noeve Solbakken_, 1857,
and _Arne_, 1858, made his name famous. These, and his other peasant
stories, will always retain their popularity. He soon, however,
entered the dramatic field, and has since published a great number of
dramas and novels.

In the field of belles-lettres there is at the present time a number
of other talented authors. Jonas Lie (born 1833) has produced a number
of excellent novels. Then there are Alexander Kielland (born 1849)
Magdalene Thoresen (born 1819), Arne Garborg, Gunnar Heiberg, and a
number of young authors.

In the field of science, also, modern Norway has a rich literature,
with many prominent names, such as the historian Peter Andreas Munch
(1810-1864), Johan Ernst Sars (born 1835), and O.A. Oeverland.[e]

CHAPTER VI

THE LITERATURE OF SWEDEN

Swedish literature is sublime and magnificent, like its history and
its scenery; it is simple and glad, as well as sad, like the lives of
its people. One of the great days in Sweden, or at least in Stockholm,
is the celebration, on the 26th of July, of the anniversary of the
birth, more than a century and a half ago, of the national poet
Bellman.

His songs are as household words throughout the land. To the Stockholm
born they speak of their daily life and surroundings, of the green
isles and shady banks of the Malar, the flowery woods of Haga, the
smiling park of Dijurgarden. Burlesque scenes of the life of the
people, street tragedies, drinking bouts, and country junketings;
broad humor and Nature's philosophy; lively fancies and exquisite
landscape painting--such are the themes of his song, which from one
generation to another has held the heart of the people spellbound.
Every man, woman, and child knows his favorite ditties by heart, has
sung or hummed them in moments of joy or sorrow. For his song is both
joyful and sad. His joy is the joy of the simple hearted, his gladness
a Dionysian gladness, the very enjoyment of existence; his sadness
that of sympathy with suffering humanity, of anguish at the
evanescence of life and happiness. His fancy oscillates between
constant extremes and ever-recurring contrasts. It makes of his song,
as Tegner has so aptly defined it, "a sorrow decked in roses." Bright,
gay, enraptured, full of sunshine and glamour, like the summer day
around Stockholm, it is traversed by a strain of melancholy like
a smile through tears, the laugh which conceals a sob. There is
symbolism and there is parody i