The cloudless sky and grateful warmth of the sun made us prefer the open air to the confined gases of museums, libraries, laboratories, cathedrals, and their vaults; and, wandering along the fortifications which surround the city till we reached Fredrikshavn, we passed through a private way and entered the fortress itself. As we sauntered along, conversing on various subjects, a culprit of some kind—for this fortress is full of them—would occasionally cross our path, and add interest to our discourse by the Minister's recital of some remarkable incident in the man's life, which had brought him to the condition of a slave. Although the inner ramparts, or citadel, of Fredrikshavn are not allowed to be approached by any one, the rank of the Spanish Minister seemed to cause an exception in his favour; for, as we came near to the drawbridge leading over the inside moat of all, the two sentinels, who were on duty, recognised the Minister, and, instead of stopping us, presented arms.
Within these ramparts, on a wooden bench, from which the Sound, spotted with the white sails of many ships,—and, faintly, the distant mountains of Sweden,—might be seen, two black men sat. Removed at a distance of twenty yards from them, four sentinels stood, resting carelessly, with folded arms, on the muzzles of their fire-locks; but, even in this negligence, paying much attention to the movements of these black men. We stopped and observed the strange group; and our sympathy was moved by the dress and melancholy demeanour of the two men. The one nearest to us, who appeared the eldest, rested his chin on the back of his hands, which were clasped round the top of a large walking-stick; and in that attitude kept his eyes fixed on the blue waters of the Sound; his thoughts, no doubt, wandering to his home, some pleasant spot, far away. His hat was brown by long use, and rent at the rims, beneath which his white hair, here and there, straggled forth. His coat, once black, was now thread-bare and worn at the elbows; while his shoes, almost without soles, kept sad unison with the other parts of his dress. The other old man, whose clothes were equally squalid, sat more upright, and seemed livelier, and of a lighter heart, misfortune not having yet touched so blightingly the natural volatility of his disposition; for, now and then, he spoke in low tones to his companion, who sometimes smiled, but rarely made answer.
"You are observing those black men?" said the Spanish Minister. "They are the most interesting objects in Copenhagen."
"Who are they?" we asked.
"Those two men," continued the Spaniard, "were once men of note in their own country; and their misfortune resolves itself into this simple tale. The man with grey hair, nearest to us, seemingly bent with excess of sorrow, was the king of some Danish colony in the East Indies; and the other, his favourite minister. After having reigned for many years with equity and wisdom, and having seen his little island, cradled in the lap of peace, put forth the strength of prosperity, the old monarch's bright day of happiness and glory was suddenly overshadowed by a cloud, which, though, by its insignificance, at first unobserved, gradually gained bulk and darkness, and replete, at last, with all the elements of storm and destruction, burst upon his head. A man murdered a woman, his wife; and, according to the criminal code of his country, was arrested, tried, and convicted; and this king, by the advice of his minister, ordered the assassin to be executed. The intelligence reached the ears of the Court of Denmark, and by command of Christian, the black monarch and his adviser were arrested, on the plea, that, the one being, though a monarch, a subject of Denmark, had no power to carry the statutes of his own realm summarily into effect, without the previous assent of the Danish Government; and, that, the other, being the principal minister, was as culpable as his master in permitting such an infringement of the law. They were both subsequently tried for the offence, and being found guilty, were placed on board a Danish ship of war, and brought to Copenhagen, where, within this fortress, they are doomed to pass, in solitary confinement, the small portion of life which may yet remain to them."
The guns of the citadel, as I said before, are of immense dimensions; and I do not think I exaggerate when I state that the body of a child, nine or ten years old, may very easily be placed inside of them. I never saw such heavy cannon either at Portsmouth, Plymouth, Dover, or any other fortified port in England. The sentinels would not allow us to take a minute survey of these ordnance; but as soon as we walked round from the muzzle to the breech, in order to examine their really herculean proportions, a bayonet, thrust before our eyes, would be sure to interrupt the stream of information which commenced flowing through them to the mind. I suppose the soldier had read or heard of England, and thinking the people who lived in it, or came from it, were wonderful creatures, deemed it not impossible we might put a few of the guns under his charge into our pockets, and walk off with them; and unless that was his thought, I cannot conceive what mischief can arise from four gentlemen looking at four dismounted guns. However, governments, like men, have their whims; and it is of very little use trying to talk them out of their fallacies. It is as likely, that, when meeting a maniac in Bedlam, who fancies himself Napoleon Buonaparte, or any other pagod, you will be able to point out the delusion under which he labours, and to assure him that his social position, though respectable, was never imperial. He will understand you as soon, and as soon assent to the truth of your observations.
Our scrutiny had been thus interrupted, when the Baron de B—— came up to us. We had expressed a desire to eat, for the mere sake of saying hereafter that we had eaten, a real Copenhagen dinner, and the Baron offered to show us an hotel, where we could gratify our wish to the utmost extent. Having made no arrangements to dine on board, we started at once for the hotel; and it turned out to be the identical one at which my old acquaintance, Joe Washimtum, held the official post of commissionaire. Like those useful and diligent bees of the great hive of mankind, Joe was standing, with his black hands in his black breeches' pocket, beneath the huge arch of the Hôtel d'Angleterre, chattering and laughing with a few other bees of a similar calling, but of a different colour to himself. Joe raised his white hat five distinct times the instant he saw our party, and, advancing towards us, he observed, still with doffed hat and bended body,
"Good accummumdashum, gentlemen!"
"These gentlemen can dine here, can they not?" said the Baron de B., appealing to the exquisite Joe.
"No doubt at arl, sir, in de questchums," replied Joe quickly, and with his Æthiopian face shining like a bright boot.