Act One

SCENE 1

In the snow, high up in the mountains. The mist lies thick; rain and semi-darkness. BRAND, dressed in black, with a staff and a pack, is slowly making his way westwards. A PEASANT and his half-grown SON, who have joined him, are a little way behind.

PEASANT [calling after BRAND]:

Hey, stranger, not so fast!

Where are you?

BRAND:     Here.

PEASANT:      We’re lost;

it’s never been so thick.

BRAND: We’ve lost sight of the track.

SON: Hey, look, look, a great split

in the ice.

PEASANT: Stay clear of it

for God’s sake!

BRAND:     I can hear

a cataract. That roar,

where is it?

PEASANT:   That’s the beck

brasting through ice and rock;

the devil knows how deep.

You will, with one more step.

BRAND: I am a priest; I said

no faltering.

PEASANT:   Ay, so you did.

And I say it’s beyond

all mortal strength. The ground –

hollow – d’you feel it quake?

Don’t tempt your luck. Turn back!

BRAND: This is my destined road.

PEASANT: Ay, and who said so?

BRAND:         God

said so; the God I serve.

PEASANT: Man-of-God, you’ve got nerve.

But just heed what I say!

Though you’re bishop or dean,

or some such holy man,

you’ll be dead before day.

I can’t see past my nose!

It’s miles2 to the next house,

I know that for a fact.

Don’t be so stiff-necked.

You’ve only got the one

life, and when that’s gone …

BRAND: If we can’t see the way

we’ll not be led astray

by marsh light or false track.

PEASANT: There’s ice tarns, worse than t’beck;

they’ll be the death of us.

BRAND: Not so! We’ll walk across.

PEASANT: Walk on the water?

BRAND:         He

walked on Lake Galilee.

PEASANT: A good few years ago

that was. It’s harder now.

Try if you must, go on;

but you’ll sink like a stone!

BRAND: I owe God life and death.

He’s welcome to them both.

PEASANT: You’re worse than lost, you’re mad!

BRAND [stopping; approaching the pair]:

But lately, man-of-earth,

you thought this journey worth

the risk. ‘Come ice, come snow,’

you said; and told me how

your lass, down at the fjord,

lies at death’s door.

PEASANT:      Afeard,

’less she bids me farewell,

Old Nick will grab her soul.

BRAND: You must get there today;

you said so.

PEASANT:   I did, ay!

BRAND: What would you sacrifice

that she might die in peace?

PEASANT: To keep her soul from harm

I’d barter house and home;

I’d give all that I have.

BRAND: ‘All’, you say. Would you give

your life?

PEASANT [scratching his ear]:

    Life? Now wait,

now that’s asking a lot,

Christ it is! There’s my wife,

[Points to SON.]

and him.

BRAND:   Christ gave His life.

Christ’s mother gave her son.

PEASANT: Maybe. Those days are gone,

and so are miracles.

It’s different nowawhiles.

BRAND: Go! You know not the Lord,

nor He you!

PEASANT:   Agh, you’re hard!

SON [tugging at him]:

Come home, let’s be gone!

PEASANT: We will that! And you, man-

of-God!

BRAND: If I refuse?

PEASANT: Stranger, think on! Suppose

we go and leave you here;

suppose you disappear

in a snow drift or get drowned,

suppose word gets around.

I’d soon be up in court

accused of God knows what.

BRAND: A martyr in His cause.

PEASANT: And that’s not worth a curse –

I’m done with God and you!

SON [screaming, as a hollow rumbling is heard in the distance]:

An ice-fall!

BRAND [to the PEASANT, who has seized his collar]:

     You! Let go!

PEASANT [wrestling with BRAND]:

Not I!

BRAND: Let go, you fool!

BRAND tears himself free and throws the PEASANT down in the snow.

PEASANT: Go to the devil!

BRAND:        You’ll

go to him. That’s your fate,

you can be sure of that!

He walks off.

PEASANT [sitting rubbing his arm]:

That’s doing the Lord’s work,

is it? He nearly broke

my arm.

[Shouts after BRAND as he gets up.]

     Hey, man-of-faith,

help us to find the path!

BRAND: No need. You’ve found your road:

the way that is called broad.

PEASANT: I pray he’s right this time –

God bring us safely home.

He and his SON walk off in an easterly direction.

BRAND [appears higher up, looking in the direction that the PEASANT took]:

Crawl off, then, you poor slave!

Drudge where you fear to strive.

When our weak flesh alone

fails us, we struggle on

and on with bleeding feet.

Sheer willpower bears the weight.

Strange how the lifeless cling

to life with ‘Life’s the thing!’

Small men, who set great store

by life, dread all the more

its vision and its pain.

How can you save such men,

who talk of ‘sacrifice’

yet barter truth for peace?

[Smiles as if remembering something.]

When I was a boy

daydreaming at school,

I thought, ‘Suppose an owl

were frightened of the dark.’

I laughed behind my book.

Many and many a day

the teacher had me out.

‘And there’s a fish,’ I thought,

‘somewhere, that hates the sea.’

As the taws cracked, I grinned;

those two thoughts gripped my mind.

I gazed across a gulf

dividing those who dare

from those who fear to be.

Too many souls are still

like that fish, or that owl:

with their true life to make

in the depths of the dark,

if they could but endure;

who flee from their dark star,

each from his own true self;

perish in this world’s air.

[Stops for a moment, notices something and listens.]

Yet, for a moment, there is song

in the air; and laughter among

the singing; and the sound of cheers.

The sun rises and the mist is thin

already; and the plains begin

to glitter. I see travellers

clearly outlined along the crest

of the near ridge; signs of farewell,

handclasps and kisses, a lifted veil,

two youngsters parting from the rest.

They race towards me hand in hand

across the moorland, like brother

and sister, through vivid heather.

Light as a feather she skims the ground;

and he is lithe, like a young birch.

They play a childish game of catch

and all of life becomes a game.

Their laughter’s like a morning hymn.

EINAR and AGNES, clad in light travelling clothes, both of them warm and glowing, come across the plateau, as if in the midst of a game. The mist is gone; it is a clear summer morning in the mountains.

EINAR: Butterfly, butterfly,

Where are you flying?

AGNES: Far far away

From your cruel sighing.

EINAR: Butterfly, butterfly,

Rest from your dance.

You’re all of a flutter.

AGNES:       Why

All this pretence?

EINAR: Butterfly, butterfly,

Lie in my hand.

AGNES: If I do I shall die.

Let me go on the wind.

Without noticing, they have come to a precipice; they are now on the edge of it.

BRAND [crying out to them from above]:

Stop! Stop, you foolish pair!

EINAR: Who’s that?

AGNES [pointing upwards]:

       Look! Up there!

BRAND: That cliff – it’s undermined! –

beneath you – can’t you understand? –

You are both dancing on thin air!

EINAR [putting his arm around AGNES and laughing as he looks towards BRAND]:

Agnes and I don’t have a care.

AGNES: Old age is time enough for fears.

EINAR: Our youth shall last a hundred years.

BRAND: I see. A summer of sweet mirth,

young butterflies. Then back to earth.

AGNES [swinging her veil]:

No, not to earth. My love and I

are wandering children of the sky.

EINAR: A hundred years, in this bright world,

of never really growing old.

Time on our side, all time a game …

BRAND: And then?

EINAR:     Restored to heaven and home!

BRAND: You seem so very sure.

EINAR:          Oh yes,

heaven’s our permanent address!

AGNES: Einar, Einar! He knows we came

over the ridge. Stop teasing him!

EINAR: We’ve said our fond farewell to friends,

kissed and embraced and shaken hands

and made all sorts of promises.

Don’t stand there like a troll of ice!

Come down, and let me thaw you out

with wonders that will melt your heart.

Be moved, man, by the power of joy;

don’t cast a gloom across our day.

My tale begins. As you perceive,

I am an artist. I can give

wings to my thoughts, and charm all life

to radiance: a flower, a wife.

I take creation in my stride,

as I chose Agnes for my bride

that day I strode up from the south …

AGNES: The spirit of eternal youth!

His confidence was like a king’s

and he could sing a thousand songs.

EINAR: A thousand? Yes! Some inner voice

kept whispering, ‘Your masterpiece

awaits you. Seek her where she dwells

beside the streams, on the high fells!’

And so I sought, up through the woods

of conifers and where the clouds

fly swiftly under Heaven’s vault,

that creature without flaw or fault.

Suddenly, suddenly, she was there:

beauty enough for my desire!

AGNES: Poor simple Agnes neatly caught,

a butterfly in passion’s net.

EINAR: Oh, nothing ventured, nothing won!

Formalities must wait their turn.

But their turn came; and the guests came;

and there was feasting at the farm,

where blessings sought and blessings given

made the old rafters ring to heaven.

Three days and nights of feast and song!

And, when we left, that loving throng

followed and cheered us on our way

and were true celebrants of joy.

We drank the wine of fellowship

together from a silver cup.

AGNES: All through the summer night …

EINAR:           The mist

parted before us, where we passed.

BRAND: And now you go …?

EINAR:       On to the town,

our wedding and our honeymoon.

We’ll sail away, two swans in flight,

far to the south!

BRAND:     And after that?

EINAR: A legend! An unbroken dream

made safe from sorrow, as from time.

There, on the height, without a priest

in sight to bless us, we were blest.

BRAND: Oh, indeed. Who blessed you then?

EINAR: Our friends, with love; as you’ll have seen,

this very morning on the ridge.

In parting, we received their pledge

that every dark word, every dark

thought, that could raise a storm or lurk

in the bright foliage of a bower,

is banished from love’s book-of-prayer.

Even such words as bear a shade

of darker meaning, they forbade.

They named us the true heirs of joy.

BRAND: So be it then.

He prepares to leave.

EINAR [taken aback and looking more closely at BRAND]:

        I say …

I remember that face!

Surely I recognize …

BRAND [coldly]:

A man you never met …

EINAR: Impossible to forget …

BRAND: I was your childhood friend

but we are men now.

EINAR:        Brand,

it’s you! So I was right!

BRAND: As soon as I caught sight

of you, I knew you.

EINAR:        Still

the same old Brand! At school,

even, you seemed remote,

secure in your own thought.

BRAND: And with good cause. Your calm

South-land was never home

to me. And I felt cold,

shut in that easy world.

EINAR: Is this where you belong?

BRAND: Not now. When I was young

I did. Now I obey

the call, and cannot stay.

EINAR: So you’re a man-of-God.

BRAND [smiling]:

I have been so described.

I bear the Word, now here

now there. The mountain hare

is more settled than I.

But this is the true way.

EINAR: Where will it end, this true

journey?

BRAND:   What’s that to you?

EINAR: Brand!

BRAND [changing his tone]:

      Well, never mind …

I’ll soon be outward bound

like you … on the same boat.

EINAR: Agnes, do you hear that?

Brand’s journey is the same

as ours!

BRAND:   Fondle your dream,

Einar. The place I seek,

if you came near, could turn

your wedding to a wake,

your dancers into stone.

I seek the death of God,

that dying God of yours

dying these thousand years.

I’ll see him in his shroud.

AGNES: Einar, we should go.

EINAR:         Wait,

Agnes, wait a while.

[To BRAND]

        What

madness! You must be ill!

BRAND: Sanity’s what you call

sickness, I suppose.

A generation whose

pastimes are its care

has sunk almost past cure.

You flirt and play the fool

and leave the bitter toil

to that poor Holy One

sweating blood to atone,

your dear Christ hurt with thorns,

the saviour of your dance.

Dance on, dance to the end,

dance yourselves deaf and blind!

EINAR: You’re good at breathing fire,

a real hot-gospeller;

that fear-and-trembling school

has taught you very well!

BRAND: Einar, I leave the new

fashions in faith to you.

I’ve not come here to preach

for any sect or church.

Not as a formal Christian

even, but as my own man,

I tell you this: I know

the nature of the flaw

that has so thinned and drained

the spirit of our land.

EINAR [smiling]:

We’re not the kind to drink

deep of life’s cup, you think?

BRAND: No. If only you would,

high-stepping meek-and-mild!

Sin if you dare, but have the grace,

at least, to be fulfilled in vice.

At least live up to what you claim;

don’t water your good wine with shame!

Among our people I observe

such littleness and loss of nerve.

A little show of holiness

strictly reserved for Sunday use;

little charity, but much talk

of simple, plain, God-fearing folk.

A middling this, a middling that,

never humble, never great.

Above the worst, beneath the best,

each virtue vicious to the rest.

EINAR: Bravo, Brand! Have your say,

just as you will. I’ll play

‘Amen’ in the right place:

I’m quite ready to please.

I’m wholly unperturbed;

my God is still my God.

BRAND: Indeed He’s yours! You’ve even

been favoured by heaven

with that vision of Him –

it brought you some small fame –

the picture that you did

of your old, pampered God:

white-haired, moist-eyed with age,

his comic turns of rage

send children off to bed

giggling and half-afraid.

EINAR [angry]:

This is …

BRAND:    ‘No joke’, you’d say?

Do you want sympathy?

You trim off life from faith,

haver from birth to death,

self-seekers who refuse

man’s true way-of-the-Cross,

which is: wholly to be

the all-enduring ‘I’.

My God is the great god of storm,

absolute arbiter of doom,

imperious in His love!

He is the voice that Moses heard,

He is the pillar of the cloud,

He is the hand that stayed the sun

for Joshua in Gibeon.

Your God can hardly move;

he’s weak of mind and heart,

easy to push about.

But mine is young: a Hercules,3

not fourscore of infirmities.

Though you may smile and preen,

Einar; though you bow down

to your own brazenness,

I shall heal this disease

that withers heart and brain,

and make you all new men!

EINAR: [shakes his head]:

You’ll blow the old lamps out

before new lamps are lit;

abandon the known word

for speech as yet unheard.

BRAND: Why must you misconstrue

so much? I seek for nothing new.

I know my mission: to uphold

truths long forgotten by the world;

eternal truths. I have not come

to preach dogmatics or proclaim

the right of some exclusive sect

to rule through pain of interdict.

For every church and creed

is something that this world has made;

and everything that’s made must end.

I speak of what endures,

of what is lost and found

eternally. Faith did not climb

slowly from the primeval slime,

nor burst from the volcanic fires.

It is incarnate through recourse

of spirit to our spirit’s source.

Though hucksters in and out of church

make tawdry everything they touch,

hawking the relics of their trade,

their bits of dogma, parts

of broken creeds and hearts,

that spirit shines amid the void,

amid the travesties

of things that are, the truth that is.

And truth-begotten, God’s true heir,

the new Adam …

EINAR:     We should part here,

I think. It’s for the best.

BRAND: Here are two paths: the west

for you; for me the north.

Different ways, yet both

end at the fjord. Farewell,

butterflies!

[Turning as he starts the descent]

      Learn to tell

true from false. Don’t forget

life’s the real work of art!

EINAR: [waving him away]:

Though you may shake my world

my God stands firm!

BRAND:      He’s old,

Einar; don’t worry Him.

Leave me to bury Him!

He goes down the path. EINAR walks silently across and looks down after BRAND. AGNES stands for a moment as if lost in thought; then she starts, looks about her uneasily.

AGNES: It’s all so gloomy. Where’s the sun?

EINAR: Behind that cloud, there. Things will soon

look bright again.

AGNES:     And there’s a fierce

wind out of nowhere. It’s like ice.

EINAR: Some freak gust hurtling through the pass,

I’d say. It’s much too cold for us

to linger here. Come on!

AGNES:       How black

and forbidding that great south peak

seems now. It wasn’t always so,

surely?

EINAR: You’ve let Brand frighten you

with his dour face and talk of doom.

Look here, I’ll race you! You’ll get warm!

AGNES: I can’t. I’m tired.

EINAR:       To tell the truth,

love, so am I. This downhill path

is tricky too. But we’ll be safe

on terra firma soon enough.

And, Agnes, now the sun’s come back

the world no longer looks so bleak.

What a picture! Such harmony

of sky with sea and sea with sky;

deep azure lit by silver streaks,

suffused with golden lights and darks,

out to the far horizon’s edge,

the boundless main! And, look, that smudge

of smoke – the steamer coming in,

the very ship we go to join.

By early evening we shall be

clear of this place, well out to sea.

We’ll dance on deck and sing; our games

will make Brand giddy if he comes.

AGNES: [without looking at him and in a hushed voice]:

Tell me, are we awake,

Einar? When that man spoke

he burned! It seemed each feature

changed! He grew in stature!

She goes down the path. EINAR follows.

SCENE 2

A path along the mountain wall with a wild valley on the right-hand side. Above and behind the mountain one can see glimpses of great heights with peaks and snow. BRAND appears high up on the path, starts to descend, stops midway on a rock which juts out, and looks down into the valley.

BRAND: Now I see where I am:

strangely close to home.

Everything I recall

from childhood here still

but smaller now and much

shabbier; and the church

looks in need of repair.

The cliffs loom; the glacier

juts and hangs: it is an

ice wall concealing the sun.

And for all their rough gleam

the fjord waters look grim

and menacing. A small

boat pitches in a squall.

Down there’s the timber wharf

and nearby – iron-red roof,

red-flaking walls – the house

to which I would refuse

the name ‘home’ if I could;

the place where I endured

harsh kinship, an alien

life that was called mine.

Solitude and desire

magnified what was there.

As though in recompense

to my own soul, a sense

of greatness visited me,

made even a poverty-

stricken smallholding shine,

a visionary demesne.

All that has faded. Now

there is nothing to show

what my child-soul once made

out of such solitude.

Returning, I am shorn

of all strength: Samson

in the harlot’s lap.4

[Looks again down into the abyss.]

It seems they have woken up.

Men, women, children come

from the cottages, climb

slowly among the outcrops

of rock, the lowest slopes;

now lost from sight and now

seen again, on the brow

by the church. Slaves to both

day labour and the sloth

of their own souls; their need

crawls and is not heard

in the courts of heaven;

and their prayers are craven:

‘Give us bread! give us bread!’

So they still eat their God.

Nothing else matters

to them: tossed on storm waters

of the age, the merest flotsam,

or rotting in a foul calm.

BRAND is about to go; a stone is thrown from above and rolls down the slope just missing him. GERD, a fifteen-year-old girl, runs along the ridge with stones in her apron.

GERD: Hey! Now he’s really wild!

BRAND: Who’s there? Ah – stupid child!

GERD: Look, he’s not a bit hurt,

though I’m sure he was hit.

[Throws more stones and cries out.]

Oh … he’s back … swooping down …

his claws … I’m all torn!

BRAND: Tell me, in God’s name, what …

GERD: Stay there and keep quiet

if you want to be safe.

It’s all right, he’s flown off.

BRAND: Who has flown off?

GERD:         You

didn’t see the hawk?

BRAND:      No.

GERD: Not that great ugly thing

with some sort of red ring

round his eye?

BRAND:     I did not.

GERD: And with his crest all flat

against his head?

BRAND:      No. Which

way are you going?

GERD:      To church.

BRAND: But the church is down there.

GERD: [looking at him with a scornful smile and pointing downwards]:

Not that one. That’s a poor

tumbledown little place.

BRAND: You know a better?

GERD:        Yes,

yes, yes! Follow me up

these mountains, to the top.

That’s where my own church is,

in the heart of the ice.

BRAND: Ah, now I understand.

I’d forgotten that legend

of the Ice Church: a great cleft

in the rock, where the drift-

ing snow and ice have built

the roof of a huge vault.

The church floor is a lake

frozen as hard as rock,

so all the stories say.

GERD: Well, they’re true!

BRAND:       Stay away

from there. It’s sure to fall.

A gust of wind, a call,

or a gunshot, could bring

the end of everything.

GERD [not listening]:

I’ll show you where a herd

of dead reindeer appeared

out of the glacier last

spring, when it thawed.

BRAND:       You must

never go there. I’ve told

you why.

GERD [pointing downwards]:

    That musty old

church of yours! Stay away

from it. I’ve told you why.

BRAND: God bless you. Go in peace.

GERD: Oh, do come! Hear the ice

sing mass, and the wind make

sermons over the rock.

Oh, how you’ll burn and freeze!

It’s safe from the hawk’s eyes.

He settles on Black Peak

just like a weathercock.

BRAND [aside]:

Her spirit struggles to be heard;

flawed music from a broken reed.

God in His judgement sometimes draws

evil to good. Not from these thraws.

GERD: O the hawk, O the whirr

of his wings! Help me, sir!

I must hide. In my church

it’s safe. Hey! hey! can’t catch

me! O but he’s angry. Now

what shall I do? I’ll throw

things. Ugh! keep off me, keep

off me with those great sharp

claws! Strike me, I’ll strike you!

She runs off up the mountain.

BRAND: So that’s churchgoing too;

those howls are hymns of praise.

But is she worse than those

who seek God in the valley?

And is her church less holy?

Who sees? And who is blind?

Who wanders? Who is found?

Feckless, with his garlands on,

dances till he plunges down

into the terrible abyss.

Dullness mutters ‘thus and thus’,

his catechism’s sleepy rote,

and treads the old, deep-trodden rut.

Madness wanders from itself,

half shadowing the other half;

immortal longings gone astray,

confusing darkness with the day.

My way is clear, now. Heaven calls.

I know my task. When those three trolls

are dead, mankind shall breathe again,

freed from old pestilence and pain.

Arm, arm, my soul! Take up your sword!

Fight now for every child of God!

He descends into the populated valley.