by Henrik Ibsen
The MAYOR enters in full regalia and greets BRAND effusively.
MAYOR: So the great day is here!
May I be first to cheer?
I’m privileged to greet
a personage so great,
so honoured, so well loved,
I truly feel quite moved.
What a red-letter day!
And how do you feel, eh?
BRAND: As though my heart would burst –
into ashes, or dust.
MAYOR: Come, come, dear sir, come, come!
I’ll not permit such gloom.
We want your very best
performance, the true zest,
thunder and lightning, all
the trimmings; yes, the full
range of your repertoire.
Everyone will be here.
The acoustics are first-class
too, so the dean says.
The dean is most impressed!
I also know he praised
the style of the architecture
and the size of the structure.
BRAND: Ah, so he’s noticed that.
MAYOR: Beg pardon? Noticed what?
BRAND: It seems so very … big.
MAYOR: Seems? Is!
An awe-inspiring size!
BRAND: The things for which I’ve striven
are turned to parodies.
The new paradise?
A master-builder’s heaven.
MAYOR: Folk here are well content,
so what more could you want?
All right, they’re a bit dim.
So let’s not worry them
with talk of ‘truth’ and ‘light’.
Truth isn’t worth the fright.
Just give them something big
and they’re happy: church, dog-
house, it doesn’t matter;
the bigger the better.
BRAND: A finger on the scales
and damn all principles!
MAYOR: For all our sakes, do try
to keep such thoughts at bay.
You’ve won the silver cup
for good citizenship.
I’ll make a stirring speech,
we’ll sing the ‘Patriots’ Song’.
And all’s well in the Church.
Today let truth go hang!
BRAND: And at your liars’ feast
who gives the loyal toast?
MAYOR: There’s no call for abuse.
Just let me put the case.
Right now, my lad, you sit
as fortune’s favourite.
The final accolade,
that’s yours too. You’ll be made
a knight, by royal grace,
Knight of the Cross (Third Class).
BRAND: I have my cross right here.
Deprive me if you dare.
You’ve never understood
my words – not a single word!
You take a metre rule
to measure the sublime
measureless universe,
God’s grandeur over all;
visions of fire and ice,
those blazingly supreme
powers that radiate –
the focus, man’s own heart!
I can’t … I can’t go on …
You speak to them! Explain …
He goes up to the church.
MAYOR [to himself]:
‘Grandeur’ indeed! I think
he’s mad. Or is he drunk?
Exit.
BRAND [coming down across the open space]:
Never – not even on
the dark heights – so alone
as here and now, amid
this bleating multitude!
[Looks in the direction which the MAYOR has taken.]
He struts back to his lies
and safe hypocrisies.
O Agnes, O my dear,
unable to endure
the things that I’ve endured,
I’m lonely and I’m tired.
Here there’s no gain, no loss.
Mere total emptiness.
DEAN [arriving]:
My dear flock! You poor sheep!
Poor sheep? Tch! A slip
of the tongue. Pastor! I’ll
join you! A rehearsal –
my sermon, you understand –
must keep the text in mind.
Our thanks, sir, for the way
you’ve fought so manfully,
overcome doubt, abuse,
re-edified God’s house.
BRAND: I dreamed a Church reborn;
a people cleansed, within.
DEAN: Oh, they’ll be clean all right.
You’ll find they wipe their feet.
A fine church! Resonant!
It echoes every tone –
two for the price of one;
a one-hundred-per-cent
profit. May I repeat
on behalf of the state
and of the diocese
our gratitude, our praise?
You’ll hear many a wing’d word
sung at the festal board
in the mead hall! The luncheon
today. They did mention …?
They did? Good! Colleagues of mine,
young up-and-coming men,
most eager to meet you. But
you’re white as a sheet!
BRAND: I’ve spent my strength; I’ve failed;
now I’m to be wassailed
by such as you.
DEAN: Overwrought!
Hardly surprising … fought
the good fight, alone.
But now that battle’s won.
Be cheered by such a day.
Rest in your victory,
revel in your reward.
Just think of it: a crowd
of thousands from the far-
flung regions drawn to hear
you speak, such is your fame!
My colleagues, all of them,
proud to sit at your feet.
And then – the banquet!
Talk of the fatted calf!
The chef’s excelled himself.
Lord, what a spread! Tables
groaning with comestibles!
Look, I welcome this chance
to speak in confidence …
BRAND: That’s right, dean, turn the rack!
DEAN: Now, now, pastor, tck, tck! …
in confidence, as I’ve said,
and amity, let me add,
concerning some slight
details to be set right
in your unique approach
to matters of the Church.
Put first things first: maintain
custom and precedent.
It saves embarrassment,
or worse, in the long run.
BRAND: I don’t think I quite heard …
DEAN: The Church fulfils a need.
It’s a repository
for the nation’s soul,
for praise and glory
and patriot zeal.
It’s a bulwark, a base
for true morality,
every good quality.
I’d have said ‘treasure-house’
but these are straitened times.
Today, ‘good Christian’ chimes
best with ‘good citizen’,
if you see what I mean.
As the state keeps its eyes
fixed on an earthly prize,
so the state Church prefers
conformity as the theme
for its own officers.
BRAND: Your words touch the sublime.
DEAN: Let reason lead the way.
Reason can satisfy
two masters at one time
without rebuke or shame.
But don’t ask every oaf
you meet, ‘Is your soul safe?’
The modern state, young man,
thrives on republican
> sentiments: equal rights
and so on; though it hates
real freedom like the plague.
Égalité?19 Mere blague!
But you, with your quaint views,
discover avenues,
nooks, crannies, that reveal
we’re not equal at all.
The state deals in numbers.
You speak of ‘true members
one with another’.
You’ve caused us some bother.
BRAND: The eagle is brought down;
the goose soars to the sun.
DEAN: Thanks be to God, we’re men,
not fowls of the air.
Still, if you must begin
to quote, quote holy writ.
You’ll not improve on that.
Genesis to Revelation,
a wealth of quotation
most instructive to hear.
The Tower of Babel,20
now there’s a parable
to conjure with. It seems
written for our own times:
everybody talking at once,
nobody making sense.
It’s obvious you can’t
thrive without government.
We all need rules. The odd
man out, defying God,
perishes by God’s law.
Solitude on the brain
can drive a man insane!
BRAND: That vision Jacob saw21
rising from earth to heaven:
it is for that I have striven!
DEAN: Personal piety!
That’s different! When we die,
of course we go to Him.
(In confidence, ahem!)
You talk of Jacob’s ladder –
a most uplifting text.
Faith’s one thing, life’s another.
Try not to get them mixed.
Six days a week we toil,
‘our duties to fulfil’;
the seventh day, we rest;
piety soothes the breast.
Religion’s like high art,
much better kept apart
for those who can commune.
Be sparing with the Word.
Don’t scatter it like seed,
or pearls in front of swine.
I know how you must feel,
in love with the ideal,
seeking for some crusade;
but let me be your guide.
Things are done differently
in the harsh light of day.
There must be discipline.
Some things are just not done.
We must know where we stand.
I’ve spoken like a friend.
BRAND: You’ll find I don’t fit in
to your contrivance, dean.
DEAN: Tut, tut! tut, tut! You must!
You’ll find that we insist:
‘Good servant, come up higher …’
BRAND: By plunging in the mire!
DEAN: ‘The meek shall be exalted’22 –
now how can that be faulted?
BRAND: Dean, I’m ill-qualified
to serve. Bring out your dead.
DEAN: God help us all, you can’t
believe that I would ever …
BRAND: Conscript a cadaver?
You would! The man you want,
that focus of your hopes,
is a convenient corpse
down at the mortuary,
a bag of bones bled dry.
DEAN: Bled dry? God bless my soul,
young man, I’m not a ghoul!
I speak with fair intent.
For your own betterment,
for your future career,
you must knock on the right door.
BRAND: Dean, when the cock crowed thrice
it sounded like your voice.
Do you suppose that I’ll
deny …?
DEAN: Who said ‘denial’?
Eschew every risk –
that’s not much to ask.
BRAND: ‘The fear of strife, the greed for gain,
Upon thy brow the mark of Cain,
Emblazoned there when thou did smite
Innocent Abel in thy heart.’23
DEAN [aside]:
Far too familiar!
Why can’t he call me ‘sir’?
[Aloud]
I fear that we must cut
short our little debate.
To sum up what’s been said:
you can’t hope to succeed
unless you come to terms
with the mood of the times.
It’s just as the mayor says –
this nation’s changed its ways,
and soft and soothing words
prevail, and blunted swords.
Why, even our poets
take care now to carol
their praise of the moral,
the civil, pursuits.
‘More mediocrity’,
that’s now the nation’s cry.
‘It’s better to be led,
citizens, than to lead!’
BRAND: God, to be gone from here!
DEAN: One finds one’s proper sphere,
all in good time. Be calm,
acquire a uniform
in keeping with the age. A
drill-sergeant or drum-major
drumming up church parades,
the Eucharistic squads,
a pastor marching his
recruits to Paradise.
A man can do things blind-
fold, my young friend,
if he’s a believer.
Well, well, think it over.
There’s a lot to be done.
I really must rehearse
my forthcoming address.
I need to strike the ton.
By the way, Brand,
by the way, I intend
to take as my main theme
‘Spirit versus Flesh’ – you know –
Dualism, the tragic flaw,
it’s all here. Have I time
for a quick – ah – repast?
Exit. BRAND stands for a moment, stricken by his own thoughts.
BRAND: Like Mammon’s trumpet-blast
taunting my sacrifice,
making the clouds disperse,
showing me the depraved
spirits that I served,
how hideously that creature ‘spake’
the truth, though never for truth’s sake.
This bitter place has drained my blood
and buried all my earthly good
and ruined all my great design
and nothing that was mine is mine
except the soul that I withhold
from the smooth demons of the world.
The holy dove has not descended.
If I could find once more on earth
faithfulness answering my faith,
and know that solitude had ended …
[EINAR, pale, emaciated, dressed in black, comes along the road and stops as he sees BRAND.]
Einar!
EINAR: That is my name.
BRAND: Einar, it’s like a dream!
I prayed I might find one
person not made of stone.
Let me embrace you!
EINAR: Please
refrain. I’ve reached my haven.
BRAND: You reject my embrace?
So you’ve still not forgiven?
EINAR: What was there to forgive?
Reprobate that you are,
I know you for a mere
instrument of God’s love
to me, His child of grace.
BRAND: Harsh words.
EINAR: Pure words of peace
that we, the blessèd, learn
when our souls are reborn.
BRAND: Strange – for wild rumour said
that you’d gone to the bad—
EINAR: But true! I went astray
>
lured by the world’s display,
believing its false gauds,
with pride in my own words,
my songs as they were called.
How little they availed!
But, God be praised, He broke
my strength to draw me back.
He thrust me down: I sank
into His mire; I drank
brandy and took to cards.
BRAND: You call such tricks the Lord’s?
EINAR: He tested my poor worth
with sickness unto death;
and I was stripped of all
I had. In hospital,
in my delirium,
I saw swarm upon swarm
of monstrous bloated flies.
Then, after my release,
I met – and not by chance,
by divine providence –
three sisters, three pure souls
who freed me from the toils
of sin, and from the world.
And I became a child
of grace. God’s ways with us
are strange; and various
are the paths we must tread
to our doom or reward.
BRAND: Various indeed! And then?
EINAR: I sought my brother-man,
brought him to God. At first,
as an evangelist,
I plucked many a soul
from fiery alcohol
till I began to dread
the old pull that it had.
So I’m joining a mission
for Bible propagation
among the heathen.
BRAND: Where?
EINAR: Far enough from here –
among the Negroes, so I’m told –
Caudates24 I think they’re called.
BRAND: Look, Einar, won’t you stay,
at least for today,
just for the festival?
EINAR: No. I bid you farewell.
BRAND: Has nothing, then, remained;
no glad or grieving thought,
no tenderness of heart,
no warmth of any kind?
EINAR: Ah, the young female who
enticed me, to my woe,
before faith made me pure!
Well, what became of her?
BRAND: Agnes became my wife.
You hadn’t heard? Our life
knew grief as well as joy.
EINAR: That doesn’t signify.
BRAND: We were blessed with a son,
our only child. He soon
died, though, our little boy.
EINAR: That doesn’t signify.
BRAND: And then Agnes died.
Close by my church I laid
them both to rest. Now say,
‘That doesn’t signify’!
EINAR: Such things mean nothing. Tell
me: what of her state of soul?
BRAND: She fell asleep with utter faith
in new life dawning after death;
by love and gratitude possessed
and strength of will, until the last
breath of her being. Thus she died:
trusting the great things that abide.
EINAR: Vaingloriousness and sham
piety to cover shame!
What assurances did
she have?
BRAND: Firm faith in God;
rock-firm!