Tales of Two Countries | Page 3

undertake to deny), it is such delicate and well-bred satire that no one,
except the originals, would think of taking offence. People are willing,
for the sake of the entertainment which it affords, to forgive a little
quiet malice at their neighbors' expense. The members of the provincial
bureaucracy are drawn with the same firm but delicate touch, and
everything has that beautiful air of reality which proves the world akin.
It was by no means a departure from his previous style and tendency
which Kielland signalized in his next novel, Laboring People (1881).
He only emphasizes, as it were, the heavy, serious bass chords in the
composite theme which expresses his complex personality, and allows
the lighter treble notes to be momentarily drowned. Superficially

speaking, there is perhaps a reminiscence of Zola in this book, not in
the manner of treatment, but in the subject, which is the corrupting
influence of the higher classes upon the lower. There is no denying that
in spite of the ability, which it betrays in every line, Laboring People is
unpleasant reading. It frightened away a host of the author's early
admirers by the uncompromising vigor and the glaring realism with
which it depicted the consequences of vicious indulgence. It showed no
consideration for delicate nerves, but was for all that a clean and
wholesome book.
Kielland's third novel, Skipper Worse, marked a distinct step in his
development. It was less of a social satire and more of a social study. It
was not merely a series of brilliant, exquisitely-finished scenes, loosely
strung together on a slender thread of narrative, but it was a concise,
and well constructed story, full of beautiful scenes and admirable
portraits. The theme is akin to that of Daudet's _L'Evangéliste_; but
Kielland, as it appears to me, has in this instance outdone his French
_confrère_ as regards insight into the peculiar character and poetry of
the pietistic movement. He has dealt with it as a psychological and not
primarily as a pathological phenomenon. A comparison with Daudet
suggests itself constantly in reading Kielland. Their methods of
workmanship and their attitude towards life have many points in
common. The charm of style, the delicacy of touch and felicity of
phrase, is in both cases pre-eminent. Daudet has, however, the
advantage (or, as he himself asserts, the disadvantage) of working in a
flexible and highly-finished language, which bears the impress of the
labors of a hundred masters; while Kielland has to produce his effects
of style in a poorer and less pliable language, which often pants and
groans in its efforts to render a subtle thought. To have polished this
tongue and sharpened its capacity for refined and incisive utterance is
one--and not the least--of his merits.
Though he has by nature no more sympathy with the pietistic
movement than Daudet, Kielland yet manages to get, psychologically,
closer to his problem. His pietists are more humanly interesting than
those of Daudet, and the little drama which they set in motion is more
genuinely pathetic. Two superb figures--the lay preacher, Hans Nilsen,
and Skipper Worse--surpass all that the author had hitherto produced,
in depth of conception and brilliancy of execution. The marriage of that

delightful, profane old sea-dog Jacob Worse, with the pious Sara
Torvested, and the attempts of his mother-in-law to convert him, are
described, not with the merely superficial drollery to which the subject
invites, but with a sweet and delicate humor, which trembles on the
verge of pathos.
The beautiful story Elsie, which, though published separately, is
scarcely a full-grown novel, is intended to impress society with a sense
of responsibility for its outcasts. While Björnstjerne Björnson is fond of
emphasizing the responsibility of the individual to society, Kielland
chooses by preference to reverse the relation. The former (in his
remarkable novel _Flags are Flying in City and Harbor_) selects a hero
with vicious inherited tendencies, redeemed by wise education and
favorable environment; the latter portrays in Elsie a heroine with no
corrupt predisposition, destroyed by the corrupting environment which
society forces upon those who are born in her circumstances. Elsie
could not be good, because the world is so constituted that girls of her
kind are not expected to be good. Temptations, perpetually thronging in
her way, break down the moral bulwarks of her nature. Resistance
seems in vain. In the end there is scarcely one who, having read her
story, will have the heart to condemn her.
Incomparably clever is the satire on the benevolent societies, which
appear to exist as a sort of moral poultice to tender consciences, and to
furnish an officious sense of virtue to its prosperous members. "The
Society for the Redemption of the Abandoned Women of St. Peter's
Parish" is presided over by a gentleman who privately furnishes
subjects for his public benevolence.