ther
baldly prosaic where he was once deeply poetical, Bjoernson preserved
the poetic impulse of his youth, and continued to give it play even in
his envisagement of the most practical modern problems. Let us enlarge
a little upon these two themes. Ernest Renan, speaking at the funeral
of Tourguenieff, described the deceased novelist as "the incarnation of
a whole people." Even more fittingly might the phrase be applied to
Bjoernson, for it would be difficult to find anywhere else in modern
literature a figure so completely and profoundly representative of his
race. In the frequently quoted words of Dr. Brandes, to speak the name
of Bjoernson in any assembly of his countrymen is like "hoisting the
Norwegian flag." It has been maliciously added that mention of his
name is also like flaunting a red flag in the sight of a considerable
proportion of the assembly, for Bjoernson has always been a fighter as
well as an artist, and it has been his self-imposed mission to arouse
his fellow countrymen from their mental sluggishness no less than to
give creative embodiment to their types of character and their ideal
aspirations. But whatever the opposition aroused by his political and
social radicalism, even his opponents have been constrained to feel
that he was the mouthpiece of their race as no other Norwegian before
him had been, and that he has voiced whatever is deepest and most
enduring in the Norwegian temper. Powerful as has been his appeal to
the intellect and conscience of the modern world at large, it has
always had a special note of admonition or of cheer for his own people.
With reference to the second of our two themes, it is sufficient to say
that, although the form of verse was almost wholly abandoned by him
during the latter half of his life, the breath of poetry never ceased
to exhale from his work, and the lyric exuberance of his later prose
still recalls to us the singer of the sixties.

Few productions of modern literature have proved as epoch-making as the
modest little volume called "Synnoeve Solbakken," which appeared in the
book shops of Christiania and Copenhagen in 1857. It was a simple tale
of peasant life, an idyl of the love of a boy and a girl, but it was
absolutely new in its style, and in its intimate revelation of the
Norwegian character. It must be remembered that until the year 1814,
Norway had for centuries been politically united with Denmark, and that
Copenhagen had been the common l