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Peer Gynt and Brand

Page 8

by Henrik Ibsen


  AGNES:      I tremble

  when you say that.

  BRAND:       Be strong.

  [Looking along the road]

              At last!

  A MESSENGER [coming through the garden gate]:

  She’ll not live long …

  BRAND: What message do you bring?

  MESSENGER: A right old jumble.

  She sat up and screeched,

  ‘I want the priest fetched;

  my son, mind! Tell him, “half”.’

  BRAND [shrinking back]:

  Half? No!

  MESSENGER: Half, I swear,

  as true as I stand here.

  BRAND: You misheard. She said, ‘all’.

  MESSENGER: Look, man, I’m not deaf.

  I know what I heard.

  ‘Half’ is what she said.

  BRAND: You’d swear that, at the Day

  of Judgement?

  He clutches the MESSENGER’s arm.

  MESSENGER:   On my soul.

  BRAND [firmly]:

  Then take her my reply:

  ‘No bread, no wine,

  no comfort, none.’

  MESSENGER [looking uncertainly at him]:

  Perhaps your hearing’s bad.

  She’s dying, your own mother …

  BRAND: I don’t make different laws,

  one for my own kin, the other

  for strangers. My mother knows

  that ‘all or nothing’

  is absolute. One piece

  struck from the Golden Calf

  is an idol, no less

  than the beast itself.

  MESSENGER: Well, if she’s still breathing

  by the time I get back,

  I’ll tell her, ‘Your son

  sends his best wishes –

  fifty lashes!’

  I shan’t relish the work,

  I tell you plain.

  How can you treat her so?

  God Himself is less hard.

  That’s a comfort anyhow!

  Exit.

  BRAND: This stinking comfort blown

  from their own carrion;

  the stench of deathly fear

  tainting the world’s air!

  Even their so-called faith

  they keep to bargain with,

  to bribe their senile judge,

  a sop to soothe his rage.

  Out in the road, the MESSENGER has met a SECOND MESSENGER; both return.

  BRAND: Another message?

  FIRST MESSENGER:    Yes.

  BRAND: What does she say?

  SECOND MESSENGER:    She says,

  ‘Nine-tenths.’

  BRAND:    She’s not said ‘all’?

  SECOND MESSENGER: She’s not.

  BRAND:         Go back, then; tell

  her, ‘No wine, no bread,

  no comfort.’

  SECOND MESSENGER: Hasn’t she paid

  enough? More than enough?

  FIRST MESSENGER: That woman gave you life.

  BRAND [clenching his hands]:

  What would you have me do?

  Deal kindly with what’s mine

  and deal harshly with you?

  SECOND MESSENGER: Her need, her dread, are terrible

  to see. Give her some sign.

  BRAND [to the FIRST MESSENGER]:

  No sacraments can be brought

  to an unclean table:

  tell her what I have said.

  The MESSENGERS leave.

  AGNES [clinging to him]:

  Brand, sometimes you seem

  like some grim scourge of God,

  like God’s own sword of flame.

  I flinch from the sight.

  BRAND [sorrowfully]:

  But, Agnes, the world’s sword

  has already drawn blood

  from me; many times it has cut

  me to the heart.

  AGNES: Your own demands go deep;

  they’re not easy to bear.

  How many measure up

  to such morality?

  Pitifully few, I fear.

  BRAND: This entire age is devoid

  of grace or merit;

  it’s ruled by creeping pride,

  dull frivolity,

  meanness of spirit.

  Say to the ‘man-of-the-hour’,

  whether of peace or war,

  ‘Enough; be satisfied

  with the true victory,

  with the triumph of good;

  let your own name go down

  to dust; let silence reign.’

  Would he agree?

  Or tell some eager poet

  with his sweet cage-birds of song,

  tell him to live unsung.

  He’d fly at your throat.

  Rich men who set such store

  by largesse to the poor

  bargain on gratitude

  posthumously accrued.

  But selfless charity,

  now there’s a rarity!

  The mighty and the meek,

  the strong man and the sick,

  are all alike in this

  loathing of sacrifice,

  this craving to possess,

  this thraldom to the world.

  In dread of the abyss

  they struggle to keep hold,

  clinging to root and branch

  until the avalanche.

  AGNES: Yet still you thunder ‘all

  or nothing’ as they fall.

  BRAND: Lose all if you would gain

  all. Out of the depths men

  scale even the precipice

  of their own fall from grace.

  [Silent for a moment]

  Everything that I speak

  is spoken in agony.

  I’m like a castaway

  crying in vain among

  the spars of a great wreck.

  I could bite out my tongue

  that must rage and chastise

  and with its prophecies

  strike terror where I crave

  the touch of human love.

  Watch over our child,

  Agnes. In a radiant dream

  his spirit lies so calm,

  like water that is stilled,

  like a mountain tarn

  silent under the sun.

  Sometimes his mother’s face

  hovers over that hushed place,

  is received, is given back,

  as beautifully as a bird

  hovers, and hovering, is mirror’d

  in the depths of the lake.

  AGNES [pale]:

  No matter where you aim

  your thoughts, they fly to him.

  BRAND: O Agnes, guard him well,

  in quietness.

  AGNES:    I will.

  Only … a few more

  words …

  BRAND:   Words to inspire!

  AGNES: All the strength you can give.

  BRAND [embracing her]:

  The innocent shall live.

  AGNES [looking up radiantly]:

  The innocent! You see, even

  God dare not destroy

  such a gift from Heaven!

  She goes into the house.

  BRAND [gazing silently; then]:

  Does she think God has qualms? –

  the God who chose Abraham’s

  beloved child, the boy

  Isaac, as the altar stone

  of his father’s faith!7

  [Shakes off his thoughts.]

  No! I’ve made my sacrifice.

  The great cause is forgone,

  and I’ve stifled the voice

  that could rouse the whole earth

  to His redeeming wrath:

  ‘You sleepers, wake!’ I’ve come

  down from that high dream.

  [Looks down the road.]

  This torment of delay!

  Why no repentance, why?
<
br />   Why is she not prepared,

  even in this last pain,

  to be rid of her sin,

  to tear its claggy root

  out of her heart?

  The MAYOR appears on the road, walking in the direction of the pastor’s house.

  BRAND: A message! Yes, the word

  at last! Ugh, no. The mayor,

  look at him, tasting the air,

  strutting and jolly,

  his hands in his pockets,

  his arms like brackets

  around his belly.

  MAYOR [through the garden gate]:

  Good day, reverend!

  How are you, friend?

  I fear I’ve come

  at a difficult time.

  Your mother, I believe,

  not much longer to live?

  Very distressing!

  Death comes to us all.

  As I was passing

  I thought, ‘Why not call?

  Very much better

  to tackle the matter

  head-on.’ It’s well known

  you’re at daggers drawn.

  BRAND: At daggers drawn?

  MAYOR:       That’s what they say.

  Her treasure’s under lock and key.

  BRAND: The reckoning’s overdue;

  that at least is true.

  MAYOR: As soon as the old girl

  (God rest her soul)

  lies in Mother Earth,

  just think what you’ll be worth!

  From now on, pastor,

  the world’s your oyster.

  Believe me, I know.

  BRAND: That means ‘Be off with you!’

  MAYOR: Best thing for all concerned.

  I’m sure you understand.

  We’re happy as we are,

  we liege-folk of the shore.

  Your spiritual fire,

  utterly wasted here!

  BRAND: A man’s own native soil

  sustains him; he best thrives

  where he first plants his foot.

  If he’s cast out, his soul

  withers; nothing he strives

  for blossoms or bears fruit.

  MAYOR: A man must do what’s best

  in the national interest.

  BRAND: How can you ever truly

  know what our nation needs,

  if you bury your heads

  deep in this darkling valley?

  Go, purify your sight

  in the clear air of the height!

  MAYOR: That sounds like city talk,

  pastor. We’re humble folk.

  BRAND: These boundaries you draw

  between ‘high’ and ‘low’!

  This never-ending wail,

  ‘We are small, we are small, we are small!’

  MAYOR: For everything there is a time

  and a due season, says the psalm.

  This lowly parish, sir, has cast

  its mite into the treasure-chest

  of weighty cause and doughty deed,

  a tribute to our Viking blood!

  Those sagas, those heroic lays

  of good King Bele’s8 golden days

  and those great brothers, Ulf and Thor,9

  and many a hundred heroes more!

  Some say it’s not polite to boast,

  some say, ‘Forget what’s dead and past’;

  but I, for one, am very proud

  of what our great forefathers did.

  Few have done better, I’ll be bound,

  to aid the progress of mankind!

  BRAND: But you even betray

  your own battle-cry,

  your ‘patriots’ pledge’,

  your ‘noblesse oblige’!

  What do you care

  for that ‘goodly fere’,

  King Bele’s men?

  You’ve ploughed them in!

  MAYOR: But you’re wrong, you’re wrong!

  Why don’t you come along

  to our next ‘wassail’

  in the parish hall?

  The schoolmaster, magistrate,

  myself, all the elite

  of the neighbourhood,

  pounding the festal board

  and drinking hot toddy!

  King Bele lives, laddy!

  At such times I feel stirred

  by the power of the word,

  by heroic verse.

  I’m partial to a bit

  of rhyming; and that goes,

  I’d say, for most of us

  round here. Enough’s enough,

  though. Art isn’t life,

  as I hope you’ll agree. But,

  say, between seven and ten

  of an evening, when work’s

  over and folk can relax,

  we dally with the muse,

  and pipe a lyric strain,

  we play at hunt-the-rhyme,

  and bathe in the sublime.

  Now, just between ourselves,

  pastor, there’s something odd

  in your whole attitude.

  You don’t do things by halves.

  We do. You want to fight,

  turn every wrong to right

  at one fell swoop, it seems.

  These, I think, are your aims?

  Correct me, if they’re not.

  BRAND: Something of the sort.

  MAYOR: Keep your lofty ideals

  for your intellectuals

  in the big city.

  We’re tillers of the soil,

  we’re toilers of the sea.

  BRAND: Then justify that toil!

  Into the ocean cast

  each vainglorious boast;

  and deep in the earth hide

  every platitude.

  MAYOR: Surely great nations thrive

  on memories!

  BRAND:    If you have

  nothing but memories

  you keep vigil in vain

  at an empty cairn.

  MAYOR: It’s plain you’re much too good

  for this neighbourhood.

  Look, leave it to me –

  I’ll soon restore morale

  among our ‘sons of toil’.

  That I can guarantee.

  It’s not too much to claim

  that my mayoral term

  has won deserved applause

  for grit and enterprise.

  The birth-rate has increased

  thanks to my zeal and zest.

  What wonders men perform,

  under their own steam!

  A new road or a bridge,

  real marvels of the age!

  BRAND: Between the life of earth

  and the living faith

  you’ve built nothing at all.

  MAYOR: My road up to the fell!

  BRAND: Between vision and deed

  I see no new road;

  but I have seen God’s hand

  writing His words of flame:

  ‘The place where you are come

  is your abiding place.’

  Here I take my stand.

  MAYOR: Well, stay if you must.

  But stick to your last;

  castigate crime and vice,

  God knows, there’s need enough,

  wickedness is rife.

  But we don’t want fuss.

  And please remember this:

  six whole days a week

  are devoted to work.

  One day for sober thought

  is more than adequate.

  And don’t expect the Lord

  God to walk on the fjord,

  either!

  BRAND: To make use

  of such practical advice

  I would have to change

  souls, or my soul’s range

  of vision. Souls are called

  by God, not by the world.

  And I shall set free

  by my soul’s victory

  the people whom you led,

  lulled and betrayed,

 
starved, and constrained

  in your poverty of mind.

  MAYOR: So we’re to fight it out?

  You’ll be the first to fall.

  Mark my words, you will!

  BRAND: Victorious in defeat.

  You’ll never understand …

  MAYOR: And can you wonder? Friend,

  don’t turn your back on life!

  Don’t hazard every good

  that this world has bestowed

  with such generous hands –

  your mother’s gold, her bonds,

  your child and your good wife.

  BRAND: And if I must renounce

  such an inheritance?

  And if I must, what then?

  MAYOR: It doesn’t make sense!

  You haven’t a chance!

  Think on, think on!

  BRAND: Here’s where I stake my claim;

  here, in my own home;

  and if I shrink from the call

  I lose my own soul.

  MAYOR: But a man on his own

  can’t hope to win.

  BRAND: The best are on my side.

  MAYOR [smiling]:

  I’ve thousands on parade!

  Exit.

  BRAND [gazing after him]:

  There goes a stalwart democrat,

  filled with the democratic urge,

  the civic sentiments at heart;

  but what a scourge!

  No avalanche or hurricane

  has done the damage he has done

  with a good conscience all these years.

  How many smiles he’s turned to tears!

  What gifts, what ardours, have recoiled

  to darkness, all their music stilled.

  What impulses of joy or wrath

  he cheerfully deprives of breath.

  How many hearts has he destroyed,

  without the slightest trace of blood!

  [The DOCTOR appears at the garden gate. BRAND suddenly notices him and cries out in anguish.]

  Doctor! Is there some word?

  DOCTOR: We must leave her to God …

  I’m sorry, my boy …

  BRAND: But surely, before she died,

  surely she must have said …

  DOCTOR: ‘I repent, I repent!’

  Is that what you want?

  She gave nothing away.

  BRAND [gazing in silence before he speaks]:

  Then she’s lost for ever?

  DOCTOR: God may be less severe.

  She whispered, at the end,

  ‘He is kinder than Brand.’

  BRAND [sinking down, as if in pain, on the bench]:

  In the final agony

  of guilt, on the brink of death

  itself, the same old lie.

  He hides his face in his hands.

  DOCTOR [coming nearer, looking at him and shaking his head]:

  You live by the old law,

  do you not? Here and now,

  ‘An eye for an eye, a tooth

  for a tooth’.10 But I believe

  that each generation

  has its own life to live

  in its own fashion.

  Ours has the wit to laugh

  at every ‘old wife’

  with her rag-bag of ghouls,

  changelings, damned souls,

  and dead bodies that rise.

  Our first commandment is:

  ‘Be humane, be humane!’

 

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