
 
 Jeppe. That makes no difference,little mother; our fields 
 must be tilled and our crops looked after. We can't pos- 
 sibly get along without Jacob. Look, here he is now, com- 
 ing back again! 
 
 Scene 5 
 
 Enter Jacob. 
 
 Jacob. Ha! ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! My brother may be a 
 
 very learned man, but he is a great simpleton for all that. 
 
 Nille. You wicked rascal ! Do you call your brother a 
 
 simpleton ? 
 
 Jacob. I really don't know what I ought to call such 
 a thing, little mother. It rained until it poured, and yet he 
 let me walk along behind him with the cloak on my arm. 
 
140 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 Jeppe. Could n't you have been civil enough to have said, 
 "Mossur, it is raining. Won't you put on your cloak?" 
 
 "Jacob. It seems to me, little father, it would have been 
 very strange for me to say to the person whose parents had 
 spent so much money upon him to teach him wisdom and 
 cleverness, when so much rain was falling on him that he 
 was wet to his shirt, "It is raining, sir; won't you put on 
 your cloak?" He had no need of my warning; the rain gave 
 him warning enough. 
 
 Jeppe. Did you walk the whole way, then, with the cloak 
 on your arm? 
 
 Jacob. Marry, I did not; I wrapped myself up comfort- 
 ably in the cloak; so my clothes are perfectly dry. I under- 
 stand that sort of thing better than he, though I've not 
 spent so much money learning wisdom. I grasped it at once, 
 although I don't know one Latin letter from another. 
 
 Jeppe. Your brother was plunged in thought, as deeply 
 learned folk usually are. 
 
 Jacob. Ha, ha! the devil split such learning! 
 
 Jeppe. Shut up, you rogue, or shame on your mouth! 
 What does it matter if your brother is absent-minded about 
 such things as that, when in so many other matters he 
 displays his wisdom and the fruit of his studies ? 
 
 Jacob. Fruit of his studies ! I shall tell you what hap- 
 pened next on our trip. When we came to Jeronimus's gate, 
 he went right to the side where the watch-dog stood, and 
 he would have had his learned legs well caulked if I had 
 not dragged him to the other side; for watch-dogs are no 
 respecters of persons : they measure all strangers with the 
 same stick, and bite at random whatever legs they get 
 hold of, whether Greek or Latin. When he entered the 
 court, Mossur Rasmus Berg absent-mindedly went into 
 
ACT SECOND 141 
 
 the stable and shouted, "Hey, is Jeronimus at home?" 
 But the cows all turned their tails to him and none of them 
 would answer a word. I am certain that if any of them 
 could have talked, they would have said, "What a con- 
 founded lunk-head that lad must be ! " 
 
 Nille. Oh, my dear husband, can you stand hearing him 
 use such language? 
 
 Jeppe. Jacob, you will get into trouble if you talk like 
 that any more. 
 
 Jacoh. Little father ought rather to thank me, for I set him 
 to rights and took him out of the stable toward the house. 
 Just think what might happen to such a lad if he should 
 go on a long journey alone; for I 'm sure that if I had not 
 been with him, he would have been standing in the stable 
 yet, gazing at the cows' tails, from sheer learning. 
 
 "Jeppe. A plague on your impudent mouth ! 
 
 [yacob runs off, Jeppe after him. 
 
 Nille. The confounded rogue! — I have sent word to 
 the bailiff and the deacon, so that my son can have some 
 one to dispute with when he comes back. 
 
ACT III 
 
 Scene i 
 Same as Act 11. 
 N'tlle {alone). My son Montanus is gone a long time. I 
 wish he would come home before the bailiff goes, for he 
 wants very much to talk with him, and is eager to ask him 
 about several things which — But there, I see him coming. 
 
 Scene 2 
 
 Enter Montanus. 
 
 Nille. Welcome home, my dear son. Our kind friend Je- 
 
 ronimus was no doubt very glad to see our honored son 
 
 in good health after so long an absence. 
 
 Montanus. I have spoken neither to Jeronimus nor to 
 his daughter, on account of that fellow with whom I got 
 into a dispute. 
 
 Nille. What kind of a man was he? Perhaps it was the 
 schoolmaster. 
 
 Montanus. No, it was a stranger, who is going away to- 
 day. I know him, although I have not associated with him 
 in Copenhagen. I am annoyed almost to death by these 
 people who imagine they have absorbed all wisdom, and still 
 are idiots. I '11 tell you, mother, how it is : This fellow has 
 been ordinarius opponens once or twice; therein lies his sole 
 achievement. But how did he perform his Partes? Miser e 
 et haesitanter absque methodo. Once when Praeses wished 
 to distinguish inter rem et modum rei, he asked, ^id hoc 
 est? — Wretch, you should have known that antequam in 
 arenam descendis. ^uid hoc est? ^uae brutal A fellow who 
 
ACT THIRD 143 
 
 ignores the distinctiones cardinales, and then wants to dis- 
 pute publice! 
 
 Nille. Oh, my respected son , you must n't take such things 
 as that to heart. I can see from what you say that he must 
 be a fool. 
 
 Montanus. An ignoramus. 
 
 Nille. Nothing could be plainer. 
 
 Montanus. An idiot. 
 
 Nille. I can't see that he is anything else. 
 
 Montanus. Et quidem plane hospes in philosophia. Let the 
 dog turn away from what he committed in the presence 
 of so many worthy people. 
 
 Nille. Is that what he did? By that you may know a 
 swine. 
 
 Montanus. No, little mother, he did something worse 
 than that; he openly confounded materiam cum forma. 
 
 Nille. Plague take him ! 
 
 Montanus. Does the fellow imagine that he can dispute ? 
 
 Nille. The devil he can ! 
 
 Montanus. Not to mention the mistake he made in his 
 Proemio, when he said '■'■ Lectissimi et doctissimi auditor es." 
 
 Nille. What a fool he must be! 
 
 Montanus. For putting '■'■ lectissimi" in front of '■'■doctis- 
 simi" when '■'■lectissimi" is a predicate, one can give a De- 
 posituro. 
 
 Nille. But didn't you get a chance to talk with Jeroni- 
 mus, my son? 
 
 Montanus. No, just as I was about to go into the house, 
 I saw the fellow passing by the gate, and as we knew each 
 other, I went out to speak to him, whereupon we imme- 
 diately began to talk of learned matters, and finally to dis- 
 pute, so that I had to postpone my visit. 
 
144 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 Nille. I am very much afraid that Monsieur Jeronimus 
 will be offended when he hears that my son has been in 
 his yard, but went away without talking with him. 
 
 Montanus. Well, I can't help that. When any one at- 
 tacks philosophy, he attacks my honor. I am fond of Made- 
 moiselle Lisbed, but my Metaphysica and my Logica have 
 priority. 
 
 Nille. Oh, my dear son, what did I hear? Are you en- 
 gaged to two other girls in Copenhagen .? That will be a 
 bad business in the matrimonial courts. 
 
 Montanus. You don't understand me; I didn't mean it 
 in that way. They are not two girls, but two sciences. 
 
 Nille. Oh, that is another matter. But here comes the 
 bailiff. Don't be angry any more. 
 
 Montanus. I can't be angry with him, for he is a simple, 
 ignorant man, with whom I cannot get into a dispute. 
 
 Scene 3 
 Enter "Jeppe and fesper the Bailiff, 
 fesper. Serviteur, Monsieur. I congratulate you on your 
 arrival. 
 
 Montanus. I thank you, Mr. Bailiff. 
 
 "Jesper. I am glad that we have such a learned man here 
 in the village. It must have cost you many a racking of 
 the brain to have advanced so far. I congratulate you, too, 
 Jeppe Berg, upon your son. Now, happiness has come to 
 you in your old age. 
 
 'Jeppe. Yes, that is true. 
 
 Jesper. But listen, my dear Monsieur Rasmus, I should 
 like to ask you something. 
 
 Montanus. My name is Montanus. 
 
ACT THIRD 145 
 
 Jesper {aside to feppe). Montanus? is that the Latin for 
 Rasmus? 
 
 feppe. Yes, it must be. 
 
 Jesper. Listen, my dear Monsieur Montanus Berg. I 
 have heard that learned folk have such extraordinary ideas. 
 Is it true that people in Copenhagen think the earth is 
 round.? Here on the hill no one believes it; for how can 
 that be, when the earth looks perfectly flat? 
 
 Montanus. That is because the earth is so large that one 
 cannot notice its roundness. 
 
 Jesper. Yes, it is true, the earth is large ; it is almost a 
 half of the universe. But listen. Monsieur, how many stars 
 will it take to make a moon ? 
 
 Montanus. A moon! In comparison to the stars the 
 moon is like Pebling Pond in comparison with all Sjaelland. 
 
 fesper. Ha, ha, ha ! Learned folk are never just right 
 in the head. Will you believe it, I have heard people say 
 that the earth moves and the sun stands still. You cer- 
 tainly don't believe that, too, Monsieur? 
 
 Montanus. No man of sense doubts it any longer. 
 
 "Jesper. Ha, ha, ha! If the earth should move, surely 
 we should fall and break our necks. 
 
 Montanus. Can't a ship move with you, without your 
 breaking your neck? 
 
 yesper.Yes,hut you say that the earth turns round. Now, 
 if a ship should turn over, would n't the people fall off then 
 into the sea? 
 
 Montanus. No. I will explain it to you more plainly, if 
 you will have the patience. 
 
 Jesper. Indeed, I won't hear anything about it. I should 
 have to be crazy to believe such a thing. Could the earth 
 turn over, and we not fall heels over head to the devil and 
 
146 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 clear down into the abyss ? Ha, ha, ha ! But, my Monsieur 
 Berg, how is it that the moon is sometimes so small and 
 sometimes so big? 
 
 Montanus. If I tell you why, you won't believe me. 
 
 Jesper. Oh, please tell me. 
 
 Montanus. It is because, when the moon has grown large, 
 pieces are clipped off it to make stars of. 
 
 "Jesper. That certainly is curious. I really did n't know 
 that before. If pieces were not clipped off, it would get too 
 large and grow as broad as all Sjaelland. After all, nature 
 does regulate everything very wisely. But how is it that the 
 moon doesn't give warmth like the sun, although it is just 
 as big? 
 
 Montanus. That is because the moon is not a light, but 
 made of the same dark material as the earth, and gets its 
 light and brilliance from the sun. 
 
 "Jesper. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Let us talk of something 
 else. That's stuff and nonsense; a man might go stark mad 
 over it. 
 
 Scene 4 
 
 Enter Peer. 
 
 Jeppe. Welcome, Peer. Where good folk are gathered,good 
 
 folk come. Here, you see, is my son, who has just come 
 
 back. 
 
 Peer. Welcome, Monsieur Rasmus Berg ! 
 
 Montanus. In Copenhagen, I am accustomed to be called 
 "Montanus." I beg you to call me that. 
 
 Peer. Yes, surely, it 's all the same to me. How are things 
 in Copenhagen? Did many graduate this year? 
 
 Montanus. About as many as usual. 
 
 Peer. Was any one rejected this year? 
 
ACT THIRD 147 
 
 Montanus. Two or three conditionaliter. 
 
 Peer, Who is Imprimatur this year? 
 
 Montanus. What does that mean? 
 
 Peer. I mean, who is Imprimatur of the verse and the 
 books which are published? 
 
 Montanus. Is that supposed to be Latin? 
 
 Peer. Yes, in my day it was good Latin. 
 
 Montanus. If it was good Latin then, it must be so still. 
 But it has never been Latin in the sense in which you 
 use it. 
 
 Peer. Yes, it is, — good Latin. 
 
 Montanus. Is it a nomen or a verbum? 
 
 Peer. It is a nomen. 
 
 yesper. That is right. Peer, just speak up for yourself. 
 ■ Montanus. Cuius dedinationis is Imprimatur., then ? 
 
 Peer. All the words that can be mentioned may be re- 
 ferred to eight things, which are : nomen., pronomen., verbum, 
 principium., conjugatio, dedinatio, interjectio. 
 
 Jesper. Yes, yes, just listen to Peer when he shakes his 
 sleeves ! That 's right, keep at him ! 
 
 Montanus. He 's not answering what I ask him. What 
 is the genitive of '■'■Imprimatur" ? 
 
 Peer. Nominativus, ala; genitivus, alae; dativus, ala; 
 vocativus, alo; ablativus, ala. 
 
 Jesper. Ah, ha. Monsieur Montanus, we have some folk 
 here on the hill, too ! 
 
 Peer. I should say so. In my time the fellows that grad- 
 uated were of a different sort from nowadays. They were 
 lads who got shaved twice a week, and could scan all kinds 
 of verse. 
 
 Montanus. That is certainly a wonderful thing ! Boys in 
 the second class can do that to-day. Nowadays there are 
 
14-8 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 graduates from the schools in Copenhagen who can write 
 Hebrew and Chaldean verse. 
 
 Peer. Then they can't know much Latin. 
 
 Montanus. Latin ! If you went to school now, you 
 couldn't get above the bottom class. 
 
 Jesper, Don't say that, Montanus. The deacon is, I 
 know, a thoroughly educated man ; that I have heard both 
 the district bailiff and the tax-collector say. 
 
 Montanus. Perhaps they understand Latin just as little 
 as he. 
 
 Jesper. But I can hear that he answers splendidly. 
 
 Montanus. Yes, but he doesn't answer what I ask him 
 — E qua schola dimissus es, mi Domine? 
 
 Peer. Adjectivum et suhstantivum genere, numero et caseo 
 conveniunt. 
 
 Jesper. He's giving him his bucket full. Good for you. 
 Peer; as sure as you live, we shall drink a half pint of 
 brandy together. 
 
 Montanus. If you knew, Mr. Bailiff, what his answers 
 were, you would laugh until you split. I ask him from what 
 school he graduated and he answers at random something 
 entirely different. 
 
 Peer. Tunc tua res agitur, paries cum proximus ardet. 
 
 Jesper. Yes, yes, that 's a good lead for you. Answer that, 
 now. 
 
 Montanus. I can't answer that; it is mere mincemeat. 
 Let us talk Danish, so the others can understand; then you 
 will be able to hear what kind of a fellow he is. {Nille cries.) 
 
 Jesper. What are you crying for, my good woman .' 
 
 Nille. Oh, I am so sorry that my son must admit him- 
 self beaten in Latin. 
 
 Jesper. Oh, it's no wonder, my good woman. Peer is, 
 
ACT THIRD 149 
 
 of course, much older than he ; it is no wonder. Let them 
 talk Danish, then, as we all understand it. 
 
 Peer. Yes, certainly. I am ready for whichever one of 
 the two he wishes. We shall propose certain questions to 
 each other; for example, who was it that screamed so loud 
 that he could be heard over the whole world ? 
 
 Montanus. I know no one who screams louder than asses 
 and country deacons. 
 
 Peer. Nonsense ! Can they be heard over the whole world? 
 It was the ass in Noah's ark; for the whole world was in 
 the ark. 
 
 Jesper. Ha, ha, ha! That is true, to be sure. Ha, ha, ha! 
 Peer the deacon has a fine head on his shoulders. 
 
 Peer. Who was it killed a quarter of the world? 
 
 Montanus. Bah ! I refuse to answer such stupid questions. 
 
 Peer. It was Cain, who killed his brother Abel. 
 
 Montanus. Prove that there were no more than four 
 human beings at the time. 
 
 Peer. You prove that there were more. 
 
 Montanus. That isn't necessary; for affirmante incumbit 
 probaiio. Do you understand that? 
 
 Pi?fr. Of course I do. Omnia conando docilis solertia vincit. 
 Do you understand that? 
 
 Montanus. I am a perfect fool to stand here and dispute 
 with a dunce. You wish to dispute, and yet know neither 
 Latin nor Danish; much less do you know what logic is. 
 Let 's hear once, quid est logica? 
 
 Peer. Post molestam senectutam., post molestam senectutam 
 nos hahehat humus. 
 
 Montanus. Are you trying to make a fool of me, you ras- 
 cal ? {He grabs him by the hair. The Deacon escapes and shouts., 
 " Dunce, dunce ! ") \_Exeunt all except the Bailiff. 
 
150 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 Scene 5 
 Enter 'Jeronimus. 
 yeronimus. Your servant, Mr. BailifF. I am surprised to find 
 you here. I have come to see my future son-in-law, Ras- 
 mus Berg. 
 
 fesper. He wfill be here in a moment. It is a shame that 
 you didn't come a half hour sooner. You would then have 
 heard him and the deacon disputing together. 
 
 yeronimus. How did it come out? 
 
 yesper. Shame on Peer the deacon ! He is worse than I 
 thought. I see well enough that he has forgot nothing either 
 of his Latin or Hebrew. 
 
 yeronimus. I believe that well enough, for he probably 
 never knew much of either. 
 
 yesper. Don't say that. Monsieur Jeronimus ! He has a 
 devilish clever tongue. It is really a joy to hear the man 
 talk Latin. 
 
 yeronimus. That is more than I should have expected. 
 But how does my son look.? 
 
 yesper. He looks confoundedly learned. You would 
 hardly recognize him. He has another name, too. 
 
 yeronimus. Another name! What does he call him- 
 self? 
 
 yesper. He calls himself Montanus, which is said to be 
 the same as Rasmus in Latin. 
 
 yeronimus. Oh, shame! that is wicked. I have known 
 many who have changed their Christian names in that way, 
 but they never have prospered. Some years ago I knew a 
 person who was christened Peer, and afterwards, when he 
 had become a man of consequence, wanted to be coined 
 again, and called himself Peter. But that name cost him 
 
ACT THIRD 151 
 
 dear, for he broke his leg and died in great misery. Our 
 Lord doesn't allow such a thing, Mr. Bailiff. 
 
 yesper. I don't care what his name is, but I don't like 
 it that he has such peculiar opinions in religion. 
 
 Jeronimus. What kind of opinions has he, then? 
 
 Jesper. Oh, it 's terrible ! My hair stands on end when 
 I think of it. I can't remember all that I heard, but I know 
 that among other things he said that the earth was round. 
 What can I call such a thing, Monsieur Jeronimus? That 
 is nothing else than overthrowing all religion and leading 
 folk away from the faith. A heathen certainly cannot speak 
 worse. 
 
 'Jeronimus. He must have said that only in jest. 
 
 yesper. It is going rather too far to joke about such things 
 as that. See, here he comes himself. 
 
 Scene 6 
 Enter Montanus. 
 Montanus. How do you do, my dear father-in-law. I am 
 delighted to see you in good health. 
 
 yeronimus. People of my age can't enjoy remarkable 
 health. 
 
 Montanus. You look mighty well, however. 
 
 yeronimus. Do you think so? 
 
 Montanus. How is Miss Lisbed? 
 
 yeronimus. Oh, well enough. 
 
 Montanus. But what is the matter? It seems to me, my 
 dear father-in-law, that you answer me rather coldly. 
 
 yeronimus. I have no good reason to do otherwise. 
 
 Montanus. What wrong have I done? 
 
 yeronimus. I have been told that you have such peculiar 
 
152 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 opinions that people might really think that you had be- 
 come mad or deranged, for how can a sane man be foolish 
 enough to say that the earth is round? 
 
 Montanus. But,/ir«/^rto,it is round. Imust speak thetruth. 
 
 'Jeronimus. The deuce it is the truth ! Such a notion can't 
 possibly come from anywhere but from the devil, who is 
 the father of lies. I am sure there is n't a single man here 
 in the village who would not condemn such an opinion. 
 Just ask the baiUfF, who is an intelligent man, if he does 
 not agree with me. 
 
 "Jesper. It is really all one to me whether it is oblong or 
 round; but I must believe my own eyes, which show me 
 that the earth is as flat as a pancake. 
 
 Montanus. It is all one to me, too, what the bailiff or the 
 others here in the village think on the subject ; for I know 
 that the earth is round. 
 
 'Jeronimus. The deuce it is round ! You must be crazy. 
 You surely have eyes in your head as well as other men. 
 
 Montanus. It is known for certain, my dear father-in- 
 law, that people live right under us with their feet turned 
 toward ours. 
 
 Jesper. Ha, ha, ha; hi, hi, hi; ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Jeronimus. Yes, you may well laugh, Mr. Bailiff, for he 
 really has a screw loose in his head. Just you try to walk 
 here on the ceiling with your head down, and see then 
 what will happen. 
 
 Montanus. That is an entirely different thing, father- 
 in-law, because — 
 
 Jeronimus. I will never in the world be your father-in- 
 law. I love my daughter too well to throw her away like 
 that. 
 
 Montanus. I love your daughter as my own soul, but 
 
ACT THIRD 153 
 
 that I should give up my philosophy for her sake and drive 
 my reason into exile, — that is more than you can demand. 
 
 Jeronimus. Ha, ha ! I see you have another lady-love in 
 mind. You can keep your Lucy or your Sophy. I certainly 
 shall not force my daughter on you. 
 
 Montanus. You mistake me. Philosophy is nothing other 
 than a science, wrhich has opened my eyes, in this respect 
 as in others. 
 
 'Jeronimus. It has rather blinded both your eyes and your 
 understanding. How can you believe such a thing is good? 
 
 Montanus. That is something which is beyond proof. 
 No learned man doubts that any longer. 
 
 "Jesper. I warrant you will never get Peer the deacon 
 to agree with you. 
 
 Montanus. Peer the deacon ! Yes, he is a great fellow. I 
 am a fool to stand here and talk about philosophy with you. 
 But in order to please Monsieur Jeronimus, I will never- 
 theless present one or two proofs. First, we learn it from 
 travellers, who, when they go a few thousand miles from 
 here, have day while we have night: they see other heav- 
 ens, other stars. 
 
 'Jeronimus. Are you crazy ? Is there more than one 
 heaven and one earth? 
 
 Jesper. Yes, indeed. Monsieur Jeronimus, there are 
 twelve heavens, one above the other, until the crystal 
 heaven is reached. So far he is right. 
 
 Montanus. Ah! ^uantae tenehrae! 
 
 Jeronimus. In my youth I went sixteen times to the neigh- 
 borhood of Kiel, but as sure as I am an honorable man, I 
 never saw a diflFerent heaven from what we have here. 
 
 Montanus. You must travel sixteen times as far, Domine 
 Jeronime, before you can notice such a thing, because — 
 
154 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 yeronimus. Stop talking such nonsense; it is neither here 
 nor there. Let's hear your other proof. 
 
 Montanus. The other proof is taken from the eclipse of 
 the sun and moon. 
 
 yesper. Just hear that! Now, he is stark mad. 
 
 Montanus. What do you really suppose an eclipse to be ? 
 
 yesper. Eclipses are certain signs which are placed upon 
 the sun and moon when some misfortune is going to hap- 
 pen on the earth, — a thing I can prove from my own 
 experience: when my wife had a miscarriage three years 
 ago, and when my daughter Gertrude died, both times there 
 were eclipses just before. 
 
 Montanus. Oh, such nonsense will drive me mad. 
 
 yeronimus. The bailifF is right, for an eclipse never oc- 
 curs unless it is a warning of something. When the last 
 eclipse happened, everything seemed to be well, but that 
 didn't last long; for a fortnight afterwards we got news 
 from Copenhagen that six candidates for degrees were re- 
 jected at one time, all persons belonging to the gentry, and 
 two of them the sons of deacons. If a man doesn't hear 
 of misfortune at one place after such an eclipse, he hears 
 of it at another. 
 
 Montanus. That is true enough, for no day passes that 
 some misfortune does not happen somewhere in the world. 
 But as far as these persons you mentioned are concerned, 
 they have no need to blame the eclipse, for if they had 
 studied more, they would have passed. 
 
 yeronimus. What is an eclipse of the moon, then ? 
 
 Montanus. It is nothing other than the earth's shadow, 
 which deprives the moon of the sunlight, and since the 
 shadow is round, we thereby see that the earth is round, 
 too. It all happens in a natural way, for ecHpses can be 
 
ACT THIRD 155 
 
 predicted, and therefore it is folly to say that such things 
 are prophetic warnings of misfortune. 
 
 Jeronimus. Oh, Mr. BailifF, I feel ill. Unlucky was the day 
 on which your parents allowed you to become a scholar. 
 
 "Jesper. Yes, he comes mighty near to being an atheist. I 
 must bring him and Peer the deacon together again. There 
 is a man who speaks with force. He will persuade you yet, 
 in either Latin or Greek, that the earth, thank God, is as 
 flat as my hand. But here comes Madame Jeronimus with 
 her daughter. 
 
 Scene 7 
 Enter Magdelone and Lisbed. 
 Magdehne. Oh, my dear son-in-law, it is a delight to me to 
 see you back again in good health. 
 
 Lisbed. Oh, my darling, let me hug you. 
 
 'Jeronimus. Slowly, slowly, my child, not so ardently. 
 
 Lisbed. May I not hug my sweetheart when I haven't 
 seen him for years? 
 
 'Jeronimus. Keep away from him, I tell you, or else you 
 will get a beating. 
 
 Lisbed {weeping). I know one thing, that we have been 
 publicly betrothed. 
 
 Jeronimus. That is true enough, but since that time 
 something has occurred to hinder. {^Lisbed weeps.') You 
 must know, my child, that when he became engaged to you 
 he was an honest man and a good Christian. But now he 
 is a heretic and a fanatic, who ought to be introduced to 
 the Litany rather than into our family. 
 
 Lisbed. If that is all, father dear,wc can still make every- 
 thing right. 
 
156 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 Jeronimus. Keep away from him, I tell you. 
 
 Magdelone. What does this mean, Mr. BailifF? 
 
 yesper. It 's a bad business, Madame. He introduces false 
 doctrine into this village, saying that the earth is round, and 
 other things of such a nature that I should blush to men- 
 tion them. 
 
 Jeronimus. Don't you think that the good old parents 
 are to be pitied who have spent so much money on him ? 
 
 Magdelone. Oh, is that all ? If he loves our daughter, he 
 will give up his opinion and say that the earth is flat, for 
 her sake. 
 
 Lisbed. Oh, my dear, for my sake say that it is flat ! 
 
 Montanus. I cannot humor you in this, so long as I am 
 in full possession of my reason. I cannot give the earth 
 another shape from what it has by nature. For your sake 
 I will say and do whatever is possible for me ; but in this 
 one thing I can never humor you, for if the brothers in 
 my order should find out that I had given expression to 
 such an opinion, I should be thought a fool, and despised. 
 Besides, we learned folk never give up our opinions, but 
 defend what we have once said to the uttermost drop of 
 our inkhorns. 
 
 Magdelone. See here, husband, I don't think it matters 
 so much that we should break ofF the match on that ac- 
 count. 
 
 Jeronimus. And merely on that account I should try to 
 have them divorced even if they had been actually married. 
 
 Magdelone. You had better believe I have something to 
 say in this matter, too; for if she is your daughter, she is 
 mine as well. 
 
 Lisbed (weeping'). Oh, my dear, do say that it is flat. 
 
 Montanus. Profecto., I really cannot. 
 
ACT THIRD 157 
 
 yeronimus. Listen, wife : you must know that I am the 
 head of the house, and that I am her father. 
 
 Magdelone. You must also know that I am the mistress 
 of the house, and that I am her mother. 
 
 yeronimus. I say that a father is always more than a 
 mother. 
 
 Magdelone. And I say not, for there can be no doubt that 
 I am her mother, but whether you — I had better not say 
 any more, for I am getting excited. 
 
 Listed {weeping^. Oh, my heart, can't you say just for 
 my sake that it is flat.? 
 
 Montanus. I cannot, my doll, nam contra naturam est. 
 
 yeronimus. What did you mean by that, my wife? Am 
 I not her father as surely as you are her mother? — Listen, 
 Lisbed, am I not your father ? 
 
 Lisbed. I think so, for my mother says so; but I know 
 that she is my mother. 
 
 yeronimus. What do you think of this talk, Mr. Bailiff? 
 
 yesper. I can't say that Mamselle is wrong in this mat- 
 ter, for — 
 
 yeronimus. That is enough. Come, let us go — you may 
 be sure, my good Rasmus Berg, that you will never get 
 my daughter so long as you cling to your delusions. 
 
 Lisbed (weeping). Oh, my heart, do say that it is flat ! 
 
 yeronimus. Out, out of the door! 
 
 ^Exeunt yeronimus., Magdelone., and Lisbed. 
 
ACT IV 
 
 Scene i 
 Before feppe's House. 
 Montanus. Here I have been worried for a good hour by 
 my parents, who with sighing and weeping try to persuade 
 me to give up my opinions; but they don't know Erasmus 
 Montanus. Not if I were to be made an emperor for it 
 would I renounce what I once have said. I love Mademoi- 
 selle Elisabet, to be sure; but that I should sacrifice phi- 
 losophy for her sake, and repudiate what I have publicly 
 maintained — that is out of the question. I hope, though, 
 that it will all come out right,and that I shall win my sweet- 
 heart without losing my reputation. Once I get a chance 
 to talk to Jeronimus, I can convince him of his errors so 
 conclusively that he will agree to the match. But there are 
 the deacon and the bailiff, coming from my father- and 
 mother-in-law's. 
 
 Scene 2 
 Enter Peer and Jesper. 
 Jesper. My dear Monsieur Montanus, we have been work- 
 ing hard for you this day. 
 
 Montanus. What's that? 
 
 yesper. We have intervened between your parents and 
 your parents-in-law to bring about a reconciliation. 
 
 Montanus. Well, what have you accomplished? Did my 
 father-in-law give way ? 
 
 Jesper. The last words he said to us were, " There has 
 never been any heresy in our family. You tell Rasmus 
 Berg" — I merely quote his words; he never once said 
 
ACT FOURTH 159 
 
 Montanus Berg — "You tell Rasmus Berg from me," said 
 he, "that my wife and I are both honest. God-fearing 
 people, who would rather wring our daughter's neck than 
 marry her to any one who says that the earth is round, and 
 brings false doctrine into the village." 
 
 Peer. To tell the truth, we have always had pure faith 
 here on the hill, and Monsieur Jeronimus is n't far wrong 
 in wishing to break off the match. 
 
 Montanus. My good friends, tell Monsieur Jeronimus 
 from me that he is committing a sin in attempting to force 
 me to repudiate what I once have said — a thing contrary 
 to leges scholasticas and consuetudines laudahiles. 
 
 Peer. Oh, Dominus! Will you give up your pretty 
 sweetheart for such trifles 1 Every one will speak ill of it. 
 
 Montanus. The common man, vulgus, will speak ill of 
 it; but my commilitiones., my comrades, will praise me to 
 the skies for my constancy. 
 
 Peer. Do you consider it a sin to say that the earth is 
 flat or oblong ? 
 
 Montanus. No, I do not, but I consider it shameful and 
 dishonorable for me, a Baccalaureus Philosophiae., to repu- 
 diate what I have publicly maintained, and to do anything 
 that is improper for one of my order. My duty is to see to 
 it that ne quid detrimenti patiatur respublica ph'tlosophica. 
 
 Peer. But if you can be convinced that what you believe 
 is false, do you consider it a sin to give up your opinion ? 
 
 Montanus. Prove to me that it is false, and that metho- 
 dice. 
 
 Peer. That is an easy thing for me to do. Now, a great 
 many fine people live here in the village : first, your father- 
 in-law, who has become distinguished by the mere use 
 of his pen; next, myself, unworthy man, who have been 
 
i6o ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 deacon here for fourteen full years; then this good man, 
 the bailiff, besides the parish constable, and various other 
 good men established here who have paid their taxes and 
 land rent in both good times and bad. 
 
 Montanus. That 's the deuce of a syllogtsmus. What does 
 all such nonsense lead to? 
 
 Peer. I'm coming to that directly. I say, just ask any 
 one of these good men who live here in the village and 
 see if any of them will agree with you that the world is 
 round. I 'm sure a man ought to believe what so many say, 
 rather than what only one says. Ergo, you are wrong. 
 
 Montanus. You may bring all the people on the hill and 
 let them oppose me both in this matter and others, and I 
 shall close the mouths of all of them. Such people have no 
 convictions; they must believe what I and other folk say. 
 
 Peer, But if you should say the moon was made of green 
 cheese, would they believe that, too? 
 
 Montanus. Why not ? Tell me, what do the people here 
 think you are? 
 
 Peer. They believe that I am a good, honest man and 
 deacon here in this place; which is true. 
 
 Montanus. And I say it is a liyl say you are a cock, 
 and I shall prove it, as surely as nvo and three make five. 
 
 Peer. The devil you will ! Now, how can I be a cock ? 
 How can you prove that? 
 
 Montanus. Can you tell me anything to prevent you 
 from being one? 
 
 Peer. In the first place I can talk; a cock cannot talk; 
 ergo, I am not a cock. 
 
 Montanus. Talking does not prove anything. A parrot 
 or a starling can talk, too; that does not make them hu- 
 man beings by any means. 
 
ACT FOURTH i6i 
 
 Peer. I can prove it from something else besides talk- 
 ing. A cock has no human. intelligence. I have human in- 
 telligence; ergo., I am not a cock. 
 
 Montanus. Proha m'tnorem. 
 
 yesper. Aw, talk Danish. 
 
 Montanus. I want him to prove that he has the intelli- 
 gence of a human being. 
 
 Peer. See here, I discharge the duties of my office irre- 
 proachably, don't I.' 
 
 Montanus. What are the main duties of your office 
 wherein you show human intelligence? 
 
 Peer. First, I never forget to ring for service at the hour 
 appointed. 
 
 Montanus. Nor does a cock forget to crow and make 
 known the hour and tell people when to get up. 
 
 Peer. Second, I can sing as well as any deacon in 
 Sjaelland. 
 
 Montanus. And our cock crows as well as any cock in 
 Sjaelland. 
 
 Peer. I can mould wax candles, which no cock can do. 
 
 Montanus. Over against that, a cock can make a hen 
 lay eggs, which you can't do. Don't you see that the in- 
 telligence you show in your calling fails to prove that you 
 are Jsetter than a cock? Let us see, in a nutshell, what 
 points you have in common with a cock: a cock has a comb 
 on his head, you have horns on your forehead; a cockcrows, 
 you crow, too; a cock is proud of his voice and ruffles him- 
 self up, you do likewise; a cock gives warning when it is 
 time to get up, you when it is time for service. Ergo., you 
 are a cock. Have you anything else to say? {^Peer cries.') 
 
 fesper. Here, don't cry. Peer! Why do you heed such 
 things ? 
 
1 62 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 Peer. A plague on me if it's not sheer falsehood. I can get 
 a certificate from the whole village that I am not a rooster; 
 that not one of my forbears has been anything but a Chris- 
 tian human being. 
 
 '~Montanus. Refute, then, this syllogismus, quern tibi pro- 
 pono. A cock has certain peculiarities which distinguish him 
 from other animals: he wakes people by a noise when it's 
 time to get up; announces the hours; plumes himself on 
 his voice; wears protuberances on his head. You have the 
 same peculiarities. Ergo, you are a cock. Refute me that 
 argument. {Peer weeps again.) 
 
 Jesper. If the deacon can't shut you up, I can. 
 
 Montanus. Let us hear your argument, then ! 
 
 'Jesper. First, my conscience tells me that your opinion 
 is false. 
 
 Montanus. One cannot pass judgment in all matters 
 according to a bailiff's conscience. 
 
 Jesper. In the second place, I say that everything you 
 have said is sheer falsehood. 
 
 Moritanus. Prove it. 
 
 Jesper. In the third place, I am an honest man, whose 
 word has always deserved to be believed. 
 
 Montanus. That sort of talk will convince no one. 
 
 Jesper. In the fourth place, I say that you have spoken 
 like a knave and that the tongue ought to be cut out of 
 your mouth. 
 
 Montanus. I still hear no proof. 
 
 Jesper. And, finally, in the fifth place, I will prove it 
 to you abundantly either with swords or with bare fists. 
 
 Montanus. No, I do not care for either, thank you; but 
 as long as you wish to dispute with the mouth only, you 
 shall find that I can justify not only the things which I 
 
ACT FOURTH 163 
 
 have said, but more, too. Come on, Mr. BailifF, I will prove 
 by sound logic that you are a bull. 
 
 'Jesper. The devil you will. 
 
 Montanus. Just have the patience to hear my argument. 
 
 Jesper. Come, Peer, let 's go. 
 
 Montanus. I prove it in this way. ^uicunque — {jesper 
 shrieks and puts his hand over Erasmus's mouthy If you do 
 not wish to hear my proof this time, you can meet me 
 another time, whenever you please. 
 
 'Jesper. I am too good to associate with such a fanatic. 
 
 \Exeunt Jesper and Peer. 
 
 Scene 3 
 
 Montanus. I can dispute dispassionately with these people, 
 however harshly they speak to me. I do not become hot- 
 headed unless I dispute with people who imagine that 
 they understand Methodum disputandi and that they are just 
 as well versed in philosophy as I. For this reason I was 
 ten times as zealous when I argued against the student 
 to-day ; for he had some appearance of learning. But here 
 come my parents. 
 
 Scene 4 
 Enter Jeppe and Nille. 
 Jeppe. Oh, my dear son, don't carry on so, and don't 
 quarrel with everybody. The bailiff and deacoji, who at 
 our request undertook to make peace between you and 
 your father-in-law, have, I hear, been made sport of. What 
 is the use of turning good folk into cocks and bulls.' 
 Montanus. For this purpose I have studied, for this 
 
i64 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 ■ purpose I have racked my brains: that I may say what I 
 'i^__ choose, and justify it. 
 
 'Jeppe. It seems to me that it would have been better 
 never to have studied in that way. 
 
 Montanus. Keep your mouth shut, old man ! 
 Jeppe. You 're not going to beat your parents ? 
 Montanus. If I did, I should justify that, too, before the 
 whole world. \_Exeunt Jeppe and Nille, weeping. 
 
 Scene 5 
 Enter Jacob. 
 Montanus. I will not abandon my opinions, even if they 
 all go mad at once. 
 
 Jacob. I have a letter for JVIossur. 
 
 \_Gives him the letter, and exit. 
 
 Scene 6 
 
 Montanus (reading). My dearest friend ! I could never have 
 imagined that you would so easily abandon her who for 
 so many years has loved you with such faith and con- 
 stancy. I can tell you for a certainty that my father is so 
 set against the notion that the earth is round, and con- 
 siders it such an important article of faith, that he will 
 never give me to you unless you assent to the belief that 
 he and the other good folk here in the village hold. What 
 difference can it make to you whether the earth is oblong, 
 round, eight-cornered, or square ? I beg of you, by all the love 
 I have borne you, that you conform to the faith in which 
 we here on the hill have been happy for so long. If you do 
 not humor me in this, you may be sure that I shall die of 
 
ACT FOURTH 165 
 
 grief, and the whole world will abhor you for causing the 
 death of one who has loved you as her own soul. 
 
 Elisabeth, daughter of Jeronimus, 
 by her own hand. 
 
 Oh, heavens! This letter moves me and throws me into 
 
 great irresolution — 
 
 Utque securi 
 Saucia trabs ingens, ubi plaga novissima restai, 
 ^uo cadat in dubio est, omnique a parte ttmetur^ 
 Sic animus — 
 
 On the one hand is Philosophy, bidding me stand firm; on 
 the other, my sweetheart reproaching me with coldness and 
 faithlessness. But should Erasmus Montanus for any reason 
 renounce his conviction, hitherto his one virtue ? No, in- 
 deed, by no means. Yet here is necessity, which knows 
 no law. If I do not submit in this, I shall make both my- 
 self and my sweetheart miserable. She will die of grief, 
 and all the world will hate me and reproach me with my 
 faithlessness. Ought I abandon her, when she has loved 
 me constantly for so many years ? Ought I be the cause of 
 her death ? No, that must not be. Still, consider what you 
 are doing, Erasmus Montane, Musarum et ApoUonis pulle ! 
 Here you have the chance to show that you are a true 
 philosophus. The greater the danger, the larger the laurel 
 wreath you win inter philosophos. Think what your com- 
 militiones will say when they hear something like this : " He 
 is no longer the Erasmus Montanus who hitherto has de- 
 fended his opinions to the last drop of his blood." If com- 
 mon and ignorant people reproach me with unfaithfulness 
 to my sweetheart, philosophic for their part, will exalt me 
 to the skies. The very thing which disgraces me in the 
 
1 66 ERASMUS MONT ANUS 
 
 eyes of the one party crowns me with honor among the 
 other. I must therefore resist the temptation. I am resist- 
 ing it. I conquer it. I have already conquered it. The earth 
 is round. "Jacta est alea. Dixi. (Calls!) Jacob! 
 
 Scene 7 
 Enter "Jacob. 
 Montanus. Jacob, the letter which you delivered to me 
 from my sweetheart has had no influence upon me. I adhere 
 to what I have said. The earth is round, and it shall never 
 become flat as long as my head remains on my shoulders. 
 
 "Jacob. I believe, too, that the earth is round, but if any 
 one gave me a seed-cake to say it was oblong, I should say 
 that it was oblong, for it would make no difference to me. 
 
 Montanus. That might be proper for you, but not for 
 a philosophus, whose principal virtue is to justify to the 
 uttermost what he once has said. I will dispute publicly on 
 the subject here in the village and challenge all who have 
 studied. 
 
 Jacob. But might I ask Mossur one thing: If you win 
 the disputation, what will be the result? 
 
 Montanus. The result will be that I shall have the honor 
 of winning and shall be recognized as a learned man. 
 "^ Jacob. Mossur means a talkative man. I have noticed, 
 from people here in the village, that wisdom and talking 
 are not the same thing. Rasmus Hansen, who is always 
 talking, and whom no one can stand against in the matter 
 of words, is granted by every one to have just plain goose 
 sense. On the other hand, the parish constable, Niels Chris- 
 tensen, who says little and always gives in, is admitted to 
 have an understanding of the duties of chief bailiff. 
 
ACT FOURTH 167 
 
 Montanus. Will you listen to the rascal ? Faith, he 's try- 
 ing to argue with me. 
 
 "Jacoh. Mossur must n't take ofFence. I talk only accord- 
 ing to my simple understanding, and ask only in order to 
 learn. I should like to know whether, when Mossur wins 
 the dispute, Peer the deacon will thereupon be turned into 
 a cock? 
 
 Montanus. Nonsense! He will stay the same as he was 
 before. 
 
 yacob. Well, then Mossur would lose ! 
 /'^ Montanus. I shall not allow myself to be drawn into 
 
 i dispute with a rogue of a peasant like you. If you under- 
 stood Latin, I should readily oblige you. I am not accus- 
 tomed to disputation in Danish. 
 
 Jacob. That is to say, Mossur has become so learned 
 that he cannot make clear his meaning in his mother- 
 C tongue. 
 
 Montanus. Be silent, audacissime juvenis! Why should 
 I exert myself to explain my opinions to coarse and com- 
 mon folk, who don't know what universalia entia rationis 
 formae substantiates are ? It certainly is absurdissimum to try 
 to prate of colors to the blind. Vulgus indoctum est monstrum 
 horrendum informe, cut lumen ademptum. Not long ago a man 
 ten times as learned as you wished to dispute with me, but 
 when I found that he did not know what quidditas was, I 
 promptly refused him. 
 
 yacob. What does that word quidditas mean .? Was n't 
 that it? 
 
 Montanus. I know well enough what it means. 
 
 yacob. Perhaps Mossur knows it himself, but can't ex- 
 plain it to others. What little I know, I know in such a 
 way that all men can grasp it when I say it to them. 
 
i68 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 Montanus. Yes, you are a learned fellow, Jacob. What 
 do you know ? 
 
 'Jacob. What if I could prove that I am more learned than 
 Mossur ? 
 
 Montanus. I should like to hear you. 
 
 Jacob. He who studies the most important things, I 
 think, has the most thorough learning. 
 
 Montanus. Yes, that is true enough. 
 
 Jacob. I study farming and the cultivation of the soil. 
 For that reason I am more learned than Mossur. 
 
 Montanus. Do you believe that rough peasants' work 
 is the most important ? 
 
 Jacob. I don't know about that. But I do know that if we 
 farmers should take a pen or a piece of chalk in our hands 
 to calculate how far it is to the moon, you learned men 
 would soon suffer in the stomach. You scholars spend the 
 time disputing whether the earth is round, square, or eight- 
 cornered, and we study how to keep the earth in repair. 
 Does Mossur see now that our studies are more useful and 
 important than his, and, therefore, Niels Christensen is 
 the most learned man here in the village, because he has 
 improved his farm so that an acre of it is rated at thirty 
 rix-dollars more than in the time of his predecessor, who sat 
 all day with a pipe in his mouth, smudging and rumpling 
 Doctor Arent Hvitfeld's Chronicle or a book of sermons? 
 
 Montanus. You will be the death of me; it is the devil 
 incarnate who is talking. I never in all my life thought 
 such words could come from a peasant-boy's mouth. For 
 although all you have said is false and ungodly, still it is an 
 unusual speech for one in your walk of life. Tell me this 
 minute from whom you have learned such nonsense. 
 
 Jacob. I have not studied, Mossur, but people say I have 
 
ACT FOURTH 169 
 
 a good head. The district judge never comes to town but 
 he sends for me at once. He has told my parents a hun- 
 dred times that I ought to devote myself to books, and that 
 something great might be made of me. When I have noth- 
 ing to do, I go speculating. The other day I made a verse 
 on Morten Nielsen, who drank himself to death. 
 
 Montanus. Let us hear the verse. 
 
 Jacob. You must know, first, that the father and the 
 grandfather of this same Morten were both fishermen, and 
 were drowned at sea. This was how the verse went: 
 
 Here lies the body of Morten Nielsen ; 
 To follow the footsteps of his forbears, 
 Who died in the water as fishermen, 
 He drowned himself in brandy. 
 
 I had to read the verse before the district judge the other 
 day, and he had it written down and gave me two marks 
 for it. 
 
 Montanus. The poem, though formaliter very bad, is 
 none the less materialiter excellent. The prosody, which is 
 the most important thing, is lacking. 
 
 'Jacob. What does that mean? 
 
 Montanus. Certain lines have not pedes., or feet, enough 
 to walk on. 
 
 Jacob. Feet ! I would have you know that in a few days 
 it ran over the whole countryside. 
 
 Montanus. I see you have a crafty head. I could wish 
 that you had studied and understood your Philosophiam in- 
 strumentalem, so you could dispute under me. Come, let 
 us go. ^Exeunt. 
 
ACT V 
 
 Scene i 
 
 Same as in Act IV. A Lieutenant. "Jesper the Bailiff". 
 Lieutenant. How can I manage to see the fellow, Mr. 
 Bailiff? I should like to have a talk with him. Is he a 
 likely looking fellow ? 
 
 Jesper. Oh, he looks pretty well, and he has a mouth 
 like a razor. 
 
 Lieutenant. That makes no difference, so long as he's 
 strong and active. 
 
 Jesper. He can say anything he wants, and maintain it. 
 He proved beyond a doubt that Peerthe deacon was a cock. 
 
 Lieutenant. Is he good and broad across the shoulders ? 
 
 "Jesper. A big, strong lad. Every one in the house here 
 is afraid of him, even his parents, for he can turn them 
 into cows, oxen, and horses, then back again into people, 
 — that is, he can prove that they are, from books. 
 
 Lieutenant. Does he look as if he could stand knocking 
 about ? 
 
 Jesper. And he proved that the earth was round, too. 
 
 Lieutenant. That does n't matter to me. Does he look as 
 if he were brave, and had a stout heart ? 
 
 Jesper. He would stake his life for a letter of the alpha- 
 bet, not to mention anything else. He has set every one 
 here by the ears, but that makes no difference to him — he 
 won't budge from his opinions and his learning. 
 
 Lieutenant. Mr. Bailiff, from all I hear, he will make 
 a perfect soldier. 
 
 Jesper. How can you make a soldier of him. Lieuten- 
 ant? He is a student. 
 
ACT FIFTH 171 
 
 Lieutenant. That has nothing to do with it. If he can 
 turn people into sheep, oxen, and cocks, I'll have a try 
 at turning a student into a soldier, for once. 
 
 yesper. I should be happy if you could. I should laugh 
 my belly in two. 
 
 Lieutenant. Just keep quiet about it, Jesper! When a 
 bailiff and a lieutenant put their heads together, such things 
 are not impossible. But I see some one coming this way. 
 Is that he, by any chance? 
 
 fesper. Yes, it is. I shall run off, so that he won't sus- 
 pect me. \_Exit. 
 
 Scene 2 
 Enter Montanus. 
 Lieutenant. Welcome to the village. 
 
 Montanus. I humbly thank you. 
 
 Lieutenant. I have taken the liberty of addressing you, 
 because there aren't many educated people hereabouts for 
 a man to talk to. 
 
 Montanus. I am delighted that you have been a scholar. 
 When did you graduate, if I may inquire? 
 
 Lieutenant. Oh, ten years ago. 
 
 Montanus. Then you are an old academicus. What was 
 your specialty when you were a student? 
 
 Lieutenant. I read mostly the old Latin authors, and 
 studied natural law and moral problems, as in fact I do still. 
 
 Montanus. That is mere trumpery, not academicum. Did 
 you lay no stress on Philosophiam instrumentalem? 
 
 Lieutenant. Not especially. 
 
 Montanus. Then you have never done any disputation ? 
 
 Lieutenant. No. 
 
 Montanus. Well, is that studying ? Philosophia instrumen- 
 
[ 
 
 172 ERASMUS MONT ANUS 
 
 talis is the only solid studium; the rest are all very fine, but 
 they are not learned. One who is well drilled in Logica and 
 Metaphysica can get himself out of any difficulty and dis- 
 pute on all subjects, even if he is unfamiliar with them. 
 I know of nothing which I should take upon myself to 
 defend and not get out of it very well. There was never 
 any disputation at the university in which I did not take 
 part. A philosophus instrumentalis can pass for a polyhistor. 
 
 Lieutenant. Who is the best disputer nowadays? 
 
 Montanus. A student called Peer Iverson. When he has 
 refuted his opponent so that he hasn't a word to say for 
 himself, he says, "Now, if you will take my proposition, I 
 will defend yours." In all that sort of thing his Philosophia 
 instrumentalis is the greatest help. It is a shame that the lad 
 did not become a lawyer; he could have made a mighty good 
 living. Next to him, I am the strongest, for the last time I 
 disputed, he whispered in my ear," Jam sumus ergo pares." 
 Yet I will always yield him the palm. 
 
 Lieutenant. But I have heard it said that Monsieur can 
 prove that it is the duty of a child to beat his parents. That 
 seems to be absurd. 
 
 Montanus. If I said it, I am the man to defend it. 
 
 Lieutenant. I dare wager a ducat that you are not clever 
 enough for that. 
 
 Montanus. I will risk a ducat on it. 
 
 Lieutenant. Good. It is agreed. Now, let 's hear you. 
 
 Montanus. He whom one loves most, he beats most. One 
 ought to love nobody more than his parents, ergo there is 
 nobody whom one ought to beat more. Now, in another syl- 
 logism : what one has received he ought, according to his 
 ability, to return. In my youth I received blows from my 
 parents. Ergo I ought to give them blows in return. 
 
ACT FIFTH 173 
 
 Lieutenant. Enough, enough, I have lost. Faith, you shall 
 have your ducat. 
 
 Montanus. Oh, you were not in earnest; I vfiMprofecto 
 take no money. 
 
 Lieutenant. Upon my word, you shall take it. I swear 
 you shall. 
 
 Montanus. Then I will take it to keep you from break- 
 ing an oath. 
 
 Lieutenant. But may I not also try to turn you into 
 something? Par exemple, I will turn you into a soldier. 
 
 Montanus. Oh, that is very easy, for all students are sol- 
 diers of the intellect. 
 
 Lieutenant. No, I shall prove that you are a soldier in 
 body. Whoever has taken press-money is an enlisted sol- 
 dier. You have done so, ergo — 
 
 Montanus. Nego minorem. 
 
 Lieutenant. Et ego probo minorem by the two rix-dollars 
 you took into your hand. 
 
 Montanus. Distinguendum est inter nummos. 
 
 Lieutenant. No distinction! You are a soldier. 
 
 Montanus. Distinguendum est inter the two: simpliciter 
 and relative accipere. 
 
 Lieutenant. No nonsense ! The contract is closed, and 
 you have taken the money. 
 
 Montanus. Distinguendum est inter contractum verum et 
 apparentem. 
 
 Lieutenant. Can you deny that you have received a ducat 
 from me? 
 
 Montanus. Distinguendum est inter rem et modum rei. 
 
 Lieutenant. Come, follow me straight, comrade! You 
 must get your uniform. 
 
174 ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 Montanus. There are your two rix-dollars back. You 
 have no witnesses to my taking the money. 
 
 Scene 3 
 Enter 'Jesper and Niels the Corporal, 
 fesper. I can bear witness that I saw the lieutenant put 
 money into his hand. 
 
 Niels. I too. 
 
 Montanus. But why did I take the money ? Distinguendum 
 est inter — 
 
 Lieutenant. Oh, we won't listen to any talk. Niels, you 
 stay here, while I fetch the uniform. \Exit the Lieutenant. 
 
 Montanus. Oh, help! 
 
 Niels. If you don't shut up, you dog, I '11 stick a bay- 
 onet through your body. Has n't he enlisted, Mr. Bailiff? 
 
 Jesper. Yes, of course he has. 
 
 Enter the Lieutenant. 
 Lieutenant. Come, now, pull off that black coat and put 
 on this red one. {^Montanus cries while they put on his uni- 
 form.') Oh, come, it looks bad for a soldier to cry. You 
 are far better off than you were before. — Drill him well, 
 now, Niels. He is a learned fellow, but he is raw yet in his 
 exercises. (^Niels the Corporal leads Montanus about., drilling 
 him and heating him^ \_Exeunt the Lieutenant and "Jesper. 
 
 Scene 4 
 Enter the Lieutenant. 
 Lieutenant. Well, Niels, can he go through the drill ^ 
 
 Niels. He '11 learn in time, but he is a lazy dog. He has 
 to be beaten every minute. 
 
ACT FIFTH 175 
 
 Montanus {crying). Oh, gracious sir, have mercy on me. 
 My health is weak and I cannot endure such treatment. 
 
 Lieutenant. It seems a little hard at first, but when your 
 back has once been well beaten and toughened, it won't 
 hurt so much. 
 
 Montanus {crying). Oh, would that I had never studied ! 
 Then I never should have got into this trouble. 
 
 Lieutenant. Oh, this is only a beginning. When you 
 have sat a half score of times on the wooden horse, or 
 stood on the stake, then you will think this sort of thing 
 is a mere bagatelle. {Montanus weeps again.) 
 
 Scene 5 
 Enter "Jeronimus., Magdelone., yeppe, and Nille. 
 'Jeronimus. Are you sure of it? 
 
 feppe. Indeed I am ; the bailifF told me a moment ago. 
 Ah, now my anger is turned to pity. 
 
 'Jeronimus. If we could only get him back to the true 
 faith, I should be glad to buy him ofF. 
 
 Lisbed {rushing in). Oh, poor wretch that I am ! 
 
 'Jeronimus. Don't raise a hubbub, daughter, you won't 
 gain anything by that. 
 
 Lisbed. Oh, father dear, if you were as much in love as 
 I am, you would n't ask me to keep quiet. 
 
 Jeronimus. Fie, fie, it is not proper for a girl to show 
 her feelings like that. But there he is, I do believe. Look 
 here, Rasmus Berg! What is going on? 
 
 Montanus. Oh, my dear Monsieur Jeronimus, I 've be- 
 come a soldier. 
 
 Jeronimus. Yes, now you have something else to do, 
 besides turning men into beasts and deacons into cocks. 
 
176 ERASMUS MONT ANUS 
 
 Montanus. Oh, alas ! I lament my former folly, but all 
 too late. 
 
 yeronimus. Listen, my friend. If you will give up your 
 former foolishness, and not fill the land with disagreements 
 and disputations, I shall not fail to do everything in my 
 power to get you off. 
 
 Montanus. Oh, I don't deserve anything better, after 
 threatening my old parents with blows. But if you will 
 have pity on me and work for my release, I swear to you, 
 that hereafter I shall live a different life, devote myself to 
 some business, and never bother any one with disputations 
 any more. 
 
 Jeronimus. Stay here for a moment ; I will go and talk 
 to the Lieutenant. (Enter the Lieutenant.^ Oh, my dear 
 Lieutenant, you have always been a friend of our house. 
 The person who has enlisted as a soldier is engaged to 
 my only daughter, who is much in love with him. Set 
 him free again. I shall be glad to present you with a hun- 
 dred rix-dollars, if you do. I admit that at first I was de- 
 lighted myself that he had been punished in such a way, 
 for his singular behavior had exasperated me, and all the 
 good folk here in the village, against him. But when I saw 
 him in this plight, and at the same time heard him lament 
 his former folly and promise amendment, my heart was 
 ready to burst with sympathy. 
 
 Lieutenant. Listen, my dear Monsieur Jeronimus. What 
 I have done has been only for his own good. I know that he 
 is engaged to your daughter, and therefore merely for the 
 good of your house I have reduced him to this condition 
 and treated him with such great harshness, so that he might 
 be brought to confess his sins. But for your sake I will 
 give the money to the poor, inasmuch as I hear that he 
 
ACT FIFTH 177 
 
 has experienced a change of heart. Let him come here. — 
 Listen, my friend, your parents have spent much money 
 on you in the hope that you would become an honor and 
 a comfort to them in their old age. But you go off a sen- 
 sible fellow and come back entirely deranged, arouse the 
 whole village, advance strange opinions, and defend them 
 with stubbornness. If that is to be the fruit of studies, then 
 one ought to wish that there never had been any books. 
 It seems to me that the principal thing a man ought to 
 learn in school is just the opposite of what you are in- 
 fected with, and that a learned man ought particularly to 
 be distinguished from others in that he is more temperate, . 
 modest, and considerate in his speech than the uneducated. 
 For true philosophy teaches us that we ought to restrain 
 and quiet disagreements, and to give up our opinions as 
 soon as we are persuaded, even by the humblest person, 
 that they are mistaken. The first rule of philosophy is. 
 Know thyself; and the further one advandes, the lower 
 opinion one should have of himself, the more one should 
 realize what there remains to be learned. But you make 
 philosophy into a kind of fencing, and consider a man a 
 philosopher if he can warp the truth by subtle distinctions 
 and talk himself out of any opinion; in so doing you incur 
 hatred and bring contempt upon learning, for people im- 
 agine that your extraordinary manners are the natural fruits 
 of education. .The best advice I can give you is to strive 
 to forget, and to rid your head of what you have burned 
 so much midnight oil in learning; and that you take up 
 some calling in which you can make your way to success ; 
 or, if you are bound to pursue your studies, that you go 
 about them in some other fashion. 
 
lyS ERASMUS MONTANUS 
 
 Montanus; Oh, my good sir, I will follow your advice, 
 and do my best to be a different man from now on. 
 
 Lieutenant. Good ; then I will let you go as soon as you 
 have given your word both to your own parents and to your 
 future parents-in-law, and have begged their pardon. 
 
 Montanus. I humbly beg all of you, as I weep salt tears, 
 to forgive me ; and I promise to lead an entirely different 
 life henceforward. I condemn my former ways, and I have 
 been cured of them not so much by the fix I had got into 
 as by this good man's wise and profound words. Next to 
 my parents I shall always hold him in the highest esteem. 
 
 yeronimus. Then you don't believe any longer, my dear 
 son-in-law, that the world is round ? For that is the point 
 that I take most to heart. 
 
 Montanus. My dear father-in-law, I won't argue about 
 it any further. But I will only say this, that nowadays all 
 learned folk are of the opinion that the earth is round. 
 
 yeronimus. Oh, Mr. Lieutenant, let him be made a sol- 
 dier again until the earth becomes flat. 
 
 Montanus. My dear father-in-law, the earth is as flat as 
 a pancake. Now are you satisfied ? 
 
 yeronimus. Yes, now we are good friends again, — now 
 you shall have my daughter. Come to my house, now, all 
 together, and drink to the reconciliation. Mr. Lieuten- 
 ant, won't you do us the honor of joining us? 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
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