IV
BJOeRNSTJERNE BJOeRNSON
For over half a century this intellectual athlete has been one of thebusiest men in the world. A partisan fighter born and bred, he has beenactive in every political Skandinavian struggle; in religious questionshe has fought first on one side and then on the other, changing only byhonest conviction, and hitting with all his might every time; to him theword "education" is as a red rag to a bull, for he believes that it hasbeen mainly bad, and if people will only listen, he can make it mainlygood; in a passion of chivalry, he has drawn his pen for the cause ofWoman, whose "sphere" he hopes to change--the most modern and the mostpopular of all the vain attempts to square the circle; his powerfulvoice has been heard on the lecture platform, not only in his ownbeloved country, but all over Europe and in America; he has served foryears as Theatre-Director, in the determination to convert theplayhouse, like everything else he touches, into a vast moral force. Inaddition to all the excitement of a life spent in fighting, his purelyliterary activity has been enormous in quantity and astonishing inrange. His numerous dramas treat of all possible themes, from the oldSagas to modern divorce laws; and after exhausting all earthly material,he has boldly advanced into the realm of the supernatural; his splendidplay, _Beyond Human Power_, holds the boards in most European cities,and has exercised a profound influence on modern drama. His novels areas different in style and purpose as it is possible for the novels ofone man to be; and some of them are already classics. A man with such anendowment, with such tremendous convictions, with buoyant optimism andterrific energy, has made no small stir in the world, and it will be along time before the name of Bjoernstjerne Bjoernson is forgotten.
Had he not possessed, in addition to a fine mind, a magnificent physicalframe, he would long since have vanished into that spiritual world thathas interested him so deeply. But he has the physique of a Norse god.Many instances of his bodily strength and endurance have been cited; itis sufficient to remember that even after his mane of hair had becomeentirely grey he regularly took his bath by standing naked under amountain waterfall. Let that suffice, as one trial of it would for mostof us. He came honestly by his health and vigour, born as he was on alonely mountain-side in Norway. It was in the winter of 1832 that thissturdy baby gave his first cry for freedom, his father being a villagepastor, whose flock were literally scattered among steep and desolaterocks, where the salient feature of the landscape during nine months ofthe year was snow. More than once the good shepherd had to seek and savethat which was lost. For society, the little boy had a few pet animalsand the dreams engendered by supreme loneliness. But when he was sixyears old, the father was fortunately called to a pastorate in abeautiful valley on the west coast, surrounded by noble and inspiringscenery, the effect of which is visibly seen in all his early stories.We cannot help comparing this vale of beauty, trailing clouds of gloryover Bjoernson's boyhood, with the flat, wet, dismal gloom of EastPrussia, that oppressed so heavily the child Sudermann, and made DameCare look so grey.
At the grammar school, at the high school, and at the university heshowed little interest in the curriculum, and no particular aptitude forstudy; but before leaving college he had already begun originalcomposition, and at the age of twenty-four he published a masterpiece.This was the pastoral romance, _Synnoeve Solbakken_, which for sheerbeauty of style and atmosphere he has never surpassed. For some yearspreceding the date of its appearance there had been a lull in literaryactivity in Norway. Out of this premonitory hush of stillness came abeautiful voice, which by the newness and freshness of its tones arousedimmediate interest. Everybody listened, enchanted by the strangeharmony. Men saw that a new prophet had arisen in Israel. The absolutesimplicity of the style, the naivete of the story, the naturalness ofthe characters, the short, passionate sentences like those of the Sagas,the lyrically poetic atmosphere, appealed at once to the Norwegianheart. Why is it that we are surprised in books and in plays by simplelanguage and natural characters? It must be that we are so accustomed toliterary conventions remote from actual life, that when we behold realpeople and hear natural talk in works of art our first emotion is gladastonishment. For the same reason we praise certain persons fordisplaying what we call common sense. Be this as it may, no one believedthat a pastoral romance could be so vigorous, so fresh, and so true. Ofall forms of literature, pastoral tales, whether in verse or in prose,have been commonly the most artificial and the most insipid; but herewas the breath of life. I can recommend nothing better for the soulweary of the closeness of modern naturalism than a course of reading inthe early work of Bjoernson.
He followed this initial success with three other beautiful proselyrics--_Arne_, _A Happy Boy_, and _The Fisher Maiden_. These storiesexhibit the same qualities so strikingly displayed in _SynnoeveSolbakken_. In all this artistic production Bjoernson is animpressionist, reproducing with absolute fidelity what he saw, both inthe world of matter and of spirit. We may rely faithfully on thecorrectness of these pictures, whether they portray natural scenery,country customs, or peasant character. We inhale Norway. We can smellthe pines. The nipping and eager air, the dark green resinousforests--we feel these as plainly as if we were physically present inthe Land of the Midnight Sun. The kindly simplicity of the peasants, thevillage ceremonies at weddings and funerals, the cheerful lonelinesswith sheep on mountain pasture, and the subdued but universal note ofdeep rural piety, make one feel as though the whole community were boundby gold chains about the feet of God. Bjoernson says, "The church is inthe foreground of Norwegian peasant life." And indeed everything seemsto centre around God's acre, and the spire of the meeting-house pointsin the same direction as the stories themselves. Many beautiful passagesaffect us like noble music; our eyes are filled with happy tears.
In view of the strong and ardent personality of the author, it iscurious that these early romances should be so truly objective. Onefeels his personality in a general way, as one feels that of Turgenev;but the young writer separates himself entirely from the course of thestory; he nowhere interferes. The characters apparently develop withouthis assistance, as the events take place without any manipulation. As awork of objective art, _Synnoeve Solbakken_ approaches flawlessperfection. It has one plot, which travels in one direction--forward.The persons are intensely Norwegian, but there their similarity ends.Each is individualised. The simplicity of the story is so remarkablethat to some superficial and unobservant readers it has seemed childish.The very acme of Art is so close to nature that it sometimes is mistakenfor no art at all, like the acting of Garrick or the style of JaneAusten. Adverse criticisms are the highest compliments. Language is wellmanaged when it expresses profound thoughts in words clear to a child.
The love scenes in this narrative are idyllic; in fact, the whole bookis an idyl. It seems radiant with sunshine. It is as pure as a mountainlake, and as refreshing. And besides the artistic unity of the work,that satisfies one's standards so fully, there is an exquisite somethinghard to define; a play of fancy, a veil of poetic beauty lingering overthe story, that makes us feel when we have closed the book as if we weregazing at a clear winter sunset.
Bjoernson has the creative imagination of the true poet. In the wonderfulprologue to _Arne_ he gives the trees separate personalities, in amanner to arouse almost the envy of Thomas Hardy. Indeed, the author of_The Woodlanders_ has never felt the trees more intensely than theNorwegian novelist. The prose style unconsciously breaks into verse format times, with the natural grace and ease of a singing bird. Not theleast charming incidents in Bjoernson's romances are the frequent lyrics,that spring up like cowslips in a pasture.
"Punctual as Springtide forth peep they."
* * * * *
The novels in Bjoernson's second period are so totally unlike those wehave just been considering that if all his work had been publishedanonymously, no one would have ventured to say that the same man hadwritten _A Happy Boy_ and _In God's Way_. There came a pause in hiscreative activity. He wrote little imagin
ative literature, and manythought the well of his inspiration had gone dry. Really he was passingthrough a belated _Sturm und Drang_; a tremendous intellectual struggleand fermentation had set in, from which he emerged mentally a changedman, with a new outfit of opinions and ideas. At nearly the same timehis great contemporary Tolstoi was also in the Slough of Despond, but heclimbed out on the other side and set his face towards the CelestialCity. Bjoernson's floundering ultimately carried him in precisely theopposite direction. While Tolstoi was studying the New Testament,Bjoernson applied himself to Darwin, Mill, and Spencer, and becamecompletely converted from the Christianity of his youth. Many mindswould have been temporarily paralysed by such a result, and wouldfinally have become either pessimistic or coldly critical. But Bjoernsonsimply could not endure to be a gloomy, cynical spectator of life, likehis countryman, Ibsen, any more than he could leave his native land andcalmly view its nakedness from the comfortable environment of Munich orRome. Bjoernson has the sort of intellect that cannot remain inequilibrium. He was ever a fighter, and cannot live without something tofight for. The natural optimism of his temperament, so opposed in everyway to the blank despair of Ibsen, made him see in his new views the wayof salvation. He is just as sure he is right now as he was when he heldopinions exactly the contrary. With joyful ardour he became the championand propagandist of democracy in politics and of free thought inreligion; apparently adopting Spencer's saying, "To the true reformer noinstitution is sacred, no belief above criticism." For the word"reformer" precisely describes Bjoernson; like the chief characters inhis later novels, he is an apostle of reform, zealous, tireless, andtiresome.
Lowell, in his fine essay on Gray, said that one reason why theeighteenth century was so comfortable was that "responsibility for theuniverse had not yet been invented." Now Bjoernson feels thisresponsibility with all the strength of his nature, and howeveradmirable it may be as a moral quality, it has vitiated his artisticcareer. As he renounced Christianity for agnosticism, so he renouncedromance for realism. The novels written since 1875 are not only unlikehis early pastoral romances in literary style; they are totallydifferent productions in tone, in spirit, and in intention. And, fromthe point of view of art, they are, in my opinion, as inferior to thework of his youth as Hawthorne's campaign _Life of Pierce_ is inferiorto _The Scarlet Letter_. In every way Bjoernson is farther off fromheaven than when he was a boy.
In addition to many short sketches, his later period includes threerealistic novels. These are: _Flags Are Flying in Town and Harbour_,translated into English with the title, _The Heritage of the Kurts_, forit is a study in heredity; _In God's Way_,[4] loudly proclaimed as hismasterpiece, and _Mary_. The first two originally attracted moreattention abroad than at home. The _Flags_ hung idly in Norway, and theorthodox were not anxious to get in God's way. But the second bookproduced considerable excitement in England, which finally reacted inChristiania and Copenhagen; it is still hotly discussed. In these threenovels the author has stepped out of the role of artist and become akind of professor of pedagogy, his speciality being the education ofwomen. In _Flags_ the principal part of the story is taken up with agirls' school, which gives the novelist an opportunity to include aconfused study of heredity, and to air all sorts of educational theory.The chief one appears to be that in the curriculum for young girls the"major" should be physiology. Hygiene, which so many bewildered personsare accepting just now in lieu of the Gospel, plays a heavy part inBjoernson's later work. The gymnasium in _Flags_ takes the place of thechurch in _Synnoeve_; and acrobatic feats of the body are deemed morehealthful than the religious aspirations of the soul. Kallem, aprominent character of the story _In God's Way_, usually appears walkingon his hands, which is not the only fashion in which he is upside down.The book _Flags_ is, frankly speaking, an intolerable bore. The hero,Rendalen, who also appears in the subsequent novel, is the mouthpiece ofthe new opinions of the author; a convenient if clumsy device, forwhenever Bjoernson wishes to expound his views on education, hygiene, orreligion, he simply makes Rendalen deliver a lecture. Didactic novelsare in general a poor substitute either for learning or for fiction,but they are doubly bad when the author is confused in his ideas ofscience and in his notions of art. One general "lesson" emerges from thejargon of this book--that men should suffer for immorality as severelyas women, a doctrine neither new nor practicable. The difficulty is thatwith Bjoernson, as with some others who shout this edict, the equalisingof the punishment takes the form of leaving the men as they are, andissuing a general pardon to the women. Rendalen, the head-master of theschool, is constantly bringing up this topic, and he makes it the chiefsubject for discussion in the girls' debating society! These females aregoing to be emancipated. A pseudo-scientific twist is also given to thisnovel by the introduction of mesmerism and hypnotic influence, mattersin which the author is deeply interested. We are given to understandthat a large number of women are annually ruined, not by their lack ofmoral conviction and will power, but simply by the hypnotic influence ofmen. One may perhaps reasonably doubt the ultimate value of a widedissemination of this great idea, especially in a young ladies'seminary. To the unsympathetic reader, the one question that will keephim afloat in all this welter, is not concerned with pedagogy; it is thehonest attempt to discover why the book bears its strange title.Unfortunately he will not find out until the last leaf. Then
"the connexion of which with the plot one sees."
[4] In the original the title is "In God's Ways."
It is pleasant to take up the volume _In God's Way_, for, howeverdisappointing it may be to those who know the young Bjoernson, it isvastly superior to _Flags_. It is what is called to-day a "strong"novel, and has naturally evoked the widest variation of comment. By manyit has been greeted with enthusiastic admiration and by many withoutspoken disgust. Psychologically, it is indeed powerful. Thecharacters are interesting, and they develop in a way that may or maynot be God's, but resemble His in being mysterious. One cannot foreseein the early chapters what is going to happen to the _dramatis personae_,nor what is to be our final attitude toward any of them. Think of theimpression made on us by our first acquaintance with Josephine, orKallem, or Ragni, or Ole; and then compare it with the state of ourfeelings as we draw near the end. Not one of these characters remainsthe same; each one develops, and develops as he might in actual life.Bjoernson does not approach his men and women from an easy chair, in thedescriptive manner; once created, we feel that they would grow withouthis aid.
For all this particular triumph of art, _In God's Way_ is plainly adidactic novel, with the author preaching from beginning to end. The"fighting" quality in the novelist gets the better of his literarygenius. We have a story in the extreme realistic style, marked byoccasional scenes of great beauty and force; but the exposition ofdoctrine is somewhat vague and confused, and the construction of thewhole work decidedly inartistic. Two general points, however, are madeclear: First, that one may walk in God's way without believing in God.Religion is of no importance in comparison with conduct, nor have thetwo things any vital or necessary connexion. This is a modern view, andperhaps a natural reaction from the strictness of Bjoernson's childhoodtraining. Second, that virtue is a matter entirely of the heart, bearingno relation whatever to the statute-book. A woman may be legally anadulteress and yet absolutely pure. This also is quite familiar to us inthe pages of modern dramatists and novelists. Bjoernson has taken anextraordinary instance to prove his thesis, a thesis that perhaps needsno emphasis, for human nature is only too well disposed to make itsmoral creed coincide with its bodily instincts.
The same theme--mental as opposed to physical female chastity--is theleading idea of _Mary_, a novel that has had considerable success inNorway and in Germany, but has only this year been translated intoEnglish. This work of his old age shows not the slightest trace ofdecay. It is an interesting and powerful analysis of a girl's heart,written in short, vigorous sentences. Mary, after taking plenty of timefor reflexion, and without any solicitation, deliberately giv
es herselfto her lover, in a manner exactly similar to a scene in Maupassant'snovel, _Notre Coeur_. Her fiance is naturally amazed, as there has beennothing leading up to this; she comes to him of her own free will. Hertheory of conduct (which exemplifies that of Bjoernson) is that a womanis the sovereign mistress of her own body, and can do what she pleases.There is nothing immoral in a woman's free gift of herself to her lover,provided she does it out of her royal bounty, and not as a weak yieldingto masculine pursuit. The next day Mary is grievously disappointed todiscover that, instead of the homage and worship she expected, theerstwhile timid lover glories in the sense of possession. She fears thatshe cannot live an absolutely independent life with such a husband--andBjoernson's gospel is, of course, the untrammelled freedom of woman. So,although she is about to become a mother, she deliberately cancels theengagement to the putative child's father; this puzzles him even morethan her previous conduct, though he is forced to acquiesce. Then, in afinal access of despair, as she is about to commit suicide, she isrescued by a man whose love is like the moth's for the star--who tellsher that no matter what she has done, she is the noblest, purest womanon earth, and the chaste queen of his heart. Thus, by a stroke of goodfortune, rather than by anything inevitable in the story, the book endshappily, with Mary and her second adoring lover in the very delirium ofjoy. It is evident that the novel is nothing but a _Tendenz-Roman_;Bjoernson wishes us to approve of his heroine's conduct throughout--ofthe entirely unnecessary sacrifice of her virtue, of the subsequentsacrifice of her reputation, and of her remorseless joy in the arms ofanother man. Such is to be the doctrine of sex equality; men are not tobe made more virtuous, but the freedom of women is not only to bepardoned, but approved.
In comparing the three late with the four early novels, the moststriking change is instantly apparent to anyone who reads _SynnoeveSolbakken_ and then opens _In God's Way_. It is the sudden anddepressing change of air, from the mountains to the sick-room. Theabundance of medical detail in the later novel is almost nauseating, andwould be wholly so were it not absurd. One has only to compare theinvigorating scenery and the simple love scenes in _Synnoeve_ with theminute examination of Ragni's spittle (for tuberculosis) in the otherbook--but enough is said. Despite all that has been written in praise ofBjoernson's "courage" in dealing with problems of sex and disease, Isympathise with the cry of his friend in 1879:--
"Come back again, dear Bjoernson, come back!"
It is easy to see that the influence of modern English scepticism cannotaccount entirely for the revolution in the Norwegian's mind and art. Wecan clearly observe an attraction much nearer, that has drawn thisluminous star so far out of its course. It is none other than the mightyIbsen. Ibsen's analysis of disease, his examination of marriageproblems, his Ishmaelite attacks on the present structure of civilisedsociety--all this has had its effect on his contemporary and countryman.As a destructive force Ibsen was stronger than Bjoernson, because he wasruthless. But one had the courage of despair, while the other has thecourage of hope. Bjoernson does not believe in Fate and is not afraid ofit. He loves and believes in humanity. His gloomiest books end with avision. There is always a rift in the clouds. Throughout all his careerhe has set his face steadfastly toward what he has taken to be the truelight. Such men compel admiration, no matter whose colours they bear.And however much we may deplore his present course, we cannot now echothe cry of his friend and say, "Come back!" The language of the poetbetter expresses our attitude:--
"Life's night begins: let him never come back to us! There would be doubt, hesitation, and pain, Forced praise on our part--the glimmer of twilight, Never glad confident morning again! Best fight on well, for we taught him--strike gallantly, Menace our heart ere we master his own; Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us, Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne!"