Essays on Scandinavian Literature | Page 5

with their mode of thought and
speech, and it entered into his being, and became his own natural mode
of expression. There is in his daily conversation a certain grim
directness, and a laconic weightiness, which give an air of importance
and authority even to his simplest utterances. This tendency to
compression frequently has the effect of obscurity, not because his
thought is obscure, but rather because energetic brevity of expression
has fallen into disuse, and even a Norse public, long accustomed to the
wordy diffuseness of latter-day bards, have in part lost the faculty to
comprehend the genius of their own language. As a Danish critic
wittily observed: "Björnson's language is but one step removed from
pantomime."
In 1858 Björnson assumed the directorship of the theatre in Bergen,
and there published his second tale, "Arne," in which the same
admirable self-restraint, the same implicit confidence in the intelligence
of his reader, the same firm-handed decision and vigor in the
character-drawing, in fact, all the qualities which delighted the public
in "Synnöve Solbakken," were found in an intensified degree.
In the meanwhile, Björnson had also made his début as a dramatist. In
the year 1858 he had published two dramas, "Mellem Slagene"
(Between the Battles) and "Halte-Hulda" (Limping Hulda) both of
which deal with national subjects, taken from the old sagas. As in his
tales he had endeavored to concentrate into a few strongly defined

types the modern folk-life of the North, so in his dramas the same
innate love of his nationality leads him to seek the typical features of
his people, as they are revealed in the historic chieftains of the past.
"Between the Battles" is a dramatic episode rather than a drama.
During the civil war between King Sverre and King Magnus in the
twelfth century, the former visits in disguise a hut upon the mountains
where a young warrior, Halvard Gjaela and Inga, his beloved, are living
together. The long internecine strife has raised the hand of father
against son, and of brother against brother. Halvard sympathizes with
Sverre; Inga, who hates the king because he has burned her father's
farm, is a partisan of Magnus. In the absence of her lover she goes to
the latter's camp and brings back with her a dozen warriors for the
purpose of capturing Halvard, and thereby preventing him from joining
the enemy. Sverre discovers the warriors, whom she has hidden in the
cow-stable, and persuading them that he is a spy for King Magnus
sends two of them to his own army for reinforcements. In the
meanwhile he reconciles the estranged lovers, makes peace between
them and Inga's father, and finally, in the last scene, as his men arrive,
is recognized as the king.
This is, of course, a venerable coup de théâtre. Whatever novelty there
is in the play must be sought, not in the situations, but in the pithy and
laconic dialogue, which has a distinct national coloring. This was not
the amiable diffuseness of Oehlenschlaeger, who had hitherto
dominated the Norwegian as well as the Danish stage; and yet it did not
by any means represent so complete a breach with the traditions of the
romantic drama as was claimed by Björnson's admirers. The fresh
naturalness and absence of declamation were a gain, no doubt; but there
are yet several notes remaining which have the well-known romantic
cadence. "Between the Battles," though too slight to be called an
achievement, was accepted as a pledge of achievement in future.
Björnson's next drama "Limping Hulda" ("Halte-Hulda") (1858) was a
partial fulfilment of this pledge. If it is not high tragedy, in the ancient
sense, it is of the stuff that tragedy is made of. Hulda is an impressive
stage figure in her demoniac passion and tiger-like tenderness. Though

I doubt if Björnson has, in this type, caught the soul of a Norse woman
of the saga age, he has come much nearer to catching it than any of his
predecessors. If Gudrun Osvif's Daughter, of the Laxdoela Saga, was
his model, he has modernized her considerably, and thereby made her
more intelligible to modern readers. Like her, Hulda causes the murder
of the man she loves; and there is a fateful spell about her beauty which
brings death to whomsoever looks too long upon it. Though ostensibly
a saga-drama, the harshness and grim ferocity of that sanguinary period
are softened; and a romantic illumination pervades the whole action. A
certain lyrical effusiveness in the love passages (which is alien to all
Björnson's later works) hints at the influence of the Danish
Romanticists, and particularly Oehlenschlaeger.
It would be unfair, perhaps, to take the author to task because this
youthful drama exhibits no remarkable subtlety in its conception of
character. It contains no really great living figure who stands squarely