Complete Works of Henrik Ibsen (711 page)

SPEECHE
S

SPEECH AT THE UNVEILING OF THE MEMORIAL STATUE ON P. A. MUNCH’S GRAVE IN ROME, JUNE 12th, 186
5

Ladies and Gentlemen:

I HAVE been asked to say a few words on the occasion of the monument which has recently been erected here on the grave of my departed countryman.

As far as I can see, about all the Swedes and Danes who at present live in Rome are here to-day. This was not more than I had expected; for if there is anything in which the Scandinavian brother spirit has manifested itself hitherto as living and really existing, it is in a never-abating readiness to celebrate each other’s festivals.

But my stay in Rome has a long time ago removed the prejudice, pardonable indeed, that the Scandinavian spirit of unity is out of the question except in connection with international festivities. However, it is true, down here we are not troubled by the trivialities of daily life, which dull and weaken, nor are we threatened by the moments in which great crises take place, and about which history gives evidence that in former days they uplifted and fortified nations as well as individuals, but which in our times have another effect.

However that may be, I thank you on behalf of my countrymen and myself because you have made your appearance here, and because I know with certainty that your presence is more than a mere form of politeness. Each of you has known the deceased, at least by name; his works are found among you, at least they are found on the shelves of our library; several of you have lived part of your Roman life together with him, and I believe it would be difficult to come in contact with such a man without getting to love him.

My countrymen of course embrace his memory with all the esteem which is being shared by every Norwegian. The Swedes, who themselves have a great and rich and brilliant literature about their equally great and rich and brilliant past history, know and appreciate what Norway possessed and what she has lost in Munch.

With the Danes, however, the case is somewhat different. Munch’s name is not as a rule mentioned with love in Denmark. I have myself experienced it, experienced it often, and it has grieved me. However, I believe that it is here as is so often the case, mere parrotry rather than a clear and vivid comprehension of the true nature of the question, which has spread this sentiment among the multitude. Whenever I asked a Dane: Why is it then after all that you dislike Munch? I have almost always received the answer: “Well, we dislike him first because of his theory of immigration, according to which the Danes are of another origin than the inhabitants of the remainder of Scandinavia; and next we dislike him for his advice to Denmark to become the admiralty state of Germany.”

On the first point I will only say: Leave that to our scholars; among them it is in the best of hands. It has already given rise to many ingenious theories and shall probably give rise to still more, before the time comes, when nothing more can be said either for or against. But one thing I wish in this connection to say to you Danes, and for the sake of us all I would that I could say it in such a manner that it could be heard by all of your people: Exterminate by word and intellectual achievement, exterminate through your art and your literature, exterminate by your whole manner of living and thinking and being, that faction in your country which with such surprisingly sympathetical ties feels itself drawn toward the South, that faction in your country which does all its work with eyes turned thither, as if it had there its kin, its original home, and which to a layman almost furnishes proof that at least as far as some of you are concerned, there might after all be some truth in the theory of Munch. This would be the most dignified way to protest; and if the assertion of our late historian might contribute its share to goad you on to this, then the time might still come when you, like ourselves, thank God that he threw out this theory, even if it should prove to be a delusion ten times over.

That his advice regarding the position which your country ought to hold in Europe has given you offense, I can understand; but it is inconsistent to make him the object of hatred on this account, while you at the same time, with the good nature which is peculiar to your nation, open your arms and hearts to the many among the brother countries’ so-called correct Scandinavians who certainly never would have given you advice harsh and offensive in form, such as Munch gave it, but who, by failing you in your need, by staying away from the place where, in the moment of the common danger, we should have expected to find them, have in fact contributed to drive you so sadly far on along the way which you were so offended at Munch for pointing out as the one that was most suitable to you.

Whatever Munch has expressed was his conviction at the moment he gave utterance to it, of that I am convinced, and that ought to make your feelings toward him less harsh. Let, then, — this I say to you Swedes, Danes, and Norwegians, — let the consummation come about that the truth may become a power in our common companionship; we have seen what phrases lead to. We have so far in our national negotiations parleyed like diplomats, we have exchanged polite notes, we have been delicate like a perfume, and it was only when the serious part of the feast was to begin that we realized sufficiently what the whole business so far had been, —— a fragrance, neither more nor less.

People at home in Norway were wont to say of Munch that he was inconsistent, and abroad they have echoed this. But that depends on how it is looked at. A statesman, or on the whole a man who has a great, certain, imperative task to perform, may say that no storm shall drive him from his path, —— and if the man is as strong as his words, no storm will drive him from his path, either.

But thus neither can nor shall the scientific investigator speak. He has not the road staked out before him: he must break it through thickets and mire, must many a time turn around and begin from a new starting point in order to reach his goal, which he cannot in advance arbitrarily fix, but which just through his investigation is laboriously to be discovered. In this respect Munch has been inconsistent; that shall be said to his honour here on his grave.

Thus I think that after all we are all assembled here in common love and respect for the memory of the deceased.

The stone which is here erected his nation has not placed over him; it originates from a small circle of his friends. But I will hope that the state will follow their example. I will hope that at home among us it will erect to him a visible memorial, in its way just as dignified as the one by which his grave here is marked.

I know that at home there are many who think that there was done exceedingly much during his lifetime on the part of the state for Munch and his scientific work. This is a misunderstanding which I here shall protest against. The state has done its duty, nothing more. But the misunderstanding arises from the fact, that in most cases of the same kind the state does much less than its duty. This displaces the standard for what may with due right be demanded from it.

As long as the state authorities only regard themselves as called upon to take care of the
welfare of the political community
, and do not place the
development of the nation’s life
on the same plane, so long have they solved only one, and that hardly the chief, half of their task.
States
like ours cannot defend themselves by their material prosperity, but
nations
like ours can, if they do their work in the service of culture, science, art, and literature, acquire for themselves a right to exist, a right which history shows that violence and power from without always have been careful not to attack.

In our home countries the individual has, as far as his ability goes, both heart and help for the activity that aims to support and lift our internal, national life; this I must from my own experience and with gratitude acknowledge, and I think that several of my countrymen here may likewise do the same. But the state as such in our countries sees as yet in free science, in art, and in literature only the decorations, not the pillars and the beams of the edifice. This humiliating state of affairs I should think, it might now be time to see ended. The man who does the intellectual work in a nation has a right to carry his head high; he has a right to protest when for
his
task is offered only a part of the surplus which is left after the material needs of the state have been satisfied, and that even only provided these needs leave any surplus.

Things cannot continue thus. I will hope that the serious and sad events of the latter times have opened our eyes to the fact that it is the strength of the
nation
, and not of the
state
, which saves, if there is indeed a possibility of salvation — and in this lies a hint for every state which wants to preserve its own existence, and which has no superior might to depend upon.

Therefore, I will also hope that our state authorities, as one of the many things which are to testify to a more elevated program for the future, will erect a memorial to Munch at home, a memorial which is worthy of his country, of himself, and of his work.

SPEECH TO THE NORWEGIAN STUDENTS SEPTEMBER 10th, 187
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Gentlemen:

WHEN during the latter years of my stay abroad it became more and more evident to me that it had now become a necessity for me to see my own country again, I will not deny that it was with considerable trepidation and doubt that I proceeded to put my journey home into effect. My stay here was, to be sure, intended to be only of short duration, but I felt, that however short it was to be, it might be long enough to disturb an illusion which I should like to continue to live in.

I asked myself: in what sort of spirit will my countrymen receive me? The favourable reception which the books I sent home have found could not quite reassure me; for the question always arose: what is my personal relation to my countrymen?

For it certainly cannot be denied that at several points there has been a feeling of animosity. So far as I have been able to understand, the complaints against me have been of a twofold nature. People have thought that I have regarded my personal and private relations at home with undue bitterness, and they have furthermore reproached me for having attacked occurrences in our national life which, according to the opinion of many, deserved quite a different sort of treatment than mockery.

I do not think I could use this day, so honourable and joyful to me, to better purpose than to make an explanation and a confession.

My private relations I have never made the direct subject of any poetical work. In the earlier hard times these relations were of less importance to me than I have afterwards often been able to justify to myself. When the nest of the eider duck was robbed the first and second and third time, it was of illusions and of great hopes of life that it was robbed. When at festival gatherings I have been sensible of recollections like the bear in the hands of his tamer, it has been because I have been co-responsible in a time which buried a glorious thought amid song and feasting.

And what is it then that constitutes a poet? As for me, it was a long time before I realized that to be a poet, that is chiefly to see, but mark well, to see in such a manner that the thing seen is perceived by his audience just as the poet saw it. But thus is seen and thus is appreciated that only which has been lived through. And as regards the thing which has been lived through, that is just the secret of the literature of modern times. All that I have written, these last ten years, I have, mentally, lived through. But no poet lives through anything isolated. What he lives through all of his countrymen live through together with him. For if that were not so, what would establish the bridge of understanding between the producing and the receiving mind?

And what is it, then, that I have lived through and written on? The range has been large. Partly, I have written on that which only by glimpses and at my best moments I have felt stirring vividly within me as something great and beautiful. I have written on that which, so to speak, has stood higher than my daily self, and I have written on this in order to fasten it over against and within myself.

But I have also written on the opposite, on that which to introspective contemplation appears as the dregs and sediment of one’s own nature. The work of writing has in this case been to me like a bath which I have felt to leave cleaner, healthier, and freer. Yes, gentlemen, nobody can poetically present that to which he has not to a certain degree and at least at times the model within himself. And who is the man among us who has not now and then felt and acknowledged within himself a contradiction between word and action, between will and task, between life and teaching on the whole? Or who is there among us who has not, at least in some cases, selfishly been sufficient unto himself, and half unconsciously, half in good faith, has extenuated this conduct both to others and to himself?

I have thought that when I say this to you, to the students, it will reach exactly its right address. It will be understood as it is to be understood; for a student has essentially the same task as the poet: to make clear to himself, and thereby to others, the temporal and eternal questions which are astir in the age and in the community to which he belongs.

In this respect I dare to say of myself that, during my stay abroad, I have endeavored to be a good student. A poet by nature belongs to the far-sighted. Never have I seen the fatherland and the actual life of the fatherland so fully, so clearly, and at a closer range than just from afar and during my absence.

And now, my dear countrymen, in conclusion a few words which are likewise connected with something I have lived through. When Emperor Julian stands at the end of his career, and everything collapses round about him, there is nothing which renders him so despondent as the thought that all which he had gained was this: to be remembered with respectful appreciation by clear and cool heads, whereas his opponents lived on, rich in the love of warm, living human hearts. This motive has proceeded from something that I have lived through; it has its origin in a question that I have at times put to myself, down there in the solitude. Now the young people of Norway have come to me here to-night and given me the answer in word and song, have given me the answer so warmly and so clearly as I had never expected to hear it. This answer I will take along as the richest result of my visit with my countrymen at home, and it is my hope and my belief that what I experience to-night is an inner experience which sometime shall find its reflection in a coming work. And if this happens, if sometime I shall send such a book home, then I ask that the students receive it as if it were a handshake and a thanks for this meeting; I ask you to receive it as the ones who have a share in it.