They are three conical mounds, about fifty feet in height, very regular in shape, with a broad plateau at the summit, and the unvarying tradition of the country is, that the largest of the mounds is the grave of Odin; the next, that of Thor; and the smallest, the grave of Freytag, Odin’s daughter. In all probability these are natural hillocks artificially reduced to these regular forms, and superstitiously set apart in the minds of the people as the graves of persons to whom their ancestors paid divine honors. To this hour, the name of Odin is used as that of a demon king, and “Go to Odin” is the profane execration which answers to the modern imprecation, “Go to the devil.”
On this spot the great temple to Odin was erected, and his worship maintained with horrid rites and ceremonies. The altars here have smoked with human blood and burnt sacrifices. In the sacred groves that surrounded the temple these savage deities were propitiated with all manner of offerings, parents laying their children with their own hands upon the altars, and slaying them in the face of heaven. A record still exists of seventy-two bodies being seen suspended at one time from the limbs of trees in this grove; men, and lower animals than men, if any animals are lower than such men, being offered in company to please the deities of the wood.
We entered the old church, the tower of which is said to be a part of the temple. This tower is the most ancient building in Scandinavia. A rude stone image of a human being, uncared for and lying in total neglect and dirt, was pointed out as an idol of Thor, that had once and often been worshipped on this spot and honored with these human sacrifices. It seemed more likely that it was a bogus image, and, therefore, all the more fitting to be presented as one of the false gods of a superstitious race, whose reverence is not yet so thoroughly extinguished as to prevent them from leaving hay on the highway at night, to feed the horses of Odin when he comes riding through the country on his missions of destruction.
On the reach of the Reformation to this region, the great battle of faith was fought on this spot. Here Gustavus Wasa, in his robes of royalty, addressed the crowds of pagan people, and besought them to turn from their idols to the living God. They replied with sullen rage, and threatened him with death. He finally flung off his robes, and told them they might have Odin for their king if they would, but he would not be their king unless they would worship the Lord God Almighty and his Son Jesus Christ. This was the decisive hour and word. They yielded, but only an outward obedience, a lip service, and it required long years and generations to extirpate the pagan worship from the minds of the people. One king of Sweden, Domold, was actually offered in sacrifice on Odin’s altar to propitiate the gods when the people were suffering by famine. And when Eric V., in 1001, embraced the Christian religion and destroyed the temple, the tower of which is said to be standing now as part of this church, the people in their fury put him to death.
From Odin, or Woden, as he was called, comes our Weden’s-day, and from Thor our Thur’s-day, and from Fry-tag our Fri-day; and these every-day words make links of association to connect our times with those fearful days, now past and gone for ever.
I was surprised by finding the practice of dining out of doors in summer quite as common here as in France. On our return from Upsala to Stockholm, Dr. Scholberg went with us to spend part of a day at the Deer Park, a vast tract of land in easy reach from the capital, that has been set apart for the use of the people. It is entered through a grand gateway, ornamented with a bronze deer on each side; within are villas and cafes, and theatres and concert-rooms. Long drives over country roads take us under majestic old trees,—oaks and elms, pines and spruce; and now and then we pass parties taking their mid-day or evening meal under the trees, or among the beautiful gardens that surround their houses. Our ride takes us up and down hill, in sight often of the sea: one has a taste of the country, rare indeed to be had so near the town. The quickest way to get there is to take one of the many little steamers that ply, like our omnibuses or street-cars, among the waters of this northern Venice; but many of them do not hold as many passengers as a horse-car carries. They are just like a large row-boat, with sharp bows and stern, and a boiler in the middle. They require but very little coal, and, being driven with great care, very seldom, if ever, blow up the people sitting so near to the boiler and all its works, as to suggest continually the idea that it would require no great effort to scald the company. If our American people could do any thing with moderation, they might introduce these little iron steamers with great usefulness into the North and East Rivers, and, indeed, into the waters of all our great cities. We often availed ourselves of them, for they run everywhere, and the fare is lower than in our city cars. A few minutes of fast running brought us to Deer Park, and our Swedish doctor led us to what was considered the best restaurant in the place. Hundreds of people were already there to dine, and at the middle of the day. It did not speak well for the industry and habits of the people, that so many of them could thus quit business at such an hour and go off out of town to their dinner. And Stockholm is the only city in the North where there is such a class of people. The city has the name of being very like Venice in this matter. And here they were in the middle of the day, hundreds of people, away from home, and making a business of eating and drinking.
Dinner was a study and an art. They had some science in it. There was an ante-prandium and the prandium, and the dessert and the post-prandium, and more post that I did not see; but what I did may be set down to give you an idea of the Swedes at dinner. First, every gentleman steps to a side table and takes a glass of schnapps, or gin, or other liquor that he prefers, and appetizes himself by eating of salt fish, dried tongue, cold meats, bread and cheese, making a very satisfactory snack or lunch, which would serve most of men for a fair dinner. The second course is soup, and one who is recently from Paris needs a little education to make it pleasant to his taste. Then follow salmon, chicken, roast beef, pudding, ice cream, jellies; and with these dishes, which are served one after another, and all to be eaten, are the usual trimmings of bread and butter, with vegetables to any extent. When this bill of fare—a dinner to order, and exquisitely cooked and served in good style—is disposed of, you are expected to indulge in the national punch, an oily, fiery, pungent liquor, that should not be taken without medical advice; yet it may be that it assists digestion after the organs have been overladen with such a dinner as I have just eaten and described. Now, it is not unlikely that such dinners are very largely enjoyed by the people, for all that I have mentioned may be had for seventy-five cents! And as you pay for just what you order, and no more, it is possible to make a sufficient dinner for half the money, and thousands do. We protracted our stay till the evening (not the dark) came on, and rode to the charming rural retreat for the royal household, and had the pleasure of gratifying our democratic eyes by seeing the ladies of the family taking their tea out of doors, so much in the same way that other people take theirs, we should not have suspected them of being any thing more than common, had we not been told of it, and actually had seen the august servant, with a white wig and pompous strut, bringing the “tea things” out to the little table in the garden. So many other little family circles did we see enjoying themselves in the same way, that we could readily see it was a national habit, and quite in harmony with those domestic pictures which Frederika Bremer has made us so familiar with in her letters about Swedish homes.
Costumes of Sweden.
One thing impressed me daily in these north countries of Europe,—the general content and comfort of the people. The climate has not helped them to this, for it is far less favorable to general enjoyment than that of the south. But there is an amount of industry, intelligence, and morality, that make a contrast easily marked between the people of Sweden, Norway, and Denmark, and the inhabitants of Spain and Italy. I find no such masses of squalid vice and misery here, as one may easily see in Naples or Seville.