home
Psychology of stress
A story about home and family. The Story of Selma Lagerlöf

A story about home and family. The Story of Selma Lagerlöf

15.03.2019

Current page: 1 (total book has 10 pages)

Selma Lagerlöf
Legends about Christ

1858–1940

old childhood hat
(About Selma Lagerlöf)

“Most people throw off their childhood as old hat, and forget it, like a phone number that has become unnecessary. Real man only he who, having become an adult, remains a child. These words belong to the famous German children's writer Erich Köstner.

Fortunately, there are not so few people in the world who forgot or did not want to throw off the old hat of childhood in their youth. Some of them are storytellers.

A fairy tale is the first book that comes to a child. First, parents, grandparents read fairy tales to kids, then the children grow up and begin to read them themselves. How important it is that good fairy tales fall into the hands of adults - for they are the ones who buy and bring books into the house.

Swedish parents are very lucky in this regard. Folk tales, legends and fairy tales have always been loved in Sweden. It is on the basis folklore works, works of oral folk art, a literary, or author's, fairy tale was created in the North.

We know the names of Selma Lagerlöf, Zacharius Topelius, Astrid Lindgren and Tove Jansson. These storytellers wrote in Swedish. They gave us books about Nils Holgersson, who went on a trip to home country along with the gander Martin (or Morten), the tales of Sampo-Loparyonka and the tailor Tikka, who sewed Sweden to Finland, the funny stories about the Kid and Carlson, Pippi Longstocking and, of course, the magical saga about the Moomin family.

Perhaps the least known in our country is the work of Selma Lagerlöf. She is considered primarily an "adult" writer. However, this is not at all the case.

Selma Lagerlof became famous all over the world (and in our country) primarily as children's writer with his book The Amazing Journey of Niels Holgersson with wild geese in Sweden" (1906-1907), which used fairy tales, legends and legends of the provinces of Sweden. But did you know that this book is not just a fairy tale, but a novel, and besides, a real geography textbook for Swedish schools?

This textbook for a long time were not accepted in schools, teachers and strict parents believed that their children did not need to enjoy learning at all. However, the writer Lagerlöf had a different opinion, because she was brought up in a completely unusual for late XIX century family, where older generation did not doubt the need to develop imagination in children and tell them magical stories.

Selma Louise Ottilie Lagerlöf (1858–1940) was born in a friendly and happy family retired military and teacher, in the Morbakka estate, located in the south of Sweden, in the province of Värmland.

Life in Morbach fabulous atmosphere the old Swedish manor left an indelible mark on the soul of Selma. “I would never have become a writer,” she later admitted, “if I had not grown up in Morbakk, with her ancient customs, with its wealth of legends, with its kind, friendly people.

Selma's childhood was very difficult, although she was surrounded loving parents, four brothers and sisters. The fact is that at the age of three she suffered infantile paralysis and lost the ability to move. Only in 1867, at a special institute in Stockholm, the girl was able to be cured, and she began to walk independently, but remained lame for the rest of her life.

However, Selma was not discouraged, she was never bored. Her father, aunt and grandmother told the girl the legends and tales of her native Värmland, and the future storyteller herself loved to read, and from the age of seven she already dreamed of becoming a writer. Even at such a young age, Selma wrote a lot - poetry, fairy tales, plays, but, of course, they were far from perfect.

The home education received by the writer was beyond praise, but it had to be continued. And in 1882, Selma entered the Royal Higher Teachers' School. In the same year, her father dies, and the beloved Morbacca is sold for debt. It was a double blow of fate, but the writer was able to survive, graduate from college and became a teacher at a girls' school in the city of Landskrona in southern Sweden. Now in the city, a memorial plaque hangs on one of the small houses, in memory of the fact that it was there that Lagerlöf wrote her first novel, thanks to which she became a writer, the Saga of Joste Berling (1891). For this book, Lagerlöf received the Idun magazine award and was able to leave school, devoting herself entirely to writing.

Already in her first novel, the writer used the legends of her native South Sweden, known to her since childhood, and subsequently invariably returned to the folklore of Scandinavia. fabulous, magical motives found in many of her works. This is a collection of short stories about the Middle Ages "Queen Kungahella" (1899), and a two-volume collection "Trolls and People" (1915-1921), and the story "The Tale of a Village Manor", and, of course, "Nils Holgersson's Amazing Journey with Wild Geese in Sweden" (1906-1907).

Selma Lagerlöf believed in fairy tales and legends and could retell and invent them with talent for children. She has become a legendary figure in her own right. So, they say that the idea of \u200b\u200b“The Amazing Journey of Nils ...” was suggested to the writer by ... a dwarf who met her one evening in her native Morbakk, which the writer was able to redeem, already being famous, in 1904.

In 1909 year Lagerlöf was awarded the Nobel Prize. At the award ceremony, the writer remained true to herself and instead of a serious and reasonable acceptance speech told ... about a vision in which her father appeared to her "on a veranda in a garden full of light and flowers, over which birds circled." Selma told her father in a vision about the award and her fear of not living up to the great honor given to her by the Nobel Committee. In response, the father, after a little thought, banged his fist on the arm of the chair and menacingly replied to his daughter: “I am not going to rack my brains over problems that cannot be solved either in heaven or on earth. I'm too happy for what they gave you Nobel Prize and doesn't intend to worry about anything else."

After the award, Lagerlöf continued to write about Värmland, its legends and, of course, family values.

She loved children very much and was an excellent storyteller. Even the most boring things, such as the Swedish geography course, she managed to tell in a fun and interesting way.

Before creating "The Amazing Journey of Niels ...", Selma Lagerlöf traveled almost the whole country, carefully studied folk customs and rituals, tales and traditions of the North. The book is based on scientific information, but they are clothed in the form of an adventure novel. Nils Holgersson looks like Thumb-Boy, but he doesn't fairy tale hero but a naughty child who brings a lot of grief to his parents. Traveling with a flock of goose allows Niels not only to see a lot and learn a lot, to know the world of animals, but also to re-educate. From an evil and lazy tomboy, he turns into a kind and sympathetic boy.

It was such an obedient and sweet child that Selma Lagerlöf herself was in her childhood. Her parents did not just love their children, they tried to raise them properly, instill in them faith in God and the desire to live according to the commandments of God.

Selma Lagerlöf was a deeply religious person, and therefore Christian legends occupy a special place in her work. These are, first of all, "Legends about Christ" (1904), "Legends" (1904) and "The Tale of a Fairy Tale and Other Tales" (1908).

The writer believed that, listening to fairy tales and stories of adults in childhood, the child is formed as a person, receives the basic ideas of morality and morality.

The image of Jesus of Nazareth is clearly or invisibly present in all the works of the writer. Love for Christ as the meaning of life is the main motive in such works as the short story "Astrid" from the cycle "Queens of Kungahella", in the book "Miracles of the Antichrist" and the two-volume novel "Jerusalem". in Jesus Christe Lagerlöf saw central image human history its meaning and purpose.

"Legends of Christ" is one of the major works Selma Lagerlöf, written in a simple and accessible manner for children.

This cycle is important for understanding not only the entire work of Lagerlöf, but also the personality of the writer herself, for it is in the “Legends of Christ” that the image of one of Lagerlöf’s most beloved people appears - her grandmother.

Little Selma, deprived of the opportunity to run and play with her peers, has always been a keen listener of her grandmother's stories. The world of her childhood, despite the physical pain, was filled with light and love. It was a world of fairy tales and magic, in which people loved each other and tried to help their neighbor in trouble, lend a helping hand to the afflicted and feed the hungry.

Selma Lagerlöf believed that one must believe in God, honor and love Him, know His teachings about how one should treat the world and people in order to live holy, achieve salvation and eternal bliss. She was convinced that any Christian should know the Divine teaching about the origin of the world and man and about what will happen to us after death. If a person does not know any of this, the writer believed, then his life loses all meaning. He who does not know how to live and why it is necessary to live this way and not otherwise, is like one who walks in darkness.

Expound the doctrine Christian faith and it is very difficult to make it understandable to a child, but Selma Lagerlöf found her way - she created a cycle of legends, each of which is read as an independent fascinating story.

Lagerlöf turns to the gospel events of the earthly life of Jesus Christ in turn: this is the adoration of the Magi (“The Well of the Wise Men”), and the beating of babies (“The Baby of Bethlehem”), and the flight to Egypt, and the childhood of Jesus in Nazareth, and His coming to the temple, and His suffering on the cross.

Each event in the life of Jesus Christ is presented not in a strict and dry canonical form, but in a manner that is fascinating for the child, often from a completely unexpected point of view. So, the suffering of Jesus on the Cross is told by a small bird from the legend "Red-necked", and the reader learns about the story of the flight of the Holy Family to Egypt from ... an old date palm.

Often a legend grows out of just one detail or mention that is in Holy Scripture, nevertheless, the writer invariably follows the spirit of the gospel descriptions of the earthly life of Jesus.

Since not everyone now knows the story of the life and ascension of Jesus Christ, we consider it necessary to tell here briefly about His earthly days, since the preliminary information will help you better understand the legends of Selma Lagerlöf.

Jesus Christ is the Son of God and God who lived on earth as a man for 33 years. Until the age of 30, He lived in the poor Galilean city of Nazareth with His Mother Mary and Her betrothed Joseph, sharing his household chores and craft - Joseph was a carpenter. Then He appeared on the Jordan River, where he received baptism from His Forerunner (predecessor) - John. After baptism, Christ spent forty days in the wilderness in fasting and prayer; here He withstood the temptation of the devil, and from here He appeared into the world with a sermon on how we should live and what to do in order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. sermon and all earthly life Jesus Christ was accompanied by numerous miracles. Despite this, the Jews, convicted by Him in their lawless life, hated Him, and hatred increased to the point that after many torments, Jesus Christ was crucified on the cross between two thieves. Having died on the cross and buried by the secret disciples, He, by the power of His omnipotence, resurrected on the third day after His death, and after the Resurrection for forty days repeatedly appeared to believers, revealing to them the mysteries of the Kingdom of God. On the fortieth day, in the presence of His disciples, He ascended into heaven, and on the fiftieth day He sent them the Holy Spirit, enlightening and sanctifying every person. From the side of the Savior of suffering and death on the cross were a voluntary sacrifice for the sins of the people.

The Lord wanted a person to change, learn to live in love and humility, and therefore the writer ends her cycle of legends about Him with the story “Candle from the Holy Sepulcher” - about the transfiguration violent temper crusader knight. He is reborn, becomes a completely different person, kind and meek, ready to sacrifice for the good of another person.

Selma Lagerlöf, who never forgot the old childhood hat, always believed that a person can change for the better, like the knight Raniero di Ranieri or like Nils Holgersson.

Try to change yourself by reading this book!

Natalia Budur

holy night

When I was five years old, I experienced a very great sorrow. Perhaps it was the biggest grief that ever fell to my lot. My grandmother died. Until her death, she spent all her time sitting in her room on the corner sofa and telling us fairy tales. I remember very little about my grandmother. I remember that she had beautiful, snow-white hair, that she walked completely hunched over and constantly knitted a stocking. Then I still remember that, when telling some fairy tale, she used to put her hand on my head and say: “And all this is true ... The same truth as the fact that we are now seeing each other.

I also remember that she knew how to sing glorious songs, only she sang them infrequently. One of those songs was about a knight and a mermaid. This song had a refrain:

And across the sea, and across the sea, a cold wind blew!

I remember another prayer and a psalm that she taught me. Of all the tales that she told me, I have a faint, vague memory, and only one of them I remember so clearly that I can retell it. This little legend about Christmas.

That, it seems, is all that I remember about my grandmother, except, however, for that feeling of terrible grief that I experienced when she died. This is what I remember best. It was like yesterday - that's how I remember the morning when the sofa in the corner suddenly turned out to be empty and I couldn't even imagine how that day would go. This I remember quite clearly and will never forget.

I remember how they brought us to say goodbye to my grandmother and told us to kiss her hand, and how we were afraid to kiss the deceased, and how someone said that we should thank her in last time for all the joy she brought us.

I remember how all our fairy tales and songs were put together with my grandmother in a long black coffin and taken away ... taken away forever. It seemed to me that something disappeared from our lives then. As if the door to a wonderful magical land, which we used to roam freely, closed forever. And no one then managed to open this door.

We children gradually learned to play with dolls and toys and live like all other children live. And from the outside one could think that we stopped yearning for our grandmother, stopped remembering her.

But even now, although forty years have passed since then, a small legend about the Nativity of Christ, which my grandmother told me more than once, clearly rises in my memory. And I want to tell it myself, I want to include it in the collection “Legends about Christ”.

* * *

It was on Christmas Eve. Everyone, except for my grandmother and me, went to church. Only the two of us, it seems, remained in the whole house. One of us was too old to ride and the other was too young. And we were both sad that we would not have to hear the Christmas carol and admire the glow of the Christmas candles in the church. And grandmother, in order to disperse our sadness, began to tell.

- One day dark night she began, “a man went out to get fire. He went from one house to another, knocking and saying: “Help me, good people! My wife gave birth to a baby ... We must make a fire and warm her and the baby.

But it was at night, everyone was already asleep, and no one responded to his request.

And so the man who needed to make fire went up to the sheep and saw that at the feet of the shepherd lay three big dogs. At his approach, all three dogs woke up, opened their wide mouths, as if about to bark, but did not make the slightest sound. The man saw how the fur on the backs of the dogs stood on end, how their white teeth flashed, and how they all rushed at him. He felt that one dog grabbed him by the leg, another by the arm, and the third bit into his throat. But the jaws and teeth did not obey the dogs, and they, without causing him the slightest harm, stepped aside.

Then the man went to the fire, but the sheep pressed so tightly against each other that it was impossible to get between them. Then he walked along their backs to the fire, and not one of them woke up or even moved.

Until now, my grandmother had been talking without stopping, and I had not interrupted her, but then a question involuntarily escaped me:

- Why, grandmother, did the sheep continue to lie quietly? Why are they so shy? I ask.

"Wait a little, you'll find out!" - says the grandmother and continues her story.

- When this man almost reached the fire, the shepherd raised his head. He was a gloomy old man who treated everyone suspiciously and unfriendly. When he saw a stranger approaching him, he grabbed a long, pointed staff, with which he always went after the flock, and threw it at him. The staff with a whistle flew straight towards the stranger, but, not reaching him, deviated and, flying past, fell with a clang into the field.

Grandmother wanted to continue, but I interrupted her again:

Why didn't the staff hit this man?

But my grandmother, not paying attention to my question, was already continuing the story:

“Then the stranger came up to the shepherd and said to him: “Help me, my friend. Give me a spark. My wife gave birth to a baby, and we need to make a fire, warm her and the baby!”

The shepherd wanted to refuse him, but when he remembered that the dogs could not bite this man, the sheep did not get scared and did not run away from him and the staff did not touch him, he became terrified, and he did not dare to refuse the stranger.

"Take as much as you want!" the shepherd said. But the fire had already almost burned out, and not a single log, not a single knot remained - only a large pile of hot coals lay, and the stranger had neither a shovel nor a bucket in which to carry them.

Seeing this, the shepherd repeated: “Take as much as you want!” - and rejoiced at the thought that he could not carry the heat with him. But the stranger bent down, scooped up coals from under the ashes with his hand and put them in the floor of his clothes. And the coals did not burn his hands when he took them out, and did not burn his clothes. He carried them as if they were not fire, but nuts or apples.

At this point, I interrupt my grandmother for the third time:

“Why, grandmother, didn’t the coals burn him?”

- Hear, hear! Wait! - says the grandmother and continues to talk further.

- When the angry and gloomy shepherd saw all this, he was very surprised: “What kind of night is this, that the evil shepherd dogs do not bite, the sheep are not afraid, the staff does not kill, and the fire does not burn ?!”

He stopped the stranger and asked him: “What kind of night is it today? And why does everyone treat you so mercifully?

"If you don't see it yourself, I can't explain it to you!" - the stranger answered and went on his way in order to quickly make a fire and warm his wife and baby.

The shepherd decided not to lose sight of the stranger until he found out what all this meant, and followed him until he reached his camp. And the shepherd saw that this man did not even have a hut, and his wife and baby were lying in an empty cave, where there was nothing but bare stone walls.

And then the shepherd thought that the poor innocent child could freeze in a cave, and although his heart was not tender, he felt sorry for the baby. Deciding to help him, the shepherd removed his bag from his shoulder, took out a soft white sheepskin and gave it to a stranger to put the baby on it.

And at the very moment when it turned out that he, a hard-hearted, rude person, could also be merciful, his eyes were opened, and he saw what he could not see before, and heard what he could not hear before.

He saw that little angels with silver wings were standing in a dense ring around him, and each of them held a harp in their hands, and he heard that they sang loudly that the Savior was born that night, who would redeem the world from sins.

And then the shepherd understood why no one could do harm to a stranger that night.

Looking around, the shepherd saw that the angels were everywhere: they were sitting in a cave, descending from a mountain, flying in the sky; they walked in huge crowds along the road, stopped at the entrance to the cave and looked at the baby.

And joy, jubilation, singing and gentle music reigned everywhere ... And the shepherd saw and heard all this in the dark night, in which he had not noticed anything before. And he felt great joy because his eyes were opened, and, falling on his knees, he thanked the Lord.

At these words, the grandmother sighed and said:

- If we could look, then we could see everything that the shepherd saw, because on Christmas night angels always fly through the heavens ...

And putting her hand on my head, my grandmother said:

– Remember this… It is as true as the fact that we see each other. The point is not in candles and lamps, not in the moon and the sun, but in having eyes that could see the greatness of the Lord! ..

"Legends of Christ" is one of the most important works of Selma Lagerlöf, written in a simple and accessible manner for children.

It is very difficult to express the teachings of the Christian faith and make it understandable to a child, but Selma Lagerlöf found her way - she created a cycle of legends, each of which is read as an independent fascinating story.

Often the legend grows out of just one detail or mention that is in the Holy Scriptures, nevertheless, the writer invariably follows the spirit of the gospel descriptions of the earthly life of Jesus.

Jesus Christ is the Son of God and God who lived on earth as a man for 33 years. Until the age of 30, He lived in the poor Galilean city of Nazareth with His Mother Mary and Her betrothed Joseph, sharing his household chores and craft - Joseph was a carpenter. Then He appeared on the Jordan River, where he received baptism from His Forerunner (predecessor) - John. After baptism, Christ spent forty days in the wilderness in fasting and prayer; here He withstood the temptation of the devil, and from here He appeared into the world with a sermon on how we should live and what to do in order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. The sermon and the whole earthly life of Jesus Christ were accompanied by numerous miracles. Despite this, the Jews, convicted by Him in their lawless life, hated Him, and hatred increased to the point that after many torments, Jesus Christ was crucified on the cross between two thieves. Having died on the cross and buried by the secret disciples, He, by the power of His omnipotence, resurrected on the third day after His death, and after the Resurrection for forty days repeatedly appeared to believers, revealing to them the mysteries of the Kingdom of God. On the fortieth day, in the presence of His disciples, He ascended into heaven, and on the fiftieth day He sent them the Holy Spirit, enlightening and sanctifying every person. On the part of the Savior, suffering and death on the cross were a voluntary sacrifice for the sins of people.

The Lord wanted a person to change, learn to live in love and humility, and therefore the writer ends her cycle of legends about Him with the story “The Candle from the Holy Sepulcher” - about the transformation of a violent temper of a crusader knight. He is reborn, becomes a completely different person, kind and meek, ready to sacrifice for the good of another person.

Selma Lagerlöf, who never forgot the old childhood hat, always believed that a person can change for the better, like the knight Raniero di Ranieri or like Nils Holgersson.

Try to change yourself by reading this book!

Natalia Budur

holy night

When I was five years old, I experienced a very great grief. Perhaps it was the biggest grief that ever fell to my lot. My grandmother died. Until her death, she spent all her time sitting in her room on the corner sofa and telling us fairy tales. I remember very little about my grandmother. I remember that she had beautiful, snow-white hair, that she walked completely hunched over and constantly knitted a stocking. Then I still remember that, when telling some fairy tale, she used to put her hand on my head and say: “And all this is true ... The same truth as the fact that we are now seeing each other.

I also remember that she knew how to sing glorious songs, only she sang them infrequently. One of those songs was about a knight and a mermaid. This song had a refrain:

And across the sea, and across the sea, a cold wind blew!

I remember how they brought us to say goodbye to my grandmother and told us to kiss her hand, and how we were afraid to kiss the deceased, and how someone said that we should thank her for the last time for all the joys that she brought us.

I remember how all our fairy tales and songs were put together with my grandmother in a long black coffin and taken away ... taken away forever. It seemed to me that something disappeared from our lives then. As if the door to a wonderful, magical land, through which we used to freely roam, was closed forever. And no one then managed to open this door.

“One dark night,” she began, “a man went out to find fire. He went from one house to another, knocking and saying: “Help me, good people! My wife gave birth to a baby ... We must make a fire and warm her and the baby.

But it was at night, everyone was already asleep, and no one responded to his request.

“Nowhere in the world do they know how to live as beautifully as they lived in the days of my youth in such a small estate! Here they worked in moderation and enjoyed life in moderation, and joy was in full swing all day long, ”she wrote about home Selma Lagerlöf in her most famous work. In addition to "Niels", by which most readers know her, she created many more books for children and adults - and in each of them her ardent love for the world of her childhood is captured.

Today is Selma Lagerlöf's birthday.

The Secret of Happiness

Everything that she achieved, Lagerlöf considered herself indebted to Morbakka - a family estate in the picturesque landscapes of central Sweden, which had belonged to her family since the 17th century. The estate passed from generation to generation, and with it - a whole bunch of family traditions and legends that my grandmother and aunt were especially skillful at telling. When little Selma was paralyzed at the age of three, these stories became her life. While the sisters and brothers (there were five children in the family) frolicked in the street, she eagerly listened old fairy tales or write your own. By the age of nine, when the girl regained the ability to move, she already firmly knew that she would become a writer.

About her childhood, despite her illness, Selma recalled: "There were no children happier than we are." She reveals the secret of happiness that reigned in their native home in an autobiographical short story, called by her in the spirit of Andersen “The Tale of a Fairy Tale”: “Here, as if more than in other places, they loved books and reading, and the whole estate was immersed in the atmosphere and rest. There was no hurry in business or quarrels with workers. Hatred and strife were impossible here, and those who were here should not be burdened by life, but consider serenity and faith that for every inhabitant of the estate the Lord does everything for the better as his first duty.

It seemed that everything was cut short when the father died and the estate had to be sold for debts.

Write a book for yourself...

By that time, Lagerlöf had already graduated from the Higher Pedagogical Seminary and worked as a teacher at the girls' school in Landskrum. She knew how to turn each lesson into captivating performance: boring facts and figures with her submission come to life and are able to work wonders. Pupils do not have a soul in her.

And Selma yearns for Morbakka and writes a book in the evenings.

At first, she wanted to write like others, in the style of then-dominant realism. Fortunately, she couldn't. throwing futile attempts and saying goodbye to the idea of creating a book "that people want to read", she decided to write a book for herself - "to save for herself what she still can save from her home: sweet old stories, the joyful peace of carefree days and beautiful view With long lake and shimmering silvery hills. This is how the novel "The Saga of Yeste Berling" appears. His story is rather trivial: literary competition in a magazine, the first prize, an offer to print the novel in its entirety... The book is a success, and the writer thinks about the possibility of buying out her home.

In order to write, she did not need to invent anything.

She is dissuaded in every possible way, relatives - in the first place. Aunt said: “Remember the well, and how they scraped the floors, how they washed cold water, so that the skirts were frozen, as it was necessary to constantly remind them to chop firewood - and compare these torments with city life in Falun: light - just flip the switch, telephone, plumbing, parquet ... "

But Selma remembers something else. He remembers how they gathered around the lamp in the evenings and read with the whole family; how they planted a flower garden and looked after the garden; remembers the plays home theater and flute and piano lessons; remembers fairy tales and family chronicles, which breathed every corner of their old estate. For a writer who never started her own family, parental home was the personification of all the most precious things in life. She remains adamant and spends all the money she earns on buying and improving the estate.

Her friends convinced her that household chores would not leave time for literature, and Lagerlöf understood that only here she could create. “There is something extraordinary in the air of Morbacchi,” she wrote to a friend. - Energy is born here, but it disappears, as soon as you go out into the Big world. And in Morbakk she lies as if under steam. Selma knew well what Exupery would later say: “A great truth was revealed to me. I learned: people live. And the meaning of their life is in their home. A road, a barley field, a hillside speak differently to a stranger and to someone who was born here. In order to write, she did not need to invent anything - after all, everything is here, right next to the threshold: flowers, a garden, a forest, pigeons on the veranda and crucian carp in the pond ... That is probably why everything in her books is so alive and tangible.

The world of Lagerlöf, although joyful, is by no means rosy

Thanks to the scholarship of King Oscar II, granted to her after the first books, and financial assistance The Swedish Academy Lagerlöf gets the opportunity to leave work and devote himself entirely to creativity. IN different periods life, she will write the novels "The Legend of the Old Manor", "Mr. Arne's Money", "Miracles of the Antichrist", "Jerusalem", "The Emperor of Portugal", a trilogy about the Löwenskiölds, as well as many short stories, among which are so warmly received by us "Legends of Christ."

In 1909, the writer was given the Nobel Prize - "as a tribute to the high idealism, vivid imagination and spiritual penetration that distinguish all her works." A few years earlier, the Swedish Pedagogical Society commissioned her a geography textbook for lower grades- this is how "Nils Holgersson's Journey with Wild Geese in Sweden" is born, which most of us have read in a simplified version by Z. Zadunaiskaya and A. Lyubarskaya. Soviet fairy tale is good, but it does not have the vitality inherent in all Lagerlöf books - it is too “light”, there is a lot of magic and little pain.

And the world of Lagerlöf, although joyful, is by no means rosy. Misfortunes, deaths, sorrows and uncontrived dramas are the constant companions of her heroes. There is no escape from evil, it is near, it is inside. Selma knows this firsthand. She has in her memoirs very vivid image: one day, angry with her uncle, she saw inside herself terrible beast. “This monster is reminiscent of the dragon that St. Joran fights in the Great Church in Stockholm, only this one, mine, is even bigger and even more terrible. I'm terrified that it lives inside me. And I begin to guess that before it was buried in darkness and dirt and did not even dare to move, but now, when I allowed anger to get the best of me, it came to life and now raised its head.

Joy in her works - from overcoming. Evil is conquered not by magic, but by human will. Reality can turn into fiction, fiction can turn into reality, but the moral foundations remain firm and unshakable. And this cannot be invented, it can only be absorbed from the atmosphere of childhood. Probably only from family life the words that Lagerlöf puts into the mouth of one of his characters may be born: “I know that, arguing like this, I act like a human being, and we Ingmarsons have always tried to follow the will of God.” Let the world collapse, let there be darkness and hopelessness around, the laws of conscience are inviolable. No wonder the Swedish composer Hugo Alven said: “Reading Lagerlöf is like sitting in the twilight of a Spanish cathedral, when you don’t know whether all this is happening in a dream or in reality, but you feel with your whole being that you are on holy ground.”

Idealization of a person is perhaps the only chance to make him better.

The wise men accuse the writer of excessive didactics and moralizing, and she insists that fairy tales rule life, and continues to draw her ideal world. A world in which they know how to love and sacrifice themselves, in which goodness is not an abstract philosophical category, but air. After all, storytellers know better than others that the idealization of a person is perhaps the only chance to make him better. Viktor Frankl, repeating Goethe, said that if we consider a person as he is, we make him worse. For a person to become what he can really become, he must be re-evaluated.

In one of her last interviews, the writer admits: “In the evenings, when I sit here in Morbakk, and remember everything that I have created, one thing pleases me ... I have never created a single work that would harm humanity.”

... everything she writes seems like one big story about Home and Family

When Lagerlöf was already over sixty, she wrote three books of memoirs - "Morbakka", "Memoirs of a Child" and "Diary". Most recently, the First World War died down, and either the war that knocked the ground out from under the feet of careless Europe, or the approaching end of life, force old girl revive again Child's world. There is nothing fantastic about Morbakka, it is surprisingly "real" - so much so that it is impossible to even retell it. The stories described here are enough in everyone family archive: how they went on vacation, who the aunt was in love with, how the neighbor returned from the war ... But the book exudes such warmth and such quiet happiness that it becomes clear: it is in these seeming “little things” that the real miracle is.

A mighty family tree grows out of the husks of everyday life. Under its canopy, it is warm and calm, just like in Exupery: “Peace emanates from filled bins, sleeping sheep, folded linen, from a conscientiously done deed that has become a gift to the Lord.” There is nothing unimportant here, every step and every thing acquire significance - if, of course, there is a heart and there is love.

Throughout her life, Lagerlöf wrote a lot, but everything she wrote seems to be one great story about home and family. And her fairy tale is all the more wonderful because it is not over. It won't end until winter evenings her books will be read in a cozy family circle; as long as the happiness of the family hearth will be passed on.

:star: What do you tell children about Christmas? Do they look forward to this day?
A little story Selma Lagerlöf, one of the most famous children's writers, Holy Night brings us to the heart of the holiday. But this is not the only good story. Selma Lagerlof recalls her grandmother with warmth and awe. It was she who found the right words and told the girl the story of the birth of Christ.
We invite you to read the story with your children before going to bed. Perhaps they will remember this evening and in a few years they will tell their little ones about Christmas with the same love.

***
:stars: When I was five years old, I suffered a great grief. I do not know if I subsequently experienced more grief than then.
My grandmother died. Until that time, she sat every day on the corner sofa in her room and told wonderful things.
I don’t remember any other grandmother than sitting on her sofa and telling from morning till night to us, children, who lurk and sit quietly near her; we were afraid to utter even a word from grandmother's stories. It was charming life! There were no children happier than us.
I vaguely remember the image of my grandmother. I remember that she had beautiful, chalk-white hair, that she was very hunched over and was constantly knitting her stocking.
I also remember that when my grandmother finished the story, she put her hand on my head and said:
"And all this is as true as the fact that I see you, and you see me."
I remember that my grandmother could sing beautiful songs; but their grandmother did not sing every day. One of these songs was about some knight and a sea maiden, this song had a refrain:
"How cold the wind blows, how cold the wind blows over the wide sea."
I remember a little prayer that my grandmother taught me, and the verses of the psalm.
Of all my grandmother's stories, I have only a faint, indistinct memory. Only one of them I remember so well that I can tell. This - little story about Christmas.
Here, almost everything that I have preserved in the memory of my grandmother; but best of all I remember the grief that seized me when she died.
I remember that morning when the corner sofa was empty and it was impossible to imagine how to spend a long day. I remember it well and will never forget it.
We children were brought in to say goodbye to the deceased. We were afraid to kiss a dead hand; but someone told us that the last time we can thank grandma for all the joy she brought us.
I remember how stories and songs left our house, nailed into a long black coffin, and never returned.
I remember how something disappeared from my life. As if the door to the beautiful closed Magic world, access to which was completely free until then. Since then, there has been no one who could open this door again.
I remember that we children had to learn to play with dolls and other toys, as all children play, and gradually we learned and got used to them.
It might seem that new amusements have replaced our grandmother, that we have forgotten her.
But even today, forty years later, while I am analyzing the stories about Christ that I have collected and heard in a distant foreign country, a small story about the Nativity of Christ, which I heard from my grandmother, vividly rises in my memory. And I am pleased to tell it again and place it in my collection.
***
It was on Christmas Eve. Everyone went to church, except for my grandmother and me. I think that the two of us were alone in the whole house; only my grandmother and I could not go with everyone, because she was too old, and I was too small. Both of us were upset that we would not hear Christmas carols and would not see the sacred fires.
When we sat down, alone, on my grandmother's sofa, my grandmother began to tell:
"One day late at night the man went to look for fire. He went from one house to another and knocked;
- Good people Help me, he said. Give me hot coals to start a fire: I need to warm the newly born Baby and His Mother.
The night was deep, all the people were asleep, and no one answered him.
The man went on and on. At last he saw a light in the distance. He went to it and saw that it was a fire. Many white sheep lay around the fire; the sheep were sleeping, an old shepherd guarded them.
The man who was looking for fire approached the herd; three huge dogs, lying at the feet of the shepherd, jumped up, hearing other people's steps; they opened their wide mouths as if they wanted to bark, but the sound of barking did not break the silence of the night. The man saw how the hair rose on the backs of the dogs, how sharp teeth of dazzling whiteness flashed in the darkness, and the dogs rushed at him. One of them grabbed him by the leg, another - by the hand, the third - grabbed his throat; but the teeth and jaws did not obey the dogs, they could not bite the stranger and did not cause him the slightest harm.
A person want to go to the fire to take the fire. But the sheep lay so close to each other that their backs touched, and he could not go any further. Then the man climbed onto the backs of the animals and walked along them towards the fire. And not a single sheep woke up and did not move.
Until now, without interrupting, I listened to my grandmother's story, but here I could not resist asking:
Why didn't the sheep move? I asked my grandmother.
“You will find out in a little while,” answered the grandmother, and continued the story:
“When the man approached the fire, the shepherd noticed him. He was an old, gloomy man who was cruel and stern to all people. Seeing a stranger, he grabbed a long, pointed stick, with which he drove his herd, and threw it with force at the stranger. The stick flew straight at the man, but, without touching him, turned to the side and fell somewhere far away in the field.
At this point, I again interrupted my grandmother:
“Grandma, why didn’t the stick hit the man?” I asked; but my grandmother did not answer me and continued her story.
“The man went up to the shepherd and said to him:
- Good friend! Help me, give me some fire.
The Baby has just been born; I need to build a fire to warm the Baby and His Mother.
The shepherd would most willingly refuse a stranger. But when he remembered that the dogs could not bite this man, that the sheep did not scatter in front of him, and the stick did not hit him, as if it did not want to hurt him, the shepherd became terrified and he did not dare to refuse the stranger's request.
“Take as much as you need,” he told the man.
But the fire is almost out. The twigs and twigs had long since burned down, leaving only blood-red embers, and the man thought with care and bewilderment of what to bring him the hot embers.
Noticing the difficulty of the stranger, the shepherd repeated to him once more:
- Take as much as you need!
He gloatingly thought that a man would not be able to take fire. But the stranger bent down, with his bare hands took hot coals from the ashes and put them in the edge of his cloak. And the coals not only did not burn his hands when he took them out, but they did not burn even his cloak, and the stranger walked calmly back, as if he was carrying not hot coals in his cloak, but nuts or apples.
Here again I could not resist asking:
- Grandmother! Why didn't they burn the man's coals and burn through his cloak?
- You will soon find out - the grandmother answered and began to tell further.
“The old, gloomy, evil shepherd was amazed at everything that he had to see.
“What kind of night is this,” he asked himself, “when dogs don’t bite, sheep don’t get scared, sticks don’t strike, and fire doesn’t burn?”
He called out to the stranger and asked him:
- What a wonderful night tonight? And why do animals and objects show you mercy?
“I can’t tell you this if you don’t see it yourself,” the stranger answered and went on his way, hurrying to make a fire to warm the Mother and Baby.
But the shepherd did not want to lose sight of him until he knew what it all meant. He got up and followed the stranger, and came to his dwelling.
Then the shepherd saw that this man did not live in a house or even in a hut, but in a cave under a rock; the walls of the cave were bare, made of stone, and a strong cold came from them. Here lay Mother and Child.
Although the shepherd was a callous, stern person, he felt sorry for the innocent Baby who could freeze in a rocky cave, and the old man decided to help Him. He took off the bag from his shoulder, untied it, took out a soft, warm, fluffy sheepskin, and handed it to a stranger to wrap the Baby in it.
But at the same moment when the shepherd showed that he could be merciful, his eyes and ears were opened, and he saw what he could not see before, and heard what he could not hear before.
He saw that the cave was surrounded by many angels with silver wings and in snow-white clothes. All of them hold harps in their hands and sing loudly, glorifying the Savior of the World born that night, Who will free people from sin and death.
Then the shepherd understood why all the animals and objects that night were so kind and merciful that they did not want to harm anyone.
Angels were everywhere; they surrounded the Child, sat on the mountain, soared under the heavens. Everywhere there was rejoicing and merriment, singing and music; dark night now sparkled with many heavenly lights, shone bright light emanating from the dazzling robes of the angels. And the shepherd saw and heard all this on that wonderful night, and was so glad that his eyes and ears were opened that he fell on his knees and thanked God.
Grandma sighed and said:
- What the shepherd saw then, we could also see, because angels fly over the earth every Christmas night and glorify the Savior, but if we were worthy of it.
And my grandmother put her hand on my head and said:
- Note to yourself that all this is as true as the fact that I see you, and you see me. Neither candles, nor lamps, nor the sun, nor the moon will help a person: only pure heart opens the eyes with which a person can enjoy the contemplation of the beauty of heaven.