Part 1 (1/2)
Denmark.
by M. Pearson Thomson.
CHAPTER I
MERRY COPENHAGEN--I
Copenhagen, the metropolis of Denmark, is a large and flouris.h.i.+ng city, with all the modern improvements of a commercial capital. It has an atmosphere of its own, an atmosphere of friendliness and gaiety, particularly appreciated by English people, who in ”Merry Copenhagen”
always feel themselves at home.
The approach to this fine city from the North by the Cattegat is very charming. Sailing through the Sound, you come upon this ”Athens of the North” at its most impressive point, where the narrow stretch of water which divides Sweden and Denmark lies like a silvery blue ribbon between the two countries, joining the Cattegat to the Baltic Sea. In summer the sparkling, blue Sound, of which the Danes are so justly proud, is alive with traffic of all kinds. Hundreds of steamers pa.s.s to and from the North Sea and Baltic, carrying their pa.s.sengers and freights from Russia, Germany, Finland, and Sweden, to the whole world. In olden times Denmark exacted toll from these pa.s.sing s.h.i.+ps, which the nations found irksome, but the Danes most profitable. This ”Sundtold” was abolished finally at the wish of the different nations using this ”King's highway,” who combined to pay a large lump sum to Denmark, in order that their s.h.i.+ps might sail through the Sound without this annoyance in future.
Kronborg Castle, whose salute demanded this toll in olden days, still rears its stately pinnacles against the blue sky, and looking towards the old fortress of Kjarnan, on the Swedish coast, seems to say, ”Our glory is of a bygone day, and in the land of memories.”
Elsinore, the ancient town which surrounds this castle, is well known to English and American tourists as the supposed burial-place of Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark immortalized by Shakespeare. Kronborg Castle is interesting to us, in addition, as being the place where Anne of Denmark was married by proxy to James I. of England. Here, also, the ”Queen of Tears,” Caroline Matilda, sister of George III., spent some unhappy months in prison, gazing sadly over the Sound, waiting for the English s.h.i.+ps to come and deliver her.
We pa.s.s up the Sound viewing the luxuriant cool green beech-woods of Denmark, and the pretty fis.h.i.+ng villages lying in the foreground. Villas with charming gardens--their tiny rickety landing-stages, bathing sheds, and tethered boats, adding fascination to the homely scene--seem to welcome us to this land of fairy tales and the home of Hans Andersen.
The many towers and pinnacles of Copenhagen, with the golden dome of the Marble Church, flash a welcome as we steam into the magnificent harbour of this singularly well-favoured city. Here she stands, this ”Queen of the North,” as a gracious sentinel bowing acquiescence to the pa.s.sing s.h.i.+ps as they glide in and out of the Baltic. The broad quays are splendidly built, lined with fine warehouses, and present a busy scene of commercial activity. The wars.h.i.+ps lying at their moorings in the Sound denote that this is the station of the fleet; here also we see the country's only fortress--the formidable bulwarks which surround the harbour.
Kjobenhavn in Danish means ”merchants' harbour,” and as early as the eleventh century it was a trading centre for foreign merchants attracted by the rich supply of herrings found by the Danish fishermen in the Baltic. Bishop Absalon was the founder of the city. This warrior Bishop strongly fortified the place, in 1167, on receiving the little settlement from King Valdemar the Great, and had plenty to do to hold it, as it was continually hara.s.sed by pirates and the Wends. These, however, found the Bishop more than a match for them. His outposts would cry, ”The Wends are coming!” and the Bishop would leave his preaching, his bed, or anything else he might be doing, gather his forces together, and fight gallantly for his little stronghold. He perhaps recognized that this might one day be the key to the Baltic, which it has since become.
This city, therefore, is not a new one, but bombardment and conflagrations are responsible for its modern appearance. Fortunately, some of the handsome edifices raised during the reign of Christian IV.
(1588-1648) still remain to adorn the city. This monarch was a great architect, sailor, warrior, and King, and is one of the most striking figures in Danish history. He was beloved by his people, and did much for his kingdom. The buildings planned and erected during this monarch's reign are worthy of our admiration. The beautiful Exchange, with its curious tower formed by four dragons standing on their heads, and entwining their tails into a dainty spire; Rosenborg Castle, with its delicate pinnacles; the famous ”Runde Taarn” (Round Tower), up whose celebrated spiral causeway Peter the Great is said to have driven a carriage and pair, are amongst the most noteworthy. The originality in design of the spires and towers of Copenhagen is quite remarkable. Vor Frelsers Kirke, or Church of Our Saviour, has an outside staircase, running round the outside of its spire, which leads up to a figure of our Saviour, and from this height you get a fine view of the city. The tower of the fire-station, in which the fire-hose hangs at full length; the copper-sheathed clock and bell tower--the highest in Denmark--of the Town Hall; the Eiffel-like tower of the Zoo, are among the most singular. In all these towers there is a beautiful blending of copper and gold, which gives a distinctive and attractive character to the city. Other prominent features are the pretty fish-scale tiling, and the copper and bronze roofs of many of the buildings, with their ”stepped”
gables. Charming, too, are the city's many squares and public gardens, ca.n.a.ls with many-masted s.h.i.+ps making an unusual spectacle in the streets. But, after all, it is perhaps the innate gaiety of the Copenhagener which impresses you most. You feel, indeed, that these kindly Danes are a little too content for national development; but their light-hearted way of viewing life makes them very pleasant friends, and their hospitality is one of their chief characteristics.
Every lady at the head of a Danish household is an excellent cook and manager, as well as being an agreeable and intelligent companion. The Copenhagener is a ”flat” dweller, and the dining-room is the largest and most important room in every home. The Dane thinks much of his dinner, and dinner-parties are the princ.i.p.al form of entertainment. They joke about their appreciation of the good things of the table, and say, ”a turkey is not a good table-bird, as it is a little too much for one Dane, but not enough for two!” A very pleasant side of Copenhagen life has sprung up from this appreciation, for the restaurants and cafes are numerous, and cater well for their customers. While the Dane eats he must have music, which, like the food, must be good; he is very critical, and a good judge of both. This gay cafe and restaurant life is one of the fascinations of Denmark's ”too-large heart,” as this pleasant capital is called by its people.
CHAPTER II
MERRY COPENHAGEN--II
The climate of Copenhagen is delightful in summer, but quite the reverse in winter. Andersen says ”the north-east wind and the sunbeams fought over the 'infant Copenhagen,' consequently the wind and the 'mud-king'
reign in winter, the sunbeams in summer, and the latter bring forgetfulness of winter's hards.h.i.+ps.” Certainly, when the summer comes, the suns.h.i.+ne reigns supreme, and makes Copenhagen bright and pleasant for its citizens. Then the many water-ways and ca.n.a.ls, running up from the sea as they do into the heart of the city, make it delightfully refres.h.i.+ng on a hot day. Nyhavn, for instance, which opens out of the Kongen's Nytorv--the fas.h.i.+onable centre of the town--is one of the quaintest of water-streets. The cobbled way on either side of the water, the curious little shops with sailors' and s.h.i.+ps' wares, old gabled houses, fis.h.i.+ng and cargo boats with their forests of masts, the little puffing motor-boats plying to and fro--all serve to make a distinctive picture. On another ca.n.a.l-side the fish-market is held every morning. A Danish fish-market is not a bit like other fish-markets, for the Dane must buy his fish alive, and the ca.n.a.l makes this possible. The fis.h.i.+ng-smacks line up the whole side of the quay; these have perforated wooden boat-shaped tanks dragging behind them containing the lively fish. The market-women sit on the quay, surrounded by wooden tubs, which are half-filled with water, containing the unfortunate fish. A trestle-table, on which the fish are killed and cleaned, completes the equipment of the fish-wives. The customers scrutinize the contents of the tub, choose a fish as best they can from the leaping, gasping mult.i.tude, and its fate is sealed. When the market-women require more fish, the perforated tank is raised from the ca.n.a.l, and the fish extracted with a landing-net and deposited in their tubs. Small fish only can be kept alive in tanks and tubs; the larger kinds, such as cod, are killed and sold in the ordinary way. This market is not at all a pleasant sight, so it is better to turn our backs on it, and pa.s.s on to the fragrant flower-market.
Here the famous Amager women expose their merchandise. This market square is a gay spectacle, for the Dane is fond of flowers, and the Amager wife knows how to display her bright blooms to advantage. These vendors are notable characters. They are the descendants of the Dutch gardeners brought over by Christian II. to grow fruit and vegetables for Copenhagen, and settled on the fertile island of Amager which abuts on the city. Every morning these Amager peasants may be seen driving their laden carts across the bridge which joins their island to the mainland.
These genial, stout, but sometimes testy Amager wives have it all their own way in the market-place, and are clever in attracting and befooling a customer. So it has become a saying, if you look sceptical about what you are told, the ”story-teller” will say, ”Ask Amager mother!” which means, ”Believe as much as you like.” These women still wear their quaint costume: bulky petticoats, clean checked ap.r.o.n, shoulder-shawl, and poke-bonnets with white kerchief over them; and the merry twinkle of satisfaction in the old face when a good bargain has been completed against the customer's inclination is quite amusing. These interesting old characters are easily irritated, and this the little Copenhageners know full well. When stalls are being packed for departure, a naughty band of urchins will appear round the corner and call out:
”Amager mother, Amager mo'er, Give us carrots from your store; You are so stout and roundabout, Please tell us if you find the door Too small to let you through!”
The Amager wife's wrath is soon roused, and she is often foolish enough to try and move her bulky proportions somewhat quicker than usual in order to catch the boys. This of course she never manages to do, for they dart away in all directions. By this means the Amager woman gets a little much-needed exercise, the boys a great deal of amus.e.m.e.nt.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FLOWER MARKET, COPENHAGEN.]
Sunday is a fete-day in Copenhagen, and the Dane feels no obligation to attend a Church service before starting out on his Sunday expedition. A day of leisure means a day of pleasure to the Copenhagener. The State helps and encourages him by having cheap fares, and good but inexpensive performances at the theatre and places of entertainment on Sunday. Even the poorest people manage to spare money for this periodical outing, mother and children taking their full share in the simple pleasures of the day. The Copenhagener looks forward to this weekly entertainment, and longs for the fresh air. This is not surprising, for many homes are stuffy, ventilation and open windows not seeming a necessity. A fine summer Sunday morning sees a leisurely stream of people--the Danes never hurry themselves--making for tram, train, or motor-boat, which will carry them off to the beautiful woods and sh.o.r.es lying beyond the city.