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Title: Sweden
Author: Dudley Heathcote
Illustrator: A. Heaton Cooper
Release date: September 21, 2025 [eBook #76905]
Language: English
Original publication: London: A & C Black Ltd, 1927
Credits: Fiona Holmes and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SWEDEN ***
[Illustration: THE TOWN HALL, STOCKHOLM]
SWEDEN
BY
DUDLEY·HEATHCOTE
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
A·HEATON·COOPER
[Illustration]
A&C BLACK LTD
4.5.6 SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W.1.
_Published in 1927_
Printed in Great Britain
TO
LOUISA BLANDFORD
IN TOKEN OF ESTEEM
NOTE
I record my acknowledgement to the Editors of the following journals in
which a few of the chapters of this book have already appeared: _The
Fortnightly Review_, _The Spectator_, _The Field_, _The
Westminster Gazette_, _Eve_, _Country Life_.
DUDLEY HEATHCOTE.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. THE LAND AND PEOPLE 1
II. GOTHENBURG 16
III. BOHUSLÄN 32
IV. THE GÖTA CANAL 44
V. STOCKHOLM 70
VI. THE SKERRIES OF STOCKHOLM 100
VII. GOTHLAND 118
VIII. DALECARLIA 147
IX. LAPLAND 166
X. A NIGHT IN A LAPP HUT 176
XI. AN IMPRESSION OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN 187
XII. AN IMPRESSION OF A SWEDISH CHRISTMAS 194
XIII. SWEDISH WINTER SPORTS 213
INDEX 223
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
IN COLOUR
1. The Town Hall, Stockholm _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
2. The Kullen Rocks, Mölle, on the Kattegatt 5
3. Arild, a Fishing Village near Mölle 12
4. Gothenburg, the Harbour 21
5. Gothenburg, the City 28
6. Marstrand 38
7. The Trollhättan Falls 49
8. Sjötorp Locks, Göta Canal 53
9. Jönköping 60
10. Vadstena Castle, Lake Vättern 64
11. The Royal Palace, Stockholm 81
12. Drottningholm Palace, Stockholm 96
13. Islands in the Baltic, near Stockholm 101
14. Gripsholm Castle, near Stockholm 108
15. The Kings’ Mounds, Upsala 113
16. Timber on the River Ångerman, Harnösand 117
17. Kalmar Castle 124
18. Ruins of Borgholm Castle, Öland 128
19. The Walls of Visby 133
20. The City of Visby 140
21. Sunday at Rättvik, Dalecarlia 145
22. Lake Siljan 149
23. Mora Church 156
24. Leksand Church 160
25. Sundsvall, a Great Baltic Timber Port 165
26. Luleå, Lapland 172
27. Midnight Sun over Lake Torne Träsk, from Abisko 177
28. A Lapp Hut on Lake Torne Träsk, Midnight 181
29. View from Tourist Station, Saltoluokta, Lapland 188
30. Stora Sjöfallet, Great Lake Falls, Saltoluokta 192
31. Lake and Village of Åre 213
32. The Tännforsen Waterfall, Åre 220
_Sketch Map on page xii_ xii
[Illustration: SKETCH MAP OF SWEDEN]
SWEDEN
CHAPTER I
THE LAND AND PEOPLE
For those who wish to wander a little further afield than France,
Belgium, or Italy, there are few more delightful places in which to
spend a holiday than Sweden, for not only is this country a paradise
for the lover of open-air life and every kind of summer and winter
sport, but it is a land especially favoured in the variety and beauty
of its scenery and unique character of its climate and geological
formation, the peculiar charm of its atmospheric effects, and the
appeal that lies in its strong national characteristics.
The Swedes hold of course that they were the originators of the various
kinds of sport that are practised in Europe to-day, though they confess
that the supremacy which they originally exercised in this field of
human activity soon passed to other countries; in fact, that it is only
comparatively of recent years that they have made any serious attempts
to regain their lost laurels. Idrott, or sport, is an old Swedish name,
and it cannot be denied that among the ancestors of the present-day
Swedes sports were in vogue even in times beyond the reach of history,
no ancient literature in the world containing so many descriptions
of sport as the old Norse sagas. We read that greater assiduity was
shown by the Vikings in perfecting themselves in strength, suppleness
of limb, and courage than in promoting the culture of their mind by
“exercise in the art of poetry and jurisprudence”. Their principal
sports consisted of racing (either with or without armour), running
and leaping of various kinds, wrestling, ski-running, tugs-of-war and
throwing the spear, skating, swimming, riding, archery, and fencing
with sword and shield play, and also many ball games. Every one of
these sports, and also such typically British games as Association
football and ice or ground hockey, are now played extensively in their
proper season, the great importance that is attached to athletics
being more than justified by the brilliant results which Swedish
athletes have lately been attaining in the Olympic games. More truly
characteristic of Swedish life, however, than any field game, or even
than pure athletics, are certain branches of sport which perhaps thrive
in Sweden better than in any other country in Europe owing to her
peculiar climatic and geographical conditions; and also that system of
physical culture which is associated with the name of P. H. Ling, the
creator of modern movement therapeutics.
Sweden, thanks to the severity of her winter, is perhaps the country
in Europe where winter sports can be practised to the best advantage;
and not only is ski-ing the Swedes’ national pastime even more truly
than it is that of the Swiss, through it having become in many
northern provinces of their country the only method by which the
people can conveniently travel from one district to another, but it
can be practised with even greater frequency than in any part of the
Swiss Alps, and for a far longer period in the year. The Swedes also
excel in figure-skating, tobogganing, and bobsleighing, while I have
seen nothing as exhilarating as ice-yachting among the skerries of
the Baltic when a good breeze is blowing, the speed attained by the
ice-yachts often exceeding that of any express train. To mention only
a few places where Swedish winter sports can be played under ideal
conditions, the ski-ing on the fjells of Jämtland, the skate and ice
yachting among the skerries of Stockholm, rival, if they do not excel,
any that can be found in other regions of Europe.
Thanks to her long indented coast-line, tideless seas, and a
superabundance of large inland lakes, on the other hand, Sweden can
offer ideal conditions during the summer months to those who like an
open-air life and are not in need of the usual conventional amusements;
and not only the Skärgård and the extensive Stockholm archipelago, but
the coast of Bohuslän, stretching right up to the coast of Norway,
provide ideal water playgrounds for those who are fond of swimming,
boating, and yachting, the innumerable rocky islands surrounding
the southern coast being perhaps unsurpassed for the opportunities
which they offer in these respects. As sailing and motor boats can,
moreover, easily be hired, and the air is magnificent, an extended stay
during the summer months in this part of Sweden has much to recommend
it, while there is always plenty of good and not too expensive
accommodation to be found at such seaside resorts as Marstrand,
Särö, Lysekil, or Fiskebäckskil, if only the prospective visitor
applies for it in seasonable time.
[Illustration: THE KULLEN ROCKS, MÖLLE, ON THE KATTEGATT]
In the domain of gymnastics proper, lastly, the Swedes have long
exercised supremacy, and not only has the system of physical culture
which Ling devised during the time that he was teaching fencing and
gymnastics at Lund University proved to be one of the main contributory
causes of Sweden’s subsequent athletic prowess, but it has been
generally adopted in other countries of the world, and more especially
in this country and the United States, Swedish gymnastics having come
to be recognised as the most efficient and valuable physical culture
system so far devised by man. Physical culturists, in fact, hold the
name of Ling in such esteem that when the Olympic Games were last held
at Stockholm many of the foreign and all the Swedish athletes who had
flocked to the Swedish capital to participate in the games paid a
special visit to his grave in order to offer their floral tributes of
affection and regard.
The climate of Sweden is almost unique. Lying between the 55th and 69th
degrees of latitude, it stretches nearly two hundred miles north of
the Arctic circle and in line with the south of Greenland, while its
most southerly point is not far north of Hamburg, and somewhat lower
than parts of Northumberland, this length of coast implying great
extremes of climate; yet so magical is the potency of the Gulf Stream,
which fortunately flows in a north-eastern direction right across the
Atlantic towards Scandinavia, that the lower layers of air are able to
absorb sufficient heat to make even the extreme north habitable in the
winter months, the weather north of the Arctic circle being, moreover,
often delightfully warm during the summer. The average July temperature
in Kiruna, the most northerly town in Sweden, for instance, is well
over 55 degrees: that is to say, equal to the mean May temperature
in England; and the sun never sets here or in Northern Lapland for
a period of six weeks. Stockholm, on the other hand, has days which
last nearly eighteen hours in June, with a temperature equalling that
found in Paris at the same time of the year. Swedish climate possesses
consequently the dual advantage of being sufficiently warm in summer
to attract even the most exacting lover of sunshine and warmth, and
yet of being cold enough in winter to provide an ideal playground for
winter sports of every description, the period during which these can
be safely practised being appreciably longer than in Switzerland or any
other region of Europe.
Geologically, too, Sweden is one of the oldest parts of the world,
its formation differing materially from that found in other European
countries. It is, generally speaking, a very rich land, but its wealth
usually entails a considerable amount of work to become productive,
as the greater part of it consists of granite, timber, lime, and
iron-stone. Everywhere, except perhaps in the south of Skåne, you will
come across towns that are built on granite or even iron-stone rock,
there being such a profusion of the latter that there are actually some
localities like Kiruna where the iron mines serving as foundation do
not consist of underground veins, but of mountains of ore from which
the iron has to be blasted from the surface almost in its natural
state. The spring water issuing from these rocks is strongly tonifying,
moreover, and at such places as Porla has been converted to practical
uses, its healing and curative qualities in all cases of debility or
anæmia being remarkable. Next to iron, Sweden’s greatest asset lies
in her timber land, and dense forests abound which cover an area
greater than the British Isles. It is estimated that over 52 per cent
of the soil is covered by trees the greater part of which consist of
pine, fir, and birch, while immense quantities of timber are cut every
year for the wood pulp and other industries. Much more than the above
might here usefully be written concerning Sweden’s great industrial
resources, but as the writer of the present volume is not concerned
with writing a book on Swedish industries but is merely seeking to
offer some illustration and account of the many beauties and points of
interest, artistic, historic, and social, of this little-known country,
we will readily leave off considering such matters to find ourselves
upon more congenial and, we will venture to say, more artistic ground.
The greatest appeal which Sweden makes on all those who pay it a visit,
however, lies in the beauty of its scenery, this being as varied as the
climate or the character and appearance of the people that are found on
its shores.
Fringing the southern coast are the principal seaside resorts of the
country, mostly in the province of Skåne, this province being the most
fertile and thickly populated district of the kingdom. Skåne, which
is called the granary of Sweden, not only produces enough sugar-beets
to supply the whole of Sweden with sugar, but boasts a vegetation
and flora that are usually only found in more southern climes, its
climate being so mild that peaches, apricots, and even grapes are
found ripening to perfection, while it also abounds in old historic
castles and manor-houses as well as dolmens and archæological remains
that, like those found in Brittany and Cornwall, evoke prehistoric
ages. Further north we come to Bohuslän and Halland, provinces that
if a little barren in vegetation nevertheless possess a coast-line
whose rugged wildness of scenery never fails to make a special appeal
to the mind of those who are attuned to its beauty: dense groups of
bare and often treeless red granite islands which when illumined by
the setting sun become visions of beauty and hold the eye as surely as
does the silver of the moon on running water. North of these provinces
is Gothenburg, the second city of the kingdom and the starting-place
of the famous Göta Canal that takes you through the very heart of
the country, linking up in one continuous waterway of river and
lake the capital of Sweden with the west coast; an idyllic journey
that, lasting three days, conveys you along peaceful rivers, across
shimmering lakes and past lush meadows overgreen from the bounty of the
waterways near by. Then, after passing Stockholm, most beautifully
situated of all cities, we proceed north through Dalecarlia, the home
of folk-lore and peasant costume, a smiling, fertile country of rich
farm-land and pleasant homesteads, until we reach the province of
Norrland with its great wide valleys and undulating plains, boundless
forests, roaring waterfalls, and barren mountain-tops on whose surface
the colours of the sunset are ever playing in constantly varying
flushes of crimson and rose, silver or grey. Here is the home of
the timber industry, and here too winter sports and game of every
description abound, the landscape evoking in turn the endlessness of
the Russian steppes or the mountain scenery prevailing in Canada or
Norway. And continuing our way north we finally reach the province of
Lapland, a vast barren country of high mountains and immense forests,
iron hills and foaming waterfalls, where live the strangest and perhaps
the most primitive people to be found west of the Caucasus, and where,
incidentally, a nine months’ bleak and bitter winter is followed by a
delightful summer, during six weeks of which the sun never sets.
Of such is Swedish scenery, its main appeal lying, I fancy, not so
much in the contour of its landscapes, beautiful though they be, as
in the peculiar clearness of atmosphere that appears to endow every
object with an almost magical quality of colour; and whether you visit
the more southern regions and the enchanted island of Gothland in the
Baltic, or travel north to Lapland, you will invariably find, not only
sunsets whose beauty so transfigure every crag, island, or peak, that
you begin to feel as if you have been transported from the common world
into some wondrous world of phantasy, but a crystalline limpidity of
atmosphere that makes every detail and contour of the most distant
landscape stand out with faultless definition. It is this continual
drama of surprise and delight that captures one’s very soul and that
gives a visit to Sweden its characteristic charm.
Almost as great a diversity is seen, however, among the people who
inhabit this country as in the scenery which I have just described; and
though no other nation surpasses the Swedes in the patriotism, pride,
and love of country which have always been some of their dominant
characteristics, few present as many different racial features.
In South-west Sweden, and especially in the province of Skåne, we find
a population which strongly resembles the Danes living across the
Sound in physique and character, the two races having for centuries
constituted one political unit. Further north, and extending from
Gothenburg to the Norwegian frontier, is a race of Goths who, like
the sturdy inhabitants of Gothland in the Baltic, claim descent from
the Vikings, the greater number of these famous sea-rovers having
hailed from these two localities (this province is now called Viken).
Further inland and to the north of the lake district of Vättern,
Vänern, are the Sveas, a race of Swedes who, like the Dalecarlians and
the men of Småland, constitute an element of the Swedish nation whose
ethnological purity has been little affected by either Norwegian or
Dane. The Sveas, unlike their southern neighbours, are distinguished
by a liveliness and pleasure-loving temperament that makes them ideal
hosts and boon companions, and also by a love of art and beauty which
they share in common with the Dalecarlians. Like the inhabitants of
Skåne and Viken, however, they are an easy-going and industrious folk,
but extremely combative and stubborn if roused. Even more attractive
in disposition are the Dalecarlians, who are found clustering on the
shores of Lake Siljan, and nowhere in Sweden will you come across a
finer race of peasantry or one less spoilt by the modern spirit of
industrialism.
[Illustration: ARILD, A FISHING VILLAGE NEAR MÖLLE]
As for the other branches of the Swedish nation, if exception has
been made of the Roos Swedes who are found about the capital, and the
men of Småland, to the north of Blekinge, whose proverbial honesty,
truthfulness, and hardihood are as pronounced to-day as they were
in the days of Charles XII., none can be said to be of pure Swedish
stock. Norrland is inhabited by a race which either strongly resemble
their Norwegian neighbours (in Jämtland) or ethnologically are not
unrelated to the Finns and Lapps, with whom there has been some slight
intermarriage; while you meet in Lapland a Mongolian people that are
entirely alien to the remainder of Sweden in both manner of living and
race.
In spite of ethnological distinctions which, it should be stressed,
are in any case not any more strongly marked than those at present
existing in the British Isles, the Swedish nation remains to-day as
of old one of the most united countries in the world as well as one of
the most distinctive, its highly marked national characteristics never
failing to impress the visitor.
If I were now asked for the dominating impressions which the Swedish
nation generally leaves on the mind of people visiting their country,
I would say that the first is of a highly practical, hard-working,
and cultured race, which not only considers efficiency as one of the
cardinal virtues, but also manages to ensure such a quality being the
one outstanding characteristic which any foreign observer never fails
to remark whenever he comes into contact with Swedish national or
civil life. I strongly question whether towns more efficiently run,
and citizens more profoundly imbued with civic or public spirit, are
to be found anywhere in either Europe or America than in this country,
the result being a husbanding of resources and a co-ordination of
public and private activities that certainly makes for prosperity and
contentment. Nowhere have I seen cleaner or more orderly streets,
tramway or telephone and public services better run, public squares or
parks more beautifully laid out, educational and cultural institutions
better designed to promote the welfare of the race; hospitals, prisons,
and public institutions better organised or conducted, and public
buildings and business undertakings conceived on a larger scale. The
second impression, of a general standard of living vastly superior
to that found in any country in the world outside the United States,
with the additional advantage of a comparatively small difference
between the standards attained by the rich and poor respectively; and
the third, of a people that combines an almost excessive formality of
manners with the most lavish and whole-hearted hospitality, there being
few countries, moreover, where an Englishman is more certain of being
well received wherever he may go.
CHAPTER II
GOTHENBURG[1]
[1] In Swedish, _Göteborg_.
The two principal ways of reaching Sweden from England are: the first
via the Continent and the Sassnitz Trälleborg train ferry route, the
second by steamer across the North Sea; and for those who are not
subject to sea-sickness the sea route is by far the more comfortable of
the two. I travelled direct to Gothenburg in one of the Swedish Lloyd
Company’s boats, the _Saga_, and found both boat and crossing
a pleasant experience. There is a special train from St. Pancras to
Tilbury in connection with the steamers, and the crossing takes about
forty-five hours, instead of the long railway journey, and endless
passport formalities, which all take place, however, in the comfortable
through carriages. Swedish passenger steamers are invariably replete
with every comfort and convenience, and the _Saga_ was no
exception to the rule, her cheery captain proving not only an ideal
skipper, but a host whose gaiety and _entrain_ were so infectious
that even those passengers who were beginning to be adversely affected
by the strongly dipping and rolling boat were beguiled into making
light of their troubles. The two great events of the day on board a
Swedish boat are always the two principal meals, and in this respect a
Swedish steamer is much like other boats, but the thing that marks out
the Swedish meal from its fellows, whether taken on land or sea, is
the Smörgåsbord (the bread-and-butter table, literally butter-goose)
which almost invariably opens the meal. Prominently exposed on the
various sideboards that greet you as you enter the dining-saloon are a
large selection of dishes flanked by tall stands upon which enormous
pats of butter and a most varied assortment of breads are heaped:
black bread, white bread, honey bread, wheaten bread; and as soon
as the gong has sounded for luncheon (or dinner) the guests make a
massed attack on these dishes, after arming themselves with a large
plate, knife, and fork. You first help yourself handsomely to butter
out of a huge central stand and also to the species of bread which
you fancy, and then proceed to fill up your plate with as large a
choice of edibles as possible, there being no fixed rule as to the
sequence in which these are to be eaten. Around you are eggs in every
conceivable form, olives, tomatoes and sardines, anchovies, cucumber in
sweet sauces, cold fried fish and strömming salmon, hams and cheeses
hailing from many lands, sausages and Swedish caviar, fish in aspic,
pâtés and minces, as well as the great national delicacy called “sill”,
consisting of slices of herring floating in sweetened vinegar and
plentifully flavoured with spices and onion, which the Swedes consume
before anything else. This ambulatory portion of the meal is apt to
last a considerable time, as a Swede who is in form is rarely satisfied
with one journey to the Smörgås table, but the inexperienced should
abstain from following his example, however enticing the lure that lies
in novel gastronomic experiments, in view of the very liberal meal that
they are expected to consume after it, and of which the Smörgåsbord
constitute only a preliminary _coup d’essai_. As accompaniment to
these somewhat strenuous _hors-d’œuvre_, a species of cocktail
called _snaps_, consisting of pure alcohol flavoured with a kind
of carroway, is invariably swallowed in one gulp before attacking the
Smörgåsbord or immediately after that operation has been completed.
This beverage is certainly a better appetiser than any commonly drunk
in England, which may possibly account for the ease with which the
average Swede is able to demolish an almost infinite selection of
smörgås without either his capacity appearing to be strained or his
curiosity to be sated, while he then proceeds to wash down the meal
proper that follows with plentiful draughts of a Pilsener (No. 2 or 3)
that are so innocuous that even Pussyfoot Johnson would drink of it
without polluting his immortal soul.
The approach to Gothenburg from the sea is exceptionally beautiful,
and the traveller should make a point of being up early on the morning
of arrival to see the ship as it forges its path through the rocky
archipelago of the Skärgård lying at the mouth of the river Göta älv.
Here are thousands of islands, many of these bare of trees and without
the slightest vegetation, whose red granite boulders, if seen in summer
with the sun and waves beating upon them, possess a fascination that no
artist as yet has adequately been able to convey on his canvas. They
are the favourite haunts of the inhabitants of Gothenburg, and like
the skerries of Stockholm, are admirably adapted for bathing, yachting,
and living the simple life, the whole coast right up to the Norwegian
frontier providing almost equal facilities for this form of sport. The
first object that comes into view of the town proper, however, as you
pass the last group of islands of the archipelago (and even before that
if the day is at all clear) is the tall high tower of the Masthuggs
Kyrka, which is one of the best-known landmarks on the coast; and then
as the boat draws nearer to the harbour mouth the whole panorama of
Gothenburg appears before you in all its splendour. Here the busy,
humming port, crowded with shipping of every kind, from the massive
ocean liner to the smaller coasting vessel, fishing smack, or miniature
passenger steamer; there enormous floating docks and shipbuilding
yards whose unceasing activity attests Gothenburg’s prosperity, with
as background to the whole scene the city itself with its many fine
buildings and towers.
[Illustration: GOTHENBURG—THE HARBOUR]
Built largely on a foundation of rock and situated about five miles
from the river Göta älv at the foot of low-lying hills that are almost
equally rocky, the city of Gothenburg probably owes not a little
of its reputation to the fact that it stands on the threshold of a
district which is not only one of the best known and most popular of
any in Sweden, owing to it being the starting-point of the famous
Göta Canal route, but which also possesses an almost inexhaustible
store of interests at the disposal of the student of mediæval history,
folk-lore, and geology.
Like many other Swedish towns, Gothenburg is comparatively a modern
city, but it stands on a site that is a veritable storehouse of legend
and history, the adjoining territory having frequently changed hands
or provided a battle-ground for those nations or piratical bands that
were usually found contending for its possession. It was founded in
1621 by Gustavus Adolphus, after a visit which this enterprising and
far-sighted monarch paid to the mouth of the river Göta älv early in
that same year with the object of seeing if a commercial port could
not conveniently be erected as close to the main ocean highways as
possible to ensure his country becoming a factor in the world trade of
the future. We are told that as he was deliberating on the matter, a
bird who was being pursued by an eagle dropped suddenly at his feet,
and that looking down at the utterly exhausted bird he remarked that
he could not look for a more promising omen.
“Here I shall build the town,” he declared; and acting on these words,
he selected the present site of the city and entrusted its planning and
building to some Dutch mercantile experts whose help he had solicited.
The town was accordingly laid out in the Dutch manner, with many
artificial canals and straight streets, and was also fortified and
surrounded by a large moat. Ultimately the walls were razed to make
way for a beautiful esplanade, while the moat was converted into a
picturesque artificial waterway with high trees, bordered vernal banks,
which winding in and out through the very heart of the town, have
invested those portions traversed by it with a scenic charm that they
would hardly have possessed otherwise.
The subsequent history of the town soon demonstrated the wisdom which
had dictated Gustavus Adolphus’ selection of a site, for the city not
only received large influxes of colonists, mostly German, Dutch, and
Scotch, who materially contributed to its welfare by the important
and fast-growing volume of trade which followed in their wake, but
very quickly became an important trade centre for eastern commodities.
The East India Company, which was established here about this time,
was for a long time one of Sweden’s most flourishing concerns, while
the herring fisheries on the coast of Bohuslän became sufficiently
productive to allow large quantities of this fish to be exported to
foreign lands. Further impetus was given to the commerce of the town,
moreover, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, by Napoleon’s
attempt to enforce a continental blockade of Great Britain in 1806,
this short-sighted measure having the effect of converting the Swedish
city into the principal emporium and transit mart of all English goods
in North Europe, while its subsequent progress has been almost equally
marked. During the War it enjoyed a period of tremendous prosperity
which, though followed by an unavoidable slump, has nevertheless
persisted to this day, Gothenburg having by now entirely superseded
Stockholm as the leading exporting and shipping centre, while it has
also become the second most populated town in Sweden, as well as an
important educational and cultural centre, and one of the most thriving
commercial and industrial cities of the kingdom. Gothenburg owes these
advantages, however, almost as much to the tireless energy, business
acumen, and flair which her inhabitants appear to have inherited from
their Swedish, German, and Dutch ancestors as to her favoured position
in the world markets; and in no other town in Europe of equal size
will the traveller find a more hard-working or efficient _corps
commercial_ or a population whose civic pride and public spirit
so strongly impel them to insist on superefficiency. The town has
consequently a well-ordered aspect which appears to apply to even the
most out-of-the-way path and little lane, while its administration has
been raised to so fine an art that, apart from the town fire brigade,
which seems to have been a little overlooked, the whole machinery runs
on model lines. You may wander in the town when and where you will,
and yet never find a street that is not clean or devoid of refuse,
the local scavengers apparently fulfilling their duties at such an
early hour and so unobtrusively that you will rarely come across them,
while the public gardens and parks are so perfectly kept and become
in May and June such dreams of beauty, that you are found most often
calculating the lavish expenditure and imposing staffs that alone
can have ensured such excellence. Indeed in no town in Europe have
I found public gardens better or more artistically laid out than in
Gothenburg, the Swedish gardeners often possessing not only an ample
_expertise_ and a sufficiency in botanical knowledge that marks
them out among the gardeners of the world, but a natural taste of an
order high enough to justify appeal being made to them in questions
dealing with the designing of ornamental and formal gardens.
To visit Gothenburg without seeing its gardens is therefore as
unthinkable as if you passed through Rome without seeing St. Peter’s;
and though every visitor should, almost as soon as he has landed,
first take a stroll over by the water front (this being the obvious
thing to do) in order to steep his mind with an adequate sense of the
town’s importance as a commercial and shipping centre (which should be
his principal dominating impression), he must immediately afterwards,
and before seeing anything else, stroll even more leisurely along the
delightful artificial waterway that has given Gothenburg its peculiar
resemblance to a Dutch city; and after passing by the picturesque
market thronged by lusty market women who can daily be seen selling
their baskets of fruit and flowers along the very water edge, linger
for a while in the beautiful Slottskogen and Trädgårdsföreningen parks,
on whose upkeep and embellishment many municipalities have expended
lavish sums. In the summer months these gardens are a dream of delight
and colour, while they are so beautifully kept and well ordered that
though frequently invaded by festive crowds there appears to be an
almost entire lack of that careless abandon that so often impels the
British holiday-maker to litter even the most pleasant garden with
paper bags and food refuse. Of the two parks the Trädgårdsföreningen
is perhaps the finer and more restful, and it contains incidentally
one of the finest hot-houses for tropical plants that are to be found
in Northern Europe after those in Kew Gardens, as well as a very good
restaurant and theatre; but the Slottskogen park contains almost as
many pleasing features, although its principal charms are to be found
in the natural beauty that it possesses or in the magnificent view
that can be obtained of the city and surrounding country from its
Belvedere, rather than in the number, variety, and orderly beauty of
its flower-beds, which are not to be compared to those of the other
park.
Having thus briefly surveyed the various vicissitudes through which
Gothenburg has passed in the course of its somewhat short life as a
city, and given some account of its parks and general aspect, we may
now proceed to consider some of the principal characteristics of the
town itself, its monuments and other public buildings, and then deal
with the surrounding country.
Like many other Swedish towns, Gothenburg impresses from the first
as a city in which every street and building form integral parts of
a general scheme. The thoroughfares are mostly ample in size and the
buildings nearly all modern structures of stone and plaster in which
the new school of Swedish architecture has sought to express a purely
Swedish style of architectural expression. As I intend in a subsequent
chapter to treat this subject more fully, I will content myself with
saying that though the public buildings of Gothenburg undoubtedly
reflect the art that was preconised by such masters as Clason and
Ferdinand Boberg in the way in which the principal ornamental designs
centre around the entrances, and also in the very distinctive form of
panelling and decorative _motifs_ which characterise them, they
should not be taken as typical examples of a style which can only be
studied to advantage in the capital. I should therefore advise all
lovers of architecture, whose first view of Sweden is by way of this
city, to suspend all judgment of Swedish architecture until they have
arrived in Stockholm and seen Ragnar Östberg’s famous masterpiece, the
new Stadshus.
[Illustration: GOTHENBURG—THE CITY]
Of the many new buildings of Gothenburg which have been inspired by
the new school, the most pretentious and interesting is the New Art
Gallery, which was opened to the public last year at Götaplatsen, a
big, massive building containing a fine handsome loggia with seven high
round arches, which, though awaiting completion, possesses a certain
massive dignity that is not without charm. Of the other numerous
buildings that are to be found in the town, which incidentally probably
contains a greater number of scholastic institutions, technical
colleges, and hospitals than any other city of its size in the world,
there are few which deserve any special mention. A visit should,
however, be made to the old seventeenth-century building on the Harbour
Canal in which the Swedish East India Company once had their offices
and warehouses, where very interesting ethnographical and sociological
historical collections can be seen, and also to the new General
Post Office, which is probably the largest post office to be found
in the north of Europe. As for the churches of Gothenburg, there are
only one or two that are in any way out of the common, and none that
should detain the tourist for any appreciable length of time, except
perhaps the Masthuggs Church, situated in the suburb of Majorna, whose
red-bricked tower certainly possesses quite a distinctive air of its
own, and also the Kristine or German Church on the Harbour Canal. The
remainder are devoid of any special interest.
Before passing on to consider the many pleasant excursions that can
be made from Gothenburg along the coast of Bohuslän, a few remarks
concerning the hotels and restaurants of the town may not fall amiss;
and while I have little further to add to the description which I gave
in the earlier pages of this chapter of a typical Swedish meal (the
luncheon which I described being characteristic not only of Swedish
steamers but also of Swedish towns generally), it may be useful to
point out that the hotels of Gothenburg mostly belong to the expensive
category, and that travellers should not therefore base their estimate
of costs on this city alone, Gothenburg and Stockholm being probably
the two most expensive towns in the whole of Sweden. Swedish hotels are
invariably clean and comfortable, however, and though a traveller may
at first experience a certain shock at finding that the stalwart and
often prepossessing chambermaid whom he has requested to prepare his
matutinal bath will not only prepare it most adequately, but will also
look very aggrieved if he does not allow her to scrub and generally rub
him down much as his nurse used to do in the days of his childhood, he
will find little else that differs materially from his experience of
English hotels. Swedish rule of behaviour must, however, be acquired
by any visitor who intends to make a protracted stay in the country,
as Swedish table manners differ considerably from our own; and one of
the first rules that must be mastered is never to drink any wine at a
dinner or luncheon party without first toasting somebody: it does not
matter who it is so long as it is not your hostess. As this book is not
intended to be a Swedish etiquette manual, we will now pass on to other
subjects, after contenting ourselves with saying that though the custom
referred to is the one which the ignorant Englishman is the most likely
to break, there are many others that he should try to assimilate,
especially if he happens to be one of those luckless individuals who
are always doing the wrong thing. In no other country in Europe has
a _gaffeur_ more opportunities for showing off this particular
failing.
CHAPTER III
BOHUSLÄN
A more weather-worn and scarred coast than Bohuslän is difficult to
find, for the waves have cut so deeply into its shore that it presents
the appearance of a huge and abnormally uneven comb with countless
jagged teeth or “Naess”, between whose steep and precipitous banks
equally innumerable and winding fjords have eaten deeply into the land.
In winter, when both sky and rock are bleakly grey and repellent, it
brings suggestions of desolateness and strife, and affords foreboding
vistas of innumerable clusters of bare rock often separated by the
narrowest of channels, which some primordial giant of fable has
scattered all along the coast to protect the mainland from the
onslaughts of tide and breakers, and so maintain the integrity of the
rugged country over which Beowulf once held sway. This forbidding coast
has, however, many compensating advantages, and if only you explore
it during the summer months with a certain amount of thoroughness it
will never fail to appeal to any one who loves wild scenery. To see
it at its best you should of course visit it when the sky is azure
blue and the waves are beating against the rocky red granite islands
of the Skärgård, encircling them with snow-white foam, while the sun
is transfiguring even their most forbidding boulder into a dream of
beauty. But even if conditions are not as favourable, you may, if you
wander a little far afield, find concealed here and there among the
fjords and skerries many enchanting valleys and little coves where
trees grow luxuriantly and which are so protected from wind and storm
that even the most exacting lover of warmth and sunshine will in summer
imagine he has been transported to a more southern clime, without
too much stretching of his imagination. Arid and grey-looking as the
greater part of the mountain landscape may be, the restful green of
pine and fir is never entirely absent; and while there is also the
cool grey of crag and peak to delight the eye, even the wildest and
most rugged mountain feature feels ever companionably close—not
immeasurably distant and unattainable as the desert.
Of all the provinces of Sweden, Bohuslän is perhaps one of the earliest
inhabited, while the entire coast is stamped with memories, memories of
Viking days when in the fjords of the coast the Sea Kings fitted out
their fleets for voyages across the North Sea, or legends concerning
the great Beowulf, King of the Western Goths, whose name is so bound up
with Bohuslän that I cannot refrain from describing his most legendary
exploit more or less fully.
For many years Bohuslän had been looted and ravaged by Grendel the sea
monster without being able to retaliate, when very unexpectedly there
arrived in the land a strange boat full of armed men whose tall and
fair leader was brought before Hrothgar, the King of the Danes (who was
then ruling Bohuslän), and asked to account for his visit.
“We are of the Goths kin,” he replied, “Hygelac’s hearth sharers; my
father is widely known; he is the high-born lord Eogtheow.” Hrothgar
recognised him as Beowulf, and bidding him warmly welcome, escorted
him to his castle. That same night, as the King was sleeping, the sea
monster crept into the palace and seizing one of the sleeping knights,
“bit him through the body, drank his blood, and tore off his flesh
in great strips”. Then he advanced towards Beowulf, and would have
treated him in similar fashion if that knight had not forestalled him
by immediately attacking. Seizing the monster with his two hands,
Beowulf tore his shoulder open with a superhuman effort, and breaking
his sinews rendered him powerless. Grendel limped away mortally wounded
and made for the cavern at the bottom of the lake which acted as
his lair, leaving a trail of blood behind him, but succumbed to his
injuries while seeking to reach the bottom of the water. Next night
his infuriated mother left the cavern to avenge her son, and creeping
surreptitiously into the palace succeeded in killing one of the Danes
before Beowulf could prevent her. The sea monster then fled back to her
lair, with Beowulf following hard upon her. Reaching the lake he dived
to the bottom, and though seized by the monster as he reached it, was
able to draw his magic sword and slay his opponent. He then cut off
Grendel’s head, and returning to the surface took the trophy back to
the palace and laid it at the King’s feet. Some say that this legendary
hero is buried on a headland at Hronesnass near Gothenburg; others that
Upland was his last resting-place, while objects similar to those that
are depicted in the Beowulf Anglo-Saxon epic are shown to this day in
both places purporting to have been discovered in the near vicinity.
We should be too obviously departing from the legitimate scope of this
volume were we to enter upon any detailed account of the many other
legends which deal with Beowulf and his exploits. They are legion. It
must suffice to say that the student of folklore and mythology will
find in Bohuslän an almost inexhaustible fund of old legends at his
disposal, as well as an unusually rich store of relics from even the
earliest period of antiquity. I have been shown burial chambers and
vaults that were 4000 years old, and also inscriptions on slabs of
rocks dating from 1500 B.C. which purported to reproduce human
forms or animals, while the whole district also abounds in cairns and
grave finds of stone, bronze, and iron, many of these dating from the
Stone, Bronze, and Iron epochs, as well as numerous caverns and islands
that are popularly supposed to have been the favourite resorts of sea
monsters akin to Grendel.
As for the people of Bohuslän, they are in every respect worthy
descendants of their Viking ancestors, and while their lives are not
as equally colourful and picturesque, they are almost as constantly
exposed to danger both on land and sea. A hardy and energetic race that
turns to a seafaring life as by a natural instinct, they make ideal
sailors, deep-sea fishing with its accompanying sister industries of
salting and canning being one of their principal and most productive
occupations, while those who are not employed in fishing earn their
living quarrying granite, of which there are enormous quantities all
along the coast, and shipping it to foreign countries. This occupation,
though even more remunerative than that of herring fishing, entails
even more risks, owing to the unfortunate tendency that charges of
dynamite occasionally manifest of exploding at the wrong moment, large
blocks of stone having frequently been known to crash down on groups of
unfortunate workmen at the most unexpected moments.
While there are many pleasant excursions that can be made along the
coast of Bohuslän and among the islands of the Skärgård, there are none
which will give the visitor a more comprehensive idea of the coast in
as short a time as that which may be made by taking one of those many
small steamers that ply regularly from Gothenburg to Marstrand and
Lysekil, and then returning on the following day by the Uddevalla route.
Leaving Gothenburg, the steamer turns sharply northward, and after
passing a lighthouse enters the archipelago of the Skärgård, through
which it now proceeds to thread its way, stopping occasionally in
front of islands on which you see grouped near a landing-stage a
number of fishermen’s wooden houses, all painted red. Nothing very
distinctive about the scenery apart from its almost entire lack of
trees or vegetation, but many of the skerries are so protected from the
wind, and they evidently offer such remarkable facilities for boating,
yachting, and swimming, that you soon begin to realise the cause of
their popularity during the summer months, while the scenery and
conditions which they present are of so novel a character that you find
yourself enjoying every minute of your leisurely progress through the
channels and straits that separate them.
[Illustration: MARSTRAND]
After about two hours’ journey you arrive at Marstrand, one of the most
popular bathing resorts of the whole coast, and further meditations are
cut short by the captain’s announcement that you have barely three
hours for obtaining some food and also for seeing the town.
Marstrand is a city of great antiquity, perhaps the oldest in the
province after Kungälv (a town with which we will make acquaintance as
we proceed on our way to Stockholm by the Göta Canal route), and like
many towns that have enjoyed great prosperity, has little to suggest
its former greatness, apart from a few old seals and documents. Two
centuries ago it was one of the richest cities in Sweden, owing to its
thriving herring fishing industry, though an old writer informs us
that “the herrings suddenly began to disappear owing to the ungodly
ways of the fisherfolk, after which it rapidly declined and sank into
poverty and oblivion”. It has recovered, however, much of its former
prosperity, and in the summer months is thronged with visitors, mostly
Swedes and Swedish-Americans, who delight in its excellent boating and
yachting.
Built on a small island that is separated from another called Koön
that immediately faces it by a narrow strait, it is dominated by an
old dismantled fortress with a massive circular granite tower which
dates from the seventeenth century and affords a splendid view of the
skerries and surrounding country. As it entirely lacks even the most
conventional form of amusement, it will hardly appeal, I fancy, to
that class of tourist whose only conception of a seaside resort is
based on their experience of English or French watering-places, and
should therefore be avoided by any visitor who does not consider a
bracing air, excellent bathing, yachting, and camping-out facilities as
indispensable adjuncts to a holiday. In these respects, at any rate,
few seaside resorts excel Marstrand, which incidentally possesses the
additional inducement of a scenery that is almost unique in character,
while its hotels are comfortable and their proprietors so up-to-date
in their methods that almost before I had set foot on the island I
found myself being rushed off to a particular hostelry (the Grand) and
induced to order the most expensive and elaborate of meals. As Swedish
hotel managers all appear to possess an equally ingratiating manner, I
strongly advise people travelling with a light purse to fight shy of
any but the cheaper hotels. In justice to the particular restaurant
in which I was so dexterously inveigled I must add that, expensive as
was the bill with which I was presented, the luncheon which I consumed
was so excellently cooked as to almost justify the expenditure that
it incurred, the genial manager informing me that he had served a long
apprenticeship in France before the War, and that nowhere in Sweden
except at the Royal Hotel in Stockholm would I find a more delectable
and recherché cuisine. Judging from the many restaurants whose food I
subsequently sampled during my stay in this country, I rather fancy he
was right.
Passing on our way we then come to Lysekil, a busy little fishing town
whose herring industry ranks next to that of Marstrand in importance.
Like most Swedish cities of this part of Sweden its red-tiled houses
are nearly all built of wood, but it is picturesquely situated at the
mouth of the Gullmar Fjord and is not devoid of a certain charm, while
it is equally celebrated for the efficacy of its medicinal waters
and the excellence of its boating and bathing. Near the quays are
innumerable sailing boats specially built to accommodate parties of
twelve or more, in which one can comfortably cruise about the adjacent
fjords for the whole or part of a day at a price that is obtainable
nowhere in England, while the lover of sea-bathing will find every
facility that he can desire, not only in the octagonal wooden bathing
establishments that are to be found near the quays, but in the many
clear pools that abound among the rocks, the Swedish Mrs. Grundy being
very tolerant with regard to the costume that may be worn on these
occasions. But Lysekil possesses many other attractions, and is not
only an ideal place for fishing whether out at sea or in the fjords,
but the centre for many interesting excursions in the neighbourhood.
Over across the bay is the picturesque little village of Fiskebäckskil,
while further north is the seaside resort of Strömstad, quite near to
the Norwegian frontier, and beyond it the fortress of Frederikshald,
where Charles XII. was killed as he was attempting to invade Norway.
Near this fort, incidentally, is a small cove where this Swedish king
launched his galleys “after having had them dragged twelve English
miles across the land from Strömstad”, a feat which, according to
Emerson, was only rendered possible by the material help and advice of
Swedenborg.
The first part of the excursion being now completed, we then take
the train for Uddevalla, and after a short journey, during which the
scenery gradually loses its barren character, soon arrive at our
destination.
Delightfully situated at the foot of wooded hills and in a countryside
whose luxuriant fertility is a pleasant contrast to the barren
wildness of other parts of Bohuslän, Uddevalla is a busy little place
with a large paper-mill and other industries that was originally
founded by Dutch settlers. And like Marstrand and Lysekil, it is
thronged in summer by Swedish holiday-makers, its principal appeal,
apart from its pretty setting, lying in the splendid opportunities for
open-air life that, like other Swedish summer resorts, it is able to
offer to the visitor. Boarding the Gothenburg steamer, we then pass
through the Byfjord and begin a journey that if taken so as to include
a sunset will often present you with entrancing vistas of promontories
and rocky islands that appear to have been especially designed as
settings for the sun. And plodding our way among islands that by this
time have lost all sign of vegetation we deposit portions of our cargo
at various ports and pass countless granite boulders strewn along the
coast that, seen in a fading light, look like huge sea monsters on
whose bare backs the waves are beating in vain. Slowly the darkness
deepens, and as the sky assumes its many shifting colours the beams
from the lighthouses of Gothenburg come into view and very soon we
reach our moorings in the harbour.
CHAPTER IV
THE GÖTA CANAL
For those who are not pressed for time I can hardly imagine a more
enjoyable trip than that of travelling from Gothenburg to Stockholm
by the combination of river, lake, and canal known as the Göta Canal,
a leisurely journey of two days and a half that takes you through the
heart of the country, from coast to coast, on a line of steamers that,
though bearing much the same relationship to an ordinary passenger boat
as a Pomeranian to a wolf-hound, are models in miniature of what a
river vessel should be, accommodation, cooking, and service being all
that could be desired. The charm of this trip does not lie so much in
the beauty of the castles, churches, and lake scenery that characterise
it, as in the way in which it brings you into constant touch with the
heart-beat of the country. At times the boat glides along fertile
fields and meadows, and within sight of ancient churches, pleasant
villages, or old castle ruins; at others it makes its way across
wide shimmering lakes or passes locks innumerable that afford ample
opportunities for exercise to those desiring it. I shall not easily
forget the enjoyable days that I spent in this manner seeing mile after
mile of the most varied scenery unfolding itself before me, as I sat
lazily complacent in a comfortable deck-chair, almost hoping that
the journey would have no end. This passage across the very centre
of Sweden is so assuaging that I most heartily recommend it to all
those who hold with me that every traveller who would duly appreciate
a country that is to him virgin soil should only visit it with mind
attuned to the world, and consequently that the Göta Canal should
be regarded as a kind of portal to the more arduous Sweden which is
disclosed to the senses as soon as the last lake of Östergötland and
the Stockholm Archipelago will have been traversed. Used both as an
entrance and as an exit to Sweden, however, it is alike admirable,
since in the first instance it predisposes the mind to view everything
favourably, in the second it soon consoles the disillusioned traveller
for any shortcomings and deceptions that he will have discovered in the
rest of the country.
The credit of building a system of waterways linking up Sweden’s many
large lakes, and even the Baltic and North Sea, belongs to no modern
engineer but to a certain Catholic bishop called Brask of Linköping,
a town found on this route, who in 1525 advocated this canal in a
letter to King Gustavus I. as a means of escaping the duties that were
exacted by the Danes on shipping passing through the Sound. The work
was actually begun at a place called Norsholm, and advanced so far
that signs of it are still visible at Brask’s Ditch: only the King’s
extensive commitments in other directions preventing further progress
being made. And from that moment there was hardly a Swedish monarch
who did not recommend the project, though nothing much was achieved
until the reign of Charles XII., when Christopher Polhem finally
obtained permission from the Swedish King to “construct a passage
between Gothenburg and Norrköping by using the natural waterways as
far as possible”. The Swedish Government was to be responsible for the
financial part of the undertaking, and according to the terms of the
contract that was now signed between the King and Polhem on January 17,
1718, this engineer was to complete the canal in five years, a sum
of 40,000 silver daler being allowed him annually for expenses, with
a stipulation that any eventual deficiency would be made good by the
King. The length of the sluices was fixed at that time at 180 feet and
the breadth at 38 feet. The great engineering project was immediately
started from the side of Gothenburg, but Polhem was compelled to
abandon the enterprise at the King’s death in December of the same
year, the Council declaring that the entire project was useless, as it
was only a product of Polhem’s egoism and that it would therefore have
to be abandoned. The completion of the canal was subsequently delayed
for many years, owing to difficulties which arose attendant upon the
construction of several of the locks, and it was only in the early part
of the nineteenth century that a really concerted effort was made to
complete the work, this ultimately leading to the opening of the route
from the Cattegat to the Baltic in 1832, a result that was in the main
due to Baltzar von Platen’s extraordinary energy and driving power. The
cost incurred in completing the canal, as well as the time that was
spent in building it, were so much beyond the estimates made at the
time that there is good reason to assume that von Platen deliberately
handed in an erroneous estimate from the very beginning, so keen was
his resolve to allow no consideration to interfere with the carrying
out of his plan, and so firm his conviction that a more correct
estimate would only have torpedoed his scheme; this misrepresentation
giving Sweden a canal that, though possessing far less importance as
trade route or for war operations than many later canal constructions,
is, as a piece of engineering work, ahead of even the Suez Canal.
During the first stage of the journey the steamer proceeds slowly up
the Göta river, and after passing Jordfallet, arrives in sight of
the picturesque ruins of Bohus Castle, which dominate the two arms
of the river. Erected in 1308 by Håkon Magnusson, King of Norway,
this fortress long enjoyed the reputation of being one of the most
formidable strongholds of Scandinavia, and was also the scene of
innumerable sieges and counter-sieges in which the attacking party
invariably came off second best. King Eric XIV. invested it for over
a year and a half, only to find his best armies and most experienced
generals recoiling in defeat before its massive walls and equally
stout-hearted defenders, and it continued to live up to its proud
reputation of impregnability until the beginning of the eighteenth
century, when it was condemned as a fortress and left to fall to wrack
and ruin. Only two of its towers remain, the _Fars hatt och mors
mössa_ (the father’s hat and the mother’s cap), of which the first
is an interesting and well-preserved example of mediæval fortress
architecture.
[Illustration: THE TROLLHÄTTAN FALLS]
On the opposite shore, and immediately facing Bohus, is the little
town of Kungälv, now an unimportant village, but at one time a large
and thriving city which appears to have been the Scandinavian Geneva
of its age. Here the rulers of the three Nordic nations used to meet
in conference, and it was here again that the famous Peace Congress
of 1101 held its meetings. Kungälv did not, however, long retain its
exalted position, and after having been partly destroyed by Ratibur,
King of the Wends, at the close of the twelfth century, quickly
relapsed into comparative obscurity. Though shorn of all its former
importance, Kungälv is an attractive place to visit, especially during
the summer, and is picturesquely situated at the foot of a steep and
thickly wooded hill from which interesting views can be obtained of the
neighbouring country. Beyond Bohus are the green fields and marshes
of Hisingen island and in the far distance the chimneys and church
steeples of Gothenburg. After passing Gamla Lödöse (Old Lödöse), of
which a story relates that by command of Gustavus I. its inhabitants
removed to another locality twenty miles nearer the mouth of the river
and there built a new town on the spot now called Gamlestaden, the
steamer reaches Trollhättan and the first series of sluices that lead
up to Brinkeberg Hill, the time spent in negotiating this uphill climb
providing ample opportunity and leisure for seeing the Trollhättan
Falls and electric power station. The Falls are six in number, and
the sight of the great masses of water as they hurtle and leap down
from one rocky shelf to the other, impetuously forging their way
between rocky canyons in a frenzied descent of over a hundred feet,
is impressive to a degree. The accumulated force of this water is
more than 270,000 horse-power, of which over 170,000 have been turned
to practical use by the huge electric power station that has been
installed in the vicinity of the cataract; while of the current thus
generated part has been transformed into electricity for the lighting
of a 300-mile area and also for the Stockholm-Gothenburg railway,
and part consumed by the numerous saw and wood-pulp mills, smelting
furnaces and ironworks which have been set up near the falls. For sheer
grandeur of scenery Trollhättan compares favourably with any other
place in Sweden, and abounds with beautiful walks in the surrounding
woods, from whence magnificent views can be obtained in all directions.
Shortly after leaving Trollhättan the steamer begins what is to many
by far the most attractive portion of the journey, for lake after
lake are now traversed that, if lacking the dreamy voluptuous charm,
soft atmosphere, and luxuriant vegetation of southern lakes, are
almost equally pleasing for the exquisite loveliness of their sunsets
and the beauty of their skies. Surrounded by low-lying hills and
pine woods that often extend to the very water edge, these lakes are
strongly evocative of Canadian scenery, and from early dawn to that
golden twilight which in June is the nearest approach to night that
is obtainable in these northern latitudes, present a slowly changing
kaleidoscope of colour so rich and varied that not only does the eye
rarely weary of watching it, but even the mind refuses to do aught but
unquestioningly admire.
The steamer first glides into Lake Vänern, the largest inland lake
in Sweden, and the biggest in Europe outside of Russia. Over 2000
square miles in area, this lake is divided into two parts by two long
necks of land, each with an archipelago. Dotted here and there are
many beautiful islands and skerries, of which many call for careful
navigation, compasses being often at a discount owing to the ore lying
at the bottom of the lake.
From Vänersborg, the first port of call in the lake, we motor or drive
to Halleberg, a strange-looking hill that is now separated by a deep
valley from Hunneberg, a sister hill which was originally one with it.
Exceedingly steep and difficult of access, but equally picturesque,
Halleberg is crowned by a large plateau in which lonely waste land
alternates with small lakes and pine woods, where, if luck favours
you, giant elks evoking prehistoric times may occasionally be seen
crashing through the encircling branches. Like many other hills found
in the vicinity of these lakes, Halleberg possesses many interesting
geological features and affords a good idea of the type of Swedish
scenery that characterises this part of Sweden.
[Illustration: SJÖTORP LOCKS, GÖTA CANAL]
The steamer from here proceeds north, and after reaching the Eken
archipelago, a labyrinth of small islands and skerries which present
considerable difficulties to the navigator, rounds the promontory and
turning south calls at Hällekis, a village that is most picturesquely
situated at the foot of Mt. Kinnekulle. Towering over all the
surrounding country, this mountain is not only so extraordinarily
fertile that in early spring and summer it becomes a garden of wild
flowers, but it possesses geological characteristics that in themselves
would justify making it a special visit, there being no less than three
distinct layers of rock strata below the diorite that once covered the
entire hill. Surrounded by many pleasing valleys and woods, Kinnekulle
is during the summer months an inland rural paradise and an ideal place
for dreaming away an hour in quiet contemplation of the landscape.
Leaving Kinnekulle the steamer then proceeds north and at Sjötorp
begins a long uphill climb along the canal leading out of Lake Vänern
into the province of Västergötland. From lock to lock the boat is
gradually raised until it is more than 150 feet above Lake Vänern, this
providing a unique opportunity for getting down on shore and having a
look at the country people working in the fields. I thoroughly enjoyed
the experience, but found few fellow-passengers energetic enough to
follow my example, the great majority seeming to prefer to remain on
deck, from which they could occasionally be heard making those vapid
exclamations of admiration that pass for appreciation of beauty.
Comfortably reclining in deck-chairs and basking in the sun, it was
clear that their thoughts were little concerned with the rustic beauty
of the landscape through which they were passing, and that they only
regarded the journey in the light of a rest cure. For this regrettable
state of affairs I rather fancy the Göta Canal Company is in part
responsible, for the diminutive little steamers in which the journey
from Gothenburg is taken are so crammed full with comfort and so
similar to miniature hotels that it is perhaps not to be wondered at
that so many travellers succumb to their attractions and lazily allow
life to slip by without worrying over such trifles as scenery or old
and historic buildings. _On le ferait à moins._
Quietly and almost unobtrusively, then, the steamer glides along
fertile fields and rural landscapes, the canal being at times so narrow
that at one place after passing Lake Viken (Spetsnäset or Pointed
Ness) branches can actually be broken off the trees lining the banks.
Nothing very distinctive about the scenery, apart from its general
pleasantness, but I noticed, in addition to innumerable silver birches,
a profusion of unfamiliar trees of the ash variety lining the banks
of the canal, which I was informed were called oxel or beam trees.
Covered with white blossoms they made a pretty picture, though their
general effect was rather marred by the very pungent and sickly perfume
which emanated from their flowers, and of which I became unpleasantly
conscious as I approached nearer to the trees. I made various attempts
to bring back some of these sprays of white blossoms to the boat, but
on every occasion elected to throw away those which I had picked, owing
to their offensive and almost nauseating odour.
After crossing Lake Viken, a typical forest lake of great natural
beauty studded with rocks and small wooded islands, the steamer
proceeds down the canal, and near the point where it enters Lake
Vättern passes the powerful fortress of Karlsborg. Begun as far back
as 1820 to serve as a final base of operations against a potential
invader, this fortress was part of a scheme of defence which Carl
Johan Bernadotte, the founder of the present Royal House of Sweden,
organised just after the Napoleonic campaigns in order to make good
the wastage caused by a very exhaustive series of wars. It was thought
at the time that the fortress would take ten years to build, and
the probability is that it would have taken no longer a time if the
military authorities had not been so anxious to make it outshine every
other fortress in Europe. The result was that though any amount of work
was put into building it the Swedish military authorities submitted
so many plans and counter-plans that little was done that was not
immediately undone, in view of a possible improvement, this policy
causing the work to drag on till 1909, when the principal fort was at
last completed. Passing on from Karlsborg we then enter Lake Vättern,
the second largest lake in Sweden and perhaps the most beautiful.
Shaped somewhat like a spindle, Vättern is fed almost entirely by
subaqueous springs of purest quality which would account incidentally
for the limpidity of its waters, and possesses so many legends and
historic memories of the past that it has become invested with a charm
and attraction that are quite its own. Our next objective being the
town of Jönköping, at the southern extremity of the lake, the steamer
now takes a southerly direction, and after a few hours arrives in sight
of the mysterious Vising Island, a visit to which is almost obligatory
upon any visitor to the lake. It contains an old abbey and a castle
which was for centuries the residence of the Swedish kings, as well
as a number of runic stones that were erected in the Viking age to
the memory of warriors who had fallen in distant lands. Apart from
Mt. Omberg, with its lovely grottos and its wooded heights recalling
Kinnekulle, however, we pass nothing else of special interest until we
reach the extremity of the lake and the town of Jönköping.
An important commercial city and the centre of the match industry,
Jönköping is less frequented by tourists than the other parts of the
lake because it is not on the direct line between Gothenburg and
Stockholm and consequently is very often overlooked by English and
American tourists. It is, however, well worth visiting, if only for the
beautiful park which the municipality has had planted on the shores of
the lake and a very interesting wooden church dating from the Middle
Ages, in which I saw many quaint wall-paintings and carvings as well as
an old portal that was simply riddled with Danish bullets. Jönköping
is the most convenient headquarters for making excursions to either
Visingsö, Vadstena, or St. Bridget, while it is within easy distance
from the iron mountain of Taberg, the surrounding country being very
typical of Sweden.
Turning north again the steamer then proceeds to Vadstena, perhaps one
of the most interesting historical places in Sweden, and certainly one
of the oldest.
Dominating the town is a large sixteenth-century Renaissance castle,
built for Gustavus Vasa by Joakim Bulgerin, the best fortress architect
of his age, as a defence against Danish Sweden, an imposing edifice
forming one side of a rectangle, the others consisting of ramparts and
four circular bastions bristling with cannon embrasures, which are
surrounded by one of the widest moats that I have ever seen. A little
too massive for my taste, yet not without a certain air, and replete,
moreover, with historical memories, this building is typical of what
Augustus Hahr calls “business-like architecture or utility buildings”.
You feel that it was only constructed for a utilitarian purpose and
that Bulgerin’s principal concern was to make a fortress that would
resist both the attacks of time and those of its enemies.
Here many Swedish monarchs had their residence, including Gustavus
Vasa, who was married here to Catharine Stenbock, and Magnus, who in
a fit of madness hurled himself out of a window in order to “seize
a beautiful girl whom he had seen rising out of the waters of the
lake”. Here again many Parliaments were held, including that of 1501,
when Hans of Denmark was dethroned. Vadstena owes its proud position
as royal city almost equally to the convent which the same Magnus
Eriksson had built on the shores of the lake in 1370 for St. Bridget
and the religious order which she founded—the most influential and
respected association of the north at that time. And especially after
St. Bridget’s canonisation in 1391 the town increased in population
and in importance sufficiently to enable Queen Margaret to give it
full civic rights, while it was also entirely re-planned. Very little
remains to-day of the original convent buildings erected by Magnus,
but within the precincts of the lunatic asylum which now stands on the
old site are still to be seen one or two nuns’ cells, and also the
private chapel of the Abbess, while of the original gardens there
remain a few old pear trees dating from those early days on which the
first Bergamote pears had been grown. Apart from the castle and convent
there is little else of interest to be seen in Vadstena except the Blue
Church, an attractive towerless building of bluish-grey limestone in
which the bones of the saint and many memorials of the Middle Ages can
be seen.
[Illustration: JÖNKÖPING]
Passing on from Vadstena we next come to the town of Motala at the most
easterly extremity of the lake, and re-entering the canal begin our
gradual descent to the Baltic, after passing the stone memorial which
the townspeople of Motala erected in the early part of the nineteenth
century to Baltzar von Platen, the founder of the canal. Made of one
solid block of stone, this monument is typical of early Victorian
architecture, and a blur on the landscape. More pleasing and typical
of a scenery which from this moment is perhaps the prettiest of any
found on this journey are the many fine estates now seen on both sides
of the canal and on the shores of Boren, the next lake that we meet.
And after making its way across this very attractively wooded lake
the steamer re-enters the canal at Borensberg and there begins a slow
progression down fifteen locks in the short distance of two miles,
a feat that, taking nearly two hours to accomplish, affords a splendid
opportunity for walking to Vreta Abbey church situated near by. Built
in the twelfth century, in the reign of King Charles Sverkersson, this
old church has undergone many vicissitudes, and after being burned
to the ground in the middle of the thirteenth century was repeatedly
built over and even considerably altered in form and dimension. In
1915, however, the church was restored and excavations made, in the
course of which large parts of the old walls of the monastery building
were brought to light and freed from the thick layer of soil that had
covered them for centuries. Inside the Abbey are numerous graves of the
Middle Ages, in which are treasured the relics of the old dynasties of
the country, the most noticeable of these being the tombs of King Inge
and his queen Helena, those of Kings Magnus Nilsson and Valdemar and
Queen Sophia, and the well-preserved mortuary chapel in which members
of the Douglas family lie buried. Like most of their countrymen who
emigrated to foreign countries in the Middle Ages, the Scotch soldiers
of fortune who came over to Sweden at various moments of her history to
earn renown not only made good but rendered signal and distinguished
service to the country of their adoption, there being few fields of
activity in which they were not soon prominent.
From Vreta the journey now proceeds through Lake Roxen, there
being, however, little to detain us beyond the pleasing character
of the scenery and the town of Linköping on the southern side of
the lake, where a visit should be made, if time permits, to the
thirteenth-century Gothic cathedral which has been attributed to Bishop
Bengt, brother of the mighty Birger Jarl.
Richly decorated, this old church is one of the best examples of
fifteenth-century Gothic architecture to be found in Sweden. After
passing Norsholm, where tourists who are pressed for time can break
the journey and proceed to the capital by train, we then cross one of
the most enjoyable parts of the Göta Canal, the scenery being not only
extremely attractive but equally varied. At one moment we glide through
a lake (Asplången) whose banks are pleasantly wooded or studded with
picturesque country houses; at another we follow the sinuosities of a
canal that, winding its tortuous way through a most fertile landscape
or passing between high banks of trees whose branches sweep the
very deck of our boat, is a revelation of what engineering can do.
And passing lock after lock we reach Söderköping, once an important
commercial centre and coronation city, now one of Sweden’s principal
watering-places. Picturesquely situated almost on the shores of the
Baltic, this town abounds in enjoyable excursions, the finest of
these being the delightful though steep ascent that may be made of
the heights of Ramunderhäll on the other side of the canal. An hour
later, and as the steamer glides gently into an arm of the Baltic Sea
at Mem, the water trip across the mainland of Sweden may be said to be
completed, yet the remainder of the journey to Stockholm is no less
enjoyable than that spent along the canal. We first pass the ruins of
Stegeborg on our right, a solitary tower on the water edge dominating
the surrounding country, which is the last remnant of a castle in which
Gustavus I. and his son John III. are said to have passed the greater
part of their lives. Stegeborg has had an interesting history, and by
some authorities is declared to be of unknown antiquity, by others to
date back to the twelfth century. All, however, agree that King Birger
Magnusson held his court here at the beginning of the fourteenth
century and that after his flight it underwent many vicissitudes.
It was first captured by Mats Kettilmundsson, and then besieged in turn
by Engelbrekt, Charles Knutsson VIII., Sten Sture, and Gustavus Vasa’s
famous leader, Arvid Västgöte; the estates ultimately passing into the
possession of certain noble families connected with the Vasa dynasty,
only to be then dismantled and allowed to fall to rack and ruin.
[Illustration: VADSTENA CASTLE, LAKE VÄTTERN]
From here the steamer proceeds past Etter Sound and the deserted
copper mine of Arvidsberg along the wooded shore of the mainland
until the Arkö Sound is reached, when it cuts right across Bråviken
Bay and steers north in the direction of Oxelösund, the first of
the Archipelago lighthouses (the _Femörehufvud_ or Half-penny
Lighthouse) being passed shortly before reaching this port. These
lighthouses are not exceptionally striking to look at, but possess
a lighting apparatus that is so exceptional that I am not afraid of
wearying my readers by describing them with some detail. Around a
petroleum flame 14 inches in diameter, whose glare is intensified by a
powerful lens and driven by the heat generated by it, there revolves a
rotary plate which ensures that the flame is adequately hidden at
regular intervals from any given point, frames of coloured glass, red
or green, in the body of the lighthouse itself but interposed between
the flame and the outside world, causing that light to appear red or
green according to the position in which the observer is then standing.
This enables the position of the vessel to be correctly estimated.
These lights are so distinct that no person who is not absolutely
colour-blind should ever make a mistake as to their character, and
so carefully adjusted that as you stand on one part of the deck of
the steamer one colour is visible, while another can be observed if
you shift your position in any appreciable degree. When the course is
clear the light appears white. The archipelago is strewn with so many
rocks and skerries, however, that even with the help of these splendid
light towers the most expert navigator crossing it would be courting
inevitable danger if to his skill was not added great local knowledge
of the shoals and rocks lying in his course.
Oxelösund itself is a very thriving industrial town possessing every
natural advantage for the facilitation of transport both by land and
water, in addition to being the terminus of the Flen Oxelösund railway
and the port to which converges for transporting purposes practically
all the iron ore mined in Central Sweden. The harbour is deep and
capacious enough for the largest steamers, and enormous quantities of
iron ore are shipped from here not only to other parts of the country,
but also to Germany and Great Britain, where the high-grade Swedish
iron is in great demand for the manufacture of heavy ordnance and
plate armour. From this town, moreover, many delightful excursions can
conveniently be made, especially in the direction of Norrköping.
Continuing our journey, we then cruise in and out of narrow straits
and among skerries and rocks that are at times so close that you could
almost jump on to them from the steamer as you pass them by, there
being one particular strait called Stendörren, or Stone Door, reached
shortly after entering Örsbaken, that is so narrow and winding that
only the exercise of the greatest caution and the firmest of hands
at the helm can negotiate it successfully. From this point until
Hållsfjärden, where the boat enters the Södertälje Canal, we then
pass the most delightful scenery, the archipelago simply abounding
in picturesque pine-clad islands and rocks and furnishing endless
subjects for an artist’s canvas, while the clearness of the atmosphere
appears to endow every object with the most exquisite colouring.
These skerries, like those found in Bohuslän and in the Baltic around
Stockholm, are ideal places for fishing, boating, and yachting, and
in summer become the happy hunting-ground of numbers of Swedish men,
women, and children, who can be seen daily yachting or darting in
and out among the islands in those very light motor-boats that have
become so common a feature of Swedish life of to-day. As the islands
number many thousands, however, there are hundreds which are still
unfrequented, this ensuring a complete absence of those unpleasant
elements which tourists are apt to bring in their train, there being
countless beauty spots where even the most retiring traveller is
certain of finding peaceful solitude and oblivion from the world.
After passing through Södertälje Canal—which, incidentally, is so
narrow that even steamers as diminutive as the canal-boats belonging
to the Göta Canal Company cannot pass one another when crossing
it—the steamer follows the coast line of Södertörn and soon reaches
Lake Mälar, our course now taking us eastward in the direction of
Stockholm, through scores of channels and past even more numerous
islands set with pine and dotted with attractive red wooden houses or
with the more imposing stone castles of the aristocracy. The scenery
here recalls that seen in the archipelago of the Skärgård, with the
one distinction that the shore line that we continue to hug until we
reach the capital is no longer uniformly pine-green in colouring, this
typically Swedish landscape colour being now frequently splashed with
the more genial green tints peculiar to the elm, maple, and other less
sombre deciduous trees. A very pleasant part of the journey this last
stage. Steaming lazily along, we first come to the island of Björkö
(Birch Island) on our left, where Christianity was first preached in
Sweden by Ansgarius, in whose memory a granite cross in old Gothic
style was erected on a prominent part of the island in 1834, and then
swinging eastward follow the coast line of Södertörn, first crossing
the narrow Bockholm Sound (Buck Island Sound), perhaps the most
beautiful strait in the country. On our right we notice several fine
estates, among these the beautifully situated Sturehof Castle, and
Norsborg with its numerous graves purporting to contain the bodies
of old Swedish giants, while we pass several islands on our left
concerning which interesting legends have lingered on to this day
attesting the part which they played in the early annals of the country
or locality. Thus Estbröte recalls the history of Johan Knutsson
Folkunge, whom the Esthonians treacherously attacked and killed on
his family estate of Askanäs, only in their turn to be annihilated by
his avenging wife when they had returned to their island lair, while
Kungshatt (King’s Hat), one of the next islands that we come to, evokes
the days of King Erik Väderhatt. Stuck on the top of a high pole that
is visible from any part of the straits is a large hat which this
warrior king is supposed to have flung aside as he jumped down from
the rocks into the lake and with his horse swam across to the opposite
shore when escaping from his foes. Then after passing Fågelö (Bird
Island) and the islands of Långholmen (Long Island) and Slagstaholmen,
whose shores are lined with villas and summer residences, we obtain
our first view of the quays of Stockholm glimmering white in the water
and of the city itself, beautifully situated amid encircling and
intersecting waterways.
CHAPTER V
STOCKHOLM
Of all the capitals of Europe there are few which are more beautifully
situated, or that have grown up by a more natural process, than
Stockholm, and yet none that appear at first sight to have been built
more deliberately on a site especially chosen for its beauty.
Very little is known of its early history before the thirteenth
century, except that the heathen monarchs of Svea then holding sway
over the greater part of central Sweden erected a stronghold on one
of a group of three islands found on the banks of the Norrström, that
foaming stream hardly three-quarters of a mile long, which serves as
connecting link between Lake Mälaren and the Baltic, and that around
this fortress, originally constructed as a defence for the important
merchant centres of Upsala and Sigtuna, a village community arose that
was destined to become the capital of the land.
It was on these three islands, and in the midst of the watercourses
connecting Lake Mälar with the Baltic, that Duke Birger Jarl, a
powerful chieftain who was then ruler of Sweden, elected to build
his capital in 1255. And taking into account the way in which the
surrounding islands were being repeatedly harassed and laid waste by
the rovers and pirates then infesting these seas, he strongly fortified
the site of his new city, and so made it secure from any molestation.
Stockholm soon outgrew the site of Birger Jarl’s original settlement.
First the wall which had been built around it was moved outward
until it eventually encompassed the whole of Stadsholmen; then other
islands were included within the city, which by the Middle Ages had
become a typical fortified town of the age, its commerce being now
controlled by German merchants who obeyed the ruling of the Hanseatic
town of Lübeck. It was only under the Vasa dynasty, however, that
Stockholm freed itself from the tutelage of the foreigner, and almost
concurrently with the further expansion of the town, whose old wall was
now destroyed as the city began to encroach on the mainland on its
northern side, Norrmalm, Gustavus Vasa liberated the country from its
Danish oppressors, broke away from Lübeck, and laid the foundations of
Stockholm’s greatness. The seventeenth century was the Great Age of
the new capital, and during this period the town grew so rapidly that
it had to be laid out afresh, while her citizens made every effort and
sacrifice to convert their city into a really splendid capital town;
a task which, given the almost unequalled situation of Stockholm,
afforded unlimited possibilities. The city, which then occupied more
than a dozen islands connected one with another by bridges, now
witnessed a period of extraordinary building activity, and with the aid
of the great riches which the victorious Swedish armies had brought
home from the Continent, many stately buildings were erected which were
in the main inspired from foreign models.
As was natural in an age when Italy and France exercised a supremacy
in the world of manners, art, and architecture that was almost
unquestioned, the ambitious city magnates turned almost exclusively to
these two countries for their architectural ideas. In 1641 was begun
the building of the Riddarhuset, the Assembly Hall of the nobility,
one of the most exquisite Franco-Dutch Renaissance buildings which can
be seen in Sweden, while towards the close of the century Nicodemus
Tessin drew up the plans for a new late Renaissance palace which on
its completion was acclaimed by all as Sweden’s and Tessin’s proudest
architectural masterpiece.
In the latter half of the nineteenth century, and following a period
when architecture was at a low ebb, the city of Stockholm entered
upon a new stage of development. The plan of the town was revised
and numerous magnificent buildings projected which sought to create
a purely national style of architecture as well as to make good an
undeniable deficiency in monuments of first-rate artistic importance.
Only during the Renaissance have municipalities or other public bodies
expended on art and public buildings sums in any way comparable to
those which the Stockholm municipality now lavishly began to devote
to the embellishment of their city. In modern times it has never been
equalled.
The best way to approach Stockholm is from the sea, and the view that
one then has of it is memorable. On the left, the southern part of
the city rising perpendicularly from the water towers like another
Edinburgh, while between the northern and southern sides the Old Town,
with its many quaint Hanseatic buildings and old palaces, recalls parts
of old Amsterdam. Dominating the whole and facing the new Stockholm is
the imposing Royal Palace, a massive rectangular Italian Renaissance
pile of grey stone with a central courtyard and lower wings projecting
east and west, which many architects consider the most beautiful
building in Scandinavia.
It faces the water and the North Bridge, “Norrbro”, from which approach
is made to it by a stately carriage drive that is called Lejonbacken
from the two massive bronze lions that adorn it, and in its Carolean
sternness of exterior seeks to give expression to the very spirit of
the country and to the express wish of its royal builder, Charles XII.,
even if the thought behind it was borrowed from Versailles, while its
lavish interior decoration and its Gobelin tapestries evoke the days
when strong bonds of friendship united the Royal Houses of France and
Sweden. Its northern façade is almost entirely without decoration,
yet strangely impressive by virtue of that very simplicity, while its
southern façade, which, like the western, is richly decorated, has in
its centre a triumphal arch with six massive columns, and also four
groups of statuary in bronze, and a row of niches containing statues of
distinguished Swedes on both sides of the entrance.
The original designs of the palace were drawn up by Nicodemus Tessin
the younger, the greatest architect which northern Europe has produced,
but the building operations, owing to the delays inseparable from an
almost constant state of warfare, had constantly to be suspended, with
the result that the Royal Family was only able to move into their
new quarters about the middle of the eighteenth century. During all
this period, however, and in spite of the unrest and turmoil that
characterised this age, which incidentally was almost entirely due
to Charles XII.’s romantic and adventurous temperament, the Royal
Family and the nation as a whole continued to manifest so absorbing
an interest in the building of the New Palace that everything was
done to make it really representative of the best Swedish art and art
industries of the period, while an equal measure of love, industry,
and discrimination was lavished on its interior decoration, of which
Masreliez was the principal designer.
Severe and solemn-looking, this massive building possesses a
_cachet_ and beauty of its own, while it certainly gives the city
that transforming touch without which it would hardly have the aspect
of a capital.
Not far from the Palace is the Stortorget, or Great Market, which
is flanked by interesting old gabled houses recalling those seen in
Dantzig. On the façade of one of these, and below the doorway on which
the builder’s coat of arms and the year 1650 are sculptured, are a
number of iron crosses which are said to be a relic of the famous Blood
Bath of 1520, in which over eighty Swedish noblemen were beheaded. Each
one of these crosses enshrines the memory of one of the noblemen who
died as a martyr for his country.
Almost everything worth seeing is found in this ancient quarter of
Stockholm, and within easy distance from the Palace are a number of old
churches and buildings that are among the best which Sweden possesses
architecturally, if the island of Gothland is excepted. At the top
of the Palace Hill is Storkyrkan, Stockholm’s oldest and principal
church, supposed to have been founded by Birger Jarl in 1264, although
the present building was renovated in 1736. This is an attractive
red brick edifice in which I especially noted a somewhat ornate but
interesting baroque pulpit in the Royal Chapel, with canopy which was
the work of Burchardt Precht, and a group of statuary called “St.
George and the Dragon”, the masterpiece of Bernt Notke of Lübeck,
which commemorates the victory won over the Danes at Brunkeberg in
1471, when Sweden was freed from her long subjection to the national
enemy. Crossing over to Riddarholmen, the Knights’ Island (formerly
called Gråmunkeholmen, the Grey Friars’ Isle, after the monastery of
that order which was founded here by King Magnus Ladulås at the end
of the thirteenth century), I see immediately facing the city between
the bridges the old Riddarholmskyrkan (the Church of the Knights),
originally built in 1280 by the Franciscans—a plain red brick
three-aisled building, with a long polygonal choir and a number of
burial chapels on its northern and southern aspects, that was built
during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, in which all the great
men of Sweden and all her kings have been buried since the reign of
Gustavus Adolphus.
Here are tombs innumerable, enclosed in exquisite chapels and
shrines, in which are treasured the relics of the old dynasties and
patrician families of the country, while the floor of the church is
almost entirely paved with the gravestones of its illustrious dead.
I found much to admire in the beautiful green marble sarcophagus of
Gustavus Adolphus, or in the almost equally attractive crypt of the
Bernadottes, where lie buried the departed members of the present
dynasty; but I confess that my footsteps quickly led me to forsake
their historical appeal after I had seen Charles XII.’s chapel, on
the north side, a stately and pompous baroque mortuary chapel with
sandstone columns and copper-covered cupola, in which I was shown the
grey-black marbled sarcophagus in which the much-loved hero knight of
the Swedish people lies buried, his head shot through and through. The
lid of this sarcophagus is adorned with a lion’s skin, a laurel wreath
in hammered gilt bronze, and a Hercules club; and while Nicodemus
Tessin the younger himself was responsible for the designs, the stone
and bronze work were executed in Holland, where the sarcophagus was
finally completed about 1735. Among the other chapels and sarcophagi
which abound in the Swedish Pantheon are those belonging to King
Magnus Ladulås, the ill-starred Gustavus III., and many other kings,
while such families as the Banérs, Lewenhaupts, and Thorstensons, all
connected with the Great Age of Swedish history, are represented.
Close by and lying almost opposite Riddarholmen in the north-west
corner of Gamla Staden is the House of Knights, also built by Gustavus
Adolphus, an imposing building which, in spite of some pavilions that
were added to it in 1672 that are architecturally poor, remains a fine
example of Franco-Dutch late Renaissance style and the most exquisite
seventeenth-century building in Sweden.
Begun in 1641 from the designs of the two brothers De La Vallée,
the Palace contains among several finely proportioned rooms a
very spacious ceremonial hall with a beautiful ceiling painted by
Ehrenstrahl, on whose walls I saw displayed among other relics the
coats of arms of nearly 3000 Swedish noble families, quite a fair
proportion of these being of Scotch descent. Here can be seen the
armouries of the Hamilton, Lewis, Bruce, Leslie, Stewart and Bennet
families, descendants of the many Scotch soldiers of fortune who had
distinguished themselves on many a Swedish battle-field, while a few
hail from England, their ancestors having fled from that country after
the Wars of the Roses.
In no ancestral picture gallery have I felt so supremely conscious
of the prestige and glamour inherent in long lineage as when I was
confronted by these countless coats of arms insolently blazoning the
privileges and eminence which their holders had won in olden times
through superior valour or might, good fortune or statecraft. Even
the beautifully carved ivory arm-chair occupied by the Speaker of the
House and originally presented to Gustavus Vasa by the town of Lübeck,
and the long rows of comfortable velvet chairs facing the Presidential
throne, seemed to possess an air and a dignity which were quite their
own. One felt that one was walking on almost sacred ground, and that
the plebeian foot that would tread it unceremoniously would probably
be seized by the spirit of the place and hurled ignominiously from
the hallowed precincts. The Assembly of the Knights is, however, only
a shadow of its old self, and of the original 2890 families whose
arms are displayed in its Hall only 660 remain to-day. It has lost,
moreover, all its right and privileges except that which its members
still possess of being able to claim death by the sword instead of
by the more contumelious hanging or guillotine,[2] while it now only
meets once every three years to discuss economic affairs or to render
help to those of its members who require financial assistance.
[2] Capital punishment was abolished in Sweden in 1921, but the last
capital execution took place long before that date.
[Illustration: THE ROYAL PALACE, STOCKHOLM]
Though the Riddarhuset is consequently only a survival of an age that
is no more, it is impossible to visit it without feeling supremely
conscious of the sense of continuity that is bred by old institutions,
even when, like the Assembly of Knights, they have outlived their
utility, while in few buildings have I felt so close to the past or
experienced a keener regret at that past being gone for ever.
Old Stockholm, and especially “the City between the two bridges”,
contains a number of old fifteenth- and sixteenth-century houses which
remain much as they were when originally erected, but fire has swept
this old city so many times during the past four hundred years that
the greater part of the old timber buildings which gave distinction
to its streets have made way for the stone and plaster structures
of a later period. Among the interesting older buildings that were
spared by fire in this part of the town the most noteworthy are
the Palace of Count Bonde (the old Rådhuset) near Strömmen, and the
house belonging to the Petersen family in Munkbron, erected in the
middle of the seventeenth century in the Dutch style, while there are
a number of gabled houses pointing to a later Hanseatic period in
Västerlånggatan and Österlånggatan, two narrow and tortuous streets
which are well worth visiting. These thoroughfares are so narrow and
their houses so high that you feel when walking through them almost as
if you were traversing a deep canyon, while their many windings and the
innumerable equally crooked and narrow alleys which are continually
crossing them have proved the downfall of these imprudent travellers
who elect to put their trust in their own bump of locality rather
than in a guide. The doorways of many of these houses are surmounted
by interesting sculptured coats of arms and other decorative details
bearing testimony to the artistic taste of these times, and there is a
certain seventeenth-century house in Västerlånggatan, erected by the
wealthy burgher Van Linde, whose carved portal is perhaps the finest
and best-preserved memorial of the period to be found in Stockholm.
Another characteristic of this part of the town is the number of small
shops which indicate the nature of their calling by the quaint symbolic
signs that are displayed over their doorways or shop fronts. Here a
pewter pot indicates a café or beer-house, and a pair of wings topping
a pole that is itself entwined with diminutive serpents, a bakery;
there a maiden milking her cow suggests a dairy, and a gold pretzel
a pastry-cook or confectioner. There appears in reality to be no end
to the ingenuity that is shown by those tradesmen who would thus make
known their particular craft or trade.
Crossing the bridge where lies the newer Stockholm, one finds the main
shopping centre of the capital and the more modern of its streets and
buildings. Everything here is of an orderly symmetry that is quite
lacking in our countries of the west, and perhaps a little monotonous.
The shops are nearly all of uniform size and so similar in their
outward aspect and in the style of dressing of their windows that it
is often difficult to differentiate between them; the buildings are
mostly austere and dignified as befits a Nordic race, but a little
lacking in that poetry and imagery of line and wealth of architectural
ornamentation that past standards of architecture have made us love
and admire.
All these characteristics, coupled with the fact that, compared with
other large capitals, Stockholm is a little lacking in historic
monuments of first-rate importance, might well predispose the casual
observer to regard the Swedish capital mainly as a city whose only
claim to distinction lies in its beauty of site, atmosphere, and
accident, if it were not for the new generation of technically
well-equipped architects who have lately grown up in the country and
the princely patronage of art that continues to be displayed by the
Swedish municipalities whenever the embellishment of their cities is in
question.
Of this new spirit in architecture I. G. Clason and Ferdinand Boberg,
who is Sweden’s Norman Shaw, and more especially Carl Westman and
Ragnar Östberg, are the leading exponents, the architecture which they
preconise being characterised not only by certain distinctive forms
in towers, panelling, and decorative _motifs_ often borrowed
wholesale from Swedish scenery, but by the grouping of the chief
decorative designs round the entrances and a happy blending of old
Swedish forms and new western tendencies which aims at creating a
really national style. In many of these modern buildings one notices
a strongly marked cubic effect, while the dark-toned brick hailing
from Skåne that is used in their construction gives them a distinction
and individuality which mark them out among their contemporaries.
Assuming a measure of encouragement and financial support in any degree
comparable to that which was so lavishly extended by the municipality
of Stockholm to the building of their new Town Hall, it would be
astonishing if the next two or three decades do not witness a striking
development in Swedish architecture.
Almost equally visible from any part of the city, this tall and
imposing edifice, with its mighty square bell-tower and splendid
colonnades evoking the portico of the Doge’s Palace at Venice,
represents all the best tendencies of the new Swedish style, while
it seeks to reproduce in many of the details of its exterior, and
especially in its galleries and Central Court, the old castle of
Stockholm “Tre Kronor”. Beautifully situated at the most southerly
point of Kungsholmen, on the shores of Lake Mälar, its building history
is one of the most remarkable of modern times, Ragnar Östberg, its
architect, being so determined to make it a living expression of the
capital’s mystical individuality that its conception long remained
an arduous one, plan after plan being devised only to be replaced by
a better one. It has taken over ten years to build and has cost the
municipality seventeen million crowns, Ragnar Östberg being given
practically carte blanche in order that he might give of his best.
Built in the form of a large rectangle, it encloses two beautiful
courts: one the open and more severe Citizens’ Court, “Borgargården”,
with its double portico looking out on garden and water, and its three
gilded statues standing out from the red brick; the other the lighter
Blue Hall with its glowing red and blue tiled walls and marble floor,
while the tower which gives unity to the various parts of the building
is capped by a lantern structure on top of which are the three crowns
of Sweden, Norway, and Denmark.
Apart from the general perfection of the building when viewed as a
whole, which is perhaps its chief claim to distinction, the _clou_
of the Town Hall is undoubtedly the magnificent frieze under the
cornice, with its many beautiful gilt reliefs of distinguished citizens
of the city, though its handsome copper cupolas, engraved with the
names of their donors, are almost equally memorable. These cupolas,
and also the warm Tudor-looking red brick used in the building, give
quite a southern warmth and atmosphere to a monument that in its
rich-hued and stately style is a reversion in part to Swedish mediæval
modes, while it is impossible not to commend the superb fashion in
which Ragnar Östberg has succeeded in poising what is really a massive
edifice on the most slender and graceful of arcades without these
appearing even slightly overweighted.
Passing through the arcade into the open gardens, which look out,
Swedish fashion, on to the water, I saw three of the twelve statues
which Milles originally contemplated modelling of the famous men who
have shed lustre and glory on the city of Stockholm, three powerful
nude live studies of Strindberg, Fröding, and Josephson, representing
drama, poetry, and painting respectively, and was informed that the
remaining nine had never been completed, owing to the loud outcry which
a certain section of the public had raised on the ground of morality.
This attitude astonished me vastly, as the Swedes, of all citizens
of the world, are perhaps those who are the least prudish without
being too immoral. I recalled the perfectly natural way in which any
visitor to a Swedish hotel can, if he chooses, be scrubbed and rubbed
down after his bath by women attendants, who not only perform these
duties most efficiently but appear to run no risk of having their
moral equilibrium upset by the experience, or the frankly indecent
(to some) undressed wax figures which can be seen in the shop windows
of any fashionable Stockholm costumier, posturing in silk stocking or
aping fashionable gestures, and can only conclude that indecency is a
question of degree, and that two nations equally moral may have two
entirely different standards by which to estimate morality or the lack
of it.
On returning to the central court I was shown a Madonna-looking crowned
figure in a niche over the main entrance, which on inquiry proved to
be that of St. Clara, a local saint, the crown having been purchased
with a substantial money contribution sent by a schoolgirl of the town
to Ragnar Östberg, who thought this the happiest way of recording her
gift. After hearing this charming explanation I took the resolution
never again to disbelieve any old legend which was equally charming. It
is certain the world never changes.
If the other modern monuments of Stockholm cannot be compared as works
of art with Ragnar Östberg’s now famous masterpiece, there are several
which are interesting examples of the same school of architecture,
and others which illustrate the return to a more rational classicism
which has only quite lately been seen among the younger generation of
architects.
Not very far from the Town Hall is the City Court, an immense
brick edifice with a grey slurred surface and a short squat tower
rising above the middle of the building, which is crowned by a very
large copper hood. Almost overwhelming in its massiveness, and as
austere-looking as the law which is daily transacted within its
precincts, this uncommon structure aims at expressing, not only in its
form but even in its decorative scheme, the serious purpose to which it
was dedicated, and consequently often produces an impression of grim
inevitableness in the mind of even those who do not pay it a visit to
undergo trial. I must confess that I found it a little too oppressing
for my taste, and that I derived much keener pleasure from seeing
the pieces of equally vigorous and original, but ever so much less
depressing, statuary by Christian Eriksson which I was shown on the
portal and in the interior.
Of the other monumental buildings belonging to the same period as
Westman’s and Ragnar Östberg are Lallerstedt’s Technical High School,
Grut’s Stadium, which is a happy and original application of the forms
displayed in the old city walls of Visby, and Östermalm’s Higher State
Secondary School for boys, perhaps the most notable of the three.
This is a dark-red brick building with a light-red tiled roof and
Roman vaulting, which was completed by Ragnar Östberg in 1912 in the
hope that the precedent which he had created in constructing a school
that no longer wore the funereal and poverty-stricken aspect hitherto
considered an indispensable adjunct to every educational establishment,
would inspire other architects to follow his example. Dignified, and
possessing a certain ponderous Nordic beauty of its own, this building
contains a finely proportioned reception hall and staircase which are
adorned with works of art of exceptional interest; among these Milles’
marble group entitled “Fanny and Selma”, Prince Eugen’s “The Town in
Sunshine”, and Törneman’s “Thor’s Battle with the Giants”, this last
picture a powerful and realistic piece of work.
Typical of the latest movement, the return to classicism to which
I have already alluded, are a number of modern buildings for whose
exterior effects golden brown or dark grey roughcast have usually
been selected and whose principal characteristics, apart from their
severe and simple symmetry, lies in the often ingenious way in which
glass and metal work have been put to new artistic effects. Houses by
Bergsten and Asplund; the churches of Engelbrekts and Högalids, and
lastly the New Concert Hall, the work of Tengbom, probably one of the
finest concert halls in existence. Built to resemble a Greek temple
and with columns that are of pure concrete (this a daring experiment),
this striking building impresses, not by its size, which is nothing out
of the common, but by the perfection of its acoustics, lighting, and
other arrangements, and the originality and varied character of the
ornamentation—even the candelabra in the vestibule being unique in
their kind. I particularly admired some beautiful reliefs which were
the work of Tengbom, and some equally remarkable stucco work of Olsson;
but what pleased me even more were some little figures in stucco which
had been designed in wet plaster by Almquist, four live pieces of
statuary by Milles, the Swedish Epstein, in the corridor, and several
beautifully inlaid doors in the foyer, all of these in selected Swedish
woods.
The larger of the two concert halls which are found in this building
presents many attractive and novel features. It was opened only in
April 1926, and while it has a seating accommodation of 1490, which is
considerably less than that of Queen’s Hall, its lighting, stage, and
other arrangements are perfection itself. A number of columns at the
back of the stage, which is built in the shape of a Greek temple, give
an impression of great space, while the lighting that has been obtained
is so perfect that the spectator has the constant illusion of sitting
in an open-air theatre and under a sky and setting sun that are so
realistic that it is almost impossible for him to detect any flaw in
the make-believe. The other concert hall is more intimate in character,
and combines ornateness with simplicity. In both these halls I found
a number of rows that were reserved for the deaf, and provided in
every case with ear-trumpets. Even in Germany, that great music-loving
country, I have never seen any theatre or concert hall that provides
such facilities.
Another sign of the times is the renewed interest that is being taken
by the Swedes generally in Swedish peasant art and crafts, and several
museums have been founded which attempt to give the history of Swedish
civilisation from the earliest days to the present time. Of these the
Nordiska, or Northern Museum, is perhaps the most interesting; it is
certainly the most original. Early in the seventies a distinguished
antiquarian and collector, called Arthur Hazelius, determined to form
a collection that would be representative of every condition of life
that had existed in the country since the beginning of the sixteenth
century, and after many years’ patient industry and labour succeeded
in forming a collection that as a record of the various stages of
civilisation which the country went through is unsurpassed in any part
of the world, many foreign experts holding the view that the clever
manner in which the exhibits are displayed to the general public might
with advantage be copied in other countries. In one of the largest
halls is found the Swedish Royal Armoury, which contains almost as fine
a collection of old and modern weapons as the Spanish collection in
Madrid. I saw many flags and banners which had been captured from the
Russians, Germans, Saxons, Danes and Austrians, and also swords and
suits of armour which had once been worn by famous Swedish warriors;
among these was the armour of Gustavus Adolphus, the sword and pistols
which he carried at the battle of Lützen, and the shirt riddled with
bullets that he wore in his last battle. The Museum also possesses
many well-preserved cannon, rifles, and even a mitrailleuse which is
said to have been invented during the reign of Charles XII., while
its annexe, the equally celebrated open-air museum of Skansen, also
a creation of Hazelius, presents scenes typifying Sweden’s life in
the past and present, and affords the most comprehensive study of old
Swedish architectural modes and of the life and customs of the varied
elements constituting the Swedish nation that can be found anywhere.
Here may be seen many wild and tame animals indigenous to the soil, and
a number of wooden houses of varied architecture, which have either
been transported _en bloc_ from their original resting-places
or constructed on the spot according to plan. Two-storied houses
from Dalecarlia or turf-roofed stone cabins from Jämshög, these last
representing a very common type of dwelling among labourers in parts of
north-eastern Scania; curious-looking straw-roofed four-sided farms
from Oktorp, or farmyards from Ravlunda covered over with thatched
roofs and with woven brushwood end-walls; cabins of forest dwellers or
old mediæval wooden churches, some of these with decorative slatted
church steeples; pyramidal huts from Lapland, or sepulchral and runic
monuments. All these are found at Skansen with all the indispensable
appurtenances of peasant life and inhabited, moreover, by people who
have either been imported to give the necessary atmosphere or been
induced to transport their very homes with all their chattels and
household gods to the wooded plateau in the Djurgården (Deer Park)
for a financial consideration. I paid a visit to several of these
attractive peasant dwellings and found them all stocked with old
implements, vessels, and antique furniture, and was particularly
impressed by their wall decorations, which in many instances were
painted direct on the whitewashed wall timbers. Like those which I
have seen in Dalecarlia, they usually represented scenes from the
Scriptures, or country scenes that were enclosed in decorated frames
in rococo, probably after the prototypes of old copper-plate prints.
If these peasant buildings are not as flamboyantly picturesque as the
wooden buildings of Norway, they are in their way even more attractive.
Of the many other collections and museums that abound in the city
only the National Museum, an unattractive building just facing the
Royal Palace, presents any particular interest. It contains a large
collection of Scandinavian antiquities and is especially rich in
objects of the Bronze Age, many of these having been made in Sweden
over a thousand years before Christ. I was shown jewellery and arms
that dated from the age of Beowulf, and a beautifully ornamented
statue of Thomas à Becket dating from the fourteenth century which
is one of its most cherished art treasures, while the museum, in
addition to its ceramic sculpture and archæological collections, has
a picture gallery that is particularly rich in examples of the older
Dutch masters. Not only Rubens but also Van Dyck (A.), Jordaens, and
Rembrandt are represented here, the last-named by a striking picture
entitled “Claudius Civilis,” which was originally painted for the Town
Hall in Amsterdam in 1662, while I also saw one or two good Cranachs
and old French masters. The more modern painters include several fine
Corots, Delacroix, Manets, and an Orpen (a picture of himself painted
as a jockey), while the modern Swedish school is represented by Zorn
(painter of portraits), Liljefors, the most powerful Swedish painter
of animals to-day, Prince Eugen (landscapes), Milles (sculpture),
Lafiensen (miniaturist), Cederström (the Swedish Detaille), and Carl
Larsson, whose large _al fresco_ paintings in the vestibule of the
Museum long held my attention.
[Illustration: DROTTNINGHOLM PALACE, STOCKHOLM]
One of the principal attractions of Stockholm, and the one which
perhaps lends it its greatest charm, is the system of waterways which
gives it all the picturesque glamour of an important port. It matters
little whether the traveller has visited the city once or many times;
he will rarely tire of loitering amid its many pleasant quays or docks,
or of watching the rapid ebb and flow of a traffic that is as varied as
it is picturesque.
Here is the daily market which lies on the very water edge behind
the royal palace, where the market people can be seen coming by
boat, tram, or cart to sell their wares; here the docks that are
frequented by those hundreds of diminutive steamers which maintain
constant communication between the islands of the Skärgård and the
metropolis; here the quays where the larger steamers and also the fuel
and timber boats are berthed, or those past Kastellholmen and near
Djurgårdsstaden, under whose shelter the great ice-breaking steamers
lie moored during the summer months. Plying the swiftly flowing waters
are vessels of every kind, from the tiny ferries, that for a few öre
will carry you across a strait, to the large looming ships whose very
lines are redolent with weight and power, while scores of barges
with high castles apoop are passing through the locks, and wooden
ships whose graceful lines evoke a time when poetry of motion was not
confined to pleasure yachts are discharging their cargoes in the very
centre of the old town. Follow this pleasant shore line where you will
and you will find an abundance of things to engage and captivate your
attention, and everywhere you meet something that carries with it a
subtle suggestion of that remoter Sweden which lies to the north and
south of the capital.
At least half if not more of the feeling of beauty that is inherent in
Stockholm lies in the many associations that are evoked in the mind
by these waterways, and they are always equally beautiful, whether
one sees them in the early morning as the white skerry steamers are
speeding out to sea or casting their mooring lines over the stately
stone stanchions which border the stream, or if viewed in the evening
when thousands of lights along the shore and from the boats are
throwing shafts and pools of glimmering brilliance on their dark
waters.
CHAPTER VI
THE SKERRIES OF STOCKHOLM
Interspersed here and there among the countless waterways of
Stockholm’s Skärgård, and interposing between it and the Baltic, are
some twelve to thirteen hundred islands, many splendidly wooded, others
mere rocks, on which the good citizens of the capital have built their
summer residences. Islands of every conceivable shape and size, some
uninhabited, the others with picturesque villas and cottages nestling
among the pines and rocks. A scenery that is typical of Swedish
landscape at its best with grey-green hilly country on the mainland
covered here and there with fir and birch and flecked with white or
even vivid vermilion houses, and pleasant little emerald-green islands,
among which a vast flotilla of diminutive small steamers are darting to
and fro, as they link up the many villages and summer residences to the
capital.
[Illustration: ISLANDS IN THE BALTIC, NEAR STOCKHOLM]
It is from the Stream, the pulsating centre of Stockholm, where large
vessels come up from the Baltic to dock on the very city street, that
a passage can be taken on one of those many little passenger steamers
that cruise about the picturesque littoral of the Skärgård; and whether
one embarks on a ship whose destination is some locality famous in
Swedish history or selects haphazard the boat that is to convey you
east or west, the journey that is taken is worth while, since every
steamer route that radiates from Stockholm is one of charm and beauty.
Of the many interesting excursions which can thus be made by water from
Stockholm there are several which should obtain precedence whenever the
time that can be devoted to them is limited. And taking those which
can be made in an easterly direction, the first that I would select is
undoubtedly Saltsjöbaden, the most fashionable watering-place of the
capital. Here on a narrow peninsula that juts out into the Skärgård
and along a circular bay luxuriously wooded, commanding views on the
surrounding islands that are memorable, are large hotels and stately
villas set in beautiful grounds; an excellent restaurant greatly
patronised by the gay and fashionable in which late dancing is a
characteristic feature, and swimming pavilions in which the merchant
and middle classes of the capital spend their summer months bathing,
fishing, or boating. Saltsjöbaden is undoubtedly an attractive resort,
yet what endeared it to me, even more than its charm and animation or
the beauty of its setting, was the opportunity which it afforded me
of seeing the city of Stockholm at midnight as we returned to it by
the watercourses that have given it its unique character. Bathed in
moonlight and illumined by myriad yellow points of fire whose gleams
were mirrored in the waters of the Ström, the city seemed transfigured,
almost unrecognisable, like one of those magic towns that you see in
dreams. If I remember nothing else about Sweden, I shall remember that
experience as long as I live.
Of the other beautiful excursions that may be made in the direction of
the Baltic from the City of Bridges there are two or three which are
almost equally attractive.
To the south-east of Stockholm is Gustafsberg, a journey of nearly two
hours through countless watercourses and past many winding canals and
the large fjord of Baggensfjärden. Gustafsberg, which is beautifully
situated on Värmdö, the largest island in the archipelago, has the
oldest and most renowned pottery and china factories to be found in
Sweden. Inland, and only a short distance from Stockholm, of which
it was formerly the oldest and most important suburb, is Djursholm,
now an independent city. Beautifully situated in North Värtan on
pretty undulating ground among groves of fine oak trees, it is a
picturesque little town which is in winter a great centre of skating
and ice-yachting. It formerly belonged to the Banér family, whose old
palace is still to be seen in a restored condition. Equally distant
from the capital is Vaxholm, another well-known but less fashionable
watering-place. A little fishing town of fifteen hundred people
with several restaurants and hotels, it is patronised largely by
Swedish-Americans, and is the Mecca of motor-boats and small yachts.
The old fortress of Vaxholm stands on the foreground on a small island
in the little Sound two hundred yards from the shore. Built by Gustavus
Vasa in the middle of the sixteenth century, it has been the scene of
many historic events and has for centuries guarded the approach to the
capital.
If the excursions that can be made in a westerly direction from
Stockholm are not as numerous as those that abound in the Skärgård,
they certainly make up qualitatively for their quantitative
deficiencies; and within easy distance from the capital are two
historic old castles and a city whose historic tombs and monuments
single out among their fellows.
Five miles from Kungsholmen, and facing Lake Mälar, is Drottningholm,
a royal castle built in the French style after the designs of the two
Tessins, father and son, by the old Dowager Queen of Sweden, Hedvig
Eleonora, the wife of Charles X., in the seventeenth century, which is
perhaps “the most comprehensive and perfect picture of what Sweden’s
period of greatness could produce in the field of art”. The main part
of the building was erected in the decade beginning 1660 by Nicodemus
Tessin the elder, but remained unfinished till the beginning of the
next century, when under the active supervision of the old Queen
it rapidly took on its present form, Nicodemus Tessin the younger
being responsible for the greater part of the designs. And as in the
case of the royal castle in the capital, no effort was spared and no
expenditure thought too great to make the new royal residence worthy
of the pre-eminence which had been attained by Swedish leadership and
Swedish armies in the allied fields of diplomacy and war.
Before laying out the park, Nicodemus Tessin the younger made a special
journey to Versailles to receive instruction in the formal French
school of gardening from the celebrated Lenotre, Louis XIV.’s garden
architect, while the staircase, hall and interior were decorated with a
magnificence hitherto unknown in Sweden.
French influence was at that time strongly marked, French standards
in furniture and architecture generally predominating; and though
the Swedes were unable to reproduce all the lightness and elegance
characterising French house decorations and furniture, they succeeded
on this occasion in giving their country a royal residence whose
magnificence almost equalled that of the château of Versailles. The
furniture which I saw in many of the apartments belonged to the Louis
XIV. period, with ancient chair coverings, many of these hand-painted
and in an admirable state of preservation, while the interior, which
has lately been restored by the best Swedish art experts, is equally
pleasing. Drottningholm contains many valuable tapestries, paintings,
and works of art and at least two rooms that are in themselves worth a
special visit.
Designed by Nicodemus Tessin the younger, who in this instance worked
in collaboration with Burchardt Precht, the celebrated wood carver,
Queen Hedvig Eleonara’s bedroom, if a little pompous and over-ornate,
is decorated with such magnificence that it never fails to extort
admiration from even those who usually prefer a more simple and sedate
ornamentation. Profusely adorned with wood carvings, its ceiling and
walls are set in with paintings by Ehrenstrahl, while it forms a
complete architectural composition, in which the Queen’s very ornate
state bed high on an estrade behind high Ionic gilded columns acts as
unifying centre.
The other room, Queen Louisa Ulrika’s Library, belongs to a later
period and was executed by the celebrated Swedish cabinet-maker Jean
Erik Rehn, the founder of the Gustavian Swedish Louis XVI. style.
Artistically designed and combining ornateness with simplicity, this
room possesses one of the most artistic interiors which I have seen
in Sweden, and is in every way worthy of the great name that this
artist won for himself in the second half of the eighteenth century,
as pioneer of Swedish art industry, while it certainly bears out the
words that Tessin engraved, not only in this library, but over one of
his frescoes in the National Museum of Stockholm, that “By art the
senses were attuned to mildness and harshness put to flight”. If these
words faithfully reflect the cultural tendencies of the eighteenth
century, then certainly Rehn was successful in his aim.
Fifty yards from the Castle and built in the years 1764-1766 for King
Adolph Frederick, by the Court architect Adelcrantz, is a theatre whose
collection of theatre costumes and stage _décors_ is perhaps
unique in the world. This theatre was used for theatrical performances
during the reign of Gustavus III., but at his death in 1792 was
converted into a lumber room, in which condition it remained until 1922
when it was restored to its original state.
The interior is a beautiful example of a style that is a blend of the
Swedish Gustavian and rococo, and while the auditorium is comparatively
small, as befits a theatre that was only intended for the Royal Family,
the Court and their invited guests, the stage, which was decorated by
Masreliez during the seventeenth century, is unusually deep even for
the present day (about twenty-two yards), and provided with a set of
machinery and _décors_ that are of extraordinary interest from
the artistic and scenic points of view. Both stage and auditorium
are practically in the same condition as they were in the eighteenth
century, and even the footlights of that time have been preserved
and are still in use. The stage mechanism is in perfect working
order, and there are no less than thirty scenic decorations which are
of engrossing interest for the light which they cast on the stage
decorative art of the old regime. Among the stage properties which
date from that time I noticed, in addition to some of the original
footlights and a clavecin that could still be played upon, many
quaint fire appliances and stage weapons such as hatchets, swords, and
Hercules clubs, as well as the tail and head of a Viking ship which had
been found in a neighbouring pond.
[Illustration: GRIPSHOLM CASTLE, NEAR STOCKHOLM]
The auditorium, which like the stage has been left untouched, contains
many attractive cut-glass chandeliers and wall brackets which,
originally adapted for wax candles, have now been wired for electric
light, as well as the carefully preserved place-marks which used to
indicate the seat which every guest was to occupy. The first row
appears to have been reserved to the Royal Family, the Court and
diplomatic world; and behind, those of minor degree were seated, from
the King’s body-guard to his second valets or barbers. As was usual in
the eighteenth century, the royal party and their invited guests always
retired for supper to the foyer after the performance, while the ladies
and gentlemen of the Court strolled or waited about in the top gallery,
in case their presence should be required by their august masters.
In the rooms adjoining the theatre are several interesting collections
of pictures and costumes illustrating the history of scenic art from
mediæval times to the age of Gustavus III. I was shown a number of
particularly beautiful costume sketches by Primaticcio which had been
designed for a fête given at the Court of King Francis I. of France,
and also some original sketches by Desprez, the chief stage painter
of Gustavus III., and a series of rare Italian and French theatrical
designs dating from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries which
undoubtedly constitute invaluable material for the student of stage
history, yet the clou of the whole collection, in my opinion, lies in
the exquisite little model theatre which I found relegated in one of
the smaller rooms. Designed by Tessin some time before the theatre had
been completed, this little gem reveals this artist at his best and is
in every sense admirable.
Picturesquely situated on the most southerly shore of Lake Mälar near
the small town of Mariefred, and within three hours by steamer from the
capital, is the mighty brick-built fortress of Gripsholm, historically
and romantically perhaps the finest castle in the whole of Sweden. It
was originally built by a knight called Bo Jonsson Grip, who was the
most powerful subject of his time, and was named after the grip or
griffin which he bore as his arms.
Mirroring its huge tower-crowned walls in the placid waters of
Mälarviken, this castle embodies in every line the rugged strength of
its founder, while nowhere in Sweden have I seen an edifice which,
in its solitary grandeur, stately aloofness from the world and
picturesqueness of situation, is more pervaded by the atmosphere of the
remote days when Gustavus Vasa and his successors were carving a nation
out of chaos and paving the way for the prosperity that was to follow.
Here Gustavus planned and organised the machinery that was destined
to bring an almost unparalleled prosperity to his country, and here
in turn his two sons, Erik and Johan, kept each other prisoner, Erik
dying ultimately in another prison at Örbyhus in 1577. For centuries,
in fact, there was little of national importance that was not
transacted in Gripsholm; and if it had a chequered history, its days of
glory more than adequately compensated, its heyday probably coinciding
with the reign of Gustavus III., during the time this monarch was
expending vast sums in adorning its halls with beautiful frescoes and
decorations. On the 29th of March 1809, moreover, it was the scene of
the abdication of Gustavus IV. Adolphus.
The castle has been restored so often, however, that only in portions
of its exterior and interior does it really date back to the time
of its founder, while many rooms have been wainscoted and illumined
with coloured woods and frescoes in order to house the portraits of
the kings, queens and famous men who contributed to the history of
the last three centuries. The collection of royal paintings which
has thus been formed is consequently of unique character, while the
stately proportions of those parts of the building which have remained
unchanged since the sixteenth century enable us to imagine what a
princely effect the whole must have presented when its walls were hung
with damask and filled with masterpieces of art. As all the rooms
contain, moreover, many pieces of the original furniture which were
used by Gustavus Vasa and his successors, it is easy to reconstruct
in one’s mind the manner in which Swedish royalty lived in those
remote days. Of the oldest portions of the castle no room impressed
me more than the one in which lived Duke Charles of Södermanland, the
younger brother of Princes Erik and Johan, and which is supposed to
have been fitted up by him as far back as 1596. Practically unchanged
from those early days, it is an interesting example of an interior of
the sixteenth century, and while its woodwork is pure Renaissance,
though very simple in character, the paintings adorning its walls and
ceilings are by Hans, a painter who hails from the town of Strängnäs,
the capital of Charles’ duchy. In all the older rooms I noticed window
recesses which were so long and narrow that they formed almost a
corridor, the thickness of the walls (usually five to eight or even ten
feet) often making such recesses a necessity.
[Illustration: THE KINGS’ MOUNDS, UPSALA]
Lying north of the lake and picturesquely situated on the banks of the
river Fyris is the old town of Upsala, the residence of the Archbishop
of Sweden and the oldest and most important university town in the
country. It can be reached in less than five hours by the waterways
of Lake Mälar or in one hour by train from Stockholm, though a stop
should certainly be made on the way to it at Skokloster, if only to
visit the magnificent turreted castle that lies on the forested fringe
of Lake Mälar. This imposing edifice, which was erected in 1649 on
the very site of a mediæval monastery which Gustavus Adolphus once
presented to one of his generals, contains valuable collections of
furniture, portraits, tapestries and arms which illustrate the Thirty
Years’ War, its collection of old weapons being probably the largest
private collection to be found in Europe. Upsala, in addition to
being a celebrated university town, is also a city that presents many
attractive features from the antiquarian and artistic points of view.
A few minutes’ drive from the centre of the town brings you to Old
Upsala, which was the seat of the early pagan monarchs of the country,
and here to this day are to be seen tumuli of three kings, the Mounds
of Odin, Thor, and Freyr. Excavations made during the second half of
the nineteenth century in the mounds of the first two have brought to
light remains of charred bodies as well as many gold ornaments, which
conclusively prove that Odin and Thor were buried here about five
centuries before the Christian era, while similar excavations made as
early as the seventeenth century on the alleged site of Upsala Temple,
the great holy place of the Svea race (as Swedes were once called),
unearthed bones of horses and ravens that had once been offered by the
Svea people as expiatory offerings to Freyr, the god of yearly crops.
Here was held the Witan of the Sveas, when, with great clanging and
clashing of swords and shields, their leaders would debate and decide
the wars that they would wage; and here too, not only men and animals
were offered up to Freyr, but even kings if times were bad or pests
came to lay waste the land or deplete the nation of its fighting men.
Upsala itself is a pleasant and picturesque town which, if a little
marred architecturally by the unnecessary restorations that have been
made to its old Cathedral, the largest church in Sweden, presents many
attractive and beautiful features. On the highest point of the town
stands the castle, a huge red-bricked building with two round towers
erected by Gustavus Vasa in the sixteenth century, which dominates
not only the city but also the surrounding countryside, while other
buildings which are worthy of notice include the somewhat severe but
attractive neo-classical University Library called Carolina Rediviva,
the dome-covered building Gustavianum, and Deprez’ Orangery in the
Botanical Gardens, which was opened in 1807 during the centenary
celebration of Linnaeus’ birthday. There are also a number of old
bridges on the river Fyris which have not been replaced by modern ones,
while the town has generally an old-world atmosphere which predisposes
the traveller and student to regard it with friendly eyes. Though
lacking in the architectural beauty that has given Oxford such an
unique position among the universities of the world, Upsala possesses a
tradition that is almost as venerated among Swedish students as Oxford
is among Englishmen.
As will be seen, therefore, there are few capitals that have at their
doors surroundings more picturesque or more easily accessible than
Stockholm, the combination of attractions that it affords to the
traveller, its beautiful site and historic associations, its old-world
buildings and sparkling waterways being unsurpassed anywhere. There
is but one thing lacking to the Swedish capital, and that is cheap,
good accommodation. The town is almost entirely bereft of hotels that
are both good and inexpensive, and its charm would be immeasurably
increased by their presence. Many commodities, too, are far dearer
than in England. Cigarettes, shoes and articles of clothing cost
nearly twice as much as in London, while whisky and wine are almost
prohibitive, an ordinary whisky costing as much as one shilling and
sixpence and being unobtainable if you do not take food with it, though
in fairness I must add that the quality of the wine, and especially
the Burgundy, that may be bought in the best hotels is exceptional.
The best hotel in the capital is the Grand Royal, and while there are
others that are also first-class there are none which possess as good
a cuisine; its dining-hall, moreover, being one of the finest in the
world. The tables are arranged on two sides of a court in the centre
of what was the old Royal Hotel, and under the high glass roof there
is a lawn of perpetually green grass with a fountain in the centre and
flower-beds, palm trees, and shrubs. Sometimes tables are set out on
the grass. One side of the court is fashioned to represent the tower of
an old royal castle.
[Illustration: TIMBER ON THE RIVER ÅNGERMAN, HARNÖSAND]
It would be ungracious, however, to insist on a single defect in a spot
so rich in varied beauties, and throughout the north of Europe it
would be difficult to find a town so full of attractions as the Swedish
capital. At the same time the intending visitor will do well to choose
his time for seeing it. The pleasantest time to visit it is undoubtedly
June, before the Swedes take their yearly holiday; but in winter, as I
will show in a subsequent chapter, it may also be seen to advantage,
the thermometer being usually so low and the sun’s rays so ineffective,
that winter sports can be practised almost continuously for several
months of each year.
CHAPTER VII
GOTHLAND
Scarcely more than fifty miles from the Swedish mainland, with which
communication is maintained by comfortably appointed steamers which
run daily from Nynäshamn, and boasting a mild and delightful climate,
is an island whose history reads like a romance, and whose many relics
of a prehistoric culture mark it out among all time. Forgotten by the
world of commerce and almost unknown to the present-day tourist, the
town of Visby, capital of the island of Gothland, was once an important
commercial centre, the splendour of its churches, merchant houses
and town walls evidencing great wealth, and bearing witness to the
artistic imagination of Swedish master-masons and builders. And as you
steam into its harbour you see a city which for picturesque beauty has
few rivals in the world: tall, graceful spires and city walls built
on natural rock terraces, whose rugged outline of masonry appear to
have been fashioned by a giant of fable, and a coast-line which seems
to rise up in one single sheer cliff, or in terraces with yellow or
blue-grey rocks that tower like mighty ramparts against the sea.
It is not known when the first city of Visby was built, but
archæologists tell us that there was a town on the present site more
than 2000 years before Christ, and only a few years ago men digging in
the market-place near the ruins of St. Catherine’s Church found large
blocks of stone, and under these the ruins of another town, evidently
of the Stone Age.
Long before Visby was born, however, Gothland was already an island
empire and occupied a position in the trade of the Baltic identical to
that occupied by Rhodes or Crete in the Mediterranean.
Of this old Visby we have little record apart from a mention that
is made of it by the Guta Saga when relating certain incidents that
occurred in Gothland during the tenth century, at the time Christianity
was first introduced into the island.
“When the Gothlanders were heathen,” the Saga says, “they sailed
with cargoes to every land, both Christian and heathen. Then saw
the merchants Christian ways in Christian lands, some of them being
baptized and even bringing back priests with them to Gothland. Bothair
of Akeback built a church on the place now called Külstade. But as the
people of the island would not suffer the church but set fire to it
and burned it, he built yet another with feasts and sacrifices at Vi,
which when the people also tried to burn, he climbed upon and said:
‘If ye will burn the church, then shall ye burn me also’. This the
people would not do, as Bothair had as wife the daughter of Likkair
Snälle, who was their ruler at that time, and Likkair enjoined them
not to do this deed. Whereupon the church was left to stand unburned.
It was built in the name of All Saints on the place that is now called
Peter’s Church, and was the first church in Gothland which was left to
stand....”
Vi means place of sacrifice, and Visby means therefore village by the
place of sacrifice, it being evident that the village must even before
this period have enjoyed a certain importance as a religious centre for
a larger or smaller portion of the island population, its inhabitants
being the ancestors of those Teutonic races which fifteen hundred years
ago overthrew the might of imperial Rome and revolutionised the world.
That Gothland was even then a sea power of considerable importance
is proved by the vast treasures in gold and silver which have been
unearthed in the island, and many of the gold coins which have been
found are minted with the profiles of Greek emperors or inscribed in
Roman or Arabic, this evidence showing that the Goths were as adept
in the arts of commerce as they were in those of war. Gothland was
inhabited by a race of bold sea rovers and traders, who sailed down
the rivers of Russia, carrying far and wide their cargoes of pitch,
tar, limestone, and salt, the products of their island. Marauding and
looting as they went, they were hardly welcome guests in the countries
which they visited, and accordingly, not only were able to exchange
or barter their cargoes most profitably for the precious wares, furs,
skins, and honey of Russia, and the woven fabrics, spices, food-stuffs,
and silver ware of the east, but also returned home, their war chests
well replenished with the gold and silver tribute which their unwilling
hosts had paid to rid themselves of their importunate presence.
Of the treasures thus accumulated, part was melted down and fashioned
into ornaments and vessels, and part was buried in hiding-places
in the island, only a small proportion having so far come into the
possession of archæologists. Of the many tens of thousands of coins
which have been discovered more than half have been dug up in Gothland,
the majority of these being of Arabian, Greek, or Roman origin, and the
remainder of Saxon, Rhine and South German, Turkish, Polish, and even
Hungarian extraction. Of the English coins many date from the reigns of
Kings Edgar and Ethelred, and the Cyfic or Arabian coins, of which over
25,000 have been discovered, were brought from the Caspian Sea during
the eighth and ninth centuries; they were struck principally at Cufa on
the Tigranes. As a Chinese cup and a shell from the Indian Ocean have,
moreover, also been found in graves not far from Visby, it is clear
that the light Viking barques which set sail periodically from this
northern island carried out far-reaching and extensive expeditions to
most parts of the world, and that Gothland can therefore justifiably
claim to have possessed a prosperity which in its own time unfolded
itself in almost fabulous splendour.
Of the early history of the island we have, unfortunately, apart from
what archæology teaches us, nothing but the most hazy traditions,
though the Guta Saga of the thirteenth century tells us that when
the population of Gothland reached a certain figure one-third of the
inhabitants was selected by lot and bidden to leave the country with
all their goods and chattels. “Then were these loth to go,” so the Saga
writes, “but went they to Thor’s stronghold and lived there. Then would
the country not suffer them there but drove them thence. Then went they
forth to Fårö and remained there a time. Even there, however, they were
not permitted to remain but went out to an island near Esthonia called
Dagö, where they lived and built a stronghold for themselves which is
still to be seen. Also there they were unable to subsist, but went by
water called Düna up through Russia. And they proceeded so far that
they finally came to Greece, where they lived until now and still speak
in a tongue somewhat similar to our own.”
There is a hill which is called Torsburgen (Thor’s stronghold), on
which one can still see the remains of the castle where the banished
men of Gothland made their last stand against their countrymen. The
mountain is broad—a huge plateau which is crowned by a forest; and
so steep that on three sides of it, it is almost unscaleable. On the
fourth, approach to it is barred by mighty mile-long walls constructed
of rough boulders, which represent so prodigious an amount of labour,
with their hundreds of thousands of cubic yards of stone, that the
mind is almost staggered by it. In the middle of the forest lies the
castle of Thor, where the last desperate remnant of the rebels made
their final stand before being overpowered by force of numbers, a mass
of fallen stones and boulders and crumbling walls, most of which have
fallen, testifying to the homeric age of which we possess so little
record. When these incidents took place we do not know. We have,
however, been able to estimate that as early as the sixth century
before Christ at the beginning of the Iron Age, the inhabitants of
Gothland began to migrate to other countries, the climate of the island
having suddenly and rapidly become exceedingly cold, and that by the
third century before Christ the island had become almost entirely
depopulated. During the next centuries, however, the population
increased so rapidly that when the Great Migration took place, Gothland
was able to send thousands of Viking auxiliaries to swell the ranks of
the mighty armies that were marching south to make a mass attack on
the Roman Empire.
[Illustration: KALMAR CASTLE]
The Great Age of Gothland did not, however, begin till the twelfth
century, by which time the commercial supremacy of the island had
become so firmly established that not only the northern states of
Europe, but even England, began to adopt the sea laws and coinage
of the enterprising Gothlanders, while the greater part of the more
lucrative trade of northern Europe passed into their hands. The old
steel-yard in London near Blackfriars Bridge was the yard of the
Gothland merchants where they stored their iron and steel merchandise,
while merchants from the island are mentioned as purveyors of miniver
and wax to Henry III. of England. Soon Visby began definitely to take
up its place as the leading commercial settlement of Gothland, while
many foreign merchants settled in the town in the hope of rivalling
the prosperity of the native traders, the Germans coming in such
numbers that at one time more than half the town council and two of
the principal magistrates belonged to that nationality. In 1163 Henry
the Lion, Duke of Lübeck, granted the merchants of Gothland peaceful
entry into his land and extensive trading privileges on condition that
his subjects enjoyed similar rights and immunities in theirs, while a
similar trade alliance was gradually signed between Visby and no less
than thirty other cities which was ultimately to lead to the formation
of the Hanseatic League.
There is no doubt that these were halcyon days for Visby, and that
owing to its position as foremost commercial power in the north it
was able to exercise an authority and prestige in the Councils of the
League that made it almost the sole arbiter of its destinies, while its
wealth was so fabulous that, as an old ballad ran:
The Gothlanders weighed gold with twenty-pound weights
And played with the rarest gems;
The pigs ate out of silver troughs,
And the women spun with distaffs of gold.
To guard against attack, imposing walls were constructed around the
city built on natural rock terraces which soon converted Visby into one
of the strongest fortresses of the age, while it began to rival the
finest towns in Europe in the splendour of its churches, public and
private buildings, and the wealth of its merchant princes.
This being the case, it was no wonder that the city soon began to
attract the cupidity of kings and pirates, and that during these
centuries there were many occasions on which her burghers were called
upon to defend their city, though the time was to come when even her
massive walls and the staunch hearts of her defenders proved inadequate
to ward off attack. Her decline and fall began as soon as internecine
strife arose between her citizens and those of the countryside, and
when open warfare arose between the two camps owing to the resentment
that was felt by the country merchants against those of the town for
claiming the exclusive right to the commerce of the island, her fate
was really sealed. In the spring of 1288 the peasant merchants took up
arms and marched on Visby, the war that ensued proving so indecisive
that King Magnus, who had hitherto exercised a purely nominal
suzerainship on the island, was encouraged to interfere. He invaded it
with a powerful army, put an end to the war, and converted Gothland
into a Swedish province after suppressing all its privileges and
exemptions from taxation. This curtailment of her liberties, coupled
with the displacement of commercial routes owing to the crusades,
the rapid rise of Lübeck as mistress of the Baltic, and the further
wars that were waged against her, hastened the downfall of the city,
though she continued for a time to mint her own coinage and even to
oppose successfully (in 1313) by force of arms the attempts made by
Swedish and other kings to extort fresh taxation from her coffers or
gain possession of her citadel. Then misfortunes began to crowd in
upon the town. Smaller and smaller became its commerce, and thinner
and thinner the streams of silver that poured in from the lands beyond
the sea, while bitterly cold winters and dry summers came with cattle
pests and plagues which mowed down rich and poor alike, the dead and
dying lying in street or square uncared for, polluting the air. Then
finally the end in 1361, when Valdemar, King of the Danes, determined
to take possession of Visby and of what still remained of its wealth.
Landing at Västergarn, where a few hundred peasants who offered
resistance were defeated, he advanced upon the town between burning
homesteads, and after slaughtering 1800 peasants who fought to the
last in defence of the capital, entered the city. Whether or not the
legend is true according to which the burgomaster’s daughter fell in
love with the Danish king and delivered up to him the key of the town,
or that other legend which relates that Valdemar was admitted into
the city through a breach made by the burghers themselves in the hope
of so gaining the whole commerce of the island, now that their rural
competitors had been wiped out, the fact remains that Valdemar looted
the town in spite of its unconditional surrender and compelled the
authorities to hand him over three hogsheads filled with gold, silver,
and precious stones.
[Illustration: RUINS OF BORGHOLM CASTLE, ÖLAND]
In the church of St. Nicholas are two sightless rose windows, each
of which, so a legend tells us, contained a carbuncle so large and
luminous that it served as a beacon to mariners as they steered their
vessels into Visby Harbour. And these King Valdemar carried away with
him when returning home with his booty, only to encounter a storm off
the coast of Gothland, when every ship foundered. To this day the
inhabitants of the island declare that when the sea is calm they have
seen these carbuncles glowing from their resting-place in the deep.
Visby’s star of destiny now set for ever, though it continued to
struggle on in the hope of better things, and again and again the
town was besieged, looted or even burned, Dane, Swede, and pirate
gradually encompassing its ruin. Faster and faster its power on the
sea waned and drew to its end, while its ships were taken and plundered
till none would venture out to sea. At last came the Reformation,
when the treasures of its churches were confiscated and its convents
dissolved, while the decayed and ruined churches which had been its
proud boast were allowed to go to rack and ruin, only the cathedral of
St. Mary being maintained and restored for the new worship. Gradually
their roofs blew asunder, their rafters rotted and their arches
crumbled away, while from the walls stone fell after stone, religious
iconoclasts completing the ruin that others had begun.
* * * * *
Of all the mediæval splendour attained by Gothland there are
consequently nothing but ruins, but these ruins are in themselves so
wondrous, and the Visby of to-day reflects so many of the features
of the merchant city of Hanseatic times, that few cities are more
interesting to visit. With its many picturesque red-tiled houses and
gables, its many architectural treasures and imposing castellated
walls, its lovely gardens yielding every summer roses of luxuriant
abundance, and its mild climate and many recreational facilities,
Visby is in fact an ideal spot for a holiday.
The first thing that impresses as you land on the island is the mighty
wall that dominates all the surrounding country and encloses the city
almost in its original perfection; vast grey battlemented walls,
mellowed by age and the touch of ivy, with thirty-eight towers which
rise some of them to a height of 70 feet and recall those of Cracow
or Carcassonne, and between them a picturesque series of bartizans
supported by corbels, the whole being among the most perfect specimens
that are still preserved of mediæval fortress architecture.
Of these walls the west or shoreward are considerably older than the
others, it being probable that on the land side the town was at first
only protected by a palisade-crowned rampart which was in course of
time replaced by a wall with crenellated coping and a banquette along
the inner side surmounting a row of pointed blind arches, but towards
the close of the thirteenth century it was still further heightened and
the greater part of the towers erected, the new superstructure of wall
between the towers resting upon the parapet and being only broken by
a series of bartizans. In earlier times, moreover, a number of moats
partly hewn out of the solid rock provided additional security to the
city, though few of these water defences are now visible.
The oldest and most interesting of these towers is undoubtedly the
Powder Tower, the only remaining fortification of the old port, its
heavy barred vaultings and sturdy walls probably dating back to the
eleventh century; but the lover of legend should also linger for a
moment near the Tower of Jungfrutornet, or the Maiden’s Tower, and hear
how the burgomaster’s daughter fell in love with Valdemar and gave
him the key of the city which she had stolen at night from under her
father’s pillow. The story goes that as soon as he sailed for Denmark
the citizens built this tower and immured her alive as a punishment for
her treachery.
The wall undoubtedly owes its imposing effect in a large measure to the
fact that the land outside it is for the most part desolate and devoid
of vegetation, and its vast grey fortifications, which extend their
battlemented tops around the town for more than two and a half miles,
are exceedingly impressive. Before entering the town, however, you
should pass by a certain field lying just outside the walls, where
a very old stone cross is to be found, and also pay a visit to the
mediæval scaffold which is situated to the north of the town near the
old Lepers’ Church of St. Göran. Both are worth visiting.
[Illustration: THE WALLS OF VISBY]
The first, Valdemar’s Cross, which is engraved with the likeness of the
Saviour, and a Latin inscription reading as following:
In the year of our Lord 1361, on the third day after St. James, fell
the Gothlanders before the gates of Visby in the hands of the Danes.
Here lie they buried. Pray for them,
is in spite of its old age almost in a perfect state of preservation,
only one arm having been destroyed. It was erected on the very spot
where the peasants of Gothland made their final stand in defence of
Visby against the might of the Danish crown, and near it lie buried
many of the peasants and Danish soldiers who fell on that historic
occasion. Some twenty years ago excavations in this old burial-place
brought to light several hundred skeletons in rusted armour, many of
the shields being pierced with arrows or dented by sword-cuts. It is
believed that these skeletons are the remains of the Danish invaders,
as only the Gothlanders were buried under the cross itself.
The second consists of a mediæval scaffold, three stone pillars once
joined by wooden rafters upon which malefactors were wont to be hanged
in olden times. Grim and menacing, they stand on a high cliff so that
all may see, a lasting memorial of an age when evil-doers were exposed
even in death to the public eye _pour effrayer les autres_.
Between these imposing walls the life of the town, now a ghost of its
former self, pulses lazily through narrow and crooked cobbled streets
which are lined with low-eaved and small windowed wooden or stone
houses;[3] and along these disused byways of travel, whose very name
is an inspiration, are ruins of churches and abbeys, cathedrals and
dwellings, that date from the Hanseatic age and attest the glory of
Visby’s past. The whole effect is extremely picturesque, in spite of
the intrusion here and there of certain houses, products of more recent
times; while interspersed among these and brightened, moreover, in
many places by greenery and the famous rose gardens that you will find
sandwiched in the most unlikely places, are high and stately gabled
houses, the residences of the merchant princes of the Middle Ages. And
the ruins of ten wondrous stone churches, dating from the eleventh and
twelfth centuries, whose yellow ivy-clad walls and graceful arches and
columns provide the most convincing of testimonies not only of Visby’s
former greatness and prosperity but of the hold which religion then
occupied in the heart of her citizens.
[3] Many of the latter being built from stones taken from the old
churches.
Of the older houses many are well preserved and had their origin in the
prosperous days of the town in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.
They are characterised by high narrow façades and gables with corbel
steps, and arches that span the streets and provide the city with one
of its characteristic features. The stateliest of these old mansions
are those that are found along the Strandgatan in close proximity to
the mediæval harbour, one of their typical features consisting of
church-like cellars which are canopied by cross vaultings on slender,
graceful columns, and usually divided into two stories by a flooring of
beams placed at half the height of the ceiling. The house containing
the museum of the town, a magnificent collection of Gothlandic mediæval
art, “Gothlands fornsal,” possesses such a cellar, a portion of the
floor originally dividing it into two stories having been removed
to suit the requirements of the museum; but this mansion, unlike
many of the mediæval buildings of the town, shows nothing on its
exterior to betray its great age. Among those who have preserved their
old-world exterior best are the well-known Old Apothecary’s shop “Gamla
apoteket”, also in the Strandgatan, which dates from the days of King
John of England, the Liljehorns’ house, and the hotel Visby Börs in the
same street, and certain groups of houses in Hansgatan, as again the
woodshed of the bishop’s palace in Drottensgatan and the Burmeister
House.[4] Many of these mediæval houses were obviously utilised for
business purposes and occasionally contained as many as eight stories.
[4] Whose wall and ceiling decorations date from 1650.
Even more striking, however, are the ruins of the splendid stone
churches which are dotted here and there through the irregular streets
and lanes, the view that these command from their towers being one of
surpassing loveliness; an interesting cathedral which was consecrated
in 1225 and is still in use to-day, and ten wonderful old ruins, relics
of the eleventh and twelfth centuries which represent every style of
architecture in the Middle Ages except the late Gothic. I doubt if any
town in Europe of anything like the size of Visby or even much larger
can present anything architecturally of so engrossing an interest.
The Cathedral of St. Mary was originally built as a basilica,
_i.e._ with three aisles, of which the middle one was the highest.
It also had a vaulted transept with an apse adjoining, and was lighted
by windows which perforated the clerestory above the roof of the side
aisles. Of this original building only the lower part of the great west
tower and part of the transept are preserved, the remainder of the
church having undergone many alterations. Shortly before the middle
of the thirteenth century the original chancel was replaced by the
present choir, while the beautiful and still preserved Bridal Porch was
constructed in the south gable of the transept. New side aisles were
then substituted for the old, corresponding in height and width with
the nave, their roofs being so arranged that every vaulted square had
its own saddle roof with the gable facing the length of the building,
while every second column separating the aisles was pulled down, these
changes having the effect of converting the entire interior into a
single whole except for the chancel and tower chapels. Some time before
1400 a large hall, whose walls were superimposed directly over the
colonnades, was erected over the vaulting of the nave and another
roof laid over it, to whose walls new slanting roofs were joined for
the side aisles. In this manner the exterior of the cathedral was
considerably heightened and again looked like a basilica, though
nothing was changed in the interior of the church itself. About the
same period the towers, now altogether too low for the remainder of the
church, were raised to their present height.
Interesting as is the Cathedral of St. Mary, the ruins of the other
houses of worship that once served the spiritual needs of Visby’s
thirty thousand people are, in my opinion, infinitely more arresting
in their loveliness. The force of their appeal lies, I imagine, in the
picture which they afford of an age when religion was not a hollow
sham but a reality to which every man readily turned, not only in
those moments of trial when even the careless remember the claim of
the Deity, but also in those more prosperous times when men rapidly
develop an illusory sense of their own power and might. Visby in her
heyday supported no less than sixteen churches and the island nearly a
hundred, many of these being vast structures of mediæval splendour, to
whose adornment many precious metals and jewels had been lavished and
many great artists had contributed a quota.
Near the walls are the beautiful towers of St. Drotten and St. Lars,
sister churches which are said to have been built by two maiden sisters
who hated one another so heartily that each erected her own church in
order not to sit together in the same place of worship.
St. Drotten has a square tower which is reminiscent of the western
tower of the cathedral and is built in one piece with an almost
quadrate nave, while St. Lars, which is cruciform in shape and shows
a marked Byzantine influence, impresses by virtue of its majestic
proportions, its characteristically high arched paired windows, and its
massive vaulted rooms that fill in the corners of the cross and open
to its arm, no ingenuity having so far accounted for the triforia that
are hollowed in its walls at various heights and facing the nave of the
church.
St. Nicholas, which like St. Lars has wonderful long slender windows,
is a three-aisled church, with a square chancel and a pentagonal apse,
which was originally built as a basilica, and then so altered that
the height of the three aisles is now the same. It was taken over by
the Dominicans about 1220 when they arrived in Visby, the decorative
sculptures of the doorways being very similar to those found in the
bridal porch of St. Mary’s.
St. Clement’s, as it stands to-day, also belongs to the same period,
_i.e._ about the middle of the thirteenth century, but within its
walls are the foundations of three, if not more, older church edifices,
the first probably dating back to about 980, a circumstance that speaks
eloquently of the wealth and love of building that characterised the
Great Age of Visby, since it is clear that none of these churches were
destroyed by human agency, this period being then almost the only one
during which the island remained at peace with the world.
The other ruined churches of Visby include the churches of St. John
and St. Peter, which was the successor of Botair’s wooden church to
which I have already alluded, and also St. Olaf’s Tower, which is
almost identical to the western tower of the cathedral, all these being
interesting specimens of twelfth-century architecture, but none that
I have mentioned, except perhaps St. Lars, are as quickening to the
imagination, or as remarkable for the beauty of their architectural
features, as the churches of St. Catherine and the Holy Ghost.
[Illustration: THE CITY OF VISBY]
The first, which was dedicated to St. Catherine of Alexandria,
belonged to the Franciscan friars who settled in Visby in 1233, but
only acquired its definite form with its graceful columns and lofty
vaultings in 1413, its beautiful columns and arches remaining to this
day in an almost perfect state of preservation. The second, which
belonged to the charitable institution of the Holy Ghost, consists of
an octagonal tower with two vaulted stories and two separate floors,
with a common chancel and an apse that is let into its eastern wall.
Original in conception and better preserved than most of the ruins of
the city, the Church of the Holy Ghost ranks perhaps as the finest
church of the island.
Of the hundred or more churches which are to be found in other parts
of Gothland, the more interesting are undoubtedly those which date
back to the twelfth century or even further, such as the richly
decorated wooden church of Hemse, now preserved in the Historical
Museum at Stockholm, the church Garde with its plain nave and Byzantine
paintings, the churches of Dalhem and Stånga, and the large Cistercian
convent church in Roman constructed after the designs of the French
Cistercians, the simple grandeur of whose arches and columns recall
those of another Rome; yet even the other more modern churches often
present interesting features. Distinguished by plain wall surfaces and
an almost entire lack of the buttress system that characterises Gothic
architecture in the west, they possess a style that is pure Gothic and
yet are strongly national in tendency. Their towers are very varied
in shape, but usually tall and slender, while the interiors convey an
impression of great spaciousness, thanks to the height of their slender
columns, the solidity of their vaultings, and the wide span of their
equally high arches. Speaking for myself, however, I confess to have
derived greater pleasure from seeing the many wonderful carved portals,
baptismal fonts, and well-preserved wood carvings, some of these the
work of the greatest sculptors of the age, that abound in the island,
many of the roods, figures of the Madonna and statues of saints, which
have been preserved, possessing a very high artistic value. In this
respect I rather fancy the little island of Gothland is perhaps richer
than almost any country in the world save France and Germany, the
beauty and originality of its wood carvings and decorative sculpture
providing further proof of the exceedingly high culture attained by
its citizens in the days of their prosperity. No lover of beauty should
therefore fail to pay a visit to a few of these old churches, and
especially to Viklau and Öja. The first possesses the only known wood
carving attributed to the famous cathedral workers of Chartres, the
leading sculpture centre in the twelfth century; the second an equally
beautiful rood that is generally held to be the work of a French
sculptor of the thirteenth century.
The three masters who are principally responsible for the building
of the churches of Gothland are Le Frans, Botwid and Sighafr, all
three justly reputed in their age as leaders of their art; but many
other talented artists, whose names have purposely remained concealed
under a _nom de guerre_, have contributed their quota to the
embellishment and building of these splendid mediæval monuments. It has
been calculated that over 400 churches would now be left standing in
this tiny island as a record of the tremendous ecclesiastical building
activity which took place in Gothland from the earliest Christian times
to the middle of the fourteenth century, if the Goths had been spared
the series of catastrophes which was destined to leave them the easy
prey of pirates and marauders, and I should say that this figure is
probably underestimated.
There is one further characteristic found in these churches, moreover,
that should appeal to the lover of folk-lore. It appears that Gothland,
like Scandinavia and Great Britain, was in the Bronze Age a great
centre of sun worship, and that this adoration of the Sun god (Bal)
lingered on in spite of Christianity among the many customs that have
survived to show a pagan influence.
Many of the dances, for instance, which are given round the Beltane
fires on Midsummer Eve are 3000 years old and date from that period,
while the remains of a sun chariot have also been discovered not far
from Visby; but what is even more interesting is the fact that the
chief door of practically every church in the island faces south and
yet lies as near to the west as possible. This has undoubtedly to do
with the cult of the sun, as the good people of Visby sought in this
manner to conciliate both their new and old convictions. Even to-day
the peasants of the island never dance or spin on Thursday (the day of
Thor, the god of thunder), this being the one day of the week when in
pagan times they were unable to pay their worship to the Sun god.
[Illustration: SUNDAY AT RÄTTVIK, DALECARLIA]
Apart from the churches and a few well-preserved merchant houses dating
from Hanseatic times, such as the famous merchant mansion of Kattlunda
in the south of the island, which was obviously designed for defence
against an enemy, the interior of Gothland has little to offer in the
way of scenic attractions, if we except the luxuriantly beautiful
groves and “leafy meadows” which are found interspersed here and there
among the desolate fen and woodland, and occasional patches of wheat
and beet sugar characterising the scenery. With these exceptions,
everything worth seeing is concentrated along the coasts. Along the
west are romantically wild cliffs and downs, with here and there a
pleasant little cove or inlet, and the two lonely Karl islands with
their steep cliffs and a bird life so varied that it is difficult to
believe any human being has ever set foot on the island; along the
east, broad open bays, sandy shores, and rocky promontories worn away
by the sea and moulded into strange fantastic shapes recalling those
seen in the wildest parts of the Breton coast or the Giant’s Causeway;
to the south a low shore and headland fringed with Hoburgen’s mighty
rocks; and to the north the large island of Fårö with its impressive
drift sands and the wild-looking Isle of Sandö, where forest and sand
are ever waging a fight for existence: a scenery, in short, which for
sheer grandeur and picturesqueness resembles no other in the world, and
over which I have seen sunsets flaming with almost southern splendour.
Truly Gothland is an ideal spot for a holiday, and with its many
imposing ruins of a vanished culture, its wild scenery and coast line,
its mild climate and its pleasant seaside resorts of Snäckgärdsbaden,
Kneippbyn and Slite, all easily accessible from Visby by rail or motor,
combines a sufficiency of attractions that should make it a favourite
resort for any traveller who is desirous of exploring new and strange
ground.
CHAPTER VIII
DALECARLIA[5]
[5] Dalarna in Swedish.
I know few parts of Europe where traditions, costumes and customs have
remained so little affected by the levelling process of civilisation
as Dalecarlia, and here amid surroundings that reproduce all the
characteristic features of Swedish scenery, with the exception of
the mountainous regions of Lapland, is found a race of virile and
independent men and women characterised by ready wit, good humour, and
great bodily strength who have contributed more to the shaping of their
country’s history than all the rest of Sweden put together.
To know Dalecarlia is, therefore, almost as good as knowing Sweden, for
not only the scenery but also the characteristics of the population
inhabiting it are typically Swedish.
In the centre of the province are rich smiling pasture and farm-land
alternating with wooded hills and lakes, great pine forests and birch
groves; in the south, mining and industrial districts which are among
the most productive regions of the country. Dalecarlia is intersected
by the Dalälven river, which flows down from the mountains of the
border in two branches, Öster Dalälven, its eastern branch, flowing
through Lake Siljan. Here, and scattered around its pleasantly wooded
shores, are ten little towns which are each the centre of a distinctive
community that possess not only remarkable historical memories, but
individual costumes which their inhabitants have continued to wear
unchanged from the Middle Ages.
Like all independent and liberty-loving races, the Dalecarlians have
never been able to tolerate oppression or the yoke of the foreigner,
and it was this same proud national spirit which has always induced
them to take the lead, whenever the liberties of their country were at
stake.
Manhood, pluck, and hardy men
Still are found in old Dale land.
So runs an old Dale song, and again and again the peasants of the
province have risen to arms to defend the liberties of the Fatherland.
[Illustration: LAKE SILJAN]
In 1435, under the leadership of Engelbrecht, a prominent miner, they
succeeded in temporarily freeing Sweden from the tyranny and misrule
of the successors of Queen Margaret of Denmark, their subsequent
defeat at the hands of their oppressors being more than avenged by
the remarkable success which crowned their efforts at liberating the
country in the years immediately following the accession of King
Christian II. of Denmark to the Swedish crown in 1520. Self-willed and
obstinate, this able but short-sighted monarch signalised his advent to
power by treacherously murdering eighty-two leading Swedish noblemen
who had assembled in the capital for the coronation festivities. This
cold-blooded murder so fired the imagination of Gustavus Vasa, the son
of one of its victims, that breaking away from the prison in which he
had been confined as hostage for Christian’s safe keeping, he dashed
across to Sweden by way of Lübeck, and started on a long 900-mile tramp
northward, with the vague idea of rousing his countrymen to arms. Hotly
pursued by the King of Denmark’s followers, he finally reached the
district of Lake Siljan in Dalecarlia, and on the last Sunday in Advent
proceeded to address the good people of Rättvik after the morning
service, as they were gathering on the shores of the lake. He described
the incidents which had occurred, and laying stress on the many unjust
and tyrannical measures which had been perpetrated by the Danish
monarch, urged them to rally to his standard and free the country from
its oppressors. The Dalecarlians sympathised with the young leader, but
refused to do anything definite until they had received confirmation
of the massacre. Then as Gustavus saw his pursuers closing once again
upon him, he continued his flight towards the Norwegian frontier and
had proceeded some ninety miles when he was overtaken by the swift ski
runners whom the Dalecarlians had sent after him as soon as they had
received tardy confirmation of the news. He then turned back, and after
a succession of marvellous escapes that recall the exploits of Alfred
the Great, succeeded in warding off his pursuers and in organising
armed resistance to the Danish king.
Backed by a numerous army, whose principal mainstay consisted of the
peasantry in the district of Rättvik and the mining population of
the south of Dalecarlia, he declared Sweden independent of Danish
sovereignty, and by a succession of rapid triumphs on the field of
battle converted this declaration into a reality, his coronation in
1528 as King of Sweden inaugurating a new epoch in the history of the
country and consecrating the rule of a dynasty which was destined to
produce some of the ablest rulers in Scandinavia.
The district surrounding Lake Siljan is consequently intimately
associated with the name of Gustavus Vasa, for not only Rättvik, where
a stately monument has been erected to commemorate his memory, but many
other towns and villages, can point to homely farms or other buildings
in which the national hero is supposed to have lain concealed from
his pursuers. I have seen at Ornäs a well-preserved farmstead with
overhanging balconies in which the fugitive is said to have taken
refuge, disguised as a simple labourer, and also the kitchen in which
he was discovered sitting near the hearth by the pursuing Danes. The
story relates that the farmer’s wife, seeing that the suspicions of the
Danes had been awakened, suddenly turned towards Gustavus and, after
rebuking him violently for his laziness, struck him a hard blow on
the back with a shovel, this action having the effect of convincing
the soldiers that the Swedish labourer was not the man whom they were
looking for. Every year a ski Marathon race is held from Mora to
commemorate the athletic feat of the ski runner whom the Dalecarlians
sent post-haste after Gustavus to recall him to Rättvik, and the course
that is followed by the runners of to-day is almost identically the
same as that which was followed by the sixteenth-century ski runner.
The race is the most important sporting event of the year.
Apart from these many historical memories and legends, the district of
Lake Siljan possesses an appeal which is quite its own and which lies
not only in the loveliness of its scenery and light salubrious air, but
in the faithful observance of ancient tradition and the old-world style
of dress that have ever characterised its people.
Nowhere in Dalecarlia are these characteristics so strongly marked as
in Siljansdalen, the district surrounding the lake.
Of the ten little towns that lie on its verdant shores the three
largest and perhaps the most beautiful are Rättvik, Leksand, and Mora.
Rättvik, which lies on an inlet of the most eastern portion of the
lake, has an exceptionally beautiful situation on the slopes of
wooded ridges that command a splendid view, its sixteenth-century
white church being finely placed on a point projecting in the lake and
being surrounded by so-called ‘Kyrkstallar,’ _i.e._ a number of
makeshift buildings built of timbers placed roughly one above the other
which possess no windows but are usually provided with a stove for
making coffee. These structures, it is interesting to note, are largely
used as rest-houses on Sundays by those church-goers who have had to
come many miles by foot, cycle, or horse, in order to attend divine
service. No visitor to Rättvik should fail to attend one of these
celebrations, for the opportunities that it will provide him of seeing
the farmers and townsfolk of the locality coming to worship apparelled
in their picturesquely becoming national dress. On week-days you may
occasionally come across workers in the fields or even housewives
wearing the costume of their forefathers, but on Sundays and feast days
you will see thousands of men and women each in the costume peculiar to
his or her own district. These dresses are made by the women themselves
or are often heirlooms to which each successive generation has afforded
its quota and, if substantially the same, differ slightly in details,
certain fixed variations depending on whether the wearer is married or
single, or on the particular feast day that is being commemorated. In
imagery of colour and beauty of design, the level of excellence reached
by these peasant artists often approaches that attained by the Slovaks
and Roumanians, though they evince less concern for effect and bold
colouring than either of these two races.
The characteristic dress of the Rättvik peasant women consists of
a lofty, pointed conical bonnet, a corseted skirt which is usually
flowered, and a horizontally striped and rainbow-coloured strip that,
sewn in the front of the skirt, recalls the gaily striped aprons that
are found in Ragusa, while a flowered kerchief held in front by a
brooch is fastened around the neck. Extremely fair of complexion and
with hair that is usually straw-coloured, the good-looking women of
Rättvik are among the finest specimens of the Swedish race which I have
seen, and are so strong and energetic that even the hardest manual
labour presents no difficulty to them.
The costume of the Rättvik men consists of a very long blue coat that
is very similar to an old-fashioned frock-coat, only that it is cut
high in the neck and single-breasted; a waistcoat, with two rows of
brass buttons, of the same colour; yellow leather knee-breeches that
reach half-way up the waistcoat, and a blue soft felt hat recalling a
harlequin. Only the older men continue, however, to wear the attractive
apparel of their ancestors, the younger men preferring the more drab
fashions of to-day.
Apart from its lovely scenery, its many historical memories, and
its quaint peasant costumes, Rättvik possesses many attractions.
Its beautiful pine forests, high bracing situation and invigorating
air, combine to make it an ideal spot for those who need rest and
recuperation, while its position half-way down the lake renders it the
best starting-point for the various excursions which can be made in any
direction.
Lying at the very northernmost point of Siljan and easily accessible
from Rättvik by rail or water, the village of Mora is not as famous as
Rättvik for the beauty of its costumes, but has played as distinguished
a part in the history of the country. It was the men of Mora who
were the first to flock to the standard of Gustavus Vasa as soon as
confirmation of the Swedish massacre had arrived, and it is from here
that Sweden’s national ski race, the Vasaloppet, is run every year to
commemorate the stirring athletic feat which undoubtedly started the
War of Liberation. In Mora church-yard, moreover, can be seen the
tomb of Anders Zorn, the great Swedish painter, sculptor, and pioneer
of old Swedish peasant culture, even more than Ankarcrona, who not
only enriched his native town, and especially its parish church, by
presenting it with a statue of Gustavus Vasa that is representative
of the best Swedish sculpture of to-day, but has founded a People’s
High School which contains a collection of paintings by Prince Eugen,
Liljefors, Tiren, and other famous Swedish masters that is in every
respect a notable one.
[Illustration: MORA CHURCH]
Across the lake, and at its most southernmost point, lies Leksand,
which with Rättvik and Floda shares the distinction of being a centre
of old mediæval Swedish peasant folklore and costume. The excursion to
it is particularly interesting on a Sunday morning, if one travels to
it by the special church boat. On these occasions the steamer calls
in at various localities on the way to Leksand to collect the more
distant parishioners, all clothed in their most becoming costumes, and
her deck soon presents a very picturesque and animated appearance.
On arrival at Leksand the crowd makes its way to the fine birch-tree
avenue leading to the quaint Russian-looking steepled church in which
the service is to be held, and here the visitor should follow them and
either join the worshippers inside the building, or await them as they
come out after service. Of the two alternatives I found the second
infinitely the more agreeable, as a Swedish Protestant service is an
interminable affair, and sermons of thirty minutes’ duration appear to
be lasting hours when one does not understand a word of what is being
spoken. Nowhere, except perhaps in Slovakia and Roumania, have I seen
such an array of picturesque and colourful costumes as those which are
to be seen in Leksand on these occasions; and the scene that the people
present in church as they troop down the nave preliminary to leaving
it, or the kaleidoscope of colour which they make as they emerge into
the avenue and stroll about or talk in groups, forms an unforgettable
picture.
The bodices of the women are mostly fashioned of flowered and
gaily-coloured velvet or are embroidered with many colours, while the
apron-looking material which is sewn in the front of the plain cloth
black or white skirt is often beautifully embroidered, but more
usually attractively striped in either red, black, or white, there
appearing to be endless variations of these colours and of the size and
direction of the stripes; the caps or bonnets are sometimes conical
with striped trimming, or very similar to a Breton _coiffe_, and
held together by a black or white embroidered ribbon which is fastened
with a bow at the back of the head; at other times plain white like
a hospital nurse’s cap or the same colour but beautifully edged with
lace. And if the women’s dress is picturesque that of the men wearing
national costume is almost equally so; blue or plum-coloured is the
old-fashioned single or double-breasted tunic or frock-coat that is
cut high in the neck and sometimes reaches to the knee, while yellow
buckskin knee breeches, blue or red stockings with the most attractive
red tassels imaginable peering merrily from the turned-up tops, and a
hat which when not large-brimmed and of felt is red or of an equally
vivid colour strongly reminiscent of a romantic opera, complete the
costume. As for the children, they are an exact replica of their elders.
Leksand Church, which was originally built in the Middle Ages and
given its present form and bulb-shaped dome after a fire in 1709,
is distinctly Russian in character, its tower having been rebuilt by
Russian prisoners of war according to a model which Lars Siljeström,
a military chaplain and the architect who had been entrusted with
the rebuilding of the church, had brought back from Russia, after
accompanying Charles XII. to that country.
Dalecarlian peasant art as revealed in the attractive costumes which
the peasants continue to wear on all festive occasions reveals an
innate artistic talent and a striving after beauty that mark it out
among all peasant artistic productions, while it proves how easy it is
to acquire technique if one only seeks to give faithful expression to
one’s inspiration. And just as in the peasant art of other countries,
this striving after beauty shows itself, not only in the painstaking
and loving care that is lavished in the making and adorning of the
peasant costumes, but in the equally unstinting thought and labour that
is devoted to the embellishing of the home and to making life beautiful
even for the poorest. I visited several small farms and cottages
and found in even the humblest abode walls that had been adorned
with peasant drawings and paintings. Produced with house-painter’s
colours and obviously intended to decorate in conjunction with woven
material, these quaint and artless paintings often convey an original
and pleasing effect, while they depict Biblical personages and events
whose general colour scheme, like those of the costumes, are dictated
by district and devised with surprising skill.
If Dalecarlia is therefore an ideal land for tourists during every
season of the year, with its many beautiful excursions and fascinating
peasant costumes and cottages, the quaintly picturesque customs of its
people and the opportunities that it offers in winter for every kind
of winter sports, it is also the home of industries which have long
been famous in the history of Sweden. There is an old legend which
relates that about 700 years ago a goat-herd, while tending his goats
on a mountain in Dalecarlia south of Lake Siljan, noticed that one of
his flock had suddenly become dyed red, and that the only plausible
explanation that he could find of the phenomenon lay in the fact that
the surrounding rock contained quantities of copper which had become
oxidised by the atmosphere and converted into red ochre by the action
of a forest fire.
[Illustration: LEKSAND CHURCH] This incident, it is alleged, led to
the discovery of important copper deposits in the neighbourhood of
Falun and ultimately to the formation of the Stora Kopparberget, or
Falun copper mine, one of the most remarkable mining undertakings in
the world and probably the oldest. Whether this explanation is correct
or not, the fact remains that the Falun Mine Company was certainly
founded in 1284, as a purchase deed recording the sale of the mine to
its present owners has been in existence from that year. And from that
day it has never changed ownership in spite of the many vicissitudes
through which it has passed. The first owners floated a company in
which not only the greatest nobles of the age, but even the miners
actually employed in the mine, were represented, and very soon the mine
became the richest copper-producing concern in the world, the industry
being at its height in the seventeenth century, when it constituted
Gustavus Adolphus’s principal source of revenue during the Thirty
Years’ War.
The Falun Mine has been very productive in the past, and up to the year
1900 there has been mined in it some 35 million tons of copper ore,
while its extensive galleries are more than twelve miles in length and
nearly a mile in depth in its deepest part. Its present copper output
is insignificant, however, as it is no longer copper ore which is mined
but principally pyrites, this ore constituting raw material for the
manufacture of sulphuric acid and the other chemical products of the
company or being utilised in its extensive sulphite pulp industry.
It is only on the strength of its glorious historical traditions,
therefore, that one should visit the mine, or for the insight that a
visit paid to it will afford of the pump-houses, hoisting machinery,
and other obsolete contrivances that satisfied our ancestors’
requirements, though an hour spent in the interesting museum of the
company could be employed far more profitably.
The Stora Kopparberg’s principal activities being only indirectly
concerned with the Falun mine, we must look elsewhere for an
explanation of the prominent position which it continues to hold among
Swedish industrial concerns of this century. Already before the copper
ore was running short owing to excessive mining, it had started those
fields of activity which now constitute its principal strength, such as
iron and steel, forestry and wood, all these industries being located
in the basin of the river Dalälven.
In 1735 the company built its first ironworks, and by 1870 it possessed
no less than twenty furnaces and ironworks in different parts of the
province. The company then established the Domnarvet Iron and Steel
Works on the Dalälven river south of Falun, and closed down the smaller
works, with the exception of the Korsa works, which still continued
to manufacture hammered Lancashire iron. In addition to these works
the Stora Kopparberg Company owns the Dannemora and over half the
Grängesberg iron-ore mines in Central Sweden, from which raw material
is obtained for the iron industry, and enormous forest tracts which
provide its large sulphate and sulphite pulp mills at Skutskär and
paper mill at Kvarnsveden with the necessary timber.
Falun itself is a clean and tidy little town which has gradually
grown up around the mine, in which many attractive-looking workmen’s
cottages, painted with the red ochre produced from the mine, can be
seen. It boasts two interesting churches, those of Christine and
Kopparberg, this last dating from the early Middle Ages, and a Town
Hall dating from the seventeenth century, but possesses little else of
interest apart from the collection that is housed in the Head Office
buildings of the Stora Kopparberg Company in the eastern corner of the
Market Square, and the museum of the same company, “Stora Gruvstugan”,
one of the finest industrial museums of its kind to be found in Sweden.
The first contains many notable portraits of Swedish monarchs or of
distinguished Swedes who at one time or another have been connected
with the general management of the company; the second, not only a
number of tools that were used at various times in mining operations
and a very interesting selection of the copper coins formerly used
in Sweden (all manufactured from the copper of the Falun mine), and
among them the huge 10-daler silver coin, the largest in the world and
weighing over 50 lb., but also many valuable pictures, prints, plans,
and models illustrating the history of the Stora Kopparberg Company
from its birth and the subsequent development of the Swedish iron,
timber, paper, pulp, and water-power industries. The workmen of this
immense undertaking, which is splendidly organised, possess their own
club, libraries, wash-houses, technical and evening schools and sport
grounds, while their wives are trained in house-keeping and children
management, and the young receive the best education available. I have
never seen any institution run more efficiently than the Falun Copper
Company.
[Illustration: SUNDSVALL, A GREAT BALTIC TIMBER PORT]
The surrounding country is fertile and in places almost pretty, except
in the district immediately surrounding the mine-fields. Here are
numerous slag-fields, in which the copper ore used to be worked by
repeated processes of roasting and smelting, the sulphurous fumes that
were thus generated soon killing off all vegetation and giving the
neighbouring houses a very scorched appearance.
CHAPTER IX
LAPLAND
Psychologists tell us that man is naturally of a jealous and envious
temperament, and that in spite of centuries of civilisation the
cave man or woman propensity that is manifested whenever a _crime
passionnel_ takes place is to be found in practically every race and
at every period of history. This popular conception is, however, only a
half-truth, for while jealousy may be said to be found generally among
mankind, there is one race in which it is never met with, and probably
several others (ethnologically related to it) who rarely manifest
any sign of it. Scattered over Russia, Finland, Sweden and Norway,
north of the sixth degree of latitude, and therefore well within the
Arctic circle, are a nomadic people belonging to the Mongolian race,
the Laplanders, who, like the Red Indians of North America, have been
in close contact with civilisation for centuries, without being
more than superficially affected by it. Indeed, the Lapps are among
the most primitive nations in the world, and, living their lives
in the uncultured ways of their remote ancestors, have remained so
fundamentally averse to the ways of civilisation that untimely death
has almost invariably been the portion of any member of their race who
has made essay of them. A less discontented nation does not, however,
exist than the Laplanders, and, unperturbed by the vicissitudes of
life, good fortune, or weather, they appear to lead serenely happy
and contented lives, which prove how little happiness has to do with
material comfort or wealth.
The popular conception of Lapland is that of a vast desolate waste
in the extreme north, perpetually snow-bound, and of the Lapps as a
kind of Eskimo whose lot is as hard and cold as the bleak mountains
where they tend their herds of reindeer. But this is hardly the case.
Lapland is doubtless one of the parts of the world where the winter is
the longest and the most trying. The temperature during the greater
part of the year usually averages thirty or more degrees of frost,
and for over three months the fleeting gleams of the aurora borealis
and the light of the moon and the stars are the only substitute for
sunlight; yet the Lapps are not without a summer, and for a period of
six weeks the sun never sets, while emerald green meadows and leafy
woodlands, radiant lakes and wild flowers that are as profuse as they
are short-lived, bring a little pleasure and respite to a race whose
existence would otherwise be terribly grey and barren.
A visit to these timid and peace-loving people is a comparatively easy
matter in this season of the year, as during this time they momentarily
abandon their nomadic life and erect their huts on the slopes of the
mountains or the shores of lakes. Here they can be observed living in
conditions that are almost identical to those under which they were
existing in the beginning of civilisation.
Short but sturdily built, the Lapps, like all Mongolian races, have
high cheek-bones, oblique eyes, black hair, and dark complexions. When
they arrived in Europe is uncertain; probably before the dawn of modern
history. Their life, which is spent in contact with Nature, gives them
great endurance and hardihood, but they are not hard workers, and once
they have made provision for the day or the morrow, they spend most of
their time sitting in their huts smoking plug tobacco. Before their
conversion to Christianity they were believed to be wizards and to hold
dealings with the devil, to whom, and other gods, they were wont to
sacrifice reindeer.
The welfare of the Laplanders is inseparably bound up with that of
their flocks, and any dwindling in the number of these cattle is
invariably attended by a corresponding decrease in their own numbers.
In the last two decades many Lapps have died owing to the loss of their
reindeer, which have perished in thousands for want of a suitable
pasturage. As the last few years have, however, been less arduous, the
number of reindeer has shown an appreciable increase, and consequently
the threatened extinction of the Lapp race, which a few years ago
appeared to be only a question of a few years, has momentarily been
arrested, the total number of Lapps inhabiting Sweden being 10 per cent
greater than what it was five years ago (the Lapps have increased from
6200 to about 7000), this increase in population being occasioned by a
corresponding increase of 30 per cent among the reindeer. (There are
over 300,000 reindeer at present in Lapland.)
For the subsistence of a Lapp family a large herd of deer is, however,
required, and many Laplanders own from 500 to 1000 or more of these
cattle. The meat and milk constitute their principal food, while the
hide is tanned for skin and clothes, and many of the smaller household
requisites are fashioned out of the bones and antlers.
Last year over 60,000 reindeer were sold in North Lapland, with prices
varying from 45 to 60 crowns, mostly to Southern Sweden, Germany,
and Hungary, where their meat is highly appreciated. In exchange for
these animals and their products the Lapps purchase such necessities
as salt, cloth, coffee, tobacco, and flour, their requirements being
extraordinarily simple. Their meals consist principally of reindeer
meat, which they eat sometimes uncooked, but more usually stewed,
fried, or smoked, coffee which they sprinkle with salt, unfermented
bread or cake, and brandy, to which some are often immoderately
addicted.
No race lives as strenuous or hard an existence for the greater part
of the year as this unfortunate people, over which hangs interminably
the tragic suggestion of the inevitableness of the grind of life.
And except for certain months when they have abundant leisure for
making their articles of reindeer horn and clothing, or for taking
a well-earned rest basking in the July sunshine, they are almost
continually on the move, breaking up camp almost daily in order to find
a suitable grazing ground for their reindeer and the moss without which
they could not possibly live through the winter. Throughout this period
and the spring and autumn months they are exposed almost unceasingly
to the most rigorous of climates and to a cold that is almost lethal,
their patience and good humour being as exemplary as their fortitude.
Like most nomads, they are treated as a privileged race by the Swedish
Government, which fully realises the value of their wholly distinctive
industry in the utilisation of enormous territories that are absolutely
unsuitable for any other purpose. They consequently pay no taxes or
rent, are excused military service and political or civil obligations,
and are allowed to roam or to camp at will within the very extensive
areas that have been allotted to them, while the most ample protection
is afforded to their lives and their industry. They have, however,
often proved a bone of contention among the several northern nations
in which they are to be found, and regulations have often had to be
formulated governing the inter-State migrations of their flocks,
the latter resolutely refusing to confine their wanderings to any
particular country, while their owners on their side have proved
equally powerless to prevent their incursions in foreign territory. But
I must also mention the attempts which have been made to provide the
Laplanders with a groundwork of education, and the Swedish State has
appointed teachers, frequently of Lapp birth, who, moving about among
the nomads and residing with them at their various winter and summer
encampments, have diligently sought to render them more amenable to
modern ways.
[Illustration: LULEA, LAPLAND The export harbour for iron ore.]
For over six years, in fact, every Lapp child is now compelled to
receive instruction in Lapp and Swedish, and is taught the scientific
raising and management of reindeer and the rudiments of natural
history, nature study, and hygiene. The Lapps make good and exemplary
pupils, and frequently reach a higher level of education than Swedish
children of the same age; but on reaching the age of thirteen their
mental development suddenly ceases, and they become incapable of
progressing any further. Their thirst for acquiring knowledge then
rapidly transforms itself into a tendency to revert to the prejudices
and customs of their race and a corresponding inability to
appreciate the benefits of civilisation so complete that no amount
of persuasion ever succeeds in inducing them to modify their natural
aversion to water or to cleanliness. The Lapps, in short, live like
animals, and neither wash nor take off their clothes even at night.
After their evening meal, and with about as much formality as is
displayed by a dog which is weary of eating and sinks into sleep,
they quickly remove their raw-hide moccasins, drop down on the soft
deerskins that are spread on the ground, and are asleep almost in the
very act of falling. As their mode of eating is usually characterised,
moreover, by an equal disdain of refinement and a way of attacking
the meat or bone that is very reminiscent of a savage devouring his
food, it is abundantly clear that the great majority of the Laplanders
have little progressed beyond the first stage of civilisation, and,
consequently, that it is waste of time trying to induce them to
modify their traditional way of living. Highly significant, moreover,
is the fact that the medical authorities of the hospital which has
been built at Kiruna for those Lapps who are unable to find a cure
for their ailments only retain their patients for a period of two
months. They tell me that if a Lapp does not mend in that space of
time it is useless keeping him any longer, as he invariably succumbs
after two to three months’ experience of civilisation, or becomes a
victim to consumption. There is, however, one danger to the race which
the Swedish authorities are determined to stamp out, and that is the
heavy child mortality which is prevalent in all Lapp settlements,
and every effort is being made to induce the Lapp mother to adopt a
less Spartan and antiquated method of dealing with her progeny. The
problem offers almost insurmountable difficulties, however, as the Lapp
mother refuses to countenance modern methods of rearing children, and
consequently only the hardiest infant continues to survive. The only
apparent good, therefore, which has so far resulted from the Lapps’
contact with civilisation has been their conversion to Christianity.
They are now a deeply religious nation, and hold Sunday in such
respect that they absolutely refuse to have any money transaction on
that day, while their standard of morality stands higher than that of
far more civilised communities. They belong to the Laestadian sect,
and their Lutheran aversion to graven images is such that they are
inclined to regard any image wrought by the magic of the camera as
an insult to the Deity. It is only, however, when they worship their
god that they cast off all reserve and display any marked exuberance,
and they should be seen when possible after their services, as they
sing their folk-songs and talk animatedly together. Laestadianism, if
a somewhat repellent and sombre creed, would appear, therefore, to
concord with the prevailing temper of the Laplanders, which probably
accounts for the fact that it has spread throughout the entire race
and is the dominating influence in their lives. Such are the principal
characteristics of the curious people which I have endeavoured to
describe, and of all the races which I have come across none have
proved of more engrossing interest.
CHAPTER X
A NIGHT IN A LAPP HUT
[Illustration: MIDNIGHT SUN OVER LAKE TORNE TRÄSK, FROM ABISKO]
It was a wonderful night in June when I set out by motor launch one
evening from Abisko to Pålnoviken, where I was to spend a night in
a Lapp hut. And as I approached the small jetty that lies at the
very extremity of the park of the Tourist Hotel, I had once again
the unforgettable spectacle of the midnight sun, as it crept along
the mountain crests to the north-west and illumined Lake Torne
Träsk with a broad shimmering band of gold. The clear atmosphere
peculiar to Sweden brought out every contour and object so vividly
that even the most distant mountain summits appeared to be close at
hand, while rising over the plain behind Abisko, which was covered
with dense clusters of white-stemmed birch and juniper bushes, were
the snow-clad Abisko Alps, and the strangely shaped semi-circular
mountain pass called the Lapgate, through which it is said that
the Laplanders originally invaded the country. The contrast between
the dazzling snow and mountain-tops, now coloured blood-red by the
sun, and the verdant meadows and brawling rivulets, whose gurgling as
they rolled over the stones was almost the only audible sound, was one
of exceeding impressiveness, while the realisation that barely one
hour before midnight conditions of light and sun prevailed identical
to those existing in broad daylight in western countries created a
sense of unreality in my mind that was as novel as it was pleasing.
As we left the shore, however, a cold, bleak polar wind arose, whose
freezing blast effectively recalled me to reality. It was one of those
winds which chill you to the marrow; and as I was totally unprepared
for it, it unmercifully settled on my person, percolated into my
neck, up my arms and legs, and through my clothes, while it hovered
persistently and pervasively in my wake. The realisation of the
glorious sunshine above me, and the engrossing thought of the visit
that I was contemplating, were too strong, however, to be weakened
by such minor discomforts. And experiencing some of the sensations
of virtuousness which are invariably felt whenever one indulges in
an exceptionally cold bath, I began to stride up and down the minute
deck of the launch, full of the sense of well-being which is caused by
reasonable bodily exercise under uncomfortable conditions. After more
than an hour and a half of this constant buffeting, during which the
Jake developed all the symptoms of a roughish sea, and the boat began
to pitch and roll as if to the manner born, the wind suddenly flagged,
tired, while the rumble and clatter of the engine announced that we
had arrived. Creeping out of the deck chair into which I had finally
found refuge and oblivion from the storm, I saw a little cove with a
meadow in the background that sloped gently towards us, and behind it
steep mountain-sides that were clothed with pine and birch. Gathering
up my knapsack, I waited until the captain was ready to land, and
then, preceded by him, went down the ladder and climbed up the incline
leading to the meadow above. A hundred yards away were the Lapp huts of
the settlement which I was to visit, and in almost as short a time as
it takes to write down these words, we had arrived at the one in which
I was to spend the night.
Facing me was a hut made of curved birch trunks, set closely together
and covered with turf and earth, which were kept in place by cross
beams. And opening a door which swung outwards on a wooden hinge, I
entered after my guide had acquainted my hosts of my arrival. I found
myself in a large circular room whose walls sloped inwards, and in
the centre of which I saw a large open hearth bordered by stones that
were placed in a circle. Over this fire was a pot which was suspended
from an iron chain above, while there was a large hole in the roof to
enable the smoke to escape, and a smaller one on the floor level near
the door for the dogs to pass in and out. The ground was covered with
spruce birch twigs on both sides of the hearth, while all around the
wooden walls I noticed reindeer skins, and there were also two or three
chests likewise made of birchwood to hold the family trinkets and the
principal household implements, as well as an inverted wooden box which
was obviously used as a sideboard, since I noticed lying on it a tin of
the familiar Lyle’s Golden Syrup, and two china cups and saucers. As
I entered the hut, my host, N——, a typical Laplander with a hooked
nose, prominent cheek-bones, and tangled dark hair, courteously waved
me to a log on the right near the hearth, the place of honour, and I
sat down, while he began to talk concerning me to the captain. Opposite
to him and on the left were a woman and two young girls who sat
cross-legged against the side of the hut, and two youths of indefinite
age who were smoking pipes made of mazur birch. There were also two
black Lapp dogs, one of which was watching one of the younger girls as
she chewed a large chunk of smoked reindeer, which she had sliced off
a reindeer leg with a clasp-knife, while a large very pale-faced Lapp
baby, wrapped in mummy-like swaddling-clothes, was lying in a most
attractive-looking reindeer-skin cradle which was slung from the roof
and shaped like a miniature poulka (sledge).
Nowhere have I met with a more fantastic and weird-looking costume than
that which was worn by N—— and his family on this occasion.
N—— himself wore a blue cloth tunic ornamented with red and yellow
borders and gathered in at the waist by a leather belt, skin-tight
cloth breeches, moccasins turned up at the toes, and a high pointed cap
that, decorated with a bright red tassel and worn at a rakish angle,
gave him the appearance of a court buffoon. His womenfolk were
attired in blue cloth dresses trimmed with a kind of gold braid, tight
breeches, I believe, of the same material, coloured kerchiefs which
were fastened by quaint brooches, and attractive red and blue lace caps.
[Illustration: A LAPP HUT ON LAKE TORNE TRÄSK, MIDNIGHT]
I found N—— quite ready to answer my questions, though some of these
appeared to cause him vast amusement. On being told that the Laplanders
were never known to quarrel, I inquired what would happen if two Lapps
fell in love with the same woman. This question had to be repeated
several times before N—— realised what I was asking, but when once he
and his friends understood the drift of my query, they began to laugh
so uproariously that no answer was forthcoming for at least three or
four minutes. At last the captain informed me that my question had
caused the greatest merriment among the natives, as they were totally
unable to conceive of such a possibility ever arising. Here, then, is a
community of men and women who, in spite of their comparatively recent
conversion to Christianity and the attainment by them of a thoroughly
organised social life, in which the rights of property and marriage
ties are scrupulously respected, have, emotionally speaking, never
evolved beyond the state where sex has neither the aureole nor even
suspected the halo of romance. I say, in spite of their conversion to
Christianity and their organised life—as it cannot be denied that
while the primitive man’s possession of woman depends ultimately on
his power to hold her against any other man, his appreciation and love
of woman as such, and his capacity of romance, invariably grow with
every effort made by religion or law to control or check his amatory
or possessive instincts. Contrary to the general tendency of mankind,
the Laplanders have, however, little changed from what they were in
the dawn of civilisation, and they continue to afford the spectacle of
a race in which, in spite of restrictions, sex attraction is no more
discriminating than the universal craving for food. I rather fancy that
when a Lapp takes a wife he uses hardly more judgment than that which
is shown by the average man or woman who is sampling a piece of bread,
and that consequently, if only the woman is a fair example of the race,
such trifles as good looks or complexion, charm or fine physique, are
absolutely of no consequence.
As I talked to my guide and endeavoured to obtain further information
with regard to this very strange people, my hosts were proceeding
unconcernedly with their work. N—— was carving a knife handle out
of the horn of a reindeer, while his wife was busy fashioning thread
for sewing the family winter garments out of reindeer sinews, and was
pulling the strands through her teeth in order to soften them and make
them more pliable.
Soon the captain rose up to go. He told me that, as had been arranged,
I would sleep in the hut, also that in accordance with my desires I
would not be expected to share my host’s evening meal, though the
latter had expressed the hope that I would accept a cup of coffee
before retiring to sleep. I replied that I would be pleased to take
coffee with the family, though I knew that the Lapps were hardly noted
for their cleanly habits, and while my host’s daughter began to prepare
it, said good-bye to my guide, who promised to return for me next
morning.
Unsavoury as have been some of the foods which I have tasted during
many wanderings, few have proved more repugnant than the compound of
inferior moka and reindeer milk which was now handed to me, though
I will allow that the Lapp girl endeavoured to serve it in a clean
receptacle. Taking one of the cups which had evidently already been
used by one of the company, she poured in some water and diligently
started scraping the inside of it with her grubby fingers. Then
throwing out the water, she wiped and polished the cup, poured in the
coffee and milk, and handed it to me.
After this experience I was ready for anything, and until bed-time
amused myself watching the antics of my room-mates as they now started
to eat their evening meal preliminary to retiring for the night.
The menu on this occasion consisted of smoked reindeer, unfermented
bread, and coffee taken with salt instead of sugar, the informality
which dominated the feast reminding me irresistibly of feeding time at
the Zoo. Two large reindeer bones were produced, one of which N——
commandeered as head of the family, while the other went the round of
the others; and sitting on the ground, they all produced clasp-knives
and began to munch large chunks of meat which they pared off the bones.
The dogs ran from one to the other, getting a stray morsel, or when
sated lay back contentedly by their master, the latter every now and
then wiping his knife on one of their backs before cutting a fresh
morsel for himself. Spellbound I watched the orgy until suddenly,
without any more formality than that which is shown by a dog who tires
of eating and sinks into sleep, they quickly removed their moccasins
and dropped down on the deerskins that were nearest them, appearing to
fall asleep almost in the very act of falling.
It was some time before I began to realise that I too was expected to
follow the general example; but when looking behind me I saw a large
reindeer skin that had obviously been placed there for my benefit, I
gathered up my knapsack and made for my improvised bed. Never shall
I forget that night, for try as I would I was unable to reconcile
myself to the strangeness of my surroundings, or to forget the horde of
insects that had apparently found a home in my rug. The excruciating
itching which they occasioned, coupled with the occasional visit of the
very smelly Lapp dogs, who persisted in treating my prostrate body as a
couch, and the yelping of the baby, whom neither the milk-bottle nor a
large reindeer bone which was thrust into its mouth was able to pacify,
converted what would otherwise have been a pleasing experience into a
long-drawn agony, and it was a very disillusioned and weary traveller
who greeted the captain on the next morning. Thanking my host for the
hospitality which he had shown me, I gladly followed my guide to the
boat and hastened back to Abisko.
CHAPTER XI
AN IMPRESSION OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN
As we left the Abisko Tourist Hotel, the solitary birch tree which
stood as sentinel opposite the main entrance and garden of the
hotel swayed and rustled in the wind, and fitful gleams of sunshine
percolated through the grey clouds in the direction of Pålnoviken,
while the genial manageress wished us God-speed.
It was half-past eight, and we estimated that we would reach the
summit of Mount Njulja in about three and a quarter hours, that is to
say, just in time to view the midnight sun, assuming the sky cleared
sufficiently to enable us to see it. And walking down the path which
branches off to the right, as you turn your back to the hotel and Lake
Torne Träsk, we soon reached and crossed the first level crossing
over the railway, which leads to the mountain. It was not too warm to
allow of strenuous walking, and not too cool to prevent the dew of
perspiration from becoming perceptible, but unlike my friend Mr. L——,
who was accompanying me, I had no spikes to my shoes, a circumstance
which proved a considerable handicap.
The path which we now followed wound up the mountain slope, through
a wood which at this season of the year was a perfect dream of wild
flowers, and to my astonishment I noticed, in addition to the wild
geranium, several varieties of Alpine flora which I had never expected
to find in Lapland, such as the primula (primrose) and the deep blue
_Gentiana carinata_, as well as a fascinating pink flower to
which I was unable to find a name. After nearly an hour’s strenuous
going, during which the birch and juniper bushes became gradually more
and more stunted, we came across several snow-drifts which delayed
us considerably, the track that we followed proving so insecure that
I began to stumble repeatedly, and on at least two occasions to find
myself up to my waist in snow. On reaching a certain point where there
was a clear view of the valley and lake in all its widening expanse, we
stopped a moment to enjoy the view, but suddenly perceiving at least
two other ridges beyond the one immediately above us, decided to
complete the climb before taking any further rest.
[Illustration: VIEW FROM TOURIST STATION, SALTOLUOKTA, LAPLAND]
“We must hurry,” I said. “We are not even half-way.”
“How high is Njulja?”
“Just over 4000 feet.”
“What is the time?”
“A quarter past ten.”
Feeling that all our labour would be wasted if we were not in time, we
set out once again over difficult ground which in spite of its arid and
troublous character was not without a certain grandeur, while we felt
a magic quality in the atmosphere which drew us on and exhilarated.
It became a race with the clock, in which, owing to certain muscles
which I had strained in the snow-drifts, and the lack of proper
paraphernalia, which caused me usually to be yards behind my friend, we
should logically have been marked out from the first as second-best,
yet we trudged on undaunted, the thought of the successive ridges
remaining to be climbed so dominating our pedestrian world that we made
no endeavour to talk. I shall never forget that climb, nor the effort
which I made to disregard the strain which with almost every fresh step
became gradually more painful, nor finally how, after a period of time
which, though only three hours, seemed more like six, my friend, who
was ahead, climbed the last ridge and waved his arm towards me to tell
me we had reached the summit. More quickly then, and with a spurt of
almost uncanny energy, I rushed forward to where he stood, a tall slim
figure silhouetted against the sky, and stumbling forward reached the
highest point of the mountain. Never shall I forget the radiant glory
of the vision which gradually began to unfold itself before my eyes,
and how magically it seemed to dispel all recollection of the fatigue
and strain which I had undergone.
Before me, and encompassing not only Lake Torne Träsk to the north and
west but also the Abisko valley to the south, were range after range
of serrated snow-topped mountains which the clearness and mystery of
the Swedish air were surrounding with a veil that was almost luminous,
while above, pure clarity, illimitable, boundless, soared; with in the
west over Pålnoviken, long bars of grey clouds tipped with gold which
the night breeze was chasing northward. Suddenly, as if in answer to
my hidden prayer, a spray of crimson light shot swiftly from behind a
cloud to the west and glittered through the air. It transformed every
peak and headland into a glimpse of fairyland and illumined the lake
with a shimmering band of gold, while the distant peak of Kebnekaise
began to glow like a pyramid of frosted silver. Speechless I gazed
spellbound at a sunset which, rivalling the most beautiful southern
twilights which I have seen, in the glow and variety of colour that it
displayed, afforded even greater pleasure in that, unlike any other,
its changing tones did not pass rapidly into darkness, but lasted
many hours without any real diminution of splendour. Purple and mauve
and even blood-red was the sky, with here and there an island of
rosy-tinted cloud which appeared to be floating in the empyrean; and
as these colours slowly faded or changed to every variation of blue,
the midnight sun continued to creep along the mountain crests which lay
to the north-west, and the lake to turn to glittering silver wherever
it was not shot with gold. It was like the gradual unveiling of a dim
enchanted region where colours were softer and less troubled than a
moment’s thought, and the air of so choice and rare a quality that
one felt strangely invigorated by it. And only the sudden stirring of
a chilly northern wind which swept along the brow of the mountain
recalled me to reality. We then remembered that we were cold and weary,
that I had strained a leg muscle, and accordingly that steep as had
been the ascent, the descent would probably prove even more arduous.
And having accepted and drunk a cup of very warming coffee which two
friendly Swedes, who had also accomplished the climb, insisted on
forcing on us, we set our faces once more towards the valley and began
the descent.
[Illustration: STORA SJÖFALLET, GREAT LAKE FALLS, SALTOLUOKTA]
What I suffered on the journey back to Abisko words cannot adequately
describe, for whereas the thought of what I had set out to accomplish
when starting out to climb Njulja had enabled me to put up with some
very real discomfort, not even the enticing prospect of the comfortable
bed awaiting me on my return sufficed to make me overlook the very
excruciating pain which my leg occasioned for the greater part of our
crawl home. I say crawl, for our progress, from being fairly brisk as
we started out, soon degenerated into a veritable shamble, while we
were continually obliged to halt in order to rest my foot. I shall
never forget, however, the glory of the view that opened before us
when we reached the last ridge before entering the wood which covers
the lower slope of the mountain, or the vivid contrast that was
presented between the dazzling snow and mountain-tops now coloured
blood-red by the sun, and the green clusters of white-stemmed birch and
juniper and brawling rivulets whose babbling as they hurtled down to
the lake, and the piping of a solitary bird, were the only perceptible
sounds. Like the memory of the supreme moment during which the midnight
sun first pierced the clouds above Pålnoviken, it is one of those
recollections which the mind always conjures up whenever it would evoke
beauty.
CHAPTER XII
AN IMPRESSION OF A SWEDISH CHRISTMAS
Cold, bleak, and uninviting is the outlook as my taxi speeds through
the City towards Millwall Docks, where awaits the steamer that is to
take me to Sweden, and, wreathed in grey swirls of smoke and rain
clouds, London seems hardly the kind of city that one should deplore
leaving, yet as I reach the wharf where lies the _Saga_ and feel
the full force of the gusty north-east wind that is lashing my face
like a steel whip, I almost regret my decision to see what a Swedish
Christmas is like, so distinct are the possibilities of even more
inclement weather out at sea. It being too late to turn back, however,
I determine to make the best of a bad job and hurry on board, the
captain informing me that the crossing is likely to be a good one
and that, though the force of the wind and the direction in which it
is blowing are unfavourable, the first is gradually subsiding and
the second very likely to be changed. I remember many occasions when
similar prophecies have been as confidently made without justification,
yet attempt to delude myself into believing that at least this one
will prove correct, and consequently follow the stewardess to my
cabin, hoping for the best. As we reach the open sea, however, I soon
realise that the captain’s optimism has hardly been justified. It is
a black night with clouds covering the sky and a haze low down on the
horizon. It is not thick enough for the fog-horns to be sounding, but
the shore soon becomes invisible, while the wind continues in the same
unfavourable quarter without showing any sign of diminution.
Like all Swedish Lloyd ships, the _Saga_ is everything that a
steamer should be where good accommodation and cuisine are concerned,
but, unlike the majority of boats belonging to the same line, she is
hardly an ideal vessel to be on under adverse conditions, and very
soon I become acutely conscious of a rolling and pitching that send me
flying down to my berth, while the boat begins to slow down appreciably
owing to the head-wind that is blowing against us. For the first
twelve hours, however, apart from the rolling and pitching, which are
sufficiently prolonged to spell disaster to any traveller at all prone
to sea-sickness, the discomfort which I experience is neither greater
nor less than that which usually characterises a crossing of the North
Sea undertaken in winter. But a few hours before daybreak the gale
increases in volume and intensity, and the boat begins to sway and rock
much as I have seen a row-boat do when among breakers, while the waves
start beating violently against the boat, booming like heavy guns, and
the hull quivers as if sorely hit. It is impossible to sleep and nearly
as difficult to take any nourishment, as the slightest movement that
I make from recumbency is immediately followed by rapidly increasing
nausea, and, impotent to do aught but suffer patiently, I await until
such moment as the fury of the wind and storm will have spent itself,
while fog-horn and wave combine to make a music whose clamour is so
incessant that even the most seasoned traveller would, I fancy, find
it difficult to sleep soundly through it all. Then, on the morning
of the third day, as the first sickly light of morn is streaking the
dingy, pallid sky, the wind suddenly flags. I look out from my porthole
and see that, though the waves are still rather too boisterous for
my liking, there is every prospect of a quieter termination to our
journey. Arising, I go up on deck, hoping to hear that we are nearing
Gothenburg, but am told that owing to the adverse wind of the previous
day there is no possibility of reaching the Swedish port until about
seven that evening, which means to say that I shall have to travel
nearly twenty-four hours across country and without a break if I wish
to be in time for the Christmas festivities. Deploring my ill-fortune,
I turned to the Swedish Bradshaw and with the assistance of sympathetic
Swedes try to devise a way or means of reaching Rättvik in a more
expeditious fashion, but, soon realising that there is no alternative
route, decide to spend the day as pleasantly as possible, and so
beguile the time whenever not occupied in partaking of the generous
meals that are such a feature of life on board a Swedish steamer,
playing bridge with my Swedish friends, a game that they usually play
with variations that make it as great a gamble as cut-throat bridge.
And so the day passes pleasantly enough, the sea growing calmer and
calmer from the moment we come in sight of the Danish coast, though we
naturally resent the way in which the North Sea has added insult to
injury by not only providing us with one of the roughest passages of
the year, but also robbing us of the one redeeming feature that would
have made us forget our sufferings—that is to say, made it impossible
for any of us to see the approach to Gothenburg, which is that city’s
chief claim to beauty.
Soon the _Saga_ reaches the rocky archipelago of the Skärgård and
begins to forge her way through the innumerable islands that lie at
the mouth of the river Göta älv, with a fair wind to help and a white
ribbon of foam trailing from both her sides. Then, after exchanging
signals with the shore, we pass various lighthouses and are soon fast
to a large wharf with lights gleaming all about us. Lights fringing the
river and harbour or running up the low-lying hills that surround the
city; shipping of every kind, from great, imposing liners to freight
steamers or fishing-smacks; whistles sounding, bells ringing, while
all around is that mysterious undercurrent of sound that attests the
presence of a large city. Quickly we land and notice the snow that lies
thick on the ground, while there is a nippiness in the dry night air
so invigorating that, though I realise the temperature is considerably
below freezing-point, I am hardly conscious of it. And, following my
porter, I hail a taxi and hasten to the main station to take the night
train to Stockholm.
* * * * *
Half a dozen coaches, all spotlessly clean and splendidly heated, with
doors and windows that shut so hermetically that it is impossible for
any draught to penetrate, most of these third class with corridors and
even sleepers, where for an inconsiderable sum even the poorest can
be assured of a comfortable berth; a profusion of water-jugs whose
water is changed every two or three hours and that are within easy
reach of every carriage; rails that are so well laid that there is as
little jolting as on the best English or American lines, and, coupled
with this, a number of second-class Pullman carriages that are as
comfortable as any in England, and a service that is run efficiently
and up to time. Though the train starts at an hour when the majority
of people are just beginning to think of dinner, I retire almost
immediately, in view of the very early hour at which I have to change
trains at Hallsberg, and after a restful night am awakened in good time
and alight without being unduly hurried at the junction, where I am to
take another train for the north. It is too dark to see the country,
but the line, quays, and station are thick with snow, and I see to the
left of the main station building a huge Christmas tree that is already
lit with many electric candles and gaily decorated with a profusion
of tiny Swedish flags and the customary Christmas ornaments. I then
remember that the next day is Christmas Eve, the great day in Sweden,
and congratulate myself on my foresight in having wasted so little time
in Gothenburg. It is considerably colder than when I left the steamer,
but as I follow my porter to the train which is to convey me to Krylbo
I feel a dryness in the air that is so exhilarating that the prospect
of even lower temperatures to be encountered in Dalecarlia no longer
frightens me, and so remain for a time on the platform watching the
fur-coated and fur-capped Swedes who are passing to and fro.
For the greater part of the next day we travel through a countryside
whose soil is now chilled to stone and yet resplendent with the imagery
of the snow that is covering it, snow as dazzling as white marble
and with the sheen of satin, inconceivably pure and exquisite in its
transparency. We pass innumerable forests of silver-boled birches,
pines and fir trees, to which the snow has lent the most fantastic
shapes, and over great streams that are frozen on either bank with only
a narrow ribbon of open water. And interspersed at comparatively rare
intervals—for Sweden is one of the most thinly populated countries in
Europe—are small towns and villages with red houses that gleam out
from among the snow. At every station the customary Christmas tree,
brilliantly illuminated, greets us, and the impression is left me of
a robust race of men and women whose vital spark feeds on the frozen
air in which it lives, while shortly after three I see the sun setting
in the east and tier upon tier of trees and forest-clad hill that are
tinged with rose-pink. A memorable sight. Then shortly after sunset I
enter Dalecarlia, and after two and a half hours’ further journey reach
my destination.
To my left is the wide frozen expanse of Lake Siljan, looking eerie
and mysterious in the moonlight, and to the right and running up
low wooded hills of firs and pines the villas and town of Rättvik,
picturesquely situated on an inlet of the lake. And as soon as I
alight from the train an old coachman in white sheepskin and fur cap
comes forward to greet me. A few words are exchanged between us that
neither can understand, but very soon he realises that I am indeed
the traveller whom he is expecting, and seizing my handbag he bids me
follow to where a low sledge is waiting, a long flat box on runners, in
which I am asked to lie full length and then enveloped in a Dalecarlian
fur-lined rug. A crack of the whip and soon we are driving down an
avenue of snow-laden trees, among which I see the lights of houses
twinkling at every turn, while the horse’s bells are jingling merrily,
and the transforming touch of snow and moon is so magical that every
object that we pass becomes imbued with indescribable beauty and
poetry. In ten minutes we turn sharply to the left and, following a
short drive, see some thirty yards before us a brilliantly illuminated
log-built house whose inmates are evidently expecting me, for as soon
as the sledge draws up before the front door it is immediately opened
and a woman whom I guess to be my hostess steps forward to greet me
with a smile that is so infectious that I immediately feel at home.
From the drawing-room just opposite the entrance hall I hear the sound
of merry laughter, and am told that everybody is lending a helping hand
in decorating the Christmas tree for the evening, and that if I am not
too tired they would be delighted if I came down to help after going
to my room. And hearing that it is a time-honoured Swedish custom, I
express my pleasure and readiness to do so, and after going upstairs
to repair the damages of the journey, return to the drawing-room.
As I enter, the laughter subsides for a time, and very formally
presentations are made, the men invariably standing up stiffly, putting
out their hands, bowing, and giving their surnames, the girls, equally
formally but with far more grace, extending their hands towards me
as I am presented to them. Then, the claims of ceremony having been
satisfied, I approach the Christmas tree and am handed a seal and some
sealing-wax and several small packages, obviously Christmas gifts,
which I am asked to seal as neatly as possible. All, I notice, are
accompanied by dedications in verse, and hearing that no present can be
offered at Christmas without a rhymed dedication, thank my stars that
I have no present to offer. By this time the Christmas tree is almost
fully dressed, and my charming hostess informs me that except for the
Christmas gifts that are decorating its branches it will remain much as
it is at present until twenty days after Christmas. We then go up to
our respective rooms and dress for dinner, while I recall to mind the
many conflicting reports which I have heard with regard to a Swedish
Christmas Eve meal and fervently hope I shall not have too many novel
dishes to sample, so great is my fear of offending the susceptibilities
of my hostess. Half an hour later and we are all assembled in the
dining-room, and I have my first taste of the Christmas fare of the
country. The first course is a kind of soup that evokes familiar
memories but to which I am unable to give a name, then the _pièce de
résistance_ is brought in, a large fish called lutfish, which is
prepared from a species of stockfish that is caught in large numbers in
the North Sea. It is usually eaten boiled, and is taken with Russian
green peas, _sauté_ potatoes and white sauce, being greatly
appreciated in the south of Sweden. Pleasant to the taste and slightly
reminiscent of the cod, of which it is a kind of cousin, it is kept
in water and soda and steeped in lye or wood-ash for a period of at
least two and a half weeks, and is afterwards taken out two days before
eating and laid in a cold-water bath, where it remains until required.
Following the fish course is the traditional ham and sausage, which in
Scandinavian countries usually takes the place of the turkey or goose
of the West, the meal concluding with a kind of porridge made of rice,
a wonderful concoction of sugar and eggs that is called spettekaka,
or spit-cake, and an abundant dessert in which nuts and raisins
predominate.
As accompaniment or subsequent to the above, the inevitable
_snaps_ cocktail at the beginning of dinner, followed by a
light French wine with the fish, Swedish punsch at the coffee stage,
and a very delectable hot beverage called glögg, which is almost as
comforting a drink to take after a long, cold outing as the mulled
claret for which the high table of St. John’s College, Oxford, has
become so famous. Compounded of wine, sugar, brandy, almonds and
raisins, and flavoured with nejlika, or pinks, glögg is, of the many
gastronomic experiments that I have made abroad, one of the few which I
have really appreciated.
After dinner we proceed to the drawing-room and the presents are duly
handed to each in turn, after which young and old link hands and dance
round the tree, the son of my hostess suddenly breaking the chain apart
and conducting us in a mad, frenzied chase through the house, up and
down the stairs, and past corridors, which only terminates when all are
breathless with laughter and exhaustion. Recalling certain opinions
which I had often heard being expressed regarding the inability of
the Swedes to enjoy their pleasures in any way but sadly, I marvel at
the facility with which such misconceptions arise, and conclude that
those who created them had never visited Sweden at Christmas-time nor
even watched Swedes at play, a more jolly and amusing party than that
which I am attending it being impossible to imagine. Then, hearing
that Christmas Day opens with a service in the town church that is
to take place at an hour when most people are still sound asleep
and that it is imperative that I should be present, if only to see
the Dalecarlian peasants wearing their national costumes, plead the
fatigue of the journey and retire to my room, my sleep being long
haunted by memories of the merry throng which I have left dancing in
the room below. Early next morning, and before the stars have paled
in the sky, I am awakened by a loud knock at the door, and, dressing
hurriedly, find steaming hot coffee awaiting me in the dining-room,
while the choice is given me of going to church by horse or chair
sledge, ski-ing being out of the question owing to my lack of the
proper paraphernalia. I recall the wonderful drive of the previous
evening, but feel that it is up to me to essay every kind of vehicle,
and accordingly decide to utilise the chair sleigh as soon as I gather
that it presents no particular difficulties—in fact, that it is very
similar to a glorified hobby-horse. Then fur coats and skis are
produced, and we sally forth in the direction of Rättvik, my hostess’s
son staying behind to show me the way. And, like my guide, I place the
left foot on the pedal of one of the runners of my chair and start
kicking backwards repeatedly with my right, the sledge moving forward
with every kick that I give. Obviously, the kick sleigh is almost as
great a necessity in Scandinavian countries as the ski itself, and
though it cannot be compared to the latter as a sport and even less as
a vehicle, in spite of the considerable speed at which it will carry
you downhill unaided, it is much used by the very old and the very
young, as it can always be checked when proceeding too rapidly by the
brakes with which it is provided, or by simply trailing the foot on
the ground. In about a quarter of an hour we reach the town of Rättvik
and, turning to the right, suddenly hear the bells of the old white
church summoning the people to worship. And as we draw nearer we see
that the greater part of the congregation has already gathered near
Gustavus Vasa’s monument, most of them clad in old-world costume, the
scarlet, green and gold worn by the women standing out in vivid patches
of colour against the snow and lending the scene an air of pageantry
and romance. Prominent among these are the women of Rättvik with their
embroidered green bodices, dark blue skirts, quaintly striped aprons,
and picturesque peaked caps, while among the men the most striking are
those hailing from the same town, half a dozen sturdy peasants who are
wearing as costume a long dark blue coat cut high in the neck, yellow
chamois knee-breeches, a blue waistcoat edged with bright red piping,
and red stockings held up by rosetted garters. And though the moon
is shining brightly we all proceed to church to the flare of large
torches which are held up high by the men, and after hearing a long and
wearisome sermon, during which I doze repeatedly and even dream that
I, too, am wearing Dalecarlian dress, return once again to the large
granite stone inscribed in gold whence Gustavus Vasa had summoned the
Dales to arms. On the way back to the house, and just before ascending
the last slope leading to it, I stop to watch the sun rising over the
hills, and for a few minutes enjoy an unforgettable sight. Cresting the
ridge that the sun is now illuminating are tier upon tier of pines,
all of such exquisite fineness that for at least two degrees on each
side of the sun they become transfigured into trees of light that are
not only clearly outlined in flame against the sky behind them, but
that are almost as dazzling as the sun itself, while the snow that is
mantling the countryside begins to assume a blue transparency and the
pines among which we are standing to appear almost olive wherever their
branches are not hung with great white nightcaps. Then, hearing that
a deliciously hot glögg is awaiting us at the house, I automatically
replace one foot on one of the runners of the chair sledge and with the
other impel my vehicle into movement.
After so early a beginning to our day I am hardly surprised to find
life moving a little more leisurely. And for the greater part of the
day even the more active of our party content themselves with making
the best of the rich fare that characterises a Swedish Christmas and
doing one or two hours’ ski-ing in the neighbourhood. Once again I
make essay of chair sledging, and as I proceed, again accompanied by my
guide, in a northerly direction towards Mora, come across a veritable
army of men, women, and children sallying forth on their slender,
feathery skis up the dales and through the forest glades. Everywhere
I see ski tracks that are crossing one another and laughing parties
of merrymakers who are inquiring the way, while the gaiety is so
infectious that I soon begin to realise the charm and fascination that
lie in ski-ing on the level. Here is a favoured district which, if not
comparable to Jämtland or Switzerland for the joy of a swift descent
with a possible death waiting on every side that is so characteristic
of these more celebrated ski-ing countries, affords, nevertheless, the
most delightful and varied possibilities of lengthy ski tours on the
level or in forest country without the smallest risk of avalanches or
bad-weather dangers, this form of ski-ing being not only conducive to
the development of initiative by the constant call that it makes on
even the most nervous novice if he would avoid the many pitfalls that
lie in his path, but that is equally exhilarating and utilitarian. If
once a sportsman really becomes bitten with its craze, he often ends
by preferring it to any other form of ski-ing.
Though space forbids my making more than casual mention of the other
charming dances and excursions which my hostess and other Swedish
friends kindly arranged for my benefit during the happy days that I was
privileged to remain in Dalecarlia, one of the pleasantest memories
which I will ever retain of a Swedish Christmas will always centre
around the “släd parti” to which I was invited on Boxing Day by Miss
Rehnström, of Persborg, an unforgettable drive in horse sledges that,
conveying some thirty of the guests of her hotel and myself to a picnic
lunch at Röjeråsen, a little village that lies some twenty or more
miles west of Rättvik, conducted us across a magnificent snow-bound
pine and fir forest whose humblest tree and shrub the touch of the sun
had transformed into fanciful beings such as children conjure up when
dreaming of Fairyland, while equally eerie and mysterious was the drive
back by torchlight and the wreaths of frost mist that I saw gliding
through the pine glades just after the sun had set across the lake. Of
the many novel and delightful excursions which I have made in Sweden,
there are few which have left me with as happy memories, and none that
have so effectively stilled the little hidden craving for novelty and
change which I share with most mortals. For any traveller, therefore,
who looks for these things when taking a holiday, I can imagine none
that is more attractive than those which I have endeavoured to portray
in these pages.
[Illustration: LAKE AND VILLAGE OF ÅRE]
CHAPTER XIII
SWEDISH WINTER SPORTS
Never have more English ski runners visited Switzerland or shown
greater excellence in winter sports than during the last two or three
years, and all those who like myself have tasted the joys of Davos or
Pontresina will hardly cavil at either the exodus or the proficiency
attained, sun and sport together forming a combination that is not
only conducive to boisterous health, but very likely to restore that
contentment of mind which any prolonged experience of an English
winter usually causes you to lose utterly. That those who have means,
leisure, and robustness should take up ski-ing is not, therefore, any
more surprising than that Switzerland should enjoy the reputation of
being the homeland of winter sports, the secret of Swiss supremacy
lying as much in efficient organisation and propaganda as in natural
attractions. But Switzerland has many serious rivals which all ski
runners should make a point of visiting, and Sweden in particular
possesses many excellent winter sport resorts in which good ski-ing
can be practised much as it is done in the Alps, though the visitor
should not expect to find there the material comforts, hotels de luxe,
and even the funiculars that are so characteristic of Switzerland. The
country will commend itself, however, to all those who have a craving
for novelty and change, and any ski runner who visits it will not only
come into touch with the greatest exponents of the art, but will obtain
an insight into certain forms and schools of ski-ing that demand just
as specialised a technique as those which he will have studied in the
Alps.
There are three great centres of winter sport in Sweden: Rättvik
in Dalecarlia, Stockholm and Åre in Jämtland, each with its own
distinctive variant of winter sport; and I had far rather spend a
winter in any of these three than in either Davos or St. Moritz. This
may seem to argue a certain inexpertness on skis which I would be the
last to deny, but your master of the Cresta run would be a mere novice
at Rättvik.
Through the country roads, leaving the furrows of their skis in the
snow of shallow dales and gently sloping plateaux—furrows which
vanish into the pine woods on the hills or wind among the silver-boled
birches fringing the frozen lake of Siljan—a multitude of men, women,
and children are swiftly gliding. Some are using their skis for the
utilitarian purpose of getting from place to place, but many of them
are making lengthy ski tours across country or through the forests;
and the gaiety and spontaneous enjoyment of each little party is one
of the most exhilarating things that I have ever witnessed. One of the
pleasantest memories which I retain of Sweden undoubtedly centres round
a particular cross-country ski-ing expedition to which I was invited by
some Swedish friends during my stay in Rättvik this winter, of which I
will now proceed to give a description. On joining the party of some
dozen men and women, all in male attire, I was surprised to see horse
sleighs, but I supposed that these would go ahead and wait for us at
some rendezvous.
My experience on skis at Davos and Pontresina had made me somewhat
contemptuous of the use of sticks—of course every one had a stick in
each hand—I had thought of them merely as supports; but as soon as we
moved off, I found I had a great deal to learn. Before we had reached
the end of the drive of my host’s house, I had realised that the use of
sticks is an art in itself.
The skiers started off using their sticks in a way that reminded me
of punting; and though the horses set off at a brisk trot, several of
the more energetic young people shot ahead on their skis, leaving the
sledges behind. I toiled painfully in the rear, my host and a fair
Swedish girl who spoke English politely keeping me company. I was
particularly mortified when my host’s daughter, aged ten, shot blithely
alongside one of the horse-drawn sledges.
I could see across the immense ice sheet of Lake Siljan, fringed with
silver-stemmed birches, as we made our way down the drive, but when we
came out into the road at the end, we turned away from it into the pine
forest. The sleighs were by this time out of sight, the sound of their
bells had faded on the frosty air; and we followed over the deep snow
carpet, beside their trails.
My calves and ankles were already beginning to ache, and I was as
far as ever from using my sticks properly; the pace was very slow.
It was so slow indeed that my host, with charming courtesy, asked if
ski-ing was new to me, and in the same breath complimented me on
picking up the art so quickly. I alluded casually to the ski runs at
Pontresina, but I am afraid my host was not impressed. The fact is that
cross-country ski-ing is as difficult to master as ski-ing down hill,
and that whereas the average Swiss trained ski runner is averse to
using his sticks and proud of being able to control his skis without
their use, the Swedes have raised the science of using sticks to a fine
art. Cross-country ski-ing, as it is practised in Sweden, would of
course be an impossibility in Switzerland, which accounts, I fancy, for
the rudimentary knowledge which the Swiss skiers often display of the
manner in which sticks should be used, and also for their consequent
condemnation of them. The speed at which Swedes travel on the level
with the help of their sticks is amazing, and I noticed time after time
skiers who could keep pace with a horse trotting at fair speed.
Fortunately for me, a horse-drawn sledge had started late, and my
host, seeing my exhausted condition, shouted a few words as it swept
up beside us. I was intensely relieved to exchange my skis for a
seat, or rather a couch in the sledge. In this position I made much
better speed, while my host swept forward with the sledge’s previous
occupants, the girl who spoke English keeping me company, to rejoin the
party before us.
I was now in a position to appreciate half the joy of cross-country
ski-ing, my previous efforts having blinded me to the surrounding
scenery. The snow-laden trees between which we were gliding assumed
the most fanciful shapes. There were aisles leading into mysterious
caverns, where the olive of the pines mingled with the virgin whiteness
and blue transparency of the snow. Bushes took on the shapes of
prehistoric monsters, glades of small trees became an eerie army of
ghosts; there must have been goblins and sprites....
When we arrived at the log-built house that was our destination, there
was glögg served steaming hot ... and it was nectar.
But ski-ing across country is not by any means the only winter sport
of Dalecarlia, for besides tolkning or being towed on skis behind a
horse or its sledge, there are good toboggan runs and ski jumps on
fairly steep country; and for the lazily inclined long-distance drives
in horse-drawn sledges such as I have described, through forest glades
of enchanting beauty. Of all these delights, however, there is none to
compare with cross-country ski tours; and I should certainly prefer
them to the pastime of one Swedish ski runner who for a wager was towed
on skis behind the train from Rättvik to the next station ... and
arrived intact.
Åre combines the fascination of Swedish winter sports with the thrill
peculiar to the Swiss; and while the surrounding country is almost
as suitable for cross-country ski-ing as Dalecarlia, it possesses
the additional advantage of enabling the winter sport enthusiast to
practise almost every variant of ski-ing and winter game. At Storlien,
Snasahögarna, and Merakar, there are gradients of every kind, the
steepest of these rivalling those of Davos. Åre in certain respects
recalls Swiss resorts. Like Davos, it is situated in a mountainous
country with high mountain tops in the immediate vicinity. From the
lake at the base of Mount Åreskutan (4600 feet) a funicular railway
runs up 600 feet, and from this point a bobsleigh run three-quarters of
a mile long, with curves as sharp as those of the Cresta, winds down to
the hotels below. There are slopes here for every taste: rounded hills,
steep slopes, and the famous Tännforsen waterfall, one of the finest in
Europe, all within easy distance.
Wandering about here I came upon a lovely place: before me a sheet
of ice opened into a broad white field, hard and dry, forming a
majestic causeway paved as with white marble. It was evening, and in
those solitudes were caverns of deep blue ice lit with the twilight’s
after-glow; in the distance, mountains, sombre with pines or glittering
white with snow, raised gleaming turrets and dark pyramids up to the
smoke-blue sky.
* * * * *
Stockholm lacks nothing. Within forty-five minutes’ walk is the
famous jumping course of Fiskartorpet and the ski and toboggan runs
of Saltsjöbaden in the Stockholm Archipelago, while the winter-sport
enthusiast will find at Djursholm, and within easy distance of the
capital, two variants of winter sports that are particularly indigenous
to the soil and unknown to other countries. The Ice Yachting and Skate
Sailing clubs are located in a greatly indented and island dotted bay,
where even the most blasé winter-sport enthusiast may reckon to regain
some of the lost thrills of his novitiate. There he may cling to the
stern sheets of an ice-boat, heeling over to the sea breeze and driving
along at 50 knots an hour, while a fearless Swedish girl sits astride
the stern and laughs at the tiller, with the main sheet in one hand,
and another leans out to windward as she tends the fore sheet.
[Illustration: THE TÄNNFORSEN WATERFALL, ÅRE]
Ice-yachting has its risks, but the novice learns the art by starting
as a passenger, or at least by obeying orders at the fore sheet.
Skate-sailing is like a leap in the dark: there can be no passenger on
one pair of skates. Armed with ice-pole and life-line, the skier sets
forth on his maiden voyage clinging to an unmanageable kite-shaped
sail, while he tries to use his body as a mast, at the mercy of the
elements.
The great difficulty lies, of course, in trimming the sail to the wind,
and I found that the best way to learn was by practising sailing to
windward, tacking. The yard, which stretches from the apex of the kite
to its truncated tail, is held over the left shoulder, the right arm
extending backwards till the hand grips the yard, the left hand holding
on to one of the two cross-pieces. To trim the sail the yard must be
pushed forward or backward across the shoulder, just as you trim a boat
by increasing the area of the foresail to the wind. When the wind blows
the sail round, it must be pushed back until the weight is behind, and
the foretip of the yard must be held down to prevent it slipping off.
When a gust blows aslant, filling the sail, you must drive to windward
till the sail flies into the wind.
This sport requires great physical strength and prompt judgment. The
expert skate sailors whom I watched attained speeds approaching those
of the ice yachts; but to reach such a state of perfection a man must
be in the finest physical condition and have tendons and muscles of the
ankles greatly strengthened by constant practice of such figures as the
Salchow rocking turn.
I do not think I would have attempted this sport if there had been
much wind; but throughout my stay in Stockholm there was the usual dry
sunny weather with only the lightest of breezes. Of all winter sports
skate-sailing is perhaps the most exhilarating, and if once a skier
masters its technique, he will probably end by preferring it to any
other form of winter sport.
INDEX
Abisko, 176, 187, 190, 192
Adelcrantz, 107
Adolph Frederick, King, 107
Almquist, 91
America, 14
Amsterdam, 74, 96
Ankarcrona, 156
Ansgarius, 68
Archæological remains, 9
Architecture, Swedish, 27, 28, 29, 73, 84, 106, 107, 136-144
Åre, 214, 219, 220
Åreskutan, Mount, 219
Arkö Sound, 64
Art Gallery, Gothenburg, 28
Arvidsberg, 64
Askanäs, 69
Asplången, 62
Asplund, 91
Atlantic, 6
Baggensfjärden, 102
Baltic Sea, 11, 46, 47, 63, 67, 70
Banérs, 79, 103
Bathing, 41, 42
Baths, Swedish, 88
Becket, Thomas à, 96
Beer, 19
Belvedere, 26
Bengt, Bishop, 62
Bennet family, 79
Beowulf, 32, 34, 35, 96
Bergamote pears, 60
Bergsten, 91
Bernadotte, 55, 56, 78
Birger Jarl, 62, 71, 76
Birger Magnusson, 63
Björkö, island, 68
Blekinge, 13
Blood Bath, 76
Blue Church, Vadstena, 60
Boberg, Ferdinand, 27, 84
Bockholm Sound, 68
Bohus Castle, 48, 49
Bohuslän, 4, 9, 23, 29, 32-43, 67
Bonde, Count, 82
Boren, Lake, 60
Borensberg, 60
Borgargärden, 86
Bothair, of Akeback, 120, 140
Botwid, 143
Brask, 46
Brask’s Ditch, 46
Bråviken Bay, 64
Bridge, how played in Sweden, 197
Brinkeberg Hill, 50
Bruce family, 79
Bulgerin, 58
Burgundy, 116
Burmeister House, Visby, 136
Byfjord, 43
Carcassonne, 131
Castles in Sweden, 9
Cattegat, 47
Caucasus, 10
Cederström, 97
Characteristics, Swedish, 14, 15, 146, 148
Charles X., 104
Charles XII., 13, 42, 46, 74, 75, 78,
Christian II. of Denmark, 149
Christianity in Lapland, 174, 175, 181, 182
City Court, Stockholm, 89
Clason, 27, 84
Climate, 5, 6
Continental blockade, 23
Copper mines, 161, 162
Corot, 96
Costumes, Swedish, 153, 154, 156, 157, 158, 180, 181, 208
Cracow, 131
Cranach, 96
Cresta Run, 214, 219
Dagö, 123
Dalälven River, 148
Dalarna, 10, 147-165, 201
Dalecarlia, 10, 94, 95, 147-165, 201, 218
Dalecarlians, 12, 13
Dalhem Church, Gothland, 141
Danes, 12, 46, 94
Dantzig, 76
Davos, 213, 214, 219
Delacroix, 96
Desprez, 109, 115
Djurgården, 95
Djurgårdestaden, 98
Djursholm, 103, 220
Dolmens, 9
Domnarvet, 163
Douglas family, 61
Drottningholm, 104, 105
Düna, 123
East India Company, 22, 23
Edinburgh, 74
Efficiency, Swedish, 14, 24
Ehrenstrahl, 79, 106
Eken, 52
Eleonora, Hedvig, 104, 106
Emerson, 42
Engelbrekt, 64, 149
Engelbrekts Church, 91
Eogtheow, 34
Erik, Prince, 110, 112
Erik XIV., 48
Eriksson, Christian, 89
Epstein, 91
Estbröte, 69
Etter Sound, 64
Eugen, Prince, 90, 97, 156
Fågelö, 69
Falun, 161-165
Falun Museum, 164
Fårö, 123, 145
Finns, 13
Fiskatorpet, 220
Fiskebäckskil, 5, 42
Flight of Gustavus Vasa, 149, 150
Flora, 9
Folkunge, Johan, 69
Food in Lapland, 183, 184
Francis I. of France, 109
Frederikshald, 42
French influence, 72, 73, 105
Freyr, 113, 114
Fröding, 87
Fyris, 112, 115
Gallows of Visby, 134
Gamla Lödöse, 50
Gamlestaden, 50, 79
Garde Church, 141
Gardeners, 25
Geology, 7
Glögg, 205
Göta älv, 19, 20, 198
Göta Canal, 9, 21, 44-69
Götaplatsen, 28
Göteborg, 16-31
Gothenburg, 9, 12, 16-31, 35, 43, 46, 47, 50
Gothland, 11, 76, 118-146
Goths, 12;
history of, 122-130
Grämunkeholmen, 77
Greenland, 6
Grendel, 34
Grip, Bo Jonsson, 110
Gripsholm, 110, 111
Grut, 90
Gulf Stream, 6
Gullmar Fjord, 41
Gustafsberg, 102, 103
Gustavianum, 115
Gustavus Adolphus, 21, 77, 78, 94, 113, 161
Gustavus I., 46, 50, 63
Gustavus III., 79, 107, 109, 111
Gustavus IV. Adolphus, 11
Gustavus Vasa, 58, 59, 80, 103, 112, 149, 150, 151, 152, 155, 156
Guta Saga, 119, 120, 123
Gymnastics, Swedish, 5
Hahr, Augustus, 58
Halland, 9
Halleberg, 52
Hällekis, 53
Hållsfjärden, 66
Hamilton, 79
Hans of Denmark, 59
Hans, painter, 112
Hanseatic League, 126, 130
Hansgatan, Visby, 136
Hazelius, 93, 94
Helena, Queen, 61
Hemse, 141
Henry III. of England, 125
Henry the Lion, 125
Herring fisheries, 23, 37
Hisingen, 49
Hoburgen, 145
Högalids, 91
Holy Ghost, Church of, 140, 141
Hotels, Swedish, 29, 116, 117
Hronesnass, 35
Hrothgar, 34
Hygelacs, 34
Ice-yachting, 3, 221
Idrott, 2
Inge, 61
Iron mines, 7, 163
Jämshög, 94
Jämtland, 4, 13, 214
Johan, Prince, 110, 112
John of England, 136
John III., 63
Jönköping, 66, 57, 58
Jordaens, 96
Jordfallet, 48
Josephson, 87
Karl Island, 145
Karlsberg, 55
Kastellholmen, 98
Kattlunda, 145
Kebnekaise, 191
Kettilmundsson, 64
Kew Gardens, 26
Kinnekulle, Mt., 53
Kiruna, 7, 8, 173
Knutsson VIII., Charles, 64
Knarnsveden paper mills, 163
Kneippbyn, 146
Koön, 39
Kopparberg (Stora), 162, 163
Kristine Church, 29
Krylbo, 200
Kulstade, 120
Kungalv, 39, 49
Kungshatt, 69
Kungsholmen, 85, 104
Kyrkstallen, 153
Laduslås, Magnus, King, 77, 78
Lafiensen, 97
Lallerstedt, 90
Land and people, 1-15
Långholmen, 69
Lapgate, 177
Lapland, 6, 10, 11, 13, 166-193
Lapp customs, 173, 180-186
Lapp dogs, 185, 180-186
Lapp hut, night in a, 176-186
Lapp huts, 178, 179
Lapps, 13, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 179, 180-186
Larsson, 97
Le Frans, 143
Lejonbacken, 74
Leksand, 153, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160
Lenotre, 105
Lepers’ Church, 133
Leslie, 179
Lewenhaupt, 79
Lewis, 79
Lighthouses, 64, 65
Likkair Snälle, 120
Liljefors, 97
Liljehorn’s House, 136
Linde, Van, 82
Ling, P. H., 3, 5
Linköping, 46, 62
Louis XIV. of France, 104
Lübeck, 71, 72, 80, 127
Lund University, 5
Lützen, 94
Lysekil, 5, 41, 42, 43
Madrid, 93
Magnus, 59, 77, 78, 127
Magnusson, Håkon, 48
Maiden’s Tower, 132
Majorna, 29
Marathon, 152, 156
Mälar, 67, 70, 85, 109, 110, 113
Manet, 96
Mariefred, 110
Margaret, Queen, 59
Margaret, Queen of Denmark, 149
Marstrand, 5, 38, 39, 43
Masreliez, 75, 107
Masthuggs Kyrka, 20, 29
Mem, 63
Merakar, 219
Midnight sun, 176, 177, 187-193
Milles, 87, 90, 91, 97
Mongolians, 13
Mora, 152, 153, 155
Motala, 60
Munkbron, 82
Naess, 32
Napoleon, 23
National Museum, 96
New Concert Hall, Stockholm, 91, 92
Nilsson, Magnus, 61
Njulja, Mt., 189
Nordiska, 93
Norrbro, 74
Norrköping, 46, 66
Norrland, 10, 13
Norrmalm, 72
Norrström, 70
Norsborg, 68
Norsholm, 46, 62
North Sea, 34, 46
Norway, 10, 96
Norwegians, 12, 13
Notke (Bernt), 77
Nynäshamn, 118
Odin, 113, 114
Öja Church, 143
Oktorp, 95
Old Apothecary Shop, 136
Old Houses, Visby, 135, 186, 145
Old superstitions, 144
Olympic Games, 5
Omberg, 57
Örbyhus, 111
Ornäs, 151
Orpen, 96
Örsbaken, 66
Östberg, Ragnar, 28, 84, 85, 87, 88-90
Östergotland, 45
Österlånggatan, 82
Östermalm, 90
Oxel trees, 55
Oxelösund, 64, 65
Oxford, 115
Palnoviken, 187, 190, 192
Passenger steamers, 16, 17
Patriotism in Sweden, 11
Peace, Congress of, 49, 110
Peasant Art, 159, 160
People, 11
Petersen, 82
Platen, von Baltzar, 47, 48, 60
Polhem, 46, 47
Pontresina, 213, 215
Porla, 7
Post Office, Gothenburg, 29
Powder Tower, 132
Precht, Burchardt, 77, 106
Public gardens, 25
Pussyfoot, 19
Queen’s Hall, 92
Railways, Swedish, 199, 200
Ramunderhäll, 63
Ratibur, King of the Wends, 49
Rättvik, 150, 152, 153, 154, 201-212, 214
Ravlunda, 95
Reception Hall, Stockholm, 90
Rehn, J. Erik, 106, 107
Reindeer in Lapland, 169
Rembrandt, 96
Restaurants, Swedish, 40, 41, 101
Riddarholmen, 77, 79
Riddarholmskyrkan, 77
Riddarhuset, 73, 81
Röjeråsen, 211
Roman Church, 141
Roos, 13
Routes to Sweden, 16
Roxen, 62
Royal Armoury, 93
Royal Hotel, Stockholm, 41, 116
Royal Palace, 74, 75
Royal Theatre, 108, 109
Rubens, 96
Russian steppes, 10
Saga, 16, 195, 196, 198
St. Bridget, Swedish saint, 58, 59
St. Catherine’s Church, 119, 140, 141
St. Clara, 88
St. Clement’s Church, 140
St. Drotten’s, 139
St. Goran’s Church, 133
St. John’s Church, 140
St. Lars’ Church, 139
St. Mary’s Church, 130, 137, 138
St. Moritz, 214
St. Nicholas Church, 129, 139
St. Olaf’s Tower, 140
St. Pancras Station, 16
St. Peter’s Church, 25, 140
Saltsjöbaden, 101, 220
Sandö, 146
Särö, 5
Scenery, 8, 9, 10, 33, 190, 193, 200, 201, 208, 209, 218, 220
Shaw, Norman, 84
Shop fronts in Sweden, 83
Sighafr, 143
Sigtuna, 70
Siljan, 13, 148, 149, 152, 201, 216
Siljeström (Lars), 159
Skåne, 7, 8, 12, 13, 85, 94
Skansen, 94, 95
Skärgård, 4, 19, 33, 68, 100, 101, 104, 198
Skate sailors, 221, 222
Skerries of Stockholm, 100-117
Ski-ing, 3, 210, 214, 215, 217
Skutskär pulp-mills, 163
Slagstaholmen, 69
Slite, 146
Slottskogen, 26
Småland, 12, 13
Smörgåsbord, 17, 18, 19
Snäckgärdsbaden, 146
Snaps, Swedish cocktail, 18, 19
Snasahögarna, 219
Söderköping, 63
Södermanland, Duke Charles of, 112
Södertälje, 66, 67
Södertörn, 67, 68
Sophia, Queen, 61
Sound, the, 46
Spetsnäset, 54
Sport, Swedish love of, 1
Stadium, 90
Stadsholmen, 71
Stadshus, Stockholm, 28, 85
Stage, Swedish, 108, 109
Standard of living, 15
Stånga Church, 141
Stegeborg, 63
Sten Sture, 64
Stenbock, Catherine, 59
Stendörren, 66
Stewart, 79
Stockholm, 4, 6, 28, 63, 67, 68, 69, 70-100, 214, 220, 221, 222
Stockholm Archipelago, 45
Storkyrkan, 76
Storlien, 219
Stortorget, 76
Strandgatan, 136
Strängnäs, 112
Stream, the, 101
Strindberg, 87
Ström, the, 102
Strömmen, 82
Strömstad, 42
Sturehof, 68
Summer in Lapland, 168
Sun worship in Gothland, 144
Sveas, 12
Sverkersson, King Charles, 61
Swedenborg, 42
Swedish characteristics, 14, 15, 148
Swedish Christmas, 194-212
Swedish East India Company, 28
Swedish gardens, 25
Swedish hospitality, 15
Swedish Lloyd, 16
Swedish meals, 16-19, 204, 205
Swedish steamers, 44, 45, 54, 55
Switzerland, 213
Tännforsen Waterfalls, 219
Technical High School, Stockholm, 90
Tengbom, 91
Tessin brothers, 73, 75, 78, 104, 105, 106, 107, 110, 112, 124, 125
Thirty Years’ War, 113
Thor, 113, 114, 123
Thorstenson, 79
Timber, 7, 8
Tiren, 156
Torne Träsk Lake, 176, 187, 190
Törneman, 90
Torsburgen, 123, 124
Trädgårdsföreningen Park, 26
Trees, Christmas, 200, 201, 203
Trollhättan, 50, 51
Uddevalla, 42, 43
Ulrika, Queen Louise, 106
United States, 15
University Library, Upsala, 115
Upland, 35
Upsala, 70, 112-115
Väderhatt, King Erik, 69
Vadstena, 58, 59, 60
Valdemar, 61, 128, 129, 132
Vallée, De la, 79
Van Dyck, A., 96
Vänern, 12, 51, 53
Vänersborg, 52
Vasaloppet, 152, 156
Värmdö, 103
Värtan, North, 103
Västergarn, 128
Västerlånggatan, 82
Västergotland, 53
Västgöte, Arvid, 64
Vättern, 12, 55, 56
Vaxholm, 103
Versailles, 74, 105
Viken, 13, 54, 55
Vikings, 2, 12, 34
Viklau Church, 143
Visby, 90, 118-141, 148
Visby Börs Hotel, 136
Visby Museum, 135, 136
Vising Island, 57, 58
Vreta Abbey, 61, 62
Walls of Visby, 130, 131, 132
Waterfalls, 10, 219
Westman, Carl, 84, 90
Winter sports, 3, 210, 211, 212, 213, 222
Zorn, 97, 156
_Printed in Great Britain by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED,
_Edinburgh_.
Transcriber’s Notes
Page 224—changed Djurgårdsstaden to =Djurgårdestaden=
Page 226—changed Orbyhus to =Örbyhus=
Page 227—changed Rojeråsen to =Röjeråsen=
Page 227—changed Sten Stura to =Sten Sture=
Page 228—changed Trädgardsföreningen to =Trädgårdsförengen=
Page 228—changed Västgote to =Västgöte=
Page 228—changed Västerlanggatan to =Västerlånggatan=
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