CHAPTER XV.
COPENHAGEN AND TIVOLI.
All the boats of the squadron came into line, each with the flag in the bow and stern. They pulled along the water front of the city, around a couple of Danish men-of-war, and of course created a sensation. One by one the boats rowed up to the landing, and the students went on shore, each crew securing its cutter at the wharf, near the steps. The custom-house officers were on the alert; but as no one had parcels of any kind, the students were not detained. Mr. and Mrs. Kendall landed, and as they intended to spend a few days in the city, they had a couple of valises, which the porters, who are always in waiting at all the ports in Europe, conveyed into the custom-house. The Toldbod, as this edifice is called by the Danes, is surrounded by a high wall, which also encloses the entire landing-place, so that none can visit the city from the sea without passing through its gates.
One of the officers spoke English very well, and evidently took pride in doing so, for he asked a great many questions so pleasantly, that it was impossible to explain his object in any other way. He wished to know whether the travellers had any clothing they had not worn, and whether Mrs. Kendall had any tobacco or liquor. She protested that she did not use tobacco or liquor; and the actual examination of the baggage was a mere form. The man was so polite, that Paul at once concluded he was only practising his English. A carriage was procured, and Dr. Winstock and Captain Lincoln were invited to join the party. The inquiring students deemed it a great privilege to be permitted to go with the surgeon, for he was a walking encyclopædia of every city and country in Europe. As Paul Kendall had been before, Captain Lincoln was now, the favorite of the doctor, and the little party were to see the city together.
The carriage went out at the gate, and passed into Amaliegade. The houses were plain and substantial, without much ornament. They were of brick, but most of them were covered with stucco.
“What’s this?” asked Paul, as the carriage entered an open space, with an equestrian statue in the centre.
“Frederiksplads,” replied the doctor; “and that is the statue of Frederik V., who came to the throne in 1746, and in whose reign this palace was erected.”
The place was an octagon, surrounded on all sides by public buildings.
“This is the residence of the king on the left. On the other side is the palace of the crown prince. There is the foreign office, and on the other side lives the queen dowager.”
“They are not very elegant buildings,” said Captain Lincoln.
“No; there are no very fine buildings in Copenhagen, though the Exchange is a very curious structure, and some are very large and unwieldy. There’s the Casino,” added the doctor.
“What’s a casino?” inquired the captain.
“Here it is a building for dancing, concerts, theatrical performances, and similar amusements in the winter season. Everything is cheap here, and the price of admission to the Casino, where one joins the dance or sees a play, is two or three marks.”
“How much is that? I haven’t looked up the money yet,” said Paul.
“A rigsbank dollar is the unit, worth about fifty-four cents of our money. It is divided into six marks, of nine cents each, and a mark into sixteen skillings, of about half a cent each. When the Italian opera is at the Casino, the prices are only three or four marks. This is Gothersgade,” added Dr. Winstock, as the carriage turned into another street. “In plain English, Gothic street.”
“There’s another equestrian statue,” added Captain Lincoln, pointing to a large, irregular space, surrounded by public buildings.
“The statue of Christian V. This is Kongens, or King’s Square. There are the Academy of Arts, the Royal Theatre, the Guard House, the New Market—none of them very fine, as you can see for yourselves.”
The carriage crossed this square, and came out at a canal, on the other side of which was the vast palace of Christiansborg. A short distance farther brought the party to the Royal Hotel. The carriage stopped at the door in the arch, and the two landlords, the porter, the waiters, and the clerk, half a score strong, turned out to receive its occupants. All of them bowed low, and all of them led the way up stairs. Paul took a parlor and chamber for himself and lady.
“Now, where’s Joseph?” asked Dr. Winstock.
“Who’s Joseph?” inquired the captain.
“He is the guide at this hotel, if he is still living.”
Joseph was sent for, and soon made his appearance. He was an elderly man, with gray hair and whiskers, neatly dressed in black. His manners were very agreeable, and he exhibited a lively zeal to serve the tourists. Mr. Lowington had been courteously waited upon by an officer of the government, who had volunteered to have the various palaces, museums, and other places of interest, opened during the afternoon and the next day. Joseph had procured a two-horse carriage, and the party at the hotel seated themselves in it, with the guide on the box with the driver.
“That’s the Slot,” said Joseph, pointing across the canal.
“The what?” exclaimed Captain Lincoln.
“The Slot, or Palace of Christiansborg.”
“Slot! What a name!”
“But not any worse than the German word Schloss,” added Joseph, laughing. “Do you speak German, sir?”
“Not much.”
The guide uttered a few sentences in German, evidently for the purpose of demonstrating that he spoke the language.
“The palace is on an island called Slotsholm, and is as big as it is ugly. Shall we go there now?”
“No; we want a general view of the city first,” replied Dr. Winstock. “I think we had better ascend to the top of the Round Tower.”
Joseph gave the order, and the carriage proceeded to the tower. The canal in front of the hotel was filled with small craft, which had brought pottery and various wares from other parts of Denmark, to sell. The goods were arranged on the decks and on the shore of the canal. Near were groups of women, who were selling fish, vegetables, and other articles, around whom was a crowd of purchasers.
“I suppose you have heard of Andersen?” said Joseph to the captain.
“Heard of him! I have read all his books which have been translated into English,” replied Captain Lincoln.
“He has rooms in that building some of the time. Do you see that sign—Melchoir?”
“Yes.”
“This Melchoir is a very dear friend of Andersen, who lives with him a portion of the time.”
“Is it possible to see Hans Christian Andersen?” asked Mrs. Kendall.
“Quite possible, madam. I will see about it to-day. He is a very agreeable man, and willing to meet all who wish to see him,” answered Joseph. “There’s the Town Hall,” he added, as the carriage passed a large building, with an extensive colonnade in front.
“‘Med Lov skal man Land bygge,’” said Lincoln, reading an inscription on the front. “Those are my sentiments exactly.”
“‘With law must the land be built’ is the English of that,” laughed Joseph. “All the Jutland laws begin with this phrase, which was spoken by Waldemar II. We Danes believe in law, and everything that is good. Copenhagen is a very fine city, and everything is remarkably cheap here.”
“What do you call your city in your own lingo, Joseph?”
“Kjöbenhavn; pronounce it Chép-en-ahn.”
“Chepenahn,” repeated Lincoln.
“Speak it a little quicker, and you will have it right. It was first called simply the Haven; then in Danish, when many merchants carried on business here, Kaupmannahöfn, or merchants’ haven, from which it was shortened into chepenahn. Here is the Round Tower,” added Joseph, as the carriage stopped.
The party alighted and entered the structure, which was the tower of the Church of the Trinity.
“This used to be the watch tower, where men were kept to give the alarm in case of fire; but the observatory has been moved to the tower of St. Nicholas, and now we have a telegraphic fire alarm. Won’t you walk up to the top of this tower, where you can have a fine view of the whole city? The ascent is very easy,” continued Joseph.
There were no stairs, but an inclined plane, gradual in its rise, permitted the tourists to ascend to the summit with very little labor.
“We might have driven up in the carriage,” said Captain Lincoln.
“There would be no difficulty at all in doing so. In fact, Peter the Great, when he was in Copenhagen, in 1716, drove to the top with the Empress Catharine, in a coach and four.”
“Is that so?” asked the captain.
“I can’t remember so far back myself,” chuckled Joseph, “for I’m not much over a hundred years old; but everybody says it is true, and I see no reason to doubt the story. Peter the Great liked to do strange things, and you can see for yourself that a carriage would run very well here.”
“If he went up with a coach and four, of course he must have come down, unless the carriage and horses are up there now. How did he turn his team?”
“It is easier to ask some questions than to answer them,” replied Joseph. “History does not say that he drove down, only that he drove up.”
“Perhaps he backed down, which kings and emperors are sometimes obliged to do, as well as common people,” suggested Paul Kendall.
“Very likely he did; I don’t see any other way for the team to descend,” added Joseph. “This tower was begun in 1639.”
At the top of the structure the travellers took a general survey of the city, and then proceeded to examine it in detail.
“Do you remember the latitude of Copenhagen, Captain Lincoln?” asked Dr. Winstock.
“About fifty-five and a half.”
“The same as the middle of Labrador. Quebec is about forty-seven, and this is a long way farther north. What is the population of this city, Joseph?” asked the doctor.
“One hundred and eighty-one thousand,” replied the guide, giving the census of 1870. “Formerly the city was a walled town, with ramparts and moats. It was built partly on Seeland, and partly on the small island of Amager. The channel between them is the harbor. You can see where the old line of fortifications was. The old town lies nearest to the sea, but the city is now spreading rapidly out into the country.”
“What is that broad sheet of water, with two bridges over it?” asked Lincoln, pointing to the land side.
“That is the reservoir. Formerly the water in the city was bad, but now it has an excellent system of water-works. The water comes in from the country, and is pumped up by steam before it is distributed. Beyond that, for miles, the country is covered with beautiful villas and country residences. You must ride out there, for the environs of Copenhagen are as fine as anything in Europe.”
“You are right, Joseph,” added the doctor. “Some parts of the city are not unlike Holland, you see. The Slotsholm canal gives that part of the town a decidedly Dutch look.”
“The part on Amager, called Christianshavn, is all cut up by canals,” added the guide.
“Now, we will take a ride around the city,” said Paul Kendall.
The party descended, and having driven through some of the principal streets, and obtained a very good idea of the city, returned to the hotel.
“Now you can dismiss the carriage, and we will go to some of the museums and churches,” suggested Joseph.
“We don’t care to walk far; we will retain the carriage,” replied Paul.
“It will be much cheaper to walk, as you have to pay four marks an hour for the carriage,” pleaded the economical guide. “Thorwaldsen’s Museum and the Northern Antiquities are only a few steps from here.”
“Very well; we will walk, then, if you insist upon it,” laughed Paul.
“I thought these guides made you spend as much money as possible,” said Captain Lincoln to the surgeon.
“I never found it so. I think they are a very useful class of men. They charge here about two rigsdalers a day, and I remember that Joseph would not let me throw away a single mark. They know the prices for carriages and everything else, and it is for their interest not to let any one cheat their employers. Perhaps it is not well to make purchases with them, for they compel the merchant to pay them a commission, which increases the price charged for the articles. But I think, in many places, I have done better with a commissionnaire than without one, in making purchases.”
Joseph led the way across the bridge to Slotsholm, which was nearly covered by the immense palace of Christiansborg and its dependencies. The first building was Thorwaldsen’s Museum, the outer walls of which were covered with an Etruscan fresco of the arrival and debarkation of the great sculptor and his goods, mostly works of art. The figures are about life size, and the situation in which the pictures are placed is novel and quaint. The work was done by inlaying cement of different colors in the wall. Joseph described the various scenes. Thorwaldsen is still held in the highest regard and veneration by all Denmark, and especially by all Copenhagen; indeed, he seems to be the great genius of the country. He was born in 1770, near the city. His father was an Icelander, and a carver in wood—a calling in which the son assisted him when he was only a dozen years old. At seventeen he received the prize of a silver medal from the Academy of Arts, and at twenty-three the grand prize, which carried with it a royal pension, that enabled him to go abroad for the study of his art. He went to Rome in 1796, where he had but little success, and was reduced almost to despair, when his model of Jason and the Golden Fleece attracted the attention of an English gentleman, who commissioned him to complete the work in marble. This event was the dawn of success, and orders continued to pour in upon him from the rich and the powerful, including kings and emperors, until his fortune was made. His works adorn many of the great cities of Europe, and Canova was his only actual rival. His fame extended to every nation, and a visit to his native land in 1819 was a triumphal progress through Italy and Germany. In 1838 he returned to Copenhagen, to pass the remainder of his days, in a frigate sent to Italy for his use by the Danish government. On one side of his museum are depicted his arrival in this ship, and his reception by the citizens; and on the other side, the conveyance of his works from the ship to their final destination. Thorwaldsen went to Rome again on a visit for his health, and died in Copenhagen in 1844. He was a modest, generous, and amiable man. The museum was erected by subscription, though the sculptor gave a fourth part of the sum necessary for its erection, and in his will bequeathed to it the works of art from his cunning brain, of which its contents are almost entirely composed. His biography has been written by Hans Christian Andersen.
After examining the frescoes on the outer wall, the party entered the building. It is an oblong structure, with a court-yard in the middle. It is two stories in height, with connected rooms extending entirely around it. The works of art, and memorials of the sculptor, are classified in these apartments, forty-two in number.
“That is the grave of Thorwaldsen,” said Joseph, leading the way into the court-yard. “His body lies there, surrounded by his works, as he requested.”
The grave is an oblong enclosure of polished granite, raised a few inches above the ground, and covered over with ivy. At the foot of it is a black cross, with the date of his death inscribed upon it.
The tourists walked through the various rooms, and examined the works of the immortal genius, most of which were in plaster, being the models of all his great achievements set up in marble in various parts of Europe. His pictures, his library, his collections of coins, vases, and antiquities, are placed in the museum. One room is fitted up with his furniture, precisely as he used it, and various interesting mementos of the man are to be seen there. Among the pictures are some mere daubs, which are preserved only because they belonged to Thorwaldsen; but they have an interest as an illustration of the benevolent character of the great sculptor, who ordered many of them merely to save the artists from starvation.
“Did you ever see Thorwaldsen?” asked Lincoln, as Joseph conducted his charge from the building.
“Often,” replied the guide. “He was a venerable-looking old man, with long, white hair. He made a statue of himself, which is very like him. He died suddenly in the theatre, and the king and royal family followed his remains to the church.”
The Museum of Northern Antiquities was in the old palace of a prince, on the other side of the canal. On the front of the building were some quaint carvings, which gave it a picturesque appearance. Joseph seemed to be in his element at this museum. He spoke glibly and learnedly of “the stone age,” “the bronze age,” and “the iron age,” each designated by the material of which the implements used for domestic purposes, in war and agriculture, were composed. Numberless utensils of all kinds are contained in the cabinets, classified with rare skill, and arranged with excellent taste. All these objects were found below ground, in various parts of Scandinavia. In Denmark the law requires that all antiquities of metal shall belong to the government, which, however, pays the full value of the articles to the finder. In 1847 a pair of solid gold bracelets, very heavy, and elegantly wrought, were dug up from the earth, and added to this collection. There is a great variety of ornaments, in gold and silver, consisting of necklaces, rings, bracelets, and similar trinkets. One necklace contains three pounds of pure gold.
There are plenty of knives, arrow-heads, hatchets, hammers, chisels, and other implements, skilfully made of stone. Runic writings, the most valuable in the world, are collected here. Joseph said that certain long pieces of wood, with signs carved upon them, were Icelandic Calendars. The remains of a warrior, who had fought and died in the ancient time, with the iron mail of his day, were examined with interest, as were also a number of altars, coffers containing relics, and some gold crosses, one of which is said to contain a splinter from the true cross, which were exhibited as specimens of the Catholic form of worship in remote times.
Recrossing the bridge over the canal, the party entered the great, barn-like palace of Christiansborg. It consists of several connected buildings, containing a theatre, riding-school, stables, coach-houses, bake-house, and the usual royal apartments. In 1168 a castle was erected on this spot, as a protection against pirates, which was repeatedly demolished, rebuilt, altered, and enlarged, till it was levelled to the ground in 1732, and a new palace erected, but was destroyed by fire in 1784. It was rebuilt, in its present cumbrous proportions, in 1828. The visitors entered the large court-yard, passed through the picture gallery, the “Hall of the Knights,” the throne-room, looked into the riding-school,—which is a large, oblong room, with an earth floor, where the royal family may practise equestrianism,—the arsenal, the legislative chambers, and other rooms, none of which were very striking to those who had visited the palaces of Paris, London, Berlin, and St. Petersburg.
In front of the palace is a beautiful green, beyond which is the Exchange, or Börsen, built by Christian IV. It is the most picturesque edifice in the city, though the interior is entirely commonplace. It is long and very narrow, and ornamented with a vast number of figures cut in the stone, with elegantly-wrought portals at the entrances. But the spire is the most remarkable portion of the building, and consists of four dragons, the heads at the apex looking towards the four points of the compass.
From the Exchange the party walked to the Fruekirke, or Church of our Lady, which is interesting only on account of the works of Thorwaldsen which it contains. Behind the altar is the majestic and beautiful statue of Christ, which stretches out its wounded hands, as if he were saying, “Come unto me, ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” On each side of the church are the figures of the twelve apostles, placed against the walls at equal distances, so as to include the whole extent. In the middle of the choir, in front of the altar, is the figure of an angel, holding a baptismal font, in the shape of a shell, which some call Thorwaldsen’s masterpiece. In the sacristy of the church are several other works of the great sculptor, who was first interred in this place, before the museum was ready to receive his remains.
Mrs. Kendall declared she had seen enough for one day, for sight-seeing is the hardest work one can do when it is overdone. After supper, when the lady was rested, she consented to visit Tivoli, where the students were to spend the evening. This celebrated resort of the Copenhageners is situated just outside of the old walls of the city, near the arm of the sea which divides Amager from Seeland. One of the two horse-railways, which the people in Europe generally persist in calling “tramways,” extends through the city, passing the gates of this garden. Several of the officers and seamen of the ship came by the cars, which hardly differ from those in use in the principal cities of the United States; but all of them have accommodations for passengers on the top.
Captain Lincoln—who had been on board of the ship since he left the party with whom he had spent the afternoon—and Norwood were passengers in a car; but though they could not speak a word of Norsk, they were not disturbed by the situation. Presently the conductor presented himself, which caused a general sounding of pockets among the occupants of the car. He had a tin box, suspended by a strap, which passed around his neck, to contain the money he received. In his hand he held a compact little roll of yellow paper, an inch and a half in width, across which was printed a succession of little tickets, each with a number. The fare was four skillings, or two and one fourth cents, and, as each person paid, the conductor handed him one of these papers, torn from the roll. Captain Lincoln gave him a piece of money, and held up two fingers, pointing to his companion at the same time, to indicate that he paid for both. The man gave him his change, and two of the yellow tickets.
“What are these for?” asked Lincoln, glancing at the little papers.
“They are tickets, of course,” replied Norwood.
“I don’t think so,” added the captain. “All the people seem to throw them away, and the floor of the car is covered with them.”
“O, I know now what they are!” exclaimed Norwood. “I have heard of such things.”
“I never did.”
“I suppose you know what ‘knocking down’ means—don’t you?” laughed the second lieutenant.
“It means stealing.”
“Precisely so. It is said that conductors and omnibus drivers at home ‘knock down’ a good deal, which is the technical name for taking a portion of the fares. They use ‘spotters’ in our country to keep the conductors and drivers honest.”
“Spotters?”
“Yes, that’s the name of them. They are men and women, whom the conductors cannot distinguish from other passengers, employed by the railway companies to ride in the cars, and report the number of passengers on certain trips, so that the agents can tell whether the fares are all paid over. These tickets are used for the same purpose.”
“I don’t see what good they do. They certainly can’t keep the men honest, for almost everybody throws away his ticket.”
“They are called control-marks,” said a gentleman next to the captain, who had been listening with interest to the conversation, and who spoke good English. “The man has to tear one of them off every time a passenger pays him.”
“They are all numbered, I see; mine is nine hundred and four,” added Lincoln.
“When the man gives up this roll at night, the next number will show how many he has torn off. If he began at No. 200 this morning, he has taken seven hundred and four fares.”
“But he might neglect to tear off fifty or a hundred in the course of a day,” suggested Lincoln, “and put the money for them in his pocket.”
“If he does so, everybody is watching him, and anybody may report him to the agent. I am a share-owner of the company, and for aught the conductor knows, there may be one in every car. If the man neglects his duty, my interest would prompt me to look after him.”
“I see; thank you, sir.”
“Here is Tivoli,” added the gentleman. “I suppose you are going there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It is a fine garden, and very cheap.”
The young officers left the car, and bought tickets at the gate, for which they paid one mark, or nine cents, each. Near the entrance they found a man selling programmes of the evening’s entertainment, at two skillings each. Captain Lincoln bought one, for he carefully preserved every handbill, ticket, or programme for future reference. He could read a little of it. The performances were varied, and covered the time from six o’clock till midnight. But the young officers preferred to take a general view of the premises. It was an extensive garden, prettily and tastefully laid out, with accommodations for concerts, circus, and theatrical performances. In the centre was a “beer garden,” with table and seats, for little parties, who drank their beer and chatted, while a band played in a kiosk. Near it was a bazaar, where all kinds of fancy articles were arranged for sale, with the attendant raffles and lotteries. Farther removed from the centre was a theatre, consisting, however, of only the stage, the audience seating themselves in the open air. The performance, from six to seven, as the captain read in his programme, was
| Entrée gymnastique |
Or, in plain English, a gymnastic exhibition by the brothers Hermann.
In the circus there was a performance at half past seven, such as one sees in the United States, and “Hr. Wallet” was clown. At half past nine o’clock, another exhibition was given in an enclosed building, to which an extra admission fee was charged. At the theatre, dancing by some “celebrated sisters” was in progress at nine o’clock. A Russian mountain was in operation during the whole evening. It was a railroad down one inclined plane, and up another, and back over the same track, a ride costing a few skillings. The concert was continued at intervals during the entire evening. The “café chantant” was in full blast after nine o’clock, in two places, one of which was a small hall, with a bar, and the other the interior of a Swiss cottage, with a gallery surrounding it. In each of these were tables, where the audience seated themselves, and drank brandy, wine, beer, and milder beverages. The singers, who are all females, stood upon a stage, and were accompanied by a piano. After one or two songs had been sung, one of the singers passed around among the audience with a plate to receive their contributions, each person generally giving a small copper coin. This order was continually repeated, and the money thus received is the only salary of the performers, whose singing is villanously vile, and whose character is worse than their singing. A canal, extending from the sea, comes up to Tivoli, and passes around an island. Boats are to let here; and, indeed, there is no end to the variety of amusements, and “all for nine cents,” as Joseph had said half a dozen times during the afternoon to his party, and a dozen times more during the evening. At half past ten the students returned to the squadron, for by that time they had seen all they desired.