THE CASINO AT GOTTENBORG--AWKWARD DILEMMA--THE WATCHMAN
AND THE NORTHERN STAR--SWEDISH ARTILLERY--THE GROVE--
AN OLD MAN'S HISTORY--THE ALARM OF FIRE--THE CARRIAGE
OVERTURNED--THE RIVER GOTHA--WASHING IN THE STREAM--THE
NARROW STREETS--DESCRIPTION OF GOTTENBORG--ITS DECAYED
COMMERCE--THE HERRING FISHERY.
R---- and P---- had expressed a wish to visit the Falls of Trolhaettan,
and, the Iris had scarcely touched the quay, before they started in
search of a carriage to convey them to the Falls. As I knew we should
sail for Christiania early on Tuesday morning, I was desirous of seeing
Gottenborg, and preferred remaining where I was, and allowing R---- and
P---- to go to Trolhaettan without me; and I was more determined when I
heard they had arranged to begin their journey at five o'clock the
following morning, Saturday. I learned nothing more about the matter
until three o'clock in the morning, when, by the counterpane, blankets,
and sheets being pulled off my bed, I was awakened from a sound sleep,
and recovered my senses in time to hear R---- and P---- laughing, and
scrambling up the companion-stairs.
I passed the day on board, stretched at full length on the sofa, and
reading; nor was it possible to employ the body more industriously, the
thermometer not being much below 90. The cool evening, the bright moon,
and the Casino induced me to forego all solitary confinement, and to
wander in the direction of the town.
By dint of many and frequent inquiries I arrived at the Casino. This
Casino resembled not the one I had visited at Copenhagen, but bore more
affinity to the tea gardens of England.
There was a cottage in the centre of a flower garden, and at one
extremity of another garden a building, imitative of an Indian pagoda,
stood, appropriated to a fine band breathing, throughout the evening,
all the pathos and melody of Italian music. The cottage itself was set
apart for refreshment, and one might descend to a cup of coffee, or
mount to the limitless command of a dinner. I had dined very early, and,
feeling the effects of good digestion, desired to dine again. The
persons who attended the guests were Swedish girls, as notorious for
their inability to speak English, or any other language but their own,
as they are conspicuous for their personal attractions. Beckoning one
Hebe, whom I had selected, to come to me, I endeavoured, by every method
I could devise, to inform her how hungry I was, and how I should like to
have some food more edible than muffin. She bowed her pretty head in
token of her entire perception of my wishes, and, leaving the room with
the agility of a fawn, returned in a short time, laden with a tray, from
the level surface of which rose a tall coffee-pot that continued to
taper till it kissed with its old fashioned lid her jet black ringlets.
Alarmed to mark at what a fearful distance I stood from my dinner, I
looked wistfully round the room for some face on which I could read an
example or two of the English grammar; but in vain. The poor girl
observed that she had not anticipated my desire as well as she might
have, and said something to me in a tone of regret, to which I could
only make reply by a partial negative and affirmative shake of my head,
and committing it to the peculiar sagacity of her sex to understand what
I wanted. A little, stout man, something like a runt, saw the position
to which I was reduced, and, coming up to me, said in broken English,
"What you want, Sir? can I do you help?"
"Thank you," I replied; "I want some dinner; but I cannot make this girl
understand me."
"I not English," answered the man, "and I not speak te Swedish. I am
Russian. I alway make sign for tings I wish."
"And so do I," I said; "but in this case I am quite at a loss what to
do."
"You want dinner, Sir? When I want dinner," replied the Russian, "I
alway say, 'food,' vitch is, 'foeda,' and put my finger down my mout; and
if tey not know what I mean by 'foeda,' I say, 'koett,' vitch is meat."
"That's a capital plan; but, you see, I could not adopt it, for I never
heard of 'Foeda' and 'Koett' before."
"Ha! Sir," exclaimed the Russian, "I alway find out te word for 'eat' in
every country. I travel much. I starve if I not know. What shall I help
for you?"
"Why--I will have some dinner," I said; "anything I can get--I don't
care what it may be."
"Good," answered the Russian; and, turning to the girl, who had remained
listening to our dialogue, but totally at a loss to imagine its drift,
"Koett! koett!" he exclaimed.
"Visserligen," said the girl, and walked away with her tall coffee-pot
and tray; but, stopping when she had reached the door, she looked back
as if some other idea, which she had altogether forgotten, suddenly
presented itself to her mind, and she asked,
"Farkoett?"
The little Russian understood her directly, and told me she desired to
know if I would have some 'farkoett,' mutton. I undertook the task of
answering for myself, and exclaimed aloud, with striking brevity,
"Ja."
My pretty Hebe laughed outright, and left the apartment to seek the
mutton.
In ten minutes she reappeared smiling; and brought me not only what I
asked for, but three or four potatoes in the bargain. I pointed to them.
Nodding her head, as if she understood I meant to say "How kind of you
to bring those too," she said,
"Goot."
"Ja; manga goot," I answered in a dialect of my own. She hurried away
laughing heartily; but did not forget to glance at me over her shoulder
as she passed out of the room.
Crossing, on my way home, a bridge which is thrown over one of the many
canals that intersect Gottenborg in all quarters, I stumbled against an
old watchman. In one hand he held the formidable "Morning Star," or
truncheon, and in the other hand an implement of chastisement, of which
I could make out no decisive classification, at least, so I fancied;
and, led away by that fancy, I drew near to the unsleeping Swede. I
requested him, as courteously and distinctly as I possibly could in
tattered English and with original signs, that he would permit me to
take a bird's-eye view of the instrument. It was a stick four or five
yards in length, to the end of which two pieces of iron were attached
in the shape of a heart. The implement may be drawn thus:
[Illustration]
Suppose Charley finds cause that a thief, who may be rather swifter of
foot than himself, should be taken into custody: he proceeds after the
following fashion. The instrument is seized hold of in the right hand,
or both hands, firmly, at the end A, and, giving the stick the full
benefit of his arm's length, the watchman runs along in the purloiner's
wake. Having approached sufficiently near to guarantee a certainty of
success, he thrusts the ingenious instrument either at the calves, or
neck of the flying thief; and the point B coming in contact with the
calf, or the nape of the neck, opens, and admits the leg, or head into
the centre C, and the sides D and E, being elastic, instantly close
again, the centre C being adapted to fit a man's neck, or leg, and no
more. The most careless reader may easily perceive the relative
positions of the guardian and the breaker of the Law, when the former is
at the extremity A, the latter in the centre C, and the advantage one
has obtained, without risk of injury to himself, of throwing the other
to the ground, should he prove restive. The watchman was as much amused
by observing me, as I was by scrutinizing his wand of office.
On Monday morning I was present at a review of the Horse Artillery. The
men went through their various evolutions, loading and discharging their
guns without ball or powder, by applying a walking-cane, in lieu of a
fusee, to the touch-hole, and, then, shouting aloud to imitate the
report of cannon.
At the upper part of the town of Gottenborg is a road, curving like a
crescent, sheltered on each side by trees, growing at equal distances
from one another, under the shade of which are benches where the
traveller may rest when tired, and enjoy the cool air, perfumed, as it
sometimes is, with the pleasant odour of flowers abounding in the
nursery gardens on either side of the road.
The noon of day had come with intense sultriness, and, feeling fatigued,
I walked towards this shady grove, with the intention of passing an hour
there, in the full enjoyment of my own thoughts, or in listening to any
zephyr which might be sighing among the young leaves of the elm and
cherry. Between the trunks of the trees I saw the stooping figure of a
man creeping slowly, by the aid of a stick, under the thickly leaved
boughs. He was dressed much after the manner of some of our English
farmers, with knee breeches, white stockings, and shoes fastened over
the instep with a large silver buckle. A short drab coat, and a scarlet
felt hat, something like a cardinal's, with large flaps, completed his
costume. After a while the man crawled, rather than walked, towards one
of the benches, and sat down.
He was apparently seventy, or eighty years of age. His long, silvered
hair strayed down over the collar of his coat; and the soft languor of
his light blue eye imparted a sad impression to his countenance, which,
when he was young, must have been eminently handsome. He smiled as I
approached, and seemed desirous that I should take a seat by his side,
for he moved nearer to the end of the bench to make more room. The day
being hot, as I have said, I received the hint, hoping by doing so to
find entertainment, at least, and, perhaps, information. Soon as I had
taken my seat the old man touched his hat, and bowed low as his
infirmities would permit, and,
"Hur mar Herren?" he said. Knowing sufficient of the Swedish language to
understand that he asked me how I was, I answered in the same tongue,
and, in compliment to himself,
"Bra, Gud ske laf;" which four words I intended should intimate my
gratitude to Heaven that I was well. The old man appeared pleased, that
I should make reply to him in Swedish, and no doubt deemed me no
deficient linguist; for, observing my eyes were wandering over the
beautiful landscape, undulating with corn-fields, and terminating by
gentle hills clothed with the beech and elm, he ventured to say,
"Det aer ett vackert land."
I knew he alluded to the pretty appearance of the country; but I was
anxious to inform him that I did not understand the Swedish language
sufficiently well to carry on a conversation, and, at the same time, to
fall as decently as possible from the height on which I had placed
myself by the grammatical answer I had previously given, and which I had
accidentally learned by listening to the salutations and ordinary
replies of our pilots. I therefore curtly said,
"Ja."
A light seemed to stream across the old man's expressive features, and
he asked, leaning forward to catch my words, whence I had come;
"Hvarifran kommer Ni?"
"Jag kommer fran England," I answered.
The old man rose from his seat, and said, in tolerable English, that he
was glad to see me, (at which I was also delighted) and then begged,
like all the inhabitants of Northern Europe, that I would shake hands
with him. I did so, and taking my hand in his, he clapsed it firmer than
I imagined he could, and looked into my face.
"You are not French?" he observed inquiringly.
"I am not."
"Then I am glad," and he pressed my hand again; then letting it drop,
continued:
"I speak English, sir, but badly; and, yet, I always address an
Englishman, and read an English book when I can get it, and, this one,
in particular;" holding up to my view an old black book I had not
observed.
"May I see it?" I said, and, taking the volume from his hand, a Bible
fell open at the 8th chapter of Solomon's song. These two verses were
marked by a line being drawn down the margin.
"Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for Love
is strong as death; Jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof
are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot
quench Love, neither can the floods drown it: if a man would give all
the substance of his house for Love, it would utterly be contemned."
"You read, sir?" he said interrogatively; and, putting on his
spectacles, glanced over my shoulder.
"Ah! sir, fifty-eight years ago, I was young like you, and it was then I
noted those two verses. You are young," he continued, "and perhaps have
loved."
"No," I replied; "Heaven has not given me the opportunity of
participating in one of its most essential blessings."
"Then, sir, Heaven has blessed you," he said. "I am old, you see; but I
am alone in the world. Love has made me solitary." He sighed.
The old man seemed overcome with grief, and, desirous though I now was
to hear his story, I dreaded to renew a sorrow, the intensity of which
Time had not lessened. He drew forth in silence from his bosom, a
miniature, suspended from his neck by a black ribbon, and with shaking
hands he touched a spring, and held it unclapsed before me. It was the
likeness of a girl about seventeen years of age. A loose robe partially
covered her shoulders, and, the elbows resting on a kind of slab, her
right cheek was cradled on the back of the left hand, the fingers of
which touched her throat; and she looked, with laughing, light blue
eyes, over her left shoulder. Her hair, parted slightly on one side,
clustered in ringlets above a full, fair forehead; while a melancholy
expression about her small, compressed mouth seemed to counteract the
joyousness of the upper part of her countenance. The resemblance to the
old man was striking.
"Sixty years ago, sir, I first saw that face, and it is as fresh in my
memory as if I had only seen it yesterday. It was a face once to look
on, to dream of for ever."
"It is very beautiful," I said, still gazing on the picture. "Was she
your daughter?"
"Oh! no, sir, no. Would to God she had been!" the old man mournfully
replied. "When, sir, I first saw that fair young creature, I was
eighteen years of age, and she might have been seventeen. Endeavouring
in vain to suppress the emotions which her beauty and amiable temper
caused in my heart, I ventured one day to tell the father of Thora
Rensel, for that was her name, the love I bore his daughter. Eric Rensel
listened; and, when I had told my tale in words as fervent as my
feelings, he replied, 'Engelbert Carlson, my daughter's hand is
uncontrolled as her heart; win the girl's affections, and I will not
stand in the way of your union.' I thanked Rensel with a grateful heart,
and went forth to seek Thora.
"Do you see yonder hill?" said my narrator, pointing in the direction of
a hill skirting some corn-fields before us; "there, close to that clump
of elm-trees, stood Eric Rensel's cottage. Descending that hill, I met
Thora, returning homewards, laden with a little basket full of fruit and
flowers. She smiled when she observed me, and held out her hand, as she
always did, in token of friendship. I hastened towards her, and, seizing
the offered hand, pressed it warmly, and would have raised it to my
lips, but I had not the courage.
"'Are you not well, Engelbert?'" she said, in a gentle tone, "'for your
hand trembles;'" and she took hold of my hand with both of hers, and
looked round inquiringly into my averted face.
"'Yes, Thora,'" I replied; "'I am ill at heart, and I can find relief
nowhere else but when I am near to you. I have endeavoured for the many
months since I have known you, to hide my grief, or forget my pain; but
the more I have exerted myself to do so, the keener felt my sorrow, and
deeper still I probed the wound.'
"'Alas! and why should grief, or pain be yours, Engelbert, when virtue
has been attendant on you always.'"
"'Sit down here, on this stone, and listen for a little while to me,
dear Thora.'"
"I led her to a large stone by the roadside, which is there to this
hour, and we both sat down together. The day, sir, was bright as this;
and the corn waved, as it does now, to each breath of wind, and over our
heads, among the trees, the birds were warbling. Ah! even now, at this
distance of time--in my old age--the tear comes to my eye, and my heart
heaves and swells to the memory of that happy, happy day.
"'Hitherto, to me, dear Thora,' I said, "'life has brought no changes of
excessive pain, or pleasure; for at an early period I lost both my
parents, and, being then but young, I never knew the sweet joys of home.
Forced to struggle with men for independence, and, tossed about
whichever way the waves of fortune pleased, my heart soon became
indifferent to every gentle feeling; and, in my isolation, I never
thought to seek for sympathy, but desired, by my industry, to live in
competency, and, at the last, to leave the world as I had been sent into
it, alone.'"
"The tears began to flow down Thora's face, and, nestling closer to me,
she placed her hand on my arm, and murmured,
"'Dear Engelbert!'"
"'One evening, my own Thora, relieved from daily toil, I was sitting, as
now, under that beech-tree, enjoying the cool evening air, heeding and
listening to the sweet sights and sounds of life, and musing with
softened spirit on all that had occurred to me since my dear parents'
deaths, when I heard the gentle footstep of some one behind me. I
turned, and, by the light of the full moon, saw a female figure
approaching the spot where I was. With beating pulse I kept my eyes
fixed on the form; but I soon gazed with delight on what my fluttering
heart then almost bade me shun, and now droops with desire to take as
its own. It was you.'"
"She replied not; and her head gradually turned from me. I raised the
hand I still held, and, in a moment of passionate feeling, pressed it to
my lips, and kissed it ardently. She immediately withdrew her hand, but
seemed not altogether offended; for a smile--but oh! how sad and
prophetic of what was to occur--passed over her beautiful face.
"'Dear Thora!'" I exclaimed, "'do not torture me. Pardon me, if, in
giving expression to the sweet but painful feelings which obscure my
brow with sorrow, I offend you; but I love you, dear Thora; and, the
first moment I saw you, I felt you were the only created thing which
could revive my torpid soul; and, you, I could have fallen down and
worshipped.'"
"'Do not, do not speak so, Englebert,'" she said; and, taking my hand in
hers, folded it warmly to her heart. I thought, as she lifted her eyes
fondly to my face, I observed a tear trickling down her cheek; and the
quick movement of her heart, against which my hand was still clasped,
told of all that was contending there."
The old man ceased for a few minutes, and the tears began to course each
other down his face. He then said:
"It may seem strange to you, sir, that one, so old as I am, can feel so
deeply and so long; but, though of a quiet temperament, I was prone in
my youth to be acutely sensible of pain or joy, however much I concealed
my emotions. I remember, when I was a mere child, my mother's chiding
would grieve me for many days together, and I used to hear her wondering
what the cause of my grief could be. She was wont then, sometimes, to
call me sulky. How, sir, the characters of children are misunderstood,
and how the heart, at that tender time, is trifled with, to bring
remorse in after life;--but, sir, to my story.
"In the summer of 1758 a French vessel arrived at Gottenborg, and on
board were several young Frenchmen possessing many worldly advantages,
and much personal grace. One, in particular, was remarkable for the
liveliness of his disposition, and beauty of form. His name was Adolphe
de Lacroix.
"By accident Adolphe saw Thora; and hers was a countenance which could
not be looked on with apathy. De Lacroix saw and loved, or fancied that
he loved. It would be useless, sir, to occupy your time, and increase my
own pain, by relating with the garrulity of old age all that happened
after the arrival of M. de Lacroix; but it is sufficient to tell you,
that, he sought the affections of Thora, gained them, and married her."
The speaker stopped in his narrative, and, taking from his pocket a
small packet of three letters, selected one from it, and, with tears
still rolling down his cheek, showed it to me.
"In this letter, Thora," he said, "told me of her marriage. I read it
then, but I have never read it since."
Observing me cast a glance at the other two letters,
"And these two," he continued, "brought the intelligence of my father's
and mother's deaths. I keep them all together."
When I had read, or attempted to read, Thora's letter, which was written
in the Swedish language, I returned it to the old man; and, folding it
carefully with the other letters, he tied the little parcel with a piece
of tape, and placed it in his bosom again.
"If, sir, my story is pleasing to you," observed the old man, "I will go
on with it; for though the repetition gives me pain, its acuteness is
relieved when I murmur, as I do now, to some one who will listen kindly
like you."
"I am sorry," I replied, "that you should feel so deeply in making me
acquainted with the earlier period of your life; for I have attended
with pleasure to your tale."
The old man peered with a sorrowful expression in my face, and, brushing
away a tear with his hand, continued:----
"Two years had passed away since Thora had been wedded, and the time was
Autumn. Almost on this very bench I rested, listening to the merriment
of men and women who were gathering winter-apples in the orchard yonder.
Divided between the study of this old Bible, and the recollection of the
happy hopes which Thora had once raised in my heart, a sense of
desolation crept so utterly over me, that I could read and think no
longer, and, closing the book, I bowed my head, and burst, like a child,
into tears. This attitude of excessive grief arrested the attention of
two passengers, a lady and a gentleman, whom I had not seen, and who,
moved by my youth, no doubt, and vehement sorrow, came near to where I
sat weeping; and, placing her hand gently on my shoulder, a woman, in a
soft and kind tone of voice, desired to know my grief. Though two years
had sadly laid waste my heart, my memory had not forgotten the source of
all its affliction; and the sweet, clear tones of the voice were so
familiar to my ears, that I raised my head quickly. In an instant my
tears ceased; through my whole frame, passed, like a cold wire, an
aching chill, which, when it subsided, left me faint and weak, and I
could hardly stand.
"It was Thora who had spoken to me. Standing, motionless, for a few
minutes in front of M. de Lacroix, Thora buried her face in her hands,
and then fell almost insensible into the arms of her husband. I did not
like to offer my assistance in restoring her, and stood aloof, prepared
to perform any office which her husband might think necessary. Thora
soon recovered; and when her hand was lifted to arrange her disordered
hair, I saw a little ring, still encircling her finger, which I had, in
token of our mutual plight, given to her years before. My wounded heart
at its sight began to bleed again; but Thora, expressing a wish to M. de
Lacroix that she might return home, bowed to me with a forced smile and
swimming eyes, and I was spared the humility of showing how incompetent
I was to conceal my tears. As Thora walked away from me, I could not
help casting a lingering look towards a form that I once knew at
distance, however great, and that I had thought to have called my own. I
resumed my seat, and, giving expression to my anguish with sighs and
tears, I did not stir till evening roused me from my trance of
wretchedness. Length of time, sir, flew fast away, and heaped cares upon
my head; but the recollection of my youthful days was vivid still as
ever. No day dawned without a thought of Thora.
"One winter's evening I sat alone over my cheerless hearth, gazing
vacantly on the glowing embers, when a coal fell from a mass of others
which had formed themselves into a hollow body in the fire, leaving a
tinge of deeper red over the spot, in the midst of which the letter, T,
appeared indistinctly, fading and reappearing for some time, till, at
last it became as visible as the mark I make with my stick on this sand.
Another coal was driven suddenly with a loud noise, into the middle of
the room, and the little cavity collapsed. No sooner had I risen to
throw the coal into the grate again, than a gentle tap at my door
attracted my attention. I thought it might be my fancy, or the wind; but
the visitor seemed determined to gain admittance, and the tap was
renewed a little louder than at first. Rising, I opened the door, and an
old woman, who had been Thora's nurse, stood before me; and, with bitter
lamentations, she placed a small note in my hand. It brought the
dreadful tidings of Thora's sudden death.
"The mournful fact soon flew from end to end of Gottenborg, for Thora
was much loved; and people whispered that she had died unfairly. This
conjecture grew so strong, that a few days after her burial, Thora's
body was taken from the tomb, and, after the minutest examination, no
cause could be found to account for her death, but the Will of Heaven.
"A year came and went; and M. de Lacroix, wearied of his lonely
condition, married again. He did not live happily with his second wife;
and, from angry words, they were wont to come to blows. To be brief,
sir, Madame de Lacroix, died as suddenly and mysteriously as my poor
Thora. Suspicion showed a more audacious front than it had done on the
previous occasion, and M. de Lacroix was arrested for murder. The loud
cries of Madame de Lacroix, heard the day before her death, were
sufficient to put M. de Lacroix on his trial.
"Either from contrition, or some other cause of fear or hope, M. de
Lacroix confessed that the death of Thora had been brought about by his
own hand. It seems, sir, by some act of the basest depravity, Heaven
permits that the fallen condition of man should be forced, at intervals,
on our minds, to show the necessity of keeping in subjection the vicious
propensities of our thoughts and deeds; for, unless it be so, I can in
no way solve the reckless abandonment of all human feeling in the breast
of M. de Lacroix. Ever afterwards, from the day I met Thora accidentally
on this spot, her husband gave way to fits of frequent jealousy and
anger; and a home, which had been one of harmony and joy, was then
converted into a den of contention and the bitterest acrimony. In one of
these domestic brawls, M. de Lacroix resolved to murder his beautiful
wife; and the plan he devised to accomplish his purpose was as novel as
it was diabolical.
"In the dead of night, when the young and innocent Thora was folded in
profound sleep, M. de Lacroix arose, and, going to a small box, took
thence a needle not larger than those in ordinary use, but of greater
length. Returning to the bed where Thora still lay, breathing with the
long, heavy respiration of slumber, he leaned over her, and the moment
he did so, and but for a moment, a low, spasmodic cry was heard, a
slight struggle shook the bed, and all was hushed as before. M. de
Lacroix had driven the needle into Thora's heart! Wiping with his finger
the trifling drop of blood which oozed from the puncture, he effaced all
trace of violence from the body."
The old man paused; and, drawing a handkerchief from his pocket, hid his
face in it, and, from the convulsive movement of his shoulders, I could
see he was weeping bitterly, though in silence.
"So ends, sir," with faltering accents the old man soon continued, "the
cause of all my misery. I am old now, and yet in my old age I keep fresh
the feelings of my youth; and, therefore, I wander hither every day to
gaze upon the blue sky, and bask in its warmth; but never to forget her
whose loss has made oblivion a desire, and created the hope, that, Death
be an eternal end of sensibility."
The old man ceased to speak. The solemn manner, and the earnest tones in
which he had told this sad episode of his life, made a deep impression
on me; and when I looked on his frame, bent more by sorrow than with
age, and saw the settled gloom of an inward grief shadowing a
countenance, on which length of years and rectitude of conduct should
have left the lines of happiness and mental peace, I felt how unable was
virtuous thought, or strength of intellectual refinement, to secure,
even, the love of life's young day, or to soothe the anguish of its
loss; and, unresistingly, I yielded to the remembrance of hope's
passionate farewell to joys, once dreamed of, before the world's strange
knowledge fell with grief's canker on the bloom of my own heart.
The old man rose to go. When I had assisted him from his seat, he took
my hand, and, sadly, wished me farewell. I watched him a long time,
wending his way slowly homeward through the corn-fields; and, when his
form was hid from sight, I could just see his head above the blades of
corn, and his silvery, white hair shining, like a wreath of snow, in the
slanted rays of the setting sun.
About six o'clock, when returning to the yacht, I heard the beating of
drums and discharge of cannon, the howling of dogs, the screams and
lamentation of women, and, now and then, rising above the general din,
the shrill blast of trumpets. As I approached nearer to the water-side,
the rigging, even to the mast-heads of the different ships in the
harbour and canals was crowded with sailors, who, clinging by one leg,
or one arm, to the ropes, strove with outstretched necks, to catch a
glimpse of some extraordinary deed to be, or being done. Presently a
troop of horse-soldiers trotted by me; and it was with some difficulty I
could escape being trod under foot by these impatient riders. Everybody
seemed mad. One Swede, with slippered feet, without hat or coat, rushed
past me with so much impetuosity, that he was like to throw me to the
ground; and, seizing him by his flying shirt-sleeve, I remonstrated
against his carelessness. He gave no heed to my anger, but continued
headlong in his flight, and left a fragment of his linen in my
possession. The maniac speed and bearing of the man reminded me of a
story which is told of the Calif Hegiage, who, having by his cruelties
rendered himself hateful to his subjects, one day, on a journey, met an
Arabian of the Desert, and asked him, among many other things, what kind
of a man the Calif was, of whom so much was said?
"He is no man," replied the Arabian; "but a monster."
"Of what do his subjects accuse him?" asked the Calif.
"Of the most inhuman barbarities," answered the indignant Arabian.
"Have you ever seen him?" demanded Hegiage.
"No," the other replied.
"Look at him now!" said the Calif; "for it is to him you speak."
The Arabian, without betraying the least sign of fear or surprise, fixed
his eyes on him, and said,--"And you, sir, do you know who _I_ am?"
"No," replied the Calif.
"I am of the family of Zobair," the Arabian continued, "all whose
descendants are infected with madness one day in the year; and _this_ is
_my_ mad day."
The faster I walked to that part of the town where the yacht lay, the
denser became the crowd of people; and I met regiments of foot-soldiers
and troops of cavalry scampering in every direction, as if Gottenborg
were besieged by a hundred thousand men, or the sun had slipped, when
setting, and fallen in the market-place. A fat Swede, who stood
demurely smoking his pipe, attracted my attention by the indifference
of his manner in the general confusion; and, noting the sagacity of his
little, roguish, blue eye, which he blinked as frequently as he blew the
smoke, in a horizontal spire, from his mouth, I asked him what the
uproar meant.
"Eld, eld," he said; and that was all the explanation I could obtain
from him. However, I soon discovered the cause of the hubbub; for,
following the direction of the people's eyes, I saw, elevated higher
than its fellows from the roof of an older house, an old chimney
ejecting volumes of the sootiest smoke, and causing the inmates to toss
beds, blankets, chairs, tables, and, even, their darling pipes out of
the windows. I immediately understood the alarm of the inhabitants of
Gottenborg. A chimney was on fire.
The conflagrations in Sweden and Norway have been so extensive and
frightful of late years, that the natives of those two countries regard
them as the most dreadful scourges of Odin, Thor, or Frey; and adopt
every precaution they possibly can, in their primitive way, to prevent a
fire, or to allay its fury when one does break out. I am not surprised
at their consternation, for many of the houses are entirely built of
fir, which is very inflammable; and a fire must bring a very fearful
catastrophe to such a crowded town as Gottenborg where you can shake
hands from an attic window with your opposite neighbour.
In half an hour, long before the trumpery apparatus counterfeiting the
shape of a fire-engine, or the water-buckets of the Corporation wrenched
from the custody of locks and iron gates, could be made to act, the old
chimney exhausted itself; and, at the moment when one unhappy
broken-winded engine spirted a small quantity of water into a window of
the first story only, the house having five stories, a column of clear
blue smoke shot straight up, from the chimney-pot into the air, with the
quietude and ease of a good joke. The chimney actually seemed to have
got up the smoke for a jest. The folks of Gottenborg, however, did not
view the matter in the same light as I did; for the bands of the
different regiments, that had been called together, by sound of trumpet,
to put out the fire, were mustered in a large square, and, in the
presence of a vast multitude, played a psalm, in token of the whole
nation's gratitude to Heaven, that Gottenborg had been spared the
ancient fate of Sodom and Gomorrah.
The wind veering round to the south, had blown the yacht farther from
the quay than when I left it in the morning. While conjecturing how I
should get on board, D---- came on deck, and said, _if_ I would jump, I
should find no difficulty in reaching the vessel. King Philip, of yore,
once wrote to the Lacedaemonians in the following manner:--"If I enter
your territories, I will destroy everything with fire and sword." To
this terrible menace, the Lacedaemonians answered only by the word, "If."
I certainly felt like a Lacedaemonian, and gave D---- credit for all the
confidence of the Macedonian monarch. I was rowed on board in the
jolly-boat.
A mob of many hundred persons surrounded the quay where the Iris was
moored, charmed by the symphony of Jerome's fiddle, or astounded by the
vociferous melody of the crew, as they tossed off a couplet or two of
"Rule Britannia!"
and then chanted with the recitative energy of truth,
"And there we lay, all the day,
In the Bay of Biscay, O!"
On Sunday morning, R---- and P---- returned, unexpectedly, from
Trolhaettan, and, when they entered the cabin, they were so powdered with
dust, and smeared with mud, that I hardly recognized them. They would
not, at first, tell me the cause of their dirty plight, but I contrived
to hear the whole account from King, who had accompanied them in the
capacity of valet. When they arrived at Trolhaettan, on Saturday
afternoon, being wearied, they strove to find some cottage where they
might sleep, but failed; and it was, therefore, determined to visit the
Falls, snatch a hasty meal, and return to Gottenborg the same evening.
Having beheld the awful cataract, and eaten their humble dinner, at set
of sun they started.
The moon was bright, and, not having climbed half way up the Heavens,
surety of her light was promised throughout the night. The strict
enforcement of the laws had cleared the roads of robbers, and no ill was
to be feared from bears or wolves, for the approach of summer had driven
these animals to the farthest highlands of the kingdom to seek for food
and coolness.
With minds at ease, then, and drowsy by the process of digestion, R----
and P----, hushed by the rolling of the carriage, fell fast asleep. The
night crept on, and the moon began to go down on the other side of the
sky, and, still, R---- and P---- slumbered; and, moreover, their
pleasant snores, invading the ears of King, accustomed only to the lusty
roar of ocean, soon enticed him with a stupefying influence from his
watchful attitude on the box, and laid his head in similar forgetfulness
on the shoulder of the coachman.
They might have slept for three hours, and King and the coachman for
two, when the unguided carriage gave a violent jolt, a loud creak, a
revolving motion, and fell, wheels uppermost, on the road-side. King
awoke in an instant, but too late to resist being plunged to the top of
a high, irritable bramble hedge that showed him no mercy, while R----
and P---- found themselves, in a state of perfect sensibility, on their
knees and hands in a dry but deep ditch, with the cushions, the empty
drawers, little pieces of old carpet, and all the other interior
appointments of their travelling carriage piled mysteriously on their
backs and the napes of their necks.
The riddle was soon solved. The horses being sensible of what was
restraint and what was not, felt the reins dangling about their hocks,
and, having had no food since they left their stables at Gottenborg,
walked to the wayside, and began to crop the grass; but, as mindless of
the vehicle at their tails, as desirous to swallow the green fare before
their eyes, they approached too near the gutter, and one wheel, sliding
plump into it, drew the other three wheels after, and immediately caused
the accident I have mentioned.
With its tributary streams, a branch of the river Gotha flows through
the main street, and lesser thoroughfares of Gottenborg; and along the
banks are planted rows of trees, which give the town a lively
appearance. As I crossed the bridges, I saw, on floating platforms, a
shoal of washerwomen scouring and thrashing lustily, with an instrument
like a shuttle, the wardrobe of their customers. When I first arrived at
Gottenborg, I thought myself in Holland, the mode of dress, and aspect
of the town bearing so close a resemblance to Rotterdam.
On Tuesday morning, the 1st of June, at eleven o'clock, just one month
after our departure from Greenwich, we left Sweden for Norway. The time
had glided pleasantly and speedily away; and, wherever we had gone,
kindness and hospitality always awaited us. We had brought from England
few letters of introduction, and, at some places where we went, on our
first arrival, knew no one; but here, as here at Gottenborg, not many
hours would elapse before the doors of these simple and generous hearted
people were opened to us; and, the greatest delight was evinced, when we
entered their houses.
Gottenborg was founded by the great Gustavus Adolphus. The town is
situated, like all the towns of Scandinavia, on a fiord of its own name,
sleeping with all the placid beauty of a lake; but there is so much
monotony in the romantic position of the Swedish and Norwegian towns,
that, to describe one is to describe all. There are one or two fine
buildings in Gottenborg; and the many villas in its neighbourhood,
invariably bosomed in thickly wooded valleys, urged me to remember an
old tradition among the Swedish Laplanders, which has not been lost on
the Swedes. They maintain the Swedes and the Lapps were originally
brothers. A storm burst; the Swede was frightened, and took shelter
under a board, which God made into a house; but the Lapp, unappalled,
remained without. Since that time, the Swedes dwell in houses, but the
Lapps under the bare sky.
What Venice was to ancient Italy, Gottenborg was to Sweden, the national
mart; but Time, with ravages and alterations, has swept away its
traffic. A Swedish fisherman told me, that the herrings, which used to
be so plentiful in the adjacent waters, are now scarcely to be caught;
and Gottenborg feels the defection of their extensive sale. The same man
asserted, that our ships of war, going up the Baltic, were wont to fire
salutes, and the noise had driven the fish away. The fisherman made this
statement so roundly, that I could not have the heart to tell him how
incredulous I was; but, when I got on board the yacht, I repeated the
circumstance, as a jest, to the sailor who stood at the gangway to
receive me.
"Well, your Honour," replied the man, after listening with attention to
my narrative, "he arn't put his helm too hard a-port."
"What!" I said, "do you intend to tell me you believe that a salute will
frighten herrings, from this fiord, or any other fiord, so that they
never return?"
"Why, your Honour," answered the sailor, touching his hat, "I must run
alongside this ere foreigner, and sequeeze [acquiesce] with him like;
for when I was aboard the Racehorse, sloop o' war, we fired a salute off
the Western coast of England, and I'm blowed, your Honour, if they
didn't ax Sir Everard to cease the hullabaloo."
"Why?" I asked.
"Ay; your Honour," said the credulous tar, "that's just what I'm bearing
up to--why, your Honour, bekase we frightened away the pilchards! May I
never lift another handspike if that ain't gospel, that's all your
Honour!"
"You be hanged!" I muttered.
"What! your Honour," exclaimed the man, warming with his faith, "have
you never heerd, that the report of a cannon will make a lobster shake
off his big, starboard claw?"
"No, nor you either," I answered walking away; for I thought the man was
striving to palm off a joke.
"Ay; but it's gospel your Honour," I heard the man reply; and, I
believe, sailors do hand down to each other a tradition of that kind;
for there is a figure of speech, and it is nothing more, with which the
English men-of-war's men used to hail the lobster smacks going up the
Thames.
"Smack a-hoy! hand us a few lobsters, or--you know what'll happen!"