"Clara Raphael," are the principal writers of the female sex in Denmark. "Clara Raphael," published in 1851, consists of twelve letters, written by a young lady as if to an intimate friend. The principal subject is, the emancipation of her own sex; and the book, of which Johan Ludwig Heiberg is the editor, and to which he has affixed a very complimentary preface, has created, by all accounts, a great sensation in Copenhagen. It would be hardly possible to convey a just idea of this little work by any short extracts, yet we shall give one or two. In letter 3rd we find:
For the first time in my life I regret that I am not a man. How destitute in aim, how unsubstantial is our life, compared to theirs! Is it right that the half of the human species should be shutout from all employment calling forth the powers of the mind? Or has our Creator really made us of such inferior materials (as I have heard one of these interesting gentlemen here, in the country, in sober earnestness assert), that we must, automaton-like, content ourselves with the trivial labours which are indicated to us as our portion in this life? Have our minds then no energy—our souls no inspiration? Men have a thousand paths to improvement. Besides their studies, they have as free an interchange of thought with their friends as they can wish. But we! among our compeers, how seldom do we find those who are interested in anything beyond mere trifles! And gentlemen seldom condescend to take the trouble of wasting even a little of their wisdom in serious conversation with ladies. Everything tends to efface any peculiar individual stamp or property in the character of a young girl. "That is not liked—it is not feminine to speak so—one must not be different from other people," &c. Half so much coquetry and silly vanity would not be found among our sex, if custom permitted the development of natural inclination in each individual. But girls, poor things! have now spiritual stays laced on before they know how to think.
In another letter to her "Dear Mathilde," Clara writes:
We were talking the other day of death, and I said, I was surprised, when those we loved died, that we did not rejoice for them that they had passed to a better life. Every one stared at me, as if I had fallen from the moon. "But," said Camilla, "would you not feel for your own loss?" "Yes," I replied, "I would grieve for the loss to me of the dead; but I am convinced that sorrow would subside in reflecting on the happiness of the one taken from me." And what do you think Madame Stax exclaimed? That I was a complete egotist—that the person who could speak thus, could never have given a thought to another being but her own self!! The general ideas about life and death are sadly perverted. When one who has been long weary of this world passes into eternal life, it is said, "that poor person is dead!" They speak of life, and forget everlasting life; they speak of death, and forget eternity!
But we must not forget that all things must have an end; and that it is time to bring to a conclusion this slight survey of a literature which has hitherto been but little known in Britain. We shall only add the hope that this impartial, and we can affirm, correct, outline of Danish authors and their works, may have been interesting to some of the readers of the New Monthly Magazine.
