Brand by Henrik Ibsen - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)
Henrik Ibsen, Delphi Classics
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Brand by Henrik Ibsen - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)
Henrik Ibsen, Delphi Classics
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This eBook features the unabridged text of 'Brand by Henrik Ibsen - Delphi Classics (Illustrated)' from the bestselling edition of 'The Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen'.
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Preguntas frecuentes
Información
ACT FIFTH.
THE SCHOOLMASTER.
At work already?
None too soon.
Lcnd me a hand; I must festoon
The path, to keep the march in trim.
Before the Manse I see ascending
Something that rears a rounded rim —
Ay, surely, surely!
What is pending?
Why, it is what they call a shield
With Parson’s name in a gold field.
To-day the valley’s in high feather.
From far and wide they’re flocking hither,
The fjord with sails isagleam.
Yes; they’ve awaken’d from their dream.
In the late Pastor’s day, no breast
With bitterness and strife was cumber’d,
Each slumber’d as his neighbour slumber’d,
-I’m not quite certain which is best.
Life, Sexton, life!
Yet you and I
Pass this “life” unregarding by; How comes it?
Why, before, the folk
Sluniher’d, and nowise toil’d, as we did;
We fell asleep when they awoke,
Because we were no longer needed.
But yet you said that life was best?
By Dean and deacon that’s profess’d.
And I too say so, like the rest, —
Provided, mind, the “life” in view
Is that of the great Residue.
But we two serve another law
Than that which holds the mass in awe;
Set by the State to guard and guide, —
Look, w e must stand against the tide,
Cherish the Church and Education,
And keep aloof from agitation.
Briefly, in nothing take a side.
But Parson’s in it, heart and soul.
And just in that forgets his role.
His own superiors, well I know,
Look with displeasure on his action,
And, dared they but offend his faction,
Had thrown him over long ago.
But he is fine; he smells a rat;
He’s got a recipe for that.
He builds the Church. Here you may glue
All eyes up, if you will but d o .
What’s done none has a thought to spare for;
The doing of it’s all they care for.
So they who follow, and we who lead,
All equally are men of deed.
Well, you have sat in the great Thing,
And ought to know the Land and Folk;
But one who travell’d through the glen
A little after we awoke
Said, we’d been sleeping folks till then,
But, having waked,-were promising.
Yes; we’re a promising folk, of course, —
And mighty promises we’re giving, —
So fast we stride, we’ll soon be living
Elucidations of their force.
One thing I’ve ponder’d many a day;
You’ve studied,-what do folks intend
By that same “People’s Promise,” pray?
A People’s Promise, my good friend?
That were a long investigation;
But ‘tis a thing that is pursued
By force of sheer anticipation;
A grand Idea they must make good
In f u t u r e, be it understood.
Thanks; I see that at any rate;
But there’s another point I’d fain
Beg of you briefly to explain.
Speak freely.
Tell me, at what date
Comes, what is call’d the future?
Why.
It never does come!
Never?
No,
And only follows Nature so.
For when it comes, you see, ‘tis grown
The Present, and the Future’s flown.
Why, yes, to that there’s no reply;
That logic one must needs accept.
But-when then is the promise kept?
A Promise is a future-dated
Pact, as I have already stated;
‘Tis kept in Future.
That is clear.
When will the Future, though, be here!
[Aside.]
You blessed Sexton!
[Aloud.]
Worthy friend,
Must I the argument recall?
The Future cannot come at all,
Because its coming is its end.
Thank you.
In all conceptions lies
Something that looks like artifice,
But yet is quite direct and plain, —
That is to say, for any brain
Able to reckon up to ten.
To make a promise means, at last,
To break it,-spite of best intent;
Truth to one’s word has always pass ‘d
For hard; but you may just as well
Prove it purely impossible, —
If you’ve an eye for argument. —
There, let this Promise-question be!
Come tell me — !
Hist!
What is it?
Hark!
I hear the organ play!
‘Tis he.
The Pastor?
Even so.
Save the mark
But he is out betimes!
I guess
He stirr’d no pillow yesternight.
What do you say?
All is not right.
He’s felt the pang of loneliness
Since first his widowhood began.
He hides his sorrow all he can;
But, whiles, it may not be controll’d;
His heart’s a jar that will not hold,
And overflows by base and brim; —
So then he plays. ‘Tis like a wild
Weeping for buried wife and child.
It is as if they talk’d with him —
As if o n e suffer’d, o n e consoled
Hm-if one dared to be affected!
Ah,-if one did not serve the State!
Ah,-if one bore no leaden weight Of forms that have to be respected!
Alf,-if one dared toss tape and seal
And ledger to the deuce for ever!
And leave off striving to he clever;
And, Sexton, if one dared to f e e l!
No one is near,-let’s feel, my friend!
We cannot fitly condescend
To smirch ourselves in human slime.
Let no man, says the Parson, dare
To be two things at the same time;
And, with the best will, no one can
Be an official and a man;
Our part in all things is, to swear
By our great exemplar-the Mayor.
Why just by him?
Do you recall
The fire that wreek’d his house, and yet
The deeds were rescued, one and all?
It was an evenin...