ou in my heart, for then I should be no longer worthy
of your friendship. It was _passion_ both on _your_ part and on _mine_;
but mistrust was rife within me, for people had come between us,
unworthy both of _you_ and of _me_.

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.