My portrait was long ago intended for you; you knew that it was destined for some one—­and to whom could I give it with such warmth of heart, as to you, my faithful, good, and noble Stephan?

Forgive me for having grieved you, but I did not myself suffer less when I no longer saw you near me.  I then first keenly felt how dear you were, and ever will be to my heart.  Surely you will once more fly to my arms as you formerly did.

CARL MICHAEL BELLMAN

(1740-1795)

BY OLGA FLINCH

Carl Michael Bellman was born in Stockholm on the 4th of February, 1740.  His father, son of a professor at Upsala University, held a government office; of his mother he wrote that she was “fair as day, unspeakably good, dressed prettily, was kind to everybody, of a refined nature, and had an excellent voice.”  From her he undoubtedly inherited the warm, genial heart which beats in every one of his songs.  His father’s house was the rendezvous of many of the noted men of the day, among them the poet Dalin, who was then at the zenith of his popularity.  The boy’s unusual gifts were early recognized, and everything was done to give him the best instruction, especially after an attack of fever, during which he not only spoke in rhyme, but sang his first improvised songs in a clear, true voice.  The tutor who was then chosen taught him, “besides the art of making verse,” English, French, German, and Italian; and he progressed far enough in these studies to translate several German hymns and religious and philosophic essays, no doubt influenced in this choice of subjects by the religious atmosphere of his home.  Moreover, he taught himself to play the zither, and very soon began to pick out his own melodies as an accompaniment to his songs.  The instrument he used had been brought home from Italy by his grandfather, became his closest companion throughout life, and is now kept at the Royal Academy of Arts at Stockholm.

At eighteen he entered the University of Upsala, and while there wrote a satirical poem, “The Moon,” which he submitted to the criticism of Dalin, who however made but a single correction.  It was written in the manner of Dalin, and he continued to be influenced by the latter until his twenty-fifth year.  At this time, and within the same year, his father and mother died, and seeking among his friends the social stimulus which his nature craved, he became a frequent guest at the inns in the company of Hallman and Krexel, who were making their mark by their poetic and dramatic writings.  It was then that his peculiar talent came to its own; he threw away all foreign influence and began to sing his songs, born of the impression of the moment and full of the charm of spontaneity.  Some of them he jotted down quickly, most of them he sang to the sound of his zither, often fashioning them to suit well-known melodies, and again creating