To-day Bishop Absalon continues to be the pride of the Copenhageners. In a square facing the island of Slotsholmen, which he made his strongest fortification, he sits in bronze, forever reining in his charger. He also guards the entrance to the new town hall, which of course I must call Raadhuset. I understand that an American architect (perhaps troubled with professional jealousy) says that if he put up a building like that in America his next step would be to pull it down. At any rate it cost the city six million kronor, more than a million and a half dollars, and is fitted out with a marvelous wealth of detail. On the walls of one of the stairways are two very interesting pictures representing the city in 1587 and 1611 respectively. It was about that time that the herring fisheries attracted so many merchants that the name of the town was changed from Axelhus to Kopmannaehafn, or “Merchants’ Haven.” Prominent in each of these pictures is a gallows on which two unfortunates are hanging. Probably they had stolen half a loaf of bread or committed some equally atrocious crime.
The Raadhus has a tower three hundred and forty feet in height, from which you get a fine view and a good idea of the city. On the wall, nearly up to the top, is a diagram, comparing this in height with various other high buildings and towers. Washington Monument and the Eiffel Tower are represented, and St. Peter’s, St. Paul’s, and St. Botolph’s in Boston, England, and the Chicago Masonic Temple, and a motley array of other high buildings. For some strange reason Woolworth’s skyscraper is omitted, as is also the Singer Building. Not one of New York’s skyscrapers is given a place in this hall of fame. I think I shall ask the mayor what he has against New York.
From the top of this tower you may see why Copenhagen is called the “City of Spires”—no, I should have spelled “spires” with a small “s,” as this was not the city where they held the diet. Christian IV is responsible for many of the spires which rise in all directions, for so many in fact that a certain author, in a perfectly vile pun, calls him an “aspiring” monarch. Of late years the old seventeenth-century Christian has had to divide the honors, in this particular, with Brewer Jacobsen. It is astounding to see how greatly the city has profited by the Carlsberg brewer’s generosity. Two fine collections of antiquities and of sculpture this philanthropist has given to the city, the Frederiksborg castle-museum, and the Ny-Glyptothek. Besides these he has made innumerable smaller gifts. Whenever a tower needs to be built or repaired, Brewer Jacobsen comes to the rescue and builds it or repairs it. Even now I understand he is contemplating the erection of a new spire on the famous Frue Kirke, to replace the one destroyed by a former bombardment of the city. At first it seemed rather ridiculous that so much of the city’s architectural splendor is due to beer, but I really believe the brewer has done much for the cause of temperance. His “beer” is something like ginger pop, and is scarcely more intoxicating than milk. It is so light that it is considered by many teetotalers as a temperance drink. If his temperance beer can compete with more harmful productions, he certainly is to be congratulated.
As for the buildings of Christian IV, their name is legion, for they are many. It is curious that so much of his making has lasted for three centuries or more, despite bombardments and innumerable fires. From the tower we see a curious spire formed of the interlacing tails of dragons. This was one of Christian IV’s towers. In other directions we see the spires of his summer palace, Rosenborg, and many other buildings which recall this great architect-king, among them Regenson, the college which he built for poor students; the Round Tower, which he built for the use of his astronomers, and his arsenal. He had the twin spires placed on the cathedral of Roskilde, and he built the famous castle of Frederiksborg, which his modern colleague in philanthropy, Brewer Jacobsen, has transformed into a museum. It is said that with his own hands he built the old tower on the Frue Kirke, and so reliable an authority as Hjalmar Boyesen says: “With level and square in his pocket, he walked about testing the soundness of the work of his carpenters, masons, and architects.”
He must have been a wonderful old king, even if he was not particularly modest about naming cities for himself. He founded the modern Christiania and named it for himself, and also Christianssund, in the south of Norway. Doesn’t he remind you of Alexander the Great in that respect? Boyesen says he was so democratic that he delighted to attend a party at the apothecary’s, where the jolly guests smashed all the windows; which makes me wonder whether, if he were alive to-day, he would join the jolly suffragettes of England in smashing windows.
You poor Judicia! I have kept you standing up in the Raadhus tower a long time, haven’t I? I hope you have not been cold, but if you have you can warm yourself by walking down some three hundred steps. From the Raadhus-Plads there is a series of streets leading to Kongens Nytorv, and here, between these two important squares, you will find echt Copenhagen. It is lovingly called by the Danes Ströget, or the “Promenade.” Half of Copenhagen must go through here every day, though it is hardly wide enough for two teams to pass. Ströget is one of the few places in the city where electric cars are prohibited, and only an old-fashioned omnibus plies back and forth. I believe it would create a civil war if any company tried to desecrate this beloved, busy Ströget with an electric car line. You get jostled and elbowed all the way along, which would strike you as “not quite nice” in the Copenhageners, were it not that they expect to be equally jostled and elbowed. You see, people have elbowed their way through here for centuries, and that is part of the charm of it.
Midway in Ströget is a most interesting institution called Amagertorv, where for centuries the women of Amager have sold fruit and flowers. These women are the descendants of the Dutch people whom Christian II imported from Holland some four centuries ago. He fell in love with a Dutch girl whom he called Dyveke, or “Little Dove.” Later she became his morganatic wife, and the house which this very bad Christian built for her still stands on the corner of Nielsgade. In order that she might have congenial company he imported several hundred of her compatriots, and it is the descendants of these who still sell fruit and flowers in Amagertorv.
In Kongens Nytorv, the eastern terminus of Ströget, no less than thirteen streets converge. Here is situated, among other fine buildings, “Kongelige Teatret.” I refuse to interpret such obvious bits of the Danish tongue. It would be an insult to your intelligence. It was here that Holberg, the great dramatist, won his fame. I am sorry to say that his modern compatriot, Asta Nielsen, has won far more fame in certain circles. Perhaps you don’t know, Judicia, that Asta devotes her time and her histrionic talent entirely to moving pictures now. All over Italy and Germany I saw flaming advertisements of her as about to perform through the medium of moving pictures “The Dance of Death” and other equally thrilling dances. Oh, she is undoubtedly very popular with the patrons of the “movies,” but nevertheless I think I should prefer to be Holberg dead than Asta Nielsen alive.
In the middle of Kongens Nytorv is a well-known statue, which the Danes call Hesten or the “Horse.” It represents Christian V riding down a writhing form, but whether that form represents abstract Envy or concrete Sweden no one seems to know. At any rate, Alexander the Great, Artemisia, Minerva, and Hercules are admiringly looking on, though how the Danes managed to corral all these people into Kongens Nytorv I don’t know. It is curious, too, that Hercules and Minerva have also found their way over to Slotsholmen, and there, together with Nemesis and Æsculapius, look up at Frederick VII.
Right here I must tell you something about Copenhagen’s many statues and fountains. In the Raadhus-Plads three of the weirdest dragons that were ever invented spout from their monstrous snouts three foolish little jets of water. The small boys used to play over these and stick corks in the dragons’ snouts, and so the clever authorities built a wide moat all around it, and now those boys have got to swim for it if they want to play practical jokes on the dragons. In Gammeltorv there is an old fountain which spouts golden apples on the king’s birthday and other national holidays. In another part of the city Gefion is represented plowing furiously with four bulls. This Gefion was an ancient goddess who was to have as much territory as she could plow up in a single night. By dint of great energy she plowed all the territory from Skaane, the southernmost province of Sweden, to the southernmost part of Zealand. The island of Zealand then broke off from Sweden and became the perpetual heritage of the Danes.