I subjoin a synopsis of this play, in order to facilitate an appreciation of it at the first reading.
Act I.—The chieftain of the North Quarter of Iceland, Kolbein the Young, lies sick unto death from the after-effects of an old wound and sends for his kinsmen and other nobles of the Quarter. While delivering his message to them, Thorolf, his favorite (secretly the lover of the chieftain's wife, Helga), and long a thorn in the flesh of these proud men as an upstart, infuriates them anew by his insolent bearing. Obedient to the call of their chief, they assemble about him to determine on measures for the defence of the land, and to learn of the disposition of his dominions. The weak Brand is given his lawful share, which agrees well enough with Lady Helga's self-seeking plans of uniting all the land under her and Thorolf's rule. The more forceful Broddi is entitled to the other half; but when Kolbein, very conveniently for her, becomes delirious she substitutes Thorolf's name instead, shrewdly taking the precaution of compelling Brand by force of arms to swear him an everlasting truce—ostensibly to atone for having offered an insult to Brand.
Act II.—Broddi now assumes the leadership of the outraged nobles, Brand being bound, as he thinks, by his oath, and incapable of strongly opposing their intention to kill Thorolf. By chance, and in fulfillment of a prophecy, Thorolf seeks refuge from a snowstorm in a wintry cave and there is forewarned of his impending death by Woden himself. He is surprised by the allies and slain. But no sooner is their purpose accomplished than Helga, his protectress, appears on the scene and smilingly assures them of retribution awaiting them. Her information that Kolbein is on the road to recovery strikes the nobles with dismay. Broddi immediately decides on assuming the aggressive; but on Brand's suggestion they choose first to cleanse themselves before the world by receiving absolution for their deed from Bishop Botolf at Holar.
Act III.—Here Kolbein puts them to flight. He, in his turn, must flee before Broddi's superior forces, but not without audaciously carrying along the bishop, who in his fear and rage has the Treuga Dei rung over the land. This frustrates the immediate pursuit by Broddi.
Act IV.—While the truce is still in force, Lady Helga visits Brand's wife, Jorun. Childless herself, she desires to foster up one of Jorun's sons in her own cruel way, promising, in return, to procure an honorable peace for Brand; or else, to destroy him. The loving mother staunchly refuses. But soon the weakness of Brand's situation becomes evident. Unable to act with the requisite force and severity, he has lost the confidence of his dependents who fear to rise against the superior genius of Kolbein. The last hope departs when Broddi learns through a (forged) letter that his fortifications are accessible to Kolbein by subterranean passages. Utterly dismayed, the allies decide to throw themselves upon the mercy of Kolbein the Young. Brand's wife follows them, disguised in male attire. She knows that Helga thirsts for his life, but also that she has sworn to spare him if any one were found willing to give his life instead.
Act V.—Brand and his little troop file into the warrior-filled hall of Kolbein. In vain they seek conciliation at any price with the chieftain, who is enraged by the slaying of his friend Thorolf, and infuriated beyond measure by the speeches of his implacable wife. Even Jorun's offering her life for Brand's does not soften his heart; when, finally, the prisoner-bishop's threat of excommunication subdues Kolbein with the fear of the hereafter. Compensation is duly imposed upon the allies, and peace once more rules in the harried land.
The subject of the above drama was suggested by two or three rather meagre pages of the 'Islendingasaga' of Sturla Thordsson (ed. Vigfússon, ch. 146). To my notion, the poet has succeeded admirably in reproducing the cool coloring, the ironic-pessimistic attitude, that uncompromisingly masculine sentiment we know so well in their refreshing acerbity from the best sagas. Not the least meritorious thing in the play, by the way, is the very slight insistence on Thorolf's relations to Helga, notwithstanding its temptation to the author of a social drama betraying strong influence of Ibsen; for the saga—it is to be borne in mind—is the literature of revenge and ambition as ruling motives, love having an incomparably smaller sphere allotted to it. Too much weight laid on that relation would have been ruinous to the total conception of the play.
In conformity to that conception are also the terse, pithy language which allows us to surmise the unlimited possibilities hidden in the saga literature, and the equally succinct manner of character drawing.
The most interesting figure in the drama is Brand, a Hamletic character without a Hamlet's zest of retaliation—noble, generous, and beloved; yet ever a loser, because never resolutely willing the means to an end. As Thorolf avers scornfully, 'Brand lacks both the forethought before battle, and that fire in battle which wins the victory,' The reign of lawlessness and bloodshed appalls him, to be sure; but he cannot see that his own irresolution is one of the causes. 'He is sick in his soul.' But 'peace'!—cries Broddi—'whenever was peace gotten in feuds, excepting the battle be won or—lost.' And yet, by the irony of fate, both his birth and his noble gifts make men look to Brand as Kolbein's natural successor. The tigerish Kolbein himself is equaled in ruthless pursuit of his own ends, but not in good fortune, by Broddi. As foils to these larger characters stand out the mean, vengeful Einar, the brutal Alf, the insolent but brave Thorolf. In Jorun we fancy we see the living strength of Christian virtue and devotion opposed to the heathen fierceness and self-seeking of Helga. Between the two parties the bishop, whose motives and intentions are, however, not brought out with sufficient clearness. Like the proverbial fifth wheel of a wagon he seems out of place and embarrassing, whenever he appears—a predicament, to be sure, which he shares with the Church itself in those times, whenever not guided by a born ruler.
Both in poetic value and technically—excepting for the staginess of the three meetings in the cave—the second act is the most successful of the drama. It is, in fact, a little masterpiece. The action is impetuous, strong, and telling. The dramatic germs potentially present in the situation are developed here with a fine consistency. Thorolf's death is made the central fact on which hinges the whole action of the play, while by Brand's fatal vacillations and the insults offered to Helga by his henchmen important tributary impulses are given toward the following development. Unfortunately, the third act, dramatically considered, is concerned chiefly with details. It suffers, even more than the first act, from a certain prolixity which is not wholly made good by its theatrically effective ending. However bright and skillfully wrought in the incident of the fraudulent miracle, it might well be spared, with a view for the whole. And the same is true of a considerable part of the dialogue.