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Updated: June 11, 2025
On meeting this lady, whom he knew, he turned round, walking with her as far as her house on the shores of the Lakes, after which his way led towards the town, as did mine. As long as Mrs. Thoresen was present, he naturally addressed his conversation to her and expressed himself, as his habit was, without much ceremony.
But when he had gone, and Nancy passed my door on her way to her room, I called her, and she came in. I was in bed, and I had the letter in my hand. "I want you to read it," I said. "It is from Olaf Thoresen." She looked at it, and asked, "When did it come?" "Two months ago. The day that he left." "Why haven't you shown it to me?" "I couldn't make up my mind.
Thoresen brought the conversation round to her favourite subject, love, he said, banteringly: "My heart is like the flags of the Zouave Regiments, so pierced with holes that it is almost impossible to tell what the material originally looked like." On the whole, he was animated and polite, but his glance was somewhat stinging.
Feud in Danish Literature Riding Youthful Longings On the Rack My First Living Erotic Reality An Impression of the Miseries of Modern Coercive Marriage Researches on the Comic Dramatic Criticism A Trip to Germany Johanne Louise Heiberg Magdalene Thoresen Rudolph Bergh The Sisters Spang A Foreign Element The Woman Subject Orla Lehmann M. Goldschmidt Public Opposition A Letter from Bjoernstjerne Bjoernson Hard Work.
Between Magdalene Thoresen and Ibsen a strong friendship had sprung up, which lasted to the end of their lives, and some of Ibsen's best letters are those written to his wife's step-mother. She worked hard for him at the Bergen theatre, translating plays from the French, and it was during Ibsen's management of the theatre that several of her own pieces were produced.
Our first conversation took place in the open air one Summer day, at the Klampenborg bathing establishment. Although Magdalene Thoresen was at that time at least forty-six years old, her warm, brownish complexion could well stand inspection in the strongest light.
I had admired her on the stage, even if not to the same extent as Michael Wiehe; but to me she was the representative of the great time that would soon sink into the grave. In addition, I ventured to hope that she, being a friend of Frederik Paludan-Mueller, Magdalene Thoresen and others who wished me well, would be at any rate somewhat friendly inclined towards me.
He waited, fortunately for his happiness, until he secured Susannah Thoresen. Mrs. Ibsen, his faithful guide, guardian and companion for half a century, will live among the entirely successful wives of difficult men of genius.
Magdalene Thoresen compared me one day to an unlighted glass candelabra, hanging amid several others all lighted up, which had the gleam of the fire on the countless facets of its crystals, but was itself nothing but cold, smooth, polished, prisms.
TO OYVIND THORESEN PLADSEN: The school-master has given me another letter from you, and I have just read it, but I do not understand it in the least, and that, I dare say, is because I am not learned. You want to know how it is with me in every respect; and I am healthy and well, and there is nothing at all the matter with me. I eat heartily, especially when I get milk porridge.
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