peer gynt monologue essay
A monologue from the play by Henrik Ibsen
NOTICE: This monologue is reprinted from The Collected Functions of Henrik Ibsen, vol. iv: Peer Gynt. Trans. William and Charles Archer. Ny: Charles Scribner\s Sons, 1911.
PRIEST:
Now, if the soul moved to meet its doom
Here the dirt lies, as an empty pod
Now, my dear friends, we\ll speak a word or two
Concerning this dead man\s pilgrimage on earth.
He was not wealthy, nor was he wise
His voice was weak, his bearing was unmanly
This individual spoke his mind crestfallen and screwing up
He scarce was learn at his own fireside
He sidled into church, as though appealing
For keep, like various other men, for taking his place.
It was from Gudbrandsdale, you know, he came up.
When below he settled he was nevertheless a guy
And you keep in mind how, to the very previous
He retained his right hand concealed his pocket or purse.
That right hand in the pocket was your feature
That chiefly rubber-stamped his graphic on the head
And therewithal his writhing, his crestfallen
Shrinking coming from notice wheresoe\er he gone.
But , though he nonetheless pursued a path distant
And at any time seemed a stranger within our midst
You all know what he strove so hard to hide
The hands he muffled had 4 fingers only.
I well remember, many years ago
One morning, there were sessions organised at Lunde.
\Twas war-time, and the speak in every mouth
Turned on the country\s sufferings and its fate.
I was there observing. At the stand sat
The Captain, \twixt the Bailiff and the sergeants
Lad following lad was measured up and down
Passed, and enrolled, and taken for a soldier.
The bedroom was full, and in the green outside the house
Where thronged the small folks, deafening the laughter rang.
A name was called, and forth an additional stepped
1 pale since snow after the glacier\s edge.
They bade the youth advance, he reached the table
We noticed his right hand swaddled in a power
He gasped, he swallowed, battling after words
However though the Captain urged him, found zero voice.
My oh my yes, now! Then along with his cheek aflame
His tongue now faltering him, at this point stammering quickly
He mumbled something of any scythe that slipped
Simply by chance, and shore his finger towards the skin.
Straightway a silence fell upon the room.
Males bandied which means glances, that they made lips
They stoned the youngster with appears of quiet scorn.
This individual felt the hail-storm, although he found it not.
Then up the Captain stood, the grey old man
He spat, and directed forth, and thundered Go!
And the guy went. Upon both sides males fell back
Till through their midst he had to operate the gauntlet.
He come to the door, from there he took to flight
Up, up he went, through wood and over hillside
Up through the stone-screes, rough, precipitous.
He had his home up there among the mountains.
It was some 6 months later he came here
With mom, and hitched, and little child.
He leased some ground after the excessive hill-side
Right now there where the waste materials lands trend away to Lomb.
This individual married the first moment that this individual could
This individual built a residence, he pennyless the uncooperative soil
This individual throve, numerous a cultivated patch
Lose interest witness, bravely clad in waving rare metal.
At cathedral he kept his correct hand in his pocket
But sure I actually am in the home his fingertips nine
Toiled every whit as hard as others\ ten.
A single spring the torrent rinsed it all apart.
Their lives were able to escape. Ruined and stripped of
He started work to generate another eradicating
And, ere the fall months, smoke again arose
By a new, better-sheltered, mountain country home.
Sheltered? Coming from torrentnot from avalanche
Couple of years, and all under the snow put buried.
But nonetheless the avalanche could not dishearten his spirit.
He dug, and raked, and cartedcleared the ground
As well as the next winter months, ere the snow-blasts came up
A third the time has been the time hath been his small homestead reared.
Three sons he had, 3 bright and stirring kids
They must to school, and institution was far
And they must clamber, where hill-track failed
By narrow ledges past the headlong scree.
What performed he do? The oldest had to take care of
As best he may, and, where the path was worst
His father destined a string round him to stay him
The others on his back and biceps and triceps he lose interest.
Thus he toiled, year by year, till they were men.
At this point might he well have looked for some return.
In the New World, 3 prosperous men
Their school-going and their daddy have ignored.
He was short-sighted. Out over and above the group
Of those most near to him he nothing saw.
To him looked like meaningless while cymbals\ tinkling
Those phrases that for the heart will need to ring like steel.
His race, his fatherland, everything high and shining
Was ever, to his eye-sight, veiled in mist.
Nevertheless he was modest, humble, was this person
And since that sessions-day his doom oppressed him
As surely because his face were flushed with waste
And his several fingers hidden in his pocket or purse
Offender \gainst his country\s laws? Ay, true!
Although there is something that the rules outshineth
Sure as the snow-white tent of Glittertind
Has clouds, like larger rows of peaks, above that.
No patriot was he. Both intended for church and state
A fruitless forest. But presently there, on the upland ridge
In the small group of friends where he noticed his calling
There having been great, because he was himself.
His inborn note rang true on to the end.
His days were as a lute with moderate strings.
And therefore, peace be around thee, noiseless warrior
That fought the peasant\s small fight, and fell!
It is not necessarily ours to look the center and reins
That is zero task for dust, however for its ruler
Yet challenge I openly, firmly, speak my hope:
He scarce stands crippled now before his God!
