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Authors: Henrik Ibsen
Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (27 page)
This, and no other, is the true account of the genesis of
The
Feast at Solhoug
.
Henrik Ibsen.
Rome, April, 1883.
*Heinrich von Kleist, Henrik Hertz, Henrik Ibsen.
BENGT GAUTESON, Master of Solhoug.
MARGIT, his wife.
SIGNE, her sister.
GUDMUND ALFSON, their kinsman.
KNUT GESLING, the King’s sheriff.
ERIK OF HEGGE, his friend.
A HOUSE-CARL.
ANOTHER HOUSE-CARL.
THE KING’S ENVOY.
AN OLD MAN.
A MAIDEN.
GUESTS, both MEN and LADIES.
MEN of KNUT GESLING’S TRAIN.
SERVING-MEN and MAIDENS at SOLHOUG.
The action passes at Solhoug in the Fourteenth Century.
PRONUNCIATION OF NAMES: Gudmund=Goodmund. The g in “Margit” and in “Gesling” is hard, as in “go,” or in “Gesling,” it may be pronounced as y—”Yesling.” The first o in Solhoug ought to have the sound of a very long “oo.”
Transcriber’s notes:
— Signe and Hegge have umlauts above the e’s, the
ultimate e only in Hegge.
— Passages that are in lyric form are not indented
and have the directorial comments to the right of
the character’s name.
A stately room, with doors in the back and to both sides. In front on the right, a bay window with small round panes, set in lead, and near the window a table, on which is a quantity of feminine ornaments. Along the left wall, a longer table with silver goblets and drinking-horns. The door in the back leads out to a passage-way,* through which can be seen a spacious fiord-landscape.
BENGT GAUTESON, MARGIT, KNUT GESLING and ERIK OF HEGGE are seated around the table on the left. In the background are KNUT’s followers, some seated, some standing; one or two flagons of ale are handed round among them. Far off are heard church bells, ringing to Mass.
*This no doubt means a sort of arcaded veranda running along the outer wall of the house.
ERIK.
[Rising at the table.] In one word, now, what answer have you to make to my wooing on Knut Gesling’s behalf?
BENGT.
[Glancing uneasily towards his wife.] Well, I — to me it seems — [As she remains silent.] H’m, Margit, let us first hear your thought in the matter.
MARGIT.
[Rising.] Sir Knut Gesling, I have long known all that Erik of Hegge has told of you. I know full well that you come of a lordly house; you are rich in gold and gear, and you stand in high favour with our royal master.
BENGT.
[To KNUT.] In high favour — so say I too.
MARGIT.
And doubtless my sister could choose her no doughtier mate —
BENGT.
None doughtier; that is what
I
say too.
MARGIT.
— If so be that you can win her to think kindly of you.
BENGT.
[Anxiously, and half aside.] Nay — nay, my dear wife —
KNUT.
[Springing up.] Stands it so, Dame Margit! You think that your sister —
BENGT.
[Seeking to calm him.] Nay, nay, Knut Gesling! Have patience, now. You must understand us aright.
MARGIT.
There is naught in my words to wound you. My sister knows you only by the songs that are made about you — and these songs sound but ill in gentle ears.
No peaceful home is your father’s house.
With your lawless, reckless crew,
Day out, day in, must you hold carouse —
God help her who mates with you.
God help the maiden you lure or buy
With gold and with forests green —
Soon will her sore heart long to lie
Still in the grave, I ween.
ERIK.
Aye, aye — true enough — Knut Gesling lives not overpeaceably. But there will soon come a change in that, when he gets him a wife in his hall.
KNUT.
And this I would have you mark, Dame Margit: it may be a week since, I was at a feast at Hegge, at Erik’s bidding, whom here you see. I vowed a vow that Signe, your fair sister, should be my wife, and that before the year was out. Never shall it be said of Knut Gesling that he brake any vow. You can see, then, that you must e’en choose me for your sister’s husband — be it with your will or against it.
MARGIT.
Ere that may be, I must tell you plain,
You must rid yourself of your ravening train.
You must scour no longer with yell and shout
O’er the country-side in a galloping rout;
You must still the shudder that spreads around
When Knut Gesling is to a bride-ale bound.
Courteous must your mien be when a-feasting you ride;
Let your battle-axe hang at home at the chimney-side —
It ever sits loose in your hand, well you know,
When the mead has gone round and your brain is aglow.
From no man his rightful gear shall you wrest,
You shall harm no harmless maiden;
You shall send no man the shameless hest
That when his path crosses yours, he were best
Come with his grave-clothes laden.
And if you will so bear you till the year be past,
You may win my sister for your bride at last.
KNUT.
[With suppressed rage.] You know how to order your words cunningly, Dame Margit. Truly, you should have been a priest, and not your husbands wife.
BENGT.
Oh, for that matter, I too could —
KNUT.
[Paying no heed to him.] But I would have you take note that had a sword-bearing man spoken to me in such wise —
BENGT.
Nay, but listen, Knut Gesling — you must understand us!
KNUT.
[As before.] Well, briefly, he should have learnt that the axe sits loose in my hand, as you said but now.
BENGT.
[Softly.] There we have it! Margit, Margit, this will never end well.
MARGIT.
[To KNUT.] You asked for a forthright answer, and that I have given you.
KNUT.
Well, well; I will not reckon too closely with you, Dame Margit. You have more wit than all the rest of us together. Here is my hand; — it may be there was somewhat of reason in the keen-edged words you spoke to me.
MARGIT.
This I like well; now are you already on the right way to amendment. Yet one word more — to-day we hold a feast at Solhoug.
KNUT.
A feast?
BENGT.
Yes, Knut Gesling: you must know that it is our wedding day; this day three years ago made me Dame Margit’s husband.
MARGIT.
[Impatiently, interrupting.] As I said, we hold a feast to-day. When Mass is over, and your other business done, I would have you ride hither again, and join in the banquet. Then you can learn to know my sister.
KNUT.
So be it, Dame Margit; I thank you. Yet ‘twas not to go to Mass that I rode hither this morning. Your kinsman, Gudmund Alfson, was the cause of my coming.
MARGIT.
[Starts.] He! My kinsman? Where would you seek him?
KNUT.
His homestead lies behind the headland, on the other side of the fiord.
MARGIT.
But he himself is far away.
ERIK.
Be not so sure; he may be nearer than you think.
KNUT.
[Whispers.] Hold your peace!
MARGIT.
Nearer? What mean you?
KNUT.
Have you not heard, then, that Gudmund Alfson has come back to Norway? He came with the Chancellor Audun of Hegranes, who was sent to France to bring home our new Queen.
MARGIT.
True enough, but in these very days the King holds his wedding- feast in full state at Bergen, and there is Gudmund Alfson a guest.
BENGT.
And there could we too have been guests had my wife so willed it.
ERIK.
[Aside to KNUT.] Then Dame Margit knows not that — ?
KNUT.
[Aside.] So it would seem; but keep your counsel. [Aloud.] Well, well, Dame Margit, I must go my way none the less, and see what may betide. At nightfall I will be here again.
MARGIT.
And then you must show whether you have power to bridle your unruly spirit.
BENGT.
Aye, mark you that.
MARGIT.
You must lay no hand on your axe — hear you, Knut Gesling?
BENGT.
Neither on your axe, nor on your knife, nor on any other weapon whatsoever.
MARGIT.
For then can you never hope to be one of our kindred.
BENGT.
Nay, that is our firm resolve.
KNUT.
[To MARGIT.] Have no fear.
BENGT.
And what we have firmly resolved stands fast.
KNUT.
That I like well, Sir Bengt Gauteson. I, too, say the same; and
I have pledged myself at the feast-board to wed your kinswoman.
You may be sure that my pledge, too, will stand fast. — God’s peace
till to-night!
[He and ERIK, with their men, go out at the back.
[BENGT accompanies them to the door. The sound of the bells
has in the meantime ceased.
BENGT.
[Returning.] Methought he seemed to threaten us as he departed.
MARGIT.
[Absently.] Aye, so it seemed.
BENGT.
Knut Gesling is an ill man to fall out with. And when I bethink me, we gave him over many hard words. But come, let us not brood over that. To-day we must be merry, Margit! — as I trow we have both good reason to be.
MARGIT.
[With a weary smile.] Aye, surely, surely.
BENGT.
Tis true I was no mere stripling when I courted you. But well I wot I was the richest man for many and many a mile. You were a fair maiden, and nobly born; but your dowry would have tempted no wooer.
MARGIT.
[To herself.] Yet was I then so rich.
BENGT.
What said you, my wife?
MARGIT.
Oh, nothing, nothing. [Crosses to the right.] I will deck me with pearls and rings. Is not to-night a time of rejoicing for me?
BENGT.
I am fain to hear you say it. Let me see that you deck you in your best attire, that our guests may say: Happy she who mated with Bengt Gauteson. — But now must I to the larder; there are many things to-day that must not be over-looked.
[He goes out to the left.
MARGIT. [Sinks down on a chair by the table on the right.]
‘Twas well he departed. While here he remains
Meseems the blood freezes within my veins;
Meseems that a crushing mighty and cold
My heart in its clutches doth still enfold.
[With tears she cannot repress.
He is my husband! I am his wife!
How long, how long lasts a woman’s life?
Sixty years, mayhap — God pity me
Who am not yet full twenty-three!
[More calmly after a short silence.
Hard, so long in a gilded cage to pine;
Hard a hopeless prisoner’s lot — and mine.
[Absently fingering the ornaments on the table, and beginning
to put them on.
With rings, and with jewels, and all of my best
By his order myself I am decking —
But oh, if to-day were my burial-feast,
‘Twere little that I’d be recking.
[Breaking off.
But if thus I brood I must needs despair;
I know a song that can lighten care.
[She sings.
The Hill-King to the sea did ride;
— Oh, sad are my days and dreary —
To woo a maiden to be his bride.
— I am waiting for thee, I am weary. —
