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100% found this document useful (2 votes)
41 views

Full download Short term Psychodynamic Therapy with Children in Crisis 1st Edition Elisabeth Cleve pdf docx

Elisabeth

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shetiekissen58
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© © All Rights Reserved
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Short term Psychodynamic Therapy with Children in
Crisis 1st Edition Elisabeth Cleve Digital Instant
Download
Author(s): Elisabeth Cleve
ISBN(s): 9781138951419, 1138951412
Edition: 1
File Details: PDF, 2.32 MB
Year: 2016
Language: english
Short-Term Psychodynamic
Therapy with Children in Crisis

In Short-Term Psychodynamic Therapy with Children in Crisis, Elisabeth Cleve


presents the therapeutic stories of four children who have experienced trauma
or are displaying dramatic clinical symptoms such as low self-esteem and anxi-
ety. Exploring the situation between the individual child and the therapist, the
therapeutic space and their experiences, each chapter follows the sessions and the
progress made, concluding with a follow-up after the end of therapy.
Cleve explores each case as it progresses, emphasizing the inner strength of the
children and including the interactions between the therapist and the children’s
parents. The focus of the psychotherapeutic encounter is in each case to help the
child face the trauma, mourn what had been suffered and then move on in life
with renewed strength. The final chapters explore the ethics of sharing case mate-
rial and present Cleve’s reflections on working with traumatized children. The
book also includes forewords by Lars H. Gustafsson, paediatrician and associate
professor of social medicine, and Björn Salomonsson, child psychoanalyst and
researcher at Karolinska Institutet in Sweden.
This warm and readable work will be insightful reading for child psychologists
and psychotherapists and other clinicians working with children who have experi-
enced trauma. It will also be of interest to readers wishing to learn more about the
processes of psychotherapy with children.

Elisabeth Cleve was a psychologist, child psychotherapist and supervisor who


worked at the Erica Foundation in Stockholm, Sweden, from the mid-1970s until
her untimely death in 2013. Respected as a clinician and well-known as a super-
visor, she also wrote several books about the psychotherapeutic process which
were acclaimed for their accessible style. Two of her previous books were also
translated into English.
This page intentionally left blank
Short-Term Psychodynamic
Therapy with Children
in Crisis

Elisabeth Cleve
First published in English 2016
by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
and by Routledge
711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa
business
© 2016 Elisabeth Cleve
The right of Elisabeth Cleve to be identified as author of this work
has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or
utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now
known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in
any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing
from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or
registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation
without intent to infringe.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Cleve, Elisabeth, 1946– author.
Title: Short-term psychodynamic therapy with children in crisis /
Elisabeth Cleve.
Other titles: Hur lèange ska hon vara dèod? English
Description: Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge,
2016.
Identifiers: LCCN 2015037532 | ISBN 9781138951402 (hbk) |
ISBN 9781138951419 (pbk) | ISBN 9781315651743 (ebk)
Subjects: LCSH: Psychodynamic psychotherapy for children. | Brief
psychotherapy.
Classification: LCC RJ505.P92 C5413 2015 | DDC 618.92/8914—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015037532
ISBN: 978-1-138-95140-2 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-1-138-95141-9 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-315-65174-3 (ebk)
Typeset in Times
by Apex CoVantage, LLC
To Alma, Alfred and Harry and the fourth little one
This page intentionally left blank
Contents

Foreword by Lars H. Gustafssonx


Foreword by Björn Salomonssonxiii
Author’s prefacexv

Introduction: the child psychologist meets the children 1

1 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that to little kids, . . . right? 4


Malte, five years old, comes to crisis therapy after a
sexual assault 4
Police unable to establish that a crime has been committed 4
Meeting with Malte and his parents 6
Symptoms after the trauma 9
Crisis therapy with twelve sessions 12
Mum cries and dad is furious 14
Book about What Happened 17
He bothered my weenie. It hurt. 22
He didn’t say sorry 27
Grown-ups must never, ever do that, absolutely not! 35
Pippi Longstocking is an empowering role model 39
An old computer gave us good help 41
“Give me five” 42
Six months later 45
Sexually violated children 46

2 How long will she be dead? 48


Ronia, seven years old, comes to crisis therapy several years
after her mother’s death 48
Everyone else has a mother 48
Everyone will find out 52
The life lie 54
viii Contents
Not easy being a little sister 57
Why crisis therapy for Ronia several years after her
mother’s death? 63
Okay, but no busybody talk 65
Hard work and joyful play 70
Mum got ill because I was in her stomach 74
Hard work building up a new family 79
Should be forbidden for mums to die 81
My children, your children and our child 84
Dad’s girlfriend has changed for the better 86
Why didn’t anyone tell me she’d be dead so long? 89
Six months later 95
When a parent dies 95

3 Children who feel second-rate make others feel the same way 99
A psychologist receives supervision for her therapy with
ten-year-old Olga 99
Adopted girl with heavy baggage 99
The psychologist loses her footing 103
Focus in supervision 104
Focus in therapy 105
Projective identification: how does it feel? 108
Easy to show what she cannot do – hard to show what she
can do 111
Nettle whip 112
Aptitude test 114
Russia: object of fantasies 115
Auf Wiedersehen, arrivederci, see you later 117
Six months later 119
Supervision: why? 119

4 A mother’s trauma becomes her son’s trauma 122


Ali, seven years old, undergoes a psychological assessment 122
Mother and son have an interwoven life history 122
Ali presents his backside 124
Games reflect inner chaos 126
Such stunts will not work 131
Both nasty and nice ones may come to therapy 135
Family history 138
Assessment on his own terms 140
Contents ix
Session 4 141
Ali, Dad and Granddad 143
Ali’s psychic health 147
Twelve years later 151
Traumatic experiences of parents 152

5 Sharing narratives about child patients: is that acceptable? 156


Ethical considerations and practical advice 156

6 The child psychologist’s reflections after concluded work 163

Appendix I. Written agreement between parents and psychologist168


Appendix II. Written agreement between child and psychologist169
Index171
Foreword by Lars H. Gustafsson

When we work with children in crisis, we are given entrance into a world that
exists right here in our midst and yet is unknown to many. In my own work as a
paediatrician, I sometimes come to think about the duty or the obligation to bear
witness, as it is usually referred to in psychological contexts. We tend to associate
the act of witnessing with World War II survivors but the context is much wider.
Taking all my experiences with me to the grave without sharing them with others
can be perceived as little short of a crime against humanity. If humanity is to make
changes for the better, more people must get a chance to know reality as it really
is. We need to face the destructive forces both within us and around us. We also
need to know more about the life force for survival that pulsates within most of
us, not least in children.
My reflections are subjective. However, there are also several objective reasons
for telling about the world that is revealed to us. In an open society such as ours,
transparency is essential. As soon as we create rooms that are hidden from out-
side view, myths are created about what is going on in there. Rumours are easily
spread and can adversely affect everyone involved, in this case both clients and
therapists. Rumours are quick to nourish prejudices.
Transparency is important from a scientific point of view as well. Today there is
a great demand to have evidence cited, evidence that backs up different treatment
methods. If a treatment is to be recommended and subsidized with taxpayers’
money, there must be scientific documentation showing that the treatment works.
The side effects must be confirmed as not too severe. It is equally important that
the treatment does not contain ethically questionable elements. It therefore does
not suffice to report the results of the treatment. The steps toward obtaining the
results, the treatment process itself, must be open and accessible to oversight
as well.
In addition, those who end up in difficulty and seek different sorts of treatment
have the right to know in advance what the treatment entails and how it will be
conducted. More and more emphasis is being placed on the right of the person
seeking help to choose the form of treatment. For such a choice to be meaningful
and possible, detailed information must be available concerning what the different
alternatives entail.
Foreword by Lars H. Gustafsson xi
The information that comes to the fore in the treatment room has a political
dimension as well. People who seek our help for their own or for their children’s
difficulties are individuals. At the same time, these individuals are part of a sys-
tem, a social context that can be supportive but that can also contribute substan-
tially to unhappiness and impaired health. There are numerous convincing studies
showing that children’s health, both mental and physical, is highly dependent on
the nature of their life conditions. Poverty, loneliness and refugee status as well
as the work situation and the health and substance abuse status of the parents
are only a few examples of factors that play a role. All of us who meet troubled
children inevitably learn a great deal about how society functions for the most
vulnerable of these, our fellow human beings. We are thus obliged to let others
know what we know. Otherwise, how can our knowledge lead to the necessary
changes in society?
However, when we decide to share our experiences, we immediately come up
against a number of ethical dilemmas. Circumstances that are revealed in the ther-
apy room are seldom spoken about otherwise. Needless to say, this is precisely
the point. By shining a light on the darkest corners of the soul, and on what is
hidden there, it is possible to disarm destructive forces and to liberate healing
processes. The high wall of confidentiality that surrounds therapy is a prerequisite
if this sequence of events is going to function. Few children, and likewise few
adults, would dare to open themselves to their therapists if they could not trust
them beyond any doubt. A patient must be able to trust the therapist to let things
presented in the therapy room stay within its confines. Thus we have legislation in
support of confidentiality. This is as it should be.
If confidentiality is to be broken, the first and foremost requirement is the
patient’s informed consent. This means that he or she agrees to let what has been
said in therapy be made known to others. However, the patient in such cases must
have had a chance to think carefully through the consequences of such a release,
both in the short and in the longer term. The therapist has a great responsibility
here. It can be difficult for a client to make a correct assessment of the conse-
quences of a release. The client, owing to a sense of loyalty, might not want or
dare to say no to the therapist when asked for a release from confidentiality.
When the patient is a child, this matter comes to even more of a head. How can
children assess the consequences of having the content of their therapy sessions
spread to a wider audience? Can parents be considered to represent children in
such tough situations?
These questions have been discussed intensively in recent years in connection
with certain TV shows, where children have been interviewed. They have been
exposed, fully recognizable, to TV audiences, in vulnerable situations, where
therapists have also been involved. I belong to those who feel a profound unease
about letting children be exposed in this way.
Elisabeth Cleve had cause to think long and hard about these ethical dilemmas,
both on her own, and together with her colleagues, while she worked on the book
that you now hold in your hands. She approached these questions with insight
xii Foreword by Lars H. Gustafsson
and humility. The viewpoints she put forth are important not only for this book’s
readers but also for anyone who might want to publish descriptions of troubled
children and their reality in the future. Cleve was meticulous about giving an
objective and accurate narrative of what happened in the therapy room while at
the same time being careful to mask the child’s identity. Only those closest to the
children are meant to recognize who the children are. In addition, these adults, just
as the children themselves, have received detailed information, including a chance
to read and suggest changes in the manuscript, after which they have been positive
toward the publication of the narratives.
The most important reason that people have been positive toward publication,
I believe, is that Elisabeth Cleve describes her young patients in such a loving
manner. She consistently underscores the positive aspects of the processes she
depicts. The reader is both happy to meet these children and awed by them. What
a strong spirit they show! And what imaginative survival strategies they come up
with!
I wonder how the children will react when they read this book in fifteen or thirty
years. My guess is that they are going to feel both restored and proud. Granted, the
description of what has happened to them may not be something to include in their
official curriculum vitae. But there is an inner CV that concerns how they became
who they are. And in that CV, I believe these narratives will take a place of honour.
Lars H. Gustafsson
Paediatrician, Associate Professor of Social Medicine
Sweden
Foreword by Björn Salomonsson

Anyone who makes a discovery or has an important insight wants to tell the world
about it. The scientist reports findings in a journal, the author writes a novel or
a play, and the artist arranges an exhibition. For the psychotherapist, things are
more complicated. Before reaching out to a larger readership she has to consider
the issue of anonymity. Her patients must be certain that anything said or done in
her office will remain undisclosed. So, how can she write about her work without
transgressing these boundaries? She must also take into account the complexity
of therapeutic work. Every event in a session may be viewed in relation to the
previous session, the relationship with the therapist and the patient’s life history.
Each session is like a short story in a vast collection of such stories. To present
such large and varied material and make good literature of it is a formidable task.
For the child therapist, two more problems emerge. One has to do with visual-
izing to adult readers the child’s seemingly strange and alien world. Many of us
have rather lopsided memories of our childhood. Some passionate drama, playful
fantasy or ghastly horror may emerge in our memory now and then – but most
childhood recollections lie embedded beneath a blanket of merciful oblivion. This
can make it hard for any reader to understand a presentation of child therapy. The
second problem has to do with yet another anonymity problem. A therapist who
wishes to present adult therapy material asks the patient for permission. If the
patient is a child this is not possible – at least not in the case of small children. The
therapist must turn to the parents for permission, which poses an ethical challenge
to both parties. What are we therapists to do if we wish to disseminate our experi-
ences, insights and ideas about child psychotherapy? One solution is to publish
case material in scientific journals, where only a limited number of profession-
als – whom we assume are aware of the ethical problems involved – will read it.
But if we seek a larger audience, this solution will not work. Furthermore, such
an audience will demand something more than a scientific presentation; they want
good literature. For this audience the therapist must write in a fluent, respectful,
empathic yet humorous style, touching both the reader’s heart and intellect.
Few psychotherapists possess this gift. Elisabeth Cleve was one of these few.
After taking her M.Sc. in psychology, she trained in the mid-1970s to become a
child psychotherapist. This training took place at the Erica Foundation, an insti-
tution comparable to the Anna Freud Centre in London, with which it has long
xiv Foreword by Björn Salomonsson
been engaged in a clinical and scientific exchange. She remained faithful to this
institution until a malignant disease forced her to step back a few years before her
retirement was due. She passed away in 2013.
Besides being an intuitive and sensitive psychotherapist, Elisabeth was a con-
crete and practical person with a firm footing in external reality. Early on, she
realized the need for child psychotherapy to become more generally known. She
therefore started to write books targeting a wider audience. In 2000, she published
a lengthy account of a therapy with a boy diagnosed with a neuropsychiatric dis-
order. It was published by Karnac Books, London, in 2004 under the title From
Chaos to Coherence – Psychotherapy with a Little Boy with ADHD. In 2002, she
published her work with a two-and-a-half-year-old boy who had lost his mother
and younger brother. It was also published by Karnac Books in 2008 under the
title A Big and a Little One Is Gone – Crisis Therapy with a Two-Year-Old Boy.
The present book was published in Swedish in 2011. Elisabeth had a gift of
capturing in a brief expression some piece of emotional reality. The original title
testifies to that talent: How Long Will She Be Dead? These few words, seemingly
so simple, bear witness to a child’s despair. Ronia lost her mother at two years of
age. Now she is seven years old and has many problems, not least with her school-
mates. The title’s question reflects the double logic so common among children.
Seven-year-old Ronia realizes that her mother is gone forever. Yet, “little” Ronia
inside the “big” one maintains a secret bookkeeping in which mother will come
back one day. The question is only “How long will she be dead?”
The stories about Ronia and the other children show not only Elisabeth’s liter-
ary talent but also how she dealt with the issues of anonymity and ethics referred
to earlier. I hope these stories will capture the reader’s imagination and interest.
They are poignant, humorous, moving, bewildering and intellectually stimulating;
in short, they possess all the qualities that make for good reading. The honour of
transferring these qualities from the Swedish original to English goes entirely to
Pamela Boston. She is a translator who also cooperated with Elisabeth in connec-
tion with her two previous books published in English.
Björn Salomonsson
M.D., Ph. D., Child Psychoanalyst (IPA)
Department of Women’s and Children’s Health
Karolinska Institutet
Stockholm, Sweden
Author’s preface

I have had a long career as a psychologist and psychotherapist for children and
adolescents at the Erica Foundation in Stockholm, Sweden. This work has meant
many meetings with children with severe difficulties. Some of them have come for
a psychological assessment in order to shed light on the causes of their suffering,
while others have participated in short-term therapy after a traumatic experience
that has afflicted them and their family. Sometimes I have only needed to carry out
supportive talks with worried parents. I have also been a supervisor for colleagues
both from the Erica Foundation and from other clinics working with children in
crisis and chaos.
In this book I share my experiences and show how children with psychic prob-
lems can get help to go forward with their lives. I describe how Ali comes in for
a psychological assessment even though he does not want to be assessed. It is
only his mother who wants it. Malte goes to crisis therapy after a sexual assault.
Ronia goes through a short-term crisis therapy several years after her mother’s
death. Olga’s psychologist receives supervision from me in order to gain a better
understanding of her patient.
The narratives about these four children rest entirely upon my personal clinical
documentation. The psychological processes are described exactly as they have
taken place. Aside from certain information about the families that would have
made it possible to identify them, nothing has been altered to any essential degree.
The reader gets a chance to follow each child’s pathway toward a better psychic
well-being from three perspectives: mine, the child’s and the parents’. My hope
is that the book will convey knowledge about the life force that children possess
inside, even in times of great distress. I want to show that when they receive help,
there is always hope for the better.
I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to Malte, Ronia, Olga and Ali.
They have let me witness their unconquerable spirits as they have struggled to
regain their sense of well-being. I also extend my special thanks to their parents,
who so generously have given me their consent to write this book. Thanks go as
well to Olga’s psychologist – whom I will, for reasons of anonymity, merely call
Jenny – for letting me tell about the supervision I gave her.
To write authentic narratives about child patients is a balancing act that calls for
considerable reflection. I therefore gratefully acknowledge the positive support
xvi Author’s preface
and creative encouragement that I have received from all of my present and former
colleagues at the Erica Foundation and from psychotherapists Britta Blomberg,
May Nilsson, Anita Dahlgren, Ewa Heller Ekblad and Willemo Nilsson, for their
constructive review of the manuscript.
I would like to thank Associate Professor Gunnar Carlberg, director of the Erica
Foundation, both for encouraging me to write about my work and for thoroughly
reviewing the manuscript. I also thank him for many years of good collaboration
at the Erica Foundation. Warm thanks go as well to Magnus Kihlbom, the former
chief psychiatrist at the Erica Foundation, for his encouragement and constructive
viewpoints on the content of the book.
Special thanks go to the following people who have reviewed the chapters deal-
ing with themes within their areas of expertise: psychotherapists Miriam Alve-
bäck and Bengt Söderström, who have broad experience of work with sexually
assaulted children, and Associate Professor Marie-Louise Ögren at the University
of Stockholm, who has special expertise on supervision.
I greatly appreciate the care and energy that Pamela Boston has put into the
translation of this book.
I thank the Vårstavi Foundation and the Erica Foundation for their grants,
making it possible for me to reduce my working hours and compile material for
my book.
I would also like to thank my family: my daughters, Susanna and Catharina, for
their unflagging interest in my work, and my husband, Egon, for his patience and
helpfulness with practical tasks connected to the book.
Finally, I would like to extend especially heartfelt words of thanks to Anna and
Coco Belfrage, Arild, Sweden, and their family. Their commitment and generous
economic support have made it possible for me to write this book. Their contribu-
tion has come from donations to the foundation that the family set up to honour
the memory of their daughter Tove Belfrage, who died in a traffic accident in the
summer of 2008. She left behind a husband and a one-year-old daughter, as well
as other dearly beloved family members.
The family’s wish has been that donations to their foundation should be used to
spread knowledge about how we can help children who have experienced a severe
trauma to go forward and have a good life. I hope that this book, which I have
been entrusted to write, will come to serve such a purpose.
Stockholm, spring 2012
Elisabeth Cleve
Introduction
The child psychologist meets
the children

In this book readers are given a chance to follow my work with four of my young
patients – Malte, Ronia, Olga and Ali. All of them have experienced severe trau-
mas, which have left them with deep psychic wounds. Their suffering manifests
itself through various psychic symptoms. Regardless of the different nature of
their traumas and of their reactions, they have one thing in common. All of them
have an inner life force that makes it possible for them to go forward with their
lives. When I work with these children, my aim is to help them to discover their
life force for themselves. After the conclusion of therapy they can continue to rely
on their newly found strength and thus feel more at peace with themselves and
with life.
The target groups for my books are child care professionals and anyone else
who works with children, as well as parents and the general public. Both those
who already have a great deal of knowledge and those who have a general inter-
est will find much food for thought in my narratives. Children are different and
the psychological help needed by each individual one of them has been adapted
thereafter. Three of the children are advised to go to crisis therapy, which is a type
of time-limited short-term therapy. In the text I use the two concepts interchange-
ably. In one of the cases I also describe the supervision received at the same time
by the psychologist who is conducting therapy with the child. The fourth and last
presentation concerns a boy who undergoes psychological assessment in order to
shed light on the causes of his symptoms.
In the first chapter “Grown-Ups Mustn’t Do Stuff like That to Little Kids, . . .
Right?” I describe how the mother of a boy named Malte, five years old, calls and
asks for help for her son, who has “gone through something horrible”. He has
been sexually assaulted. The family is in shock and the parents are unable to cope
with the situation. The boy is silent, the mum is devastated and cries, while the dad
is angry and threatens to go after the perpetrator.
Malte begins a crisis therapy that consists of twelve sessions, while the parents
are offered support discussions. The work is described session for session for both
Malte and his parents. A special aspect of Malte’s therapy is that he gets a chance
to make and illustrate a little book about what happened to him. His advanced
computer skills serve him well in the production of the book. This is his way of
using therapy to work through a horrible experience.
2 Introduction
In Chapter 2, “How Long Will She Be Dead?”, we meet a father who has an
urgent need to get help for his daughter. In the chapter I tell about Ronia, who is
seven years old. Her mother died when she was two years old. Difficulties have
existed the entire time but everything seemed to be going in the right direction
until recently. Ronia is showing anxiety symptoms as never before. Over a short
period of time she has been faced with many changes in her life. She, her sister
and her dad have moved into a new flat with dad’s new partner and her three sons.
Added to that, she has to cope with a new school start. Ronia feels alone and
different. “Everyone else has a mother,” she laments, and the people around her
cannot stop feeling sorry for her.
Ronia starts a crisis therapy of ten sessions on the condition that she will not
have to listen to “busybody talk”. She stages her sense of loss toward her mother
through the things she eagerly builds in the sand tray and her games with the dolls
that live in the dollhouse. Toward the end of therapy Ronia dares to ask, “How
long will she be dead?” She receives a heavy-hearted but honest answer from me.
Now she can finally stop waiting for her mother to come back and instead look
forward. After therapy she presents herself to others as a schoolgirl and not as a
poor, pitiful little motherless thing.
Chapter 3 tells of two loving adoptive parents who are extremely worried about
their daughter Olga, ten years old. She is in low spirits, has serious concentration
problems and cannot keep up with her schoolwork. She becomes terror-stricken
when faced with leave-taking, short as well as long. She also thinks that every-
thing about her is wrong. She sees herself as a second-rate girl surrounded by
people who are equally second-rate. In her time-limited short-term therapy with
her psychologist, Jenny, Olga is helped to understand her own part in making her
schoolmates not want to play with her. She also ceases seeing people, including
herself, as defective and second-rate.
The chapter about Olga is called “Children Who Feel Second-Rate Make Oth-
ers Feel the Same Way”. It is written from my perspective as supervisor for Olga’s
psychologist Jenny. The narrative is based on sequences from Olga’s therapy that
Jenny describes for me. These descriptions are often tied to questions that Jenny
initiates during our four supervision meetings. Jenny’s need to understand Olga
gives rise to many stimulating exchanges between us. Olga makes her psycholo-
gist feel second-rate in the same way as she herself feels. It is painful for Jenny to
be unable to help the child who needs her help so badly. The reader gets a chance
to follow how the psychologist avails herself of supervision in order to work
through the feelings that are evoked in therapy with this unhappy child. Jenny
finds her way out of the strong psychological force field in which Olga has uncon-
sciously trapped her. As a result, Olga becomes able to accept help from Jenny.
In Chapter 4 we meet Ali. Like Ronia he is seven years old and is in his first
year of school. His teacher urges his mother to contact a child psychologist to
get help for her son. Ali is violent in school and it is hard to communicate with
him. He attacks other children, says that he is going to kill himself, gives people
the finger and hisses “fuck you” to the teachers. Ali was born in Sweden but
his single mother has fled here from traumatic experiences in war-torn Iraq. The
Introduction 3
chapter “A Mother’s Trauma Becomes Her Son’s Trauma” gives an account of the
psychological assessment that Ali undergoes with me. He makes four visits but
refuses to carry out the test tasks that children usually enjoy. My sessions with Ali
are both sweaty and loud. He screams at the top of his lungs, “Help, help! She’s
hitting me!” But when he understands that such tricks do not work, he starts to
participate in his own way.
A challenging and exciting cooperation develops, which shows how underlying
causes affect his present disturbed and disturbing behaviour. After twelve years
Ali and I happen to meet, to our mutually pleasant surprise. He has turned into a
handsome young man of nineteen years who has just graduated from upper sec-
ondary school. During a long discussion at a café, he tells me about his life.
What he remembers of the psychological assessment is that it “opened mum’s
eyes” and that she in her turn was able to open his eyes so that he understood
which paths he should choose.
In the penultimate chapter, “Sharing Narratives about Child Patients –: Is That
Acceptable?”, I bring up ethical considerations and also give practical advice on
what to remember when preparing for the publication of confidentiality-classified
patient material. I also describe how formerly confidentiality-classified material
should be handled, meaning after the families have given their written permis-
sion that the material may be published. The parents of Malte, Ronia, Olga and
Ali have all signed release contracts. Jenny and I, on the other hand, have simply
made a spoken agreement.
1 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff
like that to little kids, . . .
right?

Malte, five years old, comes to crisis therapy


after a sexual assault

Police unable to establish that a crime has been committed


One day in November, just before our telephone contact hours are over, we get
a call from a mother whose voice is heavy with sadness. She says that she needs
help for her five-year-old son who has “gone through something horrible”. The
psychologist who answers the call asks her to say what has happened. It turns out
that her son has been sexually assaulted. The incident came to light a week ago but
actually took place during the summer. The mother says that the family is in shock
and cannot cope with the situation. When she is asked whether they have reported
the incident to the police, she answers that her husband has done so but that they
have not heard anything back. The psychologist asks if the parents want to come
in for a talk. The mother immediately replies in the affirmative. When she notices
that it is taking a little time for the psychologist to find an opening, she hastens to
say that she and her husband can come at any time whatsoever.
I am entrusted with the case, and the parents come to see me for a one-hour
talk a couple of days later. They are in their forties and look both distraught and
needy as they hurry into the room. When we shake hands and greet each other,
I notice that the mother’s hand is shaking. Their names are Annika and Jonathan
and their son’s name is Malte. When the discussion gets under way, they speak at
the same time. They feel an urgency to recount everything as carefully as possi-
ble. Their narrative alternates between emotional outbursts and facts. Sometimes
in the course of our talk they do not keep to chronological order, which does not
exactly make it easy for me to follow their story. Therefore, I stop them every now
and then and ask for clarification. This is what they tell me.
Last summer, during the first two weeks of the school’s summer holiday, they
had employed Jack, a young man in his twenties, as a babysitter for their three
children. This was before the parents’ holiday had started. They always have to
make this kind of arrangement since their children have more time off than they
do. Besides Malte, who has had his fifth birthday this autumn, they have two older
children, two daughters – Linda, ten years old, and Johanna, twelve years old.
Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that 5
They were often over at their friends’ houses when Jack was working for their
family. Malte and Jack were thus often left alone together.
A neighbour of the family, Iris, had recommended Jack because he was “so
sweet and helpful and good with children”. She herself had used him as a babysit-
ter for her two preschool-age daughters. Neither Iris nor Annika and Jonathan had
sensed that anything was wrong. Quite the opposite. They had considered Jack to
be an open and pleasant young man and had taken an immediate liking to him.
The children had also liked him. They had gone swimming, and Jack had worked
with Malte on his strokes and kicks since Malte could not yet swim. Jack had
played the guitar and had sung with the children. He had fixed a flat tire on one
of the girls’ bicycles. Malte had been especially impressed that Jack could talk
like Donald Duck. Jack was going to teachers’ college. Annika, who is a teacher
herself, had enjoyed hearing about his studies. After two weeks, Jack had ended
his work with them according to plan, and the family went away on a holiday trip.
Annika and Jonathan had been pleased with the summer, the nice weather and
their seemingly contented children.
Malte has changed as the autumn has progressed. He can no longer sleep in
his room but instead comes to his parents’ bed. He has also started to wet the bed
at night. He has nightmares and mumbles in his sleep about someone who might
come and get him. He is pale and listless and has been unable to say if anything
is bothering him. When they have asked if anything hurts, he has sometimes put
his hand on his stomach. Annika has taken Malte to the doctor but all the tests
have come back negative and the doctor could not find anything wrong with his
stomach. Jonathan talked to the preschool teachers a month ago and they had also
observed that Malte was not his usual happy and creative self. They had believed
that he was unhappy because one of his playmates wanted to play with another
boy. Malte tires easily at preschool, and the teachers have wondered if he is on the
verge of some illness. He is well liked by the other children for his curiosity and
stamina, but now he does not feel like playing.
Two weeks ago Annika and Jonathan found out the reason behind Malte’s unhap-
piness. Annika was watching the news on TV when Malte came to her and started
to talk about the summer. She had asked him if he missed Jack. To her astonishment
Malte had answered emphatically that he did not. She thought that sounded strange
and asked him how he could say such a thing. He was nasty, Malte answered.
Annika had protested and said that all three children had been fond of Jack. Malte
held his ground and said curtly, “Jack was nasty even though he was nice.” Annika
sensed something awful, turned off the TV and told Malte that they had to get to
the bottom of this. It finally came out that Jack had pulled and jerked his own penis
and “bothered” Malte’s penis so that it had hurt. Malte also said, “He didn’t say he
was sorry even though he hurt me. He really didn’t say he was sorry, mum.” When
Annika had asked why Malte had not told her about this earlier, he said between
sobs, “I wasn’t allowed to.” At this point the conversation came to an end. Malte
cried and Annika, in shock, called for Jonathan, who came to their side right away.
When Malte’s parents have come thus far in their narrative, I can see that they are
shocked, miserable and devastated. They express their feelings in their own ways.
6 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that
Annika cries and wipes away her tears, but she cannot stop crying. Jonathan swears
and shouts in desperation that he wants to “wring that creep’s neck”. He also says,
“Our entire existence has been turned upside down. Everything we’ve built up has
plunged into chaos.” Jonathan also has tears in his eyes and must blow his nose
before he continues talking. He says that Malte has become withdrawn and does
not want to say anything more about what happened, at least not to his dad. They
have not asked the doctor to examine Malte since so much time has passed.
Based on their narrative, I summarize my impressions and say it seems that
Malte is not the only one who needs help. His parents could use some as well.
They say nothing but just look as though they have been drained of all energy. They
look at each other and while Annika blows her nose, Jonathan finally answers yes
for both of them and asks what they can do. Before we continue I want to know if
the police have scheduled an interview with Malte and, if so, when it is going to
be. Annika and Jonathan know nothing about this but say they will check with the
police right away. When they submitted the report of misconduct, they were told
that it would take a few weeks before anything more would happen. We conclude
our talk by agreeing that they will contact me as soon as the police interview has
been conducted. At that point I want to meet Malte together with his mum and
dad and see how he feels. After that, if I find he needs professional help, I plan
to suggest how such help could best be set up, also including them. Annika and
Jonathan think this approach sounds good.

Meeting with Malte and his parents


Three weeks later I meet Malte with his mum and dad. I want to gain an under-
standing of Malte’s psychic condition in order to determine whether he needs
crisis therapy. I already know that his parents are distraught. When they come
into my room Malte looks around cautiously and then sits down close to his mum,
who has seated herself on the couch, while his dad has chosen the armchair beside
it. Malte fools around with a rubber band and some paper clips that he has in the
pocket of his jeans. He is a pale, tall five-year-old with some adorable freckles
and greyish-blue eyes that take a quick look in the direction where I am sitting.
He has eczema on his wrists and neck, and he has scratched at it so much that he
has made it bleed.
I start out by asking Annika and Jonathan if they have talked to Malte about
why they are coming to see me. They nod in the affirmative. It is important for
Malte to know what I know, since the reason for the visit is so sensitive. I describe
briefly for Malte my knowledge about what has happened to him and inform him
that I have learned this from his parents. I say that Jack has treated Malte in a
wrong and nasty way and that grown-ups are not allowed to do to children what
Jack did. I then go over to making small talk for a little while, and I note that Malte
is listening even though he is not looking in my direction. He says nothing.
Annika says that the police interview has taken place and that the next step, a
preliminary investigation, has been dismissed. I am not surprised to hear this. Sus-
picions of sexual assault on children seldom lead to legal action. It is considered
Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that 7
more or less impossible to prove that a crime has been committed. Jack has denied
everything, so it is a matter of word against word. Annika was present at the inter-
view. She thought that Malte would say more if she was there and not Jonathan,
since he, in her words, cannot control himself. Jonathan is outraged and says:

A little kid is apparently chanceless against an adult, against a creep like that! It’s
too bloody awful!

Annika shushes Jonathan and I continue talking to Malte:

I’m not a policewoman who interviews children when a grown-up has done some-
thing bad to them. I’m someone who helps children and their mums and dads
so that everything will be good again. I usually do that. Children come to see
me every day with their parents.

I ask Annika and Malte to tell me about the interview. Malte indicates that he
does not want to talk. He stares at the toy cupboard, so I say to him:

It’s fine for you to go over there and play. You can still listen to what we are talk-
ing about.

Annika says that the interviewing officer was a policewoman who had neither a
gun nor a uniform. Malte had expected to get to see a police car. When they were
back at home he told his mum that she should have asked if the policewoman had
caught any bad guys. Malte was disappointed that all she had were dolls and “she
asked so much about loads of stuff”. Annika says that the interview was not easy
for Malte. He had done his best to answer the questions while the officer repeated
them over and over again. He thought all this repetition meant that he had given
the wrong answer. Now Malte partakes actively but wordlessly in our discussion
and looks like he approves of the way his mum is recounting what happened.
After hearing about the interview I want to hear how the family is doing now,
and I toss out the question to whoever wants to answer it. Jonathan does not want
to embarrass Malte, so he asks his son to stop him if he says something wrong.
Turned toward Malte, who goes on moving the trains and cars around in the sand
tray, Jonathan begins:

You’re unhappy and you don’t feel like playing. You don’t even want to ride your
bike, something you’re so good at. You don’t want to sleep in your own bed.
As we all know, you’re usually a happy kid who loves preschool.

Malte leans a little farther over the sand tray but does not seem to mind if his
dad continues, and so he does:

When you were a little baby you had eczema, and it’s come back. You often
complain about how it itches so badly and stings when we put ointment
8 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that
on it. So we put it on at night after you’ve gone to sleep because then it
doesn’t hurt.

The atmosphere in the room is calm. Malte does not respond and Annika goes
over and sits down beside him, pats him on the head and fills in:

And you don’t like pasta with ketchup any more. You always used to love it.

After a short pause she adds:

Dad and I don’t want you to be unhappy. And you wet the bed at night. That’s
okay, but you stopped doing that a long, long time ago, several years ago.

It is completely silent in the room. Malte feels uncomfortable about what


Annika just said. It seems as though he sees wetting the bed as incredibly babyish
and embarrassing.
The silence remains and after a while I break it:

Children can do that sometimes, even though they don’t want to. That happens to
many children. It can happen even when someone is so big that he stopped
wetting his bed long ago. This is especially true when someone is not feeling
good. It stops when he is feeling better again.

I round off the meeting by turning to Malte and saying:

Your parents want everything to be good for you again, yes, for the whole family.
You and your mum and dad may come to see me more times. Children who
come here get to play and build with the things in the sand tray. And we usu-
ally do some other stuff, too, like drawing, colouring and writing. How do you
think that sounds?

Malte does not answer, so Annika asks:

Do you want to come here again and see Elisabeth and build in her sand tray?
I can tell you that dad and I really want to come here.

Malte, who wants to stop wetting the bed, gives me a quick glance and answers
almost in a whisper:

Maybe I do, but maybe just a little.

I continue to tell him:

Mums and dads get help here, too. They usually want to talk. Children don’t have
to talk if they don’t feel like it. It’s up to them. Your whole family is going to
feel better after you’ve come here a few times – your sisters, too.
Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that 9
We have not had time to talk so much about the daughters at this meeting, but
the parents have talked to them and are convinced that Jack did not do anything
inappropriate to them. Nevertheless, I assume that what has happened to Malte
has affected them as well. Perhaps they feel guilty for not having noticed what
was happening to their little brother. Maybe they preferred to be with their friends
and did not want Malte to disturb them when Jack was around. I sense that Malte
is gazing at my back when I turn away from him. He is listening to my words but
saying nothing. He just goes on driving the cars around in the sand tray. He likes
trains, boats and cars, but also shows interest in my soldiers, cowboys and Indians
while at the same time not removing them from the toy cupboard.
His dad, who wants Malte to come out with a more definite answer, asks:

Do you want to come back to see Elisabeth?

Malte nods in assent and I say:

Okay then, it’s decided. I also want to see you, Malte, very much.

Afterwards, Malte is the first to extend his hand to mine when we say good-
bye. I keep his hand in my grip for a moment and give it a little squeeze. Malte
responds with the hint of a smile before he darts away. His parents get the times
and dates for the coming visits.

Symptoms after the trauma


My impression after having met Malte with his mum and dad is that all three of them
need help. Jonathan clinches his jaw and must strain himself to stay calm and not
raise his voice too much during our talk. Judging from Annika’s way of relating to
him, I guess that Jonathan on some occasion has lost control of himself at home,
bawled people out and shouted lots of things in sheer desperation. He gets a look
from his wife from time to time that prompts him to hold his temper. He has also
noticed himself that Malte gets a cautious look on his face when he glances at his dad.
I believe that Malte is a cheerful boy under normal circumstances who now has
lost his sense of psychic well-being. He has previously trusted in the future and has
yearned to be big enough to start school, Annika says. Now he no longer mentions
school. His sisters have taught him to write some of the letters of the alphabet. I heard
him talking to his parents in the waiting room and noted his good vocabulary, which
makes me believe that he is a talkative boy under normal circumstances. Now he is
dejected and in low spirits but brightens up when I say that I usually help children
and their mums and dads. He is also curious about the toys that I have in the room.
Malte most certainly has never had his trust betrayed by an adult before. His
parents watch over him with loving care and are deeply concerned about his well-
being. But now he has been betrayed and disappointed in one of the most horrible
ways possible. He liked Jack in the beginning and looked up to him. Jack knew
how to do so many things and was so helpful. Then without warning Jack turned
out to be ruthless, completely lacking in respect. He was anything but sweet and
10 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that
helpful. He crushed Malte’s will and violated him sexually. Malte has found him-
self in a vulnerable position where he has not been able to protect himself or his
body. Prior to this assault, he has not even been aware that he would ever need to
defend himself against such a thing.
Annika’s impression from her talks with Malte about the assault is that he is
confused and does not fully understand what has happened to him. It is common
that children who have been violated experience feelings of unreality in the same
way as Malte does. A child’s way of withstanding an assault is to block off sen-
sory impressions and repress frightening memory images. As a result, children
cannot always talk about what they have experienced in a credible way. Malte
is also unsure about who was at fault. Perhaps he thinks that the fault, partly or
fully, is his. In addition, Jack has ordered him not to tell anyone anything. He
shows in his nightmares that he is also afraid that someone is going to come
after him.
Malte is also bewildered over his parents’ strong reactions and terrified about
being the cause of this emotional tumult. As he perceives things, it most likely
seems that he is the source of his mum’s unhappiness and his dad’s fury. Perhaps
he also believes that his dad is angry at him and not at Jack. Malte is too young to
understand causal relationships. In order to give Malte a chance to work through
his trauma, which is also his parents’ trauma, I propose a twelve-session crisis
therapy for Malte. This is a form of time-limited short-term therapy – one session
per week, and forty-five minutes per session. His parents will get some supportive
talks during the same time period as Malte has his therapy.
My purpose with therapy for Malte is to give him an opportunity to work through
his memories and reactions after the assault. He needs help in approaching, one
step at a time, the confusing memories, the mixed-up feelings and the chaotic reac-
tions that resulted when the assault came to light. For Malte causal relationships
are all jumbled up, and he does not understand why he has broken out in such an
irritating rash on his neck or why he has lost all his energy. He cannot communicate
what he has experienced but instead contains the chaos inside himself.
Malte needs to find better ways to express his anxiety and distress than through
nightmares, wetting the bed and breaking out in eczema. When therapy begins,
Malte will get a chance to express what has happened on a symbolic level through
games and play. He will get a chance to choose what he wants to play with. The
basis for a good working atmosphere between the two of us will also be laid dur-
ing this time. He needs to see that he can confide in me and that I will respect his
confidences and treat them discreetly. This is a precondition for the development
of our therapeutic work. The goal is for him, when therapy is over, to be able to
think about and talk about the incident without feeling bad.
When Malte can put into words what he is feeling and thinking, it will be also
easier for his parents to understand when he needs their comfort and support. An
important ingredient of the therapy will also be to make clear what is right versus
what is wrong in relationships between children and grown-ups. Malte needs to
hear this from more adults, not just his mum and dad. Finally, our work in therapy
Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that 11
will help him to find his way back to the boy he was before, cheerful and full of
ideas, the Malte who loves to play and ride bikes with his playmates at preschool.
The focus in my discussions with Malte’s parents will be to help them relate emo-
tionally to what has happened and to respect each other’s ways of expressing their
feelings. When they get into a row because of their different temperaments, neither
Malte nor they themselves can benefit; quite the opposite. His mum’s tears and his
dad’s anger have their origins in the same despair. They have to get through this
together. They gratefully accept my proposal to help them because there is nothing
they want more than for the family to get into balance again. They also have many
questions, for example, whether all of this can affect Malte as a grown man.
In the therapy with Malte I will approach the assault more directly after a cer-
tain amount of time. I am also going to avail myself of a psychological tool called
Book about What Happened. A colleague of mine, psychologist Bengt Söder-
ström, has devised this tool. He has extensive experience of work with sexually
traumatized children at one of the special treatment centres in Stockholm. My
idea is to make a little book of this type together with Malte. We will approach
what happened in many different ways, depending on what Malte chooses, but the
book will be an important element. I am going to start with it when he is ready.
I will follow his pace and momentum.
The whole process must take place in small steps since Malte at this point in
time does not want to think about what has happened. In any event, the book
provides a gentle way of approaching difficult issues. The book will be plain
and simple and will consist of ten pages, with a drawing of one figure or more
and a couple of sentences on each page. Malte will be the main character in the
book. Each page will highlight a certain part of what happened, all in chrono-
logical order. In this way the course of events will be moved forward until the
point at which the entire incident has been described in words and pictures. The
story will start before the assault and will end with positive thoughts about fac-
ing the future.
I think out the general contours of the textual content in advance. In contrast,
the pictures will evolve as we go along. Time will tell how and when we can start
with the book. It is important for Malte to feel that I respect his wishes regardless
of whether he wants to work with the book. He has been subjected to actions where
his “no” has not been respected. He has had his trust betrayed by a person he has
trusted and liked. When things like this happen, it is hard for a child to sort out his
negative and positive feelings. I will do my best to listen well when I am in the
presence of Malte and to be on the lookout for what he wants to stage in his play.
In this narrative about the healing process that Malte goes through, I choose
to focus on our work making the Book about What Happened. When a child in
therapy is not more than five years old, we can count on many other things to hap-
pen that also help to move the process forward. Selected vignettes that illustrate
such factors are also included but I have had to omit many examples. In short,
Malte comes to see me twelve times, Tuesdays at 11.00 a.m., and every session is
forty-five minutes long. My talks with his parents are also described.
12 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that
Crisis therapy with twelve sessions

Sessions 1–3
Malte shows from the beginning that he is worried about being alone in the room
with me. His dad accompanies him to the first session and sits on a chair outside
my room. I do not close the door but Malte closes it himself during the second
session. In the introductory phase I let Malte take in the atmosphere of the room.
How does it feel for him to be alone with me? Despite all efforts to put him at
ease, maybe he thinks our meetings are going to resemble the police interview.
Or maybe he does not expect another such experience but is still wary that we are
going to spend most of the time talking about what happened. Anything connected
to the assault is painful for Malte to think about. At the police station he talked
because he had to. After that he has not mentioned anything about the theme at
home. I hope that he will gradually feel that he can trust me.
I tell him once more that my name is Elisabeth, and his whispered answer is
barely audible:

I know.

That he remembers my name probably means that his parents have prepared
him for the sessions. I have told him earlier but I tell him again what children get
a chance to do when they come to see me.

You’re not going to need to answer loads of questions. You’ve already done that at
the police station. No, here you get to look around and see what you want to do.

Malte stands just inside the door and looks hesitant so I continue:

You can paint, colour, play games, build things in the sand tray, check out the
dollhouse, or do anything else that you feel like doing. Talking about different
things, well, that’s something we can do later if you feel like it.

When Malte is alone with me, he is like most children inasmuch as he picks up
more of what I say than he does when his parents are present. He most likely let his
parents listen on his account when we met the previous time. He looks as though he
is hearing for the first time that he can use the toys in the room, draw, paint, colour
or build in the sand tray. I have laid out crayons, paper, pens and paints, since I have
the work with the book in mind. We will need the material when that time comes. It
instils a sense of security in therapy if the room looks the same every time. The same
material is laid out for every visit, even if Malte does not use it.
I tell him a little about other children who come to see me:

Many children come here who are having a hard time with different things, or who
are unhappy about something that has happened.
Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that 13
I mention some reasons for coming that are similar to Malte’s own problems:

Some have stomach aches, others have no friends, some wet their beds even
though they don’t want to. Others have a hard time sleeping in their own
beds, and some are unhappy.

Malte listens while I talk about the other children, and I notice a twitching in the
corner of his mouth when I mention children who wet their beds.

Here in therapy all these children get help so that things get better again. I want
to help you feel good again as well.

In the first session Malte ventures a cautious glance at the paper for painting.
I reach out to him with a piece of paper and say:

If you want to, you can draw your family when all of you are doing something.
Well, okay, Malte says quietly.

With some hesitation he begins to draw. He holds the pencil as a younger child
would and draws a shaky head-foot man, a head with legs and arms attached to it.
After a short while I ask him:

Who is that? Who have you drawn?


I want to write my letters.

He writes “MALTE” over the entire figure, and with that he considers the task
completed. I ask where the rest of the family is, but he stands firm:

It’s me. There’s no room for the others. I don’t want to draw ’cause it’s no fun.
And besides I never drawed a girl in my whole life.

I see from his picture that he is not used to drawing, but perhaps he also lacks
the psychic energy to think about the rest of his family after all the turbulence that
has arisen.
Malte remains seated, and I tell him to feel free to take a look around the room.
He slides down from the chair and glides around the room, checking out the
games and toys and getting a feel of the sand in the sand tray. He fiddles with a
few cowboys and Indians. He checks out the cars and comments to himself about
their makes. He is eager to see what is behind or under other things in the room.
He opens a closet door and takes a peek into the closet, looks under a radiator and
behind a picture that is hanging on the wall. He looks at me for permission when
he wants to open a desk drawer and I give a yes signal. Perhaps Malte is making
sure that there is nothing dangerous there. He is sombre but still gives an impres-
sion of being curious and eager to learn.
14 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that
He needs the first three sessions to become less anxious and to start liking to
come see me. He plays in the sand tray most of the time. He looks up at me now
and then, while he talks out loud to himself. In that way he lets me go along with
him in his games. What Malte likes best is to set up different teams that fight
against each other. The teams consist of tame and wild animals as well as soldiers,
cowboys and Indians. The team formations vary; sometimes they are equal in
strength, but often a “little and weak and nice” team fights against a “strong and
nasty” one. The figures suddenly change sides and the game becomes agitated. In
the next battle the figures that have previously been nice can become nasty. I see
how he tries to solve situations like this by moving the figures around again. This
makes things even more confusing, with Indians and cowboys who now stand in
disarray and shoot their own team players in the back. Malte cannot figure out
how to put things in order again in these battles so he ends the game abruptly.
Malte does what most children usually do at the beginning of therapy. He stages
in his games what has happened to him. For him, chaos takes over when “weak”
must fight against “strong”. He himself has not been able to cope with such a
situation and neither can his animals or warriors. It does not matter whether the
figures belong to the “nasty” or the “nice” team; the chaos is the same. I see this
as Malte’s way of expressing his own confusion after what has happened to him,
which he must do before we go further. During these first three sessions Malte
does not even look at the crayons, paints, pencils, paintbrushes or paper. He has
now started to show his interest in me by not only taking a peek at me but also by
looking me straight in the eye. He talks less to himself and more to me. I see a hint
of a smile from time to time. Otherwise he is occupied with cowboys, Indians and
warriors who keep shooting indiscriminately.

Mum cries and dad is furious

Discussion with Malte’s parents


After Malte has had three sessions, his parents come in for a talk. Malte’s dad can get
away from his job more easily than his mum, so he is the one who will usually bring
Malte to therapy. I tell Annika and Jonathan that Malte is feeling his way around in
therapy. His mum thinks I mean that he is not making progress and asks anxiously:

What are we going to do if he doesn’t get happy and well again?

The most important thing here and now is to instil hope in Malte’s parents.
I therefore refer to my many years of experience of good results from this type of
treatment, and I add that this holds true for both children and their parents.
They smile and look less worried. Before I let them talk I want to clarify:

At this point Malte is still in the beginning of his therapy, and we must allow the
process to take time. Therapy is divided into three different phases, and as
time goes on, changes are going to take place. Your son is not slower than
other children.
Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that 15
My words have a calming effect on Jonathan, who is eager for a chance to start
talking. He is still upset and says:

My son’s been violated and I’m suffering with him. He’s changed from a happy
little kid to a silent and tormented soul. I just can’t stand it.

Jonathan drowns out both Annika and me. He gets annoyed at his wife, who
shushes him and does not want him to talk so loudly. I also say that it would be
a good idea for him to speak a little more quietly because then I can understand
what he is saying more easily. At this point he asks me:

How would you react if your own child had been attacked by such a creep and
then was not believed?
I would react exactly as you two are doing, with despair, with frustration at my
powerlessness and anger.
I think this feeling of powerlessness is the worst. I am SO damned mad.

I agree:

I would feel that way, too, SO damned mad. No doubt whatsoever.

I have a warm feeling for Malte’s parents. They are in despair and have a hard
time talking to each other about what has happened, and my suggestion before we
go on is as follows:

I want to divide the time equally between you two today, so that both of you get a
chance to tell me how you’re feeling and thinking.

Jonathan gets to start in order to ease the pressure inside him. In his anxiety-
ridden state he does not have the presence of mind for a dialogue just now.

Then I want to hear how you, Annika, experience the situation, I say.

She answers:

Jonathan can talk as long as he wants to because it makes me feel better if he


calms down.

However, I stand firm and clear:

No, both of you must get a chance to express your frustration and listen to the
other’s feelings and reactions. You need help, all three of you.

The mood in the room becomes calmer and Jonathan begins:

Everything has turned into chaos in my head, and at home it’s the same thing.
I get angry about everything and lose my temper. I’ve phoned my job and said
16 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that
that I’m ill. I can’t think straight. They asked what my illness was, and I said
I damned well didn’t know what my illness was but I know I’m ill.

It becomes clear that what weighs on Jonathan’s mind most heavily is his not
having been able to protect his family. He loses his temper with his daughters,
too. One time he blamed them for not noticing anything strange about that creep
Jack. He had immediately regretted his words, but it was too late to take them
back. Both daughters had started crying. They slipped into the one girl’s room and
stayed there the entire evening.

They don’t go over to their friends’ houses and they don’t talk on their cell phones
any more. I miss that chitchat that can drive me crazy under normal circum-
stances, says Jonathan and looks devastated.

When his time is almost up, he says:

Can kids get a warped view toward sex when they grow up because of stuff like
this? I mean we see stories about perverts who become perpetrators, about
how they were violated themselves when they were kids.

My answer is this:

Those perpetrators have not had parents who gave them loving care. Malte has
such parents to the greatest degree. Besides, he goes to therapy and that’s
going to help him, both in the short and the long term.

We talk about this issue for a while, until I say that it is Annika’s turn to speak.
Jonathan leans back in the armchair, blows his nose and is obviously in a state
of intense emotion. Annika has her handkerchief ready when she starts to speak:

I feel awful all the time and cry over nothing. Everything’s so hard. We don’t do
anything fun in the family. No one has the energy. A neighbour rang our door-
bell and asked if something had happened to us, and I told her to go home and
mind her own business. I mean, that’s crazy. She just wanted to help and she
had no idea what was going on. I feel so sorry for the kids, too. They don’t
feel like doing anything any more.

When Annika talks about the children she cries for a long while, and Jonathan’s
glasses are misty as he lays his hand on his wife’s shoulder. When she regains her
composure she continues:

It’s so hard when everything falls on my shoulders. And I’m also scared to death
all the time.

When I ask her what she is most scared of, she turns to her husband and says:

That you’re going to do something you’ll regret.


Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that 17
Jonathan knows what his wife is referring to and responds:

Yes, okay, okay, I’ve said I’m going to go after that creep and give him what he
deserves. I was SO damned mad. I don’t know what I’m going to do.

I ask Jonathan:

Have you become afraid of yourself and all the feelings that have been awakened
in you now that someone has violated your child?

Jonathan replies:

I’ve never felt like this before.

I concur:

This is one of the worst things that a parent can experience, that someone hurts his
child. It arouses lots of primitive feelings. But, of course, there’s a difference
between thinking about something and actually doing it.

Jonathan nods in agreement.

Do you have thoughts like that now, thoughts that you want to go after Jack? It’s
important for Annika to know.

He looks at her and says:

You needn’t be afraid. I’m not going to do that. I promise. Anyhow I can’t do
anything because all of my energy’s gone. I can’t even do my job, you
know.
The best way you can use any energy you might have left is to make sure you’re
able to come here. You’re going to feel better if you do.
Yes, we’ve put your schedule paper up on our fridge, Annika comments.

When they stand up to go, they seem less burdened. Annika has stopped crying
and runs her hand quickly over the nape of Jonathan’s neck. The most important
task for this meeting has been to help Annika and Jonathan listen to each other and
respect the fact that they express their feelings in different ways.

Book about What Happened

Session 4
When we have reached this point, Malte is used to coming to see me and he
feels more secure. He runs up to my room on his own every time. His dad or
his maternal grandmother brings him here and waits in the waiting room. Malte
18 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that
has now had his fill of the messy battles in the sand tray and looks around in the
room to see what he wants to do instead. At this point I suggest that the two of
us together can start making a book with drawings and texts, a book about what
happened. I take a pencil and some paper and get ready to start drawing. But
Malte insists:

I don’t like to draw. It’s no fun. I almost never draw.

I try with:

Let’s do it together. Come and let me show you.

Malte responds by getting keyed up, twisting and turning around on the floor,
scampering randomly about in the room, looking out the window and talking
about something he sees down below on the street. He chuckles in a way to divert
me, to get me to stop talking about “that thing” that he does not want to talk about.
He lets me sit alone at the table with my blank paper. I use a pencil and draw a boy.
He asks me as he chuckles:

And what’s that thing s’posed to be?

I answer with a counter-question in an attempt to capture his interest:

What do you think it looks like?

Malte shakes his head in the negative.

A boy who’s riding a bike, I say.


Well, I never coulda’ guessed it.

I chuckle at his frankness. He also laughs. Like Malte, I do not get a lot of
practice at drawing.
He goes to the shelf where I have the cars and checks out all the car makes.
When he stretches in order to take down some aeroplanes from the top shelf, he
catches sight of a digital camera that I have in my bag. He immediately forgets
the aeroplanes. Well mannered as he is, he looks at me for permission before he
takes out the camera. I suggest that we sit down on the couch so that I can show
it to him. It seems natural to assume that he needs my help, but he opens the case,
attaches the camera to its strap and hangs it around his neck. He knows exactly
how it is done.

We got one almost like this at home. I know how it works. Dad has teached me. He
takes loads of pictures.
Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that 19
Malte aims the camera at me and quickly snaps a picture. He shows that he
knows how to take pictures, even though a major part of me is not included.

Your tummy taked up most of the space, he laughs.

He is having so much fun that he wants to take one more picture. He moves
farther away since he has concluded that he stood too close before.

This one’s mostly your tummy, too, but it’s smaller now.

I smile and am happy that he is showing me the cheerful Malte, the one I have
previously only heard about. He laughs when I say:

Now I think we have enough pictures of my tummy.

During our first three sessions, Malte expressed his traumatic experiences
through different battles in the sand tray. But now I want us to begin to work on
the book, so I suggest again:

Let’s make a book about what happened. We don’t need to draw. We can take
photos of different dolls and things that we set up on the floor or in the sand.

Malte looks sceptical so I continue:

You can be the photographer so that we get pictures for the book. I’m going to
write the words that should go on every page.

I want to show him that I am going to help him, and consequently I am more
active than I have been at the previous sessions.
Malte gives me an affirmative nod but mumbles that he really does not feel like
doing this. He shows at the same time that he both wants and does not want to get
on board. He is unsure about how he can approach what happened in another way
than talking or drawing, and he does not want to do either of those two. I assure
him that we will help each other, he and I. My intention is to follow the manual
for making a Book about What Happened when it comes to purpose and content,
but the pictures will have to be photos instead of drawings. The manual suggests
simple pencil drawings but Malte prefers more advanced techniques, so we will
try using a digital camera and downloading the pictures on the computer. Granted
I have never used this procedure in any therapy previously but why not, if it can
awaken Malte’s interest?
We use the major part of the session for Malte to think about how to take the
pictures. We chitchat back and forth, and he gets a chance to snap a few pictures of
toys and to look at them in the camera. He needs time to think things over before
he feels ready to take on the work for his Book about What Happened. He creates
20 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that
that time by concentrating on the technical aspects of the project. He reverses our
roles and now he is the one who tells me what I should do:

You can put the pictures into the computer later, ’cause then they’ll get big-
ger. I know how to do that on our computer at home. I help my dad do
stuff like that. You can do it on a computer like yours too, even though it’s
pretty old.

He points at my laptop, which is on the desk. He is quick to note its make and
that it is old, which is more than I keep track of myself. When it is time to start
working on the book I say:

This book is going to be called Book about What Happened, and it’s about Malte
and what he’s gone through.

He wants to take pictures already, before we have even started, so I put the
camera down beside us and tell him first that he may take a picture of each scene
after it is built up.
I need to give him some straight talk:

I’ll take out the camera when it’s time to let you take the picture. There’s to be a
picture on every page of the book.

He goes along with everything that I say but he still looks doubtful and unsure
about what is going on. I am painstakingly precise at this point because I want to
help him dare to take on the work with the book. The book is a good method of
daring to approach what Malte has experienced.
In the series of pictures, we will go through the entire course of events. I will
only include those things that Malte’s parents have told me he has said, and noth-
ing that is only my or the parents’ speculations. I will write the picture texts in
capital letters. Every picture text will indicate that the continuation follows on the
next page. When we get to the final step, the book will reflect the entire course of
events. The aim is not to get Malte to remember more details, something I have
explained carefully to both him and his parents.
Malte sits on the floor watching me and I try to interest him in what we can
put together to illustrate this text. He does not do anything, so I fetch the boy doll
that he has held in his hands earlier. We chat about whether this doll can represent
Malte. He comments:

He’s got the same hair anyway. Same colour, like.

Malte does not look uninterested, so I propose an opening scene for the story
by placing the boy doll on a tricycle beside a little doll sandbox that Malte fills
with a handful of sand.
Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that 21

Figure 1.1 I read the following text aloud while I write it on a piece of paper: Last summer
when Malte was only four and a half years old.

In the first picture I want to underscore that we are going to make a book
about something that happened a long time ago but is no longer happening now.
To emphasize that the assault took place in the past, I choose things that can
be associated with a toddler: a tricycle and a tiny sandbox. This is a concrete
attempt to help Malte get a grip on the distance in time between the assault and
the present. I direct the conversation to how things were for Malte when he was
only four and a half years old. That was half a year ago, a long time when you
are little. I let him tell me about whatever he wants. He shows me immediately
that he would rather talk about his family than about what happened. It is impor-
tant for me to listen without interruption at this point so that he will not feel that
I am judging things he says as right or wrong. Malte says:

I don’t know ’cause I had an ear ache. We’ve got a cat. Her name’s Darling and
she’s got different colours on her. I know a stupid person who says she’s ugly
in a pretty way. Weird. I don’t know what he’s talking about.
What do you think of your cat?
She’s nice. We’ve got six in our family – mum, dad, Johanna, Linda and
Darling.

He shows me five fingers and after counting them with the index finger of his
other hand, he notices that something is not right and he adds with a laugh:

And there’s me, of course.


22 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that
As children do, he naturally counts the cat as a member of his family. I ask if he
thinks we should have a cat in the first picture. He lets me know immediately that
he already identifies himself with the Malte doll when he says:

No, we can’t ’cause Darling moved in with us after the summer. When it was
autumn I was five and not four and a half.

Malte talks about his family and this talk makes him calmer. The thought of
the book’s content makes him anxious. We chat some more about his family, and
he tells me that his sister Linda is ten years old and Johanna twelve and he adds:

I’m five now, not four and a half any more. That was a long time ago ’cause
then I was in the Bluebell group at preschool and now I’m in the Cowslip
group. You see what I mean? Next I’ll be five and a half. Are you twenty
years old?
No, pretty much more than that.
Oh really? What then? About eighty?

It is remarkable how hard it is for children to guess the approximate ages of


adults. But Malte loses interest in my age when he catches sight of the camera.
It surprises him that he has forgotten it while he has been so occupied with talk-
ing about his family. He snaps a picture happily and quickly. The picture is a
bit crooked but that does not bother him when we look at it in the camera. Nor
do I say anything because I do not want to risk having his attention more con-
centrated on the technical aspects than the psychological ones during our meet-
ings. The session ends with my loading the picture into the computer according
to Malte’s instructions.
In the interval between this and the next session, I work hard with the camera
and with the transfer of pictures to the computer in order to make this element
of the therapy go smoothly. I cannot let Malte be disappointed now when he has
found his own way of moving forward with the work. From now on, when each
session begins, the pictures will already be accessible in the computer so that he
can look at them. Paper copies of the pictures will be spread out on the table.
However, Malte prefers to look at the pictures in the computer.

He bothered my weenie. It hurt.

Session 5
Malte squirms around a little. I write in the past tense here as well to show even
more that what we are talking about concerns time that is no longer with us. Malte
sits on the floor by the sand tray and looks at me. I go to the dollhouse and fiddle
with the dolls. I take out some male dolls with different facial expressions, dolls
that could represent Jack. I want to understand whether Malte harbours contradic-
tory feelings toward Jack. Perhaps his choice of doll can tell me something about
Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that 23

Figure 1.2 I take out the camera and a piece of paper where I write at the same time as I
read the text: A young man babysat for Malte and his sisters. His name was Jack.

that. I try to interest him in making a choice, but in the end the process of elimina-
tion rules. He rejects the one doll after the other until there is only one left. It is
tall, wears jeans and has scruffy hair. I ask:

Do you think we should take him?


You decide.

Malte follows me with his glance but seems otherwise glued to the floor. Then
I stand up straight and ask:

Where do you think we should place him in the room?


Somewhere, anywhere. You can decide.

I walk around the room with the doll that represents Jack, and I talk about dif-
ferent places:

Maybe in the dollhouse? Or on the shelf with the Indians and cowboys? Or here in
front of the dollhouse? Or behind the cupboard, what do you say about that?

I want to be careful about bringing the Jack doll into the narrative. It therefore
takes time before we decide together about what place he is going to get in the
room and, consequently, later in the narrative. We come to an agreement that the
Jack doll will stand in an out-of-the-way corner under the stairs leading up to
24 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that
the dollhouse. I associate this directly with the shame of standing in the corner.
Malte cannot see the doll from the part of the room where he is sitting nor can
the Jack doll see him. This is Malte’s way of starting to build up a psychological
distance to Jack and thus becoming able to approach the assault in his mind. I am
struck by his inventiveness and am reminded of how the preschool teachers noted
the same quality. I want to encourage him to take part on his own terms and agree:

Yes, I also think that’s a good place for him.

Malte does not want to take the picture. Approaching Jack through the lens of
the camera means getting too close.

You can take the picture, says Malte.

I do as he wishes and note to myself that I will load it into the computer after
the session. I refer to Jack by name, and Malte says instantaneously:

He’s nasty.

I agree with what he says:

Yes, what he did to you was terribly wrong and terribly nasty.

This is getting to be a little too much for Malte just now. He is agitated and
scratches the eczema on his neck. I ask him if he wants to do something else and
he does. He plays in the sand tray, but he cannot get any dynamic going and repeat-
edly interrupts himself. He starts over from new angles but nothing gets better. He
tries to start battles where Indians fight against cowboys. Then he abandons them
and goes on to make an explosion that represents a huge fire. A fire engine comes
screeching in, but it cannot find the fire. Chaos rules. It is obvious that the mere
thought of Jack distresses Malte. He gives up the game and complains:

It just gets messed up.

I suggest that he can come and sit down on a chair beside me, and I say:

Yes, things do turn into a “mess” sometimes when something bad has happened
to you and you don’t know how you should think about it.

When he has had a little rest I suggest that we can do another page in the book
even though he might not really feel up to it.

Do you know what page it will be?


It’ll be number three, right? says Malte and shows me three fingers.
Yes, exactly. You count exactly right.
Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that 25
I hand over the camera to him and suggest that he take a picture of the things he
has left in the sand tray. He looks surprised and says:

But it’s just a mess.


Yes, but in this book it’s okay to put in a mess. Everything’s okay to put in.

Malte says that I should take a picture. I take a picture of the “mess”, which
consists of an Indian who has fallen over, an explosion, an overturned fire engine
and a little telephone. Since I am used to far greater “messes” in the sand tray,
this one looks really minor. However, it shows that Malte is not used to dealing
with chaotic and disorganized thoughts. The little telephone pleases me since it
is a good sign of an expected continued dialogue between us. In the text for this
picture of a mess I want to write something wrong that Jack has done. I will wait
with what he has done to Malte in order not to rush things.

Figure 1.3 I read aloud while I write: Jack fooled around with his own weenie.

I am careful to use the same words and expressions that Malte used when he
told his mum about what happened. I ask:

Was that how it was?


It’s really crazy, isn’t it? Malte answers and lies on the floor while he takes a big
yawn.

This is how much of a strain the subject of Jack puts on him.

I agree with you. The whole thing’s crazy.


26 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that
Time is running out and so is Malte’s stamina. We say bye to each other, and
I promise that the pictures and texts will be ready in the computer by the next time
we meet.

Discussion with Malte’s parents


In today’s discussion it is Jonathan who is toned down and Annika who is upset.
She is thinking about the police interview and says that she has noted down
everything she remembers of what was said. It is her custom to keep a diary. She
has read through her notes prior to the meeting today. She needs to talk more
about the interview and how it was not easy for Malte. Annika had spoken to
him in advance about how important it was for him to tell things as carefully as
he could. He had answered in monosyllables and had become unsure when the
police officer asked him the same question over and over again. Annika thinks
that Malte took this as criticism, as a sign that he was giving the wrong answer.
Annika is just as upset as Jonathan was last time over the way a child has no
chance against an adult. We talk about how this unfortunately is often the case
when a child’s word is pitted against an adult’s. And there are never any wit-
nesses, either. I say:

I see that Malte knows he has his parents’ wholehearted support and that
you believe in him. He knows these things because whenever he gets
distressed he regains his comfort and security by talking about his mum
and dad.

The parents are moved when they hear this, and I am moved by seeing them so
moved over what I am telling them. We talk about Malte’s feeling of insecurity,
the way he no longer wants to visit the homes of children in his neighbourhood.
He is listless, even though somewhat less than before. We talk about how it is nec-
essary for them to be on the alert for when Malte wants to try going to his friends’
homes again. They must help him to want to dare. I say so since his parents have
become afraid to let him out of their sight.
Another theme is that Malte refuses to eat certain foods. On one occasion they
got annoyed at him and insisted that he should eat all of his pasta, a dish that he
has always liked. He had eaten it but said it was yucky, and after dinner he vom-
ited. His parents felt guilty when they later understood that maybe Malte associ-
ated pasta with Jack since Jack’s cooking skills were more or less limited to pasta.
When Malte’s parents speak at home now about what happened, they are careful
to keep their voices down. The children stay calmer that way.
Both Annika and Jonathan describe how they bear a vague feeling of going
around waiting for something. They do not know what it is, but the feeling is
unpleasant. Earlier they waited for the police interview, which they thought would
lead to the next step, a preliminary investigation, but then the whole thing was
Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that 27
dismissed. They sound as though they are waiting to start to feel all right again.
I want to give them hope until their own hope returns, and I therefore say with
strong conviction:

Things are going to get better.

The parents are more composed today and less anxiety-ridden than the last time
we met. Everyday routines have been partly reinstated now when Jonathan is back
at work. They also see that things are going in the right direction for Malte. He has
slept in his own bed three nights in a row, and during this last night, before the day
of our meeting, he did not wet his bed.

He didn’t say sorry

Session 6
When Malte comes to his sixth session he looks over at the computer. I put up the
screen and show him the three pages of the book that are ready. After looking at
the first picture he clicks quickly past the second one with Jack in it and looks at
the third one with the “mess”. He thinks it is strange to include a picture like this
one. We then get started working on page 4. Here I want to put in something about
what Jack did to Malte. I chat with him about the text that I intend to write. Malte
is not capable of talking about this. He locks his lips. As I write the text I look at
him questioningly to see if he has any objections.

Should we talk about it some more?

Malte answers unequivocally:

NO! Nothing.
It’s really good that you can say NO. I’m writing that you don’t want to talk about
it. You’re the one who decides. Great job!

Malte is obviously in a state of intense sensitivity, and of course I respect his


wish not to talk about what happened any more. It is important for Malte to see
that I respect his NO. Since Malte does not want to put any more time into this
page of the book, I ask him:

Should we take a picture of only the sand?

The sand tray remains empty of toys today. This emptiness can symbolize
“NO” and “nothing”.
28 Grown-ups mustn’t do stuff like that

Figure 1.4 He does not protest when I read the text for him: Jack pulled hard on Malte’s
weenie. He jerked it around. Malte does not want to talk about it.

Malte nods in agreement. He brightens up a little bit and thinks it is just as


strange to take a picture of only sand as of a “mess”.

When we take pictures at home we always put stuff or people in them.


Oh, I see.
Yes, like my grandma.
You mean your mum’s mum?
Yes. She doesn’t want dad to take pictures of her close up.
Oh really, so she doesn’t like that?
She thinks the picture gets smaller if you stand far away. All the pictures get big
in the computer, you know. Weird, isn’t it? Dad thinks it’s really fun to take
pictures of grandma. Then we all laugh.

After this we sit at the table and chat about everyday things, depending on
where Malte leads the conversation. At the same time, we sort out the pieces that
belong to a simple game. Malte is not especially interested in the game, but it is
easier to talk if you have something to do with your hands. Suddenly Malte says:

Iris was the one who knowed him. He babysitted for her kids. She has two kids but
only girls and they’re too little. They’s dad was ill and Iris had to go to work.
My mum and dad also go to work. We were really s’posed to go to my other
grandma, my dad’s mum, but she was sick in her leg. That was stupid of her,
too, you know.
Yes, you wanted to go to her house, I state and continue to listen to his narrative.
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upon creatures of a still more diminutive size, until finally the chain
23
of created beings terminates in the diatoms, which are found filling
these seas with the minutest forms of organic life.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
ANTARCTIC VOYAGES OF DISCOVERY.

Cook’s Discoveries in the Antarctic Ocean.—Bellinghausen.—Weddell.—


Biscoe.—Balleny.—Dumont d’Urville.—Wilkes.—Sir James Ross crosses
the Antarctic Circle on New Year’s Day, 1841.—Discovers Victoria Land.
—Dangerous Landing on Franklin Island.—An Eruption of Mount
Erebus.—The Great Ice Barrier.—Providential Escape.—Dreadful Gale.—
Collision.—Hazardous Passage between two Icebergs.—Termination of
the Voyage.

B EFORE Cook, no navigator had left Europe with the clear


design of penetrating into the Antarctic regions. Dirk Gheritz
indeed had been driven by a furious storm far to the south of Cape
Horn, and became the involuntary discoverer of the New Shetland
Islands in 1600; but his voyage was soon forgotten, and in an age
when the love of gold or the desire of conquest were the sole
promoters of maritime enterprise, no mariner felt inclined to follow
on his track, and to plunge into a sea where most probably he would
find nothing but ice-fields and icebergs to reward his efforts. Nearly
two centuries later a more scientific age directed its attention to the
unknown regions of the distant south, and Cook sailed forth to probe
the secrets of the Antarctic Seas. This dangerous task he executed
with an intrepidity unparalleled in the annals of navigation. Beyond
60° of southern latitude, he cruised over a space of more than 100°
of longitude, and on January 30, 1774, penetrated as far as 71° of
southern latitude, where he was stopped by impenetrable masses of
ice. Such were the difficulties encountered from dense fogs, snow-
storms, intense cold, and every thing that can render navigation
dangerous, that in his opinion the lands situated to the southward of
his discoveries must forever remain unknown.

Again for many a year no one attempted to enter a field where


the most celebrated of modern mariners had found but a few desert
islands (South Georgia, Sandwich’s Land, Southern Thule) until
Smith’s casual rediscovery of New South Shetland in 1819 once more
turned the current of maritime exploration to the Antarctic Seas.
Soon afterwards a Russian expedition under Lazareff and
Bellinghausen discovered (January, 1821), in 69° 3´ S. lat., the
islands Paul the First and Alexander, the most southern lands that
had ever been visited by man.
The year after Captain Weddell, a sealer, penetrated into the icy
ocean as far as 74° 15´ S. lat., 3° nearer to the pole than had been
attained by Cook. The sea lay invitingly open, but as the season was
far advanced, and Weddell apprehended the dangers of the return
voyage, he steered again to the north.
In 1831 Biscoe discovered Enderby Land, and soon afterwards
Graham’s Land, to which the gratitude of geographers has since
given the discoverer’s name. In 1839 Balleny revealed the existence
of the group of islands called after him, and of Sabrina Land (69° S.
lat.). About the same time three considerable expeditions, fitted out
by the governments of France, the United States, and England,
made their appearance in the Antarctic Seas.
Dumont d’Urville discovered Terre Louis Philippe (63° 31´ S. lat.)
in February, 1838, and Terre Adélie (66° 67´ S. lat.) on January 21,
1840. Almost on the same day, Wilkes, the commander of the United
States Exploring Expedition, reached an ice-bound coast, which he
followed for a length of 1500 miles, and which has been called
Wilkes’s Land, to commemorate the discoverer’s name.
But of all the explorers of the southern frozen ocean, the palm
unquestionably belongs to Sir James Ross who penetrated farther
towards the pole than any other navigator before or after, and made
the only discoveries of extensive land within the area bounded by
the Antarctic Circle.
On New Year’s Day, 1841, the “Erebus,” Captain James Clark
Ross, and the “Terror,” commanded by Francis Crozier, who died with
Franklin in the Arctic Sea, crossed the Antarctic Circle, and after
sustaining many severe shocks in breaking through the pack-ice,
emerged on January 9 into a clear sea of great extent; but the fog
and snow-showers were so thick that the navigators could seldom
see more than half a mile before them. On the following day the fog
began to disperse, and on the 11th, Victoria Land, rising in lofty
peaks entirely covered with perennial snow, was seen at a distance
of more than one hundred miles. On steering towards Mount Sabine,
the highest mountain of the range, new chains of hills were seen
extending to the right and left. After sailing for a few days to the
south along the ice-bound coast, a gale forced the ships to stand out
to sea; but on the morning of January 15, the weather becoming
beautifully clear, allowed a full view of a magnificent chain of
mountains stretching far away to the southward. Ross was most
anxious to find a harbor in which to secure the ships, but every
indentation of the coast was found filled with snow drifted from the
mountains, and forming a mass of ice several hundred feet thick. It
was thus impossible to enter any of the valleys or breaks in the
coast where harbors in other lands usually occur. Yet these
inhospitable shores (72° 73´ S. lat.) are situated but one or two
degrees nearer to the pole than Hammerfest, the seat of an active
commerce on the Norwegian coast.
Favored by northerly winds and an open sea, the ships reached
on January 22 a higher southern latitude (74° 20´ S.) than that
which had been attained by Weddell. Pursuing their way to the
southward along the edge of the pack-ice, which now compelled
them to keep at a considerable distance from the coast, they came
on the 27th within two or three miles of a small island connected by
a vast ice-field with the extreme point of the mainland. Eager to set
his foot on the most southerly soil (76° 8´ S.) he had as yet
discovered, Ross left the “Erebus,” accompanied by several officers,
and, followed by Crozier and a party from the “Terror,” pulled
towards the shore. A high southerly swell broke so heavily against
the cliffs and on the only piece of beach which they could see as
they rowed from one end of the island to the other, as almost to
forbid their landing.
By great skill and management Ross succeeded in jumping on to
the rocks. By means of a rope some of the officers landed somewhat
more easily, but not without getting thoroughly wetted, and one of
them nearly lost his life in this difficult affair. The thermometer being
at 22°, every part of the rocks washed by the waves was covered
with a coating of ice, so that in jumping from the boat he slipped
from them into the water between her stern and the almost
perpendicular rock on which his companions had landed. But for the
promptitude of the men in the boat in instantly pulling off, he must
have been crushed between it and the rock. He was taken into the
boat without having suffered any other injury than being benumbed
by the cold.
The island, which received the name of Franklin, bore not the
smallest trace of vegetation, not even a lichen or piece of sea-weed
growing on the rocks; but the white petrel and the skua-gull had
their nests on the ledges of the cliffs, and seals were seen sporting
in the water.
The following day was memorable for the discovery of the
southernmost known land of the globe, a magnificent mountain
chain, to which the name of Parry was given, in grateful
remembrance of the honor which that illustrious navigator had
conferred on Ross, by calling the most northern land at that time
known by his name. It is not often that men are able to reciprocate
such compliments as these! The most conspicuous object of the
chain was Mount Erebus (77° 5´ S.), an active volcano, of which
Ross had the good-fortune to witness a magnificent eruption. The
enormous columns of flame and smoke rising two thousand feet
above the mouth of the crater, which is elevated 12,400 feet above
the level of the sea, combined with the snow-white mountain chain
and the deep-blue ocean to form a magnificent scene. An extinct
volcano to the eastward of Mount Erebus, and a little inferior in
height, being by measurement 10,900 feet high, was called “Mount
Terror.” A brilliant mantle of snow swept down the sides of both
these giants of the south, and projected a perpendicular icy cliff
several miles into the sea.
Gladly would Ross have penetrated still farther to the south, but
all his efforts were baffled by a vast barrier of ice, forming an
uninterrupted wall, 450 miles in length, and rising in some parts to a
height of 180 feet above the sea-level. While sailing along this
barrier, the ships were frequently obliged by the wind and the
closely-packed ice to keep at a considerable distance; but on
February 9, having entered the only indentation which they had
perceived throughout its whole extent, they had an excellent
opportunity of getting quite close to it, though at no little hazard.
This bay was formed by a projecting peninsula of ice, terminated by
a cape 170 feet high; but at the narrow isthmus which connected it
with the great barrier it was not more than fifty feet high, affording
Ross the only opportunity he had of seeing its upper surface from
the mast-head. It appeared to be quite smooth, and conveyed to the
mind the idea of an immense plain of frosted silver. Gigantic icicles
depended from every projecting point of its perpendicular cliffs,
proving that it sometimes thawed, which otherwise could not have
been believed; for at a season of the year equivalent to August in
England, the thermometer at noon did not rise above 14°, and the
young ice formed so quickly in the sheltered bay as to warn them of
the necessity of a speedy retreat. Favored by the breeze, and by dint
of great exertion, they ultimately emerged from their dangerous
position, but scarcely had they escaped when the wind came directly
against them, so that had they lingered but half an hour longer near
the barrier they would certainly have been frozen up.
On February 13 the approach of winter convinced Ross that it
was high time to relinquish the further examination of the barrier to
the eastward; and as no place of security where it was possible to
winter could be found upon any part of the land hitherto discovered,
he reluctantly resolved to recross the Antarctic Circle, and postpone
all attempts to reach the pole to the next season. The return voyage
was difficult and dangerous. On March 7, the ships, while
endeavoring to find a way through the pack-ice in lat. 65°, had a
narrow escape from imminent destruction. The wind having ceased,
they found themselves at the mercy of a heavy easterly swell, which
was driving them down upon the pack, in which were counted from
the mast-head eighty-four large bergs, and some hundreds of
smaller size. As they rapidly approached this formidable chain, no
opening could be discovered through which the ships could pass; the
waves were beating violently against the bergs, and dashing huge
masses of pack-ice against their precipitous faces, now lifting them
nearly to their summit, then forcing them again far beneath their
water-line, and sometimes rending them in a multitude of brilliant
fragments against their projecting points. “Sublime and magnificent,”
says Ross, “as such a scene must have appeared under different
circumstances, to us it was awful, if not appalling. For eight hours
we had been gradually drifting towards what to human eyes
appeared inevitable destruction; the high waves and deep rolling of
our ships rendered towing with the boats impossible, and our
situation the more painful and embarrassing from our inability to
make any effort to avoid the dreadful calamity that seemed to await
us.... We were now within half a mile of the range of bergs. The roar
of the surf, which extended each way as far as we could see, and
the crashing of the ice, fell upon the ear with fearful distinctness,
whilst the frequently averted eye as immediately returned to
contemplate the awful destruction that threatened in one short hour
to close the world, and all its hopes, and joys, and sorrows upon us
forever. In this our deep distress ‘we called upon the Lord, and He
heard our voices out of His temple, and our cry came before Him.’ A
gentle air of wind filled our sails; hope again revived, and the
greatest activity prevailed to make the best use of the feeble breeze;
as it gradually freshened, our heavy ships began to feel its influence,
slowly at first, but more rapidly afterwards, and before dark we
found ourselves far removed from every danger.”
After passing the winter at Hobarton, the capital of Tasmania, Sir
James Ross, in the following year, once more crossed the Antarctic
Circle to examine the icy barrier which in his previous voyage had
blocked his progress to the south, and to renew his attempts to pass
round or through it. But there were new dangers to be encountered.
On January 17, 1842, a fearful storm came on as the “Erebus” and
“Terror” were making their way through the pack-ice, which was this
time met with in a more northern latitude than the year before. The
sea broke all the hawsers which held them to a large piece of floe,
and drove them helplessly along into the heavy pack. They were
now involved in an ocean of rolling fragments of ice, which were
dashed against them by the waves with so much violence that their
masts quivered as if they would fall at every successive blow. The
loud crashing noise of the straining and working of the timbers and
decks, as they were driven against some of the heavier pieces,
might well appall the stoutest heart, and thus hour passed away
after hour. During this terrible scene the ships were at one time so
close together that when the “Terror” rose to the top of one wave,
the “Erebus” was on the top of the wave next to leeward of her, the
deep chasm between them being filled with heavy rolling masses;
and as the ships descended into the hollow between the waves, the
maintopsail-yard of each could be seen, just level with the crest of
the intervening wave, from the deck of the other. The night, which
now began to draw in, rendered their condition, if possible, more
hopeless and helpless than before; but at midnight the snow, which
had been falling thickly for several hours, cleared away, as the wind
suddenly shifted to the westward; the swell began to subside, and
the shocks which the ships still sustained, though strong enough to
shatter any vessel less strongly ribbed, were feeble compared with
those to which they had been exposed. On the following day, the
wind having moderated to a fresh breeze, the crippled ships, whose
rudders had been sorely shattered, were securely moored to a large
floe-piece in the now almost motionless pack, where, by dint of
unceasing labor, the damages were repaired in the course of a week,
and the vessels once more fitted to fight their way to the south.
On February 22 the great barrier was seen from the mast-head,
just before midnight, and the following day, the wind blowing
directly on to its cliffs, they approached it within a mile and a half, in
lat. 78° 11´, the highest ever attained in the southern hemisphere.
From this point, situated about 5° of longitude farther to the east
than the indentation where the ships had so narrowly escaped being
frozen fast in the preceding year, the barrier trended considerably to
the northward of east, so that Ross was obliged to give up all hope
of rounding it, and extending his explorations towards the pole, as
the season was already considerably advanced. On his return voyage
to the Falklands, where he intended to pass the winter, he had
already reached the latitude of 60°, and thought himself out of
danger of meeting with bergs, when, in the afternoon of March 12,
the southerly wind changed to a strong north-westerly breeze. In
the evening the wind increased so much, and the snow-showers
became so incessant, that he was obliged to proceed under more
moderate sail. Small pieces of ice were also met with, warning him
of the presence of bergs, concealed by the thickly-falling snow, so
that before midnight he directed the topsails of the “Erebus” to be
close-reefed, and every arrangement made for rounding to until
daylight, deeming it too hazardous to run any longer. “Our people,”
says the gallant explorer, “had hardly completed these operations,
when a large berg was seen ahead and quite close; the ship was
immediately hauled to the wind on the port tack, with the
expectation of being able to weather it; but just at this moment the
‘Terror’ was observed running down upon us, under her topsail and
foresail; and as it was impossible for her to clear both the berg and
the ‘Erebus,’ collision was inevitable. We instantly hove all aback to
diminish the violence of the shock; but the concussion when she
struck us was such as to throw almost every one off his feet; our
bowsprit, foretopmast, and other smaller spars, were carried away,
and the ships hanging together entangled by their rigging, and
dashing against each other with fearful violence, were falling down
upon the weather face of the lofty berg under our lee, against which
the waves were breaking and foaming to near the summit of its
perpendicular cliffs. Sometimes the ‘Terror’ rose high above us,
almost exposing her keel to view, and again descended, as we in our
turn rose to the top of the wave, threatening to bury her beneath
us, whilst the crashing of the breaking upper-works and boats
increased the horror of the scene. Providentially the ships gradually
separated before we drifted down amongst the foaming breakers,
and we had the gratification of seeing the ‘Terror’ clear the end of
the berg, and of feeling that she was safe. But she left us completely
disabled; the wreck of the spars so encumbered the lower yard that
we were unable to make sail so as to get headway on the ship; nor
had we room to wear round, being by this time so close to the berg
that the waves, when they struck against it, threw back their spray
into the ship. The only way left to us to extricate ourselves from this
awful and appalling situation was by resorting to the hazardous
expedient of a stern board, which nothing could justify during such a
gale but to avert the danger which every moment threatened us of
being dashed to pieces. The heavy rolling of the vessel, and the
probability of the masts giving away each time the lower yard-arms
struck against the cliffs, which were towering high above our mast-
heads, rendered it a service of extreme danger to loose the mainsail;
but no sooner was the order given, than the daring spirit of the
British seaman manifested itself—the men ran up the rigging with as
much alacrity as on any ordinary occasion; and, although more than
once driven off the yard, they after a short time succeeded in loosing
the sail. Amidst the roar of the wind and sea, it was difficult both to
hear and to execute the orders that were given, so that it was three-
quarters of an hour before we could get the yards braced by; and
the main tack hauled on board sharp aback—an expedient that
perhaps had never before been resorted to by seamen in such
weather; but it had the desired effect; the ship gathered sternway,
plunging her stern into the sea, and with her lower yard-arms
scraping the rugged face of the berg, we in a few minutes reached
its western termination; the ‘under-tow,’ as it is called, or the
reaction of the water from its vertical cliffs, alone preventing us
being driven to atoms against it. No sooner had we cleared it than
another was seen directly astern of us, against which we were
running; and the difficulty now was to get the ship’s head turned
round and pointed fairly through between the two bergs, the
breadth of the intervening space not exceeding three times her own
breadth. This, however, we happily accomplished; and in a few
minutes, after getting before the wind, she dashed through the
narrow channel between two perpendicular walls of ice, and the
foaming breakers which stretched across it, and the next moment
we were in smooth water under its lee. The ‘Terror’s’ light was
immediately seen and answered; she had rounded to, waiting for
us..., and, as soon as day broke, we had the gratification of learning
that she had not suffered any serious damage.”
On December 17 Sir James Ross sailed from the Falkland
Islands, with the intention of following the track of Weddell, as, from
the account of that daring navigator, he had every reason to expect
to find a clear sea, which would enable him considerably to extend
the limits of geographical knowledge towards the pole. He was
disappointed, for though he discovered some new land (63°-64° 30´
S. lat., 55°-57° W. long.) to the south of D’Urville’s Terre Louis
Philippe, yet the pack-ice so blocked his progress that the farthest
point he could attain was in lat. 71° 30´ S., long. 14° 51´ W. On
March 1 he recrossed the Antarctic Circle, and on the 28th of the
same month dropped his anchors at the Cape. Thus ended this most
remarkable voyage, so honorable to all engaged in it, for, as Sir John
Richardson justly remarks, “the perseverance, daring, and coolness
of the commanding officer, of the other officers, and of the crews of
the ‘Erebus’ and ‘Terror,’ was never surpassed, and have been rarely,
if ever, equalled by seamen of any nation.”
Since then the “Pagoda,” which had been sent out by the
Admiralty for the purpose of observing magnetic phenomena in a
quarter of the Antarctic Seas that had not been visited by Sir James
Ross, attained the 73d parallel, but no more recent expedition has
been fitted out to prosecute his discoveries, and no man after him
has seen Mount Erebus vomiting forth its torrents of flame, or traced
the stupendous barrier which stopped his progress to the pole.
123. STRAIT OF MAGELLAN.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE STRAIT OF MAGELLAN.
Description of the Strait.—Western Entrance.—Point Dungeness.—The
Narrows.—Saint Philip’s Bay.—Cape Froward.—Grand Scenery.—Port
Famine.—The Sedger River.—Darwin’s Ascent of Mount Tarn.—The
Bachelor River.—English Reach.—Sea Reach.—South Desolation.—
Harbor of Mercy.—Williwaws.—Discovery of the Strait by Magellan
(October 20, 1521).—Drake.—Sarmiento.—Cavendish.—Schouten and
Le Maire.—Byron.—Bougainville.—Wallis and Carteret.—King and
Fitzroy.—Settlement at Punta Arenas.—Increasing Passage through the
Strait.—A future Highway of Commerce.

T HE celebrated strait which bears the name of Magellan is


generally pictured as the scene of a wild and dreary
desolation; but though its climate is far from being genial, and its
skies are often veiled with mists and rain, yet nature can smile even
here.

A glance at the map shows us the extreme irregularity of its


formation, as it is constantly changing in width and direction; now
swelling almost to the magnitude of a Mediterranean Sea, and then
again contracting to a narrow passage; sometimes taking a rapid
turn to the north, and at others as suddenly deviating to the south.
Islands and islets of every form—some mere naked rocks, others
clothed with umbrageous woods—are scattered over its surface;
promontories without number, from the Patagonian mainland or the
Fuegian archipelago, protrude their bold fronts into its bosom, as if
with the intention of closing it altogether; and countless bays and
havens are scooped into its rocky shores, as if the sea in a thousand
different places had striven to open a new passage to her waters.
The western entrance of this remarkable strait is formed by
Queen Catherine’s Foreland (Cape Virgins) and Point Dungeness, the
latter having been thus named from its resemblance to the well-
known Kentish promontory at the eastern mouth of the channel.
Although it rises at most nine feet above low-water mark, the snow-
white breakers which the tides are constantly dashing over its sides
render it visible from a great distance. It is generally the resort of a
number of sea-lions. When the wind comes blowing from the north-
east, the passing mariner—who, from the shallow nature of the
shore, is obliged to keep at some distance from the Ness—hears
their hoarse bellowing, which harmonizes well with the wild and
desolate character of the scene. Albatrosses and petrels hover about
them, while rows of grave-looking penguins seem to contemplate
their doings with philosophic indifference.
Beyond these promontories the strait widens into Possession
Bay, which at Punta Delgada and Cape Orange contracts to a narrow
passage. This leads into a wide basin, to which the Spaniards have
given the name of Saint Philip’s Bay, and which again terminates in a
second narrow passage or channel, a formation resembling on a
small scale the Sea of Marmora, which, as we all know, has likewise
the semblance of a lake, receiving and discharging its waters
through the Dardanelles and the Strait of Constantinople. During the
rising of the flood, a strong current flows through all these bays and
narrows from the west, so as to allow ships an easy passage, even
against the wind; but during ebb tide the current turns to the east,
so that at this time a vessel, even when favored by the wind, makes
but little progress, or is even obliged to anchor to avoid losing
ground. When Magellan, after sailing round Cape Virgins, penetrated
into the strait, this circumstance at once convinced that great
navigator that he was not in an inclosed bay, but in an open
channel, which would lead him into another ocean. Thus far the
country on both sides of the strait consists of nearly level plains, like
those of Patagonia; but beyond the second Narrows the land begins
to assume the more bold and picturesque appearance which is
characteristic of Tierra del Fuego. Mountains rise above mountains
with deep intervening valleys, all covered by one thick, dusky mass
of forest; while farther to the east scarcely a bush clothes the naked
soil. The trees reach to an elevation of between 1000 and 1500 feet,
and are succeeded by a band of peat, with minute Alpine plants, and
this again is succeeded by the line of perpetual snow, which,
according to Captain King, descends to between 3000 and 4000 feet.
The finest scenery about the Strait of Magellan is undoubtedly to
the east of Cape Froward, the most southerly point of the mainland
of South America. This promontory, which consists of a steep mass
of rock about 800 feet high, abutting from a mountain chain of
about 2000 or 3000 feet in height, forms the boundary between two
very different climates, for to the east the weather is finer and more
agreeable than to the west, where wind and rain are almost
perpetual.
On the Patagonian plains, the drought and the want of
protection against the piercing winds almost entirely impede
vegetation; but the country between Cape Negro—a little within the
second Narrows—and Cape Froward, or the eastern shore of
Brunswick Peninsula, is shielded by its situation against the almost
perpetual storms from the west, and enjoys, moreover, a sufficiency
of rain, and now and then serene weather. As, moreover, the soil in
this central part of the strait consists of disintegrated clay-slate,
which is most favorable to the growth of trees, the forests, from all
these causes, are finer here than anywhere else.
The country about Port Famine is particularly distinguished for
the richness of its vegetation; and both for this reason, and from its
central situation, this harbor has become a kind of chief station for
the ships that pass through the strait. Several unfortunate attempts
at colonization have been made at Port Famine; here many a
naturalist has tarried, and thus no part of the strait has been oftener
described or more accurately observed.
“The anchorage,” says Dumont d’Urville, who, in December,
1837, spent several days at Port Famine, “is excellent, and landing
everywhere easy. A fine rivulet gives us excellent water, and the
neighboring forests might furnish whole fleets with the necessary
fuel. The cliffs along the shore are literally covered with mussels,
limpets, and whelks, which afford a delicious variety of fare to a
crew tired of salt beef and peas. Among the plants I noticed with
pleasure a species of celery, which, with another herb resembling
our corn flower in form and taste, gives promise of an excellent
salad.
“I made use of my first leisure to visit the romantic banks of the
Sedger River, which discharges its waters on the western side of the
port. At its mouth the swampy strand is completely covered with
enormous trees heaped upon the ground. These naked giants,
stripped of their branches, afford a remarkable spectacle: they might
be taken for huge bones bleached by time. No doubt they are
transported from the neighboring forest by the waters of the river,
which, when it overflows its banks, after a deluge of rain, tears
along with it the trees it meets with in its course. Arrested by the bar
at the mouth of the stream, they are cast out upon its banks, where
they remain when the waters sink to their usual level.
“Having crossed the river, I entered the large and fine forest with
which it is bordered. The chief tree is the Antarctic beech (Fagus
betuloides), which is often from sixty to ninety feet high, and about
three feet in diameter. Along with this are two other trees, the
winter’s bark (Winteria aromatica), and a species of berberis, with a
very solid wood; but they are much less abundant, and of a much
smaller size. With the exception of mosses, lichens, and other plants
of this order, these forests afford but little that is interesting to the
naturalist—no quadrupeds, no reptiles, no land-snails; a few insects
and some birds are the only specimens to be gained after a long
search. After collecting a good supply of mosses and lichens, I
returned to the boat for the purpose of rowing up the river. Although
the current was tolerably rapid, we advanced about two miles,
admiring the beauty of its umbrageous banks. On my return I shot
two geese that were crossing the river over our heads, and whose
excellent meat amply supplied my table for several days. This,
together with the little gobies which were abundantly caught with
hand-lines, the large mussels we detached from the rocks, and the
celery-salad, gave me dinners fit for an alderman. How often since
have I regretted the plenty of Port Famine!”
In the month of February (1834), in the height of the Antarctic
summer, Mr. Darwin ascended Mount Tarn, which is 2600 feet high,
and the most elevated point in the vicinity of Port Famine. “The
forest,” says our great naturalist, “commences at the line of high-
water mark, and during the first two hours I gave over all hopes of
reaching the summit. So thick was the wood that it was necessary to
have constant recourse to the compass, for every landmark, though
in a mountainous country, was completely shut out. In the deep
ravines the death-like scene of desolation exceeded all description;
outside it was blowing a gale, but in these hollows not even a breath
of wind stirred the leaves of the tallest trees. So gloomy, cold, and
wet was every part, that not even the fungi, mosses, or ferns could
flourish. In the valleys it was scarcely possible to crawl along, they
were so completely barricaded by great mouldering trunks, which
had fallen down in every direction. When passing over these natural
bridges, one’s course was often arrested by sinking knee-deep into
the rotten wood; at other times, when attempting to lean against a
tree, one was startled by finding a mass of decayed matter, ready to
fall at the slightest touch. We at last found ourselves among the
stunted trees, and then soon reached the bare ridge, which
conducted us to the summit. Here was a view characteristic of Tierra
del Fuego; irregular chains of hills, mottled with patches of snow,
deep yellowish-green valleys, and arms of the sea intersecting the
land in many directions. The strong wind was piercingly cold, and
the atmosphere rather hazy, so that we did not stay long on the top
of the mountain. Our descent was not quite so laborious as our
ascent; for the weight of the body forced a passage, and all the slips
and falls were in the right direction.”
To the west of Cape Froward the strait extends in a north-
westerly, almost rectilinear direction, until it finally opens into the
Pacific, between Cape Pillar and Cape Victory. Here a day rarely
passes without rain, hail, or snow. Where the dreadful power of the
prevailing winds has free play, the mountain sides are naked and
bare, but in every sheltered nook the damp climate produces a
luxuriant vegetation. The trees, however, do not attain any great
height, and at Port Gallant the beech is already decidedly stunted in
its growth. This is no doubt caused by the excessive humidity of the
soil, which in all lower situations is converted by the continual rains
into a deep morass. The trunks and the branches are covered with a
thick layer of moss, and the tree becomes rotten in its youth. But
many shrubs, herbs, and mosses thrive under the perpetual deluge;
the latter particularly, covering large patches of ground with a
spongy carpet. It may easily be imagined how difficult, or rather
impossible it must be to penetrate into the interior of such a country.
Yet even these wild inhospitable regions can boast of many a
romantic scene. Thus the English Reach, which extends from Cape
Froward to Carlos Island, is bounded on both sides by lofty
mountains, their cones or jagged peaks covered with eternal snow.
Its southern bank, formed by Clarence Island, is intersected with
bays and channels, two of which, Magdalena Sound and Barbara
Channel, lead through a maze of islands into the open sea. Several
glaciers descend in a winding course from the upper great expanse
of snow to the sea-coast, and many a cascade comes dashing down
24
from rock to rock. Skogman draws an enthusiastic picture of the
beauty of York Roads near the mouth of the small Bachelor River. To
the south, behind Carlos Island, mountains rise above mountains,
and snow-fields above snow-fields; to the north lies the jagged
colossus, which from its solitary grandeur has been called Bachelor
Peak, and at whose foot the crystal river now hides itself beneath a
shady wood, and now rolls its crystal waters through a green lawn,
decorated with clumps of fuchsias. But in spite of its romantic
beauty, the want of life gives a melancholy character to this solitary
vale. Beyond Carlos Island in Long Reach, the banks of the strait
become yet more bare and desolate. Vegetation descends lower and
lower into the valleys, and even here the trees are misshapen and
dwarfish. But the mountain scenery has still all the majesty which
snow-fields and glaciers of a beryl-like blue impart to an Alpine
landscape. As Sea Reach shows itself, vegetation is almost totally
extinct, and on approaching the mouth of the strait, the mountains
become lower, their forms are less picturesque, and instead of the
stern grandeur which marks the middle part of the strait, low,
rounded, barren hills make their appearance, which completely
justify the name of South Desolation, which Sir James Narborough
gave to this coast, “because it was so desolate a land to behold.”
It may easily be imagined that the prevailing winds beyond Cape
Froward are extremely troublesome to ships sailing to the western
mouth of the strait, and that if not entirely beaten back, they can
frequently only force the passage after many efforts. Fortunately, the
deeply indented coasts possess a number of small havens which
may serve the mariner as stations during his gradual advance. Thus,
close to the mouth of the strait, where, between Cape Victory and
Cape Pillar, the sea during and after storms is so boisterous that
even steamers require their utmost strength not to be dashed
against the rocks, a secure port, appropriately called “Harbor of
Mercy,” allows the vessels to watch for more tranquil weather, and to
seize the first favorable opportunity for emerging into the open sea.
But even these harbors and bays are subject to peculiar dangers
from sudden gusts of wind that come sweeping down from the
mountains, and are known among the seal-catchers who frequent
these dangerous waters under the name of williwaws, or hurricane
squalls. For when the wild south-west storms come rushing against
the mountain-masses of Tierra del Fuego, the compressed air
precipitates itself with redoubled violence over the rock-walls, and
then suddenly expanding, flows down the valleys or gullies, tearing
up trees by the roots, and hurling rocks into the abyss. Where such
a gust of wind touches the surface of the water, the sea surges in
mighty waves, and volumes of spray are whirled away to a vast
distance. If a ship comes under its influence, its safety depends
mainly upon the strength of its anchor ropes.
Some situations are particularly subject to williwaws, and then
the total want of vegetation and the evident marks of ruin along the
mountain slopes warn the mariner to avoid the neighborhood. In
Gabriel Channel Captain King saw a spot where the williwaws,
bursting over the mountains on the south side, had swept down the
declivities, and then rushing against the foot of the opposite hills,
had again dashed upward with such fury as to carry away with them
every thing that could possibly be attached from the bare rock.
It was a memorable day in the annals of maritime discovery
(October 20, 1521) when Magellan reached the eastern entrance of
the strait that was to lead him, first of all European navigators, from
the broad basin of the Atlantic into the still wider expanse of the
Pacific Ocean. It was the day dedicated in the Catholic calendar to
St. Ursula and her eleven thousand virgins, and he consequently
named the promontory which first struck his view “Cabo de las
Virgines.” The flood tide, streaming violently to the west, convinced
him that he was at the mouth of an open channel, but he had
scarcely provisions for three months—a short allowance for
venturing into an unknown world, and thus before he attempted the
passage he convoked a council of all his officers. Some were for an
immediate return to Europe, but the majority voted for the
continuation of the voyage, and Magellan declared that should they
even be reduced to eat the leather of their shoes he would
persevere to the last, and with God’s assistance execute the
commands of his imperial master Charles V. He then at once gave
orders to enter the strait full sail, and on pain of death forbade any
one to say a word more about a return or the want of provisions.
Fortunately the winds were in his favor, for had the usual
inclemencies of this stormy region opposed him, there is no doubt
that with such crazy vessels, and such discontented crews, all his
heroism would have failed to insure success. It was the spring of the
southern hemisphere, and the strait showed itself in one of its rare
aspects of calm. Many fish were caught, and, as Pigafetti, the
historian of the voyage, relates, the aromatic winter’s bark which
served them for fuel “wonderfully refreshed and invigorated their
spirits.”
The fires kindled by the savages on the southern side during the
night induced Magellan to give that part of the country the name of
Tierra del Fuego, or Fireland; while from their high stature and bulky
frames, he called the inhabitants of the opposite mainland
Patagonians (patagon being the Spanish augmentative of pata,
foot). Although several days were lost in exploring some of the
numerous passages and bays of the straits, its eastern mouth was
reached on November 28, and Magellan saw the wide Pacific expand
before him.
In 1525 Charles V. sent out a new expedition of six vessels,
under Garcia de Loaisa, to circumnavigate the globe. The vice-
admiral of the squadron was Sebastian el Cano, who, after the death
of Magellan, had brought the illustrious navigator’s ship safely back
to Europe, and as a reward had been ennobled with the globe in his
coat of arms, and the motto,“Primus circumdedisti me.” Loaisa
entered the strait on January 26, 1526, but he was beaten back by
storms as far as the River Santa Cruz. On April 8 he once more
attempted the passage, and emerged into the Pacific on May 25.
Simon de Alcazaba, who in 1534 attempted to pass the Magellans
with a number of emigrants for Peru, was less successful, but in
1539, Alfonso de Camargo, having lost two vessels in the strait,
passed it with the third, and reached the port of Callao.
Until now the Spanish flag had alone been seen in these remote
and solitary waters, but the time was come when they were to open
a passage to its most inveterate foes. On August 20, 1579, Francis
Drake, commissioned by Queen Elizabeth to plunder and destroy the
Spanish settlements on the west coast of America, ran into the
strait, and on December 6 sallied forth into the Pacific.
To meet this formidable enemy, the Viceroy of Peru sent out in
the same year two ships under Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa. His
orders were to intercept Drake’s passage through the strait and then
to sail on to Spain. Though he failed in the object of his mission, yet
Sarmiento displayed in the navigation of the intricate and dangerous
passages along the south-west coast of America, the courage and
skill of a consummate seaman, and he gave the first exact and
detailed account of the land and waters of Fuegia. His voyage,
according to the weighty testimony of Captain King, deserves to be
noted as one of the most useful of the age in which it was
performed.
On his arrival in Spain, Sarmiento strongly pointed out the
necessity of establishing a colony and erecting a fort in the strait (at
that time the only known passage to the Pacific), so as effectually to
prevent the recurrence of a future hostile expedition like that of
Drake. Commissioned by Philip II. to carry his plans into execution,
he founded a colony, to which he gave the name of Ciudad de San
Felipe, but a series of disasters entirely destroyed it; and when, a
few years later, Cavendish, who had fitted out three ships at his own
expense to imitate the example of Drake, appeared in the strait, he
found but three survivors of many hundreds, and gave the scene of
their misery the appropriate name of Port Famine, which it has
retained to the present day.
After Cavendish and Hawkins (1594), the Dutch navigators De
Cordes (1599), Oliver Van Noort (1599), and Spilberg (1615),
attempted, with more or less success, to sail through the strait with
the intention of harassing and plundering the Spaniards on the coast
of the Pacific.
Strange to say, no attempt had been made since Magellan to
discover a passage farther to the south, so universal and firmly
established was the belief that Fuegia extended without interruption
to the regions of eternal ice, until at length, in 1616, the Dutchmen
Schouten and Le Maire discovered the passage round Cape Horn.
Two years later Garcia de Nodales sailed through the Strait of Le
Maire, and, returning through the Magellans into the Atlantic, was
thus the first circumnavigator of Fuegia. In 1669, Sir John
Narborough having been sent out by King Charles II. to explore the
Magellanic regions, furnished a good general chart of the strait, and
many plans of the anchorage within it.
More than sixty years now elapsed before any expedition of
historical renown made its appearance in the strait. The dangers and
hardships which had assailed the previous navigators discouraged
their successors, who all preferred the circuitous way round Cape
Horn to the shorter but, as it was at that time considered, more
perilous route through the strait. After this long pause, Byron
(December, 1764) and Bougainville (February, 1765) once more
attempted the Magellans. The difficulties encountered by them were
surpassed by those of Wallis and Carteret. The former spent nearly
four months (from December 17, 1766, to April 11, 1767) in a
perpetual conflict with stormy weather while slowly creeping through
the strait; and the latter required eighty-four days for his passage
from Port Famine to Cape Pillar. No wonder that the next
circumnavigators, Lütke, Krusenstern, Kotzebue, preferred sailing
round Cape Horn, and that adventurous seal-hunters became for a
long time the sole visitors of these ill-famed waters. At length the
British Government came to a resolution worthy of England, and
resolved to have the Magellanic regions carefully surveyed, and to
conquer them, as it were, anew for geographical science. Under the
command of Captain King, the “Adventure” and the “Beagle” were
engaged in this arduous task from 1826 to 1830: but such were the
dangers they had to encounter, that Captain Stokes, the second in
command, after contending for four months with the storms and
currents which frequently threatened to dash his vessel against the
cliffs, became so shattered in mind and body, that after his return to
Port Famine he committed suicide in a fit of melancholy.
From 1831 to 1834 Captain Fitzroy was engaged in completing
the survey of Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, and the result of all
these labors was a collection of charts and plans which have
rendered navigation in those parts as safe as can be expected in the
most tempestuous region of the globe.
While formerly the passage round Cape Horn was universally
preferred, the more accurate knowledge of the Strait of Magellan, for
which navigation is indebted to the labors of King and Fitzroy, has
since then turned the scale in favor of the latter.
For a trading-vessel, with only the ordinary number of hands on
board, the passage through the strait from east to west is indeed
very difficult, and even dangerous; but in the opposite direction, the
almost constant westerly winds render it commodious and easy
particularly during the summer months, in which they are most
prevalent.
For small vessels—clippers, schooners, cutters—the passage in
both directions is, according to the excellent authority of Captain
King, much to be preferred. Such vessels have far more reason for
fearing the heavy seas about Cape Horn; they can more easily cross
against the west winds, as their manœuvres are generally very
skillful, and they find in the Sound itself a great number of
anchoring-places, which are inaccessible to larger vessels.
For steamers the advantage is entirely on the side of the Strait,
and they consequently now invariably prefer this route. Here they
find plenty of wood, which enables them to save their coals; and
moreover, from Cape Tamar as far as the Gulf of Penas, an easy
navigation for about 360 sea miles through the channels along the
west coast of America.
As the trade of the Pacific is continually increasing, and the Strait
of Magellan more frequented from year to year, we can not wonder
that the old project of settling a colony on its shores should have
been revived in our days. About the year 1840 the Government of
Chili established a penal colony at Punta Arenas and Port Famine,
which miserably failed in consequence of a mutiny; but in 1853
about one hundred and fifty German emigrants were settled at
Punta Arenas, and when the “Novara” visited the strait in 1858, they
were found in a thriving condition. Should the project of stationing
steam-tugs in the strait, and of erecting lighthouses at Cape Virgins
and at the entrance of Smyth Channel be executed, the Magellans
would become one of the high-roads of commerce, and the dangers
which proved so dreadful to the navigators of former days a mere
tale of the past.
124. A HIGHWAY OF COMMERCE.
125. PATAGONIANS.
CHAPTER XL.
PATAGONIA AND THE PATAGONIANS.
Difference of Climate between East and West Patagonia.—Extraordinary
Aridity of East Patagonia.—Zoology.—The Guanaco.—The Tucutuco.—
The Patagonian Agouti.—Vultures.—The Turkey-buzzard.—The
Carrancha.—The Chimango.—Darwin’s Ostrich.—The Patagonians.—
Exaggerated Accounts of their Stature.—Their Physiognomy and Dress.
—Religious Ideas.—Superstitions.—Astronomical Knowledge.—Division
into Tribes.—The Tent, or Toldo.—Trading Routes.—The great Cacique.
—Introduction of the Horse.—Industry.—Amusements.—Character.

P ATAGONIA, THE southern extremity of the American


continent, is divided by the ridge of the Andes into two parts
of a totally different character. Its western coast-lands, washed by
the cold Antarctic current and exposed to the humid gales of a
restless ocean, are almost constantly obscured with clouds and
drenched with rain. Dense forests, dripping with moisture, clothe the
steep hill-sides; and, from the coldness of the summer, the snow-line
is so low that for 650 miles northward of Tierra del Fuego almost
every arm of the sea which penetrates to the interior higher chain is
terminated by huge glaciers descending to the water’s edge.

East Patagonia, on the contrary, a vast plain rising in successive


terraces from the Atlantic to the foot of the Cordillera, is one of the
most arid regions of the globe. The extreme dryness of the
prevailing westerly winds, which have been totally deprived of their
humidity before crossing the Andes, and the well-rounded shingles
which compose the soil, have entailed the curse of sterility on the
land. Monotonous warm tints of brown, yellow, or light red
everywhere fatigue the eye, which vainly seeks for rest in the dark
blue sky, and finds refreshing green only on some river-banks.
Many broad flat vales transsect the plains, and in these the
vegetation is somewhat better. The streams of former ages have no
doubt hollowed them out, for the rivers of the present day are
utterly inadequate to the task. On account of the dryness of the
atmosphere, the traveller may journey for days in these Patagonian
plains without finding a drop of water. Springs are rare, and even
when found are generally brackish and unrefreshing. While the
“Beagle” was anchoring in the spacious harbor of Port St. Julian, a
party one day accompanied Captain Fitzroy on a long walk round the
head of the harbor. They were eleven hours without tasting any
water, and some of the party were quite exhausted. From the
summit of a hill, to which the appropriate name of “Thirsty Hill” was
given, a fine lake was spied, and two of the party proceeded, with
concerted signals, to show whether it was fresh water. The
disappointment may be imagined when the supposed lake was found
to be a snow-white expanse of salt, crystallized in great cubes.
The extreme dryness of the air, which imparts so sterile a
character to the country, favors the formation of guano deposits on
the naked islands along the coast, which are frequented by sea-
birds. Protracted droughts are essential to the accumulation of this
manure, for repeated showers of rain would wash it into the sea,
and for this reason no guano deposits are found on the populous
bird-mountains of the north. A similar dryness of the atmosphere
favors the deposit at Ichaboe on the African coast, at the Kooria
Nooria Islands in the Indian Ocean, and at the Chincha Islands on
the Peruvian coast; and this kind of climate appears also to be
particularly agreeable to the sea-birds.
Considering the excessive aridity of Patagonia, it seems
surprising that the country should be traversed from west to east by
such considerable rivers as the Rio Negro, the Gallegos, and the
Santa Cruz; but all these have their sources in the Andes, and are
fed by mountain torrents, which no doubt derive their waters from
the atmospherical precipitations of the Pacific.
The zoology of Patagonia is as limited as its flora, and greatly
resembles in its character that of the mountain regions of Chili, or of
the Puna or high table-land of the tropical Andes of Peru and Bolivia,
the height of which varies from 10,000 to 14,000 feet above the
level of the sea.
In all these countries, situated in such different latitudes, the
explorer is astonished to find not only the same genera, but even
animals of the same species. The forest-loving race of monkeys is
nowhere to be found in treeless Patagonia. None of the quadrumana
ventures farther south than 29° lat., but on the borders of the Rio
Negro, the northern boundary of Patagonia, some small bats are
seen fluttering about in the twilight.
The dark-brown yellow-headed Galictis vittata, an animal allied
to the Civets and Genets, is likewise found there, but much more
frequently its relation the Zorilla, which ranges from 30° lat. to the
Strait of Magellan, and, like the skunk of the north, has the power of
discharging a fluid of an intolerably fetid odor.
The guanaco is the characteristic quadruped of the plains of
Patagonia, where it is no less useful to man than the wild reindeer to
the savage hunters of the north. It ranges from the Cordillera of
Peru as far south as the islands near Cape Horn, but it appears to be
more frequent on the plains of South Patagonia than anywhere else.
It is of greater size than the llama, and resembles it so much that it
was supposed to be the wild variety, until Tschudi, in his “Fauna
Peruana,” pointed out the specific difference between both. The
guanaco is a more elegant animal, with a long, slender neck and fine
legs; its fleece is shorter and less fine; its color is brown, the under
parts being whitish. It generally lives in small herds of from half a
dozen to thirty in each; but on the banks of the Santa Cruz Mr.
Darwin saw one herd which contained at least five hundred. Though
extremely shy and wary, it is no match for the cunning of the
savage; and, before the horse was introduced into Patagonia, man
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