How did Boström come by such an idea? Can one draw an inference from the accidental circumstance that he, a poor man's son from Norrland, came into too close touch with King John and his court, in his capacity of tutor to the princes? Could the philosopher escape the common lot of generalising in certain respects, from his own predilections and current time-sanctioned ideas? Probably not. Boström as an idealist was subjective—so subjective that he denied reality an independent existence, declaring that, "to be is to be perceived (by men)." The world of phenomena therefore, according to him, exists only in and through our perceptions. The error of the deduction was overlooked, and it was a double one. The system rested on an unproved assumption, and had to be corrected; it is true that the phenomenal world only exists for its through our perception, but that does not prevent its existing for itself without our perception. In fact science has demonstrated that the earth already existed with a very high degree of organic life, before any one was there to perceive it.
Boström broke with ecclesiastical Christianity, but, like Kant and the later evolutionist philosophers, retained Christian morality. Kant had been arrested in the bold progress of his thought by a want of psychological knowledge, and had simply laid down as axioms the categorical imperative and the practical postulate. The moral law, which depends on the epoch and changes with it, received in his system quite a Christian colouring as God's command. Boström was still "under the law"; he judged the moral worth or baseness of an action simply by its motives; according to him the only satisfactory motive is that regard for the spiritual nature of duty which is revealed in conscience. But there are as many consciences as there are religions and races; therefore his moral system was quite sterile.
Boström's importance for theological development only consisted in his coming forward against Bishop Beckman in the discussion regarding the doctrine of hell (1864), although that doctrine had recently been rejected by the cultivated with the assistance of the rationalists. On the other hand Boström was obstructive in his pamphlets The Irresponsibility and Divine Right of the King and Are the Estates of the Realm Justified in Resolving on and Carrying Out the Change in the So-called (!) Representation of the People? (1865).
In his capacity as an idealist, Boström is, for the present generation, not only without significance, but positively reactionary. He is nothing but a necessary link in the worthless reactionary philosophy which followed with such fatal obscurantism the "illuminative" philosophy of the eighteenth century. He has lived and is dead. Peace to his ashes!
Literature ought to be another barometer for testing the atmosphere of any given period. And in order to be that, it must be free to deal with the questions of that period; but this, the then prevailing æsthetic theories forbade.
Poetry ought to be and was (according to Boström) a recreation like the other fine arts. Under such a theory and influenced by the prevalent idolatry of the "ego," poetry became merely lyrical, expressing the poet's small personal feelings and inclination, and reflecting therefore only some of the features of the period, and those perhaps, not the most important. Only two names in the poetry of the sixties were of importance—Snoilsky and Björck. Snoilsky was "awake," to use a pietistic expression, Björck was dead. Both were born poets, as the saying is; that is to say, their talents showed themselves earlier than usual. Both attained distinction while still at school, early won honour and renown, and by birth and position were enabled to view life from its sunny heights. Snoilsky, without knowing it, was under the power of the spirit of the new age. Freed from the fear of hell and monkish morality, experiencing the retrenchment of his privileges as a nobleman, he gave free play both to mind and body. In his first poems he was a revolutionary and praised the cap of liberty; he preached the emancipation of the flesh and had a certain dislike to over-culture as a conventional restraint. But as a poet, he did not escape the poet's tragic destiny—not to be taken seriously. Poetry in the eyes of the public, was simply poetry, and Snoilsky was a poet. Björck had a mind which was not capable of receiving strong impressions. At peace with himself, languid, complete from the beginning, he lived his life sunk in his own reflections or noticed only the trifling events of the outer world and described them neatly and correctly. In the opinion of the great majority who live the peaceful life of automata his poetry shows a remarkable degree of philanthropy. But why does not this philanthropy extend itself further to large circles of men, and to humanity at large? In the writer's opinion Björck's philanthropy does not extend beyond the limits of the personal quiet which the individual attains when he ignores the duties of social life. He is satisfied with the world because the world has been kind to him; he avoids strife because it disturbs his own serenity. Björck is an example of the fortunate man whose life is not in conflict with his upbringing, but who rather builds up stone by stone, on the foundation already laid; everything proceeds in a workmanlike way by level and rule; the house is finished, as it was designed, without the plan undergoing any alteration. Stunted by domestic tyranny, tasting early the sweets of homage and reverence, he ceased to grow. He accepted Boström's compromise with Christianity without examining it, and in doing so, he had finished his life-work. His poetry is especially praised for its purity and spiritual character. What is this "purity" which in our days is so sharply contrasted with the sensual? The secret is, that he did not get her; just as Dante's heavenly love for Beatrice was due to the same involuntary cause. Björck therefore sang of the unattainable with the quiet melancholy of unsatisfied love. But that, however, is no virtue, and purity should be a virtue.
In short, Björck and Snoilsky sang of water and drank wine, and in this were just the opposite to the poets of our time, who are said to sing of wine and drink water. A poet's life always seems to be at variance with his teachings. Why? Is it that, in composing, he wishes to escape from his own personality, and find another? Is it a wish to disguise himself? Or is it modesty, the fear of giving himself away, and of self-exposure? This is a weighty problem for future psychologists to unravel.
Björck composed poems both for the reformation of the constitution in 1865, and for the restoration to power of the King. He saw harmony everywhere, and when he celebrated the restored union between Sweden and Norway in 1864, he was extremely melodious. He also praised Abraham Lincoln; negro-emancipation and white slavery—that is the ideal of freedom of the Holy Alliance! Revolution certainly, but legal revolution by the will of God! Well, he knew no better, and few did at that time. Therefore we do not judge the man but only his work, the motives inspiring which are a matter of indifference to posterity.
Young men read these poets, many of them with great edification. They proclaimed no new era, but prophesied after the event that now the millennium was come, the ideal realised, and lines of demarcation obliterated once for all. They looked with satisfaction on their creations, rubbed their hands, and found them all good. An atmosphere of peace had spread itself over the whole of Upsala and its neighbourhood; now one might sleep till Doomsday was the belief of old and young. But then discordant sounds began to be heard, and in the days of universal peace fire-beacons began to be seen on the neighbouring mountain-tops. From Norway open water was signalled and the revolving lights were kindled. Rome captured Greece, but Greece re-captured Rome. Sweden had captured Norway, but now Norway re-captured Sweden. Lorenz Dietrichson was appointed as professor at the university of Upsala in 1861, and he was the forerunner of Norwegian influence. He made Sweden acquainted with Danish and Norwegian literature, then almost unknown, and founded the literary society which produced poets like Snoilsky and Björck.
After Norway had broken loose from the Danish monarchy and had ceased to be a branch of the head office in Copenhagen, it was not grafted into Sweden but retreated into itself. At the same time it opened direct communication with the continent. Its awakening to independence was coincident with a strong stream of foreign influence. It was Björnson who first roused Norway to self-consciousness; but when this degenerated into a narrow patriotism, Ibsen came with the pruning shears.