Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (93 page)

BRAND.
Somewhat so.

THE MAYOR.
here you’ll scheme in vain!
Out in the great world that may stand; —
Go thither with your big demand,
And let us plough our moors and main.

BRAND.
Plough first your brag of old renown
Into the main, and plough it down!
The pigmy is not more the man
For being of Goliath’s clan.

THE MAYOR.
Great memories bear the seed of growth.

BRAND.
Yes, memories that to I if e are bound;
But you, of memory’s empty mound,
Have made a stalking-horse for sloth.

THE MAYOR.
I said at first, and still I say: —
To leave us were the wisest way.
Your work here cannot come to good,
Nor your ideas be understood.
The little flights to purer air,
The lifting-up which, now and then,
Is doubtless well for working men,
Shall be m y unremitting care.
Many agreeable facts declare
My ceaseless energy as mayor, —
Through me the population’s grown
Double, nay, almost three to one,
Since for the district I have bred
Ever new ways of getting fed.
With stubborn nature still at strife
We’ve steam’d ahead: our forward march
Here hew’d a road, there flung an arch —
To lead from

BRAND.
Not from Faith to Life.

THE MAYOR.
To lead from fjordside to the hill.

BRAND.
But not from Doctrine unto Will.

THE MAYOR.
First of all, get a passage clear
From men to men, from place to place.
There were no two opinions here
On that, until you show’d your face.
Now you’ve made all confusion, dashing
Aurora-flames with lantern light;
With such cross-luminaries flashing,
Who can distinguish wrong from right,
Tell what will mar, and what will mend?
All diverse things you mix and blend,
And into hostile camps divide
Those who should triumph side by side.

BRAND.
Here, notwithstanding, I abide.
Man chooses not his labour’s sphere.
Who knows and follows out his call,
Has seen God’s writing on the wall,
In words of fire, “Your place is here!”

THE MAYOR.
Stay, then, but keep within your borders;
You’re free to purge the folk of crimes,
Vices, and other rifle disorders;
God knows, it’s needed oftentimes!
But don’t make every working-day
A Sabbath, and your flag display,
As if the Almighty were on board
Of every skiff that skims the fjord.

BRAND.
To use your counsel, I must change
My soul and all her vision’s range;
But we are called, ourselves to be,
Our own cause bear to victory;
And I will bear it, till the land
Is all illumined where I stand!
The people, your bureaucrat-crew
Have lull’d asleep, shall wake anew;
Too long you’ve eramp’d and caged apart
These remnants of the Mountain heart;
Out of your niggard hunger-cure
They pass dejected, dull, demure:
Their best, their bravest blood you tap,
Scoop out their marrow and their sap,
Pound into splinters every soul,
That should have stood a welded whole; —
But you may live to hear the roar
Of revolution thunder: W/ a r!

THE MAYOR.
War?

BRAND.
War!

THE MAYOR.
Be sure, if you should call
To arms, you’ll be the first to fall.

BRAND.
The day will come when we shall know
That triumph’s height is Overthrow.

THE MAYOR.
Consider, Brand, you have to choose!
Don’t stake your fortune on one card.

BRAND.
I do, however!

THE MAYOR.
If you lose,
Your life’s irreparably marr’d.
All this world’s bounties you possess,
You, a rich Mother’s only heir,
With wife and child to be your care, —
It was a kindly hand, confess,
That dealt your terms of happiness!

BRAND.
And what if I should, all the same,
Reject these terms? and must?

THE MAYOR.
Your game
Is over, if you’ve once unfurl’d
In this last cranny of the world
The standard of your world-wide war.
Turn southward, to yon prosperous shore
Where a man dares lift up his head;
There you may perorate of right
And bid them bleed and bid them fight;
O u r bloodshed is the sweat we pour
In daily wringing rocks for bread.

BRAND.
Here I remain. My home is here,
And here the battle-flag I’ll rear!

THE MAYOR.
Think what you lose, if overthrown,
And, chiefly, think of what you quit!

BRAND.
Myself I lose, if I submit.

THE MAYOR.
Hopeless is he that fights alone.

BRAND.
[Goes.]
The best are with me.

THE MAYOR.
[Smiling.]
That may be,
But they’re the m o s t, who follow me.

BRAND.
[Looking after hint.]
A people’s champion thorough-bred!
Active, with fair and open hand,
Honest of heart and sound of head,
But yet a scourge upon the land!
No avalanche, no winter-blast,
No flood, nor frost, nor famine-fast
Leaves half the ruin in its rear
That such a man does, year by year.
Life only by a plague is reft;
But he! How many a thought is cleft,
How many an eager will made numb,
How many a valiant song struck dumb
By such a narrow soul as this!
What smiles on simple faces breaking,
What fires in lowly bosoms waking,
What pangs of joy and anger, seed
That might have ripened into deed,
Die by that bloodless blade of his!
[Suddenly, in anxiety.]
But O the summons! the summons! —
No! It is the Doctor!
[Enter DOCTOR.]
[Hurries to meet him.]
Say! say! How — ?

THE DOCTOR.
She stands before her Maker now.

BRAND.
Dead!-But repentant?

THE DOCTOR.
Scarcely so;
She hugg’d Earth’s goods with all her heart
Till the Hour struck, and they must part.

BRAND.
[Looking straight before him in deep emotion.]
Is here an erring soul undone?

THE DOCTOR.
She will be mildly judged, maybe; —
And Law temper’d with equity.

BRAND.
[In a low tone.]
What said she?

THE DOCTOR.
Low she mutter’d: H e
Is no hard dealer, like my son.

BRAND.
[Sinking in anguish upon the bench.]
Guilt-wrong or dying, still that lie
That every soul is ruin’d by!
[Hides his face in his hands.]

THE DOCTOR.
[Goes towards him, looks at him, and shakes his head.]
You seek, a day that is no more,
In one and all things to restore.
You think, God’s venerable pact
With man is still a living fact; —
Each Age in its own way will walk;
Ours is not scared by nurses’ talk
Of hell-bound soul and burning brand; —
Humanity’s o u r first command!

BRAND.
[Looking up.]
Humanity!-That sluggard phrase
Is the world’s watchword nowadays.
With this each bungler hides the fact
That he dare not and will not act;
With this each weakling masks the lie,
That he’ll risk all for victory;
With this each dastard dares to cloak
Vows faintly rued and lightly broke;
Your puny spirits will turn Man
Himself Humanitarian!
Was God “humane” when Jesus died?
Had your God then his counsel given,
Christ at the cross for grace had cried —
And the Redemption signified
A diplomatic note from Heaven.
[Hides his head, and sits in mute grief.]

THE DOCTOR.
[Softly.]
Rage, rage thy fill, thou soul storm-stress’d; —
Best were it for thee to find tears.

AGNES.
[Comes out on to the steps: pale and terrified, she whispers to the DOCTOR.]
In! Follow me!

THE DOCTOR.
You raise my fears!
What is it, child?

AGNES.
Into my breast
Creeps cold a serpent of affright — !

THE DOCTOR.
What is it?

AGNES.
[Pulling him away.]
Come!-Great God of Might!
[They go into the house; BRAND does not notice.]

BRAND.
[To himself.]
Impenitent alive,-and dead!
This is the finger of the Lord!
Now through my means shall be restored
The treasure she has forfeited;
Else tenfold woe upon my head!
[Rises.]
Henceforth as by my sonship bound,
Unflinching, on my native ground
I’ll battle, a soldier of the Cross,
For Spirit’s gain by Body’s loss!
Me with His purging fire the Lord
Hath arm’d, and with His riving Word:
Mine is that Will and that strong Trust
That crumbles mountains into dust!

THE DOCTOR.
[Followed by AGNES, comes hastily out, and cries.]
Order your house and haste away!

BRAND.
Were there an earthquake I would stay!

THE DOCTOR.
Then you have doom’d your child to death.

BRAND.
[Wildly.]
The child! Alf! Alf! What phantom wraith
Of fear is this! My child!
[Is about to rush into the house.]

THE DOCTOR.
[Holding him back.]
Stay, stay. —
Here summer sunshine pierces not,
Here polar ice-blasts rive and rend, —
Here clank and stifling mists descend.
Another winter in this spot
Will shrivel the tender life away.
Go hence, you’ll save him! No delay!
To-morrow’s best.

BRAND.
To-night,-to-day!
Now, ere another hour is out!
O yet he shall grow strong and stout; —
No blast from mountain or from shore
Shall chill his baby-bosom more.
Come, Agnes, lift him gently in sleep!
Away along the winding deep!
O Agnes, Agnes, death has spun
His web about our little son!

AGNES.
Foreboding trembled in my heart, —
And yet I only knew a part.

BRAND.
[To THE DOCTOR.]
But flight will save him? That is sure?

THE DOCTOR.
The life a father day and night
Watches, all perils can endure.
Be all to him! and healthy, bright,
You soon shall see him, be secure!

BRAND.
Thanks, thanks!
[To AGNES.]
In down enclose him well;
Chill sweeps the night-wind from the fell.
[AGNES goes in.]
[The DOCTOR silently watches BRAND, who gazes fixedly through the door; then goes to him, and lays his hand on his shoulder.]

THE DOCTOR.
So tender to his own distress.
And to the world so merciless!
For them avails not more nor l e s s!
Only Law’s absolute Nought or A l l,
But now-no sooner sees he fall
The dooming lot,-his valour’s flown; —
The sacrificial lamb’s his own!

BRAND.
What mean you?

THE DOCTOR.
In the dying ear
You thunder’d the decree of fear:
To perish, unless All she gave,
And went down naked to the grave!
And that cry rang again, again,
When need was direst among men!
Y o u ‘ re now the shipwreckt sailor, cleaving
To swamp’d boat through the storms of doom,
And from its upturn’d bottom heaving
To see your tracts on Wrath to Come,
To sea, to sea, the bulky tome
That struck your Brothers’ bosoms home;
Now you ask only wind and wave
To waft your infant from death’s reach.
Fly, only fly, by bay and beach,
Fly from your very mother’s grave, —
Fly from the souls you’re sent to save; —
“The Parson does not mean to preach!”

BRAND.
[Wildly clutching his head as if to gather his thoughts.]
Am I now blind? Or was I?

THE DOCTOR.
Nay,
A father has no other way;
Don’t fancy that your act I blame;
I hold you greater, clipt and tame,
Than in your giant strength secure. —
Farewell! I’ve held you up a glass;
Use it and sigh: “Alas, alas,
Is this a Titan’s portraiture?”
[Goes.]

BRAND.
[Gazing a while before him: then bursts out.]
Before-or now,-when did I stray?
[AGNES comes out with a cloak over her shoulders and the child in her arms; BRAND does not see her; she is about to speak, but stands petrified with terror at the look in his face. At the same moment A MAN comes in hastily through the garden-gate. The sun is setting.]

THE MAN.
Hark, priest, you have a foe!

BRAND.
[Clenching his hand against his breast.]
Yes, here!

THE MAN.
Watch well the Mayor. The seed you sow
Sprang ever bravely into ear,
Till blighting slanders laid it low.
With meaning hints he has implied
That by-and-by this house would lack
A tenant, and you’d turn your back,
The day your wealthy mother died.

BRAND.
And if it were so