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The materials on this website are © copyrighted, and are for the use of individuals and educational institutions only. Any commercial use requires the permission of the compiler & translator P.E. Larson.
The website can be used independently, but it also supports a book:From Chr[istopher] Due. Erindringer fra Henrik Ibsens Ungdomsaar. (Kjøbenhavn: Græbes Bogktrykkeri, 1909).
GRIMSTAD *
GRIMSTAD
PHARMACY *
THE FIRST IN
PRINT *
IN THE AUTUMN *
IBSEN IN A CIRCLE OF FRIENDS *
IBSEN'S ABILITY TO WORK AND HIS HEALTH *
SCHUL(E)RUD, IBSEN'S LOYAL FRIEND *
IBSEN FINALLY PARTICIPATES IN SOCIETY *
CATILINE *
In the 1840's Grimstad was a less impressive town in several respects than it is now. When I arrived there one dark Autumn evening in 1845, my immediate impression was one of humble, primitive conditions. There were no street lights at all. In many windows there were weak lights without curtains of any kind, so that even in the so-called Main Street one could see that families were sitting around a table where just one tallow candle burned; this made the street seem even darker, and it was not without risk for walkers, since the gutters lay in the middle. I mention especially the lack of street lighting because this also gives a picture of the spiritual enlightenment among the people then, among whom materialism wholly occupied their minds and thoughts, while higher spiritual interests languished.
The school situation was particularly questionable. Apart from the fact that a theological candidate was engaged at times by a single family just for their children, there was only one lone teacher in Grimstad, namely the assistant minister of the Fjære and Grimstad churches, Isaachsen (the father of the late actor Isaachsen). This person, an especially virtuous and zealous man, according to his lights, also taught all the town's probably nearly 100 children who wanted to go to school, part of them every-other-day, that is, on one day the so-called plebeian school children attended, and on the other day the children of families of better position, who paid an insignificant monthly school tax. Isaachsen's energy and tirelessness accomplished a lot, and his memory should be preserved with gratitude through the generations, although no doubt the results of his work must have been limited, because of the many students for whom he was their only teacher, but in any case he laid a good foundation for the practical activity to which the coming generation of youth was destined. This is demonstrated also by the many virtuous and hard-working merchants Grimstad has produced in the course of time.
The town’s location, as well as its access to the necessary materials, drew people to shipbuilding from time immemorial. Having the sea so close during the shipping industry's most favorable period from the 1840's on, meant that in every inlet, and there are many inlets in and near the town, one saw a hull under construction, and as soon as it was launched, one saw the ribs of a new one erected. One lived in Grimstad mainly for that and the whole country was happy in "the time of the wooden ships," which brought great prosperity. But this enterprise occupied the people to such a degree that higher interests were not attended to. Everyone who had accumulated the means, or who could borrow money, invested in ship shares. The priest, the doctor, the judge, not to mention the seamen and merchants, craftsmen, even the servant girls, all were shipowners. That is, the opportunity to become a part owner was easily available, even with a comparatively small amount of money. Becoming the owner of a share in a ship was regarded as insurance, and more profitable in the long run than taking one's money to the savings bank. It not seldom happened that under the high freight rates at that time, a ship was completely paid for after two or three years' trade. Most of the male inhabitants were sent to sea immediately after confirmation, and after that they spent only the winter months at home. After spending the greatest part of the year on board ships, they had abandoned spiritual development, nor was this state-of-mind overcome in the few months before new trade commenced.
As far as that goes there were in Grimstad especially good moral conditions. Moderation, liberal ideals, and above all a high degree of peacefulness, were prominent traits among the people, who lived their quiet, modest family life, each among his closest ties. With few exceptions, there were almost no interests apart from the shipping trade. The few families that were not completely preoccupied with the materialistic philosophy of life made a rather sharp contrast to the majority of the town, and therefore stood out strongly on certain occasions.
Like Ibsen in his time, I preserve warm memories of the gracious people I knew there during the 13 years I associated with them, in clean, wholesome social relations, and I want to close this section with a short story about the old Grimstad-families. I have earlier emphasized the charming peacefulness that reigns there.
This is not always the case in small towns. I know several, where only dissension and conflict thrive best. A contributing cause of the good social spirit that prevails in Grimstad I want to ascribe to the influence that made itself apparent from the old families, that provided a good example to imitate by their honesty and peacefulness in all their dealings. In the time we lived there I can therefore mention as true representatives for the old Grimstad the extended Holst family, who in those years were very numerous and of whom several are still alive.
Among these people and under their conduct as depicted here, Henrik Ibsen also lived, and it is easily understandable that he was not understood or appreciated when in his lively and spirited way he behaved with extravagance. In the foreword to his jubilee-edition of the drama Catiline he expressed himself about this as follows:
Yet I could not refrain from expressing myself, on more elevated occasions, along the same passionate lines as in my poetry; from which, however, I derived only dubious benefit, both from those who were and those who were not my friends: the former acclaimed my talent for being unintentionally funny, while others found it utterly remarkable that a young man in my subordinate position should actively discuss matters which not even they themselves ventured to have views about. For the sake of truth I must add that my behaviour on a number of occasions did not justify any great hopes that society had in me someone in whom the solid middle-class virtues might confidently be expected to flourish, just as I also, through my epigrams and caricatures, quarrelled with many who had deserved better of me and whose friendship I in fact prized. The long and short of it was that, while big things were happening in the tumultuous world outside, I found myself at loggerheads with the small community in which I lived, cramped as I was by private circumstances and by conditions in general." (from The Oxford Ibsen, ed. James Walter McFarlane, et al, London: Oxford UP: vol I., Early Plays, 110-111.)
in the years 1844-47.
In small towns where there is only one pharmacy, one can be treated in any old way, at all events that is how it was in those years, and under the owner at the time, the pharmacist Reimann, a less-than-good economic situation was understandable, since the pharmacy lay in an undistinguished part of the town, where one lived cheaply. . . . (It) was installed in a humble little outlying building, at that time with small windowpanes in both the two lower floors.
When I walked past there one day with an acquaintance, he asked me if I had seen the pharmacist's assistant who had arrived there some time ago, since as he put it, there was something peculiar about him. For that matter there were many who had not yet seen him long after he had arrived, inasmuch as they had no business at the pharmacy, and at that time Ibsen was never to be seen outside, at any rate in the daytime.
Curious to see him, shortly afterward I went into the pharmacy. This was a little room that was so low that I could almost touch the ceiling with my hand, and it was extremely shabby: crude, dark and uncomfortable. As a pharmacy it was primitive and chaotic in every respect. Through the half-open door a similarly shabby room could be glimpsed, which presumably was the assistant's apartment. No living being was to be seen, nor any sound to be heard, either, to indicate that there were people in the vicinity, listening, so I had plenty of time to make the aforementioned observations, but after I had knocked on the counter, I noticed some movement behind the so-called dispensary cabinet, and soon after a rather small young man with a likeable lively face emerged from there with a quick motion. I want to remark here, that in his youth Ibsen developed unusually early a handsome full brown beard, that gave his face at the same time an energetic and also harmonious appearance . . . . Therefore he gave an overall impression of being a handsome young man, with a good well-developed body. On this uncertain occasion, as far as that goes, his face bore an unmistakable and impatient question mark, which indicated right away that the supposed customer was by no means welcome. I asked for 4 shillings worth of bandages and he set about, and quickly supplied them. No words were exchanged between us, but when I received my bandages our eyes met and then I noticed a glint in his handsome eyes that made an impression on me. This glint was the spark which later showed itself, the glint of a spirit that would ignite a famous torch, that later cast its bright sparks over all parts of the world, hence this glint, this spark was reflected in Henrik Ibsen's eyes. I have depicted our first meeting so precisely, because forever after, even after more than 60 years have elapsed, it has stood clearly in my memory with a strong intensity.
After some time had passed the proprietor of Grimstad Apothecary sold his "royal privilege" to (another apothecary) Nielsen, who immediately moved it to the eastern part of the town, to the house where the liquor store was at that time. The location here was brighter, friendlier, within sight of the harbor traffic, and Apothecary Nielsen had been my acquaintance for several years, since we had business accounts together in the savings bank, so it followed thereafter, that I made frequent visits to the pharmacy, all the more since it lay near both the place of my daily business and my lodgings.
Naturally I then made Ibsen's acquaintance, and as usual between teenagers we quickly became good friends. For me this acquaintance became a source of great happiness, and there developed afterwards a mutual sympathy between us. Ibsen needed a comrade, later also a trustworthy friend, and he had no choice.
Soon I felt more and more strongly drawn to him. His intelligence and bubbling humor were so very interesting, since these characteristics were missing among my other circle of comrades.
Gradually I became a daily guest at the pharmacy, usually around evening, when Ibsen sat resting in his room. I looked forward happily to these gatherings all day. It was something new and appealing to hear his quick comments, these free, and for me partly new views of life, to be sure impudent and full of paradoxes, it seemed to me, but always interesting. And in me he had an appreciative listener, who followed him with enthusiasm in his at times wild flights from the trivial circumstances in which he lived, and which he in this way cast off, as it were, to our mutual enjoyment. Ibsen needed a response and on these occasions mine was not lacking.
However, we were not always in agreement and sometimes I protested against what seemed to me to be his fallacious opinions. As usual between young men we discussed everything between heaven and earth. Accordingly not least marriage. Among one of Ibsen's extravagant jokes I remember that he in a way zealously maintained, that he and his eventual wife must each live on their own floor, only see each other at mealtimes and say De (the formal term of address) to each other. This was at that time his ideal of marriage.
On their honeymoon I met Ibsen and his wife on a steamship, but the earlier ordinance between married people seemed to have been abondoned by then, and in any case for many years there was no opportunity to practice the theory of the two floors.
As therefore, I shall now try to describe Ibsen as at that time I knew him, it will of course be difficult to find the correct balance of discretion, since as we know, between young men a great deal of unbridled talk goes on, and that goes especially among such lively natures as Ibsen's in these years, full of the warm blood of youth, and that needs to be clarified so that life with Ibsen is in full measure clarified.
It is necessary therefore to bring to the reader's explicit attention, that I describe Ibsen accordingly as he was at that time, about 20 years old, before the struggle of life and those great circumstances where he later voyaged had exercised their influence on his mind-set and development.
Our ways parted. Soon Dovre lay between us, later the greater part of Europe. Only seldom and with spaces between did we meet later, and I have little knowledge of what changes had taken place in the afterward more and more silent and closed man, outside of what one can conclude from reading his works.
In any case for me, who knew him in his youth, I noticed a striking contrast when I saw him again as an old man. There was then no question of his earlier liveliness and communicativeness. By then he had become to a great extent reserved and closed.
To proceed in chronological order I shall first relate an episode which took place a few weeks after we had become acquainted, and which makes a literary-historical contribution to the biography of Ibsen. Since I permit myself to play a part, I observe that this is only an instrument to better illustrate the situation, from a modern viewpoint it gives a rather comic impression as far as I am concerned.
Like so many young men I occupied myself with writing small poems. One day I had made such a one that I was proud of, and I took it with me one evening, when I visited Ibsen. I confided to him that I wrote verse. "You don't say, do you! Let me hear some," was Ibsen's answer. I then read aloud my "Sunset" - one of these melancholy sentimental things, in which the young blood knows a heartsick longing to express its feelings amidst a description of nature. After Ibsen had heard my reading, he remarked: "I also write verse," and now it became my turn to say: "Oh, so you do, too," and at my request he read his latest poem: "In the Autumn", that contained a sentiment similar to my "Sunset".
Ibsen's poem appealed to me a great deal, and I immediately declared that it should be published, but he found this impossible to manage. There was no newspaper in Grimstad, and he believed it was too presumptuous to think of its being accepted by a paper in the capital. I thought, however, that this would not be unattainable, since I was the Grimstad correspondent for Christiania-posten (The Constitution's successor). So I sent it in. A few days later I received the issue of Christiania-posten, which in its first column carried the poem which I had submitted, the newspaper's spelling agreeing exactly with the original's:
The singers of Summer leave the forest; where their songs echoed from the branches, already the Autumn wind's sighing song sounds mournfully through the yellowing leaves. Here, where the flowering tapestry so richly adorned the fragrant, pale green meadows, in the withered straw Summer's departure trembles, as from strings, - a lamenting poem!
Lily! why did you leave your curved stem leafless behind; where did you flee away? O, you will be born in the Spring again, following Summer's friendly angel! Rose, with pleasure's sweet-toned speech whispering through your fair calyx, the memory of your thorns remains behind, - cruel, but I love you still!
We saw many seeds from the Spring orchard ripening to become fruit; oh, but so many plans lie handsomely covered by the grave of crushed expectations. Summer! you flew too soon towards the South, hope's existence was quickly over, and the mourner has no blossom to piously decorate that sacred height!
Yes, among the graves there still remains one flower in its fairest splendor, the Autumn wind has not yet brought it death. O, why then should the heart complain any longer! Its name is memory; look, it still induces a hope of waking from paralyzing slumber; weave it into a garland around the covering of the past, comfortingly it will promise a Spring!
I was very impatient until evening came, when it would become quiet in the pharmacy, and I could bring Ibsen the paper. Warmly sympathetic, with a look of triumph on my friend's behalf I showed him his "first in print". Ibsen first grew completely pale with emotion, but soon a happy blush flowed up in his face, and I am convinced that later on he scarcely felt so happy to see his
work printed as at this moment - "the first time".
In a poem "When I saw my first in print" ("Byggeplaner," i.e., "Building Plans") he has immortalized this sentiment. The first verse goes like this:
I remember so plainly, as if it were happening today, the first time I saw a poem of mine printed in the newspaper; I sat in my room and smoked my pipe with puffing drags in blissful self-satisfaction.
Somewhat later Ibsen also wrote a poem on the occasion of Oehlenschläger's death, entitled "Skald in Valhalla" ("Skjalden i Valhal"). It was an enthusiastic tribute to the departed poet, who is welcomed by the valkyries and offered mead from a drinking horn. I sent that as well to Christiania-posten, where it was immediately given a place in its columns. After this experience my interest in this new friend naturally increased substantially. But we preserved as a deep secret in our comradeship, that Ibsen wrote poetry of that kind.
Later, however, there were several who took notice of this quick, witty young man, and the apothecary's waiting room soon became a favorite meeting-place, especially on Sundays and in the evenings, where more and more comrades were introduced. There was always amusement in the appreciative circle around him, with Ibsen as the center, sparkling as he was with humor, and to be sure with sarcasm as well, always negotiating his straitened circumstances in good humor. One could find no indication that anything troubled him. He possessed to a great degree the resilience of youth.
Among those who gathered in the watch-room there were some, especially one of them, who by his foolishness and unsuccessful attempts to be witty became a very useful and rather well-deserving object for Ibsen's wit and sarcasm, which was always rewarded afterwards with bursts of laughter. Among the many jokes, often in the form of poems, and illustrated by splendid drawings, whereby he held up to ridicule comic circumstances among the comrades, there is one which I have a desire to relate. The anecdote evokes a complicated situation, in which the above-mentioned young man played a highly laughable role.
Ibsen had an astonishing ability to write fluent verse quickly, and he was also, as already mentioned, very talented as an illustrator. His pen could quickly, tastefully and tellingly express the point, when something was to be presented by illustration. Even though without seeing the altogether first-rate drawings one can scarcely take pleasure in what is comical in these presented circumstances, I shall even so attempt to give the reader an impression of them.
In a notebook in a series of pages one saw as a first picture the young man, bowing and elegantly flourishing his hat in the entryway, just as he takes leave after a visit to his adored heart's queen. But his horse, harnessed to a sleigh, has found the departure rather prolonged, so the impatient animal has ambled away by himself. Its master, who in his amorous mood has not noticed, is finally ready to depart and realizes to his astonishment that horse and sleigh have disappeared.
The next picture shows him running wildly in order to catch his disobedient animal, but he cannot find it and must turn back in order to borrow a horse for the trip home, about half a mile. Then in a later picture he is seen riding as fast as he can in order to catch his horse. The latter, however, has stopped in at a nearby farm, from where in a new picture one sees the horse with a surprised expression (splendidly drawn) observing his master's hasty riding, while the latter does not notice the fugitive.
Another picture shows a scene in the servants' quarters, where the master, having arrived at home, rousts the sleep-drugged stableboy out of bed by the hair. A new horse is taken out, and now both venture forth, each on his horse, in order to search for the one that has disppeared. In the last picture all three horses are seen, at the moment when the wandering horse comes walking calmly along and is met by the other two, etc.
This ridiculous situation was also depicted in a detailed poem in rhymed verse, through several sections, and with tunes from the Danish vaudeville Neighbors (Genboerne), which was new at that time, and from which several songs were often sung by the above-mentioned young man. The latter was then instructed by Ibsen to learn several of the songs from Neighbors, and Ibsen gave him a copy of several sections of the horse story. This proved to be a success. The young man in question learned the verses and sang about his own misfortunes in the belief that they belonged in the play.
One cannot describe Ibsen's delight at the great amusement which reigned in the circle of comrades, when we got the object of our teasing himself to sing the songs whose comic hero he was. Ibsen's eyes glittered like fire, and we all forgot that we were naughty boys.
Besides such jokes in the evenings at Ibsen's place there was sometimes a card party with him. To this were invited the more trusted, who could keep silent about a certain debauchery, that we drank punch from ointment jars, which, in case of being surprised by a suspicious visitor, were instantly emptied and put into one's pocket. When midnight approached, one of those who was more sober could guess that Ibsen needed rest, since we knew that he devoted part of the night to studying, but he always soothed us with the saying that there was still enough time for both reading and sleep.
IBSEN'S ABILITY TO WORK AND HIS HEALTH
Ibsen's ability to work and his physical hardiness were phenomenal. In reality, except for a very few hours, he was at work day and night. The greatest part of the day was naturally occupied with the duties of the pharmacy. Since at that time there was no more than one pharmacy between Christianssand and Arendal (close to 70 kilometres), namely Grimstad's, there must have been quite a lot of trade, and since the pharmacist was much occupied with his affairs as a shipowner, and as a bookkeeper and cashier in the Grimstad savings bank, and as he was sickly, it followed that Ibsen performed much of the work in the pharmacy.
Nielsen's pharmacy, like the former one, Reimann's, was by the humble standards of the day very inadequately equipped. I can therefore mention that there was no special room which could be used as a laboratory. When larger decoctions were to be prepared, the kitchen in the landlady's home had to be used. This occupied half of the ground floor in the little house, while the pharmacy and the watchroom took up the other half. I have accordingly seen Ibsen in the kitchen there by an open fireplace, without a stove, engaged in the cooking of medicines, beside Madame Geelymuyden's kettles. For smaller preparations a rather small spirit-lamp in the pharmacy was used. At that time one did not have petroleum instruments. Because of these questionable facilities, of course, the work of the pharmacy was very inconvenient and took an unduly long time, to Ibsen's sorrow, since thereby his favorite activities had to be curtailed to a great extent.
Still, it should be noted here that pharmacist Nielsen was a conscientious, dutiful and hard-working man, who did not stint more than necessary in his capacity to work. But since he turned over so much in the pharmacy to the care of his single assistant, he probably found this reasonable and satisfactory, while he had little or no knowledge of how precious for Ibsen the time was for other business.
It was quite incredible, how much Ibsen accomplished on a daily basis. Besides the pharmacy's business, which as noted took up the greater part of the day, he had his reading for the university entrance exam, which he had to pursue to a large extent on his own. Certainly he had a good private tutor in then candidate in theology Emil Bie, who died as dean in Toten, but there were, to be sure, as there could reasonably be, several subjects in which Bie was not fully capable, among which was mathematics, in which therefore Dr. Ole Jacob Broche accordingly later gave Ibsen one of his well-known "sixes" (i.e., a failing grade).
Reading for the entrance exam not only occupied much of his precious time, but also caused him a good deal of trouble and worry. Then, by an easily understandable inner need, he had to devote part of the day to the authorship which soon more and more occupied his thoughts. And still on many occasions he had the time also to occupy his talent for drawing. Just as his pencil was continually active, in addition Ibsen was a landscape painter. And as such he had an undubitable talent. Some small pieces from Telemark were respectable dilettante work.
It will be understood that if in addition to this, the circle of friends also occupied his time every day, in this way most of the twenty-four hours passed, so that there were only a few left for rest or sleep. But yet I never heard Ibsen complain about weariness.
His physical hardiness was unparalleled. He must have had an unusually robust nature. This was evident among other things from the fact that since his economic situation required him to use the greatest possible thrift, he tried to manage without underclothes and later also without stockings. Since among Grimstad's many feminine beauties there was one young lady to whom he was attracted, I joked with him that he was playing "Love Without Stockings." We had a good laugh at this. Ibsen was always inclined to regard his penurious circumstances from a humorous point of view. These experiments therefore succeeded even in the winter, without an overcoat. Yet I never noticed that he caught a cold, or complained of other physical inconveniences.
I have above mentioned Ibsen's talent for illustration and in that connection want to mention one of his many pencil drawings, which has a special interest, considering what happened to him later in life. He detested honorary decorations. One day he showed me two drawings, of which the first depicted a plump gentleman, presumably after a first-class dinner, sitting sleeping in an easy chair, while over his head floats a cloud, from which protrudes a hand, holding a medal with a star. The next drawing depicts the newly-minted knight, who has just awakened and is surprised to see the star on his breast. He puts his hand to his head and bursts out: "What? - an order? Why? How?" He soon finds the answer, however: "I have been sleeping!" How little Henrik Ibsen suspected then, that his own breast one day would be decorated with orders, distinctions which to be sure he came to far from sleeping.
Before I conclude this section about Ibsen's personal characteristics, I want to state that in the years we found ourselves frequently together, he gave few expressions of strongly pulsating feelings. It was as if his whole spiritual life moved exclusively, or at any rate essentially, in the direction of imagination and thought.
But there was in any case to a high degree something so captivating about him, as he really was then, that I gradually accustomed myself to the abovementioned lack, all the more, as at certain times I received the impression that the reason for this lay in an aversion deep in his nature to revealing his feelings. He had an especially remarkable ability to disguise his many wants, so that in any case they did not appear to depress him. His close friends accordingly found no occasion to complain about him, so much less so, since most of them scarcely understood the situation as it really was. I, who for some time was his only intimate, felt great sympathy with him and had difficulty understanding how under the circumstances in which he found himself he could be so cheerful and lively as was the case.
SCHUL(E)RUD, IBSEN'S LOYAL FRIEND
One day Grimstad was surprised that a young student made his entrance, outside of the usual holiday time and in order to pursue his legal studies for a whole year in his home there. A student was a rare sight in those parts. The annual total of matriculated students was then about one-tenth of what it is now, and small towns like Grimstad as a rule could not produce more than a couple, who then could be seen during some weeks of holiday. There were for many years only two native-born students. Inevitably, then, to a certain extent one had to look up to an academician, and since the one in question here was in addition a very charming and sympathetic young man, he soon became an accepted person in our circle. My relationship of service to his father brought me immediately in touch with him, and as soon as possible I introduced to Ibsen his later loyal and sacrificing friend, then law-student Ole Carelius Schulrud (born in 1827, accordingly a year old than Ibsen, died as an attorney practicing before the appellate court in Christiania in 1859).
Accordingly, within a short time they were intimate friends, and we two, Ibsen's first "trusting and loyal," as he calls us in the preface to the second edition of Catiline, then created with Ibsen as leading character a triumvirate, which acquired so much greater value, since a deep secret soon occupied our common thoughts with the greatest interest. Of this later . . . .
First I want to communicate a little about the circumstances which for that matter bound us together. In addition to the mutual sympathy and common literary interests - in those years one studied seriously Søren Kierkegaard's books Either-Or (Enten/Eller), The Works of Love (Kærlighedens Gjerninger), among others, and no less Oehlenschlæger's tragedies, Clara Rafael's Letters (Clara Rafael: Tolv Brev) (one of the first signs of women's liberation) - besides these points of contact there was also in another a kinship of circumstance. We were all three "as poor as church-mice." One of us for economic reasons sometimes had to forego the midday meal, the second had certainly both board and room, but seldom the pocket money for a cigar, and the third, Ibsen himself, from his insignificant income had to obtain his clothing and books, pay his private tutor, and even pay town tax as "pharmacist's journeyman," as he was designated on the tax bill, to Ibsen's teeth-grinding irritation.
Most of our companions were larger or smaller shipowners and thereby well situated in economic respects. They had means for much which the three of us had to deny ourselves. Our well-heeled companions' circumstances created a strong contrast to that of the triumvirate, with its humble gatherings. Not least in Ibsen was a bitter feeling cultivated towards "those empty heads with full pockets." Nevertheless, these individuals were regularly entertained by Ibsen, and indeed he was already making then - or was in any case, even if unconsciously, laying the groundwork for - studies for later processing.
Let me add here, that there were exceptional families, where a more intelligent life manifested itself, but Ibsen never travelled in these circles.
While we all looked up to Ibsen as the one with superior intellectual gifts, he himself had nobody that he looked up to. This is indeed a lack during the period of human development, especially in that period of life in which Ibsen then was. To be sure, he had read remarkably much, amazingly much considering the literarily inaccessible circumstances in which he lived, but even the highly-gifted still cannot without the necessary conditions acquire everything wholly by reading. The experienced life-regarding critical view is missing, and in such a strongly active temperament as Ibsen's much is devoured without being healthily digested intellectually.
Among the authors he had studied by preference was Voltaire. He partly defended the former's deism, partly pantheism, and partly the study of primitive miners. He denied any personal relationship to God. In this he encountered strong opposition in a couple of us, and we tried zealously to convert his lack of religious faith, but in vain. During such a discussion one of our mutual acquaintances once attempted to recommend to him the reading of Bishop Wallin's sermons, a devotional book much-favored at that time, and in which he himself every morning took pleasure. "I can never get my fill of reading it," he said. Here Ibsen remarked, in his quick-witted way, that there could not possibly be any food value in what one could not get enough of. Thereby he had the laughter on his side, and the religious influence in the end had to be given up as futile.
As we know, the influence from home and the first years of childhood has the greatest significance for the later religious and moral development. One has, as far as is known, little or no knowledge about Ibsen's circumstances before his arrival in Grimstad, but there in any case he had no opportunity for any educating or awakening influence from a good and healthy family life. If the fellowship with his peers is excepted, and then as a rule only during fun and amusement, he had no associates, and in the first years of our acquaintance never participated in social gatherings, but spent his time almost exclusively in the pharmacy and in its watchroom, interrupted only by, that as quickly as possible he shared in the midday mealtime at the home of his employer's parents, in whose nearby home pharmacist Nielsen lived. Breakfast and the evening meal were brought up from there to Ibsen in the pharmacy's watchroom.
IBSEN FINALLY PARTICIPATES IN SOCIETY
Ibsen was strongly influenced by the French Revolution in 1848, and afterwards he became an out-and-out republican. With him as the life-giving center, at one and another opportunity social gatherings of friends were created, where there was much amusement and speeches were given, especially with republican ideas in view. Accordingly we arranged after the French model a so-called "reform banquet," where Ibsen gave a fire-breathing speech against all emperors and kings, those monsters of society, and for the republic, the "only possible" form of government.
We also sometimes arranged dance entertainments. Grimstad had no satisfactory social hall, but one adapted oneself practically and very spontaneously to that, in that the moving powers among the young people applied in turn to the honorable ladies and gentlemen who presided over the largest halls, and asked without further permission to hold a ball at their house. The good-natured inhabitants of Grimstad as a rule gave their permission, and with the help of two violins and a flute, home-made mulled wine and punch, coffee or tea and white bread we had the ball quite ready.
I had several times urged Ibsen to take part in these occasions, but weighty reasons denied him this pleasure. He owned namely no evening clothes, and - what was worse - he had never danced, which is why he did not dare to make his debut at a ball. The problem of clothes was solved, however, when one of those "with empty heads and full pockets" gave him credit. This at first astonished Ibsen, but then at the same time he found that it only confirmed the cited proverb, and when at year's end the bill for the cost of the clothing was presented, he found even more confirmation of it, as he declared in his humorous way: "First he is stupid enough to give me credit, and later he is stupid enough to expect the bill to be paid." I can state, however, that this debt of Ibsen's was paid.
Now he was accordingly prepared as a ball-cavalier, but to dare to ask his lady for a dance and step forward among the ranks of the dancers he found too bold. On this occasion Ibsen's invited was Miss Sophie Holst, one of Grimstad's many charming young girls. (She still lives here in Christiania as the widow Toft, and when I saw her a few years ago, even though she was then over 80 years old, she still preserved a quite unusual youthfulness.)
We attempted however to put courage in Ibsen, and succeeded, by his lady's and other good-willed assistance, to see the pair set off in a quick gallop, certainly with some difficulty in the beginning, but yet without sensational calamities, and soon it went quite swimmingly, so that the situation was saved. Later he ventured himself in other dances as well, with equally good results.
Since here I touch upon the dances' rhythms, which Ibsen soon mastered, the thought is led away to his poems, also in this respect excellent. Even in his first literary works there was always the most exemplary verse construction, and when he wrote the poem discussed in an earlier chapter about the story of the horse, which was not short, it jigged as was mentioned before after melodies which were used in Neighbors, without a single syllable in the meter failing. And yet Ibsen was not musical. When we in the circle of friends sang, he certainly came along, but incorrectly, since he lacked an ear for music. This seems to be almost the only ability that failed him. In other respects he could try almost anything, and it always appeared that his eminent gifts were equal to it.
One evening while we were sitting at Ibsen's place, he surprised his two loyal friends with a most interesting announcement, namely that he was writing a drama, "Catiline," intended for production. As is known we then possessed almost no national literature in the dramatic field. If I mention Bjerregaard's The Mountain Fairytale (Fjeldeventyret), A[ndreas] Munch's King Sverre's Childhood (Kong Sverres Ungdom), with which the theatre in Bank Place opened its performances, and Wergeland's The Campbells (Campbellerne), which all lay rather far back in time, one has indeed most of the scattered attempts. And at hearing Ibsen's fiery description of the idea for his drama, how his republican sympathies made themselves evident through the rebel Catiline's wild and daring plans, we, his most interested listeners, were of course infected by his enthusiasm. This was not least the case when he read aloud the first scenes of the drama.
Naturally we urged him to continue, and in a series of unforgettable evenings he read aloud for criticism what between each time he had written. The well-disposed criticism committee found little to remark upon, however. We two, his first "loyal and trusting," as Ibsen called us, found only pleasure and enjoyment at gradually hearing his work make progress. None of us knew how to take into consideration the technical faults in the drama's construction, while the various parts, partly strong and violent, where Catiline appears, partly gentle and lyrical, where his good genius, his wife Aurelia, speaks peace and the cause of a peaceful, happy home, made a strong impression on us, and that still strikes me when I later read, for example, these lines, which the poet puts into Aurelia's mouth:
Do you forget the little country place
where I was born, and where we later, gay
and happy in our calm of utter bliss,
have spent so many a carefree summer day?
Where else, I wonder, was the grass so green?
Where else such coolness in the forest's shade?
The little house peeps forth between the trees
and beckons with its cosy air of peace.
That's where we'll flee, and dedicate our lives
to peaceful country ways, to quiet pleasures.
There you shall have a loving wife to cheer you,
whose tender kisses shall dispel your sorrows.
And when with blossoms gathered from the fields
you seek your sovereign lady in her bower,
I shall at once proclaim you Prince of Flowers,
and wind the laurel wreath around your brow!
(The Oxford Ibsen, Vol. I: Early Plays, p. 55.)
In the aformentioned preface to the jubilee edition of Catiline one has Ibsen's own statement of how when the drama was finished, I had the honor of copying it, and that it was sent with Schulrud, when he travelled to Christiania to complete his studies. In the same place Ibsen has also described how the sanguine expectations for Catiline were violently disappointed, as the Christiania Theatre regretted that the piece was not suited for production, next no publisher could be found, and it was finally printed, by Schulerud's tireless and sacrificing help with contributing the means for it, in a "single edition." 32 copies of the little book found a market, and after the lapse of some time the rest of the edition was sold by the printer as waste paper to a huckster. "In the immediately following days we lacked for nothing of life's most urgent necessities," says Ibsen in the preface. The new edition of 1875 is printed in at least three issues, in several thousand copies.
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