Cousin-hunting in Scandinavia

by Mary Wilhelmine Williams

One of them, Saint Eric, is buried behind the high altar, in a sixteenth century shrine of silver, shaped like a church, with gables and turrets. So far as I have been able to learn, King Eric—for he was a king as well as a saint—won his canonization by forcing Finland and the more remote northern part of Sweden to accept Christianity. But he is also called Eric Lag-gifvare in an ancient saga which credits him with giving to his people “King Eric’s Laws.” If he was really the giver, he gave them an excellent code, which did not overlook the Swedish woman. To every wife was granted equal power with her husband over locks, bolts and bars; and by this code she also gained the right to a third of her husband’s property after his death. In view of the fact that King Eric lived nearly eight hundred years ago, I think that an excellent beginning. He was one of the pioneers of the equal rights movement.

Speaking of saints brings me to the Finsta Chapel, also behind the altar, where are buried Prince Birger Pedersson and his wife, Ingeborg Bengtsdotter. These two people—Birger, the son of Peter, and Ingeborg, the daughter of Bengt—were the parents of Saint Birgitta, who was obviously named for her father, Birger. To the Swedes she is always the great and good Birgitta, but among English-speaking people she is generally called Bridget, which has led to her being confused with the Irish Saint Bridget, or Brigid, who was born more than eight hundred years before. The Irish saint is responsible for the popularity of the name Bridget among the Irish; while the very common Swedish name Britta is, I suspect, a condensed survival of the old pre-Reformation Saint’s name Birgitta.

Saint Birgitta was born in 1302 in Vadstena, on Lake Vettern. On the night of her birth, says legend, there appeared a bright cloud in the sky on which stood a maiden who announced: “Of Birger is born a daughter whose admirable voice shall be heard over the whole world.” We may question the authenticity of the legend, but it is a fact that Birgitta was the most important Swede of the Roman Catholic era. In 1346, with the aid of King Magnus, she founded upon her Vadstena estate the first abbey for men and women existing upon a distinctly co-operative basis. Her daughter, St. Katherine, became the first head of this mother abbey of the Brigittine order, which later had houses scattered all over Europe.

But Birgitta, if contemporary accounts may be believed, did not limit her energies to the encouragement of monastic life. She was a leader in long religious pilgrimages, going once even to Jerusalem. And so daring was she and so convinced that she had been given the right to speak with authority that she did not hesitate to point out to the pope himself the error of his ways. By some she was hailed as a prophet; by others she was denounced as a witch. Certainly she was a woman of high ideals and great ability. It was fitting that the emblem on her crest should be white angel’s wings. Saint Birgitta herself and her daughter were buried at Vadstena; their portraits, however, are on the walls of Finsta Chapel.

The greatest of all Swedish mystics, Emanuel Swedenborg, is also buried in the Uppsala Cathedral, to which place his remains were brought in 1908 from England, where for long years they had lain. Did you know that Swedenborg was a great scientist, a man who in various lines of science made predictions and discoveries far in advance of his time? He was born in 1688. It was not until he had reached middle age that he abandoned scientific research and took up the study of religion, which led him eventually to believe himself divinely commissioned to preach a new gospel of the New Jerusalem. There is no doubt that Swedenborg was perfectly honest with himself and with others. Those who knew and talked with him felt that he was “truth itself.” And though his theology may seem unacceptable, his religion gave much which the world will always need. “The life of religion,” he taught, “is to do good”; and “the kingdom of heaven is a kingdom of uses.” This prophet, however, was one who received but little honor in his own country. There are many more adherents of the Swedenborgian teachings in the United States than in Sweden, in proportion to population.

The ashes of Carl Linné, the greatest of modern systematists, rest at Uppsala; and it is appropriate that they should, for Linné spent the best years of his life at Uppsala University, teaching and carrying on the researches which laid the foundation for all modern biological study. I have always been much impressed with the daring which this Swede displayed by classing humankind, together with apes, with the “quadrumana in the order of primates.” In view of the fact that Linné lived a century before Darwin, that was a pretty long stride; and I am so grateful to him for making it. When I reflect that we humans are developed animals, I feel that—all things considered—we are doing pretty well, and can keep up my courage; but were I dependent upon the “fallen-angel” theory, I should frequently despair utterly over the seemingly hopeless depths of evil into which the angel has descended.

Gustav Vasa, whose memory all lovers of justice and liberty delight to honor, is buried in the oldest chapel of the cathedral, which stands directly behind the altar. The windows of the room are of beautiful stained glass, and on the walls are seven frescoes by Sandberg, representing incidents in the life of the great king. To me, the most interesting of these were the ones calling to mind the adventures of Gustav intervening between his imprisonment by King Christian II of Denmark and his triumphal entrance into Stockholm as king of free Sweden. One of these frescoes represents the king while in hiding from the Danes working as a farm laborer and threshing out grain for a Dalecarlian peasant.

Lest all of this talk of dead Swedes give you the impression that Uppsala is a veritable city of the dead, I must not delay longer in telling about Uppsala University, the place of youth and fulness of life. It is the older of the two Swedish universities and was founded in 1477. It is co-educational and has a student enrollment of something over two thousand. The University House, so called, is a stately new building of brick and stone. Near the main entrance is a large statue of Geijer, the greatest Swedish historian. In the vestibule are several more statues of eminent Swedes. The ceilings of the vestibule are supported by pillars of black granite, while in the corridors the columns are of beautiful green marble, which the guard pointed out with considerable pride. The stone was “made in Sweden.” The aula, or assembly room, is large and airy, well lighted and well equipped, and has a seating capacity of about two thousand. I noticed good paintings upon the walls of several of the class rooms; and in one large lecture room was a mammoth work in oils by Mas-Olle—of a young Swedish woman standing on the edge of a dale blowing her lure. The evening shades of purple and amethyst in the valley were unusually well done.

In the faculty rooms were several interesting old portraits. That of Queen Christina especially held my attention. Christina, the daughter of Gustav Adolf, was, I suppose, the most freakish and eccentric of all of the sovereigns of Sweden. She had, among other peculiarities, a love for scholarly pursuits, to which she subordinated her duties as a sovereign. Moreover, she had no sympathy with the warlike spirit which dominated Sweden at the time. The uncultured Swedes could hardly regard such a successor to the great Gustav Adolf with enthusiasm. Consequently, Christina was permitted to resign in favor of her cousin, Charles X, who, you will remember, left little to be desired in the way of qualities as a warrior. The ex-queen then shook the dust of Sweden from her shoes, and later she abjured the faith for which her father fought and became a Roman Catholic, spending much of the last part of her life at Rome. The portrait at Uppsala, which was done by Abraham Wuchters, seems faithfully to reflect the dominating will and the brilliant but poorly-balanced mind of the queen.

“Carolina Rediviva” is the name of the University library—a name having its origin in an old university building, which in the time of Gustav Adolf was called Carolina Academy. Carolina Rediviva is decidedly the largest library in Sweden, and contains many treasures of various sorts. Among these are beautiful examples of illuminated work from the eleventh century on. One of the manuscripts has every initial letter in gold. A copy of the first book printed in Swedish, from about the middle of the sixteenth century, and a copy of a Bible of Martin Luther, containing his autograph and that of Melanchthon, are there also.