The Diary of a Parish Clerk

By Steen Steensen Blicher

Foulum, January 1st, 1708.

God grant us all a happy New Year, and save our good Pastor Soren! He snuffed out the candle last night, and mother says he will not live to see the next New Year - but I dare say this has no significance. It was nonetheless an enjoyable evening: when Pastor Soren took off his cap after supper and said, in his usual fashion, "agamus gratias!", he pointed at me instead of Jens. This was the first time I had read our Latin grace. A year ago today Jens said it; but then I had listened wide-eyed, for I didn´t understand a word, and now I know half of Cornelius. I have a feeling I shall become the Pastor of Foulum. Oh, how happy my dear parents would be should they live to see that day! And then the pastor´s Jens could become the Bishop of Viborg - as his father says. Well, who can tell? Everything is in the hands of God. His will be done! Amen in nomine Jesu!

Thiele, January 11th, 1710.

Pleasant weather! The sun rises as red as a burning emberl! It looks quite remarkable, shining through the white trees like that; all the trees look as if they were powdered, and their branches hang around them, brushing the ground. The old Grand Richard is in peril - two of its branches have already snapped.

The weather was precisely the same a week ago when we drove to Fussingoe and I stood on the runners of Miss Sophie´s sledge. She herself wished to take the reins, but after a quarter of an hour had passed her small fingers began to freeze. "J´ai froid," she murmured. "Would you like me to drive, Miss?" I asked. "Comment!" she said. "Do you understand French?" "Un peu, mademoiselle," I replied. Then she turned and looked me full in the face. I took one of the reins in each hand and had both my arms around her. I held them wide apart in order to keep my distance, but every time the sledge gave a jolt and I came to touch her it was as if I touched a raging furnace. It felt as if I were flying through the air with her, and before I knew it we were in Fussingoe. If she had not called out, "Tenez, Martin! arrestez-vous!" I would have driven straight on to Randers or even to the end of the world. I wonder if she would like to go for a ride again today? But here comes Jens with his lordship´s gun, which he has been cleaning - so we are going out hunting.

Foulum, May 12th, 1753.

On Sunday I took office for the first time as parish clerk of Thiele and Vinge. His lordship appointed me on his deathbed. Here I am living in my father´s house, but I live here alone. All the friends of my youth have long since gone to rest; I alone remain, like a leafless tree on the moors; but before long I shall meet them again, and be the last of my family. These pages will be my only memorial. If, when I am dead and departed, any person should chance to read them, he will sigh and say: "As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more. But the mercy of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting."

First published in the journal Readers´ Fruits 1824

Steen Steensen Blicher: The Diary of a Parish Clerk and other Stories, Athlone 1996

Translated by Paula Hostrup-Jessen