STOCKHOLM.
The passage from Abo to Stockholm occupies about eighteen hours, and
in fine weather affords a constant succession of agreeable scenes.
With the exception of about four hours of open sea in crossing the
Gulf of Bothnia, the steamer is constantly surrounded by islands, many
of them highly picturesque, and all interesting from their peculiar
geological formation. Occasionally the island winds like a snake
through a wilderness of naked granite boulders, round and slippery,
and barely high enough out of the water to afford a foundation for a
few fishermen's huts, which from time to time break the monotony of
their solitude. Sometimes the channel opens out into broad lakes,
apparently hemmed in on all sides by pine-covered cliffs; then passing
between a series of frightful crags, upthrown, as it were, out of the
water by some convulsion of nature, the surging waves lash their way
through the narrow passages, and threaten each moment to ingulf the
frail vessel, or dash it to atoms against the rocks. The greatest
danger in making this trip arises from the number of sunken rocks,
which often approach to within a few feet of the surface without being
visible. The depth is usually marked by poles or buoys, and it often
happens that the steamer plies her way for hours between these
water-marks, where there is no other indication of danger. The Swedish
and Finnish pilots are proverbially among the best in the world. We
had an old Finn on board--a shaggy old sea-dog, rough and
weather-beaten as any of the rocks on his own rock-bound coast, who, I
venture to say, never slept a wink during the entire passage, or if he
did, it was all the same. He knew every rock, big and little, visible
and invisible, that lay on the entire route between Abo and Stockholm,
and could see them all with his eyes shut. An uncouth, hardy, honest
old monster was this Finn--a Caliban of a fellow, half human, half
fish--with a great sou'wester on his head, a rough monkey-jacket
buttoned around his body, and a pair of boots on his legs that must
have been designed for wading over coral reefs, through seas of
swordfish, shovel-nosed sharks, and unicorns. His broad, honest face
looked for all the world like a granite boulder covered with barnacles
and sea-weed, and ornamented by a bunch of mussels for a nose, and a
pair of shining blue pebbles by way of eyes; and when he spoke, which
was not often, his voice sounded like the keel of a fishing-smack
grating over a bank of gravel. I strongly suspect his father was a
sea-lion and his mother a grampus or scragg whale, and that he was
fished up out of the sea when young by some hardy son of Neptune, and
subsequently trained up in the ways of humanity on board a
fishing-smack, where the food consisted of polypi, lobsters, and black
bread. Yet there was something wonderfully genial about this old
pilot. He chewed enormous quantities of tobacco, the stains of which
around his mouth greatly improved the beauty of his countenance; and
when he was not chewing pigtail he was smoking it, which equally
contributed to soften the asperities of his features. Having sailed
in many seas, he spoke many languages, but none very intelligibly,
owing to some radical defect in the muscles of his mouth. As to the
channel between Abo and Stockholm, which lies partly through the Aland
Islands and numerous adjacent rocks, above and below water, I believe
he had traveled over it so often that he could steer a vessel through
it standing backward as readily as box the compass, or shut both his
eyes and tell where the deepest water lay by the smell of the air and
the taste of his tobacco.
The passage across the Gulf of Bothnia was somewhat rough, and most of
the passengers were sea-sick, owing, no doubt, to the short chopping
motion which prevails on board of all kinds of sea-going vessels in
these inland seas. Having performed various voyages in various parts
of the world, I was, of course, exempt from this annoyance; but my
digestion had been impaired in Russia by the vast quantity of tea,
cucumbers, veal, cabbage-soup, and other horrible mixtures which I had
been forced to consume while there, and which now began to tell on my
constitution. Notwithstanding repeated doses of cognac, taken from
time to time as I walked the decks, the sea began to whirl all round,
the clouds overhead to swing about at random through the rigging, and
the odor of the machinery to produce the strongest and most
disagreeable sensations. I went below to see how things looked there;
but, finding the atmosphere dense and the prospect gloomy, returned in
great haste and looked over the bulwarks to see how fast we were going
through the water. While thus engaged, an amusing thought occurred to
me. Suppose the mermaids who lie down in the briny depths form their
ideas of the beauty of the human countenance from the casual glimpses
thus afforded of our features, would it be possible for the most
susceptible of them to fall in love with us? The idea was so droll
that I was almost convulsed with laughter; but, not wishing to attract
attention by laughing aloud at my own thoughts, I merely clung to the
bulwarks and doubled myself up, trying to avoid the appearance of
eccentricity. At or about the same moment, the old Finnish pilot, with
whom I had formed an acquaintance, came along, and said
good-naturedly, "Hello, sir! I dink you pe sea-sick." "Sea-sick?" said
I, a little nettled. "Oh no, Herr Pilot, I'm an old sailor, and never
get sea-sick." "Vel, I dought you was sick--you look bad, sir,"
answered the good old pilot; "de sea is very rough, sir." Here the
steamer took a notion to pitch down into the water and jump up again
suddenly, and then rolled on one side and then on the other, and at
the same time a number of the passengers began to make grotesque and
disagreeable noises, which amused me so much that I had to turn away
my face and look at the water again to avoid laughing. "Sir," said the
old pilot, who observed the contortions of mirth by which I was moved,
"vil you have some schnapps? I dink schnapps is goot for de sea-sick."
"Thank you," said I, the tears streaming from my eyes, "I won't have
any just now." "Vel, 'twon't last long, any how," suggested the
good-natured monster. "By'm-by we be up to Vaxholm--in pout two hours.
Dere's land! Don't you see it?" I saw it, and right glad I was too,
for it is always refreshing to see land from the deck of a steamer. In
half an hour more we entered a smooth stretch of water, and soon the
wood-covered islands and shores of Sweden were close ahead.
Passing the fortress of Waxholm, we entered the magnificent fjord or
arm of the sea which extends for a distance of ten or twelve miles up
to the city. The scenery on this part of the route is very fine. All
along the shores of the main land and adjacent islands rugged cliffs
of granite reared their hoary crests over the waters of the fjord.
Forests of oak and pine cover the rolling background, and beautiful
villas, with parterres and blooming gardens, peep from every glen.
Sometimes for miles the solitude of the forests and rock-bound shores
is unbroken, save by an occasional fisherman's hut or an open patch
of green pasture; then suddenly, upon turning a point, a group of
red-roofed villas glimmer through the foliage; sail-boats are seen
gliding over the water with gay companies of ladies and gentlemen from
the city enjoying the fresh breeze that sweeps up from the Gulf; now a
hay-boat or a clumsy lugger laden with wood drifts along lazily toward
the grand centre of trade; and as we approach nearer to the dim
smoke-cloud that hangs over the city, big and little craft gather
thicker and thicker before us, till the whole fjord seems alive with
masts and sails. Soon the outlines of the churches and castles break
through the dim distance, and, like some grand optical illusion, the
whole city gradually opens up before us.
To say that I was charmed with the first view of Stockholm would but
faintly express the feelings with which I gazed upon this beautiful
metropolis of the North. Though different in almost every essential
particular, it has been not unaptly compared to Venice; and certainly,
if the sparkling waters from which it seems to rise, the wood-covered
islands, the rich and varied outlines of its churches and castles, the
forests of shipping at its wharves, the many-colored sail-boats and
gondolas sweeping hither and thither, the glowing atmosphere, and
surrounding gardens, villas, temples, and pavilions, can entitle it to
that distinction, Stockholm well deserves to rank with the Queen City
of the Adriatic.
The landing for the Baltic steamers is at the head quay called the
Skepsbron, which in summer is well lined with shipping, and presents
rather an animated appearance. Very little formality is observed in
regard to the baggage of passengers, and passports are not required, or
at least no demand was made upon me for mine. All I had to do was to
show my knapsack to the custom-house officer, who put a chalk-mark upon
it, signifying, no doubt, that it contained nothing contraband; after
which I stepped ashore, and, aided by a friendly fellow-passenger,
found lodgings at a dirty little hotel close by, called the "Stadt
Frankfort." If there is any worse place to be found in Stockholm, it
must be the very worst on the face of the earth, for the "Stadt
Frankfort" is next thing to it. Being dirty and foul of smell, and
abounding in vermin, of course the charges are, as usual in such cases,
proportionally high, for which reason I recommend it to any gentleman
traveling in this direction whose main object is to get rid of his
money for an equivalent of filth, fleas, bugs, bad bread, and worse
coffee. The main part of the city, embracing the King's Palace, the
Bourse, the Church of St. Nicholas, the Barracks and public buildings,
is built upon an island fronting the Baltic on the one side and the
Malar Lake on the other. This is the most populous and interesting
part, though the streets are narrow and irregular, and the houses
generally old and dilapidated, with dark, gloomy fronts, and a very
fishy and primitive expression of countenance. The new parts of the
city, called the Normalm to the north and the Sodmalm to the south,
which are connected with the island by bridges, have some fine streets
and handsome rows of buildings in the modern style, especially the
Normalm, which contains the King's Garden, the Arsenal, the
Opera-house, and the principal hotels and residences of the foreign
ministers. This part of Stockholm will compare favorably with second or
third-rate cities in Germany; for it must be borne in mind that,
striking as the external aspect of Stockholm is, the interior is very
far from sustaining the illusion of grandeur cast around it by the
scenic beauties of its position. In nothing is the traveler more
disappointed than the almost total absence of business excitement. With
the exception of a few stevedores at work on the wharves and a trifling
jostle at the market-places, the whole city seems to be sitting down in
its Northern solitude, waiting, like Mr. Micawber, for something to
turn up. In some parts one may walk half a mile without hearing a sound
save the echo of his own footsteps. It is, emphatically, a "slow"
place--so slow, indeed, compared with the marts of commerce to which I
had been accustomed in California (especially the city of Oakland),
that I was constantly impressed with the idea that every body was fast
asleep, and that if three or four of them should happen to wake at the
same time, it would be fearfully startling to hear their eyelids crack
open and the hollow streets echo to their yawns.
But don't understand this as a reflection upon the Swedish race. They
are industrious and energetic when occasion requires, but, like all
people who live at the extreme North, acquire tropical habits of
indolence from the climate. During the tedious winters, when the days
are but six hours long, all who can afford it become torpid, like
frogs, and lie up in their houses till the summer sun thaws them out.
Balls, parties, and sleigh-riding occasionally rouse them up, but
lethargy is the general rule. The warm weather comes very suddenly,
and then the days are eighteen hours long. This being the season of
outdoor pleasure, it is spent in visits to the country or lounging
about the gardens, sitting on spring benches and enjoying the
sunshine.
The Swedish soldiers are a fine-looking race of men, far superior in
stature and general appearance to the soldiers of Russia. They are
well drilled, bold, and manly, and have fine faces, full of spirit and
intelligence. Wherever these men are led, they will now, as in past
times, give the enemies of their country some trouble. I consider them
the finest soldiers in Northern Europe.
The general aspect of the citizens of Stockholm is that of extreme
plainness and simplicity. I take them to be an honest, substantial,
and reliable people, well educated and intelligent; satisfied with
themselves and the world, and proud of their country and its history.
Politeness is a national characteristic. Every person, of high and low
degree, upon entering a shop, takes off his hat, and remains with
uncovered head while making his purchase. Gentlemen who meet on the
street knock the tops of their "tiles" against their knees, and
continue to bow at each other long after they have passed. In feature
and general appearance the Swedes are handsomer than the southern
races of Europe, and for that reason wear a nearer resemblance to the
Americans. I saw several men in Stockholm who would not have done
discredit to California, in point of fine faces and commanding
figures. The Swedish ladies are proverbially beautiful. It was really
refreshing, after my visit to Russia, to see so many pretty women as I
met here. Light hair, oval features, sparkling blue eyes, and forms of
intoxicating grace and beauty--ah me! why should such dangers be
permitted to threaten the defenseless traveler with instant
destruction, when the law provides for his protection against other
disasters by land and sea, assault and battery, false imprisonment and
highway robbery? Yet here were lovely creatures, gliding about at
large, shooting mutilation and death out of their bright blue eyes,
and apparently as indifferent to the slaughter they committed as if it
were the finest fun in the world! Talk of your French beauties, your
Italian beauties, your Spanish beauties! Give me, for the
impersonation of soul expressed in the human form divine--for features
"woven from the music of the spheres and painted with the hues of the
aurora borealis"--a Swedish beauty, the nearest approach upon earth to
an American beauty, which, being altogether angelic, must ever remain
the highest type of perfection known to mankind.
I don't wonder Swedenborg made so many heavens for his female
characters. His "conjugal felicity" required at least seven. One small
heaven, constructed upon the Swedish plan, would certainly afford but
limited accommodations for all the beauties of Stockholm.
A day or two after my arrival in Stockholm I called to Mr. Fristadius,
the American consul, from whom I obtained the latest news in reference
to the progress of the rebellion. Accustomed as we are in the United
States to read the newspapers every morning, wherever we may happen
to be, the deprivations in this respect to which an American traveler
in Europe is subjected must be experienced to be fully appreciated.
Even in the principal cities of Germany it is difficult to find a
newspaper that contains any thing more than a notice of the price of
stocks, a few telegraphic items about the petty court movements of
neighboring cities, a rehash of slander upon our country from the
London _Times_, or an item of news about the war, in which the states
are misplaced, the names misspelled, and the most important points
omitted. I do not think there is a village press in California that
would not be ashamed to turn out such trashy little sheets as are
issued in Frankfort; and as for the matter of fairness and honesty, it
is rare to find an independent newspaper in any part of Europe. To
suppress truth and subserve some military or financial interest is the
business for which they are paid. Making due allowance for party
prejudices, you may guess at the truth in most of our American
journals, but it would be a waste of time to search for it in the
newspapers published on this side of the water. While they studiously
refrain from indecorous language, they are corrupt and unreliable
beyond any thing known in California, and have not even the merit of
being energetic and entertaining liars. This is the case in Russia and
Finland as well as in Germany. Where the press is subjected to a rigid
censorship, it is of course useless to look for reliable information,
and as for late intelligence, it does not travel through official
bureaus. Before leaving Frankfort I had news to the 28th of June. A
week after my arrival at St. Petersburg the same news was promulgated
in that city. On my return from Moscow I had the pleasure of reading
the details in an American newspaper. One or two mutilated telegraphic
dispatches seemed to sharpen my appetite during the trip to Revel,
Helsingfors, Abo, and Stockholm; and now, arrived at the head-quarters
of Swedish civilization, after searching in vain for a late English or
American newspaper at the principal cafes, I was compelled to make
application to our consul, in the faint hope that he might be an
occasional reader of that ephemeral species of literature.
Fortunately, Mr. Fristadius had spent some time in the United States,
and learned to appreciate the magnitude and importance of the struggle
in which we were engaged.
I had the pleasure, during my sojourn in Stockholm, of getting a
glimpse of Swedish social life in one of its most agreeable phases.
Mr. Fristadius, who is a Swede by birth and education, and occupies a
prominent position as one of the leading iron-merchants of Stockholm,
was kind enough to invite me to an entertainment at his villa,
situated about four miles from the city, on one of the prettiest
little islands in the Malar Lake.
At an early hour in the afternoon, the company, which consisted of
thirty or forty ladies and gentlemen, assembled by appointment at a
wharf near one of the principal bridges, where a small steam-boat
belonging to Mr. Fristadius was in waiting. I was a little astonished,
not to say taken aback, at the display of elegant dresses, liveried
servants, and white kid gloves that graced the occasion, and looked at
my dusty and travel-worn coat, slouched hat, and sunburnt hands--for
which there was no remedy--with serious thoughts of a hasty retreat.
One doesn't like to be a savage among civilized people; yet, if one
undertakes to travel with little baggage and less money, what can he
do, unless he holds himself aloof from the world altogether, which is
not the best way of seeing it? There was no time for reflection,
however; the whistle was blowing, and we were hurried on board by our
kind host, who seemed determined to make every body as happy as
possible. The trip down the lake was delightful. On either side the
hills and islands were dotted with villas and gardens; sail-boats were
skimming over the water with gay parties intent on pleasure; the views
of the city from every turn were picturesque beyond description, and
the weather was quite enchanting. As we swept along on our course, the
gentlemen of the party, who were nearly all Swedes, united in a wild
and beautiful Scandinavian glee, the mellow strains of which swept
over the water, and were echoed from the wooded islands and shores of
the lake with a magnificent effect. Whether it was the scenery, the
weather, or the singing, or all combined, I could scarcely tell, but
this little trip was certainly an episode in life to be remembered
with pleasure in after years. In about half an hour we drew near a
perfect little Paradise of an island, upon which, half hidden in
shrubbery and flowers, stood the villa of our friend, Mr. Fristadius.
Here were winding graveled walks overhung by rich foliage; beds of
flowers in full bloom; grottoes of rock laved by the waters of the
lake; immense boulders of granite surmounted by rustic pavilions;
hedges of privet and hawthorn to mark the by-paths; a miniature bridge
from the main island across to a smaller island, upon which stood an
aquatic temple for the fishing-boats and gondolas; with a wharf
jutting out into the deep water at which the little steam-boat landed.
Nothing could be more unique than the whole place. Nature and art
seemed to have united to give it the most captivating effects of
wildness, seclusion, comfort, and elegance. It was Crusoe-life
idealized. As we approached the landing-place, the interesting family
of our host, surrounded by numerous friends, stood upon a little
eminence awaiting our arrival. While we gazed with pleasurable
emotions at the pretty scene before us, a most delicate and
appropriate compliment was paid to our excellent minister, Mr.
Haldeman, and his accomplished wife, who were of the party. The
American flag was hoisted upon a pole near the landing by Mrs.
Fristadius, and the company with one accord arose and greeted with
three cheers this glorious emblem of liberty. I shall never forget the
mingled feelings of pride and pleasure with which I looked upon the
stars and stripes once more, after months of dreary depression in
countries where freedom is but a glimmering hope in the human heart.
But here in Sweden the spirit of our institutions is appreciated;
here I found myself surrounded by noble and trusty friends of the
American Union, loyal to their own liberal government, yet devoted to
the great cause of human freedom wherever it can exist consistently
with the progress of the times and the capacity of the people for
self-government. As the flag waved in the breeze, an inspiring song of
liberty burst from the joyous company--one of those soul-stirring
songs of Belman, which find a response in the breast of every
Swede--wild, impassioned, and patriotic, breathing in every word and
intonation the chivalrous spirit of men whose ancestry had fought
under the glorious banners of Gustavus Adolphus.
As soon as the song was concluded the little steam-boat drew up to the
wharf, where we were most kindly and cordially greeted by the family
of our host. After a pleasant ramble about the grounds we proceeded to
the house, which is situated on a picturesque eminence overlooking the
lake, and the adjacent shores and islands. Here, in a large and
elegant saloon, opening on all sides upon a spacious veranda, a
sumptuous collation was spread. The company lounged about without
ceremony, eating, drinking, and enjoying themselves as they pleased;
wit and wine flowed together, unrestrained by the slightest formality.
In the midst of our "feast of reason and flow of soul," Mr. Fristadius
made a neat and appropriate little speech of "welcome to all his
friends," which was followed by a song from the musical gentlemen;
after which he proposed a toast to a young married couple present.
This was followed by another song. Then there was a toast to the
American flag, another speech and a song, to which Mr. Haldeman, our
minister, responded in such terms of enthusiasm and complimentary
allusion to the Swedish nation that there was a general outburst of
applause. I had hoped, in view of my rustic garb, to escape notice,
and was snugly barricaded in a corner behind a table, looking on
quietly and enjoying the scene, when, to my great astonishment, a
toast was proposed "to the DISTINGUISHED TRAVELER FROM CALIFORNIA!"
In vain I looked about me to see if any prominent gentleman of my
acquaintance from California would step forward and answer to the
summons, when I was gently but firmly captured by our host, and duly
brought forth to respond to the charge! Never having made a speech in
my life, I could only seize hold of a wine-glass (which I think
belonged to somebody else), and in the confusion of the moment drink
spontaneously to the great traveler from California! Then there was an
inspiring glee from the lively young gentlemen who did the music.
Thus passed the time till dinner was over, when we adjourned to the
garden for coffee and cigars. Seated under the wide-spreading trees,
in the balmy air of this summer evening, we had songs and recitations
of Scandinavian poetry, anecdotes, and humorous dissertations till
nearly midnight. I do not remember that I ever participated in a more
rational or delightful entertainment. After a farewell glee to our
host we marched down to the wharf, where the boat was in waiting, and
embarked for Stockholm. I can only add that I was charmed with the
refinement and intelligence of Swedish society, as far as I could
judge of it by this casual glimpse. From many of the guests I received
cordial invitations to prolong my sojourn, and the next morning found
two or three of the gentlemen in readiness to show me every thing of
interest about the city.
We visited the Museum, where there is an interesting assortment of
Scandinavian antiquities, and the palace, and some half a dozen other
places, all of which came in the regular routine of sight-seeing; but
the fact is, I am getting dreadfully tired of this systematic way of
lionizing the cities of Europe. I turn pale at the sight of a museum,
shudder at a church, feel weak in the knees at the bare thought of a
picture-gallery, and as for antiquities, they make my flesh creep.
Between you and myself, dear reader, I wouldn't give a sou-markee for
all the old bones gathered up during the last eighteen centuries,
unless to start a bone-mill and sell the dust at a remunerative
profit.
After all, the more I saw of Stockholm the more the blues began to
creep over me. It is depressingly slow in these far Northern cities;
so slow, indeed, I don't wonder every thing has a mildewed and
sepulchral aspect. The houses look like slimy tombs in a grave-yard;
the atmosphere, when the sun does not happen to shine--which is more
than half the time--is dank and flat, and hangs upon one's spirits
like a nightmare, crushing out by degrees the very germ of vitality. I
am not surprised that paralysis and hip-disease are frightfully
prevalent in Stockholm.
Give me California forever--the land of sunshine and progress. I have
seen no country like it yet. When I think of old times there, a
terrible home-sickness takes possession of me. So help me, friends and
fellow-citizens, I'd sooner be a pack-mule in California with a raw
back, and be owned by a Mexican greaser, employed week in and week out
in carrying barrels of whisky over the Downieville trail, fed on three
grains of barley per day, and turned out to browse on quartz rock and
sage-bushes every night--I'd rather be a miserable little burro,
kicked and cuffed by a Mariposa Chinaman--I'd rather be a dog and bay
the moon in the city of Oakland, or a toad and feed upon the vapors of
a dungeon at San Quentin--I'd rather be a lamp-post on the corner of
Montgomery Street, San Francisco, and be leaned against, and hugged,
and kissed alternately by every loafer out of the Montgomery
saloon--I'd rather be any of these than a human being compelled to
live permanently in Europe, with a palace in every city, town, and
village, and an income of fifty thousand dollars a day to defray
expenses; so don't be surprised if I should turn up again one of these
fine mornings on the Pacific coast. The only difficulty at present
is--a collapse in the financial department.