SWEDEN.
The day was bright as we left the harbor of Abo, and struck out into the
sea among the Aland Isles. The wind was strong, but not enough to
disturb the weaker brethren who are easy victims of the sea. Breakfast
was served at ten and a half o’clock, and already the Swedish customs at
meals began to show themselves. Before sitting down to the table, or
immediately on taking a seat, as you prefer, little glasses of gin
schnapps are passed around, and each one is expected to take a nip as an
appetizer. The same at dinner. Ditto at supper. Also after meals a
punch, not like the American drink of that name, but something that
looks thick, oily, amber-colored, and inducing a smacking of the lips,
which, without uttering a word, say, “It ees goot.” Breakfast, after
schnapps, comprised radishes sent around as the first course, with
Bologna sausages, tongue and dried beef, salt fish, bread and butter,
beefsteak and potatoes, ham and eggs, with coffee if you insisted on
having it. There is evidently no need of starving when you get all that
for breakfast, and about four hours afterwards sit down to dinner and
take soup (if you _can_), with fish following, and beef, poultry, game,
salad, cucumbers, puddings, fruit, nuts, &c., and wine at your order.
Eating is one of the principal institutions in these northern climates.
There is but one other institution more highly valued, and that is
drinking. They keep at one or the other or both pretty steadily. Besides
the four regular meals, lunch and supper, in addition to those I have
named, they are fond of intermediate refreshments, and a drink never
comes amiss. The amount of strong liquor they can carry without apparent
inconvenience is something wonderful. And it is more remarkable as we
get along into the north toward the Pole. They say it is the bracing
climate which induces such an expenditure of vital force, that the
supply must be replenished with nourishing food and stimulating drink.
We were crossing the Baltic. It was warm off the coast of Finland. It
was cold in the middle of the sea, so cold at noon that we had to wrap
up with shawls and blankets, and then be uncomfortable on deck, and were
finally driven below. But when at four o’clock we ran in among the
islands off the Swedish coast, we found it warm again. So there are
belts about the globe itself.
We approach Stockholm through a thousand isles and more, so near each
other that we seem to be winding our way along a narrow river. Now and
then a tower, solitary and sublime, starts up from some grand cliff. An
ancient castle stands among the rocky headlands. Suddenly the city
rises, like Venus or Venice, from the bosom of the sea, beautiful in the
sunlight that gilds her palaces and domes. The entrance to Stockholm is
magnificent. I have not been more impressed by the approach to any other
city but Constantinople.
As our steamer touched the wharf the captain’s wife and children and a
few friends came on board to welcome him home. He had been absent nearly
two weeks! Had crossed the Baltic and sailed or steamed along down the
coast from Abo to Petersburg and back again, and his friends were here
to receive him as if he had been around the world! And it was good to
see the greeting. His young and beautiful wife the captain was proud to
present to his new-made friends on the ship, while two charming children
clung to his legs as if they would not let him go again.
Porters from the hotels were ready to take the luggage, and the
passengers, ladies and gentlemen, went ashore and walked up the streets
at their leisure. There was a quietness about this quite refreshing. No
bustle, no pulling and hauling, no loud talking and swearing; the
landing in Sweden was a pleasant contrast to that of more highly
cultured countries, our own for instance.
[Illustration: STOCKHOLM STEAMERS.]
Hotel _Rydburg_ received us,—large enough to entertain two or three
hundred guests,—and a curiously arranged house it was, the geography of
which I have not learned, after its careful study of several days. I
know that to get to my room I have to go up two flights of stairs, then
out upon a balcony, then down one flight of stairs, then ring a
door-bell and get admission into a room that is not mine, then across
this apartment into my own, which is a spacious and handsomely furnished
room,—sofa, lounge, ottomans, piano, secretary, bookcase containing a
set of Voltaire’s works in _seventy_ French volumes, pictures,
engravings, stuffed birds, and other specimens in natural history, all
suggesting the idea that the mysterious passages through which I have
been conducted have led me out of the hotel proper into some private
house attached, and that some Swedenborgian philosopher has rented his
premises to the hotel. He certainly has things comfortable if such be
the fact, and I will use them as not abusing them while I stay.
Scandinavia includes the peninsula of which Sweden is but a part, Norway
and Denmark making up the rest of it; and its history, is it not all
written by Pliny and Tacitus in pagan antiquity times? and a thousand
years after they wrote of it, did not Saxo Grammaticus the Dane, and
Snorrow Sturleson, of Sunny Iceland, bring down the story to their
times? Not far from the same time when the Saxons invaded England, the
Gothic tribes under Odin migrated to Sweden, and founded an empire on
the borders of Lake Malar, with Sigtuna for its capital. Odin was a god,
in his own esteem and that of his followers, and he combined in his
sublime and mysterious person all the offices of priest and king and
teacher; he was the law-giver and judge. With lofty aspirations for
power, he conquered by his will, his arms, and his address, and finally
he became the object of religious worship through the north of Europe.
The Sagas, or sacred books of the ancient Swedes, give us the fullest
insight into the views of the Scandinavians in religion, as to the
creation of the world, the government of the universe, and the destiny
of man. It was in the ninth century that Christianity was openly
preached in Sweden for the first time, and the dynasty of pagan kings
did not terminate till the beginning of the eleventh century, when Eric
V., in 1001, being converted, destroyed the great temple at Upsala,
where, to this day, are the graves of Thor and Woden and Freytag, on
which this Eric, the first Christian king, was slain by his pagan people
in their fury, excited by the destruction of their temple.
The history of Sweden since Christianity became its religion has been
glorious among the nations, although she has been a small and
inconsiderable power. Under Gustavus Wasa, in 1529, the Roman Catholic
religion was abolished and the Lutheran established, and just one
hundred years afterwards, Gustavus Adolphus, the grandson of Wasa, was
called upon by the Protestant powers of Europe to put himself at their
head to resist the Roman Catholic movement to obtain universal dominion
in Christendom. He was triumphant in his masterly generalship, and fell
covered with glory at the battle of Lutzen. His name is now inscribed
with that of Washington, among the noblest characters the human race has
ever produced.
At the present time the King of Sweden must be a Lutheran, the
government is a hereditary constitutional monarchy, restricted in its
descent to the _male_ line. The congress is composed of four separate
houses,—nobles, clergy, burgesses, and peasants; and the unanimous
consent of these four houses, and the approbation of the king, are
required to make any alteration in the constitution, which is therefore
not likely to be very suddenly amended. In other measures a majority in
three houses may pass a bill, but if two houses vote _aye_, and two vote
_no_, then a committee of eighteen, from each house, takes the subject
in hand, and their decision, approved by the king, is final. This
arrangement works well for conservatism, but is not favorable to
progress. It is easy to retard legislation, and difficult to press
things through.
Having a letter to Dr. Stolberg, of Stockholm, I was directed to call at
the Caroline Institute to learn his address. A walk of a mile into the
outskirts of the city took me to what proved to be a hospital, with
ample grounds and excellent arrangements. A woman answered my ring at
the door, and led me to the study of one of the professors, and left me
there to await his coming. It was so simple in its furniture, and yet so
well fitted up for business, I could plainly see it was for work, not
rest, that he had that den made. And when he came, a thin, bent, pale
student, cap on his head and pipe in his mouth, and working-wrapper on,
I felt at once that he lived in his books and his thoughts. He would
have me go to his chemical laboratory, and when he found me interested
in the experiments he was making, he became enthusiastic in his
descriptions, and would have cheerfully given up the day to the “pursuit
of science” with a stranger from a distant land. Yet I had but one
question to ask him, and he was able to give me the address of the man I
was seeking.
Here was a hospital, or rather an asylum for invalids, into which, on
easy conditions, a poor body could get admission, and be kindly cared
for at the expense of the state. Many of these institutions are
scattered over the world, the fruit of Christianity, and when I find
them in places where I least expect, they tell me that love works the
same results everywhere. I soon found Dr. Stolberg, in a modest
dwelling, in a garden retired from the street, and he received me with
great courtesy and warmth.
In Sweden a physician makes no charge whatever for medical attendance;
and, what is more remarkable still, very many of the people who can
afford to pay for the services of a doctor are willing to avail
themselves of such aid without paying any thing for it. One physician
told me that of ninety-six cases that he had treated within a certain
time, only six paid him at all! It is customary for those who do pay to
pay by the year, and fifty-six dollars, or about twelve American
dollars, would be a large sum for persons in good circumstances to give
for the benefit of a physician’s counsel for a whole year. There is,
therefore, no great inducement, in the way of profit, to go into the
medical profession. Nor is it an introduction to society, the physician
not being in this respect materially above the apothecary in social
standing.
The clergy, as a profession, are not materially better off than the
physicians. Their pay comes from the state, but their salaries are very
small, and, with only here and there an exception, they have very little
influence, social or political. They are not men of learning, and
perhaps they are as influential as they could be expected to be. The
established religion is Lutheran, with one archbishopric, eleven
bishoprics, with 3,500 clergymen. They are said to be “highly educated,”
but I was assured that there is a great lack of education among the
clergy, and the very small salaries which even the dignitaries receive
would confirm the statement that the church does not retain the aid of
learned and able men.
The press is free, and when a man is called to account for the abuse of
this freedom, the case goes to a jury, whose action is final, and there
is no appeal from it.
Only one in a thousand of the population is ignorant of letters; they
can read, and nearly all can write.
A common laborer gets about twenty-seven cents of our money for a day’s
work, and a mechanic at his trade earns a little more. The cost of
living must be very little, where the working classes can support
themselves and families on incomes so small as these!
Yet they do live comfortably, and if it were not for drinking
intoxicating liquors, they would be well off.
They are, as a people, as little given to other vices as in any country
of Europe, perhaps I might say, in the world. The statistical tables
show that many, very many, children are born into the world whose
parents are not lawfully married, and it is therefore set down to the
discredit of Sweden and Norway that they are very lax in their social
morals. There is this, however, to be said on this delicate subject, the
law forbids the marriage of any parties who have not taken the Lord’s
Supper, and many do not wish to become communicants in the church, who
are also quite willing to be married. But the church will not sanction
their union, and they live together in the marital relation, true to
each other, but without the blessing of the church. Their children are
returned in the census to the discredit of the morals of Sweden! Here is
an interesting point for moralists to study. The practice is wrong, and
so is the law that has made the practice so common.
The mysterious words, Riddarholm kyrkan, provided always your education
has not extended into the language of Sweden, are used to define a
kyrkan or kirk, the Riders’ or Horsemen’s or Knights’ Church in
Stockholm, decidedly the most peculiar and interesting of all I have
seen in the north of Europe.
Divine service is celebrated within its walls but once a year. It is not
a house for the living to pray in, but for the dead to lie in. It is not
for the dead of common clay, but for the dust of kings only,—a royal
mausoleum. It is a structure of nameless architecture, once Gothic
doubtless, but worked over until small trace of its original design
appears. A spire once almost reached the clouds, and when the lightnings
played too fiercely on it, it was replaced by one of cast iron, which
tapers finely to a lofty height, and defies the thunders.
It is a symbol, the whole church is, of a rude age and land. The doors
were opened at noon of a bright summer day, and yet as we entered, a
sense of gloom, of ruin, of vast antiquity, and the utter emptiness of
this poor life of ours, came over me like a thick cloud. Every stone of
uneven, broken pavement was a tomb, and the inscriptions long since were
worn away by the feet of strangers. In dumb silence, for centuries the
royal remains of successive dynasties have been resting here, and their
names are forgotten, rubbed out, and unwritten elsewhere. The flags,
spears, drums, swords, guns, and implements of war unused in modern
times, are hung around the walls, as if this were an arsenal and not a
sepulchre. In front of the high altar, with recumbent effigies of
ancient kings, and in the midst of inscriptions hard to read and some
still harder to understand, was one epitaph in these words:—
JUSTITIÆ SPLENDOR
PATRIÆ PATER
VIVAS IN ETERNUM
O MAGNE BEATE.
On either side of the door, and on elevated pedestals, are equestrian
statues, cased, both horse and rider, in solid armor; and that of
Charles IX. is said to have been made by Benvenuto Cellini. The armor is
more interesting from its association with the name of its maker than
the king who wore it. Such is fame.
On the right of the high altar, and within the choir, is the tomb which
every Protestant who comes to the north visits as a shrine,—not to pray
for the repose of a soul, but to testify his reverence for the name of
Gustavus Adolphus. The trophies of his victories adorn his sarcophagus
of green porphyry, which was made in Italy to receive his remains. His
own “garments rolled in blood,” in which he fell while fighting on the
field of Lutzen, November 16, 1632, are preserved remarkably in their
stains, for more than two centuries! His epitaph is short and fitting:
“Moriens triumphavit,”—
“DYING HE TRIUMPHED.”
The cause of truth, religious liberty, and the rights of man, all denied
and crushed by the Papal power,—the cause which woke the soul of Luther
and inspired the Reformation for these three centuries,—has been
struggling on toward the universal empire of the human soul. That was
the cause in which Gustavus Adolphus died covered with wounds and glory,
and his epitaph says that he triumphed when he died. I think he did.
True, the battle goes on still, and many a hard field is to be fought
over yet, before He whose right it is shall reign unquestioned in His
dominion over the souls of the race. But the grand foe of the Church of
Christ was then the civil power of the Papacy. Rome had the armies of
all papal kings at her command, and they moved at her ghostly will,
propagating her religion, like that of the Moslem, by the sword. It was
to roll back this tide, more terrible than the waves of the Crusades,
that Gustavus Adolphus was called to lead the armies of the Protestant
powers, and the result was complete success. There is not now one
crowned head on earth that acknowledges the supremacy of the popes.
Austria has cast off its allegiance, and it was Austria that led the
South of Europe against Gustavus Adolphus. Italy is independent of Rome.
And Spain, the birthplace of the Inquisition, and the most abject to the
Pope, has cast out the principle of intolerance, and proclaimed the
rights of worship. What Luther did for the truth in the pulpit, Gustavus
Adolphus did for the same cause in the field.
We went down the stone stairway, worn deeply by the tread of
generations, into the lower regions, where lie whole rows of dead kings
turned to dust, coffins tucked away on shelves and in niches, reminding
me of the Bible words: “All the kings of the nations, even all of them,
lie in glory, every one in his own house.” What’s the glory, though, of
such a resting-place, it is hard to say. Their dust is no better than
that of other men. Their names, even among kings, have ceased to be
distinguished from other names. No man could go among these walks of
tombs, these shelved kings, and pick out one or another, and say who is
who. And if he could, I do not see that it would be any particular
satisfaction to the quiet gentleman on the shelf. If the visitor should
say, “Is this the man that made the earth to tremble, that did shake
kingdoms?” no answer would come back from the tomb.
We did not set foot within the gates of his majesty, the King of Sweden,
and this neglect was much to the disgust of some of our Swedish friends,
who consider the royal residence a marvel of architectural grandeur and
beauty. We could not see it, even when they pointed to its magnificence
with the same exalted opinion of its splendor that possessed the Jews in
sight of their temple. The Lion’s Staircase, rising from the water’s
edge and leading to the main entrance, adorned with two bronze, and
therefore quiet, lions, presents a grand front to the palace, and within
the same interminable suites of apartments, and the same gaudy
furniture, and the same sort of pictures and statuary, with nothing that
has a title to any distinction above what is common in all palaces.
The picture-gallery has some five hundred paintings, some by Van Dyck,
Paul Veronese, Domenichino, and others equally well known to fame, and
the sculpture gallery boasts a sleeping Endymion, and a few other gems;
but we are out of the enchanted zone, and must not expect to be charmed
with the brush or the chisel in Sweden. We shall find Thorvaldsen when
we come to Denmark.
But the royal library has 75,000 volumes, and if it had the library that
Queen Christina sent to the Vatican at Rome, it would be still a greater
wonder, and then would be increased if the ancient collection made by
Charles X., and consumed by fire in 1697, had been preserved. The _Codex
Aureus_, a Latin manuscript of the gospels, dating in the sixth or
seventh century, “is written in Gothic characters of gold, on folio
leaves of vellum, alternately white and violet.”
“This book is additionally interesting, from its containing an
Anglo-Saxon inscription, of which the following is a translation: ‘In
the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, I, Alfred Aldorman (Senior or
Prince), and Werburg, my wife, got up this book from a heathen
war-troop, with our pure treasure, which was then of pure gold. And this
we got for the love of God, and for our souls’ behoof, and for that we
would not that this holy book should longer abide in heathenesse; and
now will we give it to Christ’s Church, God to praise, and glory, and
worship, in thankful remembrance of his passion, and for the use of the
holy brotherhood, who in Christ’s Church do daily speak God’s praise,
and that they may every month read for Alfred, and for Werburg, and for
Alhdryd (their daughter), their souls to eternal health, as long as they
have declared before God that baptism (holy rites) shall continue in
this place. Even so I, Alfred, Dux, and Werburg, pray and beseech, in
the name of God Almighty, and of his saints, _that no man shall be so
daring_ as to sell or part with this holy book from Christ’s Church, so
long as baptism there may stand. (Signed) Alfred, Werburg, Alhdryd.’ No
trace appears to exist of the history of this volume from the time it
was thus given to Canterbury Cathedral until it was purchased in Italy,
and added to this library. Here also is a huge manuscript copy of the
Bible, written upon prepared asses’ skin. It was found in a convent at
Prague, when that city was taken by the Swedes during the Thirty Years’
War. A copy of Koberger’s Bible, printed at Leyden, 1521, and the
margins of which are filled with annotations by Martin Luther. Besides
these, the library is rich in manuscripts and rare editions.”
The King of Sweden is the most affable and approachable monarch in
Europe. In his daily walks, or while going about in the public steamers
that ply through the waters of the city, as omnibuses do in New York, he
enters freely into conversation with the people. To strangers,
especially Americans, he is exceedingly kind, or, as his subjects would
say, _gracious_. I saw him frequently while he was riding, but came no
nearer to his Majesty. He had one of the most splendid reviews that I
had ever seen, when the whole of the Swedish army that is stationed in
this part of the country, together with the militia, all liable to be
called on to do military duty, are put through a drill for a few days
and nights every year, in the summer season. A vast open country, hill,
wood and plain, is chosen, tents pitched, and for a few days mimic war
goes through all its motions, saving and except that there is no blood
shed. This annual exercise does something to keep up a martial spirit,
and makes a few grand holidays, when the whole city is agog with the
excitement. A fête day in Rome, an emperor’s day in Paris, or Derby day
in London, would not exceed the annual review in Stockholm. The nobility
and fashion, the beauty and folly, the masses of people in all sorts of
conveyances, and more on foot than on wheels, were out at the parade.
The squadrons were set on the hills, so far apart that a telescope was
needed to see what was going on, and the marching and countermarching
made a pretty show that delighted the people, and gave the soldiers a
taste of the amusements they would have when rushing into battle under a
blazing sun, and blazing guns in front of them.
The wars of Sweden occupy a large place in European history. Yet when we
see how small the population, how limited the resources, and remote the
situation of the country, it seems incredible that human wisdom has been
so foolish as to permit a race of kings to waste the lives and wealth of
a nation of honest men, in the miserable game of war.
But the genius of Sweden is seen in a very clever arrangement to make
the burden of soldiering as light as possible. The standing army proper
is very small and has little to do at present. But the reserve is large,
and consists of men who are distributed about the kingdom and quartered
on the government lands, which they work in time of peace, and thus earn
their own support. If the crown lands are leased to others, a certain
number of these soldiers is set apart for, or quartered on the land; and
the lessee has their labor, and is responsible for their support. In
this ingenious way the government makes its land pay the expenses of its
army in peace. We might take a leaf out of the royal book of Sweden,
and, by a wise administration of our vast national landed property, make
it contribute something to the support of the government, while we
improved its value. That would be certainly more statesmanlike than to
give it away by millions every year to speculators. The Swedish soldiers
are also employed in making roads, and on other public works, as ours
might be, greatly to their own moral benefit, and to the advantage of
the country.
It strikes me that there is more order and less crime in this northern
part of Europe than in any other country I have yet visited. I see
little evidence of abject poverty and low vice. By night or day I have
not seen a person on the streets at Stockholm who seemed to be of the
abandoned class. Longer acquaintance may correct this impression and
reveal another state of facts. Two American travellers were robbed of
their watches and money, at the hotel where I am lodged, but a few days
ago. It is not at all likely the thief is a native of these regions. He
has probably followed the travellers, or, what is quite as likely, been
one of their travelling companions. The landlord paid the losses without
a lawsuit, and the Americans went on their way.