white cloak, the young Count John of East Friesland. His brother had
married Gustavus Vasa's eldest daughter, and departed with her to his
home: wherever they came on their journey, there was mirth and
feasting, but the most splendid was at Vadstene Palace. Cecilia, the
King's younger daughter, had accompanied her sister hither, and was
here, as everywhere, the first, the most beautiful in the chase as
well as at the tournament. The winter began directly on their arrival
at Vadstene; the cold was severe, and the Vettern frozen over. One
day, Cecilia rode out on the ice and it broke; her brother, Prince
Erik, came galloping to her aid. John, of East Friesland, was already
there, and begged Erik to dismount, as he would, being on horseback,
break the ice still more. Erik would not listen to him, and as John
saw that there was no time for dispute, he dragged Erik from the
horse, sprang into the water himself, and saved Cecilia. Prince Erik
was furious with wrath, and no one could appease him. Cecilia lay long
in a fever, and during its continuance, her love for him who had saved
her life increased. She recovered, and they understood each other, but
the day of separation approached. It was on the night previous that
John, in his white cloak, ascended from stone to stone, holding by his
silk ladder, until he at length entered the window; here they would
converse for hours in all modesty and honour, speak about his return
and their nuptials the following year; and whilst they sat there the
door was hewn down with axes. Prince Erik entered, and raised the
murderous weapon to slay the young Lord of East Friesland, when
Cecilia threw herself between them. But Erik commanded his menials to
seize the lover, whom they put in irons and cast into a low, dark
hole, that cold frosty night, and the next day, without even giving
him a morsel of bread or a drop of water, he was thrown on to a
peasant's sledge, and dragged before the King to receive judgment.
Erik himself cast his sister's fair name and fame into slander's
babbling pool, and high dames and citizens' wives washed unspotted
innocence in calumny's impure waters.
It is only when the large wooden shutters of the saloons are opened,
that the sunbeams stray in here; the dust accumulates in their twisted
pillars, and is only just disturbed by the draught of air. In here is
a warehouse for corn. Great fat rats make their nests in these halls.
The spider spins mourning banners under the beams. This is Vadstene
Palace!
We are filled with sad thoughts. We turn our eyes from this place
towards the lowly house with the grass-turf roof, where the little
lamb crops the grass under the cherry-tree, which strews its fragrant
leaves over it. Our thoughts descend from the rich cloister, from the
proud palace, to the grassy turf, and the sun fades away over the
grassy turf, and the old dame goes to sleep under the grassy turf,
below which lie the mighty memorials of Vadstene.
THE PUPPET-SHOWMAN.
* * * * *
There was an elderly man on the steam-boat, with such a contented face
that, if it did not lie, he must be the happiest man on earth. That he
indeed said he was: I heard it from his own mouth. He was a Dane,
consequently my countryman, and was a travelling theatrical manager.
He had the whole _corps dramatique_ with him; they lay in a large
chest--he was a puppet showman. His innate good-humour, said he, had
been tried by a polytechnic candidate,[D] and from this experiment on
his patience he had become completely happy. I did not understand him
at the moment, but he soon laid the whole case clearly before me; and
here it is.
[Footnote D: One who has passed his examination at a polytechnic
school.]
"It was in Slagelse," said he, "that I gave a representation at the
parsonage, and had a brilliant house and a brilliant company of
spectators, all young persons, unconfirmed, except a few old ladies.
Then there came a person dressed in black, having the appearance of a
student: he sat down amongst the others, laughed quite at the proper
time, and applauded quite correctly; that was an unusual spectator!
"I was bent on ascertaining who he was, and then I heard that he was a
candidate from the polytechnic school, who had been sent out to
instruct people in the provinces. At eight o'clock my representation
was over; the children were to go early to bed, and one must think of
the convenience of the public.
"At nine o'clock the candidate began his lectures and experiments, and
now _I_ was one of _his_ auditory.
"It was remarkable to hear and look at! The chief part of it went over
my head and into the parson's, as one says. Can it be possible,
thought I, that we human beings can find out such things? in that
case, we must also be able to hold out longer, before we are put into
the earth. It was merely small miracles that he performed, and yet all
as easy as an old stocking--quite from nature. In the time of Moses
and the prophets, such a polytechnic candidate would have been one of
the wise men of the land, and in the Middle Ages he would have been
burnt. I could not sleep the whole night, and as I gave a
representation the next evening, and the candidate was there again, I
got into a real merry humour.
"I have heard of an actor, who when playing the lovers' parts, only
thought of one of the spectators; he played for _her_ alone, and
forgot all the rest of the house; the polytechnic candidate was my
_her_, my only spectator, for whom I played. And when the performance
was over, all the puppets were called forward, and I was invited by
the polytechnic candidate to take a glass of wine with him; and he
spoke about my comedy, and I of his science; and I believe we each
derived equal pleasure from the other. But yet I had the advantage,
for there was so much in his performance that he could not account
for: as for instance, that a piece of iron which falls through a
spiral line, becomes magnetic,--well, how is that? The spirit comes
over it, but whence does it come from? it is just as with the human
beings of this world, I think; our Lord lets them fall through the
spiral line of time, and the spirit comes over them--and there stands
a Napoleon, a Luther, or a similar person.
"'All nature is a series of miracles,' said the candidate, 'but we are
so accustomed to them that we call them things of every-day life.' And
he spoke and he explained, so that it seemed at last as if he lifted
my scull, and I honestly confessed, that if I were not an old fellow,
I would go directly to the polytechnic school, and learn to examine
the world in the summer, although I was one of the happiest of men.
"'One of the happiest!' said he, and it was just as if he tasted it.
'Are you happy?' 'Yes!' said I, 'I am happy, and I am welcome in all
the towns I come to with my company! There is certainly one wish, that
comes now and then like a night-mare, which rides on my good-humour,
and that is to be a theatrical manager for a living company--a company
of real men and women.'
"'You wish to have your puppets animated; you would have them become
real actors and actresses,' said he, 'and yourself be the manager? you
then think that you would be perfectly happy?'
"Now he did not think so, but I thought so; and we talked for and
against; and we were just as near in our opinions as before. But we
clinked our glasses together, and the wine was very good; but there
was witchcraft in it, or else the short and the long of the story
would be--that I was intoxicated.
"That I was not; my eyes were quite clear; it was as if there was
sunshine in the room, and it shone out of the face of the polytechnic
candidate, so that I began to think of the old gods in my youth, and
when they went about in the world. And I told him so, and then he
smiled, and I durst have sworn that he was a disguised god, or one of
the family!--And he was so--my first wish was to be fulfilled: the
puppets become living beings and I the manager of men and women. We
drank that it should be so! he put all my puppets in the wooden chest,
fastened it on my back, and then let me fall through a spiral line. I
can still hear how I came down, slap! I lay on the floor, that is
quite sure and certain, and the whole company sprang out of the chest.
The spirit had come over us all together; all the puppets had become
excellent artists--they said so themselves--and I was the manager.
Everything was in order for the first representation; the whole
company must speak with me, and the public also. The female dancer
said, that if she did not stand on one leg, the house would be in an
uproar: she was master of the whole and would be treated as such.
"She who played the queen, would also be treated as a queen when off
the stage, or else she should get out of practice, and he who was
employed to come in with a letter made himself as important as the
first lover. 'For,' said he, 'the small are of just as much importance
as the great, in an artistic whole.' Then the hero demanded that the
whole of his part should only be retorts on making his exit, for these
the public applauded; the prima donna would only play in a red light,
for that suited her best--she would not be blue: they were all like
flies in a bottle, and I was also in the bottle--for I was the
manager. I lost my breath, my head was quite dizzy! I was as miserable
as a man can be; it was a new race of beings I had come amongst; I
wished that I had them altogether again in the chest, that I had never
been a manager: I told them that they were in fact only puppets, and
so they beat me to death. That was my feeling!
"I lay on the bed in my chamber; but how I had come there from the
polytechnic candidate, he must know best--for I do not. The moon shone
in on the floor where the puppet-chest lay upset, and all the puppets
spread about--great and small, the whole lot. But I was not floored! I
sprang out of bed, and threw them all into the chest; some on their
heads, and some on their legs; I smacked the lid down and sat myself
upon it: it was worth painting, can't you conceive it? I can! 'Now you
shall be there!' said I, 'and I will never more wish that you may
become flesh and blood!' I was so glad; I was the happiest man
alive--the polytechnic candidate had tried me! I sat in perfect bliss,
and fell asleep on the chest; and in the morning--it was, properly
speaking, at noon, for I slept so very long that morning--I sat there
still, happy and edified--I saw that my previous and only wish had
been stupid. I inquired for the polytechnic candidate, but he was
gone, like the Greek and Roman gods.
"And from that time I have been the happiest man alive. I am a
fortunate manager; my company does not argue with me, neither does the
public; they are amused to their heart's content, and I can myself put
all my pieces nicely together. I take the best parts out of all sorts
of comedies that I choose, and no one troubles himself about it.
Pieces that are now despised at the large theatres, but which thirty
years ago the public ran to see, and cried over--those pieces I now
make use of. I now present them before the young folks; and the young
folks--they cry just as their fathers and mothers used to do. I give
'Johanna Montfakon' and 'Dyveke,' but abbreviated; for the little
folks do not like long, twaddling love-stories. They must have it
unfortunate--but it must be brief. Now that I have travelled through
Denmark, both to the right and left, I know everybody and am known
again. Now I have come to Sweden, and if I am successful and gain much
money, I will be a Scandinavian, if the humour hold; and this I tell
you, as you are my countryman."
And I, as his countryman, naturally tell it again--only for the sake
of telling it.
THE "SKJÄRGAARDS."
* * * * *
The canal voyage through Sweden goes at first constantly upwards,
through elvs and lakes, forests and rocky land. From the heights we
look down on vast extents of forest-land and large waters, and by
degrees the vessel sinks again down through mountain torrents. At Mem
we are again down by the salt fiord: a solitary tower raises its head
between the remains of low, thick walls--it is the ruins of Stegeberg.
The coast is covered to a great extent with dark, melancholy forests,
which enclose small grass-grown valleys. The screaming sea-gulls fly
around our vessel; we are by the Baltic; we feel the fresh sea-breeze:
it blows as in the times of the ancient heroes, when the sea-kings,
sons of high-born fathers, exercised their deeds here. The same sea's
surface then appeared to them as now to us, with its numberless isles,
which lie strewed about here in the water by thousands along the whole
coast. The depth of water between the rocky isles and the solid land
is that we call "The Skjärgaards:" their waters flow into each other
with varying splendour. We see it in the sunshine, and it is like a
large English landscape garden; but the greensward plain is here the
deep sea, the flower-beds in it are rocks and reefs, rich in firs and
pines, oaks and bushes. Mark how, when the wind blows from the east,
and the sea breaks over sunken rocks and is dashed back again in spray
from the cliffs, your limbs feel--even through the ship on which you
stand--the power of the sea: you are lifted as if by supernatural
hands.
We rush on against wind and sea, as if it were the sea-god's snorting
horse that bore us; from Skjärgaard to Skjärgaard. The signal-gun is
fired, and the pilot comes from that solitary wooden house. Sometimes
we look upon the open sea, sometimes we glide again in between dark,
stony islands; they lie like gigantic monsters in the water: one has
the form of the tortoise's arched shell, another has the elephant's
back and rough grey colour. Mouldering, light grey rocks indicate that
the wind and weather past centuries has lashed over them.
We now approach larger rocky islands, and the huge, grey, broken rocks
of the main land, where dwarfish pine woods grow in a continual combat
with the blast; the Skjärgaards sometimes become only a narrow canal,
sometimes an extensive lake strewed with small islets, all of stone,
and often only a mere block of stone, to which a single little
fir-tree clings fast: screaming sea-gulls flutter around the
land-marks that are set up; and now we see a single farm-house, whose
red-painted sides shine forth from the dark background. A group of
cows lies basking in the sun on the stony surface, near a little
smiling pasture, which appears to have been cultivated here or cut out
of a meadow in Scania. How solitary must it not be to live on that
little island! Ask the boy who sits there by the cattle, he will be
able to tell us. "It is lively and merry here," says he. "The day is
so long and light, the seal sits out there on the stone and barks in
the early morning hour, and all the steamers from the canal must pass
here. I know them all; and when the sun goes down in the evening, it
is a whole history to look into the clouds over the land: there stand
mountains with palaces, in silver and in gold, in red and in blue;
sailing dragons with golden crowns, or an old giant with a beard down
to his waist--altogether of clouds, and they are always changing.
"The storms come on in the autumn, and then there is often much
anxiety when father is out to help ships in distress; but one becomes,
as it were, a new being.
"In winter the ice is locked fast and firm, and we drive from island
to island and to the main land; and if the bear or the wolf pays us a
visit we take his skin for a winter covering: it is warm in the room
there, and they read and tell stories about old times!"
Yes, old Time, how thou dost unfold thyself with remembrances of these
very Skjärgaards--old Time which belonged to the brave. These waters,
these rocky isles and strands, saw heroes more greatly active than
actively good: they swung the axe to give the mortal blow, or as they
called it, "the whining Jetteqvinde."[E]
[Footnote E: Giantess.]
Here came the Vikings with their ships: on the headland yonder they
levied provisions; the grazing cattle were slaughtered and borne away.
Ye mouldering cliffs, had ye but a tongue, ye might tell us about the
duels with the two-handed sword--about the deeds of the giants. Ye saw
the hero hew with the sword, and cast the javelin: his left hand was
as cunning as his right The sword moved so quickly in the air that
there seemed to be three. Ye saw him, when he in all his martial array
sprang forwards and backwards, higher than he himself was tall, and if
he sprang into the sea he swam like a whale. Ye saw the two
combatants: the one darted his javelin, the other caught it in the
air, and cast it back again, so that it pierced through shield and man
down into the earth. Ye saw warriors with sharp swords and angry
hearts; the sword was struck downwards so as to cut the knee, out the
combatant sprang into the air, and the sword whizzed under his feet.
Mighty Sagas from the olden times! Mouldering rocks, could ye but tell
us of these things!
Ye, deep waters, bore the Vikings' ships, and when the strong in
battle lifted the iron anchor and cast it against the enemy's vessel,
so that the planks were rent asunder, ye poured your dark heavy seas
into the hold, so that the bark sank. The wild _Berserk_ who with
naked breast stood against his enemy's blows, mad as a dog, howling
like a bear, tearing his shield asunder, rushing to the bottom of the
sea here, and fetching up stones, which ordinary men could not
raise--history peoples these waters, these cliffs for us! A future
poet will conjure them to this Scandinavian Archipelago, chisel the
true forms out of the old Sagas, the bold, the rude, the greatness and
imperfections of the time, in their habits as they lived.
They rise again for us on yonder island, where the wind is whistling
through the young fir wood. The house is of beams, roofed with bark;
the smoke from the fire on the broad stone in the hall, whirls through
the air-hole, near which stands the cask of mead; the cushions lie on
the bench before the closed bedsteads; deer-skins hang over the balk
walls, ornamented with shields, helmets, and armour. Effigies of gods,
carved, on wooden poles, stand before the high seat where the noble
Viking sits, a high-born father's youngest son, great in fame, but
still greater in deeds; the skjalds (bards) and foster-brothers sit
nearest to him. They defended the coasts of their countrymen, and the
pious women; they fetched wheat and honey from England, they went to
the White Sea for sables and furs--their adventures are related in
song. We see the old man ride in rich clothing, with gloves sewn with
golden thread, and with a hat brought from Garderige; we see the youth
with a golden fillet around his brow; we see him at the _Thing_; we
see him in battle and in play, where the best is he that can cut off
the other's eyebrows without scratching the skin, or causing a wink
with the eyes, on pain of losing his station. The woman sits in the
log-house at her loom, and in the late moonlight nights the spirits of
the fallen come and sit down around the fire, where they shake the
wet, dripping clothes; but the serf sleeps in the ashes, and on the
kitchen bench, and dreams that he dips his bread in the fat soup, and
licks his fingers.
Thou future poet, thou wilt call forth the vanished forms from the
Sagas, thou wilt people these islands, and let us glide past these
reminiscences of the olden time with the mind full of them; clearly
and truly wilt thou let us glide, as we now with the power of steam
fly past that firmly standing scenery, the swelling sea, rocks and
reefs, the main land, and wood-grown islands.
We are already past Braavigen, where numberless ships from the
northern kingdoms lay, when Upsala's King, Sigurd Ring, came,
challenged by Harald Hildetand, who, old and grey, feared to die on a
sick bed, and would fall in battle; and the mainland thundered like
the plains of Marathon beneath the tramp of horses' hoofs during the
battle:[F] bards and female warriors surrounded the Danish King. The
blind old man raised himself high in his chariot, gave his horse free
rein, and hewed his way. Odin himself had due reverence paid to
Hildetand's bones; and the pile was kindled, and the King laid on it,
and Sigurd conjured all to cast gold and weapons, the most valuable
they possessed, into the fire; and the bards sang to it, and the
female warriors struck the spears on the bright shields. Upsala's
Lord, Sigurd Ring, became King of Sweden and Denmark: so says the
Saga, which sounded over the land and water from these coasts.
[Footnote F: The battle of Braavalla.]
The memorials of olden times pass swiftly through our thoughts; we fly
past the scene of manly exercises and great deeds in the olden
times--the ship cleaves the mighty waters with its iron paddles, from
Skjärgaard to Skjärgaard.
STOCKHOLM.
* * * * *
We cast runes[G] here on the paper, and from the white ground the
picture of Birger Jarl's six hundred years old city rises before thee.
[Footnote G: "To cast runes" was, in the olden time, to exercise
witchcraft. When the apple, with ciphers cut in it, rolled into the
maiden's lap, her heart and mind were infatuated.]
The runes roll, you see! Wood-grown rocky isles appear in the light,
grey morning mist; numberless flocks of wild birds build their nests
in safety here, where the fresh waters of the Mälaren rush into the
salt sea. The Viking's ship comes; King Agna stands by the prow--he
brings as booty the King of Finland's daughter. The oak-tree spreads
its branches over their bridal chamber; at daybreak the oak-tree bears
King Agna, hanged in his long golden chain: that is the bride's work,
and the ship sails away again with her and the rescued Fins.
The clouds drive past--the years too.
Hunters and fishermen erect themselves huts;--it is again deserted
here, where the sea-birds alone have their homes. What is it that so
frightens these numberless flocks? the wild duck and sea-gull fly
screaming about, there is a hammering and driving of piles. Oluf
Skötkonge has large beams bored down into the ground, and strong iron
chains fastened across the stream: "Thou art caught, Oluf
Haraldson,[H] caught with the ships and crews, with which thou didst
devastate the royal city Sigtuna; thou canst not escape from the
closed Mälar lake!"
[Footnote H: Afterwards called Saint Oluf.]
It is but the work of one night; the same night when Oluf Hakonson,
with iron and with fire, burst his onward way through the stubborn
ground; before the day breaks the waters of the Mälar roll there; the
Norwegian prince, Oluf sailed through the royal channel he had cut in
the east. The stockades, where the iron chains hang, must bear the
defences; the citizens from the burnt-down Sigtuna erect themselves a
bulwark here, and build their new, little town on stock-holms.[I]
[Footnote I: Stock, signifies bulks, or beams; holms, i.e. islets,
or river islands; hence Stockholm.]
The clouds go, and the years go! Do you see how the gables grow? there
rise towers and forts. Birger Jarl makes the town of Stockholm a
fortress; the warders stand with bow and arrow on the walls,
reconnoitring over lake and fjord, over Brunkaberg sand-ridge. There
were the sand-ridge slopes upwards from Rörstrand's Lake they build
Clara cloister, and between it and the town a street springs up:
several more appear; they form an extensive city, which soon becomes
the place of contest for different partisans, where Ladelaas's sons
plant the banner, and where the German Albrecht's retainers burn the
Swedes alive within its walls. Stockholm is, however, the heart of the
kingdom: that the Danes know well; that the Swedes know too, and there
is strife and bloody combating. Blood flows by the executioner's hand,
Denmark's Christian the Second, Sweden's executioner, stands in the
market-place.
Roll, ye runes! see over Brunkaberg sand-ridge, where the Swedish
people conquered the Danish host, there they raise the May-pole: it is
midsummer-eve--Gustavus Vasa makes his entry into Stockholm.
Around the May-pole there grow fruit and kitchen-gardens, houses and
streets; they vanish in flames, they rise again; that gloomy fortress
towards the tower is transformed into a palace, and the city stands
magnificently with towers and draw-bridges. There grows a town by
itself on the sand-ridge, a third springs up on the rock towards the
south; the old walls fall at Gustavus Adolphus's command; the three
towns are one, large and extensive, picturesquely varied with old
stone houses, wooden shops, and grass-roofed huts; the sun shines on
the brass balls of the towers, and a forest of masts stands in that
secure harbour.
Rays of beauty shoot forth into the world from Versailles' painted
divinity; they reach the Mälar's strand into Tessin's[J] palace, where
art and science are invited as guests with the King, Gustavus the
Third, whose effigy cast in bronze is raised on the strand before the
splendid palace--it is in our times. The acacia shades the palace's
high terrace on whose broad balustrades flowers send forth their
perfume from Saxon porcelain; variegated silk curtains hang half-way
down before the large glass windows; the floors are polished smooth as
a mirror, and under the arch yonder, where the roses grow by the wall,
the Endymion of Greece lives eternally in marble. As a guard of honour
here, stand Fogelberg's Odin, and Sergei's Amor and Psyche.
[Footnote J: The architect Tessin.]
We now descend the broad, royal staircase, and before it, where, in
by-gone times, Oluf Skötkonge stretched the iron chains across the
mouth of the Mälar Lake, there is now a splendid bridge with shops
above and the Streamparterre below: there we see the little steamer
'Nocken,'[K] steering its way, filled with passengers from Diurgarden
to the Streamparterre. And what is the Streamparterre? The Neapolitans
would tell us: It is in miniature--quite in miniature--the
Stockholmers' "Villa Reale." The Hamburgers would say: It is in
miniature--quite in miniature--the Stockholmers' "Jungfernstieg."
[Footnote K: The water-sprite.]