The Mayor.
Hopeless is he that fights alone.
Brand.
The best are with me.
The Mayor.
[Smiling.]
That may be,
But they’re the most, who follow me.
[Goes.
Brand.
[Looking after him.]
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: He
Is no hard dealer, like my son.
Brand.
[Sinking in anguish upon the bench.]
Guilt-wrung 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 our 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 dank 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.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 less!
Only Law’s absolute Nought or All,
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 her grave!
And that cry rang again, again,
When need was direst among men!
You’re now the shipwreckt sailor, cleaving
To swamp’d boat through the storms of doom,
And from its upturned 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,—
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——
The Man.
Priest, I know you;
Know, why these poisonous tales are rife;
You stood against him still at strife;
He could not bend your purpose;—lo, you,
That’s what these slanders signified——
Brand.
[Hesitating.]
Suppose the case—that he spoke true?
The Man.
Then to us all you’ve basely lied.
Brand.
Have I——?
The Man.
How oft you’ve told us, you,
That God has call’d you to the strife,
That here you’ve made your home for life,
That here you’ll bear the battle through,
That none may shirk the call to serve,
That all must fight and never swerve,
You have the Call! How flames and flashes
In many a heart the fire you’ve fed!
Brand.
This people’s heart is hard and dead!
Their ear is deaf, their fire is ashes!
The Man.
O, you know better;—radiant day
To many a heart has found its way.
Brand.
In tenfold others all is night.
The Man.
You’re sent to be their beacon-light
But be the numbers as you choose,
Here is no need to closely scan;
For here I stand, one only Man,
And bid you: Leave us, if you can!
I have a soul I would not lose,
Like others; books I cannot use,
You bore me from the depths below,—
Try if you now can let me go!
You cannot,—I so closely grip,
My soul were lost if I should slip.
Farewell; I look to learn at last:
My priest by me—and God—stands fast.
[Goes.
Agnes.
[Timidly.]
Your lips are blanch’d, and white your cheek;
You seem to utter an inward shriek!
Brand.
Each strong word flung at yonder rock
Thrills back with tenfold echo’s shock.
Agnes.
[Advancing a step.]
I’m ready!
Brand.
Ready? Whereunto?
Agnes.
[Vehemently.]
For what a mother needs must do!
Gerd.
[Runs by outside and stops at the garden-gate; claps her hands and cries in wild joy.]
Have you heard? The priest’s flown off.—
Up from hillocks, out of howes,
Swarm the demons and the Drows,
Black and ugly, big and little—
Ugh, how fierce they cut and cuff—!
Half my eye away they whittle;
Half my soul they’ve carried off;
With the stump I’ll e’en make shift,
It will serve me well enough!
Brand.
Girl, your thoughts are all adrift;
See, I stand before you.
Gerd.
You?
Ay, but not the parson? Swift
From the peak my falcon flew,
Fiercely down the fells he hied him,
He was bitted and saddled too,
Through the nightfall blast he hiss’d,
And a man was set astride him,—
’Twas the parson, ’twas the priest!
Now the valley church is bare,
Lock and bar are bolted there;
Ugly-church’s day is past;
Mine shall get its due at last.
There the priest stands, tall and strong
Snowy surplice swathes his flank,
Woven of winter’s drip and dank,
If you’d see him, come along;
Parish-church is bare and blank;
My priest has so brave a song,
That the whole earth rings to hear it.
Brand.
Who has bidden thee, shattered spirit,
Lure me with this idol-lay?
Gerd.
[Coming into the garden.]
Idols, idols? What are they?
Oho! That is what you mean:
Giant or pigmy, large or lean,
Always gilded, always gay.
Idols! Look you where she stands!
See you ’neath her mantle stray
Baby-feet and baby-hands?
See you how those robes are gay,
That close-folded something keep
Like a little child asleep?
Back she shudders! Hides her son!
Idols?—Man, I show you one!
Agnes.
Have you tears, Brand? Can you pray?
Terror scorches mine away!
Brand.
Woe’s me, Agnes—I forbode
In her words the voice of God.
Gerd.
Hark; now all the bells are loud,
Clanging down the savage fells!
See, what moving masses crowd
Upwards to those bidding bells!
See the thousand trolls uprisen
From the ocean-caves, their prison;
See the thousand dwarfs up-leaping
From the graves where they were sleeping
With the priest’s seal on them set:
Grave and ocean cannot bind them,
Out they’re swarming, chill and wet;—
Troll-babes that but shammed to die,
Grinning roll the rocks behind them:
“Mother, father!” hark, they cry;
Goodman, Goodwife, make reply;
Then, as fathers among sons,
Move among their buried ones;
Women lay their risen dead
At their bosoms to be fed,
Strutted scarce with prouder front
When they bore them to the font.
Life begins! The parson’s fled!
Brand.
Get thee from me! Direr still
Grows the vision——
Gerd.
Hark, he’s mocking!
He that sits by yon way-border,
Where it rears to scale the hill,
All their names as they go flocking
In his book he writes in order;—
Ho! he’s wellnigh all the pack;
For the parish-church is bare,
Lock and bar are bolted there,—
And parson’s off on falcon-back!

[Leaps over the garden-fence and is lost in the moraine. Stillness.

Agnes.
[Approaches, and says in a low voice.]
Late we linger: let us go.
Brand.
[Looking fixedly at her.]
Shall our way be——
[Points first to the garden-gate, then to the house-door.]
So?—or so?
Agnes.
[Starts back shuddering.]
Brand, your child,—your child!
Brand.
[Following her.]
Say rather:
Was I priest ere I was father?
Agnes.
[Drawing further back.]
Though in thunder-crash it peal’d,
Unto that my lips are seal’d.
Brand.
[Following.]
You are Mother: it is due
That the last word come from you.
Agnes.
I am Wife: I shall fulfil
All that you have heart to will.
Brand.
[Trying to grasp her arm.]
Take the Cup of Choice from me!
Agnes.
[Retreating behind the tree.]
Mother then I should not be!
Brand.
There a Judgment is let fall!
Agnes.
[Vehemently.]
Have you any choice at all!
Brand.
Still the Judgment, gathering force!
Agnes.
Trust you wholly in God’s Call?
Brand.
Yes!
[Grasps her hand firmly.]
And now ’tis yours to give
Final sentence: Die or live!
Agnes.
Go where God has fix’d your course
[Pause.
Brand.
Late we linger: let us go.
Agnes.
[Voiceless.]
Shall our way be——?
Brand.
[Silent.]
Agnes.
[Pointing to the garden-gate.]
So?
Brand.
[Pointing to the house-door.]
Nay,—so!
Agnes.
[Raising the child aloft in her arms.]
God! The gift Thou canst require
I can lift it to thy sight!
Guide me through life’s martyr-fire!
[Goes in.
Brand.

[Gazes a while before him, bursts into tears, clasps his hands over his head, throws himself down on the steps and cries:]

Jesus, Jesus give me light!