Augusta's Journey

The Letter to Lotten Westman

Girl Reading by Albert Hendschel (1834-1883)

Augusta writes a letter to her friend Charlotta (“Lotten”). Lotten lives in Stockholm and Augusta has returned home to Loddby from Stockholm.

Loddby, 24 January 1847

…How many times I’m with you in mind, how many, many times I wish I had you here in my rooms, how many afternoons when the sun is setting and I sit alone in the corner of my couch do I imagine you sitting in the other corner and how we heartfully exchange our thoughts. I must be very fond of you to think of you so often. I have not seen a single soul since I came home because I have not been outside the door except for on New Year’s Day, when I attended the ball in the city {Norrköping} and had a royally boring time….

There are several letters between Augusta and Lotten in the family archives. Augusta writes about how she misses her friends in Stockholm: Emelie Breitholtz, Marina Ribbing, and Albertine Osbeck, born Schubert and related to Augusta. Maybe they all attended the same private school for girls?

A couple of weeks ago, Kerstin and I visited the Stockholm city archives – Stadsarkivet – to learn more about the education of girls in Stockholm in the 1840s. We know that Augusta studied in Stockholm from 1842 to around 1846 and boarded with a family. But what school did she attend? In the 1840s, there were few schools for girls. Maybe the city archives would have some information.

The archivist is very helpful and suggests that we start with the school archives and search for girl academies. So we do, and find only two schools. The first private school for girls in Stockholm was Wallinska Skolan which opened in 1831. It was located in the Old Town. The other school was Bjurströmska Pensionen, competing for the title of the most exclusive girls’ school in Stockholm. In the middle of the 1840’s the school was taken over by a German educator, Ms Sophie Antoinette Kock, and the school was renamed Kockska Pensionen. In 1852 it again changed name with new leadership to Posseska Pensionen and in 1855 it became Hammarstedtska Skolan.

We find the addresses of the schools but not much else. We will need to continue the research. But what about her friend Lotten? Would her history give us any clues?

I google and I search in archives. I find that Lotten’s full name is Charlotta Sophia Ulrika Westman, her birth date is the 15 November 1827, and her address in 1845. She and her sister are living with a miss Carin Hellberg, their care taker, in an appartment at the corner of Klara Norra Kyrkogata and Mäster Samuelsgatan. Today, the building is gone but it would have been located right behind Åhlens department store.

Where were their parents living? I continue my church-archive search and find Lotten’s sister, Clara Carolina Dorothea Westman, born 16 February 1831. She was baptized in Storkyrkan in Old Town. And by searching the baptismal records for this parish, I find that she was baptized by the famous bishop of Stockholm, J.O. Wallin, and that her parents were Isak Ulrik Abrahamson Westman, born in 1798, and his wife Eva Charlotta Plagemann, born in 1807. I also find that Lotten and Clara had a younger brother, Carl Abraham Ulrik Westman, born 2 February 1833 and also baptized in the same parish. But then the trail ends unless I am willing to read page up and page down of handwritten church records in order to find any of their names in records of death or departure to other parishes. But in the genealogy site Geni, I find the parents listed with their birth and death dates. Lotten’s father died at age 36 and her mother at age 32. That explains why the two orphan girls were living with Miss Hellberg.

And then I find her on another geneology site. In 1857, she married and officer,Theodor Hugo Malcolm Abraham Wennerholm, had 6 children, and lived to be 69 years old. But I also learn more about the Westman family. The Westman family was large and spanned many generations of brewers in Stockholm. The family became very wealthy. Maybe Lotten was sent to an exclusive school in order to get the best education and secure a good husband?

Augusta’s Journey continues. Sometimes the research is tedious, but it always leads to new discoveries and new knowledge.

Professor Malmsten’s Patient Journals

The Sick Child by Edvard Munch 1885. The painting is of Munch’s sister who died from TB.

Augusta spent the summer of 1852 at Loddby. She was ill with tuberculosis. Adolf Nordvall (who she would later marry) was studying in Uppsala and they wrote long letters to each other. He worried and inquired about her health. She tried to sound upbeat about it, but didn’t like her local doctor:

Loddby 31 August 18,52

…My health and my strength are improving in big leaps. Doctor Almqvist is often out to see me and each time he becomes more complacent. Yesterday, he likened me to Hebe [the Greek goddess of eternal youth], so you can imagine how I have improved since you last saw me…”

But what she really wanted was to see Adolf again. And the doctor was getting on her nerves:

Loddby, 14 September 1852

…I was just interrupted by the doctor who has been sitting here for 5 hours and talked so much nonsense that I am really tired, as if I had walked several miles. He is unsatisfied with my plan to travel to Stockholm and, to be truthful, I also think it might be unnecessary. One doctor is exactly like another; they don’t have any interest in their patients – or know what they should prescribe – and I am really averse to having to start explaining my misery to yet another [doctor].

Pehr Henrik Malmsten. Efter teckning av F. Hallman 1854.

In the beginning of October, Augusta finally traveled to Stockholm and stayed with her old friends, the family Hjort. She now got a new doctor, and not just any doctor, but a professor and also the royal family’s private doctor: Pehr Henrik Malmsten.

Stockholm, 3 October 1852

…The Professor visits me every day and always has a gracious disposition….

Stockholm, 12 October 1852

…I am completely taken in by Professor Malmsten. He is the most kind, wise, and pleasant doctor one can encounter; always happy and nice, never grumpy or careless like other Sons of Aesculapius [the Roman god of healing and medicine]. What I least admire in him is his terrible stubbornness to coax me into taking fish oil, and he will most likely succeed in the end, even though I fight for the longest time….

Augusta writes that she lies about taking the fish oil and has qualms about lying to the doctor. She tells Adolf in her letter that she only takes one table spoon of fish oil every day instead of two, but “it’s so terrible, so terrible…”

In addition to the terrible fish oil, she is not supposed to “liven up or encourage her numb feelings”. Professor Malmsten thinks that she is too lively. She has to stop laughing, speaking, and debating; sing or play the piano, and to write – and if writing is necessary, then only a few lines. Also, no reading for the time being. She is not supposed to do anything that will liven up her imagination or make her emotional. This, she is supposed to do for 6 months: a life of “muteness and lifelessness”.

Despite the harsh restrictions and the horrible fish oil, Augusta still likes Professor Malmsten, and the feeling is probably mutual. One day when he visits her, he is coming straight from the death bed of a young woman and he shares his feeling with her: “..I saw that my Professor had shed some compassionate tears over the young woman.”

What Professor Malmsten didn’t know was that tuberculosis was caused by a bacterium. It would take another 30 years until Robert Koch discovered the bacterium in 1882. The only thing he could prescribe was fish oil and rest – and later, sea air at the spa town of Varberg, where Augusta died in 1855.

But in the correspondence between Adolf and Augusta’s mother, following Augusta’s death, Professor Malmsten is implicated – did a prescription contribute to Augusta’s death? There are no details, just hints. So could we find out if she received any other medications besides fish oil?

I contacted the Swedish National Archives who confirmed that they had Professor Malmsten’s patient journals for the time period during which he treated Augusta. They also had a considerable amount of his correspondence. Could any of this material shed any light on Augusta’s treatment and cause of death?

Kerstin and Sara reading Pehr Henrik Malmsten’s journals and letters at the Swedish National Archives

Today, Kerstin and I visited the archives in Stockholm. It is a serious place. And very quiet. An archivist delivered the brown paper boxes that contained the journals and letters. With cotton gloves, we untied the strings and opened the boxes.

The patient journals were small note books. When I opened the first one, it was not what I had expected. For each patient, there was a row, and the columns represented the days of the month. In this matrix, the doctor had made an X on the day he had seen the patient.

We knew which days Professor Malmsten had visited Augusta, but her name was not listed on any pages in the journals. Why? Was she a special patient? A private patient, paid for by someone else – like her brother-in-law? Was this book a record for billing? No clues.

Then there were actual patient journals – called Disease History, but they seemed to be sorted by diseases and possibly for the sake of research. There were journals for patients with Chlorosis [anemia], Bright’s Disease [nephritis], and Syphilis. Those were some of the diseases that Professor Malmsten was interested in. I forgot to check if there were any patients with Phthisis (the Greek name for tuberculosis).

And finally there were the letters. Lots of handwritten, old letters from patients but none from Augusta’s family.

So we removed our cotton glows, wrapped up the boxes, tied the strings, and carted the material back to the archivist. The visit had only taken an hour as there was nothing to be found.

What should we do for the rest of the day?

“Let’s check out the Military Archives,” said Kerstin. “Maybe we can find out more about Augusta’s dad!”

And off we went.

The Meissen Souvenir

Ever heard of Meissen porcelain? It is one of the most famous porcelain manufacturer in Europe – since 1710.

Augusta visited Meissen on her journey in 1847. Meissen is not far from the city of Dresden and Augusta stopped there on her return trip from Prague. She didn’t write much about her visit:

“We only stayed in Dresden for one day and visited the large porcelain factory where we bought a few small things.”

A contemporary Swedish writer, Sophie von Knorring, visited the porcelain factory the year before and wrote a little bit more in her letter home:

“In the afternoon, we first went to the Catholic Church, the first one I have ever visited, and then to the porcelain factory. From all the many magnificent objects, I would not be able to bring home many, but the little I chose were so much more beautiful and expensive. You will see, when I return home ….”

Kerstin and I visited the Meissen porcelain factory on our journey last fall. We got to see the various steps in making porcelain dishes and figurines. And then we ended up in the gift shop. What should we buy?

Augusta bought a few small things to take home to Loddby, and Sophie von Knorring bought a few, beautiful and expensive things. But what were the things they bought?

Some of the refrigerator magnets from our journey last fall. Small, inexpensive souvenirs that will brighten your day.

We walked around and looked at some of the things we had seen being made during the factory tour. The prices were astronomical. There was really nothing in the gift shop that we could afford and also want….except for the usual souvenir – the refrigerator magnet.

We each bought one.

What would Augusta have thought of that?

A little painting that would stick onto a cold-cabinet in the kitchen – a cabinet where you could store milk and cheese and other things so you wouldn’t need to go to the cellar. If someone got hungry in the middle of the night, they could just go and grab something. Or you could pour yourself a glass of cold, white wine. What luxury! And why not decorate this cold cabinet with a little piece of art that would remind you of what you had seen on your exotic journey.

Augusta would never have believed it!

Marie Taglioni, the Swedish ballerina

In July of 1847, Augusta and her mother visited the opera in Berlin.

Berlin, 3 July 1847

After we had left Kroll’s garden, we went to the Opera where we saw the best arranged ballet I have ever seen, and where we had the opportunity to admire Madame Taglioni’s enchanting pas.

So what ballet did they see, and who was Madame Taglioni? After a lot of googling, I still can’t find what performance they saw.

But Madame Taglioni was a super star.

Marie Taglioni was Swedish, born in Stockholm in 1804. Her father was a famous dancer and choreographer, and he was also her teacher. Marie and her father left Sweden for Vienna in 1818 and she had her first performance in 1822.

In the early 1800s, ballerinas started to dance on their toes. Marie Taglioni was the first ballerina to dance a full-length ballet en pointe. However, at this time, there were no pointe shoes. There are anecdotes about Marie darning the front of her ballet slippers so that they would provide more support.

Her most famous role was in La Sylphide in 1832. She was soon as famous as her Swedish contemporary singer, Jenny Lind. Colored prints and etchings of her in various roles were in high demand.

How exciting it must have been for Augusta to see Marie Taglioni at the Royal Opera in Berlin in 1847. Marie Taglioni was at the top of career – she retired later that year.

Portrait of Marie Taglioni with lapdog. 1842. Edwin Dalton Smith (U.K., 1800-1866)

Read more about Marie Taglioni’s life and about the history of Romantic Ballet at the blogs and links below. It’s a window to the past:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marie_Taglioni

https://balletclassroom.wordpress.com/2012/03/30/ballerina-biographies-marie-taglioni/

http://marietaglioni.orchesis-portal.org/index.php/imagesnew

https://www.russianpointe.com/blog/2013/04/30/history-pointe-shoes/

My sincerely beloved

Loddby, 31 August 1852

My sincerely beloved:

You, my doubting Thomas, who constantly doubt my love – do you know the price of our last separation? Shall I be careless in telling you that while you were probably sitting all tranquil, smoking a cigar, and letting your thoughts travel – maybe even as far as to the distant times when Socrates and Plato walked the earth – I was curled up in the sofa, thinking of you, only of you, while one betraying tear chased another.

Shall I – against the famous philosopher Schopenhauer’s views – be foolish enough to admit how ineffably dear you are to me – how empty and deserted I feel, both externally and internally, since you left. But no: Men, in general, have enough regard for themselves and each of them admire themselves – like the blessed Narcissus – to their last breath. We women, thus, do the wrong thing by repeating how beloved and indispensable they are to us and I, my dear, shall take care not to continue in that way.

Since I have the exquisite fortune to write to one of those bright stars of knowledge – which you are – and since I have the honor of corresponding with a Philosopher, I should take the opportunity to seek answers to some deep philosophical questions – questions I ask myself in inconsolable moments and of which I still have no answers. I should turn to The Philosopher to at least get an idea about the meaning of life here on earth, the one that I have to admit often seems totally without purpose.

———————-

Augusta met her future husband, the philosopher Adolf Nordvall, at a family wedding in 1850. The following year, she described Adolf as the most intelligent, interesting, and agreeable person one could meet. In 1852, they are in love, but they live far from each other. Augusta lives at home, Loddby, outside Norrköping. Adolf is studying philosophy at the University of Uppsala. They write letters to each other, but the mail is slow and they wonder when they will be able to meet again.

———————–

Uppsala, September 1852

Ineffably beloved Augusta!

If you think that today you will receive but one sensible word from me, then you are deceived. I should, with the same reasons you gave in your last letter, say that I am in an outstanding mood because I have now gotten used to my sorrow and longings; these two companions are now my true friends.

Oh, if only I knew how your life is, then my own would be of little interest to me. But I do not care to guess. I read and reread your letter and I still don’t know how you are now!

…..

But I don’t complain, because even if all is cloudy and dark, you shine like a light and simply the memory of you, cools my burning forehead. I have of course seen you, I have of course beheld the one my soul seeks. I have held you to my heart. I have heard love’s slow, intoxicating whispers. I have felt so deeply, so sincerely, so ineffably happy. Oh! I am satisfied and happy! Everything is so nice and peaceful. Light spirit – you float for a moment over my heart’s stormy ocean and it becomes calm again. The fog lifts with the dawn of hope.

What else do I wish for?

That you don’t forget,

Your grateful Adolf.

———————–

And she didn’t forget him. They managed to meet a few times and then married in 1853.

On the Balcony of Europe

“Of the walks within the city, Brühl’ s Terrace is remarkable. On one side, a high staircase with several landings leads up to the terrace; on the other side, the terrace is divided into several smaller terraces, one under the other. Here is an extremely beautiful view and in one of the large and lush boulevards, you will find an elegant restaurant.” [ Augusta’s Diary, Dresden, 9 July 1847]

Yes, Brühl’s Terrace was famous – it was nicknamed “The Balcony of Europe”. The terrace was built in the 16^th century as part of Dresden’s fortification. It got its name from Count Heinrich von Brühl, a powerful minister who built his palace and gardens on the terrace. The original Brühl’s Terrace was destroyed in the 1945 bombing of Dresden; the terrace of today was built to resemble the original terrace.

When the steamship traffic on the Elbe took off in the 1840s, the ships moored just below the terrace. You could embark on a beautiful river journey that would take you almost all the way to Prague, that is, it would take you from Dresden to Obříství and from there, you would have to travel the rest of the way by horse and carriage. Even today, the Elbe steamships dock below the terrace.

Sophia von Knorring, a Swedish writer who in 1846 traveled down the Elbe onboard the steamship Bohemia, described Brühl’s Terrace in rather poetic terms:

“At 5 am, we were riding in a good carriage from Hotel de Saxe on our way down to Bohemia. We were saying our farewell to the stately, lovely Dresden, where Brühl’ s Terrace stretched us a hand in a friendly farewell, because under its vertical walls, we boarded the steamship and spent a good half hour swaying on the Elbe before all the passengers had arrived, had stowed themselves and their things, and the machine had started; but at the stroke of 6, we departed …”

Another contemporary Swedish writer, Wilhelm von Braun, left Dresden in 1844 and made the following observations:

Following Hotel Stadt Berlin’s porter who carried my bag, I hurried to the nearby Elbe Bridge at the foot of Brühl’ s Terrace, and to the steamship Bohemia, with which I intended to take a trip to Tetschen – as far as you can get by boat – and then continue the journey over Töplitz to Prague, the Austrian Empire’s Moscow.

When the bell tolled six, the machine started and the steamship Bohemia, flat as a bread trough in the face of Elbe’s shallow water, slowly moved away from this magnificent terrace, formerly a threatening fortress wall, now a peaceful walkway from the height of which I have so often enjoyed the most beautiful view of the Elbe and its densely populated mountainous shores and of its always crowded, 1400 ft long and with 17 arches built bridge [Augustus Bridge], where they walk, not as on Norrbro in Stockholm – pushing, squeezing, and butting into each other – but sensibly and always stepping to the right when wanting to pass each other on the bridge.

But what about the elegant restaurant Augusta mentioned? Nobody described any restaurants.

Handbook for Travellers on The Continent, published 1858 in London, describes the cafés on Brühl’s Terrace as follows:

Cafés: Those on the Brühl’ s Terrace, especially the Café Reale and the Belvedere, are much frequented in summer. The Café Reale has two wings; that nearest the bridge is for ladies, in which smoking is prohibited; on the opposite side it is allowed. Smoking is allowed on the ground floor at the Belvedere, but not in the supper room upstairs. Very fair instrumental music may often be heard at the Belvedere in summer evenings.

Belvedere was built in 1842, so it was quite new when Augusta visited. It was a beautiful building with large windows. Besides being used as a restaurant, it also housed two ballrooms, a drawing room, and a gallery. It was destroyed in the 1945 bombing of Dresden. Currently, there are plans to reconstruct it.

Café Reale was built in 1843. Its architecture was inspired by Greek temples. It had several salons and it also allowed guests to dine outside. It became very popular due to its Italian pastry chef, Torniamenti. In 1886, the café was demolished to make space for the new Academy of Arts.

Who knows what restaurant Augusta visited? If Augusta had lived today, she probably would have taken a picture of her dish; maybe she had an ice cream – a glace, with a wafer – and shared it on Instagram with hashtags #CafeBelvedere or #CafeReale.

Kerstin and I visited Brühl’s Terrace and looked out over the Elbe and the moored steamboats. We walked down the wide staircase where a brass orchestra was entertaining flâneurs and tourists alike.

As there were no restaurants on the terrace, we went to Vapiano and raised our glasses of rose wine in honor of Kazuo Ishiguro, who had just received the Nobel Prize in literature.

A Tale of the Queen of Navarre

Diaries are different. They are kept to document memories in real time. They are not like letters. Letters are written to let someone know what you have experienced. Diaries are for yourself; letters are for other people.

When I read Augusta’s diary, I am sometimes surprised at what she doesn’t describe or discuss. On 10 March 1851, she went to the Royal Theatre (housed in Gustaf IIIs Opera House) in Stockholm and saw a play. She didn’t write anything about the performance; of more importance was the fact that a count escorted her home.

Stockholm, March 1851

“Since Saturday evening I am here in Stockholm, our Swedish Paris, the dance-hungry’s Eldorado.”

“Monday morning I went to visit Ribbingens and Bohemans. They were overly astonished to see me so unexpectedly in the Capital City, and in the evening we saw the great opera, “A Tale of the Queen of Navarre.” There I met Count Figge Schwerin, who escorted me home and was quite himself, much disposed to let his lady alone carry on the conversation and himself look like he was sleepwalking.”

So what could I find out about the performance she saw?

It took me less than an hour to get some tidbits about it!

I first searched the Swedish Royal Opera’s archives. They have all performances listed back to 1773. All I had to do was to search on the date Augusta visited the theatre. There it was: “A tale of the Queen of Navarre – A Comedy in 5 Acts”. I found that the opening night was the 3 March and they gave 7 performances. The poster for the play showed the actors and the prices for the tickets.

Augusta was 23 years old. If I were to pick one actor that she could have written about, who would it be? The roles in this play included:

Males: King of Spain, King of France, Spanish Minister, French Count, and 3 Not-So-Important Guys.

Females: Sister of the King of Spain, Sister of the King of France, and the Fiancé of the King of Spain.

I am sure all the kings and the count would have been fascinating, but the fiancé of the King – Isabelle of Portugal – would probably be the one a 23-year-old would have found most interesting.

So I picked her.

The role was played by a Mademoiselle Jacobson. She was the only young, unmarried woman in the play. Who was she?

Elise Jacobson has a whole Wikipedia page under the name Elise Hwasser. In short, she was 20 years old when she played the role of the royal fiancé. She was not yet famous but she was part of the circles of the Swedish Crown Prince Charles (later King Charles XV), and rumored to have had a short affair with him.

Another friend of the Crown Prince was Daniel Hwasser. They had become friends as students in Uppsala. Daniel was a great tenor. Their friendship resulted in Daniel getting a position as director of the Royal Theatre. It is rumored that the Crown Prince advised Elise to marry Daniel. Regardless, Daniel and Elise married in 1858. She became one of the leading female actresses in Stockholm and had a life-long career. She and her husband spent their summers at Ulriksdal where they socialized with the Royal Family.

Elise Hwasser (1831-1894)

Of course, when Augusta saw the play, Elise was not yet famous and maybe she was not interesting enough to write about. On the other hand, Count Figge Schwerin, who accompanied Augusta home from the theater, might have been very interesting. Unfortunately, we still don’t know who he was. One possible candidate is Fredrik Bogislaus (Fritz) von Schwerin, who was born 18 July 1825 in Norrköping and, according to the census records, was residing in Stockholm.

Happy New Year

A year ago, Kerstin and I had just built our website and made a project plan for Augusta’s Journey. We had no idea what a cool year we were going to have!

We started by independently doing research and making 1850s outfits. In March we made short trips to visit Augusta’s surroundings and long overdue trips to visit relatives. With summer dresses and bonnets finished, we embarked on our first leg of Augusta’s Journey: a 4-day cruise on Göta Canal.

It was the most memorable journey!

New friends and followers invited us to other events like the Great Crinoline Day in Linköping and a book release party in Stockholm. But as we were planning our German trip in October, we couldn’t just use our summer dresses. We needed to start making wool dresses and silk ball gowns. And we needed to figure out how we were going to travel around in Germany. That took the best part of August and September.

In October, we finally took off for Germany – to follow Augusta’s travels with her diary as a guide book. And that was amazing! To go to the same museums, cathedrals, and national parks and discover what she described in 1847. During this trip we made so many new friends, some of which are include in our Happy New Year card.

Once home again, and with the days getting shorter, we decided to visit other outdoor museums and parks that Augusta wrote about. We spent a memorable evening at Torekällberget in Södertälje, with a single kerosene lamp lighting the room. At Skansen’s Christmas Market, we learned about the Christmas food that was served in the 1800s.

And at our walk around Djurgården, a large park in Stockholm where Augusta also strolled with friends, we ran into Maj Wechselmann, a Swedish film maker who wondered if there were more people like us – that is, others who make their own historical clothes. She is filming a documentary in Augusta’s home town of Norrköping on New Year’s Eve and needed extras with outfits suitable for New Year’s Eve, 1899. Augusta’s daughter Gerda would have been 45 years old at that time, and our outfits for 1850 would be all wrong. So Kerstin jumped on the opportunity to make new outfits for herself and her husband Leif. Tonight, they and some of our Facebook friends will celebrate the New Year in a film production. A fitting finale of Augusta’s Journey 2017.

What are our plans for 2018? Both of us are starting to write about our journey. We hope to publish one book each. And while working on that, we will continue blogging about our discoveries and posting pictures

Thank you for following our journey.

We wish you all a Happy New Year!

I can see Erik and Augusta in the rowboat

“Rowed over to Loddby and Augusta came back with me to Krusenhof. In the evening, Tante and August came over.” 31 May, 1848

Erik Hjort was 16 years old when he wrote those lines in his diary. Augusta lived at Loddby and Erik and his siblings, Aurore, Nanna, and Axel lived across a small bay at Krusenhof.

I can see Erik and Augusta in the rowboat in the middle of the bay. Erik is by the oars; Augusta is sitting on the stern thwart. The day is calm and you can hear their voices and laughter even though they are still far away. What did they talk about?

Erik’s diaries give glimpses of the daily life at Krusenhof – going to town (Norrköping), to church (Kvillinge Parish), out riding, rowing, walking, driving the carriage, and visiting friends.

Would he and Augusta have written diary entries on the same days and mentioned each other?

Two weeks ago I got copies of 7 pages from his diaries during 1848-1849. Unfortunately, Augusta summarized 1848 in one sentence:

“I spent the winter and summer of 1848 at home in deepest solitude, sometimes interrupted by a visit from and to Krusenhof.”

In January 1849, Augusta went to Stockholm with her relative, Hanna Schubert, and didn’t return until July. They spent the whole winter and spring enjoying the social life in Stockholm – summarized in just one short paragraph. I am sure she wrote lots of letters to friends instead. The rest of the year also just got a short paragraph – she was mostly living at Loddby, with the exception of a few weeks visiting the Schubert family at Fullerstad and a few days visiting Hjorts at Krusenhof.

But what did Erik write? He visited Augusta almost every other day, and Augusta also visited Krusenhof and spent a lot of time with Erik’s older sister Nanna. In the diary, he sometimes uses nicknames for Augusta: Gufsa and Guss. Here is a sample of his writings from July 1848:

7^th. Gufsa came over with Nanna. In the evening, we went to a wedding in Björnwiken and I accompanied Augusta home to Loddby and then got home at 2 in the morning.

11^th. Dressed in Nanna’s clothes, rode to Loddby where Augusta was home alone until the evening when the others came home.

27^th. In the morning, was in town for an errand. In the afternoon, with Nanna to Loddby for Guss’ birthday.

Now, did any other of their friends or family members write diaries as well? And if so, how would one find them?

Passports, borders, and norms in 1847 and 2017

Before our travel through Europe, I ordered a new passport as the one I had would expire within 6 months’ time. But once inside EU, would I actually need a passport on our journey? Would one need to show any photo ID on any train or ferry?

We started our journey in Stockholm and no ID was needed. Then we took the ferry from Trelleborg (Sweden) to Travemünde (Germany) – no passport or ID was requested to pass this border. Now we were in Germany and travelling by train, and no ID was ever requested – just valid train tickets which Kerstin had on her iPhone. Augusta had spent some time with customs in Prague, but we, on our train from Bad Schandau (Germany) to Prague (Czech Republic), only had to show the electronic tickets and got reprimanded that our suitcases were in the way.

The German-Austrian border control in 1847

12 July 1847

“On July 12th we went with the steamship Germania from Schandau and arrived at Obristwy at 12 o’clock in the morning. We immediately took a diligence and arrived at Prague’s customs port at 3 o’clock in the morning. There, for another hour, we had the pleasure of staying while gentlemen police officers busied themselves with our suitcases and passports. Completely bored and exhausted, we then traveled around in search of a hotel where we could get some rest. The first one that we encountered was Hotel de Saxe, where we at 6 o’clock in the morning happily took in.”

Augusta’s description of the border control between the German Confederation and the Austrian Empire is similar to that of another Swedish woman, Sophie von Knorring, who a year earlier had made the same trip. Sophie’s husband was a baron and, according to her letters home, she took advantage of her noble name when crossing the border.

“Finally, at half past 7 in the evening, we arrived in Prague where our first entrance was unpleasant. For half an hour we had to wait in the square for the passport control, and to our chagrin, being scolded.” … “Eventually, a police or whatever they are called, open the door to our carriage and demanded that we step down and go into the customs office to have our luggage inspected. This didn’t take long. It was clever of us to have labelled all our belongings with Baron v. K or our coat of arms, because it protected us from the unpleasant inspections and immediately showed that we were not merchants. So far, no one has opened our trunks or night bags, and we have not given anyone any bribes. They simply say: Yes, Your Lordship certainly has nothing besides what is needed. Then, with a polite nod, they continue with the next travelers and tear up all their Gepäck.”

Traveling from Germany to Sweden via Denmark in 2017

Our return trip by train from Prague to Hamburg was also uneventful – only the one-time scanning of our tickets.

From Hamburg, we had first-class tickets all the way to Stockholm. Kerstin and I found our reserved seats and made our selves comfortable. We still had a few minutes before the train would leave when a couple approached us. The woman scrutinized our attire – our wide, long skirts and our shawls – and in a rude way demanded that we leave, as she and her companion had tickets for the same seats. So far on our trip, we had only met friendly people so we were both taken back by her hostility. We explained that we had indeed tickets to the seats where we were sitting, and questioning what tickets she had. She was adamant that we were sitting in the wrong car. Now another couple got involved and started to compare tickets as well. In the end, she was convinced that she in fact was in the wrong car. We had first-class tickets and she did not. Did we not fit the norm of first-class ticket holders? She was not very apologetic when she left the car.

We were very few people in the first-class compartment. Behind us were three young men in their late 20s. They didn’t look like business travelers, nor like guys going on vacation, and for guys travelling together, they didn’t speak much. One was sleeping with his head on the table in front of him and the other two were shifting seats. Why are we, in this day and age, easily suspicious when others don’t behave according to some norms? Did they behave differently? Not really. Maybe we are just worried about young men in a group?

We had not traveled too far when suddenly the door behind us opened and three other men entered. Everyone in the train car looked up. The first man had a short sleeve, untucked cotton shirt – a shirt suitable for a beach vacation – unusual clothing for travelling in October. He was probably in his early 50s, with thinning hair and glasses. He reminded me of actor Paul Giammati in the movie Sideways. Behind him were two younger, muscular men in black jackets and jeans. They did not smile. Now, why was I getting nervous about them? Yong men in a group, not fitting some norm of travelers?

The three men who had just entered the car surrounded the first three men and started asking questions: Where were they coming from and where were they going? Which luggage belonged to them? I didn’t hear the answers, but the new men had decided that the first men were OK.

Then the short-sleeve man came over to us. He flipped an ID badge like some serious cop in an American movie and said something in German. Was the ID badge real? Or did it say, – I am just an actor? I decided not to joke.

Where are you coming from? he asked.

Kerstin and I looked at each other – dressed in our 1840s outfits, we really did not fit any norms. We were coming from 1847 and visiting 2017. But to others, we could have belonged to some religious sect, or be refugees from a rural area where women our age would also wear wide, full-length skirts and bonnets.

Kerstin answered politely that we had traveled around Germany, and showed them all our luggage.

Everyone in the car had passed the test.

So far, we had not showed any photo ID going through any border or boarding any train or ferry. That was about to change. We were entering Denmark from Germany.

The train pulled onto the ferry between Puttgarden (Germany) and Rødby (Denmark) for a short, but stormy crossing. All passengers had to leave the train and take the steps up to the ferry restaurant. After a quick beer it was time to return to the train.

Before the first stop in Denmark, we had a visit from the Danish passport control. The first ID check on our whole trip! A Swedish man pulled out his driver’s license and was reprimanded that it was not considered a valid travel document, but they let him pass anyway.

In Copenhagen, we changed to a Swedish train and were told to have our passports ready before the first stop in Sweden. Now the Swedish police came on board – two young friendly officers, who were dressed in uniform and didn’t flash any ID badges. They wanted to see our passports but were also interested in our destinations. The three men behind us showed the officer their passports and told her that they were heading to Norway via Stockholm. Have a nice journey, said the nice-looking police woman.

My new passport had only been requested on arrival in Denmark, and in Sweden when arriving from Denmark. The reason for border police and customs inspections have certainly changed and will continue to change. And some day, the passport – a little ID booklet where border police can stamp your arrival and departure – will seem like a very inefficient way of keeping track of travelers.