A young man who plunged into philosophical study at the beginning of
the sixties in Denmark, and was specially engrossed by the boundary
relations between Philosophy and Religion, could not but come to the
conclusion that philosophical life would never flourish in Danish soil
until a great intellectual battle had been set on foot, in the course
of which conflicting opinions which had never yet been advanced in
express terms should be made manifest and wrestle with one another,
until it became clear which standpoints were untenable and which could
be maintained. Although he cherished warm feelings of affection for
both R. Nielsen and Bröchner the two professors of Philosophy, he could
not help hoping for a discussion between them of the fundamental
questions which were engaging his mind. As Bröchner's pupil, I said a
little of what was in my mind to him, but could not induce him to
begin. Then I begged Gabriel Sibbern to furnish a thorough criticism of
Nielsen's books, but he declined. I began to doubt whether I should be
able to persuade the elder men to speak.
A review in The _Fatherland_ of the first part of Nielsen's _Logic of
Fundamental Ideas_ roused my indignation. It was in diametric
opposition to what I considered irrefutably true, and was written in
the style, and with the metaphors, which the paper's literary
criticisms had brought into fashion, a style that was repugnant to me
with its sham poetical, or meaninglessly flat expressions ("Matter is
the hammer-stroke that the Ideal requires"--"Spontaneity is like food
that has once been eaten").
In an eleven-page letter to Bröchner I condensed all that I had thought
about the philosophical study at the University during these first
years of my youth, and proved to him, in the keenest terms I could
think of, that it was his duty to the ideas whose spokesman he was, to
come forward, and that it would be foolish, in fact wrong, to leave the
matter alone. I knew well enough that I was jeopardising my precious
friendship with Bröchner by my action, but I was willing to take the
risk. I did not expect any immediate result of my letter, but thought
to myself that it should ferment, and some time in the future might
bear fruit. The outcome of it far exceeded my expectations, inasmuch as
Bröchner was moved by my letter, and not only thanked me warmly for my
daring words, but went without delay to Nielsen and told him that he
intended to write a book on his entire philosophical activity and
significance. Nielsen took his announcement with a good grace.
However, as Bröchner immediately afterwards lost his young wife, and
was attacked by the insidious consumption which ravaged him for ten
years, the putting of this resolution into practice was for several
years deferred.
At that I felt that I myself must venture, and, as a beginning, Julius
Lange and I, in collaboration, wrote a humorous article on Schmidt's
review of _The Logic of Fundamental Ideas_, which Lange was to get into
_The Daily Paper_, to which he had access. Three days after the article
was finished Lange came to me and told me that to his dismay it
was--gone. It was so exactly like him that I was just as delighted as
if he had informed me that the article was printed. For some time we
hoped that it might be on Lange's table, for, the day before, he had
said:
"I am not of a curious disposition, but I should like to know what
there really is on that table!"
However, it had irrevocably disappeared.
I then came forward myself with a number of shorter articles which I
succeeded in getting accepted by the _Fatherland_. When I entered for
the first time Ploug's tiny little office high up at the top of a house
behind Höjbro Place, the gruff man was not unfriendly. Surprised at the
youthful appearance of the person who walked in, he merely burst out:
"How old are you?" And to the reply: "Twenty-three and a half," he said
smilingly, "Don't forget the half."
The first article was not printed for months; the next ones appeared
without such long delay. But Ploug was somewhat uneasy about the
contents of them, and cautiously remarked that there was "not to be any
fun made of Religion," which it could not truthfully be said I had
done. But I had touched upon dogmatic Belief and that was enough.
Later on, Ploug had a notion that, as he once wrote, he had excluded me
from the paper as soon as he perceived my mischievous tendency. This
was a failure of memory on his part; the reason I left the paper was a
different one, and I left of my own accord.
Bold and surly, virile and reliable as Ploug seemed, in things
journalistic you could place slight dependence on his word. His dearest
friend admitted as much; he gave his consent, and then forgot it, or
withdrew it. Nothing is more general, but it made an overweening
impression on a beginner like myself, inexperienced in the ways of life.
When Ibsen's _Brand_ came out, creating an unusual sensation, I asked
Ploug if I might review the book and received a definite "Yes" from
him. I then wrote my article, to which I devoted no little pains, but
when I took it in it was met by him, to my astonishment, with the
remark that the paper had now received another notice from their
regular reviewer, whom he "could not very well kick aside." Ploug's
promise had apparently been meaningless! I went my way with my article,
firmly resolved never to go there again.
From 1866 to 1870 I sought and found acceptance for my newspaper
articles (not very numerous) in Bille's _Daily Paper_, which in its
turn closed its columns to me after my first series of lectures at the
University of Copenhagen. Bille as an editor was pleasant, a little
patronising, it is true, but polite and invariably good-tempered. He
usually received his contributors reclining at full length on his sofa,
his head, with its beautifully cut features, resting against a cushion
and his comfortable little stomach protruding. He was scarcely of
medium height, quick in everything he did, very clear, a little flat;
very eloquent, but taking somewhat external views; pleased at the great
favour he enjoyed among the Copenhagen bourgeoisie. If he entered
Tivoli's Concert Hall in an evening all the waiter's ran about at once
like cockroaches. They hurried to know what he might please to want,
and fetched chairs for him and his party. Gay, adaptable, and
practised, he was the principal speaker at every social gathering. In
his editorial capacity he was courteous, decided, and a man of his
word; he did not allow himself to be alarmed by trifles. When Björnson
attacked me (I was at the time his youngest contributor), he raised my
scale of pay, unsolicited. The first hitch in our relations occurred
when in 1869 I published a translation of Mill's Subjection of Women.
This book roused Bille's exasperation and displeasure. He forbade it to
be reviewed in his paper, refused me permission to defend it in the
paper, and would not even allow the book in his house, so that his
family had to read it clandestinely, as a dangerous and pernicious work.