Chapter 2

which, indeed, does not bear any immediate relation to the action), only a few isolated passages have been cut. Shakespeare has lost next to nothing, and a great deal has been gained if I have hereby removed one ground for the hesitation which most teachers would feel in using the book in the public schools." In Act III, Scene 5 is omitted entirely, and obvious passages in other parts of the play.

It has frequently been said that Lassen did little more than "norvagicize" Lembcke's Danish renderings. And certainly even the most cursory reading will show that he had Lembcke at hand. But comparison will also show that variations from Lembcke are numerous and considerable. Lassen was a man of letters, a critic, and a good student of foreign languages, but he was no poet, and his _Merchant of Venice_ is, generally speaking, much inferior to Lembcke's. Compare, for example, the exquisite opening of the fifth act:

LASSEN

_Lor_: Klart skinner Maanen, i en Nat som denne, da Vinden gled med Lys igjennem Løvet, og alt var tyst: i slig en Nat forvist Trojas Murtinder Troilus besteg, til Grækerlejren, til sin Cressida udsukkende sin Sjæl.

LEMBCKE

Klart skinner Maanen, i en Nat som denne, mens Luftningen saa sagte kyssed Træet at knapt det sused, i en saadan Nat steg Troilus vist up paa Trojas Mur og sukked ud sin Sjæl mod Grækerlejren der gjemte Cressida.

_Jes_: I slig en Nat sig Thisbe listed ængstelig, over Duggen saa Løvens Skygge før hun saa den selv, og løb forskrækket bort.

En saadan Nat gik Thisbe bange trippende paa Duggen og øjned Løvens Skygge før den selv og løb forfærdet bort.

_Lor_: I slig en Nat stod Dido med en Vidjevaand i Haanden paa vilden strand, og vinked til Kartago sin elsker hjem igjen.

En saadan Nat stod Dido med en Vidjekvist i Haanden paa vilden Strand og vinkede sin Elsker tilbage til Carthagos Kyst.

_Jes_: I slig en Nat Medea plukked Galder-Urt for Aeson hans Ungdom at forny.

Det var en saadan Nat, da sankede Medea de Trolddomsurter der foryngede den gamle Aeson.

_Lor_:

I slig en Nat stjal Jessica sig fra den rige Jøde, Løb fra Venedig med en lystig Elsker til Belmont uden Stands.

Og en saadan Nat sneg Jessica sig fra den rige Jøde og løb med en Landstryger fra Venedig herhid til Belmont.

_Jes_:

I slig en Nat svor ung Lorenzo at han elsked hende, stjal hendes Sjæl med mange Troskabsløfter og ikke et var sandt.

Og en saadan Nat svor ung Lorenzo hende Kjærlighed og stjal med Troskabseder hendes Hjerte og aldrig en var sand.

_Lor_:

I slig en Nat skjøn Jessica, den lille Klaffertunge, løi paa sin Elsker, og han tilgav hende.

I slig en Nat bagtalte just skjøn Jessica sin Elsker ret som en lille Trold, og han tilgav det.

_Jes_:

Jeg gad fortalt dig mer om slig en Nat, hvis jeg ei hørte nogen komme--tys!

Jeg skulde sagtens "overnatte" dig hvis ingen kom; men tys, jeg hører der Trin af en Mand.

Lembcke's version is faithful to the point of slavishness. Compare, for example, "Jeg skulde sagtens overnatte dig" with "I would outnight you." Lassen, though never grossly inaccurate, allows himself greater liberties. Compare lines 2-6 with the original and with Lembcke. In every case the Danish version is more faithful than the Norwegian. And more mellifluous. Why Lassen should choose such clumsy and banal lines as:

I slig en Nat Trojas Murtinder Troilus besteg

when he could have used Lembcke's, is inexplicable except on the hypothesis that he was eager to prove his own originality. The remainder of Lorenzo's first speech is scarcely better. It is neither good translation nor decent verse.

In 1882 came Lassen's _Julius Caesar_,[20] likewise published as a supplement to _Folkevennen_ for use in the schools. A short postscript tells us that the principles which governed in the translation of the earlier play have governed here also. Lassen specifically declares that he used Foersom's translation (Copenhagen, 1811) as the basis for the translation of Antony's oration. A comparison shows that in this scene Lassen follows Foersom closely--he keeps archaisms which Lembcke amended. One or two instances:

_Foersom_: Seer, her foer Casii Dolk igjennem den; seer, hvilken Rift den nidske Casca gjorde; her rammed' den høitelskte Bruti Dolk, etc.

_Lembcke_: Se, her foer Cassius' Dolk igjennem den; se hvilken Rift den onde Casca gjorde. Her stødte Brutus den høitelskede, etc.

_Lassen_: Se! her foer Casii Dolk igjennem den; se hvilken Rift den onde Casca gjorde. Her rammed den høielskte Bruti Dolk, etc.

[20. _Julius Caesar_. Et Skuespil af William Shakespeare. Oversat af Hartvig Lassen. Udgivet af Selskabet for Folkeoplysningens Fremme som første Tillægshefte til _Folkevennen_ for 1882. Kristiania, 1882. Grøndal og Søn.]

For the rest, a reading of this translation leaves the same impression as a reading of _The Merchant of Venice_--it is a reasonably good piece of work but distinctly inferior to Foersom and to Lembcke's modernization of Foersom. Lassen clearly had Lembcke at hand; he seldom, however, followed him for more than a line or two. What is more important is that there are reminiscences of Foersom not only in the funeral scene, where Lassen himself acknowledges the fact, but elsewhere. Note a few lines from the quarrel between Brutus and Cassius (Act IV, Sc. 3) beginning with Cassius' speech:

Urge me no more, I shall forget myself.

Foersom (Ed. 1811) has:

_Cas_: Tir mig ei mer at jeg ei glemmer mig; husk Eders Vel--og frist mig ikke mere.

_Bru_: Bort, svage Mand!

_Cas_: Er dette muligt?

_Bru_: Hør mig; jeg vil tale. Skal jeg for Eders vilde Sind mig bøie? Troer I jeg kyses af en gal Mands Blik?

_Cas_: O Guder, Guder! skal jeg taale dette?

_Bru_: Ja, meer. Brum saa dette stolte Hierte brister; Gak, viis den Hæftighed for Eders Trælle, og faa dem til at skielve. Skal jeg vige, og føie Eder? Skal jeg staae og bøie mig under Eders Luners Arrighed? Ved Guderne, I skal nedsvælge selv al Eders Galdes Gift, om end I brast; thi fra i dag af bruger jeg Jer kun til Moerskab, ja til latter naar I vredes.

And Lassen has:

_Cas_: _Tirr_ mig ei mer; jeg kunde glemme mig. Tænk paa dit eget Vel, frist mig ei længer.

_Bru_: _Bort, svage Mand_!

_Cas_: Er dette muligt?

_Bru_: Hør mig, jeg vil tale. Skal jeg _mig bøie_ for din Vredes Nykker? Og skræmmes, naar en gal Mand glor paa mig?

_Cas_: O Guder, Guder! maa jeg taale dette?

_Bru_: Dette, ja mer end det. Stamp kun mod Brodden, ras kun, indtil dit stolte Hjerte brister; lad dine Slaver se hvor arg du er og _skjelve_. Jeg--skal jeg tilside smutte? Jeg gjøre Krus for dig? Jeg krumme Ryg naar det behager dig? Ved Guderne! Du selv skal _svælge_ al din _Galdes Gift_, om saa du brister; thi fra denne Dag jeg bruger dig til Moro, ja til Latter, naar du er ilsk.

The _italicized_ passages show that the influence of Foersom was felt in more than one scene. It would be easy to give other instances.

After all this, we need scarcely more than mention Lassen's _Macbeth_[21] published in 1883. The usual brief note at the end of the play gives the usual information that, out of regard for the purpose for which the translation has been made, certain parts of the porter scene and certain speeches by Malcolm in Act IV, Sc. 3 have been cut. Readers will have no difficulty in picking them out.

[21. _Macbeth_. Tragedie af William Shakespeare. Oversat af H. Lassen. Udgivet af Selskabet for Folkeoplysningens Fremme som andet Tillægshefte til _Folkevennen_ for 1883. Kristiania. Grøndal og Søn.]

_Macbeth_ is, like all Lassen's work, dull and prosaic. Like his other translations from Shakespeare, it has never become popular. The standard translation in Norway is still the Foersom-Lembcke, a trifle nationalized with Norwegian words and phrases whenever a new acting version is to be prepared. And while it is not true that Lassen's translations are merely norvagicized editions of the Danish, it is true that they are often so little independent of them that they do not deserve to supersede the work of Foersom and Lembcke.

G

Norwegian translations of Shakespeare cannot, thus far, be called distinguished. There is no complete edition either in Riksmaal or Landsmaal. A few sonnets, a play or two, a scrap of dialogue--Norway has little Shakespeare translation of her own. Qualitatively, the case is somewhat better. Several of the renderings we have considered are extremely creditable, though none of them can be compared with the best in Danish or Swedish. It is a grateful task, therefore, to call attention to the translations by Christen Collin. They are not numerous--only eleven short fragments published as illustrative material in his school edition (English text) of _The Merchant of Venice_--[22] but they are of notable quality, and they save the Riksmaal literature from the reproach of surrendering completely to the Landsmaal the task of turning Shakespeare into Norwegian. With the exception of a few lines from _Macbeth_ and _Othello_, the selections are all from _The Merchant of Venice_.

[22. _The Merchant of Venice_. Med Indledning og Anmærkninger ved Christen Collin. Kristiania. 1902. (This, of course, does not include the translations of the sonnets referred to below.)]

A good part of Collin's success must be attributed to his intimate familiarity with English. The fine nuances of the language do not escape him, and he can use it not with precision merely but with audacity and power. Long years of close and sympathetic association with the literature of England has made English well-nigh a second mother tongue to this fine and appreciative critic. But he is more than a critic. He has more than a little of the true poet's insight and the true poet's gift of song. All this has combined to give us a body of translations which, for fine felicity, stand unrivalled in Dano-Norwegian. Many of these have been prepared for lecture purposes and have never been printed.[23] Only a few have been perpetuated in this text edition of _The Merchant of Venice_. We shall discuss the edition itself below. Our concern here is with the translations. We remember Lassen's and Lembcke's opening of the fifth act. Collin is more successful than his countryman.

_Lor_: Hvor Maanen straaler! I en nat som denne, da milde vindpust kyssed skovens trær og alting var saa tyst, i slig en nat Troilus kanske steg op paa Trojas mure og stønned ud sin sjæl mod Grækerteltene hvor Cressida laa den nat.

_Jes_: I slig en nat kom Thisbe angstfuldt trippende over duggen,-- saa løvens skygge, før hun saa den selv, og løb forskrækket bort.

_Lor_: I slig en nat stod Dido med en vidjekvist i haand paa havets strand og vinkede Æneas tilbage til Karthago.

_Jes_: I slig en nat Medea sanked urter som foryngede den gamle Æsons liv.

_Lor_: I slig en nat stjal Jessica sig fra den rige Jøde med en forfløien elsker fra Venedig og fandt i Belmont ly.

_Jes_: I en saadan nat svor ung Lorenzo at hun var ham kjær og stjal med mange eder hendes hjerte, men ikke en var sand.

_Lor_: I slig en nat skjøn Jessica, den lille heks, bagtalte sin elsker og han--tilgav hende alt.

[23. I have seen these translations in the typewritten copies which Professor Collin distributed among his students.]

"A translation of this passage," says Collin,[24] "can hardly be more than an approximation, but its inadequacy will only emphasize the beauty of the original." Nevertheless we have here more than a feeble approximation. It is not equal to Shakespeare, but it is good Norwegian poetry and as faithful as translation can or need be. It is difficult to refrain from giving Portia's plea for mercy, but I shall give instead Collin's striking rendering of Shylock's arraignment of Antonio:[25]

Signor Antonio, mangen en gang og tit har paa Rialto torv I skjældt mig ud for mine pengelaan og mine renter.... Jeg bar det med taalmodigt skuldertræk, for taalmod er jo blit vor stammes merke.

I kalder mig en vantro, blodgrisk _hund_ og spytter paa min jødiske gaberdin-- hvorfor? for brug af hvad der er mit eget! Nu synes det, I trænger til min hjælp.

Nei virkelig? I kommer nu til mig og siger: Shylock, laan os penge,--I, som slængte eders slim hen paa mit skjæg og satte foden paa mig, som I spændte, en kjøter fra Jer dør, I be'r om penge! Hvad skal jeg svare vel? Skal jeg 'ke svare: Har en hund penge? Er det muligt, at en kjøter har tre tusinde dukater? Eller skal jeg bukke dybt og i trælletone med sænket røst og underdanig hvisken formæle: "Min herre, I spytted paa mig sidste onsdag, en anden dag I spændte mig, en tredje I kaldte mig en hund; for al den artighed jeg laaner Jer saa og saa mange penge?"

[24. Collin, _op. cit._, _Indledning_, XII.]

[25. Collin, _op. cit._, _Indledning_, XXVI. (_M. of V._, 1-3)]

It is to be regretted that Collin did not give us Shylock's still more impassioned outburst to Salarino in Act III. He would have done it well.

It would be a gracious task to give more of this translator's work. It is, slight though its quantity, a genuine contribution to the body of excellent translation literature of the world. I shall quote but one more passage, a few lines from _Macbeth_.[26]

"Det tyktes mig som hørte jeg en røst; Sov aldrig mer! Macbeth har myrdet søvnen, den skyldfri søvn, som løser sorgens floke, hvert daglivs død, et bad for mødig møie, balsam for sjælesaar og alnaturens den søde efterret,--dog hovednæringen ved livets gjæstebud....

_Lady Macbeth_: Hvad er det, du mener?

_Macbeth_: "Sov aldrig mer," det skreg til hele huset. Glarais har myrdet søvnen, derfor Cawdor skal aldrig mer faa søvn,--Macbeth, Macbeth skal aldrig mer faa søvn!"

[26. Collin, _op. cit._, _Indledning_, XXV. _Macbeth_ II, 1.]

H

We have hitherto discussed the Norwegian translations of Shakespeare in almost exact chronological order. It has been possible to do this because the plays have either been translated by a single man and issued close together, as in the case of Hartvig Lassen, or they have appeared separately from the hands of different translators and at widely different periods. We come now, however, to a group of translations which, although the work of different men and published independently from 1901 to 1912, nevertheless belong together. They are all in Landsmaal and they represent quite clearly an effort to enrich the literature of the new dialect with translations from Shakespeare. To do this successfully would, obviously, be a great gain. The Maalstrævere would thereby prove the capacity of their tongue for the highest, most exotic forms of literature. They would give to it, moreover, the discipline which the translation of foreign classics could not fail to afford. It was thus a renewal of the missionary spirit of Ivar Aasen. And behind it all was the defiant feeling that Norwegians should have Shakespeare in Norwegian, not in Danish or bastard Danish.

The spirit of these translations is obvious enough from the opening sentence of Madhus' preface to his translation of _Macbeth_:[27] "I should hardly have ventured to publish this first attempt at a Norwegian translation of Shakespeare if competent men had not urged me to do so." It is frankly declared to be the first Norwegian translation of Shakespeare. Hauge and Lassen, to say nothing of the translator of 1818, are curtly dismissed from Norwegian literature. They belong to Denmark. This might be true if it were not for the bland assumption that nothing is really Norwegian except what is written in the dialect of a particular group of Norwegians. The fundamental error of the "Maalstrævere" is the inability to comprehend the simple fact that language has no natural, instinctive connection with race. An American born in America of Norwegian parents _may_, if his parents are energetic and circumstances favorable, learn the tongue of his father and mother, but his natural speech, the medium he uses easily, his real mother-tongue, will be English. Will it be contended that this American has lost anything in spiritual power or linguistic facility? Quite the contrary. The use of Danish in Norway has had the unfortunate effect of stirring up a bitter war between the two literary languages or the two dialects of the same language, but it has imposed no bonds on the literary or intellectual powers of a large part of the people, for the simple reason that these people have long used the language as their own. And because they live in Norway they have made the speech Norwegian. Despite its Danish origin, Dano-Norwegian is today as truly Norwegian as any other Norwegian dialect, and in its literary form it is, in a sense, more Norwegian than the literary Landsmaal, for the language of Bjørnson has grown up gradually on Norwegian soil; the language of Ivar Aasen is not yet acclimatized.

[27. William Shakespeare: _Macbeth_. I norsk Umskrift ved Olav Madhus. Kristiania. 1901. H. Aschehoug & Co.]

For these reasons it will not do to let Madhus' calm assertion go unchallenged. The fact is that to a large part of the Norwegian people Lassen's translations represent merely a slightly Danicized form of their own language, while to the same people the language of Madhus is at least as foreign as Swedish. This is not the place for a discussion of "Sprogstriden." We may give full recognition to Landsmaal without subscribing to the creed of enthusiasts. And it is still easier to give credit to the excellence of the Shakespeare translations in Landsmaal without concerning ourselves with the partisanship of the translator. What shall we say, then, of the _Macbeth_ of Olav Madhus?

First, that it is decidedly good. The tragedy of Macbeth is stark, grim, stern, and the vigorous, resonant Norwegian fits admirably. There is little opportunity, as in Aasen's selections from _Romeo and Juliet_ for those unfortunate contrasts between the homespun of the modern dialect and the exquisite silk and gossamer of the vocabulary of romance of a "cultured language." Madhus has been successful in rendering into Landsmaal scenes as different as the witch-scene, the porter-scene (which Lassen omitted for fear it would contaminate the minds of school children), the exquisite lines of the King and Banquo on their arrival at Macbeth's castle, and Macbeth's last, tragic soliloquy when he learns of the death of his queen.

Duncan and Banquo arrive at the castle of Macbeth and Duncan speaks those lovely lines: "This castle has a pleasant seat," etc. Madhus translates:

_Duncan_: Ho hev eit fagert lægje, denne borgi, og lufti lyar seg og gjer seg smeiki aat vaare glade sansar.

_Banquo_: Sumar-gjesten, den tempel-kjære svala, vitnar med, at himlens ande blakrar smeikin her, med di at ho so gjerne her vil byggje. Det finst kje sule eller takskjeggs livd og ikkje voll hell vigskar, der ei ho hev hengt si lette seng og barne-vogge. Der ho mest bur og bræer, hev eg merkt meg, er lufti herleg.

This is as light and luminous as possible. Contrast it with the slow, solemn tempo of the opening of Act I, Sc. 7--Macbeth's "If it were done when 'tis done," etc.

Um det var gjort, naar d'er gjort, var det væl, um det vart snart gjort; kunde løynmordsverke, stengje og binde alle vonde fylgdir og, med aa faa hurt honom, naa sitt maal, so denne eine støyten som maa til, vart enden, alt, det siste som det fyrste i tidi her--den havsens øyr og bode me sit paa no--,--med live som kjem etter det fekk daa vaage voni. Men i slikt vert domen sagd alt her. Blodtankane, me el, kjem vaksne att og piner oss, som gav deim liv og fostra deim; og drykken, som me hev blanda eiter i aat andre, vert eingong uta miskunn bodin fram av rettferds hand aat vaare eigne munnar.

The deep tones of a language born in mountains and along fjords finely re-echo the dark broodings in Macbeth's soul.

Or take still another example, the witch-scene in Act IV. It opens in Madhus' version:

_Fyrste Heks_: Tri gong mjava brandut katt.

_Andre Heks_: Tri og ein gong bust-svin peip.

_Tridje Heks_: Val-ramn skrik. D'er tid, d'er tid.

_Fyrste Heks_: Ring um gryta gjeng me tri; sleng forgiftigt seid--mang i. Gyrme-gro, som under stein dagar tredive og ein sveita eiter, lat og leid, koke fyrst i vaaro seid.

_Alle_: Tvifaldt træl og møda duble; brand frase, seid buble!

_Andre Heks_: Møyrkjøt av ein myr-orm kald so i gryta koke skal. Ødle-augo, skinnveng-haar, hundetunge, froskelaar, slève-brodd, firfisle-svórd, ule-veng og lyngaal-spórd til eit seid som sinn kann rengje hèl-sodd-heitt seg saman mengje!

This is not only accurate; it is a decidedly successful imitation of the movement of the original. Madhus has done a first-rate piece of work. The language of witch-craft is as international as the language of science. But only a poet can turn it to poetic use.

Not quite so successful is Macbeth's soliloquy when the death of Lady Macbeth is announced to him:

Det skuld'ho drygt med. Aat slikt eit ord var komi betre stund.-- "I morgo" og "i morgo" og "i morgo," slik sig det smaatt fram etter, dag for dag, til siste ord i livsens sogubok; og kvart "i gaar" hev daarer vegen lyst til dust og daude.

It is difficult to say just where the fault lies, but the thing seems uncouth, a trifle too colloquial and peasant-like. The fault may be the translator's, but something must also be charged to his medium. The passage in Shakespeare is simple but it breathes distinction. The Landsmaal version is merely colloquial, even banal. One fine line there is:

"til siste ord i livsens sogubok."

But the rest suggests too plainly the limitations of an uncultivated speech.

In 1905 came a translation of _The Merchant of Venice_ by Madhus,[28] and, uniform with it, a little book--_Soga um Kaupmannen i Venetia_ (The Story of The Merchant of Venice) in which the action of the play is told in simple prose. In the appendatory notes the translator acknowledges his obligation to Arne Garborg--"Arne Garborg hev gjort mig framifraa god hjelp, her som med _Macbeth_. Takk og ære hev han."

[28. William Shakespeare--_Kaupmannen i Venetia_. Paa Norsk ved Olav Madhus. Oslo. 1905.]

What we have said of _Macbeth_ applies with no less force here. The translation is more than merely creditable--it is distinctly good. And certainly it is no small feat to have translated Shakespeare in all his richness and fulness into what was only fifty years ago a rustic and untrained dialect. It is the best answer possible to the charge often made against Landsmaal that it is utterly unable to convey the subtle thought of high and cosmopolitan culture. This was the indictment of Bjørnson,[29] of philologists like Torp,[30] and of a literary critic like Hjalmar Christensen.[31] The last named speaks repeatedly of the feebleness of Landsmaal when it swerves from its task of depicting peasant life. His criticism of the poetry of Ivar Mortensen is one long variation of this theme--the immaturity of Landsmaal. All of this is true. A finished literary language, even when its roots go deep into a spoken language, cannot be created in a day. It must be enriched and elaborated, and it must gain flexibility from constant and varied use. It is precisely this apprentice stage that Landsmaal is now in. The finished "Kultursprache" will come in good time. No one who has read Garborg will deny that it can convey the subtlest emotions; and Madhus' translations of Shakespeare are further evidence of its possibilities.

[29. Bjørnson: _Vort Sprog_.]

[30. Torp. _Samtiden_, Vol. XIX (1908), p. 408.]

[31. _Vor Literatur_.]

That Madhus does not measure up to his original will astonish no one who knows Shakespeare translations in other languages. Even Tieck's and Schlegel's German, or Hagberg's Swedish, or Foersom's Danish is no substitute for Shakespeare. Whether or not Madhus measures up to these is not for me to decide, but I feel very certain that he will not suffer by comparison with the Danish versions by Wolff, Meisling, Wosemose, or even Lembcke, or with the Norwegian versions of Hauge and Lassen. The feeling that one gets in reading Madhus is not that he is uncouth, still less inaccurate, but that in the presence of great imaginative richness he becomes cold and barren. We felt it less in the tragedy of _Macbeth_, where romantic color is absent; we feel it strongly in _The Merchant of Venice_, where the richness of romance is instinct in every line. The opening of the play offers a perfect illustration. In answer to Antonio's complaint "In sooth I know not why I am so sad," etc, Salarino replies in these stately and sounding lines:

Your mind is tossing on the ocean; There, where your argosies, with portly sail,-- Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood, Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea,-- Do overpeer the petty traffickers That curt'sy to them, do them reverence, As they fly by them with their woven wings.

The picture becomes very much less stately in Norwegian folk-speech:

Paa storehave huskar hugen din, der dine langferd-skip med staute segl som hovdingar og herremenn paa sjø i drusteferd, aa kalle, gagar seg paa baara millom kræmarskutur smaa', som nigjer aat deim og som helsar audmjukt naar dei med vovne vengir framum stryk.

The last two lines are adequate, but the rest has too much the flavor of Ole and Peer discussing the fate of their fishing-smacks. Somewhat more successful is the translation of the opening of Act V, doubtless because it is simpler, less full of remote and sophisticated imagery. By way of comparison with Lassen and Collin, it may be interesting to have it at hand.

_Lor_: Ovfagert lyser maanen. Slik ei natt, daa milde vindar kysste ljuve tre so lindt at knapt dei susa, slik ei natt steig Troilus upp paa Troja-murane og sukka saali si til Greklands telt, der Kressida laag den natti.

_Jes_: Slik ei natt gjekk Thisbe hugrædd yvi doggvaat voll og løveskuggen saag fyrr løva kom; og rædd ho der-fraa rømde.

_Lor_: Slik ei natt stod Dido med ein siljutein i hand paa villan strand og vinka venen sin tilbake til Kartago.

_Jes_: Slik ei natt Medea trolldoms-urtir fann, til upp aa yngje gamle Æson.

_Lor_: Slik ei natt stal Jessika seg ut fraa judens hus og med ein fark til festarmann for av so langt som hit til Belmont.

_Jes_: Slik ei natt svor ung Lorenso henne elskhugs eid og hjarta hennar stal med fagre ord som ikkje aatte sanning.

_Lor_: Slik ei natt leksa ven' Jessika som eit lite troll upp for sin kjærst, og han tilgav ho.

_Jes_: I natteleik eg heldt nok ut med deg, um ingin kom; men hyss, eg høyrer stig.

But when Madhus turns from such flights of high poetry to low comedy, his success is complete. It may be a long time before Landsmaal can successfully render the mighty line of Marlowe, or the manifold music of Shakespeare, but we should expect it to give with perfect verity the language of the people. And when we read the scenes in which Lancelot Gobbo figures, there is no doubt that here Landsmaal is at home. Note, for example, Act II, Sc. 1:

"Samvite mitt vil visst ikkje hjelpe meg med aa røme fraa denne juden, husbond min. Fenden stend her attum òlbogen min og segjer til meg: "Gobbo, Lanselot Gobbo; gode Lanselot, eller gode Gobbo, bruka leggine; tak hyven; drag din veg." Samvite segjer: "nei, agta deg, ærlige Gobbo," eller som fyr sagt: "ærlige Lanselot Gobbo, røm ikkje; set deg mot røming med hæl og taa!" Men fenden, den stormodige, bed meg pakka meg; "fremad mars!" segjer fenden; "legg i veg!" segjer fenden; "for alt som heilagt er," segjer fenden; "vaaga paa; drag i veg!" Men samvite heng un halsen paa hjarta mitt og talar visdom til meg; "min ærlige ven Lanselot, som er son av ein ærlig mann, eller rettare: av eit ærligt kvende; for skal eg segja sant, so teva det eit grand svidt av far min; han hadde som ein attaat-snev; naah; samvite segjer: "du skal ikkje fantegaa." "Du skal fantegaa," segjer fenden; "nei; ikkje fantegaa," segjer samvite. "Du samvit," segjer eg, "du raader meg godt." "Du fenden," segjer eg, "du raader meg godt." Fylgde eg no samvite, so vart eg verande hjaa juden, som--forlate mi synd--er noko som ein devel; og rømer eg fraa juden, so lyder eg fenden, som--beintfram sagt--er develen sjølv. Visst og sannt: juden er sjølve develen i karnition; men etter mitt vit er samvite mit vitlaust, som vil raade meg til aa verta verande hjaa juden. Fenden gjev meg den venlegaste raadi; eg tek kuten, fenden; hælane mine stend til din kommando; eg tek kuten."

This has the genuine ring. The brisk colloquial vocabulary fits admirably the brilliant sophistry of the argument. And both could come only from Launcelot Gobbo. For "the simplicity of the folk" is one of those fictions which romantic closet study has woven around the study of "the people."

Of the little re-telling of _The Merchant of Venice_, "Soga um Kaupmannen i Venetia"[32] which appeared in the same year, nothing need be said. It is a simple, unpretentious summary of the story with a certain charm which simplicity and naïveté always give. No name appears on the title-page, but we are probably safe in attributing it to Madhus, for in the note to _Kaupmannen i Venetia_ we read: "I _Soga um Kaupmannen i Venetia_ hev ein sjølve forteljingi som stykkji er bygt paa."

[32. _Soga um Kaupmannen i Venetia_. Oslo, 1905.]

I

In the year 1903, midway between the publication of Madhus' _Macbeth_ and the appearance of his _Kaupmannen i Venetia_, there appeared in the chief literary magazine of the Landsmaal movement, "Syn og Segn," a translation of the fairy scenes of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ by Erik Eggen.[33] This is the sort of material which we should expect Landsmaal to render well. Oberon and Titania are not greatly different from Nissen and Alverne in Norwegian fairy tales, and the translator had but to fancy himself in Alveland to be in the enchanted wood near Athens. The spirit of the fairy scenes in Shakespeare is akin to the spirit of Asbjørnson's "Huldre-Eventyr." There is in them a community of feeling, of fancy, of ideas. And whereas Madhus had difficulty with the sunny romance of Italy, Eggen in the story of Puck found material ready to hand. The passage translated begins Act II, Sc. 1, and runs through Act II to Oberon's words immediately before the entrance of Helen and Demetrius:

But who comes here? I am invisible; And I will overhear their conference.

[33. _Alveliv. Eller Shakespeare's Midsumarnatt Draum_ ved Erik Eggen. _Syn og Segn_, 1903. No. 3-6, pp. (105-114); 248-259.]

Then the translator omits everything until Puck re-enters and Oberon greets him with the words:

Velkomen, vandrar; hev du blomen der? (Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer.)

Here the translation begins again and goes to the exit of Oberon and the entrance of Lysander and Hermia. This is all in the first selection in _Syn og Segn_, No. 3.

In the sixth number of the same year (1903) the work is continued. The translation here begins with Puck's words (Act III):

What hempen homespuns have we swaggering here? So near the cradle of the fairy queen? What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor; An actor, too, if I see cause.

Then it breaks off again and resumes with the entrance of Puck and Bottom adorned with an ass's head. Quince's words: "O monstrous! O strange!" are given and then Puck's speech: "I'll follow you: I'll lead you about a round." After this there is a break till Bottom's song:

"The ousel cock, so black of hue," etc.

And now all proceeds without break to the _Hail_ of the last elf called in to serve Bottom, but the following speeches between Bottom and the fairies, Cobweb, Mustardseed and Peaseblossom, are all cut, and the scene ends with Titania's speech:

"Come, wait upon him, lead him to my bower," etc.