Once a Week (magazine)/Series 1/Volume 10/At Copenhagen
AT COPENHAGEN
We were waiting for the train at Altona, looking vainly for the “lovely and extensive views over the Elbe and Hanoverian territories,” promised by Murray in a moment of enthusiasm to the visitors of that greasy city and suburb of Hamburg. I was taking tickets for Kiel, when the kind little Danish guard recommended all who were for Copenhagen (pronounced Shöbnhafn very quickly) to take through tickets, and by starting at five p.m. to arrive at half-past ten next morning. I recommend this plan to all visitors of Denmark. The search of luggage at the custom-house before leaving Altona would not be worthy of notice were there not such a great difference in the treatment of English or Germans and Danes by the officials. Our troubles were over in a moment; but our neighbour, a Dane, got the contents of his portmanteau emptied out on the floor by the Germanising Holsteiner on duty. The victim took it most good-naturedly, and told us that the Holsteiners took every opportunity of showing small spites against the Danes.
The railway journey to Kiel is uninteresting, and the sea-passage from Kiel to Korsör, across the Great Belt, is much like other passages;
so that we were very glad to get into our last train, which took us across Zeeland. The scenery is occasionally charming on this line. One passes funny little farms, numbered like toy-houses, with solemn storks on the roof; then through long beech woods, with rabbits hopping away, and sometimes past old houses of the feudal times. There are many such in Denmark, complete with moat, embrasures, and battlements, with a ditch intersecting the court, to mark the proper limits of the master’s side and the rooms of the serving-folk. There are two or three places on the line at which it is worth while to stop; for instance, Slagelse, a little town skirted by a fine beech forest, with an ancient church of the eleventh century. It possesses many legends about a local saint who rode on a new-born foal, and used the sunbeams as pegs on which he hung hat and gloves during church-time. This is a nice place, and very different from the last we saw, viz., the desolate island of Sprogöe, near Korsör. Instead of saying, “Go to Bath, or Blazes!” the Danes say, “I wish you were at Sprogöe!” Soon afterwards we passed Sorö Academy, built on the brink of a pretty lake, which is surrounded by cottages, in which the professors live. The next place of importance is Roeskilde, the burial-place of the kings, except six, who lie at Ringsted with Canute the Great. Frederic VII. lies in the side chapel, near his two last predecessors, in a plain velvet coffin. But we must push on to Copenhagen, which we were glad to reach soon after leaving Roeskilde, and its distant view of the silver Isse Fjord. We drove in by the western gate, past the Column of Liberty, put up to commemorate the abolition of feudal slavery by Christian VII. in A.D.. 1788, straight to the Hôtel Royal, well known for its cleanness, reasonable charges, and attention to English visitors. The Phœnix Hotel is, I believe, considered the grandest; and here it was that the Greek Deputation were lodged the other day. But for English people, the house in the Gammol Strand is the most comfortable.
From our window we had the best and liveliest view in Copenhagen. Directly in our front was the Christiansborg Palace, an ugly and elongated edition of Buckingham Palace, with a tremendous façade and wearisome lines bf windows. We are not quite near enough to appreciate the four bassi-relievi, by Thorwaldsen, over the great door. On the left is the Bourse, with a curious leaden roof, and a spire of the twisted tails of three grinning dragons: they were “lind-orms,” brought from Kalmar after one of Charles IV.’s raids in Sweden, says their legend. On our night the canal separates Thorwaldsen’s Museum from a bustling market. There are three other markets besides this one, in Höibrods-plads, but they do not look so snug and bustling. They are lost in such great desolate squares as the King’s New Market-place, the chief boast of the city. Here, from the earliest morning, are groups of buyers and sellers in quaint costumes. Servants, in white aprons and pretty caps, are flirting with soldiers in pale-blue uniform, who all sadly want an application of the regimental razor, and who, in the absence of policemen, monopolise the affections of nurse and cook. Some of the soldiers are fine stalwart fellows, and all look very intelligent; in fact, the lower order of Danes will bear comparison with that of any other country for strength of body and brightness of mind. A Somersetshire peasant would not generally have much chance of success in a village, such as we have all over Denmark, where every one can read and write, and owns a house and plot of land, It is Mr. Cobden’s Paradise realised. Some of the peasant girls are very pretty, with pale-yellow hair, and rather long noses. We noticed several faces not at all unlike the Princess of Wales. I may say that all the Royal Family have a peculiarly Danish set of features, though German would have been natural, considering their family. The country girls set themselves off with silk hoods and bright gowns, without much regard to colour. I have seen a yellow dress worn with a magenta Garibaldi, This last is the most favourite colour of all. But the costume of the fish-women is far more interesting than these modern mixtures, being the genuine old Friesland costume. Their ancestors immigrated to the island of Amak, within the walls of the city, A.D. 1516, and they keep up the dress. On a highday or holiday here, one may see the plates and “blinkers” of gold or gilt metal over their caps, which are handed down from generations back, to commemorate originally (as an old story tells) the fate of the first Christian queen in Friesland, who was crowned with thorns and nails by the heathen. Sometimes these plates cover each side of the head, and are joined to a lace cap. Sometimes a pair of supplemental plates projects over each temple, and the plates are occasionally exchanged for a curious linen hat, with an imitation of a barrel sewn upon it, and surmounting a broad frontlet. I have seen these frontlets most expensively ornamented with jewels; but this was in Friesland itself, where the farmers are very much richer than our friends the “Amagers,” who must be content with gilt or electro-plate. They are no exception to the rule, that the peasants like warm, bright colours. Sometimes their costume is finished off by a scarlet gown and a lace-fringed tippet, or a flowered jacket of a stuff like chintz, with a green or yellow bodice. On ordinary days they are, of course, clothed in duller and dirtier garments. What a pity it is that so many charming costumes are spoiled by the wearer’s dirt! In Switzerland, for instance, the inexperienced traveller comes to a canton famed for its costume, and is disPage:010 Once a week Volume X Dec 1863 to Jun 64.pdf/174 Page:010 Once a week Volume X Dec 1863 to Jun 64.pdf/175 Countries,” which was a work of great learning; and also a “most piquante novel called ‘The Mysteries of Copenhagen,’” which he wished to see translated into English, having heard of the enormous sums paid to sensation novelists. I was obliged to dash his hopes to the ground by assuring him that we were already over-burdened with that sort of “light literature!” They say that Hans Christian Andersen got only seven pounds for his famous “Improvisatore.”
There is not room in a short sketch to describe the other museums; that of Natural History contains some good specimens of the “Queen of the Auks,” the now extinct Great Auk, so happily described and quizzed the other day in the “Water-babies.” There are also some of its eggs, and these are believed to be genuine, though many so-called eggs of the gairfowl are in reality these of the largest species of Great Northern Diver, which chiefly inhabits Spitsbergen. The eggs are about six inches long, sharp at one end, and at the other mottled with black spots. The Collection of Curiosities at the Rosenborg Slot includes some interesting relics, such as the famous silver horn of Oldenburg, with all the incidents of feudal life sculptured on it; and the velvet saddle of Christian IV., sprinkled with pearls and diamonds, and said to be worth a million francs.
The best of the Museums is that of Northern Antiquities, open to the public three times a week. There are always some professors at hand, ready to explain everything, and allow the curiosities to be handled! A lady with us tried on several great gold arm-rings of defunct Vikings, and a necklet of solid gold weighing 112 lb. avoirdupois! The whole collection is arranged in periods. The Stone Age, with axes and celts of flint or aurochs-bone; the Bronze Age, with gold-inlaid swords and gigantic “lures,” or war-trumpets, used by the Vikings. Six of these were found buried in a marsh by Fredericsborg, their average length was six feet; these are mixed with spiral arm-rings and all manner of gold work. Then comes the Iron Age, with sword and buckler, and still more delicate jewellery for the women in the house. The second part of the Iron Ago is followed by the First and the Second Christian Middle Ages. Each period has a separate room, and each room is worth a long day’s study. Among the Christian curiosities lies the Dagmar Cross, a copy of which was her father’s wedding present to our Princess. It was found in Queen Dagmar’s tomb at Ringsted, near Roeskilde. The enamel is not very bright, but is finely worked; the figure upon it is Byzantine. A pamphlet about the cross is sold here at the door, published for the benefit of English visitors to “Cheapinghaven,” as the title-page translates the name. There are many other works of art here which are well known out of Denmark by reputation, especially the ivory head of Queen Helen, a horse modelled out of one piece of steel, with a fly on its leg, and various cameos and coral carvings. But the genuine antiquities are in reality the most valuable, from their scientific accuracy of arrangement and completeness.
Nobody should leave Copenhagen without driving out to the Deerpark and the Castle. The road lies along the shore of the Baltic, and commands a striking view of the neighbouring coast of Sweden and the Islands, especially the little one on which are the ruins of Tycho Brahe’s observatory, Each house has a pretty little bathing-machine built in the water, and approached by a long plank and rail, in which ladies can bathe unseen, or gentlemen dress and undress. We had a bathe at the pleasant inn at Klampenberg, where they keep excellent wine and a good cook. It is like going to Richmond in miniature.
No paper on Denmark would be at all perfect without a mention of the fêtes, of which the Danes are so passionately fond, that everyone, gentle or simple, turns out after dinner to see fireworks and horse-riders, and to hear music à la Cremorne, for the small price of the inevitable fourpence-halfpenny. These fêtes are all alike in their general features; but I think that the Tivoli Gardens are beaten by the Alhambra, which latter place we were told by the waiter is “the glory of Copenhagen.” The Tivoli Gardens are very pretty, and look on the fortifications and the moats, reflecting the huge flapping windmills, which flap all round the town. We went to a Grand Illumination and “Festivals-bal” at the Alhambra. The 10,000 additional lamps were nicely arranged, and lighted by gas in coloured shades. The performances were most various: music and dancing, an English circus with real clowns, gymnastics and juggling, and some nice little plays. A comedy called “Love among the Roses” was loudly applauded. The whole terminated with a series of dissolving views and a show of fireworks of all shapes and colours, which would astonish Cremorne Gardens.
There is so much to be said about Copenhagen, that it is very hard to stop when once one has begun; but everything must have its limits, and here my account shall stop. Any future tourist in those parts will endorse all my praise, and find out a great deal more to amuse and instruct in the pleasant city of Copenhagen. C. I. E