The San Francisco call., 1908-11-29

Skien-his native place-Ibsen's life
was sunless and poverty pinehed. Till
he was past middle age he gained
neither countenance nor encOuragement
IN his own land: indeed, he was deemed
a man of no ability at all
At the time OF his death he was, as
Norwegian wealth is estimated, a very
rich man. He was worth 100000 and
that is a princely fortune in Norway.
IbSen did not know what to do with all
this money, so he boarded it: he never
could be induced to invest penny OF it.
He trusted no one even in the most
trifing financial transactions.
In the face of his cloudy Dast II was
not therefore surprising that Henrik
Ibsen grew more and more misan-
thropic and died shrOuded in his own
cOnceit. With so little that was gen.
timely jOy5us in his life, there was
nothing left but the creature comforts
and the superficial adulatiOn OF a few
foreigners. Fame-even in literature
is not founded on the hasty scrutiny OF
ones person by handful OF Cook .
tourists; but that. sort of thing ae-
tually brought complaeence to the mind
of Henrik Ibsen.
knowing that the moment he left his
house in Christiania he would become
the center Of interest along the.streets.
he was always careful to dress for the
occasion
His clothes were made of brOadcioth
of fine texture. his tailor was the best
in Christiania- He always wore a tile
OF metallic smoothness- His boots were
of patent leather. Toilet articles he
carried about with him always and
everywhere. and frequently ne brought
them into requisitiOn in the most public
places While on exhibition in the
hotel garden in full view of a cOsmO-
I NO. a
for him TO take from his pocket comb
or brush and caressingly stroke his
famous white Whiskers, or lift to
greater height his equally famous
white pOmpadOur locks. which stood
straight up in the air like a miniature
Mount Blanc He had trick of brush
ing his hat with the sleeve of his coat
Now and then he paused. looking long
I and earnestly into the opening OF his
/ headpiece He presented at such
time the picture Of a leonine sage OF
7 the sagas deep in the maze Of some
vast problem of the cosmos 1t was all
/ a mistake: it was Ibsen critically view
ing Ibsen. There was a mirror fastened
in the bottom OF his hat and he was
looking after the twist of his cravat.
"But when Ibsen, the author. had
formulated the scheme for new drama
and had determined to weld and mold
it into form. then occurred his meta
mOrphosis from fop TO wOrkman-a
I workman ob1iviOus Of the whole wide
I world. its peoples and it's passions. The
butterfly drew back into it's chrysalis,
! the feasting crowds at the Grand hotel
could no longer feast their eyes on
( Henrik Ibsen, nor watch him stroke his
I whiskers and sip brandy and soda at
! five minutes intervals. The vulgar.
( vain foolish old man had become a
venerable giant forging a masterpiece
! in absolute solitude Suddenly he would
Z shut himself up to write. He would see
/ no one. answer no communications. No
I clOistered monk was more isolated from
[ the moving world than Henrik Ibsen
{ when the fever of composition was
/ upon him. He ate. slept. lived alone.
\ Asked why he followed the life of a
hermit while he was working upon new
production Ibsen replied with charac-
teristic terseness: 4 am living with my
( characters at such times. They haye
form and life. They talk with me; they
dine with me. They are near me all
the time. I write down their conver-
I sations. their thoughts. My work comes
along very fast 1 never have to erase
, a line I have thought out the plot in
my mind: / know the play FROM the
first scene to the last. even the dia-
logue, and it is only necessary for me
to write it out as quickly as possible.
! During this time I am not Heffik ID
I sen. / do not live in Norway, nor IN
the world. My existence is apart from
/ life, in a sphere of my own creation
peopled by beings of my own creation
Thus lived the real Ibsen. a two
sided man of letters and the drama. one
all frills and foppery, vain, superciliOus.
childish; the other the thinker. the
worker, the genius"