CHAPTER I.COPENHAGEN AND ENVIRONS.
Lübeck—Journey to Copenhagen—Herr Rentier—Bertel Thorvaldsen—Museums—An Evening at the Tivoli—Souvenirs of Hamlet—A Famous Mother-in-law—The Frederiksborg Palace—An Aimless Widow.
Lübeck—Journey to Copenhagen—Herr Rentier—Bertel Thorvaldsen—Museums—An Evening at the Tivoli—Souvenirs of Hamlet—A Famous Mother-in-law—The Frederiksborg Palace—An Aimless Widow.
It was on a charming day in June, after an hour’s railway ride from Hamburg, that we arrived at Lübeck—the starting point of our journey through Scandinavia. Lübeck is the smallest of the three independent Hanseatic towns of the German Empire, both Hamburg and Bremen far surpassing her in size and importance, yet at one time she stood at the head of the Hanseatic League—the alliance of the great commercial towns of North Germany.
Architecturally, Lübeck is one of the most interesting places in Germany. You enter the town from the railway station through the Holstenthor, a wonderful mediæval gateway of red brick and terracotta, and soon reach themarket-place, on two sides of which rises the venerable Rathhaus, a Gothic building in brick, with many gables, turrets and quaint spires; extending underneath it is the Rathskeller, remarkable for its well-preserved vaulting, as well as for its excellent Rhine wines and claret. The chimney piece in the apartment, where wedding festivities were formerly celebrated, bears the following inscription—a genuine bachelor sentiment—Mennich man lude synghet wen me em de Brut bringet; weste he wat men em brochte, dat he wol wenen mochte(Many a man sings loudly when they bring him his bride; if he knew what they brought him, he might well weep).
On one side of the square is the handsome modern post-office constructed in the mediæval style; here and there in the quiet streets we came upon the elaborately carved fronts of the ancient guild halls, and buildings with high steep roofs filled with odd windows like great blinking eyes; in one of the squares is a handsome modern fountain, and before a hotel near by stand two colossal cast-iron lions designed by the famous German sculptor Rauch, while scattered about the city are numerous churches containing interesting monuments, mural paintings and ancient altar-pieces.
The river Trave winding about the city renders it almost an island; the old ramparts have been converted into promenades and pleasure gardens, and from them one has an extended view of the busy harbor and its shipping, while the many towers, and lofty numerously windowed roofs of the houses and public buildings rising above it, present a striking and picturesque effect. We could not think of leaving the old city without first investing in some of themarzipan, for which Lübeck is celebrated; it is a sort of confect or cake made of sugar and almonds, very sweet and insipid to the taste, and doubtless one must acquire a liking for it the same as for the varied assortment of German sausages.
At four o’clock in the afternoon we stood on the deck of the “Orion,” watching the many tall and slender spires of the churches of Lübeck receding from view, as we steamed onward down the narrow winding river, nine miles to Travemünde, a little sea-bathing resort for the Lübeckers at the river’s mouth, where we entered upon the Baltic. We sat on deck watching the sunset and the outlines of the German coast, the country where we had spent nearly a year and which had grown to seem like home, growing more and more indistinct; the sea was as calm as a mill pond, there being scarcelyany perceptible motion; the moon appeared and we remained for a long time upon deck, in perfect enjoyment of the scene, then retired to our state-rooms to sleep soundly until our arrival at Copenhagen, soon after six o’clock in the morning.
Copenhagen impressed us at first like a Dutch city. The long quays covered with merchandise and lined with shipping, and, as we drove to our hotel, the vistas down side streets of canals filled with vessels, reminded us strongly of Amsterdam and the other Dutchdamswe had visited.
In many European hotels the servant who conducts you to your room upon your arrival hands you a printed form to be filled out, giving information as to your place of birth, your age, where you came from, where you are going to, and your quality or profession. We had generally written tourist, traveller, or student in answer to the last, but as students are often classed with socialists and other suspicious characters, we registered this time that coveted European title—Rentier(a gentleman living on his income). Later, as we came out of the hotel, on a great black-board at the foot of the staircase we saw, in large letters, so that “he who ran could read,” Herr Rentier E., HerrRentier K., against the number of our room, and the line of servants greeting us with obsequious bows gave us an exalted opinion of our own importance, but filled us with alarm when we thought of the fees that would be expected from gentlemen with titles associated with big money bags.
The great centre of the life and activity of the city is the Kongens Nytorv (King’s Market), a large square from which radiate thirteen streets. Trees surround a king’s statue in the centre, on the south side rises the National Theatre, the principal hotels and shops are in, or near, this square, and the greater part of the horse-car lines centre here. Walking down an adjacent street whose shop windows were filled with tempting displays of terracotta vases, statues, and reliefs, many of them being copies from Thorvaldsen’s works, we came to a large market place, where old women, wearing big white sunbonnets, with white handkerchiefs folded over their shoulders, sat in the open air behind piles of fruit and vegetables. Many of the market girls wore kid gloves, minus the finger ends; one girl, adorned with what were once delicate evening gloves, was selling cabbages, and from the coquettish manner in which she handled them with her soiled gloves, we judged that she considered herself the belle of the market.
Near by is the Christiansborg Palace, which was partially destroyed by fire in 1884. Most of the walls are still standing, but the interior was completely destroyed. In addition to the royal residence, the long range of buildings surrounding the spacious courts contained the Chambers of Parliament, the Royal Library and Picture Gallery; part of the collection in the last was saved from the flames.
Looking across the great Palace Square we see the tall tower of the Exchange one hundred and fifty feet high, the upper part of which is formed by four dragons, their tails twisted together high in air, until they gradually taper to a point. Tradition says that this curious spire was removed bodily from Kalmar in the south of Sweden.
At one side of the great ruined palace is the Thorvaldsen Museum, the chief attraction of Copenhagen, and the northern Mecca of all art-loving tourists.
Bertel Thorvaldsen was born in Copenhagen in 1770. His father was a ship carpenter and carver of figure heads, and as a child little Bertel went with him to the ship yards and assisted him in his work, showing so much intelligence, that at the age of eleven he entered the Free School of Art.
Here he made rapid progress in sculpture, but the other branches of his education were so neglected, that at the age of eighteen he could scarcely read and write; his genius for art was born in him, and at the age of twenty-three he gained the grand prize, which carried with it the privilege of study and travel abroad. In after years, when questioned concerning the date of his birth, he always replied: “I don’t know; but I arrived in Rome on the 8th of March 1797,” dating his birth from the commencement of his career as an artist. Years of obscurity and patient labor followed his arrival in Rome; the model of his great work “Jason,” though greatly admired, found no purchaser till in 1803, just as he was about to return to Copenhagen in hopeless disgust, Thomas Hope, a wealthy English banker, ordered its reproduction in marble. From this time forward, fame and prosperity flowed in upon him at full tide. When he returned to Denmark in 1819, his whole journey, in each country through which he travelled, was a series of honors. His reception at Copenhagen was triumphal, and he was lodged as a guest in the Royal Palace. He remained a year, then returned to Rome where he labored assiduously till 1838, when he left, intending to pass the remainder of his days in his native land, but the climate proving too severehe returned, in 1841, to Rome. Having revisited Copenhagen in 1844 he died there suddenly in the theatre. By many he is ranked as the greatest sculptor since Michael Angelo, and is regarded as the most famous Dane of modern times.
The Thorvaldsen Museum was built by the city of Copenhagen, partly from private subscriptions, as a repository for the works of art bequeathed by the great sculptor to his native town; it also contains his Mausoleum, for it was Thorvaldsen’s expressed wish to rest among his works. The building is constructed in the style of the Pompeian and Etruscan tombs enclosing a large open court. Over the pediment of the façade is a bronze goddess of victory in a quadriga; the other three sides of the building are decorated with a series of scenes in plaster, inlaid with different colored cements, representing the arrival and unloading of the ships at Copenhagen in 1838, which had been sent to Rome to bring back the great sculptor, and his works of art, to his native land. The tomb is in the centre of the open court, covered with ivy and surrounded by a low granite frame bearing simply the name, Bertel Thorvaldsen, and the date of his birth and death. The coffin rests in a decorated vault below.
In the corridors surrounding the court, in the lofty vestibule, and in the forty-two rooms on both floors of the building, are displayed one hundred and nine of Thorvaldsen’s works in marble, besides plaster casts of all the works from his hand, several hundred in number, comprising statues, busts, reliefs, and sepulchral and commemorative monuments: for in every city of any importance, from Copenhagen to Rome, there is found some work from the hand of this prolific genius. Several rooms contain a collection of gems, coins, vases, antiquities and paintings, gathered by the sculptor during his residence in Rome, while others contain his sketches, designs, and furniture from his home in Copenhagen.
Among his most famous works areJason with the Golden Fleece,Hebe,Mercury, and theShepherd Boy, the model of which was a beautiful Roman boy. There is a most striking statue of Thorvaldsen, executed by himself, representing the sculptor in his studio, with mallet and chisel in his hands, as he pauses for a moment in his work, and leans upon his unfinished statue ofHope.
The lovely reliefs ofDay,Night, and theFour Seasonsare familiar to all from photographs; the relief called theAges of Love, where representativesof all ages are eagerly catching the flying cherubs as they are let out of a cage, so delighted the Pope on his visit to the artist’s studio, and so absorbed was he in contemplation, that he forgot to bestow the customary blessing upon the sculptor.
Perhaps the most impressive of all his works are hisChristand theTwelve Apostles, the models of which are here in the Museum in the “Hall of Christ,” and the originals in marble in theFruekirke(Church of Our Lady) not far away; the colossal statues of the apostles, at the sides of the church, lead up to the sublime figure of the Risen Christ; and all show the capacity of the artist for appreciating and fulfilling the demands of the Christian ideal. In the same church is a kneeling Angel of great beauty, holding a shell which serves as a font, and in two chapels are exquisite reliefs of theBaptism, andLast Supper.
Copenhagen possesses many museums and collections; among them, the Museum of Northern Antiquities contains an invaluable collection representing the Flint, Bronze, Iron, Mediæval and Modern Periods of Scandinavian civilization, but it is of more interest to the scientist and special student than to the ordinary tourist.
The Ethnological Museum is one of the mostextensive in Europe; particularly interesting were the figures in costumes representing life among the Esquimaux and North American Indians, the latter gorgeous in feathers and war paint.
The Church of the Trinity has a tower 116 feet high, called the Round Tower, ascended by means of a wide winding roadway, which would readily permit of a horse and carriage being driven to the very top; from the summit you obtain one of the finest views of the city, divided into islands by the canals and arms of the sea which intersect it in many directions. You look down upon a sea of roofs, broken here and there by gardens and small parks, and bounded upon one side by a sea of blue water, upon the other by the green beech forests of Zealand.
The pleasantest promenade in the city is called the Lange Linie, a wide shaded walk extending along the sea on one side of the citadel, at the end of which are several sea-bathing establishments; it is a favorite resort on an afternoon, and one encounters many promenaders, enjoying the bracing sea breezes and the views of the gleaming waters traversed by numerous steamers and sailing craft. The citadel is surrounded by a moat, but the drawbridge is always down and one enters freely, walksabout the earth-works and walls, among the cannon and barracks, and explores unmolested to his heart’s content, in great contrast to the fortresses of Germany, where no stranger is allowed to enter without a permit, and at every step is accompanied by a soldier.
The Botanic Gardens are laid out on the site of the ancient fortifications, and furnish an agreeable lounging place, even if one is not interested in flowers and plants. In this section of the city are many wide streets and boulevards, with handsome modern houses built on the Parisian model of flats. The handsome brick Rosenborg Palace near by is especially interesting from its collection of personal mementoes of the Danish monarchs, who fitted up suites of rooms in the style of their various epochs, and collected here their jewels, weapons, coronation robes, state costumes, and curiosities. In the rear of the palace is a pretty park, open to the public, which is a favorite resort of nurses and the rising generation of Danes.
The part of the city adjacent to the railway station appears to be of very recent growth; its wide streets, lighted by electric light and traversed by horse-cars, are bounded by large hotels and imposing business blocks and houses.
In this quarter is the Tivoli, the most popularresort in Copenhagen, and a most attractive place on a summer evening. It is an immense garden, containing many handsome concert halls, gorgeous pavilions, restaurants, booths for the sale of fancy articles, and every conceivable means of amusement. You pay 50 öre (about thirteen cents) to enter, and are then free to select such entertainment as your fancy dictates. From six to eleven o’clock in the evening there is a change of entertainment every half hour. The first evening we spent at the Tivoli the programme began with a concert from a brass band; then for half an hour in a beautiful concert hall in a different part of the gardens, a string orchestra of sixty performers played selections from one of Beethoven’s symphonies; after which there was a rush to watch, during the next half hour, a trapeze performance in the open air, followed by jumping, tumbling, and walking a wire; the brass band gave another concert; an operetta in one act followed, the audience sitting in chairs beneath the trees before the stage; then came the second part of the orchestral concert, with selections from Wagner’s Tannhäuser. In another part of the garden, a play at a small theatre occupies the next hour, and you begin to feel that you have received many times the worth of the price of admission; and yet the programme is not exhausted.
As the lingering June twilight deepens, the gardens are illuminated by festoons and arches of lights in colored globes, the façades of the cafés, restaurants, and other buildings blaze with light, and the entire grounds become a picture of enchantment and festivity.
The lively Danes sit at little tables beneath the trees, eat cold sausage, drink beer, and take in the music, the same as their near neighbors in Germany.
You can explore grottos and caves, sit in romantic arbors, or promenade through leafyalléeslined with statues, copies from the antique and Thorvaldsen’s masterpieces. If you long to spend a few surplus öre, there are open cars rushing like a whirlwind down one hill and up another much like a roller toboggan; merry-go-rounds with boats furnish you the motion of the Baltic and the sensation of sea sickness on a limited scale, or you can take a cruise on a diminutive steamer up and down a contracted lake; you can gaze upon the fat woman, the living skeleton, or the double-headed girl, peep through a camera obscura, shoot at glass balls, and blow to test your lungs. There is everything for all classes, for this is the great and original Tivoli, which has many imitators, in Germany and other European countries, but still remainswithout an equal. At stated periods there are fête nights, when fireworks and extra illuminations are furnished, but at any and all times the Tivoli is a pleasant place in which to spend an evening, and one that no traveller should miss seeing.
The Danes spell the name of their city, Kjöbenhavn, but it is difficult to recognize in this combination of letters our New England name of the kissing game with the rope, called Copenhagen, which you, gentle reader, have doubtless played at some period of your life. Perhaps it is a Yankee game after all and not Danish, for nowhere in Copenhagen did we see it played, not even at the Tivoli, where every conceivable form of amusement is furnished.
The environs of Copenhagen offer a variety of pleasing and interesting excursions. The horse-cars will take you in half an hour to Frederiksburg, a very enjoyable ride, as the cars are constructed after the general European model, with a narrow staircase ascending to the roof, upon which are comfortable seats, whence you have an unobstructed view. The Frederiksburg Palace, standing upon an eminence, has been converted into a military school, from the long shaded terrace in front of which you have a beautiful view ofCopenhagen, with its towers and spires. The adjoining gardens were occupied by family parties taking their lunch in picnic style, and the neighboring natural park of Söndermarken offered many shady and agreeable walks.
One morning we left by steamer for Helsingör, the trip occupying three hours. We kept close to the Danish coast, calling frequently at the little settlements, for during the first half of the journey there is a continual succession of small sea-bathing resorts, with inviting villas and cottages which were just being opened for the season.
Helsingör, the Elsinore of Hamlet, is a small and uninteresting town, where we found no one who could understand English or German, but had to make our way with the few Danish words in our possession. It is but a short distance to the Kronberg, an ancient fortress built, in 1577, on a low promontory extending out into the sea, at the point where the Sound contracts to its narrowest limits, so that it is but a short distance across to the opposite Swedish town of Helsingborg.
The Kronberg is surrounded by a broad moat and ramparts, and its numerous lofty gray stone towers rise from a steep and many windowed roof; from the flat roof of a great square toweris an extensive view, embracing both the Danish and Swedish coasts, and the narrow Sound, separating the two countries, animated with numerous shipping. The interior of the castle contains a chapel with carved pulpit and choir stalls, and we were shown the apartments occupied by the royal family on the occasion of their rare visits, which are rather shabbily furnished, and filled with very mediocre paintings, painted we judged by contract at so much per yard.
The flag battery looking seaward, where the Danish colors float from a lofty flagstaff and cannon command the entrance to the Sound, is said to be the platform before the old castle of Elsinore, where the first scene of Hamlet is laid, and where his father’s ghost appeared to Hamlet, “the melancholy Dane.”
A short distance north of the Kronberg is Marielyst, a fashionable sea-bathing place, to which we walked along the sandy beach, strewed with shells and seaweed. As it was still early in the season, theKurhauswas not yet open, and the place had rather a deserted look; nevertheless it impressed us as a very pleasant resort, from its combination of sea and forest; and the many pretty villas in the neighborhood attested its popularity. At a hotel we found English-speaking waiters, and after being served witha good dinner, we visited a pile of stones surrounding a small column said to mark the site of Hamlet’s grave. Our faith in its authenticity was not strong enough to move our feelings or to make us realize that we stood upon hallowed ground; instead of lingering to weep over a pile of stones, that knew not Hamlet, we hurried to Helsingör to take the railway train to another palace. My travelling companion was a German. On the steamer on our way to Helsingör, three German Jews, travelling for pleasure, had approached us seeking to form our acquaintance; they were not disagreeable to me, but my friend, who had a German’s inveterate hatred for a Jew, would not speak to them, and besought me to repel their advances. We had encountered them everywhere,—at the Kronberg, at Marielyst, and they greeted us upon our arrival at the station; so it was evident they were making the same round of sight seeing we were, and my friend insisted, in order to escape them, that we should take a first class ticket, knowing well that they would not follow our example. In Denmark, as in Germany, only blue bloods travel first class, and we received all the attention we should have merited had we been princes of the royal blood.
During our short railway journey we passed by Fredensborg, the summer residence of theDanish royal family, where every summer the most famous mother-in-law the world has ever known holds a family gathering, which comprises nearly half the present and prospective Crowned Heads, Majesties, and Royal Highnesses of Europe. Certainly the King and Queen of little Denmark have made most brilliant matches for their children, and settled them well in life. Their eldest daughter is the Czarina of Russia, their second daughter is the Princess of Wales and the future Queen of Great Britain and Empress of India; the eldest son will be the next King of Denmark, and his brother is the present King of Greece. The Czar seems to especially cherish his mother-in-law, and it is said that only in Denmark can he feel secure of his life, and take a little comfort. It is doubtless to her mother’s careful and practical training that the Princess of Wales owes her lovely character, and that she in turn has made such a good and devoted mother, and is to-day the most popular lady in England. It is pleasant to think of this royal family—parents, children, and grand-children—laying aside the cares of royalty and state, and meeting every summer at the old home, like any family in the lower walks of life, in common love and affection, and enjoying themselves in simple ways.
We leave the train at Hilleröd, and to escape the Jews take a cab to the palace of Frederiksborg, built upon three islands, in a lake surrounded by beech woods. The islands are connected by bridges, and the situation of the palace, its lofty façades with their finely sculptured windows, its high roofs, and picturesque spires and towers, rising from the transparent water, is very striking. You pass beneath a gigantic gate tower and enter the great courtyard, where in years gone by Christian IV. cut off the head of the Master of the Mint, who had defrauded him. “He tried to cheat us, but we have cheated him, for we have chopped off his head,” said the king. The palace has been thoroughly restored, and since the burning of the Christiansborg Palace in Copenhagen has been converted into a National Museum. There are sixty-four rooms, with ceilings of carved wood painted in bright colors, with elaborately carved doors and chimney pieces, beautiful inlaid floors, and wainscotted and frescoed walls, in which are displayed richly carved furniture, bric-a-brac, suits of armor, historical souvenirs, and statuary and paintings mostly by modern Danish artists. The gem of the palace is the magnificent Ritter Saal, an immense hall with a beautiful inlaid marble floor,the lofty ceiling a mass of intricate wood carving, richly gilded and painted in bright colors, composed of pendants, fruits, flowers, figures of cherubs and angels, and divided into sections with carved figures in high relief representing various trades and industries, the whole furnishing a bewildering study of striking richness and detail.
The sides of the long hall and the deep window recesses are hung with beautiful tapestries, and at the end of the hall is an elaborate chimney-piece of ebony and silver, rising to the ceiling and adorned with statues and sculptured groups.
The palace chapel, where the Danish kings were formerly crowned, has likewise been restored and redecorated. The roof is rich with delicate tracery and carving, the light falls through stained windows upon sculptured capital and decorated arch, the curious prayer chamber where many kings have worshipped rises above the high altar, and around the upper galleries are hung the coats of arms of all the Danish nobles. Opening from the gallery in the rear of the organ is a small room with most beautifully carved doors and exquisitely inlaid wooden walls, framing panels upon which are painted scenes representing the life of Christ,by Prof. Bloch. The fittings and decorations of the room are the gift of Morten Nielsen, the wealthy brewer of Carlsberg beer, the favorite beer of the people of Denmark, and the guide told us the room cost a million crowns (over a quarter of a million of dollars).
An hour’s journey by rail through a pleasant country, amid fertile fields and green beech woods, brought us back to Copenhagen, and at sunset we steamed out of the harbor with its forts, warships, and trading vessels, the spires of the city fading from sight as we sailed up the Sound, passing the great Kronberg fortress with its memories of Hamlet, out into the Cattegat.
Among the passengers were an American widow and her young daughter, who had been turned loose in Europe with a package of Cook’s tickets, and for a year had been wandering around aimlessly. They were going to Norway simply to escape hot weather, and as they could speak nothing but English, and had neither guide book nor fixed plans for their journey, they depended on those they might meet to tell them what there was to be seen, and help them out of their difficulties. We concluded it had been many a day since the aimless widow had had a listener to her complaints, for her tongue was in incessant motionas she unbosomed her troubles. But even its whirr could not drive back the vague uncertain feeling that was creeping over us the farther we advanced upon the rolling Cattegat, and we soon sought the seclusion of our state-room, and passed a restless night until early morning, when we arrived at Gothenburg, Sweden.
ACROSS SWEDEN BY THEGOTHA CANAL.