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Whether no sheet of paper was broad enough to contain the lengthened
lines, or any other cause interfered to prevent the completion of the
piece, we know not; but certain it is that it was soon laid aside.
Neither did a piece of a jocular nature, which was intended to emulate
the fascinating muse of Madame Lenngren,[5] advance much further--the
beginning was thus:

Within the lordly castle Elfvakolastie,
Which lay, in sooth, somewhere in Sverge,[6]
There lived of yore the lovely Melanie,
The only daughter of Count Stjerneberge.

At the present time Petrea was engaged on a poem, the title of which,
written in large letters, ran thus--"The Creation of the World!"

The Creation of the World began thus:

CHAOS.

Once in the depths etern of darkness lying,
This mighty world
Waited expectantly the moments flying
When light should be unfurled.
The world was nothing then, which now is given
To crowds of busy men;
And all our beautiful star-spangled heaven
Was desolate darkness then;
Yet He was there, who before time existed,
Who will endure for ever.

The creation of the world ceased with this faint glimmering of light,
and was probably destined under Petrea's hand never to be brought forth
from chaos. Petrea had an especially great inclination for great
undertakings, and the misfortune to fail in them. This want of success
always wounded her deeply, but in the next moment the impulse of an
irresistibly vigorous temperament raised her above misfortune in some
new attempt. The blood rushed up to her young head, and filled it with a
mass of half-formed thoughts, fancies, and ideas; her mind and her
character were full of disquiet. At times joyous and wild beyond bounds,
she became on the other hand wretched and dispirited without reason.
Poor Petrea! She was wanting in every kind of self-regulation and
ballast, even outwardly; she walked ill--she stood ill--she curtseyed
ill--sate ill--and dressed ill; and occasioned, in consequence, much
pain to her mother, who felt so acutely whatever was unpleasing; and
this also was very painful to Petrea, who had a warm heart, and who
worshipped her mother.

Petrea also cherished the warmest affection and admiration for Sara, but
her manner even of evidencing her affection was commonly so entirely
without tact, as rather to displease than please the object of it. The
consciousness of this fact embittered much of Petrea's life; but it
conducted her by degrees to a love in which tact and address are of no
consequence, and which is never unreturned.

Sometimes Petrea was seized with a strong consciousness of the
chaoticness of her state; but then, again, at other times she would have
a presentiment that all this would clear itself away, and then that
something which was quite out of the common way would come forth; and
then she was accustomed to say, half in jest and half in earnest, to her
sisters, "You'll see what I shall turn out sometime!" But in what this
extraordinary turning out should consist nobody knew, and least of all
poor Petrea herself. She glanced full of desire towards many suns, and
was first attracted by one and then by another.

Louise had for Petrea's prophesyings great contempt, but the little
Gabriele believed in them all. She delighted herself, moreover, so
heartily in all that her sister began, that Petrea sacrificed to her her
most beautiful gold-paper temple; her original picture of shepherdesses
and altars; and her island of bliss in the middle of peaceful waters,
and in the bay of which lay a little fleet of nut-shells, with rigging
of silk, and laden with sugar-work, and from the motion of which, and
the planting of its wonderful flowers, and glorious fruit-bearing trees,
Petrea's heart had first had a foretaste of bliss.

Petrea's appearance imaged her soul;--for this too was very variable;
this too had its "raptures;" and here too at times also a glimmering
light would break through the chaos. If the complexion were muddled, and
the nose red and swollen, she had a most ordinary appearance; but in
cooler moments, and when the rose-hue confined itself merely to the
cheeks, she was extremely good-looking; and sometimes too, and that even
in her ugly moments, there would be a gleam in her eye, and an
expression in her countenance, which had occasioned Henrik to declare
that "Petrea was after all handsome!"

To a chaotic mind, the desire for controversy is in-born; it is the
conflict of the elements with each other. There was no subject upon
which Petrea had not her conjectures, and nothing upon which she was not
endeavouring to get a clear idea; on this account she discussed all
things, and disputed with every one with whom she came in contact;
reasoned, or more properly made confusion, on politics, literature,
human free-will, the fine arts, or anything else; all which was very
unpleasant to the tranquil spirit of her mother, and which, in connexion
with want of tact, especially in her zeal to be useful, made poor Petrea
the laughing-stock of every one; a bitter punishment this, on earth,
although before the final judgment-seat of very little, or of no
consequence at all.

LEONORE.

Spite of the mother's embraces, and the appellation, "thou beloved,
plain child!" the knowledge by degrees had come painfully to Leonore
that she was ugly, and that she was possessed of no charm--of no fine
endowment whatever; she could not help observing what little means she
had of giving pleasure to others, or of exciting interest; she saw very
plainly how she was set behind her more gifted sisters by the
acquaintance and friends of the family; this, together with feeble
health, and the discomfort which her own existence occasioned to her,
put her in a discordant state with life and mankind. She was prone to
think everything troublesome and difficult; she fell easily into a state
of opposition to her sisters, and her naturally quick temper led her
often into contentions which were not without their bitterness. All this
made poor Leonore feel herself very unhappy.

But none, no! none, suffer in vain, however for a while it may appear
so. Suffering is the plough which turns up the field of the soul, into
whose deep furrows the all-wise Husbandman scatters his heavenly seed;
and in Leonore, also, it already began to sprout, although, as yet, only
under the earth. She was not aware of it herself yet; but all that she
experienced in life, together with the spirit which prevailed in her
family, had already awakened the beauty of her soul. She was possessed
of deep feeling, and the consciousness of her many wants made her, by
degrees, the most unpretending and humble of human beings; and these are
virtues which, in private life, cannot be exceeded. If you come near a
person of this character, the influence on you is as if you came out of
the sun's heat into refreshing shadow: a soft coolness is wafted over
your soul, which refreshes and tranquillises you at the same time.

In the period at which we have now to meet Leonore, she had just
recovered from the scarlet fever, which had left behind it such an
obstinate and oppressive headache as compelled her almost constantly to
remain in her own room; and although her parents and her sisters visited
her there, it afforded her but little pleasure, for as yet she had not
learned how, by goodness and inward kindness, to make herself agreeable
to others.

But, poor Leonore! when I see thee sitting there in deep thought, thy
weak head supported by thy hand, sunk in sorrowful reflections, I am
ready to lay thy head on my bosom, and to whisper a prophesying in thy
ear--but this may as well remain to a future time. We leave thee now,
but will return another time to thy silent chamber.

And now step forth, thou, the joy and ornament of home, the beautiful

EVA!

Eva was called in the family, "our rose," "our beauty." There are many
in the world like Eva, and it is well that it is so; they are of a
pleasing kind. It is delightful to look upon these blooming young girls,
with smiles on their lips, and goodness and joy of life beaming from
their beautiful eyes. All wish them so well, and they wish so well to
all; everything good in life seems as if it came from themselves. They
have favourable gales in life--it was so with Eva. Even her weakness, a
desire to please, which easily went too far, and an instability of
character which was very dangerous to her, exhibited themselves only on
their pleasing side, within the circle of her family and of her
acquaintance, and helped to make her more beloved.

Eva, although perhaps, strictly speaking, not beautiful, was yet
bloomingly lovely. Her eyes were not large, but were of the most
exquisite form, and of the clearest dark blue colour, and their glance
from under their long black lashes was at once modest, lively, and
amiable. The silky chestnut brown hair was parted over a not lofty but
classically-formed brow. Her skin was white, fine, and transparent, and
the mouth and teeth perfectly beautiful; add to all this, Eva had the
fine figure of her mother, with her light and graceful action. Excellent
health, the happiest temper, and a naturally well-tuned soul, gave a
beautiful and harmonious expression to her whole being. Whatever she
did, she did well, and with grace; and whatever she wore became her; it
was a kind of proverb in the family, that if Eva were to put a black cat
on her head it would be becoming.

A similarity in understanding and talent, as well as companionship
together, had made Louise and Eva hitherto "_les inseparables_," both at
home and abroad; of late, however, without separating herself from
Louise, Eva had been drawn, as it were, by a secret power to Leonore.
Louise, with all her possessions, was so sufficient for herself. Leonore
was so solitary, so mournful, up there, that the good heart of Eva was
tenderly drawn towards her.

But it seems to us as if Gabriele looks rather poutingly, because she
has been so long, as it were, pushed aside. _We_ will therefore hastily
turn to

THE LITTLE LADY.

It did not please "our little lady" to be neglected at all. Gabriele
was, in truth, a spoiled child, and often made "_la pluie_" and the
"_beau temps_" in the house. She was defended from cold, and wind, and
rain, and vexation, and faddled with and indulged in all possible ways,
and praised and petted as if for the best behaviour, if she were only
gracious enough to take a cup of bouillon, or the wing of a chicken for
dinner. She herself is still like the chicken under the mother's wing;
yet she will sometimes creep from under, and attempt little flights on
her own account. Then she is charming and merry, makes enigmas and
charades, which she gives mostly to her mother and Petrea to guess. It
gives her particular pain to be treated as a little girl; and nothing
worse can happen to her than for the elder sisters to say, "Go out just
for a little while, Gabriele, dear!" in order that they may then impart
to each other some important affair, or read together some heart-rending
novel. She will willingly be wooed and have homage paid to her; and the
Assessor is always out of favour with her, because he jokes with her,
and calls her "little Miss Curlypate," and other such ugly names.

Learning and masters are no affairs of hers. She loves a certain "_far
niente_," and on account of delicate health her tastes are indulged. Her
greatest delight is in dancing, and in the dance she is captivating. In
opposition to Petrea, she has a perfect horror of all great
undertakings; and in opposition to Louise, a great disinclination to
sermons, be they by word of mouth or printed. The sun, the warm wind,
flowers, but above all, beloved and amiable human beings, make Gabriele
feel most the goodness of the Creator, and awaken her heart to worship.

She has a peculiar horror of death, and will neither hear it, nor indeed
anything else dark or sorrowful, spoken of; and, happily for Gabriele,
true parental love has a strong resemblance to the Midsummer sun of the
North, which shines as well by night as by day.

If we turn from the bright-haired Gabriele to Sara, to "that Africa," as
the Assessor called her, we go from day to night. Sara was like a
beautiful dark cloud in the house--like a winter night with its bright
stars, attractive, yet at the same time repulsive. To us, nevertheless,
she will become clear, since we possess the key to her soul, and can
observe it in the following

NOTICES FROM SARA'S JOURNAL.

"Yesterday evening Macbeth was read aloud; they all trembled before Lady
Macbeth: I was silent, for she pleased me. There was power in the
woman."

"Life! what is life? When the tempest journeys through space on strong
free pinions, it sings to me a song which finds an echo in my soul. When
the thunder rolls, when the lightning flames, then I divine something of
life in its strength and greatness. But this tame every-day life--little
virtues, little faults, little cares, little joys, little
endeavours--this contracts and stifles my spirit. Oh, thou flame which
consumest me in the silent night, what wilt thou? There are moments in
which thou illuminest, but eternities in which thou tormentest and
burnest me!"

"This narrow sphere satisfies _them_; they find interest in a thousand
trifles; they are able to exert themselves in order to obtain little
enjoyments for each other. Well for them! I was made for something
different."

"Why should I obey? Why should I submit my inclination--my will, to
gratify others?--Why? Ah, freedom--freedom!"

"I have obtained 'Volney's Ruins' from S----. I conceal the book from
these pious fearful people, who tremble at shadows; but
to-night!--to-night!--when their eyes are closed in sleep, mine shall
wake and read it. The frontispiece to this book gives me extraordinary
pleasure. A wreck combats with stormy waves; the moon goes down amid
black clouds; on the shore, among the ruins of a temple, sits a
Mussulman--a beautiful and thoughtful figure--and surveys the scene. I
likewise observe it, and an agreeable shudder passes through me. A vast
ruin is better and far more beautiful than a small and an empty
happiness."

"The book pleases me. It expresses what has long lain silent in me. It
gives clear light to my dark anticipations. Ah! what a day dawns upon
me! A dazzling light that clears away all misty illusions, but my eyes
are strong enough to bear it! Let the net of prejudice, let the
miserable bond of custom be rent asunder, let the fettering supports
fall! My own strength is sufficient for me."

"Why am I a woman? As a man my life and my conduct would have been clear
and easy; as a woman, I must bow myself in order to clear myself.
Miserable dependence! Miserable lot of woman!"

"I do not love S----, but he makes a certain impression upon me. The
dark strength in his eye pleases me, the reckless strong will that will
bow itself only to me; and when he takes the harp in his arms, with what
powerful strength he compels it to express all that which the heart has
dreamt and dreams. Then he grasps the strings of my heart--then I
acknowledge in him my master; but never, he shall never govern me.

"His spirit is not powerful enough for that. He never can be other to me
than as a means to my end. Nor will I herein deceive him. I am too proud
for a hypocrite. I know well whom I could love. I know well the man who
could be the aim of my ambition."

"Nature never created me for this narrow sphere--for this narrow
foot-track through life. S---- shows me another, which captivates my
mind; I feel that I am created for it.

"I have observed myself in the glass, and it tells me, as well as the
glance of mankind, that I am handsome. My growth is strong, and accords
with the character of my countenance. I cannot doubt the assurance of
S----. My person, in connexion with the powers of my mind, and my
talent, will ensure me a brilliant future."

"What purpose would it serve to create illusions? Away with all
illusions! I stand upon a higher point than those around me--than they
who consider themselves entitled to censure my faults, to exalt
themselves in secret above me, perhaps because they have taken me out of
compassion. Taken me out of compassion! Subjecting, humiliating thought!

"Yet, at the same time, they are good; yes, angelically good to me. I
wish they were less so!"

"To-night, now for the second time in my life, I have had the same
extraordinary dream. It appeared to me that I was in my chamber, and saw
in heaven vast masses of black cloud above my head driving towards the
horizon, accompanied with a strong rushing sound in the air.

"'Save thyself, Sara!' cried the voices of my sisters; 'come, come with
us!' But I felt in my limbs that peculiar sluggishness which one
perceives in dreams when one wishes to hasten. My chamber-window flew
open before the tempest, and impelled by a strong curiosity I looked
out. The sun stood opposite to me, pale, watery, without beams; but the
whole firmament around me seemed to burn; a glow of fire passed over all
things. Before me stood a tall aspen, whose leaves trembled and
crackled, whilst sparks of fire darted forth from them. Upon one twig of
the tree sate a huge black bird, looking on me with a fiery glance, and
singing hoarsely and tunelessly, while the tempest and flame rioted
around him. I heard the voices of my adopted mother and sisters
anxiously calling on me from a distance ever further and further
removed.

"I leaned myself out of the window to hear what the black bird with the
wonderful voice sang. I no longer had any fear. I awoke; but the dream
has a charm for me."

"The black bird sings to me, out of my dream. My adopted mother has wept
to-day on my account. I am sorry for it, but----it is best that I go.
They do not love me here--they cannot do it. They do not need me, nor I
them any longer. It is best that we separate."

Thus Sara.

We will now cast a glance on the parents themselves, who were not
greatly altered, excepting that Elise's whole appearance exhibited much
more health and strength than formerly. The energetic countenance of the
Judge had more wrinkles, but it had, besides, an expression of much
greater gentleness. A slight, but perhaps not wholly unpardonable,
weakness might be observed in him. He was completely captivated with his
daughters. God bless the good father!

FOOTNOTES:

[5] Anna Lenngren, a distinguished Swedish poetess, admired especially
for her Idyls. She died in 1817.

[6] Sweden.

CHAPTER III.

THE OBJECT.

We must now say how the family grouped themselves in the new house.
Since the arrival of Henrik and Jacobi, the liveliness of the family had
visibly increased, Henrik zealously followed up his purpose of making
his sisters take more active exercise, and Jacobi assisted him with his
whole heart. Long walks were arranged, but, to Henrik's annoyance, it
seldom was possible to induce Louise to take exercise of that kind
which, according to his opinion, she needed so much. Louise had always
such a vast deal to do at home; Sara lived only for her harp and her
singing; Leonore was not strong enough; and for Gabriele, it was
generally either too cold, or too dirty, or too windy, or she was not in
the humour to walk. Eva, on the contrary, was always in the humour, and
Petrea had always the desire to speed away. It was Henrik's greatest
pleasure to give one of his sisters his arm, especially when they were
well and handsomely dressed.

At seven o'clock in the evening all the members of the family assembled
themselves in the library, where the tea-table was prepared, at which
Louise presided. The evenings were uncommonly cheerful, particularly
when the family were alone. Between tea and supper they either talked,
or read aloud, or had music; after supper they mostly danced, and then
Louise exercised herself with remarkable grace. Sometimes they had
charades or social games. Henrik and Petrea had always some new flash of
merriment or other. It was the greatest delight of the Judge to see all
his children around him, especially in an evening, and to see them happy
too. The door of his study, which adjoined the library, always stood
open, in an evening, and, whether he read or wrote there, he still was
conscious of all that went forward among them. Sometimes he would come
out and take part in their entertainment, or would sit on the green sofa
beside his wife, and watch the dance, rejoicing himself over his
daughters, and sometimes was even taken out into the dance, where he was
in much request.

The young people remarked, that whatever might for the time occupy
Jacobi, he was somewhat absent and incomprehensible; he sighed
frequently, and seemed rather to enjoy quiet conversation with the
ladies than charades and other amusements. It was discovered, between
Henrik and Petrea, that these fits of absence, and these sighs, must
have an object; but it was a long time, that is to say, three or four
days, before they could decide who it really was.

"It cannot be our mamma," said Petrea, "because she is married; and
besides this, she is so much older than any of us, although, prettier
than all of us together; and though Master Jacobi has such pleasure in
talking with her, and conducts himself towards her as if he were her
son, still it cannot be she. Do you know, Henrik, I fancy Sara is the
object--he looks at her so much; or perhaps Eva, for he is always so
lively with her; and I heard him say yesterday to Uncle Munter, that she
was so uncommonly charming. But it is rather improper that he should
pass 'our eldest' so!"

Henrik was greatly amused by Petrea's difficulty and conjectures, for he
had his own peculiar notions about the object, and by degrees Petrea
herself began to have a clearer foreknowledge, and to think that
perhaps, after all, the true object might be no other than "our eldest"
herself. After this insight into things, which Petrea was not slow in
circulating among her sisters, Louise was called, in their jocular
phraseology, "the object." All this while, however, "the object"
herself appeared to pay very little attention to the speculations which
had thus reference to herself. Louise was at the present time greatly
occupied by setting up a piece of weaving, and had in consequence,
greatly to Henrik's horror, brought again into use the dress surnamed
"water-gruel." She had absolutely a sort of rage to wear out her old
clothes--and as it happened, moreover, that the piece of weaving was of
a pattern which was much perplexed and difficult to arrange, she assumed
almost constantly the "cathedral demeanour," which occasioned her to
look all the less attractive. But so it happened, Jacobi looked a great
deal at Sara, joked with Eva, and remained sitting beside Louise, as if
he found by her side only true happiness and satisfaction.

In vain did Petrea draw him into all kind of controversial subjects, in
order to make him, during the contest, somewhat forgetful of "the
object." He did not become abstracted; and it was particularly
observable that the Master had much less desire for disputation than the
Candidate had had; and when Mrs. Gunilla took the field against him more
than once with a whole host of monads and nomads, he only laughed. Now,
indeed, Jacobi had a favourite topic of conversation, and that was his
Excellency O----. The distinguished personal qualities of his
Excellency, his noble character, his goodness, his spirit, his
commanding carriage, his imposing exterior, could not be sufficiently
celebrated and exalted by Jacobi; nay, even his broad lion-like
forehead, his strong glance, and his beautiful patrician hands, were
many a time described.

Jacobi had for some time been attached to his Excellency as his
secretary, and he had now the hope of his assistance in his future
prospects. In the mean time his Excellency had shown him the greatest
kindness; had given him many opportunities of increasing his knowledge,
and had offered to take him with him on a journey to foreign countries;
besides all which, he had himself practised him in French. In one word,
Excellency O---- was the most excellent excellency in all the world, an
actual excellentissimus. Jacobi was devoted to him heart and soul, was
rich in anecdotes about Excellency O----, and in anecdotes which he had
heard of his Excellency.

Louise, more than any member of the family, had the property of being a
good listener, and therefore she heard more than any one else of his
Excellency O----, but yet not alone of him; Jacobi had always a
something to relate to her, a something on which he wanted her
consideration, and if Louise were not too much occupied with her
thoughts about the weaving, he was always quite sure, not only of her
sincere sympathy, but of her most deliberate judgment, as well on moral
questions as on questions of economical arrangement, dress, plans for
the future, and so forth. He himself imparted to her good advice--which,
however, was not often followed--for playing Postillion. He drew
patterns for her embroidery, and read aloud to her gladly, and that
novels in preference to sermons.

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