"Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky."
_The Complete Angler._
The yacht had anchored for the night to the east of Vaeiro, an island
and lighthouse. The pilot and steward had gone ashore to purchase
fresh milk. The morning was without a breath of wind, and the yacht
was motionless.
"What a sense of calm and peace!" said Mrs. Hardy, as she came on
deck. "There is not a fish coming to the surface of the still water,
or a bird in the air, or a boat visible. It is almost desolation."
"We are out of the track of vessels," said Pastor Lindal, "and there
are few fish just here, consequently no sea-birds in pursuit of them."
"You will soon see more life, mother," said Hardy, "From our position
we are seventeen knots to Vordingborg, which we shall reach shortly
after breakfast. We shall have to take another pilot there, for the
difficult channel by Gronsund out to the Baltic, as our present pilot
is not allowed to go beyond Vordingborg."
"Your pilots, Herr Pastor," said Mrs. Hardy, "appointed by your
Government, appear men well selected for their duty. They are all
experienced men and well-conducted. We have been yachting on many
shores, but the pilots we have taken in Denmark have been all men that
have given me a feeling of confidence."
"There is much employment for pilots on some parts of our coast," said
the Pastor, "and the men soon acquire experience."
When they came on deck after breakfast, the yacht was half-way to
Vordingborg.
"What is the land on the starboard bow?" asked Mrs. Hardy.
"Falster," replied the Pastor, "and to the south is Laaland. One of
the chief towns is Mariebo; it is so called from the special wish of
the Virgin, as evidenced by a shining light having been seen there
every night. Queen Margrethe bought the site for a church, from the
owner, Jens Grim, and the place was called Mariebo. The termination
'bo' is present Danish for an abode or dwelling, as it was supposed
the Virgin had been there. 'By' is present Danish for a town. In the
church there is the figure of a monk on one of the pillars pointing at
another pillar, where it is said a treasure is buried. A Danish
antiquary is said to have found in the Vatican a paper stating that
when the monks were driven out of Mariebo, they had hid their
documents in a pillar of the church. It is not known to me whether any
search has been made. The owner of the site, Jens Grim, was attacked
by people from Lubeck; they besieged his two fastnesses. They
succeeded in taking one of them by a very simple stratagem. Jens Grim
had lost his knife, which the Lubeckers found, and took it to the
fastness, where they knew he was not, and said they had come to take
possession by Jens Grimes order, and produced the knife. They were
admitted and took the place."
"What do you propose to do at Vordingborg, John?" asked Mrs. Hardy.
"We are close to it, mother," replied John. "It is likely to be a
similar place to Svendborg."
"There is not much to see at Vordingborg. There are the ruins of King
Valdemar's castle; the portion most prominent is called the Goose
Tower, because the figure of a goose was used as a weathercock," said
the Pastor. "If I might suggest, a drive in a carriage in the
neighbourhood would, I think, interest you. The scenery is the same
type as at Svendborg."
The Pastor's suggestion was followed, and he poured forth much
historical learning connected with Vordingborg.
"Is there no legend?" asked Hardy.
"Yes," replied the Pastor; "but it is one common to a great many
places. It is this. A giantess wished to remove a tumulus or Kaempehoi
from Vordingborg to Moen. She put it in her apron; but there was a
hole in it, and the Kaempehoi fell into the sea near the coast, and
formed what is called Borreo, or Borre Island. That is the only legend
I know, or can recollect at present, particularly attached to
Vordingborg. But do you not propose an excursion to Moen's Klint?"
"That we do, as it is different from any other place in Denmark," said
Hardy. "The difficulty is, if it should come on to blow hard in the
eastern sea, as you call the Baltic, the yacht would have to run back
to Gronsund, or go to Copenhagen."
"Then," said the Pastor, "why not leave the yacht at Gronsund? You can
get a carriage and a pair of horses to drive through the whole of
Moen, about sixteen English miles, and return the same evening to the
yacht."
John Hardy laid Mansa's map and the chart before his mother, who
assented.
"Where can we get horses?" he asked.
"At Phanefjord, I expect," replied the Pastor. "They could be ordered
to be ready at the ferry at six in the morning, and in three hours we
could reach Liselumd, from whence Moen's Klint can be explored on
foot."
"Is it too much for you, mother?" said Hardy. "It will be a long day;
but the next day, weather permitting, we should be under weigh for
Copenhagen, and you would have rest."
"It will be a long day, John," replied his mother, "but not too long.
I like Pastor Lindal's plan."
"What is the meaning of the name Phanefjord?" asked Hardy. "Is it
derived from the Greek?"
"There was a giant called Gronjette, or the Green Giant; he gave his
name to the fjord, which is called Gronsund. He was married to a
giantess called Phane; hence Phanefjord. They are said to be buried at
Harbolle, and their graves are one hundred yards (English) long. He
was accustomed to ride through the woods with his head under his left
arm, with a spear, and surrounded by hounds. The Bonder always left a
sheaf of oats for his horse, so that he should not ride over their
freshly sown fields, when the Jette or giant went on his hunting
excursions. There is even an epitaph on Gron and Phane:--
'Nu hviler Gron med Phane sin;
Som traettede rasken Hjort og Hind.
Tak, Bonde, god! den dyre Gud,
Nu gaar du tryg af Sundet ud.'
Literally--
'Now rests Gron and his Phane;
They followed the quick buck and hind.
Thank, peasant, the good God,
That now you can safely go through the fjord.'
There is a story of Gron. He halted one night and knocked at a Bonde's
door, and told him to hold his hounds by a leash. Gron rode away, and
was absent two hours. At length he returned, but across his horse was
a mermaid, which he had shot. This was before the time of powder. Gron
said to the Bonde, 'I have hunted that mermaid for seven years, and
now I have got her.' He then asked for something to drink, and when he
was served with it he gave the Bonde some gold money; but it was so
hot it burnt through his hand, and the money sunk in the earth. Gron
laughed, and said, 'As you have drank with me, you shall have
something, so take the leash you have held my hounds with.' Gron rode
away, and the Bonde kept the leash, and as long as he did so all
things prospered; but at last he thought it was of little value, and
threw it away. He then gradually grew poorer and poorer, and died in
great poverty."
"A very good legend, and thank you, Herr Pastor," said Mrs. Hardy.
"There is an old ballad," continued the Pastor, "called 'The Pilgrim
Stone,' which opens with a mother calling her three daughters to go to
the early Catholic church service of the times, and then the water was
so shallow between Moen and Falster that they could jump over it. The
three daughters were attacked by three robbers and killed by them.
They put their bodies in sacks; but they were seized by the father and
his men, and then it appeared that the three robbers were brothers to
the murdered girls, having been stolen, when they were very young, on
their way to school. The two eldest were hung, and the youngest made a
pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and when he returned he lived a few years
at Phanefjord, and was buried where the pilgrim stone marks the place.
The ballad is of the simplest character and incomplete; but such is
the story. Under different conditions it is recited in other places in
Denmark; but it is dramatic in all cases."
"It is indeed dramatic," said Mrs. Hardy. "The stories of giants
appear to have had their origin from natural forces, as ice, or the
heat of summer, but have been blended with human attributes."
The drive to Moen's Klint from Gronsund was full of interest from
Pastor Lindal's knowledge of the past history of so many places.
"There are not so many traditions in the low part of Moen as in Hoie
Moen; that is where the cliffs are," said the Pastor. "The cliffs are
chalk, with layers of flint, and were supposed to be peopled with
Underjordiske or underground people, the chief of whom was called the
Klinte Konge, or cliff king. Klint is the Danish word for cliff. His
queen is described as being very beautiful, and she resided at the
place called Dronningstol, or the queen's throne or chair, and near it
was her sceptre, in old times called Dronningspir, but now called
Sommerspir. The Klinte Konge was supposed to reside at Kongsberg. He
was always at war with another Klinte Konge, at Rygen, and there is an
old ballad on the subject. It is said that when Denmark is in danger,
the Klinte Konge and his army can be seen ready to resist the invader.
There are very many variations of this superstitious story, more or
less picturesque."
"Are there any stories of communications between the Underjordiske and
mortals?" asked Mr. Hardy.
"There is such a story. A woman called Margrethe Skaelvigs was going to
Emelund to borrow a dress of Peer Munk's wife, to be married in, when
an old woman met her, and asked where she was going. Margrethe told
her. 'When you pass here on Saturday, I will lend you a bridal dress;'
and she gave Margrethe a dress of cloth of gold, and told her to
return it in eight days; but that if Margrethe saw no one when she
brought it back, she might keep the dress. No one appeared, and
Margrethe kept the dress."
"The conjecture might be that the dress was given her by her intended
husband," said Hardy, "who adopted this method of giving her a dress.
I should like to impose on Helga in the same way."
"Don't talk nonsense, John," said Mrs. Hardy, who feared that it might
not be agreeable to Pastor Lindal; and, to turn his thoughts in
another direction, asked him if there were not other legends of a
different type.
"Yes; there is one very commonly repeated," he replied. "A Bonde had
twenty pigs ranging through the wood by Moen's Klint. He lost them,
and after searching for a whole year, he met Gamle Erik (the devil;
literally, Old Erik) riding on a pig and driving nineteen before him,
and making a great noise by beating on an old copper kettle. The pigs
were all in good case, except the one Gamle Erik rode, which bore
traces of bad treatment. The Bonde shouted and called, and Gamle Erik
was frightened, and dropped the copper kettle, and let the pigs be
pigs. So the Bonde had not only his pigs, but a copper kettle to
recollect Gamle Erik by."
Mrs. Hardy was much pleased with the scenery about the cliffs, and the
contrast of the dark blue sea against the white chalk, and the varied
prospects in the woods.
The drive had been full of interest, and Mrs. Hardy thanked Pastor
Lindal for his suggesting it, and the pleasure of hearing his
narrations on the very places with which they were connected, and
added--
"I shall come again another year, Herr Pastor, on purpose to enjoy
your society, if you will act as guide."
"God willing, it will be a pleasure to me," said he; "but these few
days have had their effect on me. I appear to see things with a
clearer view, that at home have been difficult to me. Travelling
develops the mind, and gives it a broader cast of thought. You, who
have travelled so much, Mrs. Hardy, appear to have been influenced by
the process."
"Thank you for your compliment, Herr Pastor," said Mrs. Hardy. "It is
well put."
At eight the following day, the yacht was passing Moen's Klint, at
sea, bound for Copenhagen. There was a stiff breeze from the westward,
and in passing Praesto Bay the yacht was in a short rough beam sea,
that made things very lively to all on board, except possibly the
Pastor, as his ears gradually assumed a greenish tint.
John Hardy consulted the pilot, and the yacht was brought up and
anchored under Stevn's Klint, in shelter, much to Pastor Lindal's
comfort, who appeared at lunch fully recovered from his sea-sickness.
"Praesto," said he, "is so called after a priest called Anders; he was
a monk at the time of the Reformation, but adopted the reformed
religion. He had only a small copper coin, which always returned to
him when he spent it, and received no other payment for his services.
In the arms of the town of Praesto is a man in a priest's dress,
supposed to be in his memory."
"Were there any Underjordiske in the cliff at the yacht's bow?" asked
Hardy.
"There was fabled to be an Elle Konge," replied Pastor Lindal, "or
king of the elves, and he occupied not only Stevn's Klint, but also an
adjoining church, where a place in the wall is shown as his residence,
and is called Elle Kongen's Kammer, or the king of the elves' chamber.
In the neighbourhood of this church are the remains of an oak wood.
The trees therein are said to have been trees by day, but the soldiers
of the elf king by night. The church referred to is Storehedinge, and
was built by a monk against the wishes of the great man of the
locality, who, when the church was built, cut off the monk's head. The
figure of a monk's head is on a stone in the wall by the altar.
"The church a little to the south of the lighthouse is called Hoierup,
and was built in fulfilment of the vow of a seaman when in danger. As
the cliff crumbles away, the church is said to go a cock's footstep
back on the mainland every Christmas night."
"What is the meaning of 'rup' as a termination to so many Danish
places?" asked Hardy.
"It is your English 'thorp,' or Swedish 'torp,' or German 'dorf,' a
village," replied the Pastor. "Vandstrup, for instance, is 'the
village by the water,' as the Danish word for water is Vand. It is, as
you know, close to the river."
The pilot had predicted that the wind would lessen at four o'clock in
the afternoon, and the yacht got under weigh, and, carrying plenty of
sail and full steam, made a rapid passage across Kioge Bay, so
disturbing sometimes to the breakfast of the Kiobenhavner, who trusts
himself to a pleasure excursion on its waters.
Off Dragor, the jack was again hoisted for the Copenhagen pilot, and
the Rosendal steam yacht was at anchor off the Custom House at
Copenhagen, before a late dinner, that evening.
"We must fill up with coal and water, mother, and it had better be
done here," said Hardy; "it would give us time for an excursion to
Roeskilde to see the Domkirke, or elsewhere."
"No, John," said Mrs. Hardy. "I want to purchase many articles that
you will want at Rosendal after you are married, that you would never
think of; and I must leave something for the Pastor to tell me next
summer."
"But what shall I do with Pastor Lindal tomorrow?" asked John Hardy.
"He will like to be left to himself, to go where he wishes," replied
his mother; and she was right. As the yacht left Copenhagen a day or
so after, Mrs. Hardy refused to visit the beautiful vicinity of
Copenhagen. "No, John; and no, Herr Pastor," she said. "I must keep
something to see for other years, and something to look forward to and
wish to see. I even decline to hear the story of the soldier who shot
from Kronborg Castle a cow with a cannon in Sweden, and that although
he did not hurt the milkmaid. The Herr Pastor must keep something to
tell me another season."
"But, mother, we can anchor at Elsinore, and you could see Kronborg
Castle," urged her son.
"So I will another year, John," she replied. "Get your mud-hook up, as
you call it, and let me have my way. I hope not only to visit more of
Denmark, but also of Sweden and Norway, and hope not only the Herr
Pastor will be with us, but his daughter."
"Thank you kindly," said the Pastor, shaking hands with her in the
manner frequent in Denmark.