In front of the royal palace stands a great bronze equestrian statue of Carl Johan, the first Bernadotte king of Sweden. On one side of the pedestal is the motto of the king, “The love of the people is my reward,” and on the other is the statement, “This monument was raised by the people of Norway.”
The palace is a large, plain building in classical style. The double doors were open, so I walked in and started for the stairs. I had not got very far, however, before a gilt-buttoned and barred individual ran down another staircase and stopped me with “Vaer saa god,” the versatile Scandinavian phrase which I told you about in my last letter. This time the expression was polite Norwegian for “Halt!” The palace was not open to visitors, I was informed. Suppose that the guards had been napping and that I had innocently got upstairs and interrupted King Haakon and Queen Maud at their royal breakfast! Would I have been arrested as a Russian or German spy? Or as an anarchist? I think not. Their majesties would have simply believed my explanation and would have had me escorted out in the most courteous manner possible.
Later, I learned that certain parts of the palace were open to visitors in the afternoon, when the royal family was not in residence.
After wandering for a time about the beautiful palace gardens, I returned down the right side of the Gade as I had planned. On this north side is the University of Christiania, exactly opposite the Royal Theatre, which, as I said, is in the Students’ Grove. The building is in classical style with a wing on either side, at right angles to it. The university is co-educational; women have equal opportunities with men; and both sexes wear identical students’ caps, as in the other Scandinavian universities, with a button in front, of their own national colors. In the garden back of the university are set up several large interesting rune stones. In a building at the rear of this yard I found an exhibit prepared by the Scandinavian Society for Fighting Tuberculosis. The exhibit as a whole was of the usual sort, and showed how progressive the Scandinavian lands are in their fight against the “white plague,” as well as in their struggle against unhygienic conditions in general. But there was one unusual display—that of lupus, or external tuberculosis, which generally attacks the face. Wax models represented the terrible ravages wrought by the disease, and also the remarkable healing effects of the Finsen light.
Above the Timber Line in Norway
Statue of Henrik Ibsen by Sinding
Niels Finsen, who discovered the wonderful curative effects of certain light rays, was a Danish physician born in the Faroe Islands. Though poverty-stricken and struggling against an incurable disease, he had none of his discoveries patented; he gave them all freely for the good of humanity. And when he was awarded the Nobel prize for his contribution to medical science, he donated the prize money to the Light Institute which he founded in Copenhagen. Not until his friends had made up an equivalent sum by gifts, for the benefit of the Institute, would he take back a half of the well-won prize. Dr. Finsen was one of the noblest souls of which I have any knowledge. When in Copenhagen, I noticed a peculiarly appropriate monument to him; three beautiful bronze figures were represented as extending their arms in adoration towards the sunlight. The Scandinavians do well to remember Dr. Finsen with pride and gratitude.
I told you about the fascinating handwork which I had seen in Trondhjem. On Carl Johans Gade I found an even more varied and beautiful display. It was in a shop which is subsidized by the government in order that the manual arts of the peasants shall not be lost to the world. Here were elaborately embroidered national costumes of homespun, and rugs, portières, and tapestries—beautiful in pattern and color—all woven on hand-looms. Among the tapestries were some woven after the designs of Gerhardt Munthe from the saga tales; and in the patterns were occasionally included lines from the sagas.