At eleven o'clock on Monday morning, R——, P——, and I, formed a deputation, and started for the Consul's office. While R—— was giving directions to the men when to return with the boat for us, I felt a gentle tap on my left shoulder; and turning round, received a nod, and "good morrow," from Mr. C——. His services were, however, required, and his pertinacity in retaining our friendship was not so unwelcome. We told him the object we had in view; he appreciated our national conduct, and begged to take us the pleasantest and shortest way to the Consul's. Many people were abroad; and hardly one person failed to stop and recognise us as Englishmen. I do not doubt that the population of Copenhagen is upwards of 100,000; but I judge from the multitudes which, in some parts, thronged the principal thoroughfares. The bee-like movements of the males,—stopping, in the bustle of business, to greet each other, then hurrying off again,—and the fondness of the females for gazing in the shop-windows where fine wares lay exposed, frequently blocking up the small foot-pavement in the gratification of this idiosyncrasy, assimilated them to my own countrymen and women. I looked under many a blue bonnet, and caught the sly glance of many a blue eye; but they were not the blue eye and bonnet of England. I gazed upon many a sweet, smiling face, and saw many an elegant form; but they had not the pouting, red lip, and roundness of England. No! wander where I will—and I have wandered far—I never saw aught to match the pure beauty of England's Daughter. Stamped on her fair brow, the hand of Heaven owns no other mould for loveliness; and the die was broken when sensibility of soul blended with her tender frame the strong feelings of the heart.
Before I saw enough of life in the streets, we were under the great gateway which led to the Consul's apartments; for the houses here, as in Edinburgh and Paris, are divided between several families, and have one common staircase. The Consul heard attentively our tale, and then told us he could in no way interfere; but that we had better make a personal application to the Minister, Sir Henry Whynne.
To Sir Henry we went; and the result with him was the same as with the Consul. Sir Henry said, he could with just as much propriety interrupt for our benefit the closing of the gates at a certain hour, as the Danish Minister in London could interrupt, for the benefit of three Danes, the closing of the Horse Guards. He recommended us to make friends with the officer on duty, and he doubted not every facility would be afforded us in our ingress and regress, to and from the town at night.
On the strength of that concession by the proper authority, Sir Henry asked us to dine with him the following day; we thanked him for his information, and accepted the invitation. Before parting, he offered to introduce us to the king, who, he assured us, entertained a partiality for the English, and would be happy to see us and have a game of whist with us every night at the palace. Mr. C——, who had waited for us outside, now conducted us round the town, and gave us all the information he had mustered during a residence of many years in Copenhagen.
In the centre of the second square,—better paved than the other one,—where are situated the Theatre, Hôtel d'Angleterre, and several other large hotels, stands another colossal statue of Christian the Fifth, as devoid of admiration as its prancing fellow. Its remarkable size has exceeded the bounds of elegance. The horse is about to trample on a serpent with distended mouth and forked extended tongue, being the symbol of Discord. Around the pedestal are many figures; and, amongst them, Minerva's arms and legs are sculptured in prodigious relief: but it is to be hoped the Goddess of the Fine Arts will, some day, descend to Copenhagen, and prove to the Danes how symmetrical are her limbs, since, in this allegorical group, the neck of the wild bull of Crete must have been a withe to her proportions. An anecdote is told of Belzoni, when Feldborg showed this statue to him.
"I hope this is not the work of a Danish artist?" demanded Belzoni.
"No; oh, no," replied Feldborg. "If you want to see statues executed by Danish artists, go to England, or your own country; don't come here. The statue you are now looking at was sculptured, and no doubt conceived, by a Frenchman, named Amoureux, who was sent here by Louis XIV. for the purpose, Louis being excessively anxious, in every imaginable way, to promote the welfare of the Danish sovereign of that day."
"Well, the Frenchman who executed this statue has been a clever fellow," observed Belzoni; "the only animation I notice in his work, is in the horse's tail."
We clambered up the Round Tower of the Trinity Church, which was founded by Christian IV. in the year 1673, and finished five years afterwards. It is 115 feet high, and was used as an observatory about the time of Tycho Brahe. There are no steps, but the ascent is made by a gentle spiral plane; and, as we wound our way up, thinking of Peter the Great, who drove a carriage drawn by four horses to the top, and of the manner the Czar contrived to reach the bottom without backing; all the names of all the families of Smiths, Smythes, and Joneses, deeply incised on the wall, pulled us, with a jerk, to vulgarities again.
From the summit is a fine view of Copenhagen. Before we had finished moralizing about views and heights, the afternoon had slipped imperceptibly away. Where we stood, the cowherd's long whoop at intervals, and, in answer to his call, the faint low of cattle, could be heard; and, from some cottages beyond the city walls, the bark of dogs, and noise of faggots being hewn, were interrupted only by the loud jests of fishermen, who sat at the cottage-doors, unravelling their nets; while the dewy mist of evening kept rising till it reached the elm-tree tops, then hung there, like a girdle of thin white gauze. It was quite an English scene.