acquaintance with life
at first hand. The first-named is an account of a murder and execution,
and extremely painful. The second is a bit of pathological psychology _a
propos_ of intemperance. Tastes imprisoned, genius cramped and
perverted, joy of life (_joie de vivre_) denied, will avenge themselves.
They will break out in drunkenness. The hero of "One Day" is afflicted
with the same vice, and apparently for the same reason. The cruel
disillusion which in consequence overtakes the poor little soul-starved
heroine rises almost to the height of tragedy. It is an every-day tale,
full of "deep and blood-veined humanity," and deriving its interest and
significance from the very fact of its commonness.

What distinguishes the Norsemen above other nations is, generally
speaking, an indestructible self-respect and force of individuality. The
old Norse sagas abound in illustrations of this untamable vigor and
ruthless self-assertion. It was the looseness of the social structure,
resulting from this sense of independence and consequent jealousy and
internecine warfare, which destroyed the Icelandic republic and made
Norway for four centuries a province of Denmark. In all the great men of
Norway we recognize something of the rampant individualism of their
Viking forefathers. Ibsen is the modern apostle _par excellence_ of
philosophic anarchism; and Bjoernson, too, has his full share of the
national aggressiveness and pugnacity. For all that there is a radical
difference between the two. The sense of social obligation which Ibsen
lacks, Bjoernson possesses in a high degree. He fights, not as a daring
guerilla, but as the spokesman and leader of thousands. He is the
chieftain who looms a head above all the people. He wields a heavy
sword, and he deals mighty blows. The wrath that possesses him is,
however, born of love. He fights man in the name of humanity. It is not
for himself, primarily, that he demands larger liberties, securer
rights, more humanizing conditions of life; but it is for his
fellow-men. The many, the small and down-trodden, the dumb millions,
whom Ibsen despises, Bjoernson loves. As Dr. Brandes[11] has so happily
said:

[11] Det Moderne Gjennembruds Maend, p. 60.

"Ibsen is a judge, stern as the old judges of Israel. Bjoernson is a
prophet, the hopeful herald of a better day. Ibsen is, in the depth of
his mind, a great revolutionist. In 'The Comedy of Love,' 'A Doll's
House,' and 'Ghosts,' he scourges mar