_Terje
Vigen_ is a masterpiece of what we may define as the "dash-away-a-manly-
tear" class of narrative. It is extremely well written and picturesque,
but the wonder is that, of all people in the world, Ibsen should have
written it.
His short lyric poems of this period betray much more clearly the real
temper of the man. They are filled full and brimming over with longing
and impatience, with painful passion and with hope deferred. It is in
the strident lyrics Ibsen wrote between 1857 and 1863 that we can best
read the record of his mind, and share its exasperations, and wonder at
its elasticity. The series of sonnets _In a Picture Gallery_ is a
strangely violent confession of distrust in his own genius; the _Epistle
to H. O. Blom_ a candid admission of his more than distrust in the
talent and honesty of others. It was the peculiarity and danger of
Ibsen's position that he represented no one but himself. For instance,
the liberty of many of the expressions in _Love's Comedy_ led those who
were beginning a movement in favor of the emancipation of women to
believe that Ibsen was in sympathy with them, but he was not.
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