In lofty flight
I have followed it hither with all the strength of my soul, and
here I am struck by the arrow of death.
I have followed it hither with all the strength of my soul, and
here I am struck by the arrow of death.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v04 - Bes to Bro
'Kong Sverre is a longer and far more ambitious work;
while in Sigurd Slembe,' a trilogy of plays, the saga-phase of
Björnson's genius reached its culmination. This noble work, which
may almost claim to be the greatest work in Norwegian literature, is
based upon the career of a twelfth-century pretender to the throne
of Norway, and the material was found in the 'Heimskringla. ' There
are few more signal illustrations in literature of the power of genius
to transfuse with its own life a bare mediæval chronicle, and to
create from a few meagre suggestions a vital and impressive work
of art. One thinks instinctively, in seeking for some adequate par-
allel, of what Goethe did with the materials of the Faust legend,
or of what Shakespeare did with the indications offered for 'King
Lear and Cymbeline by Holinshed's chronicle-history. And the
two greatest names in modern literature are suggested not only by
this general fact of creative power, but also more specifically by
certain characters in the trilogy. Audhild, the Icelandic maiden
beloved of Sigurd, has more than once been compared with the gra-
cious and pathetic figure of Gretchen; and Earl Harald is one of the
most successful attempts since Shakespeare to incarnate once again
the Hamlet type of character, with its gentleness, its intellectuality,
its tragic irony, and the defect of will which forces it to sink be-
neath the too heavy burden set upon its shoulders by fate. 'Sigurd
Jorsalfar,' the last of the saga-plays, was planned as the second
part of a dramatic sequence, of which the first was never written.
## p. 1964 (#154) ###########################################
1964
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
Another work in this manner, having for its protagonist the great
national hero, Olaf Trygvason, was also planned and even begun;
but the author's energy flagged, and he felt himself irresistibly
impelled to devote himself to more modern themes dealt with in
a more modern way. But before leaving this phase of Björnson's
work, mention must be made of 'Maria Stuart i Skotland' (1864),
chronologically interjected among the saga-plays, and dealing with
the more definite history of the hapless Queen of Scots in much of
the saga-spirit. Björnson felt that the Scots had inherited no little
of the Norse blood and temper, and believed that the psychology of
his saga-heroes was adequate to account for the group of men whose
fortunes were bound up with those of Mary Stuart in Scotland. He
finds his key to the problem of her career in the fact that she was
by nature incapable of yielding herself up wholly to a man or a
cause, yet was surrounded by men who demanded of her just such
whole-souled allegiance. Bothwell and Knox were pre-eminently men
of this stamp; as were also, in some degree, Darnley and Rizzio.
The theory may seem fanciful, but there is no doubt that Björnson's
treatment of this fascinating subject is one of the strongest it has
ever received, and that his play takes rank with such European
masterpieces as Scott's novel, and Alfieri's tragedy, and Swinburne's
great poetic trilogy.
The late sixties and the early seventies were with Björnson a
period of unrest and transformation. His previous work had been
that of a genius isolated, comparatively speaking, and concentrated.
upon a small part of human life. His frequent journeys abroad and
the wider range of his reading now brought him into the full current
of European thought, and led to a substitution of practical ideals for
those of the visionary. He felt that he must reculer pour mieux sauter,
and for nearly a decade he produced little original work. Yet his
first attempt at a modern problem-play, 'De Nygifte' (The Newly
Married Pair), curiously enough, dates from as far back as 1865.
This work was, however, a mere trifle, and has interest chiefly as a
forerunner of what was to come. It was not until 1874 that Björn-
son became conscious that his new thought was ripe enough to bear
fruit, and that he began with 'Redaktören' (The Editor) the series of
plays dealing with social problems that have been the characteristic
work of his second period. It is interesting to note, for comparison,
the fact that the similar striking transformation of energy in Ibsen's
case dates from 1877, when Samfundet's Stötter' (The Pillars of
Society) was produced, and that this work had, like Björnson's 'Re-
daktören,' a forerunner in 'De Unges Forbund' (The League of
Youth), published in 1869. The list of Björnson's problem-plays —
many of which have been extraordinarily successful upon the stage,
## p. 1965 (#155) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1965
both in the Scandinavian countries and in Germany - includes in
addition to 'Redaktören,' seven other pieces. They are: 'En Fallit'
(A Bankruptcy: 1875), Kongen' (The King: 1877), 'Leonarda' (1879),
'Det Ny System' (The New System: 1879), 'En Hanske' (A Glove:
1883), Over Evne' (Beyond the Strength: 1883), and 'Geografi og
Kjærlighed' (Geography and Love: 1885). A sequel to 'Over Evne'
has also recently appeared. The most noteworthy of these works,
considered as acting plays, are 'Redaktören' and 'En Fallit. ' The
one has for its subject the degradation of modern journalism; the
other attacks the low standard of commercial morality prevailing in
modern society. En Hanske' plants itself squarely upon the propo-
sition that the obligations of morality are equally binding upon both
sexes; a problem treated by Ibsen, after a somewhat different
fashion, in Gengangere (Ghosts). This play has occasioned much
heated discussion, for its theme is of the widest interest, besides
being pivotal as regards Björnson's sociological views. Over Evne'
is a curiously wrought and delicate treatment of religious mysticism,
fascinating to read, but not very definite in outcome. 'Kongen' is
probably the most remarkable, all things considered, of this series of
plays, and Björnson told me some years ago that he considered it
the most important of his works. Taking frankly for granted that
monarchy, whether absolute or constitutional, is an outworn institu-
tion, the play discusses the question whether it may not be possible
so to transform the institution as to fit it for a prolongation of exist-
ence. The interest centres about the character of a king who is pro-
foundly convinced that the principle he embodies is an anachronism
or a lie, and who seeks to do away with the whole structure of
convention, and ceremonial, and hypocrisy, that the centuries have
built about the throne and its occupants. But his dearest hopes are
frustrated by the forces of malice, and dull conservatism, and invin-
cible stupidity; the burden proves too heavy for him, the fight too
unequal, and he takes his own life in a moment of despair. The
terrible satirical power of certain scenes in this play would be diffi-
cult to match were our choice to range through the whole literature
of Revolt. Its production brought upon the author a storm of
furious denunciation. He had outraged both throne and altar, and
his sacrilegious hand had not spared things the most sacrosanct.
But a less passionate judgment, while still deprecating something of
the author's violence, will recognize the fact that the core of the
work is a noble idealism in both politics and religion, and will
justify the hot indignation with which the author assails the shams
that in modern society stifle the breath of free and generous souls.
During all these years of writing for the stage Björnson did not,
however, forget that he was also a novelist; and it is in fiction that
## p. 1966 (#156) ###########################################
1966
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
he has scored the greatest of his recent triumphs. But the world of
'Synnöve' and 'Arne' is now far behind him. The transition from his
earlier to his later manner as a novelist is marked by two or three
stories delicate in conception but uncertain of utterance, and rela-
tively unimportant. These books are 'Magnhild' (1877), 'Kaptejn
Mansana (1879), and 'Stöv' (Dust: 1882). They were, however, sig-
nificant of a new development of the author's genius, for they were
the precursors of two great novels soon thereafter to follow. 'Det
Flager i Byen og paa Havnen' (Flags are Flying in Town and Har-
bor) appeared in 1884, 'Paa Guds Veje' (In God's Way) was published
in 1889. These books are experiments upon a larger scale than their
author had previously attempted in fiction, and neither of them ex-
hibits the perfect mastery that went to the simpler making of the
early peasant tales. They are somewhat confused and turbulent in
style, and it is evident that their author is groping for adequate
means of handling the unwieldy material brought to his workshop
by so many currents of modern thought. The central theme of 'Det
Flager (in its English translation called, by the way, The Heritage
of the Kurts') is the influence of heredity upon the life of a family
group.
The process of rehabilitation, resulting from the introduction
of a healthy and vigorous strain into a stock weakened by the vices
and passions of several generations, and aided by a scientific system
of education, is carried on before our eyes, and the story of this
process is the substance of the book. Regeneration is not wholly
achieved, but the end leaves us hopeful for the future; and the flags
that fly over town and harbor in the closing chapter have a symbol-
ical significance, for they announce a victory of spirit over sense, not
alone in the case of certain individuals, but also in the case of the
whole community with which they are identified. If this book comes
to be forgotten as a novel (which is not likely), it will have a fair
chance of being remembered, along with 'Levana' and 'Emile,' as a
sort of educational classic. Paa Gud's Veje,' the last great work of
Björnson, is also strongly didactic in tone, yet it attains at its highest
to a tranquillity of which the author seemed for many years to have
lost the secret. The struggle it depicts is that between religious
bigotry and liberalism as they contend for the mastery in a Nor-
wegian town; and the moral is that "God's way" is the way of peo-
ple who order their lives aright and keep their souls sweet and pure,
rather than the way of the Pharisee who pins his faith to observances
and allows the letter of his religion to overshadow the spirit. Not
an unchristian inculcation, surely; yet for it and for similar earlier
utterances Björnson has been held up as Antichrist by the ministers
of a narrow Lutheran orthodoxy, very much as the spokesmen of an
antiquated caste-system of society have esteemed his ideas to be
## p. 1967 (#157) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1967
those of the most ruthless and radical of iconoclasts. But he is a
stout fighter, and attacks of this sort only serve to arouse him to
new energy.
And so he toils manfully on for the enlightenment of
his people, knowing that his cause is the cause of civilization itself—
of a rational social organization, an exalted ethical standard, and a
purified religion.
Since the period when Björnson began to merge the artist in the
thinker and prophet, his work has given a strong impetus to progress
in religious, educational, and political affairs. As regards the first of
these matters, it must be remembered that the sort of intolerance
with which he has had to contend more resembles that of eighteenth-
century New England puritanism than anything we are familiar with
in our own time. As for the second matter, all of his work may in
a sense be called educational, while such a book as 'Det Flager'
shows how closely he has considered the subject of education in its
special and even technical aspects. Finally, as a political thinker, he
has identified himself indissolubly with the movement for the estab-
lishment of an independent Norwegian Republic, although he is not
sanguine of the near realization of this aim. But if time should
justify his prophetic attitude and give birth to a republic in the
north of Europe, however remote may be the event, the name of
Björnson will be remembered as that of one of the founders, although
as the Mazzini rather than as the Cavour of the Norse Risorgimento.
And whatever may be the future of the land that claims him for her
own, his spirit will walk abroad long after he has ceased to live
among men. His large, genial, optimistic personality is of the sort
that cannot fail to stamp itself upon other generations than the one
that actually counts him among its members.
[The following selections are given in translations of my own, excepting
"The Princess,' which was made by Mr. Nathan Haskell Dole, and the last
two, for which I am indebted to the edition of Björnson's novels translated
by Professor Rasmus B. Anderson, and published by Messrs. Houghton,
Mifflin & Co. The extracts from Sigurd Slembe' are taken from my trans-
lation of that work published by the same firm. -W. M. P. ]
E
M Payser
## p. 1968 (#158) ###########################################
1968
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
OVER THE LOFTY MOUNTAINS
(From 'Arne')
FTEN I wonder what there may be
Over the lofty mountains.
Here the snow is all I see,
OFT
Spread at the foot of the dark green tree;
Sadly I often ponder,
Would I were over yonder.
Strong of wing soars the eagle high
Over the lofty mountains;
Glad of the new day, soars to the sky,
Wild in pursuit of his prey doth fly;
Pauses, and, fearless of danger,
Scans the far coasts of the stranger.
The apple-tree, whose thoughts ne'er fly
Over the lofty mountains,
Leaves when the summer days draw nigh,
Patiently waits for the time when high
The birds in its bough shall be swinging,
Yet will know not what they are singing.
He who has yearned so long to go
Over the lofty mountains —
He whose visions and fond hopes grow
Dim, with the years that so restless flow
Knows what the birds are singing,
Glad in the tree-tops swinging.
Why, O bird, dost thou hither fare
Over the lofty mountains?
Surely it must be better there,
Broader the view and freer the air;
Com'st thou these longings to bring me—
These only, and nothing to wing me?
Oh, shall I never, never go
Over the lofty mountains?
Must all my thoughts and wishes so
Held in these walls of ice and snow
Here be imprisoned forever?
Till death shall escape be never?
## p. 1969 (#159) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1969
Hence! I will hence! Oh, so far from here,
Over the lofty mountains!
Here 'tis so dull, so unspeakably drear;
Young is my heart and free from fear-
Better the walls to be scaling
Than here in my prison lie wailing.
One day, I know, shall my free soul roam
Over the lofty mountains.
O my God, fair is thy home,
Ajar is the door for all who come;
Guard it for me yet longer,
Till my soul through striving grows stronger.
THE CLOISTER IN THE SOUTH
From Arnljot Gelline'
would enter so late the cloister in ? »
"A maid forlorn from the land of snow. "
"What sorrow is thine, and what thy sin? »
"The deepest sorrow the heart can know.
I have nothing done,
Yet must still endeavor,
Though my strength is none,
To wander ever.
Let me in, to seek for my pain surcease;
I can find no peace. "
"WHO
-
"From what far-off land hast thou taken flight? "
"From the land of the North, a weary way. "
"What stayed thy feet at our gate this night? "
"The chant of the nuns, for I heard them pray,
And the song gave peace
To my soul, and blessed me;
It offered release
From the grief that oppressed me.
Let me in, so if peace to give be thine,
I may make it mine. »
"Name me the grief that thy life hath crossed. "
"Rest may I never, never know. "
"Thy father, thy lover, thou hast then lost ? »
"I lost them both at a single blow,
IV-124
## p. 1970 (#160) ###########################################
1970
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
T
And all I held dear
In my deepest affection,
Ay, all that was near
To my heart's recollection.
Let me in, I am failing, I beg, I implore,
I can bear no more. "
"How was it that thou thy father lost? "
"He was slain, and I saw the deed. "
"How was it that thou thy lover lost? "
"My father he slew, and I saw the deed.
I wept so bitterly
When he roughly would woo me,
He at last set me free,
And forbore to pursue me.
Let me in, for the horror my soul doth fill
That I love him still. "
CHORUS OF NUNS WITHIN THE CHURCH
Come child, come bride,
To God's own side.
From grief find rest
On Jesus' breast.
Rest thy burden of sorrow
On Horeb's height;
Like the lark, with to-morrow
Shall thy soul take flight.
Here stilled is all yearning,
No passion returning,
No terror come near thee
Where the Saviour can hear thee!
For He, if in need be
Thy storm-beaten soul,
Though it bruised as a reed be,
Shall raise it up whole.
## p. 1971 (#161) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1971
"B
THE PLEA OF KING MAGNUS
From 'Sigurd Slembe>
UT once more let me the heavens see,
When the stars their watch are keeping,"
Young Magnus begged, and fell on his knee;
It was sad to see,
And the women away turned weeping.
"Let me once more the mountains see,
And the blue of the ocean far-reaching,
Only once more, and then let it be! »
And he fell on his knee,
While his friends were for pity beseeching.
"Let me go to the church, that the sacred sight
Of the blood of God may avail me;
That my eyes may bathe in its holy light,
Ere the day take flight,
And my vision forever shall fail me! "
But the sharp steel sped, and the shadows fell,
As the darkness the day o'erpowers.
"Magnus our king, farewell, farewell! "
"So farewell, farewell,
All my friends of so many glad hours. "
Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin and Company, Boston.
SIN AND DEATH
From Sigurd Slembe
SIN Day, day,
Spoke together with bated breath;
Marry thee, sister, that I may stay,
Stay, stay,
In thy house, quoth Death.
IN and Death, at break of day,
Death laughed aloud when Sin was wed,
Wed, wed,
And danced on the bridal day;
But bore that night from the bridal bed,
Bed, bed,
The groom in a shroud away.
## p. 1972 (#162) ###########################################
1972
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJORNSON
Death came to her sister at break of day,
Day, day,
And Sin drew a weary breath;
He whom thou lovest is mine for aye,
Aye, aye,
Mine he is, quoth Death.
Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin and Company, Boston.
THE PRINCESS
HE Princess sat lone in her maiden bower,
THE
The lad blew his horn at the foot of the tower.
"Why playest thou alway? Be silent, I pray,
It fetters my thoughts that would flee far away,
As the sun goes down. "
In her maiden bower sat the Princess forlorn,
The lad had ceased to play on his horn.
"Oh, why art thou silent? I beg thee to play!
It gives wings to my thoughts that would flee far away,
As the sun goes down. "
In her maiden bower sat the Princess forlorn,
Once more with delight played the lad on his horn.
She wept as the shadows grew long, and she sighed :
"Oh, tell me, my God, what my heart doth betide,
Now the sun has gone down. "
Copyrighted by T. Y. Crowell and Company.
## p. 1973 (#163) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1973
SIGURD SLEMBE'S RETURN
The scene is at first empty. Then Sigurd Slembe enters, climbing over a
rock; he comes forward in silence, but powerfully agitated.
THE
HE Danes forsake me! The battle is lost! Thus far-and
no farther!
Escape to the mountains to-night!
Exchange my ships
for freedom! There are herds of horses on the mountains: we
will climb up there and then fall upon the valleys like a snow.
storm.
But when winter comes? To begin at the beginning: the out-
law's life-never more! I have made my last effort; had it been
successful, men would have wondered at me. It has failed, and
vengeance is loose.
I cannot gather another force in Norway!
All over? Thus far and no farther? No! The Danes sail,
but we will sail with them! This night, this very night we will
raise our yards and follow them to the open sea.
We
But whither shall we turn our prows? To Denmark?
may raise no third force in Denmark. Start out again as mer-
chant? No! Serve in foreign lands? No! Crusade ? No!
Hither and no farther! Sigurd, the end has come!
[Almost sobbing. ] Death! The thought sprang up in my mind.
as a door swings open, clashing upon its hinges; light, air, re-
ceive me! [He draws his sword. ] No; I will fall fighting in the
cause I have lived for- my men shall have a leader!
Is there no chance of victory? no trick? Can I not get them
ashore ? Can I not get them in the toils? try them in point-
blank fight, man to man, all the strength of despair fighting
with me? Ah, could they but hear me, could I but find some
high place and speak to them; tell them how clear as the sun is
my right, how monstrous the wrongs I have borne, what a crime
is theirs in withstanding me! You murder not me alone, but
thousands upon thousands of thoughts for my fatherland's wel-
fare; I have carried nothing out, I have not sown the least
grain, or laid one stone upon another to witness that I have
lived. Ah, I have strength for better things than strife; it was
the desire to work that drove me homewards; it was impatience
that wrought me ill! Believe me, try me, give me but half what
Harald Gille promised me, even less; I ask but very little, if I
may still live and strive to accomplish something! Jesus, my
## p. 1974 (#164) ###########################################
1974
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
God, it was ever the little that thou didst offer me, and that I
ever scorned!
Where am I? I stand upon my own grave, and hear the
great bell ring. I tremble as the tower beneath its stroke, for
where now are the aims that were mine? The grave opens its
mouth and makes reply. But life lies behind me like a dried-up
stream, and these eighteen years are lost as in a desert. The
sign, the sign that was with me from my birth!
In lofty flight
I have followed it hither with all the strength of my soul, and
here I am struck by the arrow of death. I fall, and behold the
rocks beneath, upon which I shall be crushed. Have I, then,
seen a-wrong? Ah, how the winds and currents of my life stood
yonder, where it was warm and fruitful, while I toiled up where
it grew ever colder, and my ship is now clasped by the drifting
icebergs; a moment yet, and it must sink. Then let it sink,
and all will be over. [On his knees. ] But in thy arms, All-
Merciful, I shall find peace!
What miracle is this? For in the hour I prayed the prayer
was granted! Peace, perfect peace! [Rises. ] Then will I go
to-morrow to my last battle as to the altar; peace shall at last be
mine for all my longings.
[Holds his head bowed and covered by his hands. As he, after a
time, slowly removes them, he looks around. ]
How this autumn evening brings reconciliation to my soul!
Sun and wave and shore and sea flow all together, as in the
thought of God all others; never yet has it seemed so fair to me!
Yet it is not mine to reign over this lovely land.
How greatly
I have done it ill! But how has it all come so to pass? for in
my wanderings I saw thy mountains in every sky, I yearned for
home as a child longs for Christmas, yet I came no sooner, and
when at last I came - I gave thee wound upon wound.
But thou, in contemplative mood, now gazest upon me, and
givest me at parting this fairest autumn night of thine. I will
ascend yonder rock and take a long farewell. [Mounts up.
And even thus I stood eighteen years ago, thus looked out
upon the sea, blue beneath the rising sun. The fresh breezes of
morning seemed wafted to me from a high future; through the
sky's light veil a vision of strange lands was mine; in the glow
of the morning sun, wealth and honor shone upon me; and to
all this, the white sails of the Crusaders should swiftly bear me.
## p. 1975 (#165) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1975
Farewell, dreams of my youth! Farewell, my sweet country!
Ah, to what sorrow thou hast brought me forth! But now it
will soon be over.
[He descends.
If these ships should sail up to me this very night bear-
ing the fulfillment of all my dreams! Could any one of them
be now in truth mine,- or may a tree bear fruit twice in one
year?
I give way to make room for some better man. But be thou
gracious to me, and let death be mine with these feelings in my
heart, for strength to be faithful might not long be vouchsafed
me.
«< Thou shalt die to-morrow! " How sure a father-confessor is
that word! Now for the first time I speak truth to myself.
Ivar [climbing over a rock]—Yes, here he is. [Gives his hand
to the nun. ]
The Nun [without seeing]— Sigurd! [Mounts up. ] Yes, there
he is!
Sigurd - Mother!
The Nun-My child, found once more! [They remain long
clasped in each other's arms. ] My son, my son, now shalt thou
no more escape me!
Sigurd-O my mother!
The Nun-Thou wilt keep away from this battle, is it not
We two will win another kingdom,-a much better one.
Sigurd—I understand thee, mother. [Leads her to a seat, and
falls upon his knee. ]
-
The Nun - Yes, dost thou not? Thou art not so bad as all
men would have it. I knew that well, but wanted so much to
speak with thee,- and since thou art wearied and hast lost thy
hopes for this world, thou hast come back to me, for even now
there is time! And of all thy realm they must leave thee some
little plot, and there we will live by the church, so that when
the bells ring for vespers we shall be near the blessed Olaf, and
with him seek the presence of the Almighty. And there we will
heal thy wounds with holy water, and thoughts of love, more
than thou canst remember ever to have had, shall come back to
thee robed in white, and wondering recollection shall have no
end. For the great shall be made small and the small great,
and there shall be questionings and revelations and eternal happi-
Thou wilt come and thus live with me, my son, wilt thou
not? Thou wilt stay from this battle and come quickly?
ness.
so?
## p. 1976 (#166) ###########################################
1976
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
Sigurd-Mother, I have not wept till now since I lay upon
the parched earth of the Holy Land.
The Nun-Thou wilt follow me?
Sigurd
To do thus were to escape the pledges I have made
but by breaking them.
The Nun-To what art thou now pledged?
Sigurd Pledged to the blind king I took from the cloister;
pledged to the men I have led hither.
―
The Nun-And these pledges thou shalt redeem - how?
Sigurd-By fighting and falling at their head.
The Nun [springs to her feet. Sigurd also rises. ]—No! No!
No! Shall I now, after a lifetime of sorrow, behold thy death?
Sigurd-Yes, mother. The Lord of life and death will have
it so.
The Nun-Ah! what sufferings a moment's sin may bring!
[She falls upon his breast, then sinks, with outstretched arms. ]
O my son, spare me!
Sigurd-Do not tempt me, mother!
The Nun-Hast thou taken thought of what may follow?
Hast thou thought of capture, of mutilation?
Sigurd - I have some hymns left me from childhood.
sing them.
I can
The Nun-But I thy mother-spare me!
Sigurd - Make not to me this hour more bitter than death
itself.
The Nun-But why now die? We have found one another.
Sigurd-We two have nothing more to live for.
The Nun-Wilt thou soon leave me?
Sigurd Till the morning sun appear we will sit together.
Let me lift thee upon this rock. [He does so, and casts himself
at her feet. ] It was fair that thou shouldst come to me. All
my life is now blotted out, and I am a child with thee once
more. And now we will seek out together the land of our
inheritance. I must away for a moment to take my leave, and
then I shall be ready, and I think that thou too art ready.
Ivar Ingemundson [falling on his knee] - My lord, now let me
be your friend.
Sigurd [extending his hand]-Ivar, thou wilt not leave her
to-morrow?
―
Ivar Ingemundson-Not until she is set free.
Sigurd - And now sing me the Crusader's song. I may joy-
fully go hence after that.
## p. 1977 (#167) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1977
IVAR INGEMUNDSON [rises and sings] —
Fair is the earth,
Fair is God's heaven;
Fair is the pilgrim-path of the soul.
Singing we go
Through the fair realms of earth,
Seeking the way to our heavenly goal.
Races shall come,
And shall pass away;
And the world from age to age shall roll;
But the heavenly tones
Of our pilgrim song
Shall echo still in the joyous soul.
First heard of shepherds,
By angels sung,
Wide it has spread since that glad morn:
Peace upon earth!
Rejoice all men,
For unto us is a Savior born. *
[The mother places both her hands on Sigurd's head, and they look into
one another's eyes; he then rests his head upon her breast. ]
*This song is borrowed by Björnson from the Danish poet B. S. Inge-
mann, although it is slightly altered for its present use.
Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. , Boston.
HOW THE MOUNTAIN WAS CLAD
THE
From Arne': copyright 1881 and 1882, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co.
HERE was a deep gorge between two mountains. Through
this gorge a large, full stream flowed heavily over a rough
and stony bottom. Both sides were high and steep, and so
one side was bare; but close to its foot, and so near the stream
that the latter sprinkled it with moisture every spring and
autumn, stood a group of fresh-looking trees, gazing upward and
onward, yet unable to advance this way or that.
"What if we should clothe the mountain? " said the juniper
one day to the foreign oak, to which it stood nearer than all the
others. The oak looked down to find out who it was that spoke,
## p. 1978 (#168) ###########################################
1978
BJÖRNSTIERNE BJÖRNSON
and then it looked up again without deigning a reply. The
river rushed along so violently that it worked itself into a white
foam; the north wind had forced its way through the gorge and
shrieked in the clefts of the rocks; the naked mountain, with its
great weight, hung heavily over and felt cold. "What if we
should clothe the mountain? " said the juniper to the fir on the
other side. "If anybody is to do it, I suppose it must be we,”
said the fir, taking hold of its beard and glancing toward the
birch. "What do you think? " But the birch peered cautiously
up at the mountain, which hung over it so threateningly that it
seemed as if it could scarcely breathe. "Let us clothe it, in
God's name! " said the birch. And so, though there were but
these three, they undertook to clothe the mountain. The juniper
went first.
When they had gone a little way, they met the heather. The
juniper seemed as though about to go past it. "Nay, take the
heather along," said the fir. And the heather joined them.
Soon it began to glide on before the juniper. "Catch hold of
me," said the heather. The juniper did so, and where there was
only a wee crevice, the heather thrust in a finger, and where it
first had placed a finger, the juniper took hold with its whole
hand. They crawled and crept along, the fir laboring on behind,
the birch also. "This is well worth doing," said the birch.
But the mountain began to ponder on what manner of insig-
nificant objects these might be that were clambering up over it.
And after it had been considering the matter a few hundred
years, it sent a little brook down to inquire. It was yet in the
time of the spring freshets, and the brook stole on until it
reached the heather. "Dear, dear heather, cannot you let me
pass? I am so small. " The heather was very busy; only raised
itself a little and pressed onward. In, under, and onward went
the brook. "Dear, dear juniper, cannot you let me pass? I am
so small. "
The juniper looked sharply at it; but if the heather
had let it pass, why, in all reason, it must do so too. Under it
and onward went the brook; and now came to the spot where
the fir stood puffing on the hill-side. "Dear, dear fir, cannot you
let me pass? I am really so small," said the brook,- and it
kissed the fir's feet and made itself so very sweet. The fir
became bashful at this, and let it pass. But the birch raised itself
before the brook asked it. "Hi, hi, hi! " said the brook, and
grew. "Ha, ha, ha! " said the brook, and grew. "Ho, ho, ho! "
## p. 1979 (#169) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1979
said the brook, and flung the heather and the juniper and the fir
and the birch flat on their faces and backs, up and down these
great hills.
The mountain sat up for many hundred years mus-
ing on whether it had not smiled a little that day.
It was plain enough: the mountain did not want to be clad.
The heather fretted over this until it grew green again, and
then it started forward. "Fresh courage! " said the heather.
The juniper had half raised itself to look at the heather, and
continued to keep this position, until at length it stood upright.
It scratched its head and set forth again, taking such a vigorous
foothold that it seemed as though the mountain must feel it.
"If you will not have me, then I will have you. ” The fir
crooked its toes a little to find out whether they were whole,
then lifted one foot, found it whole, then the other, which
proved also to be whole, then both of them. It first investi-
gated the ground it had been over, next where it had been
lying, and finally where it should go. After this it began to
wend its way slowly along, and acted just as though it had
never fallen. The birch had become most wretchedly soiled,
but now rose up and made itself tidy. Then they sped onward,
faster and faster, upward and on either side, in sunshine and in
rain. "What in the world can this be? " said the mountain,
all glittering with dew, as the summer sun shone down on it.
The birds sang, the wood-mouse piped, the hare hopped along,
and the ermine hid itself and screamed.
Then the day came when the heather could peep with one eye
over the edge of the mountain. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! "
said the heather, and away it went. "Dear me! what is it the
heather sees? " said the juniper, and moved on until it could
peer up. "Oh dear, oh dear! " it shrieked, and was gone.
"What is the matter with the juniper to-day? " said the fir, and
took long strides onward in the heat of the sun. Soon it could
raise itself on its toes and peep up. "Oh dear! " Branches and
needles stood on end in wonderment. It worked its way forward,
came up, and was gone. "What is it all the others see, and not
I? " said the birch; and lifting well its skirts, it tripped after.
It stretched its whole head up at once. "Oh,-oh! — is not here
a great forest of fir and heather, of juniper and birch, standing
upon the table-land waiting for us? " said the birch; and its
leaves quivered in the sunshine so that the dew trembled. “Ay,
this is what it is to reach the goal!
while in Sigurd Slembe,' a trilogy of plays, the saga-phase of
Björnson's genius reached its culmination. This noble work, which
may almost claim to be the greatest work in Norwegian literature, is
based upon the career of a twelfth-century pretender to the throne
of Norway, and the material was found in the 'Heimskringla. ' There
are few more signal illustrations in literature of the power of genius
to transfuse with its own life a bare mediæval chronicle, and to
create from a few meagre suggestions a vital and impressive work
of art. One thinks instinctively, in seeking for some adequate par-
allel, of what Goethe did with the materials of the Faust legend,
or of what Shakespeare did with the indications offered for 'King
Lear and Cymbeline by Holinshed's chronicle-history. And the
two greatest names in modern literature are suggested not only by
this general fact of creative power, but also more specifically by
certain characters in the trilogy. Audhild, the Icelandic maiden
beloved of Sigurd, has more than once been compared with the gra-
cious and pathetic figure of Gretchen; and Earl Harald is one of the
most successful attempts since Shakespeare to incarnate once again
the Hamlet type of character, with its gentleness, its intellectuality,
its tragic irony, and the defect of will which forces it to sink be-
neath the too heavy burden set upon its shoulders by fate. 'Sigurd
Jorsalfar,' the last of the saga-plays, was planned as the second
part of a dramatic sequence, of which the first was never written.
## p. 1964 (#154) ###########################################
1964
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
Another work in this manner, having for its protagonist the great
national hero, Olaf Trygvason, was also planned and even begun;
but the author's energy flagged, and he felt himself irresistibly
impelled to devote himself to more modern themes dealt with in
a more modern way. But before leaving this phase of Björnson's
work, mention must be made of 'Maria Stuart i Skotland' (1864),
chronologically interjected among the saga-plays, and dealing with
the more definite history of the hapless Queen of Scots in much of
the saga-spirit. Björnson felt that the Scots had inherited no little
of the Norse blood and temper, and believed that the psychology of
his saga-heroes was adequate to account for the group of men whose
fortunes were bound up with those of Mary Stuart in Scotland. He
finds his key to the problem of her career in the fact that she was
by nature incapable of yielding herself up wholly to a man or a
cause, yet was surrounded by men who demanded of her just such
whole-souled allegiance. Bothwell and Knox were pre-eminently men
of this stamp; as were also, in some degree, Darnley and Rizzio.
The theory may seem fanciful, but there is no doubt that Björnson's
treatment of this fascinating subject is one of the strongest it has
ever received, and that his play takes rank with such European
masterpieces as Scott's novel, and Alfieri's tragedy, and Swinburne's
great poetic trilogy.
The late sixties and the early seventies were with Björnson a
period of unrest and transformation. His previous work had been
that of a genius isolated, comparatively speaking, and concentrated.
upon a small part of human life. His frequent journeys abroad and
the wider range of his reading now brought him into the full current
of European thought, and led to a substitution of practical ideals for
those of the visionary. He felt that he must reculer pour mieux sauter,
and for nearly a decade he produced little original work. Yet his
first attempt at a modern problem-play, 'De Nygifte' (The Newly
Married Pair), curiously enough, dates from as far back as 1865.
This work was, however, a mere trifle, and has interest chiefly as a
forerunner of what was to come. It was not until 1874 that Björn-
son became conscious that his new thought was ripe enough to bear
fruit, and that he began with 'Redaktören' (The Editor) the series of
plays dealing with social problems that have been the characteristic
work of his second period. It is interesting to note, for comparison,
the fact that the similar striking transformation of energy in Ibsen's
case dates from 1877, when Samfundet's Stötter' (The Pillars of
Society) was produced, and that this work had, like Björnson's 'Re-
daktören,' a forerunner in 'De Unges Forbund' (The League of
Youth), published in 1869. The list of Björnson's problem-plays —
many of which have been extraordinarily successful upon the stage,
## p. 1965 (#155) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1965
both in the Scandinavian countries and in Germany - includes in
addition to 'Redaktören,' seven other pieces. They are: 'En Fallit'
(A Bankruptcy: 1875), Kongen' (The King: 1877), 'Leonarda' (1879),
'Det Ny System' (The New System: 1879), 'En Hanske' (A Glove:
1883), Over Evne' (Beyond the Strength: 1883), and 'Geografi og
Kjærlighed' (Geography and Love: 1885). A sequel to 'Over Evne'
has also recently appeared. The most noteworthy of these works,
considered as acting plays, are 'Redaktören' and 'En Fallit. ' The
one has for its subject the degradation of modern journalism; the
other attacks the low standard of commercial morality prevailing in
modern society. En Hanske' plants itself squarely upon the propo-
sition that the obligations of morality are equally binding upon both
sexes; a problem treated by Ibsen, after a somewhat different
fashion, in Gengangere (Ghosts). This play has occasioned much
heated discussion, for its theme is of the widest interest, besides
being pivotal as regards Björnson's sociological views. Over Evne'
is a curiously wrought and delicate treatment of religious mysticism,
fascinating to read, but not very definite in outcome. 'Kongen' is
probably the most remarkable, all things considered, of this series of
plays, and Björnson told me some years ago that he considered it
the most important of his works. Taking frankly for granted that
monarchy, whether absolute or constitutional, is an outworn institu-
tion, the play discusses the question whether it may not be possible
so to transform the institution as to fit it for a prolongation of exist-
ence. The interest centres about the character of a king who is pro-
foundly convinced that the principle he embodies is an anachronism
or a lie, and who seeks to do away with the whole structure of
convention, and ceremonial, and hypocrisy, that the centuries have
built about the throne and its occupants. But his dearest hopes are
frustrated by the forces of malice, and dull conservatism, and invin-
cible stupidity; the burden proves too heavy for him, the fight too
unequal, and he takes his own life in a moment of despair. The
terrible satirical power of certain scenes in this play would be diffi-
cult to match were our choice to range through the whole literature
of Revolt. Its production brought upon the author a storm of
furious denunciation. He had outraged both throne and altar, and
his sacrilegious hand had not spared things the most sacrosanct.
But a less passionate judgment, while still deprecating something of
the author's violence, will recognize the fact that the core of the
work is a noble idealism in both politics and religion, and will
justify the hot indignation with which the author assails the shams
that in modern society stifle the breath of free and generous souls.
During all these years of writing for the stage Björnson did not,
however, forget that he was also a novelist; and it is in fiction that
## p. 1966 (#156) ###########################################
1966
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
he has scored the greatest of his recent triumphs. But the world of
'Synnöve' and 'Arne' is now far behind him. The transition from his
earlier to his later manner as a novelist is marked by two or three
stories delicate in conception but uncertain of utterance, and rela-
tively unimportant. These books are 'Magnhild' (1877), 'Kaptejn
Mansana (1879), and 'Stöv' (Dust: 1882). They were, however, sig-
nificant of a new development of the author's genius, for they were
the precursors of two great novels soon thereafter to follow. 'Det
Flager i Byen og paa Havnen' (Flags are Flying in Town and Har-
bor) appeared in 1884, 'Paa Guds Veje' (In God's Way) was published
in 1889. These books are experiments upon a larger scale than their
author had previously attempted in fiction, and neither of them ex-
hibits the perfect mastery that went to the simpler making of the
early peasant tales. They are somewhat confused and turbulent in
style, and it is evident that their author is groping for adequate
means of handling the unwieldy material brought to his workshop
by so many currents of modern thought. The central theme of 'Det
Flager (in its English translation called, by the way, The Heritage
of the Kurts') is the influence of heredity upon the life of a family
group.
The process of rehabilitation, resulting from the introduction
of a healthy and vigorous strain into a stock weakened by the vices
and passions of several generations, and aided by a scientific system
of education, is carried on before our eyes, and the story of this
process is the substance of the book. Regeneration is not wholly
achieved, but the end leaves us hopeful for the future; and the flags
that fly over town and harbor in the closing chapter have a symbol-
ical significance, for they announce a victory of spirit over sense, not
alone in the case of certain individuals, but also in the case of the
whole community with which they are identified. If this book comes
to be forgotten as a novel (which is not likely), it will have a fair
chance of being remembered, along with 'Levana' and 'Emile,' as a
sort of educational classic. Paa Gud's Veje,' the last great work of
Björnson, is also strongly didactic in tone, yet it attains at its highest
to a tranquillity of which the author seemed for many years to have
lost the secret. The struggle it depicts is that between religious
bigotry and liberalism as they contend for the mastery in a Nor-
wegian town; and the moral is that "God's way" is the way of peo-
ple who order their lives aright and keep their souls sweet and pure,
rather than the way of the Pharisee who pins his faith to observances
and allows the letter of his religion to overshadow the spirit. Not
an unchristian inculcation, surely; yet for it and for similar earlier
utterances Björnson has been held up as Antichrist by the ministers
of a narrow Lutheran orthodoxy, very much as the spokesmen of an
antiquated caste-system of society have esteemed his ideas to be
## p. 1967 (#157) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1967
those of the most ruthless and radical of iconoclasts. But he is a
stout fighter, and attacks of this sort only serve to arouse him to
new energy.
And so he toils manfully on for the enlightenment of
his people, knowing that his cause is the cause of civilization itself—
of a rational social organization, an exalted ethical standard, and a
purified religion.
Since the period when Björnson began to merge the artist in the
thinker and prophet, his work has given a strong impetus to progress
in religious, educational, and political affairs. As regards the first of
these matters, it must be remembered that the sort of intolerance
with which he has had to contend more resembles that of eighteenth-
century New England puritanism than anything we are familiar with
in our own time. As for the second matter, all of his work may in
a sense be called educational, while such a book as 'Det Flager'
shows how closely he has considered the subject of education in its
special and even technical aspects. Finally, as a political thinker, he
has identified himself indissolubly with the movement for the estab-
lishment of an independent Norwegian Republic, although he is not
sanguine of the near realization of this aim. But if time should
justify his prophetic attitude and give birth to a republic in the
north of Europe, however remote may be the event, the name of
Björnson will be remembered as that of one of the founders, although
as the Mazzini rather than as the Cavour of the Norse Risorgimento.
And whatever may be the future of the land that claims him for her
own, his spirit will walk abroad long after he has ceased to live
among men. His large, genial, optimistic personality is of the sort
that cannot fail to stamp itself upon other generations than the one
that actually counts him among its members.
[The following selections are given in translations of my own, excepting
"The Princess,' which was made by Mr. Nathan Haskell Dole, and the last
two, for which I am indebted to the edition of Björnson's novels translated
by Professor Rasmus B. Anderson, and published by Messrs. Houghton,
Mifflin & Co. The extracts from Sigurd Slembe' are taken from my trans-
lation of that work published by the same firm. -W. M. P. ]
E
M Payser
## p. 1968 (#158) ###########################################
1968
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
OVER THE LOFTY MOUNTAINS
(From 'Arne')
FTEN I wonder what there may be
Over the lofty mountains.
Here the snow is all I see,
OFT
Spread at the foot of the dark green tree;
Sadly I often ponder,
Would I were over yonder.
Strong of wing soars the eagle high
Over the lofty mountains;
Glad of the new day, soars to the sky,
Wild in pursuit of his prey doth fly;
Pauses, and, fearless of danger,
Scans the far coasts of the stranger.
The apple-tree, whose thoughts ne'er fly
Over the lofty mountains,
Leaves when the summer days draw nigh,
Patiently waits for the time when high
The birds in its bough shall be swinging,
Yet will know not what they are singing.
He who has yearned so long to go
Over the lofty mountains —
He whose visions and fond hopes grow
Dim, with the years that so restless flow
Knows what the birds are singing,
Glad in the tree-tops swinging.
Why, O bird, dost thou hither fare
Over the lofty mountains?
Surely it must be better there,
Broader the view and freer the air;
Com'st thou these longings to bring me—
These only, and nothing to wing me?
Oh, shall I never, never go
Over the lofty mountains?
Must all my thoughts and wishes so
Held in these walls of ice and snow
Here be imprisoned forever?
Till death shall escape be never?
## p. 1969 (#159) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1969
Hence! I will hence! Oh, so far from here,
Over the lofty mountains!
Here 'tis so dull, so unspeakably drear;
Young is my heart and free from fear-
Better the walls to be scaling
Than here in my prison lie wailing.
One day, I know, shall my free soul roam
Over the lofty mountains.
O my God, fair is thy home,
Ajar is the door for all who come;
Guard it for me yet longer,
Till my soul through striving grows stronger.
THE CLOISTER IN THE SOUTH
From Arnljot Gelline'
would enter so late the cloister in ? »
"A maid forlorn from the land of snow. "
"What sorrow is thine, and what thy sin? »
"The deepest sorrow the heart can know.
I have nothing done,
Yet must still endeavor,
Though my strength is none,
To wander ever.
Let me in, to seek for my pain surcease;
I can find no peace. "
"WHO
-
"From what far-off land hast thou taken flight? "
"From the land of the North, a weary way. "
"What stayed thy feet at our gate this night? "
"The chant of the nuns, for I heard them pray,
And the song gave peace
To my soul, and blessed me;
It offered release
From the grief that oppressed me.
Let me in, so if peace to give be thine,
I may make it mine. »
"Name me the grief that thy life hath crossed. "
"Rest may I never, never know. "
"Thy father, thy lover, thou hast then lost ? »
"I lost them both at a single blow,
IV-124
## p. 1970 (#160) ###########################################
1970
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
T
And all I held dear
In my deepest affection,
Ay, all that was near
To my heart's recollection.
Let me in, I am failing, I beg, I implore,
I can bear no more. "
"How was it that thou thy father lost? "
"He was slain, and I saw the deed. "
"How was it that thou thy lover lost? "
"My father he slew, and I saw the deed.
I wept so bitterly
When he roughly would woo me,
He at last set me free,
And forbore to pursue me.
Let me in, for the horror my soul doth fill
That I love him still. "
CHORUS OF NUNS WITHIN THE CHURCH
Come child, come bride,
To God's own side.
From grief find rest
On Jesus' breast.
Rest thy burden of sorrow
On Horeb's height;
Like the lark, with to-morrow
Shall thy soul take flight.
Here stilled is all yearning,
No passion returning,
No terror come near thee
Where the Saviour can hear thee!
For He, if in need be
Thy storm-beaten soul,
Though it bruised as a reed be,
Shall raise it up whole.
## p. 1971 (#161) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1971
"B
THE PLEA OF KING MAGNUS
From 'Sigurd Slembe>
UT once more let me the heavens see,
When the stars their watch are keeping,"
Young Magnus begged, and fell on his knee;
It was sad to see,
And the women away turned weeping.
"Let me once more the mountains see,
And the blue of the ocean far-reaching,
Only once more, and then let it be! »
And he fell on his knee,
While his friends were for pity beseeching.
"Let me go to the church, that the sacred sight
Of the blood of God may avail me;
That my eyes may bathe in its holy light,
Ere the day take flight,
And my vision forever shall fail me! "
But the sharp steel sped, and the shadows fell,
As the darkness the day o'erpowers.
"Magnus our king, farewell, farewell! "
"So farewell, farewell,
All my friends of so many glad hours. "
Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin and Company, Boston.
SIN AND DEATH
From Sigurd Slembe
SIN Day, day,
Spoke together with bated breath;
Marry thee, sister, that I may stay,
Stay, stay,
In thy house, quoth Death.
IN and Death, at break of day,
Death laughed aloud when Sin was wed,
Wed, wed,
And danced on the bridal day;
But bore that night from the bridal bed,
Bed, bed,
The groom in a shroud away.
## p. 1972 (#162) ###########################################
1972
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJORNSON
Death came to her sister at break of day,
Day, day,
And Sin drew a weary breath;
He whom thou lovest is mine for aye,
Aye, aye,
Mine he is, quoth Death.
Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin and Company, Boston.
THE PRINCESS
HE Princess sat lone in her maiden bower,
THE
The lad blew his horn at the foot of the tower.
"Why playest thou alway? Be silent, I pray,
It fetters my thoughts that would flee far away,
As the sun goes down. "
In her maiden bower sat the Princess forlorn,
The lad had ceased to play on his horn.
"Oh, why art thou silent? I beg thee to play!
It gives wings to my thoughts that would flee far away,
As the sun goes down. "
In her maiden bower sat the Princess forlorn,
Once more with delight played the lad on his horn.
She wept as the shadows grew long, and she sighed :
"Oh, tell me, my God, what my heart doth betide,
Now the sun has gone down. "
Copyrighted by T. Y. Crowell and Company.
## p. 1973 (#163) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1973
SIGURD SLEMBE'S RETURN
The scene is at first empty. Then Sigurd Slembe enters, climbing over a
rock; he comes forward in silence, but powerfully agitated.
THE
HE Danes forsake me! The battle is lost! Thus far-and
no farther!
Escape to the mountains to-night!
Exchange my ships
for freedom! There are herds of horses on the mountains: we
will climb up there and then fall upon the valleys like a snow.
storm.
But when winter comes? To begin at the beginning: the out-
law's life-never more! I have made my last effort; had it been
successful, men would have wondered at me. It has failed, and
vengeance is loose.
I cannot gather another force in Norway!
All over? Thus far and no farther? No! The Danes sail,
but we will sail with them! This night, this very night we will
raise our yards and follow them to the open sea.
We
But whither shall we turn our prows? To Denmark?
may raise no third force in Denmark. Start out again as mer-
chant? No! Serve in foreign lands? No! Crusade ? No!
Hither and no farther! Sigurd, the end has come!
[Almost sobbing. ] Death! The thought sprang up in my mind.
as a door swings open, clashing upon its hinges; light, air, re-
ceive me! [He draws his sword. ] No; I will fall fighting in the
cause I have lived for- my men shall have a leader!
Is there no chance of victory? no trick? Can I not get them
ashore ? Can I not get them in the toils? try them in point-
blank fight, man to man, all the strength of despair fighting
with me? Ah, could they but hear me, could I but find some
high place and speak to them; tell them how clear as the sun is
my right, how monstrous the wrongs I have borne, what a crime
is theirs in withstanding me! You murder not me alone, but
thousands upon thousands of thoughts for my fatherland's wel-
fare; I have carried nothing out, I have not sown the least
grain, or laid one stone upon another to witness that I have
lived. Ah, I have strength for better things than strife; it was
the desire to work that drove me homewards; it was impatience
that wrought me ill! Believe me, try me, give me but half what
Harald Gille promised me, even less; I ask but very little, if I
may still live and strive to accomplish something! Jesus, my
## p. 1974 (#164) ###########################################
1974
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
God, it was ever the little that thou didst offer me, and that I
ever scorned!
Where am I? I stand upon my own grave, and hear the
great bell ring. I tremble as the tower beneath its stroke, for
where now are the aims that were mine? The grave opens its
mouth and makes reply. But life lies behind me like a dried-up
stream, and these eighteen years are lost as in a desert. The
sign, the sign that was with me from my birth!
In lofty flight
I have followed it hither with all the strength of my soul, and
here I am struck by the arrow of death. I fall, and behold the
rocks beneath, upon which I shall be crushed. Have I, then,
seen a-wrong? Ah, how the winds and currents of my life stood
yonder, where it was warm and fruitful, while I toiled up where
it grew ever colder, and my ship is now clasped by the drifting
icebergs; a moment yet, and it must sink. Then let it sink,
and all will be over. [On his knees. ] But in thy arms, All-
Merciful, I shall find peace!
What miracle is this? For in the hour I prayed the prayer
was granted! Peace, perfect peace! [Rises. ] Then will I go
to-morrow to my last battle as to the altar; peace shall at last be
mine for all my longings.
[Holds his head bowed and covered by his hands. As he, after a
time, slowly removes them, he looks around. ]
How this autumn evening brings reconciliation to my soul!
Sun and wave and shore and sea flow all together, as in the
thought of God all others; never yet has it seemed so fair to me!
Yet it is not mine to reign over this lovely land.
How greatly
I have done it ill! But how has it all come so to pass? for in
my wanderings I saw thy mountains in every sky, I yearned for
home as a child longs for Christmas, yet I came no sooner, and
when at last I came - I gave thee wound upon wound.
But thou, in contemplative mood, now gazest upon me, and
givest me at parting this fairest autumn night of thine. I will
ascend yonder rock and take a long farewell. [Mounts up.
And even thus I stood eighteen years ago, thus looked out
upon the sea, blue beneath the rising sun. The fresh breezes of
morning seemed wafted to me from a high future; through the
sky's light veil a vision of strange lands was mine; in the glow
of the morning sun, wealth and honor shone upon me; and to
all this, the white sails of the Crusaders should swiftly bear me.
## p. 1975 (#165) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1975
Farewell, dreams of my youth! Farewell, my sweet country!
Ah, to what sorrow thou hast brought me forth! But now it
will soon be over.
[He descends.
If these ships should sail up to me this very night bear-
ing the fulfillment of all my dreams! Could any one of them
be now in truth mine,- or may a tree bear fruit twice in one
year?
I give way to make room for some better man. But be thou
gracious to me, and let death be mine with these feelings in my
heart, for strength to be faithful might not long be vouchsafed
me.
«< Thou shalt die to-morrow! " How sure a father-confessor is
that word! Now for the first time I speak truth to myself.
Ivar [climbing over a rock]—Yes, here he is. [Gives his hand
to the nun. ]
The Nun [without seeing]— Sigurd! [Mounts up. ] Yes, there
he is!
Sigurd - Mother!
The Nun-My child, found once more! [They remain long
clasped in each other's arms. ] My son, my son, now shalt thou
no more escape me!
Sigurd-O my mother!
The Nun-Thou wilt keep away from this battle, is it not
We two will win another kingdom,-a much better one.
Sigurd—I understand thee, mother. [Leads her to a seat, and
falls upon his knee. ]
-
The Nun - Yes, dost thou not? Thou art not so bad as all
men would have it. I knew that well, but wanted so much to
speak with thee,- and since thou art wearied and hast lost thy
hopes for this world, thou hast come back to me, for even now
there is time! And of all thy realm they must leave thee some
little plot, and there we will live by the church, so that when
the bells ring for vespers we shall be near the blessed Olaf, and
with him seek the presence of the Almighty. And there we will
heal thy wounds with holy water, and thoughts of love, more
than thou canst remember ever to have had, shall come back to
thee robed in white, and wondering recollection shall have no
end. For the great shall be made small and the small great,
and there shall be questionings and revelations and eternal happi-
Thou wilt come and thus live with me, my son, wilt thou
not? Thou wilt stay from this battle and come quickly?
ness.
so?
## p. 1976 (#166) ###########################################
1976
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
Sigurd-Mother, I have not wept till now since I lay upon
the parched earth of the Holy Land.
The Nun-Thou wilt follow me?
Sigurd
To do thus were to escape the pledges I have made
but by breaking them.
The Nun-To what art thou now pledged?
Sigurd Pledged to the blind king I took from the cloister;
pledged to the men I have led hither.
―
The Nun-And these pledges thou shalt redeem - how?
Sigurd-By fighting and falling at their head.
The Nun [springs to her feet. Sigurd also rises. ]—No! No!
No! Shall I now, after a lifetime of sorrow, behold thy death?
Sigurd-Yes, mother. The Lord of life and death will have
it so.
The Nun-Ah! what sufferings a moment's sin may bring!
[She falls upon his breast, then sinks, with outstretched arms. ]
O my son, spare me!
Sigurd-Do not tempt me, mother!
The Nun-Hast thou taken thought of what may follow?
Hast thou thought of capture, of mutilation?
Sigurd - I have some hymns left me from childhood.
sing them.
I can
The Nun-But I thy mother-spare me!
Sigurd - Make not to me this hour more bitter than death
itself.
The Nun-But why now die? We have found one another.
Sigurd-We two have nothing more to live for.
The Nun-Wilt thou soon leave me?
Sigurd Till the morning sun appear we will sit together.
Let me lift thee upon this rock. [He does so, and casts himself
at her feet. ] It was fair that thou shouldst come to me. All
my life is now blotted out, and I am a child with thee once
more. And now we will seek out together the land of our
inheritance. I must away for a moment to take my leave, and
then I shall be ready, and I think that thou too art ready.
Ivar Ingemundson [falling on his knee] - My lord, now let me
be your friend.
Sigurd [extending his hand]-Ivar, thou wilt not leave her
to-morrow?
―
Ivar Ingemundson-Not until she is set free.
Sigurd - And now sing me the Crusader's song. I may joy-
fully go hence after that.
## p. 1977 (#167) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1977
IVAR INGEMUNDSON [rises and sings] —
Fair is the earth,
Fair is God's heaven;
Fair is the pilgrim-path of the soul.
Singing we go
Through the fair realms of earth,
Seeking the way to our heavenly goal.
Races shall come,
And shall pass away;
And the world from age to age shall roll;
But the heavenly tones
Of our pilgrim song
Shall echo still in the joyous soul.
First heard of shepherds,
By angels sung,
Wide it has spread since that glad morn:
Peace upon earth!
Rejoice all men,
For unto us is a Savior born. *
[The mother places both her hands on Sigurd's head, and they look into
one another's eyes; he then rests his head upon her breast. ]
*This song is borrowed by Björnson from the Danish poet B. S. Inge-
mann, although it is slightly altered for its present use.
Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. , Boston.
HOW THE MOUNTAIN WAS CLAD
THE
From Arne': copyright 1881 and 1882, by Houghton, Mifflin & Co.
HERE was a deep gorge between two mountains. Through
this gorge a large, full stream flowed heavily over a rough
and stony bottom. Both sides were high and steep, and so
one side was bare; but close to its foot, and so near the stream
that the latter sprinkled it with moisture every spring and
autumn, stood a group of fresh-looking trees, gazing upward and
onward, yet unable to advance this way or that.
"What if we should clothe the mountain? " said the juniper
one day to the foreign oak, to which it stood nearer than all the
others. The oak looked down to find out who it was that spoke,
## p. 1978 (#168) ###########################################
1978
BJÖRNSTIERNE BJÖRNSON
and then it looked up again without deigning a reply. The
river rushed along so violently that it worked itself into a white
foam; the north wind had forced its way through the gorge and
shrieked in the clefts of the rocks; the naked mountain, with its
great weight, hung heavily over and felt cold. "What if we
should clothe the mountain? " said the juniper to the fir on the
other side. "If anybody is to do it, I suppose it must be we,”
said the fir, taking hold of its beard and glancing toward the
birch. "What do you think? " But the birch peered cautiously
up at the mountain, which hung over it so threateningly that it
seemed as if it could scarcely breathe. "Let us clothe it, in
God's name! " said the birch. And so, though there were but
these three, they undertook to clothe the mountain. The juniper
went first.
When they had gone a little way, they met the heather. The
juniper seemed as though about to go past it. "Nay, take the
heather along," said the fir. And the heather joined them.
Soon it began to glide on before the juniper. "Catch hold of
me," said the heather. The juniper did so, and where there was
only a wee crevice, the heather thrust in a finger, and where it
first had placed a finger, the juniper took hold with its whole
hand. They crawled and crept along, the fir laboring on behind,
the birch also. "This is well worth doing," said the birch.
But the mountain began to ponder on what manner of insig-
nificant objects these might be that were clambering up over it.
And after it had been considering the matter a few hundred
years, it sent a little brook down to inquire. It was yet in the
time of the spring freshets, and the brook stole on until it
reached the heather. "Dear, dear heather, cannot you let me
pass? I am so small. " The heather was very busy; only raised
itself a little and pressed onward. In, under, and onward went
the brook. "Dear, dear juniper, cannot you let me pass? I am
so small. "
The juniper looked sharply at it; but if the heather
had let it pass, why, in all reason, it must do so too. Under it
and onward went the brook; and now came to the spot where
the fir stood puffing on the hill-side. "Dear, dear fir, cannot you
let me pass? I am really so small," said the brook,- and it
kissed the fir's feet and made itself so very sweet. The fir
became bashful at this, and let it pass. But the birch raised itself
before the brook asked it. "Hi, hi, hi! " said the brook, and
grew. "Ha, ha, ha! " said the brook, and grew. "Ho, ho, ho! "
## p. 1979 (#169) ###########################################
BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
1979
said the brook, and flung the heather and the juniper and the fir
and the birch flat on their faces and backs, up and down these
great hills.
The mountain sat up for many hundred years mus-
ing on whether it had not smiled a little that day.
It was plain enough: the mountain did not want to be clad.
The heather fretted over this until it grew green again, and
then it started forward. "Fresh courage! " said the heather.
The juniper had half raised itself to look at the heather, and
continued to keep this position, until at length it stood upright.
It scratched its head and set forth again, taking such a vigorous
foothold that it seemed as though the mountain must feel it.
"If you will not have me, then I will have you. ” The fir
crooked its toes a little to find out whether they were whole,
then lifted one foot, found it whole, then the other, which
proved also to be whole, then both of them. It first investi-
gated the ground it had been over, next where it had been
lying, and finally where it should go. After this it began to
wend its way slowly along, and acted just as though it had
never fallen. The birch had become most wretchedly soiled,
but now rose up and made itself tidy. Then they sped onward,
faster and faster, upward and on either side, in sunshine and in
rain. "What in the world can this be? " said the mountain,
all glittering with dew, as the summer sun shone down on it.
The birds sang, the wood-mouse piped, the hare hopped along,
and the ermine hid itself and screamed.
Then the day came when the heather could peep with one eye
over the edge of the mountain. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear! "
said the heather, and away it went. "Dear me! what is it the
heather sees? " said the juniper, and moved on until it could
peer up. "Oh dear, oh dear! " it shrieked, and was gone.
"What is the matter with the juniper to-day? " said the fir, and
took long strides onward in the heat of the sun. Soon it could
raise itself on its toes and peep up. "Oh dear! " Branches and
needles stood on end in wonderment. It worked its way forward,
came up, and was gone. "What is it all the others see, and not
I? " said the birch; and lifting well its skirts, it tripped after.
It stretched its whole head up at once. "Oh,-oh! — is not here
a great forest of fir and heather, of juniper and birch, standing
upon the table-land waiting for us? " said the birch; and its
leaves quivered in the sunshine so that the dew trembled. “Ay,
this is what it is to reach the goal!
