ACT FIRST.

High up in the mountain snowfields. The mist lies thick and close; it is raining, and nearlydark.dark.

Brandin black, with stick and wallet, is struggling on westward.A Peasant and his Young Son, who have joined him, are a little way behind.

The Peasant.[Calling afterBrand.]

The Peasant.

[Calling afterBrand.]

Hullo, you stranger fellow, stay!Where are you?

Hullo, you stranger fellow, stay!

Where are you?

Brand.

Here!

The Peasant.

You’ve got astray!The fog’s so thick, my sight it passesTo see a staff’s-length ’fore or back——

You’ve got astray!

The fog’s so thick, my sight it passes

To see a staff’s-length ’fore or back——

The Son.

Father, here’s clefts!

The Peasant.

And here crevasses!

Brand.

And not a vestige of the track.

The Peasant.[Crying out.]

The Peasant.

[Crying out.]

Hold, man! God’s death—! The very groundIs but a shell! Don’t stamp the snow!

Hold, man! God’s death—! The very ground

Is but a shell! Don’t stamp the snow!

Brand.[Listening.]

Brand.

[Listening.]

I hear the roaring of a fall.

The Peasant.

A beck has gnawed its way below;Here’s an abyss that none can sound;’Twill open and engulf us all!

A beck has gnawed its way below;

Here’s an abyss that none can sound;

’Twill open and engulf us all!

Brand.

As I have said, Imustgo on.

The Peasant.

That’s past the power of any one.I tell you—the ground’s a rotten crust—Hold, hold, man! Death is where it’strod.trod.

That’s past the power of any one.

I tell you—the ground’s a rotten crust—

Hold, hold, man! Death is where it’strod.trod.

Brand.

A great one gave me charge; Imust.

The Peasant.

What is his name?

Brand.

His name is God.

The Peasant.

And what might you be, pray?

Brand.

A priest.

The Peasant.

Maybe; but one thing’s clear at least;Though you were dean and bishop tooDeath will have laid his grip on youEre daybreak, if you dare to breastThe glacier’s cavern-cloven crest.[Approaching warily and insinuatingly.]Hark, priest, the wisest, learned’st manCannot do more than what he can.Turn back; don’t be so stiff and stout!A man has but a single life;—What has he left if that goes out?The nearest farm is two leagues off,And for the fog, it’s thick enoughTo hack at with a hunting-knife.

Maybe; but one thing’s clear at least;

Though you were dean and bishop too

Death will have laid his grip on you

Ere daybreak, if you dare to breast

The glacier’s cavern-cloven crest.

[Approaching warily and insinuatingly.]

Hark, priest, the wisest, learned’st man

Cannot do more than what he can.

Turn back; don’t be so stiff and stout!

A man has but a single life;—

What has he left if that goes out?

The nearest farm is two leagues off,

And for the fog, it’s thick enough

To hack at with a hunting-knife.

Brand.

If the fog’s thick, no glimmering rayOf marsh-light lures our feet astray.

If the fog’s thick, no glimmering ray

Of marsh-light lures our feet astray.

The Peasant.

All round lie ice-tarns in a ring,And an ice-tarn’s an ugly thing.

All round lie ice-tarns in a ring,

And an ice-tarn’s an ugly thing.

Brand.

We’ll walk across.

The Peasant.

On waves you’ll walk!Your deeds will hardly match your talk.

On waves you’ll walk!

Your deeds will hardly match your talk.

Brand.

Yet one has proved,—whose faith is soundMay walk dry-footed on the sea.

Yet one has proved,—whose faith is sound

May walk dry-footed on the sea.

The Peasant.

Yes, men of olden time, maybe;But nowadays he’d just be drowned.

Yes, men of olden time, maybe;

But nowadays he’d just be drowned.

Brand.[Going.]

Brand.

[Going.]

Farewell!

The Peasant.

You throw your life away!

Brand.

If God should haply need its loss,——Then welcome chasm, and flood, and foss.

If God should haply need its loss,——

Then welcome chasm, and flood, and foss.

The Peasant.[To himself.]

The Peasant.

[To himself.]

Nay, but his wits are gone astray!

The Son.[Half-crying.]

The Son.

[Half-crying.]

Come away, Father! see how blackWith coming tempest is the wrack!

Come away, Father! see how black

With coming tempest is the wrack!

Brand.[Stopping and approaching again.]

Brand.

[Stopping and approaching again.]

Hear, peasant; you at first profess’d,Your daughter by the fjordside lying,Had sent you word that she was dying,But could not with a gladsome breast,Until she saw you, go to rest?

Hear, peasant; you at first profess’d,

Your daughter by the fjordside lying,

Had sent you word that she was dying,

But could not with a gladsome breast,

Until she saw you, go to rest?

The Peasant.

That’s certain, as I hope for bliss!

Brand.

And as her last day mentioned—this?

The Peasant.

Yes.

Brand.

Not a later?

The Peasant.

No.

Brand.

Thencome.come.

The Peasant.

The thing’s impossible—turn home!

Brand.[Looking fixedly at him.]

Brand.

[Looking fixedly at him.]

Listen! Would you give twenty poundIf she might have a blest release?

Listen! Would you give twenty pound

If she might have a blest release?

The Peasant.

Yes, parson!

Brand.

Forty?

The Peasant.

House and groundI’d very gladly sign awayIf so she might expire in peace!

House and ground

I’d very gladly sign away

If so she might expire in peace!

Brand.

But would you also give yourlife?

The Peasant.

What? life? My good friend——!

Brand.

Well?

The Peasant.[Scratching his head.]

The Peasant.

[Scratching his head.]

Nay, nay,I draw the line somewhere or other——!In Jesus’ name, remember, pray,At home I’ve children and a wife.

Nay, nay,

I draw the line somewhere or other——!

In Jesus’ name, remember, pray,

At home I’ve children and a wife.

Brand.

He whom you mention had a mother.

The Peasant.

Ay, that was in the times of yore;—Then marvels were of every day;Such things don’t happen any more.

Ay, that was in the times of yore;—

Then marvels were of every day;

Such things don’t happen any more.

Brand.

Go home. You travel in death’s track.You know not God, God knows not you.

Go home. You travel in death’s track.

You know not God, God knows not you.

The Peasant.

Hoo, you are stern!

The Son.[Pulling him away.]

The Son.

[Pulling him away.]

Come back! comeback!back!

The Peasant.

Ay, ay; but he must follow too!

Brand.

Must I?

The Peasant.

Ay, if I let you bideUp here in this accursed weather,And rumour told, what we can’t hide,That you and we set out together,I’m haul’d some morning to the dock,—And if you’re drown’d in flood and fen,I’m sentenced to the bolt and lock——

Ay, if I let you bide

Up here in this accursed weather,

And rumour told, what we can’t hide,

That you and we set out together,

I’m haul’d some morning to the dock,—

And if you’re drown’d in flood and fen,

I’m sentenced to the bolt and lock——

Brand.

You suffer in God’s service, then.

The Peasant.

Nor his nor yours is my affair;My own is hard enough to bear.Come then!

Nor his nor yours is my affair;

My own is hard enough to bear.

Come then!

Brand.

Farewell!

[A hollow roar is heard in the distance.

The Son.[Shrieking.]

The Son.

[Shrieking.]

An avalanche roar!

Brand.[To thePeasantwho has seized his collar.]

Brand.

[To thePeasantwho has seized his collar.]

Off!

The Peasant.

Nay!

Brand.

This instant!

The Son.

Stay no more!

The Peasant.[Struggling withBrand.]

The Peasant.

[Struggling withBrand.]

Nay, devil take me——!

Brand.[Shakes him off and throws him down in the snow.]

Brand.

[Shakes him off and throws him down in the snow.]

That, dependOn it, he will do in the end![Goes.

That, depend

On it, he will do in the end!

[Goes.

The Peasant.[Sitting and rubbing his arm.]

The Peasant.

[Sitting and rubbing his arm.]

Ow, ow; his arm’s an iron rod;And that’s what he calls servingGod.God.[Calling as he gets up.]Ho, priest!

Ow, ow; his arm’s an iron rod;

And that’s what he calls servingGod.God.

[Calling as he gets up.]

Ho, priest!

The Son.

He’s gone athwart the hill.

The Peasant.

Ay, but I see him glimmer still.[Calling again.]Hear me,—if you remember, say,Where was it that we lost the way?

Ay, but I see him glimmer still.

[Calling again.]

Hear me,—if you remember, say,

Where was it that we lost the way?

Brand.[In the mist.]

Brand.

[In the mist.]

You need no cross to point you right;—The broad and beaten track you tread.

You need no cross to point you right;—

The broad and beaten track you tread.

The Peasant.

God grant it were but as he said,And I’d sit snug at home to-night.

God grant it were but as he said,

And I’d sit snug at home to-night.

[He and his Son retire eastwards.

Brand.[Reappears higher up, and listens in the direction in which thePeasantwent.]

Brand.

[Reappears higher up, and listens in the direction in which thePeasantwent.]

Homeward they grovel! Thou dull thrall,If but thy feeble flesh were all,If any spark of living willSprang in thee, I had help’d thee still.With breaking back, and feet way-worn,Lightly and swift I had thee borne;—But help is idle for the manWho nothing wills but what he can.[Goes further on.]Ah life! ah life! Why art thou thenSo passing sweet to mortal men?In every weakling’s estimationHis own life does as grossly weighAs if the load of man’s salvationUpon his puny shoulders lay.For every burden he’s prepared,God help us,—so his life be spared![Smiles as in recollection.]Two thoughts in boyhood broke upon me,And spasms of laughter in me woke,And from our ancient school-dame won meMany a just and bitter stroke.An Owl I fancied, scared by night;A Fish that had the water-fright;I sought to banish them;—in vain,They clung like leeches to my brain.Whence rose that laughter in my mind?Ah, from the gulf, dimly divined,Between the living world we seeAnd the world as it ought to be,Between enduring what we must,And murmuring, it is unjust!Ah, whole or sickly, great or small,Such owls, such fishes, are we all.Born to be tenants of the deep,Born to be exiles from the sun,This, even this, does us appal;We dash against the beetling steep,Our starry-vaulted home we shun,And crying to heaven, bootless prayFor air and the glad flames of day![Pauses a moment, starts, and listens.]What do I hear? A sound of singing.Ay, blended song and laughter ringing.With now a cheer and now a hollo,—Another—and another—follow!Lo, the sun rises; the mist lifts.Already through the breaking riftsThe illimitable heights I see;And now that joyous companyStands out against the morning lightUpon the summit of the height.Their shadows taper to the west,Farewells are utter’d, hands are pressed.And now they part, the others moveEastward away, two westward wend,And, waving hats and kerchiefs, sendTheir farewell messages of love.

Homeward they grovel! Thou dull thrall,

If but thy feeble flesh were all,

If any spark of living will

Sprang in thee, I had help’d thee still.

With breaking back, and feet way-worn,

Lightly and swift I had thee borne;—

But help is idle for the man

Who nothing wills but what he can.

[Goes further on.]

Ah life! ah life! Why art thou then

So passing sweet to mortal men?

In every weakling’s estimation

His own life does as grossly weigh

As if the load of man’s salvation

Upon his puny shoulders lay.

For every burden he’s prepared,

God help us,—so his life be spared!

[Smiles as in recollection.]

Two thoughts in boyhood broke upon me,

And spasms of laughter in me woke,

And from our ancient school-dame won me

Many a just and bitter stroke.

An Owl I fancied, scared by night;

A Fish that had the water-fright;

I sought to banish them;—in vain,

They clung like leeches to my brain.

Whence rose that laughter in my mind?

Ah, from the gulf, dimly divined,

Between the living world we see

And the world as it ought to be,

Between enduring what we must,

And murmuring, it is unjust!

Ah, whole or sickly, great or small,

Such owls, such fishes, are we all.

Born to be tenants of the deep,

Born to be exiles from the sun,

This, even this, does us appal;

We dash against the beetling steep,

Our starry-vaulted home we shun,

And crying to heaven, bootless pray

For air and the glad flames of day!

[Pauses a moment, starts, and listens.]

What do I hear? A sound of singing.

Ay, blended song and laughter ringing.

With now a cheer and now a hollo,—

Another—and another—follow!

Lo, the sun rises; the mist lifts.

Already through the breaking rifts

The illimitable heights I see;

And now that joyous company

Stands out against the morning light

Upon the summit of the height.

Their shadows taper to the west,

Farewells are utter’d, hands are pressed.

And now they part, the others move

Eastward away, two westward wend,

And, waving hats and kerchiefs, send

Their farewell messages of love.

[The sun gradually breaks through and disperses the mist.Brandstands and looks down on the two as they approach.]

How the light glitters round these two!It is as if the mist took flight,And flowering heather clothed the height,And heaven laugh’d round them where they go.Brother and sister, hand in hand,They spring along the hill together,She scarcely stirs the dewy heather,And he is lissome as a wand.Now she darts back, he rushes after,Now slips aside, eludes his aim,—Out of their gambols grows a game——!And hark, a song out of their laughter!

How the light glitters round these two!

It is as if the mist took flight,

And flowering heather clothed the height,

And heaven laugh’d round them where they go.

Brother and sister, hand in hand,

They spring along the hill together,

She scarcely stirs the dewy heather,

And he is lissome as a wand.

Now she darts back, he rushes after,

Now slips aside, eludes his aim,—

Out of their gambols grows a game——!

And hark, a song out of their laughter!

[EinarandAgnes, in light summer dress, both of them warm and glowing, come playing across the level. The mist is gone; a bright summer morning lies on the mountains.]

Einar.

Agnes, my beautiful butterfly,Playfully shalt thou be caught!I am weaving a net, and its meshes fineAre all of my music wrought!

Agnes, my beautiful butterfly,

Playfully shalt thou be caught!

I am weaving a net, and its meshes fine

Are all of my music wrought!

Agnes.[Dancing backwards and always eluding him.]

Agnes.

[Dancing backwards and always eluding him.]

And am I a butterfly, dainty and slight,Let me sip of the heather-bell blue,And art thou a boy, let me be thy sport,But oh! not thy captive too!

And am I a butterfly, dainty and slight,

Let me sip of the heather-bell blue,

And art thou a boy, let me be thy sport,

But oh! not thy captive too!

Einar.

Agnes, my beautiful butterfly,I have woven my meshes so thin,And never availeth thy fluttering flight,Soon art thou my captive within.

Agnes, my beautiful butterfly,

I have woven my meshes so thin,

And never availeth thy fluttering flight,

Soon art thou my captive within.

Agnes.

And am I a butterfly young and bright,Full joyously I can play,But if in thy net I a captive lieOh, touch not my wings, I pray!

And am I a butterfly young and bright,

Full joyously I can play,

But if in thy net I a captive lie

Oh, touch not my wings, I pray!

Einar.

Nay, I will lift thee with tender hand,And lock thee up in my breast,And there thou shalt play thy whole life longAt the game thy heart loves best.

Nay, I will lift thee with tender hand,

And lock thee up in my breast,

And there thou shalt play thy whole life long

At the game thy heart loves best.

[They have unwittingly approached a sheer precipice, and are now close to the edge.

Brand.[Calls down to them.]

Brand.

[Calls down to them.]

Hold! hold! You stand by an abyss!

Einar.

Who calls us?

Agnes.[Pointing up.]

Agnes.

[Pointing up.]

See!

Brand.

Heed where you goYour feet are on the hollow snowThat overhangs a precipice.

Heed where you go

Your feet are on the hollow snow

That overhangs a precipice.

Einar.[Clasping her, and laughing up toBrand.]

Einar.

[Clasping her, and laughing up toBrand.]

Needless for her and me your fears!

Agnes.

We have a whole life long to play!

Einar.

In sunshine lies our destined way,And ends but with a hundred years.

In sunshine lies our destined way,

And ends but with a hundred years.

Brand.

And then you perish? So!

Agnes.[Waving her veil.]

Agnes.

[Waving her veil.]

No; thenWe fly to heaven and play again!

No; then

We fly to heaven and play again!

Einar.

A hundred years to revel given,Each night the bridal lamps aflame,—A century of glorious game——

A hundred years to revel given,

Each night the bridal lamps aflame,—

A century of glorious game——

Brand.

And then—?

Einar.

Then home again to heaven,—

Brand.

Aha! so that is whence you came?

Einar.

Of course; how should we not come thence?

Agnes.

That is, our very latest flightIs from the valley, eastward hence.

That is, our very latest flight

Is from the valley, eastward hence.

Brand.

I think I saw you on the height.

Einar.

Ay, it was there on those loved facesEven but now we look’d our last,And with clasp’d hands, kisses, embracesSeal’d all our tender memories fast!Come down to us, and I will tellHow God’s been good beyond compare—And you shall all our gladness share——!Pooh, stand not like an icicle!Come, thaw now! There, I like you so.First, I’m a painter, you must know,And even this to me was sweet,—To lend my fancy wings and feet,In colours to bid life arise,As He of grubs breeds butterflies.But God surpass’d Himself when HeMy Agnes gave me for my bride!I came from travels over sea,My painter’s satchel at my side——

Ay, it was there on those loved faces

Even but now we look’d our last,

And with clasp’d hands, kisses, embraces

Seal’d all our tender memories fast!

Come down to us, and I will tell

How God’s been good beyond compare—

And you shall all our gladness share——!

Pooh, stand not like an icicle!

Come, thaw now! There, I like you so.

First, I’m a painter, you must know,

And even this to me was sweet,—

To lend my fancy wings and feet,

In colours to bid life arise,

As He of grubs breeds butterflies.

But God surpass’d Himself when He

My Agnes gave me for my bride!

I came from travels over sea,

My painter’s satchel at my side——

Agnes.[Eagerly.]

Agnes.

[Eagerly.]

Glad as a king, and fresh, and free,—And knew a thousand songs beside!

Glad as a king, and fresh, and free,—

And knew a thousand songs beside!

Einar.

Just as the village I pass’d through,She chanced to dwell an inmate there.She longed to taste the upland air,The scented woods, the sun, the dew;Me God unto the mountains drew,—My heart cried out: Seek Beauty’s mightIn forests dim and rivers brightAnd flying clouds beneath the blue.—Then I achieved my height of art:A rosy flush upon her cheek,Two joyous eyes that seem’d to speak,A smile whose music filled the heart—

Just as the village I pass’d through,

She chanced to dwell an inmate there.

She longed to taste the upland air,

The scented woods, the sun, the dew;

Me God unto the mountains drew,—

My heart cried out: Seek Beauty’s might

In forests dim and rivers bright

And flying clouds beneath the blue.—

Then I achieved my height of art:

A rosy flush upon her cheek,

Two joyous eyes that seem’d to speak,

A smile whose music filled the heart—

Agnes.

For you, though, all that art was vain,You drank life’s beaker, blind and rapt,And then, one sunny morn, againStood, staff in hand and baggage strapp’d—

For you, though, all that art was vain,

You drank life’s beaker, blind and rapt,

And then, one sunny morn, again

Stood, staff in hand and baggage strapp’d—

Einar.

Then suddenly the thought occurr’d:“Why, friend, the wooing is forgot!”Hurrah! I ask’d, she gave her word,And all was settled on the spot.Our good old doctor, like a boy,Was all beside himself with joy;So three whole days, and whole nights three,Held revelry for her and me;Mayor and constable, clerk and priest,—All the grown youth was at the feast.Last night we left, but not for thatThe revel or the banquet ceased;With banner’d pole and wreathed hat,Up over bank, on over brae,Our comrades brought us on our way.

Then suddenly the thought occurr’d:

“Why, friend, the wooing is forgot!”

Hurrah! I ask’d, she gave her word,

And all was settled on the spot.

Our good old doctor, like a boy,

Was all beside himself with joy;

So three whole days, and whole nights three,

Held revelry for her and me;

Mayor and constable, clerk and priest,—

All the grown youth was at the feast.

Last night we left, but not for that

The revel or the banquet ceased;

With banner’d pole and wreathed hat,

Up over bank, on over brae,

Our comrades brought us on our way.

Agnes.

The mountain-side we danced along,In couples now, and now in groups,—

The mountain-side we danced along,

In couples now, and now in groups,—

Einar.

Drank luscious wine from silver stoups,—

Agnes.

Awoke the summer night with song,—

Einar.

And the thick mist before our feetBeat an obsequious retreat.

And the thick mist before our feet

Beat an obsequious retreat.

Brand.

And now your way lies—?

Einar.

To the townBefore us.

To the town

Before us.

Agnes.

To my parents’ home.

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