ACT SECOND
By the fjord-side, steep precipices all around. The ancient and tumble-down church stands on a little knoll hard by. A storm is coming on.
The country-folk,—men, women, and children,—are gathered in knots, some on the shore, some on the slopes. The Mayor sits in the midst, on a stone; a Clerk is helping him; corn and provisions are being distributed. Einar and Agnes stand surrounded by a crowd, a little apart. Some boats lie on the beach. Brand comes forward, unnoticed,unnoticed, to the church-knoll.
A Man.
[Breaking through the crowd.]
Out of the way!
A Woman.
I’m first!
The Man.
[Thrusting her aside.]
Get back!
[Pushing towards the Mayor.]
Ho! look you, fill me up my sack!
The Mayor.
All in good time.
The Man.
I cannot stay;—
I’ve four—five—babes of bread bereft!
The Mayor.
[Facetiously.]
The Man.
One was e’en dying when I left.
The Mayor.
Hold. You are enter’d, are you not?
[Examines his papers.]
No. Yes, you are though. Well for you.
[To the Clerk.]
Give Number Twenty-nine his lot.
Come, come, good folks, be patient, do!
Nils Snemyr?
The Man.
Ay, ay!
The Mayor.
We must pare
A quarter off your former share.
You’re fewer now, you know.
The Man.
Yes, yes,—
My Ragnhild died yestreen.
The Mayor.
[Making a note.]
One less.
Saving is saving, howsoe’er.
[To the Man, who is retiring.]
But look you, now, you needn’t run
And marry another on the spot!
Clerk.
[Sniggering.]
Hee, hee!
The Mayor.
[Sharply.]
You laugh?
Clerk.
Your Worship’s fun
Is irresistible.
The Mayor.
Have done!
This work’s no jesting; but the best
Method with mourners is a jest.
Einar.
[Coming out of the throng with Agnes.]
Now my last pocket’s clean and bare,
Spent every stiver, every note;—
A very beggar I go afloat,
And pawn my watch to pay my fare!
The Mayor.
Yes, in good time you came along.
What I’ve collected is a song,—
By no means answers to the call
When needy hand and mouth ill-fed
Must halve the sharing of shared bread
With those who’ve ne’er a bit at all.
[He perceives Brand, and points up to him.]
One more! You’re welcome! If report
Of our drought-flood-and-famine curse
Has reach’d you, promptly loose your purse
(If yet unloosen’d). Every sort
Of contribution meets the case.
Our store’s nigh spent. Five fishes scant
In the wide wilderness of Want
Don’t make a square meal nowadays.
Brand.
Myriads, idolatrously given,
Would lift the soul no nearer heaven.
The Mayor.
It was not words I bade you share:
They’re barren when the belly’s bare.
Einar.
I can’t believe that you recall
What long and fierce calamities
They’ve suffered:—famine, drought, disease.
Men die, Brand——
Brand.
I perceive it all.
Each livid-circled eye makes clear
Who it is holds assizes here.
The Mayor.
Yet there you stand, a very flint!
Brand.
If life here ran its sluggish round
Of common toil and common stint,
Pity with me your pangs had found.
Who homeward crawls with earth-set eyes,
In him the sleeping beast will rise.
When days in drowsy calm go by,
Like funerals, at walking pace,
You well may fear that the Most High
Has struck you from His Book of Grace.
But unto you He was more good,
He scatter’d terror in your blood,
He scourged you with the rods that slay,
The gifts He gave, He took away——
Voices.
[Fiercely interrupting him.]
He mocks us in our bitter need!
The Mayor.
He rails at us who tend and feed!
Brand.
[Shaking his head.]
Oh, if the blood of all my heart
Could heal you from the hunger-smart,
In welling streams it should be shed,
Till every vein was a dry bed.
But here it were a sin to give!
God seeks to pluck you from your bane;—
Nations, though poor and sparse, that live,
Suck might and marrow from their pain.
Sees clear into the heart of things,
The faltering will stands stout at bay,
And sees the triumph through the fray.
But men whom misery has not mann’d
Are worthless of the saving hand!
A Woman.
Yonder a storm breaks on the fjord,
As if awaken’d by his word!
Another Woman.
He tempts God! Mark what I foretell.
Brand.
Your God ne’er wrought a miracle!
Women.
See, see! the storm!
Voices among the Throng.
Stab,—stone him! chase
The flinty fellow from the place!
[The peasants close menacingly round Brand. The Mayor intervenes. A Woman, wild and dishevelled, comes hurriedly down the slopes.]
The Woman.
[Crying out towards the throng.]
Oh, where is help, for Jesus’ grace!
The Mayor.
What do you need? Explain your case.
The Woman.
Nothing I need; no alms I seek,
But oh, the horror, horror——
The Mayor.
Speak!
The Woman.
I have no voice,—O comfort, aid!
Where is the priest?
The Mayor.
Here there is none—
The Woman.
I am undone! I am undone!
Stern wast thou, God, when I was made!
Brand.
[Approaching.]
Maybe, however, there is one.
The Woman.
[Seizing his arm.]
Then let him come, and swiftly!
Brand.
Tell
Your need, and he will surely come.
The Woman.
Across the fjord—my husband——
Brand.
Well?
The Woman.
Three starving babes, and ne’er a crumb,——
Say no,—he is not sent to hell!
Brand.
Your story first.
The Woman.
My breast was dry;
Man sent no help, and God was dumb;
My babe was dying in agony;
Cut to the heart,—his child he slew!—
Brand.
He slew——!
The Throng.
[Shuddering.]
His child!
The Woman.
The horror of his deed of blood!
His grief ran brimming like a flood;
He struck himself the death-wound too.
Come, save him, save him from perdition,
Spite of wild water and wild sky!
He cannot live, and dare not die!
There lies he, clasping the dead frame,
And shrieking on the Devil’s name!
Brand.
[Quietly.]
Yes, here is need.
Einar.
[Pale.]
The Mayor.
He doesn’t live in my Division.
Brand.
[Curtly, to the Peasants.]
Unmoor a boat and row me there!
A Man.
When such a storm is up? Who dare?
The Mayor.
A path goes round the fjord——
The Woman.
Nay, nay,
There’s now no practicable way;
The footbridge as I came across
Was broken by the foaming foss.
Brand.
Unmoor the boat.
A Man.
It can’t be done;
O’er rock and reef the breakers run.
Another.
Down sweeps a blast! See, at a stroke
The whole fjord vanishes in smoke!
A Third.
With waves so wild and wind so rough,
The Dean would put the service off.
Brand.
A sinful soul that nears its end
Waits not until the weather mend!
[Goes down to a boat and looses the sail.]
You’ll risk the boat?
The Owner.
I will; but stay!
Brand.
Now, who will risk his life, I say!
A Man.
I’ll not go with him.
Another.
No, nor I.
Several.
It were just putting out to die!
Brand.
Your God helps none across the fjord;
Remember, though, that mine’s on board!
The Woman.
[Wringing her hands.]
He’ll die unsaved!
Brand.
[Calling from the boat.]
One will avail
To bail the leakage, shift the sail;
Come, one of you that lately gave;
Several.
[Shrinking back.]
Never ask such-like of us!
One.
[Menacingly.]
Land!
’Tis overbold to tempt God’s hand!
Several Voices.
See, the storm thickens!
Others.
The ropes break!
Brand.
[Holding himself fast with the boat-hook, and calling to the strange Woman.]
Good; come then you; but speedily!
The Woman.
[Shrinking back.]
I! Where no others——!
Brand.
Let them be!
The Woman.
I cannot!
Brand.
Cannot?
The Woman.
My babes’ sake——!
Brand.
[Scornfully laughing.]
You build upon a quaking sand!
Agnes.
[Turns with glowing cheeks to Einar, lays her hand on his arm, and says:]
Did you hear all?
Einar.
A valiant heart.
Agnes.
[Calls to Brand.]
See,—here is one man, brave and true,
To go the saving way with you!
Brand.
Come on then!
Einar.
[Pale.]
I!
Agnes.
I give you! Go!
Mine eyes are lifted, that were low!
Einar.
Ere I found you, with willing feet
I would have follow’d where he led——
Agnes.
[Trembling.]
But now——!
Einar.
My life is new and sweet;—
I cannot go!
Agnes.
[Starting back.]
What have you said!
Einar.
I dare not go!
Agnes.
[With a cry.]
Now roars a sea
Of sweeping flood and surging foam
World-wide, world-deep, ’twixt you and me!
[To Brand.]
I will go with you!
Brand.
Good; then come!
Einar.
[Clutching desperately after her.]
Agnes!
The whole Throng.
[Hurrying towards her.]
Come back! Come back!
Women.
[In terror as she springs into the boat.]
Help, Lord!
Brand.
Where does the house lie!
Women.
[Pointing.]
By the fjord,
Behind yon black and jutting brink!
[The boats put out.
Einar.
[Calling after them.]
Your home, your mother, Agnes! Think!
O save yourself!
Agnes.
We are three on board!
[The boat sails. The people crowd together on the slopes, and watch in eager suspense.
A Man.
He clears the headland!
Another.
Nay!
The First.
Yes, see,—
Astern he has it, and in lee!
Another.
A squall! It’s caught them!
The Mayor.
Look at that,—
The wind has swept away his hat!
A Woman.
Black as a rook’s wing, his wet hair
Streams backward on the angry air.
First Man.
All seethes and surges!
Einar.
What a yell!
Rang through the storm!
A Woman.
’Twas from the fell.
Another.
[Pointing up.]
See, there stands Gerd upon the cliff,
Hallooing at the passing skiff!
First Woman.
She’s flinging pebbles like witch-corn,
And blowing through a twisted horn.
Second Woman.
Now she has slung it like a wand,
And pipes upon her hollow’d hand.