The North Cape is in reality an island projecting itself far into the Polar Sea, and which is separated from the main-land by a narrow strait. The highest point which has ever been reached by the daring Arctic explorer was eighty-three degrees twenty-four minutes, north latitude; this Cape is in latitude seventy-one degrees ten minutes. The island is named Mageröe, which signifies a barren place; and it is certainly well named, for a wilder, bleaker, or more desolate spot cannot be found on the face of the earth. Only a few hares, ermine, and sea-birds manage to subsist upon its sterile soil. The western and northern sides are absolutely inaccessible from their rough and precipitous character. The Arctic Sea thundered hoarsely against its base as we approached the windswept, weather-worn cliff of the North Cape in a small landing-boat. It was near the midnight hour, yet the warm light of the sun's clear, direct rays enveloped us. A few sea-birds uttered dismal and discordant cries as they flew lazily in circles overhead. The landing was soon accomplished amid the half impassable rocks, and then began, the struggle to reach the top of the Cape, which rises in its only accessible part at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees. For half an hour we plodded wearily through the débris of rubble-stones, wet soil, and rolling rocks, until finally the top was reached, after which a walk of about a third of a mile upon gently rising ground brings one to the point of observation,—that is, to the verge of the cliff. We were now fully one thousand feet above the level of the sea, standing literally upon the threshold of the unknown.
No difference was observed between the broad light of this Polar night and the noon of a sunny summer's day in the low latitudes. The sky was all aglow and the rays of the sun warm and penetrating, though a certain chill in the atmosphere at this exposed elevation rendered thick clothing quite indispensable. This was the objective point to reach which we had voyaged thousands of miles from another hemisphere. We looked about us in silent wonder and awe. To the northward was that unknown region to solve the mysteries of which so many gallant lives had been sacrificed. Far to the eastward was Asia; in the distant west lay America, and southward were Europe and Africa. Such an experience may occur once in a lifetime, but rarely can it be repeated. The surface of the cliff, which is quite level where we stood (near the base of the small granite column erected to commemorate the visit of Oscar II. in 1873), was covered by soft reindeer moss, which yielded to the tread like a rich carpet of velvet. There was no other vegetation near, not even a spear of grass; though as we climbed the steep path hither occasional bits of pea-green moss were seen, with a minute pink blossom peeping out here and there from the rubble-stones. Presently the boom of a distant gun floated faintly upwards. It was the cautionary signal from the ship, which was now seen floating far below us, a mere speck upon that Polar sea.
The hands of the watch indicated that it was near the hour of twelve, midnight. The great luminary had sunk slowly amid a glory of light to within three degrees of the horizon, where it seemed to hover for a single moment like some monster bird about to alight upon a mountain peak, and then changing its mind, slowly began its upward movement. This was exactly at midnight, always a solemn hour; but amid the glare of sunlight and the glowing immensity of sea and sky, how strange and weird it seemed!
Notwithstanding they were so closely mingled, the difference between the gorgeous coloring of the setting and the fresh hues of the rising sun was clearly though delicately defined. Indeed, the sun had not really set at all. It had been constantly visible, though it seemed to shine for a few moments with slightly diminished power. Still, the human eye could not rest upon it for one instant. It was the mingling of the golden haze of evening with the radiant, roseate flush of the blushing morn. At the point where sky and ocean met there was left a boreal azure resembling the steel-white of the diamond; this was succeeded by pearly gray, until the horizon became wavy with lines of blue, like the delicate figures wrought upon a Toledo blade. In the Yellow Sea the author has seen a more vivid sunset, combining the volcanic effects of lurid light; but it lacked the sublime, mysterious, mingled glory of evening and morning twilight which characterized this wondrous view of the Arctic midnight sun.
CHAPTER X.
Journey Across Country.—Capital of Sweden.—Old and New.—Swedish History.—Local Attractions.—King Oscar II.—The Royal Palace.—The Westminster Abbey of Stockholm.—A Splendid Deer Park.—Public Amusements.—The Sabbath.—An Official Dude.—An Awkward Statue.—Swedish Nightingales.—Linnæus and Swedenborg.—Dalecarlia Girls.—A Remarkable Group in Bronze.—Rosedale Royal Cottage.—Ancient Oaks.—Upsala and its Surroundings.—Ancient Mounds at Old Upsala.—Swedenborg's Study.
The reader will remember that we spoke in our early pages of the inland trip across Norway and Sweden,—that is, from Gottenburg to Stockholm. After visiting the North Cape, one returns by nearly the same route along the coast to Trondhjem, thence to Christiania. Our next objective point being the capital of Sweden, we took passage by rail, crossing the country by way of Charlottenborg, which is the frontier town of Sweden. Here there is a custom-house examination of baggage; for although Norway and Sweden are under one crown, yet they have a separate tariff, so that custom-house rules are regularly enforced between them. As regards others than commercial travellers however this is a mere form, and is not made a source of needless annoyance, as is too often the case in other countries. In crossing the peninsula by rail one does not enjoy the picturesque scenery which characterizes the Gotha Canal route. The railroad journey takes one through a region of lake and forest by no means devoid of interest, and which is rich in mines of iron and other ores. Some important viaducts, iron bridges, and tunnels are passed, and as we approach Lake Maelaren on the east coast a more highly cultivated country is traversed, some of the oldest towns in Sweden being also passed, each of which is strongly individualized. There is a considerable difference observable between the architecture of the Norwegians and that of the Swedes, the former affecting the style of the Swiss châlet, while the latter build much more substantially. Their dwellings as a rule are better finished, and always neatly painted, in town or country.
Stockholm is a noble capital, in many respects exceptionally so. It is situated on the Baltic at the outlet of Lake Maelaren, and is built on several islands, all of which are connected by substantial bridges,—the finest of which is the Norrbro, which has several grand arches of stone, the whole measuring four hundred feet in length by at least sixty in width, though we have no statistics at hand by which to verify these figures. The city has a population of over a hundred and eighty thousand, covering an area of five square miles, and taken as a whole it certainly forms one of the most cleanly and interesting capitals in Europe. It is a city of canals, public gardens, broad squares, and gay cafés. It has two excellent harbors, one on the Baltic and one on Lake Maelaren. Wars, conflagrations, and the steady progress of civilization have entirely changed the city from what it was in the days of Gustavus Vasa,—that is, about the year 1496. It was he who founded the dynasty which has survived for three hundred years. The streets in the older sections of the town are often crooked and narrow, like those of Marseilles, or of Toledo in Spain, where in looking heavenward one does not behold enough of the blue sky between the roofs for the measure of a waistcoat pattern, but in the more modern-built parts there are fine straight avenues and spacious squares, with large and imposing public and private edifices. Here as in most of the other Scandinavian cities, in consequence of various sweeping fires, the old timber-built houses have gradually disappeared, being replaced by those of brick or stone, and there is now enforced a municipal law which prohibits the erection of wooden structures within the precincts of the city proper.