AROUND THE BALTIC.
The discussion of the duma occupied so much space that I was
compelled to omit from that article all mention of Russia in
general, and to St. Petersburg in particular; I shall therefore
begin this article with a brief reference to the Moscovite empire.
Two and a half years ago, when I saw Russia for the first time, I
entered by the way of Warsaw and went to St. Petersburg from Moscow.
While considerable territory was covered, the winter's snows made
the whole country look barren and uninviting. This time our course
lay through the Baltic provinces, and as farming was at its height,
the country presented a much fairer picture. The cities and villages
through which we passed were busy with life and each had its church,
for the Russians are a church-going people.
St. Petersburg is a fascinating city. The Church of St. Isaacs,
with its great granite monoliths on the outside, its pillars within
covered with malachite and lapsus lazuli, and its immense bronze
doors, is among the world's most imposing places of worship; the
equestrian statue of Peter the Great is famous, and the art gallery
is of rare merit. Russia's bronzes are most excellent, and her
stores exhibit a large assortment of furs.
In St. Petersburg I found myself, as on my former visit, admiring
the horses, they being, upon the whole, the best that I have seen
since leaving America. Possibly the fact that so many stallions are
driven singly and in pairs may account, in part, for the handsome
and stylish animals seen upon the streets, but certain it is that
the Russian horse is a splendid representative of his breed. There
is a large park, called the Point, near the city, and in the evening
this park and the approaches to it are thronged with carriages and
droskies. As the sun does not set there at this season of the year
until between nine and ten and is followed by a long twilight, the
drives are gay with life until midnight. We did not reach our hotel
until eleven o'clock, although we were among the first to leave the
park.
Speaking of horses, reminds me that the Russian coachman has an
individuality all his own. His headgear is peculiar, being a squatty
beaver with a spool-shaped crown, but one soon forgets the hat in
contemplation of the form. The skirt of the coachman's coat is very
full and pleated, and the more stylish the equipage, the broader
is the driver. Beginning at the shoulders, his padding gradually
increases until about the hips he is as broad as the box upon
which he sits. This padding is carried to such an extreme that the
coachman sometimes has to be lifted upon the box, and it is needless
to say that he is practically helpless, as well as useless, in case
of an accident. It may be that this style of dress is designed for
a wind break for those who are seated behind the wearer--this was
one of the explanations given--or it may be that it, like some other
fashions in wearing apparel, has no foundation in reason.
[Illustration: A VIEW OF STOCKHOLM.]
I found to my disappointment that Tolstoy is not contributing
materially to the political revolution that is taking place in
Russia. Being revered throughout the land not only because of his
philosophy, but also because of his fearless arraignment of the
despotism that has afflicted Russia, he might be a powerful factor
in giving direction to the popular movement, but believing that
individual regeneration furnishes the only complete emancipation
from all forms of evil, he takes but little interest in what he
regards as the smaller and less important remedies proposed by the
duma. It remains to be seen whether it is wiser to secure that which
is now within reach, and then press forward for other advantages, or
to reject piecemeal reforms in the hope of ultimately gaining larger
ones. Probably the pioneer in thought and the practical reformer
will never be able to fully agree upon this point.
The boat ride from St. Petersburg to Stockholm is one of unsurpassed
beauty. It requires about thirty hours to make the trip, and of
that time but two hours are spent in the open sea, the remainder of
the route being between islands that fill the Baltic and the Gulf
of Finland as the stars stud the sky. Just out of St. Petersburg
is Russia's most important naval station, where we saw a number of
warships and were informed that the crew of one of them had recently
refused to comply with a sailing order, answering that it was
waiting to see what the duma would do.
Until about a hundred years ago Finland was a part of the Baltic
Empire, of which Sweden was the head, and of the three million
inhabitants of Finland, something like twenty per cent are of
Swedish descent. As might be expected, the Swedish element was not
only the official element, enjoying to a large extent the titles
of nobility, but it is still the wealthier and more influential
portion. The Finns proper are not Laplanders, as their northern
position would suggest, neither are they in race closely akin to the
Slavic or Scandinavian population. As mentioned in the article on
Hungary, they came from western Asia and are quite distinct in race
characteristics from their present neighbors. They acquired from
their Swedish conquerors a fondness for the public school, and the
percentage of illiteracy is much less in Finland than in other parts
of Russia, under whose dominion they unwillingly came in 1808.
Our boat stopped at Helsingfors for a few hours, and we had an
opportunity to visit the principal points of interest in the capital
of Finland. It is a substantial and prosperous looking city with
large school houses, attractive public buildings and commodious
churches. We passed several small parks where children were playing
and where numerous comfortable seats beckoned the weary to rest
beneath the shade. I confess to a partiality for the small city
park; it is much better to have these breathing spaces so scattered
about through densely populated sections that the children, as well
as the adults, can find in them a daily refuge than to have the
entire park fund lavished upon suburban parks, which can only be
visited occasionally. It is a pity that space is not more often
reserved for these parks in the laying out of towns, for the ground
not only becomes more valuable in proportion as these small parks
are the more needed, but the opening of them in the heart of a city
brings a large unearned increment to those who own land adjacent to
them.
We could not help noticing the contrast between the market of
Helsingfors and those which we visited in Asia. At the former neatly
dressed peasants, men and women, exposed for sale from the end of
their carts a bountiful supply of vegetables, meats, butter, eggs
and cheese. The eggs were stamped with the name of the owner and the
date of laying, the butter was packed in wooden buckets of various
sizes, and the cheese was of many varieties. Some of the carts were
filled with stacks of black bread baked in large flat cakes. The
radishes presented a temptation that I was not able to withstand;
the fondness for them, restrained during the months of travel
through the Orient, overcame me, and at the risk of being thought
extravagant, I purchased five dozen at a gross outlay of about five
cents and lived high until they were all gone.
[Illustration: KING OSCAR OF SWEDEN.]
The Finns are rejoicing over the autonomy recently secured, and they
have signalized their partial independence by creating a single
parliamentary body whose representatives are elected by the entire
population, male and female, above the age of twenty-four. No one
can understand the persistency with which the Finns have struggled
for constitutional government without recalling that, as a part
of Sweden, their country long enjoyed the right to representation
in the nation's councils. The people have always resented Russian
methods, and only a few years ago the governor general sent from St.
Petersburg was assassinated by a young Finn who, having thus given
expression to his nation's hatred of despotism, immediately took his
own life. The death of the governor was followed by the suspension
of such few privileges as the people had been enjoying, but when
last year the whole of Russia seemed about to rise in rebellion, the
czar announced his willingness to grant all that was asked, and now
one can travel through Finland without being harassed by soldiers or
bothered about passports.
If Constantinople can claim to be the natural capital of the eastern
hemisphere, Stockholm can with equal justice claim to be its natural
summer resort. It is situated at a point where a chain of lakes
pours its flood into the Baltic, so that the citizens of Sweden's
capital have their choice between the fresh water and the salt. As
the lakes and the sea are filled with innumerable islands, each
family can have one for itself. Summer homes are probably more
numerous near Stockholm, in proportion to the population, than
anywhere else, because during the winter months the people live in
flats. One is immediately struck with the compactness of the city
and with the absence of single dwellings surrounded by yards. Owing
to the severe cold and the long, dark days of winter, the people
huddle together in great blocks and thus economize fuel, and they
are at the same time close to their work. As soon as spring opens
there is a general movement toward the islands, and as we approached
Stockholm from the Baltic and left it through the lakes, we saw a
great many summer cottages and watched the boats carrying their
cargoes of passengers to and fro.
Sweden's lakes are so numerous and so large that about eight per
cent of her entire area is given up to these internal waterways,
and they probably account for the fact that her people had a large
domestic commerce before the era of railroads. These lakes are so
situated that by connecting them by canals water transit has been
secured between Stockholm on the east coast and Gothenburg on the
west. The boat trip through these lakes and canals is one of the
most pleasant to be found in Europe.
The Swedes who have come to the United States are such excellent
farmers that I was surprised to find but twelve per cent of the area
of Sweden devoted to agriculture and fifty-one per cent described as
woodland. Only fifty-five per cent of the population is now engaged
in farming, the proportion having fallen from seventy-two per cent
since 1870, while the proportion engaged in other industries has
risen from fifteen to twenty-seven per cent.
Lumbering, fishing and shipping each gives employment to a large
number of men, and iron mining, long a leading industry, is still
important, although, owing to the development of mines elsewhere,
Sweden now furnishes but one per cent of the entire output of ore
as against ten per cent in the eighteenth century. The fact that
she had such an abundant supply of the raw material early gave
her a conspicuous place in iron manufactures, and the familiarity
with this metal may be due to the fact that Sweden was quick to
take advantage of the railroad, the telegraph and the telephone.
In electrical appliances she now claims a second place among
the nations. A large use has also been made of the water power
with which the country abounds, notably at Norrkoping, where an
industrial exposition is now in progress.
We spent a day at this exposition for the purpose of gathering
information in regard to industrial Sweden. While the agricultural
display was not ready, the exhibit of the products of the factory
was exceedingly interesting. The articles shown included metal
work of all kinds and varieties, from heavy machinery to parlor
ornaments. In one section canned fruit was displayed, in another
great rolls of linoleum and oilcloth, and in still another textile
fabrics. The cloth was especially worthy of notice, being of
superior quality and of every color. There was also a complete
assortment of dairy implements and farm tools. So skillful is
the Swedish artisan that the International Harvester Company has
recently established a branch factory at Norrkoping, and with the
aid of American foremen is preparing to manufacture reapers and
mowers there, not only for Sweden but for northern Europe.
In addition to the machine-made exhibits, there were specimens of
the handwork of peasants and students. These included many varieties
of needlework, wood carving, and decoration on leather and bark.
Peasant girls in native costume presided over these displays
and gave the visitor a glimpse of the picturesque garb now fast
disappearing before the prosaic dress of the cities. At Skansen, in
the suburbs of Stockholm, and at a few of the enterprising stores,
this quaint costume may still be seen, but it is not generally worn
now even in the country.
There is a gallery at Norrkoping exposition where one may see
a collection of Swedish and Danish art, the pictures not only
portraying the familiar features and flaxen hair of the north, but
recalling the long nights and the winter scenes of that latitude.
Sweden was a pioneer in the matter of universal education and has
at Upsala a state university founded in 1477--fifteen years before
Columbus sailed for America. She has also had a college of medicine
for more than a hundred years, and her sons have taken high rank in
all the departments of science. Her grammar schools run back to the
time of Gustavus Adolphus, and her common school system is almost as
old. She has given to the world among other things the Sloyd system
of teaching, which combines manual training with mental instruction.
Sweden has shown by her prominence in literature, science, art and
music that the higher altitudes do not chill the imagination or
repress genius, and yet, the country is even more noted for the high
average of intelligence among the people than for the extraordinary
accomplishments of a few.
The Swedish language contains so many words that resemble the
English that the Swedish newspaper looks much more familiar than
the Greek or the Russian, but it is not always safe to rely upon
the similarity in spelling. For instance, "rum" means room, and
when it appears in a window or on a door, it is only an innocent
announcement that travelers can find accommodation within. The word
"bad" means bath, and "bad rum," therefore, is a familiar sign in
hotels.
Sweden has her political problems like all the other nations, and
just now her people are absorbed in the question of extending
the suffrage. The upper house is an aristocratic body composed
of representatives of the wealthier classes. In electing members
to this body a rich man's vote counts for more than a poor man's
vote, it being possible for the richest person to have about ten
times as many votes as the poorest. As might be expected, the
upper house is conservative and stands in the way of some of the
reforms proposed by the more popular branch. The last ministry
was a liberal one, but resigned when the upper house defeated the
measure for the extension of the suffrage. The new ministry has at
its head Mr. Lindmann, a business man who represents the commercial
and conservative elements, and his party is willing to accept an
extension of the franchise, provided it is coupled with minority
representation, the aim being to increase the conservative strength
in the lower house in order to protect the upper house from attack.
The conservatives fear--and not without reason--that an overwhelming
liberal majority in the popular branch would soon endanger the
aristocratic character, if not the very existence of the upper
house. The situation is interesting in that it indicates the growth
of radicalism in the country. The conservatives recognize this and
are prepared to make concessions; they hope to retard the progress
of the movement but realize that they cannot defeat it entirely.
Industrial questions are receiving consideration in Sweden; laws
concerning child labor have been enacted, accident insurance has
been provided, and an old age pension is being discussed. Attention
is also being given to the housing problem in the cities, to farm
allotments and to the establishment of labor bureaus and boards
of arbitration. The Gothenburg license system is in operation in
Sweden, under which the sale of liquor, where the sale is not
entirely prohibited, is in the hands of semi-official corporations.
Whether this system is responsible for it or not may be open to
question, but statistics show that there has been a large decrease
in the sale of beverages containing a high percentage of alcohol.
By the courtesy of the American minister, Colonel Graves, I had an
opportunity to pay my respects to King Oscar II. I was glad to do
so for two reasons: First, because so many of his former subjects
have become American citizens; and, second, because of the honorable
part which he played in the recent crisis which resulted in the
separation of Sweden and Norway. He is of powerful frame, and
though seventy-seven years old, would pass for a much younger man.
He has a kindly face and rides about the city without a guard. A
more ambitious monarch would have met Norway's demand with armed
resistance, but he, recognizing that the holding of Norway against
the will of the people would involve his country in perpetual
strife, advocated a peaceful separation, provided the people of
Norway asked for it in unmistakable terms.
For thirty years he had been the sovereign of both, and in his old
age he could not bear to see the two countries engaged in a bloody
conflict. He is just now criticised by some who did not become
sanguinary until all prospect of war was past, but he has the
consolation of knowing that his critics are not only alive but have
no dead relatives to mourn. Had he plunged his country into war, his
critics could remind him of vacant chairs at the fireside.
King Oscar has, in a most practical way, proved himself to be a
promoter of peace and as such deserves the prize provided by that
great Swedish chemist, Alfred Nobel. By giving conspicuous approval
to his course, the trustees of the Nobel fund may be able to
encourage other sovereigns to imitate him.