Text
The fisher maiden;
N you guess what I am dreaming about, and planning, and picturing to myself as something delightful?" wrote Ibsen to Georg Brandes from Christiania nine years ago: "The making of a home for myself near the Sound, between Copenhagen and Elsinore, on some free, open spot, whence I can see all the sea-going ships starting on and returning from their long voyages. That I can not do here. Here all the sounds are closed — in every acceptation of the word — and all the channels of intelligence are blocked. Oh, dear Brandes, it is not without its consequences that a man lives for twenty-seven years in the wider, emancipated and emancipating spiritual conditions of the great world. Up here, by the fiords, is my native land. But — but — but! where am I to find my homeland?" This cry of the spirit for companionship of aim, for a common and stimulating understanding with other men, has been heard many times by this generation;
No copy data
No other version available