It is terrible to wake up one morning and see one's past life
in a new and strange illumination, and the dust of ages lying inch-thick
upon one's thoughts. It is distressing to have to pretend that you do
not hear the doubt which whispers early and late in your ear, _Vanitas,
vanitas, vanitas vanitatum_. Few are those of us who have the courage to
face it, to rise up and fight with it, and rout it or be routed by it.
Bjoernson had up to this time (1870) built solely upon tradition. He had
been orthodox, and had exalted childlike peace and faith above doubt and
struggle. Phrases indicative of a certain spiritual immaturity are
scattered through his early poems. In "The Child in our Soul," he says,
for instance: "The greatest man on earth must cherish the child in his
soul and listen, amid the thunder, to what it whispers low;" and again:
"Everything great that thought has invented sprouted forth in childlike
joy; and everything strong, sprung from what is good, obeyed the child's
voice." Though in a certain sense that may be true enough, it belongs to
the kind of half-truths which by constant repetition grow pernicious
and false.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69