In the autumn of 1842 I had occasion to make a journey to Nuremberg in
company with my partner Mr. Gaskell. We had been invited to a
conference with the directors of the Nuremberg and Munich Railroad as
to the supply of locomotives for working their line. As this was
rather an important and extensive transaction, we thought it better not
to trust to correspondence, but to see the directors on the spot.
We found that there were several riskful conditions attached to the
proposed contract, which we considered it imprudent to agree to.
We had afterwards good reason to feel satisfied that we had not yielded
to the very tempting commercial blandishments that were offered to us,
but that we refrained from undertaking an order that required so many
important modifications.
Nevertheless, I was exceedingly delighted with the appearance of the
city of Nuremberg. It carries one back to the mediaeval times!
The architecture, even of the ordinary houses, is excellent.
St. Lawrence, St. Sebald's, and the Frauenkirche, are splendid specimens
of Gothic design. The city is surrounded by old walls and turrets,
by ramparts and bastions, enclosed by a ditch faced with masonry.
Very few cities have so well escaped the storm of war and sieges in the
Middle Ages, and even in modern times. Everything has been carefully
preserved, and many of the best houses are still inhabited by the
families whose forefathers originally constructed them. But "progress"
is beginning to affect Nuremberg. It is the centre of railways;
buildings are extending in all directions; tram-cars are running in the
streets; and before long, I fear, the ditch will be filled up,
the surrounding picturesque walls and towers demolished, and the city
thrown open to the surrounding country.
I visited the house of Albert Durer, one of the greatest artists who
ever lived. He was a man of universal genius--a painter, sculptor,
engraver, mathematician, and engineer. He was to Germany what Leonardo
da Vinci was to Italy. His house is wonderfully preserved.
You see his entrance hall, his exhibition room, his bedroom,
his studio, and the opening into which his wife--that veritable Xantippe
--thrust the food that was to sustain him during his solitary hours of
labour. I saw his grave, too, in the old churchyard beyond the
Thiergarten gate. I saw the bronze plate commemorating the day of his
death. "Emigravit 8 idus Aprilis 1528." "Emigravit" only, for the true
artist never dies. Hans Sachs's grave is there too--the great
Reformation poet of Luther's time.
Adam Krafft must have been a great sculptor, though his name is little
known out of Nuremberg. Perhaps his finest work is in St. Lawrence
Cathedral--the Sacramentshauslein, or the repository for the sacred
wafer--a graceful tapering stone spire of florid Gothic open work,
more than sixty feet high, which stands at the opening of the right
transept. Its construction and decoration occupied the sculptor and
his two apprentices no less than five years; and all that he received
for his hard labour and skilful work was 770 gulden, or about #80
sterling. No wonder that he died in the deepest distress.
St. Sebald's and the Frauenkirche also contain numerous specimens of
his admirable work.
In the course of the following year (1843) it was necessary for me to
make a journey to St. Petersburg. My object was to endeavour to
obtain an order for a portion of the locomotives required for working
the line between that city and Moscow. The railway had been
constructed under the engineership of Major Whistler, father of the
well-known artist; and it was shortly about to be opened. It appeared
that the Emperor Nicholas was desirous of securing a home supply of
locomotives, and that, like a wise monarch, he wished to employ his own
subjects rather than foreigners in producing them. No one could object
to this.
The English locomotive manufacturers were not aware of the Emperor's
intention. When I arrived in the city I expected an order for
locomotives. The representatives of the principal English firms were
there like myself; they, too, expected a share of the order.
It so happened that at the table d'hote dinner I sat near a very
intelligent American, with whom I soon became intimate. He told me
that he was very well acquainted with Major Whistler, and offered to
introduce me to him. By all means! There is no thing like friendly
feelings in matters of business.
The Major gave me a frank and cordial reception, and informed me of the
position of affairs. The Emperor, he said, was desirous of training a
class of Russian mechanics to supply not only the locomotives but to
keep them constantly in repair. He could not solely depend upon
foreign artisans for the latter purpose. The locomotives must be made
in Russia. The Emperor had given up the extensive premises of the
Imperial China Manufactory, which were to be devoted to the manufacture
of engines.
The Major appointed Messrs. Eastwick, Harrison, and Wynants, to supply
the entire mechanical plant of the railway. I saw that it would be of
no use to apply for any order for locomotives; but I offered to do all
that I could to supply the necessary details. In the course of a few
days I was introduced to Joseph Harrison, the chief mechanic of the
firm; and I then entered into a friendship which proved long and
lasting. He gave me a large order for boilers, and for detail parts of
the Moscow engines--all of which helped him forward in the completion
of the locomotives. We also supplied many of our special machine tools,
without which engines could not then be very satisfactorily made or
kept in repair. In this way I was in all respects highly remunerated
for my journey.
The enjoyment of my visit to St. Petersburg was much enhanced by
frequent visits to my much valued friend General Alexander Wilson.
He was a native of Edinburgh, and delighted to enjoy cracks with me
upon subjects of mutual interest. His sister, who kept house for him,
joined in our conversation. She had been married to the Emperor Paul's
physician, who was also a Scotsman, and was able to narrate many
terrible events in relation to Russian Court affairs. The General had
worked his way upwards, like the rest of us. During the principal part
of his life he had superintended the great mechanical establishments at
Alexandrosky and Colpenha, where about 3000 operatives were employed.
These establishments were originally founded by the Empress Catherine
for the purpose of creating a native manufacturing population capable
of carrying on textile and mechanical works of all kinds.
The sail-cloth for the Russian navy was manufactured at Alexandrosky by
excellent machinery. Cotton fabrics were also manufactured, as well as
playing cards, which were a Crown monopoly. The great establishment at
Colpenha consisted of a foundry, a machine manufactory, and a mint--
where the copper money of the empire was coined. General Wilson was
the directing chief officer of all these establishments.
Through him I had the happiness of being introduced to General Greg,
son of the great admiral who shed such honour on the Russian flag
during the reign of the Empress Catherine. He was then well advanced
in years, but full of keen intelligence and devoted to astronomical
pursuits. He was in a great measure the founder of the Imperial
Observatory at Pulkowa, situated on an appropriate eminence about eight
miles from St. Petersburg. The observatory was furnished under his
directions with the most magnificent astronomical instruments.
I had the honour to be introduced by him to the elder Struve, whose
astronomical labours procured him a well-earned reputation throughout
Europe. I had the rare happiness of spending some nights with Struve,
when he showed me the wonderful capabilities of his fine instruments.
The observatory is quite imperial in its arrangement and management,
and was supported in the most liberal manner by the Emperor Nicholas.
Indeed, it is a perfect example of what so noble an establishment
should be.
Struve most kindly invited me to come whenever the state of the weather
permitted him to show forth the wonderful perfection of his
instruments,--a rare chance, which I seized every opportunity of
enjoying. It was quite a picture to see the keen interest and intense
enjoyment with which the profound astronomer would seat himself at his
instrument and pick out some exquisite test objects, such as the double
stars in Virgo, Cygnus, or Ursa Major. The beautiful order and
neatness with which the instruments were kept in their magnificent
appropriate apartments, each having its appropriate observer proceeding
quietly with his allotted special work, with nothing to break the
silence but the "tick, tack!" of the sidereal clock--this was indeed
a most impressive sight! And the kindly companionable manner of the
great master of the establishment was in all respects in harmony with
the astronomical work which he conducted in this great Temple of the
Universe!
Through my friendship with General Wilson I was enabled to extend my
acquaintance with many of my countrymen who had been long settled at
St. Petersburg in connection with commercial affairs. I enjoyed their
kind hospitality, and soon found myself quite at home amongst them.
I remained in the city for about two months. During that time I was
constantly about. The shops, the streets, the houses, the museums,
were objects of great interest. The view of the magnificent buildings
along the sides of the quay is very imposing. Looking from the front
of the statue of Peter the Great you observe the long facade of the
Admiralty, the column of Alexander, the Winter Palace, and other public
buildings. The Neva flows in front of them in a massive volume of pure
water. On an island opposite stands the citadel. The whole presents a
coup d'oeil of unexampled architectural magnificence.
I was much interested by the shops and their signboards. The latter
were fixed all over the fronts of the shops, and contained a
delineation of the goods sold within. There was no necessity for
reading. The pictorial portraits told their own tale.
They were admirable specimens of what is called still-life pictures;
not only as regards the drawing and colouring of each object, but with
respect to the grouping, which was in most cases artistic and natural.
Two reasons were given me for this style of artistic sign-painting:
one was that many of the people could not read the written words
defining the articles sold within; and the other was that the severe
and long-continued frosts of the St. Petersburg winter rendered large
shop windows impossible for the proper display of the goods.
Hence the small shop-windows to keep out the cold, and the large
painted signboards to display the articles sold inside.
I was also greatly pleased with the manner in which the Russians employ
ivy in screening their windows during summer. Ivy is a beautiful
plant, and is capable of forming a most elegant window-screen.
Nothing can be more beautiful than to look through green leaves.
Nearly every window of the ground flat of the houses in St. Petersburg
is thus screened. The neat manner in which the ivy plants are trained
over ornamental forms of cane is quite a study in its way. And though
the ivy is very common, yet a common thing, being a thing of beauty,
may be a "joy for ever." In the finer and most important mansions,
the sides of the flight of wide steps that lead up to the reception
rooms were beautifully decorated by oleander plants, growing in great
vigour, with their fine flowers as fresh as if in a carefully-kept
conservatory. Other plants of an ornamental kind were mixed with the
oleander, but the latter appeared to be the favourite.*
[footnote...
While passing through Lubeck on my way out to St. Petersburg I was much
struck with the taste for flower-plants displayed by the people of that
old-world city. The inner side of the lower house windows were all
beautifully decorated with flowers, which were evidently well cared
for. Some of the windows were almost made up with flowers.
Perhaps the long-continued winter of these parts has caused the people
to study and practise within-door culture with such marked success.
It is a most elegant pursuit, and should be cultivated everywhere.
It is thoroughly in character with the exquisite cleanliness and
tidiness of the houses at Lubeck.
...]
About the end of my visit I was about to call upon one of my customers
with reference to my machine tools; for though I pursued pleasure at
occasional times, I never lost sight of business. It was a very dull
day, and the streets about the Winter Palace were almost deserted.
I was sitting in my drosky with my roll of drawings resting on my thigh
--somewhat in the style of a commander-in-chief as represented in the
old pictures--when I noticed a drosky coming out of the gates of the
Winter Palace. I observed that it contained a noble-looking officer in
a blue military cloak sitting behind his drosky driver. My driver
instantly took off his hat, and I, quickly following his example,
took off my hat and bowed gracefully, keeping my extended hand on the
level of my head--a real royal salute. The person was no other than
the Emperor Nicholas! He fixed his pecuniarily fine eyes upon me and
gave me one of the grandest military salutes, accompanied, as I thought,
with a kindly smile from his magnificent eyes as he passed close by me.
As I had been lunching with a Dutch engineer about half an hour before,
and had a glass or two of champagne, this may have had something to do
with my daring to give the Emperor, in his own capital, what I was
afterwards told was not a bow but a brotherly recognition between
potentates, and only by royal usage allowed to be so given,--namely,
swaying off the hat at arm's length level with the head, so as to infer
royal equality, or something of that sort. When I narrated to some
Russian friends what I had done, they told me that I need not be
surprised if I received a visit from the chief of police next morning
for my daring to salute the Emperor in such a style. But the Emperor
was doubtless more amused than offended, and I never received the
expected visit.
To anticipate a little. Soon afterwards the Emperor sent me a present
of a magnificent diamond ring through his ambassador in England--
Baron Brunnow. It was also accompanied, as the Baron informed me,
with the Emperor's most gracious thanks for the manner in which my
steam hammer had driven the piles for his new forts at Cronstadt, which
he had seen in full action. The steam-hammer pile-driver had also been
used for driving the piles of the great bridge at Kieff.
I next received an order for one of my largest steam hammers for the
Imperial Arsenal, and it was followed by many more. It is a singular
fact, as showing the readiness of the Russian and other foreign
Governments to adopt at an early date any mechanical improvement of
ascertained utility, that I supplied steam hammers to the Russian
Government twelve months before our Admiralty availed themselves of its
energetic action. The French were the first to adopt the invention;
thanks to the insight of M. Bourdon, who had the opportunity of
recognising its importance.
Before I leave this part of my subject, I must not omit to mention my
friend Mr. Francis Baird, the zealous son of Sir Charles Baird.
The latter was among the first to establish iron foundries and engine
works at St. Petersburg. At the time of my visit he was far advanced
in years, and unable to attend personally to the very large business
which he had established. But he was nevertheless full of geniality.
He greatly enjoyed the long conversations which he had with me about
his friends in Scotland, many of whom I knew. He also told me about
the persons in his employment. He said that the workmen were all
serfs, or the sons of serfs. The Empress Catherine had given them to
him for the purpose of being trained in his engine foundry, and in his
sugar refinery, which was another part of the business. I had rarely
seen a more faithful and zealous set of workmen than these Russian
serfs. They were able and skilful, and attached to their employers by
some deeper and stronger tie than that of mere money wages.
Indeed, they were treated by Sir Charles Baird and his son with the
kindest and most paternal care, and they duly repaid their attachment
by their zeal in his service and the excellent quality of their work.
The most important business in hand at the time of my visit to the
foundry was the moulding and casting of the magnificent bronze capitals
of the grand portico of the Izak Church. This building is one of the
finest in St. Petersburg. It is of grand proportions,--simple,
noble, and massive. It is built upon a forest of piles. The walls of
the interior are covered with marble. The malachite columns for the
screen are fifty feet high, and exceed everything that has yet been
done in that beautiful mineral. The great dome is of iron covered
with gilt copper. This, as well as the Corinthian capitals of bronze,
was manufactured at the foundry of the Bairds. The tympanum of the
four great porticos consisted of colossal groups of alto-relievo
figures, many of which were all but entirely detached from the
background. It was a kind of foundry work of the highest order,
all the details and processes requiring the greatest care.
To my surprise every one engaged in this gigantic and refined metal
work was a serf. The full-sized plaster models which they used in
moulding were executed by a resident French sculptor. He was a true
artist, and of the highest order. But to see the skilful manner in
which these native workmen, drawn from the staff of the Bairds'
ordinary foundry workers, performed their duties, was truly surprising.
It would make our best bronze statuary founders wince to be asked to
execute such work. Judging from what I saw of the Russian workmen in
this instance, I should say that Russia has a grand future before it.
Having satisfactorily completed all my business arrangements in
St. Petersburg, I prepared to set out homewards. But as I had some
business to transact at Stockholm and Copenhagen I resolved to visit
those cities. I left St. Petersburg for Stockholm by a small steamer,
which touched at Helsingfors and Abo, both in Finland. The weather was
beautiful. Clear blue shy and bright sunshine by day, and the light
prolonged far into the night. Even in September the duration of the
sunshine is so great and the night so short that the air has scarcely
time to cool till it gets heated again by the bright morning rays.
Even at twelve at night the sun dips but a little beneath the bright
horizon on the north. The night is so bright in the Abo latitude that
one can read the smallest print.
Nothing can be more beautiful than the charming scenery we passed
through in our tortuous voyage to Stockholm. We threaded between the
granite islands which crowd the shores of the Baltic. They are covered
with pines, which descend to the water's edge. We swept them with our
paddle-boxes, and dipped their bright green fronds into the perfectly
clear sea. For about two days our course lay through those beautiful
small islands. It seemed like a voyage through fairyland.
And it continued in this exquisite tranquil way until we reached that
crowning feature of all--the magnificent city of Stockholm, sleeping,
as it were, on the waters of the Malar Lake, and surrounded by noble
mountains clad with pines. With the exception of Edinburgh, Genoa,
and Naples, I had never beheld so noble a city with such magnificent
surroundings.
I spent but a short time in Stockholm, but quite sufficient to enable
me to see much that was grandly beautiful in its neighbourhood.
Lakes, rocks, and noble trees abounded, and exquisite residences peeped
out through the woods, giving evidences of high civilisation. Elegance
of taste and perfect domestic arrangements supplied every form of
rational comfort and enjoyment. My old friend Sir John Ross, of Arctic
celebrity, was settled at Stockholm as chief consul for Her Majesty.
He introduced me to several of the leading English merchants, from whom
I received much kind attention. Mr. Erskine invited me to spend a day
or two at his beautiful villa in the neighbourhood. It was situated on
the side of a mountain, and overlooked a lake that reminded me very
much of Loch Katrine. Fine timber grew about, in almost inaccessible
places, on the tops of precipices, and in shelves and clefts among the
rocks. The most important result of my visit was an introduction to
Baron Tam, the proprietor and chief director of the great Dannemora
Iron Mine.
I was at once diverted for a time from my voyage to Copenhagen.
I was most desirous of seeing in person this celebrated mine.
The baron most willingly furnished me with several letters of
introduction to his managers, and I proceeded to Dannemora by way of
Upsala. I was much interested by this city, by its cathedral,
containing the tomb of Gustavas Vasa, and by its many historical
associations. But I was still more impressed by Old Upsala, about
three miles distant. This is a place of great antiquity. It is only a
little hamlet now, though at one time it must have been the centre of a
large population. The old granite church was probably at one time a
pagan temple. Outside, and apart from it, is a wooden bell-tower,
erected in comparatively modem times. In a wooden box inside the
church is a wooden painted god, a most unlikely figure to worship.
And yet the Swedes in remote parts of the country carefully preserve
their antique wooden gods.
The great sacrifices to Odin were made at Old Upsala.
Outside the church, in a row, are three great mounds of earth, erected
in commemoration of Odin, Thor, and Freia--hence our Wednesday,
Thursday, and Friday. These mounds, of about 60 feet high and 232 feet
in diameter, were in former times used as burying-places for the great
and valiant. I went into a cottage near the tumuli, and drank a bumper
of mead to the memory of Thor from a very antique wooden vessel.
I made an especial reverential obeisance to Thor, because I had a great
respect for him as being the great Hammerman, and one of our craft,--
the Scandinavian Vulcan.
I drove back to Upsala, and remained there for the night.
It is a sleepy silent place. The only sound I heard was the voice of
the watchman calling out the small hours of the morning from his
station on the summit of the cathedral tower. As the place is for the
most part built of wood, this precaution in the shape of a watchman who
can see all points of the city is a necessary one in case of fire.
Next morning I hired a small sort of gig of a very primitive
construction, with a boy for driver. His duty was to carry me to the
next post-house, and there leave me to be carried forward by another
similar conveyance. But the pony No. 2 was about a mile off, occupied
in drawing a plough, so that I had to wait until the job was over.
In about an hour or so I was again under weigh. And so on da capo,
until about six in the evening, when I found myself within sight of the
great mine. The post-house where I was set down was an inn, though
without a signboard. The landlady was a bright, cheery, jolly woman.
She could not speak a word of English, nor I a word of Dannemora
Swedish. I was very thirsty and hungry, and wanted something to eat.
How was I to communicate my wishes to the landlady? I resorted,
as I often did, to the universal language of the pencil. I took out my
sketch-book, and in a few seconds made a sketch of a table, with a dish
of smoking meat upon it, a bottle and a glass, a knife and fork,
a loaf, a saltcellar, and a corkscrew. She looked at the drawing and
gave a hearty laugh. She nodded pleasantly, showing that she clearly
understood what I wanted. She asked me for the sketch, and went into
the back garden to show it to her husband, who inspected it with great
delight. I went out and looked about the place, which was very
picturesque. After a short time, the landlady came to the door and
beckoned me in, and I found spread out on the table everything that I
desired--a broiled chicken, smoking hot from the gridiron, a bottle
of capital home-brewed ale, and all the et ceteras of an excellent
repast. I made use of my pencil in many ways. I always found that a
sketch was more useful than a blundering sentence. Besides,
it generally created a sympathy between me and my entertainers.
[Image] The order for dinner
My visit to the Dannemora Mine at Osterby was one of peculiar interest.
I may in the first place say that the immense collection of iron ore at
that point has been the result of the upheaval of a vast volume of
molten igneous ore, which has been injected into the rock, or deposited
in masses under the crust of the earth. In some cases the quarried ore
yields from 50 to 70, and even as much as 90 per cent of iron.
The Dannemora Mine is a vast quarry open to the sky. When you come near
it the place looks like a vast deep pit, with an unfathomable bottom.
Ghostlike, weird-looking pinnacles of rocks stand out from its profound
depths; but beyond these you see nothing but wreaths of smoke curling
up from below. The tortuous chasm in the earth, caused by the quarries
beneath, is about half a mile long, and about a thousand feet wide.
[Image] Dannemora iron mine. After a drawing by James Nasmyth.
The first process of the workmen in the quarries below is devoted to
breaking into small fragments the great masses of ore scattered about
by the previous night's explosions. These are sent to the surface in
great tubs attached to wire ropes, which are drawn up by gins worked by
horses. Other miners are engaged in boring blast holes in the ore,
which displays itself in great wide veins in the granite sides of the
vast chasm. These blast holes are charged with gunpowder, each with a
match attached. At the end of the day the greater number of the miners
are drawn up in the cages or tubs, while a few are left below to light
the slow-burning matches attached to about a hundred charged bore
holes. The rest of the miners are drawn up, and then begins the
tremendous bombardment. I watched the progress of it from a stage
projecting over the wild-looking yawning gulph. It was grand to hear
the succession of explosions that filled the bottom of the mine far
beneath me. Then the volumes of smoke, through the surface of which
masses of rock were sometimes sent whirling up into the clear blue sky,
and fell back again into the pit below. Such an infernal cannonade I
have never witnessed. In some respects it reminded me of the crater of
Vesuvius, from which such dense clouds of steam and smoke and fire are
thrown up. In the course of the night, the suffocating smoke and
sulphureous gases has time to pass away, and next morning the workmen
were ready to begin their operations as before.
The ore extracted from this great mine is smelted in blast furnaces
with wood charcoal, and forged into bars. The charcoal is, of course,
entirely free from sulphur. When sent to Sheffield the iron is placed
in fire-brick troughs closely surrounded by powdered charcoal.
After a few days' exposure to red heat, the iron is converted into
splendid steel, which has given such a reputation to that great
manufacturing town. It is also the steel from which the firm of Stubbs
and Company, of Warrington (to which I have already referred),
produce their famous P.S. files.
After the explosions had ceased at the mine, I went with one of the
managers to see the great Bar forge. It was a picturesque sight to see
the forgemen at work with the tilt hammers under the glowing light of
the furnaces. I inspected the machinery and forge works throughout,
and had thus the opportunity of seeing the whole proceeding, from the
blasting and quarrying of the ore in the mine, the forging and rolling
of the worked iron into their proper lengths, down to the final stamp
or "mark" driven in by the blow of the tilt hammer at the end of each
bar. Having now thoroughly examined everything connected with this
celebrated iron mine, I prepared to set out for Stockholm in the same
way as I had come. To prepare the landlord for my setting out,
I again resorted to my pencil. I made a drawing of the little gig and
pony, with the sun rising, and the hour at which I wished to start.
He understood it in a moment, and next morning the trap was at the door
at the specified time.
Before I left Stockholm I made a careful and elaborate panoramic sketch
of the city, as a companion to the one I had made of Genoa from the
harbour a year before. I made this one from the summit of the King's
Park, which is the favourite pleasure-ground of the people.
I was ferried across in a little paddle-wheel boat, worked by
Dalecarlian women in their peculiar costumes. The King's Park,
or Djurgard, is doubly beautiful, not only from its panoramic view of
the city, the Malar Lake, and the arm of the Baltic, which comes up to
the Skeppsbron Quay, but also from the magnificent oak trees with which
it is studded. These noble trees, as foreground objects, are perfect
pictures. The masses of rock are grand, and the drives are beautifully
kept. No wonder that the Swedes are so proud of this beautiful park,
for it is the finest in Europe.
I left Stockholm for Gottenburg by steamer. This is one of the most
picturesque routes in Sweden. First, we passed through the Malar Lake
--one of the most beautiful pieces of water in the world. It contains
no less than fourteen hundred islands, mostly covered with wood.
Of course we did not see one twentieth part of the lake; we only
steamed along its eastern shore for about twenty miles on our way to
Sodertelye, where the Gotha Canal begins. We then reached the small
Maran Lake, and afterwards an arm of the Baltic. We passed numberless
islands and rocks and reached the Slatbacken Fiord, which we entered.
Beautiful scenery surrounds the entrance to the fiord. In the morning,
after rising up the locks between Mariehop and Wenneberga, and passing
through Lakes Roxen and Boren, we found ourselves at Motala, near the
entrance to the Wettern Lake.
Motala is a place of great importance in the manufacturing industry of
Sweden. When I visited it, the iron-foundry was in charge of
Mr. Caulson, a native of the country. I had known him some years
before in London, and had the highest opinion of his ability as a
constructive engineer. He was surrounded at Motala with everything in
the way of excellently arranged workshops, good machine tools,
as well as abundant employment for them. Indeed, this is the largest
iron-foundry in Sweden, where iron steamers, steam-engines, and rolling
mills are made. From its central position it has a great future before it.
The steamer crosses the lake to Carlsborg, at the entrance to the fiord
and canal that leads to Lakes Wiken and Wenern. The latter is an
immense lake--in fact, an inland sea. During a great part of the
time we were out of sight of land. At length we reached Wenersborg,
and passed down the Charles Canal. A considerable time is required to
enable the steamer to pass from lock to lock--nine locks in all--
down to the level of the Gotha River. During that time an opportunity
was afforded us for seeing the famous Trollhatten Falls--a very fine
piece of Nature's workmanship.
[Image] Part of Trollhatten Falls
Before leaving the subject of Sweden, I feel that I must say a word or
two about the Swedish people. I admired them exceedingly.
They are tall, fair, good-looking. They are among the most civil and
obliging people that I have ever met. I never encountered a rude word
or a rude look from them. In their homes they are simple and natural.
I liked the pleasing softness of their voices, so sweet and musical--
"a most excellent thing in woman." There was a natural gentleness in
their deportment. All classes, even the poorest, partook of it.
Their domestic habits are excellent. They are fond of their homes;
and, above all things, they are clean and tidy. They strew the floors
of their ground apartments with spruce pine twigs, which form a natural
carpet as well as give out a sweet balsamic perfume. These are swept
away every morning and replaced with fresh material.
With their many virtues, the Swedes are a most self-helping people.
They are hard-working and honest, true and straightforward.
In matters of commerce they are men of their word. They are
clear-headed, honest-minded, and keen in their desire for knowledge.
Their natural simple common sense enables them to clear away all
parasitical and traditional rubbish from their minds, and to stand
before us as men of the highest excellence. All happiness and
prosperity to dear old Sweden!
I set out from Gottenburg to Helsingborg, along the shores of the
Kattegat. From Helsingborg I crossed the Sound by a small steamer to
Elsinore, famous for its connection with Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.
The old dreary looking castle still stands there. From Elsinore I went
to Copenhagen, and occupied myself for a few days in visiting the
wonderful museums. There I saw, in the Northern Antiquities
Collection, the unwritten history of civilisation in the stone, bronze,
and iron tools which have brought the world to what it is now.
This museum is perfectly unrivalled. I saw there the first section of
kitchen-middens--that is, the refuse of oyster shells, fish-bones,
and other stuff thrown out by the ancient inhabitants of the country
after their meals; together with accumulations of rude stone
implements, kelts, arrow-heads, and such like.
Then there were the articles of the Bronze Age, with war trumpets;
the articles of the early Iron Age, which also contain some remarkable
golden war horns. These are followed by the middle Iron Age,
and then by the later Iron Age. This part of the collection is superb.
But it is impossible for me to describe the wonders of the museum.
I was greatly interested too by the collection of articles at the
Rosenburg Castle. This is the only museum at Copenhagen which is not
free; but the price charged is very small. It contains an extraordinary
collection of royal clothes (what would Sartor Resartus say?), armour,
furniture, drinking vessels, and all manner of personal antiquities
connected with the Kings of Denmark.
I was especially interested by the collection of royal drinking
vessels, from the earliest, made of wood, down to the latest,
grand gold and silver flagons. What most amused me in respect to these
boozing implements were the pegs that marked the depths down to which
the stalwart Dane was able to swig at a pull one enormous draught of
wine. In some cases the name and date of the achievement of the heavy
drinker was engraved on the flagon to record his feat.
"Take him a peg down" was the ordinary saying, and the words have
become a proverb amongst ourselves. For we unquestionably have derived
a great deal of our drinking capabilities from our ancestors the Danes.
The whole of the museums at Copenhagen are excellent.
Besides those I have mentioned, are the Ethnographic Museum--the best
of its kind; the Museum of Coins, the most complete I have seen;
the Thorwaldsen Museum; the Mineralogical Museum; the Zoological
Museum, and many more. The custodians are most kind and civil; and
when they see any visitor interested in the collection, they take a
special pleasure in going round with him and pointing out the beauty
and rarity of the articles, imparting at the same time most interesting
information. I wish those melancholy taciturn "staff-in-hand"
attendant custodians of our British Museums could or would follow their
example, and thus aid the chief object of these costly institutions.
Holding the memory of Tycho Brahe in the highest regard as one of the
great pioneers of astronomy, I was much interested by a contemporary
portrait of him in the Town Hall; but still more so by the remains of
his observatory at the top of the great Round Tower, where he carried
on his careful observations by instruments of his own design and
construction. These, with many additions, he afterwards transported to
the island of Hveen, where the remains of his castle and observatory
are still to be seen; While I was mounting the Round Tower I could not
but think of the footsteps of the great astronomer who has made it
classic ground.
I left Copenhagen for Hamburg by coach. After passing through the
island of Zealand, I was ferried across to the island of Fyen, and
after that I proceeded along the mainland of Sleswick and Holstein.
I was much pleased with what I saw of the people of these provinces.
Their farmhouses and cottages were wonderfully clean and neat.
The women were all engaged in scrubbing and polishing. I believe I saw
more brass in the shape of bright door-knockers during my journey than
I had seen in all England. Even the brass and iron hoops round the
milk pails, by constant scrubbing, looked like gold and silver.
Every window had its neat dimity curtains edged with snow-white
trimming. The very flower-pots were painted red, to fetch up their
brightness to the general standard. I never saw a more cheerful and
happy-looking people than those whom I observed between Copenhagen and
Hamburg. They seemed to me to be very like the people of England--
especially in the northern and eastern parts--in their oval faces,
their bright blue eyes, and their light and golden hair, as well as
their active minds and bodies, which enable them to do their work with
hearty cheerful energy.
I went from Hamburg to Amsterdam by steamer; and after doing a few
days' business I went to take a peep at the fine collections of
pictures there, as well as at the Hague. Then I proceeded to
Rotterdam, and took ship for England by the Batavian steamer.
I reached home safely after my prolonged tour. Everything was going on
well at the Bridgewater Foundry. The seeds which I had sown in the
northern countries of Europe were already springing up plentifully in
orders for machine tools; and the clang of the hammer and the whirl of
the lathes and planing machines were working cheerily on from morning
till night.