Denmark
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M. Pearson Thomson >> Denmark
"Hedeselskabet" (Heath Company) is a wonderful society started by
Captain Dalgas and other patriotic Danes, in 1866, for the purpose of
reclaiming the moors and bogs. The cultivation of these lands seemed
impossible to most people, but these few enthusiasts with great energy
and perseverance set to work to overcome Nature's obstacles. These
pioneers have been so successful in their efforts that in less than half
a century three thousand square miles of useless land in Jutland have
been made fertile. Trees have been planted and carefully nursed into
good plantations, besides many other improvements made for the benefit
of the agriculturalist and the country generally. All along the sandy
wastes of the west coast of Jutland esparto grass has been sown to bind
the shifting sand, which is a danger to the crops when the terrible
"Skaj"[8] blows across the land with unbroken force. Thanks to the
untiring energies of this society for reclaiming the moors, Denmark has
gained land almost equal to that she lost in her beautiful province of
Schleswig, annexed by Prussia in the unequal war of 1864.
In the town of Aarhus, the capital of Jutland, a handsome monument has
been raised to the memory of Captain Dalgas, the father of the movement
for reclaiming the moors, by his grateful countrymen.
CHAPTER XI
SOLDIERS AND SAILORS
Every Danish boy knows he must undergo a period of training as a soldier
or sailor when he reaches his twentieth year. This is because Denmark is
small and poor, and could not maintain a standing army, so her citizens
must be able to defend her when called upon. This service is required
from all, noble and peasant alike, physical weakness alone bringing
exemption. This six or twelve months' training means a hard rough time
for young men accustomed to a refined home, but it has a pleasant side
in the sympathy and friendship of comrades. The generality of conscripts
do not love their soldiering days, and look upon them as something to be
got over, like the measles! "Jens" is the Danish equivalent for "Tommy
Atkins," and "Hans" is the "Jack Tar" of Denmark.
To see the daily parade of Life Guards before the royal palace is to see
a splendid military display. This parade the King and young Princes
often watch from the palace windows. The crowd gathers to enjoy the
spectacle of "Vagt-Paraden" (changing the guard) in the palace square,
when the standard is taken from the Guard House and borne, to the
stirring strains of the "Fane-Marsch," in front of the palace. As the
standard-bearer marches he throws forward his legs from the hips in the
most curious stiff way. This old elaborate German step is a striking
feature of the daily parade. When the guard is changed and the band has
played a selection of music, the same ceremony is repeated, and the
standard deposited again in its resting-place. Then the released guard,
headed by the band playing merry tunes, march back to their barracks
followed by an enthusiastic crowd. The fresh guard take their place
beside the sentry-boxes, which stand around the palace square. These are
tall red pillar-boxes curiously like giant letter-boxes!
In the Schleswig-Holstein War of 1864, the last war Denmark was engaged
in, many Danish soldiers proved their valour and heroism in the unequal
encounter. These gallant men were buried in Schleswig, and as the Danish
colours were forbidden by the tyrannical Prussian conquerors, the loyal
Schleswigers hit upon a pretty way of keeping the memory of their heroes
green. The "Danebrog" was designed by a cross of white flowers on a
ground of red geraniums over each grave. In this way the kinsmen of
these patriots covered their last resting-place with the colours of
their glorious national flag, under which they fell in Denmark's
defence. In Holmens Kirke, Copenhagen, many heroes lie buried. This
building, originally an iron foundry, was converted into a church by
the royal builder, Christian IV., for the dockyard men to worship in,
and it is still used by them. This King's motto, "Piety strengthens the
realm," stands boldly over the entrance of this mortuary chapel for
famous Danes.
As Denmark is a kingdom composed mainly of islands and peninsula, she
has a long line of sea-board to defend, and a good navy is essential for
her safety. The Danes being descendants of Vikings and sea-rovers, you
may be sure that their navy is well maintained.
A boy who chooses the navy as his profession must leave school at the
age of fourteen years, and go for nine months' training on a warship as
a voluntary apprentice. At the end of this time he knows whether he
likes the profession well enough to join it--if so, two years' coaching
is given to enable him to pass the necessary examinations for entering
the Naval Academy. Here he is trained for four years, spending the four
summer months of each year in cruising. This Naval Academy, where
officers are trained, is a fine old institution, and prides itself on
the record of the famous men it has turned out. The present King of
Greece, and many other members of the Danish Royal Family, have also
been trained at this Academy. The Academy course is expensive, and as
promotion is slow, and pay small in the navy, the Lieutenants are
sometimes permitted to captain a ship in the merchant service for three
years. This they are glad to do, as it increases their pay and
knowledge of navigation. Denmark being too small to maintain a large
cruising fleet, these officers would have little opportunity of proving
their sailing powers without this arrangement.
When cruising, the high spirits of the young cadets sometimes lead them
into mischief, thereby bringing trouble upon their heads. I knew a naval
captain who hit upon a very original and effective form of punishment
for wrong-doers. The cadet cap is a blue "tam-o'-shanter" with the usual
woolly bob of the same colour on the top. "The naughty boys shall have a
red bob," said the "Kaptejn," "and thus be branded for misdemeanour!"
The culprits disliked this badge intensely, I imagine mostly because
their comrades derisively admired the colour which made them
conspicuous. One day royalties were being shown over the ship, and a
young Princess asked "why some of the boys had those pretty red tufts on
their caps?" You may imagine the chagrin and confusion of the culprits;
scarlet faces and crimson tufts told their own tale! The boys, you may
be sure, thought twice in future before risking another penitential week
of branding and ridicule for breach of discipline.
In Copenhagen one of the discarded warships is used as public restaurant
and training-school for ships' cooks. Here the sailor-men are taught
every branch of cooking and kitchen-work. When trained, these cooks are
employed on the merchant-ships, as well as on the men-of-war.
Some interesting stories are told of the naval heroes of Denmark which
you will like to hear. Peder Tordenskjold is the Nelson of Denmark. This
man, besides being a great Admiral, was a most genial character, and had
a striking and original personality. Many true tales are told about this
hero which the young Danish lads never tire of hearing. There is a
favourite one which tells of the ingenious way by which he discovered
the weak points in his enemy's stronghold. Dressing himself as a
fisherman, he accompanied two other fishers in a little rowing-boat
laden with fish to the enemy's shores. Taking a basket of fish, he
mounted the hill to the fort, saying he had brought the fish for the
commandant. He was allowed to pass in to the fort with his fish, and,
pretending stupidity, kept losing his way--gaining knowledge
thereby--till he reached the commandant's residence. Gaining permission
from the latter to supply the garrison with fish, he inquired for how
many men he should provide. "Let me see," said the commandant, half to
himself, "a hundred guns--two hundred men; you may bring fish for a
hundred men." Tordenskjold then left the fort, having obtained all the
information he required, and returned to his boat. At this moment the
captain of one of the ships lying in the bay arrived on shore, and the
pretended fisherman at once accosted him, asking permission to serve his
men with fish. This being granted, he at once rowed to the ship, where
he soon disposed of his fish, and conversing with the sailors, he
gained the information that in two days' time there would be a great
festivity held on shore, at which most of them would be present. With
this valuable knowledge he returned to his own shore from the Swedish
coast, and laid plans which gave Denmark a victory and proved fatal to
the Swedes. In Holmens Kirke, where this hero lies buried, a splendid
black marble tomb has been erected to his memory by King Frederik IV.
Near by lies another naval hero, Niels Juel, whose gilt and copper
coffin is surmounted by a tablet which tells of his brave deeds.
Captain Hvitfeldt, the hero of Kjoege Bay, blew up his ship with three
hundred men to save the Danish fleet from destruction. In the war of
1710, between Denmark and Sweden, this captain's ship, the _Danebrog_,
took fire. To save the ships which were being driven by the wind towards
his burning vessel, he and his gallant crew sacrificed their lives.
Herluf Trolle was a Danish noble and a famous Admiral, who left all his
wealth to found a school for orphans. His noble wife, Fru Bergitta, was
greatly distressed that the Admiral's will could not be found, as she
was most anxious that his wishes, which were also her own, with regard
to the school, should be carried into effect. The Admiral's relatives
would inherit the property, and were already clamouring for it, when one
night Fru Bergitta had a dream. She dreamed she saw someone walking
round her husband's writing-table, attentively inspecting the legs.
These she examined on awakening, and found one to be hollow.
Discovering a secret spring, she pressed it, and beheld the will lying
in the hollow space. So Herluf Trolle's school was founded, and although
this brave old Admiral died from wounds received in battle centuries
ago, yet his school is considered to be one of the best at the present
day.
[Illustration: SUNDAY IN THE ISLAND OF LAESOe.]
CHAPTER XII
THE PEOPLE OF THE ISLES
One of the most storm-swept and barren of Denmark's many islands is the
island of Fanoe. Lying, as it does, exposed to the full force of the
North Sea gales, it yet serves to protect the harbour of Esbjerg from
these storms. It is eight miles long, and three miles at its broadest
part. A trim little steamer will carry you across from Esbjerg to
Nordby--the fishing town on the east coast of Fanoe--in twenty minutes.
Nordby is both quaint and picturesque. The low thatched houses, with
rough-cast, whitewashed walls, nestle close to each other for shelter
from the winds.
The Fanoe women have a practical but peculiar costume; the
thickly-pleated skirt has a bright-coloured border, while the
close-fitting bodice is adorned with embroidery, and pretty antique
buttons. A folded cotton kerchief and accordion-pleated apron give a
daintiness to the whole dress. The head-dress, however, gives the most
singular finish to the costume. A dark, checked-bordered handkerchief
tied over a stiff, cambric frame, entirely envelops the head. The four
ends of this handkerchief are tied in an odd way, two being left
upstanding like rabbits' ears! This striking head-dress gives the Fanoe
wife a fantastic appearance. When the good-natured, smiling faces of
these women are hidden behind a mask, the combination of dress and mask
makes them awesome-looking folk. The men of the island are nearly all
fishermen; the women are the farmers, and it is to protect their faces
from the blinding sand-storms, while working on the land, that these
masks are worn. This mask obliterates all comeliness, for only the eyes
peep out from the weird face-protector.
This island of heath, dune, and quicksand is wild and romantic. The
cultivated fields are protected by sand-hills, and belts of stunted,
wind-swept trees that afford some slight protection to the crops. The
island belongs to the people, who cultivate it assiduously. The courage
and perseverance of these women agriculturalists is rewarded by fair
crops, notwithstanding an adverse climate.
At the south end of the island, far away from any dwelling, is the
interesting "Fuglekoejerne,"[9] where three or four hundred wild-duck are
taken in a day during the season. Decoy-ducks are used for this purpose.
The west side of the island is the most fashionable watering-place in
Denmark. Large hotels and pretty villas line the shore, and here the
well-to-do Danes inhale bracing sea-breezes.
On a windy day this western shore is not amusing. Clouds of blinding
sand whirl high in the air, while the booming surf rolls and plunges on
the beach with deafening roar, and makes rank and fashion fly to shelter
in hotel or villa till the storm is over. Visitors in summer and storms
in winter have it all their own way on this west coast--the people of
Fanoe trouble it not.
Bornholm, situated in the middle of the Baltic, is both beautiful and
fertile. Its products are very valuable to Denmark. From here comes the
clay of which the exquisite Copenhagen porcelain is made. Here, too, the
granite for building the country's defences and docks is quarried. I
fancy if you were to ask a young Dane what Bornholm is most famed for he
would say, "Turkeys," for the island supplies the Copenhagen market with
these birds.
The chief town, Roenne, is charming, with its many low-roofed houses,
which overlook the Baltic. It is noted for its terra-cotta ware, clocks,
and Museum of Antiquities.
Most of the towns are upon the coast. Four singular round churches,
built of granite, were formerly used as places of refuge for the people
when beset by pirates. These "Rundkirker" are peculiar to Bornholm.
A high festival is celebrated every year on the anniversary of the day
when the inhabitants succeeded in throwing off the Swedish yoke, which
they had borne for a short time in the seventeenth century with
resentment.
Hammershus Castle, on the northern extremity of Bornholm, was built in
the thirteenth century. There is a sad tale connected with this romantic
castle, about a Danish noble and his wife. This noble, Corfitz Ulfeldt,
was imprisoned there for treason. His beautiful wife, Eleonora, the
favourite daughter of Christian IV., accompanied him, preferring
imprisonment with him to liberty without him. After the Count died,
Eleonora, who had a mortal enemy in Queen Caroline Amalia, was sent by
the latter to the "Blaataarn"[10] of Slotsholmen, Copenhagen, and there
incarcerated for twenty-two years. The illustrious Eleonora was only
liberated on the death of the vindictive Queen, but the long years of
captivity--without reason--had wrecked her life.
Laesoe is a small island in the Cattegat, the inhabitants of which are
mainly farmers and fishermen, and the old women wear a particular
costume for Sunday, which is called the "church costume."
The people of Amager are great market-gardeners. They are of Dutch
extraction. Christian II., after flying from his country, took refuge in
Holland, and some of the Dutch helped him in trying to regain his
throne. For this service he gave his Dutch followers the island of
Amager. The descendants of these Dutch people still retain their old
customs and characteristics. Clattering about in wooden shoes, the old
women, in quaint costume, may be seen driving their geese down the
picturesque streets to the meadows. Besides being market-gardeners and
florists, these Amager folk rear and fatten the geese for the Christmas
market.
The natural beauty of the island of Moeen is striking, and unlike the
rest of Denmark. "Moeen's Klint" are great, jagged white cliffs rising
abruptly from the sea. Enchanting beech-woods thickly crown the summit,
giving distinctive and unusual beauty to it. From Sommerspiret, the
highest point, we have an extensive view over the Ostersoeen and Koejge
Bay, where the famous victory over the Swedes was won by Niels Juel in
1677.
In Denmark the town-crier beats a drum to draw attention to the notice
he is about to give.
Danish postmen present a gorgeous appearance, in red coats, with smart
cloaks of the same brilliant hue for winter wear. These and the bright
yellow mail-vans, which they drive sometimes, arrest attention, and give
importance to the carriers of His Majesty's mails.
In many of the houses the "Forhoejning" is still used. This is a raised
platform close to the window, on which the lady of the house sits to do
her embroidery. While she is here she can follow all that goes on in the
street below by an ingenious arrangement of oblique convex mirrors fixed
to the outside of the window, and reflecting the life in the streets
both ways.
The numerous pretty articles made of amber, which adorn the ladies'
dressing-tables, and of which beads and ornaments for the girls are
composed, are of local manufacture, amber being found in quantities on
the west coast of Jutland.
In the islands of Funen and Seeland there are many grand old
manor-houses belonging to the nobility, whose fine estates give
employment to many peasants. A story is told of a certain noble,
Christian Barnekow by name, who saved his King, Christian IV., by his
heroic self-sacrifice. The King had lost his horse, and was on the point
of being killed or made prisoner when Barnekow came to his rescue.
Giving the King his own horse, he said, "I give my horse to my King, my
life to the enemy, and my soul to God." A street in Copenhagen is called
after this brave nobleman "Kristenbernikovstrade."
It is characteristic of the Danes to run words into each other, and
streets in Denmark often have prodigiously long names.
CHAPTER XIII
FISHERMEN AT HOME AND AFLOAT
The class of people most lauded by their own and other nations is that
of the brave and hardy fishermen of Denmark. These men are always
willing to man the life-boat and to risk their lives to save those in
peril on the dangerous coast of Jutland. Although hundreds of ships are
wrecked on this dreaded "Jernkyst" (iron coast), their crews are
invariably saved by these courageous men. The whole length of the west
coast of Jutland is bleak and exposed to the storms and fogs of the
North Sea. Not one single harbour of refuge can be found between Esbjerg
and the Skaw. Dangerous sandbanks and massive cliffs guard the coast,
making navigation both difficult and hazardous. All along this perilous
coast life-saving apparatus of the newest and best type is stored in the
life-boat houses placed at intervals close to the seashore. On stormy
nights the watching sentinels summon by telephone the fishermen of the
tiny hamlets near. At sound of a rocket the distressful cry, "A wreck, a
wreck!" runs over the telephone, and immediately brave hearts and hands
are putting off to the rescue, while trembling women anxiously wait
their husbands' return with warm restoratives for the saved. These
fishermen's wives are brave too, for it is anxious work waiting and
watching. It is not to be wondered at that this merciless and cruel
coast is dreaded by all seamen. How thankful they must feel when they
see the great lighthouse at Grenen--the northernmost point of
Jutland--and can signal "All's well!" "Alt vel! passeret Grenen" flash
the lights across the water, and both passengers and crew breathe a
little more freely if it has been a stormy passage. Something like
eighty thousand vessels pass by this coast in a year, so you may be sure
the gallant fishermen of Denmark who live on the iron coast have plenty
of rescue work to do.
[Illustration: SKAGEN FISHERMAN NEAR THE TOWER OF BURIED CHURCH.]
You should see this coast on a stormy day, more especially at Grenen,
where those two mighty seas, the Skagerack and Cattegat, meet. When the
tempest rages here, far as eye can see a long ridge of seething, tossing
water denotes the meeting-place of the currents. The great "white
horses" in battle array fight, plunge, and roar--each striving for the
mastery which neither gains. This wrestling-match is a splendid
spectacle to those who are safe on shore, also to those at sea if the
day is clear, because they can then give the reef a wide berth. Tossing
spray is thrown high into the air and wind-borne to the shore, so even
at a distance from the waves you may have a salt shower-bath should you
be able to "keep your legs" against the fury of the gale. The screaming
gulls which fly around, dipping and rising, enjoying as only
"storm-birds" can the roar and tumult of these tempestuous waters,
enhance the fierce loneliness of the scene. This awe-inspiring
"Nature-barrier" saddens you--even while you exult in the madness of its
fury--when you think what it means on a foggy night to the poor mariner.
What a comfort for the seafarer to know that there is such a famous race
of fishermen here, willing and ready to man the life-boat and rescue
them from the angry, engulfing waters! You would never guess these seas
could be otherwise than kind when you enter their smiling depths for a
swim on a calm, sunny day. How gentle and invigorating they can be the
fishermen as well as the visitors know, and any morning you may see the
former returning from their daily dip with dripping heads and towels
along the shore. Somehow these fishermen are always picturesque. In the
summer evening, sitting or lying on the sunlit beach, smoking their
cutty-pipes and waiting for the time to launch their boats for the
fishing, they make an impressive picture. Kindly blue eyes and
weather-beaten faces look at you from under the sou'westers, while blue
jerseys, long sea-boots with curled-over tops and oil-skins, complete
the sea-going outfit. Fully equipped, they charm the eye of the most
fastidious, and it is little wonder that they have become subjects for
famous artists and poets.
These fishermen are very devout, and before launching their boat they
all stand round it with clasped hands and bowed heads, offering up a
short, silent prayer for help and protection on these dangerous waters.
Then, pushing the boat out into the water, they jump in while it
floats--sea-boots getting wet in the process--and wave farewell to their
children on the shore, who cry in return "Farvel Fa'er!"
Lars Kruse, the late captain of the life-boat at Skagen, has had a
beautiful monument raised to his memory, and his son will show you with
great pride the cups and medals he left behind as mementoes of his brave
deeds. These medals have been presented by many different nations whose
sea-farers have been saved by him. Amongst these is one given by Queen
Victoria.
Captain Larsen, a well-known mariner, who, on retiring from his post on
one of the light-ships, settled at Old Skagen, has left a unique
collection to the village. This now constitutes a museum of exquisitely
carved furniture, much of it inlaid with ivory, marbles and metals in
dainty designs, all made by this old sailor during the last twelve years
of his life--a wonderful record of industry. Old Skagen is a quaint
fisher-village, nestling behind the sand-dunes, trying to shelter itself
from the sand and sea-storms to which these shores are subjected.
Many of these fisher-folk are farmers also, tilling and cultivating the
heath-lands which lie beyond the village. The fisher cottages are quite
pretty, with thatched or red-tiled roofs, white or buff rough-cast
walls, green painted doors and windows, with black painted foundations
which protect them from the sand. Bright flowering plants in the windows
and the neat and clean appearance of the whole betoken the joy and
comfort that reigns in the fisherman's home. Many household duties are
performed at the cottage door in the sandy enclosure surrounding the
little homestead. Here the old men mend the nets, keeping a watchful eye
on the babies, while the women clean and salt the fish, hanging them up
in rows to dry in the sun. In these garden enclosures, also, many
quaintly pretty miniature houses may be seen erected on tall poles.
These are to encourage the starlings and other songsters to settle in
them, as there are no trees. Hen-roosts and outhouses are adorned with
the name-boards of wrecked boats washed up on the shore, while discarded
boats turned over and tarred make the roofs of these curious shelters
worthy of royal hens!
The older fishermen have a safe and effective way of trawling from the
strand. Putting out in a small boat, taking their net with them, to
which a long rope is attached--the end of this being left in charge of
the fishermen on the shore--they row gaily over the water, paying out
the rope as they go. When the limit of this rope is reached, the men
drop their weighted net overboard and pull for the shore, bringing with
them another attached rope which is paid out till they reach the strand.
When they have landed and the boat is beached, half a dozen men or more
take hold of each rope--these are fastened to each side of the
submerged net--and begin hauling it to the shore. The straining muscles
of the men as they march up the beach with a strong, steady, overhand
pull on the rope denotes that this is heavy work. It is a grand sight!
As the net nears the shore the gleaming, glittering mass of fish can be
seen leaping and jumping in vain endeavour to escape from their prison,
only the smaller fry succeeding. At last the net with its silver load
reaches the shore with the noise as of a great wave breaking upon the
beach, which is caused by the efforts of the fish to gain their freedom.
The best fish are picked out and the others returned to the sea, while
the gulls swoop down with querulous cry and gobble all that float on the
surface of the water. These fishermen have a prejudice against skate,
and use it only for bait.