Strife and Peace
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Fredrika Bremer >> Strife and Peace
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13 Fredrika Bremer's Works.
STRIFE AND PEACE.
Translated by Mary Howitt.
London:
Henry G. Bohn, York Street, Covent Garden.
1853.
CONTENTS
OLD NORWAY
HEIMDAL.
THE POULTRY. THE WATER OF STRIFE.
FIRST STRIFE.
MRS. ASTRID.
THE BREWHOUSE.
THE GARRET.
THE DAIRY.
EVENING HOURS.
CHRISTMAS.
QUIET WEEKS.
A MAY DAY.
SPRING FEELINGS.
MAN AND WIFE.
A FRESH STRIFE.
ALETTE.
AN EVENING IN THE SITTING-ROOM.
RETREATING AND ADVANCING.
A GLANCE INTO NORDLAND.
THE RETURN.
THE HALLING.
AASGAARDSREIJA.
THE MOUNTAIN JOURNEY.
THE AWAKENING.
THE LAST STRIFE.
AN AFTER-WORD.
STRIFE AND PEACE.
OLD NORWAY.
Still the old tempests rage around the mountains,
And ocean's billows as of old appear;
The roaring wood and the resounding fountains
Time has not silenced in his long career,
For Nature is the same as ever.
MUNCH.
The shadow of God wanders through Nature.
LINNAEUS.
Before yet a song of joy or of mourning had gone forth from the valleys
of Norway--before yet a smoke-wreath had ascended from its huts--before
an axe had felled a tree of its woods--before yet king Nor burst forth
from Jotunhem to seek his lost sister, and passing through the land gave
to it his name; nay, before _yet_ there was a Norwegian, stood the high
Dovre mountains with snowy summits before the face of the Creator.
Westward stretches itself out the gigantic mountain chain as far as
Romsdahlshorn, whose foot is bathed by the Atlantic ocean. Southward it
forms under various names (Langfjeld, Sognefjeld, Filefjeld,
Hardangerfjeld, and so forth), that stupendous mountainous district
which in a stretch of a hundred and fifty geographical miles comprehends
all that nature possesses of magnificent, fruitful, lovely, and
charming. Here stands yet, as in the first days of the world, in Upper
Tellemark, the Fjellstuga, or rock-house, built by an invisible hand,
and whose icy walls and towers that hand alone can overthrow: here
still, as in the morning of time, meet together at Midsummer, upon the
snowy foreheads of the ancient mountains, the rose-tint of morning and
the rose-tint of evening for a brotherly kiss; still roar as then the
mountain torrents which hurl themselves into the abyss; still reflect
the ice-mirrors of the glaciers the same objects--now delighting, now
awakening horror; and still to-day, even as then, are there Alpine
tracts which the foot of man never ascended: valleys of wood, "lonesome
cells of nature," upon which only the eagle and the Midsummer-sun have
looked down. Here is the old, ever young, Norway; here the eye of the
beholder is astonished, but his heart expands itself; he forgets his own
suffering, his own joy, forgets all that is trivial, whilst with a holy
awe he has a feeling that "the shadow of God wanders through nature."
In the heart of Norway lies this country. Is the soul wearied with the
tumults of the world or fatigued with the trifles of poor every-day
life--is it depressed by the confined atmosphere of the room,--with the
dust of books, the dust of company, or any other kind of dust (there are
in the world so many kinds, and they all cover the soul with a great
dust mantle); or is she torn by deep consuming passions,--then fly, fly
towards the still heart of Norway, listen there to the fresh mighty
throbbing of the heart of nature; alone with the quiet, calm, and yet so
eloquent, objects of nature, and there wilt thou gain strength and life!
There falls no dust. Fresh and clear stand the thoughts of life there,
as in the days of their creation. "Wilt thou behold the great and the
majestic? Behold the Gausta, which raises its colossal knees six
thousand feet above the surface of the earth; behold the wild giant
forms of Hurrungen, Fannarauken, Mugnafjeld; behold the Rjukan (the
rushing), the Voering, and Vedal rivers foaming and thundering over the
mountains and plunging down in the abysses! And wilt though delight
thyself in the charming, the beautiful? They exist among these fruitful
scenes in peaceful solitude. The Saeter-hut stands in the narrow valley;
herds of cattle graze on the beautiful grassy meadows; the Saeter-maiden,
with fresh-colour, blue eyes, and bright plaits of hair, tends them and
sings the while the simple, the gentle melancholy airs of the country;
and like a mirror for that charming picture, there lies in the middle of
the valley a little lake (kjoern), deep, still, and of a clear blue
colour, as is generally peculiar to the glacier water. All breathes an
idyllian peace."
But a presentiment of death appears, even in the morning hour of
creation, to have impressed its seal upon this country. The vast
shadows of the dark mountain masses fall upon valleys where nothing but
moss grows; upon lakes whose still waters are full of never-melted
ice--thus the Cold Valley, the Cold Lake (Koledal and Koldesjoe), with
their dead, grey-yellow shores. The stillness of death reigns in this
wilderness, interrupted only by the thunderings of the avalanche and by
the noise which occasions the motion of the glaciers. No bird moves its
wings or raises its twittering in this sorrowful region; only the
melodious sighs of the cuckoo are borne thither by the winds at
Midsummer.
Wilt thou, however, see life in its pomp and fairest magnificence? Then
see the embrace of the winter and the summer in old Norway; descend into
the plain of Svalem, behold the valleys of Aamaadt and Sillejord, or the
paradisaically beautiful Vestfjordal, through which the Man flows still
and clear as a mirror, and embraces in its course little, bright green
islands, which are overgrown with bluebells and sweet-scented
wood-lilies; see how the silver stream winds itself down from the
mountains, between groups of trees and fruitful fields; see how, behind
the near hills with their leafy woods, the snow-mountains elevate
themselves, and like worthy patriarchs look down upon a younger
generation; observe in these valleys the morning and evening play of
colours upon the heights, in the depths; see the affluent pomp of the
storm; see the calm magnificence of the rainbow, as it vaults itself
over the waterfall,--depressed spirit, see this, understand it, and----
breathe!
From these beautifully, universally known scenes we withdraw ourselves
to a more unknown region, to the great stretch of valley where the
Skogshorn rears itself to the clouds; where Urunda flows brightly
between rocks,--the waterfalls of Djupadahl stream not the less
charmingly and proudly because they are only rarely admired by the eyes
of curious travellers. We set ourselves down in a region whose name and
situation we counsel nobody to seek out in maps, and which we call--
HEIMDAL.
Knowest thou the deep, cool dale,
Where church-like stillness doth prevail;
Where neither flock nor herd you meet;
Which hath no name nor track of feet?
VELHAVEN.
Heimdal, we call a branch of Hallingdal, misplace it in the parish of
Aal, and turn it over to the learned--that they may wonder at our
boldness. Like its mother valley it possesses no historical memories. Of
the old kings of Hallingdal one knows but very little. Only a few
monumental stones, a few burial-mounds, give a dim intelligence of the
mighty who have been. It is true that a people dwelt here, who from
untold ages were renowned as well for their simplicity and their
contentedness under severe circumstances as for their wild
contest-loving disposition; but still, in quiet as in unquiet, built and
dwelt, lived and died here, without tumult and without glory, among the
ancient mountains and the pine-woods, unobserved by the rest of the
world.
One river, the son of Hallen-Jokul, flows through Heimdal. Foaming with
wild rage it comes through the narrow mountain-pass down into the
valley, finds there a freer field, becomes calm, and flows clear as a
mirror between green shores, till its banks become again compressed
together by granite mountains. Then is it again seized upon by disquiet,
and rushes thence in wild curves till it flings itself into the great
Hallingdal river, and there dies.
Exactly there, where the stream spreads itself out in the extended
valley, lies a large estate. A well-built, but somewhat decayed,
dwelling-house of wood stretches out its arms into the depths of the
valley. Thence may be seen a beautiful prospect, far, far into the blue
distance. Hills overgrown with, wood stretch upward from the river, and
cottages surrounded with inclosed fields and beautiful grassy paths, lie
scattered at the foot of the hills. On the other side of the river, a
mile-and-half from the Grange, a chapel raises its peaceful tower.
Beyond this the valley gradually contracts itself.
On a cool September evening, strangers arrived at the Grange, which had
now been long uninhabited. It was an elderly lady, of a noble but
gloomy exterior, in deep mourning. A young, blooming maiden accompanied
her. They were received by a young man, who was called there "the
Steward." The dark-appareled lady vanished in the house, and after that
was seen nowhere in the valley for several months. They called her there
"the Colonel's lady," and said Mrs. Astrid Hjelm had experienced a very
strange fate, of which many various histories were in circulation. At
the estate of Semb, which consisted of the wide-stretching valley of
Heimdal, and which was her paternal heritage, had she never, since the
time of her marriage, been seen. Now as widow she had again sought out
the home of her childhood. It was known also and told, that her
attendant was a Swedish girl, who had come with her from one of the
Swedish watering-places, where she had been spending the summer, in
order to superintend her housekeeping; and it was said, that Susanna
Bjoerk ruled as excellently as with sovereign sway over the economical
department, over the female portion of the same, Larina the
parlour-maid, Karina the kitchen-maid, and Petro the cook, as well as
over the farm-servants Mathea, Budeja, and Goeran the cattle-boy,
together with all their subjects of the four-footed and two-legged
races. We will now with these last make a little nearer acquaintance.
THE POULTRY. THE WATER OF STRIFE.
FIRST STRIFE.
"For Norway!"
"For Sweden!"
DISPUTANTS.
The morning was clear and fresh. The September sun shone into the
valley; smoke rose from the cottages. The ladies-mantle, on whose fluted
cups bright pearls trembled; the silver-weed, with its yellow flowers
and silver glittering leaves, shone in the morning sun beside the
footpath, which wound along the moss-grown feet of the backs of the
mountains. It conducted to a spring of the clearest water, which after
it had filled its basin, allowed its playful vein to run murmuring down
to the river.
To this spring, on that beautiful morning, went down Susanna Bjoerk, and
there followed her "cocks and hens, and chickens small."
Before her waddled with consequential gabblings a flock of geese, which
were all snow-white, excepting one--a grey gander. This one tottered
with a desponding look a little behind the others, compelled to this by
a tyrant among the white flock, which, as soon as the grey one attempted
to approach, drove it back with outstretched neck and yelling cries. The
grey gander always fled before the white tyrant; but bald places upon
the head and neck proved that he had not come into this depressed
condition, without those severe combats having made evident the
fruitlessness of protestation. Not one of the goose madams troubled
herself about the ill-used gander, and for that reason Susanna all the
more zealously took upon herself, with delicate morsels and kind words,
to console him for the injustice of his race. After the geese, came the
well-meaning but awkward ducks; the turkey-cock, with his choleric
temper and his two foolish wives, one white and the other black; lastly,
came the unquiet generation of hens, with their handsome, quarrel-loving
cocks. The prettiest of all, however, were a flock of pigeons which,
confidingly and bashfully at the same time, now alighted down upon
Susanna's shoulders and outstretched hand; now flew aloft and wheeled in
glittering circles around her head; then settled down again upon the
earth, where they neatly tripped, with their little fringed feet,
stealing down to the spring to drink, whilst the geese with great tumult
bathed themselves in the water and splashed about, throwing the water in
pearly rain over the grass. Here also was the grey gander, to Susanna's
great vexation, compelled by the white one to bathe itself at a distance
from the others.
Susanna looked around her upon the beautiful richly-coloured picture
which lay before her, upon the little creatures which played around her
and enjoyed themselves, and evident delight beamed from her eyes as she
raised them, and with hands pressed together, said softly, "O heavens!
how beautiful!"
But she shrunk together in terror, for in that very moment a strong
voice just beside her broke forth--
"How glorious is my fatherland,
The old sea-circled Norroway!"
And the steward, Harald Bergman, greeted smilingly Susanna, who said
rather irritated--
"You scream so, that you frighten the doves with your old Norroway."
"Yes," continued Harald, in the same tone of inspiration--
"Yes, glorious is my fatherland,
The ancient, rock-bound Norroway;
With flowery dale, crags old and grey,
That spite of time eternal stand!"
"Old Norway," said Susanna as before; "I consider it a positive shame to
hear you talk of your old Norway, as if it were older and more
everlasting than the Creator himself!"
"And where in all the world," exclaimed Harald, "do you find a country
with such a proud, serious people; such magnificent rivers, and such
high, high mountains?"
"We have, thank God, men and mountains also in Sweden," said Susanna;
"you should only see them; that is another kind of thing!"
"Another kind of thing! What other kind of thing? I will wager that
there is not a single goose in Sweden which could compare with our
excellent Norway geese."
"No, not one, but a thousand, and all larger and fatter than these.
Everything in Sweden is larger and more excellent than in Norway."
"Larger? The people are decidedly smaller and weaker."
"Weaker? smaller? you should only see the people in Uddevalla, my native
city!"
"How can anybody be born in Uddevalla? Does anybody really live in that
city? How can anybody live in it? It is a shame to live in such a city;
it is a shame also only to drive through it. It is so miserably small,
that when the wheels of the travelling-carriage are at one end, the
horse has already put his head out at the other. Do not talk about
Uddevalla!"
"No, with you it certainly is not worth while to talk about it, because
you have never seen anything else besides Norwegian villages, and
cannot, on that account, form any idea to yourself of a proper Swedish
city."
"Defend me from ever seeing such cities--defend me! And then your
Swedish lakes! what wretched puddles they are, beside our glorious
Norwegian ocean!"
"Puddles! Our lakes! Great enough to drown the whole of Norway in!"
"Ha, ha, ha! And the whole of Sweden is beside our Norwegian ocean no
bigger than my cap! And this ocean would incessantly flow over Sweden,
did not our Norway magnanimously defend it with its granite breast."
"Sweden defends itself, and needs no other help! Sweden is a fine
country!"
"Not half as fine as Norway. Norway reaches heaven with its mountains;
Norway comes nearest to the Creator."
"Norway may well be presumptuous, but God loves Sweden the best."
"Norway, say I!"
"Sweden, say I!"
"Norway! Norway for ever! We will see whose throw goes the highest, who
wins for his country. Norway first and highest!" and with this, Harald
threw a stone high into the air.
"Sweden first and last!" exclaimed Susanna, whilst she slung a stone
with all her might.
Fate willed it that the two stones struck against each other in the air,
after which they both fell with a great plump down into the spring
around which the small creatures had assembled themselves. The geese
screamed; the hens and ducks flew up in terror; the turkey-hens flew
into the wood, where the turkey-cock followed them, forgetting all his
dignity; all the doves had vanished in a moment,--and with crimsoned
cheeks and violent contention as to whose stone went the highest, stood
Harald and Susanna alone beside the agitated and muddied water of
discord.
The moment is perhaps not the most auspicious, but yet we will make use
of it, in order to give a slight sketch of the two contending persons.
Harald Bergman had speaking, somewhat sharp features, in which an
expression of great gravity could easily be exchanged for one of equal
waggery. The dark hair fell in graceful waves over a brow in which one
saw that clear thought was entertained. His figure was finely
proportioned, and his movements showed great freedom and vigour.
He had been brought up in a respectable family, had enjoyed a careful
education, and was regarded by friends and acquaintances as a young man
of extraordinary promise. Just as he had left the S. seminary, and was
intending a journey into foreign countries, in order to increase still
more his knowledge of agriculture, chance brought him acquainted with
the widow of Colonel Hjelm, at the time in which she was returning to
her native country, and in consequence thereof he altered his plans. In
a letter to his sister, he expresses himself on this subject in the
following manner:
"I cannot properly describe to you, Alette, the impression which she
made upon me. I might describe to you her tall growth, her noble
bearing, her countenance, where, spite of many wrinkles and a
pale-yellow complexion, traces of great beauty are incontrovertible; the
lofty forehead, around which black locks sprinkled with grey, press
forth from beneath her simple cap. I might tell of her deep, serious
eyes, of her low and yet solemn voice; and yet thou couldst form to
thyself no representation of that which makes her so uncommon. I have
been told that her life has been as much distinguished by exemplary
virtue as by suffering--and virtue and suffering have called forth in
her a quiet greatness, a greatness which is never attained to by the
favourites of fortune and of nature, which stamps her whole being. She
seemed to me as if all the frivolities of the world passed by her
unremarked. I felt for her an involuntary reverence, such as I had never
felt before for any human being; and at the same time a great desire to
approach her more nearly, to be useful to her, to deserve, and to win
her esteem--it seemed to me that I should thereby become somewhat
greater, or at least better; and as I was informed that she sought for a
clever and experienced steward for her sorely decayed estate, I offered
myself as such, in all modesty, or rather without any; and when
accepted, I felt an almost childish joy, and set off immediately to her
estate, that I might make myself at home there, and have everything in
readiness to receive her."
Thus much for Harald, now for Susanna.
Barbara Susanna Bjoerk was not handsome, could not be even called pretty
(for that, she was too large and strong), but she was good-looking. The
blue eyes looked so honestly and openly into the world; the round and
full face testified health, kindness, and good spirits; and when Susanna
was merry, when the rosy lips opened themselves for a hearty laugh, it
made any one right glad only to look at her. But true is it, that she
was very often in an ill humour, and then she did not look at all
charming. She was a tall, well-made girl, too powerful in movement ever
to be called graceful, and her whole being betrayed a certain want of
refinement.
Poor child! how could she have obtained this in the home abounding in
disorder, poverty, and vanity, in which the greater part of her life had
been passed.
Her father was the Burgomaster of Uddevalla; her mother died in the
infancy of her daughter. Soon afterwards an aunt came into the house,
who troubled herself only about the housekeeping and her coffee-drinking
acquaintance, left her brother himself to seek for his pleasures at the
club, and the child to take care of herself. The education of the little
Susanna consisted in this, that she learned of necessity to read, and
that when she was naughty they said to her, "Is Barbra there again? Fie,
for shame, Barbra! Get out, Barbra!" and when she was good again, it
was, "See now, Sanna is here again! Welcome, sweet Sanna!" A method
which certainly was not without its good points, if it had only been
wisely applied. But often was the little girl talked to as "Barbra" when
there was no occasion for it, and this had often the effect of calling
forth the said personage. In the mean time, she was accustomed as a
child to go out as Barbra, and to come in again as Sanna, and this gave
her early an idea of the two natures which existed in her, as they exist
in every person. This idea attained to perfect clearness in Susanna's
religious instruction,--the only instruction which poor Susanna ever
had. But how infinitely rich is such instruction for an ingenuous mind,
when it is instilled by a good teacher. Susanna was fortunate enough to
have such a one, and she now became acquainted in Barbra with the
earthly demon which should be overcome in Sanna, the child of heaven,
which makes free and enlightens; and from this time there began between
Barbra and Sanna an open strife, which daily occurred, and in which the
latter, for the most part, got the upper hand, if Susanna was not too
suddenly surprised by a naturally proud and violent temper.
When Susanna had attained her twelfth year her father married a second
time, but became a second time a widower, after his wife had presented
him with a daughter. Two months after this he died also. Near relations
took charge of the orphan children. In this new home Susanna learned
to--bear hardships; for there, as she was strong and tall, and besides
that made herself useful, and was kind-hearted, they made her soon the
servant of the whole house. The daughters of the family said that she
was fit for nothing else, for she could learn nothing, and had such
unrefined manners; and besides that, she had been taken out of charity;
she had nothing, and so on: all which they made her feel many a time in
no gentle manner, and over which Susanna shed many bitter tears both of
pain and anger. One mouth, however, there was which never addressed to
Susanna other tones than those of affectionate love, and this was the
mouth of the little sister, the little golden-haired Hulda. She had
found in Susanna's arms her cradle, and in her care that of the
tenderest mother. For from Hulda's birth Susanna had taken the little
forlorn one to herself, and never had loved a young mother her
first-born child more warmly or more deeply than Susanna loved her
little Hulda, who also, under her care, became the loveliest and the
most amiable child that ever was seen. And woe to those who did any
wrong to the little Hulda! They had to experience the whole force of
Susanna's often strong-handed displeasure. For her sake Susanna passed
here several years of laborious servitude: as she, however, saw no end
to this, yet was scarcely able to dress herself and her sister
befittingly, and besides this was prevented by the multitude of her
occupations from bestowing upon her sister that care which she required,
therefore Susanna, in her twentieth year, looked about her for a better
situation.
From the confined situation in which Susanna spent such a weary life,
she was able to see one tree behind a fence, which stretched out its
branches over the street. Many a spring and summer evening, when the
rest of the inhabitants of the house were abroad on parties of pleasure,
sate Susanna quietly by the little slumbering Hulda, within the little
chamber which she had fitted up for herself and her sister, and observed
with quiet melancholy from her window the green tree, whose twigs and
leaves waved and beckoned so kindly and invitingly in the wind.
By degrees the green leaves beckoned into her soul thoughts and plans,
which eventually fashioned themselves into a determined form, or rather
an estate, whose realisation from this time forth became the paradise of
her soul and the object of her life. This estate was a little farm in
the country, which Susanna would rent, and cultivate, and make
profitable by her own industry and her own management. She planted
potatoes; she milked cows and made butter; she sowed, she reaped; and
the labour was to her a delight; for there, upon the soft grass, under
the green, waving tree, sate the little Hulda, and played with flowers,
and her blue eyes beamed with happiness, and no care and no want came
near her.
All Susanna's thoughts and endeavours directed themselves to the
realising of this idea. The next step towards it was the obtaining a
good service, in which, by saving her wages, she could obtain a sum of
money sufficient to commence her rural undertaking. Susanna flattered
herself, that in a few years she could bring her scheme to bear, and
therefore made inquiries after a suitable situation.
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