THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 ;
 
 , 
 

 
 LIFE, LETTEKS, 
 
 POSTHUMOUS WORKS 
 
 Edited by her Sister, 
 
 CHARLOTTE BREMER. 
 
 Translated from the Swedish by 
 FREDR. MILOW. 
 
 THE POETRY MARKED WITH AN ASTERISK TRANSLATBO BY 
 
 EMILY NONNEN. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 PUBLISHED BY KURD AND HOUGHTON 
 
 459 BKOOME STREET 
 1868.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, by 
 
 IIURD AND HOUGHTON, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of 
 New York. 
 
 RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE: 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BT 
 
 H. 0. HOUGHION AND COMPANY.
 
 p 
 
 M 
 >* 
 
 2 "I HECLARE hereby distinctly that I accept the terms and conditions set 
 0* forth in the memorandum of agreement, dated 15th October, 1867, trans- 
 mitted to me by Messrs. Kurd and Houghton, of New York, relating not 
 only to the exclusive right of these gentlemen of printing and publishing 
 at their own expense and charge, in the United States of America, a Biog- 
 raphy written by my wife, Charlotte Bremer, of her sister, the late Miss 
 3 Fredrika Bremer, but also to my share in the profit accruing from the sale 
 If) of the said work, and the time mentioned therein for payments of said 
 z^ share, together with what else is contained in the said memorandum. 
 
 i "P. QUIDING. ] 
 
 " STOCKHOLM, November 6. 1867." 
 
 O 
 O 
 
 GO 
 
 Ul 
 
 2: 
 
 4-13058
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 WHEN noble and distinguished individuals have fiinishecl 
 their pilgrimage upon earth, a more general desire is usu- 
 ally felt to become acquainted with every thing relating to 
 them with every thing in connection with them during 
 their journey from the cradle to the grave. A wish has 
 accordingly been expressed in the Old as well as in the 
 New World, that a sketch of the life of Fredrika Bremer 
 might be written and published by some person who was 
 dear to her, some friend, who fully understood how to 
 judge of her and her writings, and who was perfectly 
 acquainted with even the most trifling circumstances of 
 her life, and able to represent the same faithfully. 
 
 It is a matter of great interest to contemplate, in re- 
 markable characters, the innate natural disposition of the 
 child, and to watch its development ; but it is more inter- 
 esting still to mark the outward relations of life, under 
 which the child has grown up, and which always have 
 such a material influence upon the young mind, the 
 struggles and the trials it has had to undergo in the posi- 
 tion in the world in which it has pleased the Almighty to 
 place it, there to let circumstances and adversities, often 
 not known by man, be its best teacher. Intellectual and 
 highly gifted natures are always deeply sensitive ; often, 
 like the sensitive plant, shrinking under the slightest
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 of the essential characteristics of Fredrika Bremer. They 
 resemble, in many respects, the well known letters of 
 Madame de Sevigne' to her beloved daughter, Madame de 
 Grignan, the same ease and grace of style, the same 
 exclusive feeling for the persons to whom they are written. 
 The letters of the former reflect motherly, those of the 
 latter sisterly, love, which sees every thing belonging to its 
 object in a beautifying and poetical light. 
 
 Here are also given some extracts of Fredrika Bremer's 
 letters to a friend, who had the sorrow of losing two chil- 
 dren. Perhaps the consolatory thoughts, with which Fre- 
 drika had the happiness to assuage the grief of this friend 
 may bring comfort with them when read by a mother 
 severely tried under similar circumstances. 
 
 To these letters are added some others which merit to 
 be preserved, as showing Fredrika Bremer's views on some 
 important subjects, and which are, besides, remarkable for 
 the liveliness and grace of their style. 
 
 Amongst the papers left by my sister were also found 
 several poems and writings, and some sketches more or 
 less finished. 
 
 I have selected some of these to be published with the 
 others, and I have besides inserted a few which were 
 printed previously in some obscure annuals, but which 
 were afterwards revised by my sister. Her Autobiography, 
 the composition of which was interrupted shortly after my 
 father's death, and shortly before she became for some time 
 an inmate of my home, is with few omissions published 
 here.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOB 
 
 BIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . 1 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY . . . . 101 
 
 LETTERS 117 
 
 SKETCHES 268 
 
 My Dream 268 
 
 A Vision 270 
 
 A Violet, found in Stockholm in 1827 273 
 
 At Forty Years of Age 278 
 
 My Window, 1825. The Visitor 288 
 
 My Window, 1855. New Prospects. The Beggar-Woman . 296 
 
 The Sisters 311 
 
 An Evening with the Sisters at Werna 320 
 
 The Morning 332 
 
 The Light- House 337 
 
 TheEagless 359 
 
 The Romance, the Epos of our Day 367 
 
 The Child's Prayer 372 
 
 May Thoughts 374 
 
 The Grateful Little Flower 376 
 
 The Ugly Hand and the Beautiful Hand 377 
 
 Christmas Eve and Christmas Matins 383 
 
 POEMS 407 
 
 Hymn 407 
 
 Gospel Tidings 407 
 
 The Lord's Supper 408 
 
 To my Sisters 410 
 
 The Cradle of Love 411 
 
 The Star 412 
 
 The Poetry of Spring 413 
 
 Autumn Sighs 415 
 
 The Cripple's Mission 416 
 
 The Song of the Weary One 418 
 
 Resignation 420
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOB 
 
 Consolation in Nature 420 
 
 Cradle and Grave 421 
 
 Ay Morning Song ......... 424 
 
 Peace 425 
 
 The Volcano 426 
 
 Chilly blows the Wind 426 
 
 Had I Strong Faith 428 
 
 I Trust in Thee 429 
 
 The Sage and the Cataract 429 
 
 On reading Bishop Esaias TegneVs Poem, " Resignation " . 432 
 
 The Sound in Time of Peace 434 
 
 My Wrinkles 435 
 
 Summer Evenings 437 
 
 The Grave 438 
 
 The Last Song of the Lonely One 439
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 FREDRIKA BREMER was born in Tuorla Manor-house, 
 near Abo, in Finland, on the 17th of August, 1801. Her 
 father, the Bruks-patron, or Iron-master, Carl Fredric 
 Bremer, was descended from an ancient German noble 
 family, which settled in Sweden in the reign of King Gus- 
 tavus Adolphus the Great ; her mother was Brigitta Char- 
 lotta Hollstrom. Fredrika's paternal grandfather, Jacob 
 Bremer, had removed from Sweden to Finland, in which 
 latter country he had, by commercial enterprises, iron- 
 works, and factories prudently managed, succeeded in ac- 
 cumulating considerable wealth, while giving bread to sev- 
 eral hundred industrious people, who had him to thank for 
 their prosperity and comfort. Out of his rich store he 
 gave liberally to the poor and needy, and at his death he 
 was therefore generally regretted in Finland. He was 
 twice married. In his first marriage with a young Lady 
 Pipping, he had eleven children, of which only five sur- 
 vived him three sons and two daughters. One of these 
 daughters married the Governor of the county of Wasa, 
 Krabbe; and the other, Baron Hisingdr, a counselor of 
 the Royal Court of Justice in Abo. In his second wedlock 
 with the young and handsome daughter of the Assessor of 
 the Royal Court of Justice, Mr. Salonius, he had two chil- 
 dren, Carl Fredric and Agatha. The latter was married 
 at the age of sixteen to an old gentleman, Mr. Carleson, 
 one of the court chamberlains ; and when, at the age of 
 twenty-one, she became a widow, and free to follow the 
 i
 
 2 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 dictates of her heart, she married General Baron, after- 
 wards Field-Marshal Count Fabian Wrede. 
 
 Foreseeing the fate which was in store for Finland, his 
 heart overflowing with grief, my father determined to re- 
 move to Sweden before the dreaded hour should arrive. 
 After having sold one of his estates, he left Finland in the 
 year 1804, together with his wife, his mother-in-law, and 
 four children born in that country, and settled in Stock- 
 holm. The following year he purchased the estate of 
 Arsta, in the parish of Oster - Hanninge, about three 
 Swedish, or twenty English, miles from the capital. Little 
 children of three years of age cannot have any recollec- 
 tions ; and all that I can remember is, that we lived in 
 Abo, beside a market-place, in a house which belonged to 
 my parents. 
 
 My mother had brought with her from Finland a young 
 housekeeper, a Miss Louise Synnerberg, who became 
 Fredrika's and my first teacher. From her we learned to 
 read Swedish ; and, in 1806, when I had completed my 
 sixth, and Fredrika had not quite attained her fifth year, 
 we had a governess whom we have to thank, not only for 
 all that we have learnt, but also for her motherly tender- 
 ness and kindness towards us. The name of this friend so 
 dear to, so beloved by us, was Sara Eleanore de Frumerie ; 
 she was descended from a French emigrant family. Hav- 
 ing no property of her own, and having devoted herself to 
 the calling of a teacher, she determined to drop the de, 
 calling herself Miss Frumerie. Just, truthful, and God- 
 fearing, she laid the foundation of all that was good in us. 
 By her pleasant and judicious method of imparting knowl- 
 edge to us, she made her pupils not only anxious to learn, 
 the more the better, but also to find a real pleasure in 
 learning. To her we came in all our troubles, and in her 
 we placed an unbounded confidence, 
 
 At the time when Fredrika and I were children, there 
 did not exist the same relation between parents and chil-
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 3 
 
 dren as nowadays. Severe parents belong now to the 
 exceptions ; at that time they were generally severe, and 
 children felt for them more fear than love and confidence. 
 I remember still how frequently, when we heard the voices 
 of our parents on their return home, we hastened to hide 
 ourselves in our governess's room, or in that of our Finland 
 nurse, old Lena. During the winters, in the first years of 
 our residence in Stockholm, my parents used to be a great 
 deal out in the fashionable world, and we children saw 
 them rarely except at stated times in the day. At eight 
 o'clock in the morning we were to be ready dressed, and 
 had to come in to say " Good morning " first to my mother, 
 who sat in a small drawing-room taking her coffee. She 
 looked at us with a scrutinizing glance during our walk 
 from the door up to her chair. If we had walked badly, we 
 had to go back again to the door to renew our promenade, 
 curtsey, and kiss her hand. If our curtsey had been awk- 
 wardly performed, we had to make it over again. Poor 
 little Fredrika could never walk, stand, sit, or curtsey to 
 the satisfaction of my mother, and had many bitter and 
 wretched moments in consequence. Then we had to go to 
 salute my father. "When we entered his outer room, the 
 footman laid down a large square carpet in the centre of 
 the floor, and placed on it a chair, on which my father sat 
 down, after having been enveloped in a large white cloak 
 which reached down to the ankles. Mr. Hagelin, his hair- 
 dresser a real original in a light-gray overcoat, then 
 made his appearance with a comb stuck behind his ear 
 and a powder-puff in his hand, himself powdered, bow- 
 ing deeply and scraping with one foot, first to my father, 
 and then to us little ones. He handed the powder-puff to 
 the footman, who was to hold it, while he himself undid 
 the ribbon tied round the pigtail, and then combed and 
 replaited it. After that the powder-box was produced, the 
 puff dipped into it, and Mr. Hagelin, like a true amateur, 
 with a sweet smile on his countenance, his head inclined
 
 4 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 on one side, stepping back now and then to take a survey 
 of the effect of the powdering process, powdered my 
 father's head and face so thoroughly, that he was unable to 
 open his eyes until the footman had handed him a basin of 
 water and a towel. This ceremony amused us exceed- 
 ingly, and we were permitted to look on for a short time. 
 When we had curtsied to my father, we had our break- 
 fast, and afterwards went to Miss Frumerie to read and 
 work from nine till one o'clock. 
 
 My mother had laid down three inviolable principles for 
 the education of her children. They were to grow up in 
 perfect ignorance of every thing evil in the world ; they 
 were to learn (acquire knowledge) as much as possible ; 
 and they were to eat as little as possible. The first of 
 these principles was founded upon my mother's conviction 
 that unacquaintance with all evil would preserve in her 
 children an innocent mind, and accustom them to an at- 
 mosphere of purity, which would beneficially influence 
 their whole development. I am grateful for this beautiful 
 idea, emanating from my mother's own innate innocence, 
 and I believe that it has in us led to purity of thought and 
 mind; although, when we came out into the world, we 
 found ourselves painfully deceived in all our imaginations, 
 when one illusion after the other vanished. In order to 
 gain the desired object, we were never permitted to re- 
 main in the drawing-room when my parents had any vis- 
 itors or company, at the utmost perhaps only a few 
 minutes, for fear that our innocent ears should listen 
 to something which they ought not to hear ; and we were 
 strictly forbidden to speak to the servants, except to old 
 Lena, who again was forbidden to tell us any thing. 
 
 We did not require any incitement to read or to learn ; 
 it was our, and especially Fredrika's, greatest pleasure. 
 Within a couple of years we learnt to read and speak 
 French, and we learnt to repeat by heart out of Madame 
 de Genlis's plays, " L'lle Heureuse," " La Rosiere," " Les
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 5 
 
 Flacons," and others, such scenes in which only two persons 
 appeared at a time ; and these lessons we took so long, that 
 " Bonne Amie," as we called Miss Frumerie, had not 
 patience enough to listen to them to the end. Fredrika 
 frequently knew a whole act by heart, and " Bonne Amie " 
 exclaimed more than once, " That Fredrika, she is perfectly 
 intolerable with her recitations ; there is never an end to 
 them ! " 
 
 The third of my mother's principles, that her children 
 should eat as little as possible, she had laid down partly 
 under the conviction that if children are allowed to eat 
 much, they become stupid and slow to learn ; and partly 
 from a detestation of strong, stout, and tall women. My 
 mother read vast quantities of novels, and I suspect that 
 the hope of one day beholding in her daughters delicate, 
 zephyr-like heroines of romance, was constantly haunting 
 her imagination. This principle certainly succeeded in 
 making them short of stature, and not too strong ; but with 
 the prescribed diet it could not be otherwise. At eight 
 o'clock in the morning we got a small basin I have 
 never seen such small basins of cold milk, and with it a 
 small piece of " knackebrb'd. 1 If we were ever so hungry, 
 which happened every day, still we did not venture to ask 
 for any thing more to eat. Once or twice old Lena, when 
 we told her of our distress, had given us each a piece of 
 dry bread ; but my mother having heard of it, Lena got 
 such a scolding that she never dared to try that experiment 
 again. 
 
 At two o'clock the dinner was always served in my par- 
 ents' house, and that was indeed a glorious time for us 
 hungry children. We were then allowed to eat as much as 
 was considered necessary. Of the four or five dishes 
 which, according to the fashion of the day, were put at 
 once upon the table, we had permission to eat of three, 
 and they tasted wonderfully good. After dinner we were 
 
 1 A kind of very thin, hard, rye biscuit.
 
 6 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 all assembled in the drawing-room to drink coffee, we 
 children of course only as spectators, after which, at 
 four o'clock, we went with " Bonne Amie " into her room 
 to write, cipher, and work. My father, who was beyond 
 description orderly and punctual, determined that every 
 thing should be done by the clock, looked during the time 
 repeatedly at his watch, and until it pointed at four exactly, 
 nobody was allowed to leave the room, when he went to 
 his own room to take a nap. 
 
 At six precisely, there came a knock at " Bonne Amie's " 
 door, the footman announced that tea was ready, and 
 we then marched, " Bonne Amie," Fredrika, and myself, 
 through the dining to the drawing-room. There my par- 
 ents, " Bonne Amie," and sometimes those who came to 
 pay a visit, drank tea, while we were looking on, occasion- 
 ally getting a rusk, with permission to go to the nursery to 
 play, for now the lessons were over for the day. 
 
 At nine, my parents, " Bonne Amie," and mostly some 
 guests, were seated round a table in the dining-room cov- 
 ered with two or three warm dishes ; but we children had 
 already at eight o'clock had a small glass of cold milk and 
 a small piece of knackebrb'd. When we had finished our 
 supper, we went to the dining-room, curtsied, kissed my 
 father's and mother's hand, said " Good night," and pro- 
 ceeded to " Bonne Amie's " room, in which we both had 
 our beds upon a corner sofa. Old Lena was there to un- 
 dress us, and always used to hold a long lecture to Fre- 
 drika, who preferred running about the room and dancing 
 with Lena to going to bed. After jumping and romping 
 about for a little while, she usually got tired ; but Lena 
 fared far worse in the morning, when she wanted to dress 
 her. The old nurse had then to run about to get hold 
 
 D 
 
 of the little wild girl, who always bolted from her when 
 she was going to be washed and dressed. Sometimes 
 Lena was so angry with her that she got quite red in the 
 face, and then she burst out with what I believe was her
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 7 
 
 only article of faith: "Ah ! that will be a nice one when 
 she gets older ; for certain it is, that the longer people live 
 the worse they become ! " 
 
 I am not quite sure, but I believe it was in 1806, when 
 my maternal grandmother died. She lived with my par- 
 ents, suffered a great deal from some painful internal dis- 
 ease, and was always confined to her bed. She was inde- 
 scribably kind and tender to Fredrika and me, and always 
 wanted to have us beside her during those moments when 
 she was tolerably, free from pain. It interested her much 
 to hear what we had learnt ; and if we read nicely to her, 
 we knew that, one after another, we were allowed to put our 
 hand into a large paper bag full of sweetmeats, which was 
 lying upon the bed beside her, and take out of it as much 
 as we could grasp. Otherwise I do not remember much 
 of my kind old grandmother ; except that on the day of 
 her funeral we cried a great deal and eat a great deal of 
 confectionery. 
 
 At midsummer, 1806, the whole family removed out to 
 Arsta. Like all children, we were enchanted at being al- 
 lowed to go on a journey such a long journey a 
 whole twenty English miles ! And during the preceding 
 eight days we were busy, every leisure moment, packing 
 and unpacking again and again all our toys and dolls. At 
 last came the happy day, and in three large carriages the 
 whole family proceeded to the country. I remember ex- 
 ceedingly well, that, on our arrival, both Fredrika and I 
 thought that the large, palace-like edifice, with its project- 
 ing turrets, its uncommonly high, sloping roof, its high lat- 
 tice windows, with small glass panes set in lead, and its 
 dark walls, from which in many places the plaster had fall- 
 en off, did not look well at all. If we had understood the 
 meaning of the word awful, we should certainly have thought 
 of it on beholding the then dilapidated old Arsta, built 
 nearly two centuries before by Mrs. Barbro Akes's daughter,
 
 8 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Natt-och-Dag, while her husband, Admiral Bjelkenstjerna, 
 was out in the German Thirty Years' War. 1 
 
 When we had alighted from the carriage, and entered 
 the spacious, vaulted hall, rising through three storeys, with 
 its high stone pillars and double staircases, we were de- 
 lighted, and asked permission to run up and down them, 
 which was willingly granted, as being the best means of 
 keeping us out of the way while every thing was taken out 
 of the carriages. We must have been indulging in this 
 pleasure of running up one pair of stairs and down another 
 a long time, for I remember our being very hot and very 
 tired when we were called in to eat our supper and go to 
 bed. 
 
 Now came a happy time for us. When we had finished 
 our lessons at one o'clock, we were allowed to go down 
 into the large garden, and to take long walks in the after- 
 noon with " Bonne Amie," after she had had her tea. We 
 thought it wonderfully delightful to run out and play about. 
 In town we had scarcely ever permission to go out. 
 Happy beyond measure were we to hear the little birds 
 sing ; to gather flowers and fruit ; but as happy as the 
 curate's children, that we clearly saw we should never be. 
 One day, when our carriage-horses had to be exercised, 
 
 1 Arsta belonged in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries to the German 
 order of the Knights of the Sword. It was afterwards sold, and became 
 in the year 1500 the property of Axel Laurson Tott, after which it became 
 an heir-loom in the Bjelkenstjerna and Fleming families. See Ground- 
 rent Book of the County of Upland, 1680, and Tham's Description of the 
 Province of Stockholm. 
 
 In July, 1621, Gustavus Adolphus assembled his army and fleet to lead 
 them in person across the Baltic to Riga. From the port of Elfsnabben, 
 where the fleet was lying at anchor, detained by contrary winds, Gustavus 
 Adolphus proclaimed his Articles of War, drawn up by himself, and writ- 
 ten by his own hand. These Articles of War were read aloud for the first 
 time by the Chancellor, Axel Oxenstjerna, to the army, consisting of 20,000 
 men, drawn up in battle array on the fields of Arsta. The whole royal 
 family was there assembled on that occasion. See Geyer's History of the 
 Swedes.
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 9 
 
 " Bonne Amie " took us for a ride to pay a visit to the 
 curate's wife. 
 
 In the little yard before the red-painted house lay a hil- 
 lock of sand, and on it were lying four children, busy with 
 large wooden ladles digging out walks and flower-beds. 
 We were so fortunate as to be allowed to join in their play 
 that afternoon, but never again. 
 
 The summer passed quickly away. We read and studied 
 industriously, and were a great deal out in the open air. 
 
 On Sundays, the Countess F- and her daughter, 
 
 then sixteen years old, were almost always invited to 
 
 dine with us. Countess F , the former owner of 
 
 Arsta, had, when she sold the estate, made it a condition 
 that she should be allowed to remain there over the sum- 
 mer. She occupied one part of the lower storey, and my 
 parents the other. The whole of the upper storey in the 
 old house was unfurnished, and consisted of very large 
 rooms with thick walls, and with heavy oak timbers across 
 the ceiling. The largest of these rooms was forty-eight 
 feet square, had nine high windows, and a gigantic chim- 
 ney, upon the upper part of which were resting two mas- 
 sive blocks of stone, in which the Bjelkenstjerna's and the 
 Fleming's arms were cut. The floor was inlaid with 
 squares of polished oak. This room had in former times 
 been the banqueting hall, and the heavy, clumsy, horse- 
 shoe table, which took up two entire sides of the room, 
 was still remaining. On one of the small window-panes 
 was scratched, 
 
 " Lady Sigrid is a nincompoop, 
 So is also her beloved Soop." 
 
 All the rooms were nineteen feet high; every step awoke 
 a loud echo ; and the wind was incessantly whistling 
 through the small window-panes, loosely set in their leaden 
 frames. We were neither allowed, nor dared we go alone 
 to the upper storey ; but, whenever we could, we watched 
 an opportunity for visiting the kind Countess F and
 
 10 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 her daughter, who were always so very friendly to us. We 
 had then to pass through a large apartment, the walls of 
 which were covered with gilt leather in sombre figures, and 
 the floor was inlaid with large, square, polished stones. 
 We were a little afraid of passing through this room ; but 
 we used to run as fast as possible, and in that manner al- 
 ways got through it without any adventure. 
 
 In a large apartment in that part of the flat which was 
 occupied by my parents, were seen two well-painted por- 
 traits of the former owners of Arsta, Mistress Barbro 
 Akes's daughter Natt-och-Dag of Goholm and Hedeso a 
 severe and sharp-looking lady ; and her husband, Admiral 
 Bjelkenstjerna, the latter cased in full armor, looking 
 very fierce. From this apartment we had a view of a long 
 avenue leading down to a creek or arm of the Baltic, 
 which could be descried only when the water happened to 
 be very high. From most of the other rooms in the build- 
 ing, which stood on an eminence, the eye wandered over 
 meadows, and fields, and villages belonging to the estate, 
 stretching in one direction over nearly five English miles. 
 Two churches raised their old-fashioned, high, pointed 
 spires above the distant forest. They were the Oster and 
 Wester Hanninge churches. 
 
 Only once during this summer my parents invited their 
 relatives and friends from town to a so-called " hemkom- 
 61," or house-warming. Dinner was served in the banquet- 
 ing-hall, and after dinner the guests drank coffee under 
 the high, two hundred years' old maples, which, planted in 
 two rows, divided the court-yard from the garden, form- 
 ing a broad, shady walk. 
 
 When autumn and cold weather set in at last, my par- 
 ents moved to town, and during several succeeding years 
 we lived winter after winter, each week like the last : much 
 reading, little eating, and rarely permission to go out. 
 Another difficulty was now added to our other troubles. 
 My mother considered it very wholesome that we should
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 11 
 
 be thinly dressed, with bare neck and arms. We shivered 
 with cold. It was probably cold in our rooms, which were 
 large, and at that time double windows were unknown. I 
 recollect very well that often, for days together, we could 
 not look out of the window, the panes being covered with 
 ice. 
 
 When I was eight and Fredrika seven years old, we had 
 music and drawing masters. It was not expected in those 
 days, as it is now, that a governess should possess all kinds 
 of talent. Besides, our " Bonne Amie " would not have 
 been sufficient for us all, especially as she had now to teach 
 the younger children, Hedda and Claes, and three little 
 future pupils had been added to our family up to the year 
 1810, so that she had a whole troop in perspective. 
 
 The good little Hedda had great difficulty in learning ; 
 but Claes could already, at the age of six, read both Swed- 
 ish and French. 
 
 From seven till ten years of age, little Fredrika began 
 to manifest strange dispositions and inclinations. Occa- 
 sionally she threw into the fire whatever she could lay her 
 hands upon pocket-handkerchiefs, the younger children's 
 night-caps, stockings, and the like. The servants com- 
 plained to my mother, and Fredrika was interrogated. 
 She confessed at once ; and the only reason she could give 
 for her delinquency was, " that it was so delightful to see 
 the flames." In spite of scoldings and prohibitions, she 
 frequently repeated this pleasure. If a knife or a pair of 
 scissors happened to be lying about, they, and Fredrika 
 too, disappeared immediately. She then walked about 
 alone, meditating ; and if nobody happened to be present, 
 she cut a piece out of a window-curtain, or a round or 
 square hole in the front of her dress. She looked very 
 awkward if interrupted in her proceedings. One day, our 
 parents being out, she fell upon the idea of quietly steal- 
 ing into the drawing-room and double locking the door. 
 Old Lena, suspecting that some mischief was on foot be-
 
 12 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 cause Fredrika had disappeared, looked for her every- 
 where, and coining to the drawing-room, which she found 
 locked, she knocked, calling to Fredrika to open the door. 
 " Yes, immediately," answered Fredrika ; but it took some 
 minutes before she unlocked the door; probably she 
 wanted first to finish her work. When she had unlocked 
 the door, Lena went round the. room to see what Fredrika 
 had been doing, and was terrified when she discovered that 
 she had cut a large round hole in the middle of the silk 
 covering of one of the large arm-chairs, and had poked a 
 piece of her own dress, cut out of the front breadth, into 
 the hole. 
 
 With the knife she experimented upon the arms and 
 legs of her dolls, to find out what they contained ; and one 
 poor doll had to lose its head. She wanted to find out 
 what was inside of it. When Fredrika had performed 
 any cutting or carving, and Lena was ordered to go and 
 find it out, Fredrika always used to follow her, silently and 
 calmly, as if she had done no wrong; and when Lena had 
 found out what she had cut and chopped to pieces, and be- 
 gan to moralize, Fredrika walked up to Lena, stared at her 
 and at her own handiwork, turned round and walked off 
 without saying a word. If the discovery took too long, 
 Fredrika lost her patience, and pointed silently in the di- 
 rection in which Lena ought to go. 
 
 One day Fredrika and I had each got two beautiful 
 figures of French porcelain as presents from one of my 
 mother's friends. Before evening, Fredrika had tried 
 whether one of these figures would break if thrown upon 
 the stone flags lying before the stove ; the brittleness of 
 the other was tried upon a load of fire-wood, which the ser- 
 vant was carrying into a room to make a fire. Of course, 
 she succeeded in smashing them both ; but this did not in 
 the least trouble her. Another day she came to my mother 
 tendering a penny, the only one she had left in her little 
 purse, asking at the same time her forgiveness for having
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 13 
 
 broken a decanter and three glasses, for which she wished 
 to make compensation with her penny. My mother could 
 not help laughing. Fredrika got a slight scolding, and 
 was allowed to keep her penny. 
 
 Fredrika and I had each three dolls, with very hand- 
 some wardrobes for them. As I was of a very quiet na- 
 ture, and very orderly, my dolls were as carefully tended as 
 if they had been little children, and I felt for them as a 
 real mother. They were undressed every evening and put 
 to bed, and were dressed again regularly every morning. 
 Fredrika's dolls, on the contrary, were often much neg- 
 lected. They remained occasionally dressed for a fort- 
 night together ; and if they happened to be once undressed, 
 they usually remained undressed for an equally long time, 
 and were then lying about in their chemises in the corners 
 of the nursery. At last she got quite tired of her dolls, 
 and I, who used to pity them very much, undertook to at- 
 tend to them ; but I got tired of this after some time, and 
 complained that it was really too much for me to manage 
 six children. Fredrika then made an agreement with little 
 Hedda, that if she would take charge of her dolls, she 
 should have a piece of gingerbread every time Fredrika 
 got any, and also, now and then, a piece of confectionery ; 
 but not every time that Fredrika got any, because she was 
 very fond of it herself. Hedda held boldly out for the 
 confectionery, and the matter was ultimately arranged to 
 her satisfaction ; but Fredrika undertook to dress her dolls 
 elegantly every time they were invited to a ball. 
 
 Every Christmas Eve, our parents had the kindness to 
 give us as much pleasure as possible. In the large draw- 
 ing-room a Christmas table was set out, literally covered 
 with all kinds of good things. Each child had its jul-hog, 
 or yule-heap, of saffron-bread, buns, and wheaten cakes, 
 and, besides, plates full of raisins, almonds, nuts, and 
 sweetmeats ; and before every heap stood a three-branched 
 wax candle.
 
 14 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 A great number of Christmas-boxes, wrapped up in paper 
 and sealed, were thrown into the room by a masked figure 
 with horns on its head, called the yule-buck. We children 
 ran a race after the various parcels dancing about on 
 the floor, and great was the delight when she whose name 
 was written on the parcel happened to pick it up herself. 
 That evening was not like any other evening in the whole 
 year, and I never saw my parents so happy as at the hap- 
 piness which they gave to their children. We on our 
 part were inexpressibly delighted and grateful. All fear 
 of our parents was gone ; we only ran about thanking 
 them and kissing their hands for every new present we 
 got. Besides many useful presents, we got also a great 
 number of toys, which afforded us great delight during the 
 whole of Christmas time ; but Fredrika soon began mak- 
 ing her experiments, and long before the next Christmas 
 all her beautiful playthings were gone. 
 
 At eight years of age Fredrika wrote her first verses in 
 French to the moon. She has unfortunately burnt them, 
 and I remember only the first line : 
 
 " 0, corps celeste de la Nature ! " 
 
 A couple of years later, she composed a little ballad, 
 which she also destroyed, but of which she introduced the 
 first verse in " The Home," where she describes herself in 
 Petrea's person, letting her compose the same. It is as 
 
 follows : 
 
 " In the fine palace Elfvakolasti, 
 Situated in some part of Sverge, 
 Once resided little Melanie, 
 Only daughter of Count Stjerneberge." 
 
 About this time she intended writing a poem, the title of 
 which, written in large letters, was, " The Creation of the 
 World." The creation of the world began with 
 
 CHAOS. 
 
 In clouds and gloomy darkness ever lying 
 Was all the world before,
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 15 
 
 And ever all in vain, the minutes onward flying, 
 
 Expected that this darkness would be o'er. 
 
 The world to-day with men o'erflowing 
 
 Was then a thing of naught; 
 
 And all our lovely starry heavens glowing, 
 
 They then no light had got; 
 
 But He was who has been ever, 
 
 Who is, and ever shall be. 
 
 "At this glimpse of light, the creation of the world was 
 suspended," writes Fredrika in " The Home " ; " prob- 
 ably doomed under Petrea's hand never to emerge out of 
 Chaos." 
 
 Amongst my papers and letters from Fredrika I have 
 found an old slip of paper, on which, in her childhood, 
 she had written a couple of verses to Baron Wrede on the 
 occasion, as it seems from their contents, of some little fes- 
 tival which she had arranged for him during one of his 
 visits to Arsta. 
 
 This occurred probably in 1811, when Fredrika was ten 
 years old, because my aunt is not mentioned. She died in 
 1810, and in 1811 Baron Wrede removed from Stockholm. 
 At the top of the verses stands 
 
 (AiR: La Biondina.) 
 
 Flowers we here present, Your Lordship! 
 They 're the produce of Fredrikaberg. 
 Flowers we here present, Your Lordship ! 
 They have blossomed at Fredrikaberg. 
 There we 've fruits and flowers ever, 
 Winter, summer, failing never. 
 'T is, indeed, a splendid place ! 
 Berries in whole hillocks growing, 
 Are varied by flowery ling. 
 Sand and gravel, mines o'erflowing, 
 Will make you as rich as a king. 
 
 (Repeat the second refrain.) 
 
 Under lofty fir-trees' shadow 
 Cows' and pigs' food can be had, O ! 
 Cows' and pigs' food can be had, O ! 
 Come, O ! come into these regions, 
 Where your numerous virtues' prize,
 
 16 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Wreaths of fir in countless legions, 
 Wait you in your Paradise. 
 
 (Repeat the second refrain.) 
 
 Thus we greet you, Baron Wrede ! 
 Great and powerful Lord Manorial. 
 Thus we greet you, Baron Wrede ! 
 Noble baron, this our present 
 Can boast of little worth, 't is true. 
 Give us yet assurance pleasant, 
 That for our sakes 't is dear to you. 
 
 " Fredrikaberg " was a stony hillock lying on the verge 
 of fertile meadows. Fredrika got this hillock as a present 
 from my father on her birthday, with full right of posses- 
 sion. The previous year a similar hillock had been pre- 
 sented to me, in a place where the nature of the soil al- 
 lowed of laying out walks, and where my father had or- 
 dered a large, round, wooden seat to be constructed. This 
 hillock was inaugurated on my birthday by an invitation to 
 several friends, who took their coffee there in the after- 
 noon, after which my father made a speech announcing 
 that this " Property " was to be called Charlotteberg, and 
 should belong to his eldest daughter. I recollect well, 
 even now, my delight. We had some presentiment that 
 Fredrika, the following year, would also get such a hillock, 
 to be presented to her with similar solemnities. 
 
 She got the hillock ; but no wooden seat, no walks, no 
 inauguration festival ; and then, for the first time, the 
 thought arose within her that she was less loved. 
 
 Amongst Fredrika's papers I found, in a very small old 
 copy-book, a couple of verses which had escaped the fate 
 of all her other earlier effusions, that were to be, as she 
 used to call it, " destroyed as contraband." In this copy- 
 book are found a few verses, remarkable only for being 
 written by a little child, which one can see that she must 
 then have been, from the great difference between the 
 characters in which they were written and the verses 
 which she wrote when ten years old. One might almost
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 17 
 
 doubt that she was the authoress ; but at all events they 
 prove that woman's dependent and subordinate position in 
 life had already made a deep impression on her childish 
 mind. They are as follows, without either a comma or full 
 stop : 
 
 can man not learn the art of saving 
 could not our stronger sex be taught 
 not from their poor wives all help craving 
 to save their wages as they ought 
 
 to give up cards and take to reading 
 not novels no but books more meet 
 and from mad scenes of mirth receding 
 to fly from art to nature sweet 
 
 It does really seem as if the good Fredrika was ready 
 to become, even as a child, the champion of her sex. 
 I have heard it said that Fredrika was not an agree- 
 able child. A child myself, I was unable to judge. Very 
 kind she was always ; " ready to give away indiscrim- 
 inately the presents which had been given to her," as she 
 says of Petrea in " The Home." In later years I found 
 that her eyes were very handsome, thoughtful, and ex- 
 pressing goodness and vivacity ; but the head was large 
 in proportion to the small and slight figure ; and the nose 
 filled up a large place in her physiognomy. Her nose 
 would probably never have been so large if she had not, 
 from her earliest childhood, been displeased with its form, 
 and therefore had determined to improve it ; but all her 
 experiments to this effect resulted in making her nose 
 swell considerably, become larger and larger, and often 
 very red. Fredrika had, when a child, an uncommonly 
 low forehead. She had frequently heard my mother re- 
 mark this, and she undertook, therefore, one day, to make 
 it high, by cutting away the hair at the roots all round the 
 forehead. While occupied with this operation, she heard 
 my mother's step, and was as terrified as if she had com- 
 mitted a crime. My mother, who did not at once perceive 
 2
 
 18 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 what Fredrika had been doing, probably thought that she 
 looked unusually well, and said to her later in the day, 
 "Your forehead is, after all, not so very low," and Fre- 
 drika was enchanted with her successful handiwork. But 
 in a few days the hair began to grow again, sticking out 
 like bristles.- Great was then her distress to find out how 
 this was to be prevented in future, and Fredrika was 
 obliged to walk about for some time with her bristles, until 
 the hairs had grown so long that they could be seized with 
 a pair of tweezers, when she tore them out, root and all. 
 They continued, however, to grow; but Fredrika perse- 
 vered patiently to pull them out, and produced ultimately 
 in this way a fine high forehead, which became her much 
 better than the low one which Nature had given her. 
 
 Fredrika was already, as a child, very inquisitive and 
 eager for information. She wanted to know every thing ; 
 was very restless, and put all kinds of questions, especially 
 on certain days, which I used to call her " inquiring days." 
 " Bonne Amie " got tired, and told her to be quiet ; and 
 Lena also got tired, and gave her no other answer than 
 "saucebox!" 'Fredrika was occasionally excessively wild 
 and frolicsome, and then again she would dissolve in tears, 
 especially if she had been scolded, and scoldings she 
 got, indeed, and plenty of them, particularly during our 
 stay in the country. There we had permission to go out, 
 and in our rambles Fredrika always managed to lose her 
 pocket-handkerchief, gloves, or garters ; or she tore her 
 dress, or came home too late for dinner. She could never 
 learn to be punctual, and in this my father was very strict ; 
 although she had an unusually good memory while study- 
 ing, yet she could never remember what was told her in 
 daily life. She was very anxious to please her parents, 
 and it grieved her deeply that she could not remember 
 what they told her, and to see them displeased with her. 
 Her childish freaks to burn her things, cut her clothes to 
 
 O ' 
 
 pieces, and so on, brought upon her many a severe scold-
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 19 
 
 ing : this was also the case with her obstinacy. It was 
 one of her juvenile faults, as also to give saucy and pert 
 answers, which always irritated my father, so that he be- 
 came excited and angry, and not able to correct the delin- 
 quent with gentleness. But poor Fredrika got indeed so 
 many scoldings for mere trifles, that her mind became at 
 times embittered. 
 
 My mother felt annoyed at all this, and Fredrika always 
 forgetting the reprimands which she continually got, my 
 mother treated her rather severely, believing that this 
 would improve matters, and that, as Fredrika had an ex- 
 cellent memory for learning, she ought to have an equally 
 good memory in every thing that was told her. Strange 
 as it may appear, that memory can be as it were twofold ; 
 such was the case here, and Fredrika could not help it, 
 that every thing which she was told to remember was for- 
 gotten a moment afterwards. 
 
 Notwithstanding my mother's severity, Fredrika enter- 
 tained for some time a really passionate love for her, and 
 tried every means to please her. My mother was always 
 very elegant in her deportment and toilet ; she had ex- 
 ceedingly agreeable manners, and Fredrika's admiring 
 gaze followed her every movement. 
 
 My father was very taciturn and reserved, and his tem- 
 per was melancholy and gloomy. During the disastrous 
 war which was raging in Finland in 1808, and ended in 
 its being lost to Sweden, he was more gloomy than ever. 
 In the evenings he was in the habit of walking incessantly 
 sometimes for two or three hours together up and 
 down in the dark, in the dining-room in town, for he 
 would not have the candles lighted ; and we often imag- 
 ined that we heard him weeping. " Bonne Amie's " room 
 was next to the dining-room, and as long as my father was 
 walking there, we did not venture to go through it. When 
 tea was brought in at six o'clock, he broke off his walk, 
 but he resumed it as soon as he had finished tea.
 
 20 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 One day in 1809, while the war was still raging in Fin- 
 land, a note was brought to my father while we were still 
 at dinner. The contents seemed to surprise hhn, but he 
 said nothing, and put the note in his pocket. Early on the 
 following morning he entered " Bonne Amie's " room, after 
 we had gone in to read, and asked her to let him have the 
 two elder children for an hour or two. 
 
 " Bonne Amie " of course gave her consent at once, but 
 seemed to be as much surprised as we girls. We followed 
 my father, and when we had got into his private room, we 
 heard a knock at the door of the outer room. All this ap- 
 peared to us rather awful, and we did not know what to 
 think- of it. My father opened the door, and a man-servant 
 in the livery of a Jagare-chasseur entered, saying that he 
 had brought with him four soldiers of the guards, carrying 
 two chests which he had orders to deliver to my father, 
 handing him at the same time a sealed packet, with com- 
 pliments from Count L m, who would call upon my 
 
 father about dinner-time. Two large iron-hooped chests 
 were then carried in, which were placed in my father's 
 outer room. When the Jagare had gone, my father 
 double-locked and bolted, first the outer door leading to 
 the hall, then the double doors, and lastly the door between 
 his two rooms, all the time in profound silence and to our 
 great amazement. This done, my father broke the sealed 
 packet, took out of it two large keys, and applied them to 
 the chests, which he unlocked and opened. They were full 
 of small linen bags, and on each was written the initials 
 of my lather's name, C. F. B. We were now told to take 
 out the bags and place them in rows upon the floor. 
 These small bags were very heavy. When they had all 
 been taken out, my father counted them, untying the string 
 of one of them. We then saw that they contained large 
 silver coin. My father then opened the door of a large 
 closet or wardrobe, telling us to place all the bags in it ; 
 they were so many in number that, when piled one upon
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 21 
 
 the other, they formed a large heap. WTien all this was 
 done, my father locked the door to the wardrobe, took out 
 the key, patted us, and told us not to mention what we had 
 seen to any body, except to " Bonne Arnie;" not to Lena, 
 lest the little children should hear of it. We promised 
 this, and kept our word. 
 
 Before the end of the year we heard it said, that, during 
 
 the height of the war, Count Gustavus L m had put 
 
 the royal seal upon these chests, and had brought them 
 over with him to Sweden, and that they contained the pur- 
 chase money for a foundry and an estate in Finland, which 
 my father had sold. 
 
 This or the following year, I am not quite sure which 
 my father bought the estate of Nynas, in the parish ol 
 Osmo, probably with the contents of the linen bags which 
 we had taken out of the chests. My parents took up their 
 abode at Nynas the ensuing summer. The situation was 
 exceedingly beautiful ; but the principal dwelling-house, 
 old and very decayed, contained only one floor, consisting 
 of low rooms, so verv different to those which we had been 
 
 O v 
 
 accustomed to at Arsta. 
 
 One thing very delightful at Nynas was, that two glass 
 doors opened out of a very large dining-room to the gar- 
 den, into which we descended by two low steps. At the 
 back of the dwelling-house was a spacious court-yard, 
 planted all round with high, shady lime-trees, and opposite 
 it was a beautiful chapel, in which divine service was held 
 every Sunday. An arm of the Baltic came up close to 
 one side of the fine court-yard, and we had there a splen- 
 did view of the wooded shores, and in the background, at 
 some distance, was an island covered with stately oaks. 
 Oh ! how beautiful it was there, and on Sundays how sol- 
 emn ! Then, early in the morning, the people belonging 
 to the estate were all assembled in the court-yard clad in 
 their holiday dress ; they seated themselves, some upon a 
 row of benches placed on that side which was nearest to
 
 22 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the water, and others under the lime-trees upon the grassy 
 stone terraces. Waiting for the arrival of the clergyman 
 and the ringing of the bells, the smartly dressed peasant 
 women sat holding in their hands large bouquets of " south- 
 ernwood." After the service, the clergyman came to see 
 my parents. It was a custom from old times that he 
 should dine at the Manor-house. 
 
 My father had purchased Nynas of Count Mauritz Arm- 
 felt. I saw this favorite of Gustavus III., famous for his 
 personal beauty, his wit, and his political intrigues, when 
 he came one day to Nynas. He was then already an 
 elderly man, powerfully built, rather stout, but with an 
 exceedingly beautiful head. My parents endeavored to 
 persuade him to remain, at any rate, to dinner ; but he de- 
 clined their invitation, demanding only some luncheon, of 
 which he would not partake in the dining-room, but alone, 
 in his own former private apartment. This was a large 
 room, and on the long wall hung a full-size portrait of the 
 late King Gustavus Adolphus IV. 
 
 Immediately after luncheon, Count Armfelt returned to 
 Stockholm. There was something so strange in his visit to 
 Nynas, that it gave rise to much surprise and many sur- 
 mises. I heard subsequently that being a zealous adherent 
 of the deposed king and his family, he did not consider 
 himself quite safe in his native country, and that imme- 
 diately after his return to the capital he had taken up his 
 abode in the hotel of the Russian ambassador, Count 
 Tuchtelen, where he remained until he went over to Fin- 
 land. 
 
 Count Armfelt had left an homme d'affaires at Nynas, 
 who was to stay there over the summer, in order to settle 
 all the accounts relating to the sale of the estate. 
 
 He was a Frenchman, an old Abbe, by name Gredaine. 
 The good, hoary-headed Abbe soon became charmed with 
 the little, witty, lively Fredrika, and said to her one day, 
 " Mademoiselle Frederique, je vous fais mon heritiere uni-
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 23 
 
 verselle." The Abbe had had a summer-house fitted up 
 for himself, which rested upon wheels, so that it could be 
 moved wherever he wished ; at present it was standing in 
 the garden in the shade of beautiful trees, and he now 
 made a present of it to Fredrika. She jumped and 
 danced about with delight, patted and thanked the good 
 Abbe, and was almost beside herself with joy. The good 
 old man was quite as happy at seeing her happiness, and 
 from that moment, whenever he met Fredrika he always 
 repeated his " Mademoiselle Frederique, je vous fais mon 
 heritiere universelle." 
 
 The Abbe dined frequently with my parents, and on 
 such occasions the important question, relating to every 
 thing belonging to the summer-house, sofas, chairs, table, 
 &c., &c., was discussed in French, and when Fredrika was 
 told that it all belonged to her, there was a fresh outburst 
 of delight. After some time, and when the novelty had 
 worn off a little, and the Abbe was one day again dining 
 with us, Fredrika walked up to him asking if he had noth- 
 ing else to give her. The good Abbe pretended to be 
 angry, although it was easy to see that it was difficult for 
 him not to laugh, and exclaimed, " Comment Mademoiselle 
 Frederique, vous etes une ingrate ! je vous fais cadeau de 
 la plus jolie petite maison du monde, toute meublee, et vous 
 n'etes pas contente." Peace was, however, soon restored, 
 and when the Abbe added, " Attelez quatre chevaux a 
 votre petite maison, Mademoiselle Frederique, et vous 
 pouvez aller au bout du monde," Fredrika took this quite 
 seriously, and invited me to be her travelling companion. 
 
 The happiest memories of my childhood I carry with me 
 from Nynas. I do not know whether Fredrika enjoyed as 
 much as I the beautiful situation of this estate and the 
 charming scenery of its environs ; but I remember never 
 having felt so grateful for every thing good, and so happy as 
 then. So much singing of birds I have never listened to 
 as there, and Fredrika was as much delighted at it as I,
 
 24 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 and at the delicious fragrance which the stately lime-trees 
 diffused while they were in blossom. Grateful still for 
 these moments of enjoyment, I remember even now many 
 a beautiful Sunday morning on the other days of the 
 week we were not allowed to go out until one o'clock 
 when we used to wander through the park down to the 
 sea, or sit under the old-fashioned porch facing the court- 
 yard, looking at the church people as they assembled. 
 
 My mother, who looked upon us as too much of children 
 to be able to understand a sermon, would not allow us 
 to go to church. This was a great loss both to Fredrika 
 and me, because we were then really seriously disposed, and 
 wished so much to attend the service. But we soon fell 
 upon the idea of seating ourselves upon a grass-sofa behind 
 a hedge of lilacs. 
 
 Shaded by beautiful birch-trees, this sofa stood close to 
 the chapel, on that side of it where the altar was placed. 
 Seated there, we could hear the whole service, and we did 
 not leave our place of concealment until the congregation 
 had left the church. 
 
 Fredrika's tenth birthday, the 17th of August, was cele- 
 brated as all birthdays in our family, with a gouter, or lunch- 
 eon, consisting of all kinds of nice things, tea, lemonade, 
 tea-cakes, sweetmeats, fruits, &c., &c. During the preced- 
 ing winter I had conceived a bright idea. Fredrika had a 
 real passion for sweetmeats, and I had proposed to Hedda 
 and Claes that every time when, in the course of the 
 winter, we should get any sweetmeats, we should eat only 
 two or three of them each, and keep the remainder, in 
 order to collect a large quantity for Fredrika on her birth- 
 day. I undertook to take care of the treasure. 
 
 They agreed at once to my proposal, but when it came 
 to be realized, it frequently met with many difficulties. 
 The little children wanted to eat up all that they got, and 
 sometimes they seemed determined to besiege and storm 
 the wooden box in which I had treasured the sweetmeats.
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 25 
 
 They were not quiet until I had given them each one, 
 for all my remonstrances and beautiful speeches were in 
 vain. At last came the 17th of August, and I took Hedda 
 and Claes with me when I was going to put the sweet- 
 meats upon the dining-room table, which was decorated 
 with flowers and leaves in honor of the occasion. 
 
 To my great astonishment, I found that the contents of 
 the wooden box filled four large plates, which were placed 
 triumphantly upon the table. My parents were very much 
 astonished, for nobody but " Bonne Amie " had been let 
 into the grand secret. 
 
 They caressed and praised me and the little ones, who 
 now made up for lost time. My mother's brother, who had 
 spent a few days at Nynas, entered in the midst of the re- 
 joicings of the children. 
 
 Fredrika was delighted and happy on account of all the 
 good things, and my uncle asked what was the matter ? 
 When the secret was revealed to him, he exclaimed, " They 
 must be delicious, indeed, after being warehoused a whole 
 year ! " Then the truth flashed upon my mind, and I un- 
 derstood at once that the sweetmeats must be too old. All 
 the almond confectionery was as hard as stone, and had to 
 be pounded in a mortar ; but then, we thought, it tasted 
 deliciously. 
 
 In the autumn, it was very damp at Nynas. I believe 
 that the fine, high trees, with their rich foliage surrounding 
 the old wooden mansion, were the cause of this. My par- 
 ents, therefore, returned to Arsta early every autumn, I 
 believe in September, where we remained a couple of 
 months before we went into winter-quarters in town. 
 
 Extensive repairs and improvements in the whole upper 
 storey in the mansion at Arsta had been commenced and 
 were carried on until 1814, when the elegant and comfort- 
 able suite of apartments was finished. 
 
 We were very sorry to leave the country, for there we 
 were allowed to go out. My parents, when in town, had
 
 26 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 always two pair of carriage-horses in their stables during 
 the winter. My mother's, a pair of stately, beautiful " Isa- 
 belles," were used by her alone when paying visits, or 
 when, with one of her friends, she took a drive out through 
 " Norrtull," in those days the favorite drive of the fashion- 
 able world. My father always drove his fiery, splendid 
 black horses to run down to Arsta, or sometimes when he 
 went out for an airing, which he preferred doing in the 
 afternoon at dusk. He then always took two of the chil- 
 dren with him, in order that they might breathe the fresh 
 air, of which, however, they could not get much in a covered 
 sledge with only one window let down. We did not par- 
 ticularly enjoy these excursions. Scarcely a word was then 
 spoken, and we always went my father's favorite road, 
 from Regerings-gatan," where we then lived, past St. 
 John's church-yard, and out through " Roslags-tull." 
 
 Between the age of nine and twelve, Fredrika and I 
 studied the English and German languages; made great 
 progress in history, geography, &c., &c., and underwent reg- 
 ularly every year an examination before my father's early 
 friend, the Rector of St. Clara's Church, afterwards Bishop 
 Franzen. He was pleased with our studies in general, but 
 astonished at the progress which we had made in geog- 
 raphy. This we owed to " Bonne Amie's " excellent method 
 of teaching. On the map lying before us, she made us a 
 present of empires and kingdoms in those parts of the 
 world which we were studying for the time. When, for 
 instance, I got France and Fredrika England, we were 
 very anxious to become thoroughly acquainted with all the 
 provinces, towns, and rivers, bays and boundaries of the 
 country which we were governing, and this afforded us a 
 great deal of pleasure. But Fredrika always knew all the 
 produce of her kingdom much better than its boundaries ; 
 the latter she could never remember. 
 
 Fredrika had an innate aversion to all kinds of needle- 
 work. She turned upside down or inside out what she had
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 27 
 
 to sew, constantly lost meshes when she was knitting, and 
 would never take them up. When she dropped any meshes, 
 she did not say a word, but, quick as lightning, she threw 
 the stocking under her chair and ran out of the room. 
 " Bonne Amie " used to be very much amused at this 
 manoeuvre. We knew perfectly well what was the matter, 
 when Fredrika, silently and in haste, made off, and the 
 stocking was lying under her chair. 
 
 " Bonnie Amie " had in her youth learnt to make very 
 beautiful things in pasteboard. In order to amuse us, she 
 taught us in the long autumn evenings, after we came to 
 town, the art of making small work-boxes, baskets, needle- 
 cases, &c., &c., which, succeeding more or less, were always 
 admired by us ; and to educate us, she proposed that we 
 should sell these things, and, for the proceeds, buy stuff for 
 shirts and clothes which we were to make up for poor chil- 
 dren and distribute at Christmas. This proposal gave us a 
 great deal of pleasure ; and thus " Bonne Amie " gained 
 her object, to create in us a desire to assist those who 
 were in want ; to gain, by working, the means of doing so ; 
 or, by denying ourselves things that were not indispensably 
 necessary, to apply our means in quarters where they were 
 better wanted. We were astonished at the ready sale 
 which our work met with, which we were told had been 
 sent out to be sold. It was long before we discovered that 
 my mother and " Bonne Amie " had bought most of it. 
 
 During three winters Fredrika, Hedda, and I took les- 
 sons in dancing, which delighted us very much. Fredrika 
 was so weak about this time, that when, at the beginning 
 of every lesson, she had to curtsey, standing behind a 
 chair in all the five positions, she was often on the point of 
 falling down ; and her small feet were so soft and lissom 
 that our teacher, when she was going to bend them, fancied 
 they were broken to pieces. 
 
 It was the fashion in those days to make beautiful pas 
 and entrechats when dancing quadrilles, as the modern fran-
 
 28 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 false was then called ; and young ladies learnt to dance the 
 gavotte, the shawl-dance, and a kind of dance with a tambour 
 de Basque, from which this dance derived its name. A 
 first-rate danseuse from the opera came to our house twice 
 a week, accompanied by an old gentleman, who played the 
 violin while we were dancing, in order to teach us to keep 
 time. This old gentleman stood in need of much patience, 
 but this he had not. He became angry when, during every 
 lesson, he had to play the same reprise over and over 
 again ; because we could never be ready with our steps 
 when he began playing. He beat time with his foot louder 
 and louder, then he grumbled in a half-suppressed voice to 
 the tune of his violin, and now and then we heard him ex- 
 claim, as if to himself, " Devil's children ! " We were very 
 much offended at the old man's impoliteness ; we dared not 
 complain of it to our parents, but spoke, as usual, to " Bonne 
 Amie," who gave us the prudent advice to do our best to 
 fall into time at once, and to pretend not to hear what the 
 old man was saying when he lost his temper. 
 
 I believe it must have been about this time, or when 
 Fredrika was between nine and ten years old, that my par- 
 ents, one beautiful day in spring, made an excursion with 
 some friends to Skuro, a royal domain famous for its 
 beautiful park. Before dinner, which was ordered at the 
 neighboring hotel, the company took a stroll through some 
 part of the extensive park, the intention being to take a 
 longer walk through it after dinner ; but after having 
 sauntered about for some time, Fredrika was missing. We 
 all returned at once to search for her, shouting her name 
 in all directions, but in vain ; Fredrika was not to be seen. 
 Unacquainted with the large extent of the park, we did not 
 venture to separate, for fear that any more of our party 
 might be lost. It was, therefore, determined that my 
 mother should return, with the greater part of the com- 
 pany, to the hotel, and from thence send out people to 
 search for the lost one. Only my father, one of his friends,
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 29 
 
 and myself continued to look for her, and to call her by 
 name in another direction, along a path which we had 
 crossed before, but which she perhaps might have followed. 
 We soon came to more cross-roads, and having wandered 
 about a long while, shouting her name, my father was get- 
 ting fatigued, and was just on the point of returning to the 
 hotel, when suddenly, at the turn of the road, we saw Fre- 
 drika walking quietly along. As soon as she espied my 
 father, she ran up to him, exclaiming, 
 
 " Oh, papa, papa, I have seen Pan, the sylvan god ! " 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " asked my father. 
 
 "Why, he stands yonder," replied Fredrika, "playing 
 his flute. I asked a strange gentleman, whom I met, to 
 tell me who it was, and he said it was the wood-god Pan." 
 
 But Fredrika's delight at her new acquaintance, the syl- 
 van god, was of very short duration ; for now followed re- 
 proaches and scoldings for having so thoughtlessly strayed 
 away from the company, who had been searching for her 
 more than a couple of hours. We returned to the hotel ; 
 the elder ladies were fatigued and not inclined for any 
 further walk, and we went back to town earlier than we 
 intended doing. 
 
 In the spring of 1813 we returned to Arsta. My father 
 had sold the beautiful Nynas, to my great sorrow and re- 
 gret He found it too troublesome to attend to the man- 
 agement of two large estates. 
 
 Shortly after our arrival at Arsta, a strange gentleman 
 called upon my parents with an unexpected message. The 
 " Sodermanland Regiment " had been ordered to embark 
 on board a transport at Dalaro, to proceed, in company 
 with several other regiments, to Germany, and this gentle- 
 man had received orders, I do not know from whom, to 
 request that the officers of the regiment might be quartered 
 at Arsta. My father, of course, willingly gave his consent, 
 and in the following week there was a great deal of stir 
 and bustle at Arsta, ordinarily so quiet. No less than ten
 
 30 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 officers, and amongst them the commander, General R , 
 
 were quartered at the mansion, together with the band, and 
 one thousand men were quartered in the villages and farms 
 belonging to the estate. 
 
 We children thought this exceedingly delightful. Every 
 morning and evening the reveille and tattoo were sounded in 
 the spacious court-yard. My father renewed his acquaint- 
 ance with an early friend, Lieutenant-Colonel H . They 
 
 had studied together in Gb'ttingen, and had not met since. 
 This company remained more than three weeks at Arsta. 
 Payment was made to cottagers and peasants for the com- 
 mon men. I remember well that there was also a question 
 of remunerating my father ; but this he would not listen 
 
 to. I remember also General R being very- much 
 
 annoyed at not receiving orders to embark his men, and 
 that he went two or three times to Stockholm to inquire 
 how matters stood and push them on ; but he always re- 
 turned vexed, apologizing to my parents for all the trouble 
 which he and his officers involuntarily gave them. 
 
 "When all these guests were gone, Arsta relapsed again 
 into its usual quiet and silence. We children missed 
 especially the military band, and not hearing the reveille 
 and tattoo, and after that the solemn " chorum," the sing- 
 ing of a psalm or evening hymn. 
 
 Twice a week a messenger was sent to town with the 
 produce of the estate, and on his return we received letters 
 and newspapers. My father read these latter aloud after 
 supper. They were full of news from the theatre of war. 
 Most of the European nations rose to grapple with the 
 hitherto invincible Napoleon, who was now retreating after 
 his defeat and enormous losses in Russia. Under the 
 command of the Crown-Prince of Sweden, Bernadotte, in 
 whom the nations saw one of their liberators, a part of the 
 Swedish army had crossed over to Germany. 
 
 Then new ideas and feelings were awakened in Fre- 
 drika. She wept bitterly for not having been born a man,
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 31 
 
 so that she could have joined her countrymen to fight 
 against the general disturber of peace and oppressor of 
 nations ; she wanted to fight for her native country ; 
 longed to distinguish herself to win renown and glory. 
 She felt that she would not be wanting in courage, if she 
 could only get over to Germany. There she would dis- 
 guise herself ; perhaps be made page to the Crown-Prince. 
 With her head full of these dreams, and how, to begin 
 with, she was to get to Stockholm, she one day took her 
 little shawl upon her arm, and set out upon the high road 
 to the capital, in the hope that some chance but of what 
 kind she did not know might favor her design. She got 
 no farther this time than to the so-called " red gate," a 
 short distance from Arsta. Thence she returned home, 
 unhappy that she had failed in her attempt, and revealed 
 to me in the evening all her plans. I prayed her by all 
 means not to entertain such a silly idea, representing to 
 her that she could do nothing as a warrior ; and I spoke of 
 the sorrow which she would cause our parents. But she 
 was not at all convinced that she could not, with the cour- 
 age which she felt herself to possess, distinguish herself in 
 war ; and once again in the summer she set out, trusting 
 that chance this time would be more favorable to her. 
 
 She continued her march about a mile. Here she re- 
 mained standing for nearly half an hour, in the expectation 
 of seeing some family with whom she might be allowed to 
 go to town. Disappointed in this hope, she returned 
 home. " No carriage, not even a cat," had she seen during 
 her walk. A long time did these warlike notions occupy 
 her mind, but at last they gradually died away. 
 
 In the large dining-room in my parents' house in town, 
 a luncheon-table was always spread for my father at eleven 
 o'clock. It stood in a corner near the door opening from 
 " Bonne Amie's " room. Upon this table, covered with 
 several delicacies on small dishes, we trespassed on several 
 occasions. We suffered afterwards many pangs of con-
 
 32 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 science ; but this did not prevent us sinning again when 
 the temptation offered. Deeply repentant, as if we had 
 been guilty of some dark crime, we hastened always to 
 confess our sin to " Bonne Amie." 
 
 On Sundays we had permission to run about and play in 
 the dining-room. One day Fredrika said to us, " Now we 
 shall play at theatre." We placed some chairs along one 
 side of the room. " Now, Charlotte, Hedda, and Claes 
 must sit upon those chairs and pretend to be asleep, and I 
 shall run across the stage." We did so ; but, all remain- 
 ing silent a good while after we had heard Fredrika run 
 across the stage, we looked up, and exclaimed simultane- 
 ously, "Ah, Fredrika ! " There was Fredrika standing at 
 the luncheon-table, swallowing as fast as she could what 
 my father had left on the sundry dishes. 
 
 Fredrika's childish desire to cut things to pieces in 
 order to examine and experimentalize upon them, had by 
 this time given way to a desire to try practical jokes and 
 harmless tricks ; and nobody was so frequently her butt as 
 
 my brother's tutor, the good Mr. R . " Bonne Amie " 
 
 and Mr. R used often to play at chess, and fell always 
 
 to disputing during, as well as after, the game. " Bonne 
 Amie " could not bear to have Mr. R capture the 
 pieces which she had exposed, and Mr. R remon- 
 strated and tried to prove that the game would never fin- 
 ish unless he captured all the pieces which " Bonne Amie" 
 had endangered ; and after the game there were long dis- 
 cussions how he or she might have avoided becoming 
 checkmate. Fredrika availed herself of these opportu- 
 nities to play her tricks. One day, while Mr. R was 
 
 standing demonstrating before " Bonne Amie," Fredrika 
 took a heavy leaden pincushion, belonging to my mother, 
 
 stole behind Mr. R , and dropped it quietly into one of 
 
 the pockets of his dress-coat His coat was drawn all on 
 
 one side, and Mr. R looked quite woful, but did not 
 
 take any notice of it. Fredrika was very much astonished,
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 33 
 
 and fancied that he did not feel the weight of the leaden 
 cushion, which dragged his coat all on one side. She was 
 
 strengthened in this belief when Mr. R , bowing as 
 
 usual, said " Good night ; " and when, the following morning 
 at breakfast, he did not mention a word about the cushion, 
 Fredrika got frightened, and imagined that there must 
 
 have been a hole in Mr. R 's pocket, and that he had 
 
 lost my mother's pincushion without observing it, in going 
 up-stairs. She did not know what to do to find out the 
 
 matter, and at last went up to Mr. R , asking him 
 
 if he did not see a pincushion somewhere ? "A pin- 
 cushion ! " said Mr. R , with great difficulty trying to 
 
 keep from laughing. " What pincushion ? " It now came 
 to an explanation between him and Fredrika, who confessed 
 what she had done, wondering that he had not felt the 
 weight of the heavy pincushion in his pocket, saying that 
 
 there surely must be a hole in it. Mr. R went to 
 
 fetch the cushion, which he returned to Fredrika. Many 
 a time afterwards have we been amused when we remem- 
 bered this trick of Fredrika's, and her anxiety about the 
 lost cushion. 
 
 Another time, amongst the many, when " Bonne Amie " 
 
 was disputing with Mr. R , after having finished their 
 
 game at chess, Fredrika broke the cotton with which she 
 was knitting a stocking, took the ball, and fastened the end 
 
 of the string with a pin to Mr. R 's coat. When he 
 
 began walking about the room, the ball was rolling after 
 him ; but Fredrika could not understand why he kept con- 
 stantly walking in a circle, and always round her, so that 
 he entangled her feet in the cotton. It was a good while 
 
 before she became aware that Mr. R had observed 
 
 her trick, and wanted to punish her for it in his good-nat- 
 ured and jovial way. 
 
 " Bonne Amie " had promised us that at the age of fif- 
 teen we should be allowed to read aloud to her some good 
 novels in the evenings, after we had finished our lessons for 
 3
 
 34 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the day. In order that we both might share this great 
 pleasure, she let Fredrika read with me, although one year 
 younger than myself; and Fredrika was beyond measure 
 happy, when, on my fifteenth birthday, we began " Les 
 Petits Emigres," by Madame de Genlis. We were not 
 permitted to read more than half an hour each at a time, 
 and for this hour we longed the whole day. After having 
 gone through " Les Petits Emigres," we read Miss Bur- 
 ney's interesting and cleverly written novels, " Camilla," 
 " Evelina," and " Cecilia," abounding, however, as I after- 
 wards discovered, in romantic adventures. 
 
 How little profitable such reading is for young girls, 
 especially at our age, and so entirely without experience as 
 we were then, soon became manifest by all the fancies and 
 imaginations which we got into our heads about ourselves 
 and what might happen to us. We only longed to escape 
 from our convent-like seclusion at Arsta. We did not at 
 all doubt that, when we came out in the world, we should 
 become the heroines of romance, and, like the heroines in 
 novels, find many admirers, and meet with many advent- 
 ures of which we had not even dreamt previously. Who 
 could answer for it that even now, before we came out in 
 the world, some extraordinary adventure might not happen 
 at Arsta. During the whole autumn, I was listening every 
 evening in the dusk, to hear a ladder raised against the 
 wall under one of the windows of my room ; and, although 
 the escape down the high ladder might be a break-neck 
 affair, yet I felt a kind of foreboding that, like the lovely 
 Indiana in " Camilla," I should be carried off, I did not 
 know by whom, this I could never guess, but the hero 
 would perhaps afterwards discover and declare himself. 
 
 Fredrika had also forebodings of abductions : either she 
 or myself was to be the object ; but neither did she know 
 by whom we were to be carried off; she was sure that it 
 was going to happen in broad daylight, on a Sunday, on 
 our way from church, to which we drove, as usual, accom-
 
 BIOGRAPHY. .35 
 
 panied by " Bonne Amie," to attend divine service. Fre 
 drika was, therefore, sitting in the carriage, looking with 
 eager attention, first to the right, then to the left, to see 
 whether any horsemen would be rushing out of the forest, 
 commanding the coachman to stop. When, therefore, 
 Sunday after Sunday, we came back to Arsta with- 
 out any adventure, Fredrika found herself greatly disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 After having been locked up the following winter, as 
 usual, in Stockholm, Fredrika and I felt a greater desire 
 than ever to walk out and take exercise in the fresh air ; 
 but how this was to be managed we were at a loss to un- 
 derstand. We discussed the matter together, and it was 
 determined that we should ask my mother's permission to 
 go out occasionally, at all events twice a week. With a 
 palpitating heart I preferred my request. My mother an- 
 swered that she did not like it, and that it would not look 
 well for young girls to go out alone in the streets ; that if 
 we were in want of exercise, we might stand behind a 
 chair, hold on to the back, and jump. When I came back 
 to Fredrika with this answer, she was in despair, but what 
 was to be done ? I proposed that we should begin the 
 jumping that same evening, after we had said " Good- 
 night" to our parents and come into our room. We did 
 so, and that night I made two hundred jumps behind my 
 chair, resting now and then for a moment ; but Fredrika 
 had not performed one hundred before she gave in, began 
 to cry, went to bed and fell asleep, glad in sleep to forget 
 every thing. I continued jumping almost every evening, 
 and persuaded Fredrika now and then to try the same, 
 fancying that it did me a great deal of good, which it also 
 might have done her, being deprived as she was of other 
 exercise, but I could seldom induce her to do so. In one 
 thing, however, we agreed, namely, that no novel writers 
 ever would fall upon the idea of letting their heroines jump 
 behind chairs, by way of taking exercise. They would, no
 
 36 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 doubt have hit upon a more agreeable manner of gaining 
 their object. Meanwhile I found myself thriving very well 
 under this regime of jumping, and continued it this and 
 the following winter. It had the same effect upon me as 
 two cups of elder tea, and I slept excellently. 
 
 At the age of sixteen I was preparing for Confirmation. 
 Fredrika was not considered steady enough to take this 
 step, but she read together with me for the Rev. T. Colli- 
 ander, curate of Adolphus Fredric's church, a man at that 
 time highly esteemed as a clergyman and teacher. He 
 gave us religious instruction in my parents' house. The 
 following year he prepared Fredrika for Confirmation, and 
 I was always present as a listener. He was a good, sin- 
 cere, honest Christian, and was often moved to tears while 
 explaining to us the doctrine of the Atonement. The sum 
 total of his teaching was this : that one ought blindly to 
 believe what one could not understand, and try to live 
 according to Christ's divine doctrine. 
 
 Fredrika and I had, when children, read an excellent 
 book called " Gumal and Lina," written for children with a 
 view of imparting to them the first ideas of religion, by 
 Caspar Friederich Lossius, deacon of Erfurth, and trans- 
 lated by Broocman. The latter died soon after having 
 finished the first volume of this work, and the two last vol- 
 umes had not been translated into Swedish. We deter- 
 mined to translate them, and we did so during the time 
 that we prepared for our First Communion. Fredrika took 
 upon herself the second and I the third volume. After 
 two years this work, which had interested us in the highest 
 degree, was finished, and the following Christmas pre- 
 sented by us to our father. This touched him so deeply, 
 that he embraced us both with tears, and the following 
 year he had the work printed and published at his own 
 expense. 
 
 I had " come out " a year before Fredrika, and I was 
 allowed to go to balls and suppers, at which latter there
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 37 
 
 was then dancing, which afforded me a great deal of pleas- 
 ure. Fredrika made her entrance into the world the fol- 
 lowing year ; but she found less pleasure there than I did ; 
 she was not always invited to dance, and therefore soon got 
 tired of these gayeties. But she was, on the other hand, 
 very much interested in the many good plays which my 
 parents were kind enough to let us go to see. All this was 
 new to us, for we had not been to the theatre until we had 
 completed our sixteenth year. 
 
 In the winter of 1817 a young gentleman, born and set- 
 tled in France, was introduced into my parents' house. On 
 my birthday in May he gave me a charade to guess. The 
 significant word, full of mighty moment, had a double 
 meaning. The following morning I found a note lying 
 upon my bed. I opened it and read these lines : 
 
 " All grandeur renounce, choose virtue and worth, 
 
 So taught the wise men of the ages : 
 Then let us while choosing our lot on this earth 
 
 Adopt the advice of the sages. 
 For grandeur resembles the foam of Champagne, 
 
 It flies as we gaze on its swelling: 
 Blest he who renounces Chateaux en Espagne 
 
 For peace in a northern dwelling." 
 
 These verses were in Fredrika's handwriting, but signed 
 " J. P. Mallen," the name of an old man at that time known 
 in Stockholm as a writer of occasional poems. 
 
 After our Confirmation, my father wished Fredrika and 
 me to go through a regular training in household duties, 
 and to learn the art of cooking. In the beginning we had 
 each our week, when, under the superintendence of the 
 housekeeper, we had to give out to the cook every thing 
 that was required for the various meals, and to see that 
 nothing was wanting at table. Later in the summer a 
 clever superior cook was engaged from Stockholm, and as 
 we were to learn to prepare the most delicate dishes, we 
 had a feast every day. My father, who was very fond of 
 the luxuries of the table, thought this delightful ; and we, 
 
 448058
 
 38 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 especially myself, found it very pleasant to prepare the 
 choicest viands. Many times in my life have I gratefully 
 acknowledged my parents' wise idea, to let us learn thor- 
 oughly all that belongs to the management of a house 
 and household. A wife, who has learned all this in her 
 youth, becomes quite independent of her servants' igno- 
 rance and will have every thing in her house good, but less 
 expensive than if she had no experience in these matters. 
 For two summers the Stockholm cook stayed with us at 
 Arsta, a couple of months each time. 
 
 It was now determined in family council that we should 
 study the art of musical composition and thorough-bass, 
 and that I should learn to sing, as I had a good voice. 
 The Italian language being necessary in singing, we had 
 studied it several years under the guidance of an Italian 
 settled in Stockholm, a Signer Cartoni, who had at last 
 advanced so far in his knowledge of languages, that he 
 could not speak any language correctly. We studied 
 thorough-bass under a very eminent musician, Professor 
 Strurve, formerly a physician, who had given up his prac- 
 tice in order to occupy himself exclusively with music, and 
 now we were to try our skill at composition. 
 
 Fredrika wrote a theatrical piece in one act, called " The 
 Poet," and I composed the music to it. When my teacher 
 was going to play the overture, he exclaimed, " What a 
 very difficult piece ! it is really such a muddle I shall never 
 be able to play it ! " He expressed more satisfaction with 
 my music to a couple of romances, with which I was de- 
 lighted myself. This masterpiece, " The Poet," was to be 
 performed on my father's birthday, the 2d of April, 1818. 
 Several of my parents' friends and acquaintances were in- 
 vited by my mother to tea. After tea, the company sat 
 down in the dining-room upon chairs placed in rows ; the 
 doors to one of the drawing-rooms, which had been fitted 
 up as a theatre, were thrown open, and I was discovered 
 sitting at the piano playing my exceedingly difficult over-
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 39 
 
 ture. I broke down at least three times, and long before I 
 had finished, I was ready to burst out crying. 
 
 Then came the comedy, which has since unfortunately 
 been lost ; but the first verse of one of the airs, written 
 between the leaves of the music-book which I have still in 
 my possession, is as follows : 
 
 " To woman, issuing from All-Father's hand, 
 The fruits of glory were denied; this was her duty: 
 The soothing balm of comfort to dispense, to stand 
 By grief with sympathy, and grace life by her beauty." 
 
 My father, as usual at these little entertainments, was 
 touched and delighted, and patted and thanked us chil- 
 dren. He was very fond of music, and since Fredrika and 
 I had now, for our age, become very good performers on 
 the piano, he liked us to play to him every day some of his 
 favorite pieces. This we always did with pleasure. But 
 he now also wished to let other people hear how clever his 
 daughters were, and this did them no good. I shone with 
 the overture to " The Caliph of Bagdad ; " Fredrika, with 
 " La Bataille de Fleurus," and we both strove to paint 
 the booming of the cannon, the drums, and the trumpet- 
 clangor in "The Battle of Prague," as powerfully as pos- 
 sible. My father enjoyed the praise which was showered 
 upon us ; then we had to produce our landscape-drawings 
 and our flowers in crayon. This had no good influence 
 upon us, least of all upon Fredrika, whose innate desire to 
 be praised, to win renown and glory, was stimulated to such 
 a degree, that she often found herself really unhappy when 
 she thought she had no chance of distinguishing herself. 
 I had not the same desire, but began to be fond of admira- 
 tion, and to entertain a high opinion of myself, partly on 
 account of the praises which I received, partly on account 
 of the greater tenderness which my father always had 
 shown me, as compared with the other children. Fredrika 
 had an instinctive feeling of independence, which mani- 
 fested itself more and more as she advanced in years.
 
 40 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 This jarred upon my father's temper, and became the cause 
 of many unhappy moments for her. 
 
 These exhibitions of our talents were always held in 
 town, for nobody was ever invited out to Arsta. 
 
 Although Arsta was situated at a distance of only twenty 
 English miles from the metropolis, our family ted there, 
 nevertheless, a very solitary life, totally separated from the 
 outer world. If the milk-carriers had not brought out 
 news of what was going on in the neighboring capital, we 
 might have imagined that we were distant from it hundreds 
 of miles, in some very remote province. My father felt 
 embarrassed when receiving visitors in the country, and 
 would therefore never invite any body to see us while we 
 were there. The Rector and Curate of the parish, with their 
 wives, were the only people who once or twice were invited 
 to dinner ; my father seemed then to have performed an 
 arduous duty, and these people were the only ones which 
 we saw during the summer. My father, who in his youth 
 had studied at two universities in Germany and afterwards 
 had travelled a great deal in foreign countries, felt occa- 
 sionally the want of change and diversion. When, there- 
 fore, the life at Arsta became too monotonous, he went to 
 town for one or two days ; but it happened frequently that, 
 on his arrival there, he never left his rooms, and returned 
 to Arsta without having spoken to a single human being. 
 
 When he came back and had saluted us, he always asked 
 for news ; but as never any thing happened at Arsta, we 
 had no news to tell. One day, however, we were more for- 
 tunate. It was late in the autumn ; a number of bullocks 
 had been let out to be watered at a pond, and when they 
 had approached a spot in the " English Park," a kind of 
 inclosure near the mansion where, at that season, the gates 
 were taken away, every bullock, on crossing that spot, was 
 seized with a dancing fit, so that they began jumping, 
 prancing, and kicking their hind legs in the air. This was 
 something very strange, something wonderful, a real evene-
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 41 
 
 ment at Arsta. My father returned the same evening from 
 town. I must at this time have been fifteen or sixteen 
 years old, because we had now removed into the upper 
 storey, and I had got my mother's distinct permission a 
 permission not given until we should have reached that 
 age to eat as much as we liked both at breakfast, dinner, 
 and supper. 
 
 We had just finished supper, and went as usual into my 
 father's library, to converse until the clock in the old tower 
 had struck ten. I do not remember how it happened that 
 the four elder children did not follow our parents into the 
 library, but only I, who, when my father was seated on 
 the sofa, and, as usual, asked for news, related to him the 
 wonderful occurrence of the day. My father listened at- 
 tentively to my recital, wondering what could have been 
 the cause. Then in came one of the other children, relat- 
 ing the same story. My father listened, but said nothing. 
 Then came a third, repeating what the others had told ; and 
 when at last Fredrika made her appearance, and began 
 with " Do you know, papa, that the bullocks " my father 
 interrupted her, saying, " Ah ! very well ; this is the fourth 
 time I have heard that story, and now there must be an 
 end of it." A general silence ensued, and no one had 
 another word to say until the clock struck ten, when my 
 father said " Good night," and we went to our own rooms. 
 
 In the long, dark autumn evenings at Arsta, we all as- 
 sembled in the " yellow drawing-room." At ten minutes 
 to six the footman entered to lay the cloth for tea, and 
 shortly after came the housekeeper, who was to make and 
 pour out tea. Our party consisted always of my mother 
 and father, our governess and my eldest brother's tutor, 
 Fredrika, Hedda, and myself. When they all had had 
 their tea, with the exception of us three sisters, who were 
 mere lookers-on, the housekeeper fortunate woman ! 
 disappeared, and we sisters remained sitting, with our work, 
 at a table in one corner of the room ; my mother sat down
 
 42 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 in a corner of a sofa, and my father beside a table in the 
 centre of the room, reading aloud until supper-time at nine 
 o'clock. My father, who was only interested in classical 
 literature, chose in preference historical works, which were 
 rather tiresome for his young daughters to listen to, espe- 
 cially as they were written in German and in English, my 
 father's favorite languages, which he read beautifully, but 
 which we did not then understand well enough to follow 
 when he was reading aloud. 
 
 After the first ten minutes, my mother fell asleep, and 
 we were often ready to follow her example. Fredrika 
 yawned till the tears rolled down her cheeks ; and if my 
 brother's tutor, the good Mr. R , had not hit upon sev- 
 eral tricks to keep us awake, I do not know how we should 
 have fared. But sometimes we were on the point of being 
 found out ; for instance, when we were seized with an irre- 
 sistible youthful desire to laugh, which fortunately my father 
 did not notice, as we were sitting far away from him. Once, 
 
 however, while we were nodding, half asleeep, Mr. R 
 
 happened to strike his hand so loudly upon the table that my 
 father looked up and said, " What was that ? " " Jt was 
 it was " answered Fredrika, quite frightened, " the table 
 that was going to jump." My father looked displeased, 
 but said nothing more, and continued after a time his read- 
 ing. In this manner we labored through Schiller's " Thirty 
 Years' War," Gibbon's " Decline and Fall of the Roman 
 Empire," and Robertson's " History of America," the two 
 last in English. 
 
 After supper we all went into my father's library to con- 
 verse until ten o'clock. When we came back to our own 
 room Fredrika often sat down to cry, and, dejected as we 
 were ourselves, neither Hedda nor I could offer her any 
 consolation. 
 
 The monotonous, joyless, and inactive life which we led 
 was felt by us all, but especially by Fredrika. One year was 
 exactly like the other. We had certainly occupation ; we
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 43 
 
 read, drew, embroidered, played scales, sonatas, and themas 
 with variations, and Fredrika wrote both prose and verse, 
 but she wept often and said that nobody understood her. 
 The relation between my father and Fredrika had cer- 
 tainly become much better than formerly ; and when, on 
 his or my mother's birthday, she wrote some little play, 
 which was performed by us children, my father was much 
 amused and pleased ; and when it was my mother's birth- 
 day that was to be celebrated, he copied out the parts 
 himself. 
 
 The monotonous resemblance of one year to the other 
 continued until 1820, when Fredrika and our youngest sis- 
 ter Agatha were ordered by our doctor to drink mineral 
 waters. Inexpressibly happy to be allowed to see a little 
 of the world, I had also permission to be of the party. 
 We went with my mother to a Swedish spa, but so late in 
 the season that most of the mineral-water drinkers had al- 
 ready left on our arrival. We led there a quiet, agreeable 
 life during three weeks' time. The country around was 
 very beautiful, and an amiable old married couple, owners 
 of the spa, and residing on their estate in the neighbor- 
 hood, did all in their power to make our solitary stay there 
 as pleasant and agreeable as possible. This little trip did 
 us all a great deal of good, especially Fredrika, who really 
 stood in need of getting away from home, which to her ap- 
 peared more dull than to us. 
 
 For a couple of years it had been my father's wish to 
 sell Arsta, and to settle in the south of France. During 
 his many travels in foreign parts, he had not seen any 
 country which pleased him more, and every succeeding 
 year his desire to live in a milder climate became stronger 
 and stronger. As, however, he could not obtain the price 
 for Arsta which he had asked for it, it was determined that 
 the whole family should travel a year, and spend a winter 
 in Marseilles. 
 
 In the beginning of August, 1821, we all set out upon
 
 44 BTOGRAPHT. 
 
 this long journey, in two large travelling landaus, each 
 drawn by four horses. After having, on our way to Ystad, 
 visited some relatives at their estates, we sailed from Ystad 
 to Stralsund, in the mail-packet. Leaving Stralsund, we 
 ploughed our way through the sandy deserts of Pomerania 
 and Liineburg, occasionally with six large horses harnessed 
 to each carriage, and two postilion smoking-pipes to each 
 set of horses. It was nevertheless with great difficulty that 
 we could get along the bottomless roads. Not until we 
 came to Hanover could we proceed along good, firm chaus- 
 sees. In Darmstadt, Fredrika became ill. She had al- 
 ready, in Frankfort on Main, felt unwell ; but it being in the 
 height of the " Messe," the large annual fair, and the 
 town being full of travellers, and consequently very noisy, 
 my parents determined to push on to Darmstadt, and re- 
 main there in case Fredrika should get worse. She became 
 seriously ill. The most skillful doctor in the town, Baron 
 "Wedekind, physician in ordinary to the Grand Duke, was 
 called in. He declared that Fredrika's illness was a bilious 
 fever, not dangerous, but which might be lingering. We 
 remained for three weeks quietly in this pretty little town, 
 with its well-built houses surrounded by their gardens and 
 fine, old, shady lime-trees. The good old Baron Wedekind 
 came to see Fredrika every day ; and when at last she got 
 so well that she could go out for a drive, he sent her his 
 own equipage daily. We were staying at an excellent 
 hotel, " Die Traube," on one side of a large square, and 
 our landlord and landlady were very kind and attentive, 
 and did all they could to insure quiet and peace to the in- 
 valid foreigner. Only one single night was our rest dis- 
 turbed. We were all roused out of our sleep by the most 
 horrible noises and shouts. The officers of the garrison 
 had been assembled at the " Traube " for some festival, 
 and they finished off by smashing dishes, plates, glasses, 
 and bottles, and even the tables at which they had had their 
 banquet. Noble exploits for the defenders of their country !
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 45 
 
 Time passed quietly and pleasantly for us at Darmstadt 
 My father had the kindness to let Hedda and me frequently 
 go to the pretty little theatre, where the famous Madame 
 Schrbder-Devrient was then playing. "We read many good 
 books, sometimes taken at a circulating library, sometimes 
 sent by Baron Wedekind ; we took long walks with my 
 father in the beautiful environs, and visited occasionally 
 the painting-gallery, where we admired the works of the 
 great masters. But it grieved us very much to see Fre- 
 drika for some days really so very ill, and that she could 
 not participate in our pleasure. 
 
 During the whole of this time, my father had been in an 
 unusually good temper, and it was therefore with trembling 
 that we looked forward to the day when our journey should 
 be continued. Nothing tries so much the temper as trav- 
 elling, and my father, who could stoically and submissively 
 bear serious misfortunes, could less than many others bear 
 trifling annoyances, such as, for instance, when my mother, 
 the six children, and his Swedish servant were not quite 
 ready to start at the appointed hour. There was then a 
 scene as if some great calamity had happened ; and, al- 
 though we all tried to be punctual, it occurred neverthe- 
 less, frequently, that, amongst so many as we were, some 
 one got into the carriage a minute or two too late. This 
 and similar trifles became, therefore, a serious drawback to 
 the pleasure which we otherwise might have derived from 
 a journey through a beautiful country. As soon as Fre- 
 drika had somewhat regained her strength, we proceeded 
 on our journey, but she being still very weak, we were to 
 make only very short stages the first days, and to begin 
 with, not further than to Heppenheim. Before we arrived 
 there, we saw, in passing the fine park of the castle of 
 Auerbach, the summer residence of the Grand Duke, a 
 horseman coming at full gallop towards our carriages. It 
 was Baron Wedekind, who had promised to see us once 
 more, and who, in order to escape the ducal dinner party
 
 46 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 i 
 at Auerbach, had made the Grand Duke believe that my 
 
 father had written to him to say that Fredrika was worse. 
 " Go, go, by all means ! " was the Grand Duke's answer, and 
 now the good old doctor accompanied us to Heppenheim, 
 to assure himself that we should be well lodged in the 
 hotel which he had recommended to us there, after which, 
 with tears in his eyes, he took leave of us. 
 
 Our journey now lay through the wealthy, beautiful 
 Baden to Basle, and thence through Switzerland to Ge- 
 neva, where the news reached us that the yellow fever had 
 broken out in Marseilles. In order to obtain further in- 
 formation, my father determined to remain for some time 
 on the borders of the Lake of Geneva, at all events until 
 there should not be any danger of infection ; but, having 
 received positive news that the disease was gaining ground, 
 and that numbers of foreign families were leaving Mar- 
 seilles, all thoughts of spending the winter there had to be 
 abandoned. After a short excursion to Lausanne and 
 Vevay, and, after having placed my eldest brother Claes in 
 a boarding-school with a professor in Geneva, we crossed 
 the Jura Alps to Dijon, going thence to Paris, where we 
 were to remain over the winter. 
 
 My parents having engaged comfortable apartments in 
 the " Hotel de Bruxelles," Rue Richelieu, " the same 
 suite," said the landlord, as " votre compatriote, Monsieur 
 de Lagerbie (Lagerbjelke), Ministre de Suede," had oc- 
 cupied several years, we sisters had the benefit of ex- 
 cellent teachers, good and expensive, in music, drawing, 
 painting, and singing. At the larger theatres we had an 
 opportunity of seeing and hearing, at least once or twice a 
 week, the famous artists which appeared there at that time, 
 namely. Talma, Mademoiselle Duchesnoix, Mademoiselle 
 Mars, Mademoiselle Georges, Madame Pasta, Madame 
 Mainville, Fodar, and others. None of them enchanted 
 Fredrika and me so much as Mademoiselle Mars, and at 
 no one's great fame were we so astonished as at Talma's.
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 47 
 
 We both agreed in thinking that in his tragic parts he 
 was devoid of truth, and that on the contrary he exag- 
 gerated ; and we could not understand why, the more he 
 made his raised arms tremble, the more the audience ap- 
 plauded. We went also during the winter to some grand 
 balls given by families whose acquaintance my parents had 
 made through my father's bankers. Galleries, museums, 
 and collections of works of art, we visited often ; and in the 
 spring we made excursions to Versailles, and other remark- 
 able places in the environs of Paris. We returned to 
 Sweden in the month of June, passing through the Nether- 
 lands and Germany, and came back to Stockholm without 
 meeting with any adventures, and soon after we were once 
 more installed at our old Arsta. 
 
 In the beginning we were very happy to be at home 
 again, and to enjoy the quiet of the country; but when 
 autumn came, our life resumed its former course. We had 
 now, however, much to speak about, and many reminis- 
 cences from our travels to fall back upon, during our even- 
 ing conversations in the library. This always amused and 
 interested my father ; but Fredrika sat generally silent, and 
 very rarely took part in the conversation. To her these 
 compulsory conversations and our inactive life were a real 
 torture ; she longed to get into the world ; longed for some- 
 thing to labor and work for ; longed to distinguish herself 
 in any way. The realization of these longings was the aim 
 of all her desires and endeavors, but how it was to be ac- 
 complished was still hidden in darkness. She had pro- 
 jected several plans, but she did not venture to propose 
 them either to my father or my mother ; and every thing, 
 therefore, remained as it was. After tea, at six o'clock, my 
 father read now Schiller's " Maid of Orleans," " Don Car- 
 los," and others, and Fredrika seemed to derive new life. 
 While listening to these masterpieces, we were deeply in- 
 terested and often touched, but Fredrika was at times, as 
 it were, dissolved in tears. She, however, felt herself
 
 48 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 happy during these readings, until the conversations after 
 supper again froze her feelings. 
 
 As in many ancient country mansions in Sweden, there 
 was also an old tradition that the manor-house of Arsta 
 was haunted. One evening while our family was assembled 
 round the tea-table in the yellow drawing-room, the steward 
 came in and told my father that he could not prevail upon 
 any of the men to go up to the attic to fetch down some 
 empty bags which were wanted in the morning, on account 
 of their fear of ghosts. He added, that he knew there 
 stood in the attic a wooden chest, in which were lying a 
 cannon-ball and bloody garments, and that there were 
 hanging two swords, of which one was two-edged, and with 
 which somebody had been beheaded. My father gave the 
 steward orders how to act; but we soon heard that he had 
 not succeeded, and that he had to go himself up to the 
 much-dreaded attic and place the bags outside the door, so 
 that the men could fetch them thence in the morning, when 
 it was daylight. It was believed that the gory clothes lying 
 in the chest had belonged to Admiral Bjelkenstjerna, and 
 that the ball was the identical one with which he had been 
 wounded during the Thirty Years' War. Afterwards, it was 
 ascertained that the clothes had belonged to an Admiral 
 Claes Fleming, who was killed during the war with Den- 
 mark, in the reign of Queen Christina, on board his ship 
 in the Sound, by a hostile ball, while he was making his 
 morning toilet, and this ball, it was said, was the one lying 
 in the chest. 
 
 On the broad, two-edged sword was engraved, that with it 
 John Fleming had been beheaded at the command of Charles 
 IX. The other sword was without any inscription, but un- 
 usually long. The old chest and the two swords were on 
 the following day sent to the Bjelkenstjerna Mausoleum, in 
 the church of Oster Hanninge, where they are now pre- 
 served. 
 
 After our return from our long journey, my parents hired
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 49 
 
 a beautiful suite of apartments in the Blasseholm Square, 
 in Stockholm, to which we moved in 1822. With mutual 
 pleasure we saw our near and dear relatives again ; but 
 most of our acquaintances looked upon us with rather 
 envious eyes, scrutinized our fashionable and elegant 
 toilet, and thought that we were giving ourselves grand 
 airs. After all, perhaps, they were not far wrong ; we 
 were proud of our talents, and considered ourselves rather 
 distinguished. In those days it was a rare occurrence that 
 a Swedish lady had travelled in foreign countries, and 
 we had been travelling so far and seen so much of the 
 world ! 
 
 Fredrika, who did not like dancing as much I did, often 
 begged to be allowed to stay at home when we were invited 
 out to balls ; therefore, Hedda went instead. Fredrika 
 now began painting portraits in miniature under Professor 
 
 W , and it was soon evident that she had great natural 
 
 talent for catching the likeness, but always beautified, and 
 with wonderful expression. There was a great deal of 
 genius in her manner of painting portraits. Under the 
 sense of the heavy atmosphere in our home, she found a 
 great comfort in her painting, and therefore spent many 
 hours every day at her easel. My father was pleased with 
 Fredrika's beautiful works, and admired them exceedingly. 
 Fredrika had not much of a voice, but she sang duets with 
 me, and the charming " Nocturnes " of Signer Blangini, my 
 singing-master in Paris, for the sake of amusing my father. 
 His temper became every year more gloomy and irritable. 
 His return to Sweden and the cold climate had an unfavor- 
 able influence upon his temper and his health. 
 
 In the summer of 1824 my mother went to Paris with 
 my sister Agatha, in order to place her in an Orthopedic 
 Institution. She had, unfortunately, of late become very 
 crooked, and in those days there was no remedy in Sweden 
 for this disease. Hedda and Claes accompanied them, in 
 order to assist my mother on the journey. After a fort- 
 4
 
 50 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 night's stay in Paris they returned home, having left Agatha 
 at the above-mentioned excellent institution, where, before 
 their departure, she already felt herself improving under 
 the treatment. Two amiable Parisian ladies, acquaintances 
 of my parents, Madame Holterman and Madame Pictet, 
 promised my mother to take- the little, lovable Swede 
 under their maternal care ; and these good, excellent ladies 
 fulfilled their promise faithfully during a period of two 
 years. 
 
 My father went one day, about the end of September, 
 down into the park at Arsta, and took a bath in the bath- 
 house built there. This had such a bad effect upon his 
 health that he became seriously ill the following day, and 
 he felt his feet becoming almost paralyzed. Our family 
 
 physician, the eminent Dr. E m, was sent for, and he 
 
 declared that my father must be at once removed to town, 
 in order to have proper attendance. The following day 
 my father was placed in a close carriage, and my mother 
 and I went with him to nurse him. My sisters and brother 
 came to town a fortnight later ; and now commenced a 
 time of sickness and severe suffering for my father, which 
 returned every winter, but which he bore with admirable 
 patience without ever once complaining. Only the expres- 
 sion of pain in his face betrayed how much he suffered. 
 The disease, which was gout, having now attacked his 
 body, my father was so kind, so little exacting, so satis- 
 fied with every thing, and frequently so cheerful, that we 
 felt convinced that the gout had formerly been in his tem- 
 per, because my father when ill, and my father when in 
 health, were two very different beings. Probably, also, his 
 more cheerful temper was owing to his altered diet. 
 
 It was the wish of my mother, and of us all, to make this 
 time of severe trial as pleasant to my father as possible. 
 When his sufferings were not too severe we read aloud to 
 him a great many accounts of travels, which always inter- 
 ested him ; and whenever the gout did not attack his hands,
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 51 
 
 we played chess with him all through the long winter even- 
 ings. My father was passionately fond of chess, but he did 
 not like to lose the game ; whereas he laughed at us when 
 we were checkmate. This vexed and annoyed Fredrika 
 very much, who disliked exceedingly that my father should 
 laugh and chuckle while capturing those of her pieces 
 which she frequently left unguarded. She could, on such 
 occasions, rarely restrain her tears. This displeased my 
 father, who sent her away, and I had to come and finish 
 the game, which, in most cases, stood very unfavorably for 
 her. Sometimes she had only the king and the queen left, 
 and these I had to move about until I became checkmate. 
 I used to take it very coolly, and was glad, although aston- 
 ished, that my father could find any pleasure in seeing such 
 a wretched end to the game. Hedda did not know how to 
 play chess ; it was therefore Fredrika and I who each 
 alternately had to play with him. Poor Fredrika went 
 with an insurmountable aversion to the chess-table. I de- 
 termined to manage so that I won one or two games every 
 night, in order that my father should not consider himself 
 too clever ; but by some wrong moves I always let him win 
 the last game, for otherwise he lost his temper, and that 
 he should be in a good temper was, after all, the main point. 
 I begged of Fredrika to think of this, and to try to over- 
 come her aversion ; but she never could calmly submit. 
 
 Not until about midsummer did my father so far recover 
 from his illness that he could be moved out to Arsta, and 
 how delightful this was to us sisters I can hardly express. 
 At the dear old Arsta we again breathed freely. 
 
 During the summer, no less than five daughters of peas- 
 ants belonging to the estate applied to us to be dressed as 
 brides, and to be married at Arsta, in the autumn. Almost 
 every autumn, one or more such weddings were celebrated 
 in our large dining-room, with the ceremonies customary in 
 the district. There was something so old-fashioned, so pe- 
 culiarly mediaeval in the costume of the brides, and in the
 
 52 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 appearance of the bridal-train, that they are well deserv- 
 ing of a more detailed description. 
 
 On the evening before the wedding-day, the bride and 
 her two bridemaids came to the manor-house with the 
 " forming," as it was called. The bride was too grand to 
 carry any thing herself, but the bridemaids carried each a 
 gigantic round pewter dish with wheaten bread, biscuits, 
 tarts, pastry, and a variety of cakes, etc., etc. 
 
 This " forming " was intended as a present to the Lord 
 and Lady of the manor, but it was always given to the 
 housekeeper, who distributed it amongst the servants. 
 Then the housekeeper and my mother's waiting-maid took 
 charge of the poor bride, who, before going to bed for the 
 night, had to submit her head to the following treatment, 
 in order that she might look splendid on the wedding-day, 
 namely : her hair was parted across the head from ear to 
 ear; the hair on the back of the head was then braided 
 into eighteen narrow plaits ; the hair on the front of the 
 head was cut off in such a manner, that what remained of 
 it was barely long enough to be laid in curl-papers, which 
 were afterwards pinched with curling tongs. The French 
 proverb, " II faut souffrir pour etre belle," was verified here ; 
 for the wretched bride was always sleepy, and sat nodding, 
 and got the headache from this troublesome and unusual 
 process, long before she was allowed to retire to her bed. 
 If a word of pity was spoken to her, she always answered, 
 " Oh, I shall get used to it by and by." 
 
 Late at night the bride went to bed, and the following 
 morning she had to be up early, in order to be dressed in 
 her bridal costume by one o'clock, when the clergyman, 
 after the close of the morning service, was to come to 
 Arsta to perform the marriage ceremony. After having 
 strengthened her nerves with some wine and other refresh- 
 ments, the toilet commenced. The eighteen plaits were 
 combed out, so that they fell in curls, like a cascade, down 
 her back ; the curl-papers were removed, and the whole of
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 53 
 
 the front hair was dressed so that it stood straight up all 
 round the forehead, which was left free. This head-dress 
 was then powdered and adorned with all kinds of tinsel, 
 pieces of cut and colored glass set in brass, so-called 
 Falu jewels, gilt leaves, buds of flowers, the more the 
 better. Behind this high head-dress was laid a small 
 cushion, and upon it was fixed the bridal-crown, made of 
 silver-gilt, and very heavy, which, on the morning of the 
 wedding-day, had solemnly been brought to Arsta from 
 the church by the bridegroom, accompanied by two of 
 his svenner, or bridegroom's men. On one side of the 
 crown were then fixed three long ostrich-feathers, standing 
 straight up, one of which was white, one blue, and one red. 
 And now the bride's head was dressed ! If the bride was 
 good-looking, which sometimes happened to be the case, 
 she then looked very grand in this costume. 
 
 Then the bridal robe was put on. It was one of my 
 mother's cast-off black silk dresses, which had lost its orig- 
 inal fraicheur, and had now been renovated and trimmed 
 all round the bottom with a broad gold band. The sleeves, 
 which in two divisions reached down to the elbows, were 
 trimmed with very smart black lace, exactly as one sees it 
 in old portraits. A berthe or cape of black lace was fast- 
 ened to the dress round the neck, and a large bouquet of 
 natural flowers from the greenhouse was fastened in the 
 front of the bride's dress. Two or three chains were hung 
 round her neck, and a gold band encircled her waist by 
 way of sash. But now comes the drollest part of the 
 whole costume. To this sash were tied all the bride- 
 groom's presents, consisting of a black silk neckerchief; 
 one or two cotton ditto ; a white handkerchief for the 
 head, embroidered with colored cotton thread ; one or two 
 pair of gloves, etc., etc. All these things were hanging 
 straight down her dress, so that the body looked like an 
 itinerant clothes-shop ; whereas her head looked as if it 
 had belonged to a queen of the Middle Ages.
 
 54 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 The Psalm-book, which was also one of the bridegroom's 
 presents, was held in her left hand, together with a white 
 pocket-handkerchief spread out, and so large 'that it looked 
 like a towel. 
 
 When the bride and the bridemaids at last were ready, 
 the latter dressed in white, with enormous bouquets of ar- 
 tificial flowers, not always of the prettiest, but full of gold 
 tinsel, stuck in their bosoms, they were conducted to the 
 upper storey, in order that the bride might admire herself 
 in the pier-glasses in the large drawing-room, and there 
 she wandered about a good while from one glass to the 
 other, and thought that she was " cruelly grand." 
 
 There was a popular belief in our parish that the one, of 
 those who were going to be united for life, who first should 
 catch a glimpse of the other before the ceremony, 
 would be the one who should afterwards obtain the sway 
 in the house. We sisters were of course very anxious 
 that the bride should first catch a glimpse of the bride- 
 groom ; but nobody was more anxious about this than 
 Fredrika, and she always stood on the lookout, that she 
 might call the bride when she saw the bridegroom with 
 his train riding up. 
 
 This train of bridegroom's men, all on horseback, was 
 most amusing to look at. It was headed by two musicians 
 playing the violin, who had the greatest difficulty in the 
 world to manage their horses, which seemed to be the case 
 more or less with all the equestrians, as the horses dashed 
 hither and thither during their calvacade up to the court- 
 yard. When they were assembled there, and the riders 
 had got off their steeds, and the female part of the assem- 
 blage had alighted from their vehicles, and they all had 
 entered the large hall, the bride, who a short time before 
 had gone down into the housekeeper's room with her 
 bridemaids, made her appearance, giving her hand to her 
 future husband, curtseying to him at the same time. Two 
 processions were then formed : a fiddler, scraping his vio-
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 55 
 
 lin, preceded the male procession, which was headed by 
 the bridegroom, with a large bouquet of artificial flowers 
 stuck on his breast, and followed by his groomsmen, 
 all with smaller bouquets, and by a number of other 
 people ; the other fiddler led the female procession, 
 which was headed by the bride and her bridemaids. 
 Each procession walked up a separate flight of stairs to 
 the upper storey, to the accompaniment of music ; and the 
 fine large hall, with its granite columns and double flight 
 of stairs, all crowded with people, presented a grand ap- 
 pearance. The crowd then entered the dining - room, 
 where, as soon as the clergyman arrived, my parents and 
 we children made our entrance, saluting the company. 
 
 After the ceremony, my parents, in going up to the 
 newly - married couple to congratulate them, gave the 
 signal to all the rest to do the same, and then began a 
 bowing and scraping and curtseying that seemed as if it 
 would never come to an end, and was very amusing to be- 
 hold. Thereupon my parents sent round wine, cakes, and 
 Sweetmeats, for which the guests returned thanks to us by 
 innumerable bows and curtseys. 
 
 Finally, the whole company marched off and went to the 
 house of the bride's parents to eat, drink, and dance. The 
 festivities often lasted for a whole week. 
 
 One of the brides who was dressed and married at 
 
 o 
 
 Arsta this autumn had a complexion dark as a gypsy. 
 While dressed in her bridal costume, and looking at her- 
 self in the pier-glass in the drawing-room, she said : " I 
 don't know what can be the reason that I am so red in the 
 face ! Sure I am that I have done every thing to get 
 white. Every time I was washing linen at home, I 
 scrubbed myself with soap-lye, and then laid myself down 
 beside the linen on the bleaching-ground in the sunshine, 
 and I have done it many times besides ; but it has been of 
 no use." I do not remember whether any of us had the 
 heart to tell her that she and the linen could not be
 
 56 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 bleached by one and the same process ; the thing was 
 incurable now. 
 
 If the wedding was celebrated on the large islet, Galon, 
 belonging to Arsta, then the bride and bridegroom, each 
 with their train, arrived in boats decorated with foliage ; 
 and when the procession returned, the bride sat in the first 
 boat, with her parents and bridemaids and musicians, 
 heading a long line of boats full of people in holiday 
 dress. On a fine day in autumn, such a procession, with 
 its music on the calm waters, was very imposing and 
 pleasant to behold. 
 
 We children were always invited to these weddings, but 
 were never allowed to go. The housekeeper and steward 
 always accompanied the bridal-train, and were, together 
 with the clergyman, the guests of honor at the wedding 
 dinner, which usually lasted three or four hours, after 
 which dancing began, which I believe frequently was rather 
 boisterous, when the bridal-crown was to be danced off, as 
 it was called, and when there was a fight for the bride be- 
 tween the married and the unmarried women, which, of 
 course, was to end in such a way that the married ones 
 triumphantly carried her off. 
 
 Another autumn was now at the door. Instead of read- 
 ing aloud after tea, my father proposed that we should 
 play whist, dummy, or chess, on alternate evenings. After 
 we had continued this for some time, Fredrika became 
 more and more melancholy, especially on those evenings 
 when the chess-board was brought out ; for, when Fredrika 
 was check-mate, my father wanted to find out how she 
 could have avoided it, and the pieces were again arranged 
 as they stood before the fatal moves were made. 
 
 The same was done in my case, so that on these wretch- 
 ed chess evenings it often happened that the clock in the 
 old tower struck both eleven and twelve before we were 
 allowed to go to bed. The gout was again in my father's 
 temper, and Fredrika trembled at the thought of the win-
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 57 
 
 ter. One day, while we were speaking of our trials, Fre- 
 drika said that she could not stand such another winter as 
 the last, and that she had made up her mind to write a 
 letter to our parents, and candidly tell them that she could 
 not bear the life which we led at home, and beg of them 
 not to be displeased if she went into one of the hospitals in 
 Stockholm as a nurse. She would tell them how much 
 she suffered from not being able to do any good, and from 
 leading a useless and unprofitable life. I got alarmed at ( 
 this determination ; begged of her not to be too hasty ; to 
 remember what a dreadful storm she would raise ; that 
 she would not gain her point; that our parents would 
 never give their consent to her proposal ; and that her 
 position, after such a refusal, would become much more 
 painful than before. Besides, our parents would look upon 
 her conduct as ungrateful. They had surely no idea of 
 how painful our home was to us ; but, as they had given 
 us a good, careful education, regardless of expense, I was 
 of opinion that there remained nothing else for us to do 
 but patiently to submit to what could not be avoided. 
 Fredrika promised to defer writing the letter, and it 
 never was written. 
 
 Ever since our stay in Paris, where Fredrika had seen 
 those excellent " Soeurs de Charite " wander about early 
 and late to nurse and assist the indigent sick, she had 
 longed for such an occupation in the world. Such an in- 
 stitution did not then exist in Stockholm, and our home 
 was so shut up that she had not liberty to go out when she 
 liked. She therefore saw no chance of coming into the 
 much coveted activity except by entering a hospital. 
 
 Meanwhile Fredrika continued devising plans for the 
 future, partly in this direction and partly speculating on 
 coming events, which might afford her an opportunity, by 
 some great sacrifice on her part, of becoming famous and 
 spoken of. We had in the country each our own room ; 
 and except those hours of the day when we took our walk,
 
 58 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 or played billiards with my father, we had liberty to oc- 
 cupy ourselves as we pleased. All this time Fredrika was 
 busy writing both prose and verse, which she often read to 
 me. This was to her a pleasure and a pastime, and helped 
 her to forget and escape many heavy hours. 
 
 Little did she suspect then that she was laboring to ac- 
 complish what one day was to gain for her the desired 
 renown. 
 
 Many of the beautiful poems, of which some have al- 
 ready appeared in print, and others will be found in the 
 present work, were composed during this time, and bear 
 the stamp thereof. 
 
 This desire, this thirst after fame, had in later years 
 greatly subsided. Now and then, however, it revived 
 again ; but in a journal, in which Fredrika occasionally 
 noted down her thoughts, impressions, and inspirations, 
 we find the following sensible and true observations : 
 
 22d November, 1822. "Practice is the nurse of vir- 
 tue. Virtue is a child which decays and dies before it 
 reaches maturity, if we neglect to feed it every day and to 
 cultivate its strength. If we rarely find an opportunity for 
 great deeds and sacrifices, still we have every day an op- 
 portunity of practicing patience, submission, self- denial, 
 and many simple virtues, which often are the most diffi- 
 cult to practice for certain minds, because these virtues 
 are in themselves so quiet and unobserved." 
 
 24:th November. " Why burns within thee the desire to 
 become famous and renowned ? When thou art laid low 
 in thy cold grave, dost thou then hear thy name mentioned 
 on earth ? " 
 
 27th November. " Life is a journey ! Let this thought 
 penetrate thee : that all the daily petty annoyances which 
 meet thee on thy road are as nothing when compared with 
 the beautiful goal that lies before thee." 
 
 28th November. " Father, thy will be done, and not 
 mine ! It is an inexpressible happiness to be able to pray
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 59 
 
 this prayer with a fervent heart. It is the outpouring of 
 love to Eternal Love. Father, O my Father ! grant that 
 I may always pray to thee thus, with the same devout, 
 blissful feeling." 
 
 How characteristic of Fredrika's rich, loving heart and 
 lively soul are the following lines, written a few days later 
 in the same journal ! 
 
 " Love, and thou shalt be happy ; love all mankind ; 
 press the whole world to thy heart. Some one will meet 
 thee with equal love ; but even if none should thank thee, 
 should love thee in return, oh ! still I must love man- 
 kind, or I should be deeply unhappy." 
 
 " What a strange thing is often the heart of a young 
 girl! All thoughts, feelings, imaginations are linked to- 
 gether, are blended with reality, round which they sport 
 like a Will-o'-the-wisp. She suffers, enjoys, weeps, smiles, 
 hopes, despairs at one and the same moment, and all this 
 with her thoughts alone, without the influence of outward 
 circumstances. Her soul resembles a magic lantern. The 
 figures gambol past in pleasing or repulsive forms, rarely 
 leaving a lasting impression behind. And yet every atom of 
 her life is full of feeling ; every pulsation is a joy or a pain." 
 
 4th December. " Pray often. Accustom thy thoughts 
 to follow thy glance up to the bright firmament. It will 
 give thee a cheerful and heavenly mind." 
 
 Wth December. " Eternity ! Immortality ! Celestial 
 promises 1 Who can contemplate you without shedding 
 tears of joy ! " 
 
 9th February, 1823. " To have suffered pain does al- 
 ways good afterwards. Early discovery of my twenty years' 
 experience ! " 
 
 On the 1st of March, the same year, Fredrika wrote in 
 her diary : 
 
 " How stagnant, like a muddy pool, is time to youth drag- 
 ging on a dull and inactive life." 
 
 " I am only twenty-two, and yet I am often tired of the
 
 60 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 world, and wish I was taken from it But then, we do lead 
 a very dull life." 
 
 18th March. " Never marry, Fredrika ! Be firm ; thou 
 wilt bitterly, bitterly repent it if thou allowest the weak- 
 ness of thy heart to induce thee to such a step. Watch, 
 pray, struggle, and hope ! " 
 
 13th April. " In vain, young, enthusiastic girl, in vain 
 does thy fiery heart beat for all that is great and noble ; in 
 vain thy eye looks forth into a world where every thing ap- 
 pears to thee to be great and noble ; where the temples of 
 honor and virtue, raised amongst rocky heights and preci- 
 pices, appear to thee so easy of access. Poor young girl ! 
 Soon, very soon, shall thy bold step be arrested by opinion 
 and the etiquette of every-day life ; soon shall thy feelings 
 be damped, thy thoughts be lowered to trifles, enthusiasm 
 die away in thy soul, thy heart become debased ; and soon 
 shalt thou find every thing around thee as weak and 
 wretched as thou art thyself." 
 
 On the 9th of July, 1823, Fredrika writes : 
 
 " How is it that almost all old people become more and 
 more egotistical with increase of years ? I shall do all I 
 can to guard against this despicable, low feeling. I will 
 remain unmarried, in order not to attach my heart exclu- 
 sively to those whom I should have to call mine ; but I 
 shall, for the sake of God and of Eternal Love, love all 
 my fellow-men ; help and comfort all, as far as lies in my 
 power, which ought to be so much easier when no domes- 
 tic cares weigh upon my mind. That must be a beautiful 
 and happy life ! " 
 
 In the summer of 1826, the two years which had been 
 fixed for my sister Agatha's stay at the Orthopedic Institu- 
 tion in Paris had expired. She had perfectly recovered 
 her health, and her deformity had been considerably re- 
 duced, but it was considered necessary that she should con- 
 tinue the same treatment another year in order to become 
 perfectly well. This could be done in two ways : either by
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 61 
 
 letting Agatha remain another year in Paris, or by pur- 
 chasing an orthopedic bed, with the necessary machinery, 
 and bringing the same over to Sweden, so that Agatha 
 might here continue the same cure as long as it was expe- 
 dient. She had in several letters complained of home- 
 sickness, and it was therefore determined that my mother, 
 myself, and my brother Claes should go to Paris to fetch 
 her home. My father, who never looked at expense when 
 the welfare of any of his children was in question, gave a 
 considerable sum of money for the journey and purchase 
 of the requisite machinery. 
 
 On our arrival in Paris we found Agatha, who, two years 
 previously, had been brought thither ill in health, suffering, 
 and prematurely old, now well, happy, youthful, and full of 
 life. Such a blessed effect had this treatment had upon 
 her. A little elegant French woman amongst a number 
 of merry and lively companions, her friends in the institu- 
 tion, she spoke now only of her joy at returning to Sweden. 
 My joy at our happy meeting was in some degree embit- 
 tered by the thought of how Agatha would thrive at home ; 
 but I trusted in her innate happy and cheerful temper as 
 long as she remained well. 
 
 I took lessons for a fortnight of one of the brothers Milly, 
 superintendents of the institution, in order to be able to 
 continue the orthopedic treatment, and at the expiration of 
 that time we returned to Sweden. 
 
 After a few happy days spent at home in our family 
 circle, without restraint or machinery, the treatment pre- 
 scribed for Agatha was again commenced. But the ortho- 
 pedic bed was found to be so long that it was impossible to 
 find a suitable place for it in our rooms in town. It was 
 therefore decided in the autumn, when our family moved 
 to town, that Agatha should remain over the winter at 
 Arsta. I ought also to have remained there to nurse 
 Agatha, according to the method which I had studied in 
 Paris ; but my father would not hear it mentioned that I 
 should not go to town with him.
 
 62 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Nobody was more anxious to remain in the country than 
 Fredrika, partly for the sake of tending Agatha, and partly 
 to avoid the life in town, so painful to her. But this had 
 great difficulties was almost impossible. Fredrika did 
 not lack good-will to attempt even the impossible, but she 
 wanted physical strength for some of the gymnastic move- 
 ments, which Agatha had to exercise several times every 
 day, and attentiveness to observe carefully that all the va- 
 rious pieces of machinery belonging to the bed came in 
 due connection with each other when the patient laid down 
 upon it, and this was of the utmost importance. Nobody 
 dared to believe that Fredrika would be able to attend to 
 all this, and our parents therefore made up their minds 
 that Hedda should remain at Arsta with Agatha, and that 
 I should initiate her in every thing that I had learned with 
 regard to the prescribed treatment. 
 
 Nothing, of course, was mentioned to Fredrika about any 
 doubt of her being able to understand how to attend upon 
 Agatha, this would have grieved her deeply, but only 
 the physical strength, required for the daily gymnastic 
 movements, was put in question ; and our good Hedda was 
 the strongest of us all. 
 
 Fredrika was much grieved when she heard what had 
 been decided. I spoke to my mother, and begged of her to 
 arrange so that Fredrika also could remain at Arsta over 
 the winter. I spoke also to my father about it. He gave 
 me his hand, saying with emotion, " If I get ill, as usual, 
 you alone will have to nurse me." I spoke of my strength, 
 of my good health, and of Fredrika's ardent wish to be 
 allowed to remain over the winter at Arsta. At last my 
 father gave his consent, and, full of joy, I hastened to bring 
 Fredrika this good news. Permission was given to her 
 and Hedda to assist each other in nursing Agatha. 
 
 My mother had the kindness to arrange with an old 
 French lady, Madame Laval, who had been lectrice to 
 the Queen Dowager Sophia Magdalena, to come out to 
 Arsta as a chaperone for my sisters.
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 63 
 
 We moved to town. Our family, formerly so numerous 
 when we went to Stockholm for the winter, consisted now 
 of only my father, my mother, and myself. My brothers 
 were absent. Claes was staying with the judge of a dis- 
 trict, in order to become in time a judge himself. August 
 was a student at the University of Upsala. 
 
 I determined courageously to go through this winter 
 alone, pleased that my sisters were happy and comfortable 
 together ; but my strength began to fail. My father sick- 
 ened already early in the autumn. In the beginning, I 
 and an old faithful servant watched over him alternately 
 every other night. Afterwards I read aloud to him for 
 days together, and often until late at night ; and I became 
 
 at last so weak and worn that Dr. E had to tell my 
 
 parents that it would never do in the long run for me to 
 be shut up in my father's sick-room, but that one of my sis- 
 ters ought to come to town to assist me in reading aloud, 
 and " mount guard," as he expressed himself. 
 
 My father, who had not noticed any change in me, be- 
 came alarmed, and wanted me to go out to Arsta on the 
 following day ; but it was necessary to prepare my sisters 
 for this change, and I remained, therefore, a few days 
 longer in town. 
 
 Fredrika had written several times, both to my mother 
 and to me, offering to come to town to assist in nursing my 
 father ; but when we asked him which of the sisters he 
 wished to come, he answered, most decidedly, " Hedda." 
 
 On a bright, sunny winter's day, toward the end of Jan- 
 uary, I was seated in my grandmother's little covered 
 sledge, on my way to Arsta, calm, but very depressed. On 
 my arrival in the afternoon I was received with open arms 
 by my three good sisters, who, wrapped up in furs, met me 
 in the court-yard to bid me " welcome." We went up-stairs 
 together, and entered the dining-room, in the centre of 
 which stood a richly laden coffee-table, and a cheerful fire 
 was burning and crackling in the stove. Excited and weak
 
 64 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 as I was then, I could do nothing but cry in the beginning ; 
 but, reproaching myself for this weakness, and fearing that 
 I should disturb my sisters' innocent happiness, I soon 
 plucked up courage, sat down with them at the cosy coffee- 
 table, and before night we had many a hearty laugh to- 
 gether ; I forget now at what innocent ideas, words, and 
 remarks. Only one little incident do I remember. In the 
 numerous accounts of travels that I read to my father dur- 
 ing the winter, when I occasionally stumbled upon words 
 or sentences which were not exactly fit to be read aloud, I 
 fell upon the idea of saying, " Well, here comes some Latin." 
 Often, when I was sitting up very late reading, and thought 
 that my father had fallen asleep, I stopped, when he sud- 
 denly looked up and said, " Is there now Latin again ? " 
 He never found out what kind of Latin the book contained. 
 
 
 
 Our good, kind Hedda was not pleased to leave Arsta, 
 but she made no complaint; she was glad that I could 
 have some rest ; and on the following day we wrapped her 
 well up in furs, and she set out for Stockholm. 
 
 I resumed my office of nurse to Agatha, and we lived a 
 quiet, cheerful, and cosy life at old Arsta. Agatha, with 
 her French vivacity, merry as a little bird, singing French 
 songs and romances, was happy to feel herself well, and 
 lived in the hope of perfect recovery. Fredrika, de- 
 lighted at the liberty which she enjoyed in the country, 
 and feeling herself independent of the whole world, read 
 and wrote a great deal, and wandered about alone in glen 
 and forest. She had also begun to practice medicine ; 
 made up drugs of her own composition, and made several 
 successful cures. She had a peculiar luck in prescribing 
 medicines which there was reason to suspect would do her 
 patients more harm than good. 
 
 An old peasant woman, living some four or five English 
 miles from Arsta, came one day and begged Fredrika to 
 give her some remedy for her eyes, in which she had for 
 some time felt a severe pricking, while she had observed
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 65 
 
 that her eye-sight had become weaker and weaker. Fre- 
 drika took her down into the so-called " Dispensary," and 
 gave her a phial, with directions to put every day two or 
 three drops of the contents into her eyes. A couple of 
 hours afterwards another patient came and wanted some 
 drops for toothache ; but when Fredrika was going to give 
 her some tincture of cloves for the teeth, she observed that 
 it was this which she had given to the peasant woman for 
 the eyes. Fredrika became alarmed at her mistake, and 
 came to tell me of it ; I wanted her to send a message at 
 once to the woman with orders not to use the powerful 
 tincture which had been given to her ; but Fredrika said it 
 would be of no use, because, at the distance where the 
 woman lived, our messenger could not possibly reach her 
 until after she had used the tincture twice, and if any harm 
 came of it, it could not now be prevented. I was aston- 
 ished at seeing Fredrika, always so anxious to render 
 assistance to others, take her mistake and the possibility 
 of some misfortune arising out of it so coolly ; but I was 
 still more astonished when, about a month afterwards, while 
 I was again staying with my father in town, I received a 
 letter from Fredrika informing me that the tooth tincture 
 had perfectly cured the diseased eyes, and that the good 
 peasant woman had come on the previous day to Arsta and 
 asked Fredrika for some more of the " blessed drops " 
 which had done her eyes so much good. 
 
 I had scarcely been a fortnight at Arsta, when my 
 mother wrote to me to say that my father wished me to 
 return to town, provided I had had sufficient rest ; and the 
 following day, when Hedda came back to the country, I 
 went to town. At midsummer we were all again assem- 
 bled at Arsta. 
 
 In the beginning of November, 1827, my cousin and 
 most intimate friend became a widow, after only two years' 
 wedlock, with the hope of soon becoming a mother. Con- 
 vinced that I was willing to come to her at any moment, 
 5
 
 66 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 she wrote to me, asking at the same time, in a touching 
 letter to my parents, permission for me to spend the follow- 
 ing winter with her. 
 
 In the beginning my father thought this impossible, and 
 that I could not be spared from home ; but after turning 
 the matter over in his mind a few days, being very fond 
 of his niece, she being a daughter of the sister whom he 
 had loved so much, and deeply sympathizing with her 
 grief and her wish to have a friend staying with her, he 
 gave his consent at last 
 
 Preparations were at once made for my departure. It 
 gave me great pain to part from my sisters, especially 
 Fredrika. We had hitherto faithfully shared joys and sor- 
 rows together, and we promised to write frequently to each 
 other. We kept our word, and the mail had to carry, at 
 least once a week, a heavy letter from the one to the other. 
 These letters from Fredrika, or extracts from them, are 
 now laid before the public, together with the verses and 
 beautiful pieces of poetical prose writings which she com- 
 posed during this time, and sent to me. 
 
 In company with a relation and friend, General H , 
 
 I went about the middle of December to his estate in 
 Smaland, where, a few days before Christmas, I had the 
 happiness of embracing my two cousins, his wife and my 
 
 sorrowing friend, the Countess W , who had arrived 
 
 there a short time previously. After the Christmas holi- 
 days, spent in quiet and sisterly confidence, we both set out 
 for her home in C a. 
 
 Fully determined not to make any new acquaintances, 
 or go into society, I wished to live only for my friend, and 
 endeavor to make her life as happy and as comfortable as 
 possible. We tried to arrange our mode of living in the 
 most agreeable way. The greater part of the day one of 
 us read aloud to the other the works of good authors. 
 Now and then, gloomy forebodings cast for a moment their 
 shadows over our happiness ; but they were entirely dis-
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 67 
 
 pelled when, towards the close of February, a fine, strong 
 boy was born. 
 
 Delighted as she was at the birth of her child, my friend 
 yet suffered deeply at the thought of her departed hus- 
 band, who on this occasion, to which he had looked forward 
 with so much longing, would have been so happy. 
 
 After a lengthened stay of about two years with my 
 friend at her beautiful estates, I hus and T 6, I re- 
 turned home, in compliance with my father's wish, in the 
 autumn of 1829. I was very much touched at his evident 
 delight to have me back again, and I was happy to find 
 Fredrika more calm and cheerful than formerly. Only a 
 short time were we now allowed to enjoy undisturbed our 
 quiet, sisterly life at Arsta. My father was very unexpect- 
 edly visited by a slight attack of apoplexy, and hurried 
 preparations for moving to town were therefore made at 
 once. 
 
 My father continued to suffer more or less during the 
 whole of the winter, and he bore his heavy sufferings, as 
 usual, with wonderful patience and fortitude. 
 
 Fredrika, Hedda, and I watched over and nursed him, 
 and read aloud to him when he had strength enough to 
 listen to us, while my mother, as much as lay in her power, 
 devoted her attentions to him. 
 
 My mother had, from the very beginning of this his last 
 illness, taken upon herself the superintendence of the 
 Arsta property, and the management of the other affairs 
 of the family. In order that my father, whose strength 
 was evidently beginning to fail, should be near his doctor, 
 it was determined that we should not go to Arsta in the 
 ensuing summer ; instead of which a summer residence 
 Lilla Ingemarshof, near Stockholm was taken, to which 
 we went about midsummer. There my father seemed in 
 some measure to recover strength, and he enjoyed inde- 
 scribably much the pleasure of sitting out in the sunshine 
 during a few warm, splendid days ; but he soon got worse
 
 68 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 again, and on the 23d of July he expired tranquilly, sur- 
 rounded by his wife, his children, and a near relative, dear 
 to us all. 
 
 Soon after this we went out to Arsta, whither my fa- 
 ther's body was taken ; he was buried in our family vault in 
 Oster-Hanninge church-yard, under the shade of four beau- 
 tiful lime-trees, where the remains of his daughter, the 
 pretty, charming little Sophie, who died at the age of four- 
 teen, had previously been deposited. 
 
 My parents had given their consent to my betrothal 
 
 With ; the wedding was to be celebrated in November, 
 
 after which I was to go to my new home in Christianstad. 
 My good sisters, and not the least Fredrika, were inde- 
 fatigable in assisting me to provide every thing requisite on 
 such occasions ; and on the 7th of November, the day fixed 
 for the wedding, only our nearest relatives and my father's 
 old friend, Bishop Franzen, who was to perform the cere- 
 mony, were invited. 
 
 Fredrika, so sympathizing in every thing that concerned 
 me, saw in this marriage a store of only joy and happiness 
 for me, and augured, in a prophetic spirit, that it would be 
 one of the few really happy unions on earth. 
 
 Shortly after the wedding, my husband and I left Arsta, 
 and, as soon as I had arrived in Christianstad, a very ani- 
 mated correspondence was again opened with Fredrika. 
 
 In the summer of the following year, 1831, I had the 
 happiness of embracing Fredrika in my own home. She 
 came to stay with us at least a twelvemonth, to read, study, 
 and write in quietness. Previous to my arrival in Scania, 1 
 she was already known there and loved as the authoress of 
 " Sketches of Every-day Life,' 1 since, at the close of the 
 preceding year, her former anonyme had been unveiled. 
 The highest, most intellectual, and elegant society of Chris- 
 tianstad longed to make her acquaintance. 
 
 1 The southernmost province of Sweden, in which the town of Chria- 
 tianstad is situated.
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 69 
 
 Fredrika had determined not to mix in society or accept 
 any invitations, but to live in retirement at home, and de- 
 velop herself for what she now considered to be her mis- 
 sion and her vocation, namely, to become an authoress ; 
 and, enriched by experience of the world, to devote in a 
 double measure her talents to the comfort and succor of 
 the suffering and the unhappy. 
 
 Fredrika found and felt that she required to learn much, 
 and that she stood in need of a firm religious faith, which 
 she had not. The contradictions which she saw in the 
 Bible and in the world had long shaken her faith, and 
 raised doubts in her soul to such a degree that, at times, 
 with her reflecting and searching mind, they seemed to 
 darken her whole life. 
 
 The teacher or guide whom Fredrika had so much 
 yearned after, she found in Christianstad. The head-mas- 
 ter of the high school there, the Rev. Pehr Bd'klin, was 
 the man who, by his philosophical education, his clear 
 mind, his profound, truly Christian faith, imparted that 
 faith to Fredrika, and thus gave her peace of mind and 
 strength to proceed on that path in life which she had 
 determined to follow. 
 
 Elaborate and elegant biographies may be written, but 
 not often do we through them become intimately acquainted 
 with the inmost mind of the person described therein. 
 Fredrika showed me one day a letter from her teacher and 
 friend, and from it I have copied the following passage : 
 
 " Your mission is a beautiful one, Miss Bremer ! Your 
 mission is the noblest in the world. Regardless of our own 
 cares and sorrows in life, to walk with heavenly comfort 
 through earth's cells, so full of agony, is the lot of an angel. 
 May God's finger appear to you and show you the right 
 way ! As a brother I will stand by your side, and, praying 
 and meditating, I will impart to you every ray of light that 
 may be vouchsafed to me ! " 
 
 How clearly, from these simple words, do we not per
 
 70 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 ceive the kind of spirit which lived in and animated the 
 pupil as well as the teacher ! 
 
 In our house, Fredrika made the acquaintance of many 
 amiable, intelligent, and pleasant persons. They tried to 
 prevail upon her to go out in the little world of Christian- 
 stad, that is to say, " La creme de la societe " there, but all 
 in vain. Fredrika remained true to her determination to 
 live isolated in order to educate herself for the aim in life 
 which she had in view, nor was she tempted to recom- 
 mence a social life which had never been to her taste. 
 At home in our house, she liked, however, to meet with 
 people, and she moved with ease and cheerfulness in the 
 little circle which frequently met there. She was liked by 
 all. One lady in this circle formed a passionate friendship 
 for Fredrika. She was talented, witty, handsome, musical, 
 but passionate, frivolous, and exceedingly worldly minded. 
 How a woman with such a character could feel such a vio- 
 lent friendship for Fredrika, who was now so seriously 
 minded and so free from vanity, I could not understand, 
 and it made me a little uneasy. In the beginning, Fre- 
 drika felt averse to a more intimate acquaintance with her, 
 and was rather embarrassed by her long, daily visits. 
 Sometimes she came twice in the course of the day, which 
 interfered with Fredrika's studies and work ; but soon Fre- 
 drika began to return her friendship with equal warmth. 
 I was aware that this lady could not exercise any good in- 
 fluence over Fredrika, but she hoped to be able to exercise 
 a good influence over her. " Nina " became, although 
 somewhat later, the visible result of this acquaintance, 
 "Nina," which contains so many poetically beautiful 
 sketches, but which does not carry the same impress of 
 purity as all Fredrika's previous charming works. 
 
 Early in the summer of 1832 we had a very unexpected 
 visit from my youngest brother August, who had felt un- 
 well for some time, and, by the advice of his physician, 
 was now going to consult the famous Surgeon Grafe in
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 71 
 
 Berlin. I had the pleasure of having this much loved 
 
 brother, the Cornet in " The H Family," staying with 
 
 us for a few days, after which he continued his journey to 
 Berlin, when Fredrika, my husband, and I went to Stock- 
 holm, and thence to Arsta. 
 
 After a visit of a couple of months, my husband and I 
 were again on our way to Christianstad, but Fredrika re- 
 mained with my mother, with whom she was to stay until 
 the autumn, when she would come back to us. 
 
 Some time after our return home I received a letter in- 
 forming me that my brother August had become much 
 worse. He expressed an earnest wish that my mother and 
 sisters should spend the winter in Berlin. After the re- 
 ceipt of a second letter from August, in which he said that 
 he was getting worse and worse, my mother determined 
 that she and my three sisters should fulfill his wish, and on 
 their way to Berlin they paid us a visit. I was not allowed 
 to have these dear guests more than two days in my house ; 
 they were in a hurry, and I hoped only that they might 
 soon reach my brother. 
 
 Shortly after their arrival in Berlin, I received a letter 
 from Fredrika, telling me that my dear brother had ended 
 his days, and that he had died without suspecting that his 
 end was so near. He had for some time before suffered 
 severe pain. Fredrika adds : 
 
 " Pure was his life, warm his heart, and patiently he suf- 
 fered. He yearned for light and freedom, and he has found 
 both." " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see 
 God." 
 
 On the 21st of September, Fredrika wrote from Ber- 
 lin: 
 
 "Dear Sister, Under acacias <im neuen KirchhofT 
 our August is now sleeping. On Wednesday morning, be- 
 tween seven and eight, we sisters and August's friend 
 
 Caspar W , who has faithfully watched at his bedside, 
 
 followed him to his last resting-place. Theremin held a 
 funeral oration at the grave.
 
 72 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 " It was a beautiful and solemn scene. The morning 
 was so splendid, the sun shone so brightly, the breeze was 
 so fresh and invigorating, that every thing spoke to us 
 more of resurrection than of death. The people who had 
 assembled round the grave showed deep sympathy, and 
 we ... 
 
 " I did not feel it so heavily. Ah ! how I longed to have 
 been with August! 
 
 " On the plain monument, which will be raised over him, 
 is to be engraved : ' August Bremer, his mother's and sis- 
 ters' darling. Born, . . . Died, . . .' 
 
 " I cannot find words to describe to you our Ambassador's 
 (Braudel) kindness and care of August during his illness. 
 
 " More when we meet again ! On the 28th we shall 
 probably be in Ystad, and on the 7th of October we shall 
 be with you." 
 
 A few days later Fredrika writes : 
 
 "We are all now more composed. This morning we 
 have been to plant some beautiful acacias upon the grave. 
 The cemetery is out of town, and in the style of Pere la 
 Chaise, near Paris, full of fine trees and flowers. We leave 
 on Monday. In Ystad we shall have to undergo a long 
 and wearisome quarantine." 
 
 On the appointed day my dear relatives arrived in Chris- 
 tianstad. They remained, however, only a few days, it 
 being late in the season, and my mother anxious to be at 
 home before the cold weather set in. 
 
 During these days there was a table in our drawing-room 
 always covered with the choicest fruit, pine-apples, grapes, 
 peaches, apricots, plums, pears, and transparent Astrachan 
 apples, presents from my good friends and acquaintances, 
 who daily, from their splendid greenhouses and gardens on 
 their estates in the neighborhood, sent me these fruits to 
 offer to my mother and sisters. Such magnificent grapes, 
 
 in large bunches, as those which I got from A p, I have 
 
 scarcely seen even in the south of Europe. They were
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 73 
 
 sent to me by the amiable Countess W , formerly Lady 
 
 F , daughter of the former owner of Arsta. I always 
 
 gratefully remember this graceful kindness. 
 
 My mother and my two youngest sisters left for Stock- 
 holm, but Fredrika remained with us. 
 
 Much as I loved to see Fredrika in our house, I yet 
 dreaded the winter, when her friend would return to Chris- 
 tianstad from her estate in another province. But matters 
 were changed. Her friend came back, but seized with a 
 mortal illness, and now Fredrika became her guiding, min- 
 istering angel, pointing out to her the road to heaven, to 
 which Fredrika wished to lead all. 
 
 In the spring, Fredrika's friend longed to go into the 
 country, and in an almost dying state she was carried out 
 to her beautiful country-seat, distant some miles from 
 Christianstad. Fredrika wished to join her, and I accom- 
 panied her thither. Fredrika remained with her friend 
 until about the middle of summer, when she returned to us, 
 deeply affected and mourning her whose eyes she had closed. 
 At her death-bed Fredrika gained a new friend, the Count- 
 ess S , a near relative and friend of the departed. 
 
 Countess S invited Fredrika to spend a year with her 
 
 at her estate, Tomb, in Norway, provided she was not afraid 
 of the complete seclusion from the world in which she lived 
 there. 
 
 Fredrika accepted this offer as one of the most desirable 
 which could be made to her. In her then melancholy state 
 of mind, she only longed to get away from people and from 
 society, " the farther away the better," as she said when, in 
 August, 1833, we took leave of each other. I felt happy 
 at seeing her under the protection of the good Countess 
 
 S . She remained two years at Tomb. The quiet and 
 
 perfect retirement which Fredrika enjoyed there was to her 
 a real "elixir of life," as she expressed herself in one of her 
 letters to me. "What added to her happiness was, that she 
 was allowed to arrange her mode of life exactly as she
 
 74 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 pleased ; was at liberty to remain in her room those days 
 when she did not wish to see any body ; but always was 
 welcome at any moment when she wished to come down to 
 
 the Countess S . Generally, Fredrika spent the whole 
 
 of the forenoon in her own room, reading and writing, and 
 came into the drawing-room in the evening, when the day 
 usually closed with a game at chess, of which the Countess 
 was passionately fond, and of which Fredrika was now no 
 longer afraid. Fredrika paid a visit of a couple of months to 
 Arsta in 1835, but returned in the autumn to Tomb, where 
 she spent the winters of 1836, 1837, 1838, and 1839, visit- 
 ing in the summer baths and spas, either with the Count- 
 ess S or with my mother and Agatha. When my 
 mother, in the autumn of 1841, went to Nizza with Agatha, 
 in the hope that the milder climate of the south might 
 strengthen Agatha's weak health, Fredrika remained quite 
 alone at Arsta, and enjoyed then her solitude and her per- 
 fect freedom. In June, the following year, my mother and 
 Agatha returned to her from Nizza. 
 
 While, in 1844, I was using the cold-water cure at 
 
 Sb'derkb'ping, I saw again the Countess S , suffering 
 
 and very sickly ; she was also going to try this cure, " in- 
 vented for witches," as she called it. We were together 
 almost daily in the intervals between the five baths which 
 we each had to take every day, and Fredrika was frequently 
 the subject of our conversation. " Sincerely as I love 
 Fredrika," the Countess said to me one day, " still I never 
 liked her whim to enter the hospital at Christiana as a 
 nurse. Every year, when Fredrika was staying with me, 
 she wanted to realize this fancy, and it never was so near 
 being realized as in 1835. The day had already been fixed 
 for our journey to Christiana, to install Fredrika in the 
 hospital. My arguments, aided by an expression used by 
 me about the hospital calling it her Hermitage caused 
 her to weigh the matter over in her mind once more. She 
 herself proposed immediately to postpone our journey ; the
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 75 
 
 plan was given up altogether ; we did not again mention it, 
 and glad I was that Fredrika never again alluded to the 
 subject." 
 
 Fredrika stayed with this friend and excellent woman 
 again the following year, 1845, and, for the last time, to 
 watch at her sick-bed and close her eyes. 
 
 After her return from Norway, Fredrika remained some 
 time at home with my mother. She did not feel happy ; 
 she longed for a change in her position in life, and she 
 now began making plans for her voyage to America. She 
 did not, however, communicate these plans either to my 
 mother or to Agatha, fearing that they would meet with 
 strenuous opposition. 
 
 Already, before Fredrika had been spoken of and had 
 a name as an authoress, that is to say, before she had 
 completed her thirtieth year, she had had three different 
 offers of marriage ; but she did not wish to marry. 
 
 One of the three persons who more than once tried to 
 persuade her to alter 'her resolution, was an amiable young 
 man, of good family, for whom Fredrika, in her earliest 
 youth, had felt a kind of childish love ; but she would not 
 let herself be persuaded, believing that she was not made 
 for the married state, and that, if ever she were to try the 
 experiment, she would bitterly repent it, find herself un- 
 happy, and lose her dearly loved independence. Once 
 only she hesitated ; but it was for one moment only, when 
 an amiable, good, and original elderly gentleman hoped to 
 find in his union with her a compensation for the domestic 
 happiness which he had lost through the death of a be- 
 loved wife, and who saw in Fredrika the only one capable 
 of being a comfort and happiness to him during the re- 
 mainder of his days. After her thirtieth year, and when 
 she had already gained fame, she had several offers ; but 
 she remained true to her determination to live ena 
 (single), a good expression, which she had learnt in 
 Norway.
 
 76 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 My husband's appointment to another post was the cause 
 of our removal to Stockholm about the latter part of 1847. 
 This made Fredrika, the following year, consider the time 
 propitious for announcing her plans for travelling. She 
 thought that she might now set out, easy in her mind, 
 knowing that my husband and myself would be near my 
 mother and Agatha. We all certainly represented to her 
 the risk of the long voyage, which Fredrika intended to 
 undertake quite alone ; but she would not listen to our 
 arguments. Agatha cried and was in despair at these 
 plans. In order to comfort her, Fredrika promised to 
 write to her all her letters from America. I do not deny 
 that it appeared to me really awful, that Fredrika, this 
 delicate little creature, should start quite alone on such a 
 voyage, and I did not understand how she could have the 
 courage to do it ; but she never wanted courage ; and I re- 
 membered her wish, when she was a child, to enter the 
 army and join the Swedish troops in Germany. The only 
 consolatory thought for us at home was, that immediately 
 on FYedrika's arrival in America, she would be met and 
 received by friends, who, although personally unknown to 
 her, had, after reading her works, invited her in the most 
 amiable manner to be a guest in their homes in New 
 York. 
 
 In August, 1848, Fredrika left home, paying first a visit 
 to her old friend and teacher, the Rev. P. Boklin, in Scania. 
 The autumn and following winter she spent in Copen- 
 hagen, and after several trips to the Danish islands during 
 the ensuing summer, she travelled to New York by way of 
 London. 
 
 I shall pause here a few moments in my narrative, in 
 order to give some account of Fredrika's first appearance 
 as an authoress. 
 
 It was during the year 1828 that, for the first time, the 
 thought arose in Fredrika's mind of publishing the best of 
 all that she had written the previous years, in order thereby
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 77 
 
 to procure the means of satisfying the dearest wish of her 
 kind heart, namely, to assist the poor. She had hitherto 
 written to give expression to her feelings, and to retain the 
 images of her ever-active fantasy, and for this intended 
 work she now wrote " Axel and Anna ; or, Correspondence 
 between two Stories," and " Letters on the Supper-parties 
 in Stockholm." 
 
 Uncertain whether she would succeed, and uncertain, 
 too, whether our parents would allow her to appear pub- 
 licly as an authoress, Fredrika determined to send her 
 manuscript to Upsala with my brother August, when he 
 went to the University in the autumn of that year. 
 
 He found a willing publisher for her little work in Mr. 
 Palmblad, the printer. He was, however, so little certain 
 how far the enterprise might succeed, that he considered 
 that the edition ought not to exceed three hundred volumes, 
 and the price of the copyright was therefore low in propor- 
 tion, although sufficient to make Fredrika happy and satis- 
 fied. The book was published before the end of the year, 
 under the title of " Sketches of Every-day Life," without 
 the name of the author, of which, also, Mr. Palmblad was 
 left in ignorance. It gained the approval of the public 
 and the praises of the reviewers, although not unmixed 
 with a few friendly remarks. In one of the reviews, it was 
 supposed that " a lady, a young lady," was the authoress, 
 and the critic hoped that when her talent had become 
 more matured he might have occasion to give her works 
 more unlimited praise. On a copy of this review Fredrika 
 has written, " Yes, dear critic ; that rests in the hands of 
 God." 
 
 This success encouraged Fredrika to proceed on the path 
 which she had chosen as an authoress, and to try to write 
 a novel. She occupied herself with this during the sum- 
 mer of 1829, and the result of this attempt was the first part 
 
 of " The H Family," which, together with some other 
 
 minor pieces, she had designed for the second volume of
 
 78 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the " Sketches." For the publication thereof she caused ne- 
 gotiations to be opened I do not know for what reason 
 with a publisher in Stockholm, to whom the manuscript 
 was sent for perusal. He declined the proposal, so un- 
 certain were people at that time about the value of Fre- 
 drika's works. But through the instrumentality of the 
 former publisher, Mr. Palrnblad, the second volume was 
 printed and published in 1830. The great applause with 
 which it was received, the sensation which it created, sur- 
 passed every thing which Fredrika thought she could have 
 expected. In a newspaper review, Swedish literature was 
 congratulated on the acquisition of such a talent as that 
 of the authoress. 
 
 Fredrika's authorship had, from the very beginning, 
 been kept a secret between her and her sisters. She did 
 not wish to reveal it to our parents until she knew whether 
 she would succeed. But now she thought that the time 
 had come to mention it to my mother. Meanwhile the 
 book had become the subject of general conversation in all 
 circles of society in Stockholm. When one day Franzen, 
 while paying us a visit, spoke of it in a highly flattering 
 manner, expressing an ardent wish to raise the veil behind 
 which the authoress concealed herself, my mother and 
 Fredrika thought that, out of consideration for this old 
 friend of the family, the secret ought to be confided to him. 
 Shortly after this, the Swedish Academy awarded its lesser 
 gold medal to Fredrika, as a token of its esteem and ap- 
 probation. Thus the hitherto preserved secret of the 
 authorship was revealed. 
 
 The success which also the third volume of these 
 " Sketches " met with seemed to point out the road on which 
 Fredrika had to find the realization of her mission in life. 
 She obeyed this call, by laboring diligently as an authoress, 
 at shorter or longer intervals, until the end of her life. 
 Most of her works were translated into foreign languages, 
 were read with avidity, and made her name known, loved, 
 and respected abroad.
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 79 
 
 The fame which they attained called forth, in her native 
 country, a new public distinction. On the anniversary of 
 the Swedish Academy, on the 20th of December, 1844, 
 the president, after having announced which of the writings, 
 handed in during the year for competition, had been re- 
 warded with a prize, said : 
 
 " The academy being of opinion that it would act in ac- 
 cordance with the prescribed rules in following attentively 
 the events in Swedish literature, even beyond the arena 
 which it has opened for competition, has more than once 
 had the satisfaction, in acknowledging distinguished merit, 
 of uniting with the public in paying homage to such merit. 
 
 u It is now thirteen years since the academy awarded a 
 prize to a young genius, whose first essays gave signs of a 
 talent of uncommon order, in a branch of literature for 
 which we hitherto have been without a model. The rare 
 union of the qualities of the heart and of the mind, of 
 beauty in delineation and purity of thought which breathe 
 through the pictures of domestic life, beginning with 
 1 Sketches of Every-day Life,' and continued in a series 
 of charming paintings of the interior of social life, often 
 hidden from the eyes of the public, had drawn the attention 
 not only of Sweden, but also of Europe, to the authoress. 
 The Swedish Academy has requested and obtained the 
 sanction of its illustrious patron 1 to award to the author- 
 ess, Miss Fredrika Bremer, its large medal in gold, with 
 the motto, ' Genius and Taste,' not as a reward, for this can- 
 
 1 King Gustavus III. founded, on the 20th of March, 1786, an academy, 
 which, under the name of " The Swedish Academy," and with the motto 
 "Genius and Taste," was to consist of eighteen members, whose object it 
 would be to labor for the improvement of the Swedish language, to en- 
 courage emulation in eloquence and poetry, and 'sing the praises of the 
 great men who had either ruled or served or fought for their native coun- 
 try. With the sanction of the king, as patron of the academy, the academy 
 is empowered to distinguish with the large and small medal in gold Swed- 
 ish authors for meritorious writings, even when such works have not been 
 sent in for the purpose of contending for the annual prizes.
 
 80 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 not come in question, but as an acknowledgment of a merit 
 which, according to the words of the founder, ' has raised 
 the fame of SAvedish literature in foreign countries.' " 
 
 When Fredrika, in 1861, had closed, under the title of 
 " Life in the Old World," the narrative of her travels in 
 Palestine, Greece, and other countries, she does not appear 
 to have been occupied with any larger work. The imper- 
 fect outlines of such works, found amongst her papers, 
 which she has left behind, bear the stamp of belonging to a 
 previous period. But her pen was not allowed to have 
 perfect rest. She contributed, together with some other 
 ladies, to the publication of " Writings for Children," 1 and 
 at Christmas, 1865, the first part of "A Little Pilgrimage " 
 appeared in print. Her intention was, in this little narra- 
 tive, to make an exposition of the most essential and high- 
 est doctrine of the Christian religion, in a manner simple 
 and plain enough to be understood even by children, which 
 essential was intended to be shown more clearly in a sub- 
 sequent number. But, in order to be able to do her best, 
 she considered that she ought first to read again Olshau- 
 sen's " Commentaries on the New Testament," and Nean- 
 der's " Leben Jesu." In reference to the latter, she said, 
 in a letter to my husband, that although one might differ in 
 much from the opinions of Neander, still it was impossible 
 not to love his love of truth, the candor with which he had 
 expressed his thoughts, and to learn much from his pro- 
 foundness and honest research. These studies, and the 
 continuation of the little narrative, were interrupted by 
 Fredrika's death, which took place soon after. 
 
 I resume here the thread of my narrative. When 
 Fredrika returned to her native country from America, 
 in the autumn of. 1851, she was met by mournful tidings. 
 Our sister Agatha, whose health had long been weak and 
 
 1 As a specimen of Fredrika's talent in this kind of literature, I subjoin 
 two tales, The Ugly Hand and the Beautiful Hand, and Christmas Eve and 
 Christmas Matins.
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 81 
 
 failing, had, some time previous to Fredrika's return, fallen 
 into a state of hectic decline. Calmly, and apparently with- 
 out pain, she departed this life. In order that Freclrika 
 should not return to her own home unprepared for this 
 painful loss, and not find Agatha any more there, my 
 mother and I wished to inform her of this sad event. We 
 knew that she was on her way home, but we did not know 
 which route she intended to take. In this uncertainty, let- 
 ters were despatched to her both to Dalarci and to Gothen- 
 burg. The former she received on her arrival in Sweden, 
 and her return to Stockholm and her home was any thing 
 but joyful. 
 
 After a few days' rest, Fredrika resumed her old habits 
 and occupations. The forenoons were devoted to reading 
 and writing. During these moments no one was allowed 
 to enter the room, and she received no visitors until one 
 o'clock, when she usually went out to breathe a little fresh 
 air, or to visit some friend. Fredrika was allowed to man 
 age and act as it best suited her convenience, and she 
 therefore now led an independent life at home. 
 
 Fredrika had during her career as an authoress, partly 
 in consequence of her own experience in youth and partly 
 from what she had witnessed in the world, made it the aim 
 of her life to labor* in the cause of Woman, oppressed, ac- 
 cording to her notions ; and on her return from America, : t 
 became her favorite idea to work for the entire emancipa- 
 tion of the Swedish woman and her deliverance from the 
 traditional restrictions in her social position, which Freclrika 
 considered to be both injurious and opposed to her natural 
 rights. She wished, therefore, that women should, like 
 men, and together with them, be allowed to study in the 
 elementary schools and at the academies, in order to gain 
 an opportunity of obtaining employments and situations 
 suitable for them, in the service of the state. According 
 to Fredrika's ideas it was a crying injustice to deny women, 
 even those with exceedingly brilliant intellect and great 
 6
 
 82 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 talents, such opportunities. She said she was firmly con- 
 vinced that they could acquire all kinds of knowledge just 
 as well as men ; that they ought to stand on the same level 
 with them, and that they ought to prepare themselves in 
 the public schools and universities to become lecturers, 
 professors, judges, physicians, and functionaries in the serv- 
 ice of the state. She predicted that if women were per- 
 mitted, like men, to acquire knowledge and skill, they 
 would, when their capacity and indispensableness in the 
 labor of society had become more generally acknowledged, 
 be found fit for a variety of occupations, which partly 
 already now existed, and partly would be required in future 
 under a more energetic development of society ; and she 
 maintained that Woman ought to have the same right to 
 benefit her native country with her talents as Man. 
 
 We had many conversations on this subject before 
 " Hertha " was written. I fully coincided with Fredrika's 
 opinion, that a great injustice was contained in our legisla- 
 tion not to allow Swedish women, as women in other coun- 
 tries, to attain their majority when they arrived at a certain 
 age, for instance, when they had reached their twenty-fifth 
 year ; and consequently to dispose of their future life and 
 their property ; but in other respects our opinions differed. 
 I could not see that the management of the business of the 
 stite was the province of women, and I begged Fredrika 
 to consider well before writing, even with the best inten- 
 tions, and encouraging Swedish women to enter upon a 
 path which, according to my view, would lead them to 
 misery instead of happiness. " Let us," I said, " remember 
 the beautiful lines of Pope, which we learned by heart 
 when we were children : 
 
 " ' A woman is born to dignify retreat, 
 
 In shade to flourish, and unseen be great ; 
 
 Fearful of fame, unwilling to be known, 
 
 Should seek but Heaven's applauses and her own.' " 
 
 Fredrika observed that the noble virtue, modesty, ought
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 83 
 
 not to be abased in order to veil under it a glaring- defect- 
 iveness in the education of women. The youth always 
 finds for his education a sure guide in the schools of his 
 native country, and a possibility of choosing a sphere of 
 activity according to his capacity and mental gifts. Such 
 advantages are to the young woman forbidden fruit, and 
 her aspirations to attain them considered derogatory to 
 female modesty. 
 
 The sense of Pope's lines, just quoted, I considered to 
 express in general woman's quiet, noble mission, although 
 naturally there are exceptions. But one ought not to re- 
 gard the exceptions, but only the general rule. I acknowl- 
 edged that there existed a great diversity of mental gifts, 
 and that Fredrika, with her rare talents and accomplish- 
 ments, had chosen the path in which as an authoress she 
 could labor, ennobling humanity, and thereby effect an im- 
 mense deal of good ; but how small is not the number of 
 women who have been so gifted, and how dangerous would 
 it not be to encourage young girls, who are generally 
 inclined to entertain a high opinion of themselves and of 
 their capacities, to choose a career, in which, while con- 
 tending with young men in their studies and in employ- 
 ments under government, they would or could be subject 
 to influences detrimental to true womanhood and modesty. 
 Educated with this aim in view, they would become neither 
 men nor women, and, when older, unfit for domestic life.. 
 
 As a wife, a mother, or instructress, only there I saw 
 woman in the place which God had assigned her ; and if 
 she rightly understood her exalted and important mission 
 in the world, she might become the educator of the whole 
 human race, and as such be of infinitely greater use to the 
 state and her native country than by holding an employ- 
 ment under government. Woman's influence upon the 
 rising generation how incalculably great is it not ! None 
 stands nearer to the child than a woman ; none knows bet- 
 ter how to guide it from its earliest age, develop its mind,
 
 4 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 teach it to think, to hearken to the voice of conscience, 
 and lead it in the fear of God and love of truth and justice. 
 
 I entreated, therefore, Fredrika, who had drawn woman 
 so beautifully and truly in her proper sphere of activity, 
 .and who had, by her previous writings, drawn forth the 
 motherly element in society, to write her new book in the 
 same spirit, and to teach women to ennoble themselves, to 
 develop themselves into truly Christian, prudent, clever 
 not learned, but enlightened educators, able to lay the 
 sure moral foundation on which all education ought to rest, 
 and which now, in general, is wanting. I owned that more 
 ways than hitherto of providing honestly for themselves 
 ought to be made accessible to women with indifferent 
 capacities, and that the question here had reference only 
 to women more highly gifted. 
 
 Considering Fredrika's projects impossible to realize, in 
 a physical as well as a moral and economical point of view, 
 I asked her to propose, just for these more gifted women, 
 that they should, several or few of them, unite in estab- 
 lishing educational institutions for girls in the country, in 
 the vicinity of towns, where they could remain until their 
 education was finished, not in a superficial, frivolous di- 
 rection, such as now is frequently the case, but aiming 
 at their immortal soul's development in purity and in 
 Christian spirit, while at the same time they could enjoy 
 every innocent recreation and amusement, learn practical 
 utility, and acquire every useful knowledge in languages, 
 &c., &c. 
 
 I proposed that these gifted women should also establish 
 similar institutions for boys of between six and ten years 
 of age, after which time their more learned education be- 
 
 o * 
 
 gins. During this time the good moral foundation, which 
 so many children cannot obtain in their parental home or 
 in ordinary schools, could be laid by these women, through 
 a guidance which would develop the children into think- 
 ing, honest, and conscientious beings, to the improvement
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 85 
 
 and advantage of society, when in a more mature age they 
 began to act, if coming out of the first mentioned institu- 
 tion, as well educated mothers and teachers ; or, if out 
 of the latter, as men in the state. And how beneficially 
 would not such an education in the country influence the 
 children's health both of body and mind ! 
 
 But I was of opinion that these gifted women ought not 
 to be too young ; that they should be from thirty to forty 
 years old ; that they ought likewise to be distinguished by 
 capacity and experience as well as in a moral point of 
 view. They would then have sufficient time to prepare 
 themselves for their important mission, and I imagined that 
 this preparation could be compassed in a practical way by 
 the experience which they could gain as teachers in pri- 
 vate families or in good boarding-schools. In these also 
 unmarried women would have an ample field for a noble 
 and blessed activity, provided they understood the word 
 education in its spiritual and moral sense, and did not con- 
 found or consider it equivalent with mere teaching and 
 acquiring knowledge, which, of course, they would have 
 to impart to the young. 
 
 Nobody understood better than Fredrika, as will be 
 seen by her previous writings and by her active life, how 
 to estimate in its full significance woman's mission to be 
 the mother and educator of the human race ; but, after her 
 return from America, her predominating thought was how 
 she might be able to secure liberty and an unrestricted 
 sphere of activity for Swedish women. She remarked, that 
 a number of functions belong to human life, which cannot 
 be said to be either fatherly or motherly, but which as 
 she maintained the " fatherly " had in all times undi- 
 videdly taken upon itself. She seemed to understand the 
 reason. Man is superior to woman in physical strength, 
 and as long as people lived for the most part in a kind of 
 savage state, man was woman's natural master, and woman 
 merely a part of the man. But now, Fredrika argued,
 
 86 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the ancient tradition about Adam's rib has undergone a 
 considerable modification through Christianity itself. Our 
 life is now more essentially a spiritual life a spiritual 
 world in which no one is man or woman with respect to 
 right of inheritance, majority, or the unbounded produc- 
 tiveness of mental gifts. Through Christianity woman is 
 already emancipated, but the force of habit is strong, and 
 strongest in woman. The old, so to speak, natural condi- 
 tion, she has been used to look upon as the most conven- 
 ient. Fredrika felt herself called upon to give woman a 
 strong reminder of her true, that is her full, mission. 
 
 Woman's true mission and sphere of activity in general, 
 appeared to me to have been pointed out to her by her na- 
 ture, which in all times and amongst all nations, in ordinary 
 cases, is the same, and which in Christianity has received 
 her highest and noblest mission in leading man's immortal 
 soul to God. 
 
 Fredrika had frequently requested me to communicate 
 to her any thing which I had found uncommon, any pe- 
 culiarity in people, especially in unmarried women, and 
 what afforded them any pleasure here in this world. This 
 I had often done. And now I related to her some beauti- 
 ful traits in children, in case she should wish to make use 
 of them in her new book, and as illustrations to my project 
 for her eminently gifted women, for whom I was anxious 
 to point out a higher and more important mission, more 
 suitable both for their head and heart, than that of becom- 
 ing public functionaries. 
 
 I was one evening, some years ago, at a concert in 
 Stockholm, with one of my friends and her son, then ten 
 years old. The lad was sitting before us. On the other 
 side of me I had another intimate friend. She noticed in 
 the course of the evening that the boy several times put 
 his hand to his forehead, and she asked him therefore if 
 he had the headache ? " No," he answered ; " I never 
 have the headache." My friend began then to converse
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 87 
 
 with some acquaintances who were sitting behind her. After 
 a little while the lad became very uneasy, and it seemed as 
 if he wanted to say something to my friend ; but she was 
 deep in conversation with her acquaintances. At last he 
 was unable to wait any longer, and he said to her: " I say ! 
 I say ! " And when she turned round to him, he said : " I 
 told you just now that I never had the headache ; but it is 
 possible that I have had it, although I do not recollect it." 
 It was the word never which disturbed the boy's conscience, 
 because he was not sure that it was perfectly true. 
 
 One day I paid a visit to one of my friends. On enter- 
 ing the dining-room, I saw two of "her sons, of about seven 
 or eight years old, sitting each in a corner of the room. 
 They came forward to greet me, and I asked them the 
 reason why they were sitting so far apart. " Well," said 
 one of them, " mamma has said that when we get angry 
 with one another we are not allowed to fight, but that we 
 must sit down as far as possible from each other, until our 
 anger is over." He had scarcely finished these words 
 when they both ran as fast as possible to sit down, each in 
 their corner, looking fiercely at one another. " Is not your 
 anger over yet ? " I asked. " No," they both shouted at 
 once. I went in to my friend, and when, after a quarter 
 of an hour, I came back into the dining-room, I found the 
 little brothers playing together. " Is it over now ? " I 
 asked. They answered, quite pleased, " Yes, now it 's 
 over." What an excellent method to teach children to 
 conquer their violent passions, to calm themselves, and to 
 think before acting. 
 
 One day when I had gone out shopping, a gentleman, 
 one of our acquaintances, saw me, and came into the shop 
 where I was to speak to me. A moment after, a young 
 lad who had seen me also, entered for the same purpose. 
 
 Mr. de R exclaimed : " Ah, voila mon bon ami 
 
 George ! " adding, while he turned round to me : " Nous 
 nous sommes rencontres 1'autre soir a un bal d'enfans, et
 
 88 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 nous sommes devenues de si bons amis. N'est ce pas que 
 nous somrnes bons amis ? " he said, patting the lad, who 
 was twelve years old, on the shoulder. The latter looked 
 a little uneasy, but answered, after a short reflection : " Je 
 crois certainement que nous le deviendrons lorsque nous 
 nous connaitrons mieux." It was impossible to answer 
 more candidly, and at the same time more politely. 
 
 These boys had the invaluable happiness of having 
 mothers who had understood how to lay the best founda- 
 tion of all education. 
 
 " I know no other sphere of activity for your gifted 
 women, none more useful and blessed for the state," I said 
 to Fredrika, " than to educate the youth of the country, 
 and to give them the compass which shows them the right 
 way on their journey through life, and the beneficial influ- 
 ence of which extends over generations." 
 
 Fredrika did not say much in reply to my educational 
 projects ; she wanted to see woman active in all directions 
 of the world's stage. 
 
 My mother and sisters had several years previously 
 founded a school on an estate in the neighborhood of Ar- 
 sta, also belonging to our family. An elderly widow had 
 been engaged as teacher, after having passed the Normal 
 School for National School-teachers in Stockholm, and 
 her daughter instructed the girls in sewing, knitting, and 
 spinning. My sister Hedda, who warmly and truly appre- 
 ciated the practical in life, superintended this department 
 of the school, and saw that the girls were taught to mend 
 their stockings, and patch and repair their clothes. Every 
 thing went on excellently in this school. The children 
 were industrious, good, and very anxious to attend regu- 
 larly. In this manner it was carried on many years, until 
 1842, when a statute was passed in which more extended 
 knowledge was required as a condition for competent 
 teachers in national schools. These requirements our 
 teacher could not fulfill. A good and clever man was en-
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 89 
 
 gaged as teacher in the parish, and the old school had to 
 break up for want of a sufficient number of pupils from our 
 estate. But one consequence of this change was, that the 
 instruction in handiworks, so useful and so necessary in 
 female education, ceased ; for the school-master was not 
 bound to give such instruction. Fredrika, who was much 
 interested in the school, which she had helped to establish, 
 was exceedingly sorry for this ; and when she heard that in 
 the neighboring parish, in which there were some farms 
 belonging to Arsta, a youth of only eighteen years of age 
 had been engaged as teacher, who had neither judgment 
 nor patience with the children, but, on the contrary, taught 
 them what was bad, she was very urgent that only women 
 should be admitted as teachers in national schools. 
 
 That such would be the case, both Fredrika and I 
 hoped, because, from what we had seen ourselves, none but 
 a woman could exert a motherly influence over the chil- 
 dren, none better and with more patience correct their 
 faults, make them obedient, orderly, and cleanly, which 
 ought to be the first object in educating children. And 
 how incalculably must the good moral foundation which 
 these female teachers ought to understand how to lay, in- 
 fluence the future conduct of the children ! But when 
 this change was to take place we could not guess. As late 
 as 1842, a learned, wise, and witty bishop, with whom Fre- 
 drika and I spoke on this subject with all the warmth of 
 conviction, when he one day paid a visit to Arsta, only an- 
 swered, " They won't do ! They won't do ! There must 
 be male teachers in the schools ! " 1 And how many, both 
 widows and unmarried women, might earn their bread in a 
 position so suitable for them, where they could labor so 
 beneficially for the rising generation ! 
 
 In the spring of 1853 my mother fell ill, and had to take 
 
 1 Not until many years later, in 1859, a statute appeared, that what had 
 been enacted respecting teachers in schools should apply also to such 
 women whose capability had been tried and approved in the Seminary for 
 Teachers in National Schools.
 
 90 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 to her bed. It was therefore out of the question to remove 
 her that summer to Arsta, and consequently Fredrika re- 
 mained in town in order to keep her company and to nurse 
 her. Her illness, with an occasional temporary improve- 
 ment, lasted two years, until the 2d of March, 1855, when 
 my mother, after much suffering, borne with Christian 
 resignation, departed to a better life. 
 
 Fredrika, who was never slow in rendering assistance, 
 whenever she had it in her power, devoted to the promo- 
 tion of charitable undertakings of greater extent, both her 
 personal activity and the power which she possessed of 
 deeply touching with her words all human hearts, when 
 she wished to move them to alleviate the distress of the 
 suffering. 
 
 When, in the summer of 1853, the cholera broke out in 
 Stockholm, Fredrika joined a society of noble-hearted 
 women, whose president she became, and whose aim it was 
 to take charge of, and procure a home for, those children 
 who had lost their parents by this epidemic, and to render 
 assistance to those poor families in which either the father 
 or the mother had died and left children. 
 
 She published in the newspapers an invitation to a sub- 
 scription for the benefit of these children and families, and 
 had the satisfaction of seeing the money thus collected 
 amount to Rg. 26,000, besides contributions which were 
 promised to be continued for several years. It was ar- 
 ranged for the orphans that the society should take the 
 entire charge of them, until they had been confirmed, and 
 a place had been procured for them. 
 
 In the winter of 1855, Fredrika placed herself at the 
 head of a small association of ladies, whose object it was 
 to visit the prisons of the metropolis. This object was ex- 
 ceedingly good, and I hope that, at all events, some of 
 those who had taken the first steps on the path of vice and 
 crime, and now in the cells of the prisons had leisure, in 
 silence and solitude, to meditate on what had been said to
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 91 
 
 them, returned, after undergoing their punishment, to the 
 path of virtue. The greater number of them seemed to 
 be sincerely grateful for the sympathy shown to them, and 
 when one had time to disentangle their notions of right 
 and wrong, they listened with sincere repentance, and joy- 
 fully, to the exhortations to confess candidly their crimes, 
 patiently to submit to the punishment inflicted upon them, 
 and then to endeavor to become new beings. 
 
 O 
 
 These visits were continued during the following winter, 
 when Fredrika was residing in Stockholm. The hope of 
 having effected some permanent good in this way was, 
 however, more than once disappointed ; because several of 
 those for whom much had been done, and for whom, after 
 they had been discharged from prison, good places as serv- 
 ants had been procured, returned again to a life of vice 
 and crime. 
 
 Fredrika, together with two other ladies of this society, 
 also visited the large penitentiary for women. Those who 
 were imprisoned there were more hardened and more prac- 
 ticed in crimes ; still they were not inaccessible to the en- 
 deavors made with gentleness and in a Christian spirit, to 
 awaken their feelings and create in them a wish to repent. 
 
 On Fredrika's visit to this prison on New Year's Day, 
 1856, the following New Year's greeting was presented to 
 her by its inmates : 
 
 " Now entering on another year, 
 E'en with its course our hope grows clear, 
 That God the erring keeps in mind, 
 Though worldly judgments are unkind. 
 With moved and grateful spirit 
 Our thanks we send to thee, 
 Who God's good pleasure's pathway 
 Hast made us clearly see. 
 We here before thy feet do humbly lay 
 Our New Year's greeting, and we pray 
 That thou our words will not despise, 
 Though they from captive hearts arise. 
 May health and joy and peace in full 
 Be with thee until life depart;
 
 92 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 When thy last morning greets thy sight, 
 To choirs of angels take thy flight." 
 
 Fredrika likewise devoted her pen and her eloquence, 
 during the last years of her life, to call upon society to col- 
 lect money for the benefit of several charitable institutions ; 
 for the erection of dwellings for laborers, for which a con- 
 siderable sum was gathered ; for an asylum for aged fe- 
 males, and for the so-called " Silent School " for deaf and 
 dumb children, and for several other institutions. 
 
 After reading Alexandre Vinet's excellent works, Fre- 
 drika longed to follow more attentively on the spot the 
 religious movement, which had been called forth in Prot- 
 estant Switzerland by the " Free Church," of which Vinet 
 was the founder. This occasioned Fredrika's journey to 
 Switzerland in the summer of 1856. She had intended 
 at the same time to visit Greece, and spend a year in 
 Athens. I did all I could to dissuade her from under- 
 taking such a long journey, upon which she proposed to set 
 out, as usual, quite alone; But when Fredrika had once 
 got an idea into her head, it must be realized. 
 
 To her desire of knowledge, was now also added a cer- 
 tain restlessness of temper, a longifig for change, which, 
 when she had been at home a short time and in quietness, 
 made her fancy that she required to travel. When she left 
 Sweden this time, she had, however, no idea of making 
 such a long journey as it eventually turned out, namely, 
 during five years, through Switzerland, Belgium, France, 
 Italy, Palestine, and Greece. While travelling, a desire 
 awoke within her, and opportunities presented themselves, 
 to visit one country after another. Fredrika returned 
 home in the summer of 1861, and in the following year 
 she again visited Germany. But this was the last journey 
 which she made. 
 
 Fredrika was permitted to live to see four important 
 events realized at which her heart, always warm and sym- 
 pathizing for all progress in a noble and good direction, felt
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 93 
 
 the sincerest joy : the abolition of slavery in the United 
 States of America ; a law passed in Sweden, that unmar- 
 ried women should attain their majority at twenty-five years 
 of age ; the organization in Stockholm of a seminary for 
 educating female teachers ; and the parliamentary reform 
 in Sweden, carried through in such a dignified manner. 
 
 It was more especially after her return from her last 
 journey that Fredrika was constantly importuned, not only 
 by a number of persons who wanted to beg or borrow 
 money of her ; by authoresses who came to request her to 
 read through and improve their, for the most part, unim- 
 provable writings ; but also by both men and women who 
 wanted her assistance to procure employment for them. 
 She got in this way more and more overrun by all kinds 
 of people. Frequently poor Fredrika felt very unhappy 
 that it was not in her power to assist all the really poor 
 and destitute ; but she assured me that she had taught 
 herself to say " No ! " with the greatest coolness to persons 
 who were perfect strangers to her, and who wanted to bor- 
 \ row of her both large and small sums of money. 
 
 Fredrika, while she was residing during the winters in 
 Stockholm, had been in the habit of giving small evening 
 parties, sometimes twice a week, in her comfortable little 
 home, to which a few friends and more intimate acquaint- 
 ances were invited. But she had now become tired of 
 these soirees, and wished to live henceforth in quiet. 
 
 This wish, and the feeling that it would be necessary for 
 her to flee from Stockholm, in order to escape from all 
 those who came to ask for assistance, and almost every day 
 occupied her time, made her determine to remove some 
 miles from Stockholm into the country, and thus the 
 thought and wish arose in her to remove to Arsta, which, 
 since the autumn of 1853, had not belonged to our family. 
 Before making up her mind to stay for any greater length 
 of time, she wanted first to try how she would find herself 
 there under these altered circumstances, and therefore she 
 spent three months of the summer of 1864 at Arsta.
 
 94 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 On her return to town, Fredrika was greatly charmed 
 with the patriarchal family who were now the owners of 
 our former paternal estate, and she had vastly enjoyed the 
 peace and quietness in which she had lived there. She 
 therefore determined to remove to Arsta the following 
 summer, to board with the present owners, and she chose 
 the rooms which were to be put in order for her. Besides 
 the hope of the rural peace which she would enjoy there, 
 her kind, generous heart was gladdened when she thought 
 that by this change she would save a considerable portion 
 of her annual income, to give away, compared with what 
 she was able to do formerly, while living in Stockholm. 
 
 In the spring of 1865, Fredrika was seized with a severe 
 attack of erysipelas, and until the month of July she had 
 not recovered so far as to be able to remove to Arsta ; but 
 there she soon recovered her health and strength. During 
 the visits which Fredrika, later in the summer, paid to my 
 husband and me at our little country-seat, we heard with 
 sincere pleasure that she found herself more^ happy and 
 contented than she had ever felt before at Arsta. Her 
 mind was also now at ease ; all doubts of God's goodness 
 and justice had vanished; all rebellious feelings, which had 
 been awakened in her, when contemplating the unequal 
 lots on earth, were silenced ; and when we, especially on her 
 last visit to us, spoke of some unhappy people whom we 
 knew personally, and who in poverty and sickness had for 
 years been suffering great bodily pain, I found Fredrika 
 full of hope, and convinced that their sufferings here below 
 would be requited in a double measure in a better world. 
 In a word, I had never before seen Fredrika so hopeful 
 and so calm. 
 
 I cannot better paint the peaceful state of her mind than 
 by quoting her own beautiful words, written, most probably, 
 at the close of her life : 
 
 " No longer against destiny I murmur ; 
 The Providence of God I clearly see ;
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 95 
 
 It makes itself not known within the world's 
 
 And chance's ever-shifting, changing forms, 
 
 But it reveals itself in hearts of mortals. 
 
 And thus in them expressed is its spirit: 
 
 ' That sons of earth in greatest earthly need 
 
 May then on " bread of life " from heaven feed ; ' 
 
 And when I hear them tell how fate ungentle 
 
 Has acted 'gainst some mortal good and noble, 
 
 Fate is to me a darkling cloud no more, 
 
 A cloud which hides the sun of light and beauty ; 
 
 Praise be to God ! I know now how it is, 
 
 I know that in the sufferer's meek submission 
 
 Lies strength concealed to feed and nourish gladness ; 
 
 I know that in the martyr's crown of thorns, 
 
 When borne with patience, there is not one point, 
 
 Which or in time or in eternity, 
 
 Blooms not into a rose." 
 
 Although fully prepared and joyfully looking forward to 
 a better life, Fredrika yet believed that she was destined 
 to remain longer in this world, in which she fancied that a 
 great deal still remained for her to do, while leading a life 
 full of love for mankind and wandering in the paths of our 
 Saviour : to help, solace, and comfort the destitute, the suf- 
 fering, the unhappy, the abandoned, who from all quarters 
 turned to her for assistance and consolation. 
 
 But this belief was not to be realized. Although Fre- 
 drika, after having taken up her abode in the country, had 
 regained health and strength, she yet felt a something 
 within her foreboding the great removal, arising either 
 from the prophetic element in her nature, or from a con- 
 sciousness of physical decline ; probably from both. She 
 communicated her thoughts and feelings on this subject to 
 an old friend in Sweden and to a friend in America ; but 
 as she never was in the habit of paying much attention to 
 her bodily ailments or dangers to life or health, she did not 
 attach any particular importance to these forebodings, not 
 suspecting that the solemn hour was so near. 
 
 It was in the beginning of September when Fredrika, 
 for the last time, visited us in the country. On the 30th 
 of December we received two letters from Arsta : one, a
 
 96 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 long letter to my husband, dictated by Fredrika, relating 
 to her worldly affairs, in which she told us that she had 
 caught cold on Christmas Day, after having attended the 
 morning service in church; but that she now felt better, 
 although still very weak. The other letter was from the 
 physician who had been called in, informing us that Fre- 
 drika was suffering from inflammation of the lungs, and 
 preparing us for the possibility that she might not have 
 strength enough to go through this serious illness. 
 
 My husband and I drove out at once, in a heavy gale of 
 wind and rain, to Arsta. On our arrival, at nine o'clock at 
 night, I asked Fredrika's kind hostess to prepare her cau- 
 tiously for our arrival. She was exceedingly weak. Alas ! 
 I saw at once death in her face. She was glad when we 
 entered her room, and said, in broken accents, "It is so 
 kind of you to come and see me ! I have been ill ; have 
 suffered much pain ; I have never been so ill." " Do you 
 feel yourself better now ? " I asked. " Yes, much better," 
 she answered. After a little while, during which she 
 seemed to have fallen into a short slumber, she looked up, 
 saying, " Have I dreamt that my sister and brother-in-law 
 are here ? " We again approached her bedside and took 
 her hand, while we said a few loving words to her. Much 
 talking she could not bear. Again her mind seemed to 
 wander for a short time ; when again she looked up, she 
 said to me, "You cannot think how kind and attentive 
 every one here has been to me ; they have watched over 
 and tended me in the most kind manner. They are such 
 excellent people ! " 
 
 It did my heart good that the amiable family at Arsta, 
 who, sorrowing, surrounded her bed, should hear from her 
 own lips these expressions of gratitude. 
 
 Shortly after Fredrika had said these words, the last 
 earthly struggle began, that between life and death, 
 and, thank God ! it was a short one, although painful, last- 
 ing about an hour, after which all consciousness seemed to
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 97 
 
 be gone, and Fredrika peacefully drew her last breath, at 
 three o'clock on the morning of the last day of the year, to 
 awake again in heaven. 
 
 Happy they who have lived as she had done ! they are 
 every moment ready to enter into the mansions of the 
 blessed. 
 
 The wind had gone down, the sky had become bright 
 and clear, and the moon lit up the room in which Fre- 
 drika was now lying quietly, as one asleep. 
 
 She had finished her earthly career, during which* she 
 had been permitted to realize the dearest wish of her 
 youth, to live for the sake of comforting, consoling, and 
 relieving her suffering fellow-men ; and this noble, loving 
 heart, which had glowed so warmly and bravely for the 
 light of truth and the weal of humanity, had ceased to 
 beat. Many are they who bless her memory and mourn 
 her loss. The following day we got a detailed account of 
 all the particulars of Fredrika's last illness. Fredrika, 
 whose greatest pleasure it was to give pleasure to others, 
 had, on Christmas Eve, invited thirty children belonging 
 to the families of the farmers and laborers on the estate. 
 After a liberal entertainment, every child got a Christmas- 
 box, and they were then allowed to dance round a beauti- 
 fully decorated Christmas-tree, radiant with light. Fre- 
 drika danced with them, and taught them several games ; 
 in a word, she over-exerted herself, and went to bed later 
 than usual. On Christmas Day she drove to church. After 
 the service she stood for some time in the church-yard 
 conversing with several people. The wind was high and 
 piercing, and it is supposed that it was then she caught 
 cold. She was, however, well and cheerful the whole day. 
 
 During the night she was taken ill, and when Mrs. S g, 
 
 her hostess, on the following day, wanted to send for a 
 physician, Fredrika would not allow it, saying, that she 
 knew her own constitution well, and that if she did not get 
 better in the course of the day, she would then take some 
 7
 
 98 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 of her small homoeopathic globules. It was not until the 
 fourth day, when Fredrika felt herself getting worse, that 
 she gave permission to send for a physician. When he 
 arrived and found, on inquiry, that she was suffering from 
 a severe inflammation of the lungs, she requested that her 
 relatives might be informed of her illness. She did not 
 herself imagine that there was any danger ; and, notwith- 
 standing increasing pain and difficulty in breathing, she 
 could not be persuaded to lie down, but walked about even 
 the very last day of her life, exceedingly restless, moving 
 from one place to another in her large drawing-room. Her 
 mind was as usual, always calm and cheerful. 
 
 To her young nurse, who assisted her to change her 
 position, which soothed her pains, she said : " It would be 
 delightful to die in this way, without pain ; but not yet ; I 
 would wish to finish my last work. And you know it is 
 not my death-year," she added, alluding to a dream which 
 she had had several years before, and according to which 
 she ought to have more than a year to live. 1 On the 
 <i Friday after, she went, leaning upon the arm of her nurse, 
 from window to window in the large room ; and it seemed 
 as if she wanted to take leave of the surrounding country 
 which she loved so much. Then she spoke with a faint, 
 scarcely audible, voice, broken sentences, repeated often : 
 " Light, eternal light ; " and, while taking her nurse's hands 
 between her own, she said, with a glorified expression in 
 her face : "Ah ! my child, let us speak of Christ's love, 
 the best, the highest love ! " 
 
 My husband and I returned later in the day to town, in 
 order to make the necessary arrangements for the funeral. 
 It took place on the day before Twelfth Night, the 5th of 
 
 1 This dream had made such an impression upon Fredrika, that she 
 really believed, and often mentioned to her most intimate friends, that she 
 would live to be sixty -six years and two months old ; which age, dying 
 as she did, at a little more than sixty-four years old, she was not permit- 
 ted to reach.
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 99 
 
 January, 1866. Besides the Arsta family, the clergyman 
 and his wife, and a few of the neighbors, only our nearest 
 relatives, and two elderly gentlemen, Fredrika's old friends, 
 were invited, with my husband and myself, to accompany 
 her to her last resting-place. Some people from town had 
 also the kindness to join us. 
 
 On Fredrika's birthday the previous year, while she was 
 staying at Arsta, her kind hostess, with her daughters, in 
 order to afford her a pleasure, had invited to coffee all the 
 survivors of those who, during my parents' time, had 
 served on the estate. When they had assembled, it was 
 found that these old faithful servants male and female 
 included numbered twenty-four in all. Now the male 
 portion of them were invited, and they were to carry Fre- 
 drika to the church. 
 
 The beautiful coffin was entirely covered with garlands 
 of flowers, sent from friends in Stockholm, and were mixed 
 with those which we and the invited funeral guests had 
 brought out from town. But none of them were so beauti- 
 ful as the garland sent by the children of the " Silent 
 School ; " it was made of dazzling white camellias and the 
 most beautiful feather-like grass. 
 
 On one of the plates of the coffin was written : 
 
 "FREDRIKA BREMER: 
 
 o 
 
 Bora at Tuorla Manor, near Abo, in Finland, on the 17th August, 1801; 
 Died at Arsta, at three o'clock in the morning, the 31st December, 1865. 
 
 Beloved and regretted by all who knew her, she leaves after her only 
 dear and loving memories." 
 
 On the other plate was written : 
 
 " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." 
 
 After having partaken of some luncheon, the procession 
 set out for church, where we were met by a number of young 
 ladies from Stockholm, amongst whom were several of the 
 teachers from the Seminary, who, grateful for the kindness 
 and friendly favors shown them by Fredrika, had wished
 
 100 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 to follow her to the grave. The coffin was placed upon 
 the catafalque before the altar, covered with flowers. The 
 church was filled with country people, who had come to 
 witness the funeral, and who all seemed to be deeply 
 moved. The organ pealed forth the 461st psalm : " Oh, 
 day of hope, which brightens now," of which the first, 
 fifth, and eighth verses were sung. 
 
 Hereupon the clergyman, the Rev. Mr. L 11, ap- 
 proached the coffin, and held a funeral oration, dig- 
 nified, eloquent, true, and delivered with deep and sincere 
 emotion. 
 
 After the ceremony, the 452d psalm was sung : " I go 
 towards death where'er I go ; " and then, in a chorus of 
 young, fresh voices : " Hosanna, David's Son ! " 
 
 The old servants then approached, took the coffin, and 
 carried it to the grave, into which it was lowered under a 
 shower of flowers, offered with sincere tears and deep 
 emotion by her young friends. 
 
 At the head of the grave, shaded by two lime-trees with 
 luxuriant foliage, stands now a handsome monument of 
 polished granite, with a cross on the top. On the pedestal 
 is engraved in golden letters : 
 
 " HERE SLEEPS 
 
 FREDRIKA BREMER, 
 
 BORN 17TH AUGUST, 1801 ; DIED 31sT DECEMBER, 1865 ; " 
 and underneath, according to Fredrika's own wish, the 
 following words of Scripture : 
 " When I cried tinto the Lord, He delivered me out of all my trouble."
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 THE first word which my infant lips uttered in this sub- 
 lunary world was " Moon." Eight years later I wrote my 
 first verses, " A la lune." My first juvenile feelings, so far 
 as I can now recollect, were immoderate greediness after 
 sweetmeats, and likewise an immoderate desire to distin- 
 guish myself and be spoken of. These were soon suc- 
 ceeded by warmer feelings and nobler desires, which all 
 wore the stamp of passion. My first love was my native 
 country. I loved it as Elizabeth in " Sketches of Every- 
 day Life." In the description which she gives of her youth 
 and her feelings, I have portrayed my own. By degrees, 
 as my intelligence and my mind became developed (both 
 equally warped and chaotic), a spirit of inquiry was also de- 
 veloped within me a why and wherefore which none 
 of those who were around me could, or cared to, answer or 
 enlighten. My education was of a very desultory kind. 
 They stuffed my head full of fine precepts against vanity, 
 but they planted vanity itself in my heart. During my 
 endeavors to deaden wild sensations, I went for the first 
 time to the Lord's table. An atmosphere of innocence 
 and purity, emanating from my mother's whole being, 
 breathed round my home, and for a long time kept aloof 
 from the children's souls all knowledge of evil ; but the 
 desire for it was, unconscious to me, slumbering in my soul. 
 Modesty, in its widest sense, I knew not But I had an 
 ardent and enthusiastic feeling for all heroic virtues, a 
 boundless capacity to love and to sacrifice myself with joy,
 
 102 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 in small things as in great, for the good of those whom I 
 loved ; a desire to give, to make happy, and to comfort. 
 Yes, if I could have done it, I would have given to the 
 hungry the flesh of my own body. I loved my mother 
 most tenderly and passionately, and longed, above every 
 thing else in the world, to please her. I failed herein com 
 pletely. I walked badly, sat badly, stood badly, curtsied 
 badly ; and many bitter moments this cost me, because my 
 mother wished that her daughters should be perfect, as the 
 heroines of romance are perfect, by birth and nature. 
 This, of course, we sincerely wished to be, but to me Dame 
 Nature was rather unfriendly, throwing all kinds of diffi- 
 culties in my way. None of those who surrounded me un- 
 derstood how to guide a character like mine to good. They 
 tried to curb me by severity, or else my thoughts and feel- 
 ings were ridiculed. I was very unhappy in my early youth, 
 and, violent as I was in every thing, I formed many plans 
 to shorten my life, to put out my eyes, &c., &c., merely for 
 the sake of making my mother repent her severity ; but all 
 ended in my standing on the margin of the lake, looking 
 down into the water, or feeling the pricking of the knife in 
 my eyeball. Unhappy at home, because I was a restless, 
 passionate creature, without the least of what one would call 
 tact, my soul clung ardently to the events of the outer world. 
 The war against Napoleon stirred within me all my deepest 
 feelings. I determined to flee from home, to proceed to 
 the theatre of war, which I imagined would be an easy 
 matter, and, dressed in male costume, to become page to 
 the Crown-Prince (afterwards King Charles XIV.), who 
 at that time appeared to me to be little less than a demi- 
 god. I entertained these plans more than a year, until 
 they melted away slowly, like snow in water. Gradually 
 my patriotic and warlike feelings were lulled, but only to 
 make room for new ones of another kind. Religious en- 
 thusiasm and the most worldly coquetry were struggling 
 within me, with feelings for which I was unable fully to ac-
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 103 
 
 count, but which seemed to burst my young bosom, and 
 which sometimes filled it with a heaven and sometimes with 
 a hell. Like two all-consuming flames, the desire to know 
 and the desire to enjoy were burning in my soul, without 
 being satisfied for many long years. The mere sight of 
 certain words in a book, words such as Truth, Liberty, 
 Glory, Immortality, roused within me feelings which 
 vainly I would try to describe. I wanted in some way or 
 other to give vent to and express the same ; and I wrote 
 verses, theatrical pieces, and a thousand different kinds of 
 essays ; composed music, drew and painted pictures, some 
 of them greater trash than the others. I was brought out 
 into the world, went out visiting, went to evening parties, 
 balls, and concerts, and very rarely enjoyed myself any- 
 where except at the theatre, and there my soul was thrown 
 into a state of topsy-turvy. 
 
 My nose, naturally large, used to become illuminated in 
 hot places, and, I had almost said, become double its ordi- 
 nary size, darkening my prospects of pleasure and of ad- 
 mirers, which latter it kept at a distance. I have said it : 
 I was a coquette, and I became more and more a coquette 
 when I observed that I found favor with my parents in 
 proportion as I anywhere or in any thing was admired by 
 others. In company I frequently behaved in a ridiculous 
 manner, because it was utterly impossible for me to keep 
 my soul or my body quiet. Thence arose fresh troubles 
 for my mother, and consequently fresh troubles for me. 
 Du reste, my vivacity and my fraicheur, which, so long 
 as it did not concentrate itself into my nose, was rather 
 pretty, procured me admirers and flatterers, when we hap- 
 pened to be in any place of public entertainment. This 
 was a consolation to us both, namely, to my mother and to 
 myself. A young gentleman, betrothed to the daughter of 
 the oldest friend of my parents, came one day to pay them 
 a visit. He was exceedingly handsome, full of vigor and 
 life. I saw him for a couple of hours and became en-
 
 104 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 chanted. During a fortnight I felt the arrow sticking in 
 my heart; then it dropped out. Another young gentle- 
 man, nowise handsome, but rich, saw me a couple of hours, 
 while I was paying a visit, and he fell in love with me. 
 With his hand upon his heart, he whispered to me his 
 agony. He tried to get an introduction to our family, but 
 the door was forcibly shut against him by my father, who 
 willingly would have got all his daughters married, but who 
 never could tolerate the face of a suitor in his house. I 
 was then seventeen years old, read Madame Le Prince de 
 Beaumont's works, and determined never to marry. From 
 this time forth there was for me a vacuum of suitors and 
 lovers until 1820, when I was twenty. N. B. It was fortu- 
 nate, for the keeping of my word, that during this time no 
 suitor appeared to put my word to the 'test. Meanwhile I 
 had improved somewhat in my gait, in sitting, in curtsey- 
 ing, and got my person a little more into shape ; got the 
 name of being witty ; had less love for and more favor with 
 my mother. I understood better how to agree with people, 
 and to suit myself to them. I had, moreover, begun to ac- 
 quire a certain quantity of every-day wisdom and common 
 sense, which made people entertain some hope respecting 
 my understanding, the doubts and questions of which I 
 tried to stifle as vain fermentations. In 1820 1 accom- 
 panied my mother and sisters to a watering-place. It 
 was during the third term of the season, and we were 
 therefore alone. A very amiable and chivalrous elderly 
 gentleman and his wife, residing in the neighborhood, did 
 all they could to make our stay as agreeable as possible. 
 They had a son, a young, gay, good, and handsome lieuten- 
 ant. He began to sigh for me, and I began to warm a 
 little for him. It was a pastoral moment, when once, " in 
 the green fields," I was wiping and scraping some tar off 
 one of my shoes, and when he, with half words and sighs 
 well, nothing more came of it. We left at last, and he 
 accompanied us to the nearest town. I remember, not
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 105 
 
 without a pleasant sensation, this first silent, friendly har- 
 mony of my soul with another's. We parted. I gave him 
 a carnation and a curl-paper, and he gave me a few sprigs 
 of lavender. I cried the whole night after our parting, 
 and for a long time afterwards I sighed his name in my 
 heart, but very calmly. 
 
 In order to please my parents, I had labored very hard 
 to get used to household duties. I succeeded, because I 
 had then, as now, a very strong will, although I rarely 
 understood how to give it the proper direction. I also 
 worked and labored hard at my piano, and rose at four in 
 the mornings, merely for the purpose of playing the scales. 
 I wrote theatrical pieces in honor of every birthday in the 
 family ; arranged small fetes, and began to flatter the heads 
 of the family in a delicate manner ; in a word, I became a 
 complete courtier, and rose with my parents to the rank of 
 favorite. By means of this favoritism, I wished, however, 
 to get an opportunity of serving my sisters, and I succeeded 
 sometimes, but not often. Nowhere have I seen so many 
 impossibilities for every thing, except for very long journeys, 
 as in our house. I wrote during this time some humorous 
 and some tragic pieces, which I believe gave promise of 
 something better ; but nobody cared to take the trouble of 
 trying to develop this promise. I had no idea of being 
 able by industry to make something of myself in the way 
 of intellect and knowledge. 
 
 All my actions during many years were devoid of plan 
 or order. In 1821 we worked through our continental 
 trip, and journeyed in covered carriages, and " toiled on 
 our weary way" through Germany, Switzerland, France, 
 and the Netherlands. For all the treasures of this world, 
 aye, even for the genius of Tegner, I would not again make 
 this journey in the same way. I will only speak of the 
 suffering which more particularly fell to my share. The 
 desire for knowledge and the desire for enjoyment were 
 reawakened within me a new, all-consuming fire, at the 
 sight of the masterpieces of Nature and of Art.
 
 106 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 I suffered like Tantalus. Within a year we had returned 
 to our quiet home in the north. Then began for us a life, 
 the heaviness and torture of which it would be vain to at- 
 tempt to paint. Our home became to us a prison, compared 
 with which a real prison would, so it appeared to me, have 
 been a delicious retreat. We saw nobody in our house, 
 and those whom we saw in the houses of others were un- 
 kind and unfriendly to us on account of our foreign jour- 
 ney, and on account of the airs which people fancied we 
 wanted to give ourselves. Year after year a heavier and 
 darker cloud lowered itself over my home, and still more 
 over my soul. Gradually all illusions vanished. With a 
 soul infinitely lively and active, I found myself shut out 
 from all activity. If a charitable hand had then pointed 
 out to me the road to light and future usefulness, through 
 cultivation of my intellect and a judicious division of the 
 time to be devoted to this purpose, oh ! then so many 
 years would not have rolled past me like zeroes, and I 
 would have borne better every day's bitterness and pain. 
 But my soul was still, as it were, in its swaddling clothes. 
 I read heaps of novels ; they awakened within me a longing 
 for happiness and love, which could not be realized. I 
 read large quantities of sermons, which did not make me 
 a bit better or less unhappy. I played the piano, and occu- 
 pied myself in one way or other, but more and more list- 
 lessly. I waited for a turn in events, in order to enter into 
 activity, but no such events happened. Embroidering an 
 interminable gray neckerchief, I became more and more 
 benumbed, that is to say, in my vital powers, in my desire 
 to live. The sense of pain did not become benumbed ; it 
 became, on the contrary, more sharp every day, like the 
 frost in a steadily increasing winter. The flame in my soul 
 was flickering fearfully, and wanted only one thing to be 
 extinguished forever. My sisters suffered with me ; they 
 suffered in me and I in them. During the common sor- 
 rows of our continental journey, we had become sincerely
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 107 
 
 and closely united. During the common sufferings of our 
 domestic life, we became still more tenderly united ; and 
 under affliction and tears those ties were knit which noth- 
 ing can make stronger, which nothing can tear asunder, 
 and which are now the chief source of my life's happiness. 
 Years rolled past, and every thing remained in the same 
 state ; physical pains, caused by inward pains, seized me ; an 
 eruption covered my face ; my eyes became yellow. I felt, 
 both in body and soul, a sense of the utmost discomfort, a 
 kind of frost, a sensation as if I was becoming mouldy. I 
 had a fear and horror of people looking at me. My posi- 
 tion, with respect to them and to myself, was insupportable. 
 The fate of women in general, and my own in particular, 
 appeared to me to be frightful. I saw assurance and cour- 
 age in men's looks ; heard them express openly their 
 thoughts and feelings, and I was doomed to silence, to 
 live without life. I was conscious of being born with pow- 
 erful wings, but I was also conscious of their being clipped, 
 and I fancied that they would always remain so. I saw 
 that I was disagreeable and repugnant in the eyes of others, 
 and I felt that it could not be otherwise, for I was dissatis- 
 fied with myself, with my inward and outward being. 
 
 But during all this suffering, a certain strength was 
 called into life within me. My glance penetrated deeply 
 into the dark mysteries of human life ; I understood every 
 thing called suffering ; and in my own name, and in that 
 of all unhappy beings, I raised a painful and rebellious 
 cry to Heaven : 
 
 My cheek was pale, my eyes were running o'er 
 With bitter tears ; my heart, in desolation, 
 
 Saw suffering, like a vast and rankling sore, 
 Prey on the vitals of God's fair creation. 
 
 I looked for dawn, I found but nightly gloom, 
 No hope of happier days, no blessed faith ; 
 
 Life turned like some wild meteor on a tomb 
 In my sad heart, I only prayed for death.
 
 108 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Now I stood in need of faith ; now I stood in need of 
 religious comfort Wildly impatient, I prayed for it ; my 
 agony remained the same. Exasperated, I turned away 
 my looks from heaven and asked, with my eyes riveted 
 upon the night of human misery, a shuddering wherefore ? 
 No voice, either from heaven or from earth, returned an 
 answer ; my faith and my hope were shaken in their deep- 
 est foundations. Every thing was tottering ; I doubted, 
 I despaired, and now I understood hell. I suffered so 
 deeply, so dreadfully, but at the same time so quietly, that 
 just thereby I felt a kind of superiority over other people; 
 because, during this suffering, I became so good, so gentle, 
 that I would willingly have suffered still more to save the 
 most insignificant insect a pang. And I knew nobody so 
 good as I. God may He forgive my weakness this irrev- 
 erence or blindness permitted this suffering. Man hum- 
 bled me, because I was a kind of Lazarus, at any rate in 
 my own imagination ; but I overlooked mankind ; in my 
 soul raged giant agony. I felt that I could suffer, and that 
 I suffered more than others. 
 
 Although at this time I should have found it easy to 
 achieve any great and noble action, even at the sacrifice 
 of my life ; yet I must in truth confess, that on the other 
 hand, I have never looked upon crime and vice with so 
 little abhorrence as then, and it is only Him, who rules 
 events and circumstances, to whom I ascribe the innocence 
 of my actions. One thing only afforded me some consola- 
 tion during this long time of suffering, and this was paint- 
 ing. Seated at my easel, I frequently forgot, for hours 
 together, my agony and the bitterness of my life ; and in 
 creating the beautiful with my pencil, I found therein con- 
 solation for not being able to re-create myself, for I was 
 ever weak for beauty. In order to find pecuniary means 
 for assuaging affliction which made my heart bleed to hear 
 mentioned, I tried to earn money with my paintings. I 
 painted little portraits of the Crown-Princess, whom I had
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 109 
 
 seen in the theatre ; painted that of the King ; sold them 
 in secret, and within a year I earned nearly two hundred 
 rix dollars. To employ this sum, afforded me for the mo- 
 ment a healing balm. 
 
 My sister Agatha had finished the orthopedic treatment, 
 which she had gone through in Paris, and returned home 
 in the summer of 1826. She scarcely knew me again, so 
 much had I become altered in two years. It was decided 
 that she, my sister Hedda, and myself should remain in 
 the country, in order to continue Agatha's treatment. We 
 were allowed to remain there alone with an old French 
 lady as a chaperon. 
 
 My sister Charlotte accompanied my parents to town in 
 the autumn. These sisters were and are good, gentle, pa- 
 tient, and pure beings, beings, whom nothing in the 
 world could tempt to deviate from what they consider vir- 
 tuous and right. My life now gained outward peace, but 
 severe bodily suffering, toothache, and rheumatism in the 
 head, together with the chaotic state of my soul, prevented 
 me from enjoying this peace. By degrees there awoke 
 within me an intensely deep desire for improvement of, and 
 for conciliation with, my better self. I did not hope to 
 arrive at light and truth until after death, that dear, longed- 
 for dawn of a better life. 
 
 So it appeared to me in my calmer moments. In the 
 country around me, near and far, there were many poor 
 and sick. 1 became their physician, nurse, and helper, as 
 far as I had it in my power. I felt an intense pleasure in 
 exposing myself to and braving cold, tempests, snow- 
 storms, even hunger ; because the food which I took with 
 me on my excursions I gave away. Battling with Nature's 
 roughness, I felt with delight the moral strength of my 
 being. I submitted joyously to the most loathsome med- 
 ical employments. My bodily feelings were disgust, my 
 mental feelings were delight at suffering in order to soothe 
 and heal. I denied myself all kinds of comforts, in order
 
 110 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 to give them to others. In a word, I was during two years 
 a Catholic enthusiast, but became, in the mean time, a bet- 
 ter, purer, more virtuous being than I had been before. I 
 studied the Bible assiduously. I was often, very often, on 
 my knees ; yes^ rose in the night to pray for light and 
 peace. A breath of the celestial children's wings fanned 
 now and then my heart. The fruit of such a moment is 
 the passage in " The Solitary One," beginning with " Now 
 is peaceful, blessed rest," &c., &c. I had indeed moments 
 of inexpressible happiness ; but my feelings, like billows, 
 rose -and fell ; I felt no settled calm. A warm feeling of 
 piety filled my soul. My doubts were not solved, but I had 
 faith and hope ; I had a measureless love for all sufferers ; 
 for all who were in affliction ; for all unhappy ones. To 
 exercise this love unwaveringly, during the whole remain- 
 der of my life, became my sole wish, and I made the firm 
 determination, that, as soon as I should become my own 
 mistress, I would enter a hospital as a " Sister of Charity," 
 and devote my days to tending the sufferers of the poorer 
 classes, little caring for what the world or my own family 
 would say of it ; so little was at that time the right appli- 
 cation of the " principle of usefulness " understood by me. 
 With my soul full of the determination to devote my life 
 to God in this way, I drove one Sunday, a gloomy winter's 
 day, alone to church, in order to consecrate myself, as it 
 were, to a new life by taking the Sacrament. I remember 
 still, with a feeling of pleasing melancholy, how I was 
 sitting alone in my pew, shivering with cold, while, with a 
 calm pleasure in my soul, I contemplated the altar-piece, 
 representing the Resurrection, and heard how the congre- 
 gation, one by one, with heavy footsteps walked up the aisle 
 and entered the pews. All of a sudden the sun shone out 
 brightly, and threw his life-giving rays upon me. They 
 continued during the whole service to warm me gently, and 
 with blissful tears I felt this as a blessing from Heaven. 
 At the foot of the altar, I laid down the offering of my
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. Ill 
 
 whole life, but found, during the holy act and after it, my 
 feelings to be less warm than I had wished. However, 
 every thing now became better than it had been previously. 
 I imagined that I had closed my accounts with the world ; 
 the desire for its life and enjoyments was extinguished 
 within me. My soul became pure and at the same time 
 true. My incessant activity gave me a delightful con- 
 sciousness of being here in this world a consoling atom. 
 In consequence of frequent and fatiguing exercise in the 
 open air, my body became invigorated, my blood flowed 
 more freely, my health improved. 
 
 One day, about the end of March, I walked across snow- 
 covered fields just as the sun was setting ; the tear of grati- 
 tude and joy of one, to whom I had just then given comfort, 
 had fallen like balm upon my heart. I had been walking 
 very fast to avoid coming home in the twilight, and I had 
 stopped a moment to recover breath and to inhale the 
 mild, pure air. I stood still, with my eyes turned to where 
 the sun was sinking in a flood of purple and golden glory 
 beneath the western sky. Then came thence towards me, 
 sweeping across the wide expanse of snow, a breath of air 
 delicious and full of a foretaste of spring. I drank in its 
 life-giving freshness with body and soul. I collected my 
 excited feelings to more calmness, looked round, and 
 turned, with full consciousness of the state of my being, my 
 thoughts upon myself, with this question : Would I now 
 wish to die ? For the first time during many years, I felt 
 that I could answer, No ! Oh, moment of immeasurable 
 delight ! Now awoke within me the hope of a resurrection 
 to happiness even on earth, a hope, which has not been 
 deceived, but which has been beautifully realized. 
 
 During this period of my life, a rather unusual circum- 
 stance contributed to give my mind a new direction. A 
 noble-hearted and estimable lady, who then learnt to know 
 me in my outward, and partly also in my inward, life, con- 
 ceived for me a friendship which amounted almost to a 
 real passion.
 
 112 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 She was, and is still, one of the few friends whom 'God 
 has given me, and to whom I can say : " Go," and she 
 goes ; " come," and she comes ; " do this," and she does it. 
 I felt that it was only through the ennobling of my own 
 being that I had gained this power over her, and I rose 
 accordingly still more in my own estimation. To describe 
 all my own feelings would be impossible. There is some- 
 thing so gigantic and so full of the infinite in every deep 
 feeling which fills my soul, that words cannot express it. 
 A medical treatment, which I prescribed for myself during 
 this time, contributed essentially to restore the equilibrium 
 of my whole being, and to make me find some comfort in 
 myself. I bathed frequently in lukewarm water, which 
 had an inexpressibly beneficial effect upon me ; and I was 
 repeatedly bled. This drew from my poor head the quan- 
 tity of blood which used to rush into it, and which caused 
 all my uneasiness. At last I applied a seton to each arm. 
 They made the eruption in my face disappear, and drew 
 out of my body the humors which had accumulated therein 
 for years. My complexion became clear, and I became 
 bodily like one new-born. 
 
 During the last winter which I spent alone in the coun- 
 try, I wrote the first volume of the " Sketches of Every- 
 day Life." It afforded me pleasure ; but I felt, while try- 
 ing to produce something as an authoress, how very chaotic 
 was my whole world of imagination, and I had no idea that 
 within me could lie any talent in that way. The chief 
 motive for having my little book printed, was the hope of 
 getting a little money to assist the poor in the country. 
 When my brother August wrote to me from Upsala that 
 Mr. Palmblad, the publisher, was willing to pay for it one 
 hundred rix dollars, my sisters and I danced with delight. 
 
 I now accompanied Agatha to town to spend the winter 
 there. I had determined to go nowhere, and obtained at 
 last permission, although with infinite difficulty, to live 
 quietly.
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 113 
 
 I had of late read, and was still reading, several good 
 books, which in some measure reconciled me to my suffer- 
 ings on earth, by showing me their unavoidableness and 
 their aim. Herder's "Ideen" 1 made a deep and soothing 
 impression upon me. When I came to town with my im- 
 proved complexion and my calmer soul, I found, as a vis- 
 itor in my parents' house, a distant relative, with arms and 
 crest on his seal, with a major's title, and an estate in the 
 country. Honest soul ! I listened patiently to his La- 
 ponic French ; played to him, " Welcome, O moon, my 
 ancient friend ; " and got from him an offer of his heart 
 and hand, his crest, and his estate in the country. My 
 family agreed perfectly with me in giving him a friendly 
 refusal. 
 
 I made also the acquaintance of another gentleman, who 
 inspired me with a pure and warm feeling, which, although 
 it was never responded to, yet had a powerful influence 
 upon my development, and which still lives silently and 
 ennobling in my heart. 
 
 During the summer of 1829, 1 wrote, encouraged by an 
 occasional eulogy on my little book, the second volume of 
 my " Sketches." 
 
 The better feelings which I had experienced, I ex- 
 pressed to a certain extent in " The Solitary One," and in 
 " The Consoler." That kind of humor which is found in 
 
 " The H Family " was, until then, entirely unknown 
 
 to me, and the discovery of it in me was quite unexpected. 
 It was first shown in a small sketch written during the 
 previous winter, " Christmas in Sweden." 
 
 The following winter my father's long and last illness 
 
 began. Towards the spring, I offered to H , the 
 
 printer in Stockholm, my manuscript of the second volume 
 of my " Sketches." He was at first willing to receive it ; 
 but, after having had it some time for perusal, he refused 
 to print it or to pay any thing for it. Then my opinion of 
 
 1 Herder's Ideen zur Philotophie der Geschichle der Mensdtheit. 
 8
 
 114 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 my talent as an authoress received a heavy blow indeed. 
 Nevertheless, I had my manuscript offered to my former 
 publisher, Mr. Palmblad, who at once undertook to print 
 it in the course of the summer. Meanwhile we nursed 
 and watched over my father. It did me good to tend him 
 and to watch over him during his last long suffering, borne 
 with heroic fortitude. He seemed to improve a little, and 
 we went with him to live at a place in the environs of the 
 town. There he enjoyed for a few days the summer air, 
 but soon got worse, and died calmly, with my mother and 
 sisters surrounding his bed. It was a comfort to see him 
 at rest after a troubled life ; a comfort to shed tears of 
 reconciliation upon his cold hand and forehead. 
 
 Shortly afterwards we removed to Arsta, where we led a 
 quiet, retired life. In October the second volume of my 
 book made its appearance, and I soon reaped a rich har- 
 vest of eulogia and compliments from all quarters. 
 
 Charlotte's wedding was celebrated on the 7th of No- 
 vember. This was one of the happiest days which I have 
 spent in our family. 
 
 The presence of Franzen ; his verses to me ; Charlotte's 
 happy and joyous state of mind, contributed to make this 
 day a bright spot in my life. But the whole of this time 
 was full of happiness and innocent joy in our home. 
 Charlotte's departure caused me much pain. 
 
 Soon after, we moved to Stockholm, and I now passed 
 a winter which, in many respects, was rich and full of im- 
 portance to me. I got a great deal of praise and distinc- 
 tion for my book. The Swedish Academy awarded me a 
 gold medal, accompanied by a very flattering letter. I had 
 now what I had so warmly coveted in my early youth, 
 distinction ; and now it gave me but little pleasure ; nay, 
 I felt frequently even cold and indifferent to it all. 
 
 But at this time I made the acquaintance of Miss Fran- 
 ces L , and, through her, of Bentham. She showed 
 
 me that the more knowledge I could acquire, the more
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 115 
 
 clearness and perspicuity to which I could train my intel- 
 lect, the greater would become my means to labor for 
 the benefit of mankind, and to become happy myself. 
 Bentham gave me, in his " Principles of Utility," a new 
 light, and at the same time I had an opportunity of fre- 
 quently conversing with distinguished and highly intelli- 
 gent people. A new world opened within me ; I beheld a 
 new sun, and in his light a paradise. My happiness at this 
 new resurrection within me was inexpressible. My old 
 plans, to which I had hitherto adhered, fell to the ground. 
 I soon saw the road which I ought to follow. Oh, delight ! 
 Now I would and I could rise higher and higher to light 
 and truth, and every one of my steps would bring with it 
 some fruit for my fellow-men. My soul rejoiced. 
 
 Letters arrived about this time ; one for my mother and 
 one for me. The young gentleman, who therein offered me 
 his hand and heart, spoke with such warm sincerity, good- 
 ness, and real excellence of soul, and with so much candor 
 and openness of himself, that I was deeply touched by it. 
 I felt no aversion for him ; but I did not wish to marry. 
 By the refusal which I gave, I considered that I had for- 
 ever placed a barrier between myself and marriage. I did 
 not fear that the fulfillment of my duties as a wife and a 
 mother would not be my chief aim if I entered into the 
 married state ; but it became clear to me that my mission 
 as an authoress would then become totally neglected, be- 
 cause I knew and I felt that one cannot unite these two 
 vocations without failing in both ; while by devoting myself 
 exclusively to the latter, that of an authoress, I be- 
 lieved that I could make myself as useful as my power ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 The third volume of my " Sketches," which I wrote in 
 the winter of 1831, in a hurry-skurry, appeared in print 
 in the following spring, and the success which it met with, 
 together with the advice of several highly estimable per- 
 sons, determined me to devote myself seriously to the life
 
 116 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 of an authoress, and to develop my talent as much as 
 possible. 
 
 I am now thirty years old, and am working systemat- 
 ically and with earnestness towards a fixed aim. My 
 worldly position is prosperous, and within me is life and 
 peace. If it pleased God, I might become a respectable 
 and useful writer. 
 
 For the sake of my sisters, more than for my own sake, 
 I wish to succeed and to gain honor and applause. They 
 live so much in me, and I have so much to thank them for 
 especially my dear Hedda, who is as good as an angel.
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 ARSTA, 14th January, 1828. 
 
 IT is still early morning when I sit down to write to my 
 darling Lotten. I see by your letter, which I received 
 yesterday, that mine had not then reached you. Dearest 
 Charlotte ! If you but knew how much good your letter 
 (although far too short) has done me, you would at once 
 abandon needle and thread, piano-forte and music-books, 
 or what else you may be busy with, in order to fabricate 
 another such letter, which shall more vividly and clearly 
 
 picture to my longing eyes Agatha W 's and your own 
 
 every-day life. Thanks be to God that Agatha is so well, 
 so comfortable, so sensible ! Thanks be to God that you 
 are beside her ! and that, while contributing to render her 
 life more pleasant, you can yourself enjoy the delightful 
 feeling of leading a comfortable and useful existence. 
 Born and qualified, as you are, for an active life, and to 
 devote yourself to others, how must I not rejoice to see 
 you fulfill now for the first time your beautiful mission ; 
 yourself happy, by making others happy. How delightful 
 your plans for this winter ! Music and reading, life's po- 
 etry ; work, its most enchanting prose ; and I feel con- 
 vinced that its more commonplace yet necessary side, to 
 eat and to sleep, will not be forgotten. But I must have a 
 more detailed sketch of all this. Until then I shall find 
 no leisure myself, either for eating or sleeping. 
 
 And then this little " expected stranger," how he inter- 
 ests me already ! How sweet he must be, and how happy !
 
 118 LETTERS. 
 
 He shall therefore be the first who again awakens my slum- 
 bering vena : 
 
 * Slumbering cherub, 
 Quietly nestling 
 Safe in thy mother's 
 Fluttering bosom ; 
 Fondly we greet thee, 
 Child fondly longed for, 
 Hail to thee, hail ! 
 
 Life bids thee welcome, 
 Life with its thousand 
 Joys that await thee; 
 Yet in mysterious 
 Darkness reposing, 
 Thou love-created, 
 Know'st not what shadows 
 Brood over life ; 
 Though life already, 
 Warm as the genial 
 Breezes of spring-tide, 
 Quickens thy breast. 
 
 Time bids thee welcome; 
 Little thou knowest 
 Him, who in wisdom 
 Tenderly fosters 
 All things created, 
 Time, who will fold thee 
 In his embrace. 
 
 Earth bids thee welcome ; 
 There as a merry 
 Child shalt thou gambol, 
 Rip'ning through youth to 
 High-hearted manhood, 
 Active and strong. 
 
 Suffering and sorrow, 
 Darkest of shadows, 
 Loom in the valley, 
 Yet fear them not. 
 Fondly a mother's 
 Love never-failing, 
 Like a strong buckler, 
 Shelters thy wand'rings, 
 Shields thee from harm.
 
 LETTERS. 119 
 
 Briers, sharp and thorny, 
 Fierce-stinging nettles, 
 Spring by the way-side, 
 Yet fear them not. 
 Soon shall a tender 
 Hand be up-raised, 
 Smoothing its roughness, 
 Strewing with thornless 
 Roses thy path. 
 
 Spirits of evil, 
 Dark and malignant, 
 Lurk 'mid the od'rous 
 Flow'r-laden coverts, 
 Yet fear them not; 
 For on love's snow-white 
 Pinions upspringing, 
 Guarding thy young brow, 
 Heavenward hovers 
 A mother's prayer. 
 
 Angels aforetime 
 Guided the pilgrim 
 Up to the holy 
 Hills of the faithful. 
 Blest was his lot! 
 Slumbering pilgrim, 
 Wake from thy dreaming ! 
 Morning already 
 Glows in the welkin, 
 Whilst at thy side an 
 Angel is waiting: 
 Waiting to lead thee 
 Up to yon sun-bright 
 Heights of the blessed, 
 Where spring eternal, 
 With its green palm-branch, 
 Crowneth the feeble 
 Though faithful strivings 
 Of mortal man. 
 
 Who is the guardian 
 Angel that watches 
 O'er thy young life? 
 Whose is that fair form 
 Over thy cradle, 
 Singing and weeping 
 Tears of delight ?
 
 120 LETTERS. 
 
 Who at her bosom 
 Wakes thee to gladness, 
 Gladness and life ? 
 Pilgrim thrice blessed ! 
 Thou who still sleepest 
 Peacefully resting 
 Close to thy mother's 
 Quick-beating heart; 
 Babe of our prayers, 
 Yearn'd for so fondh r , 
 Lo, in yon angel, 
 Thy mother behold ! 
 
 Do not read this to Agatha, if you think that it will excite 
 her. You know that every thing which I write is more or 
 less helter-skelter work, and that these poetic effusions are 
 founded upon my blissful ignorance of rules and correctness, 
 so important, however, if one wishes to produce any thing 
 above mediocrity. I shall send you the verses which you 
 have asked for in my next letter. I have no time to-day. 
 
 I have nothing more to add to the description, which I 
 gave last, of the life led by the Arsta colony, except that I 
 am painting most industriously for a certain General, who 
 has implored me on his knees for a picture, and that we 
 consume a great deal of water-gruel. 
 
 August fancies himself in heaven with his cornetcy and 
 
 his uniform. General H is very kind to him. He 
 
 will probably begin l to pass his grades for the military 
 
 service in February. F is his oracle, and what 
 
 " F says " and " F thinks " is as incontrovertible 
 
 as the Bible. It is quite delightful to witness his happi- 
 ness. And fortunate it is that, while life is fresh and we 
 are still young ourselves, Fate shows itself like a complai- 
 sant and loving bride, and not like asurly and quarrelsome 
 old woman, who, grumbling, follows our every step, which 
 often happens to many an honest wanderer. 
 
 1 In order to obtain an accurate acquaintance with the details of mili- 
 tary service, an officer has to do duty for some time (in the cavalry from 
 four to six months) as a private, as a corporal, and as a non-commissioned 
 officer. This is termed " passing the degrees," or " going through the 
 grades."
 
 BETTERS. 121 
 
 Our father is very weak ; Hedda watches over him every 
 other night ; and, knowing this, it is with real remorse that 
 at night I lay my head on my pillow. 
 
 Our Agatha is thriving excellently well amongst her ma- 
 chinery, such as it has lately been arranged for her. She 
 is merrier than formerly, singing from morning till night 
 her favorite refrain, 
 
 " Witschly, watschly, witschly, watschly, 
 Bump, there goes one! " 
 
 My dear little Charlotte ! For aught I know I have 
 nothing more to relate to you. Amongst more indifferent 
 acquaintances, I know of nobody who is dying, or who is 
 going to be married. With the exception of these two 
 epochs, there is nothing in their life interesting enough for 
 me to write about. 
 
 Farewell, my dearest Charlotte ! A long letter I expect 
 and beg from you. Remember how deeply I am interested 
 in all that concerns you, and that nothing so effectually dis- 
 perses the melancholy which sometimes affects me, as to 
 hear and know that you are enjoying yourself and are 
 happy. Give my love to Agatha. How happy I am, how 
 I rejoice to know, that you are together ; but tell me much, 
 much of yourselves. Farewell ! 
 
 February, 1828. 
 
 " Good gracious ! Oh, how fortunate that is ! Well, 
 how happy I am ! " 
 
 Do not blot out my joyful effusions, my good, my happy 
 Agatha, my sweet Charlotte, with a contemptuous ejacula- 
 tion, only because they are not served up with tears or 
 with phosphoric flames. 
 
 You may be very dull, 
 
 Inditing phrases crude. 
 Yet may your heart be full, 
 
 With richest stores imbued. 
 Of feelings warmly glowing 
 
 You may pour forth whole hoards,
 
 122 LETTERS* 
 
 Both earth and sea o'erflowing 
 
 With flow'ry, flaunting words. 
 Yet on the board of common sense, 
 A simple dish, without pretense, 
 Say plain potatoes, crisp and dry, 
 Should have a value full as high 
 As puddings ever so delicious, 
 Served up in gold or silver dishes.; 
 
 Then Agatha, my dear, 
 
 You must not think it queer, 
 
 If I in simplest language here 
 Present you my good wishes : 
 " May this dear boy both stout and strong 
 
 In heart and soul and body be. 
 And may his lady mother long 
 
 Live in good health right happily! " 
 
 Amen. 
 
 You will certainly think, my dear Charlotte, that I have 
 nothing else to do than to think and dream of those I 
 love, and, like a turtle-dove, coo out my feelings. All a 
 mistake ! A tremendous mistake ! I am overrun with 
 people from morning to night ; and what do you think 
 they want ? Hear only : 
 
 'T is either the good mother, 
 Or 't is the darling brother, 
 Or else the small boy quaking, 
 All with the ague shaking! 
 Now round the good Mam'selle, 
 Who in the house doth dwell, 
 They crowd in anxious mood, 
 And beg her to supply 
 Some sovereign remedy; 
 No matter where 't was brewed, 
 Or how they gulp it down, 
 With many an angry frown; 
 If it but make them well, 
 From direful ague free, 
 'Twill life's elixir be! 
 
 And this elixir of life I compose of all kinds of ingre- 
 dients ; such as ale, allspice, Swedish brandy, wormwood, 
 and caraway-seeds, etc., etc. One person I really believed
 
 LETTERS. 123 
 
 I had poisoned ; but she recovered, and my remedies upon 
 the whole succeed very well. 
 
 Your letter made me happy. You are calm, therefore 
 I am so too. It arrived on a Sabbath morning ; and, after 
 we had read it, Agatha and I, we had our morning 
 service, and prayed fervently and repeatedly : " Charlotte, 
 dear Charlotte ! God grant that she may be happy ! " Oh, 
 yes ! God, the All-good, grant that you may be happy, 
 
 Charlotte, you and all my sisters, and Agatha W . I 
 
 feel that, to complete my earthly happiness, I need you all ; 
 and if I only attain this, the saddest circumstances which 
 can surround me in future will not be able to disturb the 
 peace of my soul. Towards that future, to these objects 
 so sorrowful, yet for me so dear, you know, my whole heart 
 and soul yearns, whilst it thanks God for the peace it now 
 enjoys. 
 
 * Morning sun and star of evening, 
 All the garish hours of daylight, 
 All the silent midnight watches, 
 In each throbbing heart discover 
 One bright hope, one bitter anguish, 
 Still the same unchanging ever, 
 And the same deep, fervent prayer. 
 In the darksome mine is smouldering 
 Fire that preys upon its vitals ; 
 Sudden as it finds an outlet, 
 Lo ! its blaze ascends to heaven, 
 Like some altar-flame majestic, 
 That in clear effulgence glowing 
 Rises o'er this earthly sphere. 
 
 How busy you must have been for the christening ! I 
 picture to myself every thing that is near and about you. 
 How happy we were to hear of Agatha's safe confinement, 
 I cannot describe. It cured our Agatha's headache, and I 
 did every thing topsy-turvy the whole morning. Farewell, 
 dear, kind friends. My compliments to the little Count. 
 
 1828. 
 
 . . . To your grave questions I answer by refer- 
 ring you to my last two letters. It is not now left to my
 
 124 LETTERS. 
 
 own choice to travel ; but rest assured that my choice and 
 my wish is, that it should remain as it is now. 
 
 . . . You are right, my dear Charlotte ! I should cer- 
 tainly not be able, as you think possible, to bear stoically 
 such trifling discomforts as those which you anticipate. I 
 may in this respect compare your soul to the stout satin, 
 the smooth surface of which can withstand many creases 
 and much wear and tear, in comparison to the soft muslin, 
 which the slightest rough handling spoils, and the likeness 
 of which I recognize in the composition of my own weak 
 and helpless soul. Be not uneasy about me and my dis- 
 position. Gay I am not, it is true ; but I am often very 
 happy when I contemplate this peaceful life of self-denial, 
 which, I trust in God, may guide me to the goal which 
 I have always deemed the only one worth longing for. 
 Earthly happiness I hope to receive at the hands of my 
 brothers and sisters, especially my sisters, and I know that 
 their happiness will render my own too great almost for 
 this earth. Do not see herein any feature of melancholy. 
 It is, believe me, not melancholy. On the contrary, in 
 these ideas my brightest hopes are clothed; and also 
 the belief (I will not call it a fantastic one) that the 
 fervent and constant prayers which a heart, renouncing 
 all its own claims and devoting itself to God, pours out 
 for those whom it loves above all others, and for their own 
 sake, will not be ineffectual. Do not deprive me of the 
 happiness of hoping that one day I shall be your invisible 
 guardian angel. And if your Fredrika, once so worldly- 
 minded, should seek, under a more serious exterior, for 
 peace and a more spiritual life, it ought not to make you 
 uneasy, dearest Charlotte, you who know that it is neces- 
 sary, especially for certain characters. My dearest Char- 
 lotte, you can never write too much about yourself; for me 
 it will always be too little. You are really very good to 
 write, when I know that letter-writing does not much inter- 
 est you. But you think of me, you wish to make me 
 happy, and you do it.
 
 LETTERS. 125 
 
 The painting of the old man with the cap, which was 
 hanging in my bedroom, I have copied in sepia in minia- 
 ture, on ivory. I intend giving either this or a " Sainte 
 Famille," also miniature in sepia, to the General. My 
 " Napoleon " is indeed very good ; and he who wants to 
 have him must pay me seventy-five rix dollars for him. 
 
 My vena is very dry ; but when it again begins to flow, 
 it shall flow towards you. 
 
 The manuscript of the narrative of the " War with the 
 Barbarians " has chanced to be made an auto-da-fe of, to- 
 gether with some other contraband ; and our father has 
 got the newspaper. As you want it, I shall ask Hedda to 
 copy and send it to you. 
 
 Embrace Agatha for me, and say to her every thing that 
 is loving. 
 
 ACCOUNT OF TOE WAR WITH THE BARBARIANS.l 
 Extract of a Letter from Arsta, dated 20th of March, 1827. 
 
 " This neighborhood has lately witnessed terrible scenes ; 
 and even if time were to throw its thickest veil over the 
 heroic deeds which they engendered, still History would 
 be able to read, without spectacles, the letters shining like 
 flames through night's darkness, and record the eternal 
 characters upon her tables. But I will not keep you any 
 longer upon the rack of curiosity. 
 
 " Innumerable hordes of Barbarians overran our peace- 
 ful neighborhood ; their fearful shouts and grunting filled, 
 
 1 When my sister Agatha, while undergoing the orthopedic treatment 
 at Arsta, and still using crutches, and wearing round her head an instru- 
 ment or machine resembling a helmet, and called " Minerva," was one day 
 going to take a walk, together with Fredrika and Hedda, they were sur- 
 rounded in the court-yard by a herd of pigs. Their terror and confusion 
 was much increased when all the dogs began barking at and chasing these 
 animals, until my sisters were at last saved by the man-servant, Lindberg, 
 who came to their rescue. Fredrika wrote the same night an account of 
 this incident, heading it the Arsta Gazette, which she wrote in printed 
 characters, to imitate a newspaper, and sent to town in order to amuse 
 my father on his birthday.
 
 126 LETTERS. 
 
 even at a distance, the hearts of the inhabitants with terror, 
 and dreadful was the havoc committed by them wherever 
 their sharp swords encountered any resistance. The earth 
 shook under the thunder of their war-engines ; the danger 
 was pressing; while, with noble self-sacrifice, Brigadier- 
 General Hedda di Bravura made a sortie from the for- 
 tress of Arsta, at the head of the regiment ' Fredrika,' so 
 renowned for its bravery, but now reduced, in consequence 
 of heavy losses, to a small corps. In another direction 
 was seen hastening to the attack, in double-quick time, and 
 with loud war-cries of ' Bow-wow ! ' the heroic volunteers 
 Terrible, Vainqueur, Diana, Camilla, the youthful hero Ar- 
 row, the undaunted Hunter, led on by the General-en-c/.ef 
 of the jumping infantry, the incomparable Agatha della 
 Poltronna. Their plan was to surround the enemy. The 
 attack of our generals from two opposite sides was made 
 with the greatest valor ; and notwithstanding the triple su- 
 periority of the Barbarians in numerical strength, their war- 
 cry becoming louder and louder every moment, they began 
 to show that disorder and terror was spreading through their 
 ranks ; when all at once, in consequence of the too great 
 ardor of the curveting volunteers, a momentary confusion 
 arose among our troops ; friend and foe were fighting in 
 one entangled mass, scarcely able to recognize each other ; 
 every thing was in a hurly-burly, and terror and confusion 
 reached its height, when, in the very brunt of the battle, 
 General Hedda di Bravura, while performing deeds of mar- 
 velous gallantry, fell, as there is every reason to suspect, 
 more in consequence of the incautious onset of the curvet- 
 ing volunteers, than in consequence of the cuffs of the Bar- 
 barians. The regiment ' Fredrika,' seeing with despair its 
 undaunted leader down, took to flight with inconceivable 
 celerity ; while the youthful Della Poltronna stood alone 
 and unconquered, in the midst of the combatants, animat- 
 ing by voice and example his volunteers, already flagging 
 from over-exertion, to a renewed attack. It seemed as if
 
 LETTERS. 127 
 
 Minerva herself was hovering over his head, and by a well- 
 timed application of certain war-engines, called crutches, 
 he succeeded, as by a miracle, to turn the scale in our 
 favor. He became, however, soon aware of the necessity 
 of a speedy retreat ; and he was just weighing in his mind 
 how this could be effected with honor, and without too seri- 
 ous a loss, when suddenly a helping angel, sent from above, 
 came like a whirlwind to the rescue. It is Alexander ! 
 It is Bucephalus ! In a word, it was Lindberg ! He runs, 
 he gallops, he flies ; he is everywhere. The enemy was, 
 after a few minutes, dispersed in a headlong flight in all 
 directions ; he was pursued with unflinching energy by 
 Lindberg, flaming like the Aurora Borealis; and before 
 night had thrown its mantle over the scene, innumerable 
 prisoners were made. Scarcely had the battle-field been 
 cleared of the hostile army, when, to the amazement of 
 every body, General Hedda di Bravura, who was thought 
 to be amongst the fallen, got up, and, staring at the field 
 of honor with tearful eyes, struck up with a loud voice a 
 thundering song of victory ; after which, with glowing 
 countenance, he turned towards the fortress, where the 
 regiment ' Fredrika ' was lying in ambush, ready to open, 
 if necessary, a brisk fire through the windows, and shouted 
 with all his might these words : ' Veni, vidi, vici ! ' which 
 were answered by the said gallant regiment with loud 
 huzzas ! ' Long live our General, Hedda di Bravura ! ' 
 With triumphal music and huzzas the conquerors held 
 their entry into the fortress, where General Hedda di Bra- 
 vura, under careful tending, will recover from his wounds, 
 which were found to consist in merely a severe contusion. 
 
 " There are strong reasons (and I mention it with great 
 indignation) to suspect the commander of the fortress, 
 
 Chevalier C. B , of being in secret understanding with 
 
 the Barbarians. The inefficient measures taken, and the 
 want of energy displayed by him during their daring in- 
 road, would alone have been sufficient to inspire this belief,
 
 128 LETTERS. 
 
 even had he not himself confirmed the same one day at 
 dinner, when roast pork was put upon the table, by openly 
 proposing a toast for the Barbarians. It is even whis- 
 pered that a colony of these brutes, founded in a neighbor- 
 ing allied state, is in a very flourishing condition, owing to 
 his secret agency." 
 
 1828. 
 
 The latter part of your letter, my dear Charlotte, has 
 effaced the painful impression which its other contents 
 made upon me. That you are well is to me a necessity, 
 and this knowledge throws a light upon my path, like a 
 friendly little star, so that complete darkness never sur- 
 rounds me. Do not reply to this by any thanks : it is 
 not of my own free will that it is so ; it is necessity, it is 
 fate. And if I had a choice, I might perhaps not have 
 submitted to it, because my beloved banner, Independence, 
 will therefore always be in danger. Meanwhile, I am 
 tolerably reconciled to my fate. On you alone rests the 
 responsibility and duty to take care, above all. of your own 
 happiness for the sake of mine. Remember well what I 
 am now going to write, my dear sister. I feel convinced 
 that it depends only upon yourself to remain where you 
 are as long as you like. Our father is exceedingly pleased 
 that you and Agatha, whom he really loves, are together, 
 and he says " that he cannot now understand how he could 
 ever have made any difficulties about it." We all, and I 
 especially, wish that you would remain there ; every thing 
 seems to promise you an agreeable life, and more useful 
 activity than could have fallen to your Jot at old Arsta. 
 
 1 hus and T o, so it seems to me, will in their 
 
 shades harbor my little Charlotte so pleasantly and so 
 comfortably, and no doubt soften every thought of regret 
 at not wandering among our hazel-woqds and gooseberry- 
 bushes. Sincerely happy as I should be to see you again, 
 and conscious, as I am, that my longing will increase in
 
 LETTERS. 129 
 
 proportion as the days grow shorter, still I shall enjoy this 
 summer in a double measure, provided I can be sure that 
 you do the same ; a thing which you have not done for 
 many years. Consider this well, dearest Charlotte, and 
 then follow the dictates of your own free will. A let- 
 ter from Agatha, who writes so well and so engagingly, 
 and one from yourself, will surely cause a prolongation 
 of your stay. 
 
 I do not share the apprehension which you express, as 
 long as you always remain what you were created to be, 
 artless, good, and obliging. It is not a new, but a true, 
 thought, that every body ought to endeavor thoroughly to 
 know the intrinsic worth of his own character, and, like a 
 skillful sculptor, to form, work, and polish it until the rough 
 cast made by Nature stands out in its harmonious and 
 original beauty ; that every thing foreign every angle 
 may disappear. This is the work of at least half a life- 
 time. For the remaining other half one stands, in the 
 most fortunate case, like Psyche in Sergei's studio. The 
 master who carries the ideal in his soul, is never perfectly 
 satisfied with his workmanship ; the small alterations and 
 embellishments which he makes, are most frequently vis- 
 ible only to his own artist eye. 
 
 Your expression " that I have returned to life," amuses 
 me. I am still the same that I was when, by some chance, 
 I became so painfully depressed ; perhaps even more calm, 
 more submissive, more meek, and therefore less in danger 
 of being again exposed to any thing similar. Gay I am 
 not, and not merry, except in my letters ; and shall per- 
 haps not be so again ; nor do I even wish it after the bent 
 which my feelings and my thoughts have taken. But I am 
 so calm that I often feel happy, and am ready to derive en- 
 joyment and pleasure from even the least of the good 
 things of life. A flower, a book, a fine day, gives me 
 pleasure now as much as when I was a child ; and above 
 all, my painting, upon which I build great speculations. 
 9
 
 130 LETTERS. 
 
 With respect to my grand project of travelling, I see 
 plainly that nothing can now be done. I must wait. In 
 my present position, especially my pecuniary position, 
 patience is the best wisdom. God's will be done ! Mean- 
 while I intend to be more active in all that surrounds me. 
 Be it said with due permission, I am thoroughly healthy 
 and strong. But who will believe my words ? 
 
 Farewell, my dear Charlotte ; write more about your- 
 self ; read " Grandison," and be not more reserved than 
 this model of perfection, and his Miss Byron. 
 
 ABSTA, 13th June, 1828. 
 
 Our letters cross each other, my dear Charlotte ! By 
 your last, addressed to us all, I see with sincere delight 
 that you seem to thrive well and to amuse yourself occa- 
 sionally. When next you write, tell me more particularly 
 how you feel, and of the state of your mind, etc., etc. It 
 interests me more than any thing else. Ah ! how exceed- 
 ingly delightful it will be to see you again, and yet I wish 
 that it may not be so soon. Our family atmosphere is 
 heavy, and I know that if I should see it depress you, I 
 should again lose the strength which I have recovered in 
 the course of these two pleasant, but solitary winters at 
 Arsta. I am a poor child, dearest Charlotte, sensitive in 
 the extreme both for myself and for others ; and amongst 
 these others, you are nearest to my heart. Do not, how- 
 ever, believe that I am sad ; far from it ; I enjoy very 
 gratefully and contentedly the many peaceful days which I 
 now have ; and the glances which I cast into the future, 
 although half shy and by stealth, reveal to me always what 
 I wish for my sisters and for myself. I occupy myself as 
 usual, and more I might do if I would meddle in the inter- 
 nal state affairs of this place. Now and then a peasant or 
 a peasant woman come to solicit my intercession and my 
 protection in one thing or another ; but I, poor thing, who 
 have less influence than the dishclout of a Prime Minis-
 
 LETTERS. 131 
 
 ter's cook, am obliged to put them off with fair words and 
 slender hope. 
 
 Agatha W has written an amiable and eloquent let- 
 ter (according to her wont) to our mother, in which she 
 asks that you may stay over the summer with her. How 
 happy I am that you are so dear to Agatha ! 
 
 I am not going to the L sens for many reasons, the 
 
 most weighty of which is, that I want to be all I can to our 
 dear Agatha, especially now when she requires care and 
 assistance. We are now busy getting up her wardrobe. 
 I sew, turn the wrong way, as usual, and have to rip open 
 and sew over again ; but I get through, after all. The day 
 when August makes his appearance here in full regiment- 
 als, I intend dressing my darling in dazzling white and rose 
 color. I shall give you a full and detailed account of this 
 meeting, which I heartily rejoice in. 
 
 Now, farewell, my darling ; remain well, sleep well, sing 
 well, and enjoy yourself well. 
 
 Agatha embraces you with a volume of Madame de 
 Genlis' "Memoirs" in her hand. 
 
 AESTA, 16th September. 
 
 Having now been alone a whole week, I have with all 
 my heart and soul enjoyed repose. Solitude is my greatest 
 happiness ; why or how I do not understand, when sisters, 
 good as angels, are my daily companions. But so it is. 
 Only when I am quite alone, do I feel happy. 
 
 Our mother has gone to town to meet our father, from 
 whom we have not had any letter for three weeks. Two 
 have now arrived which our mother sent out to us yester- 
 day. Our father is feasted, caressed, and made a great 
 deal of by friends and relatives, who drink our healths and 
 hold banquets to celebrate his arrival in Finland. You, 
 my dear Charlotte, who are so very fond of all relatives, 
 ought to have been with him on this journey, which, to 
 judge from his and Claes' letters, must have been very
 
 132 LETTERS. 
 
 pleasant. Agatha is now up, often half the day ; is stronger, 
 and very charming. Hedda is weaving down-stairs in the 
 corner room, and I I preserve fruit, write novels and 
 write letters, paint, spin, go and come, in and out, and when 
 evening comes I look to see whither the morning flew so 
 fast. 
 
 My sisters stretch out hands, unsoiled by ink, to embrace 
 you. 
 
 ARSTA, 20th October, 1828. 
 
 Yesterday we received the Holy Communion, Agatha 
 and I. I returned thanks for two years of rest, and prayed 
 for strength ; prayed for strength humbly to receive all 
 future dispensations ; prayed for the happiness and peace 
 of all those who belong to me, and also most fervently for 
 her who now, for the first time after several years, went to 
 the Lord's table. Agatha was deeply and sincerely moved, 
 and this impression upon her did me an infinite deal of 
 good. Ah ! may she be happy ; may she be good ! May 
 in her the former effect the latter. The path of sorrow is 
 so bitter and embitters so much ! I am a little sad to-night, 
 and I ought, perhaps, not to write to you. 
 
 I long very much to hear that you are enjoying yourself. 
 The winter will, I hope, be a pleasant one for us, and if 
 Agatha has any pleasure, it will give pleasure also to me. 
 But the anticipation of the town air gives me the horrors. 
 To-morrow we expect our mother and Claes here, and then 
 the day for our moving will be fixed. 
 
 27th October. 
 
 Bishop T s arrived here to-day. I liked him very 
 
 much. Energetic and wise a real bishop. He led the 
 conversation to Wallin's sermon on Annunciation Day, 
 which last year caused me so much racking of the brain. 1 
 
 l The subject of Bishop Wallin's sermon on Annunciation Day, 1827, was 
 "Woman's noble and humble mission," for the faithful fulfillment of which 
 the Bishop urged, by examples taken out of the Virgin Mary's life, the n-
 
 LETTERS. 133 
 
 It was excellent, thought the Bishop. We argued the 
 point for a little while, when he allowed that Wallin, in one 
 
 cessity of the following qualities: "Pure and sincere piety; unassuming 
 and unaffected modesty; wise and gentle meekness; tender and delicate 
 attention ; all-sacrificing and all-submissive love." In accordance herewith 
 it was argued, " that the domestic sphere was woman's proper world; " it 
 was further said, " that what especially belonged to her mission was, that 
 she ought humbly to step back when sudden angry passions vent them- 
 selves upon her ; that there is no circumstance in life where a contrary con- 
 duct could be excused ; that, in order to triumph, she ought carefully to 
 watch her own temper and submit unconstrainedly to that of others; have 
 respect for the opinion of others, without any prepossession in favor of her 
 own; and that even where her own opinion should in reality be the right 
 one, she ought patiently to wait her time to make it valid. Without pure 
 and sincere piety, woman's virtue was nothing but vanity ; her liberal edu- 
 cation nothing but surface; her life nothing but a volatile play, and her 
 whole existence nothing else but an endless contradiction. But a man, even 
 if he does not always see the heavenly truths with the same quickness, or 
 if he appears sometimes to doubt them, or think less of, or live less in them, 
 would still, provided his words or actions do not otherwise stamp him as 
 blasphemous or godless, in most cases merit only pity, and his unfortunate 
 state of mind could be, if not exactly excused, still often accounted for, 
 by saying that no pious mother had formerly given his mind a better tend- 
 ency, or that in later years no pious wife had turned his dim and confused 
 thoughts from earthh' to heavenly-matters. But a woman who does not 
 feel that religion is the soul of her soul, is an inexplicable and odious devia- 
 tion from the celestial order of things," etc., etc. 
 
 The incongruities which Fredrika Bremer imagined with sorrow that she 
 had found in the social position of woman, appeared to her to have been, as 
 it were, systematized and advocated in this sermon. It made a most pain- 
 ful impression upon her; and on coming home from church, she gave vent 
 to her feelings in an essay, held in a satirical tone, on the superiority of man 
 and the inferiority of woman, finishing with this dialogue: Man, with head 
 erect, striking his breast proudly with his hand : "//" Woman : "Thou!" 
 Man: "I will!" Woman: " Oh, very well !" Man: "Go." Woman 
 goes. Man :" Come back.'" She conies back. Man :" Be merry." Woman 
 dies. After her death heaven was opened to receive her ; but when after- 
 wards the man also tried to get admittance, it was denied to him by the 
 porter at heaven's gates, who referred him to Bishop Wallin, under whose 
 surplice he hastened to conceal himself. 
 
 On the following day, Fredrika Bremer wrote and sent an anonymous 
 letter to the Bishop, in which she requested that woman, to her noble and 
 peaceful mission, might have a counterpart in a delineation of the man, 
 such as he ought to be in his domestic relations, and drawn with the same 
 severity and power, in order that the first picture might have a companion, 
 and in order, also, that men may in the former sermon not find an excuse
 
 134 LETTERS. 
 
 or two places, had not been quite sincere. " Meanwhile," 
 said he, " Wallin is perfectly right in advocating religiosity 
 amongst women ; for if it is not found amongst them, then 
 all is lost. A man returns always to his wife and children 
 from the world, from his errors, from noise and bustle ; but 
 if he does not find religion amongst them, he remains for- 
 ever a stranger to it." 
 
 On Friday, the 31st, we are move to town. Oh, my 
 beloved, my beautiful country ! 
 
 As you, my dear Charlotte, and also Agatha W , are 
 
 so very indulgent regarding my poetry, I shall trumpet 
 forth a piece, which I composed last night in bed. 
 
 The incident which I sing is true, and its unfortunate 
 little hero is to come to me to-morrow : 
 
 THE SON OF MISERY. 
 
 A desolate cottage stands by the wood's verge; 
 
 Within it is dismal, and wretched and dreary; 
 
 Deep sighs issue forth as from hearts that are weary, 
 And outside the owl hoots a funeral dirge. 
 
 A girl so defenseless and needy and lone, 
 On pallet of straw in the cottage was lying; 
 But none came to comfort or care for the dying, 
 
 Till kindly Death took her and made her his own. 
 
 for their indifference in religious matters ; that the despotic nature of a great 
 many amongst them may not, on the strength of the same, try to prove 
 that the duty of woman is to be man's most humble servant, and to bear 
 patiently all the heart-gnawing sorrows which, through his faults and his 
 conduct, he might every day cause her, and still be entitled to demand of 
 her love and all love's sacrifices; and if he (the Bishop) would soon deliver 
 a religious lecture or sermon, similar to the one addressed to woman, by 
 which the conscience of all destroyers of domestic peace might be awak- 
 ened, woman would then have to thank the Bishop for increased happiness; 
 and the grateful hearts of many women would call down blessings on him 
 who had insured this happiness to them, by convincing men, in his stirring 
 and powerful language, how essentially their conduct would contribute to 
 the comfort of home, to the wife's happiness, and thus enable her more 
 willingly to fulfill her duties. 
 This request was never responded to.
 
 LETTERS. 185 
 
 Then hushed was the heart that uneasily beat, 
 A heart fond and loving, though erring and failing ; 
 And silenced the voice that 'mid anguish was wailing 
 
 To Jesus to pardon her lover's deceit. 
 
 The offspring of frailty and misery drear 
 Alone in the hut by the death-bed was playing; 
 O'er stiffening limbs his fond fingers were straying, 
 
 Caressing the mother who 'd held him so dear. 
 
 His look was bewildered, and pale was his cheek; 
 
 No word did he utter, though hungry and chilly ; 
 
 A dog could have begged, but he, stricken and sill}', 
 Though sorely in want, was unable to speak. 
 
 I looked in his face, and methought I saw there 
 Expression, though faintly for life it. was striving; 
 A spark from the Author celestial, surviving, 
 
 Might yet burn brightly in life-giving air. 
 
 Now toll the church-bells, and the dead on a bier 
 
 To silence is borne in humble procession ; 
 
 And wanting that noble, that precious possession, 
 His reason, the orphan walks carelessly near. 
 
 Oh, God ! he ne'er dreameth that he has no more 
 A tender and motherly heart to watch o'er him ; 
 That now from him taken has gone on before him 
 
 The one who in sorrow to sorrow him bore. 
 
 The coffin is raised from the black-covered bier; 
 Already deep down in the earth it is sinking: 
 Ah ! none at this grave, of the lonely one thinking, 
 
 Will offer a flower, will weep but a tear. 
 
 The grave is soon filled, the cross stands in its place, 
 A sign which to perishing sinners proclaimeth 
 And showeth that God, who this sinner reclaimeth, 
 
 Is full of compassion, and mercy, and grace. 
 
 His pale cheek he leaneth against the church wall, 
 
 Neglected, forgotten; he now has no keeper; 
 
 While psalms for the last time are raised for the sleeper, 
 And slowly on breezes of evening they fall. 
 
 The sun has gone down while he rambles around, 
 But kind stars protectingly over him brighten,
 
 136 LETTERS. 
 
 And home to a cottage his tired soul they lighten, 
 His mother's ah! there will no mother be found. 
 
 But gladly the boy sees his wanderings end, 
 And now towards the hut so deserted he presses, 
 Expecting fond motherly cares and caresses: 
 
 The mother has gone to the penitent's Friend. 
 
 Alone in the cottage, so patient and mild, 
 
 The orphan is waiting, and while the day beameth, 
 In mercy deceived, his poor fancy still dreameth 
 
 That soon soon the mother will come to her child. 
 
 When day-time and evening to darkness have rolled, 
 
 A painful disquiet the little one haunteth ; 
 
 He wandereth round, seeking that which he wanteth, 
 As restlessly seeketh-the miser his gold. 
 
 He looks in the bed where his mother has lain, 
 And where she sat spinning, in all her old places ; 
 Her longs for her loving, her tender embraces, 
 
 He stretches out fond little arms, but in vain. 
 
 The clothing she wore in the cottage still lies, 
 He toucheth it, thinking 't is hers, and he crieth, 
 And faintly a stammering " mammy " he sigheth, 
 
 But never but never the mother replies. 
 
 M. E. W. 
 
 30th October. 
 
 I did intend to have taken a sketch to-day of the poor 
 little boy, whom an old grandmother, aged 70, living in the 
 hut " Bakom," takes care of. Agatha took a lively inter- 
 est in him, and wished very much to see him. I must con- 
 fess that I looked a little awkward when I beheld a little 
 stout and chubby boy, with a face radiant with happiness. 
 He is six years old. He cannot articulate any words, but 
 he produces a variety of sounds. He was otherwise highly, 
 although idiotically, comical, making the sweetest, smiling 
 grimaces ; and only when now and then he called out, 
 " Aja " (his mother's name was Maja), the expression of 
 his face and the tone of his voice became very sad. For 
 the little sketch of the " Son of Misery " in my album, I
 
 LETTERS. 137 
 
 therefore took only his eyes, and all the rest out of my 
 own head. 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 3d November. 
 
 Here we are, my dearest Charlotte ! And while writing 
 this I can scarcely refrain from tears. On Friday we left 
 for town. The weather was in the beginning rough and 
 unpleasant, but the nearer we came to town, the more the 
 sky began to brighten before us, until we approached the 
 outskirts of the metropolis, when it became perfectly blue 
 and brilliant. I mention this because it made me think . 
 in the beginning it will be heavy and dull, then better, and 
 ultimately well. When one has doubts and fears, one easily 
 becomes a little superstitious. 
 
 In the evening I received your letter. How happy I am 
 
 to see that you are thriving so well ! F came a little 
 
 later to see us, gay and lively. I went early to bed, with 
 an autumnal night in my heart and in my soul. Saturday 
 was to me an indescribably sad day, and I wept bitter, bit- 
 ter tears ; a tribute to past moments, against the heavy and 
 gnawing return of which no seraph's wings can protect us ; 
 and, as so often before, I only sighed, " Alas, die, die ! " 
 In the evening I got a little better ; I read a good book, 
 prayed to God, became calmer, and vowed to bear up 
 against it. 
 
 4th November. 
 
 I shall say only a little more of ourselves. We are very 
 comfortably lodged ; our drawing-room is elegantly fur- 
 nished and very cosy. But I miss what I value more than 
 every thing else, a private room all to myself, if ever 
 so small. We are very quiet here, and are allowed to 
 be much by ourselves down-stairs. Our father's good and 
 gentle temper is gone ; as yet it is not difficult to manage, 
 but may at any moment become so. Our mother is cheer- 
 ful and kind ; Hedda calm and quiet, but not gay ; Agatha 
 joyous and full of hope (as long as it lasts), and I alas, 
 my dearest Charlotte ! I fight against oppressive feelings ;
 
 138 LETTERS. 
 
 I say to myself, " I will be cheerful," and I weep. " But it 
 will be better when the worst is over." Do not moralize, 
 dearest Charlotte ! I know how well you mean it ; but it 
 is all in vain. Born to feel every thing deeply and vividly, 
 philosophy and reasoning can, only to a certain and very 
 insufficient degree, avail, until submission to God's will can 
 have time to fill my heart with peace and repose ; but be- 
 fore that, my poor heart must have become faint from its 
 own pulsations. Meanwhile I have hope, and that is much. 
 In my next letter I shall be able to tell you that I am bet- 
 ter. A propos, write more about yourself and less about 
 us, my dear Charlotte. How much good it does me to 
 know that you are so happy ! 
 
 I send you now the verses which you asked for : 
 
 *THE MOURNER'S LULLABY. 
 
 Cease thy weary beating, 
 
 Heart with care opprest ! 
 Life's deep canker, Sorrow ! 
 
 Taste the balm of rest. 
 
 Close, ye heavy eyelids, 
 
 O'er each burning tear! 
 Eve, with starry mantle, 
 
 Waves her poppies near. 
 
 Slumber, gentle slumber, 
 
 Soon o'er earth shall reign ; 
 Airy dreams are flitting 
 
 Lightly in her train. 
 
 Soft as mists of evening 
 
 Spread their downy wings, 
 In the silent midnight, 
 
 Peace and rest she brings. 
 
 Lo, the day is ended, 
 
 Day both long and drear ! 
 On my pillow falling. 
 
 Drops the silent tear. 
 
 Tears are friends in sorrow; 
 Soft as dew they flow
 
 LETTERS. 139 
 
 On the fire that burneth 
 In our day of woe. 
 
 O'er the troubled spirit 
 
 Peace is stealing now, 
 When sleep, like an angel, 
 
 Kisses this sad brow. 
 
 Hush ! oh let me slumber; 
 
 Let me dream of bliss ; 
 Cease, fond heart, thy throbbing 
 
 Grudge not rest like this ! 
 
 Oh, my silent pillow, 
 
 Friend so true, so dear ! 
 Where, in dreams Elysian, 
 
 Joy still hovers near. 
 
 Fancy's star above me 
 
 Beams with lustre bland ; 
 Hope's fair daughter, smiling, 
 
 Takes my willing hand. 
 
 Then the weary captive 
 
 Bursts his fetters sore, 
 Sings a song of triumph 
 
 On a fairer shore. 
 
 Sees, as in a mirror, 
 
 Future ages gleam ; 
 Faith, with bark unswerving, 
 
 Stems the surging stream. 
 
 Feels all pangs departing, 
 
 Sees the heavens grow bright, 
 Sees the journey ended, 
 
 Sees the Lord of Light. 
 
 And a voice melodious 
 
 Whispers, He is thine ! 
 Holy hymns shall praise Thee, 
 
 Father of all and mine ! 
 
 Fain of such glad tidings 
 
 I would yet dream on ; 
 Of all pangs forgetful, 
 
 Thanking God alone ! 
 
 M. R. W.
 
 140 LETTERS. 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 22d December, 1828. 
 
 I steal away from rny Christmas-boxes and all bustle, in 
 order to write to you a few lines. If I had not had so 
 much to paint at daylight and also at candle-light, I would 
 have written a great deal. 
 
 August, the dear boy, came home on the llth instant, 
 full of life, in good health and high spirits. His examina- 
 tion testimonials are the best that have been given during 
 the last twenty years for a civil service examination. He 
 got two " cum laude," and two " laudatur." This examina- 
 tion has really created quite a sensation. I have never 
 seen our father so touched and overjoyed ; he pressed Au- 
 gust to his heart, and wept for joy. One ought to acknowl- 
 edge that it is very praiseworthy in a youth, just turned 
 eighteen, to have passed the grades, and, after three months' 
 study, to deserve such testimonials. Agatha, who, with our 
 mother, has been to the opera to see " La Dame Blanche," 
 was the whole evening very much enchanted with the 
 White Lady and the studious cornet. August is tall, thin, 
 very plain, but looks very nice nevertheless. 
 
 God bless you, and consequently also me, with a happy 
 and good New Year ! 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 18th February, 1829. 
 
 This time I shall not send you any formal letter. For a 
 while I have been too lazy to write. Neither has any thing 
 happened worth writing about. See here, however, what 
 is most remarkable. Yesterday evening, after my mother 
 and sisters had gone to pay some visits, I went up-stairs to 
 our father, who sat reading his newspapers at the tea-table. 
 He asked me whether I wanted some tea. I answered 
 with a gentle " No, thank you." I then asked him if he 
 wished me to read the newspapers to him. He answered 
 with a gentle " No," but said that he had something for me 
 
 o o 
 
 to read, and went into the next room and returned with a 
 letter, which he gave me ; the handwriting was unknown
 
 LETTERS. Ill 
 
 to me. I went into the drawing-room and read, to my as- 
 tonishment, a very well-written offer of marriage in due 
 
 form for my chetive person from , who probably had 
 
 waited for his promotion to a higher office before making 
 a final attempt, which rather astonished me after all that I 
 had told him. The letter is otherwise very good, and I 
 was really sorry for the man, that he should have addressed 
 the wrong person. Having read the letter, I returned it 
 to my father, who asked me what he was to answer. With- 
 out the slightest hesitation, as you may well imagine, I 
 begged of him to say, " No, I thank you most humbly ! " 
 And there was an end of it for that evening. This morn- 
 ing my father sent for me, read me his answer, and asked 
 me whether it was according to my wish. It contained 
 many good things, but others which might have been left 
 out. But it would never have done for me to make any 
 remark. Afterwards I agreed with my mother and sisters, 
 that, in order to enjoy life's mediocre happiness, which, per- 
 haps, is all one can expect, one would do wiser to take a 
 
 , than many another one with great external gifts and 
 
 large estates, provided, nota bene, one intends to enter 
 into the holy state of matrimony, which I pray, together 
 with all the tortures mentioned in the Litany, to be spared 
 from. I confess, however, that I would rather wish to be 
 able to exclaim, with one of Sir Walter Scott's personages, 
 " Mon mari, epargnez notre ennemi," than " Genereux en- 
 
 nemis, epargnez mon mari ; " which latter, no doubt, 's 
 
 wife will have to learn by heart. 
 
 You ask me whether I would like to stay with Agatha 
 W ? I should like it, at least for some time, for a win- 
 ter or so. One of my reasons is, that I should like to write 
 and try my wings as an authoress. Here in town this is 
 impossible. All my energy, my wit, my ideas become 
 mouldy. Besides, I have a great longing to breathe a little 
 fresh air, and would wish at the same time to be, if I could, 
 of some comfort to Agatha W . For my sisters I can
 
 142 LETTERS. 
 
 do so very little, because my mind is not happy. I believe 
 that my letters, far more than my conversation, would 
 amuse them. Our father feels now sometimes a feverish 
 longing to have you at home, and we shall see whether I 
 cannot obtain permission to be absent for some time. It 
 is strange with what a heavy hand time has led us through 
 our years of youth. We you and I are approaching 
 thirty years, and what enjoyments have we yet had, al- 
 though we are both, I venture to say it, made to enjoy and 
 to give enjoyment to others. How little have we not been 
 able to do, although both gifted with so much energy and 
 desire for useful and beneficent activity. However, I will 
 not complain of those two last years, which I have spent in 
 the country. I have during that time been useful, and fre- 
 quently happy. Rarely a day went past when I had not 
 an opportunity of alleviating some sorrow and giving some 
 happiness. Besides, I had liberty, this precious elixir of 
 life and health, and I drank of it, and of the fresh country 
 air, in full draughts. My health, both of body and of soul, 
 improved, and I enjoyed a life free from pain, especially as 
 it was not a useless one for others. I often remembered 
 your frequently expressed wish, that you might have beside 
 you some mouths into which you could put the food which 
 you thought superfluous for yourself. This pleasure I have 
 had almost daily, often at the expense of my own enjoy- 
 ment, and this little voluntary low diet did me a great deal 
 of good. But all this is past. I am now a zero in liberty 
 and in power. It is, however, not with any bitter or dissat- 
 isfied feelings that I have to-day thrown a sad glance over 
 the past years of our youth. I believe that a wiser will 
 than our own has guided our destinies, and I trust that the 
 remaining part of our life may with more reason be called 
 the better part, as being more useful, more active, and there- 
 fore more happy. I say, I hope so, because the prospects 
 are as much, and perhaps more, limited than they have 
 ever been. All the happiness, all the joy which I now ask
 
 LETTERS. 143 
 
 is, to be allowed to be a silent witness to tbat of yourself 
 and of our sisters. Alas ! when shall it be so ? Our family 
 frigate either sails too much by the head, or lies becalmed, 
 or is rolling in a ground-swell, and since she was launched 
 she never has had a fair wind. Blow, winds, blow ! 
 
 I send you herewith the verses which I wrote the other 
 day. 
 
 As regards my authorship, I intend continuing " Sketches 
 of Every-day Life," and also novels with this title. I have 
 several such in my head, and have begun one, which I 
 fancy will be interesting and useful. But these poor but- 
 terflies want fresh air and warmth to enable them to take 
 wing. I do not intend devoting myself to composition. I 
 hope, if it pleases God, to do something better in this world 
 for myself and others. It is a mere pastime for the pres- 
 ent. 
 
 THE EARLY CHRISTMAS SERVICE. 
 
 Hark! the chimes in mellow cadence fall: 
 See, the church is decked in festive state; 
 
 Fain her children round her she would call; 
 
 Peace and joy she would pour forth on all, 
 And to God earth's children consecrate. 
 
 Winter's icy hand o'er hill and bower 
 
 Spreads his shroud of snow in northern clime ; 
 
 Yet on earth we hail the sacred hour 
 
 When a bud, become Life's glorious flower, 
 Thorn-encircled sprang from depths of time. 
 
 Silver stars still twinkle in the sky, 
 
 Fires of joy are kindled o'er the earth; 
 While the angels tune their songs on high, 
 Jubilant the ransomed bands reply 
 
 In the house of God with solemn mirth. 
 
 Say why far and near, through darksome night, 
 Gleam those countless lights, with nickering ray? 
 
 Hark ! a heaven-born strain replies with might, 
 
 O'er the mists of yore has dawn'd a light, 
 Let us sing, "A child is born to-day ! "
 
 144 LETTERS. 
 
 May each infant heart in hut or hall 
 Beat with joy, as dawns this happy day; 
 
 On their knees may pious mothers fall, 
 
 Teach their babes with lisping voice to call 
 On that Child in lowly crib that lay; 
 
 Tell how child-like hearts to Him are dear; 
 
 How the pure, the meek, He loving sought ; 
 And, as runes in bark cut deep and clear, 
 On their infant minds impress whate'er 
 
 Jesus did on earth and what He taught. 
 
 Haste, ye nations, to His courts with song; 
 
 Praise in tuneful strains His name most blest; 
 Children, pure in heart! the young, the strong; 
 Ye aged ! that slowly creep along, 
 
 Hasten, in your Brother's arms to rest! 
 
 He hath lit a star in darkest night, 
 
 Through the mists of life it sheds its ray; 
 
 Heav'n-born Hope its name, that maiden bright, 
 
 Who the pilgrim guides to realms of light, 
 Where all mysteries shall be clear as day. 
 
 Dark the midnight hour that 's passed away, 
 Dark as death; but once, when time shall cease, 
 
 Dawns the morning of eternal day, 
 
 That with countless lights of purest ray, 
 Hails the reign of endless grace and peace. 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 12th April, 1829. 
 
 I am so eager to write to you, that I really believe that 
 the mail will have to carry every post-day the extra weight 
 of a letter from me. My first thought when 1 awake in 
 the morning is " Charlotte." And this thought is now so 
 cheering, that I fancy we have got sunshine and spring 
 weather, until I look out of the window and see that win- 
 ter and snow-storms have not left us yet, in the midst of 
 April. How I long for a letter from you ! I am sure I 
 
 wish every success. " Brilliant match ! " God save 
 
 us from it ! I can never couple with it the idea of happy 
 
 marriage. I believe that with you will enjoy real, 
 
 true, domestic happiness. Of his character and qualities
 
 LETTERS. 145 
 
 you will soon be able to judge best yourself. I am only 
 afraid that you expect too much. I learn to value more 
 highly every day in a man, goodness and justice. But I 
 have such a sincere and joyful hope that these rare house- 
 hold gods shall change my Charlotte's earthly home into a 
 heaven. By the by, notre futur beau-frere is, I suppose, 
 
 now in C a ? The other morning we had an immense 
 
 deal to do to remember his physiognomy. Hedda knew it a 
 little better ; but you must be so amiable as to come to our 
 assistance, especially in what regards the shape of his nose, 
 which has entirely escaped our memory. And, once more, 
 my dear Charlotte, I must ask you to write about every 
 thing ; the greatest trifle is now of interest. I shall now 
 try to speak of something else. 
 
 Last Monday I was at the Baroness F 's pour toute la 
 
 journee, together with the L s ; it was very agreeable, 
 
 not to speak of the pleasure (of which I feel very little 
 nowadays) of being warmly complimented by the assem- 
 bled company upon my paintings, of which only two were 
 
 there, namely, that of Countess B in sepia, which 
 
 always hangs behind Lady F 's chair; and that of 
 
 L in colors, which latter I had just finished, and 
 
 which has afforded me a great deal of pleasure, by the 
 pleasure which it gives his wife. 
 
 1829. 
 
 After dispatching my letter to you last Friday, we three 
 sisters here at home sat down together on the sofa to read 
 your letter over again ; made again our commentaries on 
 the same ; and gave free vent to our cheerful hopes in (I 
 may well say so) the innocence of our hearts, and in our 
 affection for you. The imagination of girls, like young 
 fiery colts, is sometimes disposed to bolt, and ours cleared 
 with a few bounds all the five-barred gates of time, while 
 we thought of how to furnish the house and how to do all the 
 needle-work for you. Hedda had seen charming curtains 
 10
 
 146 LETTERS. 
 
 made with patchwork, which she wished to take as models. 
 Agatha thought of pocket-handkerchiefs and lots of em- 
 broidery. I declared that I had not courage to venture 
 upon this kind of artistic needle-work, but offered to do all 
 sorts of hemming, stitching, and felling, which might be 
 required. We all agreed in being perfectly satisfied with 
 the exterior of the person in question, and in our fervent 
 hope, or rather belief, in his being excellent and good. In- 
 form our mother soon of all. By doing so, you do not in 
 any case bind yourself to any thing against your own in- 
 clination, because without inclination you ought certainly 
 not to unite yourself to him ; but remember this good and 
 true passage : 
 
 " The happiness of human life is at best comparative. The 
 utmost we should hope for here is such a situation as, with a self- 
 approving mind, will carry us best through the present scene of 
 trial ; such a situation as, all circumstances considered, is, upon 
 the whole, most eligible for us, though some of its circumstances 
 may be disagreeable." 
 
 In another place in " Grandison," where Lady D 
 
 tries to persuade Harriet to marry her sou, she says, with 
 equal truth : 
 
 " You are pious, dutiful, benevolent. Cannot you, if you are 
 unable to entertain for the man who now with so much ardor ad- 
 dresses you, were you married to him, the passion called love, 
 regard him as gratitude would oblige you to prefer any other 
 man who is assiduous to do you service or pleasure ? Cannot you 
 show him as much good will as you could any other man whom it 
 was in your power to make happy ? Would you esteem him less 
 than a person absolutely a stranger to you ? The exertion of 
 your native benevolence, of your natural obligingness, of your 
 common gratitude, of your pity, is all that is asked of you. The 
 exertion will make him happy ; and if you retain that delight 
 which you have hitherto taken in promoting the happiness of 
 others, who are not undeserving, you will be yourself not un- 
 happy." 
 
 This might at all events be said to you, unless, as I be-
 
 LETTERS. 147 
 
 lieve, soon manages so that all persuasion will be su- 
 perfluous. May this be so ! 
 
 I might have all sorts of trifling and funny things to tell 
 you, but I have now neither thoughts, ink, nor pen for any 
 other than the one subject. Why has not the mail wings ? 
 Write soon and about every thing. 
 
 The other night, at the Franzens, my mother heard my 
 little book spoken of. It was very much liked, and maDy 
 surmises were made as to who the author could be. 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 30th June, 1829. 
 
 Lost in the infinite, an obscure Atom bewailed his 
 nothingness : " Why was I created," he complained, " if, 
 amongst all that lives, moves, and acts, I alone should feel 
 the pain of my insignificance ? Oh ! that I were only a 
 dew-drop, fallen from the clouds to refresh earth's flowers. 
 Oh ! that I were only a particle of the fountain's crystal 
 water, so salutary to earth's noblest son, man ; or a 
 breath of air, which, at the Creator's will, cools the weary 
 pilgrim's throbbing temples ; or a flower's fragrant exhala- 
 tion, which, life-giving and lovely, loses itself in the air 
 which it enriches. Oh ! that I were for only one moment 
 of my obscure life, a comfort to some one, then wouH I 
 bless my existence ! " Thus moaned the Atom. 
 
 Brightly the sun shone upon earth, giving life to all and 
 blessed by all. The rippling waves caressed the shores 
 where flowers gratefully bent over the refreshing stream, 
 on whose bosom their smiling images were mirrored. 
 Freshly and merrily the wind played amongst flowers and 
 foliage. Evening came. The dew fell upon the earth, 
 which gratefully sent up endless fragrance to benign 
 Heaven. Nature in silence scattered her favors. Nobody 
 and nothing either wanted or missed the Atom. He felt it, 
 and in a dim void, he thought that his life was slowly ending 
 or sinking like twilight into night. And night rested upon 
 the Atom ; but he felt his own darker night. Then upon
 
 148 LETTERS. 
 
 Aurora's rays came the Angel of Consolation, a bright 
 seraph, who, with inexhaustible treasures of celestial balm, 
 soared forth over the earth ; and wherever a martyr suffers 
 for truth, wherever a down-trod ant feels a pang, there he 
 halts, gives life, enjoyment, comfort, forgetfulness, or 
 death. The seraph saw the suffering Atom, and heard his 
 silent complaint. 
 
 " Rejoice, suffering Atom ! " said his friendly voice. 
 " Thy wish has been heard by an ever-listening ear. A 
 tear of compassion and consolation, thou shalt glisten in my 
 wreath, and fall, a drop of balm, upon Affliction's burning 
 pain." 
 
 He spoke, and already the Atom glittered, transformed, 
 blissful, and bright, like a smiling tear, upon a beautiful 
 poppy in the seraph's wreath. " Oh ! " whispered he, with 
 humble joy, " I am but a drop ; but, beautiful seraph, if 
 sanctified by thee, it gives to me the power to comfort a 
 sufferer, then will I praise my glorious destiny, then 
 will I bless thee and my eternal origin." 
 
 Who is the Atom, dearest Charlotte, who else but 
 your poor Fredrique, who hopes and strives to become 
 this soothing drop of balm ? My second volume of the 
 " Sketches of Every-day Life " will contain several smaller 
 pieces, in which, from my own experience, I intend sketch- 
 ing, under the form of real occurrences, several misfor- 
 tunes and sufferings, and also eventual comfort and balm 
 for the same. I am just now busy composing these. The 
 little piece, which stands here above, is intended to ex- 
 press, at the conclusion of the book, the fervent wishes 
 and humble hopes of the " Atom." I wrote also the other 
 day another piece, called " The Home of Prayer," which I 
 now send you, as I suppose it will give you pleasure to 
 read it 
 
 We have some relatives in town, my dearest little clan- 
 loving sister, and it was a pity that you were not present 
 at a little dinner-party which our parents gave in honor of
 
 LETTERS. 149 
 
 them. In the evening I sketched and colored Helene 
 Franzeii's portrait, and wrote underneath it : 
 
 " Voyez ici Helene, 
 Nbn pas l'He"leiie de Troie ; 
 Kile est bien mieux, ma foi, 
 Elle est fille de Franz^n." 
 
 She is very handsome, and her parents were exceedingly 
 delighted with the portrait, which really represented a 
 young, beautiful Greek maiden, and besides, it was very 
 like her. 
 
 Shall I have no letter from you to-day ? 
 
 THE HOME OF PRAYER. 
 
 Billows, bitter as Affliction's tears, were beating wildly 
 and with monotonous sound against a rock, on the dull 
 gray surface of which not even the tiniest shrub had taken 
 root, and whereon no little bird ever perched chirping, to 
 search for a seed or a grain, carried thither by the winds 
 of heaven. The thunder of malediction seemed to have 
 swept over that dreary rock. Dark, cold clouds crowned 
 its top. Yonder, on that awful height, a solitary being was 
 sitting a woman. Known she is to many a child of 
 mortality. Deadly pale was her face ; but her paleness 
 was that of sorrow. Calm she sat and quiet, like one de- 
 void of hope. Eternal tears coursed each other, drop by 
 drop, down her cheeks slowly, as, for her, time's endless 
 minutes vanished. Closed were her ashy lips ; but the ex- 
 pression which played over her features, like a dark genius, 
 seemed distinctly to say these words : " I suffer, I suffer ! " 
 In her sunken, yet flaming, eye ; on her forehead, from 
 which waves of gray hair were floating on the icy blast, 
 while she was bent low, not by age, but by suffering, 
 stood written that her heart was cankered. Happy art 
 thou, who, in the bright heaven of thy heart, never sawest 
 even the shadow of this picture ! Happy art thou, oh 
 favorite of angels, who canst say : " I know her not ! "
 
 150 LETTERS. 
 
 Alas ! I have known her. Already, in my childhood's 
 heaven, I saw the lightning of her bloodshot eye, and 
 many, many know her well ; her life is suffering ; her 
 name Affliction. 
 
 Radiant in the light of beatitude, the genius of heavenly 
 love soared one morning through space. A glance from 
 his bright eye lighted, like a ray of the sun, upon the cloud- 
 capped height upon which Affliction hopelessly wept. 
 
 He beheld her, and he loved her ; for she suffered ; and 
 his mission was to scatter happiness around him. 
 
 He bore her away into his beautiful Eden, tended her, 
 loved her, and comforted her, and tried, but in vain, to 
 teach her to hope. 
 
 She bore him a daughter, a wondrously beautiful child, 
 on whose angelic face the father's bright smile and the 
 mother's tears were blended in sweetest harmony. They 
 called her Prayer. Clasped were her hands, half-open her 
 lips, like a rose-bud ; and her beautiful eyes, in which tears 
 were trembling, were raised on high. 
 
 At the sight of this beautiful being, Affliction's torn 
 bosom vibrated for the first time with joy ; for the first 
 time she gave a look full of tender hope to her heavenly 
 consort, whose eye, overflowing with happiness and love, 
 rested upon her. She pressed to her heart her first-born 
 darling, sighed, smiled, and looked forward into the future 
 with confidence. But in Affliction's soul joy lingered only 
 for a moment Longing for her dark home, she returned 
 to it ; but with one comfort, that she had given birth to 
 Prayer ; and with one hope, that she one day should 
 cease to exist. 
 
 v Under her father's care, the beautiful daughter grew up 
 amongst heaven's flowers, disporting with heaven's angels. 
 But the more she became developed, the more she felt a 
 dim, half-understood presentiment that there was not her 
 right home. She had tears ; and these strangers in the 
 abodes of light were unknown to heaven's children. The
 
 LETTERS. 151 
 
 eternal and unchanging beauty of things on high were in 
 disharmony with her inner being her soul. Longing, 
 she cast her eyes downwards, and saw in foreboding 
 dreams a lower world, not far separated from her mother's 
 home, where dusky clouds often darkened the sun ; where 
 vapors curled over rose-gardens, and where heaven itself 
 shed tears over a green-clad world. And her heart beat, 
 and she sighed, " Thither, oh, thither ! " 
 
 The genius of heavenly love, marked with loving looks 
 his daughter's silent sadness. And when the time had 
 arrived, the hour which Jehovah had appointed, he took 
 her hand, and soared with her through cieation's endless 
 space. They approached a star, called Earth, where the 
 seraph's eye with melancholy joy found again images con- 
 genial to her heart and soul. Bright tears glittered in the 
 bells of flowers. The sun burst through heavy clouds. 
 Summer days and winter nights rested alternately on the 
 shadowy vales, and gloomy fogs rolled over its loveliest 
 landscapes. 
 
 " Here let us linger, here let us rest ! " whispered she, 
 beseechingly. They lowered their flight and alighted 
 upon a hill, from which wide-spreading cedars threw their 
 lengthening evening shadows. Sweetly smiling, the seraph 
 looked round, looked towards heaven, over whose face 
 bright clouds were wafted by gentle winds, and then at her 
 heavenly guide, saying : " Here it is good to remain ; here 
 is my home ; here let me stay ! " 
 
 " Daughter of my love," replied her father, " yes, here 
 thou shalt stay, here is thy home ; Jehovah wills it so ; 
 here is the cradle of immortal beings man's native land. 
 Here, under suffering, are born eternal joys. But, in or- 
 der that man shall not miss his goal, thou shalt be near 
 him, a link between me and my eternal home, which shall 
 be his also one day. Thou shalt teach him to pray that 
 is, to trust and hope. Thou shalt watch at his cradle and 
 at his grave. Thou shalt teach him, in all changes, to look
 
 152 LETTERS. 
 
 upwards, that a ray of the Eternal's brightness may throw 
 light into his soul. Consolation shall be thy name; thy 
 mission, a woman's, to comfort and support." 
 
 So saying, he spread his dazzling pinions, and, slowly 
 soaring upwards, fixed a look full of measureless love upon 
 the daughter, who, kneeling, with clasped hands and 
 smiling in her tears, prayed : " Oh ! let it be so ; oh, my 
 father, my happiness is to do thy will. Morning and 
 evening, in the bright hours of jday, in the silent watches 
 of night, I will direct man's looks and man's heart to thee. 
 
 O 
 
 But, that I may be always full of hope, full of comfort and 
 joy ; that my smile may always beam triumphant over my 
 tears, oh ! therefore, be ever near me, abandon me never, 
 my father ! " 
 
 The genius of heavenly love vanished behind a veil of 
 clouds out of the supplicant's sight ; but a breath full of 
 heavenly sweetness fanned her fair curls and gently kissed 
 her forehead, cheek, and eyelids ; and she felt conscious 
 of a father's blessing. Tremblingly rustled the cedar- 
 branches, and " Never ! " softly whispered with a sound 
 as if out of eternity, reached her ear. She felt that he was 
 ever near her. 
 
 Earth became Prayer's home. Prayer became man's 
 good angel. She watched at his cradle, watched over his 
 youth, comforted him in every period of his life, cheered 
 his old age ; and, amongst the foliage of the trees which 
 overshadowed his mortal resting-place, she was still heard 
 to breathe peace and joy, whispering that now she had 
 borne him home, and there he did not need her aid any 
 longer. 
 
 Consolation she was called. She taught man to smile 
 in tears to hope. 
 
 And we, my brethren and sisters, we, whom she longed 
 to comfort and make happy, let us not misunderstand the 
 sweet seraph; let us follow her teaching. Let us pray 
 with childhood's stammering lips, in our youth, in man-
 
 LETTERS. 153 
 
 hood, in old age, in temptation, in joy and in sorrow, in 
 our last hour, in the hour of strife, and in the hour of 
 victory let us pray, let us pray ! 
 
 ARSTA, 19th November, 1830. 
 
 Heaven be praised ! the weather is fine, bright, and 
 mild. You have, I hope, a pleasant journey. We speak 
 of you continually ; make remarks on the weather every 
 other minute, and, for the first time in my life, I find this 
 to be one of the most interesting topics. My dearest Char- 
 lotte ! Since we parted from one another I have been like 
 sour, unripe fruit. I was tolerably calm when you left; 
 but the agony began soon after. Yesterday, all the after- 
 noon and evening, I felt a dreadful longing to see you 
 once more ; to embrace you, weep, and bless you, and to 
 pray you to forgive every little unkindness of which I may 
 have been guilty towards you. My tears are flowing while 
 I am writing this. Charlotte, my dearest Charlotte ! will 
 you perhaps one day forget how warmly, how long, how 
 sincerely we have been united? Will the novel scenes 
 and new relations into which you enter, the novel sensa- 
 tions which gradually will fill your soul, ever let old mem- 
 ories wane ? I dread it sometimes. But, above all, may 
 you be happy feel yourself happy. That is all I want. 
 
 I have no heart for brothers-in-law ; I feel that they take 
 
 from me what I hold dearest my sisters. But may 
 
 perhaps one day be able to convert me. If he makes his 
 wife happy, he shall in me find an affectionate and grateful 
 sister. 
 
 Now for a sketch of every-day life. In rain, wind, and 
 in darkness, Hedda and I drove to Arsta, while you and 
 your husband drove in another direction under the same 
 celestial signs. We got soaked, shaken, and fatigued, but 
 were concerned only about you. In Egyptian darkness we 
 came to old Castle Blow-hard, where we found our mother 
 and Agatha cheerful, comfortable, and well, longing to chat
 
 154 LETTERS. 
 
 about you and yours : we have hitherto done this most in- 
 defatigably. It is an inexhaustible well. Our mother's 
 thoughts are stalking about everywhere, building castles 
 in the air here and there. " L'etoffe a pris son pli." 
 
 We are busy setting up our little dumb pensioner. It 
 is not yet decided where to dispose of him. 
 
 I must now finish, dear Charlotte, because I have both 
 headache and heart-ache. Thank God, you have such beau- 
 tiful weather for travelling ! Our mother's best love to you 
 and to your husband, in which Hedda joins. It is pleasant 
 here and quiet; nevertheless, I am peevish, and could 
 make sour faces at ; but, after all, that would be silly. 
 
 Farewell, my dear Charlotte ! Half of my heart, fare- 
 well ! Your 
 
 FREDKIQUE. 
 
 AESTA, 30th November, 1830. 
 
 What a delightful little letter you wrote to me from 
 Djula. We had just finished our tea and our potatoes 
 when it arrived. In fact, I had already gone to bed, 
 fatigued and tired of the world. Your letter was brought 
 to me ; my mother and sisters all assembled round my 
 bedside. I read it aloud; but when I came to where 
 
 you say, " has few who can be compared with him ; 1 
 
 am happy!" I could read no more. I wept for joy, and 
 sympathetic tears stood in the eyes of the smiling listeners. 
 Also in August's eyes tears were seen to tremble, when the 
 following evening this passage was read to him. You see, 
 my dearest Charlotte, how beloved you are by all ! Re- 
 member, my dear sister, that when you are happy, you 
 thereby add to the happiness of others. I wrote my first 
 
 letter to you under very melancholy feelings. May 
 
 pardon my lamentations and my doubts. I sincerely be- 
 lieve that, with a husband like him, it depends only upon 
 yourself to be happy, and therefore I ought to be tran- 
 quil. The description of your journey hitherto sounds
 
 LETTERS. 155 
 
 very pleasant God be praised for every happy day you 
 have ! 
 
 I ought now to speak a little of ourselves. To-morrow 
 by this time we shall probably be in town. I cannot say 
 that this prospect delights me ; but, of course, every thing 
 can be done. We sisters in the beginning have to occupy 
 our old rooms, and that pleases me. Our mother pictures 
 to herself this winter as a little " partie de plaisir ; " but I 
 expect to find it very dull. She intends to receive visits, 
 to issue invitations, etc., etc. 
 
 May Agatha remain as well as she is now ! As to my- 
 self, I intend this winter to read, to write, to paint a great 
 deal. I hear from all quarters much that is gratifying 
 and flattering about my " Sketches," but it makes very 
 little impression upon me : and then how far is it not to 
 the stars ; and to him who strives upwards, what are these 
 exhalations floating upon and dispersed by the winds ? 
 Meanwhile I long to write, and may perhaps in the course 
 of the winter publish, the third volume of the " Sketches." 
 Since you left, I have written a little lively piece for this 
 volume, which I have entitled, " Spring in the North." 
 Perhaps you would like to read it. Here you have it. 
 
 * SPRING IN THE NORTH. 
 
 Lo 1 the Queen of Spring one day, 
 
 Angrily her pinions folding, 
 
 Gave her son, young May, a scolding: 
 
 " The first of May ! 
 
 Alack the day ! 
 
 Art not ashamed, thou wicked boy ? 
 
 Weeping still, 
 
 Damp and chill, 
 
 Dost thou come 
 
 Looking glum, 
 
 Marring all our hope and joy." 
 
 " Thou hadst orders 
 
 O'er our borders 
 
 Flowers to spread, and azure skies; 
 
 To deck the woods
 
 156 LETTERS. 
 
 With fragrant buds, 
 
 Sporting like the butterflies. 
 
 Words of mirth, 
 
 In our North, 
 
 Thou should'st speak to every soul: 
 
 ' Lo ! I bring 
 
 Lovely Spring; 
 
 FD1 with wine the sparkling bowl ! ' 
 
 " What a shame 
 
 To take that name 
 
 Given you in the almanac; 
 
 ' Month of flowers,' 
 
 Gracious powers ! 
 
 Say how dare you thus to mock ? 
 
 Pouting? Ha! 
 
 Mind, mamma 
 
 All such tempers soon will settle ; 
 
 If you dare, 
 
 I declare 
 
 I '11 whip you with my first young nettle 1 " 
 
 " Mother, why," 
 Cried the boy, 
 
 " Do you take me thus to task ? 
 Brother April scold, I pray, 
 He was lazy, would not ask 
 The sun to melt the snow away; 
 Let it lie on lake and plain ; 
 Left old Boreas free to reign ; 
 And when I at length came forth 
 On my merry birthday morn, 
 Hailed with joy by all the North, 
 Fain would I this earth adorn : 
 But 'twas still so cold and nipping, 
 That I quaked with aguish fears, 
 With my garments we^t and dripping, 
 And my face all blurred with tears." 
 
 Quoth April then, 
 
 With angry mien, 
 
 " Who such wretched falsehood utters ? 
 
 Have n't I washed and cleaned the gutters ? 
 
 Have n't I broken up the ice, 
 
 Swept the roofs quite clean and nice? 
 
 On my honor I declare, 
 
 Your demands are most unfair !
 
 LETTERS. 157 
 
 Surely, if the truth you 'd search, 
 
 I 've battled hard with brother March; 
 
 With all kinds of wind and weather 
 
 That I e'er could bring together, 
 
 I have tried to force my way 
 
 Through his serried, firm array 
 
 Of some twenty odd degrees 
 
 Of cold, enough your blood to freeze. 
 
 I have sought through shield and spear, 
 
 By fair means a path to clear, 
 
 Where I might on riving wing 
 
 Plant the banner of the Spring. 
 
 Vain my prayers. ' A vaunt ! ' quoth he. 
 
 Thus the fault lies not with me." 
 
 With a pout, 
 
 March cried out: 
 
 " Must I all these burdens carry ? 
 
 Sure I 'm bound to sweep the tomb 
 
 Of old uncle February; 
 
 Filling all the North with gloom, 
 
 With a mountain's weight it lay, 
 
 Held o'er earth its icy sway. 
 
 Nought remained for me the while, 
 
 Save drive my plough 1 across the soil, 
 
 On the snow without delay, 
 
 Till the drifts were cleared away. 
 
 Thus I did my best, you see, 
 
 In frost-nipped humility! " 
 
 So said March. The Queen of Spring 
 Stood awhile, considering 
 Which of all the urchins three 
 Most deserved severity. 
 Each threw blame upon his brother; 
 But the wise and prudent mother 
 Bit her lips with action grave, 
 Thought a moment, and then gave, 
 With a rod of nettles bound, 
 To each one a whipping sound. 
 How the wretched boys did squall ! 
 How they promised, one and all, 
 To amend their evil ways, 
 To call forth the sun's warm rays, 
 Scattering flowers o'er hill and plain, 
 Till the earth should smile again ! 
 
 i The snow-plough, used in Sweden to clear away the snow-drifts.
 
 158 LETTERS. 
 
 To-day we have boarded and lodged our little " Son of 
 Misery " with " good " Mr. Gardener, at any rate for the first 
 six months. The kind Christine has promised to take 
 most tender care of the poor little child ; perhaps he may 
 be able to learn to think and articulate. He left us well 
 and amply provided for with every thing. When I this 
 morning marked his linen, I stamped it, without thinking 
 of it, with a small cross, in shape like those which are here 
 put upon graves. I wonder whether there was any thing 
 prophetic in it for the child. Our mother and I did cele- 
 brate the day of Jubilee in church. H bawled dread- 
 fully about our forefathers being all in utter darkness and 
 the shadow of death. The sun this beautiful image of 
 intellectual light broke through heavy clouds, and throw- 
 ing now and then his brilliant rays into the church, was the 
 best part of the whole service. 
 
 Farewell, dearest sister ; millions of greetings from all 
 at home ; also to your husband. 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 7th December. 
 
 You are a dear, kind, darling one for writing so often 
 and so fully. You cannot imagine how greedy we are for 
 your letters ; how we all gather round every one of them, 
 when they arrive, like so many flies round the cream ; and 
 how we taste and taste, again and again, and chat, and won- 
 der, and are delighted with you and your journey. I re- 
 ceived this morning your letter from Hellinge, but 1 am 
 most anxious to hear something of you from Christianstad. 
 I believe you will arrive there to-day. Oh, if I were there 
 to welcome you ! I shall now say something about our- 
 selves. My dearest Charlotte, do not get frightened, when, 
 for the sake of truth, I must confess that I have not had 
 courage to write to you sooner from Stockholm, because 
 every thing here has appeared to me so heavy, so cold, and 
 even intolerable ; but, thank God ! it looks considerably 
 brighter now, and will no doubt become still brighter.
 
 LETTERS. 159 
 
 Hedda has also been very low-spirited. Agatha alone has 
 kept up her courage. However, we are now all in good 
 spirits. The first discomfort was not to be avoided. To- 
 day especially we are all very animated on account of the 
 occurrences of the day, Brinckman's letter, Franzen's, 
 Wallin's, and others' overwhelming eulogia. What a 
 wonderfully fine letter ! and this I am to reply to in 
 writing ? In what way ? That I do not know yet, but I 
 will tell you next time I write to you. Reuterborg has 
 been here. He said, " Go where you will, you hear noth- 
 ing spoken of but a Lady Bremer, or Miss Bremer, who 
 has written, etc., etc., and to whom verses have been dedi- 
 cated." Farewell, my dear sister. Our mother is kind 
 and cheerful. Possibly things may become better at home. 
 I shall write more by next mail. Kind remembrances to 
 your husband. 
 
 Hedda insists upon copying Brinckman's letter, "in 
 order," as she says, "that you may get it quite fresh." 
 Fresh ! That may be, but sugared over and spiced beyond 
 measure. I inclose it herewith : 
 
 " STOCKHOLM, 6th December, 1830. 
 
 " Not without fear of being considered like an uninvited guest, 
 too bold and intruding, do I now seize the pen in order to pay 
 homage to an amiable and charming Muse, who cannot conde- 
 scend to a personal acquaintance with all those whom her genius 
 has filled with respect and admiration. 
 
 " But I have hitherto not gone beyond the wish that, by some 
 well-known friend, I might be introduced to the illustrious Un- 
 known, and my noble friend Franzen has promised to undertake 
 this kindly office, ' as soon as circumstances permit it.' But in 
 what most nearly concerns genius and the heart, one can rarely 
 rely except upon oneself; deign therefore to pardon my warm, 
 perhaps too impatient, longing to express personally to you my 
 gratitude for the greatest and holiest enjoyments, which the polite 
 literature of my native country has for a long time afforded me. 
 
 " Franzen's sensitive Muse first drew my attention to the 
 ' Sketches of Evcry-day Life,' of which the very superficial review
 
 160 LETTERS. 
 
 in the periodical ' Heimdal ' did not give me any more favorable 
 or higher ideas than of many other ephemeral, pretty, poetical 
 effusions, of which that periodical has issued baptismal certificates. 
 But how shall I be able to describe to you the deep impression of 
 true delight and warm interest which the first perusal of your 
 work made upon me, whilst reading it in a single night. Full of 
 this impression, I hastened on the following day to Franzen, anx- 
 ious to express to him the gratitude which I felt for the veracious 
 testimony which he had given to the younger sister of his Muse, 
 and telling him that I would willingly make a pilgrimage of many, 
 many miles with naked feet, in order to behold the features and 
 listen to the voice of her who, in a manner so living, so tender, so 
 witty, and so affecting, takes us by storm in every line of her 
 splendid poetry. 
 
 '" Unglaublich ! Wie ! Ein solches Madchen hatte mein hand 
 und ich, und ich erfahr' es heute zum ersten Mai ? ' 
 
 " So exclaimed Don Carlos, and still he found himself deceived ! 
 I know, however, for certain, whom I can trust. An artful, co- 
 quettish beauty, such as Eboli, may perhaps, during a few moments 
 of conversation, act a character foreign to herself; but a poetess, 
 such as she who has written these ' Sketches,' is ' herself alone;' 
 she is, whether in the playfulness or in the earnestness of her 
 genius, and in all other circumstances of life, genuine, innocent, 
 and true to her soul's inspirations. 
 
 " See here, my noble benefactress ! my candid confession of 
 faith. I am proud that our literature can boast of such an author- 
 ess; but it is humiliating to our critics, that the first volume of 
 your work should have vegetated amongst them in silence for 
 more than two years, and that not one amongst them all should 
 have discovered the high lineage and innate wealth of the modest 
 stranger. But then you have restricted yourself to ' e very-day 
 life,' and it is not there where these gentlemen try to discover the 
 realms of poetry, but rather among the stately palaces of the 
 great. I am acquainted with the choicest literature of most coun- 
 tries, but I defy them all to produce, in the genre which you have 
 chosen, more beautiful or truer pictures, not only of reality, but 
 also of the ideal world which lives and breathes within us. No- 
 body in our country, either man or woman, has, as far as I am 
 aware, hitherto understood living events more thoroughly, with 
 the penetrating eye of genius, nor drawn with a more masterly
 
 LETTERS. 161 
 
 hand their varied forms, and the miniatures of domestic life. And 
 all this with such genuine, unmistakable womanliness! I have 
 heard some silly maidens say, ' She must surely have been assisted 
 by some man, some scholar.' Pardon them ; they know not what 
 they say. It was therefore with unfeigned delight that I heard 
 the most appropriate opinion of your work expressed by a noble- 
 hearted and highly intelligent Countess, who is not unworthy to 
 be ranked amongst the congenials of your own soul. She pointed 
 out to me many passages which she had marked. ' Look there,' 
 she said, ' my friend, what none of you others would have found 
 out ; you may thank Heaven if you can feel and appreciate the 
 peculiar excellence of such holy revelations of female genius ! ' 
 
 " But I did not intend to produce an improved edition of the 
 certificate of ' Heimdal.' 1 only wanted to signify my longing, 
 and remind Franzen of his promise that, if ever you should come 
 to Stockholm, he would ask permission to introduce his friend to 
 our mutual enchantress. I hand this letter over to him. May he 
 speak more, eloquently in my favor than I am able to do it. Be 
 gracious and merciful, and do not say ' No ! ' 
 
 " A stranger's greeting, deep respect, and sincere devotion. 
 
 "v. B." 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 12th December, 1830. 
 
 It is absurd, absurd, absurd ! I believe that some kind 
 fairy has pronounced some hocus-pocus on me and my little 
 book. The sensation which it creates is quite ridiculous. 
 It is now the ton to read it, especially in the fashionable 
 world. It is spoken of everywhere, and so is its author- 
 ess, who cannot now any longer hope to remain anony- 
 mous. I am obliged to listen to so many fine things, that 
 I am only astonished that they do not make me quite giddy 
 (which, after all, they do not). " Medborgaren " (the news- 
 paper) has also reviewed the work, and in a most flattering 
 manner it speaks of the unusual talent of the authoress ; 
 and " The H Family," especially, gets the most splen- 
 did encomiums. Palmblad has written to G strb'm that 
 
 the book meets with such a rapid sale, that he must pro- 
 vide a second edition thereof. 
 11
 
 162 LETTERS. 
 
 Last night we were very animated at home. Franzen 
 came with Brinckman, who was almost half crazy. He 
 actually courted me. I was fairly overwhelmed with flat- 
 tering compliments. Brinckman quoted my book contin- 
 ually, saying, " that I had not read it properly myself." 
 Franzen also was full of kindness and praises. Anxious 
 to make his protege shine as much as possible, he asked to 
 be allowed to see my paintings.^ They went through them 
 all ; and when Brinckman heard that I also was musicienne, 
 he exclaimed, "Indeed, I begin to get quite tired now." 
 The conversation was exceedingly animated. Mrs. De 
 
 R and some other friends also came to see us- Then 
 
 I got some more rosemary. Mrs. De R had the pre- 
 vious night been to two large parties. She told me that 
 there was nothing else spoken of except my " Sketches." 
 Brinckman finished by going down on his knees to me, 
 when, after a three hours' visit, he took leave. Your hus- 
 band would have been very much amused if he had seen 
 Hedda and Brinckman together. He made her his confi- 
 dente, continually whispering in her ear all sorts of things 
 about my book, giving her now and then little " pats," in 
 order to awaken her attention, which " pats " Hedda seemed 
 inclined to pay back. She expressed herself to him, once 
 or twice, in such honest and plain terms, that they formed 
 
 a ludicrous contrast to his sugared compliments. B an, 
 
 who was here the evening before last, asked me whether 
 we were not overrun by all sorts of people coming to look 
 at me, such a sensation has my talent as an authoress cre- 
 ated. In a word, my dear Charlotte, it is absurd, absurd, 
 absurd! I do not think that all this would amuse me 
 much if our sisters were not so delighted with it. In fact, 
 Agatha jumped about like a fish out of water. But I must 
 say good-by to the anonymous. Vogue la galere ! Blow, 
 winds, blow ! I say, and by that I mean a prayer to my 
 Muse, who also seems willing to hear my prayer. I am 
 working at the continuation of " The H Family."
 
 LETTERS. 163 
 
 Franzen says that people expect to see the blind one act- 
 ing a part. She shall do so. 
 
 Sunday, the 13th. 
 
 The day before yesterday all was brilliant ; last night 
 every thing was flat and dull. So changeable is the wind ! 
 August was not at all well ; to-day he is seriously ill. 
 Agatha has had an attack of her old rheumatic complaint, 
 and is not well yet ; but she has good courage, and then all 
 is well. 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 23d January, 1831. 
 
 Yesterday I received your letter of the 16th. I was 
 very much touched by it, and it made me very happy, be- 
 cause the state of your mind, which it shows, is so beauti- 
 ful, so noble, so amiable, that, as surely as the spring brings 
 flowers in its train, so surely must it bring with it happiness 
 and all its joyous flowers. I feel convinced that in another 
 respect also you will feel yourself more and more happy, 
 when, as you say yourself, the memory of a gloomy life be- 
 gins to fade from your view, and at last dies altogether. 
 Yes, a good and noble husband is the chief good in mar- 
 ried life ; such a husband throws over all circumstances in 
 life thousands of comforts and charms, of which formerly 
 
 one could have no idea. God bless ! When you 
 
 get quite settled in your new home, you will surely find 
 yourself still more comfortable. Write to me. dearest 
 Charlotte, especially about your state of mind. 
 
 Not every thing at home is quite as it ought to be. Our 
 little Agatha, with whose health and spirits we have been 
 so pleased, has for the last fortnight been rather on the de- 
 cadence in both. The other evening, when, in spite of her 
 ill health, she was out, we had a brilliant soiree at the 
 " Singing Union." The Royal Family was there, and had 
 a few words to say to every body. We sang choruses from 
 " Guillaume Tell," which succeeded famously, and made a 
 splendid effect. That evening ended in a brilliant way for 
 me. Acquaintances and strangers of the fashionable world
 
 164 LETTERS. 
 
 flocked round me, and showered eulogia and thanks upon 
 the little authoress, who curtsied and thanked and thanked 
 
 again. Baron A requested to be introduced to me. 
 
 Our mother was sitting the whole evening, hearing how the 
 
 Countess Sp , a whole row of the ladies of the court, 
 
 and a great number of gentlemen, had been discussing my 
 " Sketches," and the merits thereof. The sensation which 
 the little book is creating is indeed ridiculous. It is the 
 regular souper-conversation all over the town (which, be it 
 said in parenthesis, does not mean much), and not a day 
 goes past without my hearing what has been said of it here 
 and there, and always in praise of it. In the booksellers' 
 shops, all the copies have been sold. Palmblad wrote a 
 few days ago, to say that he must print a second edition as 
 quickly as possible, and that for that purpose he must em- 
 ploy three compositors, because there is a desperate run 
 upon his agent in Stockholm, by all the booksellers, for 
 more copies. I wonder how long this will last ? It has 
 become, I am afraid, a mere matter of fashion mais 
 n'importe ! but upon this matter of fashion I shall this 
 year earn three hundred thirty rix dollars, which is delight- 
 ful ! Perhaps I shall in future reap as much severe criti- 
 cism as eulogy now. May it find me equally calm, or, 
 rather, indifferent ; but of that I am not quite sure. 
 
 Next winter, my dearest Charlotte, Agatha and I are 
 going to visit you. We intend taking the two rooms on 
 the ground floor, and we wish to board with you. May we 
 not do so ? How pleasant it would be ! But " 1'homme 
 propose et Dieu dispose ! " 
 
 Our little dumb boy has now closed his eyes. He died 
 after about a month's decline. Peace be with him ! 
 
 You have probably seen by the newspapers that the 
 Swedish Academy has awarded me a gold medal on ac- 
 count of my authorship. It would, perhaps, have been 
 possible to have warded off this honor, if the " Afton- 
 bladet " had not trumpeted forth the news all over town, 
 before Franzen had spoken of it with my mother.
 
 LETTERS. 165 
 
 If you should happen to see any remarkable personages, 
 any real originals, please describe them to me. I want to 
 make use of them in my " Sketches." But pray, dearest, 
 mention this, or whatever else I write to you about my au- 
 thorship, to nobody. People are in general very fright- 
 ened of being described in books, and in our country an 
 authoress is often looked upon as a regular scarecrow. 
 If I should come to Christianstad, I wish to be known there 
 
 merely as the sister of Mrs. , which I am sure will be 
 
 the best letter of introduction for me. 
 
 CHRISTIANSTAD, October 25th, 1831. 
 
 MY DEAREST MOTHER, Ah ! what a joy it is to be 
 able to turn in full confidence to the one whom we have to 
 thank for our existence. I say thank ; for life seems now 
 to be of value to me. Formerly it was not so. My youth 
 has not been happy ; on the contrary, it has been a time 
 of suffering, and its days, to a great extent (this is indeed 
 truth), have passed away in a continual wish to die. But 
 now it is otherwise. As a compensation for that long time 
 of suffering and compulsory inactivity, another has suc- 
 ceeded, which gives me the means of usefulness, and there- 
 fore also of new life and gladness. We hope, we desire, 
 my sisters and I, nothing else than to be able to do some 
 little good, whilst we are wandering here on earth, and 
 according to the power that is given to us, to work for the 
 good of others, and live ourselves in peace and harmony ; 
 and perhaps our joyless youth, if it has deprived us of some 
 of the enjoyments of life, may in some measure have led 
 our minds to higher aspirations, and to a stronger desire 
 for real usefulness. 
 
 At this moment my plan for the future is the following : 
 to spend as little as possible of my own fortune unon my- 
 self, so that I may be able as much as possible to devote 
 my life to acquiring all the means that may be of service 
 to me in the development of my mission as an authoress.
 
 166 LETTERS. 
 
 Never have I felt so much that I have been created for this 
 aim as now ; never have I felt my intellectual being, as it 
 were, grow, strengthen, gain stability and clearness, as now ; 
 knowing what it is to desire to live and learn, and never to 
 
 O 
 
 have had the joyful hope (to speak in the language of St. 
 Paul) " to be a vessel formed to honor." The desire and 
 the hope that I become to you and to my sisters a subject 
 of rejoicing, is to me how shall I express it ? a spur 
 of roses. 
 
 Yes, dearest mother ! what I have often felt, what I have 
 often wanted to say to my beloved ones at home is, I am 
 happy. Never has any one enjoyed their life more fully 
 than I do at this moment. The brightening thoughts with- 
 in me, which promise such sweet harmony for my soul in 
 future, contribute much to this : and then my own little 
 quiet room. Oh ! dear mother, if. I should be at home 
 next winter, do you think I could get a little garret in Mr. 
 Bruhn's house ? It is more important for me than any one 
 can believe, to have a little quiet nest of my own, where I 
 can be quite undisturbed. In the suite of apartments in 
 our house this would be impossible ; but in the garret it 
 would be delightful, if it only can be managed. 
 
 TOMB, 30th August, 1835. 
 
 In my last letter, my dear mother, I told you such a mis- 
 erable story, that I feel a need of coming to you with some- 
 thing more cheerful, and of such subjects there is no lack. 
 I begin with what touches me most. I must therefore tell 
 you, that my good and excellent friend has returned from 
 Alingsas. She is so delighted and happy to be here again. 
 I cannot imagine how such a warm-hearted and lively 
 creature could have resigned herself to live for eight years 
 alone at this solitary Tomb ; but no one can excel her in 
 the power of quietly fixing a purpose and then pursuing it. 
 This she calls her "fool-hardiness." I count myself happy 
 to be able to be something for her ; we suit each other ad-
 
 LETTERS. 167 
 
 mirably. The solitary life which she leads is delightful to 
 me. Here in this quietude, in a new neighborhood, sur- 
 rounded by new objects, there awaken within me many 
 dormant feelings, many interests that I knew nothing of. 
 I am going through a spiritual " mineral-water cure," which 
 will strengthen me in body and mind ; and they both 
 needed strengthening. 
 
 Norway's history, ancient and modern, its literature, na- 
 ture, and relationship to Sweden, interests me greatly. 
 
 I inquire into, I think of, many things which never be- 
 fore gave me a thought or an interest. Plans for new 
 " Sketches " are in progress ; thoughts stream forth, and I 
 feel that both the time and the place are important for my 
 development. The spring air which I breathe, being con- 
 tinually beside the Countess S , and the influence of 
 
 her heart, her character, and her temper, certainly does me 
 good ; but what is even more to me than all this, is that I 
 am allowed to be so perfectly in peace. You cannot think 
 how delightful it is, my dear mother, to be so far away from 
 all acquaintances, to have no visits to pay and none to re- 
 ceive. This kind of unsociableness is a real disease, but 
 is at present unconquerable. My nervous system has been 
 weakened. I trust that in the course of time, living in re- 
 
 ' O 
 
 tirement, and with prudent care of my health, I may get 
 stronger, and get rid of that most painful feeling ; but until 
 then, it is so good for me not to have that feeling tried. 
 When I am alone in my quiet room, the blue sky peeping 
 in, and with my books and papers around me, then I think 
 the whole world is mine, especially if a dear letter lies be- 
 fore me, bringing good news from those who belong to me, 
 and telling me that they love me. Then my heart beats 
 gratefully to the Great Father of all, and full of hope to 
 be able to do some good for my fellow-creatures ; then I 
 am as happy as any one can be ; then I love mankind best 
 and live best for them. 
 
 On Sunday the Countess had invited a small party to an
 
 168 LETTERS. 
 
 oyster-dinner. After dinner, I kept the young people at 
 the piano, and they sang Norwegian songs both grand and 
 simple. Between whiles , who is said to be a book- 
 worm, and I, who am the same, taught each other a num- 
 ber of pieces out of Lord Byron's works, whilst I in secret 
 admired our perseverance in keeping up a mutual instruc- 
 tion of which we both knew equally much, or equally little. 
 After this lesson, I was obliged to go out, overpowered by 
 my migraine, which the music had kept back, but which 
 the conversation about Lord Byron had brought on again. 
 At last I was obliged to go to bed. 
 
 Nearly all with whom I have come in contact here ap- 
 pear to me to have the universal characteristic of kindness, 
 cheerfulness, and enjoyment of life, together with a home- 
 liness which is almost too naive ; but from the last I must 
 
 except the Countess W , who in. any society would be 
 
 distinguished for her natural wit and elegant taste. 
 
 Life here is absorbed in domestic occupations, and from 
 people with cultivated minds, or longing after cultivation, 
 one often hears painful lamentations that they stand alone, 
 have no one to speak to, and that the duties of their daily 
 life entirely exhaust and kill their Aand (soul). In general, 
 I think the Norwegian mothers of families are to be pitied, 
 for they must be housekeepers to a degree which we in 
 Sweden have no idea of. It is true, they read here with 
 pleasure all the modern authors, and young ladies discuss 
 Bulwer, "tout comme chez nous," and we have even in 
 Moss our masquerades with Greek and Swiss girls, and 
 great hospitality, and kindness, and good-will meets one 
 everywhere. I have had a good share of this, which I hold 
 in grateful memory ; but by the culture among the country 
 people, I have been very little edified. I saw with aston- 
 ishment last Sunday, when the people wended their way to 
 a chapel in the neighborhood of this estate, peasants and 
 small farmers in dress-coats and fashionable hats, regular 
 "dandies;" their wives and servant-maids and others in
 
 LETTERS. 169 
 
 bonnets with gauze ribbons of various colors, with shawls, 
 caps, gigot-sleeves, and curls, quite like the better trades- 
 men's wives in Stockholm. I went into the church and 
 waited to see if the service accorded with their progress in 
 fashion ; but, oh dear ! oh dear ! quite the reverse. The 
 music was absolutely barbarous, and the sermon so stupid 
 and dull that one could have wept over it. The clergy- 
 man, a young man of respectable appearance, was smartly 
 dressed, and looked very well in his broad frill a la Henri 
 Quatre, which belongs to the priests' canonicals here. The 
 service was different from the Swedish ; but, in my opinion, 
 not to the Norwegians' advantage. 
 
 I am glad that you liked the easy-chair which I bought 
 out of the profits of my book. " Nina" just owed her kind 
 patroness this proof of her gratitude. That you, my dear 
 mother, from the beginning have liked her so much, has 
 been a great comfort and pleasure to me. It seems now 
 as if others would follow your example. From east and 
 west I have flattering notices of her being taken into favor 
 
 o o 
 
 and honor. Yet she has many faults, and above all there 
 is one which I would give much to be able to take away, 
 and that is in reference to Edla. " The Neighbors " also 
 has many faults, and I sincerely acknowledge them and all 
 my great short-comings and imperfections ; but still I have 
 good hopes for future " Sketches." 
 
 TOMB, Easter Eve, 1837. 
 
 What shall I give you, dearest Charlotte, for all the good 
 and pleasant things which your letter contained. My life 
 is so quiet and monotonous outwardly, that the description 
 of one day would do for them all. Inwardly it is certainly 
 living and stirring enough : and during three fourths of the 
 day, while alone in my room, I feel how foolish it would 
 have been of me if I had married, because I see with pain 
 how short and insufficient are the days and years for all 
 that I wish and require to learn, and to make clear to my-
 
 170 LETTERS. 
 
 self. More than ever do I work, in order to improve and 
 perfect what gifts I possess, so that next time I may appear 
 before the public less unfinished. But I shall yet wait 
 awhile. It does me an immense deal of good to be alone, 
 to see so few people, to live undisturbed for my calling. 
 Besides, I have a kind of nervousness which makes me 
 unfit for, and also disagreeable to people. This is at times 
 very painful to me ; but I feel with gratitude that it brings 
 with it some more positive good. I will, therefore, devote 
 myself more exclusively to my calling. Amongst certain 
 people I find myself, however, more at ease, and to them 
 I feel a kind of gratitude. You, my dearest Charlotte, are 
 one of them, and I remember this with delight from the 
 town where I was with you last. Beside you I always felt 
 repose and comfort. So also I do beside my splendid 
 Lady Stina. Her's is a bright, energetic, and artless nature, 
 and in her society one gets refreshed in body and soul. 
 And then she is so good and amiable ! I love her most 
 sincerely. 
 
 You have heard of Hedda's strange complaint. It makes 
 me exceedingly uneasy. I cannot help fearing that it will 
 prove dangerous, and God save us from the grief that 
 Hedda should . I dare not write it, I dare not think it. 
 I do not know what then would become of us all. May 
 God protect our dear Hedda ! I long to see her again, and 
 intend going home this summer for a few weeks. I shall 
 then return to this place. It is best so for us all. 
 
 You are right, dear Charlotte ! " I have not been able 
 to make Bruno x fall deeply enough " with respect to deeds, 
 for only then true love could reveal its power and sub- 
 limity. Ah ! when the guilty to the eyes of the indiffer- 
 ent spectator disappears in the depths of his dark abyss, 
 when he has forfeited every body's sympathy and interest, 
 and when the pure and the good turn away from him with 
 horror, then it is that true love triumphantly feels its power, 
 
 1 In The, Neighbors.
 
 LETTERS. 171 
 
 stoops down to the forsaken one, seizes hold of him, and 
 does not rest until it has raised him out of the slough. I 
 know that it is so, and that this picture is true. But it 
 would have been truer and better, if I had chosen for Bruno 
 another kind of criminality. A murder would have been 
 more in accordance with his character ; but there is some- 
 thing so horrible in a murder. On the other hand, a 
 participation to a certain degree in the slave-trade may be 
 imagined without the participator necessarily being a hard- 
 ened villain, especially when his active share in such a 
 trade is soon given up, which his confession seems to im- 
 ply. It would, therefore, have been better if I had more 
 clearly defined Bruno's share in the misdeed. Some per- 
 sons have reproached me for having made Bruno finally 
 happy. But to these I can only reply, he never can be 
 happy, Avhatever he may appear to be in the eyes of others 
 (as for instance, in the eyes of the Rosenvik people). He 
 says so himself in his confession, and one feels that he 
 speaks the truth. The thunderbolt, which grazes his fore- 
 head, lightens also in his soul, and shall there lighten re- 
 proachfully till the end of his life. Conscience and mem- 
 ory are his tormentors. But he has stepped into the courts 
 of atonement. Celestial melodies will occasionally find an 
 echo in his soul, and the angel who has gained the ascend- 
 ency over his heart, will guide him to the goal. 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 29th September, 1837. 1 
 
 Dearest sister Cftarlotte and , you who have tended 
 
 our Hedda, you who have loved her so much, who have 
 
 i While my husband and I were staying at a watering-place in Ger- 
 many, our mother communicated to us her wish that we should accompany 
 my sister Hedda to Paris, to consult the physicians there about her ill- 
 ness. We hastened accordingly to meet her and my youngest sister, 
 Agatha, in Hamburg. Having found no relief, she returned after a short 
 time in a hopeless state. My husband and I were obliged to take a pain- 
 ful leave of her in Ystad, and she died a few days after her arrival ifc 
 Stockholm.
 
 172 LETTERS. 
 
 witnessed her sufferings and watched her incurable disease, 
 you will feel resigned and thankful to God, as I am, 
 when I now inform you that she has found peace ; that God 
 has taken her away from us. When I wrote to you last 
 Tuesday, she was still happy; found enjoyment in her 
 home and in the society of her family, in conversing with 
 them. Towards evening the same day her pains increased. 
 The remedies which were given to her to alleviate her pain 
 gave her no relief. The same was the case the following 
 morning ; and now began, oh, merciful God ! such horrible 
 agonies. The doctor arrived about noon. The medicine 
 which he prescribed gave her relief for a time, for which 
 we thanked God. But her strength began suddenly to 
 give way, and the pains began again. Hands and feet be- 
 came cold, and I felt that her Redeemer was approaching. 
 She suffered a great deal during the night. In the early 
 part of it, Hedda, although continually lying in bed, was 
 constantly on the point of swooning. At last she fell 
 asleep, and when she awoke she felt a heavenly joy. She 
 said repeatedly how happy she was, how free from pain ; 
 she praised God, embraced us all ; her eyes shone with a 
 loving, glorified lustre, and her frequent, deep-drawn sighs 
 seemed to announce her approaching dissolution. It came 
 at last ; but she had still moments of great suffering ; they 
 passed away, and she fell asleep peacefully and quietly like 
 a child. She died at a quarter past ten this morning. 
 Agatha has patiently and unceasingly sat like a comforting 
 angel beside her bed. Poor, dear Agatha ! Nobody loses 
 in the departed one so much as she does. Hedda is now 
 lying there so peacefully and quietly, and all her sufferings 
 
 are ended. F , who has shared with us the anguish 
 
 of these last days, like a son and a brother ; K , and 
 
 Frances, and several more, have to-day been sitting round 
 her bed, wept over her, and said how good, how amiable 
 she was. Yes, during these days she has been like an angel 
 in human shape. What she said was so full of love, of
 
 LETTERS. 173 
 
 purity, of patience, and so void of all selfishness ! Her 
 looks, her words, her tears, her submissiveness and her 
 gratitude to God, her bitter sufferings, have made an indel- 
 ible impression upon me ; and her cold, clammy hand, 
 which in her agony so often stroked my forehead, has not 
 rested there in vain. God be praised ! I say it from my 
 very heart, when I think that now she has peace. But 
 now comes the consciousness of the heavy loss, and then 
 oh ! it seems so very hard that she should have suffered sq 
 much ; and bitter, bitter tears must I weep over this. And 
 my dear Agatha : how will it be for her ? I shall endeavor 
 to be to her and to our mother all I can ; but I can never 
 be the same to them as Hedda. Dear sister and brother, 
 you have done much for Hedda ; this memory must be 
 dear to you. Farewell for this time. It looks dark in 
 more ways than one. Think with love of your 
 
 FREDRIKA. 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 4th October, 1837. 
 
 My dearest Charlotte ! Another heavy day has passed, 
 and every thing I hope will now become better and more 
 serene. Agatha even feels it so. She bears her heavy 
 loss bravely ; she is so good, so strong, both in mind and 
 in body. You remember that our Hedda always wished to 
 be buried in Solna church-yard. We have chosen a place 
 for her there. But she could not be taken out there at 
 once. A great many preparations were required, and 
 meanwhile her coffin has been placed in a vault in St. 
 James' Church. This was done the day before yesterday, 
 and yet a day so mournful made the most soothing impres- 
 sion which such a day ever can make. F had set 
 
 apart a room in our suite of apartments, and, with white 
 cloth, had arranged a kind of funeral chapel there. The 
 door opened to the dining-room, where the funeral guests 
 were assembled. In this inner room, Hedda's last bed 
 stood. There she was lying beautifully shrouded, like one
 
 174 LETTERS. 
 
 sleeping, so peaceful, so saint-like her whole appearance. 
 She had scarcely changed at all, and the light of the lamp, 
 which hung down from the top of the little vault, prevented 
 our seeing the first traces of decay, which were noticeable 
 by daylight. In her hand she held her crown of myrtles ; 
 bouquets of myrtles and heart's-ease were laid in the coffin 
 round her feet. The castrum doloris was richly decorated 
 with beautiful flowers, and the floor strewn with myrtle and 
 many flowers. It was a beautiful death-bed. It was like 
 Hedda's memory. All said that they had never seen death 
 in a more pleasing form. Tears of sincere regret were 
 wept over her. Brinckman, strange to say, wept most bit- 
 terly. On the plate at her feet was written, " Blessed 
 are the peaceful, for they shall be called the children 
 of God ; " and on the plate at her head, " Heclda Bremer, 
 her mother's and sisters' darling. Born ; died ." 
 
 After the funeral, to which only the most intimate ac- 
 quaintances and our relations were invited, F and the 
 
 K s remained with us all the evening, and it was not a 
 
 sad evening. She was free from pain, liberated, and saved 
 in the bosom of her Heavenly Father ! Oh, what a com- 
 fort it was to know this ! I cannot tell you how much com- 
 fort I especially feel at this deliverance ! Her suffering was 
 to me a chalice full of bitterness. I dreaded it, I revolted 
 against it. Her death was to me, as well as to her, an 
 opiate. Our mother's grief is deep, but she is so resigned 
 and tolerably composed. To-morrow we leave for the coun- 
 try, but return to town next week, to accompany Hedda to 
 her last resting-place. I trust that Agatha's health and the 
 tender love of her friends will enable her to keep up her 
 courage. 
 
 F has been all to us during the whole of this time. 
 Tenderly as a brother he has wept for Hedda, at whose 
 death-bed he was present ; and ever since he has been like 
 a son to our mother, like a brother to us. May you and 
 your husband reap much benefit from a journey, one half
 
 LETTERS. 175 
 
 of which has been so full of uneasiness, but which, through 
 you and Agatha, became so beneficial to Hedda. I have 
 done the least of us all for her ; but I have loved her truly, 
 and the influence she has had upon me shall never be for- 
 gotten. 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 21st December, 1837. 
 
 Now, my dear Charlotte ! I will sit down and write a tol- 
 erably long letter to you, and at the same time thank you 
 sincerely for yours. Thank God, that you and your hus- 
 band are in good health, and have good courage to en- 
 counter all the evening parties which you will have to go 
 through ! I should be terrified if I were you. But I would 
 gladly taste your delicious suppers. I declared myself de- 
 cidedly in favor of " Zampa ; " our mother was in favor of 
 the roasted blackcocks ; and Agatha, the little greedy onfe, 
 declared her desire to have a taste of every thing. 
 
 I have had the pleasure of seeing Geijer several times 
 of late. It is indeed a great pleasure to me, and I must 
 tell you all about a little fete which we had arranged for 
 him last week. I had written a little play, which was to be 
 acted by Frances, Agatha, and myself. I had procured some 
 beautiful flowers ; a few friends were invited to tea, and 
 amongst them "le heros de la fete," Geijer, who came kind 
 and cheerful, very different from what he is said to be gen- 
 erally in society. When the company had assembled, and 
 we had conversed a little while, the folding-doors to the 
 dining-room were thrown open, and there the little scene 
 was acted, of which I am now going to give you a sketch. 
 A good, but somewhat old-fashioned aunt finds her nieces 
 reading, the one Geijer's " History of the Swedes," the 
 other, his " Poems." She gives them a scolding for it ; 
 condemns ladies' reading history and poetry ; abuses Geijer, 
 and so on. The nieces defend him and his writings ; show 
 the influence of both upon the mind and upon life ; many 
 witty and many grave things are said ; and ultimately the 
 aunt allows herself to be convinced, gives her nieces per-
 
 176 LETTERS. 
 
 mission to read all that Geijer has written, and promises to 
 invite him, in order to have a chat with him over a cup of 
 tea. She goes away, and the nieces continue their conver- 
 sation for a while ; get into ecstasies at Geijer's words 
 about the aim of education, which words I recite ; they 
 wish to thank him for so much good ; get suddenly the 
 sublime idea of presenting him with the wreath which they 
 had bound in the morning, and I exclaim, " Let us imag- 
 ine that he is now sitting here before us." We go to him 
 with the wreath, and say to him (here we went up to him, 
 and I recited the following verses) : 
 
 Oh, dear to every Swedish heart, 
 
 Thou who didst thy "Memorials" write 
 
 In every spirit pure and bright; 
 What wisdom do thy lips impart! 
 Laurels thou hast for all true worth, 
 
 For every pain sweet melody, 
 
 For dissonances, harmony 
 From some far brighter home than earth. 
 
 On Swedish annals thou hast thrown 
 Fresh lustre; fame on thee she showers; 
 Thou deck'st her homes with fairest flowers, 
 
 Accept from us this floral crown. 
 
 When History on her varied pages 
 
 Has graven deep thy honored name, 
 
 When centuries have borne its fame 
 To the dim shores of future ages, 
 E'en then thy strains melodious sung 
 
 In peaceful homes, shall charm the ear, 
 
 Thy songs call forth full many a tear, 
 Thy name be blest by manj- a tongue. 
 
 "With a trembling voice I repeated the last lines. I was 
 moved, and so was Geijer ; so were we, in fact, all of us. 
 When I had finished, he put his hands upon my head and 
 kissed my forehead ; so he did also with Agatha. How 
 amiable and how full of life he was afterwards ! He played 
 some exquisitely beautiful capricios on the piano, with so 
 much fire, with so much genius, and then accompanied
 
 LETTERS. 177 
 
 Frances to some of his own charming songs. Frances and 
 her brother sang some of their beautiful Irish melodies. 
 At supper, anecdotes were told, and loud and merry rang 
 the laughter. All were happy and pleased except myself. 
 I do not know what sadness had come over me this even- 
 ing ; and although every body was kind and pleasant, and I 
 had succeeded so well, yet I could not warm either my 
 cheek or my heart. Frances had been very nervous about 
 
 her part in the scene, and K was in great fear about 
 
 his wife. When the little play was over, he was therefore 
 radiant with joy. And Frances had really acted her part 
 wonderfully well. She preached and moralized in such a 
 serious and anxious tone of voice, that one could scarcely 
 believe that it was mere acting. Geijer came the day be- 
 fore yesterday to say good-by. There is such a grand 
 and vigorous heartiness in this man ! I really love him. 
 Yesterday I heard him speak in the Swedish Academy, 
 where he presided as president, and where he addressed 
 Baron Berzelius, who appeared there for the first time after 
 his election as a member of the academy. His address to 
 Berzelius created a general feeling of delight. Unfortu- 
 nately I sat too far away to be able to follow him properly, 
 especially as he occasionally lowered his voice. Some of 
 his expressions I shall try to quote, such as I understood 
 them. He spoke of the influence which Sweden has exer- 
 cised upon the rest of the world, not only by warlike, but 
 also by peaceful deeds. " The names of the Swedish kings," 
 said he, " had gone far ; Linnets had gone farther." Turn- 
 ing to Berzelius, he said, " The whole intellectual world 
 considers your name coupled with Sweden's glory." When 
 Geijer had finished speaking, Berzelius held his inaugura- 
 tion speech, which was intended to be a eulogy on the 
 late Archbishop. This subject was rather a dry one, and 
 the speaker's eloquence not very great. Berzelius did like 
 a sensible man ; he cut the matter as short as possible. I 
 did not hear well, because he has rather a weak voice. All 
 12
 
 178 LETTERS. 
 
 I can remember was his saying that " the study of Nature 
 does not constitute so great a part of the education of youth 
 as it ought to do," and on this occasion he gave a cut at 
 Upsala University. Berzelius' entrance in the hall created 
 a universal sensation of delight. Finally a young clergy- 
 man was honored with a prize for a poem on Luther and 
 his friend Alexis, which our new Archbishop (Wallin) re- 
 cited with his fine, melodious voice. It was beautiful ; but, 
 according to my taste, the plain recital of true events has 
 far more savor and poetry in it, than verses written on 
 the subject. Exaggeration spoils truth ; and where truth 
 wanes, beauty also wanes. The Queen and the Crown- 
 Prince and Crown-Princess were present ; the hall was 
 crowded. The greatest enjoyment I had was from Gei- 
 jer, from his dignified manner and his powerful lan- 
 guage. My soul has this autumn been like a gloomy day. 
 Geijer has passed across it like a ray of the sun ; for many 
 years, nobody has made such an impression upon me as he 
 has done. I am happy to know that I shall see him again 
 in March. 
 
 TOMB, 2d March, 1839. 
 
 My dear Charlotte ! Your description of the state of 
 the young girl has touched my heart ; for her own sake, 
 and for the sake of those who speak for her, I shall with 
 the greatest pleasure do what I can. See here what I am 
 thinking of: My book, " The Home," is still in hand, and 
 not even ready to be written clean, and notwithstanding I 
 have already borrowed three hundred rix dollars on ac- 
 count of the expected profit on the same, in order to con- 
 tribute to save a respectable man, father of a family. Until 
 autumn the book cannot possibly be ready for the press, 
 and until then I have no means at my disposal. But I 
 think I can already now, without hesitation, promise you 
 three hundred rix dollars about that time, for the cure of 
 the poor girl, if required. Most willingly will they be 
 given. May it please God that some cure might be found
 
 LETTERS. 179 
 
 for the poor sufferer. Thanks, dearest Charlotte, for hav- 
 ing applied to me in this matter. May your kind exer- 
 tions on her behalf be crowned with success ! 
 
 We are all very happy to hear that your husband is now 
 so well again. It is so pleasant to be able to number you 
 amongst the happy couples in this world. I number my- 
 self amongst the happy odd ones ; I am satisfied with, and 
 grateful for, my position, my solitariness, which gives me 
 peace in my dear occupations, and for a friend so good, so 
 amiable, so gifted in point of heart and head, and perfectly 
 harmonizing with me. I am proceeding slowly with my 
 book. My anxious desire for completeness and perfection 
 induces me to do so. How much kindness have I not met 
 with on my path as an authoress ! The only way of prov- 
 ing my gratitude is to produce a better work. We shall 
 see how I succeed. Do you know, dearest Charlotte, any 
 elderly ladies, not married, kind and happy ? If so, would 
 you tell me something of them, and of what affords them 
 the greatest pleasure in this world. I have to provide a 
 few such characters in my book ; and it is good to seize 
 upon some touches of nature here and there. If my book 
 should be launched in autumn, I intend to let some minor 
 works succeed it in the course of winter. 
 
 ARSTA, 15th June, 1841. 
 
 Now, my dear Charlotte, I intended executing what I 
 have so long contemplated, namely, the great achievement 
 of writing a long letter to you, in which I shall make 
 friends and acquaintances appear higgledy-piggledy ; but 
 the fact is, ever since yesterday morning, a terrible woman 
 has been sitting here, who incessantly repeats : " Goethe 
 says," " Byron says," " Borne says," " Schiller says," etc., 
 etc., etc. And then follow such trite and commonplace 
 sayings, that every good sort of man or woman, with a 
 little common sense, could say just the same things. And 
 then she comes down upon one with quotations from
 
 180 LETTERS. 
 
 " Euphrosine," Grafstrom, Bottiger, and other poets. All 
 this has fatigued me very much. In order to refresh my- 
 self a little, I sit down to write to you, and shall begin 
 with thanking you very much for your letter of the 4th of 
 June. Ever since Whitsuntide, I have led a very active 
 and stirring life amongst a great many people, whom I 
 shall here introduce to you. First, then, comes, the Bar- 
 oness Knorring, nee Zelow, who spent the Whitsun holi- 
 days here. She is an exceedingly animated and very witty 
 lady ; but she is also, what is better than this, more cordial 
 and amiable than the majority of people, although this is 
 not observed until after a more intimate acquaintance with 
 
 . her. She resembles in this respect her own face, in which 
 there is not, strictly speaking, any thing very agreeable, 
 when the expression is listless, but in which the prettiest 
 looks, full of life and grace, are, as it were, budding out, 
 when, in the course of conversation, she becomes animated 
 with speaking or relating ; and this latter is her most 
 brilliant part. The days which she spent here with her 
 daughter made in many respects a mutually bright and 
 cheerful impression. The weather and Nature were won- 
 derfully charming, so that one felt inclined to accept the 
 
 /old popular belief that God's angels, at this time of the 
 season, soar up and down between heaven and earth, in- 
 order to impart to the latter some of the glories of the 
 former. 
 
 On the Monday after Whitsun week, our mother and I 
 went to town. There I again spent much of my time 
 with the Baroness Knorring, and I had the pleasure of 
 introducing to her several literary notabilities, such as 
 Franzen, Geijer, Brinckman, Grafstrom, which was very 
 pleasant, and afforded her great delight. Brinckman be- 
 came very animated on account of this new acquaintance. 
 He invited us to tea, together with several others ; and he 
 will certainly not fail to hover round the witty Baroness 
 during her mineral-water drinking in Stockholm. Brinck-
 
 LETTERS. 181 
 
 man and I have, after a three years' silence, commenced 
 some fire-works together. But they turn out only ashes in 
 the end. Not so my intercourse with Geijer. You, who 
 have seen him only a short time, cannot imagine what a 
 wealth of goodness, of fresh, bracing, noble life there is in 
 this man. His influence is in the highest degree invigor- 
 ating and ennobling; I do not know sometimes in what 
 way. His mere presence brings this with it. Like the 
 billows of the ocean, he is tossed, or seems to be tossed, 
 about by impulses ; but they are directed by a wind from 
 heaven, so pure, so fresh. I am very fond of him, and will 
 therefore not say any thing more of him, because I cannot 
 speak of him highly enough to please myself. But, thank 
 God, that I have made Geijer's acquaintance ! The Baron- 
 ess Knorring was very much charmed with him ; he less 
 with her, although he was exceedingly friendly, and did not 
 do what Brinckman and Franzen could not leave off doing, 
 ' tease her about her supposed authorship. Franzen has 
 got very old, and it seems as if he could not long tarry 
 here on earth. But he decays in a noble way, like the 
 temples of antiquity ; he looks well in his pallor, with the 
 poetical expression of his face, and with his gentle, patri- 
 archal manner. To me he is exceedingly kind. But, 
 now to lesser notabilities in the world of mankind, who, 
 nevertheless, in God's world may stand equally high as 
 the more prominent ones. Who ought not then to stand 
 here on the top of the ladder, but thou, honest, good 
 
 II , so firm in friendship, so faithful in the fulfilment 
 
 of all good deeds and of your duty ; although a little in- 
 tolerable when you repeat the same thing over and over, 
 making the same indifferent remarks, till from very weari- 
 ness one ceases to argue a point on which it is impossible 
 to coincide with you ; but a little harmless tediousness is 
 permitted to nag as much as it pleases : the heart is never- 
 theless in the right place, and so is the head. R is in 
 
 good health this year, and in good humor; he carries
 
 182 LETTERS. 
 
 always about with him in his pocket Franzen's lines on 
 "Strife and Peace," and a German criticism on the 
 " Sketches," and reads them out aloud wherever he finds 
 an opportunity. I am afraid, however, that it is not always 
 a propos ; but I am grateful for his kindness, and for the 
 lively interest which he takes in them. 
 
 It is said to be decided now that Jenny Lind is to go to 
 France in July. Her singing and acting in " Norma " has 
 raised her reputation still more. I attended, in company 
 
 with L , the first representation of " Norma," and we 
 
 were very much delighted with Miss Lind. Her acting 
 was so pure, so artistical throughout, with the exception of 
 two or three movements, which I think might have been 
 more impressive if they had been properly interpreted. 
 L informed me that this was Jenny Lind's first re- 
 hearsal of " Norma," as far as regarded the acting. She 
 can never act during the usual rehearsal, but leaves this 
 until the moment when she appears before the public, 
 when she often gets the most beautiful sudden inspirations. 
 
 L was really a little anxious on her account, because 
 
 she felt an aversion for this character, and did not know 
 what to make of it. He was, therefore, the more delighted 
 with her beautiful, powerful acting. 
 
 AESTA, llth February, 1842. 
 
 After about a month's stay in town, I have now been 
 allowed to return to my dear peaceful country. Amongst 
 remarkable things which happened during my stay in 
 town, I can tell you about a conflagration, which fortu- 
 nately was extinguished after having consumed the roof 
 and the garret of the house. I was that evening visiting 
 some friends, not far from where the fire was. It was a 
 splendid sight. The inhabitants of the house on fire took 
 it very coolly. Relying on the solid fire-proof flooring of 
 the attic, a gentleman was quietly sitting in a room next 
 below the burning roof, reading, with two burning candles
 
 LETTERS. 183 
 
 beside him, and holding a pitcher of water in his hand, 
 having got a promise from the chief of the fire-brigade to 
 let him know in case the fire should choose to come down 
 to him. But the fire did not come down to him ; and the 
 gentleman was left in peace with his book, his candles, and 
 his pitcher of water. 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 12th October, 1846. 
 
 From your letter to Agatha, my dear Charlotte, I see 
 that you want some detailed accounts of the last illness 
 
 and death of the Countess S ; and being now at 
 
 home, after my melancholy watching at her bedside, I will 
 give you all the information which you have asked for. I 
 had intended to write to you under all circumstances about 
 her, as you liked each other, and as her welfare or her sor- 
 rows could not be indifferent to you. You know already 
 that her mineral-water cure was succeeded by a wonderful 
 change for the better. Both herself and I, who immedi- 
 ately on my arrival in her house had almost daily both 
 thought and spoken of death, and had prepared every 
 thing to receive this guest, a guest always expected 
 with solemn feelings, although without fear, began now, 
 with real surprise, to believe that he would not arrive, but 
 that instead life and health would be restored. She said 
 several times, " I begin now myself to think that I shall 
 continue to live ; " and she was happy in this thought, be- 
 cause her mind was lively and strong, and took a warm 
 interest in every thing, the same as in her healthy days. 
 This was still the case when her relations arrived at Tomb. 
 The meeting with them was like a joyful festival. Lady 
 Stina had been very active in all the preparations for their 
 reception, and she felt herself very happy. This lasted 
 three days. On the fourth day there was an end to it. 
 After dinner she got a violent attack of illness, and pains 
 soon began, which brought on violent delirium ; and I was 
 nearly in despair. Her last moments were, however, free
 
 184 LETTERS. 
 
 from pain, and she fell asleep. During this last illness, 
 we often read psalms to her, and her dearest thoughts 
 were her reunion with the beloved ones who had gone be- 
 fore. Love and hope never left her heart Thank God, 
 that I was permitted to come and be near her during this 
 time. I would not barter the bitterness thereof for much 
 that is sweet and delightful. Above her grave heaven's 
 vault expands itself, full of bright promises of glittering 
 lights. The day of her funeral was very fine, and all went 
 off beautifully and well. She would have been pleased 
 with it herself. I left Tomb a few days after the funeral, 
 and on my arrival at Arsta I had the pleasure of finding 
 our mother and Agatha well and in good spirits, and our 
 home peaceful and happy as usual. 
 
 TOMB, 26th November, 1835. 
 
 Dearest Frances ! The thanks which so long have been 
 on my lips for your friendly lines, must at last leave them 
 and take wing. Let them also tell you, that it makes me 
 so very happy that you think of me, and that you find 
 pleasure in my epistles. 
 
 Many, many times have I intended writing to you, and 
 to speak with you about the real and the ideal, about re- 
 ligion, about morals, etc., etc. I wished to tell you my 
 views on these subjects, in exchange for yours ; but of these 
 I have always remembered something since last winter. 
 Do you remember how we then read together some pas- 
 sages out of Miss Martineau's pleasant little novel, " Briery 
 Creek ? " do you remember when strangely enough for 
 such an intelligent person she expresses the idea that 
 knowledge is the highest aim of man and of civilization, 
 and that virtue is to be considered only as a means to that 
 end ; how we both were unanimous in saying, " No ! vir- 
 tue is the aim ; knowledge only the means of attaining 
 that aim ? " But if we agree in this point, I have been 
 thinking, What in the world do we then dispute about ?
 
 LETTERS. 185 
 
 And it appears to me that it is quite unnecessary to wage 
 any war with each other, when we agree on the main 
 point. For I know that we hold the same opinions, not 
 only about the intrinsic worth of virtue, but also with re- 
 spect to its eternal origin, the source from whence the 
 veins of truth and strength well forth. We agree that 
 virtue is the highest, and that we ought to practice it, each 
 in her own path in life. Your life seems to be like an 
 endless kiss, a tender embrace, in which you give your own 
 self for the good of beloved beings ; my life does perhaps 
 span a more extensive sphere, but it is also less warm, less 
 tender, percHance less good. Indeed, yours appears to me 
 to be more beautiful ; and I think often of Byron's words : 
 
 "Many are poets who have never penn'd 
 Their inspiration, and perchance the best: 
 They felt, they loved, and died, but would not lend 
 Their thoughts to meaner beings ; they compress'd 
 The god within them, and rejoin'd the stars 
 Unluurel'd upon earth, but far more blest 
 Than those who are degraded by their jars 
 Of passions, and their frailties link'd to fame," etc., etc. 
 
 Many times, when thus I have thought and felt, have I 
 been tempted to abandon a path on which selfishness, am- 
 bition, and many weaknesses so easily steal into the heart, 
 and to choose instead a new one, which would lead to a 
 purification of the soul, and would fill the heart with love 
 and patience. But an irresistible voice has lured me on- 
 ward, has put pen and paper in my hand, and has whis- 
 pered to me, " Proceed ! " I have determined to go on- 
 ward ; but I have invited Earnestness and Love to be my 
 travelling companions, to guide, to support, and to enlighten 
 me. To you will I also confess that the life which now 
 lies before me gives me pleasure ; that the perfect freedom 
 which I enjoy to devote myself to my beloved occupations, 
 is to me like fresh, pure air, in which one joyously breathes 
 and lives. I believe that my real working-time shall now 
 begin. Much have I yet to learn, and great is my thirst
 
 186 LETTERS. 
 
 for knowledge. Man is the subject of which, before all 
 others, I shall treat. It is therefore man whom I must 
 study more closely. And I hope that Philosophy and His- 
 tory will lend me the key : Philosophy, by explaining to me 
 more in general his powers, his elements, his affinity with 
 heaven and with nature ; and History, by showing me the 
 concrete man in his doings, in all his various stages of civ- 
 ilization, in different climates, in all the changing scenes 
 of life. By these means alone I hope that I shall be able 
 to judge rightly of man, such as he is at present, with refer- 
 ence both to the general tendency of the age, and to his 
 own individuality. Man and the State are surely not chil- 
 dren born to-day. Neither have they been created out of 
 nothing. Their inner organism has its root far back in 
 antiquity; their life derives its origin from a life which is 
 beyond all time and beyond all change. It is only by con- 
 templating them in their connection with an historical past 
 and a spiritual eternity, that one can rightly understand 
 them ; that is to say, understand their heart, their inmost, 
 intrinsic, real life, and that, as a moralist, one can hope to 
 effect any good for them. I should wish to tell you much 
 about all this, if I could come to you, or could transport 
 you hither, and place you on my sofa beside me ; we would 
 then, if you did not get tired of me, have a long, long chat 
 about all this. A chat by correspondence about these 
 subjects is for me too heavy and too tedious ; therefore, 
 now to something else. 
 
 You have been in Norway, my dear Frances. You have 
 crossed the Swine Sound. You have there seen how the 
 hills, after having long followed you on the Swedish side in 
 bleak and barren undulations, suddenly rise on the borders 
 into mountains, both on the Swedish and on the Norwegian 
 frontier, their tops crowned with " evergreen," which they 
 wave, as it were, in mutual salutations, until at last they 
 sink quietly their brows into the sound, whose waters part, 
 and at the same time unite, the two countries. When I
 
 LETTERS. 187 
 
 walked up the mountain on the Norwegian side, I read on 
 some red and white painted sign-posts on the road-side the 
 word Sorgenfri (free from cares). I took this word grate- 
 fully as an omen, and did not allow some cackling geese, 
 which met me with hostile intentions, to disturb my con- 
 templations. And this word has hitherto proved itself a 
 true prophet ; for not only has my own life been as free 
 from cares and as pleasant as one could wish to have it 
 here on earth, but I fancy also that the life of the inhabit- 
 ants here is more free from cares and more fresh than in 
 Sweden. I have not seen much of it myself; but I have 
 
 heard a great deal, partly through the Countess S , 
 
 whose delicate tact rarely leads her into any mistakes, and 
 partly from the inhabitants themselves. See here what, 
 amongst other things, I have noticed : greater simplicity 
 than in Sweden, more naturalness in the social order of 
 things and in social life. Education is more generally dif- 
 fused, and consequently there exists scarcely any difference 
 of rank. Huusjomfruen (the housekeeper) prepares the 
 dinner and other meals, and then goes with la Comtesse 
 to pay visits and to balls. She says " thou " to the daugh- 
 ters of the house, and nothing happens in the family with 
 which she is not as well acquainted as every member of 
 the household, and her voice and opinion is listened to 
 in all matters. The steward at Tomb goes to dine with 
 
 Baron W , without being invited ; he occupies, as a 
 
 guest, the seat of honor at table ; the host converses with 
 him as with one equal to him in rank. They show him 
 the young ladies' embroidery ; they chat with him and he 
 dances with them, when there is an opportunity. The 
 Counts' as well as the peasants' daughters say " thou " to 
 their parents. The clergyman's daughter isfroken (lady) ; 
 whereas the daughter of a rich landed proprietor, unless 
 her father is a high military or civil officer, is simply Miss, 
 or jomfrii. Beside this humane spirit of equality, there 
 is amongst the good Norwegians a strong sentiment of
 
 188 LETTERS. 
 
 national pride, which frequently degenerates into personal 
 rudeness and dorskhed (clumsiness), which they themselves 
 turn into caricature by calling it NorsTched (Norwegianism) ; 
 and they seem ever ready to say, " Get out of my way, 
 thou ! nobody in the world is as good as I am ! " The 
 inhabitants of Trondhjem distinguish themselves above all 
 others by this spirit, and consider the name, a Tronder, the 
 highest in the world. Beyond Trondhjem, in towns sepa- 
 rated from each other by a distance of one hundred and 
 fifty to two hundred English miles, and obscured the 
 greater part of the year by a veil of darkness and cold, 
 there prevails, I understand, a higher degree of civilization 
 than in the more southern parts of Norway. " What is 
 the reason of this ? " I asked the steward here, who was 
 born in the north. " Because," said he, " people in the 
 north have so very few amusements, and they are, there- 
 fore, thrown more upon their intellectual resources ; to 
 these they must look for what makes life valuable and 
 beautiful." " But," I said, " the labor for daily bread, to 
 procure the means of existence, must be very heavy there, 
 and cannot allow much time for a more refined education ? " 
 " No, their requirements are easily satisfied. Their exten- 
 sive fisheries, which constitute their most lucrative branch 
 of trade, enable them to procure with facility all they want, 
 and their material wants are few. The majority of the 
 inhabitants are in good circumstances, and find themselves 
 happy and comfortable." 
 
 My dear Frances, does not this sound delightful ? " I 
 wonder whether the people up there in the dismal north 
 do not, after all, live a more buoyant, a better, a more hu- 
 manly beautiful life, than most of the inhabitants of turbu- 
 lent Paris, and of the great workshop London, the mighty 
 centres of art and of the civilization of the present cent- 
 ury? Thank God! little is required to live a life hu- 
 manely pure and happy. 
 
 With respect to Sweden, the temper of the Norwegians
 
 LETTERS. ] SO 
 
 is a little aigre doux. Norway regards the union with 
 Sweden with rather sour looks. Many complaints have 
 been made that Norway is not allowed to have her own 
 flag, and that in the Swedish flag, which they are obliged 
 to use, Norway is represented as a province subject to 
 Sweden. 1 But if the Norwegians are not yet quite satis- 
 fied with Sweden, they are, nevertheless, f.ir more pleased 
 at being united with the Swedes than with the Danes, 
 which latter they look down on. They are, however, most 
 satisfied with themselves, although the more enlightened 
 amongst them look upon this self-satisfaction rather as a 
 fault. History shows the Norwegians to be a brave, but a 
 turbulent and always grumbling people. Possibly the phil- 
 osophical and with it also the humanistic education, 
 which begins to be spread here more and more, may alter 
 this and produce more peaceable feelings between neigh- 
 bor families, as well as for the neighbor country. I can 
 say nothing but good of the Norwegians, as far as my own 
 experience of them goes. To me they have always been 
 most friendly. The Norwegian women especially appear 
 to me very agreeable, on account of their pleasant, lively, 
 and naive manners. One feels perfectly comfortable and 
 at home in their society. 
 
 Farewell, dearest Frances, and be happy ! 
 
 TOMB, 18th April, 1830. 
 
 My sincerest thanks, dearest Frances, for two letters, and 
 especially for the last one, so kind, so like yourself, which 
 might awaken in me a desire to write a whole volume in 
 answer to it. Let me first congratulate you on having re- 
 visited your native country, your relatives, and your friends, 
 and let me express my sincere wish and my hope that this 
 journey may give you strength and reestablish your health. 
 
 Yes, it is true that body and soul are in close connection 
 
 i This matter has, since the above was written, been satisfactorily ar- 
 ranged.
 
 190 LETTERS. 
 
 with each other. The former influences the latter, and so 
 vice versa. I have never mistaken this reciprocal influ- 
 ence ; but under certain circumstances it is good and per- 
 haps even necessary that the body should suffer, in order 
 that the soul may take a higher flight. Childhood and 
 youth ought to be carefully tended and corporeally devel- 
 oped ; but the adult, the man, who is too careful of his 
 body, his sleep, his meals, in a word of his health, will 
 never become a great man. In order to become such a 
 one, waking, working exertions of all kinds are required. 
 Theory and experience prove this. And if I must suc- 
 cumb, I will much rather do it for the sake of my soul than 
 for the sake of my body. In most cases, however, this 
 alternative is not required ; and if only the foremost word 
 in life is soul, then the second may, gladly for me, be body, 
 namely, in mature age. My disease has had, as it were, its 
 seat between body and soul ; but the real life of the latter 
 it has not touched. Even when I felt its influence most ; 
 when I felt that I was a bore to myself and to others; 
 when I was obliged to shun those dearest and nearest to 
 me, even then I could, like Gregoire (in Victor Hugo's 
 novel, "Notre Dame de Paris"), to whom somebody said, 
 " Vous etes done bien miserable et malheureux," answer, 
 "Miserable, oui ; malheureux, non." In truth, I know 
 only one thing which could now make me perfectly un- 
 happy, always supposing that I do not lose my reason. Do 
 you know what would turn my spring into winter ; make all 
 happiness a misery ; change all interest in life to dust and 
 ashes ; make my body mouldy and dried up, and make life 
 a burden to me ? If I were to lose my belief in all-loving 
 God and Ruler of the Universe, and in his perfect revela- 
 tion in Jesus Christ. Then would I go forth amongst the 
 miserable and destitute in this world, and say to them, 
 " Brethren, let us die ; life's greatest treasxire is mere van- 
 ity, and beyond that every thing is only corruption ! " and 
 I would lie down and starve myself to death. But I have
 
 LETTERS. 191 
 
 no need of saying this, for another voice has made itself 
 heard, and has lighted life's darkest riddle ; the stone has 
 been removed from the grave. Since I have gained cer- 
 tainty in this, and my belief has been firmly established, 
 I am calm. It is this certainty, dearest Frances, which 
 causes me now to contemplate the world " couleur de rose," 
 and makes my cheeks easily borrow that color. When my 
 soul's sanctuary is not encumbered by doubts, my body 
 bears buoyantly up against every thing. And it has done 
 so. I am quite well again ; at any rate much better. It 
 is true that Selters-water, repose, and my leaving off tea 
 has essentially contributed hereto ; but that which, more 
 than every thing else, has contributed to it, is that I have 
 for months drank living mineral-waters ; and this well, out 
 
 of which I have been drinking, is called Countess S . 
 
 I will not attempt to describe her to you ; you have guessed 
 her, dear Frances ; but one must know her, to be able to 
 understand what she can be to those whom she loves. We 
 have thought, talked, wept, and laughed together, and I 
 have recovered my health. Repose, solitude, country air, 
 a friend, serious and dear occupations, 
 
 " and mirth, 
 
 That humblest harmonist of cares on earth: '' 
 
 how should I not get well with all these ! 
 
 Certain it is, my dearest Frances, that, with different nat- 
 ural qualities, different dispositions and characters follow 
 different degrees of activity and happiness. But there is 
 one name that comprises all that life has most powerful 
 and most gentle, most sublime and most holy ; a name that 
 has its origin in a moment of struggle between life and 
 death ; a name which God himself once did pronounce in 
 love and in agony, and that name is mother. O Fran- 
 ces ! no other attribute and no other name can bestow what 
 this name, this attribute develops in the human heart of 
 love, of virtue, of pure self-denial, of true beauty. And 
 therefore I have prized your lot in life higher than mine.
 
 192 LETTERS. 
 
 But do not therefore believe that I underrate mine. No, I 
 thank God for it, and I will endeavor to guard against the 
 egotism and meanness which so frequently sully an author, 
 by that earnestness which grasps life in its profundity, and 
 by thinking only one thing is of importance to do good. 
 In my walk in life I shall also try to labor for the good. 
 Should I not succeed, I shall then rejoice if others succeed 
 better. That God's will be done and the welfare of man- 
 kind be promoted, that is the essential, the beautiful, and 
 the good of life. 
 
 I thank you most sincerely for your remarks about 
 " Nina." If you will let me hear some more of them, I 
 should be still more grateful to you. Your words are al- 
 ways delightful to me, and afford me many subjects for 
 reflection. You are right in saying that I ought not to 
 shrink from the severest criticism, as long as it is profound, 
 true, and enlightening. But a criticism, like that of Mr. 
 
 A n's, which is full of arrogance, superficial, bitter, 
 
 hasty, full of contradictions, neither sensible nor true, can 
 only provoke indignation. But do not fancy that my indig- 
 nation was either bitter or of long duration. It was like 
 April snow, or like the crackling of burning pine wood. 
 This unwise criticism defeats its own end, and truth is in- 
 deed not a gainer thereby. It is no easy task to be a good 
 critic. It requires a knowledge and a profundity of thought, 
 of which common critics have no idea. Fortunate it is 
 that an author has other sources than these, to which he 
 can look for light and power. The opinion of highly edu- 
 cated women is of the greatest value to me. In feeling 
 and in judgment they have a correctness which is incontro- 
 vertible, when man and what relates to him is in question. 
 "Women have been my best critics, and if I could have fol- 
 lowed their advice more I should have avoided many faults. 
 Yes, many and great faults have I made in my calling ; 
 nobody can feel this more acutely than I, and nobody can 
 be so dissatisfied with " Nina " as I am. Mr. A n was
 
 LETTERS. 193 
 
 quite welcome to exclaim " Woe ! woe ! " if he had only 
 done so in a reasonable way. But I cannot be angry with 
 him ; he meant well, and every body has his own way of 
 doing a thing. But smile I must, when I see how the 
 critics think that they can make " la pluie et le beau temps " 
 for the authoress. That which gives light to thought and 
 power to the heart does indeed not come from them. 
 
 Yes, my dearest Frances, there exists a source of happi- 
 ness and of goodness, for the soul becomes good by drink- 
 ing of it, a source which makes us independent of our 
 own fortune or misfortune, and that is philosophy ; the 
 contemplation of life, of man, of God and His works. 
 The more we therein attain coherence and clearness, the 
 more the great and the little, the past, the present, and 
 the future gain consistency in a higher light, the calmer 
 and the happier our mind becomes. Oh ! there is happi- 
 ness, devotion, bliss in this path, which only he feels who, 
 with a warm heart, has wandered along it. Malebranche's 
 " Vision en Dieu " is, rightly understood, I believe, the re- 
 sult of true philosophy, and therefore it makes me so happy. 
 Those who imagine that I here mean a fantastic sight, or 
 what we in e very-day language call a vision, understand me 
 very little. But you, Frances, will not misunderstand me. 
 
 Certainly, dearest friend, I would wish to go to England. 
 I would wish to become acquainted with the people, whom 
 you know, and whose active philanthropy has made them 
 so lovable ; I would wish to learn more to value the im- 
 portant questions, the useful and practical sciences, which 
 your native country, par excellence, works out for the ben- 
 efit of mankind. (When I say value, I do not employ the 
 right word. I can value them, because I know their tend- 
 ency ; but I should wish to understand them better.) But 
 perhaps this would not be of any importance for my real 
 development. In order to be able to work out something 
 good, one ought to perfect oneself in some special branch 
 of knowledge and ability. To do this, one must, above all, 
 13
 
 194 LETTERS. 
 
 learn to know one's real powers. I believe that I have 
 found out mine, and I am of opinion that my literary activ- 
 ity ought, to confine itself to the delineation of family life, 
 which is the nurse of the State, of eternal life, and of the 
 individual man. To portray that which makes the family 
 tie delightful and secure ; which, in all changes of life, 
 makes the individual man safe and good ; this, and the de- 
 lineation of original characters and of peculiar events and 
 circumstances, I consider to be my task, that in which I 
 ought to try to improve myself. Solitude, reflection, and 
 good books will, I believe, guide me to the goal, although 
 certainly conversations with enlightened people, and a 
 more extensive knowledge of the world, would be of im- 
 mense value to me ; but one cannot have every thing at 
 once, and for my present purpose the first-mentioned means 
 are the most important. 
 
 I may perchance not be able to see you again for many 
 years, and I wish therefore that you, who have been so kind 
 to me, and whom I value so highly and so sincerely, should 
 rightly understand me. Take, therefore, here this hasty 
 sketch of the plan of a work which, above all others, I have 
 in view ; one to which all my other works are mere pre- 
 ludes ; one which is never out of my thoughts, and for 
 which I wish to mature and to labor for several years to 
 come. It is closely connected with my views of life. But 
 remember, that I do not here propound any axioms for 
 others, but merely state my own opinion. 
 
 To man, his religious views are of paramount impor- 
 tance. Consciously or unconsciously, he regulates his life, 
 his morality, in accordance with them. Man's happiness 
 and virtue depend entirely upon the idea which he forms 
 of God, of His will and His Providence, of His relation 
 to mankind, man's own mission in the world, and his belief 
 in a future life. The best police regulations cannot supply 
 what is wanting in society, when this life-giving longing for 
 all that is good, for the knowledge of God and love of His
 
 LETTERS. 195 
 
 will, is gone. An impenetrable veil hides the truths of the 
 gospel from most people's eyes. Philosophy in our days 
 has partially removed this veil. But this philosophy is any 
 thing but popular. My sincerest wish, my earnest labor 
 shall be to make it popular. This labor shall be my last 
 will and testament. What philosophy has taught me, I 
 shall teach others, in simple language, which the learned do 
 not like, perchance cannot employ. It is mainly this : phil- 
 osophy has taught me to understand the connection between 
 the kingdoms of life ; has taught me to conceive how the 
 same mighty power is working throughout the universe, 
 although in different degrees. Above all, the philosophy of 
 history has taught me to comprehend that the voice which 
 pervades all mankind, this : " See ! I tell you a secret," 
 which in all religions has preached to man of a higher 
 Being, of a life after this, of punishments and rewards, has 
 spoken purest and clearest through Christ; that Christian- 
 ity is the only pure ore of all religions ; and that Brahma, 
 Buddha, Odin, and others, in their best doctrines have said, 
 only imperfectly and partially, what has been so beautifully 
 revealed in Christianity. And this revelation, contem- 
 plated in connection with other religious doctrines, and 
 with reference to man's nature, I intend to unfold, such as 
 I have comprehended it. But this would require a whole 
 book ; for a letter it is too much. May I one day be able 
 fully and clearly to explain all this ! Then I shall die 
 happy. 
 
 5th April, 1837. 
 
 Only a moment ago all was as gloomy, as silent, as if no 
 spring, no song existed in the world ; but, on a sudden, 
 came a little wind, which soon dispersed the clouds, and a 
 lark rose singing toward heaven. I listened to her song, 
 and I thought of you, dearest Frances, and saw in the lark 
 an image of your buoyant soul, which for a moment can be 
 oppressed by a gloomy day, but soon again soars on high 
 full of life and joys of spring. And the breath, the light
 
 196 LETTERS. 
 
 which calls it into life oh ! I know whence that emanates. 
 Be it love, be it the spring sun, or a secret, unutterable 
 hope of life and trust in the eternal goodness, still all conies 
 from Him, who fills creation with His life and His power, 
 and who awakens here on earth love, hope, life, that He 
 may one day perfect them all. Believing this, as I do, with 
 my whole heart and soul, I think, full of sympathy, of you 
 and your departed darling, your only daughter ; although, 
 while reading your letter, I wept bitterly for you both. 
 Silently to mourn for a beloved being, who has been taken 
 from us, is indeed a comfort to our feelings, and makes us 
 beforehand feel familiar with another world ; it seems to us 
 as if it were the beginning of our own impending removal. 
 " Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." 
 Agatha had in her early youth a painful dread of death ; 
 but this vanished when she saw her beloved brother Au- 
 gust die. The thought that he was expecting her in another 
 world dispelled to her the darkness of the grave. I have 
 never feared death, on the contrary ; but no thought can so 
 much sweeten my last hour as this, that I shall then be 
 again united with the friend whom I have so sincerely 
 loved ; who has been lost to me for this terrestrial life, but 
 who always lives in my heart, so good, so amiable, such 
 as the world never knew her ! 
 
 AESTA. 23d June, 1838. 
 
 You have been ill, my dearest Frances ! I will now im- 
 agine that you are lying on your couch, and that I steal into 
 your room with the wish to divert you by all kinds of prat- 
 tle. To begin with, then, a word about your brother, whom 
 we saw before we left town after our return from Upsala. 
 He was delighted : he was charmed ; not by Ole Bull, 
 whom we heard play the evening before, oh dear, no ! 
 he could at most be called " an ingenious charlatan, a fallen 
 angel ; " not by the oranges which were offered to him, 
 no, indeed, he never liked to eat oranges, especially not
 
 LETTERS. 197 
 
 this time; not by the lilies of the valley, which he was 
 allowed to smell, oh, no ! they also were to him fallen 
 angels, having now lost their original beauty ; no, but he 
 was delighted, he was enchanted at having got completely 
 drenched in a heavy shower of rain, a pleasure which 
 certainly not many envied him. Otherwise, he was agree- 
 able, kind, and interesting, as he can be when he likes. 
 
 That the Emperor Nicholas came down in the midst of 
 us like a bomb-shell, you know already long since, and you 
 have probably also heard some of the thousands of anec- 
 dotes which group themselves round this " lion," which all 
 have heard, and yet every body tells every body else. The 
 general opinion of him can be best expressed in your 
 brother's words : " He is really a man with a thoroughly 
 imperial exterior." In him one saw the personified ruling 
 majesty. But it was more the majesty of Power than the 
 majesty of Mercy. But even the former has its beauty. 
 How rich is creation ! Of all its forms, of all its revealed 
 thoughts, there is not one which does not possess its own 
 peculiar beauty. Creation is a diamond, all the facets of 
 which can be turned towards the light, reflecting its pure 
 and glittering rays. Every age, every stage of develop- 
 ment, every nation, every condition of mankind, every in- 
 dividual man carries within him this celestial ray, although 
 it is not always placed so as to be visible. Affliction 
 cannot even that call forth a peculiar beauty ; beauty, be- 
 side which all the splendor of happiness, of .health, and of 
 the world becomes pale ? The purest, the brightest ray of 
 heavenly light which I have seen, shone out of an expiring 
 eye ; on a face wasted by bitter sufferings, and already 
 darkening under death's lengthening shadows, have I seen 
 celestial bliss reflected. Like a solitary, steadily burning 
 light, this vision will follow me through life down to my 
 grave, and throw its light upon it. 
 
 But I have wandered far away from Nicholas. No mat- 
 ter ! Agatha does not much like that we speak of him ;
 
 198 LETTERS. 
 
 she prefers speaking of Upsala, and the people there who 
 she thinks are " such real human beings." I will not say 
 No to this, because it was pleasant to see so many people 
 of distinct species inwardly and outwardly, and these both 
 pleasant and amiable, each in their way and in their con- 
 tact with others. Such a merry and free social life I have 
 nowhere met with. Much kindness and hospitality was 
 shown us by every body ; we exchanged " thou " with whole 
 battalions of ladies, with girls of seventeen up to ma- 
 trons of seventy, and we felt besides quite " thou -ish " 
 with professors and with students. " Brother " Tb'rnros, 
 "Brother" Atterbom, "Brother" Fahlcrantz, "Brother" 
 Bergfalk rose spontaneously to our lips. Beautiful songs 
 we heard both day and night, and enjoyed conversation 
 and curiosities, more almost than we could digest. I can- 
 not say that I have picked up many gold nuggets of wisdom 
 in that learned city ; neither is my mind much bent upon 
 them at present. I would rather hear a story of quiet, 
 private life, with its joys and its sorrows, than listen to ab- 
 stract reflections upon times and customs and manners, 
 history, arts, and so on. 
 
 You have been in Upsala, and I cannot, therefore, tell 
 you any thing new of what is interesting there. But I 
 suppose you have not seen the fresco-paintings of Sand- 
 berg in Gustavus Vasa's chapel in the cathedral. They 
 are very beautiful, but most of them are, as it seems to 
 me, not expressive of deep thought. The chief personage, 
 Gustavus Vasa, has, in nearly all of them, not succeeded 
 well. I like him most in the painting in which he is repre- 
 sented as saying his last farewell to the assembled estates 
 of the realm. You see here the old, but still vigorous 
 king, his face pale with age and cares, but with eye full 
 of fire, feeling death's approach, and bidding a last farewell 
 to the people over whom he has ruled with force and with 
 kindness, whom he has loved and made great. You fancy 
 you hear the words which Le said on this solemn occasion :
 
 ' LETTERS. 199 
 
 " If I have done any good, give God the honor ; what I 
 have failed in, from human weakness and error, overlook 
 and forgive it for Christ's sake. Many have called me a 
 hard king ; yet a time will come when Sweden's children 
 would gladly pluck me out of the earth if they could ! " 
 These words are in golden letters on blue ground engraved 
 under the painting. It is a fine idea to let this gallery of 
 paintings round the tomb upon which the marble image 
 of the great king is lying dumb, speak of his achievements 
 and remind us of his life, his toils, and his undaunted 
 energy. Do you remember Skytte's tomb that prayer in 
 marble ; that devout eye ; those clasped hands, which thus 
 have watched and prayed for centuries ? Were I a great 
 man, I would then like to be so represented after death, or 
 not at all. Did you see Linne, where he is sitting ab- 
 sorbed in the study of Nature's book, enraptured at the 
 wisdom and the deep meaning which he reads in a tiny 
 flower ? But I must not leave the cathedral without mak- 
 ing my " reverence " to the splendid, lofty cupola. That 
 is also, as it were, a prayer, a bold, fervent approach to the 
 Most High ; a gently rising heaven under heaven. Fahl- 
 crantz said to me, " When I become peevish and irritable, 
 which happens occasionally during my toils of every-day 
 life, I know no feeling so elevating and cheering as that 
 which fills my soul when I wander under this dome." And 
 so I say farewell to the old cathedral ! Of all the remark- 
 able objects of interest, which I have seen in our little trip, 
 this is the only one which has made a grand and lasting 
 impression upon me. 
 
 ARSTA, llth September, 1838. 
 
 I thank you most sincerely, my dearest Frances, for the 
 pleasure which your letter has given me. You say, " I am 
 happy." No words have a more pleasant sound in my ear. 
 It does me so much good to hear this from your own lips, 
 and to fancy that I see your eye beaming with happiness. 
 I feel with regret that I have not been to you what I ought
 
 200 LETTERS. 
 
 to have been. It is much my own fault, arising from want 
 of calmness and clearness in expressing myself; but much 
 is also owing to circumstances. Last winter I went often 
 to see you, my soul overflowing with words, which I thought 
 would have been full of comfort to you after the loss of 
 your daughter ; for I know there was consolation and light 
 in them, light which streams forth out of the treasures 
 of the Word, but which the human soul is not always capa- 
 ble of receiving with equal life and clearness. I longed 
 to communicate with you, but you were never alone, and it 
 is impossible for me to speak on serious subjects in the 
 presence of a third person, a mere listener. We shall 
 meet again, if it pleases God, and then, I trust, in a brighter 
 and more hopeful frame of mind. Yes, oh yes ! we shall 
 again rejoice in the light which the gospel sheds over the 
 gloomiest portion of our life, of our fate. Next year I 
 shall devote almost exclusively to the study of the Bible. 
 In much I hope to gain more clearness, more coherence ; 
 but I know that many of the details will remain dark and 
 incomprehensible to me. But during this study, I shall 
 steadily adhere to one opinion ; and that is, that the Bible, 
 like all writings, has its body and its soul. The body may 
 change, may grow old, may become deformed ; yet the soul 
 will remain the same in all its main features. The written 
 word is the body ; the spirit is the soul. By rightly becom- 
 ing acquainted with the latter, we shall learn to interpret 
 the meaning truly and best, even where it has become less 
 clear from bodily defects. But I know that what is dark 
 and incomprehensible will not disturb me any more. The 
 knowledge of the wants of mankind, and a devout acquaint- 
 ance with Christ's individuality, give to his existence, life, 
 and teachings a reality, and give also a firmness to our 
 belief (namely, to a sensible, rational belief) in Him, which 
 no obscurity of occasional passages and no fit of doubt can 
 shake. And these difficulties, doubts, disquietudes, and 
 sufferings, which formerly so often have assailed me, have
 
 LETTERS. 201 
 
 now, like questions humbly waiting for reply, fallen at the 
 Redeemer's feet, patiently waiting for the hour when it 
 shall please Him to remove the veil. 
 
 TOMB, 9th March, 1839. 
 
 Your letter, my dearest Frances, has made me both sad 
 and happy ; sad, because I have so little deserved it, and at 
 the receipt thereof, I could not but reproach myself very 
 deeply for not having earlier congratulated you on the birth 
 of your little son ; happy, on account of your hearty and 
 loving words. I have often longed to speak with you about 
 life's fullness and beauty, and to share with you your happi- 
 ness in the future, which probably is in store for your chil- 
 dren. Love and purity in the home, harmony between 
 the parents : this is a blessing to the children ; it opens at an 
 early age their eyes and hearts to all that is good and noble 
 in life. Ah ! well may we rejoice at having been born in 
 this world, although here is much of evil, much of suffer- 
 ing, if we only would see that our life is an education, lead- 
 ing to perfection, under the guidance of an all -good and 
 Almighty Father ; if we would but see that it is a progress 
 upwards to a heavenly home. You know that affliction has 
 to me been a heavy burden in this world, both to my heart 
 and to my mind ; yes, it has dimmed for me all the beauty 
 of this world of ours ; but the happiness which, during 
 these latter years, I have deeply felt, has opened my eyes, 
 while the Crucified One has reconciled me to the sufferings 
 on earth, or has chased away its darkness and bitterness, 
 through the light which He has shed beyond the grave, 
 beyond all earthly darkness, sorrow, and affliction. There 
 is a last and highest court to which mankind can appeal for 
 the solution of all life's enigmas ; a Judge to whom we can 
 refer those cases on which no earthly tribunals can give a 
 verdict. But that One is all sufficient. With our eyes 
 steadily fixed on Him, we can confidently wander through 
 life, rejoice at the good, and, each in our way, add our mite
 
 202 LETTERS. 
 
 thereto. Pleasing in the highest degree, indeed, is the fer- 
 ment of the times in which we live : the development 
 of the state into a constitutional society ; a development 
 founded upon the spirit of Christianity, of liberty, and 
 equality, and which makes every individual, every talent, 
 every power valuable and useful in the whole. Christ is 
 the first originator of true liberalism. He made religion 
 popular, and with it and through it also every other good 
 teaching and wisdom ; for if all human beings are in reality 
 the children of the same Father and equal before Him, 
 then they also have all an equal right to enjoy the blessings 
 which the genius of man can create. Is it not this knowl- 
 edge which, after and through many long and sanguinary 
 conflicts, permeates the age and reorganizes society ; 
 erects schools ; instructs the children of the poor ; spreads 
 amongst all classes the results of scientific researches ; re- 
 sounds in the chords of poetry's lyre (the whole of the 
 modern literature of romance is but a lay, a development 
 of the moral truths, which flow out of this one great truth) ; 
 draws nearer to each other master and man ; unites more 
 closely parents and children ; eradicates hateful prejudices 
 and humanizes the world ? Long life, therefore, to print- 
 ing-presses, steamboats, and all such inventions, for they 
 are the heralds of ideas ; and, above all, long life to the 
 ideas themselves, the great, the noble, I mean ; to their 
 organs, mankind ; and, above all, praise to the Great and 
 the Good, who sends them ! This was a wide embrace, my 
 dear Frances ; but such a one is sometimes wanted, to be 
 able heartily to embrace also what is little within our own 
 little world and sphere of activity. In contemplating this 
 great institution, the world, we can better understand our 
 own place there, our mission and our children's, be they 
 human beings or books. 
 
 For my next work I want a vignette, representing a 
 butterfly fluttering over its chrysalis. The world-life in 
 all its forms, has no truer image of its reality, its essence.
 
 LETTERS. 203 
 
 The chrysalis this body of earth's dust, which envelops 
 and fetters Psyche's wings that it is which binds, which 
 impedes, which burdens you and me and most people. 
 The chrysalides of home are the household cares with 
 all their concomitant difficulties and hardships. I know 
 many married women, who, like yourself, endure and man- 
 age these against their inclination, from a mere sense of 
 duty and necessity ; but to you, as well as to them, the 
 thought must be very encouraging and consolatory under 
 all the moments devoted, to all appearance uselessly, to 
 speculations about eating and other household duties, that 
 it is only under this chrysalis that home's Psyche can de- 
 velop herself. But I hope meanwhile that in future 
 this machinery of life may be simplified and made more 
 easy. This would be especially desirable for our mothers 
 of families here in the North. Be this as it may, our soul 
 becomes materialized from too much occupation with the 
 material. 
 
 18th May, 1839. 
 
 True it is that a mother, a housewife in Sweden, is 
 obliged, more than in southern countries, to devote herself 
 to practical life in her house and in her home provided 
 she wishes to fulfill her duties and that she must deny 
 herself, comparatively, many of the enjoyments of intel- 
 lectual life and of the fine arts. And if human worth 
 consisted in these, or if they essentially contributed to the 
 development of our eternal nature, then it would be a hard 
 fate to be a wife and a mother in Sweden. But it is not 
 so. That which really constitutes human worth is moral 
 virtue and an ' exalted mind ; it is only this which unites 
 man with God ; which gives the rank of citizen in His 
 kingdom here on earth and in heaven. Oh ! my dear 
 Frances, this was always a delightful thought to me, and 
 this doctrine of Christianity, which equalizes all ranks on 
 earth, which weakens the power of all external contingen-
 
 204 LETTERS. 
 
 cies, this it was that from my earliest youth drew me to the 
 gospel, already before I understood all the depth, all the 
 happiness, contained in its "joyful message." You see, 
 dearest friend, that it is this which makes the poor fisher- 
 man, the simple peasant's wife, quell what is evil in their 
 propensities and in their nature, in order to follow Christ's 
 teachings, and thus stand nearer God than the greatest 
 philosopher and the most distinguished scientific man in 
 the intellectual circles of London or Paris, if these do not 
 also overcome their sinful nature, their pride, or other evil 
 passions which may possess them. If now we contemplate 
 woman's position in our Swedish homes, we shall find it 
 brightening more and more, when we consider that the 
 practical life in the same, the relation between parents, 
 children and servants and others, tends more to develop 
 people's moral virtues than books and all the intellectual 
 education in the world. From this, however, I except 
 Christian knowledge, which comprises the wisest doctrines 
 of the past and present times relating to God and man, 
 and which knowledge we stand in need of in order to live 
 as we ought to do. This knowledge we all gain, in the civ- 
 ilized world, directly or indirectly through the gospel ; for 
 all the state, society, literature, etc., etc., is now founded 
 upon Christianity, and almost all of us know what we 
 ought to do. But these moral duties are not easy to fulfill ; 
 moral goodness and nobleness is difficult to attain, sur- 
 rounded as we are by sinful fellow-creatures, and in our 
 contest with them and with our own faults and weaknesses. 
 How deeply have I not felt and do I not feel this in my own 
 weak and restless soul ! It is only Christianity's doctrine 
 of God ; of His love to us ; of what He has done for us 
 and intends doing with us ; it is only the love for Him, which 
 is a result thereof in our hearts ; only prayer, through 
 which we approach Him and experience the affinity of His 
 spirit with ours ; it is this only, which can strengthen 
 our desire to practice what is really pure and good ; which
 
 LETTERS. 205 
 
 can create within us the harmonious frame of mind, from 
 which emanates meekness, tolerance, patience in a word 
 all the virtues of Christian love, which give peace to our 
 own heart ; make our home pleasant ; our nearest and 
 dearest happy ; and which opens for us, after this life, the 
 heavenly home, where harmonies resound, more beautiful 
 than those with which Mozart's Genii in the " Magic 
 Flute " enchant our ear, as a foretaste of the eternal har- 
 monies. The songs of the Genii in the " Magic Flute ! " 
 Yes, if any thing can give us an idea of Paradise, it is that 
 music. How well I understand the feeling that has been 
 awakened in your soul ; such sensations I have myself 
 often experienced during the preludes of the organ in our 
 churches, before the hymn was sung. There is something 
 so sweet and earnest in these melodies, quite separate from 
 earthly joys, but which tells me of the joys of the blessed 
 in heaven. 
 
 26th August, 1839. 
 
 "Well now, my lazy hand ! take up the pen, for I must 
 tell my dear Frances what I have been busy writing to 
 her every day in my thoughts. Yes, what was it all 
 about ? Indeed, I can now only remember your own words 
 in your last letter : " What a happiness it is to love ! " for 
 these words have haunted me continually during all this 
 time of sorrow as well as happiness. Yes ! to love that 
 is happiness, that is bliss, that is life's summer. How well 
 do I not feel the truth of St. Theresa's words about the 
 wicked : " The unhappy ! they do not love." Could we but 
 always love first God and then our fellow-men. Yes, 
 then life would not be weary. Oh, Frances ! He who re- 
 vealed God, our Creator, as Love, and who ordained that 
 love for Him and for our fellow-men should be the law of 
 our life, should be the condition for gaining eternal life, 
 eternal bliss and fullness, has He not at the same time 
 given us the surest guide to attain eternal bliss. Indeed ! 
 He is the best teacher how to gain happiness. How have
 
 206 LETTERS. 
 
 I not felt Him to be so, not only in my heart, but also in 
 my home. But I ought to speak, not to write about this. 
 About this : " What a happiness it is to love," I said the 
 other day in a few words to the good, honest Agren. You 
 would have embraced him if you had seen the indescrib- 
 able expression of love which spread over his honest face, 
 while tears rolled down his cheeks, when he said, " that 
 to love certainly gave happiness, but that it also caused so 
 much pain, so much suffering, that it is quite dreadful." 
 Alas ! it may be so ; but also this suffering has its sweets. 
 It does not embitter, it ennobles. Our soul does not be- 
 come mouldy under it ; it becomes invigorated and soars 
 heavenward. 
 
 And now let me speak of what has called forth this 
 paraphrase of your words. Agatha has been very ill. 
 Our mother and I have been exceedingly uneasy on her 
 account, and yet, in the midst of our distress and our anx- 
 iety, we felt peace, aye, had even many happy moments, 
 because we loved one another and felt it then so warmly. 
 Now, when our Agatha, after nearly three weeks' painful 
 illness, is again restored, we feel so happy, and cannot say 
 gratefully enough : " God be thanked ! " and she is now 
 more than ever every body's in the family " little lady ; " is 
 lauded to the skies for every morsel which she eats ; is 
 protected against every puff of wind, and is fondled and 
 petted in every way. Yet, I have never found her to be a 
 more earnest and amiable creature than just now. 
 
 9th September, 1839. 
 
 Only a few words to-day, my dearest Frances, to thank 
 you most sincerely for your letter of the 30th of last month, 
 and to tell you, that those who here love you so warmly 
 sympathize with you in the loss of your friend, and long to 
 see you well and happy again. Happy ! yes certainly, for 
 the departed one was, as you say yourself, prepared, and 
 thus she lives and will love you in the better world which
 
 LETTERS. 207 
 
 God has prepared for those who are His own. The death 
 of a good person, has to me something beautiful in it, be- 
 cause I look upon death in the light of Christianity ; as 
 a transition from this to another life for those who are 
 good to a higher existence. I do not wonder, dearest 
 Frances, that the doctrine of the atonement is still so often 
 obscure to you, for I know from my own experience how 
 deeply rooted in our mind are the notions which we have 
 been imbued with in childhood and in youth, and how 
 difficult it is to divest ourselves of them, notwithstanding 
 that they so often appear unsatisfactory and dark. I 
 wish that I could express my thoughts so that they found 
 an echo in your heart. I shall endeavor to do so, if you wish 
 it, when I have more leisure and peace. I shall now only 
 remark, with regard to the 6th chapter of the Gospel of 
 St. John, that Jesus himself divests his words of all ma- 
 terial interpretation, when in the 63d verse He says : " It is 
 the spirit that quickeneth ; the flesh projiteth nothing ; the 
 words that I speak unto you, they are spirit and they are 
 life" Blood, in the Hebrew, and in many languages, is 
 equivalent to life ; bread signifies doctrine. Jesus represents 
 Himself here as the bread of life, by His life as well as by 
 His doctrine. With everlasting life is here and everywhere 
 in the Scriptures not meant eternal life, with reference to 
 space of time (for even the wicked have thus eternal life), 
 but the real, full, blissful life ; in a word, God's, the Eternal 
 life. Our Saviour says in this chapter : " The bread 
 (manna) which feedeth the body is not heavenly food, and 
 saves neither from spiritual nor from bodily death " (the 
 hardened sinner is said to be spiritually dead), "but I, 
 my life (blood,) my doctrine (bread,) am the true bread 
 which cometh down from heaven and giveth life." This 
 new life (God's life, eternal life) by which man gains 
 strength to overcome his evil passions, to become purer 
 and more loving, Jesus has grafted on the world ('< I am 
 the vine and ye are the branches") by His life, and His
 
 208 LETTERS. 
 
 doctrine of His revelation of God's heart and will, and 
 our relation to Him and to the next world. By graft- 
 ing that life on the world, upon us, He has reconciled 
 the world and us with God, or, according to the words of 
 St. Paul : " God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto 
 Himself." When He makes us good, He takes away our 
 sins. Christ's justification consists therein, that He makes 
 us justified. All moments in the life of Christ, His temp- 
 tation and His transfiguration on Mount Tabor, His death 
 and his resurrection, are moments of this great work of 
 atonement, because they all affect beneficently different 
 moments of our life. 
 
 I have frequently been astonished at the innumerable 
 different ways of understanding and of explaining the 
 doctrine of the Atonement, ever since the introduction of 
 Christianity until this day, and at the great number of 
 sects, each explaining their belief in a different way, and 
 still all calling themselves Christians, and I have come to 
 
 O * 
 
 the conviction that this must be so. These disparities are a 
 consequence of people's different intellectual capacities 
 and different experiences in life. There must, in conse- 
 quence of Nature's manifold creative powers, be found 
 turnips and apple-trees, lichens and cedars, in the world 
 of mankind, as well as in the world of Nature. If only 
 each species tries to gain the benefit of light, so that its 
 fruits can ripen and become good, then also is each species 
 good. But there are plants and herbs of lower and of 
 higher degree ; and there is also a profound as well as a 
 superficial way of explaining Christianity. But Christianity 
 has also this resemblance to the sun, that the little as well 
 as the great drink life out of it Nobody can sound the 
 depths of Christianity without having first dived into the 
 depths of life ; but even the most superficial thinker, the 
 most shallow natures, can from some one of its rays gain 
 light and strength enough for life. It is the river " through 
 which the lion can swim and the lamb walk."
 
 LETTERS. 209 
 
 Pardon this rhapsody. I shall be able to write better 
 another time. Oh! that I could clearly enough express 
 the truths which I acknowledge ; I am then sure that your 
 heart and your reason would find peace therein. Man's 
 wants also in this respect are different. May each one 
 find what he needs, and may every body (for this is the 
 most essential) follow the doctrine of Christ, and he will 
 then come to His " eternal life" I have lately heard Mr. 
 
 T 's and Agren's confessions of religious faith. What 
 
 contrasts ! and yet how they agree as followers of Christ. 
 They shall therefore be left in peace by me, although I 
 find the former's views of God and His revelation so de- 
 plorable, and the latter's so unsatisfactory. But may I be 
 found worthy one day to meet them in the mansion of our 
 Father. 
 
 AKSTA, 2d October, 1840. 
 
 Dearest Frances ! After having read your letter, which 
 I received last Wednesday evening, I thought to myself, 
 now I will at once sit down to write, because it would be a 
 great shame if a solitary dweller in the country, who has 
 nobody else to take care of but herself; nothing to look at 
 but fields and phlegmatic oxen ; nothing to manage but 
 her goose-quill, I say it would be a great shame if she 
 could not find time to write a pertinent letter, when the 
 wife of the chief of a government office (a government 
 office chiefess ? ), residing in the capital, who has to cut 
 a figure in the world ; give grand dinner and evening 
 parties ; be wife to her husband ; keep a watchful eye upon 
 four boys ; upon the debates in the House of Nobles ; 
 upon erring fellow-men ; and upon the improvement of 
 the world, etc., etc., and having all this to attend to, still 
 can find time to delight her friends with her letters, 
 
 Now, my dearest Frances, attention ! I shall now come 
 with a really fine and polite Swedish phrase : " How de- 
 lighted I am not to be in your clothes," which means, 
 how pleased I am not to have your responsibilities in the 
 14
 
 210 LETTERS. 
 
 vortex of the world, because I should find myself utterly 
 unfit for it and lost. But do not think that I pity you. No 
 such thing! I might perhaps say to you, when you are 
 fatigued in body and soul : " Oh ! how sorry I am for you, 
 my dearest Frances ; " but I do not pity you on account of 
 the life which you are leading. It is really so ordained in 
 this world, that in every direction, and in every position in 
 life, one can improve one's self, and develop a peculiar 
 beauty and excellence. And she who lives in the great 
 world, active in all domestic duties, gains thereby strength, 
 assurance, aplomb, and ability, which the solitary one never 
 attains, even if she could get into her head all the books 
 which she collects round her in her silent and quiet little 
 home. She can also develop herself, and work good in 
 her own way and in her retirement ; but she would miss 
 much of what is gained in a more stirring, outwardly more 
 practical, life. It makes me happy to feel how every one 
 can go onwards in his own path. All depends upon going 
 forward in the right direction. The retired study has its 
 dangers, its temptations, as well as the salons of the great. 
 One can become dried up in the former, whilst in the lat- 
 ter one evaporates. All roads have their by-roads. It is 
 therefore necessary that we should take with us the proper 
 guide. My sincerest thanks for your encouraging words 
 about my " children." I wish only that I could properly 
 execute what I intend and ought to do. But it is with 
 books as with deeds. We know what is right, but we are 
 not able to achieve it. Frequently, when I have finished 
 some book, I feel with anxiety and a kind of pain how 
 much of it I could have done better. In order to console 
 myself, I look forward to the future and to new works. I 
 wonder whether I shall be more pleased with them ? 
 
 What you say of our Swedish Psalm-book delights me. 
 Its compiler has well deserved Tegner's eulogy : 
 
 " The merits of Wallin sure we may all discuss, 
 He 's yet a psalm-book in advance of us."
 
 LETTERS. 211 
 
 Do you know the psalm, No. 201 : " Create in me, O 
 God, a heart, which holy is and good and pure ? " It is 
 my favorite morning-psalm; and the splendid invocation, 
 No. 131 : " Holy Spirit, Spirit of Truth," I know no 
 words which flow more naturally from heart and lips in 
 solitary and agitated moments. Besides, I think that 
 psalms ought to be an outpouring of the heart, either 
 imploring or praising; but not long self -meditations, 
 which so many of our psalms really are. For such, prose 
 is more suitable. Psalms are prayer's efflorescence ; and 
 prayer is the soul's flight upwards to bloom in heaven. 
 Prayer is the conductor by which we put ourselves in con- 
 nection with eternal life's current of light, which thereby 
 being drawn to us, elevates and animates (electrifies) us. 
 Therefore prayer is of such great importance, and so 
 strongly commended in our Christian religion, and without 
 it namely, prayer in the spirit of Christianity no 
 thorough improvement is possible. It is a true and beau- 
 tiful saying of one of the fathers of the Church : " Prayer 
 will either make us abandon sin, or sin will make us 
 abandon prayer." . . . 
 
 ABSTA, 12th January, 1841. 
 
 For a long time I have been writing to you in my 
 thoughts, my dearest Frances. When I was last in town, 
 we had never an opportunity of saying all that we had to 
 say to each other. Sometimes one is not in the vein, and 
 then there is no help for it. I was also, I know not why, 
 morally shut up. The soul and the mind have their winter 
 as well as their spring ; and it is sad that increasing age 
 often spreads a benumbing snow-covering over the mind. 
 In youth we are often on the point of melting from mere 
 feeling ; in old age we are often in danger of congealing to 
 ice ; and the last danger is greater than the first. We 
 find a remedy against it in the gospel, in the sun, and in 
 good, noble-minded people. Warmed by such spirits of
 
 212 LETTERS. 
 
 spring, we again begin to thaw. What a delightful sensa- 
 tion it is to thaw under silent tears of love, under happi- 
 ness, or gentle sorrow. It is like the sweetest music. 
 
 Why do we, in all descriptive sketches of heaven and of 
 the realms of bliss, always find something resembling 
 music ? Because music only can interpret the unspeak- 
 ably deep and sweet in human feeling, the melting har- 
 mony, the transition of the soul, or rather its glorifica- 
 tion, in an element of the purest love and beatitude. 
 Surely you and your husband will one day sing the song 
 of the blessed together in harmony's perfect world. 
 
 When I was last with you, you did not then sing in con- 
 cert together ; each of you had your own part ; but they 
 were somewhat discordant in a question respecting anger, 
 and whether this feeling was blamable and ignoble or not. 
 I remember that we have sometimes spoken on this sub- 
 ject ; and I will now make a fair copy, of which I then 
 made a rough one. 
 
 I believe that anger, like any other affection or impulse 
 of the soul, has its truth and its good. It is the violent 
 protest of the sense of right and justice against what is 
 wrong and unworthy. Such is anger in its purity in 
 God. In its impurity it is a violent outbreak of the mind 
 against every thing which wounds its opinions and will, be 
 this what it may. And when you, my dearest Frances, 
 said, " I do not think that I am sinning when I get angry," 
 I side with you, provided your anger is just, that is to 
 say, directed against what is wicked and bad. But when 
 your husband says : "We never act so prudently when we 
 are angry, as when we are calm and collected ; we are 
 generally carried away from what is reasonable, and let, in 
 our passion, the guiltless suffer with the guilty ; " then I 
 place myself beside him, humbly giving him right ; and 
 thereupon I place myself between you two, and wish to 
 decide the question thus : 
 
 There is a noble and an ignoble anger. There are
 
 LETTERS. 213 
 
 moments and situations in life when one requires a burst 
 of anger, to be able to grapple powerfully and lend justice 
 a strong helping-hand. But such moments come seldom ; 
 and the danger of falling, in the annoyances and little 
 vexations of every-duy life, from a noble into an ignoble 
 anger, is so great, that we ought to do all we can to govern 
 and conquer, this emotion and its eruptions. When our 
 Saviour, in noble wrath, thundered his anathema against 
 the hypocritical Pharisees, He knew what He did. But we, 
 weak, narrow-minded beings, often know not what we are 
 doing when our feelings are agitated. A noble, high- 
 minded character ought, therefore, not to quell any of the 
 feelings which the Creator has interwoven with his nature ; 
 but he ought so to rule and direct them, that, like the 
 waves in a river, they fertilize its banks without inundating 
 them. 
 
 And now to something more trivial. "Whilst you, Fran- 
 ces, are waging a war here and there in the world, we spin 
 out life here in quiet and peace. I begin now firmly to 
 believe that, for Agatha's sake, we could not have come to 
 a better determination than to remain at Arsta over the 
 winter. I did not believe this last autumn ; but in all 
 transitions from one condition to another, there arises usu- 
 ally some suspense, something wavering ; in a word, some- 
 thing uncomfortable. So it is in the autumn, within as well 
 as out of doors, when we have to pass from summer into 
 winter. When we are tacking, the sails hang shivering 
 uneasily until they are again caught and swelled out by the 
 wind. Thus it was with us last autumn. We have now 
 tacked about ; our sails are again caught and filled, if not 
 by a strong, at all events by a steady and gentle breeze. 
 We are bounding along, and ever and anon we call out, 
 " All 's well ! " During day-time I am left much alone ; 
 but in the evenings I read aloud to our mother and Aga- 
 tha, until we take our little " tea-supper," and soon after 
 bid one another good-night. Agatha and I then chat
 
 214 LETTERS. 
 
 together until, very quietly, we fall asleep. It is a great 
 pleasure to me to converse with Agatha, about any thing. 
 " Vivent les gens d'esprit ! " It is refreshing to live with 
 somebody who can understand every thing, and who is 
 always ready prepared with sense and wit, especially when 
 this is joined to real goodness. With the truly good and 
 the truly sensible we inhale fresh air, and if even now and 
 then we should come upon small stumbling-blocks, we do 
 not run against or stick fast upon them. 
 
 You are on a sailing-excursion very unlike ours (Heaven 
 knows how I have managed to get out to sea, from whence 
 it seems as if I could not come back). Yours is more ex- 
 citing, but also more unquiet. Your four boys occasion 
 many contrary winds, and you sail amongst reefs and 
 sunken rocks. But while love and good sense are at the 
 helm, you have a prosperous voyage, and I am sure that 
 after a heavy day, you exclaim in the silent hours of night, 
 gratefully, " All 's well ! " and then I would join with you 
 in a " Thank God ! " for it is His spirit in the heart of 
 man which leads them victoriously through dangers and 
 difficulties. 
 
 But I must now make for port with my epistle. I em- 
 brace you in thought and beg you to remember me kindly 
 to your husband. 
 
 ABSTA, 13th July, 1841. 
 
 "You say, my dearest Frances, that you feel yourself 
 getting older, and feel the consequences thereof. I also 
 have for some years (and I am a couple of years older 
 than you are) distinctly felt within me this transition to an 
 advanced season in life. I have welcomed and blessed it. 
 It does me so much good to feel the cooling evening breeze 
 fan my temples and my heart ; to feel how it gains more 
 and more peace and calmness, and I thus look at life with 
 a clearer eye. This autumn of life is dear to me. Its sun 
 is less scorching and often brighter than summer's sun,
 
 LETTERS. 215 
 
 which is sometimes dimmed by hot exhalations. If friends 
 have departed this world, they have taken our heart with 
 them to a better home ; if many an enjoyment has with- 
 ered away, other and new enjoyments have come in their 
 stead, and many, many sufferings have ceased. Thus at 
 all events have I found it. Yes, the autumn of life can be 
 a genial, a rich age ; one must only guard against frost.. 
 That is the danger in this season, and earth's best flower 
 our heart is then in as great a danger of being frost- 
 bitten as are earth's more humble and more material chil- 
 dren. But for a mother and happy wife this danger is not 
 very great. Round her beat hearts in loving unison with 
 her's, and her's cannot then be chilled. Greater is the 
 danger to her who stands comparatively alone. The only 
 remedy is love. And this feeling can inspire every heart 
 which longs for it, because a heart forever warm beats in 
 the centre of the universe, with which we all can have 
 communion. 
 
 ARSTA, 28th September, 1841. 
 
 Oh ! if my dream should be realized, my dearest Fran- 
 ces, your little boy would then be in a fair way of recov- 
 ery. I dreamt that he upset me in one of his lively gam- 
 bols. I long so much to hear how he is, and I hope the 
 best for your and your husband's sake, for otherwise I do 
 not grieve when people are dying. I have always looked 
 upon the coming of death as a deliverance from one evil 
 or another, so that in my mind death is deeply connected 
 with my idea of something desirable and tranquilizing. I 
 know, however, that it is not always so, and I have to-day 
 had an instance of its bitterness. A young woman here 
 has lost her husband, with whom she lived most happily. 
 It was very touching to hear her subdued and deep wail- 
 ing : " Alas ! that he should go away from me in my 
 youth ! Many bitter tears do I weep every night, when 
 the others " (the wives of the other laborers on the estate) 
 " meet their husbands coming home ; but no husband
 
 216 LETTERS. 
 
 comes to me. And how happy we were when he came 
 home in the evening from his work ! He was the best of 
 husbands ; we lived so happily together. Indeed, it could 
 happen, as it does sometimes happen between husband and 
 wife, that we did not quite agree, and sometimes he would 
 take a glass of brandy ; but never was I afraid when he 
 opened the door ! " This last sentence touched my heart. 
 I found it so characteristic of the relation in married life, 
 and I remembered what you told me, and what you feel 
 when you hear your husband's steps at your threshold, and 
 how I have seen less happy wives turn pale and look fright- 
 ened, when they have heard their husband's footfall near 
 the door, and heard their hand touch the handle of the 
 lock. I wept with the poor bereaved one, whose door will 
 not again be opened by the loved one's hand ; whose 
 threshold will not again be touched by the foot of him 
 who was the light of her heart and the prop and stay of 
 her life. And then the three little children, who always 
 asked when their u daddy " is coming home again ! 
 
 But the same woman, who so deeply bewailed her hus- 
 band, had but a moderate love for her children. Once last 
 summer she declared openly her conviction that her young- 
 est boy a fine little fellow had brought misfortune 
 over her, " because when he was born, her pig died." I 
 moralized her a little for seeing things in this light, and 
 told her that she ought to look upon the boy as a compen- 
 sation for the pig ; but I doubt much that I succeeded in 
 altering her view of the case. 
 
 ABSTA, 4th, October, 1841. 
 
 I have heard through F , my dearest Frances, that 
 
 God has taken away your little boy, and I hasten to town 
 to-morrow, to be with you and your husband, and to tell 
 you what I feel for you in my heart. Alas ! there is only 
 one word of comfort ; as for every thing sorrowful in this 
 world there is only one great consolation the conviction
 
 LETTERS. 217 
 
 that over us all, and for us all, rules a good and loving 
 Father, almighty and all-good. With Him is your son, 
 and there you shall one day see him again. 
 To-morrow I shall be with you. 
 
 1841. 
 
 Dearest Frances ! It made me very unhappy on read- 
 ing your letter, to find you grieving so painfully. You do 
 not feel in these hours of anguish and bitterness the secret 
 blessing which invisibly rests upon you, like a Father's 
 loving hand placed upon your down bent head ; but in 
 your calmer moments you must see it. Your own words 
 bear witness to the holy power of the hours of suffering. 
 Let me quote them out of your last agitated letter : " My 
 dearest occupation now is to read about religious subjects, 
 and to contemplate the same. They so absorb my thoughts 
 that, for the moment, I forget my grief at the loss of our 
 boy, in the happiness which I feel in trying to look up to 
 him." 
 
 This and your hopeful words of belief and trust, do 
 they not tell your soul that which must assuage its grief; 
 which must let you see that you are under the guidance of 
 a higher power, under the care of an earnest but loving 
 Father. Alas ! it must be so for you, for me, for all of us, 
 that when the bitter cup is held to our lips, we must drain 
 it, even with tears drain it submissively, and must say 
 in our deepest anguish : " Father ! if it is not possible 
 that this cup be removed from me, without I drink it, Thy 
 will be done ! " While I am writing this, my tears are 
 flowing and make my words dim. I remember only too 
 well, how in my hours of temptation, I could not say these 
 words, on account of the bitterness of my rebellious heart. 
 Now, I think, I could do it. 1 know that when the victory 
 has been gained, come the angels heavenly messengers, 
 heavenly powers to administer to man ; and I know well 
 from my own experience the developing and beneficial 
 power of suffering. I know that " much bread is growing
 
 218 LETTERS. 
 
 in the winter's night," and one day also you will verify 
 this. 
 
 15th October, 1841. 
 
 I do not know whether, at this moment, you are inclined 
 for any deeper meditations. A suffering mind is -often 
 more pained than soothed by contemplating abstract sub- 
 jects. But I will lay before you only one reflection, which 
 I think is full of consolation. You spoke last of the 
 " natural religion," and of your intention to adhere to it, as 
 the true one. But tell me, dearest Frances, what comfort 
 could you derive from it in the present case ? What 
 answer could it give you to your questions about your little 
 child ? Would it not answer : God is great and wise. 
 He has in his wisdom ordained, that a certain number of 
 individuals shall be born and that a certain number shall 
 die every year amongst the species inhabiting the earth, 
 be they sparrows or human beings ; because for the main- 
 tenance and improvement of the species the individuals of 
 each must be sacrificed ; for the benefit of the whole the 
 individual must give way. God is great ! 
 
 Hear now revealed religion in the words of Christ : 
 God is great and good. His eternal laws of order 
 govern the world in the great as in the little ; in the gen- 
 eral as in the minute. While generations are continued 
 upon earth, the individuals disappear from it, but not from 
 the kingdom of God's love. " No sparrow falls to the ground 
 without your Father's will and knowledge. And man 
 is of more value than many sparrows. But the very hairs 
 of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not therefore 
 misery or death, for God is love." Oh ! my dear Frances, 
 is not this a more consolatory doctrine and more worthy 
 our higher notions of God ? So also is every thing in re- 
 vealed religion, which is the fulfillment and perfection of 
 the natural religion. 
 
 7th November. 
 
 Suffering and anguish have long appeared to me as the
 
 LETTERS. 219 
 
 dark genii of life. Not so now. I have seen that they 
 can be life's good genii. They become so to us, if with 
 deep and energetic confidence, we cling to the power, to 
 the Father, " who smites and who heals, and who out of 
 the very wounds creates minds open to receive Him." I 
 shall never forget an expression, which I heard more than 
 fifteen years ago, at a time when, in consequence of my 
 own state of mind, I sympathized, with a painful feeling, 
 with every suffering in the world, even with that of the 
 innocent brute creation. Of the injustice of this latter, I 
 said something during a conversation which I had with a 
 man, who used to converse with me on the commonest 
 every-day topics. I cannot describe the expression of his 
 calm, blue eye, and the tone of voice in which he an- 
 swered : " I should not wish that any created being should be 
 exempt from the capability of suffering." He did not say 
 any thing more on the subject, for I did not understand 
 him. Since then I have learnt to comprehend the mean- 
 ing of these words ; comprehended it from my own ex- 
 perience, and am now inclined to think, that suffering is a 
 prerogative in life. Without penetrating into the depths 
 of suffering, into its bitter " Gethsemane," we cannot climb 
 bright and blissful heights. He who cannot suffer, cannot 
 enjoy. But all depends upon, that we should let suffer- 
 ing purify and ennoble the soul. This cannot come in 
 question with respect to the sufferings of animals, but their 
 suffering is distantly connected with a final atonement, 
 concerning which I cannot now unfold my ideas. I will 
 merely add, that according to the spirit of Christianity, it 
 is through hope, and not through despair, that suffering 
 works upon man. 
 
 If only I could be tranquil in my mind with respect to 
 our mother and Agatha in Nizza, I could be so happy here 
 in my solitude. It has always a beneficial, as well as an 
 exalting effect upon me. When I cannot communicate 
 with any body, I seem to expand, like a balloon, with 
 thoughts and feeling, and life appears then so full.
 
 220 LETTERS. 
 
 1841. 
 
 Thank God ! my dear Frances, that we shall one day 
 get rid of this material body. I think that is a glorious 
 thing ; for I feel often deeply the truth of what is written 
 in the Book of wisdom : " The mortal body burdens the 
 soul, and the earthly body makes heavy the mind ; " and 
 I feel that we shall be able to love more warmly and to 
 think better, when we are set free from the chrysalis, which 
 again and again throws its folds round the spirit longing 
 for liberty. I feel it also now, when a lingering cloud of 
 migraine in my head presses down my thoughts and words, 
 which fain would reach you, and infolds the mind so that it 
 feels itself fettered. Ah ! it will be indeed delightful one 
 day to get rid of this heavy and infirm load. A body 
 (form, organs,) we shall get, for it is the antitype and in- 
 dispensable expression of the soul. The resurrection of 
 Christ, is the real manifestation hereof. St. Paul explains 
 this in his splendid Epistle to the Corinthians (1 Cor. xv. 
 35-57) wherein he says : " It is sown a natural body ; 
 it is raised a spiritual body." . . . " It is sown in dishonor ; 
 it is raised in glory," etc., etc. Raised in glory, in power! 
 Yes, but on condition that we, here in mortality, develop 
 the life, which beyond the grave shall be thus raised also 
 in outward glory. Is there on earth a nourishment, a food 
 which can strengthen and develop man to become heav- 
 enly, to become a citizen in the kingdom of glory? Is 
 there on earth a heavenly bread, a heavenly wine ? You 
 long to reach heaven. Look up to the symbol thereof, 
 which arches itself over our heads. Does not all light 
 come from thence ? Light, the cheerful, the warm, the 
 vivifying, which gives to all beings, to all conditions de- 
 velopment and beauty; in which all attain their glorifica- 
 tion, and which, reflected in millions of rays, gives itself to 
 all beings, gives to all a part of its life. Thus there is in 
 every thing from which our soul derives nourishment, a 
 secret, divine power, a heavenly bread and wine given
 
 LETTERS. 221 
 
 to us for the development and glorification of our being, 
 It is found in the life of love ; in the work of scientific re- 
 search ; in the beauty of art ; in the splendor of Nature ; 
 it is found in joy, in sorrow, in suffering, in every thing ; 
 aye, even in the bustle of every one's business ; in the food 
 which we enjoy corporeally. But we must understand 
 this ; we must understand the heavenly, which is hidden 
 in the earthly ; we must in us receive the eternal, which 
 lives and develops itself in finite (transitive) temporal cir- 
 cumstances. Only in this way do we prepare our real trans- 
 formation, and make, already here, the wings grow, which 
 shall be made perfect when the earthly shell breaks. 
 
 "I am the living bread, which came down from heaven," 
 says Jesus ; and He says further : " Except ye eat the flesh 
 of the son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in 
 you ; " and again, in the same chapter (St. John vi. 63,) 
 " It is the spirit that quickeneth ; the flesh profiteth noth- 
 ing ; the words which I speak unto you, they are spirit, and 
 they are life." And at the last supper He says : " Take, 
 eat, this is my body ; drink, for this is my blood," etc., etc. 
 Deep is this doctrine, but any thing but dark and mystical. 
 Here Christ says : " I am the life of the world ; for I am 
 in the Father, and the Father in me ; we two are one." 
 " Even as I gave myself for you, so will God give himself 
 to you in eternity " (for Christ is the manifestation upon 
 earth of what God is in eternity). "As I call you to com- 
 munion with me, so does God call you in eternity to that 
 heavenly feast, to impart to you His life, for your soul's 
 and your body's glorification. Abide in me ; feed upon 
 my life (blood), upon my body (doctrine), then shall you 
 also live through me, and all that you shall do and work, 
 shall be to your own gain ; for a sanctified soul will in all 
 things seek for sanctifying food. Be one with me, that I 
 may dwell in you, so that at the resurrection you may be 
 like unto me, for because I live, ye shall also live, and be 
 with me where I am."
 
 222 LETTERS. 
 
 In a word : in the last supper is pronounced the pro- 
 found doctrine of God's relation to mankind (He feeds us 
 with His life and communicates it to us), and the doctrine 
 of affinity between the spiritual and the corporeal teaches 
 us " such as the spirit is, so shall the body be also ; the 
 outward as the inward." 
 
 Oh ! Frances, how feebly does not my tongue stammer 
 forth the profundity of eternal wisdom. Yes, I know it is 
 only in part ; but in these parts of an inexpressible whole, 
 in these single letters of the eternal word, the soul finds 
 light and joy. So has mine done ; therefore it unfolds 
 itself to yours. 
 
 Only one word more on this subject. The world is full 
 of weak and also of bad food, in a spiritual point of view. 
 We should deteriorate and go to ruin by it, if we were not 
 strengthened and elevated by a heavenly (eternal) bread 
 food, and wine drink. This goes forth concretely in 
 the holy communion. It is the doctrine of the atone- 
 ment, expressed in deed ; the heavenly synthesis, in which 
 all life's antitheses are annulled (as such) and united and 
 reconciled in a higher oneness. 
 
 As regards the sufferings of your little children, as an 
 atonement, I can only say, that the suffering which can 
 have a saving quality or one reconciling with God, must be 
 a suffering which develops something good within us, and 
 which thereby can make us active for others. But your 
 departed children work beneficially for you, I can clearly 
 see, from the direction which your mind has taken towards 
 the invisible home, to which God has called them. But 
 whether their suffering (I mean from their disease, for any 
 other suffering these little, happy children could not know) 
 has contributed to this, I do not know. If we can assume 
 that this suffering has had a developing effect upon their in- 
 nocent souls (and this may be probable), they have thereby 
 attained to a higher capacity. Not your sins, but the sins 
 and the fallen state of all mankind, acted upon them, and
 
 LETTERS. 223 
 
 acts upon every individual member thereof who is born in 
 this world. He partakes of the evil in the world, but 
 through the virtues and truth of mankind and yours 
 also he also partakes of its good ; and in proportion as 
 he develops himself in the latter, he becomes, in his way, 
 a saviour of his race from the former ; for no human being 
 stands isolated. What he develops within him of good or 
 bad, works far and wide, although often invisibly. 
 
 I know so well from my own experience how difficult it 
 is to understand the doctrine of the atonement, notwith- 
 standing its clearness and simplicity if it is rightly ex- 
 plained ; and the reason is, that ever since our childhood 
 it has been so distorted to our understanding. But grad- 
 ually we seize upon certain main points, and by these the 
 others are by degrees lighted up. 
 
 I am writing this with a continually increasing headache ; 
 but I do not mention it for the sake of complaining, but in 
 order that you may excuse, in case the cloud in my head 
 should have thrown some darkness over the paper. 
 
 ARSTA, 21st December, 1841. 
 
 Dearest Frances ! Not being able to come to you per- 
 sonally during the approaching Christmas holidays, I shall 
 pay you a visit in spirit. I know that during these days 
 a sorrowful memory is awakened in your heart, and 
 I should much wish not to chase it away; no, no; 
 such memories are sacred guests, but to contribute 
 to make it calm and bright. Let me now converse with 
 you a short while. If I speak badly, you need not listen 
 to me ; if I speak well, then why then it is well. 
 
 It is a general national belief that children, who are 
 taken from us at a tender age, are happy, because they are 
 saved from all life's dangers and sufferings, and are playing 
 as innocent angels in light and bliss round the throne of 
 the Almighty. One may consider this belief as having a 
 reasonable foundation or not ; still it is in itself a beautiful,
 
 224 LETTERS. 
 
 innocent angel beside the death-bed of little children, giv- 
 ing peace to many a mother's and father's bleeding heart. 
 It is always interesting to hear the ideas of distinguished 
 persons on this subject, and I have read some of these dur- 
 ing the last days. You have, no doubt, heard something 
 of a celebrated Swedish scholar, the visionary Swedenborg. 
 He is still a problem and a marvel to our philosophers ; 
 many have endeavored to explain his visions, but have 
 finished by declaring them to be inexplicable. All, 
 however, agree that Swedenborg was a man of almost gi- 
 gantic learning, and his life and character of the highest 
 moral beiuity. His visions and his intercourse with spirits 
 did not disturb the equanimity of his soul, and he reached 
 a very advanced age in the happiest and most amiable 
 frame of mind. What I have read of his visions and reve- 
 lations from the world of spirits, has not struck me as 
 being more profound revelations, but often as very ingenious 
 intuitions, although absurd and extravagant. But in gen- 
 eral his doctrine distinguishes itself by its moral nobleness 
 and beauty. Nobody speaks more beautifully than Swe- 
 denborg of, for instance, conjugal love, and his visions 
 concerning the state of married couples in another world 
 are indeed heavenly. He speaks of these visions and reve- 
 lations with remarkable simplicity. He never proves any 
 thing ; he merely says, " I saw it ; " or, " it is so and so." 
 With respect to the state of children after death, he has 
 such a beautiful idea, or, as he considers it, revelation, that 
 I believe your maternal eye would rest upon it with de- 
 light. I shall begin by quoting his words relating to the 
 parents : 
 
 " When the husband has been taught by the wife to experience 
 love for the children, he shares with her this kind of love, which, 
 in the strength of its disinterestedness and its sacrifices, in which 
 it finds the greatest enjoyment, is, of all human love, nearest the 
 divine love. We see hereby clearly how great and beneficial 
 must be the influences of the love for children in parents, who in-
 
 LETTERS. 225 
 
 deed are life of each other's life, or have ' become one fhsh' in 
 the full and sacred sense of the word. And it requires no ex- 
 planation to show what a delight it is to them, when they are per- 
 mitted to keep their children with them alive, until, surrounded 
 by them, they close their own eyes forever. But even that is a 
 blessing, to have, as one expresses it, lost children by death in 
 their tender age. For these, who in heaven are educated by 
 angels especially appointed for that purpose, until they themselves 
 have become qualified to be such angels, continue to be connected 
 with their parents remaining on earth, by love's immortal, sym- 
 pathetic ties. These ties are the root of their being, and hence 
 it follows that these ties, by the development of the conscious- 
 ness of these children, themselves become developed into a con- 
 stantly hipher love ; and this makes that from the third or highest 
 heaven, which is the heaven of innocence and of children, they 
 constantly visit the parents through soothing and purifying influ- 
 ences. 
 
 " All children who, in their tenderest age, are taken away from 
 earth, are in the beginning brought up in that circle of heaven 
 which has been mentioned first. For this purpose female angels 
 are employed whose distinguishing characteristic during their 
 mortal life has been sincere piety, and great love of children. 
 Thereafter their education is continued by male angels in that 
 branch of celestial knowledge and wisdom to which their disposi- 
 tion directs them. During this latter education, or while growing 
 up, they are removed to other celestial spheres. It then de- 
 pends upon themselves whether they can again be received into 
 the third celestial sphere. Fully grown up and educated are 
 they, when the innocence of childhood in them is transformed 
 into the innocence of wisdom; for just thereby, but not before, 
 are they real angels. In general, this transformation is the 
 common fundamental condition of all heavenly life, although 
 different grades are possible. It is this fundamental condition 
 which is expressed in the words of our Saviour : ' Whosoever 
 shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, shall in no 
 wise enter therein.' When full grown, and when their education 
 has been finished, those who have thus been prepared for a celes- 
 tial social life, receive those angel-spouses which from eternity 
 have been destined for them. But in form and features they 
 remain forever youth and maiden. 
 15
 
 226 LETTERS. 
 
 " The more thousands of years the angels live, the more beau- 
 tifully and blissfully do they bloom ; and so in all eternity. To 
 grow old in heaven, is to grow younger." 
 
 So says Swedenborg, and while he has been speaking, 
 evening has come on, and it is now too late for me to write 
 
 O * 
 
 more. Swedenborg was a most devout Christian, who wor- 
 shiped God in Christ. One may share his intuitions or 
 not, in part or in the whole ; yet, in the most important 
 and essential, one cannot but devoutly side with him, 
 namely : that if in Christ we see the revelation of God's 
 heart, being, and will, we can then confidently and joyously 
 leave ourselves and our beloved ones in His hands, certain 
 that He will order every thing with endless love to the 
 best. 
 
 And now I kiss you and say, farewell and be happy ! 
 
 ABITA, 3d October, 1842. 
 
 It is one of the tenets of my good, dear friend, the 
 
 Countess S . that when we do not hear any thing 
 
 from our friends, we may be sure that they are perfectly 
 well and lead a merry life ; and I hope, my dear Frances, 
 that this holds good with respect to you, our dear friends, 
 during the long silence between you and us Arsta people. 
 As to ourselves, we have not had quite such pleasant cause 
 for our silence. We have already for some time had a 
 visitor in the house, called Illness, and his conduct has been 
 any thing but pleasant or agreeable to witness. But now, 
 thank God ! he is preparing to leave us, together with all 
 his odious train, and Health is returning with her compan- 
 ions, appetite, happy faces, and joyous hearts. Charlotte 
 is still confined to her bed, but the fountain of laughter 
 which is in her is again beginning to burst forth, murmur- 
 ing duets with Agatha's, which is constantly flowing. Our 
 mother likes this, and is always ready to accompany them. 
 I, who am less inclined for this merriment, must, however, 
 "follow my leaders," it cannot be helped. It would be
 
 LETTERS. 227 
 
 difficult to find any place where, while health predominates, 
 there is so much laughter as here. At what ? it would 
 be difficult to tell : at childishness, at nonsense, in fact, 
 at nothing. Such merriment belongs to the family myste- 
 ries, and by no means to the worst amongst them. It often 
 springs out of a number of trifling peculiarities of the 
 family members, which, perhaps, would have become rude 
 and harsh, unless they had in time been partly trimmed and 
 polished by love, and partly been softened by good temper. 
 You and your countrymen understand this better than oth- 
 ers. Therein lies, I believe, the source of what you call 
 " humor," of which they have so much. 
 
 I am now making the acquaintance of the ancient Finn- 
 ish national poesy, and I am very much struck by its 
 originality and life. But I am not so enchanted now, after 
 studying the same, as I was in the anticipation. It is a 
 savage beauty, like that of our old, grand pine-forests, with 
 their gloomy recesses, their fresh, wonderfully pleasant fra- 
 grance ; their wild, mysterious rustling ; but which do not 
 afford any food for our imagination and our feeling. It is 
 a magical life of Nature, full of witchcraft, and full of strife 
 between the energetic, prudent spirit of man and Nature's 
 fierce powers, which are conquered and bound by the for- 
 mer, by means of " elementary spells " and the power of 
 music. This latter has frequently great natural beauty, 
 but we miss all moral life and a higher flight. The soul, 
 after wandering about in these regions, longs as much for 
 more solid food as the body after a long, fatiguing walk 
 through heath and forest. 
 
 There is a Finnish proverb, which speaks to my soul 
 with indescribable grace : 
 
 " Listen to the fir-tree's rustling, 
 At whose root thy nest is made." 
 
 These words are full of deep meaning ; they awaken in 
 me refreshing and delicious thoughts. 
 
 Simultaneously with this study, I am busy with another
 
 228 LETTERS. 
 
 one of a very different description, which ought to afford 
 the soul that food which is denied to it in the Finnish na- 
 tional poem " Kalevala." It is Lord Brougham's " Emi- 
 nent Statesmen." I wonder whether it is a deficiency in 
 me that I find these delineations below my expectation ? 
 I longed to see characters, distinguished men, and I see 
 before me only orators. Lord Brougham appears to me 
 to be so preoccupied by the speeches of his statesmen, and 
 their talents in that line, that he almost overlooks their 
 actions as moral people ; or, at any rate, looks upon that 
 character as a secondary consideration, alluding to it only 
 in passing. Lord North is the personage amongst them 
 which I imagine that I know and see ; not from Lord 
 Brougham's biography, but from his daughter's, Lady 
 Lindsay, because she seizes just upon those moments in 
 which the character stands out naturally and completely. 
 In order to be able to know man, one must see him in the 
 hours of success and of adversity ; one must see him love ; 
 see his angry passions roused ; see him suffer, and see him 
 die. I longed to have seen in Lord Brougham's work 
 man stand forth out of the moral elementary life (out of 
 which the majority of mankind scarcely ever steps forth), 
 and reveal himself in a form energetic in good or in evil, 
 in life and in death. But I did not find there what I 
 looked for. Lord Brougham's moral feeling, so it seems 
 to me, is of English nature : pure, and noble, and strong. 
 But I miss " la scentilla celesta " in his expressions either 
 of blame or of praise ; I miss vigor in spirit and in words. 
 Well, there you have quite unexpectedly got a whole 
 criticism. Tell me, my dearest Frances, whether it is just 
 or unjust. 
 
 AESTA, 1842. 
 
 My dear, sweet Frances ! I went through your letter 
 from beginning to end, only stumbling over, or stopping 
 at, a few words, of which some still figure as stones and 
 stumps on my road; but they do not now impede me;
 
 LETTERS. 229 
 
 for when I walk round them my path lies before me, 
 quite distinctly, with flowers edging its graceful windings. 
 Thanks, my dearest Frances ! You come like a good, val- 
 ued friend, who has gathered the best fruits and flowers 
 which she has found on her way, to gladden the friend 
 whom she goes to see. It is this spirit of kindness and 
 love in a friend, which makes her warnings, her correc- 
 tions, and serious advice so pleasant to receive, so pleasant 
 to follow. In that pure mirror one will willingly see the 
 spot in one's own soul ; by that gentle hand, gratefully 
 kissing it, one willingly allows the " beam " to be removed 
 from one's eye. We do not know the best of a sincere 
 friendship until we have experienced it in ourselves. Do 
 you know, dearest Frances, what I fancy that Hedda at 
 this moment would have said to you, whom, next to her 
 own sisters, she held most dear in her heart and in her 
 thoughts, and of whom she spoke so much in her last mo- 
 ments ? I fancy I hear her saying : 
 
 " My dear Frances ! you have been wandering a long 
 and toilsome road, and you are weary. Sit down beneath 
 this tree ; rest yourself, and let it spread its shady branches 
 over you ; lean your head against its stem, and let the sum- 
 mer's breeze that summer's breeze which is the breath 
 of God's love caress your cheeks and eyelids, and think 
 that all will be well one day. Eest so awhile, until you 
 have gathered strength to begin your walk again ; you will 
 reach the goal one day, and then you will see that all is 
 well." 
 
 And the tree, under which she tells you to rest, it is 
 the same under which she herself did rest, and which gave 
 peace and shelter to her life; the tree under which you 
 now so often are standing. 
 
 You ask me what I felt in going out to Arsta ? 
 
 I read lately in a " Gazette of Fashions," that we ought 
 to keep our happiness secret and not speak of it to others, 
 because they cannot " tolerate it." But this is a piece of
 
 230 LETTERS. 
 
 the Rochefoucauld wisdom, which I hate like the plague, 
 because it sucks all its juice, or rather its venom, out of 
 mankind's plague-blister, egotism, which it mistakes for 
 the true, sound nature of man. My faith in the latter is 
 firmly rooted as a rock, and I know its loveableness and its 
 power to feel sympathy ; " to weep with them that weep, 
 and rejoice with them that are happy ; " and I am, there- 
 fore, by no means afraid of telling you what I felt in going 
 out to Arsta, little as it is to speak of. 
 
 It was a splendid winter's day. The sun was shining so 
 brightly on the new-fallen snow, and the pine forests smelt 
 so fresh. The rocks were clothed in draperies of snow ; 
 the mosses and lichen my best friends amongst plants 
 shone so fresh and many-colored from the moisture which 
 they drank out of the melting snow. They are the kind, 
 the pious folks in the vegetable kingdom ; there is no 
 nakedness, no poverty, no ugliness which they scorn to 
 hide with their beautiful living carpets, and, through these, 
 to unite with the regions of beauty and light. It is only 
 the really rotten and putrid which they abandon to the 
 parasitical mushrooms. Across the frozen lakes were glid- 
 ing long lines of peasants' sleighs, and my own covered 
 sledge, with its clear, tinkling bells, flew so merrily along 
 over lake and through forest It was a winter's day in its 
 most beautiful garb, and to me as charming as summer in 
 all its splendor. Beside me sat my good Marie, with her 
 warm heart and her keen sense of Nature's beauties ; ready, 
 at the slightest hint, to melt from mere ecstasy. When, 
 after my pleasant and easy drive, I came out here to these 
 good, benevolent people ; to these quiet, large, and lofty 
 rooms, in which many flowers were blooming ; when at 
 night I beheld, through a transparent, silvery frost-vapor, 
 the red lights from the windows in the work-people's 
 homes, in which I knew that the households of the labor- 
 ers on the estate were living comfortably and decently ; 
 when I then saw my beloved constellations Orion and
 
 LETTERS. 231 
 
 the Northern Crown slowly mounting the wide, clear 
 heavens, and saw before me a time of solitude and liberty, 
 oh ! then all appeared so beautiful and life so blessed ! 
 I had received a letter informing me that our mother's and 
 Agatha's health was very much improving at Nizza ; all 
 the friends in whose society I lately had enjoyed my life, 
 appeared to be near me, so pleasant, so living. My heart 
 beat warmly for them. 
 
 Ah, my dear Frances ! in such moments of our life, 
 when every thing in us and around us is so well, we ought 
 to fear one thing : to forget, in our own consciousness of 
 well-being, that the world is full of misery and suffering. 
 But we weak mortals are only too prone to forget this. If 
 all in this world were beautiful, all good, there would be no 
 need of a transformation, an amendment, which we call 
 redemption or atonement. We should, in beautiful har- 
 mony, develop ourselves "from one brightness to another." 
 If all were evil, yes, then no such improvement would 
 be possible, nor a loving God either. Now there is both 
 good and evil. Nature brings forth thistles and thorns (as 
 it is symbolically said in Genesis iii. 18), but she brings 
 forth also roses and lilies. In man there is sin and dis- 
 ease ; but also love, truth, and health. A true contempla- 
 tion of the world owns both and must ; man and his world 
 having an organic coherence, apply to this world TegneYs 
 beautiful words on Nature : 
 
 " The features of the fallen one transparent 
 Shew noble signs of origin celestial, 
 And Daphne's heart beneath the bark is throbbing." 
 
 With respect to your question, whether I would have the 
 " Morning Watches " translated, I can only answer that 
 I cannot answer any thing ; for, you see, I am a party in 
 this matter. On a more critical examination of the book, 
 I beg you not to forget what it is called, namely, " Morning 
 Watches ; " that is, the first faint streaks of light between 
 night and a new day. These leave of course a number of
 
 232 LETTERS. 
 
 objects only partly lit up, and many still in darkness ; they 
 light up only the heights, only the general outlines of the 
 landscape. They forebode and bring with them a more 
 complete light, and this will, if it pleases God, also come in 
 due time. Your impression of this book delights me, and 
 that Ls all that I dare at present wish. You have rightly 
 understood its leading idea : the right idea of God, as 
 shown in Christ's manifestation, creates in man a higher 
 and nobler life, and saves him from anxiety and darkness. 
 We learn here to know God as a loving Father, and we, 
 and those dear to us, repose on His heart and in His care. 
 I read here for the first time Madame de Sevigne's 
 "Letters." I am delighted with their liveliness and wit, 
 and astonished to see how pleasantly at that time people 
 enjoyed each other's society. Those were other " parties " 
 and other sensations than those of Messrs. N. N. and Com- 
 pany of our own time. But very afraid were they of old 
 age and of death. Rather than encounter these, the 
 charming Sevigne would have renounced the life which she 
 had lived, and wished to have died in the arms of her nurse. 
 The ever-sparkling champagne in her letters could not 
 keep up the interest, unless this thema of ardent, living 
 love, " Ma fille ! ma fille ! " was not constantly heard in 
 this impetuous, burning heart and mind of the loving and 
 amiable mother. 
 
 TO BISHOP TEGNER. 
 
 ABSTA, 7fch April, 1842. 
 
 A pigeon had one day flown out of the dove-cote and 
 set out upon a journey to foreign countries. Some sports- 
 men caught sight of her and exclaimed, " What kind of 
 bird is this ; whence comes it ? We must catch it and 
 pluck it ! " And forthwith they began firing at her ; but, 
 how they managed, they hit only one or two of her feath- 
 ers. The pigeon continued her gyrations on high, and the 
 sportsmen, when they had fired at her for some time, be- 
 came tired and soon lost sight of her.
 
 LETTERS. 233 
 
 An eagle a real golden eagle had meanwhile from 
 his eyrie watched the ignoble sport. His heart revolted ; 
 he spread his mighty pinions and flew to the pigeon, say- 
 ing, " Fear not ; innocence is on your side, and I will shel- 
 ter you under my wings." But when the sportsmen beheld 
 the royal bird spreading his wings over the pigeon, and 
 heard him deride their attempts, they became exceedingly 
 excited, and cried, " Look here, the eagle with the pigeon 
 under his wing ! " and now began a more furious firing, 
 and the poor pigeon was worse off than before, for the last 
 danger was greater than the first. 
 
 In this fable you see, my dear, my kind, for me sympa- 
 thizing Tegner, my idea of how matters stand with my 
 " Morning Watches," and with their radical reviewers, and 
 how it would be, if you, in the criticism which you had in 
 view, were to undertake the defense of my work. You 
 say yourself, " Defiled we get, but that we are used to." 
 True ! and the eagle need not mind what is thrown at 
 him ; he has already soared too high to be reached by the 
 low-minded, and he perches in peace upon his Alpine 
 height. But the pigeon, the pigeon, which is still on 
 the wing, which does not soar so high, she can be reached 
 and hit, and even if this does not much impede her flight, 
 her joy on the journey which she has begun, still, she can- 
 not with indifference behold her wings soiled by impure 
 hands. Oh, no, Tegner ! she must be glad the sooner the 
 persecution ends, and she may forget it while she is bath- 
 ing her plumage in some clear, purifying Bethesda water. 
 And has not this been offered to me ? Oh, yes ! I find 
 this Bethesda is my own conscience, in my joy at having 
 acknowledged the Holy One before the children of men ; 
 I find it in the public and private acknowledgment of many 
 an honest and noble soul ; in the certainty that in my work, 
 imperfect as it is, I have yet spoken words and thoughts 
 which shall not have been spoken in vain ; which shall, 
 like the " dandelion " plant, grow all the stronger for being
 
 234 LETTERS. 
 
 trampled upon. All this comforts me. And, therefore, 
 peace, peace, dear, good Tegner ! peace and not strife with 
 the world ; at all events, not for my sake. I beseech you, 
 peace ! 
 
 Although in your review and in the verses which you 
 dedicate to me, there are things, which, both for the sake 
 of my own self-love, as well as for the truth and beauty of 
 the thoughts, I would wish to see given to the public ; still 
 the publication of them cannot now call forth the acknowl- 
 edgment which they deserve ; because they are too nearly 
 connected with things, which, especially at this moment, 
 would hide them from the eyes of the multitude. Later on, 
 when people's minds have become more calm, this review 
 will be gratefully felt and greeted with pleasure. 
 
 You have asked for my sincere opinion, and I have 
 given it according to my best and earnest convictions. 
 
 TO MR 
 
 I am afraid that in our last conversation I have ex- 
 pressed myself on some important points imperfectly, or 
 in a manner easily misunderstood. Do not therefore feel 
 displeased, if in a few words I attempt better to explain 
 my meaning. I spoke of going to work only to pull down. 
 I did not here, however, wish to speak of religion and its 
 spirit. This, I believe, can as little be pulled down or 
 attacked successfully, as the heart can be pulled out of a 
 man's breast, if he shall continue to exist. No, I believe 
 that as long as it beats, as long as a human eye exists here 
 below to contemplate the wonders of the world and of the 
 heavens, so long will the religious truths, which in all times 
 have been dimly felt and have attained full consciousness 
 in Christianity, live and work in mankind. But the forms, 
 in which the human imagination has conceived them, can 
 vary with it. Therefore I spoke of distinguishing between 
 religion and the dogmas or doctrines in which these truths 
 are embodied and have assumed a form. Not that the
 
 LETTERS. 235 
 
 inner and the outer, the truth and the form, differ in prin- 
 ciple. The dogmas of the Church can contain the purest, 
 fullest truths, although many of them have become fixed in 
 a manner and in phrases which no longer suit the more 
 extended knowledge of mankind. This belongs to the 
 nature of the shell, and to throw away with it the kernel, 
 would be the same as throwing away the baby together 
 with the water in which it has been bathing. Within the 
 shell the fruit was fostered for a certain period, and when 
 the shell bursts, it is in order that the fruit may appear in 
 a more complete and purer form ; in a form more adequate 
 to its life and truth. The most Christian and learned 
 priests in the Evangelical Church amongst them the 
 noble Neander in Berlin acknowledge openly the want 
 of such a regeneration of the Church. But they demand, 
 and they are right, that one ought not to misunderstand, 
 nor let the solid tenor of the dogmas volatilize, and that 
 before creating new ones, one ought thoroughly and rightly 
 to fathom the sense and essence of the Christian revela- 
 tion. How strange the world would look, if one or the 
 other dogma, one or the other article of our creed, was to 
 be taken away : the experiment is not a new one in the 
 world. During the French Revolution this was done 
 thoroughly, by declaring all the Christian articles of faith 
 invalid, and the soil, on which this was done, became incar- 
 nadined with blood. The noble Condorcet, who, amongst 
 all the French Naturalists, urged this doctrine to the utter- 
 most, and endeavored to establish the hope of the perfecti- 
 bility of mankind upon earth by means of arts and sciences, 
 etc. etc., finished his career by suicide. But this anarchy 
 in the realms of reason could not be of any long duration. 
 The instant a calm moment set in, Robespierre decreed 
 that " there exists a God." And soon arain the old doc- 
 
 o 
 
 trines asserted their right, as indestructible foundations of 
 the nature of man and of the stability of society, purified in 
 much from the old dross, but still in many points impure and
 
 236 LETTERS. 
 
 dark. And why ? Probably because the process of purifi 
 cation had, to a great extent, taken the character of demo 
 lition, instead of caution. It is tolerably well acknowledged, 
 that the cause hereof was lying quite as much in a faulty 
 conception of the defenders of the old, as of the advocates 
 of the new, doctrine. 
 
 But now is it necessary that this experiment should 
 be tried again ? Surely you believe this as little as I do. 
 What then was done, is done. New times and new means 
 have come into the world. The regeneration which for- 
 merly was effected by violent means, can now, ought now 
 to be effected by peaceful means ; by the power of enlight- 
 enment, of conviction, and of truth. For to these the minds 
 of the people are open, and the press is a mighty engine to 
 work upon hearts and brains. But all its labor for the 
 rights of man and for the regeneration of society, in that 
 Christian sense which equalizes the conditions of men, and 
 makes mankind brothers and sisters, will remain imperfect 
 and lame, if it is torn away from the eternal principles 
 upon which Christianity itself has based its doctrine of 
 freedom and love ; and this, because these alone go to the 
 bottom of the thing, and contain and exhaust the whole 
 truth ; for they alone comprise " the laws and words of 
 eternal life." What man of sense would plant branches in 
 dry sand, instead of grafting them upon a living tree, where 
 they can grow and live ; or who would erect a building 
 without giving it a safe foundation ? But they appear to me 
 to do this, who preach the moral and political doctrines of 
 Christianity, while at the same time they contradict the 
 principles out of which these emanate. 
 
 But to plead for the former in the name of the latter, 
 would be a task worthy a great reformer, and our times 
 require to see such a one appear. A sense of the greatest 
 want of mankind, a search into its inmost history and into 
 its relation to the Christian revelation these will proba- 
 bly be the most essential conditions for the success of his
 
 LETTERS. 237 
 
 mission. But blessed be every one who paves the way for 
 him in this spirit. And what subject can be more worthy 
 of the attention of the acute thinker? Nowadays one 
 hastens to point telescopes at every social phenomenon 
 which occupies any tolerably broad historical base : upon the 
 progress of journalism as well as upon that of communism 
 and of others. And a phenomenon (I speak of the relig- 
 ious doctrines) which manifests itself wheresoever society is 
 formed, all over the earth, amongst all nations in all times 
 what a subject for thought and for contemplation ! 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 In taking the liberty of sending you herewith my little 
 book, " Two Leaves from the Borders of the Rhine," I 
 wish you to receive it as it is meant : the expression of a sin- 
 cere and friendly disposition of mind. Besides, I wish you 
 to peruse my trip to the Rhine, and that, in reference to the 
 same, you would afford me an opportunity of saying a few 
 words. It seemed to me as if you had only cursorily 
 glanced at the manuscript, and that you had imagined to 
 detect in it some polemical allusion to the political opinions 
 which you entertain. Believe me, I have not had an idea of 
 any such thing. I could not have dreamt of it, as I myself 
 embrace these opinions, in as far as they refer to the ever 
 increasing advancement of liberty, of the people's more 
 extensive share in legislation, and in other matters. My 
 little pamphlet aims, besides an account of the Diaconess 
 Institution of Kaiserswerth, at nothing but a faithful sketch 
 of real circumstances and situations, such as they have been 
 viewed I venture to say it by an honest and unpreju- 
 diced mind. I have in my pamphlet merely changed 
 names and accessories, as much as it was necessary, in 
 order that some of the characters mentioned therein, might 
 not be recognized. That in the pamphlet the Republican 
 has been allowed to act a part not very advantageous to 
 society, is nothing but a fact ; and in relating it I have not
 
 238 LETTERS. 
 
 intended any political allusion. But if such a one should 
 nevertheless be inferred, I am even willing to admit it in 
 so far as I always consider the man of the extreme left, 
 the ultra-Republican, to be dangerous to be followed, as a 
 leader, by the people. My young friend at Marienberg 
 did not belong to the moderate party, and you would your- 
 self have been one of the foremost to endeavor to bring 
 him to political reason. The position which I occupy in 
 this little pamphlet, is no other than that which I have held 
 in " Sister-life," and in my other writings, and which I 
 should wish to improve more and more. It is a position 
 above the parties ; one from which I will contemplate and 
 acknowledge the humanly good and pure in the ultra-Re- 
 publican, as well, as in the ultra-Conservative ; amongst 
 the Protestants, even if he were an adherent of Bruno 
 Bauer's atheism and communism, as well as amongst the 
 Catholics, even if he were the most obdurate worshiper 
 of the coat in Frier; and I would besides let opinions 
 be valued at what they are worth, even if I should be 
 obliged, in consequence of the imperative force of thought, 
 to join one of them in preference. You have surely, 
 more than many others, felt within you this imperative 
 force of thought, and that is enough to know that others 
 also must feel the same in the direction which they have 
 taken. My meaning, however, is not that all these 
 others are right in their views ; but they have a right to 
 adhere to their belief and conviction, even if these are 
 one-sided, until they are convinced of their one-sidedness, 
 and can rise to a more liberal and more perfect conviction. 
 That this can be the case, I believe, for I believe in an 
 eternal right, an eternal reason, and in man's capacity to 
 understand this, and in consequence to coincide in, and to 
 settle, if not all controversies, at any rate, all Utter contro- 
 versies. But nothing could contribute more effectually to 
 attain the aim which we covet, than to keep this position 
 above all parties, and to acknowledge willingly the rights
 
 LETTERS. 239 
 
 and motives of others, wherever it can be done, while, with 
 the whole energy of our mind, we endeavor to throw light 
 upon the subjects under contention, and thus, by the inhe- 
 rent power of truth and light, compel the antagonist to 
 be converted, and amend his views when they are wrong. 
 I do not know whether a writer who is the leader of a cer- 
 tain party, can absolutely hold this point of view in which 
 he acknowledges the good in an opponent and sees the 
 wrong in the ultra, even if he belonged to his own party 
 the impartial, the Christian point of view ; but I feel 
 sure that he would infinitely promote the cause of a higher 
 civilization and the interests for which he works, if he oc- 
 cupies this position (because the acrimony of the opposi- 
 tion would thereby become softened), while, with all the 
 power of political penetration, tact, etc., which are at his 
 command, and which he ought preeminently to possess, he 
 would throw light upon the political arena. He would be- 
 come irresistible, unconquerable, if in his political phalanx 
 he were to enroll this higher system of politics aye, made 
 it the commander-in-chief of his army. 
 
 Listen to me one moment, as you have done once before 
 on serious subjects. Surely your own sister could not 
 approach you in a more sincere and friendly spirit than I 
 do at this moment. It is therefore that I request you to 
 grant me a moment's hearing, and also I confess it 
 because I feel that I have something to tell you, which 
 ought not to be rejected. See herein only a proof of the 
 confidence which I have in you ; of the weight and the 
 value which I attach to your activity for our beloved native 
 country, for letter-writing is not my weakness, least of all 
 when it requires any great exertion of thought. I would 
 rather be silent, if it were not that now and then something 
 within me compels me to speak out, at all events to per- 
 sons in whose head and heart I feel confidence. 
 
 In my little pamphlet upon Marienberg and Kaisers- 
 werth, I have shown the contrast between two convictions :
 
 240 LETTERS. 
 
 the one, which, disengaged from its eternal foundation, be- 
 lieves in nothing beyond this life and hopes nothing after 
 death; the other, that which believes, hopes, loves, and 
 lives in Christ. I have shown this, because I saw and 
 found it so in the places and amongst the people of whom 
 I speak ; and I have also done it because this opinion is 
 rooted in my inmost conviction. And I would rather allow 
 my right hand to be cut off, than cease, directly or indi- 
 rectly, to point out to man the only true road to happiness, 
 and to show him the darkness and danger which he will 
 have to encounter on the contrary road. 
 
 We observe the latter in the national agitations of the 
 present day. These, in themselves, are not for evil. No, 
 they are for good ; they are necessary ; they are the rising 
 of the oppressed million to civil rights, to the participation 
 in all the privileges and obligations which make man a re- 
 sponsible being, a citizen, and which belong to him in his 
 quality of man ; this is the entrance of Christianity upon 
 the political territory. But the barbarity, the bloodshed, 
 and the confusion, by which the ideas, manifested in such 
 agitations, assert themselves, are certainly not the acts of 
 Christianity. The unwise and irritating opposition has 
 much to answer for in this ; but an equally great responsi- 
 bility rests with the unwise demagogues ; they, who, like 
 Bruno Bauer, Griin, and others, try to establish the princi- 
 ple that, in order to solve satisfactorily the world's enigma, 
 one need only " Gott ganz wegzustreichen ; " who thereby 
 exempt man from all higher responsibility, making him the 
 sport of his own passions, or giving him up to the leaders, 
 who understand, cleverly enough, how to avail themselves 
 of them. Miigge has therefore very logically said : " Das 
 Volk ist die todte Masse ; die grossen Geister sind die, 
 welche es regieren." What this would ultimately lead to, 
 ought to be easily seen by every person, with a good and 
 clear head, who would take the trouble thoroughly to sift 
 the matter. But history has in our days taken upon her-
 
 LETTERS. 241 
 
 self to record this in letters of blood. Laborers and arti- 
 sans, who believe in God, in his providence and in his 
 retributive laws, will not drench the cities in blood. Chris- 
 tian people will not torture their victims, and call down 
 upon their own heads and upon their country a sanguinary 
 reaction and civil war. They will insist upon the claims to 
 political rights which have been awakened in their breast, 
 and they will also, if necessity should compel them, fight 
 for them ; but they will also know how to pray, and how 
 to wield the sword of intellect, instead of that of force. 
 Compelled by the nature of my own mind, which wants to 
 see things in their inmost necessity, I have asked myself: 
 Is it not necessary that atheists, such as Helvetius, Thomas 
 Paine, Strauss, Bruno Bauer, and others like them, should 
 exist ? Is it not ordained by the eternal laws and plans of 
 Providence, that they should exist and speak ? And 1 
 have been obliged to answer Yes! Yes, it lies in the na- 
 ture of thought that it should develop itself, even to the 
 utmost extremes. Only thereby can they be combated and 
 vanquished. The thinking atheist serves God as much as 
 he who acknowledges Him, although in a different way ; 
 the former, as the negation over which affirmation must 
 advance, in order to gain corroboration ; and the latter, as 
 this affirmation itself. The former might therefore be 
 looked upon as the martyr of the idea, and of the thought, 
 if he were not deficient in that which constitutes the great- 
 ness of the martyr, namely-: temporarily to perish, while 
 the eternal truth, fer which which he fought, shines in 
 greater glory, watered by his blood, blessing mankind, 
 which will ultimately acknowledge in the martyr their 
 hero and benefactor. But the demagogues of the extreme 
 left, in point of religion as well as of politics, of whom I 
 have spoken, shall perish many of them probably in the 
 earthquake which they have called forth without being 
 able to say : " I fall in defense of the highest truths, as the 
 
 servant of God and of mankind, and my work shall remain 
 16
 
 242 LETTERS. 
 
 as a blessing to the world when I have left the arena." 
 They shall not be able to say this ; for the goblet of liberty 
 which they offered to the nations, contained poison. 
 Perhaps they knew it not ; they may be morally irrespon- 
 sible, but unhappy and unwise I must call them. 
 
 I have said that they must exist as actors in that life, 
 and those ideas which develop themselves in history. But 
 why should I then speak and fight against them ? I do it 
 in the conviction that this moment may be more transitory 
 and more easily overcome, in proportion as its representa- 
 tives become fewer in number and more insignificant. 
 Certain it is, that the more life's central powers become 
 strengthened (I mean here those which place earthly de- 
 velopment in immediate connection with the eternal idea 
 which is its foundation), the more quietly will the develop- 
 ment of society progress towards liberty and happiness ; 
 the more will the extremes of " right " and " left " be weak- 
 ened, and become more harmless and vanishing accidents. 
 
 One acknowledges pretty generally in the camp of the 
 liberals, that the development of liberty and universal cit- 
 izenship, which now causes society to ferment, has its foun- 
 dation in the doctrine, revealed by Christianity, of men's 
 equality before God. It has been said that this is Chris- 
 tianity's origin in political life, and that Christianity ought 
 to become political. I grant this with all my heart. But 
 how does it become so ? Why, by grafting the lower, the 
 earthly politics, upon the higher (the branch upon the 
 tree), and by proving its foundation to lie in the eternal, 
 immortal idea, whose doctrine we call Christianity. Only 
 thereby can it grow in strength and freshness, and escape the 
 fate of those branches which are planted in loose sand, and 
 which, though fresh in the beginning, soon become withered. 
 
 Richert and Geyer and also Torsten Ruclenskold in 
 his way have in our country shown how this lower and 
 higher policy can be connected ; how the former cannot be 
 consistently imagined without the latter ; and the greatest
 
 LETTERS. 243 
 
 thinker of our day, Hegel, has proved in his work, " Die 
 Philosophic der Religion," how all the powerful thoughts, 
 which now are uttered, claiming as a right national liberty, 
 equity, justice to all, have their foundation and definition 
 only in God, as manifested in Christ. But from this follows 
 also, that every development of liberty, which is not con- 
 scious of this its foundation, or which is reactionary against 
 the same, must miss the aim which it strives for, or bring 
 forth weeds amongst the wheat to such an extent as easily 
 to destroy it all. 
 
 I once heard you express the fear, that Sweden was des- 
 tined, as a nation, to sink under, or merge into, the larger 
 continental powers. I believe that this might come to 
 pass, if it were possible to extinguish in the breasts of the 
 people that belief in God, in His eternal laws, in the per- 
 sonal responsibility of the individual in a word, that be- 
 lief in a heaven, which is earth's greatest strength, and 
 which hitherto has made the little, the poor Sweden's 
 greatness and power. If it holds fast to this root of its 
 life and its will, it must continue to exist, although it may 
 stand behind in much of the industrial development which 
 constitutes the wealth of other countries. But I do not 
 think that this belief in God can be eradicated in Sweden. 
 But it can be weakened or strengthened, and it may de- 
 pend upon this, whether the social development, towards 
 which we are now progressing, will be egotistical and san- 
 guinary, or will be founded upon love's free and liberty 
 giving life. 
 
 TO BARON YON BRINCKMAN. 
 
 I thank you very much, my dear Baron, for having af- 
 forded me an opportunity of trying to explain my views on 
 the Fine Arts as a part of life. You have yourself made the 
 remark, that it is the " writing laziness," which is the cause 
 why we so often rest contented with our half-thoughts with- 
 out knowing their incompleteness. This incompleteness is
 
 244 LETTERS. 
 
 not discovered until our thoughts are to be ranged in rank 
 and file, and not until then can they be placed in regular 
 order. And in now going to march up my recruits, I must 
 request the experienced general experienced on the field 
 of fine arts whenever it is required, to give the words of 
 command : halt ! right ! left ! 
 
 If yesterday my words should have made you believe, 
 my dear Baron, that I do not understand how to appreciate 
 the happiness of the collector of works of art, I should be 
 very sorry, because they must then have been more stupid 
 than myself. I only wanted to express a way of feeling, 
 individual to myself, and with reference only to my own 
 life. The indescribable enjoyment which I derive from 
 works of art, the higher life which I feel while wandering 
 about in your museum, must be the best interpreters of 
 what I think of the influence of the fine arts upon happi- 
 ness, and of the life of the collector. That, notwithstand- 
 ing this, I shall never be a collector of works of art, nor, 
 like you, surround myself with visible productions of art, 
 is owing to reasons which I do not wish to explain. I will 
 only say this much, that any thing having money value will 
 not long remain in my possession not even a medal 
 awarded by the Swedish Academy. Offer me fifty rix dol- 
 lars for any thing, except for a warm cloak, and it is yours 
 at once. Nevertheless, my dear Baron, I adore art, and 
 walk through life allow me to say it with humble joy as 
 a novice in art. Of every thing which I experience in life ; 
 which I enjoy and suffer ; and which I perceive in man, in 
 nature, in my own soul of all this I endeavor with love 
 to comprehend the meaning and essence, according to my 
 best understanding, and to form out of it a clearer and 
 moie perfect image of life with its power, that is to say, a 
 group, in which God, man, and things, live together in har- 
 mony. This I would wish to call, the art of life. This 
 seems to me to belong to every intelligent person, and 
 without this art I do not understand life, neither here on
 
 LETTERS. 245 
 
 earth nor beyond it. It is my sincere belief, that the Eter- 
 nal Architect of the universe has auditories and laboratories 
 enough, and models also, to prevent the divine exercise of 
 this culture from ever dying out amongst the thinking and 
 feeling spirits. Artists, in the sense now alluded to, I would 
 call not only him who creates aesthetic works of art, but 
 also the honest man who lives according to strict and pure 
 principles, and the good man whose life is devoted to pure 
 sacrifices of love. He creates his world out of the genius 
 of the heart. These are human artists, as well as Shakes- 
 peare, Goethe, and Schiller. 
 
 I have mentioned Goethe, and this name calls up before 
 my imagination the world of art, par excellence ; reality 
 embodied in beautiful forms, comprehensible to our out- 
 ward senses in its reality, in its truth. I have never been 
 able to understand the contrast, which so many and 
 amongst others Schiller speak of, in reality and poetry. 
 It is this innermost reality of life, of existence, of things, 
 which to me appear the romance of poetry, and this poe- 
 try but how to express the unfathomable has seemed to 
 me to be a sound, a power, a spiritual essence ; something 
 eternal, living, life-giving ; something of God ; something 
 which reveals Him within as well as without us. Ah ! it is 
 in such meetings, when the lyre of the poet resounds- in vol- 
 untarily; when the Eros-image is born within the poet's 
 joy-inspired bosom ; when even the Paul's power stands 
 speechless, only to be born anew, glorified, because he has 
 beheld God. The artist does not then invent, he only con- 
 ceives in a certain form the eternally living, eternally ex- 
 isting. Life, in its highest moments, is called " inspira- 
 tion." In these moments the image of a God is born ; it 
 is inspiration ; it is inborn. 
 
 Goethe's life appears to me to be one of the richest, most 
 perfect artist-lives. Up to his last moments his Genius 
 stood beside him. His making signs with his finger in the 
 air, when his tongue had refused to speak, this last at-
 
 246 LETTERS. 
 
 tempt of the earthly organ to create, is beautifully touch- 
 ing. These signs appear to me as a sacred signature to his 
 closed career, so near the confines of a new one. Oh ! he 
 has not finished yet, the glorious one. Art is eternal ! 
 
 The artist's different tasks faithfully to copy reality in 
 its every-day dress ; to reveal it in its ideal form ; to copy 
 its details ; to form a whole out of many parts have often 
 been the subject of my thoughts. It has appeared to me 
 that no work of art can be beautiful in the highest sense 
 of the word, unless the beautiful form is based upon an 
 eternal, divine truth. Then shall Milton's " Paradise 
 Lost " stand higher than all the works of Byron ; " La Ma- 
 donna di San Sisto " be worth more than the Laocoon 
 group ; Fogelberg's " Oden " the personification of power 
 and wisdom more than Hogarth's paintings. For the 
 beautiful, as well as for the good, I would wish to have a 
 Jacob's ladder with an endless number of steps reaching 
 from earth up to heaven ; but the lower ones ought to be 
 prized as well as the highest. To value all, enjoy all, do 
 justice to all therein, I see the greatest happiness and an 
 enviable faculty. 
 
 I have not yet told you what I think of the life of a col- 
 lector of works of art. But I have said that it is a happy 
 life. -It is a social life in its noblest form : he associates 
 with what life has most noble and most valuable, were it 
 only not in things! You see, my dear Baron, herein lies 
 one of the reasons which makes me incapable of becoming 
 a collector, and which has determined my taste for a life 
 a la Diogene. With every trifling toy we forge another 
 little chain, which fetters us to earth. 
 
 But I will not tire you any longer. I am a beginner, 
 although old in years, and my endeavors to unriddle my- 
 self cannot be pleasant to others.
 
 LETTERS. 247 
 
 TO MR. GEORGE A 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 29th March, 1844. 
 
 DEAR SIR, The doubts which you have imparted to me, 
 in consequence of the public appeal made by me to the 
 women of Sweden to labor for the establishment of a 
 Refuge for neglected children, gives me an opportunity of 
 discussing thoroughly with you a subject so much deserv- 
 ing of consideration, and so dear to my heart. I thank 
 you for this, and while I look upon it as an agreeable duty 
 to reply to your objections, I shall endeavor, where I can- 
 not satisfactorily solve your doubts, to take a road on 
 which we both, perhaps, with our united efforts, may find 
 an- exit out of the labyrinth ; a point of rest for our inquir- 
 ing, hesitating spirits. 
 
 That you should have seen in my appeal something else 
 and something more than merely an inducement to a col- 
 lection, an activity for some special purpose for this, your 
 way of seeing and understanding things in general, and 
 your letter to me, are a sufficient warrant. My more imme- 
 diate object has been to call forth or to rouse the con- 
 sciousness of social life and worth in woman's life and 
 sphere of activity, considered in a Christian and social 
 point of view ; I wanted to infuse a fresher life into the 
 public spirit in this sphere, and to do it with a breath of 
 Christianity's holy spirit. The invitation, which some la- 
 dies, with whom I am personally unacquainted, have ad- 
 dressed to me, to apply to the women of Sweden in favor 
 of a " Refuge and Reformatory," I at once availed myself 
 of as a welcome opportunity for expressing thoughts, the 
 inmost aim of which goes beyond the immediate visible 
 and stated purpose, and the seed of which I hope will 
 strike root and grow like the grain hidden in the earth. It 
 is not now my intention to speak of these more extensive 
 views. I have appealed to the motherly element in society 
 to feel, think, labor more largely, and above all, to take
 
 248 LETTERS. 
 
 care of the destitute children ; to save them, and, at the 
 same time, to insure the future of our native country, in as 
 far as this is dependent upon them. It is this more imme- 
 diate, practical purpose, which here and there calls forth 
 agitations and echoes, which I also would have wished to 
 have seen revealed in another way. But they may perhaps 
 be allowed without inconvenience to resound, and as far as 
 their power goes, to strike the chords or expire. 
 
 The superfluous will adjust itself, and from under the 
 perishable flowers a really fresh, life-giving stream of spring 
 water may gush forth. 
 
 The before mentioned purpose, warmly advocated by 
 many, has, however, amongst several earnest people of 
 both sexes, raised some scruples, which I also find stated 
 in your letter. Let us therefore speak of the rescue of the 
 destitute children, and of the " Refuge and Reformatory " as 
 a means to this end. Some of your objections against the 
 same, especially with respect to the depraved children, and 
 their seclusion in a separate Institution, may be best met 
 by a little historical sketch of the origin of the " Reforma- 
 tory " in Stockholm. 
 
 In the year 1813, when Major Venus was Superintend- 
 ent of the House of Correction here in Stockholm, several 
 boys from twelve to sixteen years of age, were imprisoned 
 in it for various crimes committed by them. The author- 
 ities were uncertain what to do with them, as it was 
 considered dangerous to let them remain at large, with 
 their evil propensities, in a world where they found 
 no more protection or guidance than the birds in the 
 air. In the course of his conversation with these boys, 
 the Superintendent began to perceive that their misfor- 
 tune might have been prevented, if they, instead of being 
 driven out of their homes, in consequence of the vices or 
 misfortunes of their parents, had been early taken care of 
 by the charity of society, and properly trained ; and that 
 they might still be saved from utter ruin, if placed under
 
 LETTERS. 249 
 
 parental care in a separate Institution, where they could be 
 made, as it were, new beings. Major Venus accordingly 
 appealed to the public, through the " Dagligt Allehanda " 
 newspaper, for the establishment of such an Institution. 
 The Bishop Wallin, and Mr. Wannquist, the Chief of the 
 Police in Stockholm, examined and approved of the plan ; 
 but it was not until several years afterwards, or until the 
 birth of Prince Carl in 1826, that these two gentlemen 
 came forward and placed themselves at the head of the en- 
 terprise, and this so successfully, that the " Reformatory " 
 soon was established, and opened for a great many unfor- 
 tunate children, whose number in the capital had increased 
 year after year. In the beginning, both neglected and de- 
 praved children (or children publicly known as vicious, and 
 punished as such) were placed together in one arid the 
 same Institution. But soon it became apparent that their 
 separation would be necessary. The depraved children, 
 comparatively few in number, stood branded amongst 
 those who were only neglected, and had always to hear or to 
 feel from their thoughtless little comrades the reproach, 
 " This you have done." Besides, the Cain's mark was only 
 too distinctly stamped upon their forehead. They were 
 also, after having undergone their punishment, and when 
 they were handed over by the police to the Institution, 
 found to be so depraved, that they not only corrupted the 
 innocent ones, but also became highly dangerous to the 
 " Reformatory," in which a stop was put to their idleness 
 and vices, which roused their revengeful spirit, and their 
 desire cost what it would to free themselves from the 
 discipline of the Institution, in order to continue their 
 former dissolute life. It was therefore found necessary to 
 establish a separate " Reformatory " for these boys, which 
 in its exterior became a kind of prison, but which in its 
 interior was organized so as to afford them all the advanta- 
 ges of a home, and of a moral and religious education. Of 
 ten boys who have gone out of this " Reformatory," nine
 
 250 LETTERS. 
 
 have hitherto remained good : several of them are in cor- 
 respondence with their former teacher and friend, and only 
 one has again fallen into evil courses. 
 
 In large cities it is necessity which compels the estab- 
 lishment of a " Refuge and Reformatory." A fact presents 
 itself there, which cannot be ignored : there exists a fallen 
 race, whose numerous offspring grows up to become a 
 plague-sore to society. Ought we to let them grow up thus ? 
 I say " No ! " Instead of the fallen race, we ought to foster 
 a better and a more healthy one. Or, how is the evil to be 
 attacked at the root ? The number of wicked people's 
 unfortunate offspring is increased by children who are too 
 many in the home of honest but poor parents, or who by 
 death have lost their natural protectors and support, and 
 are consequently thrown upon the world to shift for them- 
 selves. 
 
 There are, therefore, and with an increasing population, 
 there will probably always be found destitute children in 
 sufficient numbers to make such a Refuge necessary in its 
 first form. Possibly its later division may be gradually 
 dispensed with through the efficacy of the former. 
 
 I shall now proceed to the second point in your letter: 
 
 " Let us grant the necessity and the use of separate Re- 
 formatory Institutions may we perhaps not get too many 
 of them ? Have we considered in all its parts what such 
 an Institution really is, and what children ought to be its 
 objects ? Have we formed a distinct idea of the difference 
 between a Reformatory and a Boarding School ? " . . . . 
 These questions require to be more thoroughly weighed, 
 and they will no doubt be so now, when the attention of the 
 public has been directed to the chief object, and the public 
 mind is alive to it. 
 
 The indispensableness of a Refuge and Reformatory 
 seems to be a settled thing. The number of these Institu- 
 tions, the locality where, and the manner how, they are to 
 be established, must depend upon the want thereof, and
 
 LETTERS. 251 
 
 upon local circumstances, which may be different in each 
 province of the country. The knowledge hereof, and a 
 clear idea of the meaning with, and the purpose of, such an 
 Institution, must decide the question. 
 
 One may also imagine this establishment to be at work 
 where no Refuge, properly so called, does exist. It then 
 forms a part of the invisible church, and can, like the visi- 
 ble church, be found in every congregation. 
 
 There, where the Refuge stands forth as an independent 
 Institution, having its own government, its nearer relation 
 to society and to the other establishments for relief and 
 education becomes a matter of importance to decide, and 
 the question then touches in the first instance the inner 
 organization, system of working, and the object of the Insti- 
 tution. 
 
 With reference to older depraved children, it appears to 
 me that one cannot hesitate. For them the Reformatory 
 must have, above all, a moral tendency. It must then be 
 an educational institution. It becomes to the young person 
 every thing or nothing. The State must here, for the sake 
 of its own good and for its own security, meet the prodigal 
 son, as did the father in the gospel. Mercy must there go 
 before Justice. 
 
 The case is different with regard to merely neglected or 
 younger children. The security of the State and the good 
 of the children do not require unconditionally that in the 
 House of Refuge they should receive a complete moral and 
 physical education ; because, even without it, they can be 
 saved, and become good and useful members of society. 
 Therefore we ought here to consider the important ques- 
 tion, concerning the moral injustice which would be done 
 in society, if the children of bad parents, by being admitted 
 into the House of Refuge, were to be better provided for, 
 and if better prospects for the future were to be opened for 
 them, than for the children of honest but poor parents. 
 This question is of the greatest importance, and I beg of
 
 252 LETTERS. 
 
 you to consider it with me, and try to discover the point at 
 which the influence of the House of Refuge would become 
 combined with the moral justice which is the foundation 
 of virtue and of society, and which ordains that man shall 
 be responsible for his actions, that " as he sows so shall 
 he reap." 
 
 The House of Refuge for neglected children in Stock- 
 holm is, at the same time, an educational institution. More 
 than one hundred children are educated there at present, 
 and provided for from their eighth year until, when they 
 have been confirmed, they enter into service, which the 
 Directors of the Institution procure for them. 
 
 They very easily find employment, because these unusu- 
 ally clever and well-taught children are much in request. 
 All this is well and good ; but the greater number of these 
 have come out of the abodes of vice and neglect. Here 
 appears the moral injustice, and this seems to me so dan- 
 gerous in its consequences in general, that, having been 
 led by thinking people seriously to weigh this matter in my 
 mind, I have taken the liberty to submit to the Directors, 
 whether the House of Refuge ought not properly to be 
 considered as a central depot for these children, into which 
 they should be received and taken care of during the 
 earliest part of their misery, which often is so great, that, 
 being previously nearly starved, they can in the beginning, 
 only with difficulty bear food; and from which depot they 
 may afterwards, as soon as convenient, be transplanted into 
 the country amongst peasants and small farmers, against 
 some moderate remuneration, by which means not only the 
 child would cost scarcely half of what it now costs the Insti- 
 tution ; but the Institution would be enabled to admit a 
 much greater number of children ; besides which the still 
 more important advantage would be gained, that the chil- 
 dren would be placed in the same condition of life, would 
 become inured to the same toil, and would have the same 
 prospects for the future as poor people's children in gen- 
 eral in Sweden.
 
 LETTERS. 253 
 
 The moral injustice would in this way be, to a great ex- 
 tent, counteracted. Besides, one would avoid the danger 
 of getting, as it is the case now, a superfluity of artisans 
 and mechanics, whereas the healthy and useful class of 
 country people and agriculturists would increase, which in 
 our country is considered to be very advantageous. I 
 have been answered: "Your project is very judicious ; 
 but in that case the House of Eefuge ceases to be a moral 
 House of Refuge it is then placed on the same footing 
 as the Orphan Asylum ; it becomes merely an extension 
 of the same ; and see what is the fate of those children 
 who are taken out of it and placed with other people. 
 Do not a great number of them become utterly lost in 
 the hands of their greedy foster-parents, who do not care 
 for them ? Nor does any body know how they are trained 
 morally. Therefore, first to admit the children and then 
 to plant them out, would not be to save them." 
 
 Notwithstanding these objections, I cannot help thinking 
 that this method would be the best and the right one, if 
 we consider the matter at large. The dangerous conse- 
 quences, which you allude to, might be guarded against to 
 a great extent by a strict surveillance. This surveillance 
 could best be kept up by the clergy in the respective con- 
 gregations ; but I allow that the thing has its difficulties. 1 
 
 Some part of the moral injustice of which we have 
 spoken, may be avoided by means of the principles which 
 are followed in selecting the children which are to be ad- 
 mitted into the House of Refuge. In Stockholm this has 
 been actually done in this way : that the Directors in the 
 
 i The plan suggested as above, was a few years ago adopted by the Di- 
 rectors of the House of Refuge, who, after having purchased an island of 
 considerable extent, situated at a distance of about five and twenty English 
 miles from Stockholm, entered into a contract with the peasants and farm- 
 ers living on the same, according to which they engaged themselves, on the 
 payment of a fixed sum, eacli to receive, educate, and to instruct in agricult- 
 ure, one or more children of the House of Refuge, under the supervision of 
 the manager of the principal estate on the island. This arrangement has 
 proved very beneficial to the children. EDITOK'S REMARK.
 
 254 LETTERS. 
 
 first instance admit orphans, destitute in every respect, and 
 then children of honest, industrious people, when these 
 have fallen into misery and are prevented by illness from 
 providing for all their children. In general, these parents 
 can only with the greatest difficulty be prevailed upon to 
 give up their children. In most instances they prefer to 
 starve and to suffer any thing, rather than to part with their 
 children. 
 
 Meanwhile, there is no doubt that the greatest number 
 of the children in the House of Refuge come from the 
 abodes of vice and recklessness. An important question 
 remains therefore always to be put to the House of Refuge 
 (in whatever way it may arrange with regard to the chil- 
 dren and their future), namely : does it not encourage reck- 
 lessness and indolence ? 
 
 In reply it may be asked : would there be less reckless- 
 ness and indolence if the House of Refuge did not exist? 
 I do not believe this. If the former had not been so prev- 
 alent throughout society, the latter would not have been 
 wanted or been established. But this question has roots 
 lying far deeper. What else is the House of Refuge than 
 a branch of the universal tree of charity, which has grown 
 out of Christianity ? At every new contrivance for the 
 assistance or the saving of mankind, we have heard the 
 warning repeated to us : " The more you assist, the more 
 you call forth distress ; the more zeal you manifest to 
 save, the more you encourage recklessness, and weaken 
 the power and the desire of people to help themselves. 
 Why should the sinner be more cared for than the just? 
 By this lax love you make sin abound." All this seems 
 to be true ; the dangers pointed at, seem to be a natural 
 consequence. The warners, who thus complain, we find 
 represented in the gospel in the brother of the prodigal 
 son, at whose return the father prepares a feast ; and also 
 in the first hour's laborers in the vineyard, who complain 
 that the workers of the eleventh hour receive equal wages
 
 LETTERS. 255 
 
 with those " which have borne the burden and heat of the 
 day." I confess that this complaint always troubles my 
 heart, because it appears to me to be so reasonable, but the 
 answer which they receive, to be less so. 
 
 Well now : either Christ is wrong, and all those are in the 
 wrong who, inspired by His spirit, have preached through 
 the world with words and deeds His helping and saving 
 gospel, or the matter has a much deeper meaning, and un- 
 der the seeming injustice a deeper justice is hidden. If it 
 is so, this justice must also develop itself to a higher good, 
 to a more perfect order, founded upon the highest justice. 
 
 And what we see now, can be compared to the pertur- 
 bations which Newton discovered with anxiety in the solar 
 system, but which was in reality only a transition to that 
 order, where every thing is again restored to its proper orbit 
 and place. 
 
 If we contemplate the nature of the world-evolution, 
 which Christianity has caused, we shall find that it consists 
 in a sinking down of the higher to the lower, which the 
 higher attracts, after having filled it with its power, its life, 
 that it consists in the extension of the participation of 
 all mankind in all the gifts of heaven and of earth ; the 
 participation of all in the same bread and the same wine. 
 Thus the phenomenon of the regeneration of the world 
 manifests itself, even in our days, in the stir of the political 
 life of the free, living nations, amongst which we with pride 
 can number our own. Here the question is of a deeper 
 justice than the outward, more common one ; here the 
 question is of a justice founded upon a great love. This 
 love wishes, in the first instance, to neutralize every injus- 
 tice and ruggedness of chance, to remedy all that pre- 
 vents mankind to stand one day before his Creator as one 
 perfect man, created after His image, and in whom all indi- 
 viduals are like brothers and sisters, like children of one 
 father. This love of mankind, inspired by a grand idea, 
 goes therefore forth upon its divine mission, often setting
 
 256 LETTERS. 
 
 aside ordinary systems of justice, regardless of its contin- 
 gent irregularities, which seem to be the consequences of 
 its activity ; for this love knows and feels within itself that 
 it alone is able, in accomplishing its orbit, to adjust all in a 
 higher order ; that it alone can ultimately " stop the evil on 
 earth." 
 
 The labors of love manifest themselves herein in two di- 
 rections. The one has for aim to lighten pain ; to atone 
 for errors, to obviate the consequences or to help to bear 
 them : the other aims at enlightening the understanding ; 
 to strengthen knowledge, and to encourage by conferring 
 a share in noble privileges and duties. Both unite in 
 taking an active part in ennobling and making others 
 happy. When the more favored ones on earth thus lower 
 themselves to the destitute, or the fallen, they must neces- 
 sarily eventually communicate to them the mind and the 
 power which they possess themselves, and in thus lowering 
 themselves, they can raise their fallen brothers to the step 
 of moral worth upon which they themselves are standing, 
 and become their saviours and the saviours of society. The 
 remedy against the momentary disorder, therefore, lies in 
 accomplishing the evolution, not in restraining it. 
 
 If now all this should be so, and I believe it is so, then 
 do not let us fear the movements which originate in warm 
 feelings, in devout faith. They have in all times been life's 
 prophets ; they hold in their hand the divining-rod, which 
 points out life's hidden springs. Let them become free ; 
 but let the methodical thought follow them faithfully, light 
 them on their way, and give them the watchword to their 
 presentiments. Let wisdom guide the loving will, and 
 point out the way, prudently to promote the good cause. 
 
 My letter has unconsciously swelled into a treatise. It 
 would frighten me, did I not hope that my kind reader 
 would also herein see my earnest wish to answer his ques- 
 tions and doubts to the best of my ability.
 
 LETTERS. 257 
 
 TO MR. S. H . 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 16th December, 1853. 
 
 I cannot let the old year close without sending you, my 
 
 young friend in my thanks for your letter of the 
 
 15th of October, together with my warmest congratulations 
 on your betrothal to an amiable young lady, and through it 
 to your near connection with a gentleman so estimable and 
 
 so esteemed as . I had certainly heard this betrothal 
 
 already mentioned by report, but the confirmation thereof 
 reached me only through your letter. It gave me sincere 
 pleasure to hear that report had spoken the truth, for noth- 
 ing is so beneficial, nothing so develops a good, noble- 
 minded young man and contributes to settle him, as his 
 union with a young woman of genuine female worth. 
 
 In a profound and divine manner two such natures per- 
 fect themselves in their dependence on each other, while 
 they in love reflect in each other the profound and the 
 good which they individually possess, revealing treasures 
 hitherto hidden to themselves, and a new spiritual life 
 through the union of their souls, creating a reality and full- 
 ness of life of which before they had only a dim presenti- 
 ment, but which they never had felt. I speak here only of 
 the perfect union between two souls in love or in friendship, 
 for these two come very near each other. May you in your 
 wedlock find a happiness which I have also learnt to feel 
 in happy and sincere friendship, but of which now only 
 the memory is left. Those whom I have thus loved, and 
 by whom I was thus loved myself are all dead. But to 
 have thus loved, to have thus lived, is an unspeakable 
 blessing. We know then what heaven is, and we believe 
 then in its eternal reality. There lives then in our heart, 
 in our inmost soul, a spot perpetually green, where fount- 
 ains well forth, where roses are blooming a peaceful 
 oasis, where an eternal summer is reigning, and to which 
 we can fly in darker moments as to our proper home. For 
 17
 
 258 LETTERS. 
 
 if we have once found such a home in anothei s soul, then 
 every thing discordant which chanced to come between us, 
 was a mere fleeting cloud in a bright sky ; if we once have 
 felt such a deep union with another being that nothing in 
 the world could shake its sincerity ; if we have felt that we 
 belonged to one another eternally from a deep, divine 
 necessity, then we can let much in this life come and go as 
 it will ; can lose much, suffer much, and yet be tranquil, 
 still have enough, and still thank God for immeasurable 
 wealth in the confidence of our heart. 
 
 May it be thus with you ! 
 
 I might be willing to accede to your views, relating to a 
 new legislation with respect to matrimony, 1 if you could 
 convince me that the children's fate would thereby become 
 in a measure as much secured, or that it would not be more 
 exposed to chance and to neglect than is now the case. If 
 we contemplate man, such as he is in general on earth and 
 in society, we find clearly that it is not good to trust to his 
 inspirations. 
 
 Caprice and passion play too prominent a part therein ; 
 they frequently overrule his better conscience, and would 
 probably do this effectually, if he had not in the higher 
 conscience of humanity, and in the laws which pronounce 
 and represent the same, a friendly monitor and a judge, 
 who prevent him from becoming the slave of the tyranny 
 of selfish passions. It is no doubt clear that the judicial 
 ties in matrimony are the means at the disposal of society 
 for protecting the life and the future of the weak and help- 
 less (the wife and children) against the husband's or the 
 parent's neglect, or their disregard of their duties. And 
 the interposition of the clergyman, in the name of the 
 church or of religion, in order to unite man or woman, is 
 merely the visible expression of the inward truth and aim 
 which alone can make the union between man and woman 
 
 l These views appear to have referred to the so-called civil marriage, 
 without the cooperation of the clergy for its legal institution.
 
 LETTERS. 259 
 
 something really noble and sacred. It was a sacred union 
 previous to the act performed by the clergyman ; but peo- 
 ple would either not consider this, or forget it, if the Church 
 did not give to the inward law a form and a word which 
 express its sacredness, and become a tie only because they 
 represent what most ought to unite man and wife. Geijer 
 said once : " Love wants to be backed by duty ; " and 
 another time : " One speaks of love as something stag- 
 nant, and yet no love can be imagined without metamor- 
 phoses." Look round in the world, and ask yourself how 
 many men would continue to be a faithful husband and 
 father, if, during the fluctuations of his love, he had not a 
 support in duty and in public moral opinion (the offspring 
 of duty) ; if, during the metamorphoses of his life of love, 
 a sacred law did not lead to a normal development 
 
 The Society of Friends, who have rejected all outward 
 laws, and appeal to the inward law, the inner voice, as the 
 only rule of conduct, have yet presupposed that this inner 
 law must be valid for all, and upon it they found their 
 unions. Thus, for instance, in weddings, the contracting 
 parties declare before the congregation that they purport 
 living together as husband and wife, and this is sufficient to 
 consecrate the marriage. But the discipline of feelings, of 
 thoughts, and of the whole course of life, is so severe from 
 early childhood amongst the Society of Friends, that public 
 opinion is more binding for them than are the forms of 
 law and of the Church for us, and they lead with them to 
 the same end. That persons before they bring children 
 into the world ought well to weigh the importance of such 
 a step, and of the duties which belong to it, this, one would 
 think, is the claim of sound morality and of experience. 
 Therefore also it is that one gives the name of illegitimate 
 to the union which disregards this higher aim of marriage. 
 That the children should suffer for this as illegitimate is 
 unjust as far as they are concerned, but how can this be 
 avoided ? It is the fault of the parents, and the sins of the
 
 260 LETTERS. 
 
 parents must always, to a certain degree, be visited upon 
 the children. Society cannot relinquish its idea of pure 
 morality. But charity, which is the crown of society, 
 adheres less severely to this idea, and takes therefore the 
 wronged ones in its supporting arms. This is done every 
 day, partly through private charities and partly by public 
 wise institutions. 
 
 How often, in the present time, when after the ravages 
 of the cholera, inquiries have been made into the condition 
 of the children of the poorer classes, have not fathers been 
 found, who, have shaken off every care of their offspring, and 
 who have succeeded herein, as they could not be bound to 
 it by any certificate of lawful marriage. Several of these 
 abandoned little ones have been taken care of by our 
 " Ladies' Association." But you will one day, perhaps, be 
 yourself a father, and although I am fully aware that your 
 heart is to you a power more binding than all outward 
 legal forms, still, in looking at your children, you may prob- 
 ably feel yourself, in your character of father, also in the 
 position of society ; and you will then, in the name of the 
 parental society, demand the assistance both of the laws and 
 of the clergyman in order to secure the moral and economical 
 guardianship over the rising generation. If this guardian- 
 ship could be extended so as to protect also the innocent 
 so-called illegitimate little ones, it would be still better. 
 
 But I have too long detained you on this subject. I 
 agree fully and most heartily with you in regard to the 
 question of woman's majority, and I see the only safe 
 guarantee for a better future of the rising generation, in 
 woman's moral and social elevation amongst all classes. 
 My remaining days shall be devoted to labor for this end, 
 as far as in my power lies. In the second and third 
 volume of my work, " The Homes in the New World," 
 you will see my opinions and my thoughts on this subject. 
 
 Christmas is at the door with its darkness, and will soon 
 come with all its lights. The Stockholm " Ladies' Associa-
 
 LETTERS. 261 
 
 tion " intends during this festive time to let every home, 
 in which misery and death have been guests during the 
 epidemic, shine, in the name of the great Physician, joy- 
 ously and more richly than ever before. This Association 
 intends likewise to distribute books for children, by native 
 authors, and will try to edit a special Swedish child's litera- 
 ture. Perhaps I shall be able to send you next Christmas 
 a budget of this kind of literature for children, for a little 
 son or a little daughter in your house. 
 
 Hearty wishes of joy and happiness, and all good this 
 year and every year from your old friend, 
 
 FREDRIKA BREMER. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 7th February, 1864. 
 
 It is high time that I should thank you with a few words 
 for your friendly letter, and especially for the sincere and 
 warm sympathy which you manifest for the condition of my 
 sex. You say that many an unmarried, middle-aged woman 
 would have a fresher and purer mind if she had a child 
 which could be the object of her heart's tender care. I 
 must, however, dissent from your opinion, as if this were the 
 sine qua non for her soul's purity and health, and I beg you 
 will now believe a true womanly nature who could have 
 loved husband and child devotedly, and yet voluntarily 
 renounced the same, and who has since without them 
 enjoyed the fullness and richness of her existence, aye, 
 enjoys them at this moment, with a freedom, a joy, which 
 not always falls to the lot of every wife and mother. 
 
 But if this happiness were egotistical, I would not speak 
 of it " He, who does not love, knows not God." The 
 life of the unmarried or childless woman has its own tempta- 
 tions and sorrows, but many of these arise (at any rate 
 in regard to their power over her) from the one-sided and 
 false direction of her education and of the literature which 
 she feeds upon, and which refers her almost exclusively, in
 
 262 LETTERS. 
 
 order to gain happiness and position, to the married state 
 and to the dignity of mother. 
 
 Besides, the slavery under which the unmarried woman 
 labors, in consequence of public opinion and the law, is, 
 to a great extent, the cause of her want of moral and phys- 
 ical health, her want of ability and happiness. And may 
 God bless you with a beautiful and lovable daughter for 
 " couching your lance " in defense of the cause of the 
 enchained ! 
 
 But look, even at the present time, at an unmarried 
 woman, past the first bloom of youth, with some degree of 
 liberty and a little property of her own, with a good heart 
 and a good head. I should like to show you some such 
 women amongst our towns-women, active on behalf of the 
 poor, and you would find a freshness and aptitude, a joyous 
 life, bearing witness of a far happier existence than that of 
 many a married woman with a quarrelsome or careless hus- 
 band and with perhaps several children, which she has to 
 provide for under anxieties and cares. Yes, if women really 
 knew, previous to their marriage, all the troubles and all the 
 anxiety which the children often cause, then many a one 
 would think twice before she attempted such a venture. At 
 any rate they would, more than now too often is the case, 
 be careful to give their heart and hand only to a man who 
 could be a support and assistance to them in life's more 
 serious situations. 
 
 There is also a higher aspiration which does not unfre- 
 quently arise, when a young woman does not give way to 
 an inclination so natural at her age, of concluding a matri- 
 monial alliance, which aspiration in Catholic countries finds 
 a more beautiful sphere of activity and life than in our 
 country. The warm feeling, turned away from seeking 
 response and fullness in earthly, turns frequently to heavenly 
 objects, and finds in its communion with and in its life in 
 them a perfection, which every-day life could never so 
 have given. Believe me : there are delights, ecstasies, un-
 
 LETTERS. 263 
 
 speakable happiness in lonely hearts, shedding brightness 
 over existence, over earthly and heavenly things, over the 
 present and the future, making the heart burn with love 
 and praise. But of these joys, the purest, warmest mo- 
 ments of love, of loving hearts moments when tears drop 
 upon smiling lips, and one desires nothing more than to 
 sacrifice one's self in order to prove one's faith and love 
 give an idea. But these blooming moments in man's life 
 become shorter and shorter with advancing years. Some- 
 thing worldly adheres to them, dragging them down to 
 earth or arresting their pinions. Like the Sylphide, in the 
 ballet of the same name, the wings fall off and they die 
 smothered in reality's cold embrace. What of this human 
 Psyche can liberate itself from this embrace, gains new 
 life with immortal wings and with rays which are not ex- 
 tinguished ; it belongs not to a natural, but to a supernatural 
 love. Happy they who in wedlock are able to develop and 
 to preserve this latter. Then love is " born of God." If 
 you wish to see what woman's life of love can be, you must 
 read " Les Confessions de St. Therese " and then ask your- 
 self how many happy lovers in their earthly circumstances 
 can speak of such joys in such terms. And those joys they 
 are not dependent on contingencies ; they are full of hope 
 and promise, and presentiment of eternal life ; they do not 
 wane, but become rather more intense with advancing 
 age. 
 
 What our unmarried women, both young and old in 
 Sweden, are still much in need of in general, is freedom, 
 and full consciousness of its value, and of their own capa- 
 bility of turning the same to practical account. A noble 
 independence, self-reliance, and trust in God, constitute the 
 first condition for all higher development and happiness. 
 
 In every thing which I have written, I have labored for 
 this ; but I hope that before I die my labor shall leave a 
 more complete result. Henceforth I shall more concen- 
 trate my powers ; more exclusively live for this aim.
 
 264 LETTERS. 
 
 Thanks for the little beautiful sketch of your home-life 
 
 at S o ! How glad I am for your sake, at your alliance 
 
 with this family, which assuredly will give your pure and 
 good heart just what it wanted, to live rightly and actively 
 in your home as well as in society. 
 
 My favorite study now is the works of the Swiss, A. 
 Vinet. He is a Christian Emerson, high-minded like him 
 in the worship of truth and spiritual liberty, but greater in 
 his induction ; and in his deduction, greater in humility, 
 more perfect in every way, and to me he is one of the most 
 valuable acquaintances amongst the literature of later 
 days. 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 FREDRIKA BREMER. 
 
 TO THE COUNTESS LOTTEN VON R . 
 
 ARSTA, 4th September, 1864. 
 
 I write to you to-day from my ancestral hall and home, 
 where I have not resided since about ten years ago, when 
 it passed into the hands of another owner. Previous to 
 that time, I had with the exception of the several years I 
 spent in Norway, Denmark, and America, passed the 
 greater part of my life here, rarely satisfied, never happy, 
 except at those times when I was permitted to stay here 
 alone ; in my youth longing to get away from here, out into 
 the great stirring, ever-changing world ; away from the 
 monastic solitude of Arsta, where my whole life was spent 
 in my inner dream-world, and in the gleams of light which 
 books and the restless workings of my brain occasionally 
 shed over the same ; but never receiving any satisfactory 
 answers to my heaven-storming questions. It has appeared 
 strange to me, now in my old age (I have lately completed 
 my sixty-third year), to be again for a few quiet weeks in 
 this house, and to look back from my observatory in the
 
 LETTERS. 265 
 
 large, secluded rooms of the upper story, upon my path in 
 life, and upon what I have gained and found in it. 
 
 You, who like to contemplate human life in the light of 
 God's love, you will hear with pleasure that these weeks 
 have been to me a continual feast of thanksgiving ; a re- 
 joicing at the belief with which my own course of life has 
 inspired me, in an all-guiding, loving Providence, although 
 for the greater number of human beings it is not revealed 
 during this mortal life ; a thanksgiving for the days of suf- 
 fering and strife in the dark, which absorbed my soul and 
 gave to its chaotic powers unity in their direction ; thanks- 
 giving for the grace, which when the time had arrived, let. 
 the caterpillar's life change, and the butterfly burst its 
 fettering chrysalis, or, to speak without allegory let me 
 find God in Christ, and in Him an answer to all my ques- 
 tions ; comfort in my afflictions ; hope for all who were 
 seeking and suffering, for all who were sighing and strug- 
 gling ; and then to see earth, its nations and generations 
 in the light of this glorifying, paternal Providence, this 
 Redeemer and Accomplisher. How often, during this 
 time, have I not in grateful joy repeated those words of 
 Scripture, which I wish to have one day written on my 
 grave, thence to speak to all mankind : " When I called 
 upon the Lord, He delivered me out of all my trouble." 
 
 Something in the state of my body and soul tells me 
 that my actual working-days are over, that I now may have 
 rest, at any rate comparatively, and that my labor hence- 
 forth must be more inward than outward. And also this 
 is a pleasant feeling. The amiable patriarchal family, to 
 whom my former home now belongs, and which lets me 
 feel as if it still were mine, enables me here to find the 
 quiet of my old age, a peaceful home after life's restless 
 journey. In about a week's time I return to Stockholm to 
 spend the winter. There I hope to receive a few lines 
 from you, my dear Lotten.
 
 266 LETTERS. 
 
 STOCKHOLM, 13th October, 1864. 
 
 God's gifts to us, and His ways with us, are various. 
 Me He has led, by the unconquerable longing and desire 
 of thought, to coherence and harmony ; to an insight into 
 His manifestation in Christ, and its all-explaining light. 
 Through doubt and through struggles He has led me to 
 certainty and peace, and from one light on to another. 
 
 That, while striving to find the precious pearl, of which 
 our Saviour speaks, much of its shell, which to many is 
 identical with the pearl itself, should have assumed another 
 signification than strict orthodoxy admits and that many 
 of the dogmas of the Church should have taken another 
 meaning than the strictly literal one this I could not 
 help. Without it I should not have discovered the treas- 
 ure, the pearl the word of eternal life in Christ ; nor 
 should I, without it, in the midst of the conflict which is 
 now going on in the world, and which is carried on in 
 newspapers and in innumerable periodicals, against the 
 more profound Christianity and its most substantial and 
 consolatory doctrines, have felt so happy, so confident, so 
 certain, that out of the ruins of the antiquated Church, a 
 new one, more real in spirit and in truth, shall arise ; when 
 also I shall be prepared to bear witness in her favor, and 
 show that the most profound Christianity is the highest 
 reason, yes, is the most undeviable right of reason as well 
 as of sense and of conscience. Man, nowadays, is not 
 helped with devout confessions, unless these, at the same 
 time, contain light for the thinking spirit. 
 
 The religious fermentation of the present day is nothing 
 else than the struggle of reason and thought to penetrate 
 to God. When they have arrived there, they shall worship 
 and sing praises to the Lord, and then the first command- 
 ment shall be fulfilled, that which tells man : " Thou shalt 
 love the Lord, thy God, with all thy heart and with all thy 
 soul and with all thy mind," that is, with all thy power. 
 
 My remaining days shall be devoted to praising the Lord
 
 LETTERS. 267 
 
 with all the strength which He has given me in this strug 
 gle, for which he has prepared me. His Spirit will show 
 me the manner and the time. 
 
 With child-like love and confidence I shall follow His 
 guidance. The peace and happiness which I have enjoyed 
 during the past summer, spent in the home of my childhood 
 and youth, are deeply connected with and have their roots 
 in, the presentiment that here, where my life developed its 
 first buds in happiness and in affliction, it will produce its 
 last, and I hope with God's help, its ripest fruit, 
 
 AESTA, 20th September, 1865. 
 
 Well may the devout who rest upon the heart of Christ, 
 "thank God that they do not feel the desire to inquire into 
 those things which God has hidden from us, and which 
 shall never be made clear to us on this side of the grave ; " 
 for they rest safely in His love ; but they whom God has 
 called to combat with the weapons of thought for light, and 
 against darkness and shadows ; to distinguish between what 
 is divine and what is human; they who believe with St. 
 Paul, that " the spirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep 
 things of God," and that man can and shall, step by step, 
 be brought to love and praise God " with all his heart, with 
 all his soul and with all his mind" (or thoughts), with all 
 his powers, and therefore also with all the strength of the 
 intellect and reason with which He has endowed him ; 
 also they can thank Him that they have got a talent to de- 
 vote to His service and to His glorification.
 
 SKETCHES. 
 
 MY DREAM. 
 
 I HAD last night a strange dream. I fancied that I was 
 in Stockholm. It was evening. I was expecting visitors : 
 I was just going to dress to receive them, and I went for 
 this purpose through the dining-room, when the door 
 opened, and my good old friend Eric Reuterborg entered, 
 elegantly dressed, his hair speckled with gray, curled in a 
 toupet on the forehead exactly as when he was alive. I 
 became alarmed, for I was well aware that he had been 
 dead three years. But I was pleased, nevertheless, for the 
 thought suddenly crossed my brain think if he is not 
 really dead ! and doubtful and astonished, I went to meet 
 him, asking : " Is it possible ! Are you not " " Reuter- 
 borg? " he answered in a friendly and cheerful tone ; " yes, 
 it is." 
 
 An indescribable feeling of awe seized me, while we 
 went into the drawing-room together. I remembered 
 
 O O 
 
 having seen him in his coffin ; remembered the cold, sad 
 expression in his face which had succeeded that of kindness 
 and open-heartedness ; remembered how I had placed 
 flowers at his feet, and put hyacinths in his cold, bluish 
 hand, which drooped their heads upon his breast; and 
 afterwards I had planted flowers upon his grave. Yes, he 
 was indeed dead, and that which I now beheld was his 
 ghost. While these memories passed before me, I stared 
 at the form which now stood beside me, and I drew timidly 
 back while I said : "But how how is it possible ? "
 
 SKETCHES. 269 
 
 At the same moment his face, until now so friendly and 
 calm, became troubled, looked disturbed, and he also drew 
 back, became shadowy and dim. Then the fear seized me 
 that he would in this way leave me. I summoned up my 
 courage ; approached him again ; called him by endearing 
 names ; begged him to be heartily welcome, and expressed 
 my great delight at seeing him again. He now grew brighter ; 
 came closer up to me, and looked more and more friendly 
 and radiant, yet not in a supernatural manner. It seemed 
 to me that we were both playing a part with each other ; 
 that he wanted to make me believe that he was not dead ; 
 just as I did not wish him to observe that I looked upon 
 him as having come from the other world. Meanwhile I 
 felt an indescribable longing to ask him how it was there, 
 and whether he was happy ; but I was prevented by I do 
 not know what kind of fear. He looked heartily pleased 
 and friendly. I said : 
 
 " You will stay with me this evening, my dear Reuter- 
 borg ? " 
 
 I said this, as if to try him. 
 
 " No," he replied, " I must go to some place and read the 
 newspapers." 
 
 Half jocularly I then said : 
 
 " Well, well, you read the newspapers beside God him- 
 self. That is surely a good place, and there you can learn 
 much." 
 
 He only smiled, and I could not help thinking that it was 
 rather cunning of him to want to make himself so living 
 and worldly. 
 
 " But," I went on to say, "as you will not stay with me, 
 then tell me, Reuterborg, when shall I come to you in your 
 home ? How old shall I be on earth ? " 
 
 He looked upwards for a moment, and then said medi- 
 tatingly, but very decidedly : 
 
 " You shall be sixty-six years and two months old." 
 
 " So old ?" I said, " I must then live still a long time here 
 on earth ; but God's will be done."
 
 270 SKETCHES. 
 
 At this moment I awoke, with a vivid consciousness of 
 having learnt the time of my death. I am now forty-five 
 years old. Consequently twenty-one years more. May 
 God in me accomplish the work which may have been given 
 me to execute. 
 
 AESTA, 23d March, 1847. 
 
 A VISION. 
 
 I SAW a throne standing in a bright shining light, and 
 from the face of Him who sat upon the throne, there ema- 
 nated a radiance which filled and glorified all things. 
 Hosts of seraphs and cherubs surrounded Him, turning 
 their faces alternately to Him and towards infinite space 
 before them, which resembled a boundless ocean of clouds. 
 It seemed as if they were expecting something. 
 
 " What is it that is going to happen ? " I asked an angel 
 who stood near me. 
 
 " Dost thou not know," he answered, " that the Lord to- 
 day will try the spirit of the peoples of the earth ? They 
 shall be called before Him and receive their reward or 
 punishment, according to how they have fulfilled their 
 charge." 
 
 And now I heard a voice, mighty as thunder, exclaim : 
 
 II Arise, thou the oldest amongst the Northern nations ! 
 Arise before thy Lord ! " 
 
 And out of the boundless ocean of clouds I saw a shape 
 rise like a woman's, with noble, earnest features, with a 
 clear, frank eye. A plain white robe, white as snow, fell 
 in soft folds around her strong, but classical figure ; on her 
 forehead the Northern star shone with mild lustre, and as 
 she approached nearer the throne, her face looked younger 
 and more beautiful in the light which was streaming from 
 it. I heard a chorus of innumerable voices sing thus : 
 
 " Struggling with want, she has nursed her children ; 
 but honestly has she combated. Her liberty she has de- 
 fended with her strong arm, and at the sound of the
 
 SKETCHES. 271 
 
 eternal Redeemer's voice she banished thralldom from her 
 free soil. Herself free, she drew her good sword and shed 
 her blood for the cause of the oppressed. Therefore her 
 faults shall be forgiven her, and strength shall be given to 
 her to combat her evil spirits, and power to proclaim the 
 gospel of liberty in the name of eternal laws. Fear not, 
 thou little nation ! it is thy Lord's will to exalt thee above 
 many wealthy and great nations. Approach to receive 
 thy Father's blessing ! " 
 
 Adoring, she bowed before the Eternal. Golden clouds 
 enveloped her, and harps resounded. I covered my dazzled 
 eyes ; but they shed tears of bliss, for the blessed one, 
 she was my mother. 
 
 When I again looked up, I beheld once more the 
 heavenly legions in endless space, and another form rose 
 resplendent out of the ocean of clouds. Stately was she, 
 and beautiful as a queen ; her raiment shone with gold, 
 but the traces of dark passions had marked her features 
 and overshadowed her forehead. But still her glance was 
 steady and open, as if conscious of something great. She 
 looked calmly up to the throne, adoring whilst she ap- 
 proached it 
 
 The heavenly chorus sang : 
 
 " Great have been her sins, but she has abjured them at 
 the feet of the Holy One. She has raised the banner of 
 Him who proceeded out of the bosom of Divinity, to say to 
 earth's children : ' Ye are all brethren, and God is your 
 father ! " She has burst the chains of her prisoners, and 
 works of love have effaced the traces of cruelty. Therefore 
 shall her sins be forgiven her, and she shall live to see 
 many glorious days, and proceed from one brightness to 
 another ! " 
 
 And whilst they thus sang and she advanced towards the 
 throne, her face became glorified by the brightness which 
 she was approaching, and the furrows on her forehead be- 
 came like streaks of light.
 
 272 SKETCHES. 
 
 After a Avhile I heard again the voice crying aloud : 
 
 " Thou, the youngest of the great nations of earth ; thou 
 messenger of the Lord's latest, last word to humanity ! 
 arise ! come before thy Judge." 
 
 And I beheld something like a green mount rise out of 
 the ocean of clouds, and on it stood a figure oh, how 
 glorious ! Youth and beauty and strength marked her 
 whole being ; the rosy morn of hope glowed upon her 
 cheeks and in her beautiful and joyous glance. On her 
 fresh lips the words of life seemed to lie. Rich and splen- 
 did raiments infolded the youthful and vigorous form. On 
 her head she wore a diadem of twenty-six stars, glittering, 
 with various light. With her right hand she raised a ban- 
 ner which the wind unfurled, and on which stood written : 
 " Liberty" 
 
 She was so beautiful that I felt spell-bound before her, 
 and I called her in my heart, Earth's hope. And the 
 heavenly hosts and the spirits of Earth's nations turned 
 eagerly their eyes upon her. 
 
 The celestial voices sang sweetly : 
 
 " Step before thy Creator, thou young, thou highly 
 gifted, thou, the youngest and most beautiful of His 
 daughters ! " 
 
 And she advanced, not straight forward, but in an ob- 
 lique direction, seemingly not aware of it herself. She 
 stumbled now and then, and her face wore an expression of 
 uneasiness and embarrassment. Surprised, I looked at her 
 attentively, and beheld her ankle encircled by a golden 
 chain, the other end of which was bound on to the arm of a 
 negro, who walked a few steps behind her and who seemed 
 to be her servant. 
 
 Also, he moved along, but half asleep and listlessly. He 
 was unconsciously approaching the edge of a frightful preci- 
 pice, at the foot of which, dragons, snakes, and slime-cov- 
 ered monsters of the deep, with horrible shapes, were crawl- 
 ing about.
 
 SKETCHES. 273 
 
 His beautiful mistress followed, apparently without know- 
 ing whither her slave was dragging her, and I saw the 
 moment approaching when both were to be hurled over 
 the precipice. I shuddered, and was on the point of cry- 
 ing out aloud, when I heard the heavenly chorus sound 
 like thunder through space : 
 
 " Awake ! unhappy one, awake ! see thy thralldom, thy 
 danger. Give liberty and be thyself free. Let the word 
 whose banner thou earnest, become a truth. Else thou 
 shalt perish in thy falsehood ! " 
 
 The light vanished from heaven, and clouds, like floods 
 of tears, lowered before the throne. 
 
 And the heavenly chorus sang : 
 
 " When He turns away His face, then darkness conies 
 over the nations of the earth. When He takes His spirit 
 away, then they perish and return again to dust ! " 
 
 Then all was silent, so silent and hushed as when the 
 breath is held back in anxious expectation of what is going 
 to happen. 
 
 My heart trembled. It asked : " Will she be saved and 
 rise ? or will she fall in the sight of the Eternal ? " In- 
 quiringly my looks were turned towards space, seeking her, 
 but then my vision vanished. 
 
 A VIOLET. 
 
 FOUND IN STOCKHOLM IN 1827. 
 
 " WHO could ever have expected to find so much virtue, 
 walking between two milk-pails ! " exclaimed my friend, Dr. 
 
 S , on entering my room one warm August evening ; 
 
 and, sitting down almost exhausted, he wiped the perspira- 
 tion from his forehead. I asked for an explanation of these 
 words, which appeared to me rather extraordinary, when 
 he related the following siory : 
 
 " You must know, my friend, that I have made acquaint- 
 ance with a person in a house nearly opposite mine 
 yes, a nice acquaintance with an old woman, who for more 
 18
 
 274 SKETCHES. 
 
 than ten years has served me with milk and cream twice a 
 week. During all this time she has come and gone, quietly, 
 neatly dressed, and honest, with a deep curtsey, a ' good 
 morning ! ' and ' many thanks,' without my ever thinking of 
 looking upon her otherwise than as an old regular piece of 
 clock-work, which strikes the hours at certain intervals of 
 time, or as one of those kind of people who live, they do 
 not know precisely why ; who walk through life without 
 knowing wherefore ; and who yet from morning till noon, 
 from noon until night, after all, manage better than those 
 who know infinitely more. Last week, during two milk- 
 days, for the first time she did not make her appearance. 
 I began to wonder whether my good old clock-work had 
 stopped for ever, and was just going to see what was the 
 matter with it, when this morning a boy about ten years 
 old called upon me, and with tears in his eyes besought me 
 to come and see his ' dear Nanna,' who was very ill. I 
 accompanied the boy across the street to the house where 
 my milk-woman lived, and was shown into a clean, but 
 poor-looking room, where I found my old acquaintance 
 lying on a straw pallet, and to all appearance in a bad state. 
 A well-dressed lady, between twenty and thirty years of 
 age, with pleasant, but extremely delicate features, was sit- 
 ting beside her, holding the old woman's hand in hers. A 
 young girl was lying weeping upon her knees before her. 
 She seemed to be of nearly the same age as the boy, who 
 was her brother. I was a little astonished at what I saw, 
 but as I do not like superfluous questions, I merely inquired 
 into the old woman's state of health. She had not much 
 strength herself to speak, but the lady tried, evidently with 
 deep emotion, to describe her malady. I prescribed some- 
 thing ; spoke, according to my habit, not many words, and 
 took, in going through the door, a pinch of snuff, much 
 doubting in my own mind the efficacy of the medicines in 
 a creature whom old age, poverty, and disease, were hurry- 
 ing to the grave. ' And if/ I thought to myself, ' I should
 
 SKETCHES. 275 
 
 even be able to save her this time, it would, after all, per- 
 haps be of little benefit to her. To walk about with falter- 
 ing steps a few years longer, borne down by care, in order 
 to earn a miserable crust of dry bread, and then to die upon 
 a straw pallet, is surely not worth a rhubarb-powder. To 
 the old and destitute death is a solacing angel in whose 
 way we doctors ought not to stand. Our physic serves fre- 
 quently nothing else than to make the poor patient again 
 taste, what to him is more bitter than any medicine 
 life.' During this soliloquy, I stood still on the landing, 
 pulling down a spider's web with my walking-stick, and lib- 
 erating two agonized flies that showed their gratitude by 
 buzzing round my nose for nearly half an hour. 
 
 "I now observed that the lady had followed me. 'My 
 dear doctor,' she said with a quivering voice, clasping her 
 hands together, 'excuse me but if you knew what a 
 life is in jeopardy you would exert all your skill ; you 
 would do every thing in your power to save it.' ' A human 
 life, madam,' I answered, ' is always valuable ; my science 
 is not omnipotent, but my exertions are the same for all.' 
 She looked as if she did not quite believe me, and in truth 
 I felt some small stings of conscience ; I muttered a few 
 words that it would interest me to hear something more 
 concerning the invalid. The lady opened a door on the 
 opposite side, saying in a steadier voice : ' Please to walk 
 in a moment, you will not repent it ; I will make you ac- 
 quainted with your patient's character, and you will then, 
 perhaps, think of some other treatment.' 
 
 " She led me into a small, well-furnished room, and thence 
 into another one, where even a certain elegance was pre- 
 vailing. ' Look around you, Doctor,' she said, ' these 
 rooms, every thing that is in them, every chair, every cush- 
 ion, yes, my own and my two children's clothes, are presents 
 from the poor old woman, who you but now saw lying upon 
 straw.' Tears glittered in the lady's eyes. Roused out of 
 my phlegmatic trance, I asked her anxiously for some further
 
 276 SKETCHES. 
 
 information. We sat down, and in a voice which often 
 vainly strove to be firm, she continued : ' My old good 
 Nanna was a servant in my parents' house, and entered 
 into my service when I married. My husband and myself 
 possessed but little, but it was enough. He allowed him- 
 self to be persuaded to become security for one of his 
 friends, was deceived, and we lost our all. Broken down 
 with grief, after two years' illness, he died, leaving me in 
 deep affliction, with two very young children, and with debts 
 which I found it impossible to discharge. In consequence 
 of grief and want of sleep, I had became very sickly, and 
 should certainly have perished in misery with my children, 
 if it had not been for my Nanna. Already during my hus- 
 band's last illness, when she saw that the little which we had 
 left did not by far suffice for our housekeeping, and for the 
 extra expenses which his state of health made indispensa- 
 ble, she undertook, without our knowledge, to sell milk, 
 and what she earnt in that way, she employed for our ben- 
 efit. After the death of my good husband, when I was 
 incapacitated from illness to do any thing, she entirely pro- 
 vided for me and for my poor children. She worked like a 
 slave all day long, and often in my sleepless nights I heard 
 the whirring of her spinning-wheel in the next room, or I 
 saw, through a chink in the door, the light of her candle at 
 which she sat working for my little ones and their poor 
 mother. Her indefatigable industry procured for us by 
 degrees better food, better clothing, and good lodgings ; her 
 milk-trade gradually became more lucrative as she became 
 more known ; but all, all was spent upon us. She lived as 
 if she had no existence for herself; her bed was straw, her 
 food what we had left over, and never could our prayers 
 prevail upon her to share equally with us, even in trifles. 
 Always friendly and merry, although taciturn, we could 
 always read in her looks the words which she often used to 
 say in order to comfort us : " Dearest lady ! all will be well 
 again one day." Yes, dear Nanna, you have made it well ;
 
 SKETCHES. 277 
 
 night and day did you work for me, and would not have 
 thanks for it. When I got so well, that I was able to work 
 again, I wanted her to allow herself some rest, of which she 
 was the more in need as her health was much impaired, and 
 she was evidently becoming weaker every day; but all in 
 vain. She continued carrying out milk until last week, when 
 she fell ill. She wishes to live merely for the sake of being 
 of use to me and my children. About herself she is per- 
 fectly indifferent, as for one already dead ; I have not been 
 able to persuade her to allow herself to be carried into a 
 more comfortable room and to have a softer bed. ' I am 
 used to it,' she says, ' it is good enough for me.' Oh ! 
 if you knew, Sir, how, only a short time ago, I rejoiced in 
 the hope of working for her who has so long worked for 
 me ; to see her old age made peaceful and happy through 
 our tender care and grateful love, you would also be able 
 to understand how bitterly I must feel it to see her fall a 
 sacrifice to her heroic devotion, just at a moment when she 
 might be able, through me and my children, to enjoy a re- 
 ward, earned by the self-denial of half a life-time. If it is 
 in your power, try to save her, do it for her sake ; she 
 may still see happy days here on earth, do it for my 
 sake ; for I do not think that I could bear the idea that I 
 should have been the cause of the death of this angelic 
 woman ; do it for my children's sake, who love her dearly, 
 and who would lose in her a daily example of the noblest 
 virtues. Oh ! save her and my gratitude * I rose, 
 asking her not to mention gratitude. ' I consider myself 
 sufficiently rewarded, if I succeed in saving such a life,' I 
 said, and returned to the sick-bed. I confess that I now 
 contemplated her with very different eyes, and I comforted 
 the lady and her children with the assurance, that, unless 
 the thread of her life had not entirely run out, my excel- 
 lent medicine would add fresh elasticity to the springs and 
 set the pendulum going again as regularly as before. 
 
 " Well, what do you think of her ? " added the Doctor
 
 278 SKETCHES. 
 
 " was I not right in saying, Who would have expected to 
 find so much virtue walking between two milk-pails ? " 
 
 I agreed with him that such self-sacrificing virtue was 
 exceedingly rare. Still, I believe that if we would take the 
 trouble to look for it, we should far more frequently find 
 instances of it amongst the classes commonly called the 
 uneducated, than in the atmosphere of the so-called refined 
 classes. The nobility of the soul, the qualities of the 
 heart, resemble those sweet juices of honey which the 
 humblest flowers of the fields conceal in their bosom ; 
 whereas often the choicest and most wonderful plants of the 
 flower-beds and of the hot-houses contain venom amongst 
 their brilliant leaves. Art rarely educates without, at the 
 same time, miseducating, and one generally loses in inner 
 worth what one gains in outward appearance. 
 
 It is doubtful whether we ought to ascribe to Doctor 
 
 S 's wonderful medicines the recovery of the old woman ; 
 
 or whether her own constitution and the tender care of her 
 mistress were not chiefly instrumental herein ; but, suffice 
 it to say, she recovered her health completely. My friend 
 allows her a small annuity, which she devotes entirely to the 
 use of her now happy mistress and her amiable children. 
 She carries twice a week the milk to my friend, the Doctor, 
 and all that she consents to accept of him for her own ac- 
 count, is the cup of coffee with sugar and biscuits, which 
 he always has ready for her every morning when she calls. 
 But in return she insists upon deducting six stiver for every 
 can of milk which he buys of her. How they have ulti- 
 mately settled this important point, I do not know. 
 
 AT FORTY YEARS OF AGE. 
 
 THE age of fifteen has been celebrated in song as life's 
 rosy period, and it has been allowed to bloom up to twenty, 
 aye, even up to twenty-five ; the age of sixty or seventy has 
 been honored as being the years of wisdom and of mature 
 virtues : 1 will sing the praise of the age of forty the
 
 SKETCHES. 279 
 
 present century's and my own age. I know a lady, who, 
 when twenty-eight years old, gave herself out to be thirty 
 " for," said she, " what is the use of sticking to those two 
 years ? " Perhaps I also follow a little her footsteps, for, 
 J think with her: thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, why, it 
 comes to almost the same thing. The wisdom-teeth and 
 the wrinkles have already come. 
 
 Forty years ! do not you feel something " set " in those 
 words? At forty one has generally settled down in life. 
 This is why one can quietly walk about and contemplate 
 the world, and there is much to contemplate in this 
 world. Our century has also settled down, but it has set- 
 tled down in Parliament and meditates upon the State, and 
 therefore it looks neither merry nor uneasy, but thoughtful. 
 So also is woman at forty. The heart does not then any 
 longer beat uneasily before a ball, or still more uneasily 
 after one ; nor do we then stand here in life as a poor can- 
 didate for any thing, a prey to wishes, hopes, uncertainties, 
 contrarieties, happiness, and misery, neither does the frame 
 of our mind, like a chameleon, take the impression of 
 every new object, changing from rose-color to black, from 
 green to gray, in the course of only a few hours ; nor do 
 you see in every one whom you meet some important per- 
 sonage in the romance of your life, nor in every uttered 
 nonsense a monster which you are to rush upon and attack, 
 like Don Quixote battling with the windmill ; you need not 
 then dance when you want to sit still, nor walk according 
 to the will of others, when you have your own will in a 
 word, you are above a great deal of anxiety and trouble. 
 Many a rosy light has, it is true, perchance waned, but also 
 many mists have rolled away and brightened. You see your 
 way clearer, you walk along more steadily ; not swayed 
 hither and thither by the wind, as in youth ; not leaning with 
 faltering steps upon the crutches of old age ; you walk 
 sturdily on your own legs, and look round in the world with- 
 out coming to fisticuffs with it. Forty years is the age of 
 contemplation, of practical thought. Long life be to them !
 
 280 SKETCHES. 
 
 I was yesterday in town. A large town is after all a 
 strange thing. We feel this most when we have been liv- 
 ing a long time in the country. The country ! I wish that 
 everybody could live there, and become well acquainted 
 with all its peaceful objects. 
 
 How beneficial is it not for sore eyes (sore from contem- 
 plating the world and humanity) to rest upon the " Eyes- 
 delight " with which Sweden's Flora has so richly studded 
 our verdant fields ; to see in old forests the " Yellow-bird 's- 
 head" juicy and odoriferous, shoot out of the poorest soil 
 at the roots of the firs ; to see and hear the waves beat 
 upon the shore ; to rest near the murmuring brook, when 
 the " Money-wort " and the " Purple-specked loosestrife " 
 shine amongst the bushes upon its bank ; to listen to the 
 country-people's songs in the evening, while they are piling 
 the fragrant hay-cocks ; to see the cows graze upon the 
 lately-mown fields, and the sheep pictures all of repose 
 and innocence, bringing peace and refreshing coolness to 
 our soul. It makes you more pious, more healthy. Yes, 
 everybody ought to live in the country, but nevertheless 
 visit the town now and then. This was just what I did 
 yesterday. 
 
 Stockholm is not a very large, nor is it a very populous 
 town. London is much larger. But still Stockholm is a 
 real capital. I think it is splendid. 
 
 Born of a wedding and of a murder, 1 a child of love and 
 revenge, the soil inaugurated by mead and royal blood, the 
 former Agnefit, the present Stockholm, rose from out the 
 waters, both salt and fresh. Even to this day, as then, the 
 sea and the lake mingle their floods round its base, and in 
 it thrives and moans in wonderful union, love and hatred, 
 virtue and crime, the great and the little, beauty and ugli- 
 ness, the bitter and the sweet. 
 
 1 See tales of Swedish history, how King Agne of the Ynglinga dy- 
 nasty, after having conquered a Finnish king and made his daughter pris- 
 oner, and when on his way home, their wedding being celebrated, became 
 intoxicated, and was hanged on a tree at her instigation.
 
 SKETCHES. 281 
 
 The sun, the high and pure, shone over that chaotic 
 world on an August evening as I went forth for a walk to 
 view the town. Every object around me stood out in bold 
 relief. 
 
 The House of Nobles ! hem what have I to do 
 there? There the legislators of the' country discuss the 
 weal of society, and I belong God help me ! (or thank 
 God !) to the minors in the State, who, as the wise-acres 
 say, ought, for the good of the State, always to remain so 
 (in a political sense). 
 
 Two things I believe in, and the third I take to be 
 certain : 
 
 1st. That the wiseacres are right. 
 
 2d. That not compulsion, as now, but free choice, free 
 conviction (which must be preceded by a complete eman- 
 cipation), ought, and one day shall, decide woman's social 
 position. 
 
 3d. That I shall not live to see the day when such an 
 emancipation takes place ; to see all the madness and the 
 stupidity walk about in open daylight, which are now sitting 
 quietly at home spinning. " For certain it is " (said my 
 youngest sister just now, laughing), " that all the mad ones 
 want to rule, and that would be a disgrace to the whole 
 corps ! " 
 
 However, I leave the House of Nobles to itself. Gus- 
 tavus Vasa stands in the square of the House of Nobles. 
 I always loiter some time before that figure. When I turn 
 away from the human faces in the street (mine own 
 amongst them), and look up to that face, I fancy there 
 must be some truth in the Indian myth, that some people 
 have emanated out of the head of the Creator, and others 
 out of his feet. It is not, therefore, necessary to arrange 
 them in Indian castes. No Pariahs ! Look round on Na- 
 ture. Do here not grow beside each other moss and holly, 
 turnips and astrakhan apple-trees, anemone and rose-tree ? 
 They drink the same dew, and develop and bloom in the
 
 282 SKETCHES. 
 
 light of the same sun. But let us return to the hero's 
 statue. *Sb a king and a hero ought to look ! So free, so 
 firm, so quiet, so cheerful. It is at the word of command 
 of such a king that nations arise and march onward. Gus- 
 tavus Vasa's last word was " Yes ! " so was his life : strongly 
 confirmatory. A truly royal life ! 
 
 While I stood contemplating the splendid head, I saw a 
 large spider spinning its web between the sceptre and his 
 laurel crown. What did it want there ? 
 
 Close by rise the royal sepulchres. Sceptres and crowns 
 have fallen there. Heads and hands that have worn them 
 rest there in darkness, in dust. Happy it is that a bold 
 spire again is raised over them, pointing to the hope be- 
 yond the tomb ! Happy it is that thp temple arches itself 
 over the dead, under whose vault was preached Immor- 
 tality. 
 
 All round the " Kiddarholm " stand fine large edifices, 
 which formerly were private palaces, but now are govern- 
 ment offices. A sign of the times ! 
 
 In a straight line from the king's statue, near the water, 
 there sit a long line of " Queens," every one in her own 
 realm. True it is that market-women always have ap- 
 peared to me to have a certain resemblance to queens. 
 But there is a difference a great one ! There, however, 
 they sat, all the market-queens, powerful and important, 
 each one at the head of a long table, her realm, over whose 
 provinces they kept a sharp and watchful eye. What beau- 
 tiful provinces ! Here vegetables of all kinds ; there the 
 produce of the orchard ; here again berries of all colors 
 and kinds, and there flowers in pots and brooms, too. 
 
 Housewives and their cooks wander about aihongst them 
 to admire, inquire, choose, bargain, purchase. An elderly 
 gentleman who looks as if he had a well-filled purse 
 contemplates all the various treasures, but makes wry faces. 
 Surely he must have a bad digestion. Yonder ragged 
 urchin has certainly not many farthings, but oh ! see how
 
 SKETCHES. 283 
 
 greedily he eats out of the paper bag which he has got 
 filled with berries. Which of the two is most to be envied ? 
 Old-fashioned, silly question ! Save us from an answer. 
 
 " Storkyrkobrinken ! " Book-sellers' shops book-sell- 
 ers' shops book-sellers' shops ! 
 
 " Roasted pigeons do not fly into our mouths," says an 
 old proverb. Oh ! it is far better than that nowadays, my 
 dear Proverb ! For what is needed now to imbibe knowl- 
 edge of all sorts? Only to open your mouth. Happy 
 times ! 
 
 Along " Norrbro," what a variety of professions and 
 faces ! What a variety, what a stir there is around the old 
 palace, standing there in silent majesty, staring out of hun- 
 dreds of windows, like Argus-eyes, out over the waters and 
 the town, delighting the eye of the wanderer with its grand 
 proportions. Amusing to see people go in and out of the ele- 
 gant shops in the Bazaar, buying costly stuffs, books, music, 
 " Madame Bishop," " the Archbishop," cigars, and Heaven 
 knows what all ; pleasant to see people have plenty of 
 money ! I shall not go there, to-day ; I prefer looking at 
 the people outside. There a young and charming lady, 
 dressed in the height of fashion, in gauze and muslin, sails 
 past the steps on which a beggar-woman, scarcely covered 
 with rags, is sitting, chewing a mouldy crust of bread ! 
 There but here a young gentleman came across my 
 thoughts. 
 
 He came from the " Helgeands-holm." Handsome face, 
 but what traces of dissipation ! His dark curls in wild dis- 
 order round his forehead, the disorder in his looks wilder 
 still ; the hat too small for his face, and much battered ; 
 his clothes * torn ! With hasty steps he sped along the 
 bridge, in the beautiful sunshine, through the motley crowd. 
 A young girl with rosy cheeks and dress stared at him, 
 and laughed. The silly one ! A stout gentleman, with 
 a pompous appearance, looked at him also, and started. 
 Fancy a large, substantial, ruddy face, in which nose,
 
 284 SKETCHES. 
 
 mouth, eyes, in a word, every thing, was pointing strongly 
 upwards, and put upon this an expression of utter aston- 
 ishment, and you will, I hope, pardon me for smiling. The 
 unhappy youth walked along through the crowd. As he 
 walked on, all turned round to look at him, and then quietly 
 turned away again. He walked on the brink of destruc- 
 tion, I fancied ; he disappeared. The human stream closed 
 noisily in his wake ; the dark-green current surged and 
 boiled through the arches of the bridge. It is here where 
 the salt and fresh waters meet, and struggle, and mingle. 
 Boats, full of people, were rowed backwards and forwards 
 on both sides of the bridge. Fishermen, in their small 
 canoes floating calmly on the river, were angling. Sea- 
 gulls were making their airy gyrations, screaming and 
 plunging. On the " Strom-parterre " the silver poplars 
 were waving their slender forms. Down below in the gar- 
 den pretty children ran about playing, guarded by watchful 
 mothers seated on the benches under the trees. Round 
 small tables, small parties were eating ices, laughing, and 
 chatting. Gentlemen smoked cigars and read newspapers. 
 " Necken " shot foaming and smoking through the clear 
 water, and laid to at the parterre, inviting you to a trip 
 to ' Djurgarden." 
 
 Merry folks accepted the invitation, stepped on board, 
 and quickly the " Necken " darted off with them across the 
 blue waters. Cares, gloomy looks and faces where were 
 they ? Not here. 
 
 Horses, carts, cabs, and riders, high and low, are un- 
 pleasant things in a town. Their riding and driving hither 
 and thither always prevent me walking across Gustavus 
 Adolphus Square quietly and collectedly, and therefore I 
 cannot tell you any thing about my thoughts at the base of 
 the statue of " the Great Gustaf Adolf; " not a word of 
 his generals, nor of the Royal Opera, nor for whom it was 
 that the sentinel just now called the guard " under arms ! " 
 
 There reigns more quiet under the lime-trees in the
 
 SKETCHES 285 
 
 square a little further on. The old " King's Garden " is 
 still a peaceful place, where children can run about undis- 
 turbed ; where old people can sit down to rest quietly, and 
 where philosophical pedestrians can walk up and down, 
 contemplating, from under the shade of large, wide-spread- 
 ing, leafy trees, the busy world round about them, the estu- 
 ary, and the palace. The August evening was very sultry, 
 the town air hung heavily over the garden, but the lime- 
 trees were blooming and their fresh fragrance broke now 
 and then through the oppressive air. Carriages and vehi- 
 cles of all kinds were rattling out to the Djurgarden, and 
 gentlemen were galloping along on fine horses. In the 
 avenues of the garden all was silent. One couple was 
 there walking, whom I followed with my eyes for a good 
 while. He was tall, middle-aged (about the golden forty), 
 with a noble, manly countenance ; vigor and gentleness 
 united. She was shorter, a slender figure, a beautiful, 
 youthful face. 
 
 They walked slowly, conversing with one another, and 
 when he looked down at her, and she up to him, there was 
 something in their faces and in their manner which made 
 me think, " So it is right, so it is beautiful ! " They walked 
 arm in arm in the shade, close beside each other, full of 
 confidence, united in pure love, and happy. 
 
 A little further on, sat on a bench one of the wealthiest 
 and first men in the country. A splendid figure ! He was 
 sitting alone and thoughtful, leaning his hands upon his 
 walking-stick. 
 
 On the next bench was sitting a wretch, whose rags 
 scarcely covered his body. He also sat thoughtful, leaning 
 upon his staff. Over both, the lime-trees waved their fra- 
 grant crowns. The bells pealed from the church-steeples. 
 Sounds of music were heard from the water. 
 
 My road led me afterwards far out to the outskirts of the 
 town. 
 
 Here the houses decrease in size, creeping at last in the
 
 286 SKETCHES. 
 
 shape of huts and cottages up the sides of the hills or 
 downwards to the common ; every thing becomes smaller, 
 narrower, poorer ; the town is absorbed by the country, and 
 the street by the turnpike road. Here the poor people 
 live. It is the world of the cryptogamia of town life. 
 Still the student loves to point his spy-glass at them, to 
 try to discover the great, the important, in the seemingly 
 insignificant. 
 
 Here, far out upon the outskirts, is a narrow street, and 
 in that street stands a small house, and in that house dwells 
 an old couple. Young, blooming bride ! can you think it 
 possible that the woman there was fifty-seven years old 
 when she was married to her equally old husband; and 
 would you believe it, that the little god, who flies from so 
 many young and handsome couples in those fine houses in 
 town, has taken up his abode with the old couple, there in 
 the small cottage in that narrow street? Yet so it is. 
 Husband and wife love one another with all their heart, 
 and surprise each other often with small improvements in 
 their home. The old woman showed me her kitchen stove. 
 It had formerly been low and inconvenient. The old man 
 could not bear to see how the wife was obliged to bend 
 her back when employed at it. He once watched the op- 
 portunity when she was absent for a couple of days, and 
 had it altered and raised a foot. Now it was " the best 
 kitchen stove in the world," and cheerfully must the fire 
 dance on the hearth and shine in the little room. I do not 
 think that I would look at the ruins of the Coliseum in 
 Rome with so much pleasure as at that kitchen-stove. The 
 old woman boasted also of a small bit of a garden with one 
 tree in it, and a "real bower" of half-naked lilac-tree 
 branches covered with spider-webs. " Swedish poverty ! " 
 I thought, and remembered what is expressed in these two 
 words : to find one's self rich with little, with almost nothing. 
 
 I peeped accidentally into a dark closet ; a shadowy form 
 in it made a curtsey to me. It was a woman seventy years
 
 SKETCHES. 287 
 
 old, not married, who lived there in poverty and content- 
 ment, earning her bread with the labor of her hands, and 
 who had never received or asked assistance from anybody. 
 u She bakes a kind of small cakes, which she sells to 
 hucksters at four stivers apiece. Well, I would'nt eat 
 them," said, with a significant grin, the well-to-do old 
 woman who told me this (the owner of the kitchen stove, 
 the tree, and the spider-web bower), "but boys and such 
 like buy them, I believe, and thus she manages to pay 
 her rent and her food. And as to clothes poor old 
 body ! she has no others than those she stands and walks 
 in ; but content she is with them, and then she is so kind, 
 and always merry." 
 
 But would you believe it, that this poor old woman had 
 her pride ? And in what did this pride, concealed under 
 that only garment, and in that dark, solitary room, consist ? 
 " I have never been a burden to anybody, and nobody 
 shall ever be able to say that I have been a burden to the 
 State either ! " said the old maid, and her pale seventy- 
 years' old eyes sparkled at these words with a noble self- 
 consciousness, also a kind of patriotism as good as any 
 other ! 
 
 Are you tired of my wanderings ? I was by this time 
 fatigued myself, and therefore I returned home. From it 
 I wish you farewell ! May God grant you clear eyes, the 
 wish, the time, and liberty to look about you in the world, 
 and somebody at home to whom you can relate what you 
 have seen, who smiles at your conceits, sheds a tear at 
 your sorrows, and takes an interest in your impressions, 
 somebody to love, and you will see how pleasant, how 
 blissful life can be at forty years !
 
 288 SKETCHES. 
 
 WINDOW PICTURES. 
 MY WINDOW, 1825. 
 
 THE VISITOR. 
 
 WHAT a pity it is that the whole world should know so 
 well what a window is ! Otherwise an account of one might 
 have afforded me a subject for very curious descriptions. 
 I will therefore now merely notice, what the whole world 
 has not so very carefully observed, namely, all the advanta- 
 ges which this valuable contrivance, the Window, presents to 
 man, and more especially to us towns-people in the winter 
 season, when, in order not to perish from cold, we are 
 doomed, like the bear, to spend most of our time in our 
 warm lair. In grateful remembrance hereof, I have drawn 
 up the following memorial relating to these advantages, 
 namely : 
 
 1st. A prospect of the earth. 
 
 2d. A view of the sky. 
 
 3d. A survey of our own and other people's business. 
 
 4th. An insight into daily life. 
 
 5th. An inducement to meditation. 
 
 6th. Light during day. 
 
 7th. Air whenever we wish for it. 
 
 8th. A place of refuge from the hydra of civilized every- 
 day life ; that hydra, which causes the Frenchman to com- 
 mit " sottises," the Englishman to hang himself, the German 
 to write narcotic books, the Swede to drink or play at cards, 
 and the whole world to yawn ; which fastens lead to Time's 
 wings and makes minutes eternal ; that hydra, at whose 
 door one may well lay half of all the evil which is practiced 
 in the world, which almost everybody knows and every- 
 body dreads in a word ennui. 
 
 How gladly would we not turn it out of the house, throw 
 it out of the window, slay, annihilate it. But it is immor- 
 tal here upon earth, like enjoyment and pain, and makes 
 its appearance in their absence like a tiresome " dame de
 
 SKETCHES. 289 
 
 compagnie," unless we make an alliance against it with 
 some friend who is more trustworthy and powerful than it. 
 
 Personally I am not much acquainted with ennui ; but 
 I have known it a little in former days, when in order to fly 
 from it I retreated to my window, and there found a cure 
 for it. I remember particularly one day, or rather one 
 evening ! I was at that time young, and carried in 1113 
 bosom a heart palpitating with a longing for life's richness, 
 for that fullness of existence which I had heard of and read 
 of, and which I had deeply felt that I could enjoy, impart- 
 ing and receiving, but which I had not then ever tasted. 
 For my home was rich enough in silks and finery and 
 French engravings and parties and equipages ; but my life 
 was nevertheless poor, and my soul hungered. This hap- 
 pens to many. 
 
 I resided in the capital. All those who belonged to 
 me, my father, mother, and sisters, were at the New 
 Year's ball, given by the Burgesses to the Royal Family, 
 but I had to stay at home, in order to nurse the remain- 
 der of a slight cold, and to keep my old paternal grand- 
 mother company. (N. B., I had entertained some little 
 suspicion that the remainder of my cold was magnified 
 somewhat by my good parents, for the sake of the old 
 grandmother, and that she might have company, which 
 suspicion did not much improve my temper.) But I 
 secretly wiped away a tear ; was glad that my eldest sis- 
 ter looked so handsome in her new ball-dress, and that 
 she might possibly have a dance with the Crown-Prince ; 
 was delighted with my brother's new uniform, in which 
 he looked so stately, and determined to amuse myself 
 as well as possible in my solitude with reading, music, 
 and myself. Old grandmother was not a very cheering 
 companion. She was a little deaf, and spent her evenings 
 by telling fortunes in cards to herself, until the hour for 
 going to bed at ten o'clock when, after having looked at 
 her watch, she invariably took her bedroom candle, say- 
 
 19
 
 290 SKETCHES. 
 
 ing : " No, now we must proceed to the latter part ! " or, 
 " No, now we must think of the eider-downs ! " which gen- 
 erally was a signal for the whole house to go to bed, but 
 frequently not to any rest for me ; for restless feelings and 
 thoughts. made the "eider-downs" to me any thing but the 
 peaceful downs of forgetfulness and pleasant dreams. 
 
 This evening, especially, after recovering from my fever- 
 ishness, the pulses of life seemed to rise with renewed vigor, 
 and to beat with double strokes. I was walking about 
 through all the deserted rooms longing for something 
 pleasant, something animating. Hitherto I had had very 
 little pleasure in the world, and yet I felt that I could enjoy 
 much. I was alone, had nothing to do, nothing to work 
 for, nothing I fancied to live for. The old interminable 
 " frill " at which I was working while I was sitting at the 
 window in the day, I did not care even to look at. In fact, 
 I detested embroidery. To play the piano was more pleas- 
 ant, but then somebody ought to listen to me and find 
 pleasure in my music ; but I was now alone and my old 
 grandmother was deaf and was sitting at her cards in the 
 boudoir, muttering in a half-suppressed voice over the 
 Queen of hearts and the King of spades, and about deaths 
 and marriages and presents, and all kinds of adventures ; 
 but I was used to this, and used to her prophecies never 
 being fulfilled ; for never did any adventures or events, any 
 thing unusual or wonderful, happen in our family, which I 
 thought was exceedingly tiresome, and I therefore sketched 
 one day in my album a figure yawning awfully, and with 
 outstretched arms sighing forth 
 
 The worst of all destinies 
 Is to have no destiny at all. 
 
 I feared that I was doomed to this fate and to live in an 
 eternal calm. Alas ! like a bird in its cage, flapping its 
 wings against the imprisoning bars and beating itself to 
 death rather than live in it, such was at this time my poor 
 heart. This evening, at all events, it beat so ; it was be-
 
 SKETCHES. 291 
 
 sides, New Year's Day, and I was so full of life and youth 
 and strength ; the New Year had come. Would it not 
 bring a new year for my life, for my soul ? Images, forms* 
 presages, mirages of coming events floated over the future ; 
 but they were still far distant and indistinct. I did not 
 yet quite know what I was seeking, what I wanted. Some 
 shapes now approached nearer. There was amongst them 
 one figure, dressed in a man's costume, who had shown me 
 a great deal of politeness, even a little more than that. 
 I did not exactly feel any inclination towards him, but this 
 evening he appeared to me more amiable than usual ; this 
 evening I fancied that I could almost love him. 
 
 Just then I heard grandmother say over her cards, 
 " Somebody is coming to pay us a visit to-night!" Ah ! 
 if only somebody would come, I thought to myself, and for 
 the first time I ascribed a power of a higher nature to my 
 grandmother's gift of divination. She had pronounced my 
 soul's secret wish. Piano-forte, books, engravings, inani- 
 mate objects could not satisfy the cravings of my soul. I 
 wanted a living soul, an equal, a friend. And now grand- 
 mother promised me a visitor. If he came, surely he came 
 for my sake, and not for grandmamma's, and I would have 
 the conversation all to myself, and my grandmamma would 
 have to look on. And that figure if he came, why, then 
 surely there would be a very interesting conversation be- 
 tween him and me ; nobody could tell what it would lead 
 to ; yes, when I thought of it, I became almost a little 
 afraid. For there was another figure, also in man's cos- 
 tume, to whom I was far more partial, aye, whose footsteps 
 and voice made my heart palpitate, although he felt no in- 
 clination towards me. But this evening oh ! if he should 
 come it might be different ; this evening I felt that I could 
 charm his heart to me, and there might then be New Year 
 for him as well as for me in this life. And there was 
 a third figure a friend from childhood who loved me 
 still, although I have refused his addresses ; oh ! if he would 
 come, I would be so friendly to him, tell him so many beau-
 
 292 SKETCHES. 
 
 tiful exalted things, that they would make him happy, and 
 we would form a league of friendship for eternity. And 
 then there was a friend, whose very shadow on the wall was 
 dear to me ; oh ! if she should come, and I could embrace 
 her, open my heart to her, show her my love, make her 
 rich with the wealth of my feelings ! True she was some 
 hundred miles distant at her estate, but who knows whether 
 she might not come for all that, as a New Year's surprise ; 
 whether my longing could not draw her towards me with 
 magic power. Every thing seemed to me possible this 
 evening. And there was one person, who had done me 
 some wrong ; oh ! that he would come ; I would do him 
 good in return ; I would give him a treasure of love and 
 confidence forever. 
 
 There was above all, a man, a great man, a genius whom 
 I worshipped and loved almost to idolatry ; oh ! if he would 
 come ! what happiness to see him, to converse with him, 
 to listen to his exalted thoughts ; pour out wine for him ; 
 wait upon him at the tea-table, and if he should ask a favor 
 of me, my purse or my life, what happiness to give it to 
 him, to live or to die for him ! No, that would be too great 
 happiness ! He won't come. But there are in this world 
 so many interesting people, so many extraordinary cir- 
 cumstances. If only some of them would come and claim 
 my attention or my activity ; my love or my bravery ; yes, 
 if nobody else would come, then, at any rate, thieves and 
 robbers ; I would perform some desperate act of valor, 
 save my grandmother's life, kill a man, perhaps two, with a 
 log of wood or with the poker, be spoken of, become 
 famous ; perhaps suspected, be imprisoned, appear as a 
 witness before the police courts, which seemed to me to be 
 much more pleasant and interesting than to be or do 
 nothing. I left the hall-door unlocked, in order to receive 
 the expected visitors, friends or foes. I felt as if I could 
 have governed the whole world. But the world seemed to 
 take care of itself and not to care for me. The minutes 
 fled ; nobody came. But was not somebody to come ?
 
 SKETCHES. 293 
 
 Grandmother was sitting in the boudoir telling fortunes 
 out of her cards ; I wandered about with noiseless steps 
 upon the carpet in the large drawing-room next to it. 
 The candle in the chandelier threw a romantic twilight 
 over the room, and the hyacinths in the window filled 
 it with summer fragrance. I glanced now and then at 
 the large pier-glass, and thought that I looked very well, 
 and that some one might like, or even fall in love with a 
 girl who looked so. Occasionally, also, I peeped through 
 the window, spying for the expected visitor. 
 
 Our house was situated in a square, so that I had an 
 open prospect. Opposite to me, in the corner of the street, 
 a lamp was burning, and almost straight under it was 
 hanging a large, red wooden hand, with the fore-finger 
 stretched out ; a dyer's sign. The finger pointed at every 
 person that passed under the lamp ; that is to say, when it 
 did not move, for every now and then it was swung back- 
 wards and forwards by the wind. It was snowing, and the 
 snow-flakes were falling round about the red hand in the 
 lamplight. There now, it is still, and the large finger is 
 pointing at a figure. I fancy it is a little like that figure 
 which I first thought of. I wonder whether he will come 
 
 O 
 
 here ? No, he turns off to the left. I dare say it was not 
 he. I continue to walk up and down the room. " After all 
 life flies so quickly ; it is best to make a person happy, if 
 we can do so, and be happy through his happiness. The 
 perfect is not man's lot, and least of all woman's. They 
 have so little choice, and so little liberty. It is best to take 
 moderate happiness when it is offered to us, and " again I 
 look through the window. The snow falls. The lamplight 
 is flickering. The hand swings to the wind ; now it is still 
 again, pointing at a figure, surely the second one ! How 
 my heart is beating ! He walks straight up to our house. 
 How could I think of the first one ? May he never come ! 
 The second one, the right one, is coming. Him, him alone, 
 can I love. He comes ; he enters the gate ; ascends the
 
 294 SKETCHES. 
 
 staircase ; soon he will be in the hall ! " Dear grand- 
 mother, we shall have a visitor ! Shall we not receive 
 him V " " Yes, of course ; have I not seen it in the cards ? 
 Who is he ? " 
 
 " I think it is ; I am not quite sure, though." Strange 
 
 that he should take such a long time in walking up-stairs. 
 His steps are otherwise so lively ; so is also his mariner of 
 grasping the door-handle. I know it well. Now no, 
 it was the wind. Minute after minute glides away. No- 
 body comes. I must have made a mistake in the person. 
 That visit was not intended for my home. 
 
 There is a covered sledge, with tinkling bells, driving 
 right up to our house. Oh ! if it were she ! I open the 
 gates of my heart ; she shall drive into it. And were she 
 covered with snow, and congealed to ice, she shall there be 
 welcome and warm. The sledge stops ! No, it drives 
 past our door. It was not she ! 
 
 The minutes fly ; now the clock strikes a quarter to nine. 
 It begins to get late for ordinary visitors. But some 
 extraordinary visitor might yet come. The genius, for 
 instance ; he measures neither time nor hours. He is 
 extraordinary. See there ! Does not the red hand point 
 at a figure in a cloak, just like his cloak ? It is him ; my 
 friend, the genius ; the immortal man ; and I shall see him, 
 and feel my heart beat for immortal feelings and thoughts. 
 How grand ! how splendid life can be ! Yes, but how nar- 
 row, poor, and empty also. It must not have been he, the 
 genius, my friend. He could not have passed by my home, 
 as that cloak has done. 
 
 It strikes nine. The footman enters with the supper for 
 grandmamma and me. Grandmamma sips her milk-posset, 
 and I my tea. We eat and drink in silence. My heart 
 does not now beat so loudly. It is not probable that my 
 friend will call now ; and an enemy, or a thief, or a robber 
 that would be moderately pleasant, comparatively at least. 
 
 The supper is carried out. Grandmamma is again at her
 
 SKETCHES. 295 
 
 cards. I stand again at the window. A white frost-mist 
 
 O 
 
 fills the air all around, hiding all objects, also the red hand, 
 and the lamp which throws out a faint, sickly light. I can 
 no longer see whether any figures are passing under it ; 
 but this is now indifferent to me, for nobody will come 
 now who can make my heart beat, or to whom I can afford 
 a New Year's pleasure. I wander again up and down in 
 the romantic twilight and flower-fragrance of the drawing- 
 room. The clock strikes ten. Grandmamma rises from her 
 seat, takes her candle, and says : " No, my dear Fanny, 
 now we must think of the latter part ! Good night, my 
 heart's delight ! " Heart's delight kisses grandmamma, sees 
 her to her bedroom and then returns to the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 I am now quite alone. When I look through the window 
 again, the mist has fallen lower, and covered the street 
 and its world with an impenetrable veil ; but behold ! high 
 above it the starry heavens are unveiled, and shine forth 
 with indescribable lustre. 
 
 A magnificent constellation rises over my head. What 
 is its name ? I had just begun studying a little astronomy, 
 and I hastened to get out my charts and books. Soon I 
 was with my whole soul and life up amongst the stars ; 
 gave them names ; made the acquaintance of new ones, and 
 learnt about them what astronomical books teach us. This 
 so absorbed my whole attention that I was highly astonished 
 when I heard the clock strike twelve. I could scarcely 
 believe my own ears. But so it was, the first day of the 
 New Year had closed, and neither thieves nor robbers had 
 availed themselves of the unlocked hall-door to pay me a 
 New Year's visit, and really I was not sorry for it now ; 
 aye, I was not sad in any way now ; I felt wonderfully cheer- 
 ful, and peaceful at the same time. Heaven's starry vault 
 was, as it were, glittering within me, and as I passed the 
 pier-glass, I fancied that my eyes were sparkling brightly 
 like stars.
 
 296 SKETCHES. 
 
 How is this? What has happened? I asked myself, 
 while I sat down upon the sofa in the boudoir to rest a 
 little, under the impression that really something had hap- 
 pened to me. 
 
 A feeling of exaltation, of inward independence, filled 
 my soul, as if some truth, some light, rich with the future, 
 had arisen in it. Something great had come over me ; had 
 made me forget time, solitude, myself, and my petty, selfish 
 wishes, and inspired me with new thoughts ; a fresh inter- 
 est ; and when I asked its name, I was answered, " The 
 Glory of God ! " For " God's shadow wanders through 
 Nature." 1 
 
 Grandmother had predicted truly. A visitor had act- 
 ually come ; not through the door, but from above 
 through the window. 
 
 MY WINDOW, 1855. 
 
 NEW PROSPECTS. 
 THE BEGGAR-WOMAN. 
 
 Now it is autumn ; late in the autumn ; November. 
 Winter is at the door. 
 
 Somebody has made the remark, that after the lapse of 
 ten years the causes of man's happiness or misery in life 
 are very different from those previous to these ten years. 
 How much more applicable is not this to a period of thirty 
 years ? 
 
 It lies in our nature that, at certain periods of time, we 
 look back upon the road which we have travelled, to meas- 
 ure it from the point which we have reached and the goal 
 which lies before us. We place ourselves, as it were, in 
 the window of our inner room in the world, to survey our 
 life, its forms, its efforts, and its aim, and try to get a clear 
 and distinct view of it. 
 
 "The development of individual life progresses from
 
 SKETCHES. 297 
 
 condition to condition," says the modern Simon Stylites, 
 Aabye Kjerkegaard, sitting upon his solitary pillar, staring 
 at the sky, and now and then spitting at the people round 
 about him on earth. Upon the direction of this movement 
 depends the condition in which we ultimately remain, or 
 rather to which we arrive, for stop we cannot, unless we 
 become spiritually petrified. 
 
 " As we do not," says the Danish prophet just mentioned, 
 " rise from the Christian, the unsophisticated, to become 
 eventually interesting, witty, an artist, philosopher, states- 
 man, etc., etc. ; but as on the contrary, out of all these 
 through reflection we become in all more and more a hum- 
 ble Christian," in the same manner also the true aim of 
 life ought to let our petty passions, our love for such and 
 such a one, for this or that, and above all our self-love, fall 
 away, or rather be absorbed, lost, or glorified in our love 
 for Love itself, the only lovable, ever yielding, ever ful- 
 filling spirit. Absorbed in that spirit, man turns again 
 towards the world of humanity, not like the Danish Simon 
 Stylites, but with a new love, more general, but there- 
 fore not the less warm ; no, fiery and pure, like that of the 
 highest Being whose child it is. That, is thy aim, loving 
 heart ! Blessed art thou who reach est it ! 
 
 Thus much about life's " condition." I return to my 
 window. Both window and condition are not any longer 
 the same as those in the picture thirty years ago. All is 
 changed. Only some .pieces of the old furniture remind 
 me of the old home. Those people who in it constituted 
 the delight or the misery of my life, are all gone, dead, or 
 away. There is much besides death, which separates peo- 
 ple. The heart which then but hush, hush, or it will 
 bleed, from the memory of the life, the faith, the love, of 
 which it then was capable. It still beats warmly, although 
 for other objects. Thirty years of a life, rich in important 
 events and changes, more rich than all the tropically bril- 
 liant and warm dreams of youth, have flown past, but not
 
 298 SKETCHES. 
 
 vainly. They have changed much. There is now snow on 
 my locks, the hot winds have become cool, I feel the fan- 
 ning of another spring-air from other regions, and I thank 
 God for it. 
 
 My window looks again out upon a square, but a differ- 
 ent one to tli at of thirty years ago. I see less of the street 
 and more of the sky. I am living one story higher up. 
 Again I am alone, quite alone in my home, but yet less 
 lonely than ever, and my desire for activity that was so in- 
 tense thirty years ago has been more than fulfilled, for I 
 have more to do than I can really manage. I expect no 
 visitor, and long for none. But there are visitors which are 
 still dear to me, and heartily welcome. Amongst these is 
 the sun, which about noon usually peeps into my window. 
 In the evening I have his last ray, for my room lies towards 
 that point where he sets. Across a great number of house- 
 tops I look forth upon fir-crowned hills on the horizon, and 
 see in the green valleys between them small white rural 
 cottages, and on th'e heights seven windmills, swinging 
 round their wings and grinding a great deal of corn. 
 When I open my window, I feel coming from those hills a 
 fresh country air, as delightful as if it had not crossed the 
 town and square to reach me. This is a great enjoyment 
 indeed. 
 
 I love to stand in my window morning and evening for 
 a short time ; in the morning to contemplate the wondrous 
 beauty of the changing colors of early dawn ; to behold the 
 sun's first, brilliant rays falling upon the windows of the 
 cottages amongst the hills ; to see the active life of the 
 market-place under my windows awake and become astir ; 
 in the evening, to see it die away and cease, and to catch 
 the, last farewell looks of the sun sinking behind the hills. 
 Occasionally also during the day I amuse myself by looking 
 at the market-place and its bustle and trade. 
 
 But that which is the object of my contemplation, what 
 I enjoy, what I receive within me as a bright image, or a
 
 SKETCHES. 299 
 
 perception, I maintain to be my property quite as much and 
 even more than if I had acquired it by any legal purchase. 
 What I thus obtain through God's mercy, that I take, I 
 have, and I keep, and nobody can deprive me of it ; it is 
 actually and indisputably mine. I consider myself, there- 
 fore, fully entitled to say not only my window, but also my 
 prospect, my hills, my windmills, my market-place, my mar- 
 ket-women, tables, vegetables, etc., etc. in a word, my 
 large household, my pantry in the market-place ; it is all, all 
 my individual property, the same as the large magnificent 
 cupola above it in which the sun and the stars are shining. 
 
 My market-place is a comfortable market-place ; it has 
 no sanguinary memories, like most of the other market- 
 places in Stockholm. Peaceful industry and peaceful trades 
 have there set out their tables, loaded with inland produce. 
 
 You may every day witness the silent, pleasant bustle of 
 buyers and sellers surrounding the tables, covered with every 
 thing necessary for the requirements of the body. But 
 what you cannot see as well as he who lives at the market- 
 place, is how its life begins, how it moves and stirs from 
 morning till night ; and it is not uninteresting to contem- 
 plate it now and then. 
 
 The first groups that make their appearance at early 
 dawn, are the breakfast-groups; the first tables that are 
 laid out are the coffee-tables. There are two or three 
 right in the centre of the square. Comfortably dressed 
 sales-women present themselves with gigantic coffee-urns, 
 carried in enormous baskets, wrapped in linen cloth. Work- 
 people gather round them from all sides, each paying their 
 half-penny, for which they receive in exchange a cup of the 
 steaming beverage with cream and a piece of sugar. Bread 
 must be bought separately. The breakfast in the open air 
 looks very comfortable. Some Dalecarlian peasant girls 
 and " Madams," i. e. women wearing bonnets, make their 
 appearance at the upper end of the square. Then tables 
 are laid out, and are covered with vegetables and fruit.
 
 300 SKETCHES. 
 
 You may count about twenty such tables in each row, and 
 even he who has seen the vegetable markets in other, more 
 wealthy countries, has very little reason to find fault with 
 the good quality and the variety of the articles exposed for 
 sale. Better cabbage-heads are decidedly not found on 
 the other side of the Atlantic ; nowhere are the carrots 
 more beautiful, more sweet, and nowhere can you find 
 better potatoes. 
 
 The vegetables do good to our eyes, they look so fresh 
 and so crisp. The tables belonging to the fruit-women are 
 not so well furnished, and we see turnips and other plebeian 
 round-heads intruding amongst the apple, pear, and berga- 
 mot baskets, in order to fill up the vacant places on the 
 tables. These vegetable venders evidently consider them- 
 selves to be the aristocracy of the market. They wear 
 bonnets and style themselves "Mistress." Their group 
 occupies the upper part of the square. Next after the veg- 
 etable-sellers come the potato-groups in small families of 
 sacks and measures. In the centre thereof " Mother " is 
 seated upon a chair, sometimes upon a sack filled with 
 potatoes, quietly waiting for her admirers, who never fail 
 to arrive, carrying away one sack after another. The 
 " Mother " of the potato-family does not wear a bonnet but 
 a hood. In the third row the fish-women are seated, each 
 in a wooden tub with a high back to lean against, and be- 
 fore them large pails and tables full of fish in season, from 
 the Baltic as well as from the Malar Lake. 
 
 In the fourth row stand the tables and bins filled with 
 all the various kinds of Swedish bread, of which I will only 
 mention brown, sour bread (here called anchor-stocks), rye- 
 biscuits, rye and wheaten cakes, buns, penny rolls, aniseed- 
 bread, French bread, almond-bread, saffron-cakes, rusks, 
 and twists of all kinds. A little pale but sharp-looking 
 girl of eleven years is sitting at one of these tables, as 
 shrewd and clever at her business as any " Madam " of 
 forty ; but it is not a good school. The bread-tables look
 
 SKETCHES. 301 
 
 inviting at a distance, but afford, upon closer inspection, 
 subjects for less agreeable thoughts ; the six-stiver cake has 
 a hole in the centre as large as a small tea-cup and the 
 four-stiver wheaten bread is so small and grav, and looks so 
 
 o / ' 
 
 miserable, that if I or my friend were obliged to eat it I 
 believe that I would first have to moisten it with a few 
 tears. " Hard times for the poor," people say, and go past. 
 Next in order come the flour-stands, small boxes on 
 wheels, beside which floury u Madams," sometimes men, 
 covered with meal, weigh out the produce of the mills. 
 Here in the vicinity are also seen pease, beans, groats, etc., 
 etc. Nearly in a line with these come the booths with 
 canvas-roofs, where a variety of smaller articles of dress, 
 from woolen socks up to gauze caps, toys for children, rib- 
 bons, and all kinds of wares, are sold cheap. Between these 
 stand small tables with bread, sugar-candy, fruit, etc. Lower 
 down, in a line with all these lines, we see the beef and 
 pork sellers at their tables, and those who sell butter, and 
 eggs, and salt-salmon in large tubs. In this neighborhood 
 every thing is more higgledy-piggledy ; sweetmeats jostling 
 eggs, and brooms poked in amongst the butter ; window 
 ornaments, made of the beautiful reindeer lichen, mixed 
 with green moss and red barberries, are thrust in be- 
 
 O * 
 
 tween turkeys and smoked goose-breasts. Ragged women 
 are seen trudging in from the forests, carrying fresh spruce- 
 fir branches and fragrant juniper twigs. 
 
 This division of the market-place, commencing at the 
 Bazaar I must apologize to its " Madams " for not 
 having mentioned them earlier where all kinds of nice 
 stone-wares are exposed in groups for sale, is bounded by a 
 line of one-horse milk-carts, where Dalecarlian and rosy 
 cheeked milk-maids, with pink checked handkerchiefs on 
 their heads, are enthroned on their vehicles, retailing the 
 beautiful white beverage, which, alas ! is said to be mixed 
 sometimes with a little water. These milk-carts all turn 
 their backs towards the lane dividing the market-place into
 
 802 SKETCHES. 
 
 two equal parts. On the other side of this lane, you may, 
 especially on certain market days, see the country-people 
 with large wagon-loads of hay, grain, meat, wooden uten- 
 sils, and other produce, as well as cattle. Here is a stir 
 and a life as in an ant-hill. At the upper end of the square, 
 along the houses, women and girls sit busy weaving wreaths 
 of flowers and moss and red whortleberries to Jay upon 
 graves, offering you the fragrant produce of the forests. 
 
 Here amongst the country people you may admire one 
 or more tall, fine figures, in their provincial dress, and the 
 little Swedish peasant horses, with short-cut, comb-like 
 manes, small hoofs and heads, looking as if they were 
 not capable of long journeys and heavy work, but which 
 the Arctic traveller, Sir John Ross, avouched to be the 
 horses best suited for an expedition to the North Pole. 
 The commerce in this part of the market-place is most 
 lively between the hours of ten and twelve. After that 
 time the place begins to get empty. Business is car- 
 ried on much longer in the other part. About noon the 
 market-women take their humble dinner, each at her 
 table ; in rainy weather, under large umbrellas. After 
 dinner they drink their coffee. This is all very comfortable 
 in fine weather, but in rain and wind ugh ! 
 
 We cannot, in contemplating the arrangements here and 
 comparing them to those which are made for similar pur- 
 poses abroad, help admiring with what few comforts and 
 small resources we here in Sweden understand how to 
 work our way. And yet here, more than in many other 
 countries, some consideration and care ought to be shown 
 those who are every day exposed to the rigor of the climate. 
 
 One cannot help wishing that these poor market-women, 
 wives and girls, should have the advantage of wooden floor- 
 ing and a roof over their head. When we see them sitting 
 all day long with their feet upon the cold, wet ground, their 
 head not sheltered against snow or rain, or at best only by 
 an old ragged umbrella, while their goods are not sheltered
 
 SKETCHES. 303 
 
 at all, we ought not to wonder that in the course of time they 
 become bad-tempered, gouty, morose, quarrelsome, and 
 which is the case with several of them ultimately take 
 to the brandy bottle, to help them to keep up their spirits, 
 and keep themselves warm. Discomfort is the mother of 
 vice. Not exactly that the market-women here should 
 necessarily be driven to it. An energetic and God-fearing 
 soul can keep the body in spirits and dry, even in the worst 
 weather. There is, for instance, amongst the market- 
 women, one whom I wish you could know yonder sub- 
 stantial, good-looking woman, looking so stately in her 
 butcher's stall. She said one day to a young wife, who was 
 crying for the loss of her husband, who had died and left 
 her alone with five children totally unprovided for : 
 
 " Hearken to me, my good Mistress H . Do not go 
 
 about in this manner, lamenting and crying, but go home ; 
 take off your cloak and put on a proper working dress ; get 
 a table, come here, and sell some article. So I did five and 
 twenty years ago, when my husband deserted me. All I 
 then possessed in the world was three children and three 
 shillings. But some kind people advanced me the money 
 to buy a pig. I carried it home myself, cut it up, and came 
 here the next day to sell it. And here I stood until I 
 could afford to get my own stall. I have now portioned off 
 and married my three children ; I have three servants, and 
 am the owner of a stone-house in the north part of the 
 town, and the Lord's hand is over me all my days. Do as 
 I did, exert yourself to the utmost, work and trust in God, 
 and all will go well. I shall myself give you the first 
 handsel ! " 
 
 She to whom this advice was given, did follow it ; she is 
 now standing in the market every day, in high spirits, at her 
 pork-table, and has already verified the words of her coun- 
 selor. 
 
 But in order to be able to withstand the rough weather 
 and discomfort of a market life, it requires not only a soul
 
 304 SKETCHES. 
 
 firm as a rock, but also iron health. Our market-women 
 have generally neither the one nor the other. 
 
 They who in the course of the day first make their exit 
 from the market-place after the milk-women, are the fish- 
 women and the potato families ; then the vegetable, and 
 lastly the meat-women. A few meat and vegetable stalls 
 remain, however, until the evening. Those who sell fruit 
 and bread remain the longest. In the afternoon a number 
 of men with brooms, and large flocks of sparrows, come 
 regularly to sweep away and feast upon the remains of the 
 day's sale. A dog amuses himself now and then with 
 hunting the winged scavengers, and when he sees a flock 
 of them he makes a desperate rush at them ; but they are 
 off like lightning, and he stands still, disconcerted, until he 
 espies another flock, at which he again makes a rush, with 
 the same result. The place becomes gradually more and 
 more empty and desolate ; there a blind fiddler is led about 
 by a boy, to play outside the various public houses ; the 
 brooms and the sparrows are at last masters of the field ; 
 only on Saturday nights the sales-women remain until a 
 late hour, and we see the light of their small lanterns 
 glimmer through the darkness in which the whole scene is 
 shrouded. 
 
 On Sundays the square is totally deserted, but thousands 
 of sparrows appear to hold an animated and spirited com- 
 merce, while the dogs amuse themselves with sparrow- 
 hunting. 
 
 As regards the buying population of the market-place, 
 it oifers to the beholder little that is characteristic : it re- 
 sembles the market-place customers of all other Swedish 
 towns. The neat servant-maids, with woolen shawls and 
 black silk handkerchiefs on their heads, and a basket on 
 their arm ; the homely housewife with cloak and bonnet, 
 carefully examining the various goods before buying them ; 
 the old gentleman, who wants a tidbit for his own and 
 his family's dinner, and who carries off a bird and some
 
 SKETCHES. 305 
 
 vegetables ; the servant-maid, who walks home with a 
 large sucking-pig in her arms ; the little girl, who buys 
 a hnlf measure of potatoes, an onion and three turnips, a 
 pennyworth of parsley and rusks, a skein of cotton thread, 
 a piece of gingerbread and a Danish lollipop, and stows it 
 all away in her little bag, or " pirate," of plaited straw ; 
 the urchin, who thumbs all the apples before he buys one 
 you know all these figures, and can see them every day in 
 every market here in town. But what you do not see every 
 day nor everywhere, is a little man, walking upon four legs, 
 and accompanied by three large dogs. Him I saw just 
 now crossing the market-place upon two wooden legs and 
 two legs of flesh and bone paralyzed. It is the horse- 
 butcher, or rather horse-friend and poet, Ekeblad, an orig- 
 inal ; and it would be well if we had many such in this 
 town and in the world, not only for the sake of the poor 
 horses, but also for the sake of those people who suffer 
 pain by seeing them treated with cruelty. 
 
 For it was his love for the brute creation, and his sym- 
 pathy with that noble animal, the horse, which first induced 
 Mr. Ekeblad to wander through our streets and market- 
 places like a missionary, to preach amongst cabmen and 
 other horse-tormentors, kindness to animals. They shut 
 their ears to him and abused him. The horse-friend then 
 began lecturing to the better classes on the treatment of 
 animals especially the horse. He only got laughed at, 
 and was left to lecture to empty walls. The Swedes are 
 not more harsh or cruel than other nations ; but we have 
 not here, as in other civilized countries, any laws for the 
 prevention of cruelty to animals, 1 nor has attention been 
 publicly directed to their characteristics, their merits, their 
 sufferings to " the sighs of the animals." 
 
 Yet there are in this country many women and men who 
 silently feel these u sighs." Foremost amongst these latter 
 stands Mr. Ekeblad, for he has not only thought and pub- 
 1 Such laws do now exist since the year 1857.
 
 306 SKETCHES. 
 
 licly complained in favor of the animals, but he has also 
 acted vigorously in their interest. Not being able by lec- 
 turing to prevent the ill-treatment of horses by their selfish 
 and heartless owners, he began buying up all worn-out and 
 broken-down animals, and slaughtered them in a way which 
 gave them death without pain. 
 
 Honor be to this Christian horse-friend ! He has, under 
 hard struggles and with much self-sacrifice, effected much 
 good. 
 
 Having now described my present residence and the 
 prospects which it offers, I shall now go back a little in my 
 narrative, in order to relate what I saw on the 26th of 
 April. 
 
 I was that day not exactly out of humor. God forbid 
 that a woman before she has reached fifty should be out of 
 humor ; that is impossible ! That belongs only to old men 
 and old women, doomed to take snuff and play at "pa- 
 tience." But to say the truth, I was not quite in good temper. 
 I sat down to my piano : it was out of tune, or perhaps I 
 was out of tune myself. Even out of the " Magic Flute " 
 came only disharmony. I had recourse to my easel. On 
 it stood a portrait just finished. It stared at me with a 
 squinting, cross look. I turned away from it with disgust, 
 and tried to console myself by writing a verse, but could not 
 find a rhyme for am ; dissatisfied, I opened a book, but 
 could not understand what I was reading. I threw my 
 talents overboard and sat down at the window. 
 
 The April wind played his capricious pranks in the air. 
 The sun, which had only just been shining out brightly, 
 was now hidden by clouds, which in their turn were again 
 dispersed by the merry winds, forming, in so doing, a fan- 
 tastic triumphal arch for the King of Light. But they re- 
 turned thicker and darker, now hanging in heavy draperies 
 upon the earth, anon beating it with icy hail-showers, or 
 powdering it with curling wreaths of snow. Through their 
 gradually thinning veil the bright, blue sky soon again
 
 SKETCHES. 307 
 
 peeped forth ; it blew, then it became calm, the sky bright- 
 ened and darkened, darkened and brightened, exactly as in 
 the daily repeated comedy of " Love's Quarrel," or in life's 
 great wonderful drama. A sudden severe hailstorm com- 
 ing on, I saw the pedestrians in the street, leading into the 
 square, rushing about in wild dismay seeking a shelter from 
 the pelting hailstones. A young servant-maid, walking 
 rather more upon her dress than upon the stones of the 
 street, came running with a jug full of cream and a basket 
 with bread in her hands, stumbled, spilt the contents of the 
 one and dropped what was contained in the other, all for 
 the benefit of a lean dog, who, poor animal, to judge from 
 his insensibility to the hailstones, must have been accus- 
 tomed to take his meals under the accompaniment of kicks 
 the good with the bad. With light boots and a woeful 
 countenance, an elegant gentleman skipped across the 
 street to a house, out of whose window a young lady 
 seemed compassionately to contemplate the sorely beset 
 hero, who, with his eyes fixed upon her, and blind as the 
 little God of Love, rushed into the arms of a stout " Mad- 
 am," who, in her innocence, surely did not think of envel- 
 oping in her cloak any body else than her own fat self and 
 her basket full of gingerbread. 
 
 Here a woman, with a child in her arms, was hastening 
 towards her home. She unfastened the handkerchief upon 
 her head, in order to wrap it round the child. Mercilessly 
 the hail was battering against her brown curls, while in 
 front of her two gentlemen were butting at each other with 
 their umbrellas, swearing at each other in their blindness 
 and hurry. An ancient horse was philosophically shaking 
 his shaggy head at the unwonted noise, and being left to 
 manage it according to his own pleasure, for himself and 
 for the old friend to which he was harnessed, a cart, shaky 
 from old age and long service, he found himself at last 
 induced to do as other people, to drag his appendix and 
 himself, with bent head and drooping ears, into an open
 
 308 SKETCHES. 
 
 covered gate-way. Three cats and two dogs followed his 
 example, but in opposite directions. The sparrows, those 
 little airy optimists, merrily chirping under the shelter of 
 the eaves of the houses, seemed to rejoice that nothing 
 could upset their good temper. 
 
 Soon the street became empty. A mummy-like figure 
 was sitting alone and immovable on the steps of the house 
 from which I made my observations. She was sitting as 
 if she did not notice the hailstones, staring straight before 
 her with a look which seemed to feel no more interest in 
 any thing in this world. The crutch lying beside her, and 
 the rags of her tolerably clean dress, seemed to explain to 
 me her listlessness. Poor woman ! I said to myself, ,she 
 is poor, old, decrepit, abandoned, and alone in the world. 
 She has nothing more to fear, nothing more to hope. Why 
 should she have looked out for a shelter ? She may well 
 be indifferent about every thing. She is a zero in the 
 world, and to her the world is a zero. I was deceived. 
 The hailstorm ceased ; the clouds broke, and the sun shone 
 bright and warm. The old woman looked up so happy, 
 so gratefully happy at life's light and joy. Her face, on 
 which old age, sickness, and misery had left deep and dark 
 traces, still retained the expression which the poet so 
 beautifully paints : 
 
 " There, through sorrow's bitter tears, 
 And the beaming rays of joy, 
 Hope, immortal, smiles." 
 
 Thus sat the old woman, enjoying what nobody envied, 
 what nobody could take away from her the light. Some- 
 body approached her ; she put out a supplicating hand, 
 and did not draw it back empty. 
 
 In a summer garb more than transparent, a little pale 
 boy came wandering along with downcast eyes, past the 
 row of houses, he and his dog looking out for some thrown 
 away, but for them precious, morsel of food. 
 
 The old woman beckoned the boy to come to her, and with
 
 SKETCHES. 309 
 
 some friendly word gave him the alms which she had her- 
 self but now received. With his hungry four-footed friend 
 he hastened, with merry bounds, to a neighboring baker's 
 shop, where they shared their luxurious meal with enviable 
 appetite and delight. 
 
 Their benefactress looked after them with a pleasant smile. 
 A few minutes afterwards she took a piece of soft bread 
 out of her apron, and ate it with evident enjoyment. 
 Again she looked up to the bright sky, so gratefully, as if 
 she had nothing more to wish for in life. 
 
 This sight gave me something to think of, and in har- 
 mony with the change in the weather, my thoughts were 
 now the very reverse of those which I had entertained a 
 short time before. 
 
 This old woman, whom we pity, ought we not rather to 
 deem her enviable ? She may have what we all of us 
 want, what we all long for an interest in every day. The 
 beginning of each day offers to her an eventful future. 
 What she receives at the hands of the charitable, is to her 
 a favor of fortune, or rather a mercy from Heaven, who 
 does not abandon her any more than the sparrow, which, 
 merrily chirping, picks up the grain that has fallen for him 
 to the ground. Jf occasionally her prayer is refused, why 
 she is used to it ; it neither spoils nor embitters her temper, 
 and wanting but little, she still always gets that little. 
 What she gives out of her poverty to others, has, like the 
 widow's mite, a great value in the eyes of the Great Judge 
 who examines the heart and the will. She has no cares 
 for the morrow, and no day goes past which does not 
 bring her some good, which yesterday she did not expect 
 to get. Hardened from long habit against the changes of 
 the weather, she suffers little from its roughness, whereas 
 she enjoys undisturbed and free its more genial moments. 
 
 I believe that they who live and move about much in the 
 open air, they who frequently have no other roof over their 
 heads than heaven's vault, feel themselves more vividly 
 and more trustfully to be under the protection of the higher
 
 310 SKETCHES. 
 
 Being, who, their heart tells them, is up above. Just as in 
 the new-built temple of Solomon, the Lord manifested 
 His presence in a cloud, so in Nature's glorious temple He 
 manifests Himself to us, even to this day, in the atmosphere 
 of the high and the holy which everywhere surrounds us ; 
 and although a cloudy darkness still hides the revelation 
 to our eye, yet we feel it in the light, in the invisible, 
 mighty wind, in all the life which surrounds us, and the 
 hidden source of which we are called upon to feel, to pay 
 homage to, and to worship. The ever-varying changes 
 of the seasons ; the rigor and often splendor of winter ; 
 spring's creative glory ; summer's thunder and lightning, 
 and its charms ; autumn's ripening life, fogs, and fare- 
 well festival ; day, night, morning, evening every thing 
 speaks to the child of Nature, and spreads before its view 
 a picture in the harmonious variety of which it learns to 
 trace a heavenly Master's hand. 
 
 And it was surely not in the bosom of full life-giving 
 Nature, where they were created, these systems of ma- 
 terialism, of eternal death, this nothing doctrine of noth- 
 ingness. Spring's balmy winds did not fan the forehead 
 within which this gloomy phantom was born. It was 
 within the dark walls of his narrow cell, while breathing 
 close and unwholesome air ; it was by the dim glimmer 
 of his midnight lamp, that the fallen son of light and truth 
 did exert the whole power of his ingenuity to disclaim his 
 soul, and with it life's every flower. It was there he could 
 deprive suffering and longing man of the angel of hope, 
 and in exchange, give him a skeleton. 
 
 Happy, immeasurably happy, art thou, although poor and 
 despised, if Heaven's light, which shines before thy mortal 
 eye, shines also in thy soul. How rich thou art ! how little 
 dost thou miss ! What is it thou hast less than the mighty 
 and the rich ? Want. What more than they ? Content. 
 
 The golden grains of happiness are sown more evenly 
 than we generally believe ; perhaps with a more liberal 
 hand on that side where earthly gold is not found.
 
 SKETCHES. 311 
 
 I do not know whether Alexander the Great, or whether 
 the still greater Napoleon, ever knew real happiness. I do 
 not know whether the possession of the whole world could 
 have given them contentment ; and yet this, the highest 
 for which they struggled, which they needed, was given to 
 a poor beggar woman in a ray of sunlight, and a morsel of 
 dry bread. 
 
 And I, who in the silent shadow of an unnoticed life 
 ought sooner to find the hidden violet of happiness, but 
 who find so little enjoyment in many gifts of fortune, I feel 
 that I possess less than thou, poor and yet wealthy woman. 
 I have envied thee thy smile and thy glance so free from 
 care. 
 
 By way of penitence I will at once make a pilgrimage 
 across the street to thee, saint of rags, and humbly offering 
 my little gift at thy shrine, earn from thee a " God bless 
 you ! " " Amen ! " I shall say silently, and pray that He, 
 as His best gift, may give me thy patient contentment. I 
 gave her my mite and returned home. 
 
 In the window opposite, the young gentleman and the 
 young lady stood side by side. They smiled. The old 
 beggar-woman smiled with silent satisfaction, and the sun 
 was smiling over us all. My bad temper had vanished, 
 and I smiled likewise. 
 
 THE SISTERS. 
 
 NOVEL writers have planted the world's fields full of a 
 flower called love ; and every one, who, like me at the age 
 of ten years, has collected an herbarium of knowledge of 
 mankind only in their gardens, expects at his first peep 
 into the real world to see the beauteous, wonderful flower 
 blooming in the verdant summer groves ; on the frozen 
 snow-hill ; in the park ; on the heath ; in the valley and on 
 the mountain-tops ; at sea and on shore ; in every cottage ; 
 in every palace, and especially in the road-side inns but, 
 like me, he will be grievously deceived.
 
 312 SKETCHES. 
 
 This glorious, eternal flower, fed by heaven's purest dew, 
 is in reality very rare. I have seen it growing in the silent 
 sanctuary of the breast of a few noble people, there enno- 
 bling and glorifying every thing. I have seen it in a few 
 earthly homes create a paradise. Yes, it is found on earth, 
 this flower ; I know it and I feel it. 
 
 But what we do not unfrequently see, is a kind of love in 
 idleness, blooming for one short summer and then wither- 
 ing away ; some passion-flowers with four and twenty hours 
 of life ; and a number of love-anemones, which the spring 
 sun calls into life, which come in May and depart in May, 
 and about all of which trifles the world makes a great fuss ; 
 
 o ' 
 
 but what we see much more frequently is the grassy or 
 ploughed pasture-land within or without doors, without any 
 love-anemones at all. 
 
 And then also the novel writers have woven round the 
 world a net of golden threads, on which man dances merrily 
 along. These life-threads meet, resist, follow, or cross each 
 other incessantly ; one finds everywhere complications 
 and denouement, and consequently interest ; nothing dis- 
 jointed ; nothing fragmentary ; nothing of the knots of the 
 life-thread ; nothing of this melancholy " we sit where we 
 sit," which so often occurs in reality : on the contrary, one 
 sees always progression, in prosperity as well as in adversity ; 
 always a contact of man with his fellow-men, full of interest ; 
 and I will wager with you, young maiden with rosy cheeks, 
 with you, young man with downy chin, that you believe 
 you cannot take a single step in this world of ours, without 
 encountering people who care for you ; yes, they do, as the 
 spider cares for the fly or the butterfly for the rose. You 
 may, it is true, probably now and then create some interest 
 in this way ; perchance frequently meet with people who 
 ask what value you have in money ; but what you will 
 meet with much more frequently is a number of peo- 
 ple who each of them look after their own selves, and 
 their bag and baggage, but who do not care for each other,
 
 SKETCHES. 313 
 
 or for you, more than for the man in the moon, and some- 
 times still less. 
 
 Tt is in the miniature copies of the world's large posting- 
 house, where the truth of this sad sketch is forced upon 
 your experience with glaring colors ; and in order to illus- 
 trate this, I will here tell, especially for the benefit of those 
 who have never been at an hotel or a road-side inn, how, 
 one fine day, towards the close of September, two hand- 
 some carriages, containing a mother with her three daugh- 
 ters, son, and a nephew with moustaches, stopped at the 
 door of the hotel at the Falls of Trollhattan ; how these 
 travellers, after having ordered supper and lodgings for the 
 night, proceeded, as it becomes civilized people eager for 
 enlightenment, to see the locks, while they philosophized 
 over man's genius to create water where formerly stood 
 mountains ; and how they, thereupon, during all kinds of 
 pleasant chat, went to view the roaring waterfalls, in order 
 to fall, as becomes thinking people, into deep meditations 
 at the wonders of Nature ; and how at the the Gullo cata- 
 ract, in one of the daughters, who, besides very round cheeks 
 had also been gifted with a poetical vein, all kinds of 
 thoughts arose, bedewed with the misty spray of the water- 
 fall, but from which thoughts she hoped that one day the 
 mist might roll away, so as to discover some outlines of cer- 
 tain " Sketches." 
 
 It is further worth remarking, how the cousin with the 
 moustaches not only fell into a deep reverie on the Tappo 
 cataract, but was on the point of falling into it himself, and 
 how thereupon the whole company walked back to the 
 hotel, installed themselves in apartments No. G and 7 and 
 8 and 9 and 10, drank tea and ate sandwiches, amidst the 
 sound of merry laughter and pleasant chat. 
 
 From another quarter two Englishmen, returning from a 
 shooting excursion, thoroughly soaked and bespattered all 
 over, but in " high spirits," let off their fowling-pieces at 
 the hotel door, and took possession, with a vast deal of noise
 
 814 SKETCHES. 
 
 and bustle, of room No 11, where, on the untuned strings 
 of a harp, they struck distracting discords, at which one of 
 the daughters in the adjacent room, who had a wonderfully 
 acute musical ear, grumbled a good deal, which did not 
 prevent the friend of disharmony from jingling and twang- 
 ing until midnight. 
 
 In No. 1 a dear papa gave his two daughters a spir- 
 itual gymnastic exercise : " Have you brought up the 
 portfolio ? " " Yes, dear papa." "I hope you have not 
 forgotten the travelling-map in the carriage ? " " No, dear 
 papa." " Where is my pipe ? " " Here, dear papa." " Do 
 not stand there, Wendla, and look foolish ; sew fast my star 
 to my coat ; do you hear ? " " Yes, dear papa." " Fanny, 
 have you ordered tea ?" " Yes, dear papa." "And coffee 
 for Wendla, and ale-posset for me ? " " Yes, dear papa." 
 "And bread and butter and beef? you think of nothing; 
 I must manage every thing. See now that you sleep soundly 
 and well to-night, so that we may be ready for travelling 
 a little early to-morrow morning." 
 
 In No. 3 a young gentleman was writing his " travelling 
 impressions," beginning with these words : " I am now writ- 
 ing" . . . (for posterity he thought, so I suppose). 
 
 In No. 5 two young fellows were playing at cards, and 
 drinking punch ; they found it good, and they thought with 
 Kaja in " Noah's Ark," l 
 
 " I think our world is the best of worlds, 
 For far far worse in Hamburg it is." 
 
 In No 15 a married couple sat conversing in the beau- 
 tiful moonlight. Of the subject of their conversation we 
 can judge best by the words which were most frequently 
 heard in the course thereof: "Expenses, income, living, 
 hard times, electoral sheep, pigs, corn-brandy, barm, steward, 
 eggs, butter, milk, pork, cow-houses, and barns." My young 
 readers, I could go on until to-morrow, reciting all the 
 1 A satirical poem by Bishop Fahlcrantz.
 
 SKETCHES. 315 
 
 various subjects of conversation, and still not find place for 
 the word love. 
 
 In No. 18 somebody was continually yawning and ring- 
 ing the bell, seeming desirous of coming in contact with 
 the other inmates of the hotel, but these (as it often happens 
 in similar cases) did not seem inclined to come in contact 
 with him. Still he made the landlady's seven chamber- 
 maids chase each other up and down the stairs. 
 
 In No. 20, a small and dismal room, a mother was sitting 
 beside her child's sick-bed. The landlady entered to speak 
 with her about her new arrivals, and to give the pale, 
 poorly dressed stranger a hint to continue her journey with 
 as little delay as possible. 
 
 Her eye lighted upon the child, whose sleep was dis- 
 turbed by frequently returning cramp-attacks, and she 
 exclaimed : " Lor ! what is the matter with the brat ? It 
 won't live till to-morrow, I can tell you ! " The poor mother 
 bent over her child with kisses and tears. The landlady 
 went on : " If you were to put a blister upon its head ; or 
 gave it some ' Hoffman's Drops ; ' or put it in a bath, 
 or if we could make it swallow some camomile-tea but 
 what at all events is certain, is, that it won't live over the 
 night ; but, if you could afford it, you might buy a bottle 
 of French wine." .... 
 
 The stranger interrupted her, by asking how far it was 
 
 to Werna, where the Ladies L were living, and whether 
 
 a messenger could be found at once, to send on to them ? 
 
 " About thirteen miles," was the answer, " and a messen- 
 ger you can certainly get ; but my dear little lady, if you 
 believe that you can get any assistance from the " Ladies at 
 "Werna," you are mightily mistaken. They are proud and 
 hard-hearted people." 
 
 " That is not true," interrupted the stranger with vehe- 
 mence. 
 
 " Not true ! " rejoined the landlady, much offended. 
 " Whether it is true or not, I ought to know best, who have
 
 316 . SKETCHES. 
 
 myself asked a favor of them and have been refused, get- 
 ting well moralized by Lady Helena into the bargain. Not 
 true ! I ought to know it best, who have had a step-daugh- 
 ter in their service. Not true ! very well, go to them, go 
 to them, and you will see yourself whether I tell any 
 stories. 1 You will be shown the door, as well as others. 
 Go ! go i " 
 
 " Had not " the stranger asked in a tone of deep dejec- 
 tion " had not the Ladies L a sister ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly ; but she has been absent many years, 
 and I would not advise her to return to her sisters, unless 
 she were very wealthy or married to some Prince, for other- 
 wise they won't acknowledge her. They are very proud 
 women ; they associate only with grand folks, and live in 
 style. They have a ball to-night." 
 
 " To-night ! " said the stranger. 
 
 " Yes, and they have one every Sunday night ; I say 
 nothing, I ; but still I think that on the Lord's day one 
 ought " 
 
 The stranger here interrupted her, peremptorily desiring 
 to be furnished with writing materials and a candle, and to 
 get a messenger, who would for payment undertake to go 
 at once to Werna. 
 
 " Oh, certainly ! " replied the landlady, with a taunting 
 sneer, " I won't be in the way of your fortune." 
 
 A quarter of an hour afterwards, the stranger sat beside 
 a wretched candle, writing in feverish haste. The faint 
 light fell upon her pale and sunken cheeks. She was the 
 very image of suffering. 
 
 The messenger, Mother Bengta, was now ready to go to 
 Werna, to which place she also had an errand on her own 
 account, and the last bank-note was transferred from the 
 
 1 Excuse me, my good woman, you do tell a story, and a friend of truth 
 must here bear witness, that you look upon the sisters at Werna in such a 
 dark light only because they refused your request to become security for 
 one of your sons, who wished to set up in business as a tradesman, but who 
 was well known to be a good-for-nothing fellow.
 
 SKETCHES. 317 
 
 stranger's pocket-book to Mother Bengta, in payment for 
 her trouble with the letter, which with real agony she en- 
 joined her to take good care of and to deliver without loss 
 of time. 
 
 She then turned again to the child, which had just awak- 
 ened. 
 
 " How the waterfall roars," said the little one ; " I feel 
 so uneasy, mamma ! take me upon your knee ; I shall rest 
 better there." 
 
 " How are you, my child ? " " Better, mamma ; I have 
 had such a beautiful dream ; I saw an angel and a bright 
 light mamma, you 're weeping ; kiss me. How the water- 
 fall roars ! sing to me the song about the North, mamma, so 
 that I may not hear that roar ; when you sing to me, time 
 flies quicker." 
 
 The mother sang, and when she came to the last lines, 
 she sang so slowly and with deep emotion : 
 
 O thou glorious North 
 
 That a cradle me gave, 
 
 In thy well-beloved earth 
 
 Let me sleep in my grave ; 
 
 With my little one dreaming 
 
 Where the snow-drifts are gleaming. 
 
 And thus she sat all night, rocking her child upon her 
 lap, slowly singing. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mother Bengta was trudging goose-fashion 
 along the road to Werna. Have you, dear reader, ever 
 known persons who were wonderfully clever at the trick 
 of losing every thing ? It is a curious spectacle ! They 
 begin, for instance, with dropping their pocket-handkerchief; 
 and when they stoop down to pick it up, they drop a key, 
 a glove, or a letter, or a memorandum-book, or the pocket- 
 handkerchief a second time ; and if they do not drop their 
 nose, it is merely because they do not have it in their hands. 
 Mother Bengta was one of those persons, gifted with a 
 similar talent, and after having (on her way to Werna, be- 
 ginning with her garter) gone through the aforesaid drop-
 
 318 SKETCHES. 
 
 ping process, she arrived there at last, minus the letter so 
 anxiously recommended to her care. She looked for it 
 everywhere, but it could not be found. 
 
 The early morning-sun shone upon scenes of various 
 kinds at the Trollhatta Hotel. 
 
 " Dear papa " in No. 1, loaded his daughters with pack- 
 ages and books to be deposited in the carriage. " Can you 
 carry any thing more ? " he asked one of his daughters, 
 whose head was just visible above the pyramid of packages 
 which she was carrying in her arms. " Yes, with my nose," 
 she replied with that good-natured and merry laugh, such 
 as buoys up body and soul, and two books were accordingly 
 confided to the care of the little nose. 
 
 The two Englishmen went out shooting, singing at the 
 top Of their voices, without looking even with half an eye 
 at " Gullon," standing there in the golden sunshine so glo- 
 rious with its yellow autumn birches and evergreen firs, 
 while the cataract, roaring and foaming, rained showers of 
 sparkling diamonds upon its mossy banks. 
 
 The youngster in No. 3 tried to rub the sleep out of his 
 eyes ; he began slowly dressing, and while looking at him- 
 self in the looking-glass, he muttered : " My dear Figge I 
 thou art certainly not so very handsome, but thou art not 
 so very ugly either." 
 
 The refined and interesting family's travelling-carriages 
 drove up to the door. My lady-mother and her two 
 daughters, each with her reticule, took their seats, rejoic- 
 ing at the beautiful morning, while the third daughter went 
 with her brother, who was to pay the heavy bill, in order to 
 assist him in trying to beat down the exorbitant charge, 
 which object so his future wife will no doubt one day 
 say was quite contrary to the young gentleman's nature. 
 
 The landlord and landlady were not visible, but their 
 seven servant-girls stood all in a heap to defend the bill. 
 
 " Nothing could be abated ; that was utterly impossi- 
 ble ! " His sister, the sage Hulda, moralized and demon-
 
 SKETCHES. 319 
 
 strated ; the brother looked black and fierce ; all in vain 
 the bill did not gi'ow less, and from the ranks of the 
 seven servant-girls was heard a low growling about " a 
 shabby company, that wants to bargain." Then stalked in 
 through the open door the cousin with the moustaches, 
 looking awful and threatening ; but he ended by strutting 
 with large strides through the kitchen, thundering between 
 his teeth : " This is scandalous ! " 
 
 Then the brother made a tack or two round the seven 
 servant-girls, who, in some alarm, had gathered in a knot 
 in the middle of the kitchen floor, while he repeated with 
 the calmness of despair : " This is a confounded shame ! " 
 whereupon all three sailed out of the kitchen to the car- 
 riages, in which the fresh morning soon made them for- 
 get their night's lodgings, the exorbitant charge, and the 
 league of the servant-girls. 
 
 When the bright beams of the morning sun looked in 
 through the window of No. 20, an angel bore away a little 
 child's spirit, and carried it to the throne of the Almighty. 
 
 With her child's lifeless body in her arms, the mother 
 sat, closing with kisses the eyelids of the beautiful, now 
 lustreless, eyes, and as she had sat all night with her child 
 in her arms, so she sat all day, rocking it silently. 
 
 Towards evening she asked whether any messenger had 
 arrived for her with a letter, but none had arrived. On 
 the second day old Mother Bengta returned, stoutly assert- 
 ing that she had delivered the letter, but that she had re- 
 ceived no answer. 
 
 One, two, three, four five days passed, and the stranger 
 wandered about, pale as a ghost, without either eating, 
 drinking, or sleeping ; only asking, ever and anon : " Is 
 there no letter for me ? " On the sixth day she laid her 
 little child, with the aid of the clergyman of the parish, in 
 its silent grave, and when it was buried, a light covering of 
 snow spread itself over the tiny hillock, and it comforted 
 the heart of the poor mother. Long she sat beside the
 
 320 SKETCHES. 
 
 grave, and suffered the snow-flakes to fall upon her bare 
 head. Then, with faltering steps, she dragged herself back 
 to the hotel, asking again : " Is there no message, no letter 
 for me ? " But there was none. Then sickness laid its 
 hand upon her heart and head, and whispered to her 
 agonized soul, Enough ! enough ! 
 
 , Sickness, bodily pain ! Thou hast been called an evil 
 upon earth, but thou art often a good and salutary balm, 
 under whose influence the soul finds rest after its hard bat- 
 tle, and the raging tempests are stilled. More than once 
 hast thou prevented suicide, or saved from madness. The 
 fearful, the bitter words which disappointed expectation and 
 deluded hope have written upon our heart, are gradually 
 defaced in the dark and feverish dreams of sickness. The 
 terrors which lately were so near, fly far away from us, 
 we forget, thank God ! We forget, and when at last weak 
 and tottering, we arise from a bed of sickness, our soul 
 often awakens as from a long night to a new morning. 
 
 While we are waiting for this new morning to dawn upon 
 our poor sufferer, let us spend 
 
 AN EVENING WITH THE SISTERS AT WERNA. 
 
 The customary little Sunday night's dance was over, and 
 the young boarders, after lovingly kissing and embracing 
 their kind governesses, had retired to their respective dor- 
 mitories. 
 
 The candles were put out; the cold November wind 
 whirled the snow-flakes round in mad gambols, but the 
 autumn .night's cosy fire was burning with a bright flame, 
 throwing its cheering light round the room, in which the 
 sisters, Helena and Amelia, were sitting in their easy chairs 
 on each side of the stove, from which the light fell upon 
 their kindly thoughtful faces. 
 
 Once, contemplating an elderly lady's sad countenance, 
 which seemed to bear the stamp of a joyless life, I thought, 
 Oh ! how much that is beautiful remains undeveloped in
 
 SKETCHES. 321 
 
 the face of the woman, who has never experienced the 
 blessing of life's joy, of a pure, happy love ; it resembles 
 the soil upon which no ray of the sun has fallen, and which, 
 therefore, brings forth only sickly colorless flowers. But 
 in contemplating these two sisters, I said to myself, Oh, 
 how beautiful are not the features of those, who have pre- 
 served their soul's peace by patience. 
 
 Earthly love, enjoyment, and happiness cannot thus make 
 the human face a bright mirror of heaven. This alone 
 
 O 
 
 Oh ! do not turn away thy glance, young woman, whose 
 eye is still beaming with youth and hope this alone can 
 the cross of self-denial, humbly and patiently borne, do ; 
 this alone be reflected by a firm mind, sanctified by a 
 whole life, when it says : " Thy will be done, O Father ! " 
 And the sisters had said this, and they had borne the cross. 
 When one day they become glorified angels, they will per- 
 haps appear with more beautiful features ; but this look, so 
 bright, so serene, this smile, so gentle, so kind can 
 heaven's children have one more beautiful ? I do not 
 believe it ; for the angel was already there in the sisters' 
 souls, and smiled and looked out of them, blessing earth. 
 There were lines on their foreheads ; their eyes were 
 sunken ; there were traces of suffering on their cheeks ; but 
 the spirit of humble submission had passed over all and had 
 chased away all gloom. But not only the soul's beauty 
 and peace lay spread over the faces of the sisters ; for 
 especially when they spoke, there sparkled a ray of lively 
 humor, of that quiet, good-natured temper, which I believe 
 we begin to feel when the stormy season of passion is past, 
 and we submit to let alone what cannot be altered ; when 
 we take man as he is, and put the best face upon things, 
 and, above all, when we do not allow the minor business 
 of life to irritate us, or become annoyed at petty vexations. 
 We have much to combat with before we arrive at this de- 
 lightful peace of mind, but the sisters have communicated 
 to me the prescription, which they have themselves made 
 21
 
 322 SKETCHES. 
 
 use of, and this was to consider the Disposer of their fate as 
 more clear-sighted than they themselves, and mankind often 
 troubled with a cataract ; and therefore, in misfortunes and 
 troubles, which they had to suffer in consequence of other 
 people's hostility and errors, they merely remarked : " If 
 they saw clearer, they would act differently ! " 
 
 Jn the sky it is so arranged, that when all darkening 
 clouds are swept away, the sun will shine out, or the stars 
 will twinkle ; and in the same manner, when clouds of doubt 
 or bitterness no longer hide the soul's heaven, the mild 
 bright light of cheerfulness will shine forth, and in its rays 
 are kindled these lively fancies, this innocent mirth, these 
 merry jests, of which the airy and animating fire-works of 
 every-day life are composed. 
 
 At a little distance from the sisters, opposite the fire- 
 place, a young girl was seated on a low stool, her head 
 leaning upon her small hand. She was watching, with a 
 pensive mien, the dancing flames, which, to judge from the 
 expression of her face, spoke to her more of life's play 
 than of life's earnestness. She was pretty, eighteen years 
 old, and her name Emma. 
 
 To her Helena turned round, after a short pause in the 
 conversation, opened her lips, and began as follows : 
 
 " I have got a Bible for you, my dear Emma. You shall 
 take it with you when you part from us. I think you can 
 find a place for it in your portmanteau." 
 
 " And I have got a large cookery-book for you," said 
 Amelia, with an arch smile ; " you must not forget to take 
 that with you, also. It must not be said that you come 
 
 from the sisters L 's house, soon to enter your own, 
 
 without being well provided with that which can teach you 
 how to become a clever housewife and mistress in your 
 own home." 
 
 " As to your housekeeping," chimed in Helena, " it is 
 necessary that you should always attend carefully and have 
 an eye to the garret, the cellars, and the kitchen, and keep
 
 SKETCHES. 323 
 
 a sharp lookout after the cook. But be careful, my dear 
 child, not to make all the fuss and bustle that so many mis- 
 tresses are in the habit of indulging in from morning till 
 night One would think that no fire could be lit and would 
 burn, and no fish could be fried, without their poking their 
 nose into every thing. Believe me, the cook pestered by 
 her mistress, while she herself is bustling about amongst 
 her pots and pans, will do her work much worse than if 
 she were left to manage for herself. Let every body in a 
 household rule and govern in his own province, while the 
 head thereof, that is to say, the housewife, superintends and 
 rules the whole. But to do this properly, she must be 
 herself a pattern of order and regularity." 
 
 " Above all," observed Amelia, " it is necessary to be 
 strict and even-tempered in your treatment of the servants. 
 They ought each of them to have their certain and dis- 
 tinct duties, and be kept to them strictly, but with kind- 
 ness." 
 
 " So that not," interrupted Helena, " as I have seen it 
 somewhere, when any thing is to be done, the man-servant 
 tells the lady's maid to do it ; the lady's maid tells the 
 house-maid ; the house-maid tells the cook ; and the cook 
 tells the scullery-maid ; and that at last the mistress has to 
 light the fire herself." 
 
 " Besides," said Amelia, " there is a certain quiet, regu- 
 lar clock-work in household affairs, which is much to be 
 recommended. And, moreover, that part of the house 
 which is occupied by the family, ought, if possible, in so 
 far to resemble a fairy palace, that every thing in it is kept 
 in the greatest order ; free from every particle of dust ; 
 perfectly clean and ready, without any body, except the 
 fairy herself, knowing how and when all has been man- 
 
 " Yes," said Helena, " by all means manage so that your 
 husband may never have reason to complain, like Captain 
 Knock , Knack , I forget his name, who never observed
 
 324 SKETCHES. 
 
 when his room was scoured, except when he stumbled 
 over the water-pail." 
 
 " To praise in proper time and to blame in proper time," 
 remarked Amelia, " is an effective means by which a house- 
 wife can use her influence. I have heard many complaints 
 made in this world about servants, but I have almost always 
 noticed that the principal fault which caused all the com- 
 plaint, was owing to the master and mistress themselves. 
 Wherever those who are to command are morally and in- 
 tellectually superior, which, in consequence of their higher 
 position in the world, they ought to be, the inferiors will, if 
 they are treated with justice, common sense, and kindness, 
 in general be not only obedient, but also willing, respect- 
 ful, and often become sincerely attached ; in most instances 
 the faults of the master or mis-tress are the cause of the 
 faults and errors in their servants." 
 
 " You have, my dear child," said Helena, " a little fault, 
 against which I must warn you, especially on account of 
 the annoyance which it may cause your husband. You 
 think you are always right, even in the greatest trifles, and 
 you become therefore frequently irritable. In such little 
 altercations a straw often becomes a large forest and a 
 pin's head a cannon-ball." 
 
 " Which often," remarked Amelia, " make a breach in the 
 wall of domestic peace." 
 
 " Alas ! " continued Helena, " here in this life, where so 
 many real cares and misfortunes can befall us, the greatest 
 wisdom consists in letting, especially in less important 
 matters, five be an even number, in order to preserve 
 domestic peace." 
 
 " You have also," said Amelia, " another little fault, 
 which, at your age, it is important to overcome. This is a 
 carelessness in dress. How often have we not been ob- 
 liged to say to you : ' Emma, your shawl is all awry.' " 
 
 " Or," observed Helena, " your shoe-string is broken." 
 
 " Or," said Amelia, " your collar has been put on with
 
 SKETCHES. 325 
 
 vhe wrong side out, or, your dress looks more gray than 
 white ! My dear child ! you cannot imagine what a dis- 
 comfort a woman brings with her who is disorderly in her 
 dress ; and on the other hand, what a comfort it is to one's 
 self, or to those who are around us, to be strictly attentive 
 to the neatness of one's personal appearance. This atten- 
 tion to neatness can supply the want of beauty, and no 
 beauty can have any charms without it, in the long run. 
 Remember the words of a great author : ' God alone sees 
 the heart ; manage thou so, that also others may see some- 
 thing tolerable.' " 
 
 " You have," said Helena, " a quality for which you can- 
 not enough thank kind Nature, and which you ought to try 
 to preserve through all the changes in life, and that is, a 
 cheerful, happy temper. This, as it were, blows away the 
 dust from the leaves of life's tree, and they will grow all 
 the more fresh and green. I have always sincerely pitied 
 those husbands, whose wives have a face like a gloomy No- 
 vember day." 
 
 " Unless," interrupted Amelia, with liveliness, " the hus- 
 bands themselves are the autumn wind which had caused 
 that gloom." 
 
 " Of course," added Helena, " every season must have 
 its own days ; but he who is to become our Emma's hus- 
 band, unites with a noble character a gentle mind ; and as 
 far as he is concerned, nothing will prevent her from look- 
 ing like a bright May-day." 
 
 " Create then a spring in your home, my child," said 
 Amelia. " The son of the North has his world in his home, 
 more so than the children of more genial climates. Nature, 
 here in our North, does not, as in the South, give to man 
 a home in her bosom, and a treasure in the sun and in the 
 air, full of joy and love of life. Severe and cold, she here 
 compels him to seek a shelter against her inclemency ; 
 and he looks for it in his home at his hearth. If he does 
 not find comfort, delight, and love of life there, then life in
 
 326 SKETCHES. 
 
 this our North is to him nothing else than a long, bleak, 
 autumn day. My dear child, create a spring in your home." 
 
 " And do not forget the flowers, my little Flora," said 
 Helena, " your singing, your music, your painting ; in a 
 word, your talents are the flowers which you must care- 
 fully tend, to decorate with them the altar of your home." 
 
 " And then," said Amelia, " I can predict that a little 
 god, who thrives well amongst flowers and spring, will 
 come and build his nest in your home : guess what he is 
 called ? 
 
 Emma did not by any means look stupid. 
 
 " Above all, my dear girl," Helena went on to admonish 
 with gentle but deep earnestness, " lay one thing on your 
 heart, the only one necessary. Think, think often, of Him 
 who gave thee here on earth a mission to fulfill and talents 
 to improve. Life is changing in all its stages ; greatness 
 and lowliness, enjoyment and pain, relieve each other in 
 turn ; if in these changes we have nothing to lean upon, 
 we shall be tossed about like a reed in the wind, and this 
 support we have only in an enlightened and sincere fear of 
 God. Pray every day to Him, in whom alone is light, this 
 prayer so full of wisdom : ' Enlighten our understanding 
 in Thy knowledge, and teach our hearts to make Thee an 
 offering of true obedience ! ' ' 
 
 " Then," said Amelia, " you shall in your walk through 
 life, in all your actions, be able to maintain that order, that 
 loving spirit, full of truth and peace, without which a 
 woman never can properly fulfill her beautiful mission on 
 earth. Your husband will then lean upon you with full 
 confidence, in joy as well as in affliction, and all those who 
 surround you will, through you, reverence and love true 
 Christian virtue. In success you will not then become 
 proud and overbearing." 
 
 "And in adversity," continued Helena, "you will not 
 allow yourself to be crushed, but have hope, and forget 
 yourself in order to comfort others."
 
 SKETCHES. 327 
 
 " Around all life's joy," said Amelia, " you will spread 
 the all- beautifying radiance of innocence." 
 
 " And in the depth of your sorrows," continued Helena, 
 " you will not feel bitterness, but be able to say with the 
 suffering ' Vitalis ' " (here Helena unconsciously clasped her 
 hands, and in her serene face one could read the pain and 
 the beauty of self-denial mingled, while she recited with 
 deep feeling) : 
 
 " ' Let my will-offering in thy sight find favor, 
 
 O Thou ! who dost my inmost spirit read ; 
 With love I take the cup, nor will I waver 
 
 Whene'er it doth from thine own love proceed.' " 
 
 " And then," said Amelia, much moved, " may the love 
 of your fellow-men and the peace of God's angels follow 
 you through life ! " 
 
 Emma wept and embraced her kind governesses. 
 
 " I will," she exclaimed, " become good, make you happy, 
 and try to merit God's approbation and my Edward's love. 
 Oh ! that my power to do so could equal my desire ! I often 
 feel anxiety, when I think of the duties which await me ; 
 and I fear that in the active life upon which I am about to 
 enter, while still so young, I shall not always be able to dis- 
 tinguish the right from the wrong." 
 
 " There is," said Amelia, " one way of acting, one maxim, 
 which, if we follow it, will enable us easily and surely to 
 accommodate ourselves to all circumstances in life, accord- 
 ing to the will of the eternal Goodness." 
 
 "And that is?" 
 
 " Between two different ways of acting, if you would know 
 to which you ought to give the preference, weigh the conse- 
 quence for the better or the worse, and choose the one which 
 promises to insure the greatest amount of real happiness. In 
 order to arrive at clearness and certainty in your choice, 
 you require above all, an enlightened understanding ; but 
 of this and how to gain this understanding we have already 
 spoken."
 
 328 SKETCHES. 
 
 " And now," said Helena, " go to bed ; it is growing late, 
 and you have heard a longer homily than you may per- 
 haps be able to remember. Never mind your portmanteau 
 to-night ; I shall to-morrow morning put into it your Bible 
 and your cookery-book, and some trifles which we have 
 made for you. Good night, my own dear girl." 
 
 Emma kissed, wept, and thanked, and in the fullness of 
 her young heart did so again and again. There is a period 
 in life, when we think we can never show enough of grati- 
 tude and love. Emma went away at last, followed by the 
 sisters' blessing. 
 
 The two sisters were now left alone. The fire was burning 
 with expiring flames, and around them it grew more and 
 more dark. The gale began blowing in louder and louder 
 gusts round their dwelling, intermingled with strange sounds, 
 like human sighs. Gradually their hearts were seized with 
 deep melancholy. It is so with us in this life when once 
 we have experienced a deep sorrow, that even the smallest 
 additional pain suffices to make the old wounds bleed afresh, 
 even if time has succeeded to throw over them its healing 
 balm. Love and sorrow in our soul resemble the fire in 
 some deep mines ; it may for a Jong time be apparently 
 smothered, we fancy that it is entirely extinguished, but 
 some sudden draught, some ashes dropped, and the flames, 
 wild and consuming, will break forth with redoubled fury. 
 
 The two sisters had, during four years, directed Emma's 
 education ; she had become dear to them, and they felt 
 painfully the impending parting. But she would be happy, 
 and then, as Helena used to say in similar cases, " all was 
 well." But the new impression of sadness which they had 
 just experienced, awakened within them another feeling 
 of pain, often conquered, but as often returning with the 
 same intensity, and which now, when their hearts were 
 stirred, forced itself upon them more vividly than ever. 
 An empty chair was standing between the two sisters, and 
 on it their eyes were fixed. Now they were but two,
 
 SKETCHES. 329 
 
 formerly they were three. Cecilia should have sat there, 
 sat between them, if she had not, blinded by love, contrary 
 to their advice, united herself to a man who was not worthy 
 of her, and allowed him to tear her from their side ; and 
 now rose again before their fancy the sister's image in all 
 its melancholy beauty. Cecilia whom they had so sincerely 
 loved Cecilia with her loving, warm soul, her rich natural 
 gifts, had died in a foreign country, poor, lonely, and de- 
 serted. Surely, she must have longed for her home, have 
 tried in vain to come back to it. Alas ! she had suffered 
 alone, so long, so deeply ; no loving look had comforted her 
 in the hour of death, no friend's hand had closed her eyes, 
 and she had till the last struggled struggled with stern 
 necessity. Perchance she had doubted her sisters' tender- 
 ness ; perhaps she had called them and they had not been 
 able to answer her. Oh ! bitter, bitter memories. The sisters' 
 eyes met ; they were full of tears. Helena rose, and, to 
 conceal her agitation, she seized the fire-shovel to rake to- 
 gether the dying embers ; but while she did so, anguish was 
 depicted on her features ; tear followed tear, and fell upon 
 the cold stone. Amelia saw it ; she rose, embraced her sis- 
 ter, leant her forehead upon her shoulder and whispered : 
 " Cecilia ! " 
 
 They were here interrupted by a servant-girl who came 
 to inform them that a poor woman was standing in the 
 kitchen, wishing to speak to them. 
 
 Helena desired the servant-maid to show the woman 
 into the room, declining at the same time her sister's pro- 
 posal to have the candles lit, " because," said she, " her 
 eyes smarted so much, that she did not think she could 
 bear the light." 
 
 After a short while the stranger entered. In the dying 
 light from the fire-place her features could not be distin- 
 guished. She stopped short at the door, and stood there 
 in the dusk like a shadow, silent and immovable. 
 
 A kind of awe came over the two sisters, and with unea-
 
 330 SKETCHES. 
 
 siness, which betrayed itself in the tone of her voice, Helena 
 asked her what she wanted. 
 
 The shadow remained silent ; but a faint sound, proceed- 
 ing from the handle of the door, showed that her hand, 
 which held it, was trembling. 
 
 Helena repeated her question in a more serious tone, 
 receiving an answer, but so indistinct that it was impossi- 
 ble to find out any coherence in the broken words and half 
 sentences. So much she could, however, understand, that 
 the stranger wanted some assistance, and that she asked to 
 be taken into the service of the two sisters. 
 
 With some surprise and with some severity in her voice, 
 Helena said, that " the proper time for changing servants 
 was already past ; that they did not want any more servants 
 than those which they had at present, and that, besides, 
 they did not know her." 
 
 The shadow was silent, and the sound proceeding from 
 the door-handle became more distinct. 
 
 " Have you got," asked Amelia, " any certificate to show 
 us?" 
 
 " Yes," answered the shadow. 
 
 " From whom ? " Amelia again inquired. 
 
 " From Misfortune," was the reply. 
 
 " Who are you ? " asked Helena. 
 
 " A shadow of what I was formerly." 
 
 " Where do you come from ? " 
 
 " From the grave," sounded the answer. 
 
 Not without some impatience Helena said : " I do not 
 know what your meaning may be with these mysterious 
 words. Say at once what you want and who you are, if 
 you wish that we should help you, which, however, I doubt 
 that we shall be able to do." 
 
 " If you cannot," the shadow said slowly, " nobody can ; " 
 and in a lower tone she added, " Do they then not know 
 me by my voice ? " 
 
 " God can help," said Helena, " where mortals do not
 
 SKETCHES. 331 
 
 see their way ; if we only confide in Him, and pray to Him 
 with a humble mind." 
 
 " God helps by man or by death," answered the shadow. 
 " If the former casts me off, I must seek my refuge in the 
 latter." 
 
 "Those are very sinful words," said Helena, gravely. 
 " God allows no one to despair, who trusts in Him. By 
 doubt and impatience we frustrate our own fate." 
 
 The shadow here interrupted her in a bitter tone of 
 voice : " This is beautifully said ; 't is only a pity that such 
 reference to God's mercy generally flows from a want of 
 mercy in ourselves." 
 
 With some indignation Amelia exclaimed : " We have 
 not deserved this. If you have come hither to insult us, 
 you only injure yourself. We cannot talk to you any 
 longer to-night; but the night is dark and tempestuous; 
 we will give you a bed here and food." She rang the bell, 
 and added in a milder tone, " To-morrow at daylight, we 
 may perhaps understand one another better. Go now ! " 
 
 " Go ! " reechoed the shadow in a low voice ; " go ! but 
 whither, whither?" and suddenly letting go the handle of 
 the door, she dropped on her knees, ejaculating in a heart- 
 rending voice : " Sisters ! sisters ! " 
 
 Oh ! God. Then it was she, the lost, the beloved, the 
 long wept-for sister ; it was Cecilia ! 
 
 Trembling with joy and fear, the two sisters would have 
 asked in that moment whether there were really spectres; 
 whether the inhabitants of the grave can revisit the earth. 
 The sisters did, however, not ask these questions ; the first 
 agitating impression which they experienced was : It is her 
 spirit ; but then they thought : To her, to her, even if she 
 came out of the grave ; and under an irresistible impulse 
 they hastened with open arms to the kneeling form, with 
 feelings in which heavenly joy and terror were mingled. 
 Unable to speak, the three sisters embraced each other. 
 . O Death ! if thou then hadst taken them in thy arms,
 
 332 SKETCHES. 
 
 thy bitterness, thy pangs would not have been felt, and no 
 look of regret would they have turned back to the friendly, 
 earthly home. Regret? yes, for who can deny that it is 
 good and beautiful to live here in this world, when we have 
 there built a bright and peaceful home ; when every day 
 that passes leaves behind a kindly memory ; when every 
 day that dawns upon us is greeted with silent hope. 
 When life, notwithstanding all its shadows, still has a 
 bright side, then death, at least for a while, appears to us a 
 dark angel. But it was not now death which reunited 
 the sisters ; it was life, it was joy. 
 
 And when they arrived at the full consciousness thereof, 
 when they found themselves locked in each other's arms, 
 meeting again in a life full of love, then they felt what I 
 feel in my heart for them. 
 
 I remember having seen a beautiful engraving of a 
 painting, in the Vienna gallery of paintings, representing 
 the return of the " prodigal son " to the parental home. 
 The father bends his head in joy, in love, and in sorrow 
 over the son, who, kneeling before him and contrite, hides 
 his face upon his father's knees. Only a small part of the 
 profile is visible a large tear rolls slowly down the furrowed 
 cheek. I will follow the painter's example, and leave it to 
 the feeling and loving heart to imagine what pen or pencil 
 would vainly try to tell. 
 
 THE MORNING. 
 
 Oh ! that I were like the ray of that bright autumnal 
 sun, which, on the morning after the events which I have 
 now related, peeped through the snow-white curtains into 
 " Cecilia s room" and that I could shed the same cheerful 
 light and life over my narrative, as that which this ray 
 shed over the little world in that room ! Then would my 
 reader exclaim : " It is the home of comfort and of bliss ! " 
 Comfort ! Let me see if with the help of the pen of the 
 blessed " Beata Commonplace," which she has bequeathed
 
 SKETCHES. 333 
 
 to me, I can make your lips pronounce this word, dear 
 reader. 
 
 But first, a general observation. There is in our language 
 a pleasant little word with a corresponding pleasant idea 
 attached to it, and this is u rum-trefnad," " room-cosiness." 
 This word expresses a thing which constitutes a part a 
 quality of the room itself, and which makes, that in it a 
 feeling of delight and quiet enjoyment steals over our 
 senses ; a something which has a soothing influence upon 
 our soul. This lies in a certain comfort displayed in 
 every thing, yet without any thing affected or any thing 
 prim or stiff; a certain jusle-milieu, bright, cheerful, genial, 
 which we feel instinctively, but cannot describe, and which, 
 I believe, strikes us in its refreshing delight, especially 
 where a gentle, order-loving woman has set the impress of 
 her own inward being upon the outer world in which she 
 moves. 
 
 In the room now arranged and decorated con amore by 
 the two sisters, and which had been hitherto left empty in 
 order one day to be occupied by Cecilia, this kind of com- 
 fort was found. Genial warmth, pure air, pervaded by a 
 slight fragrance of flowers ; furniture of a graceful, simple, 
 and commodious form ; a proper arrangement in every 
 thing, so that one found a chair in the very place where one 
 wished to sit down, where nothing stood in one's way when 
 one moved about the floor. Not the slightest particle of 
 dust on the green carpet ; on the bright polished tables, not 
 the smallest speck. Harmony in all the colors, every thing 
 was pleasant, and the large looking-glass did not, as they 
 sometimes do, reflect a parody of one's face, but showed a 
 true and exact copy of it. Against the bright window- 
 panes monthly roses and mignonette displayed their fresh 
 verdant leaves and their flowers. 
 
 It happens sometimes that Nature smiles upon man's 
 joys as if she wished to share and heighten them, like a 
 mother sharing in the sports of her children. Now she
 
 334 SKETCHES. 
 
 was smiling kindly upon the sisters' home ; the air was 
 bright and mild ; beautiful clouds sailed in stately array 
 over the clear azure of the northern sky. A dazzling 
 carpet of snow lay spread over the landscape, and seemed 
 to be studded with millions of glittering diamonds. A 
 little bird sat in the leafless tree beside one of the windows, 
 singing and chirping so merrily and sweetly that one could 
 almost be tempted to believe him to be one of Nature's 
 messengers, sent to congratulate the reunited sisters. The 
 sun, which I shall now try to resemble in clearness and 
 slow progression, was shining on the breakfast-table, mak- 
 ing the dazzlingly white damask table-cloth more dazzling 
 still. 
 
 The breakfast cups were standing upon the table, and 
 one with a broad, gold edge stood between the other two ; 
 in the crystal cream-jug, in the shape of a nautilus, the 
 rich cream, not whipped, was frothing from its own in- 
 herent richness. Snow-white pieces of sugar, not resem- 
 bling the atoms shaped in primitive chaos, pointed, triangu- 
 lar, and octangular, such as we often see them in the sugar- 
 basins of even fashionable people, but square and even ; 
 rusks, which in their light brown color did honor to the 
 flour, the yeast, the oven, and above all to the baker ; and 
 then the mysterious coffee-urn, which, by its curling, 
 aromatic steam, gave notice of the comfortable beverage 
 contained within it. Oh ! my dear female reader ! is not all 
 this enough for " comfort ? " 
 
 And for happiness ? Look at the three reunited sisters, 
 the long lost one now returned, between the two others, at 
 home, in her own home (for her is the cup with the gilt 
 edge intended). Remark in the two elder ones, the moist 
 and happy glance of the eye, the low voice, the tender, 
 broken words, the lip quivering with joy and delight, the 
 warmth and indescribable expression of features which 
 cannot find words and yet so distinctly says : " All that we 
 possess is thine, thou our joy and darling ! Thou hast
 
 SKETCHES. 335 
 
 again been given to us we shall now be able to tend, to 
 love, and to make thee happy ! " 
 
 And in the third returned one, mark the repose, the hope, 
 the consciousness of home, of peace, of sisterly love, this 
 love so tender, so pure, so rich, so powerful to create happi- 
 ness. She wants words, but the tear that glides from her 
 eye is one of joy, and speaks volumes. There is a rosy hue 
 on her cheek ; there is happiness in her heart ; she presses 
 her sisters' hands and feels that she can be happy yet. 
 
 And why should she not again be happy ? The home 
 which shall again hold her, the port in which she has cast 
 anchor, is that of kindness and peace. Kindness led by 
 wisdom has a great, a wondrous power, and few are the 
 pains which it cannot assuage, few the afflictions the mem- 
 ory of which it cannot gradually efface. 
 
 The effect of its power seems natural when one sees and 
 marks how this power is wielded. Life is an aggregate of 
 moments (any body less clever than I am, may make this 
 wise observation) ; kindness seeks to seize these moments in 
 order to lay down in each of them a seed of comfort for 
 the sufferer. 
 
 Now it is called rest, anon cheerfulness, sensation of 
 comfort for body and soul aye, even flattery ; kindness 
 can flatter, but only the unhappy, one. It acts like the sun 
 in spring ; melts slowly away winter's snow and ice, and 
 sheds warmth everywhere; and then earth begins to get 
 green, and then come the flowers the wish to live. 
 
 In this world, so full of suffering and of enjoyment, 
 of splendor and misery, of greatness and littleness, of 
 strength and weakness, of life and death, above all others, 
 happy is he in whose soul lies active kindness, holiness, 
 and peace. He alone stands in this restless world as if it 
 were a paradise, whose sanctuary no tempests can reach. 
 He alone goes on his way in joy and affliction, in wealth 
 and in poverty, in life and in death, calmly and unwaver- 
 ingly ; suffers and enjoys alike silently, loves, forgives, does
 
 336 SKETCHES. 
 
 good, and feels peace. In order to work on uninterruptedly, 
 in order not to weary in his work for the weal of fellow- 
 men, he does not want the " desire of a name which 
 shall survive him ; " not glory's beautiful vision, which a 
 great Roman calls " the only passion of the wise," and 
 without which to many a one " the past were nothing, the 
 present a narrow and sterile sphere of action, and the future 
 vanished." No, no laurel-wreath shall be laid upon his 
 forgotten grave ; no line in a funeral-oration shall be dedi- 
 cated to him ; no patriotic bard shall sing what he did for 
 his native country. He will be forgotten, he knows it, and 
 yet he labors night and day, and his lamp is not extinguished 
 until with his life's last spark. Here a fellow-creature has 
 been comforted, there another has been given work to 
 do, and with it hope ; here a seed has been sown of a 
 future noble laurel, which will confer honor upon his native 
 country and upon mankind ; there again a spark has been 
 kindled, a flame kept burning, and here happiness secured 
 the good has been done ; that is enough. 
 
 " Doth pure religion gather here below 
 A harvest of unfruitful treasures ? No, 
 Unpaid, unthanked, she with unceasing toil 
 Sows seeds of blessedness in sorrow's soil." 
 
 Fall freely, O days of our life ! silently, like yellow 
 leaves from life's tree ; cover its stem and branches, ye 
 wintry snows; oblivion! take his memory. What to him 
 is all this ? The good has been done that is enough. 
 
 Yes, it is enough for him, but not for me. Like a bee I 
 would wish to fly over the world's fields, to gather honey 
 out of these beautiful, but hidden and modest flowers, and 
 store it in the hives of memory, in order that men might 
 see and taste how sweet it is, and rejoice at it.' 
 
 I pause. Friendly reader ! when I invited thee to enter 
 into my balloon, I promised to carry thee to " the home of 
 comfort and happiness." I have fulfilled my promise, and 
 I will not now, like a honey-bee, persuade thee to a fresh
 
 SKETCHES. 337 
 
 excursion, but I may perhaps during my journey visit thee 
 (unknown to thee and unexpected) to imbibe out of thy 
 life's flower a drop of honey, clear and sweet as that which 
 I got from the sisters. 
 
 THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 
 
 " LOOK, Axel, look how the bridal-lights are gleaming 
 upon yonder height ! And look how the bridal guests are 
 dancing down below it ! And now, behold how the lights 
 themselves are dancing about ! Look how they waltz and 
 swing round ! How droll ! But now, now they become 
 paler now they die away now they are gone ! Why 
 are the bridal-lights extinguished, Axel ? Why has the 
 chandelier up there gone out ? Ah, see, now they return ! 
 There the bridal-lights are again, so bright, so joyous, and 
 they shine upon the waves far, far out at sea, and upon you 
 too, and make you look so handsome ! But, Axel, why are 
 they gone sometimes, and why do they then come back? " 
 
 And the young wife, who, herself radiant as a happy 
 bride, thus asked, stood fondly leaning upon her husband, 
 while she pointed to a group of lights which were lit, as it 
 were, high up in the air, shining against the dark evening 
 sky, and slowly swinging round the same point, now hiding 
 their lustre, and anon shining forth in full splendor, throw- 
 ing a bright gleam over the rolling billows of the sea, and 
 into the silent sombre room in which this new married 
 couple stood at the window of their new home. 
 
 " It is a light-house with a revolving light, little one," said 
 her husband, amused at his young wife's ignorance. " It 
 revolves in this way in order to tell the sea-farer, in the 
 night, where he is ; and the shadowy forms which you see 
 moving about below the flames, are the men who kindle 
 the beacon. Do you understand ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; they are bonfires, they are bridal-lights," said 
 Ellina, smiling. " Oh, how I love them, the beautiful friendly 
 lights. How pleasant it will be to see them every evening 
 
 22
 
 338 SKETCHES. 
 
 and every night. They remind me of our wedding-night, 
 Axel. Oh, those lights ! I cannot forget how they dazzled 
 my eyes when I entered the room to be married. For 
 some time I could not see any thing. But soon I fancied 
 that every thing, that the whole world shone. There were 
 so many, many lights ! " 
 
 " But you yourself shone brighter than all the bridal- 
 lights. I saw not them, I saw only you ; " said the fond 
 husband, pressing his young wife to his bosom. 
 
 But she could at this moment see and speak only of the 
 bridal-lights on the height, and however Axel tried to ex- 
 plain the phenomena of the revolving light, its fires and re- 
 flectors, still Ellina would inwardly make an explanation of 
 it of her own. And at night, on her pillow, sleep she 
 could not, but was constantly looking at the light as it re- 
 volved, now illuminating her room, and anon leaving it in 
 utter darkness ; she would listen to the wind as with deep- 
 drawn breath it was sighing round their dwelling; listen to 
 the monotonous rushing of the sea as the waves unceas- 
 ingly broke upon the rocks. For it was now autumn, and 
 the weather was tempestuous. And this ceaseless again 
 and again, this endless heaving without rest, without aim, 
 awoke in the soul of the young wife thoughts and presenti- 
 ments almost sad. It was the first night in her new home. 
 
 In a peaceful home in one of the most beautiful valleys 
 of the south of Sweden, surrounded by loving parents, sis- 
 ters, and youthful companions, she had dreamt a quiet 
 dream of childhood. There was in the neighborhood a 
 large town with a university, and from it came voices and 
 visions of fountains of wisdom, of the fine arts, and of in- 
 tellectual ornaments of life. Much that was beautiful 
 Ellina beheld around her in Nature and in her home ; but 
 she knew that beyond this her quiet world, there existed 
 one still more beautiful and splendid, which she would see 
 when she had grown to be a woman. And thus the child 
 grew up in joyous presentiment of life, thinking constantly,
 
 SKETCHES. 339 
 
 " When I am older, then I shall see, then I shall learn much 
 more; then will come something still better, something 
 more beautiful still." But what this was to be, she did not 
 clearly understand. And what young girl has a name for 
 her beautiful visions ? But it was to be something in feel- 
 ing, something in thought, which made her life seem to 
 stand forth in Tadiant glory ; which let her step forth 
 out of darkness into the light of life and joy ; which 
 answered all her young soul's silent but earnest questions 
 and aspirations ; something of that kind it would be, some- 
 thing of that kind would come. Thus thought Ellina, and 
 thus almost all happy young girls think. And then came 
 a young man and offered the lovely young girl his hand. 
 Her parents said " Yes," for Axel Ern was an excellent 
 young man ; Ellina did not say him " Nay ; " for bride- 
 groom, bridal- wreath, wedding, it was that which was to 
 come first, which was to be the commencement of the bril- 
 liant vision. Her parents would be so happy ; Axel would 
 be so happy, and how then would not she also be happy ! 
 To be sure, she was still rather young, and was reluctant 
 to leave her parents and brothers and sisters, but they all 
 said that it was to be, that she would make them all happy, 
 and she said " Yes ; " became affianced, courted, teased, and 
 adorned. And then came the wedding ; and that evening 
 when Ellina saw " so many, many lights," when she thought 
 that a life of light was to begin for her. And so she accom- 
 panied her husband to the place where he had built his nest. 
 It was situated amongst rocks, surrounded by the sea, in 
 the neighborhood of one of the fortresses on the western 
 
 O 
 
 coast of Sweden. I shall not say whether it was the for- 
 tress of Elfsborg, or Carlsten, or Bohus. But the place 
 was far distant from Ellina's childhood's home, and very 
 different from its beautiful valleys. TJiere were leafy for- 
 ests and nightingales ; here, only islands, and barren, gray 
 rocks, and round them the surging, dangerous Cattegat 
 Such is in general the rocky coast of Bohuslan. Many find
 
 340 SKETCHES. 
 
 Nature there ugly, terrible, repulsive. I love her. To me 
 she has in her something more attractive, more pleasing, 
 than landscapes of soft verdure, cultivation, and fertility, 
 which one can, as it were, look quite through. Reader, 
 canst thou love a nature without mystery ? I cannot 
 do it, and I feel sure that thou canst not either do it, in 
 case it were question of a human nature, of a human soul. 
 But beware of saying (I am now speaking to myself), this 
 nature has no mystery ! Is there, I ask, generally speak- 
 ing, any human soul devoid of an unknown depth ? Say 
 then : This soul has not yet had its Whitsun festival ; no 
 tongue of fire has breathed upon it with reviving breath, 
 and one knows not what is in it. 
 
 But to return to the islands on the rock-bound coast of 
 Bohuslan, and their mystery. They possess such a mys- 
 tery : they resemble those human natures, whose surface 
 is hard and harsh, but hide within fertile and beautiful val- 
 leys. Approach nearer to these granite islands, these naked 
 rocks, and you will not find one amongst them which has 
 not grassy spots and beautiful flowery paths. These gray 
 rocks drink in the sun's rays, and long retain their fire in 
 their granite bosom. They communicate it to the soil 
 round their foot, and in their bosom and out of it blooms 
 forth life in its fullness. Out of every crevice honeysuckle 
 and blackberry bushes spring forth in wild profusion, en- 
 circling with their flowery arms the mossy boulders, and 
 transforming them into beautiful monuments upon the 
 graves of the ancient Vikings. Bouquets of golden " Iris " 
 and of wild roses are blooming amongst the granite rocks, 
 and high up on their rugged tops, where only the goat and 
 the sea-mew can find a footing, tiny white and yellow flow- 
 ers are nodding in the breeze, whilst the wild breakers of 
 the Cattegat are foaming round their base. Even upon the 
 smallest of these rocky islets the sheep find nourishment 
 and fatten, and upon the larger islands one finds hidden 
 from the eyes of the world a small blooming paradise, full
 
 SKETCHES. 341 
 
 of roses, lilies, and fruit, where some son of Adam is living 
 with his Eve, peacefully and happy. We would gladly 
 believe the latter if there were not some peculiar circum- 
 stances attached to these secluded paradises. Things did 
 not turn out quite well in the first one we know that 
 and they do not turn out much better in the later ones, 
 provided man remains there long. Life in solitary islands 
 is rarely beneficial. The sameness in the surrounding 
 objects, the want of diversion, of amusement, of something 
 new, of intercourse with the great, changing world, cramps 
 the soul, and feelings and thoughts become one-sided on 
 certain points and there stick fast, as it were. We see this 
 in Iceland ; we see how in Corsica, under the ceaseless and 
 repeated pressure of many years, and the beating of the 
 same bitter billows upon the heart, secret animosity grew 
 into hatred, hatred into revenge and sanguinary retribu- 
 tion. We see it even to this day in the Farroe Islands, in 
 the silent, half-witted forms wandering about amongst the 
 mist-enveloped hills, and who have become such, because 
 when misfortunes and adversity came, they had no place 
 to go to, nowhere to seek a refuge from these gloomy im- 
 pressions, these frowning rocks, and heavy, misty atmos- 
 phere. The mails from the outer world are sometimes 
 from seven to eight months in reaching them. 
 
 But loving solitude, as I do, and the undisturbed com- 
 munion of the soul with itself, I cannot pursue the argu- 
 ment, to which these examples lead, any further than by 
 saying, that it is not good for man to be alone for any 
 length of time. 
 
 And so let us return to one young couple Axel and 
 Ellina. It was as if an eagle had carried a pigeon to his 
 eyrie. The strange and solemn surrounding scenery, the 
 solitude, the roar and turmoil of the breakers, the autumn 
 gales all this filled Ellina's bosom with fear and name- 
 less anxiety. But she had her own home and there is 
 no woman who does not feel this as a blessing she had
 
 342 SKETCHES. 
 
 her household duties to attend to in this home. And then 
 there was the light-house, the revolving bridal-lights on high* 
 which reminded her every dark night of the most beautiful 
 evening in her life, her wedding, when she saw " so many 
 lights, oh, so many lights." And there was first and last, 
 and above all, her husband, and this husband was a noble- 
 hearted man, and still more he was an excellent husband. 
 
 It is perhaps as well that I avail myself of this opportu- 
 nity to make a confession, which has frequently hovered 
 over my lips, but which I have hitherto hesitated to give to 
 the world, out of fear that I thereby should incur the 
 hatred of all married ladies. I dread this even now, but 
 never mind, I must unburden my heart. I confess, 
 therefore, that I have never found, that I never find a man 
 more amiable than when he is a married man, that is to 
 say, a good married man. In my eyes a man is never 
 more noble, more perfect, than when he is a married man, 
 a tender husband, a father of a family, supporting with 
 vigor and with manly kindness his wife and the domestic 
 circle, which, by his entering into the wedded state, has 
 closed round him as a part of his home, of his world. He 
 becomes thereby not only more worthy of love, but in 
 reality also more dignified. Therefore the excellence of a 
 man consists in his being a good married man, and only 
 with such a one am I tempted to fall in love. But this 
 being strictly forbidden, and Moses, as well as all other 
 legislators, having pronounced it to be a sin, all married 
 ladies will consider it a sacred duty to stone me. 
 
 Nevertheless, I cannot help' this. My only hope of rec- 
 onciling the offended parties lies in proceeding in my con- 
 fession : that no happiness makes me more happy to be- 
 hold, no love touches me more deeply, than the mutual 
 love of husband and wife. I am myself astonished at 
 this ; for it seems to me that being myself not married, I 
 have very little to do with that happiness. However, so it 
 is, and so it has always been. I was yet a child, when one ,
 
 SKETCHES. 343 
 
 day I saw my father enter my mother's room, laying down 
 before her a present, which gave her great pleasure. She 
 took hold of his hand and kissed it, and words and looks 
 of love passed between them. Never shall I forget the 
 sensation of happiness which filled my soul, where I stood 
 alone in a corner of the room, playing with my doll. It was 
 as if heaven had lighted upon my heart. I stood silent, 
 overwhelmed with the power of this sensation, when the 
 eyes of my parents discovered me. " You blush so pret- 
 tily, little one ! " said my mother, tenderly, and my father 
 came and laid his hand gently upon my head. Never shall 
 I forget this. 
 
 Something of this first sensation I experience still, when 
 I witness the happiness of husband and wife some distance 
 beyond the honey-moon. 
 
 Ellina was very young when, for the first time in her 
 new home, she beheld the "bridal-lights on the height." 
 Many years had rolled past since, and Ellina was now no 
 longer young. She was now the mother of seven boys. 
 Serious illness, many cares, much work of all kinds, and 
 narrow circumstances, had wrought a great change in her 
 inwardly as well as outwardly. But she was still a 
 pleasing woman, though the bloom of her youth was gone ; 
 and her soul that soul which had foreboded so much that 
 is great and beautiful in life, which believed that it would 
 progress from one light to another, until the whole world 
 and her own heart, her own life, should stand glorified in 
 radiant light had said farewell to all its hopes, one by 
 one, had said farewell to all its dawning thoughts, until it 
 had spun itself round by innumerable threads into the web 
 of her domestic duties and cares, which were renewed 
 every day, like the beating of the waves upon the rocks, 
 like the revolving shadows of the light-house, like the deep- 
 drawn sighs of the autumn wind. And Ellina faithfully 
 spun her thread, faithfully fulfilled her duties. But happy
 
 844 SKETCHES. 
 
 she was not, for the road of duty, although it certainly 
 leads to happiness, as the working-clays of the week lead to 
 the Sabbath, is yet not happiness itself. Ellina was no 
 longer merry, as formerly ; she felt that something living 
 and beautiful, which in days gone past was within her, was 
 gradually becoming buried under the weight of years and 
 petty cares. She found herself changing sadly. She had 
 imagined life in general, and her own life in particular, 
 as something quite different. Sometimes she felt an inde- 
 scribable longing to weep over herself. 
 
 It is thus with a great many women. They feel them- 
 selves born to conceive life and things in beautiful har- 
 mony. They believe themselves progressing in knowledge, 
 in love, in enjoyment of all that is good and beautiful, as 
 in an elevating metamorphosis. But life's current comes 
 and bears them away to barren and desolate regions. 
 They are spun round by earthly anxieties ; are surrounded 
 by the trammels of petty cares, of trifles, of mean interests, 
 and upon these at last they themselves spin. Then life 
 loses by degrees its beauty, the mind its rosy tint, the soul 
 becomes oppressed, their temper soured, and their horizon 
 becomes narrower and more dim. In some silent hour 
 perchance they look round now and then ; look into their 
 own soul with melancholy surprise, and exclaim : " "Was 
 this to be the end of it ? Is life nothing else ? Was it 
 for nothing else that I was born ? " And they recall the 
 illusions, the hopes of their youth. " Dreams ! " they say, 
 and they suppress a sigh, wipe away a tear, and weave 
 again the daily web, until they have woven their shroud, 
 and their earthly days are closed. 
 
 But such is the fate not only of many women, no, it is 
 the fate also of a great many men, with warm, rich souls. 
 At the yard-measure, at the needle, at the weighing-scales, 
 at the writing desk, under the withering influence of dead 
 figures from morning to night, they feel themselves gradu- 
 ally becoming blunted and like a stock ; they feel the poesy,
 
 SKETCHES. 345 
 
 the sensitive, loving, creative spirit within them, buried even 
 before it has had time to live. Also they sometimes look 
 up sadly, asking : " Why do I live ? Is life nothing else ? " 
 
 These all are souls awaiting their Whitsuntide. Ex- 
 pectant souls ! could I but let you feel and believe, as firmly 
 as I do it myself, that it is coming, and the glory of its 
 reality shall exceed your most beautiful dreams. 
 
 Some of my fair readers have probably already guessed, 
 from the change which I have mentioned as having taken 
 
 o o 
 
 place in Ellina, that her husband and the first conjugal hap- 
 piness also had changed. It was so. What husband and 
 what marriage remains the same during a period of nine- 
 teen or twenty years ? Ellina's husband was a noble and 
 good man, as I have said, and I repeat it. But still he was 
 too one-sided manly, as Ellina was too one-sided womanly. 
 His was a nature energetic, practical, looking at the outer 
 world ; hers poetical, sensitive, living in the world within 
 her. In several points husband and wife never harmonized. 
 They harmonized less and less, when, during succeeding 
 years and with an increasing family, the support of the 
 same necessarily claimed a greater exertion of his industry, 
 and when his time and his mind became more and more 
 taken up by outward, practical life. She felt herself more 
 and more lonely, and too proud and too wise to complain 
 of the unsatisfied wants of her soul and heart, she shut 
 herself up more within herself. She became still more like 
 the steep, rugged rock ; she resembled the solitary lily 
 near it. Besides, there was between them another subject 
 of dispute and discontent, which, though frequently dropped, 
 was still as often renewed. And thus they became gradu- 
 ally estranged without clearly knowing how ; between them 
 rose a something, a darkening cloud, an invisible wall, 
 something nameless, they knew not what, which made them 
 more and more strangers to each other. 
 
 Husbands and wives ! ye who have wandered together 
 through life some distance beyond the " halcyon-days," tell
 
 346 SKETCHES. 
 
 me, is it not an every-day story, this one which I have 
 sketched here ; is it not the history of nine married couples 
 out of ten ? Where the mutual relation proceeds in this 
 downward direction, married life is transformed into that 
 Dead Sea on whose shore no flower is thriving, no bird is 
 singing ; over whose surface pestilential vapors are hang- 
 ing, and in whose depths one can occasionally descry the 
 ruins of a once beautiful, but accursed city. Married life 
 is as little stationary on earth as any other life. Within 
 it a slow but continual change upwards or downwards 
 takes place, according to the will or the fault of the hus- 
 band or the wife. The causes may be different in all mar- 
 riages, but in all there are moments, crises, from which we 
 can guess how time advances, what " the clock strikes." 
 And in them all arises a temptation, when the first flame 
 has burnt down, to let the deeper union dissolve, let the 
 spirit fly. And it will do so. 
 
 " Should not the heavenly Amor then 
 Hold fast his Psyche with new bridal kiss," 
 
 and consecrate her to a higher, truer union ? 
 
 There will not be wanting Nicodemus'-heads in the world, 
 who will ask doubtingly, " How can these things be ? " 
 
 We have little else to reply hereto than this : That we 
 know that they are ; but we know no other fundamental 
 cause for it than the one upon which every good result de- 
 pends, the driving-wheel in life's steam-engine, the axis of 
 life's revolving-light, the earnest, hearty will of the parties 
 concerned. But to continue my story. I wish (I whisper this 
 to myself) that I could avoid lengthening it by reflections, 
 which the reader can make himself without my assistance. 
 
 The first subject of discord which arose between Axel 
 and Ellina, and which we have alluded to, was the education 
 of the boys. The father averred that the mother petted, 
 indulged, in a word, spoilt them. Very possibly he was 
 right. However, I believe that she did it in the right way. 
 The boys were obedient and adored their mother. No
 
 SKETCHES. 347 
 
 really spoilt children do this. But the father was too se- 
 vere, where he found the mother too weak. He was very 
 anxious to send the boys out of the house into a good 
 school, that they might " learn something," and that they 
 might " be made men of." Six eaglets had already left the 
 eyrie and winged their flight to distant parts. The moth- 
 er's heart had said " Nay " to each flight, but her reason 
 had said " Aye," and so it was done as the father wished 
 it. The youngest boy alone remained now. "He also," 
 said the father, " must go away, must out in the world." 
 But now the mother said " No, he was still too young, too 
 tender, too weak." " Just therefore," the father argued, 
 "he must go away from home, out amongst other boys, 
 to lead a more vigorous, a fresher life ; the boy was al- 
 ready nearly ten years old." The father's will triumphed 
 over the mother's ; but when he tore her youngest one out 
 of her arms, he broke the thread which tied her heart to 
 her husband. So Ellina felt, for she fancied that he had 
 used her harshly. When she thus found herself alone, she 
 found herself doubly alone. She had not any longer a 
 little curly head to fondle when she went to bed at night ; 
 no warm, tiny breath near her pillow rocked her heart to 
 rest and sleep ; no little arms full of trust encircled her 
 neck night and morning ; no childish prattle in the day 
 made her forget what her soul had lost. Gone was every 
 thing, and the worst of it was, that also Axel was away, not 
 only from home, but also from her heart. She felt it so 
 empty that it almost frightened her. Yes, it is probable 
 that she would have borne the absence of her boys and her 
 loneliness very differently, if she only could have held fast 
 in her heart her husband's image, as bright as it was in 
 days gone by. 
 
 Again it was autumn, and all the domestic duties for the 
 autumn had to be attended to, all those duties which Ellina 
 had never loved, and which now appeared to her more irk- 
 some than ever. Bullocks and sheep were to be killed for
 
 348 SKETCHES. 
 
 the winter, meat to be salted down, bread to be baked, 
 sausages and black-puddings to be made, candles to be 
 moulded, etc., etc. The autumnal gales came on, the bil- 
 lows roared and thundered against the rocks, the wind 
 howled round their dwelling, and the lights in the light- 
 house revolved with the same lights and the same shadows. 
 This eternal sameness had an almost suffocating effect 
 upon Ellina's desponding mind. 
 
 Axel stayed away a long time, much longer than was 
 required for placing the little boy. When he returned, he 
 brought with him three strange gentlemen as guests. Ellina 
 did not belong to the impossible women (read : impossible 
 women) who make impossibilities and grim faces, when 
 occasionally their husbands come home to dinner or sup- 
 per, bringing with them an unexpected guest. But three 
 at once, and at this moment too, when her heart was sore 
 and heavy and the larder empty that was too much ! 
 When Axel folded her warmly and affectionately in his 
 arms, she stood in this embrace cold and pale as the lily 
 in the mountain-cleft, and gave him no pressure of the 
 hand, no kiss in return. He turned therefore to his merry 
 guests, occupying himself with them. Ellina went out to 
 arrange about the supper and to prepare what else the new- 
 comers might require. Perchance husband and wife felt 
 dimly that it would not be good for them to be now left 
 alone together. 
 
 When the goblet is full, it wants only one drop more to 
 make it overflow. This drop came now to Ellina in the 
 shape of her help in house and kitchen, Miss Unready, 
 the gentlest, most faithful, and also one of the most efficient 
 
 O 7 
 
 persons in the world, but who had a great inclination to 
 look at every thing from a tragic point of view, and who in 
 all emergencies always began by saying that "she knew of 
 no living means," on account of which Ellina used to call 
 her in earnest and in jest, " my Miss Unready." But as 
 Ellina herself always found out some ways and means, and
 
 SKETCHES. 349 
 
 Miss Unready really excelled in doing all that her mistress 
 desired her to do, they managed beautifully together ; al- 
 though Ellina's patience was put to the proof now and then, 
 when she spoke about the dinner, and " Miss Unready " 
 stood before her, straight as a post, rubbing her long thin 
 arms, " knowing of no living means," and having nothing 
 to suggest except spinach. If the moon and all her 
 supposed unknown inhabitants had tumbled down upon 
 earth and into Miss Unready's kitchen, she would have 
 looked scarcely more irresolute, terrified, and bewildered 
 than now, when the master of the house came home unex- 
 pectedly with three guests ; and of all evenings in the world 
 just on that evening, when preparations were to be made 
 for baking bread for the winter, and when the larder had 
 
 O * 
 
 not yet been stocked with its winter provisions. 
 
 At the sight of her Ellina could scarcely suppress her 
 vexation, and she said to her in a half angry tone : " It is 
 no use, Unready, looking like misery itself, but advise me 
 now what you think we can have for supper." 
 
 Miss Unready rubbed her right arm, that hung straight 
 down, with her left hand up and down, and down and up, 
 but " knew of no living means." 
 
 Ellina : " Have we got nothing in the larder ; cannot you 
 invent something, which can be ready in a short time?" 
 
 Unready rubbed her left arm with her right hand up and 
 down, and stammered : " Yes, spinach ! " 
 
 Ellina, impatiently : " Spinach ! but how can you, 
 Unready, think that four gentlemen can be satisfied with 
 spinach ? " 
 
 And it ended as usual : Ellina herself had to find ways 
 and means, and to be this night both head and hand in the 
 kitchen, because Miss Unready had completely lost her 
 head, and, besides, every cranny, bin, and shelf in the 
 larder was unusually empty. 
 
 Ellina succeeded only with great difficulty in providing 
 what was necessary for the moment ; but when supper was
 
 350 SKETCHES. 
 
 finished, and she saw the four gentlemen seated at the whist- 
 table with their cigars and punch, she drew a long breath, 
 bade the whist-players and smokers a good night, and re- 
 tired to her room. She felt weary both in body and soul. 
 
 Her soul was wearied, yes, but yet like an agitated sea. 
 Within it moved a something which Ellina had never before 
 experienced. It was something like discontent and bitter- 
 ness against her husband voices rose out of these agi- 
 tated waves, whispering : " Has it come to this ? Am I 
 to him nothing but a housekeeper, a servant, destined to 
 attend to his whims, his pleasures, his comforts? My feel- 
 ings, my pain, my heart's life do not they deserve some 
 consideration, some forbearance ? Am I really so fallen ? 
 And he he who " 
 
 " Be silent ! " Ellina interrupted resolutely the resent- 
 ful voices, pressing her hands hard upon her beating heart, 
 as if she would have stifled its throbs ; " be silent ! not 
 a word against him ; whatever he may be, whatever I 
 may become to him, I shall always know how to fulfill my 
 duties faithfully. He shall not see the agony of my soul, 
 the cloud in my heart. He shall miss nothing ; he shall 
 never find cause of complaint !" 
 
 With this determination Ellina tried to calm her feelings. 
 She covered up the windows closely, so that " the bridal- 
 lights on the height " might not shine into her room. She 
 would not see them now. Chilled, indifferent, and sad in 
 her mind, she laid herself down upon her sofa, shut her eyes, 
 trying to feel nothing, think nothing to sleep. In vain. 
 The misery in the depths of her heart was too great. Again 
 and again returned the galling wave ; again and again was 
 heard the complaining, resentful voice, and heavy tears 
 gathered under her burning eyelids. Every moment she 
 felt more uneasy, more unhappy she could not rest, she 
 could not even pray. 
 
 When she again opened her sleepless eyes, she found her 
 room light, not from daylight, because it was now near
 
 SKETCHES. 351 
 
 midnight ; not from the unsteady gleam of the revolving . 
 light, but from a mild, steady, though faint glimmer. Ellina 
 rose, went to the window, and drew up the blind. She saw 
 then that the clouds, which for many days had hung like 
 a heavy canopy over the sky, had been dispersed, and had 
 given way to the moon, which now in her first quarter, 
 stood with her pointed horns turned upwards, bright and 
 beautiful over the distant hill-tops. The gale had subsided. 
 Ellina opened the window. Warm, and refreshing at the 
 same time, the wind fanned her burning temples. The 
 moon's rays fell so peacefully upon rocks and waves, on 
 the greensward along the shore, and on the dew-drops 
 hanging on the leaves of the trees. It was as if they had 
 whispered to her : " Come out ! come out ! " 
 
 Ellina threw round her a large shawl, tied a veil over 
 her head and stepped out. As she passed her husband's 
 door she stopped involuntarily. She heard that he was still 
 up, and she thought : " If I were to go in and lean my head 
 upon his shoulder, and I did not receive him in a loving 
 manner to-day. Perhaps this has given him pain. If I 
 were " " No," said another voice within her ; " he cares 
 little for me and he does not deserve it." And she passed 
 on silently and quickly. How many good feelings, how 
 many a moment of reconciliation does not thus pass by dis- 
 regarded, and time passes also, and then it is too late. 
 
 Ellina stood upon the terrace near the shore, outside 
 their house. It was a beautiful September night, such as 
 we see so frequently on the west coast of Sweden. A re- 
 pose had come over Nature after the last days of stormy 
 weather. The leaves dropped down yellow from the trees, 
 and the flowers upon their stalks drooped their withered 
 heads ; but in the glittering drops which trembled in 
 them, glimmered the moon's silvery beams, and they stirred 
 gently under the caresses of the balmy breeze. It was as 
 if some power of love was here busy to reconcile, to beau- 
 tify. Even the billows of the Cattegat seemed charmed ;
 
 352 SKETCHES. 
 
 they rose and fell slowly, as if lovingly murmuring, and laid 
 themselves to rest upon the granite bosom, which so often 
 had chafed and broken their surge. 
 
 Ellina contemplated the fallen leaves, the withered flow- 
 ers, the soft moonbeams, the charmed billows, and a feel- 
 ing of indescribable pain, at this moment nearly approach- 
 ing to despair, overpowered her. She, who was ordinarily 
 so calm, now wrung her hands, raised them on high, and 
 exclaimed, while long suppressed, bitter tears, chased each 
 other down her cheeks : 
 
 " Oh, that I were a seared leaf, a withered flower ! Oh, 
 that I might fall like them ! that I might die before my 
 heart dies, before I become wretched and embittered ! 
 Father in heaven ! take me to your mansions, for I have 
 done with earth. Gone away are my children, and my 
 husband loves me no longer. Youth, health, joy, love of 
 life, love, and faith all are gone, gone forever ! " 
 
 But before her outstretched arms had again sunk down, 
 other arms seized her, and a voice whispered in her ear : 
 " What is gone, gone forever ? " 
 
 It was Axel's voice, but Ellina was too agitated to be 
 able to make any answer. She turned her face away from 
 him and wept, only wept, while he still was holding her in 
 his arms. When she seemed to be a little more composed, 
 he said : " Come, go with me to our resting-place on ' chat- 
 island.' The night is fine, and I have something to say to 
 you." 
 
 Ellina followed him down some steps into the little 
 green-painted gondola, the boys' boat, the " North Star," 
 which now, impelled by Axel's powerful stroke of the oars, 
 flew swiftly across the calm waters. 
 
 They sat both silent Ellina with downcast, tearful 
 eyes ; she felt that Axel's glance was resting upon her, and 
 her heart beat in uneasy expectation. It was not long be- 
 fore they arrived at a small rocky islet, higher than the 
 others with which the coast was dotted. A high granite
 
 SKETCHES. 353 
 
 wall constituted its protection against the north and east, 
 gathering on the south the rays of the sun as in a focus. 
 Nature herself had cut out a " causeuse " in the rock, a 
 small seat for two persons, which Axel had made more 
 comfortable, and round which he had trailed the luxuriant 
 ivy and honeysuckle. This he had done during the earlier 
 period of his love, and he had frequently brought his young 
 wife thither. Many a dark evening, when the sea was 
 glittering with phosphoric light, and the wind was softly 
 whispering, had they sat there exchanging words of love 
 and looking with hopeful, bright eyes at future, coming 
 days, while the light-house on the fortress threw its dazzling 
 light upon the rising and falling billows. 
 
 A very long time had elapsed since they last had been 
 there many years. 
 
 The honeysuckle and ivy tendrils grew as luxuriantly as 
 ever, but they were hanging round in wild confusion for 
 want of a tending hand. 
 
 Husband and wife sat again side by side, with the wide 
 sea around them, over which a gentle breeze came sweeping 
 to them which seemed to whisper : Speak ! speak ! 
 
 And Axel spoke, saying, while he drew Ellina closer to 
 him : " Ellina, what is it that is gone, gone forever ? " 
 
 Oh, that voice ! It sounded as in former happy days. 
 Twenty years gone by, rolled in a moment past Ellina's 
 soul. She leant her forehead upon Axel's shoulder, say- 
 ing only, " Axel, do not ask me ! " but she felt conscious 
 that he had read her heart, and she therefore added, in a 
 scarcely audible voice, " you know it." 
 
 Again they were silent, but the friendly breeze whis- 
 pered : Speak ! speak ! 
 
 " Yes, I know it," he said slowly " yes, I know how it 
 is. I have seen it for some time. Ellina, you cannot any 
 longer live here. You must be nearer your children, 
 nearer objects and persons who can give you what your 
 heart, what your soul, longs for, and what I cannot give." 
 23
 
 354 SKETCHES. 
 
 His voice trembled. Axel's nature was like unto the 
 scenery of his birthplace. A granite nature was his, but 
 when it revealed itself, life was blooming forth luxuriantly ; 
 paradise opened itself. Generally taciturn, he then be- 
 came eloquent. 
 
 " Do not believe," he said with a violent exertion, which 
 caused his cheeks to become pale, and forced the tears into 
 his piercing eagle eyes, " do not believe, Ellina, that I am 
 blind to the dissimilarity between us, and that I do not see 
 that in much I am not sufficient for you. You stand above 
 me in many things ; you have more exalted and noble as- 
 pirations, which it is beyond my power to satisfy. I have 
 sometimes endeavored to conceal this from myself, be- 
 cause it has pained me. I have tried to harden myself 
 against this feeling and against you ; I have walked as if 
 in a fog, and placed a rock upon my bosom to appear strong 
 and manly. Your gentleness and your tears have blasted 
 the rock. O Ellina ! I see by your pale face that you are 
 unhappy, and that it is I, who but no! I will not make 
 you unhappy, I, who have sworn to live for your happiness. 
 Already, when last time I had to go away from you, my res- 
 olution was formed, and I will now tell you what it is. I 
 have applied for some other employment and to be removed 
 from here. If my application should be granted, which I 
 hope it will be, you will then be near your childhood's 
 home, near the town in which our boys are, and where you 
 will be able to find that circle of friends and those pleas- 
 ures which you long for. You will then be able to see 
 our sons once a week, if you wish it ; they shall often come 
 to see iis. Believe me ! I will not remove them from 
 your influence; I only wanted to remove them from too 
 effeminate an education at home. I know that there is 
 in life but one true high-school, that in which the heart 
 is educated, and to do this a mother's heart is required. 1 
 have long been desirous of removing from here, although 
 it cannot perhaps be done without some serious pecuniary
 
 SKETCHES. 355 
 
 sacrifices. It is possible that I may have hitherto overesti- 
 mated them. And now. if my plans should not after all 
 be realized, if the hopes which I have raised should after 
 all be disappointed, or be so, at any rate for some time, 
 will you submit to this patiently, Ellina ; will you still try 
 to be happy, to love me as formerly ? " 
 
 ' No, not as formerly, no, but a thousand times more ! " 
 ejaculated Ellina with overflowing heart. " Oh ! why speak 
 of missing, of waiting, of disappointed hopes now, when I 
 see how you think of me, when I see that you love me ! " 
 
 " But how how could you have doubted ? " 
 
 " Alas, Axe,l ! you have been so very much changed ; 
 therefore every thing round me has become changed." 
 
 " And you, Ellina, have you always been the same as 
 formerly ? Have you not often been cold, when I ap- 
 proached you with warm feelings ? Have you not in later 
 years often stood aloof from me, when and this very 
 evening yes, / might have reason to doubt that you still 
 love me." 
 
 Ellina was silent and looked down. She felt conscious 
 that it was as Axel had said. 
 
 He went on : "I am too proud, Ellina, and perhaps too 
 sensitive also, to enforce a love which is not voluntarily 
 yielded to me. I have stood aloof, because you stood 
 aloof. But perchance, I have been more proud than I 
 ought to have been, more distant than I wanted to be. It 
 is difficult, Ellina, to see how far we err. But one thing is 
 certain. I cannot, I will not go on as we have done now 
 for some time. Give me your hand, and if you can do 
 it give me back your heart; read mine and you will 
 see what I mean, and pardon me." 
 
 u Oh, hush ! " said Ellina, kissing away the words from 
 his lips. " Oh, say nothing more ! Oh ! that I had 
 rightly understood you, you would not then have had any 
 reason to complain. But now God bless you for having 
 said what you have said ! Be it with our removal from
 
 356 SKETCHES. 
 
 hence as it may, good will come of it, I feel ; for you 
 have again taken up your abode in my heart, and I feel 
 again at home there. And now look ! I am yours, 
 your wife, your servant, every thing you wish, Axel ! I 
 feel that you again are mine. Come death, come life, 
 cares, sorrows, still I shall be happy in you, in your kind- 
 ness, in your love, with the certainty that you are mine and 
 that I am yours." 
 
 When such words have been uttered between husband 
 and wife, there is not much more to say. There is then 
 only one language, silent yet eloquent, one which can ex- 
 press the fullness of the feelings. Ellina fejt the glowing 
 words fall like a dew upon her throbbing forehead, upon 
 her cheeks, upon her eyelids. Every wrinkle of time, and 
 sorrow seemed to be effaced by these words. It was as if 
 she had become young again. Paradise was again bloom- 
 ing within and round the two. 
 
 When Axel rowed Ellina back to their house, the moon 
 had gone down behind the hills and the night had become 
 quite dark. But the sea shone and sparkled at every 
 stroke, and fiery pearls dropped from the oars. Over the 
 heads of husband and wife the stars peeped forth out of 
 the fleecy clouds, and " the bridal-lights on the height " 
 shone and danced brighter than usual against the dark 
 sky. " The bridal lights " shone again in Ellina's heart, 
 and everywhere, in the sky and on the earth, she beheld 
 again as on her own bridal-night, " so many, oh, so many 
 lights." 
 
 And it was never more to be extinguished, the steady 
 beam which fell into her heart ; its waves might rise or 
 fall, but light would always be there. The consciousness 
 of this filled Ellina with celestial, child-like joy. Yes, 
 she was so happy, so confident, that she became almost 
 like a child. She toyed with the glittering ripples they 
 also were full of love's life she splashed her hands in 
 them, and made them glisten and glitter, and in wanton
 
 SKETCHES. 357 
 
 delight she sprinkled Axel's hands and face with water, 
 while he was paying her back the showers of fire and 
 water which she gave him. Their eyes sparkled in the 
 dark, starry night their soul's wedding-night. 
 
 But when Ellina on the following morning entered her 
 kitchen, she looked like the rosy tint of the young day, il- 
 luminating " Miss Unready's " soul and mind so that they 
 threw a reflected light into the darkest corners of the eel- 
 
 O 
 
 lars and pantry. Ways and means for every thing were 
 found at once. " Spinach ! " No question about spinach 
 any longer ; no thought of poor spinach, mean, miserable 
 food ! Sausages, roast joints, the fish of the sea, the birds 
 of the air, came as if by enchantment. Kitchen and table 
 became full. Nothing was wanting, or if any thing was 
 wanting it was not noticed, which is better still. 
 
 And they who know what a mighty wizard a joyful 
 stout heart is, and how it knows the primordial word which 
 is the key to and can command every thing, will not be 
 astonished at this. 
 
 I will not tell you any thing about the projected removal, 
 whether it took place or not, because I do not know any 
 thing about it. But I must tell you that within a year a 
 girl was born, who was christened after father and mother, 
 Axellina. And if you should want to know how the sun's 
 light and joy can become, as it were, embodied in a human 
 face, I would then show you the face of this child, show 
 you its bright curls and laughing eyes. No language is 
 more incomprehensible and more charming than the words 
 which flow from its little mouth, chirping bird eloquence. 
 The honeysuckle tendrils cannot be more wild and lissom 
 in their growth than this little girl. You should see her 
 in thousand graceful, ever varying attitudes, twining her 
 arms around her father, or playing at his feet. And if ever 
 a strong, firm man can be conquered and ensnared by the 
 witcheries of a little child, it is Axel Ern, when he holds 
 in his arms the wild, supple, laughing, charming little girl,
 
 358 SKETCHES. 
 
 pressing her in silent eloquence to his heart, or sitting at 
 night beside her little crib, hearing her saying her pray- 
 ers, while from her he again learns to pray. Yes, he is 
 not a whit better than Hercules spinning at the feet of the 
 young Omphale. I think that he is even a little worse and 
 more weak, being fettered by a yet weaker and more child- 
 ish being. 
 
 Ellina threatens sometimes and you may guess how 
 seriously to send the little girl out of the house to a 
 boarding - school, as otherwise, " she will be perfectly 
 spoilt " by her father, and she ought in time to learn to 
 become " a sensible woman." The father says nothing to 
 these threats, but he lays the child in the mother's arms 
 and then embraces them both. He is meanwhile very 
 anxious for all the boys to come home during the holidays. 
 
 Ellina is no longer pale and suffering. She is a bloom- 
 ing middle-aged matron, with the calmness of happiness 
 in her whole being, and she likes to say to young married 
 women : " When the time of first love is passed, then 
 conies something better still, something more beautiful ; 
 then comes the second love, the faithful friendship, which 
 never changes, which makes every thing bright and peace- 
 ful. But we ought to manage so that it does come. Then 
 every thing changes, every thing turns to the best." 
 
 Miss Unready was also changed, metamorphosed into 
 Mrs. Sheriff Ready. But whether her spinachomania has 
 also changed, I am not aware. 
 
 The eaglets have grown up to be young eagles. When 
 from their flight over earth's or thought's sea they revisit 
 their eyrie with tales from foreign lands, and with new dis- 
 coveries in science and art, then much is added to the 
 wealth within it. 
 
 But Bohuslan's rocks, they stand now as before; 
 The waves of the Cattegat flow as of yore ; 
 To-day they roll on 
 As in centuries gone.
 
 SKETCHES. 359 
 
 The flames of the light-house kind reader, pray 
 
 Think of the nuptial torches so gay, 
 
 They T re turning and turning and turning to-day. 
 
 THE EAGLESS. 
 
 IT was morning, and the sun was shining brightly. The 
 Eagle's sister sat in her eyrie upon the cliff, looking with 
 longing eyes into bright space, involuntarily raising her 
 wings, untried as yet. Proudly heaved her breast. 
 
 " Towards the sun ! Up, towards the sun ! " thus a voice 
 seemed to say within her. " Why should not I also see 
 the glorious one nearer, bathe my eye in his light, and drink 
 strength from his rays ? Why should not the pilgrimage 
 of the Eagless to the sun be praised in song, as well as 
 that of the Eagle ? My sight is strong, my wings young, 
 my will powerful ; up, up, towards the sun, towards the 
 sun!" 
 
 She flew. The morning, the sunlight, and the freshness 
 of endless space, the feeling of youthful vigor and energy 
 filled her breast with delight. 
 
 In order to rest herself awhile, to look round and enjoy 
 the new, beautiful life, she perched upon the top of an oak. 
 
 In the woods below all kinds of birds had flocked to- 
 gether. They had witnessed her bold flight. 
 
 " Trillili, well, well, trillili ! " sang the larks, exultingly ; 
 " fly on, Eagless, thou wilt be the glory of thy sex ! " 
 
 " Courage ! " cried a noble heron, " courage, my little 
 friend ! " 
 
 " Hail, sister, hail ! " sang the white swans, sailing 
 among verdant islets. 
 
 " Croak, croak ! " croaked the crow, " that flight is dan- 
 gerous ; take care of yourself, my dear young lady." 
 
 " Coo-coo-coo ! " cooed the dove ; " why dost thou seek 
 happiness so far away ? Stay at home in your nest ; warm 
 yourself beside your mate ; hatch your eggs and feed your 
 young ones, and you may live many, many years ! Coo- 
 coo-coo ! "
 
 360 SKETCHES. 
 
 " Kle-vit, kle-vit ! " screeched an owl. " Some mischief 
 will be done here." 
 
 " Some mischief will be done here," repeated starlings 
 and parrots. 
 
 " All goes well, all goes well ! " cried a flock of merry 
 wild geese ; " very well ! " 
 
 But a young and noble Eagle came and perched beside 
 the Eagless, saying gently and tenderly : " Thy flight is 
 beautiful, but the road is long and thy strength is not yet 
 sufficient. 1 Let me accompany thee ; when thou beginnest 
 to break down, my wing shall support thee ; it shall shade 
 thy eyes when the sun begins to dazzle them ; and when 
 danger approaches, or when thou tirest in thy flight, I 
 will lead thee to my safe nest, yonder, upon that far off 
 cliff, and stay beside thee ! " 
 
 Gratefully declining his offer, the Eagless bent her head 
 to the noble bird : " I will be alone," she answered ; " alone 
 will I work out my destiny ! " The cries of the other birds 
 she took no notice of. She hastened only to the voice in 
 her own breast : " Up towards the sun, towards the sun ! " 
 
 And again she raised her wings. Enraptured by the 
 sun, by the freshness and joy, she rose higher and higher, 
 far away from all the others. 
 
 Sadly and gloomily the young Eagle shook his wings, 
 turned his eye away from the daring one, chose another 
 mate, and conducted her to his eyrie on the distant cliff. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Eagless pursued her flight alone, and ap- 
 proached nearer the sun. But alas ! her eyes were sud- 
 denly dazzled, her head became dizzy, and she could not 
 any longer clearly see her road. Still she flew on, but un- 
 consciously she had lowered her flight towards earth. A 
 sportsman saw her ; he aimed at her with his murderous 
 weapon ; he fired, and the lead was buried near the 
 Eagless' heart. 
 
 i Ornithologists must excuse the authoress for having in her poetical 
 allegory depreciated the physical strength of the Eagless.
 
 SKETCHES. 361 
 
 On she flew still, but not upwards ; she flew towards the 
 deep, deep forest. She felt herself struck by death. 
 
 Far into the dark forest she flew, and the dark forest 
 closed rustling around her, concealing her from all eyes. 
 
 With bleeding bosom and a tear in her dimmed eye, the 
 Eagless perched upon a fir-tree's branch. " Happy for 
 me," she sighed, " that I die unlamented and alone ! " 
 
 Then she heard the dove coo to her young ones : 
 '- Daughters of mine ! Do not do as the Eagless ! The 
 proud silly one will surely come to grief in her flight. 
 Stay at home in your valley, in your peaceful nests, and you 
 will live many, many years." 
 
 " I have erred ! " said the Eagless, but proudly her 
 heart swelled under the deadly wound ; " from youthful 
 presumption have I erred and am punished. But silently 
 I submit to my fate ; may others be more happy ! I do 
 not complain, for I have beheld the sun nearer ! " 
 
 " Kle-vit, kle-vit ! " screeched the owls. 
 
 " Kle-vit, kle-vit ! " repeated the starlings and parrots. 
 
 " All goes well, all goes well ! " tauntingly sang the wild 
 geese, while they sailed away over the forest 
 
 " I die," said the Eagless, with expiring strength ; " I 
 die, but the sun ! I have beheld the sun nearer ! 
 Happy for me ! " 
 
 And from the branch on which she had perched, she fell 
 down with expanded wings, and was no more. 
 
 THE NOVEL AND THE NOVELS. 
 
 " THIS is the time for Novels ; but what is to come after 
 the Novels ? " a literary man said to me one day, half in 
 jest. I do not now exactly remember what I answered 
 something thoughtless, I believe ; but I began afterwards 
 to ponder on this subject the Novels. 
 
 I had read, nay devoured, in the course of my life I 
 cannot tell how many dozen novels, and I had wept and 
 laughed over them, loved, reveled, lived, and almost died in
 
 362 SKETCHES. 
 
 them ; my soul has transmigrated through their Sophias, 
 Julias, Rosas, Amandas, Alices, Elizas, until I was on the 
 point of losing myself, when, in a fright, I vowed a deadly 
 hatred of all novels ; wished their eternal thema, Love,, at 
 Jericho, and determined to live for reality, and to cultivate 
 friendship and potatoes. 
 
 About this time I began myself to write ; not novels, 
 oh dear, no ; but lo ! before I knew a word about it, it 
 turned out to be a novel after all, or something very like it. 
 Gracious Heaven ! had I not then suffered enough from 
 the poisonous stuff? And was I now going to poison 
 others with it ? And yet I wished to do something quite 
 different. Have I not known young ladies, who, through 
 romantic whims, had mistaken the aim of their life, failed 
 to become real human beings, because they had failed to 
 become happy heroines of romance ; who for the love and 
 moonlight of the novel had forgotten life's real light ; sigh- 
 ing for grand dramatic effects, until they had forgotten the 
 significance of their own part in the great drama of life ? 
 Have I not known young men, who, enamored and daz- 
 zled by romantic scenes, had forgotten to be honest men, 
 and who, when they came out of the world of illusions into 
 the world of reality, saw therein nothing but prose, and 
 want, and " reality's barren rocks," on which no beauty and 
 no happiness could grow. Have I not at one time been so 
 " novel possessed," that every time I went to church I ex- 
 pected to be carried off on the road ? No, no ; by no 
 means no more novels ; away with them all ! 
 
 So I exclaimed, but at that moment I saw marching up 
 before me silently the whole host of novels in formidable 
 array. From England they came, from France, from Den- 
 mark, from North America, aye, also from China (whose 
 long novel, " The Two Brides, Miss Li and Miss Lo" one 
 cannot praise without being one's self a Chinese, or Mr. 
 Abel Remusat 1 ). And I saw this host rising out of the 
 1 The name of the translator.
 
 SKETCHES. 363 
 
 bosom of even my own native country, all forming an army 
 of millions, billions, trillions of volumes. They marched 
 towards me, and I heard them say in a voice like thunder : 
 
 " Behold in us a power upon earth : we are mighty under 
 the sun ; citizens in all enlightened countries ; beloved by 
 all enlightened nations ; at home in the enlightened home 
 of all enlightened nations ; enjoying the friendship of old 
 and of young, of professors and of students, of octogena- 
 rian matrons, and of maidens still in their teens. He who 
 would combat us, must first be prepared to conquer all 
 these." 
 
 What a terrible prospect ; enough to make even a Napo- 
 leon beat a retreat ! What, then, could such a dwarf as I 
 am, do ? Must I not lay down arms, rescue or no rescue, 
 and own myself vanquished ? Or shall I, like another 
 Charles XII , fight against the Turks (the novels must, in 
 that case, represent the Turks, although they, as I believe, 
 are not guilty of writing novels), and gain immortal glory 
 even by my own overthrow ? This would be a prospect 
 which might inspire me with courage. I might try it, but 
 the worst of it is, that yes, I feel it I would then have 
 to fight against myself also. 
 
 I hold the firm belief, namely, that what has occupied 
 mankind for a long period, must have some reason in it, 
 some common sense, something connected with what is 
 eternally true and rational. And as now mankind, since 
 more than a century, writes and reads novels, and as this 
 taste for them, instead of decreasing, is increasing more 
 and more, and is spreading further and further, therefore, 
 my friend ! I hope that you will see the conclusive argu- 
 ment yourself. 
 
 And then, after carefully sounding my own soul, was 
 there nothing in it, which spoke in favor of the worth of 
 the novel ; of the many delightful moments, the warm 
 feelings, the beautiful pictures, which it has given me to 
 enjoy ? And did I not, amongst the many weeds which
 
 364 SKETCHES. 
 
 the novels have sown, note also the seeds of noble plants, 
 of shading trees, which have since grown and become de- 
 veloped ? And now, when the soul has grown older and 
 calmer, has it not often been awaked by the novel to warm 
 sympathy with man's joys and sufferings, and did not the 
 novel call forth kindly and generous feelings ? Yes, yes, 
 it is so, and the result of it all is that 
 
 Novels certainly must have a sensible, good aim ; must 
 have the right of citizenship in the world. 
 
 But, what is it they really aim at ? Do they want merely 
 to amuse, to awaken sympathy, to excite the imagination, 
 to light up playfully the depth of the human soul, and the 
 innumerable winding passages and mazes in life's laby- 
 rinth ? Are they to be looked upon as resembling those 
 millions of butterflies which, coaxed out of the chrysalides 
 by the warm sun-rays, flutter about, delighting us a short 
 time with their splendor and with the brilliancy of their 
 colors, and then die ? Nothing more ? Impossible. There 
 must be something more in it. But what ? 
 
 Think only, if those legions from all nations and coun- 
 tries should have an invisible leader, a commander-in-chief 
 round whose standard they gather, for whose plans they 
 fight, consciously or unconsciously, bravely or timidly, 
 according to circumstances. But if this is so, I must look 
 to this leader, the Napoleon of the novel army, to discover 
 the movements of the grand army and its object. 
 
 A bright idea ! 
 
 Goethe searched for the primeval plant ; the philologist 
 is seeking for the primeval language ; the Finnish exorcists 
 searched for the primeval word of things, and I went in 
 search of the primeval novel. 
 
 I called up the spirits which have made the greatest 
 impression upon me, from Grandison, Joseph Andrews, 
 Corinna, and Rousseau's beautiful Heloise, up to the variety 
 of works of our own days, and I adjured the Spirit of these 
 spirits to reveal to me his nature and his aim.
 
 SKETCHES. 365 
 
 And I heard him answer : 
 
 " In me them seest a picture of man's inner development. 
 I represent the metamorphoses of human life, ascending 
 and descending in accordance with eternally ruling laws. 
 What thou seest in me is thy own past, or present, or 
 future history. Therefore thou learnest of me, whilst thou 
 lookest into my mirror, or beholdest how this world goes 
 on. And out of my lesson I create for thee a pleasure. 
 For I take the flowers of the day, and the stars of the 
 night, and I dye my robes in Aurora's roses, in order, 
 beloved one ! to come to thee and make thee happy with 
 my beauty, by showing thee life's dark mysteries, making 
 them light to thee, through my earnestness. On my arms 
 I raise thee above the earth, and let thee behold the struggle 
 which agitates man's bosom. "Wherever thou seest powers 
 wrestling with each other, developing themselves under 
 liberty's banner, either for good or for evil ; wherever thou 
 seest life's most secret history, lighted by the torch of 
 heavenly love, there also thou seest me the novel." 
 
 "Yes, the genuine one," I exclaimed involuntarily. 
 "Beautiful Genius! I understand thee, but" .... I un- 
 derstand also clearly why the world loves the novel so 
 much, but I learnt to distinguish more keenly between 
 the genuine and the false; between the enlightened 
 and the blind imitators of the genius whose words I 
 have just quoted. I beheld a countless number of novels, 
 so widely differing from him, that in order to find again 
 the primeval novel it would be necessary to refer man 
 from his books to his own life. For even in the most 
 commonplace human life we discover the metamorphoses 
 which constitute the nature of the novel life's changes, 
 its transitions. In whose life are there not struggles, if 
 ever so silent, defeats, and victories ? Where do we not 
 see obligations between people, be they lovers, or brothers 
 and sisters, married couples, parents or children ? where do 
 we not see the deepest of all relations, the tenderest, the
 
 366 SKETCHES. 
 
 mightiest, the most romantic the relation between man 
 and his highest, his best, his first and his last friend ? I 
 also have a little objection to novels in general, when I 
 compare them to the novel of novels real, living life. 
 
 It is because they occupy themselves too much with con- 
 jugating, in a certain exclusive sense, the eternal verb. I 
 love, thou lovest, we love, etc., etc. Yes, I object a little 
 to this, for I find that it is not so on earth. I am of the 
 opinion of England's great Dr. Johnson, when he says in 
 his preface to Shakespeare's works : " Love is only one of 
 many passions, and as it has no great influence upon the 
 sum of life, it has little operation in the dramas of a poet 
 who caught his ideas from the living world, and exhibited 
 only what he saw before him. He knew that any other 
 passion, according as it be regular or exorbitant, is a cause 
 of happiness or calamity." 
 
 There are novels which are free from the one-sidedness of 
 which I have complained, and which contain much of the 
 best which characterizes the genuine novel. Their worth 
 lies above all in the moral tone which breathes through 
 them like a healthy, invigorating breeze, and which holds 
 up to view the influence of good over circumstances, and 
 also man's power to help himself. We see in them the 
 good intent, the pure purpose, perseverance, industry, pa- 
 tience struggling with all kinds of difficulties, conquering at 
 last, and man becoming the creator of his own happiness. 
 These novels can have a beneficial influence upon youthful 
 minds on the point of making the acquaintance of life and 
 the world. 
 
 All novels which approach the primeval novel, I wish 
 every success and an inconceivable number of readers. 
 These readers I wish mind and sense rightly to understand 
 them; for true is the saying of Lichtenberg: " If, when a 
 book and a head happen to knock against each other, it 
 should sound hollow or discordant, it is not always the 
 fault of the book."
 
 SKETCHES. 367 
 
 And if any body hereafter should ask me, " What is to 
 come after the novel ? " I intend answering : " The day of 
 judgment." 
 
 But who can answer for, that after the day of judgment 
 a new evolution of an entirely new romantic literature and 
 new novels shall not take its beginning ? This seems very 
 probable. 
 
 THE ROMANCE, THE EPOS OF OUR DAY. 
 
 ADAM OKHLEXSCHLAGER has said truly and to the point, 
 " The romance is the Epos of our day," and although 
 learned men have proved that the ancient Greek Epos is 
 not strictly an heroic poem, not the same as the epopee, 
 still they grant that the " Epos " is a narrative of actions or 
 occurrences in which one person is the principal figure, 
 who therefore becomes the hero or heroine of such a narra- 
 tive. 
 
 A German scholar says that the distinguishing character- 
 istic of the heroic poem is, " that it contains what interests 
 all mankind." But so does every narrative which tends to 
 the honor of humanity. The ancient " Epos," and its 
 younger brother the romance, appear thus both to come 
 so near the heroic poem, that they may lay claim to its 
 title, honor, and dignities. The hero of the modern epic 
 poem is quite different from that of the ancients, and his 
 life and achievements are measured by a different standard. 
 The hero of the ancient " Epos " is, generally, a gladiator, 
 who conquers by means of assassinations and cunning, and 
 who slays a great number of people. He is handsome, 
 brave, fortunate, and his grand achievements consist in 
 battles. But the hero of romance is, above all men, the 
 feeling, thinking, moral man, in his struggle with the world 
 on his road to the goal which his genius points out to him. 
 The ancient " Epos " knows only a few human beings, and 
 they are the favorites of the gods ; they are the great and 
 gifted ones upon earth. All the rest of mankind is merely
 
 368 SKETCHES. 
 
 rabble, good enough to serve as stepping-stones to the ad- 
 vancement and rise of the hero. In the Epos of modern 
 times every man can be the hero, every woman the heroine ; 
 for man is the chosen favorite, loved by God, called to 
 great destinies, to the possession of a measureless realm. 
 
 This is owing to the ancient Epos being a Pagan, where- 
 as the romance is baptized in the life of Christianity. 
 Christianity attributes to every human soul an infinite 
 worth before God, and an infinite possibility of perfection. 
 It makes man the inmost essence of creation. 
 
 The romance, the novel, understood this doctrine, and 
 grouped round its hero, round the loving, searching, 
 struggling man, as his world, nature, science, arts, society. 
 To the romance, man is the centre of life, and it is his task 
 to explain life. In the romance man is still a conqueror, 
 but to bless ; and his first and greatest victories are won 
 upon an inward battle-field within his own breast. If 
 victorious there, he conquers the world. 
 
 The romance became thus essentially a biography. In the 
 delineation of the individual man, it purposes to show the 
 human in every sphere of the existence. The hero, or the 
 heroine, is the representative of the higher, the spiritual 
 humanity, who through it vanquishes devils and goblins, 
 and is declared, though often not before death, the victor. 
 The romance preaches to every body this counsel, " Learn 
 to conquer ! " It is a multifarious paraphrase of the words 
 " Behold the man." 
 
 The romance says further to man, " Behold thy world, in 
 all its beauty, its deformity, its greatness, its littleness, its 
 pleasantness, its bitterness, in a word, in all its reality." 
 
 To a clear-sighted criticism no doubts can therefore 
 arise of the great importance and value of the romance in 
 literature as a means of higher cultivation. To a clear- 
 sighted criticism therefore the romance ought to present 
 itself as one of the most deeply influencing art-productions 
 which civilization has produced.
 
 SKETCHES. 369 
 
 The great development which romance literature has at- 
 tained during this century, is a proof according to my 
 opinion of the great humanizing development of the age ; 
 and the fact that romance or novel-reading has become a 
 favorite study throughout all classes of society, shows their 
 sound taste and clear eye. We are here ready to say with 
 Madame de Sevigne, " Mon ami, le public a Ion nez et ne se 
 meprend guere" 
 
 The question of the value of the romance in general 
 ought to be restricted to a question of the value of such or 
 such a romance in relation to its purport as a romance, 
 as the epic poem of mankind. 1 
 
 We do not deny that the romance has frequently mis- 
 taken its aim ; that it has often carried darkness and 
 poison in its leaves instead of light and healing life. 
 
 This constitutes its sin. But this sin ought to be as 
 little ascribed to the whole race of romances, as Nero's 
 abominations ought to be laid at the door of mankind. 
 
 Far more frequently the romance has carried pleasure, 
 comfort, hope, strength, healing life to man's heart. It will 
 do so in a far greater measure when it has learnt better to 
 understand itself and its mission. 
 
 Rousseau's " Heloise," Richardson's " Pamela," St. 
 Pierre's " Chaumiere Indienne," and' in later times " Con- 
 suelo," by Madame Du Devant, are beautiful human epic 
 poems, justly admired by all nations and models of the 
 Epos of our time. Higher still than they stands " Uncle 
 Tom's Cabin," the book of our own days, which is being 
 read most and is most liked ; for not only does nature, 
 family life, and life's moral questions group themselves 
 round the man who is the centre of the narrative, but the 
 
 1 We can discover in romance literature two leading tendencies, like 
 those 'which in painting are called the Italian and the Flemish school. The 
 former tries to represent the ideal, the latter strives more to show a vigor- 
 ous and pithy reality. Our Swedish literature has to thank Mrs. Emilie 
 Carlen for exquisite pictures of this latter kind; pictures which have 
 scarcely been equaled. 
 
 24
 
 370 SKETCHES. 
 
 profoundcst and most weighty questions of life, of the 
 state, and of society, throng along this lonely, loving, bleed- 
 ing human heart to receive light and judgment. 1 
 
 And what is the man who is here the hero ; who makes 
 our hearts beat, our eyes shed tears ; who lets the people of 
 two worlds feel the same interest, the same sorrow, make 
 the same reflections, and converse on the same common 
 subject; a subject which belongs to humanity at large? 
 He is the humblest, the most defenseless, the most despised 
 of men ; a man who can scarcely read, who cannot write 
 at all a poor negro-slave. But he is a man in the high- 
 est acceptation of the word, for he is a Christian. And 
 humanity rejoices in him over its highest life. 
 
 Thus far the divine hero has advanced, and thus far the 
 romance has followed his footsteps in raising man. 
 
 The romance, and its sisters the novels and sketches, 
 have likewise this merit, that they make us acquainted 
 with far distant lands and nations, in a more hearty and 
 living manner than other books are capable of doing it. 
 Travels give us a description of outward things and situa- 
 tions. Scientific works can inform us of a country's geog- 
 raphy and geology, of its Flora and Fauna, etc., etc., and 
 of the character of its people. The romance, on the other 
 hand, lets us see the heart of the people and its inward life. 
 It opens to us the home ; shows us the father, the 
 youth, the maiden, the child, the servant ; shows us what 
 constitutes the aim of their life, their joys and sorrows, 
 their work and pastime ; shows us the trees which afford 
 them shade, and the flowers which delight them ; lets us, in 
 a word, see man in his human world, and lets us see that 
 world in its peculiar form in such a land and amongst such 
 a people. 
 
 And we know scarcely a greater, and at the same time a 
 
 1 The English novels " Mary Barton" and " Alton Locke " discuss like- 
 wise the great social questions of the day (in England) in their relation to 
 man, who in them appears in his highest signification as a member of soci 
 ety. The political or social novel thus appears upon the stage.
 
 SKETCHES. 371 
 
 more useful enjoyment, than to be transported from our 
 quiet home, as if by a magician's wand, to foreign coun- 
 tries, and to make the acquaintance of new characters, and 
 a new state of things, and to learn from them, at any 
 rate, what is going on in the world. 
 
 For although Sweden's noble and amiable poet, Franzen, 
 did characterize the romance as " an occurrence which 
 has never occurred," still we venture to assert that every 
 thing which the true romance describes, has really hap- 
 pened and happens every day, if not exactly in the same 
 way as told in the romance, yet in an analogous manner, 
 and that no romance is so romantic as is frequently 
 actual life. 
 
 We would wish that every young man and every young 
 girl would understand their life in its truly romantic signifi- 
 cation, and that they would at an early age think of writ- 
 ing their autobiography. The romance in it would be 
 more than a little love-story. 
 
 But if it is a love-story on a grand scale, so much the 
 better. 
 
 The genuine romance is such a biography. 
 
 But let us return to the mission of the romance to 
 bring near each other far distant people and countries by a 
 delineation of their inner life. 
 
 The American people have been glad to become ac- 
 quainted with Sweden and its home-life through Swedish 
 novels. Swedish readers who, through " Uncle Tom," 
 have been introduced to North American houses, natural 
 scenery, and social conditions, will no doubt with increasing 
 interest renew the acquaintance with America through 
 American novels and sketches. They who, with a beat- 
 ing heart, have followed " Uncle Tom " through his 
 checkered life, will willingly follow her who has described 
 the same in her sketches of characters and scenes amongst 
 the descendants of the Pilgrims, given in the " May- 
 flower," the first full-blown flower of her talent as an
 
 372 SKETCHES. 
 
 authoress. She was, while writing that work, a young 
 mother, taken up by domestic cares, of which the little 
 sketch, " A Mother's Trials," is a humorous picture. 
 
 She wrote these sketches in her leisure hours, for a 
 small circle of friends, without at that time thinking of 
 publishing the same. 
 
 They are the firstlings of a youthful, richly endowed 
 soul, and although they carry the impress of firstlings, and 
 lack artistic finish, yet we find in them the same qualities 
 which are so essentially characteristic of " Uncle Tom ; " 
 an acute perception of the peculiar and national, an over- 
 flowing vein of humor, and a deeply religious mind. 
 
 "Washington Irving, Caroline Kirkland, Catharine Sedg- 
 wick, Fenimore Cooper, and Nathaniel Hawthorne have 
 given us masterly sketches of America and of her peo- 
 ple, but none more striking sketches of character, none 
 more American, than those of the authoress of the " May- 
 flower" and of "Uncle Tom's Cabin." 
 
 THE CHILD'S PRAYER. 
 
 " IN my childhood," relates the great and brave Captain 
 
 G , " I was exceedingly strictly educated. Every fault 
 
 even the most trifling, was most severely punished by 
 my mother, a woman strong both in body and mind. 
 This severity filled me with great dread and terror, which 
 easily might have led me to falsehood and hypocrisy, if 
 these sins had not been even more severely punished than 
 all others. Meantime I was often very unhappy. In my 
 extremity I had recourse to prayer, prayer to the invisible 
 Father, whom I knew to be watching over me and over all. 
 A flat stone behind one of the hedges in our garden was 
 my oratory. Often have I been lying there on my knees 
 praying and weeping. 
 
 " One day I had undertaken the praiseworthy labor of 
 weeding the hot-beds in our garden. In doing this, I 
 worked especially very hard at a large plant with such
 
 SKETCHES. 373 
 
 deep and strong roots, that, notwithstanding all my en- 
 deavors, I could not tear up the root entirely. One piece 
 of it, deeply imbedded in the earth, I was obliged to leave 
 behind. Delighted with my work, I went to the gardener, 
 saying to him, ' Well, now I think I have very nearly 
 pulled up all the weeds from the hot-beds. There was 
 only one large plant, which I could not quite tear up, but' 
 
 " ' What in the name of goodness have you been doing ? ' 
 exclaimed the gardener in evident consternation ; ' I hope 
 you have not torn up Mistress's chervil ? ' 
 
 " He ran to the garden-seat ; I followed him, trembling. 
 Alas ! it was indeed so ; the only chervil-plant in the gar- 
 den, my mother's favorite herb for cabbage-soup, I had in 
 the sweat of my brow labored to exterminate. Oh, how I 
 prayed and entreated the gardener not to mention my 
 misdeed. He promised not to do so, but only conditionally. 
 As long as nobody asked him, he would be silent ; but if 
 his mistress discovered the mischief and wanted to know 
 the cause of it, he considered it his duty to tell her. 
 
 " From this moment I listened every day with indescrib- 
 able anxiety, and especially every Sunday, to the orders 
 which were issued to the cook about dinner, trembling from 
 fear that I should hear the dreadful word, ' cabbage- 
 soup.' For three weeks it was never once mentioned, and 
 my anxiety had gradually become less intense, when one 
 Sunday morning I heard my mother saying to the cook : 
 ; I suppose we must soon have cabbage-soup again ; I was 
 thinking of having it to-day. The chervil ought by this 
 time to be large enough.' 
 
 " More I could not hear. Half frantic with terror, I ran 
 down into the garden ; I was almost in despair. Again I 
 had recourse to my oratory, and there I sent up as fer- 
 vent prayers for delivery out of my misery, as ever passed 
 child's lips. Having prayed long, I rose, saying in a 
 gloomy frame of mind : ' I shall now see whether there is 
 any efficacy in prayer, and whether it can do any thing to
 
 374 SKETCHES. 
 
 help us.' And with quick steps I hastened to the fatal 
 hot-bed, which during all the time I had never thought of 
 visiting. I approached it ; with a heart beating almost to 
 bursting, I threw at it a terrified, searching glance, and be- 
 hold ! a luxuriant chervil-plant stood there verdant, a foot 
 high, on the same spot where the former one had stood. 
 My surprise and my joy cannot be described. It was the 
 root which had been left behind, which had shot up. The 
 matter could easily be accounted for, but upon me it made 
 an impression never to be effaced. And it was not diffi- 
 cult for rne afterwards to follow the advice which my 
 father gave me many years later, when I left my parental 
 home to enter the great world as a military officer. 
 ' Above all,' said he, ' do not forget prayer ; let it be the 
 beginning and the close of your day ; for however our fate 
 may vary, to that we always return ! ' ' 
 
 MAY THOUGHTS. 
 
 GENTLE breezes, pearly dew-drops, warm sun-rays, spring, 
 spring life, blessed, blessing all, welcome to all ! How the 
 earth quickens ; how it stirs in the seed, in the bud ; how 
 it sings in the air, in the waters ! Glorious life, giver of 
 joy and of beauty, receive our thanks for having returned ; 
 for again awakening earth with kisses and warmth ; for 
 again awakening hopeful feelings and thoughts in the souls 
 of men ! Over them also snow was lying winter's sleep 
 and heaviness ; but they feel thy spirit, and they breathe 
 again, and send forth into life an " Ah ! " of longing and of 
 hope. 
 
 Spring, which so often I have seen come and depart, 
 bloom into beauty and die away on a bed of withered 
 leaves ; enchanting, but ephemeral season, why do I now 
 greet thee with so much joy ? Is it for the sake of thy 
 verdant fields, thy tender foliage, thy flowers, thy butter- 
 flies? They must all soon perish. Is it for the general 
 joy which thou callest forth amongst all people, my brothers
 
 SKETCHES. 375 
 
 and sisters ? Oh, yes ! But with thee this joy must also 
 die away. 
 
 Delicious spring-time ! no, it is not at thee that I rejoice 
 so much, but at the life of which thou art the symbol, 
 whose spirit thou bearest ; at a spring which I feel is ap- 
 proaching ; a spring which does not wane ; a life which does 
 not die, and which, like thine, imparts its all to all. 
 
 It is the spring of community, of universality ; it is all 
 mankind's participation in the communion of God's good 
 gifts. 
 
 That spring is spiritual life ; that life is eternal. 
 
 It descended from heaven to exalt and to bless earth. 
 During eighteen centuries it has breathed upon genera 
 tions, melted icebergs, burst fetters, cleansed, purified the 
 air, and penetrated in innumerable individual hearts. Now 
 it penetrates public life, Society, and also its movement 
 has become a downward one, in order to elevate. 
 
 Associations are formed for the propagation of God's 
 kingdom upon earth in goodness, in wisdom, in beauty. 
 Weak men join their hands in long chains, which gives 
 them power ; and the electric current of God's love runs 
 more rapidly along them all. 
 
 And the neglected children are adopted, educated ; the 
 ignorant are taught ; the erring improved, and the condition 
 of the poor is raised nearer to that of the rich. 
 
 Science steps forth from its study, and in bright beams 
 gives to the people the light which it has discovered the 
 truth which it has gained during solitary labor and watch- 
 ing. And man learns better to conceive the God in whom 
 
 O 
 
 he has believed; learns better to understand himself, to 
 know the world in which he lives, the stars which shine 
 above his head, the flowers which grow at his feet. Thus 
 he wanders more securely and more happy upon earth. 
 More securely, but also more humbly, more peacefully, and 
 " Blessed are the peaceful ! " 
 
 The social system becomes a general and sacred system,
 
 376 SKETCHES. 
 
 and social life expands to receive more and more citizens, 
 participators of the same noble duties and rights. 
 
 Art descends from sun-lit heights to throw like the 
 sun itself its light into obscure, hidden valleys ; into the 
 cottages of the poor life-giving, cheering. Beautiful 
 pictures adorn the lowly cot. Poetry and song fall like 
 fertilizing dew out of warm spring clouds upon the soil of 
 the mind, quickening the noble, slumbering seed. 
 
 And upon earth breathes although in various tints 
 and degrees o'ne heart, one reason, one sense of beauty ; 
 and from earth one common, bright, radiant eye is raised 
 towards heaven. 
 
 Spring of the human race ! Day of participation for 
 all ! Alas ! it is yet only approaching. It is obscured by 
 the dark shadows, the heavy crust of ice which still rests 
 upon earth. But the tints of its dawn are visible in the 
 sky ; its spirit breathes through space. It is coming, it is 
 coming, God's " Let there be light ! " His first com- 
 mandment to the world has been given to us to repeat, to 
 realize until the last day of time. May herein every one 
 of us be a spark, a ray ! 
 
 Go then, when thy time is up, beautiful, earthly spring ! 
 Thy farewell, thy withered flowers, thy death, shall not dis- 
 courage us. The spring life which knows of no death, the 
 bloom which does not decay, is approaching. In it we 
 shall unite ; in it we shall labor as thou laborest for all, 
 every one according to his individual powers and in his 
 place, if even only as a breath of air, as a drop of rain, aye, 
 even if only, as now here, by a drop of ink ! 
 
 THE GRATEFUL LITTLE FLOWER. 
 
 THE closed bud of a tiny flower was shooting forth un- 
 noticed amongst the grass, while the vapors of a May 
 morning were sweeping, like dreams before the soul of a 
 slumberer, over earth, yet sunk in sleep. Still every thing 
 was dusky, but in the bosom of the tiny flower a dim
 
 SKETCHES. 377 
 
 dream was stirring, a presentiment of light, of joy, of 
 something that was to develop and beautify its little life. 
 Thus dreams the child of the sun which shall rise over its 
 noonday. Thus man divines, through life's long dawn, the 
 new light, which, at the command of a new " Let there be 
 light," shall beam forth and annihilate every particle of the 
 dust of ancient chaos. Dreams sometimes become truth. 
 How beautiful to awake from a pleasant dream to the 
 joys of which it has whispered to us. Such was the fate 
 of the tiny flower. 
 
 The sun threw a ray upon the lonely one. Delighted, it 
 felt light and warmth develop and beautify its life. The 
 wandering wayfarer cast his eye upon it, saying, " See how 
 beautifully the sun lights up the little flower ! " Deeply the 
 flower felt the beneficence of the king of the firmament. It 
 could acknowledge it only by trying to preserve unspotted 
 its inner part, which light had deigned to look upon, and it 
 followed, with an eye never turned away and with joyous 
 and humble adoration, the course of the glorious one as 
 he moved along his path in the heavens. Occasionally it 
 whispers to a passing breath of air, hoping that it will 
 carry with it and carry to him its sigh : " Oh, if the sun 
 could but know how grateful the little flower feels ! " 
 
 THE UGLY HAND AND THE BEAUTIFUL HAND. 
 A TRUE STORY. 
 
 " Now you shall hear," said Grandmother one day to 
 Peter and Lotta, who were seated on the floor before the 
 stove, in the light of the fire, looking with curious eyes at 
 the old woman, who sat herself down opposite to them in 
 the shade. Mother was baking the pease-flour pancake in 
 the hearth fire ; father was sitting at his joiner's bench, but 
 they all listened attentively to Granny when she began. 
 
 " Now you shall hear : listen attentively ! There was, 
 once upon a time, a young peasant lad, who married a 
 young peasant lass ; and her name was Gertrud and his
 
 378 SKETCHES. 
 
 name was Sven. Oh, what a grand wedding that was ! She 
 was dressed at the parsonage, and she looked so splendid, 
 oh, so splendid, that all the people crowded round to get a 
 look at her. And she was so fine and so grand, where she 
 was riding on horseback, with a large nosegay stuck in her 
 stomacher, and with fiddlers riding before her. And so 
 they went to church, and were married. And the church 
 was cram full of people to look at her. And so they went 
 home and had a grand feast. And while all the dishes 
 were brought in, the fiddlers scraped away, and then they 
 ate and they drank, and they danced nearly all night. 
 That was the wedding. Then the newly married couple 
 went to their own cottage ; for they had their own cottage 
 with two rooms in it, and before it stood a mountain-ash, 
 in which the birds sang ; and a farm-yard they had, too, 
 with a cow, and sheep, and pigs ; and furniture they had, 
 and meat and drink as much as they wanted. All this 
 they had got from their parents. And they were very 
 happy, and said : ' Now we shall be merry and enjoy our 
 life thoroughly.' And so they began eating and drinking 
 and sleeping, and they rose late in the day, and slept also 
 during day-time. But for all that they were not happier, 
 but only more sleepy, and yawned all day long, One even- 
 ing, just as they were going to have their supper, they saw 
 coming into the cottage but whether it was through the 
 door or through the window, they could not tell a large, 
 ugly, black hand with long fingers : look you, children, in 
 this way it came, so slowly, stretching towards the table, 
 seized the basin with the porridge, and carried it away right 
 before their noses, which grew so long so long, that they 
 would have knocked against each other, if both Sven and 
 Gertrud had not tumbled backward from sheer fright, when 
 the large ugly hand came and took away their supper and 
 disappeared with it, they could not guess how. ' But,' said 
 they, ' we won't mind it, but we shall go to bed, and it will 
 be all right to-morrow ; ' and they went to bed, but they
 
 SKETCHES. 379 
 
 did not sleep, because the horn-owl sat in the mountain- 
 ash, crying all night, ' Uh, hu, hu ! ' and they fancied that the 
 ugly hand was moving about in the kitchen, but it was so 
 dark they could not see. At last they fell asleep, and when 
 they awoke it was broad daylight, and then the gudeman 
 said : ' Get up now, gudewife, and light the fire and make 
 some coffee.' And she went and lit the fire, but just as 
 she was going to take hold of the coffee-pot, what do you 
 think she saw ? Why, the large, ugly hand ; it caught 
 hold of the handle of the coffee-pot and was off with it in 
 a trice, as if it had flown through the wall. Then the 
 gudeman flew in a rage, clenched his fist, and said : ' Well, 
 come once more if you dare, you great ugly brute, and I '11 
 squeeze you so that you shan't forget it in a hurry : and 
 now I '11 go to the bailiff.' And he got out of bed and 
 dressed, and wanted to put on his holiday coat ; but just 
 as he was going to take it down from the peg, he felt some- 
 thing pulling at it that was stronger than he was himself, and 
 when he turned round, lo ! there was the large ugly hand, 
 grasping his coat and flying off with it before he had time 
 to understand how it was done. And thus it went on every 
 day. Every day came the ugly hand into his cottage, and 
 took away something or other, either victuals, or clothes, or 
 household furniture. And then husband and wife got very 
 frightened, and they asked each other : ' How will this 
 end?' One day they heard the cow lowing, and they saw 
 the ugly hand dragging her along by the horns into the 
 forest. And the poor cow was so lean, and looked back 
 imploringly to the young wife, and then disappeared in the 
 forest. Then the wife began to weep so bitterly; but 
 the husband said he did not like to see all this misery, 
 and so he emptied the brandy bottle and fell asleep, and 
 slept as heavily as if he was dead ; and the wife did nothing 
 but cry, and did not know what to do. ' Now I have not 
 got a single drop of milk to give to my husband ; what 
 shall I give him to eat ? ' And she thought more of her
 
 380 SKETCHES. 
 
 husband than of herself, for she was, after all, a good soul, 
 While she was crying and staring up at the sky and pray- 
 ing to God for help, she thought she heard a bird in the 
 tree sing : 
 
 " ' Industry wins bread, 
 Stands us in good stead; 
 If the handsome hand is busy, 
 Sure the ugly one 's away.' 
 
 " And when she heard this, the scales fell from her eyes 
 and her heart became light. She dried her tears, took her 
 spinning-wheel out of the corner, where it had stood forgot- 
 ten with the flax upon it for many weeks, and she began 
 spinning : whirr, whirr, whirr-irr-rr. She thought it sounded 
 so nice she had almost forgotten the sound. ' What is 
 that strange music ? ' asked her husband, when he awoke. 
 And the wife told him how she had felt, and what the bird 
 had been singing in the tree, and how she had thought 
 that if they were to begin to work, things might perhaps 
 turn out better for them. And he scratched his ear and 
 said that ' There might be something in that.' And then 
 they kissed each other, and promised one another to begin 
 living in a different way. And all day long they worked 
 away, and that clay the ugly hand was not seen to take any 
 thing away from them. But it is true there was not much 
 to take now, for the ugly hand had already carried off so 
 much. They had only one kettle left, and a few potatoes 
 in a basket, but no bread. When therefore the young wife 
 was boiling the potatoes in the kettle at night, she said: 
 ' Think if the ugly hand should come now and take away 
 the kettle also ! ' And she was in a great fright. But no, 
 no ugly hand did she see ; and when the potatoes were ready 
 and she was going to put them on the table, she saw a 
 pretty little white hand, placing a loaf of bread upon her 
 plate and one upon Sven's plate. And the bird in the tree 
 
 sang : 
 
 " ' Industry wins bread, 
 Stands us in good stead ;
 
 SKETCHES. 381 
 
 If the handsome hand is busy, 
 Sure the ugly one 's away.' 
 
 " She was so glad, oh, so glad, that she had almost let the 
 potatoes drop on the floor, for she was so anxious to run 
 and kiss the blessed little white hand ; but it was gone, 
 and at that instant her husband came home from his work, 
 carrying a large bundle of wood, and the wife told him with 
 joyful tears what she had seen. And he was also heartily 
 glad, and they sat down to eat. And for many, many a day, 
 their meal had not tasted so well. They were happier than 
 they had been for a long time, and they thanked God. 
 And now they began another life. Every morning they 
 got up at daybreak and worked all day long, that often, 
 when night came, they were so tired, oh, so tired ; but then 
 they had encouragement, for every day they saw the white 
 hand come in, bringing back some of the things which the 
 ugly hand had dragged away ; yes, and one day it came 
 and put the coffee-kettle on the fire, and hung up Sven's 
 holiday coat on the peg ; but the funniest thing was when 
 they heard one evening a lowing outside the window. ' My 
 cow, my cow, my blessed " May-rose ! " ' cried Gertrud, and 
 ran out, and behold, it was 'May-rose' that had come 
 back, led by the horns by the white hand, and she looked 
 at Gertrud with her large, friendly eyes, and lowed so mer- 
 rily. Gertrud could not sleep that night, for she longed so 
 to get up in the morning to give her dear ' May-rose ' her 
 fodder, and caress and milk her. 
 
 " And now Gertrud was much more industrious than any 
 wife in the whole neighborhood, and she had woven such 
 beautiful stuffs out of her yarn, and she sold them to the 
 people all round. And the husband wrought weaving- 
 looms during the winter for those who wanted to weave, 
 and Gertrud taught them how to do it. When now Sven 
 and Gertrud had become rich, they took his old mother 
 into their house, and made her old age happy, for which 
 God blessed them. And He did so indeed, for lie gave
 
 382 SKETCHES. 
 
 them two nice little children, a boy and a girl, and they 
 liked much to hear stories told to them, just as you do, chil- 
 dren. 
 
 " And then there was a great fuss and a loud cry all round 
 the neighborhood : ' The King is coming ! the King is com- 
 ing ! ' And, sure enough, it was the King himself, who sat 
 in a large, large carriage beside his Queen. And every body 
 ran to see the King and the Queen, for he was a very good 
 King and she was a very good Queen, and they thought 
 only of how they could do justice to all, and make the people 
 happy. And when the large carriage stopped at the inn, 
 there were so many people that it looked like an ant-hill. 
 And the King and the Queen went about amongst the people, 
 and spoke in such a friendly way with them all. And the 
 King was such a fine gentleman, with dark hair and brown 
 eyes, which shone like the sun ; and the Queen was a tall, 
 beautiful lady, and looked as good as an angel in heaven. 
 And they saw that all the women and girls had such nice 
 clothes of homespun stuff, and they asked, ' Who is it that 
 weaves such stuff here in the neighborhood ? ' And the 
 people answered that ' Gertrud does, Sven's wife.' Then 
 Gertrud was told to come before the King and Queen with 
 her husband, and they praised them, and said that they 
 would buy some of their stuffs. And so they ordered fifty 
 ells of cloth, and six dozen handkerchiefs with red and blue 
 checks for the little princess. And the King made Gertrud 
 and her husband a present of a silver medal with his por- 
 trait on it, as a remembrance of him, and he said, ' I wish 
 you every happiness, my children.' 
 
 " And it became known through all the neighborhood 
 how that the King had spoken with Sven and Gertrud, and 
 every Sunday they had to take out the silver medal, for all 
 wanted to see the King's portrait. 
 
 " This was a great delight to Sven and Gertrud, as you 
 may believe, and they became still more industrious, and 
 more and more rich ; and they joyfully helped poor people
 
 SKETCHES. 383 
 
 out of what they had earned, and told them their own story, 
 and all about the naughty hand and the kind hand. But 
 never again did they see the naughty hand in their cot- 
 tage. 
 
 " For look you, dear children, the naughty, ugly hand, that 
 was Want, which drags every thing out of the house, when 
 laziness, and extravagance, and carelessness enter into it ; 
 and the kind, beautiful hand do you know who that was ? 
 Well, that was Industry, which brings every thing into the 
 house, and makes comfort and independence dwell therein. 
 And the King, that was our own King Oscar, God bless 
 him ! And the Queen was our Queen Josephine, and they 
 like to see their people happy and industrious, and to re- 
 ward them that are honest. So you see that this whole 
 story is nothing but the real truth. And now my tale is 
 finished, and just in good time, for now mother has just 
 baked the last pancake and we are going to have our 
 supper." 
 
 Peter and Lotta jumped up from the floor ; Granny also 
 got up from her chair, and all sat down round the table 
 where the pancakes were smoking. And the husband and 
 the wife winked at each other and smiled, as if they meant 
 to say : " We know that story, we do ! " 
 
 And when they had sat down to the table and were all 
 so pleased, they heard the swallows outside the window 
 chirping to their young ones : " Be busy, be busy, be 
 busy ! " 
 
 " Hark ! " said Lotta, " what the swallows are teaching 
 their young ones. That they have taught themselves." 
 " Lotta is stupid," Peter said ; " God has taught it them." 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE AND CHRISTMAS MATINS. 
 
 I SHALL now relate to you, my dear little children in 
 
 Stockholm, how Christmas is celebrated in the country, for 
 
 you probably do not know this ; but I know it, for I have 
 
 often taken part in it myself, and seen it with my own eyes,
 
 384 SKETCHES. 
 
 and have enjoyed it vastly ; and I know that it will interest 
 you to hear all about it. 
 
 But the mother and children of whom I am about to tell 
 you, I have not known myself; a good friend of mine has 
 told me all that I am now going to relate to you. 
 
 Well, you see, children, there was a cottage lying on the 
 margin of a dark-green pine forest, and upon it and round 
 about it the snow fell in large flakes, one dark winter's 
 night. But the interior of the cottage was light, for the 
 fire was blazing merrily upon the hearth, and threw its 
 friendly glare upon the pine-tree which stretched its heavy 
 snow-laden branches against the outer wall of the cottage, 
 and the fire also threw its light into the forest where the 
 large owl sat screeching, " Un, hu, hu, hu ! " Merrily the 
 smoke was curling up through the chimney, and the sparks 
 danced about amongst the snow-flakes so that these became 
 quite giddy, and tumbled down through the chimney into 
 the porridge-pan, that is to say, they would have tumbled 
 into it, if they had not melted on their way through the 
 smoke. 
 
 It was the Christinas porridge which sputtered and bub- 
 bled on the hearth, besides other Yule fare ; for it was now 
 Christmas Eve, and according to the custom in the rural 
 districts in Sweden, the food for the whole Christmas holi- 
 days was to be prepared, so that it only required to be 
 warmed up for the meals during those days. 
 
 It was not, you may believe, rich man's fare which was 
 being cooked in the cottage. For in it there lived only a 
 cottar's wife and she was a widow with three children. 
 But she was an industrious and thoughtful woman, and a 
 good mother, and had now, in honor of Yule time, prepared 
 the very best; and that was not to be despised. Three 
 pounds of meat she had bought, and it was now boiling 
 together with parsly-roots and celery, and promised to 
 make a savory soup, with cabbage, on Christinas Day. For 
 in the country people must have cabbage-soup on that day.
 
 SKETCHES. 385 
 
 There was also " lutfisk," quite white and soft in a pan, and 
 potatoes, as a matter of course. 
 
 The Christmas cake was already placed upon the table^ 
 and there also stood the " Yule-Kuse" with long horns. 
 
 O 
 
 And there he was to stand during all the holidays, in the 
 midst of all the Christmas fare. Have you heard, children, 
 what a " Yule-Kuse " is, and why he stands upon the Christ- 
 mas tables in the country ? I will tell you. 
 
 The " Yule-Kuse " is a large lump of dough, which is 
 kneaded and made into the shape of a large goat, with long 
 horns. When he has stood upon the Christmas table all 
 the holidays, he is put into a wooden chest, where he rests in 
 peace until spring comes, and the fields are to be ploughed. 
 Then the " Yule-Kuse " comes forth again out of the chest, 
 is chopped in pieces, and given to the horses and oxen that 
 have to labor in the fields, and which through the " Yule- 
 Kuse " become doubly as strong as before. 
 
 And if the fields are well ploughed, the grain will grow 
 beautifully, and a vast number of sheaves will be brought 
 into the barns, and a great deal of grist to the mills, and 
 much bread into the house, and all this the " Yule-Kuse " 
 does, th.it wonderful animal. 
 
 Two little children, 1'ehr and Maja, were running round 
 the Christmas table, and could scarcely conceal their delight 
 at the " Yule-Kuse," and the cakes, and at the Yule fare 
 boiling on the hearth, smelling so nice in the cottage, and 
 at the Christmas Day matins, which they were going to 
 attend the following morning with their mother. Brother 
 Anders was going to take them all in the sledge drawn by 
 old Polle. And the children had never yet been to the 
 Christmas matins, and did not quite know what it meant ; 
 but something grand and beautiful it was to be, and that 
 they had heard and could well believe. 
 
 Brother Anders was still standing upon the hillock be- 
 hind the cottage, cutting wood, that there might be plenty 
 of fuel for the whole week, from Christmas Eve until 
 25
 
 386 SKETCHES. 
 
 New Year's Day ; but if any body had seen him where he 
 stood, with gloomy looks and his hair hanging down over 
 his forehead, he would have seen that Anders did not 
 think that Christmas was a merry time, and that he was 
 not much satisfied with the world. 
 
 The mother was busy at the hearth. But why does she 
 always stand thus turned towards the fire, as if anxious to 
 keep her face away from the merry children ? The flames 
 might tell us, if they could speak, for they see that her 
 face is sorrowful, and that now and then tears roll down 
 her cheeks. And she does not wish the children to see 
 this ; she will not spoil their pleasure. But she cannot 
 help it ; she must this evening again and again think of 
 her husband, who died only three months ago, and how 
 happy she was with him last Christmas ; how good he was, 
 how honest, how industrious, how kind and loving to her and 
 the children ; how they two together had labored to over- 
 come many cares, and how their circumstances had im- 
 proved year after year, so that they began to look forward 
 to the future with pleasure. She thought of how faithfully 
 he had assisted her in every thing, and how he sometimes 
 said: "We must work hard for some time yet, my little 
 Margret, but then you will see that all will be well for us 
 and the children ! " And she remembered how, when he 
 felt that he was dying, he had comforted her, and had told 
 her that " it was to be so : that if one of them was to be 
 taken away, it was better that this lot fell upon the husband 
 than upon the wife, because she was able to take better 
 care of the children than he could ! " But the wife 
 thought this a heavy burden to bear, and she had much 
 anxiety for the future. For she felt now so lonely both in 
 her heart and in her cottage ; and the eldest son, her step- 
 son Anders, who had hitherto been out at service in 
 another parish, but had now come home to assist his 
 mother in her little farm after the father's death, was of a 
 sullen temper, and was evidently unfriendly and bitterly
 
 SKETCHES. 387 
 
 disposed towards his step-mother, which she had hitherto in 
 vain tried to overcome by kindness. 
 
 Anders was in the house like a dark cloud ; he was al- 
 ways dissatisfied, and rude in his language. This was a 
 great trouble to the mother. And especially this evening, 
 when she had determined, for the sake of the festival and 
 the children, to get rid of all anxious thoughts, just this 
 evening they crowded round her thickly, thickly as the 
 snow-flakes upon the pine-tree, and whenever she tried to 
 shake them off, look they were there again, worse than 
 before, and seemed almost to crush her down. 
 
 But the children, little Pehr and Maja, they could not 
 think of any thing unpleasant, not they. 
 
 " Oh, but look at the Kuse, Maja ! see how he stares at 
 you with his large black eyes ! take care, he will butt at 
 you if you touch him. He says : If you come near me, I 
 will butt you with my long, long horns ! " 
 
 " Oh, do you think that he will butt ? Do you think 
 that he really lives ? Oh, how nice the soup smells ! Is 
 it not soon ready, mother? And may we not soon go to 
 May-rose and Doll and let them look at the star and taste 
 of Christmas ? " 
 
 Yes, all right ; the soup was ready and lifted from the 
 fire. And the mother lit the candle in the lantern, and 
 round the candle was put a beautiful star made of yellow 
 paper, which was illuminated by the candle, and which 
 again illuminated the candle. And the children got each 
 a small loaf of bread, and the mother filled a large stone- 
 jar with new Christmas ale, and so they went off to the 
 cow-house to let the cattle know that it was Yule. 
 
 For it is the custom everywhere in the country, in 
 Sweden, to let the cattle also have the benefit of Christ- 
 mas, which is both right and good. For every creature 
 upon earth ought to rejoice at the birth of Him who gives 
 new life to the world, and who sent out His Apostles, say- 
 ing to them : " Preach the gospel to all creatures."
 
 388 SKETCHES. 
 
 It is chiefly the domestic animals to which, according to 
 old Swedish custbm, they give a treat at Christmas. But in 
 some parts of Sweden, and in the country throughout the 
 whole of Norway, it is usual to place outside the house and 
 barn doors, oat and barley sheaves on the top of high poles, 
 or pine-tree saplings, so that the little birds may eat their 
 fill. And when I was one year in Norway, I had two such 
 poles before my window, with large barley sheaves on the 
 top of them, and swarms of little sparrows, and green 
 finches and bull-finches had their Yule feast in them, and 
 seemed incessantly to be twittering " It 's Christmas ! it 's 
 Christmas ! " 
 
 There was so much rejoicing, and they made such a 
 noise, that you could scarcely hear any thing else. But to 
 return to our cottage in Sweden. 
 
 May-rose and Doll did certainly not think of any thing 
 where they stood in their cribs, chewing their straw, 
 when the door of the cow-house was opened and a light 
 shone into their eyes. They turned their heads towards 
 that side, looked a little astonished, lowed and snorted a 
 little to signify that they knew those who entered, and that 
 they were welcome. But when the children in their zeal 
 ran forward, each holding out their cake, screaming in 
 May-rose's and Doll's ears : " It 's Christmas now ! " they 
 stepped back a pace or two, shook their heads violently, 
 and stared at them with their large eyes as if they would 
 have said : " Ah, what sort of a thing is that ? " 
 
 But being both very sensible and good creatures of 
 brown color, with white spots they soon recovered from 
 their surprise, put out their tongues for the bread, smelt at 
 the Christmas ale, had both a good drink of it, and seemed 
 to be vastly pleased. And when mother had strewn fresh 
 straw under them, and filled their manger with the best 
 sweet hay, and had said to them, as she went away : " God 
 bless you now, dearies ; now you have got your Yule fare ! " 
 then they seemed to understand the matter, stared at the
 
 SKETCHES. 389 
 
 candle and star, which the children tried to make shine 
 right into their eyes, and with a large tuft of hay in 
 their mouths they laid themselves comfortably down to 
 think the matter over. However, they said nothing but 
 boo-o ! 
 
 Then they were off to old Polle, to let him also have a 
 taste of Christmas cake and Yule ale, and let him also 
 know that it was Christmas. And Polle pricked up his 
 ears, lifted up his head, and looked as if he would have 
 said that he expected these news, and that he also bade 
 them welcome. Polle was an old stager, and had during 
 many years tasted Christmas. And horses have a won- 
 derful good memory. 
 
 The sheep were bleating with delight, and licked the 
 hands which gave them their Christmas treat. And the 
 little pigs jumped and ran about as if they had been 
 crazy. 
 
 And if you could but know, my dear children, how 
 much pleasure we can have from the domestic animals in 
 the country, how happy one can live in the cottage and in 
 the farm where one is daily surrounded by, and is, as it 
 were, on friendly terms with the gentle, tame animals, so 
 useful to us, I believe you would then all wish to live in 
 the country. 
 
 Puss on the hearth was just beginning to find that time 
 was getting a little too long, and that it was rather dry 
 work to lick her paws, when the mother entered the cot- 
 tage with the children. Puss now got a whole saucer full 
 of thick creamy milk. 
 
 The chickens were very unruly this evening, and would 
 not go to roost upon their perches in the hen-coop ; they 
 flew up and down, clacking all the while, and had a great 
 deal to say which nobody could understand. But now 
 when handfuls of golden grain rained over them, and the 
 children shouted to them, " Now it 's Yule ! " they began 
 clacking and flying about worse than ever, making a
 
 890 SKETCHES. 
 
 dreadful noise ; the cock crowed as if it had been morning, 
 and his wife, the white hen, laid an egg. 
 
 Anders was also in the cottage when the mother came 
 in with her children. He was a tall lad of about seventeen, 
 and had a sullen and gloomy appearance. The mother 
 gave him an anxious look. Ever since his father had 
 married a second time he had borne his step-mother a 
 grudge, and would not remain in the house after she came 
 into it. He had, therefore, gone into the service of a peas- 
 ant in a neighboring parish, who certainly was a well-to-do, 
 but not a good man. 
 
 Anders now sat with his elbow resting upon the table ; 
 he was gazing silently at the fire, and seemed neither to 
 notice that the housewife put the eatables on the table and 
 made every thing so comfortable, nor little Maja's prattle, 
 who wanted to tell him about all the animals, and how they 
 had got their Christmas supper. 
 
 For Maja was a nice, friendly little girl who loved 
 every body, and seemed particularly to like brother Anders, 
 although he rarely was friendly to her. 
 
 When they now were all seated round the table, and the 
 mother had poured out the Yule ale, the little ones peered 
 at each other, at their mother, and at Anders, winking at 
 one another, and looking so sly, as if they would have said : 
 " Now it comes ! " 
 
 And now the mother raised her glass, and the children 
 took up their little pewter mugs, and all three said, " Here 
 is to you, Anders ! " 
 
 Anders looked up, as much astonished almost as May- 
 rose, when they shouted to her that it was Christmas. But 
 when the mother added, " And much happiness to you, my 
 son, for on this night you were born," Anders said in a 
 sulky tone, " Well, what is that to drink to, and what sort 
 of happiness is that ? It would be much better not to 
 have been born." 
 
 The mother answered gravely : " Those are sinful words,
 
 SKETCHES. 391 
 
 my son. When God has given us health and strength to 
 strive and work" 
 
 " Yes, but why must one strive and work ? " interrupted 
 Anders in a sullen tone. 
 
 " My dear boy, how can you ask so ? " she said ; " one 
 must live, I should think." 
 
 " And why should one live ? " retorted Anders. 
 
 The mother was silent, for she could not immediately 
 find an answer to that question, and it pained her that the 
 lad so often used such dissatisfied and bitter words. 
 Anders went on : 
 
 " When one has neither father nor mother, nor money, 
 nor any thing in the world to live for, it would be just as 
 well to be dead. One would be out of all bother then." 
 
 " Am I not your mother ? " said the widow, while the 
 tears rose to her eyes. 
 
 " You are only my step-mother ! " retorted Anders 
 harshly. " Had you been my mother, you would have 
 thought more of me than you have done, and I should not 
 then have had to go in this old coat of my father's, but you 
 would have got me a new one." 
 
 " That I would have done, if I could have afforded it," 
 answered the widow, blushing from indignation at the un- 
 just accusation. " But you know that I was obliged to sell 
 your father's best coat, to be able to get him decently 
 buried. And you know also that I am busy spinning wool 
 for a new coat for you." 
 
 " Aye, but when will it be ready ? " said Anders. " You 
 might have sold the old brute of a horse, Polle, and have 
 got money for him, instead of selling father's best coat 
 But you are proud, and want to keep Polle only to drive to 
 church with him, although he is of no use, but eats up the 
 fodder for the cows. The wisest and best thing would be 
 to sell him." 
 
 " My son," said the mother, " Polle is old and has served 
 us many years, and therefore I am unwilling to sell him,
 
 392 SKETCHES. 
 
 but not from pride. And I know also that Polle brings us 
 in many a rix dollar, when our neighbors hire him for 
 their journeys ; but if it is so, that it is best to sell him, I 
 shall have no objection to it, if I can only find him a kind 
 master. But it will be painful to part with the faithful 
 animal, and then I shall never again be able to go to 
 church, as I cannot any longer walk there, ever since I 
 have got the pain in my side ! But it cannot be helped ! " 
 
 " A gentle word turneth away wrath," says the Scripture, 
 and the mother's words were uttered so gently and with so 
 much dignity, that Anders could not say any thing in reply ; 
 but he felt a sting of conscience, and he rose hastily, pushed 
 aside little Maja so roughly as nearly to upset her, and 
 went out, violently banging the door after him. 
 
 All this hurt the mother very deeply. And if you knew, 
 my dear children, what pain parents suffer when a child is 
 naughty or ungrateful, and what a bitter root grows up 
 from malicious and hard words, you would then certainly 
 always be on your guard, even for your own sake. For, 
 believe me, you will one day surely have it back again. 
 And the child who causes his father or mother a sorrow, 
 will one day have to bear sorrow from his own children, 
 and must then feel how it tastes. 
 
 Now, the mother felt within her that she had a motherly 
 love for her step-son, and that she did not deserve his 
 harshness. 
 
 But she felt also, that he might be right with regard to 
 old Polle, and that it would be most prudent to get rid of 
 him. And the thought that she could not any longer go to 
 church a distance of a couple of miles from the cottage 
 was very painful to her. 
 
 The children could not make out what was the matter 
 with their brother. They ate, however, and drank to 
 their heart's content, and thought that nobody could be 
 better off than they were, and that it was very pleasant to 
 live.
 
 SKETCHES. 393 
 
 When the mother saw that they had eaten enough, she 
 proposed that they should put aside a part of the supper 
 for the "flower-woman" in the parish poor-house. The 
 children were heartily willing to do this. Bread and meat 
 were accordingly tied up in a blue-checked handkerchief, 
 and the bundle was put away on the shelf until the follow- 
 ing morning. They would take it with them when they 
 went to church to attend the matins, and they got permis- 
 sion to go themselves to the poor-house and give it to the 
 " flower-woman." 
 
 Then the children went to lie down on a large sheaf of 
 
 D 
 
 yellow straw, which they had dragged into the cottage for 
 Christmas : because in the country people must dance and 
 sleep upon straw at Christmas, if every thing is to be done 
 properly. The children did not undress, that they might 
 the sooner be ready in the morning. And they got from 
 their mother each a white pocket handkerchief to put upon 
 the straw under their head, and then they lay down and 
 were soon fast asleep, side by side, while the light from the 
 fire-place was dancing over them and seemed to kiss their 
 cheeks. 
 
 Anders came in silent and sullen, and went to bed with- 
 out saying good-night. 
 
 Last of them all the mother went to bed, after having 
 put all tilings to rights in the cottage, washed plates and 
 dishes, and put every thing in its proper place, and after 
 having, thrown more wood upon the fire, for it is the custom 
 in the country that the fire shall burn during the whole of 
 Christmas night. 
 
 As she was now lying on her bed, she could not sleep, 
 for she had anxious thoughts, and she heard that Anders 
 was turning and tossing about in his bed, as if uneasy 
 thoughts had been tormenting him also. And she said to 
 herself: "I wonder whether I ought to speak to him; 
 whether I ought to tell him that he has grieved me and 
 
 O o 
 
 done me wrong; that I bear a motherly heart to him,
 
 394 SKETCHES. 
 
 although I am not his real mother ; that I would love him 
 if he only would let me ; but I have told him this 
 already more than once. What shall I do ? It is Christ- 
 mas Eve, and then one ought not to part in unkindness ! " 
 
 In a low voice she called out : " Anders, ara you awake ? " 
 But Anders did not answer ; he was perfectly still and 
 silent. And so she thought : " He has fallen asleep." 
 
 And she remained, therefore, silent, but turned her 
 thoughts to God, praying that he might change the boy's 
 dissatisfied and bitter mind. And so, without knowing it, 
 she followed the advice of the pious Thomas a Kempis, 
 when he says : 
 
 " When you have reproached any body for a fault once 
 or twice, and if he then does not mend, then say nothing 
 more, but leave it in God's hands." 
 
 And this is a wise and a pious advice. For you do not 
 make any one better by continually scolding and railing. 
 But when nothing else avails, prayer will do it. 
 
 Believe me, children, prayer will help in one way or 
 other, and although it sometimes feels and seems to him 
 who prays as if God did not hear his prayers, yet he will, 
 in good time, find that the Lord is faithful, and that " He 
 who prays will be answered, and he who seeks will find." 
 For it is with our prayers as with the vapors which rise out 
 of the earth ; they return to it again as fertilizing rain. 
 And if the hearing of our prayers sometimes does not 
 manifest itself in the way you expect, you will still find, 
 sooner or later, that it does come ; that the load which you 
 have prayed might be taken away from you, has been re- 
 moved ; that the blessing which you have prayed for has 
 been given to you, and that you have got much more 
 (although, perhaps, in another way) than you have prayed 
 for or even dared to think of. Yes, children, hold fast to 
 prayer ; it is, when all comes round, the only thing that is 
 sufficient on this earth ; it is the most wonderful and also 
 the most effective and powerful in man's life. For it is like
 
 SKETCHES. 395 
 
 a thread which unites us to heaven, by which God's life 
 and power comes to us. The Lord himself has given this 
 thread into our hands and bade us use it rightly, that we 
 through it may get all the good which we stand in need of. 
 But good is nothing, after all, without God's life and light 
 in our hearts. 
 
 And the mother prayed for this and for her chjldren, and 
 for a blessing upon them all. And while she thus prayed, 
 she became more calm inwardly. She then turned round 
 to look at her little ones, on whose rosy faces the light from 
 the fire was dancing, and while she thus lay looking at 
 them she fell asleep. 
 
 When she awoke it was totally dark in the room, and 
 she felt fear and anxiety come upon her, and a heavy 
 weight in her heart and head. It was as if a large, heavy 
 tear had gathered there and would not drop down, but was 
 lying heavy as lead. The death of her husband, the 
 gloomy mind and bitter reproaches of her son Anders, 
 her loneliness, and the dark future which was before her, 
 all came now upon her like a snow avalanche, and seemed 
 almost to overwhelm her. She heard in her soul Anders' 
 bitter words : 
 
 " Why should one live ? " and she thought she would like 
 never to rise, but lie still forever. 
 
 But yet she got up and dressed, and lit the fire as usual, 
 and put on the coffee-pot. For although she was not one 
 of the wasteful housewives who drink coffee every day, 
 still the whole household should now be treated to coffee 
 in honor of Christmas. 
 
 And then she lit the candles in the Yule tree at the win- 
 dow, which had been prepared the previous evening, and 
 then she awoke the children. 
 
 " Christmas matins, children ! Christmas matins ! " 
 
 The little ones started up bewildered, rubbing their eyes, 
 opened them wide, and saw the candles burning in the Yule 
 tree. Then they remembered that it was Christmas, and
 
 396 SKETCHES. 
 
 that they were to go to matins. Then they jumped up and 
 were soon wide awake. 
 
 The mother prepared the breakfast for them and for 
 Anders, and then went out to milk the cows and look to 
 the other animals ; when she came back she dressed 
 herself and the children for breakfast, while Anders, 
 always sulky and taciturn, went to harness Polle to the 
 sledge. 
 
 When the sledge stood at the door, and the mother 
 stepped out of the cottage in her holiday dress, with her 
 Psalm-book and white pocket handkerchief in her hand, 
 and with her two children, one on each side of her, she 
 looked so pious and pretty ; and Anders, who looked at her 
 stealthily, perhaps thought so too. 
 
 The morning-star and the moon shone so bright on the 
 firmament over the dark pine-forest, and shone so friendly 
 in the bright, frosty morning upon the new-fallen snow. 
 The widow thought : " How much that is beautiful has not 
 God done for us ! " 
 
 And she inhaled the fresh wintry air (not very cold this 
 morning), and she felt her heart becoming lighter. 
 
 Polle, poor old Polle, had no idea that they contemplated 
 selling him ; he was in high spirits, neighed, pricked up his 
 ears, turning his pretty head now to one side and now to 
 the other, pawing the snow with his fore feet, and was as 
 merry as a foal. 
 
 The widow and the two children were soon seated in the 
 sledge. Anders stood behind driving, and Polle's bell was 
 tinkling right merrily, while they were driving along the 
 village road through forest and field, and the morning-star 
 shone upon the white snow fields, and upon the pine-trees 
 heavily laden with snow, and here and there a light was 
 seen twinkling in the forest. The little ones were very 
 talkative. 
 
 " Oh, look," they cried, " look how the candles are shining 
 in the Manor-house ; candles in every window ! Is there
 
 SKETCHES. 397 
 
 not to bft a grand ball the day after to-morrow, mother ? 
 And look ! there is also a light at old Mother Brita's on 
 the hill. And look there ! far, far in the forest is also a 
 light ! And look there ! well, it is wonderful, three lights 
 in the window at the turnpike's, three candles in their Yule 
 tree in the window; see how they shine all along the 
 road ! How beautiful ! Is it more beautiful in the matins, 
 mother ? " 
 
 " You little gooseys," said the mother, " the matins are 
 beautiful in another way ! " 
 
 And now they came out upon the high road, and a great 
 many people came driving, all going to church ; there was 
 a long line of sledges, and such a tinkling of bells that the 
 children became almost giddy in the head. When they 
 came out of the forest upon a height, there was lying before 
 them an open valley, and yonder, with the dark forest as a 
 background, lay the white church with its spire pointing 
 high up towards heaven, and with lights shining through 
 the windows as if there was an ocean of light within. Just 
 then the bells began ringing to summon the people to 
 church. 
 
 The children became quite silent ; a solemn and strange 
 feeling came over them. 
 
 They were soon at the church. The bells were pealing 
 and light was streaming out of the church, and the song 
 and the organ burst forth. All around was dark ; the moon 
 had gone down. 
 
 All round the church small sledges and horses stood 
 closely packed, the horses munching their hay. And 
 amongst these Polle got a place and a large bundle of the 
 best fodder for Christmas breakfast, and a horse-cloth over 
 him, so that he should not feel the cold while waiting. And 
 the widow patted his neck so kindly, thinking, " Thanks, 
 old friend ; perhaps this is the last time you take me to 
 church ! " And she could not help sighing deeply. 
 
 The widow with her children walked across the church-
 
 398 SKETCHES. 
 
 yard between the silent graves, which during the night 
 had been covered with a thick mantle of snow. 
 
 " Do you remember, children." she said, while slowly 
 walking forward, " what I have told you about the Christ- 
 mas matins, and why we have Christmas matins ? " 
 
 " Yes," said little Pehr ; " it is, it is because " 
 
 " Because our Lord and Redeemer was born on the 
 Christinas night," said little Maja. 
 
 " And do you remember," continued the mother, " what 
 I have told you about Him, and of the good which He has 
 done to us and to all mankind ? " 
 
 " He has taught us " stammered the children, uncer- 
 tain what words they should use. 
 
 " Yes, dearest children," said the mother, " I cannot tell 
 you all that He has done for us, for it is more than either 
 you or I can understand. Recollect only, that He has lived 
 and died for us ; that He has revealed to us God's heart 
 and God's will with us ; and that without Him we should 
 not know God as He is, nor have any certain hope of an 
 hereafter. He came to this earth to make us understand 
 God's love and to teach us to love God." 
 
 " And is it His birth which we celebrate in the Christ- 
 mas matins ? " asked little Maja. 
 
 " Yes," said the mother. " He is the light of the world ; 
 and He has made life light for us, and therefore we light 
 candles on His birthday." 
 
 And just then they entered the church, and the whole 
 congregation sang, "All hail ! ye radiant morning hours ! " 
 
 But the children did not think of the singing. 
 
 They could only stare and be astonished. There was so 
 much light, so much light ! They could scarcely see any 
 thing for all the light. The four large chandeliers which 
 were hanging over the middle aisle were quite full of can- 
 dles, and on the altar candles were burning in large 
 candelabra. There was a long row of candles along the 
 gallery, and on the walls were gilt sconces carrying whole
 
 SKETCHES. 399 
 
 bunches of candles, and at every seat a candle was burn- 
 ing, so that the aisle looked like an avenue of flames. 
 Wherever one looked there was nothing but candles. 
 
 The seats were crowded with people who sat close to- 
 gether. The children had never seen so many people. 
 And they thought that they would never get a seat. But 
 they got a seat in a pew where the people made a little 
 room for them. An honest peasant woman took little Maja 
 upon her knee, and the widow took Pehr upon hers, and so 
 they could all sit comfortably. 
 
 The children kept gazing about, and had eyes only for the 
 splendor around them. But the mother soon forgot this 
 and every thing else about her ; for just as she was going 
 to open her Psalm-book to join in the singing, the congre- 
 gation struck up the verse : 
 
 " Yea, even as we our Lord shall weep, 
 Shall know our wants, watch o'er us keep, 
 
 With holy strength us fill ; 
 To us His Father's law repeat, 
 And everlasting mercy sweet 
 In sorrow's cup distill." 
 
 Then the leaden weight which had been lying upon the 
 widow's heart melted away and was dissolved in tears, 
 which, though painful at first, became more and more sweet 
 They were like a balm to her. 
 
 Now the clergyman came into the pulpit. He was a 
 young man with a good face, expressive of much earnest- 
 ness and hearty kindness. He was a son of the old incum- 
 bent of the congregation, and it was known that he was a 
 pure-minded young man, who, although poor himself, had 
 yet done a great deal of good ; was always cheerful while 
 visiting the cottages, consoling the sick, and teaching and 
 conversing with the children. And it is a great thing when 
 the clergyman who is to teach others lives according to 
 what he preaches, and when one knows that he is a good 
 Christian. For then the people believe in his word, and in 
 the power which works through him.
 
 400 SKETCHES. 
 
 It was a strange feeling for the widow (and for another 
 person, too, in the church), when they heard the young 
 clergyman's first words : 
 
 " Why are we to live ? " 
 
 She could not help stealing a hasty glance at Anders, 
 and she saw that he looked up at the clergyman in aston- 
 ishment, as if he had said this to him personally. 
 
 And he did so, for he spoke to all as well as to himself. 
 And especially he spoke to all the poor, all whom in the 
 world are called lowly and simple. He showed how the 
 Saviour had let Himself be born like one of them, in 
 order to wander amongst them, to show them what they 
 should live for, and how beautiful life is here and still more 
 hereafter, in eternity, if we follow Him and become one 
 with Him, and through Him with God. When he then 
 spoke of this life, how great it could be, even in the lowliest 
 cottage ; how every, even apparently insignificant, human 
 being could through his life labor for God's kingdom, and 
 for the advent of that glory for which we all long, and how 
 every one could in this labor follow the heavenly Redeemer, 
 " as mother, sister, or brother," and afterwards be received 
 in the heavenly mansions, where they shall see His glory, 
 then this little life appeared so great, so rich, so wonderful, 
 and so full of the future and of happiness, that the widow 
 when she heard it (and she thought that she had never be- 
 fore understood it so) thanked God for having been born, 
 and for being allowed to live for so beautiful and great an 
 aim. She felt at this moment as if nothing could be too 
 difficult for her any more. That every trouble has a change; 
 that is certain. God's goodness and glory lasted eternally ; 
 that was likewise certain. And the young clergyman spoke 
 of this with a joy which lit up his whole face, so that it ap- 
 peared to the widow like an angel's. 
 
 When the sermon was finished, she felt an impulse to 
 turn her head towards Anders, and then she saw also his 
 eyes bright, as she had never seen them before. It was as 
 if a light had been lit within him.
 
 SKETCHES. 401 
 
 The congregation sang another psalm, after which some 
 of them left the church. But some remained, because in 
 half an hour the usual morning service was to commence, 
 and the people do not all go home between the two ser- 
 vices in the country, where they often live at a great 
 distance from the church. It was now daylight and all the 
 candles were put out. 
 
 The widow left the church with her two little children, 
 because they were to go to the poor-house and take the 
 " flower- woman " her Christmas treat. 
 
 The " flower-woman " was a handsome, pale, aged woman, 
 blind of both eyes, so that the black spot in the pupil of 
 the eye was completely gone. They had become so, she 
 said, when she had her eye-teeth taken out, from which she 
 had suffered severe pain. This was now ten years ago. 
 Formerly she used to wander about the country, teaching 
 little children to read, and making beautiful bouquets of 
 flowers of colored paper, which she put into platted paper 
 flower-pots, and gave away in those houses where people 
 had given her shelter and been kind to her. Thus she had 
 wandered about and lived in the district for fifteen years, 
 and nobody knew her name, nor whence she came ; they 
 only knew that she came from a distant part of the country, 
 and never would speak of herself or of her family, nor give 
 any account of herself; there was, however, something in 
 her manners and in her speech which made people say that 
 there was something u strange " about her, but that one 
 could easily see that she belonged to the better class ; and 
 being very gentle and pious, and besides, neat and well-man- 
 nered in her person, teaching the children so well and 
 making such beautiful bouquets of flowers, she was liked 
 everywhere, and was called the " flower-woman " by every 
 one ; and peasants and farmers all liked to have the " flower- 
 woman " in their house for a few weeks at a time. After 
 she became blind, and was not able either to make any 
 more bouquets, or to teach the children to read, or to pro-
 
 402 SKETCHES. 
 
 vide for herself, she had been admitted into the parish poor- 
 house. And people who still had some of her bouquets, 
 used on Sundays to come and give her a little "grub," 
 as they called it in the country a few eggs, some butter, 
 or some such things, which a poor old body might relish. 
 
 When our widow from the cottage in the forest entered 
 the poor-house, she found the " flower-woman " sitting on 
 her bed, and four other old women sat there also on their 
 beds, all in their holiday dress, and the floor was strewn 
 with juniper, and it smelt as sweet as in the forest. The 
 " flower-woman " was paler than usual, but the gentle intel- 
 ligent face looked more happy than it did usually since she 
 became blind. And when the widow had chatted with her 
 a little while, and asked how she felt at present, she an- 
 swered : 
 
 " God be praised ! for since some time I have had much 
 comfort, for 1 have lately occasionally seen a light. It is 
 not sunlight, nor is it light from the flowers ; but I believe it 
 is a light warning me that I am approaching that country 
 where the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and shall be- 
 hold the glory of God ! " 
 
 The widow kept these words, and the light from the' face 
 of the old blind woman when she uttered them, in her 
 heart, amongst the bright impressions which she had re- 
 ceived this morning. 
 
 Then, before the morning service began, she was seen 
 standing beside Polle with the farmer from " the Manor- 
 house," and both were patting and stroking Polle. And 
 the " Manor-house " farmer, some said, looked afterwards 
 as if he was richer by a horse. 
 
 The sun stood high in the heavens when the service was 
 over and the bells were ringing the people out of church. 
 
 In a few minutes it was entirely empty, and now the 
 church people were seen running and driving away t in all 
 directions along the roads and foot-paths, over snow-clad 
 hills and dales, trying who should get home first. For it is
 
 SKETCHES. 408 
 
 a saying in the country, that he who reaches home first on 
 Christmas Day will be the first to get in his harvest in 
 the autumn. 
 
 But this is more a saying than a truth, and certain it is 
 that the people, while driving and running away over hill 
 and dale, looked so merry, that it was easy to see that there 
 was more fun than earnest in it. 
 
 The widow was not in any hurry, but was the last to 
 leave the church with her children. The sun shone brightly 
 over the earth, which was now sleeping its winter-sleep 
 under a shining white coverlet, and the dark pine-forest 
 looked sleepy also, as it stood there with a white night-cap 
 upon its rugged head. 
 
 In silence the widow drove home with her children 
 through the forest. 
 
 Serious, although not gloomy thoughts made her silent. 
 The little ones were hungry and cold, and what Anders 
 thought, they did not know. But Polle was thinking of his 
 dinner, that was clear, for he trotted home as fast as ever 
 he could, and his bells were tinkling merrily through the 
 forest. 
 
 And soon after Polle was standing in his stable, and gave 
 himself a treat of Christmas fodder, so that you could 
 almost hear how he enjoyed it. And the widow with her 
 children was also soon seated at the dinner-table, eating a 
 delicious dish of cabbage-soup and beef. And I cannot 
 describe to you how well it tasted. Certain it is that the 
 king's cabbage-soup could not taste better. After dinner 
 they had a cup of coffee in honor of Christmas Day. 
 
 Now, when it was dusk and they were all sitting in the 
 cottage, where the Christmas log was flaming and crackling 
 on the hearth, the widow said to the children : 
 
 " Well, I wonder whether my little ones remember any- 
 thing of the sermon at the matins, and what the young 
 clergyman told us about Christ, and what He has taught us, 
 and what we ought to live for."
 
 404 SKETCHES. 
 
 But alas ! the poor little things did not remember a 
 single word ; no, they had not heard even one : " There 
 was so much light," said they ; " they could not listen for 
 all the light!" 
 
 Then the mother told them what the clergyman had 
 said, not so well and in such beautiful words, yet clearly 
 and beautifully after her own fashion, so that the children 
 understood it much better than if the clergyman himself 
 had told it them. For a good mother is always the best 
 teacher of her children, and can put her words so that 
 they go direct to the heart and remain there. Therefore, 
 also, one of Sweden's greatest kings l made it a necessary 
 point, that before a woman was allowed to marry, she 
 should be able to prove herself well instructed in the 
 Christian religion, " for," said he, " it is the mother who is 
 to teach the children." 
 
 Pehr and Maja were good and intelligent children, and 
 understood what the mother told them, and remembered it 
 in their hearts. Then they were allowed to go and play 
 with their paper flowers, and some toys which the " flower- 
 woman " had given them, and which she had kept since 
 the time when she still could see. 
 
 The mother and the son Anders remained sitting alone 
 at the hearth. Anders was sitting with folded arms and 
 bent head, while he was intently gazing at the fire. The 
 mother looked at him. Hitherto he had not said a single 
 friendly word to her since the previous evening ; but yet it 
 appeared to her as if something had softened within him. 
 
 After a while she said, suppressing a rising sigh, which 
 almost choked her voice : 
 
 " Anders, I have been thinking what you said last night 
 about Polle, that we ought to sell him, and I have spoken 
 to the farmer from the ' Manor-house,' and he told me 
 that he would take him for one hundred rix dollars. He 
 will come to fetch him away to-morrow, and pay half the 
 I Charles XI.
 
 SKETCHES. 405 
 
 money at once. This shall be yours, Anders, and you may 
 do with it what you like ; you are sensible enough to man- 
 age your own affairs now ; only my son don't again say 
 that I am only your step-mother ; for your father was very 
 dear to me ! " The widow could not keep back her tears. 
 
 Anders rose from his seat. It was as if the ice about 
 his heart had at once broken up and the snow over it had 
 melted away. His lips trembled, and his whole frame shook 
 with emotion, while he said : 
 
 " No, mother, you shall not sell Polle ; the farmer from 
 the ' Manor-house ' shall not have him ; you shall keep 
 him, and every Sunday, if it pleases God, I will drive 
 
 you to church with him I have done you 
 
 wrong, mother; .... I know now that you love 
 me, and I know now for what I shall live ! I have not 
 known it before ; but now, henceforth it shall be otherwise. 
 . . . You shall see it, mother ! This farm I shall man- 
 age so that we have credit of it, and fodder enough shall 
 Polle have until his dying day ; . . . that shall be my 
 business. Every thing shall henceforth be different ; . . . 
 I do not know how it is ; but I feel so strange within me 
 since this morning. Do not be sorry any longer, mother ! 
 God has " He became silent and could not continue ; and 
 as now little Maja came to him with her flower-pot, asking 
 him to smell it, he took her and the flower-pot in his arms, 
 and kissed her again and again, and cried over her and over 
 the paper flowers so bitterly, that little Maja, quite alarmed, 
 began also to cry with all her might. 
 
 " The peace of God be with you ! " said a happy and 
 friendly voice at the door, which slowly opened, and in 
 stepped the young clergyman who had preached in the 
 matins, and who looked as if he had brought all the light 
 from it along with him. He had heard the sorrowing 
 widow in the forest cottage spoken of, and came to speak 
 words of comfort to her, and if possible to bring happiness 
 into the house of mourning.
 
 406 SKETCHES. 
 
 But he found it already there, for before him had been 
 He of whom he had preached in the morning, and whose 
 message he wanted to bring to them. 
 
 But yet he remained a long while in the cottage, con- 
 versing with the widow and Anders, whose heart now 
 seemed to be, as it were, new-born. The young clergyman 
 promised to lend him books, and invited him to come and 
 see him. 
 
 He wished to instruct and make some young men 
 amongst the country people practice singing quartettes, and 
 he wished Anders to join them, for he had heard that 
 Anders had a good voice. And so he had. 
 
 When the friendly young clergyman took leave, and 
 shook Anders' hand, then Anders' eyes sparkled more hap- 
 pily than they had ever done before. He felt as if he had 
 that day got father, mother, brother, and the whole world. 
 
 He wondered inwardly how every thing could have 
 changed so much in such a short time. 
 
 And from this moment Anders became quite a different 
 being to what he had been formerly. Not exactly that he 
 became more talkative or more lively, for every body has in 
 this respect his own humor, but he became very industri- 
 ous, and friendly to all. Every body liked him and one 
 could see that he now liked to live. In the church he sang 
 so that it was a pleasure to hear him. At home the widow 
 forgot that he was not her real son ; for a real son could 
 not have been more loving to his mother. And although 
 he was taciturn, yet he was never sulky ; nay, his very out- 
 ward appearance became changed. It seemed at times as 
 if something was shining within him, so brightly shone his 
 eyes. And the little brother and sister, who noticed it, 
 used then to say to each other and to their mother, 
 
 " Now there 's Christmas matins in Anders ! "
 
 POEMS. 
 
 * HYMN. 
 
 LORD God, we worship Thee ! 
 
 Heavenly Father, we give thanks to Thee, 
 
 For Thy word, 
 
 For Thy love made manifest on earth, O Lord. 
 Thou who hast saved us, 
 From death's bonds delivered us, 
 Called us to life eternal, 
 
 Glory be to Thee ! 
 
 Father, bless us, 
 
 Cause Thy face to shine on us! 
 
 Let Thy light 
 
 Guide our steps to Thy mansions bright! 
 O let Thy Spirit 
 Thy fallen image glorify, 
 That in Thine image, Father, 
 Thou may'st be glorified ! 
 
 * GOSPEL TIDINGS. 
 
 O GOD, we never knew Thee, 
 "We walked in darkest night, 
 Till thou didst send the Saviour 
 Clothed in Thy power and light; 
 To Thee be praise and honor, 
 In heaven and earth, O Lord,
 
 408 POEMS. 
 
 For the blessings of our Christian faith, 
 And for Thy gospel's word. 
 
 Oh blest are those who treasure 
 
 The word of life and love, 
 
 Who tread the paths that lead them 
 
 To God's own heaven above. 
 
 And they shall learn forever 
 
 How precious is the Lord, 
 
 How those who love His holy name 
 
 Shall reap a rich reward. 
 
 *THE LORD'S SUPPEE. 
 
 OH, miracle of grace ! 
 
 On thee our thoughts shall dwell, 
 In hours of lonely peace, 
 
 With love unspeakable. 
 God gives Himself for me, 
 
 Hid in this wine and bread, 
 That I in life and death may be 
 
 One with our living Head. 
 
 He is our meat indeed, 
 
 Our drink, life of our life ; 
 Thus sanctified He '11 lead 
 
 Us to eternal life. 
 Fain would He see our hearts 
 
 Holy and pure as His, 
 As strong 'gainst sin and sorrow's darts, 
 
 As full of tenderness. 
 
 So God this earth did seek, 
 
 Of human form possessed, 
 Salvation's word to speak, 
 
 And clasp us to His breast.
 
 POEMS. 409 
 
 Then hopes of life immortal 
 
 Rose in this vale of death, 
 Those hopes that ope heaven's glorious portal, 
 
 To all on earth beneath. 
 
 He still draws nigh this day 
 
 To us, that Saviour good, 
 And would our thirst allay 
 
 With His most precious blood; 
 Would make our hearts more pure, 
 
 More chastened and upright, 
 And grant our union firm and sure 
 
 With God in endless light. 
 
 Thou! once pierced for us, 
 
 Who didst our souls deliver, 
 Thou who hast died for us, 
 
 Of life and light the giver ! * 
 Accept us, Christ, we pray, 
 
 While we, in holy peace, 
 Renew with grateful hearts this day 
 
 Thy covenant of grace. 
 
 Be Thou our hope most sure, 
 
 Our strength, life's precious bread ! 
 Within Thy church secure 
 
 E'en death we need not dread. 
 Our life, our resurrection, 
 
 Thou evermore shalt be: 
 To Thee all worlds are in subjection: 
 
 Glory, O Lord, to Thee !
 
 410 POEMS. 
 
 *TO MY SISTERS. 
 
 How blest is he that, like Tobias, goes 
 
 Upon his way by some good angel led 
 Who gives him light when midnight shadows close, 
 
 Who gives him strength when sinks his weary head. 
 
 Thus once my way was dark ; oh, fain would I 
 That none might tread a path so full of gloom ; 
 
 I knew not whither from deep woe to fly, 
 
 From anguish that my life-blood would consume ! 
 
 My cheek was pale, my eyes were running o'er 
 With bitter tears. My heart in desolation 
 
 Saw suffering, like a vast and rankling sore, 
 Prey on the vitals of God's fair creation. 
 
 I looked for dawn, I found but nightly gloom, 
 No hope of happier days, no blessed faith ; 
 
 Life burned, like some wild meteor in a tomb, 
 In my sad heart : I only prayed for death. 
 
 Then spake a voice, like angel-whispers blest, 
 And at those tones of love, so soft and clear 
 
 Stilled was the tumult wild, peace filled my breast, 
 And lo! those angels were my sisters dear. 
 
 The skies grew bright ; my tear-dimmed eyes once more 
 With hopeful gaze I raised to heaven above ; 
 
 I looked around ; earth smiled from shore to shore, 
 For joy had wooed me in my sisters' love. 
 
 O God, 'tis sweet such solace to receive, 
 
 With nobler aims to see new springs draw nigh ! 
 
 My sisters, lo ! wild storms no longer heave, 
 My soul is calm, my tears are tears of joy.
 
 POEMS. 411 
 
 Pure, gentle ones, I turn with fond emotion 
 To you, and would to all the world express, 
 
 That all I have I owe to your devotion, 
 
 My mite of strength, my hope, my earthly bliss. 
 
 Oh, it is hard to feel such loving debt, 
 
 Which by our deeds can ne'er be canceled quite ; 
 
 To throw it off I wrote a book, and yet 
 That pleasant burden never grew more light. 
 
 Sisters, if in these pages, now to you 
 
 Inscribed, you find some balm for tears that fall 
 
 From sorrow's eye, some thoughts both pure and true, 
 From my good angels' hearts I 've called them all. 
 
 *THE CRADLE OF LOVE. 
 
 ROCK, rock, cradle of Love ! 
 Flow, O Song, with thy silvery strain ; 
 Throbbing hearts shall its sweetness prove, 
 Soothe this earth in her tumult and pain : 
 Rock, rock, cradle of Love ! 
 
 Lull the memories of bitter wrong ; 
 Bid each tender and holy dream 
 Herald of truth round the slumberer throng ; 
 Launch the keel, but on Love's broad stream, 
 Guided by Hope, the immortal, the strong. 
 
 Thoughts soar upward to realms above ; 
 Fight, strong arm, in our stalwart North; 
 Champion of truth and of right thou shalt prove ; 
 Over all this tumultuous earth 
 Flow. O Song, let thy strains go forth : 
 Rock, rock, cradle of Love !
 
 412 POEMS. 
 
 *THE STAR. 
 
 GLITTERING in the skies I burn, 
 
 Brilliant as when erst, 
 Singing on my natal morn, 
 
 I from chaos burst. 
 Far in azure space, where I 
 
 Dwelt since thousand years, 
 I have seen the storms sweep by 
 
 Round yon lower spheres. 
 
 Mortals ! gazing silently 
 
 With unchanging ray, 
 Every lurking snare I see 
 
 On your mazy way ; 
 See how passions wild enthrall 
 
 All the race of man ; 
 How his empires rise and fall 
 
 Silently I scan; 
 
 See men lavish wealth and state, 
 
 See them idly fret ; 
 How eternal love and hate, 
 
 Yet full soon forget. 
 I have seen how pleasures showe 
 
 Then as swiftly fly, 
 Beauty fading like a flower, 
 
 But unchanged was I. 
 
 He whose sceptre ruled the world 
 
 I have seen forlorn, 
 From his throne imperial hurled, 
 
 Pointed at with scorn. 
 Heroes, sovereigns, and slaves, 
 
 All to dust must turn :
 
 POEMS. 413 
 
 Silent o'er forgotten graves, 
 Still my lamp doth burn. 
 
 Oft when in the dead of night 
 
 Some sad eye was raised, 
 Tearful, to my placid light, 
 
 All undimmed I gazed. 
 On the mourner still I 'd shine, 
 
 By her prayers unmoved, 
 For I knew she soon would join 
 
 Him she fondly loved. 
 
 Oft when innocence opprest 
 
 Bows her troubled head, 
 And with anguish stricken breast 
 
 Cries to Heaven for aid, 
 Then I beam more golden bright, 
 
 Knowing she will shine 
 Once 'mid angels with a light 
 
 Clear and white as mine. 
 
 Mortals ! 't is decreed by Heaven 
 
 Ye like flowers should die, 
 Yet accept the promise given 
 
 Ere your hour draws nigh ; 
 Know God's faithful ones shall be 
 
 Stars of heaven bright, 
 When I and all these orbs with m 
 
 Long have lost our light. 
 
 * THE POETRY OF SPRING. 
 
 Now the trees their snow-capes doff, 
 While the swallows, light of wing, 
 
 On their airy trips set off, 
 Merry harbingers of spring.
 
 414 POEMS. 
 
 Zephyr with his team is dashing 
 
 Swiftly over land and sea, 
 Where he sweeps the waves are flashing, 
 
 Banks are green, and streamlets free. 
 
 'Neath the azure skies of spring, 
 All the budding groves among, 
 
 Little birds in joyous ring, 
 
 Gather for their feast of song. 
 
 o 
 
 Charmed by their strains, each bud 
 Opes its eye in field and brake ; 
 
 While, applauding in the wood, 
 Tender leaflets thrill and shake. 
 
 Merry midges loudly cheer, 
 
 Dancing in their chambers bright ; 
 
 Round the honeyed blossom near 
 Bees are murmuring with delight. 
 
 In the golden sunbeams flash 
 
 Purple-winged butterflies ; 
 O'er the flow'ry meads they dash, 
 
 Full of fluttering hopes and joys. 
 
 Spring all living creatures hail ; 
 
 Whilst man claims, with yearnings high, 
 Promises that ne'er shall fail, 
 
 As he gazes towards the sky. 
 
 For this short-lived spring, this clear 
 Crescent moon of life, was given 
 
 As a type, foreshadowing here 
 That eternal spring of heaven.
 
 POEMS. 415 
 
 When life's wintry days have fled, 
 
 To that spring of endless joys, 
 By a law eternal led, 
 
 The heaven-born bird of passage flies. 
 
 AUTUMN SIGHS. 
 
 COME, Nature's sleep, come, silvery snow, 
 
 Life's solace in the North, 
 And a shower of downy blossoms throw 
 
 O'er the poor, hard-frozen earth. 
 
 O'er all the fallen, frost-nipped leaves, 
 
 And the withered flow'rets small, 
 O'er the herbs of the field thy finger weaves 
 
 A cold and solemn pall. 
 
 It seemeth sad, that snow-white pall, 
 
 Yet peace beneath it dwells, 
 And 't is ever in peace God worketh all 
 
 His wondrous miracles. 
 
 The snow shall melt at the breath of spring, 
 
 And moisten the lap of earth, 
 And the germs in her bosom slumbering 
 
 Shall wake to sunshine and mirth. 
 
 In tears the snow-drift melts away, 
 
 The brook makes a tender moan, 
 And earth grows green as the soft winds play, 
 
 Nor thinks of the days that are gone. 
 
 The tree that braved the wintry storm, 
 
 With branches bare and brown, 
 As the brooklets sing in the sunbeam warm, 
 
 Puts on its leafy crown.
 
 416 POEMS. 
 
 And we who have buried hopes and joys 
 
 On dark Oblivion's shore, 
 Oh may not we, e'en we, arise 
 
 To live and praise once more ? 
 
 Then fall, O snow, tired Nature's sleep, 
 We '11 rest and forget while 't is night ; 
 
 But in winter's slumber, calm and deep, 
 "We '11 dream of the spring-tide bright. 
 December, 1847. 
 
 *THE CRIPPLE'S MISSION. 
 
 ON bed of straw, all racked with pain, 
 
 A wretched woman lay ; 
 For twenty years she thus had lain, 
 
 And suffered night and day : 
 With crippled limbs, with joints awry, 
 She writhed in bitter agony. 
 
 No friend or kin with watchful care 
 
 Her bed of pain did tend, 
 But she was wont in silence there 
 
 Her lonely hours to spend : 
 'T was but the hand of charity 
 At times would food or aid supply. 
 
 A worthy pastor heard one day 
 
 This tale of hopeless woe, 
 He took his staff and went his way 
 
 Some comfort to bestow : 
 And by her bed, in accents meek, 
 Of peace and love he fain would speak. 
 
 And when he saw her thus laid low, 
 All comfort he forgot,
 
 POEMS. 417 
 
 He could but falter : Child of woe, 
 
 Thine is a grievous lot." 
 And at that fearful sight amazed, 
 To heaven his tear-dimmed eyes he raised. 
 
 Thus the consoler found no word 
 
 To soothe the sufferer there ; 
 Yet not a single plaint he heard, 
 
 No murmur met his ear : 
 And wond'rous sight with glances mild 
 She turned to him, and gently smiled. 
 
 " Thanks, reverend Sir, for this warm tear ! 
 
 Yet, should it please the Lord 
 Still twenty years to keep me here, 
 
 I 'd speak no fretful word." 
 She said : surprised, once more to try 
 Her faith, the pastor made reply, 
 
 " What ! pray'st thou not that God above 
 
 Would end thy misery soon ? " 
 " I 'm thankful, thankful for His love ; 
 
 His will alone be done." 
 " But such fierce pains are hard to bear." 
 " In bitterest pains my God is near." 
 
 " But what if God forgetteth thee ?" 
 
 His own he '11 ne'er forget." 
 " He dwells so far from thee and me, 
 
 Where thousand stars are set" 
 " The sparrows small His eye can see, 
 Far more He '11 watch o'er thee and me." 
 
 " d;. lighter ! sure such faith is rare, 
 
 Whence was this grace obtained ? " 
 " In God's own word, with many a prayer, 
 
 This rprtnin trust I gained, 
 
 i.7
 
 418 POEMS. 
 
 And oft in mine own breast I hear 
 My Father's voice that whispers cheer. 
 
 " He says : ' Yet bear a little while 
 
 Thy cross with patient love, 
 And thus to men, by thy calm smile, 
 
 My strength in weakness prove ; 
 Such be thy work, perform it well, 
 Then come with Me in bliss to dwell.' 
 
 " Oh, blest even now, the captive may 
 
 Bear witness of His love, 
 Till, freed from bonds, as clear as day 
 
 She sees His face above. 
 To serve Him there as here, aright, 
 Is my desire, my sole delight." 
 
 Struck dumb, but not, as erst, with dread, 
 
 The worthy pastor stood : 
 " gracious God ! " he inly said, 
 
 In grateful, melting mood, 
 " Take health, take all my earthly bliss, 
 But give me, Lord, a heart like this ! " 
 
 * THE SONG OF THE WEARY ONE. 
 
 OH that day will come, it will come at last, 
 
 When my weary eyelids close, 
 When I lay me down to my long, long rest, 
 
 And this aching heart shall repose. 
 
 All bitter memories oh, thought of peace ! 
 Shall fade when my breath is fleeting ; 
 
 And the anguish that racks my heart shall cease 
 When that heart is no longer beating.
 
 POEMS. 419 
 
 Oh, even to rest and forget were a boon, 
 
 Nought more would I pray for now ; 
 But I know that the Lord in his mercy soon 
 
 A happier fate will bestow. 
 
 1 know, oh, I know that a morning will break, 
 When from death's dark sleep I shall rise, 
 
 When the soul, no more toil-worn, wayward, and weak, 
 Shall plume its bright wings for the skies. 
 
 I know, oh, I know that once more I shall see, 
 
 In glories that tongue cannot tell, 
 Those eyes that were wont to look fondly on me, 
 
 Those friends that have loved me so well. 
 
 I know that the discords that harassed us here 
 
 Shall melt into strains of joy ; 
 For love is the sun of that heavenly sphere, 
 
 And its light is in every eye. 
 
 I know that the radiance of heaven shall illume 
 
 Life's pathways on earth, and show 
 Why the pilgrims who seek their Father's home 
 
 Oft must wander through toil and woe. 
 
 I know that beside the pure waters of life 
 
 The weary will find repose ; 
 Will drink new strength, after sorrow and strife, 
 
 From the fountain that ever flows. 
 
 Then be of good cheer, and wait, O my soul ! 
 
 And take what the Lord shall provide ; 
 All things are done well by His loving control, 
 
 In His keeping securely abide.
 
 420 POEMS. 
 
 And whilst them art wandering, oh, list to the song, 
 Through earth's wide chambers it rings : 
 
 " The day shall be dawning, it cometh erelong, 
 When the slumberer awaketh with wings." 
 
 * RESIGNATION. 
 
 IN the flower, the billow, the beams of the sun, 
 
 O God, we can read of thy might ! 
 It gleams in the gorgeous garlands of June, 
 'T is traced in the insects' dances at noon, 
 
 In the star-spangled garments of night. 
 
 But brightest those heavenly features glow 
 
 In a suffering mortal's breast, 
 When he calmly tastes of the banquet of woe, 
 And drains its cup to the dregs below, 
 
 With a saint-like patience blest 
 
 On his lips unmurmuring a smile doth play, 
 
 Whilst of hope and faith they tell ; 
 We see him go on his weary way, 
 And we laud our God, and humbly pray, 
 
 That in us, too, His spirit may dwell. 
 
 * CONSOLATION IN MATURE. 
 
 CHILD of sorrow ! Thine eye is dimmed 
 
 TBy the mists of bitter woe ; 
 O'er all this earth thy glance hath skimmed, 
 
 Yet it could not read nor know 
 That holy writ, full of solace sweet, 
 Which springs from the sod beneath thy feet 
 
 Oh, wipe the tear-drop from thine eyes, 
 God's writing it must not hide ;
 
 POEMS. 421 
 
 See how the beams of morning rise 
 From the darksome ocean's tide, 
 And how the sweet spring breezes play 
 When the stormy winter has passed away. 
 
 And learn that symbol's message blest : 
 
 A brighter dawn shall come ; 
 Soon in thy anguish-stricken breast 
 
 The spring of peace will bloom. 
 And as yon lowering thunder-cloud 
 
 Is swept from heaven away, 
 The shades that now thy spirit shroud 
 
 Shall yield to perfect day. 
 
 And when thou seest the bud that opes 
 
 To a flower of gorgeous hue, 
 Know that erelong thy heart's fond hopes 
 
 Shall bloom and blossom too. 
 But let the seed of the withered flower 
 
 Teach thee, O blossom fair, 
 That thou must die in happier hour 
 
 Yet fairer flowers to bear ! 
 
 CRADLE AND GRAVE. 
 
 EARLIEST^ latest, 
 Sacred to mortals, 
 Consecrate places 
 Of slumber and peace ! 
 Tranquil asylums, 
 Sheltering harbors, 
 Shrouded in airy 
 Fugitive shadows, 
 Where tears of humanity 
 Have their beginning, 
 Have too their ending,
 
 422 POEMS. 
 
 Mortals have called you 
 Cradle and grave. 
 
 By you, twin -brothers, 
 Mystical cherubs 
 With torches low-drooping 
 Stand ever watchful ; 
 Slumber and Death, 
 Innocent children, 
 By you stand weaving 
 Garlands of poppies, 
 Garlands of lovely 
 Blossoms immortal ; 
 Placing them softly 
 Now on the hoary 
 Head of the old man, 
 Now on the young child's 
 Bright golden curls, 
 Now on the thoughtful 
 Strong man's brow. 
 Whisper : " Sleep sweetly ! * 
 Straightway they slumber, 
 Moments speed onwards, 
 Sorrows lie silent, 
 All is so well. 
 
 Ye blessed, ye radiant 
 Visions of childhood ! 
 Haply the sleeper 
 The sleepor low lying 
 Once more beholds you ! 
 Haply he findeth 
 In peaceful seclusion, 
 Not as delusion, 
 His cradle's dream.
 
 POEMS. 423 
 
 Rose tints of morning, 
 
 Evening clouds golden! 
 
 Gleams of eternity 
 
 Beckon from both ; 
 
 Breathe in the flowers 
 
 Love scatters over 
 
 The bed of the sleeper ; 
 
 Echo in music 
 
 Of lullabies tender, 
 
 Which love singeth softly 
 
 By cradle and grave : 
 
 " During thy sleep 
 
 An angel doth keep 
 
 Watch over thee ; 
 
 Waiting the hour 
 
 When thou, by the power 
 
 Of love's kiss, wakened shalt be." 
 
 Cradle of childhood ! 
 Sweetly I slumbered 
 On thee, thou tiny 
 Snowy white bed : 
 Grave ever yearned for! 
 Laid in thy harder, 
 Gloomier bosom, 
 I long to lie sleeping, 
 Long to find coolness 
 For heart-burning fever, 
 Long to find rest 
 
 O! might I only 
 Slumber so calmly 
 In motherly bosom, 
 Lying so peaceful 
 In motherly earth ! 
 Blessed and thankful,
 
 424 POEMS. 
 
 My vision departing, 
 Then with my final 
 Sigh would bear witness: 
 " Fair was my morning, 
 Sweet is my eve." 
 
 M. R. w. 
 
 *MY MORNING SONG. 
 
 August 24th, 1828. 
 
 THOU, of life the light, the joy, 
 Thou morning sun, God's glorious eye ! 
 Now do I hail thee, bending lowly, 
 And bless the love, so pure, so holy, 
 That lights thy beams o'er earth and sky. 
 
 Eternal Lord, how bright, how clear, 
 How warm, Thy being all divine, 
 In Nature imaged, meets us here ! 
 Father of light, in light's own shrine 
 Revealed, we see Thy glory shine. 
 
 E'en as the smallest meadow flower, 
 Thus lowly am I in Thy sight ; 
 Yet on us both Thou deign'st to pour 
 The fullness of Thy blessed light, 
 Making our hidden paths look bright. 
 
 A grateful heart that lowly one 
 Doth bring ; what else can she bestow ? 
 Father, look Thy child upon : 
 'Midst all thy children, high and low, 
 She humbly brings this offering now.
 
 POEMS. 425 
 
 * PEACE. 
 
 October 24th, 1828. 
 
 ALL is still ; sweet Peace descending, 
 Bids my heart no longer languish ; 
 
 While the hours too swiftly wending 
 "Wake no restless sigh of anguish. 
 
 Beauteous stranger,* whence art coming 
 
 Coming, when my need is sorest? 
 With thy lilies ever blooming, 
 
 Thou this drooping heart restorest 
 
 Com'st thou like some nightly vision, 
 
 O thou flattering deceiver? 
 Shall thy fountain's stream Elysian 
 
 From my lips be snatched forever? 
 
 Art thou like the north light beaming, 
 When my charmed eye beholds thee ? 
 
 Like the flame o'er tombstone gleaming, 
 Swiftly quenched when darkness folds thee ? 
 
 Like the west wind softly blowing, 
 That of summer's advent speaketh ? 
 
 Like those tears repentant showing 
 When God's voice the sinner waketh ? 
 
 Com'st thou from bright regions soaring, 
 
 With some blessed salutation ? 
 Then with psalms I'll turn adoring 
 
 To the God of my salvation. 
 
 Sure some glimpses thou wilt waken 
 Of that home with all its treasures ; 
 
 Make this heart, with anguish shaken, 
 Fit to taste of heavenly pleasures.
 
 426 POEMS. 
 
 Soon, methinks, on loosened pinions, 
 Hope reviving in my bosom, 
 
 I shall seek those blest dominions, 
 Where thy silver lilies blossom. 
 
 Where no tear the cheek shall furrow ; 
 Where no heart with pain shall quiver; 
 r here the ransomed sons of son- 
 Rest in arms of peace forever. 
 
 Where the ransomed sons of sorrow 
 
 *THE VOLCANO. 
 
 'T is done, burnt out is the volcano's fire, 
 The lava flood no longer wildly dashes ; 
 
 Gained is iis object: lo, the fierce destroyer 
 Grows calm at last, for it is burnt to ashes ! 
 
 Know'st thou the spot where rose a fiery pillar, 
 Fearfully bright, in night's embraces lost? 
 
 Seest thou in blaze of noon yon dim cloud-pillar, 
 On funeral pyre ? 'T is the dead mountain's ghost. 
 
 And know'st thou where the seething lava streams, 
 Poured from the giant's heart with terror rife? 
 
 Behold yon Eden, fair as childhood's dreams, 
 From the " destroyer 's " breast it sprang to life. 
 
 O'er sunlit uplands golden harvests spread, 
 And cities rise with hum of toil and mirth ; 
 
 The mountain sleeps even as the mighty dead, 
 That from their graves yet wake new life on earth. 
 
 CHILLY BLOWS THE WIND. 
 
 COME, O Bertha, from the storm ! 
 Come to my embrace,
 
 POEMS. 427 
 
 Come into love's sheltering place; 
 By my heart thy bosom warm : 
 
 Chilly blows the wind. 
 
 To my breast O woman turn ! 
 Wilt thou be my own? 
 Let the whole world freeze like stone, 
 Ever I for thee will burn : 
 
 Chilly blows the wind. 
 
 Bertha, by love's radiance taken, 
 Lover's vows believes ; 
 But for distant shores he leaves: 
 O'er the heart of the forsaken 
 
 Chilly blows the wind. 
 
 Bertha prays as time goes slowly: 
 Lord, be kind to me ; 
 Take my child and me to thee, 
 Let me in the grave lie lowly 
 
 Chilly blows the wind. 
 
 'T is the last hour by the dying, 
 Weeping kindred stay; 
 Sorrowful for her they pray, 
 In the dread death conflict lying 
 
 Chilly blows the wind. 
 
 i 
 
 Farewell! Brothers, sisters, hear me! 
 Pardon me, O Lord! 
 And to him thy grace afford ; 
 Death approacheth standeth near me: 
 Chilly blows the wind. 
 
 In the grave is Bertha sleeping, 
 Late so young and warm,
 
 428 POEMS. 
 
 Cold her baby on her arm; 
 O'er her broken heart is sweeping 
 Still the chilly wind. 
 
 M. K. W. 
 
 *HAD I STRONG FAITH. 
 
 HAD I strong faith, then all unmoved I 'd gaze 
 On earthly storms, safe in my port of rest, 
 
 Unscared by jarring cries, or troublous days; 
 For that safe haven is God's loving breast. 
 
 Had I strong faith, oh how serenely then 
 
 My heart the tangled knots of life should ope ; 
 
 Whilst cradled lovingly, both joy and pain 
 Would rest in the soft arms of heav'nly hope. 
 
 Had I strong faith, no passions wild would sway, 
 No evil thoughts have power to torture me, 
 
 No galling fetters on my soul should weigh; 
 Had I such faith, then were my spirit free. 
 
 Had I strong faith, I should indeed be strong, 
 Unmoved, unscathed, though evil-doers smite; 
 
 Even as the sun o'er clouds, I'd pass along, 
 Turning all cold to warmth, darkness to light. 
 
 Had I strong faith, Thy holy peace, God, 
 
 Would ne'er, as ofttimes now, abandon me ; 
 I 'd fight my fight on earth with dauntless mood, 
 
 And find eternal peace and bliss in Thee. 
 November 17th, 1814.
 
 POEMS. 429 
 
 *I TRUST IN THEE. 
 
 TO A FRIEND OF MY YOUTH. 
 
 WHAT is 't to me, 
 If them at times dost look askance 
 And give me a less loving glance? 
 I trust in thee! 
 
 What is't to me, 
 
 Even if I thought thou did'st forget me, 
 At times, when many cares beset thee ? 
 I trust in thee! 
 
 What is 't to me, 
 
 If I perchance thy words should find 
 A little colder and less kind? 
 I trust in thee ! 
 
 I trust in thee : 
 
 I know that beyond time's control, 
 Even in the depths of thy undying soul, 
 Thou lovest me. 
 
 Thou lovest me ! 
 
 And though all earthly ties should sever, 
 
 My heart's clear torch would burn as bright as ever : 
 
 My peace in thee ! 
 April 15th, 1841. 
 
 *THE SAGE AND THE CATARACT. 
 
 TO E1UK GUSTAF GEIJER. 1848. 
 
 A STRANGER rapt in thought stood by the river, 
 Where it leapt down into a cataract ;
 
 430 POEMS. 
 
 He watched its rushing course, he saw it battle 
 With toppling crags, with broken forest stems, 
 Yea, even with its own waves, with its o\vn might ; 
 He saw the foam dashed up to highest heaven, 
 He heard the thunder in its deep caves growling ; 
 He saw, and gravely shaking his wise head 
 With disapproving mien, demanded : " Wherefore, 
 And to what end, is all this toil and tumult? 
 What frenzy goads thee on to such fierce warfare, 
 Such strife for life and death with all around thee ? 
 In this wild vortex thou dost lose thyself, 
 Thy calm, thy crystal brightness. Better far 
 In yonder silent, solitary valley, 
 
 Where thou didst glide serene 'twixt shelter'd margins, 
 Reflecting every flower and tree that crowned them, 
 The craggy peaks, and lustrous vault of heaven ! 
 Then thou wert clear and bright, and blue libellulas, 
 With emerald flashing wings, shot downward, rocking 
 On the broad leaves of silver water-lilies, 
 That, heaving, lay upon the crystal billow, 
 Calm as an infant in its mother's arms ; 
 Then in thy lap the golden sunbeams showered ; 
 The queen of night with her pale lustre kissed thee; 
 And blooming village maidens, gayly tripping, 
 Went down to fill their pitchers at thy waters, 
 And there the weary laborer quenched his thirst 
 With thankful spirit. Say, what would'st thou more ? 
 Oh let thy life be spent in peaceful labors ; 
 Sweet is it thus to bless and to be blessed, 
 And then to sleep on flow'ry meadow's breast ! 
 Say, is not this enough ? " Thus asked the sage ; 
 But all regardless of his questions, onward 
 With headlong speed the cataract rushed impetuous, 
 Cleaving the rocks that barred its foaming current. 
 Yet one reply it made ; even in that power 
 Which mighty spirits exercise, constraining
 
 POEMS. 431 
 
 To follow when they lead, to watch their workings, 
 To mark their onward course, the end that waits them, 
 And the deep meaning of their life and struggles. 
 
 And thus the sage pursued the river's windings, 
 
 Saw how at hasty intervals reposing, 
 
 Its calm and radiant ye looked up to heaven, 
 
 With childlike spirit and with childlike glances 
 
 Reflecting back that image on its bosom ; 
 
 Then wildly rushing on to wage fresh warfare 
 
 With open foes or "hidden obstacles, 
 
 And plunging boldly over heights and depths 
 
 With an intense indomitable purpose, 
 
 As to some fixed and ever bright'ning goal, 
 
 He marked it grow more calm in broadening channel, 
 
 Clear to its inmost depths, like some brave spirit, 
 
 When the good fight is fought ; then free and peaceful, 
 
 A glorious river 'mid rich margins flowing, 
 
 Calmly it rolled toward the ocean, bearing 
 
 Not only its own waves, but on their bosom 
 
 A world of human labors, human hopes, 
 
 Set free by the same power itself that freed. 
 
 He saw the stately ships, the barges slow, 
 
 Alike from city and from village borne 
 
 Upon the river's arms to world-wide marts 
 
 Of commerce, while light winds their sails were swelling, 
 
 And joyous songs rung in the evening breezes. 
 
 The sage rejoiced ; he felt the answer given, 
 
 And graven in his heart The river's answer 
 
 Lay in the tenor of its noble life ! 
 
 April, 1847. 
 
 And thus it was one day, on banks of Clara river, 
 
 With thoughts all fixed on thee, fair Wermland's lofty 
 
 son, 
 That one who loved thee well, whom thou hast called " thy 
 
 friend,"
 
 432 POEMS. 
 
 Did sing this song, borrowed from thine own life, to thee. 
 
 A year has passed away, and lo, thy noble spirit 
 
 Too soon has burst its narrow bonds, and winged its way. 
 
 Freed from the burden of this earth, to cast itself 
 
 Into the ocean of God's endless love. 
 
 His name confessing, in whose name thou still hast striven, 
 Before the sons of men, 1 in thy last prayer on earth, 
 The battle thou didst quit, at peace with life, at peace 
 With thine own self, to seek th' Eternal God, who rules 
 O'er strife and peace, and reap thy labors' rich reward. 
 
 Yes, thou art blest, for blest is he who thus hath ended ! 
 Glorified Spirit! Do thou still the path illumine 
 Of those that loved thee well ; oh, shine upon thy people 
 Whose annals thou did write ; thy wife, thy children, friends, 
 And even on her, who now looks up to thee through 
 tears. 
 
 * ON READING BISHOP ESAIAS TEGNfiR'S POEM, 
 RESIGNATION." 
 
 HUSH thee, vain, thoughtless world ! Hush, he is speaking ; 
 
 Once more he speaks, old Svea's minstrel-king. 
 
 He has aroused him from his bed of suffering, 
 
 'Mid (Eta's flames, the funeral pile of Genius, 
 
 He strikes his harp. Listen ye young and aged, 
 
 Hear how the spirit worketh in Esaias, 
 
 Hear what the Lord hath to His servant spoken 
 
 In the dark midnight hours of pain and anguish. 
 
 Well didst thou sing, O b;ird, of " Resignation," 
 Thy " song of songs," life's loftiest it is ; 
 
 1 See Geijer's confession of faith in his last printed work, A Word on 
 die Reliyious Questions of Ihn D iy.
 
 POEMS. 433 
 
 Led by this power to God in adoration, 
 Te deums we shall sing in realms of bliss. 
 
 How noble is thy song ! So Phoenix springs, 
 Fed by a fire divine, from fragrant ashes; 
 And o'er the desert spreads his shining wings, 
 On which the dawn of brighter eras flashes. 
 
 Our hearts within us burn ! Oh speak again, 
 Our ears yet more thy glowing words would drink : 
 Oh speak once more ! Teach us in strife and pain 
 Like thee with noble aims to feel, to think ! 
 
 Racked by fierce pain, Heracles stormed with ire, 
 Wild were his shrieks and loud his maledictions ; 
 Thou suff'rest, too, but from thine altar fire 
 Ring words of gentle peace and benedictions. 
 
 Heracles lives in many a tale of yore, 
 But thine, Tegner, a fairer fate shall be ; 
 A life that knows no grave yet evermore 
 A life on earth of immortality. 
 
 "Where is that home, in which 't is good to be, 
 Safe from the surge of time on shelter'd shore : 
 O Svea's bard ! Thy country answers thee : 
 Here liv'st thou, and shalt live for evermore. 
 
 There is a public, light as ocean's foam ; 
 A people, too, there is, that ne'er shall die ; 
 Within its arms was laid thy children's home ; 
 Within its heart shall live thy memory. 
 
 28
 
 434 POEMS. 
 
 * THE SOUND IN TIME OF PEACE. 
 
 HURRAH ! How briskly the south winds blow, 
 
 Crisping the Sound as it sleeps in the sun. 
 
 Hurrah ! What sails sweep to and fro, 
 
 Swelling and scudding and hurrying on ; 
 
 Of every nation, 
 
 Color and fashion, 
 
 Foe or confederate, 
 
 From cities small and great, 
 
 On the blue waters that dance round each prow, 
 
 Glowing in sunlight they come and they go. 
 
 And Denmark's green shores, how they gleam through the 
 
 mist, 
 
 With gold waving harvests round " Marienlyst ; " 
 And " Kronoborg's " castle, that fortress of pride, 
 Where " Holger the Dane " is still said to reside ; 
 There rise Odin's heights, there the royal town 
 With its palaces, churches, and towers looks down 
 O'er the placid wave. But from Svea's strand 
 Frowns the dark cliff of Kullen, her pride and her boast ; 
 A greeting it sends to the opposite coast 
 A greeting of peace from the " Jernbarar " land 1 
 And Scania's parks, and the island of " Hven," 
 Where rose Brahe's tower on the starlit plain ; 
 Those shores, once ringing with warlike cries, 
 Now bound by a thousand peaceful ties, 
 By the glittering Sound that their borders laves 
 They look on its waves. 
 
 The sun shines bright over sea and land, 
 Sparkles the sail-laden Sound in its ray ; 
 Dolphins gambol and hornbeaks play, 
 Fishermen lay out their nets from the strand. 
 
 1 The Ironbeariny land, one of the ancient names of Sweden, on ac 
 count of the iron which is one of its chief productions.
 
 POEMS. 435 
 
 Smoking " dragons " with track of foam 
 Lash their tails, as snorting they roam 
 From city to city. But time doth flee ; 
 The sun is setting, the shades grow deep, 
 The waves are silent, the breezes sleep, 
 And the barks lie still on the motionless sea ; 
 The fisherman hastes to his cottage the while 
 
 O 
 
 To rest from his toil. 
 
 The boats lie empty down by the shore, 
 
 The butterfly sleeps in the drooping flower, 
 
 Every blade has its pearl of dew, 
 
 Night birds fly, 
 
 Arches of shadows are flung o'er the sky, 
 
 Stars peep forth from the heaven's deep blue. 
 
 Hark ! the evening gun 
 
 Tells that the day is done ; 
 
 While the broad moon o'er the glittering tide 
 
 Spangles with silver the sails as they glide, 
 
 " God's peace " proclaiming from shore 
 
 O'er Sweden and Denmark for evermore. 
 
 Labors are ending ! 
 
 Slumber descending : 
 
 Only yon beacon keeps vigil there 
 
 And the silent prayer. 
 
 * MY WRINKLES. 
 
 IStf 
 
 OH runes, by time's unerring chisel graven ! 
 Ye wrinkles slowly gathering round my eyes, 
 Thanks for the kindly message ye have brought me ; 
 Thanks, for ye wake no terror in my heart. 
 I know your meaning well ; fifll soon, ye whisper, 
 Old age shall come, with silent footstep stealing, 
 And then comes death and it is time to bid 
 A long farewell to this world's vanities,
 
 436 POEMS. 
 
 To flattery, and the idle lust of praise. 
 Ah, fatal lust ! full oft in fond illusion 
 We deem that we have quenched it, mounted far 
 Above it on the wings of lofty thought, 
 Of feelings glowing for a world's redemption, 
 Deem that we've drown'd it in a higher love, 
 In prayer and streaming tears at Jesus' feet, 
 When lo ! 'tis crawling still as crawled the serpent 
 Amid th' ambrosial groves of Paradise, 
 Luring the soul with false, degrading pleasures, 
 And tainting life with venomed shafts of discord. 
 But the great Lord of life, who sees our weakness, 
 Sends us an angel messenger pale Time ; 
 And lo! Time's angel, grave, yet merciful, 
 Compassionate even in sternest mood, right gently 
 Prints on our brow his stamp indelible, 
 Closes the temple of our former pleasures, 
 And posts Scorn's grinning demon at its portals. 
 And all beyond it is a howling desert, 
 Of uncouth monsters full, that eat men's hearts ; 
 But there are fair and sheltered paths as well, 
 That lead to blissful homes, long sought, long dreamt of; 
 And there a voice is heard, all men inviting 
 To realms of peace, to those blest tabernacles 
 Where dwells the good, the beautiful forever. 
 Oh, to those heights I lift my folded hands, 
 For there He dwells, who shall make all things clear 
 Through the effulgence of His might and mercy ; 
 And in His presence it is good to be : 
 This do I know, if I know naught besides ! 
 Oh then, my soul, be youthful evermore, 
 Be strong in faith, be strong in charity. 
 And follow Him to everlasting mansions, 
 Undaunted, though this house of clay be shattered, 
 And through a thousand deaths thy paths should lead 
 thee;
 
 POEMS. 437 
 
 Yet follow Him, till thou hast reached the goal 
 
 Where He will turn His glorious face upon thee ; 
 
 Then shalt thou look on Him, the world forgetting, 
 
 Forgetting thine own self and oh, thrice happy, 
 
 That thou canst thus forget, that thou canst die 
 
 Unto thyself, and live alone in Him. 
 
 Rejoice, my soul, for then thus say the Scriptures 
 
 His own thou shalt be called, and on thy forehead 
 
 The Lord will write His name. O thou frail body, 
 
 And O ye furrows worn by time and weeping, 
 
 And all infirmities of earth, where are ye ? 
 
 Changed to the glories of a youth eternal. 
 
 Changed to God's image, to His holy image! 
 
 See, " All things are made new " all save the gracious, 
 
 Th' eternal Renovator of the world. 
 
 I thank you then, ye runes, Time's noiseless footprints, 
 
 That bring such kindly message : " Time is waning." 
 
 I will arise and build a tabernacle 
 
 That shall endure when Time's frail tents are shattered : 
 
 Then will I strive like holy Paul, and tarry, 
 
 " Fill we shall all be changed." 
 
 SUMMER EVENINGS. 
 
 EVE approaches ; cold mist streaming 
 
 O'er the earth will gather soon, 
 Hide the stars above me gleaming, 
 
 Hide the smiling, friendly moon. 
 Yet 't is naught though mists do tarry 
 
 O'er the earth before my eyes, 
 If the spirit's gaze can carry 
 
 All my hopes beyond the skies. 
 No earth's clouds, so dark and dreary, 
 
 Me nor fear nor doubt can bring ;
 
 438 POEMS. 
 
 For beyond life's desert weary, 
 
 I car. see a heavenly spring. 
 Draw around, ye clouds, and cover, 
 
 Shroud me; stars! conceal your light; 
 Yet my home I can discover, 
 
 Clear the way lies in my sight. 
 
 M. R. vr. 
 
 THE GRAVE. 
 
 [Probably translated by Fredrika Bremer from the German.] 
 
 How dark and cold the grave is, 
 
 And terrible its rand ! 
 It hides as deep the wave is, 
 
 An undiscovered land. 
 
 No sound its gateway knoweth ; 
 
 The song of birds is still ; 
 And only friendship streweth 
 
 The flowers o'er the hill. 
 
 And he who therein sleepeth 
 The widow's sigh ne'er hears ; 
 
 E'en when the orphan weepeth, 
 The grave admits no tears. 
 
 O 
 
 Yet it in peace exceedeth 
 
 Each spot ; 't is truly fair ; 
 The road that homeward leadeth 
 
 Must ever enter there. 
 
 And from all storms defended. 
 Where storm and conflict cease. 
 
 The heart its throbbings ended, 
 At last obtaineth peace. 
 
 M. R. W.
 
 POEMS. -130 
 
 THE LAST SONG OF THE LONELY ONE. 
 
 FALL, gentle snow, fall deep ; 
 Make cold my place of sleep : 
 The heart that 's burning here 
 Longs for the coolness there. 
 
 And when I sleep below, 
 Fall faster still, kind snow ; 
 No one will mourn for me. 
 Then hide me deep in thee. 
 
 For oh ! no mother will 
 Kneel at the lonely hill, 
 Nor any father know 
 Where I am laid so low. 
 
 Ah me ! no sister dear 
 Will give my grave a tear; 
 And there no brother's grief 
 Will ever seek relief ; 
 
 And not a single friend 
 Will ever o'er it bend, 
 And in remembrance throw 
 A flower on the snow. 
 
 And he who was my all, 
 His footstep there may fall : 
 Woe 's me ! for by his side 
 She walks, his chosen bride 
 
 Fall, icy snow, fall deep : 
 Make doubly cold my sleep : 
 The heart, now burning sore, 
 When frozen, feels no more.
 
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