What can be more subtly descriptive of the very innermost soul of this
poet than the picture of him as the clansman, the Norse chieftain, who
feels with the many and speaks for the many; and what more beautifully
indicative of his external position than this phrase: "To mention his
name is like running up the flag of Norway"?
It seems peculiarly appropriate to follow up this essay with one on
Ibsen, who is as complete an antithesis to his great and popular rival
as could well be conceived. There is no bugle-call in the name Henrik
Ibsen. It is thin in sound, and can be spoken almost with closed lips.
You have no broad vowels and large consonants to fill your mouth as when
you say Bjoernstjerne Bjoernson. This difference in sound seems symbolic.
Ibsen is the solitary man, a scathing critic of society, a delver in the
depths of human nature, sceptical of all that men believe in and admire.
He has not, like Bjoernson, any faith in majorities; nay, he believes
that the indorsement of the majority is an argument against the wisdom
of a course of action or the truth of a proposition.
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