nflinching
method of building up his edifice of invective, stone by stone; his
close, unidealistic, dry penetration into character; his clinical
attitude, unmoved at the death-bed of a reputation; that all these
qualities were directly operative on the mind and intellectual character
of Ibsen, and went a long way to mould it while moulding was still
possible.

There is no evidence to show that the oration of Cicero moved him nearly
so much as the narratives of Sallust. After all, the object of Cicero
was to crush the conspiracy, but what Ibsen was interested in was
the character of Catiline, and this was placed before him in a more
thrilling way by the austere reserve of the historian. No doubt, to a
young poet, when that poet was Ibsen, there would be something deeply
attractive in the sombre, archaic style, and icy violence of Sallust.
How thankful we ought to be that the historian, with his long sonorous
words--_flagitiosorum ac facinorosorum_--did not make of our perfervid
apothecary a mere tub-thumper of Corinthian prose!

Ibsen now formed the two earliest friendships of his life. He had
reached the age of twenty without, as it would seem, having been able
to make his inner nature audible to those around him. He had been to
the inhabitants of Grimstad a stranger within their gates, not speaking
their language; or, rather, wholly "spectral," speaking no language at
all, but indulging in cat-calls and grimaces. He was now discovered like
Caliban, and tamed, and made vocal, by the strenuous arts of friendship.
One of those who thus interpreted him was a young musician, Due, who
held a post in the custom-house; the other was Ole Schulerud (1827-59),
who deserves a cordial acknowledgment from every admirer of Ibsen. He
also was in the receipt of custom, and a young man of small independent
means. To Schulerud and to Due, Ibsen revealed his poetic plans, and
he seems to have found in them both sympathizers with his republican
enthusiasms and transcendental schemes for the liberation of the
peoples. It was a stirring time, in 1848, and all generous young blood
was flowing fast in the same direction.

Since Ibsen's death, Due has published a very lively paper of
recollections of the old Grimstad days. He says:

His daily schedule admitted few intervals for rest or sleep. Yet I never
heard Ibsen complain of being tired. His health was uniformly good.
He must have had an exceptionally strong constitution, for when his
f