Schoolmaster.
Which way?
Brand.
All ways alike are right
That reach the goal. This way pursue——
A Man.
Nay, it is steep, and ’twill be night
Ere we are well upon the height.
The Sexton.
And that way lies the Ice-church too.
Brand.
The steep way is the short way still.
A Woman.
My foot is sore!
Another.
My child is ill!
A Third.
Where shall I get a drop to drink?
The Schoolmaster.
Priest, feed the people;—see, they sink.
Many Voices.
A miracle! A miracle!
Brand.
O, the slave-stamp has branded deep;
The toil you shirk, the hire you crave.
Up, and shake off this deadly sleep,—
Or else, get back into the grave!
The Schoolmaster.
Ay, he is right; first face the foe;
The hire comes afterwards, you know.
Brand.
It shall, as sure as God looks forth
Over the breadth and depth of Earth!
Many Voices.
He’s prophesying! He’s prophesying!prophesying!
Several.
Hark, priest, will it be warm, this fight?
Others.
And bloody? And will it last till night?
The Schoolmaster.
[Aside.]
I trust there is no risk of dying?
A Man.
Priest, must we really face the fire?
Another.
What is my portion of the hire?
A Woman.
You’re sure I shall not lose my son?
The Sexton.
By Tuesday will the field be won?
Brand.
[Looking round in bewilderment on the throng.]
What would you know? What’s your demand?
The Sexton.
Firstly, how long we shall make war.
Then, of our total loss therein.
And finally,—how much we win?
Brand.
This ye demand?
The Sexton.
Yes, ’faith; before
We did not rightly understand.
Brand.
[Deeply moved.]
Then ye shall understand it now!
The Multitude.
[Thronging closer.]
Speak! Speak!
Brand.
How long the war will last?
As long as life, till ye have cast
All ye possess before the Lord,
And slain the Spirit of Accord;
Until your stiff will bend and bow,
And every coward scruple fall
Before the bidding: Nought or All!
What you will lose? Your gods abhorr’d,
Your feasts to Mammon and the Lord,
The glittering bonds ye do not loathe,
And all the pillows of your sloth!
What you will gain? A will that’s whole,—
A soaring faith, a single soul,
The willingness to lose, that gave
Itself rejoicing to the grave;—
A crown of thorns on every brow;—
That is the wage you’re earning now!
The Multitude.
[With a furious cry.]
Betray’d! Betray’d! Deceived! Misled!
Brand.
I say but what I always said!
Several.
You promised us the victor’s prize;
And now it turns to sacrifice!
Brand.
I promised victory,—and to you
Victory shall indeed be due.
But every man who fights in front
Must perish in the battle’s brunt;
If that he dares not, let him lay
His arms down ere the battle-day
The flag’s predestined to surrender
That has a timorous defender;
And he that shudders at the cost,
Ere he is wounded, he is lost.
The Multitude.
He insolently bids us die
To serve unborn posterity!
Brand.
Through thorny steeps of sacrifice,
The way unto our Canaan lies.
Triumph through death! I call you all,
As Champions of God to fall!
The Sexton.
Well, we are in a pretty plight!
No mercy to expect below——
The Schoolmaster.
Nay, we have bade the dale good-night.
The Sexton.
And forward, forward, who will go?
Some.
To death with him!
The Schoolmaster.
’Twere pity, so!
We want a general, you know!
Women.
[Pointing in terror downwards.]
The Dean! The Dean!
The Schoolmaster.
[To the throng.]
Nay, never fear!
The Dean.
[Comes in, followed by some of those who remained behind.]
O my beloved! O my sheep!
To the old shepherd’s voice give ear!
The Schoolmaster.
[To the throng.]
A home no more we have below;
Better we follow up the steep!
The Dean.
That ye could grieve my heart so sore,
And pierce me with a wound so deep!
Brand.
Thou wast their soul’s scourge evermore!
The Dean.
Don’t heed him! He is stuffing you
With idle promises.
Several.
That’s true!
The Dean.
But we are gracious, and forgive
Where we true penitence perceive.
O, turn your eyes into your hearts
And mark the diabolic arts
With which he won you to his aid!
The Multitude.
Ay, sure enough; we were betray’d!
The Dean.
And then consider; what can ye,
A knot of scatter’d dalesmen, do?
Are high heroic deeds for you?
Can ye give bondsmen liberty?
You have your daily task; pursue it!
Whatever is beyond, eschew it!
What can your prowess brave or baulk?
Ye have your humble homes to keep.
What would you between eagle and hawk?
What would you between wolf and bear?
Ye fall but to the strongest’s share.
O my beloved! O my sheep!
The Multitude.
Ay, woe on us,—his words are true!
The Sexton.
And yet, when from the dale we drew,
Upon ourselves we locked the door;
We have no home there, as before.
The Schoolmaster.
No, he has open’d all our eyes,
Laid bare sins, sicknesses, and lies;
The sleepy people sleeps no more;
And deadly to our waking seems
The life that satisfied our dreams.
The Dean.
Ah, trust me, that will soon pass over.
All will return to the old state,
If you will just be still and wait.
These folks, I’ll wage, will soon recover
The wonted calm they have foregone.
Brand.
Choose, men and women!
Some.
Home!
Others.
Too late!
Too late! Along the height press on!
The Mayor.
[Enters in haste.]
O lucky chance I caught you up.up.
Women.
Ah, dear kind master, don’t be stern.stern.
The Mayor.
Not now; provided you return!
A better day, a brighter season
Dawns for us! If you’ll hark to reason,
You’ll all be rich men ere you sup!
Several.
How so?
The Mayor.
There is a herring-horde
By millions swimming in the fjord!
The Multitude.
What does he say?
The Mayor.
Set all to rights!
Fly from these stormy uplands bare.
Till now the herrings swam elsewhere;
Now, friends, at last, our barren bights
Good fortune tardily requites.
Brand.
Between God’s summons choose, and his!
The Mayor.
Consult your own shrewd faculties!
The Dean.
A Miracle Divine is here!
A Providential Token clear!
How oft I dreamt that this befell!
I took it for a nightmare’s spell;
And now its meaning is revealed——
Brand.
Yourselves you ruin, if you yield!
Many.
A herring-horde!
The Mayor.
By millions told!
The Dean.
For wife and children, bread and gold!
The Mayor.
You see, then, this is not an hour
To waste your forces in a fray,
And against energies whose power
Strikes in the very Dean dismay.
Now ye have other ends in view
Than idly pining for the sky.
Heaven, trust me, can your arms defy,
And God’s not easy to subdue.
Don’t mix yourselves in others’ strife,
But gather in the proffer’d fruit,
That is a practical pursuit,
That does not call for blood and knife;
That asks no sacrifice of life,
And gives you its good things to boot!
Brand.
Just sacrifice is His demand,—
Flame-writ in Heaven by His hand!
The Dean.
Ah, if you feel a call that way,
Just come to me next Sunday, say,
And on my word I’ll——
The Mayor.
[Interrupting.]
Yes, yes, yes!
The Sexton.
[Aside to the Dean.]
Shall I be suffer’d keep my place?
The Schoolmaster.
[Similarly.]
Shall I be forced to leave my school?
The Dean.
[Aside to them.]
If these stiff necks you overrule
We will deal mildly with your case.
The Mayor.
Away—away with you! time flies!
The Sexton.
To boat, to boat, whoever’s wise!
Some.
Ay, but the priest?——
The Sexton.
O, leave the fool!
The Schoolmaster.
Here speaks the Lord as clearly, look,
As in an open printed book!
The Mayor.
Leave him; that’s law and justice too;
With babbling tales he flouted you.
Several.
He lied to us!
The Dean.
His creed’s accursed;
And think, he never got a First!
Some.
Never got what?
The Mayor.
A grain of sense.
The Sexton.
Nay, of that we have evidence!
The Dean.
Vainly his mother’s dying breath
For the last sacrament made suit!
The Mayor.
His child he almost did to death!
The Sexton.
His wife as well!
Women.
O heartless brute!
The Dean.
Bad spouse, bad father, and bad son,—
Worse Christian surely there is none!
Many Voices.
Our ancient Church he overthrew!
Others.
And shot the bolt upon the new!
Others again.
He wreck’d us in a roaring stream!
The Mayor.
He pilfer’d my Asylum-scheme!
Brand.
On every branded brow I see
This generation’s destiny.
The Whole Throng.
[Roaring.]
Hoo, never heed him! Stone and knife!
Send the fiend flying for his life!

[Brand is driven with stones out into the wild. His pursuers then return.

The Dean.
O my beloved! O my sheep!
Back to your homes and hearths once more;
Your eyes in true repentance steep,
And see what blessings are in store.
God in His mercy is so good,
He asketh not the guiltless blood;—
And our authorities as well
Are singularly placable;
Mayor, magistrate, and sheriff too,
Will not be over hard on you;
And for myself, that large humanity
That marks our modern Christianity
Is mine; your rulers will descend
And dwell with you, as friend with friend.
The Mayor.
But should abuses be detected,
They must, past question, be corrected.
When we’ve a little time to move,
I’ll have appointed a commission,
To seek how best we may improve
Your intellectual condition.
Some clergymen it should include
Such as the Dean and I think good,—
And furthermore, if you prefer,
The Sexton and the Schoolmaster,
With others of a humbler sort,—
You’ll all be satisfied, in short.
The Dean.
Yes, we’ll relieve your burdens all,
As ye this day have brought relief
To your old shepherd in his grief.
Let each find comfort in the thought
That here a miracle was wrought.
Farewell! Good fortune to your haul!
The Sexton.
Ah, there’s true charity, if you will!
The Schoolmaster.
So meek and unassuming still.
Women.
So kindly, and so nice!
Other Women.
And then
Such condescending gentlemen!
The Sexton.
They don’t demand the martyr’s throe.
The Schoolmaster.
The Lord’s Prayer is not all they know.
[The throng passes on downwards.
The Dean.
[To the Mayor.]
Ah, that has taken. It is plain
A great revulsion is in train;
For, by God’s blessed benefaction,
There is a thing men call Reaction.
The Mayor.
’Twas my achievement, to control
The infant riot ere it grew.
The Dean.
Ah, to the miracle most was due.
The Mayor.
What miracle?
The Dean.
The herring-shoal.
The Mayor.
[Whistling.]
That was, I need not say, a lie.
The Dean.
Really, a lie?
The Mayor.
I just let loose
At the first fancy that came by;
Is it a sin such means to use
In such a cause?