August, 1801. When she was three years old her father removed his family
to the small estate of Arsta, about twenty miles from Stockholm, which
he had purchased. Here she received a careful education, early attaining
a good knowledge of French, so as to read and speak it with facility.
Her literary powers were almost prematurely developed, like those of
Charlotte Bronte, and she wrote verses to the Moon at eight years old.
At ten she meditated an elaborate poem on no less a subject than "The
Creation of the World." But her attention was soon turned to more
practical themes, and it is noticeable that even in this early
springtime she began to think much upon the dependent and subordinate
position to which woman has been so unjustly condemned by society.
She was about twelve when her father took up his abode at Nynaes. Nynaes
was an old-fashioned mansion situated amidst picturesque scenery, which
appears to have awakened in Frederika her first impressions of the
beauty of Nature. Her education still continued; she studied English and
German, and made considerable progress in history and geography.
In 1813 Nynaes was sold, and the family once more settled at Arsta. There
the young Frederika learned to take a deep interest in the great
political events which were then convulsing Europe--in the great
uprising of the nations against the selfish tyranny of Napoleon. The
patriotic fire burned brightly in her girl's heart. She wept because she
had not been born a man, so that she might have girded on her sword, and
joined her country-men to fight in the cause of right and freedom. A
strong desire possessed her to become a warrior; it was, in truth, the
bird beating against the bars: the restlessness and activity of a genius
which as yet had not found its proper channel of expression. She at one
time resolved to flee from home and proceed to the theatre of war, which
she imagined would be a matter of no difficulty, and, attired in male
costume, to become page to the Crown Prince (afterwards King Charles
XIV.), who then appeared to her little less than a demi-god. This
scheme amused her fancy for more than a year, and melted away slowly,
like snow in water. Gradually her enthusiasm as patriot and warrior
declined, and gave way to new and equally strong emotions. Religious
fervour, she says, and the most mundane coquetry struggled within her;
feelings for which she could not account seemed to beset her young
bosom, filling it sometimes with a heaven and sometimes with a hell.
"Like two all-consuming flames," she writes, "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, dramatic pieces, and a
thousand different kinds of essays; composed music, drew and painted
pictures, some of them worse than others."
By degrees, society in Stockholm began to appreciate the fact that the
Bremer family boasted of a maiden of more than ordinary ability, who,
for the family fetes, composed little dramas of more than usual merit.
They engaged the attention of the poet Frauzon, who was frequently
present at the juvenile performances, and by his advice helped to form
the young dramatist's taste, and correct her judgment. Her earlier
efforts were in verse; but after a time she essayed to clothe her
thoughts in prose, and in prose of a very vivid and forcible kind. The
"Correspondence between Axel and Anna" was her first serious work; so
great already was her facility of composition that she finished it in
two days and two nights. Her poems did not make their appearance until
twenty years later, when they had been revised and corrected by their
author, whom experience had taught that polish of style and gravity of
language which can be acquired only by the careful study of the best
writers.
In the comparatively limited circle to which for several years she was
confined, and under conditions of domestic life which were unfavourable
to the happy development of her genius, she would have found it very
difficult to indulge her literary tendencies, if the Countess
Sonnethjelm, a Norwegian lady, had not come to her assistance by
providing her with an asylum under her roof. There her powers began
rapidly to expand, and she herself to comprehend that literature offered
the sphere of action for which she had so ardently longed.
Afterwards, like the authoress of "Jane Eyre," she spent some time as a
governess in a ladies' school at Stockholm. We have already hinted that
her early life was not altogether happy; her parents do not appear to
have understood or sympathized with her, and the household concord was
frequently broken by the austere, not to say eccentric, temperament of
its head. She says of herself that "a dark cloud came over the splendour
of her youthful dreams; like early evening it came over the path of the
young pilgrim of life, and earnestly, but in vain, she endeavoured to
escape it. The air was dimmed as by a heavy fall of snow; darkness
increased and it became night. And in the depth of that endless winter's
night she heard lamenting voices from the east and from the west, from
plant and animal, from dying nature and despairing humanity; she saw
life with all its beauty, its love, its throbbing heart, buried alive
beneath a chill covering of ice."
* * * * *
In the summer of 1831 she paid a visit, which extended over a
twelvemonth, to a recently married sister, then settled at
Christianstadt. We are told that the young novelist had determined not
to mix in society or accept any invitations, but to live in retirement,
and develop herself for what she now considered to be her mission and
her vocation, namely, to become an authoress; and, enriched by
experience of the world, to devote her talents in a double measure to
the comfort and assistance of the suffering and unhappy.
"Frederika," says her sister,[9] "found and felt that she required to
learn much, and that she stood in need of a firm religious faith, which
she had hitherto lacked. The contradictions which she fancied she saw in
the Bible and the world had long shaken her belief, and raised doubts in
her soul to such a degree that, at times, with her reflecting and
inquiring mind, they seemed to darken life."
The teacher, or guide, for whom she had instinctively yearned, she found
at Christianstadt in the head master of the High School, the Rev. Peter
Boeklin, by whose teaching, example, and character she profited greatly.
His influence was as beneficial as it was powerful. Well versed in
history and philosophy, he gave a new impulse to Frederika's genius,
while his wise and judicious criticism corrected the errors into which
spontaneity and facility betrayed her. He showed her that it was not
enough to compose with ease, she must learn to think clearly and
soundly; and that grace of style and picturesqueness of description were
of little avail to the novelist without the creative idea.
Under these changed circumstances a change came over the tone in which
she spoke of life. Writing to her mother, in October, 1831, she says:--
"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 the truth--have passed
away in a continual wish to die. But now it is otherwise. As a
compensation for that long period of pain and compulsory inactivity,
another has succeeded, which gives me the means of usefulness, and
therefore 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 while 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 saddened youth, if it have deprived us of some of the
enjoyments of life, may in a certain measure have led our minds to
higher aspirations, and to a stronger desire for real usefulness."
* * * * *
Her literary career had begun three years before this epoch. In 1828 she
published at Stockholm her "Sketches of Every-day Life" (_Teckningar ur
Hvardags-lifort_), including, "Axel and Anna," "The Twins," and other
stories. They met at once with a favourable reception. But it was not
until she produced her striking picture of "The H---- Family" that the
public recognized the full extent and claims of her genius. Her
reputation spread with great rapidity, and was extended and confirmed by
the works which proceeded in swift succession from her fertile pen. "The
President's Daughter," "Nina," "The Neighbours," "The Home," and "Strife
and Peace;" all these books are marked by the same general
characteristics: entire purity of tone, warmth of feeling, clearness of
judgment, insight into human nature, genial humour, a sharp perception
of social aspects, a strong, clear style, and unusually vivid
descriptive powers. Her plots are simple, and her incidents natural. In
fact she seeks them in the ordinary scenes of domestic life, in its joys
and sorrows, in the duties and pleasures, the lights and shadows of
home--and is never induced to venture into the regions of melodramatic
or philosophical fiction.
In 1841 the works we have enumerated were translated into German, to
attain in Germany to as great and enduring a popularity as they had
acquired in their native country. In the following year they were made
known to the British public, through the labours of William and Mary
Howitt; and the reception accorded to them was as enthusiastic as could
be desired. Their merits, indeed, were precisely those which English
readers might be supposed to appreciate.
It may be interesting to note that in "The Neighbours," more than in any
of her other works, Frederika Bremer drew from real life. Aged Mrs.
Mansfeld is almost a literal portrait of one of her most familiar
acquaintances. As for Francisca Werner, she is the authoress herself.
Alternately despondent, dreamy, energetic, enthusiastic, housewifely,
such is the character of Francisca, and such was Frederika. She
represents her heroine as small of stature, with a plain face, which is
yet not without some charm of expression, as a woman of excessively
simple tastes, a student, and an artist. It is an exact portrait; and
"The Neighbours" is a record of her thoughts and a history of her heart
and its generous impulses.
* * * * *
An author has gained a good deal when he succeeds in pleasing his
readers; but to ensure a claim to immortality he must bare to them his
personality, the secrets of his soul, the feelings of his heart. This
has been done by Frederika Bremer. It is true that she reveals no stormy
passions, no wild and wayward emotions; but she shows us _herself_, in
all her love of things good and beautiful, in all the breadth and purity
of her sympathies, in all the elevation of her thoughts. We see, too,
her knowledge of the _domesticities_, her intimate acquaintance with the
duties and responsibilities of home. Her judgments are always sound and
prudent; the advice she gives is advice which, founded upon experience
and reflection, we cannot reject without injury. Let us borrow a few
passages from the conversations in which Mrs. Mansfeld figures:--
"Many marriages, my friends, have begun like the dawn, and fallen like
the dark night. Why? Because after the marriage-feast is over, husband
and wife have forgotten to be as agreeable to one another as they were
before it. Seek, therefore, to please reciprocally; but in doing this
have God always present before your eyes. Do not lavish all your
tenderness to-day; remember that in marriage there is a to-morrow and a
day after to-morrow. Keep some wood for the winter fire, and remember
what is expected of a married woman. Her husband must be able to count
upon her in his home; it is she to whom he must entrust the key of his
heart; his honour, his household, his welfare are in the hands of his
wife.
"Be to thy husband, my dear daughter, like the rays of the sun which you
see among the trees; allow thyself to be guided by him, render him happy
and thou thyself wilt be happy, and thou wilt understand what there is
of good in life; thou wilt become of value in thine own eyes, before
God, and before men."
To housewives and housekeepers she gives some shrewd, sensible
counsel:--
"It is only at intervals that you should make a general survey of the
household; this keeps servants respectful, and things orderly. If you
set the clock going in proper time, it afterwards goes alone, and you
have no need to be always ticking like a pendulum. Remember this, my
dear daughter, some mistresses are too restless with their bunches of
keys; they run about the kitchen and the pantry, but it is time lost; a
woman will do well to take care of her household with her head rather
than with her feet.
"Some mistresses are always at their servants' heels, by which nothing
is gained.
"Servants also ought to have some liberty and calm. We must not muzzle
the mouth of the ox who treads the corn. Let thy people be responsible
for what they do; hold them strictly to every tie of heart and honour;
give them richly that which comes back to them. The labourer is worthy
of his hire. But three or four times a year, and always unexpectedly,
swoop down upon them like the Last Judgment; examine every corner and
recess; make a noise like thunder, and strike right and left at the
fitting moment--this clears the house for many weeks!"
There is nothing sensational or romantic, quaint or picturesque, in
these passages, we grant you. To those who have fed on the rhapsodies
of a certain school of fiction they will seem vulgarly commonplace. But
their practical good sense is indisputable, and they illustrate the
characteristics of Frederika Bremer as a writer. They point to her
combination of domesticity, household economy, and imagination; to the
alliance between poetry and prose which strengthened her vivid genius.
The great object which she set before herself, after she had arrived at
a full understanding of her powers, was the emancipation of her sex from
the thraldom imposed upon it by tradition and conventionalism, and more
definitely, the alteration of the Swedish law so far as it pressed
harshly and unjustly upon women. She desired, her sister tells us, that
women, like men, and together with them, should be allowed to study in
the elementary schools and at the academies, in order to gain
opportunities of securing employment and situations suitable for them in
the service of the State. In her opinion it was a grave injustice to
deny them, even such as were endowed with great talents and brilliant
intellectual powers, such opportunities. She was fully convinced that
they could acquire all kinds of knowledge with as much facility as men;
that they ought to stand on the same level, and to prepare themselves in
the public schools and universities, to become lecturers, professors,
judges, physicians, and official functionaries. She predicted that if
women were as free as men to gain knowledge and skill, they would, when
their capacity and indispensableness in the work of society had
obtained more general recognition, be found fitted for a variety of
occupations, which were either already in existence, or would be
required in future under a more energetic development of society; and,
finally, she maintained with warmth and eloquence that woman ought to
have the same right as man to benefit her native country by the exercise
of her talents.
* * * * *
In the autumn of 1848 Frederika Bremer left home, paying first a visit
to her old friend and teacher, the Rev. Peter Boeklin, and afterwards
proceeding to Copenhagen. In the following year she made several
excursions to the Danish islands, and then, by way of London, directed
her steps to New York, anxious to study the social condition of women in
the United States. She remained in the great Western Republic for two
years, traversing it from north to south, and collecting a mass of
information on social, moral, and religious topics. Her "Homes of the
New World" was, perhaps, the first discriminating and impartial work
upon America and the Americans.
On her return home she met with a severe blow in the death of her
beloved sister Agatha, which had taken place during her absence. Two
years later (March, 1855) she lost her mother; after which event she
removed from the old family house at Arsta to Stockholm. Here, in
December, 1856, she published her romance of "Hersha,"--a story with a
purpose--its aim being the reform of the Swedish laws affecting women.
Stories with a purpose are seldom acceptable to the general public, and
"Hersha" is the least popular of Frederika Bremer's works, though it is
the most carefully and artistically wrought. It is satisfactory to know,
however, that its purpose was attained.
In the summer of 1853, when the cholera devastated Stockholm, Frederika
became president of a society of noble women, whose aim it was to take
charge of, and provide a home for, those children who were orphaned by
the terrible epidemic, and to give assistance to families in which the
father or mother had been taken away. Two years afterwards, she placed
herself at the head of a small association of ladies whose object it was
to visit the prisons of Stockholm, and procure an amelioration of the
condition of the prisoners, as well as to assist, on their discharge,
those who seemed anxious to embark on an honest career. A considerable
portion of her time, her energies, and her income was devoted to
benevolent purposes, and the alleviation of human suffering she accepted
as one of her holiest and happiest duties.
Having read with deep interest the works of Vinet, she was seized with a
desire to study on the spot the religious movement in Protestant
Switzerland called forth by the "Free Church," of which that eloquent
divine was the founder. In the summer of 1856 she accordingly visited
Switzerland. Thence she proceeded to Belgium, France, and Italy, and
finally she extended her tour to Greece and Palestine, so that it was
not until the summer of 1861 that she returned home. Of this long and
interesting journey she issued a graphic record.
Three months of the summer of 1864 she spent at Arsta with the
patriarchal family who had become the owners of the paternal estate, and
enjoyed so much peace and pleasantness that she resolved to accept their
invitation to lodge with them permanently. She still continued her
philanthropic labours, and looked forward confidently to an old age of
usefulness, hallowed by the love of suffering humanity and brightened by
implicit confidence in the mercy and meek submission to the will of God.
But on Christmas Day, 1865, she caught cold at church, and inflammation
of the lungs supervened with a severity she had not strength enough to
resist. She herself did not believe there was any danger; and in spite
of increasing pain and difficulty in breathing, could not be persuaded
to lie down, but walked about even on the last day of her life, which
was also the last day of the year. Her mind preserved its clearness and
serenity. Shortly before her death, she went, leaning on her nurse's
arm, from window to window in her large sitting room, as if taking leave
of the surrounding landscape which she loved so deeply. Then in a low
weak voice she uttered some broken sentences, and frequently repeated
the words, "Light, eternal light!" Clasping her nurse's hands in her
own, she exclaimed, "Ah, my child, let us speak of Christ's love,--the
best, the highest love!" At three o'clock on the following morning, she
peacefully drew her last breath.[10]
* * * * *
From this brief sketch of the life of the great Swedish novelist, we
turn to a consideration of her work as a traveller.
Her visit to the United States she turned to good account, examining
with a keen observant eye the manners and customs of the people. She
made the acquaintance of Channing and Emerson; she went from town to
town, and village to village; she investigated the character and
influence of American institutions; she gave a lively consideration to
the great moral and political questions which were then stirring the
American mind. The result was, a strong and affectionate interest in the
great Western Commonwealth--an interest so strong and deep that it made
her somewhat unjust to England, which she had formerly placed in the
front rank of the nations as the mother of progress and true freedom.
In the following passage she particularizes, from her point of view, the
difference between the English and American character:--
"Brother Jonathan and John Bull," she says, "have the same father, but
not the same mother. John Bull is corpulent, with high-coloured cheeks,
is self-assertive, and speaks in a loud voice; Brother Jonathan, who is
much younger, is lank, tall, weak about the knees, not boastful, but
vigorous and decided. John Bull is at least forty, while Jonathan is not
yet twenty-one.
"The movements of John Bull are pompous, and somewhat affected;
Jonathan's feet move as nimbly as his tongue. John Bull laughs loud and
long; Jonathan does not laugh, but smiles slightly. John Bull seats
himself calmly to make a good dinner, as if he were bent on some great
and weighty matter; Jonathan eats rapidly, and is in a hurry to quit the
table in order to found a town, dig a canal, or construct a railway.
John wishes to be a gentleman; Jonathan does not trouble himself about
appearances--he has so much to do, that it matters little to him if he
rushes about with a hole at the elbow or a tail of his coat torn off, so
long as he advances. John Bull marches, Jonathan runs. John Bull is
certainly very polite to the ladies, but when he is bent on enjoying
himself at the table, he puts them to the door--that is, he begs them to
be so obliging as to go into another room and make tea for him, 'he will
follow them immediately.' Jonathan does not act like this; he loves the
society of women, and will not be deprived of it; he is the most gallant
man upon earth, and if he sometimes forgets his gallantry, it is because
he has forgotten himself; but this does not often happen. When John Bull
has a fit of indigestion, or a stroke of ill-luck, he suffers from the
spleen, and thinks of hanging himself; when Jonathan has a fit of
indigestion, or a stroke of ill-luck, he goes on his travels. Now and
then he has a paroxysm of lunacy, but he recovers himself quickly, and
never dreams of putting an end to his existence. On the contrary, he
says to himself, 'Let us think no more of it; go ahead!'
"The two brothers have taken it into their heads that they will humanize
and civilize the world; but Jonathan marches with more zeal in this
direction, and wishes to go much farther than John Bull; he has no fear
of wounding his dignity by putting his two hands to the pie, like a true
workman. The two brothers desire to become rich men; but John Bull keeps
for himself and his friends the best and largest portion. Jonathan is
willing to share his with everybody, to enrich all the world;[11] he is
a cosmopolitan; a part of the earth serves him as larder, and he has all
the treasures of the globe with which to keep up his household. John
Bull is an aristocrat; Jonathan is a democrat--that is to say, he wishes
to be, and thinks he is one; but it occurs to him to forget it in his
relations with people of a different complexion from his own. John Bull
has a good heart, which at times he conceals in his fat and phlegm under
his well-wadded and buttoned-up coat. Jonathan has a good heart also,
but does not hide it. His blood is warmer; he has no corpulence; he
marches with coat unbuttoned or without one. Some persons maintain even
that Brother Jonathan is John Bull stripped of his coat, and it is with
this American saying that I take leave, for the present, of John Bull
and his brother Jonathan."
* * * * *