I will sit by you while you tell me some pleasant tale to pass away
the time.--MATURIN: _Bertram._
The reader is already aware that we are at Throndhjem, one of the four
chief cities in Norway, although not the residence of the viceroy. At
the date of this story (1699) the kingdom of Norway was still united to
Denmark, and governed by a viceroy whose seat was in Bergen, a larger,
handsomer, and more southerly town than Throndhjem, in spite of the
disagreeable nickname attached to it by the famous Admiral Tromp.
Throndhjem offers a pleasant prospect as you approach it by the fjord to
which the city gives its name. The harbor is quite large, although it
cannot be entered easily in all weathers. At this time it resembled
nothing so much as a long canal, lined on the right by Danish and
Norwegian ships, and on the left by foreign vessels, as prescribed by
law. In the background lay the town, situated on a well-cultivated
plain, and crowned by the lofty spires of the cathedral. This
church--one of the finest pieces of Gothic architecture, as we may judge
from Professor Shoenning’s book, so learnedly quoted by Spiagudry, which
describes it as it was before repeated fires had laid it waste--bore
upon its highest pinnacle the episcopal cross, the distinctive sign that
it was the cathedral of the Lutheran bishop of Throndhjem. Beyond the
town, in the blue distance, were the slender white peaks of the Kiölen
Mountains, like the sharp-pointed ornaments on an antique crown.
In the middle of the harbor, within cannon-shot of the shore, upon a
mass of rocks lashed by the waves, rose the lonely fortress of Munkholm,
a gloomy prison which then held a prisoner celebrated for the splendor
of his long prosperity and for his sudden disgrace.
Schumacker, born in an obscure station, was loaded with favors by his
master, then hurled from the chair of the Lord High Chancellor of
Denmark and Norway to the traitor’s bench, dragged to the scaffold, and
thence by royal clemency cast into a lonely dungeon at the extreme end
of the two kingdoms. His creatures had overthrown him, but gave him no
right to inveigh against their ingratitude. How could he complain if the
steps gave way beneath him, which he had built so high for his own
aggrandizement only?
The founder of the Danish nobility, from the depth of his exile, saw the
grandees whom he had created share his own dignities between them.
Count d’Ahlefeld, his mortal enemy, succeeded him as chancellor; General
Arensdorf, as earl-marshal, distributed military titles, and Bishop
Spollyson took the position of inspector of universities. The only one
of his foes who did not owe his rise to him was Count Ulric Frederic
Guldenlew, natural son of King Frederic III, and now viceroy of Norway.
He was the most generous of all.
Toward the sombre rock of Munkholm the boat of the youth with the black
plume now slowly moved. The sun sank rapidly behind the lonely fortress,
whose walls cut off its last beams, already so horizontal that the
peasant on the distant eastern hills of Larsynn might see beside him on
the heather the faint shadow of the sentinel keeping his watch on
Munkholm’s highest tower.