Another aspect of the question was: Did the consistent determinism of modern Science, the discovery of an unalterable interdependency in the intellectual, as in the physical worlds, allow scope for actions proceeding otherwise than merely illusorily from the free purpose or determination of the individual? Very difficult the question was, and I did not feel confident of solving it; but it was some consolation to reflect that the doubt as to the possibility of demonstrating a full application of the law in the domain in which chance has sway, and Ethics its sphere, was comparatively infinitesimal in the case of those domains in which men make themselves felt by virtue of genius or talent as producers of literary and artistic works. Here, where natural gifts and their necessary deployment were of such extraordinary weight, the probability of a demonstration of natural laws was, of course, much greater.
The general fundamental question was: Given a literature, a philosophy, an art, or a branch of art, what is the attitude of mind that produces it? What are its sufficing and necessary conditions? What, for instance, causes England in the sixteenth century to acquire a dramatic poetry of the first rank, or Holland in the seventeenth century a painting art of the first rank, without any of the other branches of art simultaneously bearing equally fine fruit in the same country?
My deliberations resulted, for the time being, in the conviction that all profound historical research was psychical research.
That old piece of work, revised, as it now is, has certainly none but historic interest; but for a doctor's thesis, it is still a tolerably readable book and may, at any rate, introduce a beginner to reflection upon great problems.
After the fundamental scientific questions that engaged my attention, I was most interested in artistic style. There was, in modern Danish prose, no author who unreservedly appealed to me; in German Heinrich Kleist, and in French Mérimée, were the stylists whom I esteemed most. The latter, in fact, it seemed to me was a stylist who, in unerring sureness, terseness and plasticism, excelled all others. He had certainly not much warmth or colour, but he had a sureness of line equal to that of the greatest draughtsmen of Italian art. His aridity was certainly not winning, and, in reading him, I frequently felt a lack of breadth of view and horizon, but the compelling power of his line- drawing captivated me. When my doctor's thesis was finished, towards the middle of December, 1869, both it and the collection of articles bearing the name Criticisms and Portraits were placed in the printer's hands. In the beginning of 1870 two hitherto unprinted pieces were added, of which one was a paper written some time before on Kamma Rahbek, which had been revised, the other, a new one on Mérimée, which in general shows what at that time I admired in style.
It had long been settled that as soon as I had replied to the critics of my thesis I should start on prolonged travels, the real educational travels of a young man's life. I had a little money lying ready, a small bursary, and a promise of a travelling allowance from the State, which promise, however, was not kept. This journey had for a long time been haunting my fancy. I cherished an ardent wish to see France again, but even more especially to go to Italy and countries still farther South. My hope of catching a glimpse of Northern Africa was only fulfilled thirty-five years later; but I got as far as Italy, which was the actual goal of my desires. I knew enough of the country, its history from ancient days until then, and was sufficiently acquainted with its Art from Roman times upwards and during the Renaissance, to be regarded as passed for intellectual consecration in the South.
When the thesis was done with and the printing of the second book was nearing completion, not anxiety to travel, but melancholy and heavy- heartedness at the thought of my departure, gained the upper hand. It had been decided that I was to remain away at least a year, and it was less to myself than to others whom I must necessarily leave behind, that the time seemed immeasurably long. Professor Schiödte advised me rather to take several short journeys than one long one; but that was impracticable. I wanted to get quite away from the home atmosphere. As, however, there were some who thought of my journey with disquiet and dread, and from whom it was difficult for me to tear myself, I put off my departure as long as I could. At last the remnant of work that still bound me to Copenhagen was finished, and then all the new and enriching prospects my stay in foreign countries was to bring me shone in a golden light. Full of undaunted hope, I set out on my travels at the beginning of April, 1870.
[SECOND LONGER STAY ABROAD]
Hamburg--My Second Fatherland--Ernest Hello--Le Docteur Noir-- Taine--Renan--Marcelin--Gleyre--Taine's Friendship--Renan at Home-- Philarète Chasles' Reminiscences--Le Théâtre Français--Coquelin --Bernhardt--Beginnings of Main Currents--The Tuileries--John Stuart Mill--London--Philosophical Studies--London and Paris Compared-- Antonio Gallenga and His Wife--Don Juan Prim--Napoleon III--London Theatres--Gladstone and Disraeli in Debate--Paris on the Eve of War-- First Reverses--Flight from Paris--Geneva, Switzerland--Italy--Pasquale Villari--Vinnie Ream's Friendship--Roman Fever--Henrik Ibsen's Influence--Scandinavians in Rome.