Fall Book Week: Mária Dominika Vanková on Selma Lagerlöf

It is impossible not to fall in love with the writing style of Selma Lagerlöf (1858–1940), the first woman to win the Nobel Prize in Literature (1909) and the first to become a member of the Swedish Academy (1914). Despite being a woman born into a 19th-century rural Swedish middle-class family, by the age of 80 she had written sixteen novels and seven volumes of short stories. In addition, she was the most translated Swedish author in history at her time. Her recent biographer, Vivi Edström, described her writing accurately: “She knew how to tell a story without ruining it.”

Among her many outstanding works, the trilogy The Ring of the Löwenskölds, which includes The General’s Ring (1925), Charlotte Löwensköld (1925), and Anna Svärd (1928), is relatively unknown today among the world’s ever-expanding library. This is unfortunate, as reading the trilogy is a deeply spiritual and thought-provoking experience, which stays powerfully with the reader and invites that inner transformation necessary in every age and time. For those who enjoy the genre of realism, with naturally developed spiritual depth and innovative Christian ideas inter-threaded with supernatural elements and traditional folk tales, The Ring of the Löwenskölds has a lot to offer.

The story spans the century between 1741 and 1850.  It opens with the character Bengt Löwensköld, who goes to war as a poor peasant but returns as an accomplished general of King Charles XII’s army. Not only does he earn a renowned name and large fortune for the Löwensköld family, but he also develops a profound friendship and admiration for the king, who becomes the center of his life. This is why he wishes to be buried with a ring that the king has gifted him—a wish that is ultimately fulfilled, and of which Lagerlöf writes:

Even in that, there was no vanity. He didn’t want to brag about his royal ring when he appeared in front of God-Father and archangels, but probably he hoped that the ring would be the identification mark once he stepped into the lobby where King Karol XXII will sit with all his warriors around him; so even after death, he will be close to the person he had served and adored his entire life.

Because of the greed of a couple from the local village, the general’s ring is stolen from his tomb. This act immediately sets off a dramatic series of events and awakens an anger in the spirit of the general, who has lost his peace. Although the Löwensköld family is in search of the ring and the peace it represents, they put greater emphasis on wealth and prestige over peace, truth, justice, and lasting values. The story is told primarily from the perspectives of the Löwensköld women, who at the time didn’t hold much power in Sweden. Yet it is the women who inherit the spiritual, intellectual, and character gifts to save the family from a tragic end. But until the conclusion of the novel, it is not clear if or how they will succeed.

Lagerlöf introduces many inspiring and well-written female characters into her tale. Charlotte, a distant Löwensköld who was abandoned and then adopted by a Lutheran provost and his wife, is praised for characteristics not typical of women of her time: “After all, Charlotte was an energetic, smart, and talkative girl and the moment she stepped into the Lutheran provostship, the fresh air blew through the entire house. The provost husband and wife were old and walked around like shadows, but she poured new life into their veins.” Anna Svärd, who is to become a member of the Löwensköld family (despite their disapproval), comes from a simple rural area of Dalarna and doesn’t know how to read or write, but has other capabilities: “[T]here was Anna Svärd, who had both desire and talent and the uncle was prouder of her than his own children.”

To me, however, the most impressive and lasting is the character development of Karl-Arthur, the son the well-regarded and successful baroness from the Löwensköld family, Beata. Karl-Arthur, we are told, “had gentle characteristics, big dark eyes, and in every way, he was a right child of his mother.” Everything changes once he develops a friendship with a strict pietist, Pont Friman, at Uppsala University. Karl-Arthur drastically alters his perspective on life and decides to give up everything for God to become a Lutheran minister.

I have never read about such a flawed yet lovable character who has huge spiritual aspirations of changing the world for the better. Karl-Arthur’s sermons captivate many parishioners, and he has beauty and charisma. Yet his aspirations are empty because they lack genuine love and selfless friendship. Consequently, he almost destroys his family by inflicting his fundamentalist beliefs and cold-hearted decisions, to which his father reacts: “You believe in merciless God.” His faith is also selfish; he looks down on everybody who does not live as “truthfully” as he does. For example, he harshly judges the wealthy local mill owner, Mr. Schagerström, when in reality the humble Schagerström survived a challenging upbringing and now uses his money to aid people in need.

On his mission to save the world, Karl-Arthur continuously damages more and more people’s lives, including those of the 10 children he naively adopts. There is an irony in how this character, who comes from a very loving and privileged family, idealizes poverty as “a gift from God” instead of using his power, money, and influence to assist people in need, showing he does not understand at all what living in true poverty entails. When he finally does experience it and struggles to make ends meet, it leads him to madness. He becomes a homeless priest, spreading hateful and bitter sermons at local fairs and being recognized “only by his voice and the way he lifts up his eyelids.” “His anger is primarily aimed against poverty, which he once couldn’t praise enough,” observes another character, the baroness Amalia Löwensköld, as she watches Karl-Arthur “showing the crowd his patched dress and cursing those who had caused his poverty.”

Yet Karl-Arthur is still depicted as somebody who can be saved if he accepts an invitation to transform himself and has a friend in life who is not willing to give up on him and teach him to warm up his cold heart: “He loved Christ, and he proved that he can sacrifice everything in this world to follow him. But he had never had true love towards people. And the one who wants to be a follower of Christ without loving people will certainly make himself and others unhappy.”

Karl-Arthur embodies the struggles of hypocrisy, shallowness, and fierce judgment that Christians across the world battle to this day. He not only only represents the pitfalls of misinterpreting Jesus’s teachings, but he reminds us that a piece of him lives in each and every one of us. We all, at times, believe that only we are right; we look down on people’s way of life without wanting to listen to them and understand why they live the way they do; we judge others unkindly while failing to recognize our own shortcomings; we want to change the world, and yet we are blind to the needs of our family and friends. As Charlotte sets an example of loyalty in friendship and love, Karl-Arthur holds up a mirror to every reader.

Lagerlöf’s trilogy is a breath of fresh air. It allows the reader to peek into 18th- and 19th- century Sweden, the country’s Lutheran tradition and its folklore. Though there are some valid criticisms of the novels—they can be hard to follow at times, and drift a bit too far into all the characters’ backstories, which can become confusing—the story of the Löwensköld family leaves a lasting impression. It invites us to strive for dedication and loyalty in the quest for peace, friendship, and helping others even if we have to make sacrifices. ♦

Mária Dominika Vanková is a writer from Slovakia. She has worked with peace-building and poverty alleviation initiatives in Southeast Asia, and is currently compiling archives of Fr. Richard McBrien’s syndicated columns on theology. She is the founder of the Club of Friendship Slovakia–Cambodia and a coordinator of humanitarian aid to Cambodia.