SPEECH AT THE UNVEILING OF THE MEMORIAL STATUE ON P. A. MUNCH’S GRAVE IN ROME, JUNE 12th, 1865

Ladies and Gentlemen:

I HAVE been asked to say a few words on the occasion of the monument which has recently been erected here on the grave of my departed countryman.

As far as I can see, about all the Swedes and Danes who at present live in Rome are here to-day. This was not more than I had expected; for if there is anything in which the Scandinavian brother spirit has manifested itself hitherto as living and really existing, it is in a never-abating readiness to celebrate each other’s festivals.

But my stay in Rome has a long time ago removed the prejudice, pardonable indeed, that the Scandinavian spirit of unity is out of the question except in connection with international festivities. However, it is true, down here we are not troubled by the trivialities of daily life, which dull and weaken, nor are we threatened by the moments in which great crises take place, and about which history gives evidence that in former days they uplifted and fortified nations as well as individuals, but which in our times have another effect.

However that may be, I thank you on behalf of my countrymen and myself because you have made your appearance here, and because I know with certainty that your presence is more than a mere form of politeness. Each of you has known the deceased, at least by name; his works are found among you, at least they are found on the shelves of our library; several of you have lived part of your Roman life together with him, and I believe it would be difficult to come in contact with such a man without getting to love him.

My countrymen of course embrace his memory with all the esteem which is being shared by every Norwegian. The Swedes, who themselves have a great and rich and brilliant literature about their equally great and rich and brilliant past history, know and appreciate what Norway possessed and what she has lost in Munch.

With the Danes, however, the case is somewhat different. Munch’s name is not as a rule mentioned with love in Denmark. I have myself experienced it, experienced it often, and it has grieved me. However, I believe that it is here as is so often the case, mere parrotry rather than a clear and vivid comprehension of the true nature of the question, which has spread this sentiment among the multitude. Whenever I asked a Dane: Why is it then after all that you dislike Munch? I have almost always received the answer: “Well, we dislike him first because of his theory of immigration, according to which the Danes are of another origin than the inhabitants of the remainder of Scandinavia; and next we dislike him for his advice to Denmark to become the admiralty state of Germany.”

On the first point I will only say: Leave that to our scholars; among them it is in the best of hands. It has already given rise to many ingenious theories and shall probably give rise to still more, before the time comes, when nothing more can be said either for or against. But one thing I wish in this connection to say to you Danes, and for the sake of us all I would that I could say it in such a manner that it could be heard by all of your people: Exterminate by word and intellectual achievement, exterminate through your art and your literature, exterminate by your whole manner of living and thinking and being, that faction in your country which with such surprisingly sympathetical ties feels itself drawn toward the South, that faction in your country which does all its work with eyes turned thither, as if it had there its kin, its original home, and which to a layman almost furnishes proof that at least as far as some of you are concerned, there might after all be some truth in the theory of Munch. This would be the most dignified way to protest; and if the assertion of our late historian might contribute its share to goad you on to this, then the time might still come when you, like ourselves, thank God that he threw out this theory, even if it should prove to be a delusion ten times over.

That his advice regarding the position which your country ought to hold in Europe has given you offense, I can understand; but it is inconsistent to make him the object of hatred on this account, while you at the same time, with the good nature which is peculiar to your nation, open your arms and hearts to the many among the brother countries’ so-called correct Scandinavians who certainly never would have given you advice harsh and offensive in form, such as Munch gave it, but who, by failing you in your need, by staying away from the place where, in the moment of the common danger, we should have expected to find them, have in fact contributed to drive you so sadly far on along the way which you were so offended at Munch for pointing out as the one that was most suitable to you.

Whatever Munch has expressed was his conviction at the moment he gave utterance to it, of that I am convinced, and that ought to make your feelings toward him less harsh. Let, then, — this I say to you Swedes, Danes, and Norwegians, — let the consummation come about that the truth may become a power in our common companionship; we have seen what phrases lead to. We have so far in our national negotiations parleyed like diplomats, we have exchanged polite notes, we have been delicate like a perfume, and it was only when the serious part of the feast was to begin that we realized sufficiently what the whole business so far had been, —— a fragrance, neither more nor less.

People at home in Norway were wont to say of Munch that he was inconsistent, and abroad they have echoed this. But that depends on how it is looked at. A statesman, or on the whole a man who has a great, certain, imperative task to perform, may say that no storm shall drive him from his path, —— and if the man is as strong as his words, no storm will drive him from his path, either.

But thus neither can nor shall the scientific investigator speak. He has not the road staked out before him: he must break it through thickets and mire, must many a time turn around and begin from a new starting point in order to reach his goal, which he cannot in advance arbitrarily fix, but which just through his investigation is laboriously to be discovered. In this respect Munch has been inconsistent; that shall be said to his honour here on his grave.

Thus I think that after all we are all assembled here in common love and respect for the memory of the deceased.

The stone which is here erected his nation has not placed over him; it originates from a small circle of his friends. But I will hope that the state will follow their example. I will hope that at home among us it will erect to him a visible memorial, in its way just as dignified as the one by which his grave here is marked.

I know that at home there are many who think that there was done exceedingly much during his lifetime on the part of the state for Munch and his scientific work. This is a misunderstanding which I here shall protest against. The state has done its duty, nothing more. But the misunderstanding arises from the fact, that in most cases of the same kind the state does much less than its duty. This displaces the standard for what may with due right be demanded from it.

As long as the state authorities only regard themselves as called upon to take care of the welfare of the political community, and do not place the development of the nation’s life on the same plane, so long have they solved only one, and that hardly the chief, half of their task. States like ours cannot defend themselves by their material prosperity, but nations like ours can, if they do their work in the service of culture, science, art, and literature, acquire for themselves a right to exist, a right which history shows that violence and power from without always have been careful not to attack.

In our home countries the individual has, as far as his ability goes, both heart and help for the activity that aims to support and lift our internal, national life; this I must from my own experience and with gratitude acknowledge, and I think that several of my countrymen here may likewise do the same. But the state as such in our countries sees as yet in free science, in art, and in literature only the decorations, not the pillars and the beams of the edifice. This humiliating state of affairs I should think, it might now be time to see ended. The man who does the intellectual work in a nation has a right to carry his head high; he has a right to protest when for his task is offered only a part of the surplus which is left after the material needs of the state have been satisfied, and that even only provided these needs leave any surplus.

Things cannot continue thus. I will hope that the serious and sad events of the latter times have opened our eyes to the fact that it is the strength of the nation, and not of the state, which saves, if there is indeed a possibility of salvation — and in this lies a hint for every state which wants to preserve its own existence, and which has no superior might to depend upon.

Therefore, I will also hope that our state authorities, as one of the many things which are to testify to a more elevated program for the future, will erect a memorial to Munch at home, a memorial which is worthy of his country, of himself, and of his work.