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diff --git a/12481-h/12481-h.htm b/12481-h/12481-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4d9288e --- /dev/null +++ b/12481-h/12481-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6699 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Hero tales of the far north, by Jacob A. Riis—A Project Gutenberg eBook + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Hero tales of the far north, by Jacob A. Riis</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Hero tales of the far north</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Jacob A. Riis</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 1, 1999 [eBook #12481]<br /> +[Most recently updated: December 21, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Janet Kegg</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HERO TALES OF THE FAR NORTH ***</div> + + <style> +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +h1 { + font-weight: bold; + font-size: 240% + } +h2 { + margin-top: 4em; + font-weight: bold; + font-size: 200% + } +h3 { + font-weight: bold; + font-size: 150% + } + + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +.p1 {margin-top: 1em;} +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p2bot {margin-bottom: 2em;} +.p3 {margin-top: 3em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} + +.fs80 {font-size: 80%;} +.fs100 {font-size: 100%;} +.fs120 {font-size: 120%;} +.fs150 {font-size: 150%;} +.fs240 {font-size: 240%;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 30%; margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 35%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +x-ebookmaker hr.chap {width: 0%; display: none;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +/* A centered list */ + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + width: 90%; +} + +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse;} + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right; padding-right: 1em;} + +.lht {line-height: 1em;} +.lht3 {line-height: 3em;} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} +.noindent {text-indent: 0em;} +.right {text-align: right;} +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} +ul {list-style-type: none;} + +.caption {font-weight: normal; + font-size: 70%; +} + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +img.w100 {width: 100%;} +img.w80 {width: 80%;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +.footnotes { + border: dashed 1px; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 3em; + padding-bottom: 1em; + margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; +} + +.footnote { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 90%; +} + +.footnote p {text-indent: 0em;} + +.footnote .label { + position: absolute; + right: 70%; + text-align: right; +} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none; +} + +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em 0 0 0;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} +.poetry {display: inline-block; font-size: 80%} + +.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;} + +/* Poetry indents */ +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: 0em;} +.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: 2em;} + +.illowp70 {width: 70%;} +.illowe18 {width: 18em;} + +x-ebookmaker-drop, .x-ebookmaker-drop {} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="figcenter illowp70" id="cover"> +<img alt="Public domain cover" class="w80" src="images/cover.jpg"> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h1>HERO TALES OF THE FAR NORTH</h1> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<div class="figcenter illowe18" style="max-width: 30em;" id="Publisher_colophon"> +<img alt="Publisher Colophon" class="w100" src="images/i-colophon.jpg"> +</div> + +<p class="center p2 noindent"><span class="fs100">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</span><br> +<span class="fs80">NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO<br> +ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO</span></p> + +<p class="center p2 noindent"><span class="fs100 p2">MACMILLAN & CO.,</span> <span class="smcap fs100">Limited</span><br> +<span class="fs80">LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA<br> +MELBOURNE</span></p> + +<p class="center p2 noindent"><span class="fs100 p2">THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA</span>, <span class="smcap fs100">Ltd.</span><br> +<span class="fs80">TORONTO</span></p> +</div> + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="figcenter illowp70" style="max-width: 43.75em;" id="frontis"> +<img alt="Frontispiece" class="w100" src="images/i-frontis.jpg"> +<div class="caption center"><span class="smcap">Frederiksborg</span> +<p class="noindent"><em>See page <a href="#182">182</a></em></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center noindent fs240 p4">HERO TALES<br> +OF THE FAR NORTH</p> + +<p class="center noindent p2"><span class="fs120">By</span><br> +<span class="fs150">JACOB A. RIIS</span></p> + +<p class="center noindent p2 fs100">AUTHOR OF “HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES”<br> +“THE MAKING OF AN AMERICAN”<br> +“THE OLD TOWN,” ETC.</p> + +<p class="center noindent p2"><span class="fs120">New York</span><br> +<span class="fs150">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br> +1919</span> + +<p class="center noindent fs100 p1"><em>All rights reserved</em></p> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center noindent p4"><span class="smcap fs100">Copyright</span>, <span class="fs100">1910</span>,<br> +<span class="smcap fs120">By</span> <span class="fs120">THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</span>. + +<p class="center noindent p1 fs100">Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1910.</p> + +<p class="center noindent p3 fs100">Norwood Press<br> +J. S. Cushing Co.—Berwick & Smith Co.<br> +Norwood, Mass. U.S.A.</p> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="center noindent p4"><span class="fs120">THIS BOOK OF MY DEAD HEROES</span><br> +<span class=" fs120 lht">I DEDICATE TO MY LIVING HERO</span><br> + +<span class=" fs150 lht3">THEODORE ROOSEVELT</span><br> + +<span class=" fs120 lht3">MAY IT BE MANY YEARS BEFORE THE LAST CHAPTER</span><br> +<span class=" fs120 lht">OF HIS SPLENDID WHOLESOME LIFE IS</span><br> +<span class=" fs120 lht">WRITTEN IN THE PAGES OF OUR</span><br> +<span class=" fs120 lht">COUNTRY’S HISTORY</span></p> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="FOREWORD">FOREWORD</h2> +</div> + +<p>When a man knocks at Uncle Sam’s gate, craving admission to his +house, we ask him how much money he brings, lest he become a +hindrance instead of a help. If now we were to ask what he brings, +not only in his pocket, but in his mind and in his heart, this +stranger, what ideals he owns, what company he kept in the country +he left that shaped his hopes and ambitions,—might it not, if the +answer were right, be a help to a better mutual understanding +between host and guest? For the <i>Mayflower</i> did not hold all who in +this world have battled for freedom of home, of hope, and of +conscience. The struggle is bigger than that. Every land has its +George Washington, its Kosciusko, its William Tell, its Garibaldi, +its Kossuth, if there is but one that has a Joan d’Arc. What we want +to know of the man is: were its heroes his?</p> + +<p>This book is an attempt to ask and to answer that question for my +own people, in a very small and simple way, it is true, but perhaps +abler pens with more leisure than mine may follow the trail it has +blazed. I should like to see some Swede write of the heroes of his +noble, chivalrous people, whom lack of space has made me slight +here, though I count them with my own. I should like to hear the +epic of United Italy, of proud and freedom-loving Hungary, the +swan-song of unhappy Poland, chanted to young America again and +again, to help us all understand that we are kin in the things that +really count, and help us pull together as we must if we are to make +the most of our common country.</p> + +<p>These were my—our—heroes, then. Every lad of Northern blood, whose +heart is in the right place, loves them. And he need make no excuses +for any of them. Nor has he need of bartering them for the great of +his new home; they go very well together. It is partly for his sake +I have set their stories down here. All too quickly he lets go his +grip on them, on the new shore. Let him keep them and cherish them +with the memories of the motherland. The immigrant America wants and +needs is he who brings the best of the old home to the new, not he +who threw it overboard on the voyage. In the great melting-pot it +will tell its story for the good of us all.</p> + +<p>To those who wonder that I have left the Saga era of the North +untouched, I would say that I have preferred to deal here only with +downright historic figures. For valuable aid rendered in insuring +accuracy I am indebted to the services of Dr. P.A. Rydberg, Dr. J. +Emile Blomén, Gustaf V. Lindner, and Professor Joakim Reinhard. My +thanks are due likewise to many friends, Danes by birth like myself, +who have helped me with the illustrations.</p> + +<p class="noindent right">J. A. R.   </p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smcap">Richmond Hill</span>,<br> +    June, 1910.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Knight Errant of the Sea</span></td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#1">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Hans Egede, the Apostle to Greenland</span></td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#31">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Gustav Vasa, the Father of Sweden</span></td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#61">61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Absalon, Warrior Bishop of the North</span></td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#87">87</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">King Valdemar, and the Story of the Dannebrog</span></td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#125">125</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">How the Ghost of the Heath was laid</span></td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#153">153</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">King Christian IV</span></td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#179">179</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Gustav Adolf, the Snow-King</span></td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#205">205</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">King and Sailor, Heroes of Copenhagen</span></td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#239">239</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Trooper who won a War alone</span></td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#263">263</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Carl Linné, King of the Flowers</span></td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#277">277</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Niels Finsen, the Wolf-Slayer</span></td> +<td class="tdr"><a href="#305">305</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_KNIGHT_ERRANT_OF_THE_SEA">A KNIGHT ERRANT OF THE SEA<a id="1"></a></h2> +</div> + +<p>The Eighteenth Century broke upon a noisy family quarrel in the +north of Europe. Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, the royal hotspur of +all history, and Frederik of Denmark had fallen out. Like their +people, they were first cousins, and therefore all the more bent on +settling the old question which was the better man. After the +fashion of the lion and the unicorn, they fought “all about the +town,” and, indeed, about every town that came in their way, now +this and now that side having the best of it. On the sea, which was +the more important because neither Swedes nor Danes could reach +their fighting ground or keep up their armaments without command of +the waterways, the victory rested finally with the Danes. And this +was due almost wholly to one extraordinary figure, the like of which +is scarce to be found in the annals of warfare, Peder Tordenskjold. +Rising in ten brief years from the humblest place before the mast, +a half-grown lad, to the rank of admiral, ennobled by his King and +the idol of two nations, only to be assassinated on the “field of +honor” at thirty, he seems the very incarnation of the stormy times +of the Eleven Years’ War, with which his sun rose and set; for the +year in which peace was made also saw his death.</p> + +<p>Peder Jansen Wessel was born on October 28, 1690, in the city of +Trondhjem, Norway, which country in those days was united with +Denmark under one king. His father was an alderman with eighteen +children. Peder was the tenth of twelve wild boys. It is related +that the father in sheer desperation once let make for him a pair of +leathern breeches which he would not be able to tear. But the lad, +not to be beaten so easily, sat on a grind-stone and had one of his +school-fellows turn it till the seat was worn thin, a piece of +bravado that probably cost him dear, for doubtless the exasperated +father’s stick found the attenuated spot.</p> + +<p>Since he would have none of the school, his father had him +apprenticed out to a tailor with the injunction not to spare the +rod. But sitting cross-legged on a tailor’s stool did not suit the +lad, and he took it out of his master by snowballing him thoroughly +one winter’s day. Next a barber undertook to teach him his trade; +but Peder ran away and was drifting about the streets when the King +came to Norway. The boy saw the splendid uniforms and heard the +story of the beautiful capital by the Öresund, with its palaces and +great fighting ships. When the King departed, he was missing, and +for a while there was peace in Trondhjem.</p> + +<p>Down in Copenhagen the homeless lad was found wandering about by the +King’s chaplain, who, being himself a Norwegian, took him home and +made him a household page. But the boy’s wanderings had led him to +the navy-yard, where he saw mid-shipmen of his own size at drill, +and he could think of nothing else. When he should have been waiting +at table he was down among the ships. For him there was ever but one +way to any goal, the straight cut, and at fifteen he wrote to the +King asking to be appointed a midshipman. “I am wearing away my life +as a servant,” he wrote. “I want to give it, and my blood, to the +service of your Majesty, and I will serve you with all my might +while I live!”</p> + +<p>The navy had need of that kind of recruits, and the King saw to it +that he was apprenticed at once. And that was the beginning of his +strangely romantic career.</p> + +<p>Three years he sailed before the mast and learned seamanship, while +Charles was baiting the Muscovite and the North was resting on its +arms. Then came Pultava and the Swedish King’s crushing defeat. The +storm-centre was transferred to the North again, and the war on the +sea opened with a splendid deed, fit to appeal to any ardent young +heart. At the battle in the Bay of Kjöge, the <i>Dannebrog</i>, commanded +by Ivar Hvitfeldt, caught fire, and by its position exposed the +Danish fleet to great danger. Hvitfeldt could do one of two things: +save his own life and his men’s by letting his ship drift before the +wind and by his escape risking the rest of the fleet and losing the +battle, or stay where he was to meet certain death. He chose the +latter, anchored his vessel securely, and fought on until the ship +was burned down to the water’s edge and blew up with him and his +five hundred men. Ivar Hvitfeldt’s name is forever immortal in the +history of his country. A few years ago they raised the wreck of the +<i>Dannebrog</i>, fitly called after the Danish flag, and made of its +guns a monument that stands on Langelinie, the beautiful shore road +of Copenhagen.</p> + +<p>Fired by such deeds, young Wessel implored the King, before he had +yet worn out his first midshipman’s jacket, to give him command of a +frigate. He compromised on a small privateer, the <i>Ormen</i>, but with +it he did such execution in Swedish waters and earned such renown as +a dauntless sailor and a bold scout whose information about the +enemy was always first and best, that before spring they gave him a +frigate with eighteen guns and the emphatic warning “not to engage +any enemy when he was not clearly the stronger.” He immediately +brought in a Swedish cruiser, the <i>Alabama</i> of those days, that had +been the terror of the sea. In a naval battle in the Baltic soon +after, he engaged with his little frigate two of the enemy’s +line-of-battle ships that were trying to get away, and only when a +third came to help them did he retreat, so battered that he had to +seek port to make repairs. Accused of violating his orders, his +answer was prompt: “I promised your Majesty to do my best, and I +did.” King Frederik IV, himself a young and spirited man, made him a +captain, jumping him over fifty odd older lieutenants, and gave him +leave to war on the enemy as he saw fit.</p> + +<p>The immediate result was that the Governor of Göteborg, the enemy’s +chief seaport in the North Sea, put a price on his head. Captain +Wessel heard of it and sent word into town that he was outside—to +come and take him; but to hurry, for time was short. While waiting +for a reply, he fell in with two Swedish men-of-war having in tow a +Danish prize. That was not to be borne, and though they together +mounted ninety-four guns to his eighteen, he fell upon them like a +thunderbolt. They beat him off, but he returned for their prize. +That time they nearly sank him with three broad-sides. However, he +ran for the Norwegian coast and saved his ship. In his report of +this affair he excuses himself for running away with the reflection +that allowing himself to be sunk “would not rightly have benefited +his Majesty’s service.”</p> + +<p>However, the opportunity came to him swiftly of “rightly +benefiting” the King’s service. After the battle of Kolberger Heide, +that had gone against the Swedes, he found them beaching their ships +under cover of the night to prevent their falling into the hands of +the victors. Wessel halted them with the threat that every man Jack +in the fleet should be made to walk the plank, saved the ships, and +took their admiral prisoner to his chief. When others slept, Wessel +was abroad with his swift sailer. If wind and sea went against him, +he knew how to turn his mishap to account. Driven in under the +hostile shore once, he took the opportunity, as was his wont, to get +the lay of the land and of the enemy. He learned quickly that in the +harbor of Wesensö, not far away, a Swedish cutter was lying with a +Danish prize. She carried eight guns and had a crew of thirty-six +men; but though he had at the moment only eighteen sailors in his +boat, he crept up the coast at once, slipped quietly in after +sundown, and took ship and prize with a rush, killing and throwing +overboard such as resisted. In Sweden mothers hushed their crying +children with his dreaded name; on the sea they came near to +thinking him a troll, so sudden and unexpected were his onsets. But +there was no witchcraft about it. He sailed swiftly because he was a +skilled sailor and because he missed no opportunity to have the +bottom of his ship scraped and greased. And when on board, pistol +and cutlass hung loose; for it was a time of war with a brave and +relentless foe.</p> + +<p>His reconnoitring expeditions he always headed himself, and +sometimes he went alone. Thus, when getting ready to take Marstrand, +a fortified seaport of great importance to Charles, he went ashore +disguised as a fisherman and peddled fish through the town, even in +the very castle itself, where he took notice, along with the +position of the guns and the strength of the garrison, of the fact +that the commandant had two pretty daughters. He was a sailor, sure +enough. Once when ashore on such an expedition, he was surprised by +a company of dragoons. His men escaped, but the dragoons cut off his +way to the shore. As they rode at him, reaching out for his sword, +he suddenly dashed among them, cut one down, and, diving through the +surf, swam out to the boat, his sword between his teeth. Their +bullets churned up the sea all about him, but he was not hit. He +seemed to bear a charmed life; in all his fights he was wounded but +once. That was in the attack on the strongly fortified port of +Strömstad, in which he was repulsed with a loss of 96 killed and 246 +wounded, while the Swedish loss footed up over 1500, a fight which +led straight to the most astonishing chapter in his whole career, of +which more anon.</p> + +<p>All Denmark and Norway presently rang with the stories of his +exploits. They were always of the kind to appeal to the imagination, +for in truth he was a very knight errant of the sea who fought for +the love of it as well as of the flag, ardent patriot that he was. A +brave and chivalrous foe he loved next to a loyal friend. Cowardice +he loathed. Once when ordered to follow a retreating enemy with his +frigate <i>Hvide Örnen</i> (the White Eagle) of thirty guns, he hugged +him so close that in the darkness he ran his ship into the great +Swedish man-of-war <i>Ösel</i> of sixty-four guns. The chance was too +good to let pass. Seeing that the <i>Ösel’s</i> lower gun-ports were +closed, and reasoning from this that she had been struck in the +water-line and badly damaged, he was for boarding her at once, but +his men refused to follow him. In the delay the <i>Ösel</i> backed away. +Captain Wessel gave chase, pelted her with shot, and called to her +captain, whose name was <i>Söstjerna</i> (sea-star), to stop.</p> + +<p>“Running away from a frigate, are you? Shame on you, coward and +poltroon! Stay and fight like a man for your King and your flag!”</p> + +<p>Seeing him edge yet farther away, he shouted in utter exasperation, +“Your name shall be dog-star forever, not sea-star, if you don’t +stay.”</p> + +<p>“But all this,” he wrote sadly to the King, “with much more which +was worse, had no effect.”</p> + +<p>However, on his way back to join the fleet he ran across a convoy of +ten merchant vessels, guarded by three of the enemy’s line-of-battle +ships. He made a feint at passing, but, suddenly turning, swooped +down upon the biggest trader, ran out his boats, made fast, and +towed it away from under the very noses of its protectors. It meant +prize-money for his men, but their captain did not forget their +craven conduct of the night, which had made him lose a bigger +prize, and with the money they got a sound flogging.</p> + +<p>The account of the duel between his first frigate, <i>Lövendahl’s +Galley</i>, of eighteen guns, and a Swede of twenty-eight guns reads +like the doings of the old vikings, and indeed both commanders were +likely descended straight from those arch fighters. Wessel certainly +was. The other captain was an English officer, Bactman by name, who +was on the way to deliver his ship, that had been bought in England, +to the Swedes. They met in the North Sea and fell to fighting by +noon of one day. The afternoon of the next saw them at it yet. Twice +the crew of the Swedish frigate had thrown down their arms, refusing +to fight any more. Vainly the vessel had tried to get away; the Dane +hung to it like a leech. In the afternoon of the second day Wessel +was informed that his powder had given out. He had a boat sent out +with a herald, who presented to Captain Bactman his regrets that he +had to quit for lack of powder, but would he come aboard and shake +hands?</p> + +<p>The Briton declined. Meanwhile the ships had drifted close enough to +speak through the trumpet, and Captain Wessel shouted over from his +quarter-deck that “if he could lend him a little powder, they might +still go on.” Captain Bactman smilingly shook his head, and then the +two drank to one another’s health, each on his own quarter-deck, and +parted friends, while their crews manned what was left of the yards +and cheered each other wildly.</p> + +<p>Wessel’s enemies, of whom he had many, especially among the +nobility, who looked upon him as a vulgar upstart, used this +incident to bring him before a court-martial. It was unpatriotic, +they declared, and they demanded that he be degraded and fined. His +defence, which with all the records of his career are in the Navy +Department at Copenhagen, was brief but to the point. It is summed +up in the retort to his accusers that “they themselves should be +rebuked, and severely, for failing to understand that an officer in +the King’s service should be promoted instead of censured for doing +his plain duty,” and that there was nothing in the articles of war +commanding him to treat an honorable foe otherwise than with honor.</p> + +<p>It must be admitted that he gave his critics no lack of cause. His +enterprises were often enough of a hair-raising kind, and he had +scant patience with censure. Thus once, when harassed by an +Admiralty order purposely issued to annoy him, he wrote back: “The +biggest fool can see that to obey would defeat all my plans. I shall +not do it. It may suit folk who love loafing about shore, but to an +honest man such talk is disgusting, let alone that the thing can’t +be done.” He was at that time twenty-six years old, and in charge of +the whole North Sea fleet. No wonder he had enemies.</p> + +<p>However, the King was his friend. He made him a nobleman, and gave +him the name Tordenskjold. It means “thunder shield.”</p> + +<p>“Then, by the powers,” he swore when he was told, “I shall thunder +in the ears of the Swedes so that the King shall hear of it!” And he +kept his word.</p> + +<p>Charles had determined to take Denmark with one fell blow. He had an +army assembled in Skaane to cross the sound, which was frozen over +solid. All was ready for the invasion in January 1716. The people +throughout Sweden had assembled in the churches to pray for the +success of the King’s arms, and he was there himself to lead; but +in the early morning hours a strong east wind broke up the ice, and +the campaign ended before it was begun. Charles then turned on +Norway, and laid siege to the city of Frederikshald, which, with its +strong fort, Frederiksteen, was the key to that country. A Danish +fleet lay in the Skagerak, blocking his way of reënforcements by +sea. Tordenskjold, with his frigate, <i>Hvide Örnen</i>, and six smaller +ships (the frigate <i>Vindhunden</i> of sixteen guns, and five vessels of +light draught, two of which were heavily armed), was doing scouting +duty for the Admiral when he learned that the entire Swedish fleet +of forty-four ships that was intended to aid in the operations +against Frederikshald lay in the harbor of Dynekilen waiting its +chance to slip out. It was so well shielded there that its commander +sent word to the King to rest easy; nothing could happen to him. He +would join him presently.</p> + +<p>Tordenskjold saw that if he could capture or destroy this fleet +Norway was saved; the siege must perforce be abandoned. And Norway +was his native land, which he loved with his whole fervid soul. But +no time was to be lost. He could not go back to ask for permission, +and one may shrewdly guess that he did not want to, for it would +certainly have been refused. He heard that the Swedish officers, +secure in their stronghold, were to attend a wedding on shore the +next day. His instructions from the Admiralty were: in an emergency +always to hold a council of war, and to abide by its decision. At +daybreak he ran his ship alongside <i>Vindhunden</i>, her companion +frigate, and called to the captain:</p> + +<p>“The Swedish officers are bidden to a wedding, and they have +forgotten us. What do you say—shall we go unasked?”</p> + +<p>Captain Grip was game. “Good enough!” he shouted back. “The wind is +fair, and we have all day. I am ready.”</p> + +<p>That was the council of war and its decision. Tordenskjold gave the +signal to clear for action, and sailed in at the head of his handful +of ships.</p> + +<p>The inlet to the harbor of Dynekilen is narrow and crooked, winding +between reefs and rocky steeps quite two miles, and only in spots +more than four hundred feet wide. Half-way in was a strong battery. +Tordenskjold’s fleet was received with a tremendous fire from all +the Swedish ships, from the battery, and from an army of four +thousand soldiers lying along shore. The Danish ships made no reply. +They sailed up grimly silent till they reached a place wide enough +to let them wear round, broadside on. Then their guns spoke. Three +hours the battle raged before the Swedish fire began to slacken. As +soon as he noticed it, Tordenskjold slipped into the inner harbor +under cover of the heavy pall of smoke, and before the Swedes +suspected their presence they found his ships alongside. Broadside +after broadside crashed into them, and in terror they fled, soldiers +and sailors alike. While they ran Tordenskjold swooped down upon the +half-way battery, seized it, and spiked its guns. The fight was won.</p> + +<p>But the heaviest part was left—the towing out of the captured +ships. All the afternoon Tordenskjold led the work in person, +pulling on ropes, cheering on his men. The Swedes, returning gamely +to the fight, showered them with bullets from shore. One of the +abandoned vessels caught fire. Lieutenant Toender, of Tordenskjold’s +staff, a veteran with a wooden leg, boarded it just as the +quartermaster ran up yelling that the ship was full of powder and +was going to blow up. He tried to jump overboard, but the lieutenant +seized him by the collar and, stumping along, made him lead the way +to the magazine. A fuse had been laid to an open keg of powder, and +the fire was sputtering within an inch of it when Lieutenant Tönder +plucked it out, smothered it between thumb and forefinger, and threw +it through the nearest port-hole. There were two hundred barrels of +powder in the ship.</p> + +<p>Tordenskjold had kept his word to the King. Not as much as a yawl of +the Dynekilen fleet was left to the enemy. He had sunk or burned +thirteen and captured thirty-one ships with his seven, and all the +piled-up munitions of war were in his hands. King Charles gave up +the siege, marched his army out of Norway, and the country was +saved. The victory cost Tordenskjold but nineteen killed and +fifty-seven wounded. On his own ship six men were killed and twenty +wounded.</p> + +<p>Of infinite variety was this sea-fighter. After a victory like this, +one hears of him in the next breath gratifying a passing whim of +the King, who wanted to know what the Swedish people thought of +their Government after Charles’s long wars that are said to have +cost their country a million men. Tordenskjold overheard it, had +himself rowed across to Sweden, picked up there a wedding party, +bridegroom, minister, guests, and all, including the captain of the +shore watch who was among them, and returned in time for the palace +dinner with his catch. King Frederik was entertaining Czar Peter the +Great, who had been boasting of the unhesitating loyalty of his men +which his Danish host could not match. He now had the tables turned +upon him. It is recorded that the King sent the party back with +royal gifts for the bride. One would be glad to add that +Tordenskjold sent back, too, the silver pitcher and the parlor clock +his men took on their visit. But he didn’t. They were still in +Copenhagen a hundred years later, and may be they are yet. It was +not like his usual gallantry toward the fair sex. But perhaps he +didn’t know anything about it.</p> + +<p>Then we find him, after an unsuccessful attack on Göteborg that cost +many lives, sending in his adjutant to congratulate the Swedish +commandant on their “gallant encounter” the day before, and +exchanging presents with him in token of mutual regard. And before +one can turn the page he is discovered swooping down upon Marstrand, +taking town and fleet anchored there, and the castle itself with its +whole garrison, all with two hundred men, swelled by stratagem into +an army of thousands. We are told that an officer sent out from the +castle to parley, issuing forth from a generous dinner, beheld the +besieging army drawn up in street after street, always two hundred +men around every corner, as he made his way through the town, +piloted by Tordenskjold himself, who was careful to take him the +longest way, while the men took the short cut to the next block. The +man returned home with the message that the town was full of them +and that resistance was useless. The ruse smacks of Peder Wessel’s +boyish fight with a much bigger fellow who had beaten him once by +gripping his long hair, and so getting his head in chancery. But +Peder had taken notice. Next time he came to the encounter with hair +cut short and his whole head smeared with soft-soap, and that time +he won.</p> + +<p>The most extraordinary of all his adventures befell when, after the +attack on Strömstad, he was hastening home to Copenhagen. Crossing +the Kattegat in a little smack that carried but two three-pound +guns, he was chased and overtaken by a Swedish frigate of sixteen +guns and a crew of sixty men. Tordenskjold had but twenty-one, and +eight of them were servants and non-combatants. They were dreadfully +frightened, and tradition has it that one of them wept when he saw +the Swede coming on. Her captain called upon him to surrender, but +the answer was flung back:</p> + +<p>“I am Tordenskjold! Come and take me, if you can.”</p> + +<p>With that came a tiny broadside that did brisk execution on the +frigate. Tordenskjold had hauled both his guns over on the “fighting +side” of his vessel. There ensued a battle such as Homer would have +loved to sing. Both sides banged away for all they were worth. In +the midst of the din and smoke Tordenskjold used his musket with +cool skill; his servants loaded while he fired. At every shot a man +fell on the frigate.</p> + +<p>Word was brought that there was no more round shot. He bade them +twist up his pewter dinner service and fire that, which they did. +The Swede tried vainly to board. Tordenskjold manœuvred his smack +with such skill that they could not hook on. Seeing this, Captain +Lind, commander of the frigate, called to him to desist from the +useless struggle; he would be honored to carry such a prisoner into +Göteborg. Back came the taunt:</p> + +<p>“Neither you nor any other Swede shall ever carry me there!” And +with that he shot the captain down.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p>When his men saw him fall, they were seized with panic and made off +as quickly as they could, while Tordenskjold’s crew, of whom only +fourteen were left, beat their drums and blew trumpets in frantic +defiance. Their captain was for following the Swede and boarding +her, but he couldn’t. Sails, rigging, and masts were shot to pieces. +Perhaps the terror of the Swedes was increased by the sight of +Tordenskjold’s tame bear making faces at them behind his master. It +went with him everywhere till that day, and came out of the fight +unscathed. But during the night the crew ran the vessel on the +Swedish shore, whence Tordenskjold himself reached Denmark in an +open boat which he had to keep bailing all night, for the boat was +shot full of holes, and though he and his companions stuffed their +spare clothing into them it leaked badly. The enemy got the smack, +after all, and the bear, which, being a Norwegian, proved so +untractable on Swedish soil that, sad to relate, in the end they cut +him up and ate him.</p> + +<p>King Charles, himself a knightly soul and an admirer of a gallant +enemy, gave orders to have all Tordenskjold’s belongings sent back +to him, but he did not live to see the order carried out. He was +found dead in the rifle-pits before Frederiksteen on December 11, +1718, shot through the head. It was Tordenskjold himself who brought +the all-important news to King Frederik in the night of December +28,—they were not the days of telegraphs and fast steamers,—and +when the King, who had been roused out of bed to receive him, could +not trust his ears, he said with characteristic audacity, “I wish it +were as true that your Majesty had made me a schoutbynacht,”—the +rank next below admiral. And so he took the step next to the last on +the ladder of his ambition.</p> + +<p>Within seven months he took Marstrand. It is part of the record of +that astonishing performance that when the unhappy Commandant +hesitated as the hour of evacuation came, not sure that he had done +right in capitulating, Tordenskjold walked up to the fort with a +hundred men, half his force, banged on the gate, went in alone and +up to the Commandant’s window, thundering out:</p> + +<p>“What are you waiting for? Don’t you know time is up?”</p> + +<p>In terror and haste, Colonel Dankwardt moved his Hessians out, and +Tordenskjold marched his handful of men in. When he brought the King +the keys of Marstrand, Frederik made him an admiral.</p> + +<p>It was while blockading the port of Göteborg in the last year of the +war that he met and made a friend of Lord Carteret, the English +Ambassador to Denmark, and fell in love with the picture of a young +Englishwoman, Miss Norris, a lady of great beauty and wealth, who, +Lord Carteret told him, was an ardent admirer of his. It was this +love which indirectly sent him to his death. Lord Carteret had given +him a picture of her, and as soon as peace was made he started for +England; but he never reached that country. The remnant of the +Swedish fleet lay in the roadstead at Göteborg, under the guns of +the two forts, New and Old Elfsborg. While Tordenskjold was away at +Marstrand, the enemy sallied forth and snapped up seven of the +smaller vessels of his blockading fleet. The news made him furious. +He sent in, demanding them back at once, “or I will come after +them.” He had already made one ineffectual attempt to take New +Elfsborg that cost him dear. In Göteborg they knew the strength of +his fleet and laughed at his threat. But it was never safe to laugh +at Tordenskjold. The first dark night he stole in with ten armed +boats, seized the shore batteries of the old fort, and spiked their +guns before a shot was fired. The rising moon saw his men in +possession of the ships lying at anchor. With their blue-lined coats +turned inside out so that they might pass for Swedish uniforms, they +surprised the watch in the guard-house and made them all prisoners. +Now that there was no longer reason for caution, they raised a +racket that woke the sleeping town up in a fright. The commander of +the other fort sent out a boat to ascertain the cause. It met the +Admiral’s and challenged it, “Who goes there?”</p> + +<p>“Tordenskjold,” was the reply, “come to teach you to keep awake.”</p> + +<p>It proved impossible to warp the ships out. Only one of the seven +lost ones was recovered; all the rest were set on fire. By the light +of the mighty bonfire Tordenskjold rowed out with his men, hauling +the recovered ship right under the guns of the forts, the Danish +flag flying at the bow of his boat. He had not lost a single man. A +cannon-ball swept away all the oars on one side of his boat, but no +one was hurt.</p> + +<p>At Marstrand they had been up all night listening to the cannonading +and the crash upon crash as the big ships blew up. They knew that +Tordenskjold was abroad with his men. In the morning, when they were +all in church, he walked in and sat down by his chief, the old +Admiral Judicher, who was a slow-going, cautious man. He whispered +anxiously, “What news?” but Tordenskjold only shrugged his shoulders +with unmoved face. It is not likely that either the old Admiral or +the congregation heard much of that sermon, if indeed they heard any +of it. But when it was over, they saw from the walls of the town +the Danish ships at anchor and heard the story of the last of +Tordenskjold’s exploits. It fitly capped the climax of his life. +Sweden’s entire force on the North Sea, with the exception of five +small galleys, had either been captured, sunk, or burned by him.</p> + +<p>The King would not let Tordenskjold go when peace was made, but he +had his way in the end. To his undoing he consented to take with him +abroad a young scalawag, the son of his landlord, who had more money +than brains. In Hamburg the young man fell in with a gambler, a +Swedish colonel by name of Stahl, who fleeced him of all he had and +much more besides. When Tordenskjold heard of it and met the Colonel +in another man’s house, he caned him soundly and threw him out in +the street. For this he was challenged, but refused to fight a +gambler.</p> + +<p>“Friends,” particularly one Colonel Münnichhausen, who volunteered +to be his second, talked him over, and also persuaded him to give up +the pistol, with which he was an expert. The duel was fought at the +Village of Gledinge, over the line from Hanover, on the morning of +November 12, 1720. Tordenskjold was roused from sleep at five, and, +after saying his prayers, a duty he never on any account omitted, he +started for the place appointed. His old body-servant vainly pleaded +with his master to take his stout blade instead of the flimsy parade +sword the Admiral carried. Münnichhausen advised against it; it +would be too heavy, he said. Stahl’s weapon was a long fighting +rapier, and to this the treacherous second made no objection. Almost +at the first thrust he ran the Admiral through. The seconds held his +servant while Stahl jumped on his horse and galloped away. +Tordenskjold breathed out his dauntless soul in the arms of his +faithful servant and friend.</p> + +<p>His body lies in a black marble sarcophagus in the “Navy Church” at +Copenhagen. The Danish and Norwegian peoples have never ceased to +mourn their idol. He was a sailor with a sailor’s faults. But he +loved truth, honor, and courage in foe and friend alike. Like many +seafaring men, he was deeply religious, with the unquestioning faith +of a child. There is a letter in existence written by him to his +father when the latter was on his death-bed that bears witness to +this. He thanks him with filial affection for all his care, and says +naïvely that he would rather have his prayers than fall heir to +twenty thousand daler. His pictures show a stocky, broad-shouldered +youth with frank blue eyes, full lips, and an eagle nose. His deep, +sonorous voice used to be heard, in his midshipman days, above the +whole congregation in the Navy Church. In after years it called +louder still to Denmark’s foes. When things were at their worst in +storm or battle, he was wont to shout to his men, “Hi, <em>now</em> we are +having a fine time!” and his battle-cry has passed into the +language. By it, in desperate straits demanding stout hearts, one +may know the Dane after his own heart, the real Dane, the world +over. Among his own Tordenskjold is still and always will be “the +Admiral of Norway’s fleet.”</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>Footnotes:</h3> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a class="label" href="#FNanchor_1" id="Footnote_1">[1]</a> He was not mortally wounded, and Tordenskjold took him +prisoner later at the capture of Marstrand.</p> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="HANS_EGEDE_THE_APOSTLE_TO_GREENLAND">HANS EGEDE, THE APOSTLE TO GREENLAND<a id="31"></a></h2> +</div> + +<p>When in the fall of 1909 the statement was flashed around the world +that the North Pole had at last been reached, a name long unfamiliar +ran from mouth to mouth with that of the man who claimed to be its +discoverer. Dr. Cook was coming to Copenhagen, the daily despatches +read, on the Danish Government steamer <i>Hans Egede</i>. A shipload of +reporters kept an anxious lookout from the Skaw for the vessel so +suddenly become famous, but few who through their telescopes made +out the name at last upon the prow of the ship gave it another +thought in the eager welcome to the man it brought back from the +perils of the Farthest North. Yet the name of that vessel stood for +something of more real account to humanity than the attainment of a +goal that had been the mystery of the ages. No such welcome awaited +the explorer Hans Egede, who a hundred and seventy-two years before +sailed homeward over that very route, a broken, saddened man, and +all he brought was the ashes of his best-beloved that they might +rest in her native soil. No gold medal was struck for him; the +people did not greet him with loud acclaim. The King and his court +paid scant attention to him, and he was allowed to live his last +days in poverty. Yet a greater honor is his than ever fell to a +discoverer: the simple natives of Greenland long reckoned the time +from his coming among them. To them he was in their ice-bound home +what Father Damien was to the stricken lepers in the South seas, and +Dr. Grenfell is to the fishermen of Labrador.</p> + +<p>Hans Poulsen Egede, the apostle of Greenland, was a Norwegian of +Danish descent. He was born in the Northlands, in the parish of +Trondenäs, on January 31, 1686. His grandfather and his father +before him had been clergymen in Denmark, the former in the town of +West Egede, whence the name. Graduated in a single year from the +University of Copenhagen, “at which,” his teachers bore witness, “no +one need wonder who knows the man,” he became at twenty-two pastor +of a parish up in the Lofoden Islands, where the fabled maëlstrom +churns. Eleven years he preached to the poor fisherfolk on Sunday, +and on week-days helped his parishioners rebuild the old church. +When it was finished and the bishop came to consecrate it, he chided +Egede because the altar was too fine; it must have cost more than +they could afford.</p> + +<p>“It did not cost anything,” was his reply. “I made it myself.”</p> + +<p>No wonder his fame went far. When the church bell of Vaagen called, +boats carrying Sunday-clad fishermen were seen making for the island +from every point of the compass. Great crowds flocked to his church; +great enough to arouse the jealousy of neighboring preachers who +were not so popular, and they made it so unpleasant that his wife at +last tired of it. They little dreamed that they were industriously +paving the way for his greater work and for his undying fame.</p> + +<p>The sea that surges against that rockbound coast ever called its +people out in quest of adventure. Some who went nine hundred years +ago found a land in the far Northwest barred by great icebergs; but +once inside the barrier, they saw deep fjords like their own at +home, to which the mountains sloped down, covered with a wealth of +lovely flowers. On green meadows antlered deer were grazing, the +salmon leaped in brawling brooks, and birds called for their mates +in the barrens. Above it all towered snow-covered peaks. They saw +only the summer day; they did not know how brief it was, and how +long the winter night, and they called the country Greenland. They +built their homes there, and other settlers came. They were hardy +men, bred in a harsh climate, and they stayed. They built churches +and had their priests and bishops, for Norway was Christian by that +time. And they prospered after their fashion. They even paid Peter’s +Pence to Rome. There is a record that their contribution, being in +kind, namely, walrus teeth, was sold in 1386 by the Pope’s agent to +a merchant in Flanders for twelve livres, fourteen sous. They kept +up communication with their kin across the seas until the Black +Death swept through the Old World in the Fourteenth Century; Norway, +when it was gone, was like a vast tomb. Two-thirds of its people lay +dead. Those who were left had enough to do at home; and Greenland +was forgotten.</p> + +<p>The seasons passed, and the savages, with whom the colonists had +carried on a running feud, came out of the frozen North and +overwhelmed them. Dim traditions that were whispered among the +natives for centuries told of that last fight. It was the Ragnarok +of the Northmen. Not one was left to tell the tale. Long years +after, when fishing vessels landed on that desolate coast, they +found a strange and hostile people in possession. No one had ever +dared to settle there since.</p> + +<p>This last Egede knew, but little more. He believed that there were +still settlements on the inaccessible east coast of Greenland where +descendants of the old Northmen lived, cut off from all the world, +sunk into ignorance and godlessness,—men and women who had once +known the true light,—and his heart yearned to go to their rescue. +Waking and dreaming, he thought of nothing else. The lamp in his +quiet study shone out over the sea at night when his people were +long asleep. Their pastor was poring over old manuscripts and the +logs of whalers that had touched upon Greenland. From Bergen he +gathered the testimony of many sailors. None of them had ever seen +traces of, or heard of, the old Northmen.</p> + +<p>To his bishop went Egede with his burden. Ever it rang in his ears: +“God has chosen you to bring them back to the light.” The bishop +listened and was interested. Yes, that was the land from which +seafarers in a former king’s time had brought home golden sand. +There might be more. It couldn’t be far from Cuba and Hispaniola, +those golden coasts. If one were to go equipped for trading, no +doubt a fine stroke of business might be done. Thus the Right +Reverend Bishop Krog of Trondhjem, and Egede went home, +disheartened.</p> + +<p>At home his friends scouted him, said he was going mad to think of +giving up his living on such a fool’s chase. His wife implored him +to stay, and with a heavy heart Egede was about to abandon his +purpose when his jealous neighbor, whose parishioners had been going +to hear Egede preach, stirred up such trouble that his wife was glad +to go. She even urged him to, and he took her at her word. They +moved to Bergen, and from that port they sailed on May 3, 1721, on +the ship <i>Haabet</i> (the Hope), with another and smaller vessel as +convoy, forty-six souls all told, bound for the unknown North. The +Danish King had made Egede missionary to the Greenlanders on a +salary of three hundred daler a year, the same amount which Egede +himself contributed of his scant store toward the equipment. The +bishop’s plan had prevailed; the mission was to be carried by the +expected commerce, and upon that was to be built a permanent +colonization.</p> + +<p>Early in June they sighted land, but the way to it was barred by +impassable ice. A whole month they sailed to and fro, trying vainly +for a passage. At last they found an opening and slipped through, +only to find themselves shut in, with towering icebergs closing +around them. As they looked fearfully out over the rail, their +convoy signalled that she had struck, and the captain of <i>Haabet</i> +cried out that all was lost. In the tumult of terror that succeeded, +Egede alone remained calm. Praying for succor where there seemed to +be none, he remembered the One Hundred and Seventh Psalm: “He +brought them out of darkness and the shadow of death, and brake +their bands in sunder.” And the morning dawned clear, the ice was +moving and their prison widening. On July 3, <i>Haabet</i> cleared the +last ice-reef, and the shore lay open before them.</p> + +<p>The Eskimos came out in their kayaks, and the boldest climbed aboard +the ship. In one boat sat an old man who refused the invitation. He +paddled about the vessel, mumbling darkly in a strange tongue. He +was an Angekok, one of the native medicine-men of whom presently +Egede was to know much more. As he stood upon the deck and looked at +these strangers for whose salvation he had risked all, his heart +fell. They were not the stalwart Northmen he had looked for, and +their jargon had no homelike sound. But a great wave of pity swept +over him, and the prayer that rose to his lips was for strength to +be their friend and their guide to the light.</p> + +<p>Not at once did the way open for the coveted friendship with the +Eskimos. While they thought the strangers came only to trade they +were hospitable enough, but when they saw them build, clearly intent +on staying, they made signs that they had better go. They pointed to +the sun that sank lower toward the horizon every day, and shivered +as if from extreme cold, and they showed their visitors the +icebergs and the snow, making them understand that it would cover +the house by and by. When it all availed nothing and the winter came +on, they retired into their huts and cut the acquaintance of the +white men. They were afraid that they had come to take revenge for +the harm done their people in the olden time. There was nothing for +it, then, but that Egede must go to them, and this he did.</p> + +<p>They seized their spears when they saw him coming, but he made signs +that he was their friend. When he had nothing else to give them, he +let them cut the buttons from his coat. Throughout the fifteen years +he spent in Greenland Egede never wore furs, as did the natives. The +black robe he thought more seemly for a clergyman, to his great +discomfort. He tells in his diary and in his letters that often when +he returned from his winter travels it could stand alone when he +took it off, being frozen stiff. After a while he got upon +neighborly terms with the Eskimos; but, if anything, the discomfort +was greater. They housed him at night in their huts, where the filth +and the stench were unendurable. They showed their special regard +by first licking off the piece of seal they put before him, and if +he rejected it they were hurt. Their housekeeping, of which he got +an inside view, was embarrassing in its simplicity. The dish-washing +was done by the dogs licking the kettles clean. Often, after a night +or two in a hut that held half a dozen families, he was compelled to +change his clothes to the skin in an open boat or out on the snow. +But the alternative was to sleep out in a cold that sometimes froze +his pillow to the bed and the tea-cup to the table even in his own +home. Above all, he must learn their language.</p> + +<p>It proved a difficult task, for the Eskimo tongue was both very +simple and very complex. In all the things pertaining to their daily +life it was exceedingly complex. For instance, to catch one kind of +fish was expressed by one word, to catch another kind in quite +different terms. They had one word for catching a young seal, +another for catching an old one. When it came to matters of moral +and spiritual import, the language was poor to desperation. Egede’s +instruction began when he caught the word “kine”—what is it? And +from that time on he learned every day; but the pronunciation was as +varied as the workaday vocabulary, and it was an unending task.</p> + +<p>It proceeded with many interruptions from the Angekoks, who tried +more than once to bewitch him, but finally gave it up, convinced +that he was a great medicine-man himself, and therefore +invulnerable. But before that they tried to foment a regular mutiny, +the colony being by that time well under way, and Egede had to +arrest and punish the leaders. The natives naturally clung to them, +and when Egede had mastered their language and tried to make clear +that the Angekoks deceived them when they pretended to go to the +other world for advice, they demurred. “Did you ever see them go?” +he asked. “Well, have you seen this God of yours of whom you speak +so much?” was their reply. When Egede spoke of spiritual gifts, they +asked for good health and blubber: “Our Angekoks give us that.” +Hell-fire was much in theological evidence in those days, but among +the Eskimos it was a failure as a deterrent. They listened to the +account of it eagerly and liked the prospect. When at length they +became convinced that Egede knew more than their Angekoks, they came +to him with the request that he would abolish winter. Very likely +they thought that one who had such knowledge of the hot place ought +to have influence enough with the keeper of it to obtain this favor.</p> + +<p>It was not an easy task, from any point of view, to which he had put +his hands. As that first winter wore away there were gloomy days and +nights, and they were not brightened when, with the return of the +sun, no ship arrived from Denmark. The Dutch traders came, and +opened their eyes wide when they found Egede and his household safe +and even on friendly terms with the Eskimos. Pelesse—the natives +called the missionary that, as the nearest they could come to the +Danish <i lang="sv" xml:lang="sv">präst</i> (priest)—Pelesse was not there after blubber, they +told the Dutchmen, but to teach them about heaven and of “Him up +there,” who had made them and wanted them home with Him again. So he +had not worked altogether in vain. But the brief summer passed, and +still no relief ship. The crew of <i>Haabet</i> clamored to go home, and +Egede had at last to give a reluctant promise that if no ship came +in two weeks, he would break up. His wife alone refused to take a +hand in packing. The ship was coming, she insisted, and at the last +moment it did come. A boat arriving after dark brought the first +word of it. The people ashore heard voices speaking in Danish, and +flew to Egede, who had gone to bed, with the news. The ship brought +good cheer. The Government was well disposed. Trading and preaching +were to go on together, as planned. Joyfully then they built a +bigger and a better house, and called their colony Godthaab (Good +Hope).</p> + +<p>The work was now fairly under way. Of the energy and the hardships +it entailed, even we in our day that have heard so much of Arctic +exploration can have but a faint conception. Shut in on the coast of +eternal ice and silence,—silence, save when in summer the Arctic +rivers were alive, and crash after crash announced that the glaciers +coming down from the inland mountains were “casting their calves,” +the great icebergs, upon the ocean,—the colonists counted the days +from the one when that year’s ship was lost to sight till the +returning spring brought the next one, their only communication with +their far-off home. In summer the days were sometimes burning hot, +but the nights always bitterly cold. In winter, says Egede, hot +water spilled on the table froze as it ran, and the meat they cooked +was often frozen at the bone when set on the table. Summer and +winter Egede was on his travels between Sundays, sometimes in the +trader’s boat, more often the only white man with one or two Eskimo +companions, seeking out the people. When night surprised him with no +native hut in sight, he pulled the boat on some desert shore and, +commending his soul to God, slept under it. Once he and his son +found an empty hut, and slept there in the darkness. Not until day +came again did they know that they had made their bed on the frozen +bodies of dead men who had once been the occupants of the house, and +had died they never knew how. Peril was everywhere. Again and again +his little craft was wrecked. Once the house blew down over their +heads in one of the dreadful winter storms that ravage those high +latitudes. Often he had to sit on the rail of his boat, and let his +numbed feet hang into the sea to restore feeling in them. On land he +sometimes waded waist-deep in snow, climbed mountains and slid down +into valleys, having but the haziest notion of where he would land. +At home his brave wife sat alone, praying for his safety and +listening to every sound that might herald his return. Tremble and +doubt they did, Egede owns, but they never flinched. Their work was +before them, and neither thought of turning back.</p> + +<p>The Eskimos soon came to know that Egede was their friend. When his +boat entered a fjord where they were fishing, and his rowers shouted +out that the good priest had come who had news of God, they dropped +their work and flocked out to meet him. Then he spoke to a floating +congregation, simply as if they were children, and, as with Him +whose message he bore, “the people heard him gladly.” They took him +to their sick, and asked him to breathe upon them, which he did to +humor them, until he found out that it was an Angekok practice, +whereupon he refused. Once, after he had spoken of the raising of +Lazarus from the dead, they took him to a new-made grave and asked +him, too, to bring back their dead. They brought him a blind man to +be healed. Egede looked upon them in sorrowful pity. “I can do +nothing,” he said; “but if he believes in Jesus, He has the power +and can do it.”</p> + +<p>“I do believe,” shouted the blind man: “let Him heal me.” It +occurred to Egede, perhaps as a mere effort at cleanliness, to wash +his eyes in cognac, and he sent him away with words of comfort. He +did not see his patient again for thirteen years. Then he was in a +crowd of Eskimos who came to Godthaab. The man saw as well as Egede.</p> + +<p>“Do you remember?” he said, “you washed my eyes with sharp water, +and the Son of God in whom I believed, He made me to see.”</p> + +<p>Children the Eskimos were in their idolatry, and children they +remained as Christians. By Egede’s prayers they set great store. +“You ask for us,” they told him. “God does not hear us; He does not +understand Eskimo.” Of God they spoke as “Him up there.” They +believed that the souls of the dead went up on the rainbow, and, +reaching the moon that night, rested there in the moon’s house, on a +bench covered with the white skins of young polar bears. There they +danced and played games, and the northern lights were the young +people playing ball. Afterward they lived in houses on the shore of +a big lake overshadowed by a snow mountain. When the waters ran over +the edge of the lake, it rained on earth. When the “moon was dark,” +it was down on earth catching seal for a living. Thunder was caused +by two old women shaking a dried sealskin between them; the +lightning came when they turned the white side out. The “Big Nail” +we have heard of as the Eskimos’ Pole, was a high-pointed mountain +in the Farthest North on which the sky rested and turned around with +the sun, moon, and stars. Up there the stars were much bigger. +Orion’s Belt was so near that you had to carry a whip to drive him +away.</p> + +<p>The women were slaves. An Eskimo might have as many wives as he saw +fit; they were his, and it was nobody’s business. But adultery was +unknown. The seventh commandment in Egede’s translation came to +read, “One wife alone you shall have and love.” The birth of a girl +was greeted with wailing. When grown, she was often wooed by +violence. If she fled from her admirer, he cut her feet when he +overtook her, so that she could run no more. The old women were +denounced as witches who drove the seals away, and were murdered. An +Eskimo who was going on a reindeer hunt, and found his aged mother a +burden, took her away and laid her in an open grave. Returning on +the third day, he heard her groaning yet, and smothered her with a +big stone. He tried to justify himself to Egede by saying that “she +died hard, and it was a pity not to speed her.” Yet they buried a +dog’s head with a child, so that the dog, being clever, could run +ahead and guide the little one’s steps to heaven.</p> + +<p>They could count no further than five; at a stretch they might get +to twenty, on their fingers and toes, but there they stopped. +However, they were not without resources. It was the day of long +Sunday services, and the Eskimos were a restless people. When the +sermon dragged, they would go up to Egede and make him measure on +their arms how much longer the talk was going to be. Then they +tramped back to their seats and sat listening with great attention, +all the time moving one hand down the arm, checking off the +preacher’s progress. If they got to the finger-tips before he +stopped, they would shake their heads sourly and go back for a +remeasurement. No wonder Egede put his chief hope in the children, +whom he gathered about him in flocks.</p> + +<p>For all that, the natives loved him. There came a day that brought +this message from the North: “Say to the speaker to come to us to +live, for the other strangers who come here can only talk to us of +blubber, blubber, blubber, and we also would hear of the great +Creator.” Egede went as far as he could, but was compelled by ice +and storms to turn back after weeks of incredible hardships. The +disappointment was the more severe to him because he had never quite +given up his hope of finding remnants of the ancient Norse +settlements. The fact that the old records spoke of a West Bygd +(settlement) and an East Bygd had misled many into believing that +the desolate east coast had once been colonized. Not until our own +day was this shown to be an error, when Danish explorers searched +that coast for a hundred miles and found no other trace of +civilization than a beer bottle left behind by the explorer +Nordenskjold.</p> + +<p>Egede’s hope had been that Greenland might be once more colonized by +Christian people. When the Danish Government, after some years, sent +up a handful of soldiers, with a major who took the title of +governor, to give the settlement official character as a trading +station, they sent with them twenty unofficial “Christians,” ten men +out of the penitentiary and as many lewd and drunken women from the +treadmill, who were married by lot before setting sail, to give the +thing a half-way decent look. They were good enough for the Eskimos, +they seem to have thought at Copenhagen. There followed a terrible +winter, during which mutiny and murder were threatened. “It is a +pity,” writes the missionary, “that while we sleep secure among the +heathen savages, with so-called Christian people our lives are not +safe.” As a matter of fact they were not, for the soldiers joined in +the mutiny against Egede as the cause of their having to live in +such a place, and had not sickness and death smitten the +malcontents, neither he nor the governor would have come safe +through the winter. On the Eskimos this view of the supposed fruits +of Christian teaching made its own impression. After seeing a woman +scourged on shipboard for misbehavior, they came innocently enough +to Egede and suggested that some of their best Angekoks be sent down +to Denmark to teach the people to be sober and decent.</p> + +<p>There came a breathing spell after ten years of labor in what had +often enough seemed to him the spiritual as well as physical +ice-barrens of the North, when Egede surveyed a prosperous mission, +with trade established, a hundred and fifty children christened and +schooled, and many of their elders asking to be baptized. In the +midst of his rejoicing the summer’s ship brought word from Denmark +that the King was dead, and orders from his successor to abandon the +station. Egede might stay with provisions for one year, if there was +enough left over after fitting out the ship; but after that he would +receive no further help.</p> + +<p>When the Eskimos heard the news, they brought their little children +to the mission. “These will not let you go,” they said; and he +stayed. His wife, whom hardship and privation and the lonely waiting +for her husband in the long winter nights had at last broken down, +refused to leave him, though she sadly needed the care of a +physician. A few of the sailors were persuaded to stay another year. +“So now,” Egede wrote in his diary when, on July 31, 1731, he had +seen the ship sail away with all his hopes, “I am left alone with my +wife and three children, ten sailors and eight Eskimos, girls and +boys who have been with us from the start. God let me live to see +the blessed day that brings good news once more from home.” His +prayer was heard. The next summer brought word that the mission was +to be continued, partly because Egede had strained every nerve to +send home much blubber and many skins. But it was as a glimpse of +the sun from behind dark clouds. His greatest trials trod hard upon +the good news.</p> + +<p>To rouse interest in the mission Egede had sent home young Eskimos +from time to time. Three of these died of smallpox in Denmark. The +fourth came home and brought the contagion, all unknown, to his +people. It was the summer fishing season, when the natives travel +much and far, and wherever he went they flocked about him to hear of +the “Great Lord’s land,” where the houses were so tall that one +could not shoot an arrow over them, and to ask a multitude of +questions: Was the King very big? Had he caught many whales? Was he +strong and a great Angekok? and much more of the same kind. In a +week the disease broke out among the children at the mission, and +soon word came from islands and fjords where the Eskimos were +fishing, of death and misery unspeakable. It was virgin soil for the +plague, and it was terribly virulent, striking down young and old in +every tent and hut. More than two thousand natives, one-fourth of +the whole population, died that summer. Of two hundred families near +the mission only thirty were left alive. A cry of terror and anguish +rose throughout the settlements. No one knew what to do. In vain did +Egede implore them to keep their sick apart. In fever delirium they +ran out in the ice-fields or threw themselves into the sea. A wild +panic seized the survivors, and they fled to the farthest tribes, +carrying the seeds of death with them wherever they went. Whole +villages perished, and their dead lay unburied. Utter desolation +settled like a pall over the unhappy land.</p> + +<p>Through it all a single ray of hope shone. The faith that Egede had +preached all those years, and the life he had lived with them, bore +their fruit. They had struck deeper than he thought. They crowded to +him, all that could, as their one friend. Dying mothers held their +suckling babes up to him and died content. In a deserted island camp +a half-grown girl was found alone with three little children. Their +father was dead. When he knew that for him and the baby there was no +help, he went to a cave and, covering himself and the child with +skins, lay down to die. His parting words to his daughter were, +“Before you have eaten the two seals and the fish I have laid away +for you, Pelesse will come, no doubt, and take you home. For he +loves you and will take care of you.” At the mission every nook and +cranny was filled with the sick and the dying. Egede and his wife +nursed them day and night. Childlike, when death approached, they +tried to put on their best clothes, or even to have new ones made, +that they might please God by coming into His presence looking fine. +When Egede had closed their eyes, he carried the dead in his arms to +the vestibule, where in the morning the men who dug the graves found +them. At the sight of his suffering the scoffers were dumb. What his +preaching had not done to win them over, his sorrows did. They were +at last one.</p> + +<p>That dreadful year left Egede a broken man. In his dark moments he +reproached himself with having brought only misery to those he had +come to help and serve. One thorn which one would think he might +have been spared rankled deep in it all. Some missionaries of a +dissenting sect—Egede was Lutheran—had come with the smallpox ship +to set up an establishment of their own. At their head was a man +full of misdirected zeal and quite devoid of common-sense, who +engaged Egede in a wordy dispute about justification by faith and +condemned him and his work unsparingly. He had grave doubts whether +he was in truth a “converted man.” It came to an end when they +themselves fell ill, and Egede and his wife had the last word, after +their own fashion. They nursed the warlike brethren through their +illness with loving ministrations and gave them back to life, let us +hope, wiser and better men.</p> + +<p>At Christmas, 1735, Egede’s faithful wife, Gertrude, closed her +eyes. She had gone out with him from home and kin to a hard and +heathen land, and she had been his loyal helpmeet in all his trials. +Now it was all over. That winter scurvy laid him upon a bed of pain +and, lying there, his heart turned to the old home. His son had come +from Copenhagen to help, happily yet while his mother lived. To him +he would give over the work. In Denmark he could do more for it than +in Greenland, now he was alone. On July 29, 1736, he preached for +the last time to his people and baptized a little Eskimo to whom +they gave his name, Hans. The following week he sailed for home, +carrying, as all his earthly wealth, his beloved dead and his +motherless children.</p> + +<p>The Eskimos gathered on the shore and wept as the ship bore their +friend away. They never saw him again. He lived in Denmark eighteen +years, training young men to teach the Eskimos. They gave him the +title of bishop, but so little to live on that he was forced in his +last days to move from Copenhagen to a country town, to make both +ends meet. His grave was forgotten by the generation that came after +him. No one knows now where it is; but in ice-girt Greenland, where +the northern lights on wintry nights flash to the natives their +message from the souls that have gone home, his memory will live +when that of the North Pole seeker whom the world applauds is long +forgotten. Hans Egede was their great man, their hero. He was +more,—he was their friend.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="GUSTAV_VASA_THE_FATHER_OF_SWEDEN">GUSTAV VASA, THE FATHER OF SWEDEN<a id="61"></a></h2> +</div> + +<p>A great and wise woman had, after ages of war and bloodshed, united +the crowns of the three Scandinavian kingdoms upon one head. In the +strong city of Kalmar, around which the tide of battle had ever +raged hottest, the union was declared in the closing days of the +Thirteenth Century. Norwegian, Swede, and Dane were thenceforth to +stand together, to the end of time; so they resolved. It was all a +vain dream. Queen Margaret was not cold in her grave before the +kingdoms fell apart. Norway clung to Denmark, but Sweden went her +own way. In the wars of two generations the Danish kings won back +the Swedish crown and lost it, again and again, until in 1520 King +Christian II clutched it for the last time, at the head of a +conquering army. He celebrated his victory with a general amnesty, +and bade the Swedish nobles to a great feast, held at the capital in +November.</p> + +<p>Christian is one of the unsolved riddles of history. Ablest but +unhappiest of all his house, he was an instinctive democrat, +sincerely solicitous for the welfare of the plain people, but +incredibly cruel and faithless when the dark mood seized him. The +coronation feast ended with the wholesale butchery of the +unsuspecting nobles. Hundreds were beheaded in the public square; +for days it was filled with the slain. It is small comfort that the +wicked priest who egged the King on to the dreadful deed was himself +burned at the stake by the master he had betrayed. The Stockholm +Massacre drowned the Kalmar Union in its torrents of blood. +Retribution came swiftly. Above the peal of the Christmas bells rose +the clash and clangor of armed hosts pouring forth from the mountain +fastnesses to avenge the foul treachery. They were led by Gustav<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> +Eriksson Vasa, a young noble upon whose head Christian had set a +price.</p> + +<p>The Vasas were among the oldest and best of the great Swedish +families. It was said of them that they ever loved a friend, hated +a foe, and never forgot. Gustav was born in the castle of +Lindholmen, when the news that the world had grown suddenly big by +the discovery of lands beyond the unknown seas was still ringing +through Europe, on May 12, 1496. He was brought up in the home of +his kinsman, the Swedish patriot Sten Sture, and early showed the +fruits of his training. “See what I will do,” he boasted in school +when he was thirteen, “I will go to Dalecarlia, rouse the people, +and give the Jutes (Danes) a black eye.” Master Ivar, his Danish +teacher, gave him a whaling for that. White with anger, the boy +drove his dirk through the book, nailing it to the desk, and stalked +out of the room. Master Ivar’s eyes followed the slim figure in the +scarlet cloak, and he sighed wearily “<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">nobilium nati nolunt aliquid +pati</i>,—the children of the great will put up with nothing.”</p> + +<p>Hardly yet of age, he served under the banner of Sten Sture against +King Christian, and was one of six hostages sent to the King when he +asked an interview of the Swedish leader. But Christian stayed away +from the meeting and carried the hostages off to Denmark against his +plighted faith. There Gustav was held prisoner a year. All that +winter rumors of great armaments against Sweden filled the land. He +heard the young bloods from the court prate about bending the stiff +necks in the country across the Sound, and watched them throw dice +for Swedish castles and Swedish women,—part of the loot when his +fatherland should be laid under the yoke. Ready to burst with anger +and grief, he sat silent at their boasts. In the spring he escaped, +disguised as a cattle-herder, and made his way to Luebeck, where he +found refuge in the house of the wealthy merchant Kort König.</p> + +<p>They soon heard in Denmark where he was, and the King sent letters +demanding his surrender; but the burghers of the Hanse town hated +Christian with cause, and would not give him up. Then came Gustav’s +warder who had gone bail for him in sixteen hundred gulden, and +pleaded for his prisoner.</p> + +<p>“I am not a prisoner,” was Gustav’s retort, “I am a hostage, for +whom the Danish king pledged his oath and faith. If any one can +prove that I was taken captive in a fight or for just cause, let him +stand forth. Ambushed was I, and betrayed.” The Lübeck men thought +of the plots King Christian was forever hatching against them. Now, +if he succeeded in getting Sweden under his heel, their turn would +come next. Better, they said, send this Gustav home to his own +country, perchance he might keep the King busy there; by which they +showed their good sense. His ex-keeper was packed off back home, and +Gustav reached Sweden, sole passenger on a little coast-trader, on +May 31, 1520. A stone marks the spot where he landed, near Kalmar; +for then struck the hour of Sweden’s freedom.</p> + +<p>But not yet for many weary months did the people hear its summons. +Swedish manhood was at its lowest ebb. Stockholm was held by the +widow of Sten Sture with a half-famished garrison. In Kalmar another +woman, Anna Bjelke, commanded, but her men murmured, and the fall of +the fortress was imminent. When Gustav Vasa, who had slipped in +unseen, exhorted them to stand fast, they would have mobbed him. He +left as he had come, the day before the surrender. Travelling by +night, he made his way inland, finding everywhere fear and distrust. +The King had promised that if they would obey him “they should +never want for herring and salt,” so they told Gustav, and when he +tried to put heart into them and rouse their patriotism, they took +up bows and arrows and bade him be gone. Indeed, there were not +wanting those who shot at him. Like a hunted deer he fled from +hamlet to hamlet. Such friends as he had left advised him to throw +himself upon the King’s mercy; told him of the amnesty proclaimed. +But Gustav’s thoughts dwelt grimly among the Northern mountaineers +whom as a boy he had bragged he would set against the tyrant. +Insensibly he shaped his course toward their country.</p> + +<p>He was with his brother-in-law, Joachim Brahe, when the King’s +message bidding him to the coronation came. Gustav begged him not to +go, but Brahe’s wife and children were within Christian’s reach, and +he did not dare stay away. When he left, the fugitive hid in his +ancestral home at Räfsnäs on lake Mälar. There one of Brahe’s men +brought him news of the massacre in which his master and Gustav’s +father had perished. His mother, grandmother, and sisters were +dragged away to perish in Danish dungeons. On Gustav’s head the King +had set a price, and spies were even then on his track.</p> + +<p>Gustav’s mind was made up. What was there now to wait for? Clad as a +peasant, he started for Dalecarlia with a single servant to keep him +company, but before he reached the mines the man stole all his money +and ran away. He had to work now to live, and hired out to Anders +Persson, the farmer of Rankhyttan. He had not been there many days +when one of the women saw an embroidered sleeve stick out under his +coat and told her master that the new hand was not what he pretended +to be. The farmer called him aside, and Gustav told him frankly who +he was. Anders Persson kept his secret, but advised him not to stay +long in any one place lest his enemies get wind of him. He slipped +away as soon as it was dark, nearly lost his life by breaking +through the ice, but reached Ornäs on the other side of Lake Runn, +half dead with cold and exposure. He knew that another Persson who +had been with him in the war lived there, and found his house. +Arendt Persson was a rascal. He received him kindly, but when he +slept harnessed his horse and went to Måns Nilsson, a neighbor, +with the news: the King’s reward would make them both rich, if he +would help him seize the outlawed man.</p> + +<p>Måns Nilsson held with the Danes, but he was no traitor, and he +showed the fellow the door. He went next to the King’s sheriff; he +would be bound to help. To be sure, he would claim the lion’s share +of the blood-money, but something was better than nothing. The +sheriff came soon enough with a score of armed men. But Arendt +Persson had not reckoned with his honest wife. She guessed his +errand and let Gustav down from the window to the rear gate, where +she had a sleigh and team in waiting. When the sheriff’s posse +surrounded the house, Gustav was well on his way to Master Jon, the +parson of Svärdsjö, who was his friend. Tradition has it that while +Christian was King, the brave little woman never dared show her face +in the house again.</p> + +<p>Master Jon was all right, but news of the man-hunt had run through +the country, and when the parson’s housekeeper one day saw him hold +the wash-bowl for his guest she wanted to know why he was so polite +to a common clod. Master Jon told her that it was none of her +business, but that night he piloted his friend across the lake to +Isala, where Sven Elfsson lived, a gamekeeper who knew the country +and could be trusted. The good parson was hardly out of sight on his +way back when the sheriff’s men came looking for Gustav. It did not +occur to them that the yokel who stood warming himself by the stove +might be the man they were after. But the gamekeeper’s wife was +quick to see his peril. She was baking bread and had just put the +loaves into the oven with a long-handled spade. “Here, you lummox!” +she cried, and whacked him soundly over the back with it, “what are +ye standing there gaping at? Did ye never see folks afore? Get back +to your work in the barn.” And Gustav, taking the hint, slunk out of +the room.</p> + +<p>For three days after that he lay hidden under a fallen tree in the +snow and bitter cold; but even there he was not safe, and the +gamekeeper took him deeper into the forest, where a big spruce grew +on a hill in the middle of a frozen swamp. There no one would seek +him till he could make a shift to get him out of the country. The +hill is still there; the people call it the King’s Hill, and not +after King Christian, either. But in those long nights when Gustav +Vasa listened to the hungry wolves howling in the woods and nosing +about his retreat, it was hardly kingly conceits his mind brooded +over. His father and kinsmen were murdered; his mother and sister in +the pitiless grasp of the tyrant who was hunting him to his death; +he, the last of his race, alone and forsaken by his own. Bitter +sorrow filled his soul at the plight of his country that had fallen +so low. But the hope of the young years came to the rescue: all was +not lost yet. And in the morning came Sven, the gamekeeper, with a +load of straw, at the bottom of which he hid him. So no one would be +the wiser.</p> + +<p>It was well he did it, for half-way to the next town some prowling +soldiers overtook them, and just to make sure that there was nothing +in the straw, prodded the load with their spears. Nothing stirred, +and they went on their way. But a spear had gashed Gustav’s leg, and +presently blood began to drip in the snow. Sven had his wits about +him. He got down, and cut the fetlock of one of the beasts with his +jack-knife so that it bled and no one need ask questions. When they +got to Marnäs, Gustav was weak from the loss of blood, but a +friendly surgeon was found to bind up his wounds.</p> + +<p>Farther and farther north he fled, keeping to the deep woods in the +day, until he reached Rättwik. Feeling safer there, he spoke to the +people coming from church one Sunday and implored them to shake off +the Danish yoke. But they only shook their heads. He was a stranger +among them, and they would talk it over with their neighbors. Not +yet were his wanderings over. To Mora he went next, where Parson +Jakob hid him in a lonely farm-house. Evil chance led the spies +direct to his hiding-place, and once more it was the housewife whose +quick wit saved him. Dame Margit was brewing the Yule beer when she +saw them coming. In a trice she had Gustav in the cellar and rolled +the brewing vat over the trap-door. Then they might search as they +saw fit; there was nothing there. The first blood was spilled for +Gustav Vasa while he was at Mora, and it was a Dane who did it. He +was the kind that liked to see fair play; when an under-sheriff came +looking for the hunted man there, the Dane waylaid and killed him.</p> + +<p>Christmas morning, when Master Jakob had preached his sermon in the +church, Gustav spoke to the congregation out in the snow-covered +churchyard. A gravestone was his pulpit. Eloquent always, his +sorrows and wrongs and the memory of the hard months lent wings to +his words. His speech lives yet in Dalecarlia, for now he was among +its mountains.</p> + +<p>“It is good to see this great meeting,” he said, “but when I think +of our fatherland I am filled with grief. At what peril I am here +with you, you know who see me hounded as a wild beast day by day, +hour by hour. But our beloved country is more to me than life. How +long must we be thralls, we who were born to freedom? Those of you +who are old remember what persecution Swedish men and women have +suffered from the Danish kings. The young have heard the story of it +and have learned from they were little children to hate and resist +such rule. These tyrants have laid waste our land and sucked its +marrow, until nothing remains for us but empty houses and lean +fields. Our very lives are not safe.” He called upon them to rise +and drive the invaders out. If they wanted a leader, he was ready.</p> + +<p>His words stirred the mountaineers deeply. Cries of anger were +heard in the crowd; it was not the first time they had taken up arms +in the cause of freedom. But when they talked it over, the older +heads prevailed; there had not been time enough to hear both sides. +They told him that they would not desert the King; he must expect +nothing of them.</p> + +<p>Broken-hearted and desperate, Gustav Vasa turned toward the +Norwegian frontier. He would leave the country for which there was +no hope. While the table in the poorest home groaned with Yuletide +cheer, Sweden’s coming king hid under an old bridge, outcast and +starving, till it was safe to leave. Then he took up his weary +journey alone. The winter cold had grown harder as the days grew +shorter. Famished wolves dogged his steps, but he outran them on his +snow-shoes. By night he slept in some wayside shelter, such as they +build for travellers in that desolate country, or in the brush. The +snow grew deeper, and the landscape wilder, as he went. For days he +had gone without food, when he saw the sun set behind the lofty +range that was to bar him out of home and hope forever. Even there +was no abiding place for him. What thoughts of his vanished dream, +perchance of the distant lands across the seas where the tyrant’s +hand could not reach him, were in his mind, who knows, as he bent +his strength to the last and hardest stage of his journey? He was +almost there, when he heard shouts behind him and turned to sell his +life dear. Two men on skis were calling to him. They were unarmed, +and he waited to let them come up.</p> + +<p>Their story was soon told. They had come to call him back. After he +left, an old soldier whom they knew in Mora had come from the south +and told them worse things than even Gustav knew. It was all true +about the Stockholm murder; worse, the King was having gallows set +up in every county to hang all those on who said him nay; a heavy +tax was laid upon the peasants, and whoever did not pay was to have +a hand or foot cut off; they could still follow the plow. And now +they had sent away the one man who could lead against the Danes, +with the forests full of outlawed men who would have enlisted under +him as soon as ever the cry was raised! While the men of Dalecarlia +were debating the news among themselves orders came from the +bailiff at Westerås that the tax was to be paid forthwith. That +night runners were sent on the trail of Gustav to tell him to come +back; they were ready.</p> + +<p>When he came, it was as if a mighty storm swept through the +mountains. The people rose in a body. Every day whole parishes threw +off their allegiance to King Christian. Sunday after Sunday Gustav +spoke to the people at their meeting-houses, and they raised their +spears and swore to follow him to death. Two months after the murder +in Stockholm an army of thousands that swelled like an avalanche was +marching south, and province after province joined in the rebellion. +King Christian’s host met them at Brunbäck in April. One of its +leaders asked the country folk what kind of men the Dalecarlians +were, and when he was told that they drank water and ate bread made +of bark, he cried out, “Such a people the devil himself couldn’t +whip; let us get out.” But his advice was not taken and the Danish +army was wiped out. Gustav halted long enough to drill his men and +give them time to temper their arrows and spears, then he fell upon +Westerås and beat the Danes there. The peasant mob scattered too +soon to loot the town, and the King’s men came back with a sudden +rush. Only Gustav’s valor and presence of mind saved the day that +had been won once from being lost again.</p> + +<p>When it was seen that the Danes were not invincible, the whole +country rose, took the scattered castles, and put their defenders to +the sword. Gustav bore the rising on his shoulders from first to +last. He was everywhere, ordering and leading. His fiery eloquence +won over the timorous; his irresistible advance swept every obstacle +aside. In May he took Upsala; by midsummer he was besieging +Stockholm itself. Most of the other cities were in his hands. The +Hanse towns had found out what this Gustav could do at home. They +sang his praise, but as for backing him with their purse, that was +another matter. They refused to lend Gustav two siege-guns when he +lay before Stockholm, though he offered to pledge a castle for each. +He had no money. Happily his enemy, Christian, was even worse off. +Neither pledges nor promises could get him the money he needed. His +chief men were fighting among themselves and made peace only to turn +upon him. Within a year after the Swedish people had chosen Gustav +Vasa to be Regent at the Diet of Vadstena, Christian went into exile +and, when he tried to get his kingdom back, into prison, where he +languished the rest of his life. He fully deserved his fate. Yet he +meant well and had done some good things in his day. Had he been +able to rule himself, he might have ruled others with better +success. Schoolboys remember with gratitude that he forbade teachers +to “spank their pupils overmuch and without judgment, as was their +wont.”</p> + +<p>At the Diet of Vadstena the people had offered Gustav the crown, but +he put it from him. Scarce eight months had passed since he hid +under the bridge, hunted and starving. When Stockholm had fallen +after a siege of two years and all Sweden was free, the people met +(1523) and made him King, whether or no. He still objected, but gave +in at last and was crowned.</p> + +<p>Popular favor is fickle. Hard times came that were not made easier +by Gustav’s determination to fill the royal coffers, and the very +Dalecarlians who had put him in the high seat rose against him and +served notice that if things did not mend they would have none of +him. Gustav made sure that they had no backing elsewhere, then went +up and persuaded them to be good by cutting off the heads of their +leaders, who both happened to be priests: one was even a bishop. He +had been taught in a school that always found an axe ready to hand. +Let those who lament the savagery of modern warfare consider what +happened then to a Danish fleet that tried to bring relief to +hard-pressed Stockholm. It was beaten in a fight in which six +hundred men were taken prisoners. They were all, say the accounts, +“tied hand and foot and flung overboard amid the beating of drums +and blowing of trumpets to drown their cries.” The clergy fared +little better than the laymen in that age, but then it was their own +fault. In plotting and scrapping they were abreast of the worst and +took the consequences.</p> + +<p>They were the days of the Reformation, and Gustav would not have +been human had he failed to see a way out of his money troubles by +confiscating church property. He had pawned the country’s trade to +the merchants of Lübeck and there was nothing else left. Naturally +the church opposed him. The King took the bull by the horns. He +called a meeting and told the people that he was sick of it all. He +had encouraged the Reformation for their good; now, if they did not +stand by him, they might choose between him and his enemies. The +oldest priest arose at that and said that the church’s property was +sacred. The King asked if the rest of them thought the same way. +Only one voice was raised, and to say yes.</p> + +<p>“Then,” said Gustav, “I don’t want to be your King any more. If it +does not rain, you blame me; if the sun does not shine, you do the +same. It is always so. All of you want to be masters. After all my +trouble and labor for you, you would as lief see my head split with +an axe, though none of you dare lay hold of the handle. Give me back +what I have spent in your service and I will go away and never come +back.” And go he did, to his castle, with half a dozen of his +nearest friends.</p> + +<p>They sat and looked at one another when he was gone, and then +priests and nobles fell to arguing among themselves, all talking at +once. The plain people, the burghers and the peasants, listened +awhile, but when they got no farther, let them know that if they +couldn’t settle it, they, the people, would, and in a way that would +give them little joy. The upshot of it all was that messengers were +sent to bring the King back. He made them go three times, and when +he came at last, it was as absolute master. In the ordering of the +kingdom that was made there, he became the head of the church as +well as of the state. Gustav’s pen was as sharp as his tongue. When +Hans Brask, the oldest prelate in the land, who had stood stoutly by +the old régime, left the country and refused to come back, he wrote +to him: “As long as you might milk and shear your sheep, you staid +by them. When God spake and said you were to feed them, not to shear +and slaughter them, you ran away. Every honest man can judge if you +have done well.” Hard words to a good old man; but there were plenty +of others who deserved them. That was the end of the hierarchy in +Sweden.</p> + +<p>But not of the unruly peasants who had tasted the joys of +king-making. How kindly they took to the Reformation at the outset +one can judge from the demand of some of them that the King should +“burn or otherwise kill such as ate meat on Friday.” They rose +again and again, and would listen only to the argument of force. +When the Lübeckers pressed hard for the payment of old debts, and +the treasury was empty as usual, King Gustav hit upon a new kind of +revenue. He demanded of every church in the land that it give up its +biggest bell to the funds. It was the last straw. The Dalecarlians +rose against what they deemed sacrilege, under the leadership of +Måns Nilsson and Anders Persson of Rankhyttan, the very men who had +befriended Gustav in his need, and the insurrection spread. The “War +of the Bells” was settled with the sword, and the peasants gave in. +But Gustav came of a stock that “never forgot.” Two years later, +when his hands were free at home, he suddenly invaded Dalecarlia +with a powerful army, determined to “pull those weeds up by the +roots.” He summoned the peasants to Thing, made a ring around them +of armed men, and gave them their choice:</p> + +<p>“Submit now for good and all,” he said, “or I will spoil the land so +that cock shall not crow nor hound bark in it again forever!”</p> + +<p>The frightened peasants fell on their knees and begged for mercy. +He made them give up their leaders, including his former friends, +and they were all put to the sword. After that there was peace in +Dalecarlia.</p> + +<p class="p2bot">Gustav Vasa’s long reign ended in 1560. Like his enemy, Christian +II, he was a strange mixture of contradictions. He was brave in +battle, wise in council, pious, if not a saint, clean, and merciful +when mercy fitted into his plans. His enemies called him a greedy, +suspicious despot. Greedy he was. More than eleven thousand farms +were confiscated by the crown during his reign, and he left four +thousand farms and a great fortune to his children as his personal +share. But historians have called him “the great housekeeper” who +found waste and loss and left an ordered household. He gave all for +Sweden, and all he had was at her call. It was share and share +alike, in his view. Despotic he could be, too. <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">L’état c’est moi</i> +might have been said by him. But he did not exploit the state; he +built it. He fashioned Sweden out of a bunch of quarrelsome +provincial governments into a hereditary monarchy, as the best +way—indeed, the only way then—of giving it strength and +stability. He was suspicious because everybody had betrayed him, or +had tried to. With all that, his steady purpose was to raise and +enlighten his people and make them keep the peace, if he had to +adopt the Irishman’s plan of keeping it himself with an axe. He was +the father of a line of great warriors. Gustav Adolf was his +grandson.</p> + +<div class="figcenter illowp70" style="max-width: 43.75em;" id="i-103"> +<img alt="" class="w100" src="images/i-103.jpg"> +<div class="caption"><span class="smcap">Gustav Vasa bidding his People Good-by</span></div> +</div> + +<p class="p2">Bent under the burden of years, he bade his people good-by at the +Diet of Stockholm, a few weeks before his death. His old eloquence +rings unimpaired in the farewell. He thanked God, who had chosen him +as His tool to set Sweden free from thralldom. Almost might he liken +himself to King David, whom God from a shepherd had made the leader +of his people. No such hope was in his heart when, forty years +before, he hid in the woods from a bloodthirsty enemy. For what he +had done wrong as king, he asked the people’s pardon; it was not +done on purpose. He knew well that many thought him a hard ruler, +but the time would come when they would gladly dig him up from his +grave if they only could. And with that he went out, bowing deeply +to the Diet, the tears streaming down his face.</p> + +<p>They saw him no more; but on his tomb the Swedish people, forgetting +all else, have written that he was the “Father of his Country.”</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>Footnotes:</h3> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> The older spelling of this name is followed here in +preference to the more modern Gustaf. Gustav Vasa himself wrote his +name so.</p> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="ABSALON_WARRIOR_BISHOP_OF_THE_NORTH">ABSALON, WARRIOR BISHOP OF THE NORTH<a id="87"></a></h2> +</div> + +<p>A welcome change awaits the traveller who, having shaken off the +chill of the German Dreadnaughts at Kiel, crosses the Baltic to the +Danish Islands—a change from the dread portents of war to smiling +peace. There can be nothing more pastoral and restful than the +Seeland landscape as framed in a car window; yet he misses its chief +charm whom its folk-lore escapes—the countless legends that cling +to field and forest from days long gone. The guide-book gives scarce +a hint of them; but turn from its page and they meet you at every +step, hail you from every homestead, every copse. Nor is their story +always of peace. Here was Knud Lavard slain by his envious kinsman +for the crown, and a miraculous spring gushed forth where he fell. +Of the church they built for the pilgrims who sought it from afar +they will show you the site, but the spring dried up with the simple +old faith. Yonder, under the roof of Ringsted church, lie Denmark’s +greatest dead. Not half an hour from the ferry landing at Korsör, +your train labors past a hill crowned by a venerable cross, Holy +Anders’ Hill. So saintly was that masterful priest that he was wont, +when he prayed, to hang his hat and gloves on a sunbeam as on a +hook. And woe to the land if his cross be disturbed, for then, the +peasant will tell you, the cattle die of plague and the crops fail. +A little further on, just beyond Sorö, a village church rears twin +towers above the wheat-field where the skylark soars and sings to +its nesting mate. For seven hundred years the story of that church +and its builder has been told at Danish firesides, and the time will +never come when it is forgotten.</p> + +<p>Fjenneslev is the name of the village, and Asker Ryg<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> ruled there +in the Twelfth Century, when the king summoned his men to the war. +Bidding good-by to his wife, Sir Asker tells her to build a new +church while he is away, for the old, “with wall of clay, +straw-thatched and grim,” is in ruins. And let it be worthy of the +Master:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“The roof let make of tiling red;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Of stone thou build the wall;”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">and then he whispers in her ear:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Hear thou, my Lady Inge,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Of women thou art the flower;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">An’ thou bearest to me a son so bold,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Set on the church a tower.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Should the child be a girl, he tells her to build only a spire, for +“modesty beseemeth a woman.” Well for Sir Asker that he did not live +in our day of clamoring suffragists. He would have “views” without +doubt. But no such things troubled him while he battled in foreign +lands all summer. It was autumn when he returned and saw from afar +the swell behind which lay Fjenneslev and home. Impatiently he +spurred his horse to the brow of the hill, for no news had come of +Lady Inge those many months. The bard tells us what he saw there:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“It was the good Sir Asker Ryg;</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Right merrily laughed he,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When from that green and swelling hill</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Two towers did he see.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Two sons lay at the Lady Inge’s breast, and all was well.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“The first one of the brothers two</div> + <div class="verse indent2">They called him Esbern Snare.<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></div> + <div class="verse indent0">He grew as strong as a savage bear</div> + <div class="verse indent2">And fleeter than any hare.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“The second him called they Absalon,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">A bishop he at home.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He used his trusty Danish sword</div> + <div class="verse indent2">As the Pope his staff at Rome.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Absalon and Esbern were not twins, as tradition has it. They were +better than that. They became the great heroes of their day, and the +years have not dimmed their renown. And Absalon reached far beyond +the boundaries of little Denmark to every people that speaks the +English tongue. For it was he who, as archbishop of the North, +“strictly and earnestly” charged his friend and clerk Saxo to gather +the Danish chronicles while yet it was time, because, says Saxo, in +the preface of his monumental work, “he could no longer abide that +his fatherland, which he always honored and magnified with especial +zeal, should be without a record of the great deeds of the fathers.” +And from the record Saxo wrote we have our Hamlet.</p> + +<p>It was when they had grown great and famous that Sir Asker and his +wife built the church in thanksgiving for their boys, not when they +were born, and the way that came to light was good and wholesome. +They were about to rebuild the church, on which there had been no +towers at all since they crumbled in the middle ages, and had +decided to put on only one; for the sour critics, who are never +content in writing a people’s history unless they can divest it of +all its flesh and make it sit in its bones, as it were, sneered at +the tradition and called it an old woman’s tale. But they did not +shout quite so loud when, in peeling off the whitewash of the +Reformation, the mason’s hammer brought forth mural paintings that +grew and grew until there stood the whole story to read on the wall, +with Sir Asker himself and the Lady Inge, clad in garments of the +Twelfth Century, bringing to the Virgin the church with the twin +towers. So the folk-lore was not so far out after all, and the +church was rebuilt with two towers, as it should be.</p> + +<p>Under its eaves, whether of straw or tile, the two boys played their +childish games, and before long there came to join in them another +of their own age, young Valdemar, whose father, the very Knud Lavard +mentioned above, had been foully murdered a while before. It was a +time, says Saxo, in which “he must be of stout heart and strong head +who dared aspire to Denmark’s crown. For in less than a hundred +years more than sixteen of her kings and their kin were either slain +without cause by their own subjects, or otherwise met a sudden +death.” Sir Asker and the murdered Knud had been foster brothers, +and throughout the bloody years that followed, he and his brothers, +sons of the powerful Skjalm Hvide,<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> espoused his cause in good and +evil days, while they saw to it that no harm came to the young +prince under their roof.</p> + +<p>The three boys, as they grew up, were bred to the stern duties of +fighting men, as was the custom of their class. Absalon, indeed, was +destined for the church; but in a country so recently won from the +old war gods, it was the church militant yet, and he wielded spear +and sword with the best of them. When, at eighteen, they sent him to +France to be taught, he did not for his theological studies neglect +the instruction of his boyhood. There he became the disciple and +friend of the Abbot Bernard of Clairvaux, more powerful then than +prince or Pope, and when the abbot preached the second great +crusade, promising eternal salvation to those who took up arms +against the unbelievers, whether to wrest from them the Holy +Sepulchre or to plant the cross among the wild heathen on the +Baltic, his heart burned hot within him. It was a long way to the +Holy Land, but with the Baltic robbers his people had a grievous +score to settle. Their yells had sounded in his boyish ears as they +ravished the shores of his fatherland, penetrating with murder and +pillage almost to his peaceful home. And so, while he lent a +diligent ear to the teachings of the church, earning the name of the +“most learned clerk” in the cloister of Ste. Geneviève in Paris, +daily he laid the breviary aside and took up sword and lance, +learning the arts of modern warfare with the graces of chivalry. In +the old way of fighting, man to man, the men of the North had been +the equals of any, if not their betters; but against the new methods +of warfare their prowess availed little. Absalon, the monk, kept his +body strong while soul and mind matured. When nothing more +adventurous befell, he chopped down trees for the cloister hearths. +But oftener the clash of arms echoed in the quiet halls, or the +peaceful brethren crossed themselves as they watched him break an +unruly horse in the cloister fen. Saxo tells us that he swam easily +in full armor, and in more than one campaign in later years saved +drowning comrades who were not so well taught.</p> + +<p>The while he watched rising all about some of the finest churches in +Christendom. It was the era of cathedral building in Europe. The +Romanesque style of architecture had reached its highest development +in the very France where he spent his young manhood’s years, and the +Gothic, with its stamp of massive strength, was beginning to +displace its gentler curve. Ten years of such an environment, in a +land teeming with historic traditions, rounded out the man who set +his face toward home, bent on redeeming his people from the unjust +reproach of being mere “barbarians of the North.”</p> + +<p>It was a stricken Denmark to which he came back. Three claimants +were fighting for the crown. The land was laid waste by sea-rovers, +who saw their chance to raid defenceless homes while the men able to +bear arms were following the rival kings. The people had lost hope. +Just when Absalon returned, peace was made between the claimants. +Knud, Svend, and Valdemar, his foster brother of old, divided up the +country between them. They swore a dear oath to keep the pact, but +for all that “the three kingdoms did not last three days.” The +treacherous Svend waited only for a chance to murder both his +rivals, and it came quickly, when he and Valdemar were the guests of +Knud at Roskilde. They had eaten and drunk together and were +gathered in the “Storstue,” the big room of the house, when Knud saw +Svend whispering aside with his men. With a sudden foreboding of +evil, he threw his arms about Valdemar’s shoulders and kissed him. +The young King, who was playing chess with one of his men, looked up +in surprise and asked what it meant. Just then Svend left the hall, +and his henchmen fell upon the two with drawn swords. Knud was cut +down at once, his head cleft in twain. Valdemar upset the table with +the candles and, wrapping his cloak about his arm to ward off the +blows that showered upon him, knocked his assailants right and left +and escaped, badly wounded.</p> + +<p>Absalon came into the room as Knud fell and, thinking it was +Valdemar, caught him in his arms and took his wounded head in his +lap. Sitting there in utter sorrow and despair, heedless of the +tumult that raged in the darkness around him, he felt the King’s +garment and knew that the man who was breathing his last in his arms +was not his friend. He laid the lifeless body down gently and left +the hall. The murderers barred his way, but he brushed their swords +and spears aside and strode forth unharmed. Valdemar had found a +horse and made for Fjenneslev, twenty miles away, with all speed, +and there Absalon met him and his brother Esbern in the morning.</p> + +<p>King Svend sought him high and low to finish his dastardly work, +while on Thing he wailed loudly before the people that Valdemar and +Knud had tried to kill him, showing in proof of it his cloak, which +he had rent with his own sword. But Valdemar’s friends were wide +awake. Esbern flew through the island on his fleet horse in +Valdemar’s clothes, leading his pursuers a merry dance, and when +the young King’s wound was healed, he found him a boat and ferried +him across to the mainland, where the people flocked to his +standard. When Svend would have followed, it was the Lady Inge who +scuttled his ship by night and gave her foster son the start he +needed. There followed a short and sharp struggle that ended on +Grathe Heath with the utter rout of Svend’s forces. He himself was +killed, and Valdemar at last was King of all Denmark.</p> + +<p>From that time the three friends were inseparable as in the old days +when they played about the fields of Fjenneslev. Absalon was the +keeper of the King’s conscience who was not afraid to tell him the +truth when he needed to hear it. And where they were Esbern was +found, never wavering in his loyalty to either. Within a year +Absalon was made bishop of Roskilde, the chief See of Denmark. Saxo +innocently discovers to us King Valdemar’s little ruse to have his +friend chosen. He was yet a very young man, scarce turned thirty, +and had not been considered at all for the vacancy. There were three +candidates, all of powerful families, and, according to +ecclesiastical law, the brethren of the chapter were the electors. +The King went to their meeting and addressed them in person. Nothing +was farther from him, he said, than to wish to interfere with their +proper rights. Each must do as his conscience dictated, unhindered. +And with that he laid on the table <em>four</em> books with blank leaves +and bade them write down their names in them, each for his own +choice, to get the matter right on the record. The brethren thanked +him kindly and all voted “nicely together” for Absalon. So three of +the books were wasted. But presently Saxo found good use for them.</p> + +<p>For now had come the bishop’s chance of putting in practice the +great abbot’s precepts. “Pray and fight” was the motto he had +written into the Knights Templars’ rule, and Absalon had made it his +own. Of what use was it to build up the church at home, when any day +might see it raided by its enemies who were always watching their +chance outside? The Danish waters swarmed with pirates, the very +pagans against whom Abbot Bernard had preached his crusade. Of them +all the Wends were the worst, as they were the most powerful of the +Slav tribes that still resisted the efforts of their neighbors, the +Christian Germans, to dislodge them from their old home on the +Baltic. They lived in the island of Rügen, fairly in sight of the +Danish shores. Every favoring wind blew them across the sea in +shoals to burn and ravage. The Danes, once the terror of the seas, +had given over roving when they accepted the White Christ in +exchange for Thor and his hammer, and now, when they would be at +peace, they were in turn beset by this relentless enemy, who burned +their homes and their crops and dragged the peaceful husbandman away +to make him a thrall or offer him up as a sacrifice to heathen +idols. More than a third of all Denmark lay waste under their +ferocious assault. Here was the blow to be struck if the country was +to have peace and the church prosperity.</p> + +<p>The chance to strike came speedily. Absalon had been bishop only a +few months when, on the evening before Palm Sunday, word was brought +that the enemy had landed, twenty-four ship-crews strong, and were +burning and murdering as usual. Absalon marshalled his eighteen +house-carles and such of the country folk as he could, and fell +upon the Wends, routing them utterly. A bare handful escaped, the +rest were killed, while the bishop lost but a single man. He said +mass next morning, red-handed it is true, but one may well believe +that for all that his Easter message reached hearts filled with a +new, glad hope for their homes and for the country. That was a +bishop they could understand. So the first blow Absalon struck for +his people was at home. But he did not long wait for the enemy to +come to him. Half his long and stirring life he lived on the seas, +seeking them there. Saxo mentions, in speaking of his return from +one of his cruises, that he had then been nine months on shipboard. +And in a way he was shepherding his flock there, if it was with a +scourge; for, many years before, a Danish king had punished the +Wends in their own home and laid their lands under the See of +Roskilde, though little good it did them or any one else then. But +when Absalon had got his grip, there were days when he baptized as +many as a thousand of them into the true faith.</p> + +<p>He was not altogether alone in the stand he took. Here and there, +from very necessity, the people had organized to resist the +invaders, but as no one could tell where they would strike next, +they were not often successful, and fear and discouragement sat +heavy on the land. From his own city of Roskilde a little fleet of +swift sailers under the bold Wedeman had for years waged relentless +war upon the freebooters and had taken four times the number of +their own ships. Their crews were organized into a brotherhood with +vows like an order of fighting monks. Before setting out on a cruise +they were shriven and absolved. Their vows bound them to unceasing +vigilance, to live on the plainest of fare, to sleep on their arms, +ready for instant attack, and to the rescue of Christians, wherever +they were found in captivity. The Roskilde guild became the strong +core of the King’s armaments in his score of campaigns against the +Wends.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was not strange that Valdemar should be of two minds +about venturing to attack so formidable an enemy in his own house. +The nation was cowed and slow to move. In fact, from the first +expedition, that started with 250 vessels, only seven returned with +the standard, keeping up a running fight all the way across the +Baltic with pursuing Wends. The rest had basely deserted. On the +way over, the King, listening to their doubts and fears, turned back +himself once, but Absalon, who always led in the attack and was the +last on the homeward run, overtook him and gave him the talking to +be deserved. Saxo, who was very likely there and heard, for there is +little doubt that he accompanied his master on many of the campaigns +he so vividly describes, gives us a verbatim report of the lecture:</p> + +<p>“What wonder,” said the bishop, “if the words stick in our throats +and are nigh to stifling us, when such grievous dole is ours! Grieve +we must, indeed, to find in you such a turncoat that naught but +dishonor can come of it. You follow where you should lead, and those +you should rule over, you make your peers. There is nothing to stop +us but our own craven souls, hunt as we may for excuses. Is it with +such laurel you would bind your crown? with such high deed you would +consecrate your reign?”</p> + +<p>The King was hard hit, and showed it, but he walked away without a +word. In the night a furious storm swept the sea and kept the fleet +in shelter four whole days, during which Valdemar’s anger had time +to cool. He owned then that Absalon was right, and the friends shook +hands. The King gave order to make sail as soon as the gale abated. +If there was still a small doubt in Absalon’s mind as he turned, on +taking leave, and asked, “What now, if we must turn back once more?” +Valdemar set it at rest:</p> + +<p>“Then you write me from Wendland,” he laughed, “and tell me how +things are there.”</p> + +<p>If little glory or gain came to the Danes from this first +expedition, at least they landed in the enemy’s country and made +reprisal for past tort. The spirit of the people rose and shamed +them for their cowardice. When the King’s summons went round again, +as it did speedily, there were few laggards. Attacked at home, the +Wends lost much of the terror they had inspired. Before many moons, +the chronicle records, the Danes cut their spear-shafts short, that +they might the more handily get at the foe. Scarce a year passed +that did not see one or more of these crusades. Absalon preached +them all, and his ship was ever first in landing. In battle he and +the King fought shoulder to shoulder. In the spring of 1169, he had +at last his wish: the heathen idols were destroyed and their temples +burned.</p> + +<p>The holy city of the Wends, Arcona, stood on a steep cliff, +inaccessible save from the west, where a wall a hundred feet high +defended it. While the sacred banner Stanitza waved over it the +Danes might burn and kill, but the power of Svantevit was unbroken. +Svantevit was the god of gods in whose presence his own priests +dared not so much as breathe. When they had to, they must go to the +door and breathe in the open, a good enough plan if Saxo’s disgust +at the filth of the Wendish homes was justified. Svantevit was a +horrid monster with four heads, and girt about with a huge sword. Up +till then the Christian arms had always been stayed at his door, but +this time the King laid siege to Arcona, determined to make an end +of him. Some of the youngsters in his army, making a mock assault +upon the strong walls, discovered an accidental hollow under the +great tower over which the Stanitza flew and, seizing upon a load of +straw that was handy, stuffed it in and set it on fire. It was done +in a frolic, but when the tower caught fire and was burned and the +holy standard fell, Absalon was quick to see his advantage, and got +the King to order a general assault. The besieged Wends, having no +water, tried to put out the fire with milk, but, says the chronicle, +“it only fed the flames.” They fought desperately till, between fire +and foe, they were seized with panic and, calling loudly upon +Absalon in their extremity, offered to give up their city. The army +clamored for the revenge that was at last within their grasp, and +the King hesitated; but Absalon met the uproar firmly, reminding +them that they had crossed the seas to convert the heathen, not to +sack their towns.</p> + +<p class="p2bot">The city was allowed to surrender and the people were spared, but +Svantevit and his temple were destroyed. A great crowd of his +followers had gathered to see him crush his enemies at the last, and +Absalon cautioned the men who cut the idol down to be careful that +he did not fall on them and so seem to justify their hopes. “He fell +with so great a noise that it was a wonder,” says Saxo, naïvely; +“and in the same moment the fiend ran out of the temple in a black +shape with such speed that no eye could follow him or see where he +went.” Svantevit was dragged out of the town and chopped into bits. +That night he fed the fires of the camp. So fickle is popular favor +that when the crowd saw that nothing happened, they spurned the god +loudly before whom they had grovelled in the dust till then.</p> + +<div class="figcenter illowp70" style="max-width: 43.75em;" id="i-129"> +<img alt="" class="w100" src="images/i-129.jpg"> +<div class="caption"><span class="smcap">Fall of Arcona. The Idol Svantevit destroyed</span></div> +</div> + +<p class="p2">When they heard of Arcona’s fall in the royal city of Karents, they +hastened with offers of surrender, and Absalon went there with a +single ship’s crew to take possession. They were met by 6000 armed +Wends, who guarded the narrow approach to the city. In single file +they walked between the ranks of the enemy, who stood with inverted +spears, watching them in sullen silence. His men feared a trap, but +Absalon strode ahead unmoved. Coming to the temple of their local +god, Rygievit, he attacked him with his axe and bade his guard fall +to, which they did. Saxo has left us a unique description of this +idol that stood behind purple hangings, fashioned of oak “in every +evil and revolting shape. The swallows had made their nests in his +mouths and throats” (there were seven in so many faces) “and filled +him up with all manner of stinking uncleanness. Truly, for such god +was such sacrifice fit.” He had a sword for every one of his seven +faces, buckled about his ample waist, but for all that he went the +way of the others, and even had to put up with the indignity of the +Christian priests standing upon him while he was being dragged out. +That seems to have helped cure his followers of their faith in him. +They delivered the temple treasure into the hands of the King—seven +chests filled with money and valuables, among them a silver cup +which the wretched King Svend had sent to Svantevit as a bribe to +the Wends for joining him against his own country and kin. But those +days were ended. It was the Danes’ turn now, and Wendland was laid +waste until “the swallows found no eaves of any house whereunder to +build their nests and were forced to build them on the ships.” A sad +preliminary to bringing the country under the rule of the Prince of +Peace; but in the scheme of those days the sword was equal partner +with the cross in leading men to the true God.</p> + +<p>The heathen temples were destroyed and churches built on their +sites of the timber gathered for the siege of Arcona. The people, +deserted by their own, accepted the Christians’ God in good faith, +and were baptized in hosts, thirteen hundred on one day and nine +hundred on the next. Three days and nights Absalon saw no sleep. He +did nothing half-way. No sooner was he back home than he sent over +priests and teachers supplied with everything, even food for their +keep, so that they “should not be a burden to the people whom they +had come to show the way to salvation.”</p> + +<p>The Wends were conquered, but the end was not yet. They had savage +neighbors, and many a crusade did Absalon lead against them in the +following years, before the new title of the Danish rulers, “King of +the Slavs and Wends,” was much more than an empty boast. He +organized a regular sea patrol of one-fourth of the available ships, +of which he himself took command, and said mass on board much +oftener than in the Roskilde church. It is the sailor, the warrior, +the leader of men one sees through all the troubled years of his +royal friend’s life. Now the Danish fleet is caught in the inland +sea before Stettin, unable to make its way out, and already the +heathen hosts are shouting their triumph on shore. It is Absalon, +then, who finds the way and, as one would expect, he forces it. The +captains wail over the trap and abuse him for getting them into it. +Absalon, disdaining to answer them, leads his ships in single file +straight for the gap where the Wendish fleet lies waiting, and gets +the King to attack with his horsemen on shore. Between them the +enemy is routed, and the cowards are shamed. But when they come to +make amends, he is as unmoved as ever and will have none of it. +Again, when he is leading his men to the attack on a walled town, a +bridge upon which they crowd breaks, and it is the bishop who saves +his comrades from drowning, swimming ashore with them in full armor.</p> + +<p>Resting in his castle at Haffn, the present Copenhagen, which he +built as a defence against the sea-rovers, he hears, while in his +bath, his men talking of strange ships that are sailing into the +Sound, and, hastily throwing on his clothes, gives chase and kills +their crews, for they were pirates whose business was murder, and +they merely got their deserts. In the pursuit his archers “pinned +the hands of the rowers to the oars with their arrows” and crippled +them, so skilful had much practice made them. Turn the leaf of +Saxo’s chronicle, and we find him under Rügen with his fleet, +protecting the now peaceful Wendish fishermen in their autumn +herring-catch, on which their livelihood depended. Of such stuff was +made the bishop who</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Used his trusty Danish sword</div> + <div class="verse indent0">As the Pope his staff in Rome.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Wherever danger threatens Valdemar and Absalon, Esbern is found, +too, earning the name of the Fleet (Snare), which the people had +fondly given to their favorite. Where the fighting was hardest, he +was sure to be. The King’s son had ventured too far and was caught +in a tight place by an overwhelming force, when Esbern pushed his +ship in between him and the enemy and bore the brunt of a fight that +came near to making an end of him. He had at last only a single man +left, but the two made a stand against a hundred. “When the heathen +saw his face they fled in terror.” At last they knocked him +senseless with a stone and would have killed him, but in the nick of +time the King’s men came to the rescue.</p> + +<p>Coming home from Norway he ran afoul of forty pirate ships under +the coast of Seeland. He tried to steal past; forty against one were +heavy odds. But it was moonlight and he was discovered. The pirates +lay across his course and cut him off. Esbern made ready for a fight +and steered straight into the middle of them. The steersman +complained that he had no armor, and he gave him his own. He beat +his pursuers off again and again, but the wind slackened and they +were closing in once more, swearing by their heathen gods that they +would have him dead or alive, for a Danish prisoner on one of their +ships had told who he was. But Esbern had more than one string to +his bow. He sent a man aloft with flint and steel to strike fire in +the top, and the pirates, believing that he was signalling to a +fleet he had in ambush, fled helter-skelter. Esbern got home safe.</p> + +<p>The German emperors’ fingers had always itched for the over-lordship +of the Danish isles, and they have not ceased to do so to this day. +When Frederick Barbarossa drove Alexander III from Rome and set up a +rival Pope in his place, Archbishop Eskild of Lund, who was the +Primate of the North, championed the exiled Pope’s case, and +Valdemar, whose path the ambitious priest had crossed more than +once, let it be known that he inclined to the Emperor’s cause, in +part probably from mere pique, perhaps also because he thought it +good politics. The archbishop in a rage summoned Absalon and bade +him join him in a rising against the King. Absalon’s answer is +worthy the man and friend:</p> + +<p>“My oath to you I will keep, and in this wise, that I will not +counsel you to your own undoing. Whatever your cause against the +King, war against him you cannot, and succeed. And this know, that +never will I join with you against my liege lord, to whom I have +sworn fealty and friendship with heart and soul all the days of my +life.”</p> + +<p>He could not persuade the archbishop, who went his own way and was +beaten and exiled for a season, nor could he prevent the King from +yielding to the blandishments of Frederick and getting mixed up in +the papal troubles; but he went with him to Germany and saved him at +the last moment from committing himself by making him leave the +church council just as the anti-pope was about to pronounce sentence +of excommunication against Alexander. He commanded Absalon to +remain, as a servant of the church, but Absalon replied calmly that +he was not there in that capacity, but as an attendant on his King, +and must follow where he went. It appeared speedily that the +Emperor’s real object was to get Valdemar to own him as his +over-lord, and this he did, to Absalon’s great grief, on the idle +promise that Frederick would join him in his war upon all the Baltic +pagans. However, it was to be a purely personal matter, in nowise +affecting his descendants. That much was saved, and Absalon lived +long enough to fling back, as the counsellor of Valdemar’s son, from +behind the stout wall he built at Denmark’s southern gate, the +Emperor’s demand for homage, with the reply that “the King ruled in +Denmark with the same right as the Emperor in Germany, and was no +man’s subject.”</p> + +<p>However grievously Absalon had offended the aged archbishop, when +after forty years in his high office illness compelled him to lay it +down, he could find no one so worthy to step into his shoes. He sent +secretly to Rome and got the Pope’s permission to name his own +successor, before he called a meeting of the church. The account of +what followed is the most singular of all Saxo’s stories. Valdemar +did not know what was coming and, fearing fresh trouble, got the +archbishop to swear on the bones of the saints before them all that +he was not moved to abdication by hate of the King, or by any +coercion whatever. Then the venerable priest laid his staff, his +mitre, and his ring on the altar and announced that he had done with +it all forever. But he had made up his mind not to use the power +given him by the Pontiff. They might choose his successor +themselves. He would do nothing to influence their action.</p> + +<p>The bishops and clergy went to the King and asked him if he had any +choice. The King said he had, but if he made it known he would get +no thanks for it and might estrange his best friend. If he did not, +he would certainly be committing a sin. He did not know what to do.</p> + +<p>“Name him,” said they, and Valdemar told them it was the bishop of +Roskilde.</p> + +<p>At that the old archbishop got up and insisted on the election then +and there; but Absalon would have none of it. The burden was too +heavy for his shoulders, he said. However, the clergy seized him, +“being,” says Saxo, who without doubt was one of them, “the more +emboldened to do so as the archbishop himself laid hands upon him +first.” Intoning the hymn sung at archiepiscopal consecrations, they +tried to lead him to the altar. He resisted with all his might and +knocked several of the brethren down. Vestments were torn and +scattered, and a mighty ruction arose, to which the laity, not to be +outdone, added by striking up a hymn of their own. Archbishop and +King tried vainly to make peace; the clamor and battle only rose the +higher. Despite his struggles, Absalon was dragged to the high seat, +but as they were about to force him into it, he asked leave to say a +single word, and instantly appealed his case to the Pope. So there +was an end; but when the aged Eskild, on the plea of weakness, +begged him to pronounce the benediction, he refused warily, because +so he would be exercising archiepiscopal functions and would be <i>de +facto</i> incumbent of the office.<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> + +<p>Here, as always, Absalon thought less of himself than of his +country, so the event showed. For when the Pope heard his plea, +though he decided against him, he allowed him to hold the bishopric +of Roskilde together with the higher office, and so he was left at +Valdemar’s side to help finish their work of building up Denmark +within and without. At Roskilde he spent, as a matter of fact, most +of his time while Valdemar lived. At Lund he would have been in a +distant part of the country, parted from his friend and out of touch +with the things that were the first concern of his life.</p> + +<p>They were preparing to aim a decisive blow against the Pomeranian +pagans when Valdemar died, on the very day set for the sailing. The +parting nearly killed Absalon. Saxo draws a touching picture of him +weeping bitterly as he said the requiem mass over his friend, and +observes: “Who can doubt that his tears, rising with the incense, +gave forth a peculiar and agreeable savour in high heaven before +God?” The plowmen left their fields and carried the bier, with sobs +and lamentations, to the church in Ringsted, where the great King +rests. His sorrow laid Absalon on a long and grievous sick-bed, from +which he rose only when Valdemar’s son needed and called him.</p> + +<p>In the fifteen years that follow we see his old warlike spirit still +unbroken. Thus his defiance of the German Emperor, whose anger was +hot. Frederick, in revenge, persuaded the Pomeranian duke Bugislav +to organize a raid on Denmark with a fleet of five hundred sail. +Scant warning reached Absalon of the danger. King Knud was away, and +there was no time to send for him. Mustering such vessels as were +near, he sailed across the Baltic and met the enemy under Rügen the +day after Whitsuntide (1184). The bishop had gone ashore to say mass +on the beach, when word was brought that the great fleet was in +sight. Hastily pulling off his robe and donning armor instead, he +made for his ship with the words: “Now let our swords sing the +praise of God.” The Pomeranians were taken completely by surprise. +They did not know the Danes were there, and when they heard the +archbishop’s dreaded war-cry raised, they turned and fled in such +terror and haste that eighteen of their ships were run down and sunk +with all on board. On one, a rower hanged himself for fear of +falling into the hands of the Danes. Absalon gave chase, and the +rout became complete. Of the five hundred ships only thirty-five +escaped; all the rest were either sunk or taken. Duke Bugislav soon +after became a vassal of Denmark, and of the Emperor’s plots there +was an end.</p> + +<p>It was the last blow, and the story of it went far and wide. +Absalon’s work was nearly done. Denmark was safe from her enemies. +The people were happy and prosperous. Valdemar’s son ruled +unchallenged, and though he was childless, by his side stood his +brother, a manly youth who, not yet full grown, had already shown +such qualities of courage and sagacious leadership that the old +archbishop could hang up the sword with heart at ease. The promise +was kept. The second Valdemar became Denmark’s royal hero for all +time. Absalon’s last days were devoted to strengthening the Church, +around which he had built such a stout wall. He built churches and +cloisters, and guided them with a wise and firm hand. And he made +Saxo, his clerk, set it all down as an eye-witness of these things, +and as one who came to the task by right; for, says the chronicler, +“have not my grandfather and his father before him served the King +well on land and sea, hence why should not I serve him with my +book-learning?” He bears witness that the bishop himself is his +authority for much that he has written.</p> + +<p>Archbishop Absalon closed his eyes on St. Benedict’s Day, March 21, +1201, in the cloister at Sorö which Sir Asker built and where he +lived his last days in peace. Absalon’s statue of bronze, on +horseback, battle-axe in hand, stands in the market square in +Copenhagen, the city he founded and of which he is the patron saint; +but his body lies within the quiet sanctuary where, in the deep +forest glades, one listens yet for the evensong of the monks, long +silent now. When his grave was opened, in 1826, the lines of his +tall form, clad in clerical robes, were yet clearly traceable. The +strong hands, turned to dust, held a silver chalice in which lay his +episcopal ring. They are there to be seen to-day, with remnants of +his staff that had partly crumbled away. No Dane approaches his +grave without emotion. “All Denmark grieved for him,” says a German +writer of that day, “and commended his soul to Jesus Christ, the +Prince of Peace, for that in his lifetime he had led many who were +enemies to peace and concord.” In his old cathedral, in Roskilde +town, lies Saxo, according to tradition under an unmarked stone. +When he went to rest his friend and master had slept five years.</p> + +<p>Esbern outlived his brother three years. The hero of so many battles +met his death at last by an accidental fall in his own house. The +last we hear of him is at a meeting in the Christmas season, 1187, +where emissaries of Pope Gregory VIII preached a general crusade. +Their hearers wept at the picture they drew of the sufferings +Christians were made to endure in the Holy Land. Then arose Esbern +and reminded them of the great deeds of the fathers at home and +abroad. The faith and the fire of Absalon were in his words:</p> + +<p>“These things they did,” he said, “for the glory of their name and +race, knowing nothing of our holy religion. Shall we, believing, do +less? Let us lay aside our petty quarrels and take up this greater +cause. Let us share the sufferings of the saints and earn their +reward. Perhaps we shall win—God keeps the issue. Let him who +cannot give himself, give of his means. So shall all we, sharing the +promise, share also the reward.”</p> + +<p>The account we have says that many took the cross, such was the +effect of his words, more likely of the man and what he was and had +been in the sight of them all throughout his long life.</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>Footnotes:</h3> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> Pronounced Reeg.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> Pronounced Snare, with a as in are. In the Danish hare +rhymes with snare, so pronounced.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> Pronounced Veethe.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> That all this in no way affected the personal relations +of the two men Saxo assures us in one of the little human touches +with which his chronicle abounds. When Eskild was going away to end +his days as a monk in the monastery of Clairvaux, he rested awhile +with Absalon at his castle Haffn, where he was received as a father. +The old man suffered greatly from cold feet, and Absalon made a box +with many little holes in, and put a hot brick in it. With this at +his feet, Eskild was able to sleep, and he was very grateful to +Absalon, both because of the comfort it gave him and “because that +he perceived that filial piety rather than skill in the healer’s +art” prompted the invention.</p> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="KING_VALDEMAR_AND_THE_STORY_OF_THE_DANNEBROG">KING VALDEMAR, AND THE STORY OF THE DANNEBROG<a id="125"></a></h2> +</div> + +<p>To the court of King Ottocar of Bohemia there came in the year 1205 +a brilliant embassy from far-off Denmark to ask the hand of his +daughter Dragomir for King Valdemar, the young ruler of that +country. Sir Strange<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> Ebbesoen and Bishop Peder Sunesön were the +spokesmen, and many knights, whose fame had travelled far in the +long years of fighting to bring the Baltic pagans under the cross, +rode with them. The old king received them with delight. Valdemar +was not only a good son-in-law for a king to have, being himself a +great and renowned ruler, but he was a splendid knight, tall and +handsome, of most courteous bearing, ambitious, manly, and of ready +wit. So their suit prospered well. The folk-song tells how they +fared; how, according to the custom of those days, Sir Strange +wedded the fair princess by proxy for his lord, and how King +Ottocar, when he bade her good-by, took this promise of her:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">In piety, virtue, and fear of God,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Let all thy days be spent;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And ever thy subjects be thy thought,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Their hopes on thy care be bent.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The daughter kept her vow. Never was queen more beloved of her +people than Dagmar. That was the name they gave her in Denmark, for +the Bohemian Dragomir was strange to them. Dagmar meant daybreak in +their ancient tongue, and it really seemed as if a new and beautiful +day dawned upon the land in her coming. The dry pages of history +have little enough to tell of her beyond the simple fact of her +marriage and untimely death, though they are filled with her famous +husband’s deeds; but not all of his glorious campaigns that earned +for him the name of “The Victor” have sunk so deep into the people’s +memory, or have taken such hold of their hearts, as the lovely queen +who</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Came without burden, she came with peace;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She came the good peasant to cheer.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Through all the centuries the people have sung her praise, and they +sing it yet. Of the many folk-songs that have come down from the +middle ages, those that tell of Queen Dagmar are the sweetest, as +they are the most mournful, for her happiness was as brief as her +life was beautiful.</p> + +<p>They sailed homeward over sunny seas, until they came to the shore +where the royal lover awaited his bride, impatiently scanning the +horizon for the gilded dragon’s head of the ship that bore her. The +minstrel sings of the great wedding that was held in the old city of +Ribe.<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> The gray old cathedral in which they knelt together still +stands; but of Valdemar’s strong castle only a grass-grown hill is +left. It was the privilege of a bride in those days to ask a gift of +her husband on the morning after the wedding, and have it granted +without question. Two boons did Dagmar crave,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="noindent">“right early in the morning, long before it was day”:<br></p> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">one, that the plow-tax might be forgiven the peasant, and that those +who for rising against it had been laid in irons be set free; the +other, that the prison door of Bishop Valdemar be opened. Bishop +Valdemar was the arch-enemy of the King. The first request he +granted; but the other he refused for cause:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">An’ he comes out, Bishop Valdemar,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Widow he makes you this year.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">And he did his worst; for in the end the King yielded to Dagmar’s +prayers, and much mischief came of it.</p> + +<p>Seven years the good queen lived. Seven centuries have not dimmed +the memory of them, or of her. The King was away in a distant part +of the country when they sent to him in haste with the message that +the queen was dying. The ballad tells of his fears as he sees +Dagmar’s page coming, and they proved only too true.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The king his checker-board shut in haste,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The dice they rattled and rung.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Forbid it God, who dwells in heaven,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">That Dagmar should die so young.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">In the wild ride over field and moor, the King left his men far +behind:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">When the king rode out of Skanderborg</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Him followed a hundred men.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But when he rode o’er Ribe bridge,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Then rode the king alone.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The tears of weeping women told him as he thundered over the +drawbridge of the castle that he was too late. But Dagmar had only +swooned. As he throws himself upon her bed she opens her eyes, and +smiles upon her husband. Her last prayer, as her first, is for mercy +and peace. Her sin, she says, is not great; she has done nothing +worse than to lace her silken sleeves on a Sunday. Then she closes +her eyes with a tired sigh:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The bells of heaven are chiming for me;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">No more may I stay to speak.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Thus the folk-song. Long before Dagmar went to her rest, Bishop +Valdemar had stirred up all Germany to wreak his vengeance upon the +King. He was an ambitious, unscrupulous priest, who hated his royal +master because he held himself entitled to the crown, being the +natural son of King Knud, who was murdered at Roskilde, as told in +the story of Absalon. While they were yet young men, when he saw +that the people followed his rival, he set the German princes +against Denmark, a task he never found hard. But young Valdemar made +short work of them. He took the strong cities on the Elbe and laid +the lands of his adversaries under the Danish crown. The bishop he +seized, and threw him into the dungeon of Söborg Castle, where he +had sat thirteen years when Dagmar’s prayers set him free. He could +hardly walk when he came out, but he could hate, and all the world +knew it. The Pope bound him with heavy oaths never to return to +Denmark, and made him come to Italy so that he could keep an eye on +him himself. But two years had not passed before he broke his oath, +and fled to Bremen, where the people elected him to the vacant +archbishopric and its great political power. Forthwith he began +plotting against his native land.</p> + +<p>In the bitter feud between the Guelphs and the Ghibellines he found +his opportunity. One of the rival emperors marched an army north to +help the perjured priest. King Valdemar hastened to meet them, but +on the eve of battle the Emperor was slain by one of his own men. On +Sunday, when the archbishop was saying mass in the Bremen cathedral, +an unknown knight, the visor of whose helmet was closed so that no +one saw his face, strode up to the altar, and laying a papal bull +before him, cried out that he was accursed, and under the ban of the +church. The people fled, and forsaken by all, the wretched man +turned once more to Rome in submission. But though the Pope forgave +him on condition that he meddle no more with politics, war, or +episcopal office, another summer found him wielding sword and lance +against the man he hated, this time under the banner of the Guelphs. +The Germans had made another onset on Denmark, but again King +Valdemar defeated them. The bishop intrenched himself in Hamburg, +and made a desperate resistance, but the King carried the city by +storm. The beaten and hopeless man fled, and shut himself up in a +cloister in Hanover, where daily and nightly he scourged himself for +his sins. If it is true that “hell was fashioned by the souls that +hated,” not all the penance of all the years must have availed to +save him from the torments of the lost.</p> + +<p>Denmark now had peace on its southern border. Dagmar was dead, and +Valdemar, whose restless soul yearned for new worlds to conquer, +turned toward the east where the wild Esthland tribes were guilty of +even worse outrages than the Wends before Absalon tamed them. The +dreadful cruelties practised by these pagans upon christian captives +cried aloud to all civilized Europe, and Valdemar took the cross +“for the honor of the Virgin Mary and the absolution of his sins,” +and gathered a mighty fleet, the greatest ever assembled in Danish +waters. With more than a thousand ships he sailed across the Baltic. +The Pope sped them with his apostolic blessing, and took king and +people into his especial care, forbidding any one to attack the +country while they were away converting the heathen. Archbishop +Anders led the crusade with the king. As the fleet approached the +shore they saw it covered with an innumerable host of the enemy. So +great was their multitude that the crusaders quailed before the +peril of landing; but the archbishop put heart into them, and led +the fleet in fervent prayer to the God of battle. Then they landed +without hindrance.</p> + +<p>There was an old stronghold there called Lyndanissa that had fallen +into decay. The crusaders busied themselves for two days with +building another and better fort. On the third day, being St. Vitus’ +Day, they rested, fearing no harm. The Esthlanders had not troubled +them. Some of their chiefs had even come in with an offer of +surrender. They were willing to be converted, they said, and the +priests were baptizing them after vespers, while the camp was making +ready for the night, when suddenly the air was filled with the yells +of countless savages. On every side they broke from the woods, where +they had been gathering unsuspected, and overwhelmed the camp. The +guards were hewn down, the outposts taken, and the King’s men were +falling back in confusion, their standard lost, when Prince Vitislav +of Rügen who had been camping with his men in a hollow between the +sand-hills, out of the line of attack, threw himself between them +and the Esthlanders, and gave the Danes time to form their lines.</p> + +<p>In the twilight of the June evening the battle raged with great +fury. With the King at their head, who had led them to victory on so +many hard-fought fields, the Danes drove back their savage foes time +after time, literally hewing their way through their ranks with +sword and battle-axe. But they were hopelessly outnumbered. Their +hearts misgave them as they saw ten heathen spring out of the ground +for every one that was felled. The struggle grew fiercer as night +came on. The Christians were fighting for life; defeat meant that +they must perish to a man, by the sword or upon pagan altars; escape +there was none. Upon the cliff overlooking the battle-field the +archbishop and his priests were praying for success to the King’s +arms. Tradition that has been busy with this great battle all +through the ages tells how, while the aged bishop’s hands were +raised toward heaven, victory leaned to the Danes; but when he grew +tired, and let them fall, the heathen won forward, until the priests +held up his hands and once more the tide of battle rolled back from +the shore, and the Christian war-cry rose higher.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, in the clash of steel upon steel and the wild tumult of +the conflict, there arose a great and wondering cry “the banner! the +banner! a miracle!” and Christian and pagan paused to listen. Out of +the sky, as it seemed, over against the hill upon which the priests +knelt, a blood-red banner with a great white cross was seen falling +into the ranks of the Christian knights, and a voice resounded over +the battle-field, “Bear this high, and victory shall be yours.” With +the exultant cry, “For God and the King,” the crusaders seized it, +and charged the foe. Terror-stricken, the Esthlanders wavered, then +turned, and fled. The battle became a massacre. Thousands were +slain. The chronicles say that the dead lay piled fathom-high on the +field that ran red with blood. Upon it, when the pursuit was over, +Valdemar knelt with his men, and they bowed their heads in +thanksgiving, while the venerable archbishop gave praise to God for +the victory.</p> + +<p>That is the story of the Dannebrog which has been the flag of the +Danes seven hundred years. Whether the archbishop had brought it +with him intending to present it to King Valdemar, and threw it down +among the fighting hordes in the moment of extreme peril, or +whether, as some think, the Pope himself had sent it to the +crusaders with a happy inspiration, the fact remains that it came to +the Danes in this great battle, and on the very day which, fifty +years before, had seen the fall of Arcona, and the end of +idol-worship among the western Slavs. Three hundred years the +standard flew over the Danes fighting on land and sea. Then it was +lost in a campaign against the Holstein counts and, when recovered +half a century later, was hung up in the cathedral at Slesvig, +where gradually it fell to pieces. In the first half of the +Nineteenth Century, when national feeling and national pride were at +their lowest ebb, it was taken down with other moth-eaten old +banners, one day when they were cleaning up, and somebody made a +bonfire of them in the street. Such was the fate of “the flag that +fell from heaven,” the sacred standard of the Danes. But it was not +the end of it. The Dannebrog flies yet over the Denmark of the +Valdemars, no longer great as then, it is true, nor master of its +ancient foes; but the world salutes it with respect, for there was +never blot of tyranny or treason upon it, and its sons own it with +pride wherever they go.</p> + +<p>King Valdemar knighted five and thirty of his brave men on the +battle-field, and from that day the Order of the Dannebrog is said +to date. It bears upon a white crusader’s cross the slogan of the +great fight “For God and the King,” and on its reverse the date when +it was won, “June 15, 1219.” The back of paganism was broken that +day, and the conversion of all Esthland followed soon. King Valdemar +built the castle he had begun before he sailed home, and called it +Reval, after one of the neighboring tribes. The Russian city of that +name grew up about it and about the church which Archbishop Anders +reared. The Dannebrog became its arms, and its people call it to +this day “the city of the Danes.”</p> + +<p>Denmark was now at the height of her glory. Her flag flew over all +the once hostile lands to the south and east, clear into Russia. The +Baltic was a Danish inland sea. King Valdemar was named “Victor” +with cause. His enemies feared him; his people adored him. In a +single night foul treachery laid the whole splendid structure low. +The King and young Valdemar, Dagmar’s son, with a small suite of +retainers had spent the day hunting on the little island of Lyö. +Count Henrik of Schwerin,—the Black Count they called him,—who had +just returned from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, was his guest. The +count hated Valdemar bitterly for some real or fancied injury, but +he hid his hatred under a friendly bearing and smooth speech. He +brought the King gifts from the Holy Sepulchre, hunted with him, and +was his friend. But by night, when the King and his son slept in +their tent, unguarded, since no enemy was thought to be near, he +fell upon them with his cutthroats, bound and gagged them despite +their struggles, and gathering up all the valuables that lay around, +to put the finishing touch upon his villainy, fled with his +prisoners “in great haste and fear,” while the King’s men slept. +When they awoke, and tried to follow, they found their ships +scuttled. The count’s boat had been lying under sail all day, hidden +in a sheltered cove, awaiting his summons.</p> + +<p>Germany at last had the lion and its whelp in her grasp. In chains +and fetters they were dragged from one dungeon to another. The +traitors dared not trust them long in any city, however strong. The +German Emperor shook his fist at Count Henrik, but secretly he was +glad. He would have liked nothing better than to have the precious +spoil in his own power. The Pope thundered in Rome and hurled his +ban at the thugs. But the Black Count’s conscience was as swarthy as +his countenance; and besides, had he not just been to the Holy Land, +and thereby washed himself clean of all his sins, past and present?</p> + +<p>Behind prison walls, comforted only by Dagmar’s son, sat the King, +growing old and gray with anger and grief. Denmark lay prostrate +under the sudden blow, while her enemies rose on every side. Day by +day word came of outbreaks in the conquered provinces. The people +did not know which way to turn; the strong hand that held the helm +was gone, and the ship drifted, the prey of every ill wind. It was +as if all that had been won by sixty years of victories and +sacrifice fell away in one brief season. The forests filled with +out-laws; neither peasant nor wayfarer, nor yet monk or nun in their +quiet retreat, was safe from outrage; and pirates swarmed again in +bay and sound, where for two generations there had been peace. The +twice-perjured Bishop Valdemar left his cloister cell once more and +girt on the sword, to take the kingdom he coveted by storm.</p> + +<p>He was met by King Valdemar’s kinsman and friend, Albert of +Orlamunde, who hastened to the frontier with all the men he could +gather. They halted him with a treaty of peace that offered to set +Valdemar free if he would take his kingdom as a fief of the German +crown. He, Albert, so it was written, was to keep all his lands and +more, would he but sign it. He did not stop to hear the rest, but +slashed the parchment into ribbons with his sword, and ordered an +instant advance. The bishop he made short work of, and he was heard +of no more. But in the battle with the German princes Albert was +defeated and taken prisoner. The door of King Valdemar’s dungeon was +opened only to let his friend in.</p> + +<p>After two years and a half in chains, Valdemar was ransomed by his +people with a great sum of gold. The Danish women gave their rings +and their jewels to bring back their king. They flocked about him +when he returned, and received him like the conqueror of old; but he +rode among them gray and stern, and his thoughts were far away.</p> + +<p>They had made him swear on oath upon the sacrament, and all +Denmark’s bishops with him, before they set him free, that he would +not seek revenge. But once he was back in his own, he sent to Pope +Gregory, asking him to loose him from an oath wrung from him while +he was helpless in the power of bandits. And the Pope responded that +to keep faith with traitors was no man’s duty. Then back he rode +over the River Eider into the enemy’s land—for they had stripped +Denmark of all her hard-won possessions south of the ancient border +of the kingdom, except Esthland and Rügen—and with him went every +man who could bear arms in all the nation. He crushed the Black +Count who tried to block his way, and at Bornhöved met the German +allies who had gathered from far and near to give him battle. Well +they knew that if Valdemar won, the reckoning would be terrible. All +day they fought, and victory seemed to lean toward the Danes, when +the base Holsteiners, the Danish rear-guard whom the enemy had +bought to betray their king, turned their spears upon his army, and +decided the day. The battle ended in utter rout of Valdemar’s +forces. Four thousand Danish men were slain. The King himself fell +wounded on the field, his eye pierced by an arrow, and would have +fallen into the hands of the enemy once more but for an unknown +German knight, who took him upon his horse and bore him in the night +over unfrequented paths to Kiel, where he was safe.</p> + +<p>“But all men said that this great hurt befell the King because that +he brake the oath he swore upon the sacred body of the Lord.”</p> + +<p>The wars of Valdemar were over, but his sorrows were not. Four years +later the crushing blow fell when Dagmar’s son, who was crowned king +to succeed him, lost his life while hunting. With him, says the +folk-song, died the hope of Denmark. The King had other sons, but to +Dagmar’s boy the people had given their love from the first, as they +had to his gentle mother. The old King and his people grieved +together.</p> + +<p>But Valdemar rose above his sorrows. Great as he had been in the +days of victory, he was greater still in adversity. The country was +torn by the wars of three-score years, and in need of rest. He gave +his last days to healing the wounds the sword had struck. Valdemar, +the Victor, became Valdemar, the Law-giver. The laws of the country +had hitherto made themselves. They were the outgrowths of the +people’s ancient customs, passed down by word of mouth through the +generations, and confirmed on Thing from time to time. King +Valdemar gave Denmark her first written laws that judged between +man and man, in at least one of her provinces clear down into our +day. “With law shall land be built” begins his code. “The law,” it +says, “must be honest, just, reasonable, and according to the ways +of the people. It must meet their needs, and speak plainly so that +all men may know and understand what the law is. It is not to be +made in any man’s favor, but for the needs of all them who live in +the land.” That is its purpose, and “no man shall judge (condemn) +the law which the King has given and the country chosen; neither +shall he (the King) take it back without the will of the people.” +That tells the story of Valdemar’s day, and of the people who are so +near of kin with ourselves. They were not sovereign and subjects; +they were a chosen king and a free people, working together “with +law land to build.”</p> + +<p>King Valdemar was married twice. The folk-song represents Dagmar as +urging the King with her dying breath</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>“that Bengerd, my lord, that base bad dame you never to wife will take.”</p> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">Bengerd, or Berengaria, was a Portuguese princess whom Valdemar +married in spite of the warning, two years later. As the people had +loved the fair Dagmar, so they hated the proud Southern beauty, +whether with reason or not. The story of her “morning gift,” as it +has come down to us through the mists of time, is very different +from the other. She asks the King, so the ballad has it, to give her +Samsö, a great and fertile island, and “a golden crown<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> for every +maid,” but he tells her not to be quite so greedy:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>There be full many an honest maid with not dry bread to eat.<br></p> +</div> + +<p>Undismayed, Bengerd objects that Danish women have no business to +wear silken gowns, and that a good horse is not for a peasant lad. +The King replies patiently that what a woman can buy she may wear +for him, and that he will not take the lad’s horse if he can feed +it. Bengerd is not satisfied. “Let bar the land with iron chains” is +her next proposal, that neither man nor woman enter it without +paying tax. Her husband says scornfully that Danish kings have never +had need of such measures, and never will. He is plainly getting +bored, and when she keeps it up, and begrudges the husbandman more +than “two oxen and a cow,” he loses his temper, and presumably there +is a matrimonial tiff. Very likely most of this is fiction, bred of +the popular prejudice. The King loved her, that is certain. She was +a beautiful high-spirited woman, so beautiful that many hundreds of +years after, when her grave was opened, the delicate oval of her +skull excited admiration yet. But the people hated her. Twenty +generations after her death it was their custom when passing her +grave to spit on it with the exclamation “Out upon thee, Bengerd! +God bless the King of Denmark”; for in good or evil days they never +wavered in their love and admiration for the king who was a son of +the first Valdemar, and the heir of his greatness and of that of the +sainted Absalon. Tradition has it that Bengerd was killed in battle, +having gone with her husband on one of his campaigns. “It was not +heard in any place,” says the folk-song wickedly, “that any one +grieved for her.” But the King mourned for his beautiful queen to +the end of his days.</p> + +<p>Bengerd bore Valdemar three sons upon whom he lavished all the +affection of his lonely old age. Erik he chose as his successor, and +to keep his brothers loyal to him he gave them great fiefs and thus, +unknowing, brought on the very trouble he sought to avoid, and set +his foot on the path that led to Denmark’s dismemberment after +centuries of bloody wars. For to his second son Abel he gave +Slesvig, and Abel, when his brother became king, sought alliance +with the Holstein count Adolf,<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> the very one who had led the +Germans at the fatal battle of Bornhöved. The result was a war +between the brothers that raged seven years, and laid waste the +land. Worse was to follow, for Abel was only “Abel in name, but Cain +in deed.” But happily the old King’s eyes were closed then, and he +was spared the sight of one brother murdering the other for the +kingdom.</p> + +<p>Some foreboding of this seems to have troubled him in his last +years. It is related that once when he was mounting his horse to go +hunting he fell into a deep reverie, and remained standing with his +foot in the stirrup a long time, while his men wondered, not daring +to disturb him. At last one of them went to remind him that the sun +was low in the west. The King awoke from his dream, and bade him go +at once to a wise old hermit who lived in a distant part of the +country. “Ask him,” he said, “what King Valdemar was thinking of +just now, and bring me his answer.” The knight went away on his +strange errand, and found the hermit. And this was the message he +brought back: “Your lord and master pondered as he stood by his +horse, how his sons would fare when he was dead. Tell him that war +and discord they shall have, but kings they will all be.” When the +King heard the prophecy he was troubled in mind, and called his sons +and all his great knights to a council at which he pleaded with them +to keep the peace. But though they promised, he was barely in his +grave when riot and bloodshed filled the land. The climax was +reached when Abel inveigled his brother to his home with fair words +and, once he had him in his power, seized him and gave him over to +his men to do with “as they pleased.” They understood their master +only too well, and took King Erik out on the fjord in an open boat, +and killed him there, scarce giving him time to say his prayers. +They weighted his body with his helmet, and sank it in the deep.</p> + +<p>Abel made oath with four and twenty of his men that he was innocent +of his brother’s blood, and took the crown after him. But the foul +crime was soon avenged. Within a few years he was himself slain by a +peasant in a rising of his own people. For a while his body lay +unburied, the prey of beast and bird, and when it was interred in +the Slesvig cathedral there was no rest for it. “Such turmoil arose +in the church by night that the monks could not chant their vigils,” +and in the end they took him out, and buried him in a swamp, with a +stake driven through the heart to lay his ghost. But clear down to +our time when people ceased to believe in ghosts, the fratricide was +seen at night hunting through the woods, coal-black and on a white +horse, with three fiery dogs trailing after; and blue flames burned +over the sea where they vanished. That was how the superstition of +the people judged the man whom the nobles and the priests made +king, red-handed.</p> + +<p>Christopher, the youngest of the three brothers, was king last. His +end was no better than that of the rest. Indeed, it was worse. +Hardly yet forty years old, he died—poisoned, it was said, by the +Abbot Arnfast, in the sacrament as he knelt at the altar-rail in the +Ribe cathedral. He was buried in the chancel where the penitents +going to the altar walk over his grave. So, of all Valdemar’s four +sons, not one died a peaceful, natural death. But kings they all +were.</p> + +<p>Valdemar was laid in Ringsted with his great father. He sleeps +between his two queens. Dagmar’s grave was disturbed in the late +middle ages by unknown vandals, and the remains of Denmark’s +best-loved queen were scattered. Only a golden cross, which she had +worn in life, somehow escaped, and found its way in course of time +into the museum of antiquities at Copenhagen, where it now is, its +chief and priceless treasure. There also is a braid of Queen +Bengerd’s hair that was found when her grave was opened in 1855. The +people’s hate had followed her even there, and would not let her +rest. The slab that covered her tomb had been pried off, and a round +stone dropped into the place made for her head. Otherwise her grave +was undisturbed.</p> + +<p>“Truly then fell the crown from the heads of Danish men,” says the +old chronicle of King Valdemar’s death, and black clouds were +gathering ominously even then over the land. But in storm and +stress, as in days that were fair, the Danish people have clung +loyally to the memory of their beloved King and of his sweet Dagmar.</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>Footnotes:</h3> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> Pronounced as Strangle, with the l left out.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> Pronounced Reebe, in two syllables.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> A coin, probably.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> That was the beginning of the Slesvig-Holstein question +that troubled Europe to our day; for the fashion set by Abel other +rulers of his dukedom followed, and by degrees Slesvig came to be +reckoned with the German duchies, whereas up till then it had always +been South-Jutland, a part of Denmark proper.</p> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="HOW_THE_GHOST_OF_THE_HEATH_WAS_LAID">HOW THE GHOST OF THE HEATH WAS LAID<a id="153"></a></h2> +</div> + +<p class="p2bot">On the map of Europe the mainland of Denmark looks like a beckoning +finger pointing due north and ending in a narrow sand-reef, upon +which the waves of the North Sea and of the Kattegat break with +unceasing clamor and strife. The heart of the peninsula, quite +one-fourth of its area, was fifty years ago a desert, a barren, +melancholy waste, where the only sign of life encountered by the +hunter, gunning for heath-fowl and plover, was a rare shepherd +tending a few lonesome sheep, and knitting mechanically on his +endless stocking. The two, the lean sheep and the long stocking, +together comprised the only industries which the heath afforded and +was thought capable of sustaining. A great change has taken place +within the span of a single life, and it is all due to the clear +sight and patient devotion of one strong man, the Gifford Pinchot of +Denmark. The story of that unique achievement reads like the tale +of the Sleeping Beauty who was roused from her hundred years’ sleep +by the kiss of her lover prince. The prince who awoke the slumbering +heath was a captain of engineers, Enrico Dalgas by name.</p> + +<div class="figcenter illowp70" style="max-width: 43.75em;" id="i-179"> +<img alt="" class="w100" src="images/i-179.jpg"> +<div class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Heath as it was Fifty Years ago</span></div> +</div> + +<p class="p2">Not altogether fanciful is the conceit. Barren, black, and desolate, +the great moor gripped the imagination as no smiling landscape of +field and forest could—does yet, where enough of it remains. Far as +eye reaches the dun heather covers hill and plain with its sombre +pall. Like gloomy sentinels, furry cattails nod in the bog where the +blue gentian peeps timidly into murky pools; the only human +habitation in sight some heath boer’s ling-thatched hut, flanked by +rows of peat stacks in vain endeavor to stay the sweep of the +pitiless west wind. On the barrows where the vikings sleep their +long sleep, the plover pipes its melancholy lay; between steep banks +a furtive brook steals swiftly by as if anxious to escape from the +universal blight. Over it all broods the silence of the desert, +drowsy with the hum of many bees winging their swift way to the +secret feeding-places they know of, where mayflower and anemone hide +under the heather, witness that forests grew here in the long ago. +In midsummer, when the purple is on the broom, a strange pageant +moves on the dim horizon, a shifting mirage of sea and shore, +forest, lake, and islands lying high, with ships and castles and +spires of distant churches—the witchery of the heath that speaks in +the tales and superstitions of its simple people. High in the blue +soars the lark, singing its song of home and hope to its nesting +mate. This is the heath which, denying to the hardest toil all but +the barest living, has given of its poetry to the Danish tongue some +of its sweetest songs.</p> + +<p>But in this busy world day-dreams must make way for the things that +make the day count, castles in the air to homes upon the soil. The +heath had known such in the dim past. It had not always been a +desert. The numberless cairns that lie scattered over it, sometimes +strung out for miles as if marking the highways of the ancients, +which they doubtless do, sometimes grouped where their villages +stood, bear witness to it. Great battles account for their share, +and some of them were fought in historic times. On Grathe Heath the +young King Valdemar overcame his treacherous rival Svend. Alone and +hunted, the beaten man sought refuge, Saxo tells us, behind a stump, +where he was found and slain by one of the King’s axemen. A chapel +was built on the spot. More than seven centuries later (in 1892) +they dug there, and found the bones of a man with skull split in +two.</p> + +<p>The stump behind which the wretched Svend hid was probably the last +representative of great forests that grew where now is sterile moor. +In the bogs trunks of oak and fir are found lying as they fell +centuries ago. The local names preserve the tradition, with here and +there patches of scrub oak that hug the ground close, to escape the +blast from the North Sea. There is one such thicket near the hamlet +of Taulund—the name itself tells of long-forgotten groves—and the +story runs among the people yet that once squirrels jumped from tree +to tree without touching ground all the way from Taulund to +Gjellerup church, a stretch of more than five miles to which the +wild things of the woods have long been strangers. In the shelter of +the old forests men dwelt through ages, and made the land yield them +a living. Some cairns that have been explored span over more than a +thousand years. They were built in the stone age, and served the +people of the bronze and iron ages successively as burial-places, +doubtless the same tribes who thus occupied their homesteads from +generation to generation. That they were farmers, not nomads, is +proved by the clear impression of grains of wheat and barley in +their burial urns. The seeds strayed into the clay and were burned +away, but the impression abides, and tells the story.</p> + +<p>Clear down to historic times there was a thrifty population in many +of the now barren spots. But a change was slowly creeping over the +landscape. The country was torn by long and bloody wars. The big men +fought for the land and the little ones paid the score, as they +always do. They were hunted from house and home. Next the wild +hordes of the Holstein counts overran Jutland. Its towns were +burned, the country laid waste. Great fires swept the forests. What +ravaging armies had left was burned in the smelteries. In the sandy +crust of the heath there is iron, and swords and spears were the +grim need of that day. The smelteries are only names now. They +went, but they took the forests with them, and where the ground was +cleared the west wind broke through, and ruin followed fast. Last of +all came the Black Death, and set its seal of desolation upon it +all. When it had passed, the country was a huge graveyard. The heath +had moved in. Rovers and smugglers found refuge there; honest folk +shunned it. Under the heather the old landmarks are sometimes found +yet, and deep ruts made by wheels that long since ceased to turn.</p> + +<p>In the Eighteenth Century men began to think of reclamation. A +thousand German colonists were called in and settled on the heath, +but it was stronger than they, and they drifted away until scarce +half a hundred families remained. The Government tried its hand, but +there was no one who knew just how, and only discouragement +resulted. Then came the war with Germany in 1864, that lost to +Denmark a third of her territory. The country lay prostrate under +the crushing blow. But it rose above defeat and disaster, and once +more expectant eyes were turned toward the ancient domain that had +slipped from its grasp. “What was lost without must be won within” +became the national slogan. And this time the man for the task was +at hand.</p> + +<p>Enrico Mylius Dalgas was by the accident of birth an Italian, his +father being the Danish consul in Naples; by descent a Frenchman; by +choice and training a Dane, typical of the best in that people. He +came of the Huguenot stock that left France after the repeal of the +Edict of Nantes in 1685 and scattered over Europe, to the great good +of every land in which it settled. They had been tillers of the soil +from the beginning, and at least two of the family, who found homes +in Denmark, made in their day notable contributions to the cause of +advanced, sensible husbandry. Enrico’s father, though a merchant, +had an open eye for the interests which in later years claimed the +son’s life-work. In the diary of a journey through Sweden he makes +indignant comment upon the reckless way in which the people of that +country dealt with their forests. That he was also a man of +resolution is shown by an incident of the time when Jew-baiting was +having its sorry day in Denmark. An innkeeper mistook the +dark-skinned little man for a Jew, and set before him a spoiled +ham, retorting contemptuously, when protest was made, that it was +“good enough for a Sheeny.” Without further parley Mr. Dalgas seized +the hot ham by its shank and beat the fellow with it till he cried +for mercy. The son tells of the first school he attended, when he +was but five years old. It was kept by the widow of one of +Napoleon’s generals, a militant lady who every morning marshalled +the school, a Lilliputian army with the teachers flanking the line +like beardless sergeants in stays and petticoats, and distributed +rewards and punishments as the great Emperor was wont to do after a +battle. For the dunces there was a corner strewn with dried peas on +which they were made to kneel with long-eared donkey caps adorning +their luckless heads. Very likely it was after an insult of this +kind that Enrico decided to elope to America with his baby sister. +They were found down by the harbor bargaining with some fishermen to +take them over to Capri <i>en route</i> for the land of freedom. The +elder Dalgas died while the children were yet little, and the widow +went back to Denmark to bring up her boys there.</p> + +<p>They were poor, and the change from the genial skies of sunny Italy +to the bleak North did not make it any easier for them. Enrico’s +teacher saw it, and gave him his overcoat to be made over. But the +boys spotted it and squared accounts with their teacher by +snowballing the wearer of the big green plaid until he was glad to +leave it at home, and go without. He was in the military school when +war broke out with Germany in 1848. Both of his brothers +volunteered, and fell in battle. Enrico was ordered out as +lieutenant, and put on the shoulder-straps joyfully, to the great +scandal of his godfather in Milan, who sympathized with the German +cause. When the young soldier refused to resign he not only cut him +off in his will, but took away a pension of four hundred kroner he +had given his mother in her widowhood. If he had thoughts of +bringing them over by such means, he found out his mistake. Mother +and son were made of sterner stuff. Dalgas fought twice for his +country, the last time in 1864, as a captain of engineers.</p> + +<p>It was no ordinary class, the one of 1851 that resumed its studies +in the military high school. Two of the students did not answer +roll-call; their names were written among the nation’s heroic dead. +Some had scars and wore the cross for valor in battle. All were +first lieutenants, to be graduated as captains. Dalgas had himself +transferred from the artillery to the engineers, and was detailed as +road inspector. So the opportunity of his life came to him.</p> + +<p>There were few railways in those days; the highways were still the +great arteries of traffic. Dalgas built roads that crossed the +heath, and he learned to know it and the strong and independent, if +narrow, people who clung to it with such a tenacious grip. He had a +natural liking for practical geology and for the chemistry of the +soil, and the deep cuts which his roads sometimes made gave him the +best of chances for following his bent. The heath lay as an open +book before him, and he studied it with delight. He found the traces +of the old forests, and noted their extent. Occasionally the pickaxe +uncovered peat deposits of unsuspected depth and value. Sometimes +the line led across the lean fields, and damages had to be discussed +and assessed. He learned the point of view of the heath farmer, +sympathized with his struggles, and gained his confidence. Best of +all, he found a man of his own mind, a lawyer by the name of +Morville, himself a descendant of the exiled Huguenots. It is not a +little curious that when the way was cleared for the Heath Society’s +great work, in its formal organization with M. Mourier-Petersen, a +large landowner, as their associate in its management, the three men +who for a quarter of a century planned the work and marked out the +groove in which it was to run were all of that strong stock which is +by no means the most common in Denmark.</p> + +<p>With his lawyer friend Captain Dalgas tramped the heath far and wide +for ten years. Then their talks had matured a plan. Dalgas wrote to +the Copenhagen newspapers that the heath could be reclaimed, and +suggested that it should be done by the State. They laughed at him. +“Nothing better could have happened,” he said in after years, “for +it made us turn to the people themselves, and that was the road to +success, though we did not know it.” In the spring of 1866 a hundred +men, little and big landowners most of them, met at his call, and +organized the Heath Society<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> with the object of reclaiming the +moor. Dalgas became its managing director.</p> + +<p>To restore to the treeless waste its forest growth was the +fundamental idea, for until that was done nothing but the heather +could grow there. The west wind would not let it. But the heath +farmer shook his head. It would cost too much, and give too little +back. What he needed was water and marl. Could the captain help them +to these?—that was another matter. The little streams that found +their way into the heath and lost it there, dire need had taught +them to turn to use in their fields; not a drop escaped. But the +river that ran between deep banks was beyond their reach. Could he +show them how to harness that? Dalgas saw their point. “We are +working, not for the dead soil, but for the living men who find +homes upon it,” he told his associates, and tree planting was put +aside for the time. They turned canal diggers instead. Irrigation +became their aim and task; the engineer was in his right place. The +water was raised from the stream and led out upon the moor, and +presently grass grew in the sand which the wiry stems of the heather +had clutched so long. Green meadows lined the water-runs, and +fragrant haystacks rose. To the lean sheep was added a cow, then +two. The farmer laid by a little, and took in more land for +cultivation. That meant breaking the heath. Also, it meant marl. The +heath is lime-poor; marl is lime in the exact form in which it best +fits that sandy soil. It was known to exist in some favored spots, +but the poor heath farmer could not bring it from a distance. So the +marl borer went with the canal digger. Into every acre he drove his +auger, and mapped out his discoveries. At last accounts he had found +marl in more than seventeen hundred places, and he is not done yet. +Where there was none, Dalgas’s Society built portable railways into +the moor far enough to bring it to nearly every farmer’s door.</p> + +<p>It was as if a magic wand had been waved over the heath. With water +and marl, the means were at hand for fighting it and winning out. +Heads that had drooped in discouragement were raised. The cattle +keep increased, and with it came the farmer’s wealth. Marl changes +the character of the heath soil; with manure to fertilize it there +was no reason why it should not grow crops—none, except the +withering blast of the west wind. The time for Dalgas to preach tree +planting had come.</p> + +<p>While the canal digger and marl seeker were at work, there had been +neighborhood meetings and talks at which Captain Dalgas did the +talking. When he spoke the heath boer listened, for he had learned +to look upon him as one of them. He wore no gold lace. A plain man +in every day gray tweeds, with his trousers tucked into his boots, +he spoke to plain people of things that concerned them vitally, and +in a way they could understand. So when he told them that the heath +had once been forest-clad, at least a large part of it, and pointed +them to the proofs, and that the woods could be made to grow again +to give them timber and shelter and crops, they gave heed. It was +worth trying at any rate. The shelter was the immediate thing. They +began planting hedges about their homesteads; not always wisely, for +it is not every tree that will grow in the heath. The wind whipped +and wore them, the ahl cramped their roots, and they died. The ahl +is the rusty-red crust that forms under the heather in the course of +the ages where the desert rules. Sometimes it is a loose sandstone +formation; sometimes it carries as much as twenty per cent of iron +that is absorbed from the upper layers of the sand. In any case, it +must be broken through; no tree root can do it. The ahl, the poverty +of the sand, and the wind, together make the “evil genius” of the +heath that had won until then in the century-old fight with man. But +this time he had backing, and was not minded to give up. The Heath +Society was there to counsel, to aid. And soon the hedges took hold, +and gardens grew in their shelter. There is hardly a farm in all +west Jutland to-day that has not one, even if the moor waits just +beyond the gate.</p> + +<p>Out in the desert the Society had made a beginning with plantations +of Norway spruce. They took root, but the heather soon overwhelmed +the young plants. Not without a fight would this enemy let go its +grip upon the land. It had smothered the hardy Scotch pine in days +past, and now the spruce was in peril. Searching high and low for +something that would grow fast and grow green, Dalgas and his +associates planted dwarf pine with the spruce. Strangely, it not +only grew itself, but proved to be a real nurse for the other. The +spruce took a fresh start, and they grew vigorously together—for a +while. Then the pine outstripped its nursling, and threatened to +smother it. The spruce was the more valuable; the other was at best +little more than a shrub. The croaker raised his voice: the black +heath had turned green, but it was still heath, of no value to any +one, then or ever.</p> + +<p>He had not reckoned with Dalgas. The captain of engineers could use +the axe as well as the spade. He cut the dwarf pine out wherever the +spruce had got its grip, and gave it light and air. And it grew big +and beautiful. The Heath Society has now over nineteen hundred +plantations that cover nearly a hundred thousand acres, and the +State and private individuals, inspired by the example it set, have +planted almost as large an area. The ghost of the heath has been +laid for all time.</p> + +<p>Go now across the heath and see the change forty years have wrought. +You shall seek in vain the lonely shepherd with his stocking. The +stocking has grown into an organized industry. In grandfather’s day +the farmer and his household “knitted for the taxes”; if all hands +made enough in the twelvemonth to pay the tax-gatherer, they had +done well. Last year the single county of Hammerum, of which more +below, sold machine-made underwear to the value of over a million +and a half kroner. The sheep are there, but no longer lean; no more +the ling-thatched hut, but prosperous farms backed by thrifty +groves, with hollyhock and marigold in the dooryards, heaps of gray +marl in the fields, tiny rivulets of water singing the doom of the +heath in the sand; for where it comes the heather moves out. A +resolute, thrifty peasantry looks hopefully forward. Not all of the +heath is conquered yet. Roughly speaking, thirty-three hundred +square miles of heath confronted Dalgas in 1866. Just about a +thousand remain for those who come after to wrestle with; but +already voices are raised pleading that some of it be preserved +untouched for its natural beauty, while yet it is time.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the plow goes over fresh acres every year—once, twice, +then a deeper plowing, this time to break the stony crust, and the +heath is ready for its human mission. From the Society’s nurseries +that are scattered through the country come thousands of tiny +trees, and are set out in the furrows, two of the spruce for each +dwarf pine till the nurse has done her work. Then she is turned into +charcoal, into tar, and a score of other things of use. The men who +do the planting in summer find chopping to do in winter in the older +plantations, at good wages. Money is flowing into the moor in the +wake of the water and the marl. Roads are being made, and every day +the mail-carrier comes. In the olden time a stranger straying into +the heath often brought the first news of the world without for +weeks together. Game is coming, too,—roebuck and deer,—in the +young forests. The climate itself is changing; more rain falls in +midsummer, when it is needed. The sand-blast has been checked, the +power of the west wind broken. The shrivelled soil once more takes +up and holds the rains, and the streams will deepen, fish leap in +them as of yore. Groves of beech and oak are springing up in the +shelter of their hardier evergreen kin. “Make the land furry,” +Dalgas said, with prophetic eye beholding great forests taking the +place of sand and heather, and in his lifetime the change was +wrought that is transforming the barren moor into the home-land of +a prosperous people.</p> + +<p>To the most unlikely of places, through the very prison doors, his +gospel of hope has made its way. For the last dozen years the life +prisoners in the Horsens penitentiary have been employed in breaking +and reforesting the heath, and their keepers report that the effect +upon them of the hard work in the open has been to notably cheer and +brighten them. The discipline has been excellent. There have been +few attempts at escape, and they have come to nothing through the +vigilance of the other prisoners.</p> + +<p>While the population in the rest of Denmark is about stationary, in +west Jutland it grows apace. The case of Skåphus farm in the parish +of Sunds shows how this happens. Prior to 1870 this farm of three +thousand acres was rated the “biggest and poorest” in Denmark. Last +year it had dwindled to three hundred and fifty acres, but upon its +old land thirty-three homesteads had risen that kept between them +sixty-two horses and two hundred and fifty-two cows, beside the +sheep, and the manor farm was worth twice as much as before. The +town of Herning, sometimes called “the Star of the Heath,” is the +seat of Hammerum county, once the baldest and most miserable on the +Danish mainland. In 1841 twenty-one persons lived in Herning. To-day +there are more than six thousand in a town with handsome buildings, +gas, electric lighting, and paved streets. The heath is half a dozen +miles away. And this is not the result of any special or forced +industry, but the natural, healthy growth of a centre for an army of +industrious men and women winning back the land of their fathers by +patient toil. All through the landscape one sees from the train the +black giving way to the green. Churches rear their white gables; +bells that have been silent since the Black Death stalked through +the land once more call the people to worship on the old sites. More +churches were built in the reign of “the good King Christian,” who +has just been gathered to his fathers, than in all the centuries +since the day of the Valdemars.</p> + +<p>Bog cultivation is the Heath Society’s youngest child. The heath is +full of peat-bogs that only need the sand, so plentiful on the +uplands, to make their soil as good as the best, the muck of the bog +being all plant food, and they have a surplus of water to give in +exchange. With hope the keynote of it all, the State has taken up +the herculean task of keeping down the moving sands of the North Sea +coast. All along it is a range of dunes that in the fierce storms of +that region may change shape and place in a single night. The “sand +flight” at times reached miles inland, and threatened to bury the +farmer’s acres past recovery. Austrian fir and dwarf pine now grow +upon the white range, helping alike to keep down the sand and to bar +out the blast.</p> + +<p class="p2bot">With this exception, the great change has been, is being, wrought by +the people themselves. It was for their good, in the apathy that +followed 1864, that it should be so, and Dalgas saw it. The State +aids the man who plants ten acres or more, and assumes the +obligation to preserve the forest intact; the Heath Society sells +him plants at half-price, and helps him with its advice. It disposes +annually of over thirteen million young trees. The people do the +rest, and back the Society with their support. The Danish peasant +has learned the value of coöperation since he turned dairy farmer, +and associations for irrigation, for tree planting, and garden +planting are everywhere. They even reach across the ocean. This year +a call was issued to sons of the old soil, who have found a new home +in America, to join in planting a Danish-American forest in the +desert where hill and heather hide a silvery lake in their deep +shadows and returning wanderers may rest and dream of the long ago.</p> + +<div class="figcenter illowp70" style="max-width: 43.75em;" id="i-201"> +<img alt="" class="w100" src="images/i-201.jpg"> +<div class="caption"><span class="smcap">The Heath transformed in Twenty-one Years</span></div> +</div> + +<p class="p2">Soldier though he was, Enrico Dalgas’s pick and spade brigade won +greater victories for Denmark than her armies in two wars. He +literally “won for his country within what she had lost without.” A +natural organizer, a hard worker who found his greatest joy in his +daily tasks, a fearless and lucid writer who yet knew how to keep +his cause out of the rancorous politics that often enough seemed to +mistake partisanship for patriotism, he was the most modest of men. +Praise he always passed up to others. At the “silver wedding” of the +Society he founded they toasted him jubilantly, but he sat quiet a +long time. When at last he arose, it was to make this characteristic +little speech:</p> + +<p>“I thank you very much. His Excellency the Minister of the Interior, +who is present here, will see from this how much you think of me, +and possibly my recommendation that the State make a larger +contribution to the Heath Society’s treasury may thereby acquire +greater weight with him. I drink to an increased appropriation.”</p> + +<p>On the heath Dalgas was prophet, prince, and friend of the people. +In the crowds that flocked about his bier homespun elbowed gold lace +in the grief of a common loss. Boughs of the fragrant spruce decked +his coffin, the gift of the heath to the memory of him who set it +free.</p> + +<p>To Dalgas apply the words of the seer with which he himself +characterized the Society that was the child of his heart and brain: +“The good men are those who plant and water,” for they add to the +happiness of mankind.</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>Footnotes:</h3> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> Danske Hedeselskab.</p> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="KING_CHRISTIAN_IV">KING CHRISTIAN IV<a id="179"></a></h2> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter illowp70" style="max-width: 43.75em;" id="i-207a"> +<img alt="" class="w100" src="images/i-207a.jpg"> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter illowp70" style="max-width: 43.75em;" id="i-207b"> +<img alt="" class="w100" src="images/i-207b.jpg"> +<div class="caption"> +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">King Christian stood by loft - y mast In mist and</div> + <div class="verse indent0">smoke; His sword was ham - mer - ing so fast, Thro’</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Goth -ic helm and brain it passed; Then sank each hos-tile</div> + <div class="verse indent0">hulk and mast. In mist and smoke. “Fly,”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">shout-ed they, “fly, he who can! Who braves of Denmark’s</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Christ- i -an, Who braves of Denmark’s Christian The stroke?”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="p2"><a id="182"></a>Deep in the beech-woods between Copenhagen and Elsinore, upon the +shore of a limpid lake, stands Frederiksborg, one of the most +beautiful castles in Europe. In its chapel the Danish kings were +crowned for two centuries, and here was born on April 12, 1577, King +Christian of the Danish national hymn which Longfellow translated +into our tongue. No Danish ruler since the days of the great +Valdemars made such a mark upon his time; none lives as he in the +imagination of the people. He led armies to war and won and lost +battles; indeed, he lost more than he won on land when matched +against the great generals of that fighting era. On the sea he +sailed his own ship and was the captain of his own fleet, and there +he had no peer. He made laws in the days of peace and reigned over a +happy, prosperous land. In his old age misfortune in which he had no +share overwhelmed Denmark, but he was ever greatest in adversity, +and his courage saved the country from ruin. The great did not love +him overmuch; but to the plain people he was ever, with all his +failings, which were the failings of his day, a great, appealing +figure, and lives in their hearts, not merely in the dry pages of +musty books.</p> + +<p>He was eleven years old when his father died, and until he came of +age the country was governed by a council of happily most able men +who, with his mother, gave him such a schooling as few kings have +had. He not only became proficient in the languages, living and +dead, and in mathematics which he put to such practical use that he +was among the greatest of architects and ship-builders; he was the +best all-round athlete among his fellows as well, and there was some +sense in the tradition that survives to this day that whoever was +touched by him in wrath did not live long, for he was very tall with +a big, strong body, and when he struck, he struck hard. He was a +dauntless sailor who knew as much about sailing a ship as any one of +his captains, and much more about building it. Danger appealed to +him always. When the spire on the great cathedral in Copenhagen +threatened to fall, he was the one who went up in it alone and gave +orders where and how to brace it.</p> + +<p>As he grew, he sat in the council of state, learning kingcraft, and +showed there the hard-headed sense of fairness and justice that went +with him through life. He was hardly fourteen when the case of three +brothers of the powerful Friis family came before the council. They +had attacked another young nobleman in the street, struck off one of +his hands, and crippled the other. Because of their influence, the +council was for being lenient, atrocious as the crime was. A fine +was deemed sufficient. The young prince asked if there were not some +law covering the case with severer punishment, and was told that in +the province of Skaane there was such a law that applied to serfs. +But the assault had not been committed in Skaane, and these were +high noblemen.</p> + +<p>“All the worse for them,” said the prince. “Is then a serf in Skaane +to have more rights under the law than a nobleman in the rest of +Denmark? Let the law for the serf be theirs.” And the judgment +stood.</p> + +<p>He had barely attained his majority, when the young king was called +upon to judge between another great noble and a widow whom he sued +for 9000 daler, money he claimed to have lent to her husband. In +proof he laid before the judges two bonds bearing the signatures of +husband and wife. The widow denounced them as forgeries, but the +court decided that she must pay. She went straight to the King with +her story, assuring him that she had never heard of the debt. The +King sent for the bonds and upon close scrutiny discovered that one +of them was on paper bearing the water-mark of a mill that was not +built till two years after the date written in the bond. The noble +was arrested and the search of his house brought to light several +similar documents waiting their turn. He went to the scaffold. His +rank only aggravated his offence in the eyes of the King. No wonder +the fame of this judge spread quickly through the land.</p> + +<p>A dozen contented years he reigned in peace, doing justice between +man and man at home. Then the curse of his house gripped him. In two +centuries, since the brief union between the three Scandinavian +kingdoms was broken by the secession of Sweden, only two of sixteen +kings in either country had gone to their rest without ripping up +the old feud. It was now Christian’s turn. The pretext was of little +account: there was always cause enough. Gustav Adolf, whose father +was then on the throne of Sweden, said in after years that there was +no one he had such hearty admiration for and whose friend he would +like so well to be as Christian IV: “The mischief is that we are +neighbors.” King Christian crossed over into Sweden and laid siege +to the strong fortress of Kalmar where he first saw actual war and +showed himself a doughty campaigner of intrepid courage. It came +near costing him his life when a cannoneer with whom he had often +talked on his rounds deserted to the enemy and picked the King out +as his especial target. Twice he killed an officer attending upon +him, but the King he never hit. It is almost a pleasure to record +that when he tried it again, in another fight, Christian caught him +and dealt with him as the traitor he was, though the rough justice +of those days is not pleasant to dwell on. The besieged tried to +create a diversion by sneaking into camp at night and burying wax +images of the King and his generals in the earth, where they were +afterwards found and spread consternation through the army; for such +things were believed to be wrought by witchcraft and to bring bad +luck to those whom they represented.</p> + +<p>However, neither the real courage of the defenders, nor their +dallying with the black art, helped them any. King Christian stormed +the town at the head of his army and took it. The burgomaster hid in +the church, disguised as a priest, and pretended to be shriving some +women when the crash came, but it did not save him. When the +Swedish king came with a host twice the size of his own, there was +a battle royal, but Christian drove him off and laid siege to the +castle where dissension presently arose between the garrison and its +commander who was for surrendering. In the midst of their noisy +quarrel, King Christian was discovered standing upon the wall, +calmly looking on. He had climbed up alone on a rope ladder which +the sentinel let down at his bidding. At the sight they gave it up +and opened the gates, and the King wrote home, proudly dating his +letter from “our castle Kalmar.”</p> + +<p>Its loss so angered the Swedish king who was old and sick, that he +challenged Christian to single combat, without armor. The letters +that passed between them were hardly kingly. King Christian wrote +that he had other things to do: “Better catch a doctor, old man, and +have your head-piece looked after.” Helpless anger killed Karl, and +Gustav Adolf, of whom the world was presently to hear, took the +command and the crown. After that Christian had a harder road to +hoe.</p> + +<p>A foretaste of it came to him when he tried to surprise the fortress +of Gullberg near the present Götaborg. Its commander was wounded +early in the fight, but his wife who took his place more than filled +it. She and her women poured boiling lye upon the attacking Danes +until they lay “like scalded pigs” under the walls. Their leader +knew when he had enough and made off in haste, with the lady +commandant calling after him, “You were a little unexpected for +breakfast, but come back for dinner and we will receive you +properly.” She would not even let them take their dead away. “Since +God gave us luck to kill them,” she said, “we will manage to bury +them too.” They were very pious days after their own fashion, and +God was much on the lips of his servants. Troubles rarely come +singly. Soon after, King Christian met the enemy unexpectedly and +was so badly beaten that for the second time he had to run for it, +though he held out till nearly all his men had fallen. His horse got +mired in a swamp with the pursuers close behind. The gay and wealthy +Sir Christen Barnekow, who had been last on the field, passed him +there, and at once got down and gave him his horse. It meant giving +up his life, and when Sir Christen could no longer follow the +fleeing King he sat down on a rock with the words, “I give the King +my horse, the enemy my life, and God my soul.” The rock is there yet +and the country folk believe that the red spots in the granite are +Christen Barnekow’s blood which all the years have not availed to +wash out.</p> + +<p>They tired of fighting at last and made it up. Sweden paid Denmark a +million daler; for the rest, things stayed as they had been before. +King Christian had shown himself no mean fighter, but the senseless +sacking and burning of town and country that was an ugly part of +those days’ warfare went against his grain, and he tried to persuade +the Swedes to agree to leave that out in future. Gustav Adolf had +not yet grown into the man he afterward became. “As to the burning,” +was his reply, “seeing that it is the usage of war, and we enemies, +why we will each have to do the best we can,” which meant the worst. +Had the two kings, who had much in common, got together in the years +of peace that followed, much misery might have been saved Denmark, +and a black page of history might read very differently. For those +were the days of the Thirty Years’ War, in which together they +might have dictated peace to harassed Europe.</p> + +<p>Now King Christian’s ambition, his piety, for he was a sincerely +religious man, as well as his jealousy of his younger rival and of +the growing power of Sweden—so mixed are human motives—made him +yield to the entreaties of the hard-pressed Protestant princes to +take up alone their cause against the German Emperor. He had tried +for half a dozen years to make peace between them. At last he drew +the sword and went down to force it. After a year of fighting Tilly +and Wallenstein, the Emperor’s great generals, he met the former in +a decisive battle at Lutter-am-Baremberg. King Christian’s army was +beaten and put to rout. He himself fled bareheaded through the +forests of the Hartz Mountains, pursued by the enemy’s horsemen. It +was hardly necessary for the Emperor to make him promise as the +price of peace to keep out of German affairs thenceforth. His allies +had left him to fight it out alone. All their fine speeches went for +nothing when it came to the test, and King Christian rode back to +Denmark, a sadder and wiser man. It was left to Gustav Adolf, after +all, to teach the German generals the lesson they needed.</p> + +<p>In the years of peace before that unhappy war, Danish trade and +Danish culture had blossomed exceedingly, thanks to the wisdom, the +clever management, and untiring industry of the King. He built +factories, cloth-mills, silk-mills, paper-mills, dammed the North +Sea out from the rich marshlands with great dikes, taught the +farmers profitable ways of tilling their fields; for he was a +wondrous manager for whom nothing was too little and nothing too +big. He kept minute account of his children’s socks and little +shirts, and found ways of providing money for his war-ships and for +countless building schemes he had in hand both in Denmark and +Norway. For many of them he himself drew the plans. Wherever one +goes to this day, his monogram, which heads this story, stares at +him from the splendid buildings he erected. The Bourse in Copenhagen +and the Round Tower, the beautiful palace of Rosenborg, a sort of +miniature of his beloved Frederiksborg which also he rebuilt on a +more magnificent scale—these are among his works which every +traveller in the North knows. He built more cities and strongholds +than those who went before or came after him for centuries. +Christiania and Christiansand in Norway bear his name. He laid out a +whole quarter of Copenhagen for his sailors, and the quaint little +houses still serve that purpose. Regentsen, a dormitory for poor +students at the university, was built by him. He created seven new +chairs of learning and saw to it that all the professors got better +pay. He ferreted out and dismissed in disgrace all the grafting +officials in Norway, and administered justice with an even hand. At +the same time he burned witches without end, or let it be done for +their souls’ sake. That was the way of his time; and when he needed +fireworks for his son’s wedding (he made them himself, too), he sent +around to all the old cloisters and cathedral churches for the old +parchments they had. Heaven only knows what treasures that can never +be replaced went up in fire and smoke for that one night’s fun.</p> + +<p>King Christian founded a score of big trading companies to exploit +the East, taking care that their ships should have their bulwarks +pierced for at least six guns, so that they might serve as war-ships +in time of need. He sent one expedition after another to the waters +of Greenland in search of the Northwest Passage. It was on the +fourth of these, in 1619, that Jens Munk with two ships and +sixty-four sailors was caught in the ice of Hudson Bay and compelled +to winter there. One after another the crew died of hunger and +scurvy. When Jens Munk himself crept out from what he had thought +his death-bed, he found only two of them all alive. Together they +burrowed in the snow, digging for roots until spring came when they +managed to make their way down to Bergen in the smallest of the two +vessels. Jens Munk had deserved a better end than he got. He spun +his yarns so persistently at court that he got to be a tiresome +bore, and at last one day the King told him that he had no time to +listen to him. Whereat the veteran took great umbrage and, slapping +his sword, let the King know that he had served him well and was +entitled to better treatment. Christian snatched the weapon in anger +and struck him with the scabbard. The sailor never got over it. “He +withered away and died,” says the tradition. It was the old +superstition; but whether that killed him or not, the King lost a +good man in Jens Munk.</p> + +<p>He was not averse to hearing the truth, though, when boldly put. +When Ole Vind, a popular preacher, offended some of the nobles by +his plain speech and they complained to the King, he bade him to the +court and told him to preach the same sermon over. Master Vind was +game and the truths he told went straight home, for he knew well +where the shoe pinched. But King Christian promptly made him court +preacher. “He is the kind we need here,” he said. There was never a +day that the King did not devoutly read his Bible, and he was +determined that everybody should read it the same way. The result +was a kind of Puritanism that filled the churches and compelled the +employment of men to go around with long sticks to rap the people on +the head when they fell asleep. Christian the Fourth was not the +first ruler who has tried to herd men into heaven by battalions. But +his people would have gladly gone in the fire for him. He was their +friend. When on his tramps, as likely as not he would come home +sitting beside some peasant on his load of truck, and would step off +at the palace gate with a “So long, thanks for good company!” He was +everywhere, interested in everything. In his walking-stick he +carried a foot-rule, a level, and other tools, and would stop at the +bench of a workman in the navy-yard and test his work to see how +well he was doing it. “I can lie down and sleep in any hut in the +land,” was his contented boast. And he would have been safe +anywhere.</p> + +<p>Gustav Adolf was a wise and generous foe. While he lived he refused +to listen to proposals for the partition of Denmark after King +Christian’s defeat in Germany. He knew well that she was a barrier +against the ambition of the German princes and that, once she was +out of the way, Sweden’s turn would come next. But when he had +fallen on the battle-field of Lützen, and his generals, following in +his footsteps, had achieved fame and lands and the freedom of +worship for which he gave his life, the Swedish statesmen lost their +heads and dreamed of the erection of a great northern Protestant +state by the conquest of Denmark and Norway, to balance the power +of the German empire. Without warning or declaration of war a great +army was thrown into the Danish peninsula from the south. Another +advanced from Sweden upon the eastern provinces, and a fleet hired +in Holland for Swedish money came through the North Sea to help them +over to the Danish islands. If the two armies met, Denmark was lost. +In Swedish harbors a still bigger fleet was fitting out for the +Baltic.</p> + +<p>King Christian was well up in the sixties, worn with the tireless +activities of a long reign; but once more he proved himself greater +than adversity. When the evil tidings reached him, in the midst of +profound peace, the enemy was already within the gates. The country +lay prostrate. The name of Torstenson, the Swedish general, spread +terror wherever it was heard. In the German campaigns he had been +known as the “Swedish Lightning.” Beset on every side, never had +Denmark’s need been greater. The one man who did not lose his head +was her king. By his personal example he put heart into the people +and shamed the cowardly nobles. He borrowed money wherever he could, +sent his own silver to the mint, crowded the work in the navy-yard +by night and by day, gathered an army, and hurried with it to the +Sounds where the enemy might cross. When the first ships were ready +he sailed around the Skaw to meet the Dutch hirelings. “I am old and +stiff,” he said, “and no good any more to fight on land. But I can +manage the ships.”</p> + +<p>And he did. He met the Dutchmen in the North Sea, in under the +Danish coast, and whipped them, almost single-handed, for his own +ship <i>Trefoldigheden</i> was for a long while the only one that wind +and tide would let come up with them. That done, he left one of his +captains to watch lest they come out from among the islands where +their ships of shallower draught had sought refuge, and sailed for +Copenhagen. Everything that could carry sail was ready for him by +that time; also the news that the Swedish fleet of forty-six +fighting ships under Klas Fleming had sailed for the coast of +Holstein to take on board Torstenson’s army.</p> + +<p>King Christian lost no time. He hoisted his flag on <i>Trefoldigheden</i> +and made after them with thirty-nine ships, vowing that he would +win this fight or die. At Kolberger Heide, the water outside the +Fjord of Kiel, he caught up with them and attacked at once. The +battle that then ensued is the one of which the poet sings and with +which the name of Christian IV is forever linked.</p> + +<p>At the outset the Danish fleet was in great peril. The Swedes fought +gallantly as was their wont, and they were three or four against +one, for most of the King’s ships came up slowly, some of them +purposely, so it seems. The King said after the battle of certain of +his captains, “They used me as a screen between them and the enemy.” +His own ship and that of his chief admiral’s bore the brunt of the +battle for a long time. <i>Trefoldigheden</i> fired 315 shots during the +engagement, and at one time had four hostile, ships clustering about +her. King Christian was on the quarter-deck when a cannon-ball +shivered the bulwark and one of his guns, throwing a shower of +splintered iron and wood over him and those near him, killing and +wounding twelve of the crew. The King himself fell, stunned and +wounded in twenty-three places. His right eye was knocked out, two +of his teeth, and his left ear hung in shreds.</p> + +<p class="p2bot">The cry was raised that the King was dead and panic spread on board. +The story has it that a sailor was sent aloft to strike the flag but +purposely entangled it in the rigging so that it could not fall; he +could not bear to see the King’s ship strike its colors. In the +midst of the tumult the aged monarch rose to his feet, torn and +covered with blood. “I live yet,” he cried, “and God has left me +strength to fight on for my country. Let every man do his duty.” +Leaning on his sword, he led the fight until darkness fell and the +battle was won. Denmark was saved. The danger of an invasion was +averted. In the palace of Rosenborg the priceless treasure they show +to visitors is the linen cloth, all blood-stained, that bound the +King’s face as he fought and won his last and biggest fight that +day.</p> + +<div class="figcenter illowp70" style="max-width: 43.75em;" id="i-227"> +<img alt="" class="w100" src="images/i-227.jpg"> +<div class="caption"><span class="smcap">Christian IV at the Battle of Kolberger Heide</span></div> +</div> + +<p class="p2">Half blind, his body black and blue and sore from many bruises, King +Christian yet refused to sail for Copenhagen to have his wounds +attended. Three weeks he lay watching the narrow inlet behind which +the beaten enemy was hiding, to destroy his ships when he came out. +Then he gave over the command to another and hastened to the +province of Skaane on the Swedish mainland, from which he expelled a +hostile army. But when his back was turned, the men he had set to +watch fell asleep and let the Swedish admiral steal out into the +open. There he found and joined the Dutch ships that had slipped +around the Skaw during the rumpus. Together they overwhelmed the +Danish fleet, being now three to one, and crushed it. The slothful +admiral paid for it with his life, but the harm was done. It was the +last and heaviest blow. The old King sheathed his sword and set his +name to a peace that took from Denmark some of her ancient +provinces, with the bitter sigh: “God knows I had no share in this,” +and he had not. Even at the last he appealed to the country to try +the fortunes of war with him once more. The people were willing, but +the nobles wanted peace, “however God send it,” and he had to yield. +The treaty was made at Brömsebro, where a bridge crossed the river +dividing the two kingdoms. In the middle of the river was an island +and the negotiations were carried on in a tent erected there, the +French and the Dutch being the arbitrators. The envoys of Sweden +and Denmark sat on opposite sides of the boundary post where the +line cut through, each on the soil of his own country. So bitterly +did they hate one another that they did not speak but wrote their +messages, though they could have shaken hands where they sat. Even +that was too close quarters, and they ended up by negotiating at +second hand through the foreign ambassadors, all at the same table, +but each looking straight past the other as if he were not there.</p> + +<p>Another touch of comedy relieves the gloom of that heavy day. It was +the conquest of the Särnadal, a mountain valley in Norway just over +the Swedish frontier, by Pastor Buschovius who, Bible in hand, at +the head of two hundred ski-men invaded and captured it one winter’s +day without a blow. He came over the snow-fields into the valley +that had not seen a preacher in many a long day, had the church +bells rung to summon the people, preached to them, married and +christened them, and gave them communion. The simple mountaineers +had hardly heard of the war and had nothing against their neighbors +over the mountain. They joined Sweden then and there at the request +of the preacher, and they stayed Swedes too, for in the final muster +they were forgotten with their valley. Very likely the treaty-makers +did not know that it existed.</p> + +<p>King Christian died four years later, in 1648, past the three score +and ten allotted to man. He was not a great leader like Gustav +Adolf, and he was very human in some of his failings. But he was a +strong man, a just king, and a father of his people who still cling +to his memory with more than filial affection.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="GUSTAV_ADOLF_THE_SNOW-KING">GUSTAV ADOLF, THE SNOW-KING<a id="205"></a></h2> +</div> + +<p>The city of Prague, the capital of Bohemia, went wild with +excitement one spring morning in the year 1618. The Protestant +Estates of Germany had met there to protest against the aggressions +of the Catholic League and the bad faith of the Emperor, who had +guaranteed freedom of worship in the land and had now sent two +envoys to defy the meeting and declare it illegal. In the old castle +they delivered their message and bade the convention disperse; and +the delegates, when they had heard, seized them and their clerk and +threw them out of the window “in good old Bohemian fashion.” They +fell seventy feet and escaped almost without a scratch, which fact +was accepted by the Catholics of that strenuous day as proof of +their miraculous preservation; by the Protestants as evidence that +the devil ever takes care of his own.</p> + +<p>It was the tiny spark that set Europe on fire. Out of it grew the +Thirty Years’ War, the most terrible that ever scourged the +civilized world. When Catholic League and Evangelical Union first +mustered their armies, Bohemia had a prosperous population of four +million souls; when the war was over there were less than eight +hundred thousand alive in that unhappy land, and the wolves that +roamed its forests were scarcely more ferocious than the human +starvelings who skulked among the smoking ruins of burned towns and +hamlets. Other states fared little better. Two centuries did not +wipe out the blight of those awful years when rapine and murder, +inspired by bigotry and hate, ran riot in the name of religion.</p> + +<p>In the gloom and horror of it all a noble figure stands forth alone. +It were almost worth the sufferings of a Thirty Years’ War for the +world to have gained a Gustav Adolf. The “snow-king” the Emperor’s +generals named him when he first appeared on German soil at the head +of his army of Northmen, and they prophesied that he would speedily +melt, once the southern sun shone upon his host. They little knew +the man. He went from victory to victory, less because he was the +greatest general of his day than because he, and all his army with +him, believed himself charged by the Almighty with the defence of +his country and of his faith. The Emperor had attacked both, the +first by attempting to extend his dominion to the Baltic; but +Pommerania and the Baltic provinces were regarded by the Swedish +ruler as the outworks of his kingdom; and Sweden was Protestant. +Hence he drew the sword. “Our brethren in the faith are sighing for +deliverance from spiritual and bodily thraldom,” he said to his +people. “Please God, they shall not sigh long.” That was his +warrant. Axel Oxenstjerna, his friend and right hand who lived to +finish his work, said of him, “He felt himself impelled by a mighty +spirit which he was unable to resist.” As warrior, king, and man, he +was head and shoulders above his time. Gustav Adolf saved religious +liberty to the world. He paid the price with his life, but he would +have asked no better fate. A soldier of God, he met a soldier’s +death on the field of battle, in the hour of victory.</p> + +<p>A man of destiny he was to his people as to himself. Long years +before his birth, upon the appearance of the comet of 1577, Tycho +Brahe, the astronomer, who was deep in the occultism of his day, had +predicted that a prince would appear in Finland who would do great +things in Germany and deliver the Protestant peoples from the +oppression of the popes, and the prophecy was applied to Gustav +Adolf by his subjects all through his life. He was born on December +9, 1594, old style, as they still reckon time in Russia. Very early +he showed the kind of stuff he was made of. When he was yet almost a +baby he was told that there were snakes in the park, and showed +fight at once: “Give me a stick and I will kill them.” With the +years he grew into a handsome youth who read his books, knew his +Seneca by heart, was fond of the poets and the great orators, and +mastered eight languages, living and dead. At seventeen he buckled +on the sword and put the books away, but kept Xenophon as his +friend; for he was a military historian after his own heart. He was +then Duke of Finland.</p> + +<p>The King, his father, was a stern but observant man who, seeing his +bent, threw him with soldiers to his heart’s content, glad to have +it so, for it was a warlike age. From his tenth year he let him sit +in council with him and early delegated to him the duty of answering +ambassadors from foreign countries. The lad was the only one who +dared oppose the king when he was in a temper, and often he made +peace and healed wounds struck in anger. The people worshipped the +fair young prince, and his father, when he felt the palsy of old age +and bodily infirmities creeping upon him and thought of his +unfinished tasks, would murmur as his eyes rested upon the bonny +youth: “<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ille faciet</i>—He will do it.” There is still in existence a +document in which he laid down to him his course as a sovereign. +“First of all,” he writes, “you shall fear God and honor your father +and mother. Give your brothers and sisters brotherly affection; love +your father’s faithful servants and requite them after their due. Be +gracious to your subjects; punish evil and love the good. Believe in +men, but find out first what is in them. Hold by the law without +respect of person.”</p> + +<p>It was good advice to a prince, and the king took it to heart. On +the docket of the Supreme Court at Stockholm is a letter written by +Gustav Adolf to the judges and ordered by him to be entered there, +which tells them plainly that if any of them is found perverting +justice to suit him, the King, or any one else, he will have him +flayed alive and his hide nailed to the judgment-seat, his ears +to the pillory! Not a nice way of talking to dignified judges, +perhaps, but then the prescription was intended to suit the +practice, if there was need.</p> + +<p>The young king earned his spurs in a war with Denmark that came near +being his last as it was his first campaign. He and his horsemen +were surprised by the Danes on a winter’s night as they were warming +themselves by a fire built of the pews in the Wittsjö church, and +they cut their way through only after a desperate fight on the +frozen lake. The ice broke under the king’s horse and he was going +down when two of his men caught him in the nick of time. He got away +with the loss of his sword, his pistols, and his gloves. “I will +remember you with a crust that shall do for your bairns too,” he +promised one of his rescuers, a stout peasant lad, and he kept his +word. Thomas Larssön’s descendants a generation ago still tilled the +farm the King gave him. When the trouble with Denmark was over for +the time being, he settled old scores with Russia and Poland in a +way that left Sweden mistress of the Baltic. In the Polish war he +was wounded twice and was repeatedly in peril of his life. Once he +was shot in the neck, and, as the bullet could not be removed, it +ever after troubled him to wear armor. His officers pleaded with him +to spare himself, but his reply was that Cæsar and Alexander did not +skulk behind the lines; a general must lead if he expected his men +to follow.</p> + +<p>In this campaign he met the League’s troops, sent to chase him back +to his own so that Wallenstein, the leader of the imperial armies, +might be “General of the Baltic Sea,” unmolested. “Go to Poland,” he +commanded one of his lieutenants, “and drive the snow-king out; or +else tell him that I shall come and do it myself.” The proud soldier +never knew how near he came to entertaining the snow-king as his +unwilling guest then. In a fight between his rear-guard and the +imperial army Gustav Adolf was disarmed and taken prisoner by two +troopers. There was another prisoner who had kept his pistol. He +handed it to the King behind his back and with it he shot one of his +captors and brained the other. For all that they nearly got him. He +saved himself only by wriggling out of his belt and leaving it in +the hands of the enemy. Eight years he campaigned in Poland and +Prussia, learning the arts of war. Then he was ready for his +life-work. He made a truce with Poland that freed his hands for a +season, and went home to Sweden.</p> + +<p>That spring (1629) he laid before the Swedish Estates his plan of +freeing the Protestants. To defend Sweden, he declared, was to +defend her faith, and the Estates voted supplies for the war. To +gauge fully the splendid courage of the nation it must be remembered +that the whole kingdom, including Finland, had a population of only +a million and a half at the time and was preparing to attack the +mighty Roman empire. In the first year of the war the Swedish budget +was thirteen millions of dollars, of which nine and a half went for +armaments. The whole army which Gustav Adolf led into Germany +numbered only 14,000 soldiers, but it was made up of Swedish +veterans led by men whose names were to become famous for all time, +and welded together by an unshakable belief in their commander, a +rigid discipline and a religious enthusiasm that swayed master and +men with a common impulse. Such a combination has in all days proven +irresistible.</p> + +<p>The King’s farewell to his people—he was never to see Sweden +again—moved a nation to tears. He spoke to the nobles, the clergy +and to the people, admonishing them to stand together in the hard +years that were coming and gave them all into the keeping of God. +They stood on the beach and watched his ships sail into the sunset +until they were swallowed up in glory. Then they went back home to +take up the burden that was their share. On the Rügen shore the King +knelt with his men and thanked God for having brought them safe +across the sea, then seized a spade, and himself turned the first +sod in the making of a camp. “Who prays well, fights well,” he said.</p> + +<p>He was not exactly hospitably received. The old Duke of Pommerania +would have none of him, begged him to go away, and only when the +King pointed to his guns and hinted that he had keys well able to +open the gates of Stettin, his capital, did he give in and promise +help. The other German princes, with one or two exceptions, were as +cravenly short-sighted. They held meetings and denounced the Emperor +and his lawless doings, but Gustav they would not help. The princes +of Brandenburg and of Saxony, the two Protestant Electors of the +empire, were rather disposed to hinder him, if they might, though +Brandenburg was his brother-in-law. Only when the King threatened to +burn the city of Berlin over his head did he listen. While he was +yet laboring with them, recruiting his army and keeping it in +practice by driving the enemy out of Pommerania, news reached him of +the fall of Magdeburg, the strongest city in northern Germany, that +had of its own free will joined his cause.</p> + +<p>The sacking of Magdeburg is one of the black deeds of history. In a +night the populous city was reduced to a heap of smoking ruins under +which twenty thousand men, women, and children lay buried. Not since +the fall of Jerusalem, said Pappenheim, Tilly’s famous cavalry +leader to whom looting and burning were things of every day, had so +awful a visitation befallen a town. Only the great cathedral and a +few houses near it were left standing. The history of warfare of the +Christian peoples of that day reads like a horrid nightmare. The +fighting armies left a trail of black desolation where they passed. +“They are not made up of birds that feed on air,” sneered Tilly. +Peaceful husbandmen were murdered, the young women dragged away to +worse than slavery, and helpless children spitted upon the lances +of the wild landsknechts and tossed with a laugh into the blazing +ruins of their homes. But no such foul blot cleaves to the memory of +Gustav Adolf. While he lived his men were soldiers, not demons. In +his tent the work of Hugo Grotius on the rights of the nations in +war and peace lay beside the Bible and he knew them both by heart. +When he was gone, the fame of some of his greatest generals was +smirched by as vile orgies as Tilly’s worst days had witnessed. It +is told of John Banér, one of the most brilliant of them, that he +demanded ransom of the city of Prix, past which his way led. The +city fathers permitted themselves an untimely jest: “Prix giebt +nichts—Prix gives nothing,” they said. Banér was as brief: “Prix +wird zu nichts—Prix comes to nothing,” and his army wiped it out.</p> + +<p>Grief and anger almost choked the King when he heard of Magdeburg’s +fate. “I will avenge that on the Old Corporal (Tilly’s nickname),” +he cried, “if it costs my life.” Without further ado he forced the +two Electors to terms and joined the Saxon army to his own. On +September 7, 1631, fifteen months after he had landed in Germany, he +met Tilly face to face at Breitenfeld, a village just north of +Leipzig. The Emperor’s host in its brave show of silver and plumes +and gold, the plunder of many campaigns under its invincible leader, +looked with contempt upon the travel-worn Swedes in their poor, +soiled garb. The stolid Finns sat their mean but wiry little horses +very unlike Pappenheim’s dreaded Walloons, descendants of the +warlike Belgæ of Gaul who defied the Germans of old in the forest of +the Ardennes and joined Cæsar in his victorious march. But Tilly +himself was not deceived. He knew how far this enemy had come and +with what hardships cheerfully borne; how they had routed the +Russians, written laws for the Poles in their own land, and +overthrown armies and forts that barred their way. He would wait for +reënforcements; but his generals egged him on, said age had made him +timid and slow, and carried the day.</p> + +<p>The King slept in an empty cart the night before the battle and +dreamed that he wrestled with Tilly and threw him, but that he tore +his breast with his teeth. When all was ready in the morning he rode +along the front and told his fusiliers not to shoot till they saw +the white in the enemy’s eyes, the horsemen not to dull their +swords by hacking the helmets of the Walloons: “Cut at their horses +and they will go down with them.” In the pause before the onset he +prayed with head uncovered and lowered sword, and his voice carried +to the farthest lines:</p> + +<p>“Thou, God, in whose hands are victory and defeat, look graciously +upon thy servants. From distant lands and peaceful homes have we +come to battle for freedom, truth and thy gospel. Give us victory +for thy holy name’s sake, Amen!”</p> + +<p>Tilly had expected the King to attack, but the fiery Pappenheim +upset his plans. The smoke of the guns drifted in the faces of the +Swedes and the King swung his army to the south to get the wind +right. In making the turn they had to cross a brook and this moment +Pappenheim chose for his charge. Like a thunderbolt his Walloons +fell upon them. The Swedish fire mowed them down like ripened grain +and checked their impetuous rush. They tried to turn the King’s +right and so outflank him; but the army turned with them and stood +like a rock. The extreme mobility of his forces was Gustav Adolf’s +great advantage in his campaigns. He revised the book of military +tactics up to date. The imperial troops were massed in solid +columns, after the old Spanish fashion, the impact of which was hard +to resist when they struck. The King’s, on the contrary, moved in +smaller bodies, quickly thrown upon the point of danger, and his +artillery was so distributed among them as to make every shot tell +on the compact body of the enemy. Whichever way Pappenheim turned he +found a firm front, bristling with guns, opposing him. Seven times +he threw himself upon the living wall; each time his horsemen were +flung back, their lines thinned and broken. The field was strewn +with their dead. Tilly, anxiously watching, threw up his hands in +despair. “This man will lose me honor and fame, and the Emperor his +lands,” he cried. The charge ended in wild flight, and Tilly saw +that he must himself attack, to turn the tide.</p> + +<p>On the double-quick his columns of spearmen charged down the +heights, swept the Saxons from the field, and fell upon the Swedish +left. The shock was tremendous. General Gustav Horn gave back to let +his second line come up, and held the ground stubbornly against +fearful odds. Word was brought the King of his danger. With the +right wing that had crushed Pappenheim he hurried to the rescue. In +the heat of the fight the armies had changed position, and the +Swedes found themselves climbing the hill upon which Tilly’s +artillery was posted. Seeing this, the King made one of the rapid +movements that more than once won him the day. Raising the cry, +“Remember Magdeburg!” he carried the position with his Finns by a +sudden overwhelming assault, and turned the guns upon the dense +masses of the enemy fighting below.</p> + +<p>In vain they stormed the heights. Both wings and the centre closed +in upon them, and the day was lost. Tilly fled, wounded, and +narrowly escaped capture. A captain in the Swedish army, who was +called Long Fritz because of his great height, was at his heels +hammering him on the head with the butt of his pistol. A staff +officer shot him down in passing, and freed his chief. Twilight fell +upon a battle-field where seven thousand men lay dead, two-thirds of +them the flower of the Emperor’s army. Blood-stained and +smoke-begrimed, Gustav Adolf and his men knelt on the field and +thanked God for the victory.</p> + +<p>Had the King’s friend and adviser, Axel Oxenstjerna, been with him +he might have marched upon Vienna then, leaving the Protestant +Estates to settle their own affairs, and very likely have ended the +war. Gustav Adolf thought of Tilly who would return with another +army. Oxenstjerna saw farther, weighing things upon the scales of +the diplomatist.</p> + +<p>“How think you we would fare,” asked the King once, when the +chancellor saw obstacles in their way which he would brush aside, +“if my fire did not thaw the chill in you?”</p> + +<p>“But for my chill cooling your Majesty’s fire,” was his friend’s +retort, “you would have long since been burned up.” The King laughed +and owned that he was right.</p> + +<p>Instead of bearding the Emperor in his capital he turned toward the +Rhine where millions of Protestants were praying for his coming and +where his army might find rest and abundance. The cathedral city of +Wuerzburg he took by storm. The bishop who ruled it fled at his +approach, but the full treasury of the Jesuits fell into his hands. +The Madonna of beaten gold and the twelve solid silver apostles, +famous throughout Europe, were sent to the mint and coined into +money to pay his army. In the cellar they found chests filled with +ducats. The bottom fell out of one as they carried it up and the +gold rolled out on the pavement. The soldiers swarmed to pick it up, +but a good many coins stuck to their pockets. The King saw it and +laughed: “Since you have them, boys, keep them.” The dead were still +lying in the castle yard after the siege, a number of monks among +them. The color of some of them seemed high for corpses. “Arise from +the dead,” he said waggishly, “no one will hurt you,” and the +frightened monks got upon their feet and scampered away.</p> + +<p>Frankfort opened its gates to his victorious host and Nürnberg +received him as a heaven-sent liberator. But Tilly was in the field +with a fresh army, burning to avenge Breitenfeld. He had surprised +General Horn at Bamberg and beaten him. At the approach of the King +he camped where the river Lech joins the Danube, awaiting attack. +There was but one place to cross to get at him, and right there he +stood. The king seized Donauworth and Ulm, and under cover of the +fire of seventy guns threw a bridge across the Lech. Three hundred +Finns carrying picks and spades ran across the shaky planks upon +which the fire of Tilly’s whole artillery park was concentrated. +Once across, they burrowed in the ground like moles and, with +bullets raining upon them, threw up earthworks for shelter. Squad +after squad of volunteers followed. Duke Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar +swam his horsemen across the river farther up-stream and took the +Bavarian troops in the flank, beating them back far enough to let +him join the Finns at the landing. The King himself was directing +the artillery on the other shore, aiming the guns with his own hand. +The Walloons, Tilly’s last hope, charged, but broke under the +withering fire. In desperation the old field-marshal seized the +standard and himself led the forlorn hope. Half-way to the bridge he +fell, one leg shattered by a cannon-ball, and panic seized his men. +The imperialists fled in the night, carrying their wounded leader. +He died on the march soon after. Men said of him that he had served +his master well.</p> + +<p>The snow-king had not melted in the south. He was master of the +Roman empire from the Baltic to the Alps. The way to Austria and +Italy lay open before him. Protestant princes crowded to do him +homage, offering him the imperial crown. But Gustav Adolf did not +lose his head. Toward the humbled Catholics he showed only +forbearance and toleration. In Munich he visited the college of the +Jesuits, and spoke long with the rector in the Latin tongue, +assuring him of their safety as long as they kept from politics and +plotting. The armory in that city was known to be the best stocked +in all Europe and the King’s surprise was great when he found +gun-carriages in plenty, but not a single cannon. Looking about him, +he saw evidence that the floor had been hastily relaid and +remembered the “dead” monks at Würzburg. He had it taken up and a +dark vault appeared. The King looked into it.</p> + +<p>“Arise!” he called out, “and come to judgment,” and amid shouts of +laughter willing hands brought out a hundred and forty good guns, +welcome reënforcements.</p> + +<p>The ignorant Bavarian peasants had been told that the King was the +very anti-Christ, come to harass the world for its sins, and carried +on a cruel guerilla warfare upon his army. They waylaid the Swedes +by night on their foraging trips and maimed and murdered those they +caught with fiendish tortures. The bitterest anger filled Gustav +Adolf’s soul when upon his entry into Landshut the burgomaster knelt +at his stirrup asking mercy for his city.</p> + +<p>“Pray not to me,” he said harshly, “but to God for yourself and for +your people, for in truth you have need.”</p> + +<p>For once thoughts of vengeance seemed to fill his soul. “No, no!” he +thundered when the frightened burgomaster pleaded that his townsmen +should not be held accountable for the cruelty of the country folk, +“you are beasts, not men, and deserve to be wiped from the earth +with fire and sword.” From out the multitude there came a warning +voice: “Will the King now abandon the path of mercy for the way of +vengeance and visit his wrath upon these innocent people?” No one +saw the speaker. The day was oppressively hot and the King came near +fainting in the saddle. As he rode out of the city toward the camp, +a bolt of lightning struck the ground beside him and a mighty crash +of thunder rolled overhead. Pale and thoughtful, he rode on. But +Landshut was spared. That evening General Horn brought the anxious +citizens the King’s promise of pardon.</p> + +<p>A few weeks later tidings reached Gustav Adolf that Wallenstein and +the Elector of Bavaria were marching to effect a junction at +Nürnberg. If they took the city, his line of communication was cut +and his army threatened. Wallenstein, who was a traitor, had been in +disgrace; but he was a great general and in his dire need Emperor +Ferdinand had no one else to turn to. So he took him back on his own +terms, and in the spring he had an army of forty thousand veterans +in the field. This was the host he was leading against Nürnberg. But +the King got there first and intrenched himself so strongly that +there was no ousting him. Wallenstein followed suit and for eleven +weeks the enemies eyed one another from their “lagers,” neither +willing to risk an attack. In the end Gustav Adolf tried, but even +his Finns could not take the impregnable heights the enemy held. At +last he went away with colors flying and bands playing, right under +the enemy’s walls, in the hope of tempting him out. But he never +stirred.</p> + +<p>When Wallenstein was sure he had gone, he burned his camp and +turned toward Saxony to punish the Elector for joining the Swedes. A +wail of anguish went up from that unhappy land and the King heard it +clear across the country. By forced marches he hurried to the rescue +of his ally, picking up Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar on the way. At +Naumburg the people crowded about him and sought to kiss or even to +touch his garments. The King looked sadly at them. “They put their +trust in me, poor weak mortal, as if I were the Almighty. It may be +that He will punish their folly soon upon the object of their +senseless idolatry.” He had come to stay, but when he learned that +Wallenstein had sent Pappenheim away to the west, thus weakening his +army, and was going into winter quarters at Lützen, near Leipzig, a +half-day’s march from the memorable Breitenfeld, he broke camp at +once and hastened to attack him. Starting early, his army reached +Lützen at nightfall on November 15, 1632.</p> + +<p>Wallenstein believed the campaign was over for that year and the +Swedes in winter quarters, and was taken completely by surprise. Had +the King given battle that night, he would have wiped the enemy +out. Two things, in themselves of little account, delayed him: a +small brook that crossed his path, and the freshly plowed fields. +His men were tired after the long march and he decided to let them +rest. It was Wallenstein’s chance. Overnight he posted his army +north of the highway that leads from Lützen to Leipzig, dug deep the +ditches that enclosed it, and made breastworks of the dirt. Sunrise +found sheltered behind them twenty-seven thousand seasoned veterans +to whom Gustav Adolf could oppose but twenty thousand; but he had +more guns and they were better served.</p> + +<p>As the day broke the Swedish army, drawn up in battle array, intoned +Luther’s hymn, “A mighty fortress is our God,” and cheered the King. +He wore a leathern doublet and a gray mantle. To the pleadings of +his officers that he put on armor he replied only, “God is my +armor.” “To-day,” he cried as he rode along the lines, “will end all +our hardships.” He himself took command of the right wing, the +gallant Duke Bernhard of the left. As at Breitenfeld, the rallying +cry was, “God with us!”</p> + +<p>The King hoped to crush his enemy utterly, and the whole line +attacked at once with great fury. From the start victory leaned +toward the Swedish army. Then suddenly in the wild tumult of battle +a heavy fog settled upon the field. What followed was all confusion. +No one knows the rights of it to this day. The King led his famous +yellow and blue regiments against the enemy’s left. “The black +fellows there,” he shouted, pointing to the Emperor’s cuirassiers in +their black armor, “attack them!” Just then an adjutant reported +that his infantry was hard-pressed. “Follow me,” he commanded, and, +clapping spurs to his horse, set off at full speed for the +threatened quarter. In the fog he lost his way and ran into the +cuirassiers. His two attendants were shot down and a bullet crushed +the King’s right arm. He tried to hide the fact that he was wounded, +but pain and loss of blood made him faint and he asked the Duke of +Lauenburg who rode with him to help him out of the crush. At that +moment a fresh troop of horsemen bore down upon them and their +leader, Moritz von Falkenberg, shot the King through the body with +the exultant cry, “You I have long sought!” The words had hardly +left his lips when he fell with a bullet through his head.</p> + +<p>The King swayed in the saddle and lost the reins. “Save yourself,” +he whispered to the Duke, “I am done for.” The Duke put his arm +around him to support him, but the cuirassiers surged against them +and tore them apart. The King’s horse was shot in the neck and threw +its rider. Awhile he hung by the stirrup and was dragged over the +trampled field. Then the horse shook itself free and ran through the +lines, spreading the tidings of the King’s fall afar.</p> + +<p>A German page, Leubelfing, a lad of eighteen, was alone with the +King. He sprang from his horse and tried to help him into the saddle +but had not the strength to do it. Gustav Adolf was stout and very +heavy. While he was trying to lift him some Croats rode up and +demanded the name of the wounded man. The page held his tongue, and +they ran him through. Gustav Adolf, to save him, said that he was +the King.<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> At that they shot him through the head, and showered +blows upon him. When the body was found in the night it was naked. +They had robbed and stripped him.</p> + +<p>The King was dead. Through the Swedish ranks Duke Bernhard shouted +the tidings. “Who now cares to live? Forward, to avenge his death!” +With the blind fury of the Berserkers of old the Swedes cleared the +ditches, stormed the breastworks, and drove the foe in a panic +before them. The Duke’s arm was broken by a bullet. He hardly knew +it. With his regiment he rode down the crew of one of the enemy’s +batteries and swept on. In the midst of it all a cry resounded over +the plain that made the runaways halt and turn back.</p> + +<p>“Pappenheim! Pappenheim is here!”</p> + +<p>He had come with his Walloons in answer to the general’s summons. +“Where is the King?” he asked, and they pointed to the Finnish +brigade. With a mighty crash the two hosts that had met so often +before came together. Wallenstein mustered his scattered forces and +the King’s army was attacked from three sides at once. The yellow +brigade fell where it stood almost to the last man. The blue fared +little better. Slowly the Swedish infantry gave back. The battle +seemed lost.</p> + +<p>But the tide turned once more. In the hottest fight Pappenheim +fell, pierced by three bullets. The “man of a hundred scars” died, +exulting that the King whom he hated had gone before. With his death +the Emperor’s men lost heart. The Swedes charged again and again +with unabated fury. Night closed in with Wallenstein’s centre still +unbroken; but he had lost all his guns. Under cover of the darkness +he made his escape. The King’s army camped upon the battle-field. +The carnage had been fearful; nine thousand were slain. It was +Wallenstein’s last fight. With the remnants of his army he retreated +to Bohemia, sick and sore, and spent his last days there plotting +against his master. He died by an assassin’s hand.</p> + +<p>The cathedrals of Vienna, Brussels, and Madrid rang with joyful Te +Deums at the news of the King’s death. The Spanish capital +celebrated the “triumph” with twelve days of bull-fighting. Emperor +Ferdinand was better than his day; he wept at the sight of the +King’s blood-stained jacket. The Protestant world trembled; its hope +and strength were gone. But the Swedish people, wiping away their +tears, resolved stoutly to carry on Gustav Adolf’s work. The men he +had trained led his armies to victory on yet many a stricken field. +Peace came at length to Europe; the last religious war had been +fought and won. Freedom of worship, liberty of conscience, were +bought at the cost of the kingliest head that ever wore a crown. The +great ruler’s life-work was done.</p> + +<p>Gustav Adolf was in his thirty-eighth year when he fell. Of stature +he was tall and stout, a fair-haired, blue-eyed giant, stern in war, +gentle in the friendships of peace. He was a born ruler of men. +Though he was away fighting in foreign lands all the years of his +reign, he kept a firm grasp on the home affairs of his kingdom. One +traces his hand everywhere, ordering, shaping, finding ways, or +making them where there was none. The valuable mines of Sweden were +ill managed. The metal was exported in coarse pigs to Germany for +very little, worked up there, and resold to Sweden at the highest +price. He created a Board of Mines, established smelteries, and the +day came when, instead of going abroad for its munitions of war, +Sweden had for its customers half Europe. Like Christian of Denmark +with whom he disagreed, he encouraged industries and greatly +furthered trade and commerce. He built highways and canals, and he +did not forget the cause of instruction. Upon the university at +Upsala he bestowed his entire personal patrimony of three hundred +and thirteen farms as a free gift. His people honor him with cause +as the real founder of the Swedish system of education.</p> + +<p>The master he was always. Sweden had, on one hand, a powerful, able +nobility; on the other, a strong, independent peasantry,—a combination +full of pitfalls for a weak ruler, but with equal promise of great +things under the master hand. His father had cowed the stubborn +nobles with the headsman’s axe. Gustav Adolf drew them to him and +imbued them with his own spirit. He found them a contentious party +within the state; he left them its strongest props in the conduct of +public affairs. Nor was it always with persuasion he worked. His +reward for the unjust judge has been quoted. When the council failed +to send him supplies in Germany, pleading failure of crops as their +excuse, he wrote back: “You speak of the high prices of corn. +Probably they are high because those who have it want to profit by +the need of others.” And he set a new chief over the finances. On +the other hand, he gave shape to the relations between king and +people. The Riksdag held its sessions, but the laws that ruled it +were so vague that it was no unusual thing for men who were not +members at all to attend and join in the debates. Gustav Adolf put +an abrupt end to “a state of things that exposed Sweden to the +contempt of the nations.” As he ordered it, the initiative remained +with the crown; it was the right of the Riksdag to complain and +discuss; of the King to “choose the best” after hearing all sides.</p> + +<p>As a young prince, Gustav Adolf fell deeply in love with Ebba Brahe, +the beautiful daughter of one of Sweden’s most powerful noblemen. +The two had been play-mates and became lovers. But the old queen +frowned upon the match. He was the coming king, she was a subject, +and the queen managed, with the help of Oxenstjerna, who was +Gustav’s best friend all through his life, to make him give up his +love. “Then I will never marry,” he cried in a burst of tempestuous +grief. But when the queen had got Ebba Brahe safely married to one +of his father’s famous generals, he wedded the lovely sister of the +Elector of Brandenburg. She adored her royal husband, but never took +kindly to Sweden, and the people did not like her. They clung to the +great king’s early love, and to this day they linger before the +picture of the beautiful Ebba in the Stockholm castle when they come +from his grave in the Riddarholm church, while they pass the queen’s +by with hardly a glance. It is recorded that Ebba made her husband a +good and dutiful wife. If her thoughts strayed at times to the old +days and what might have been, it is not strange. In one of those +moods she wrote on a window-pane in the castle:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">I am happy in my lot,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And thanks I give to God.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The queen-mother saw it and wrote under it her own version:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">You wouldn’t, but you must.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">’Tis the lot of the dust.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>Footnotes:</h3> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> This is the story as the page told it. He lived two days.</p> +</div> +</div> + + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="KING_AND_SAILOR_HEROES_OF_COPENHAGEN">KING AND SAILOR, HEROES OF COPENHAGEN<a id="239"></a></h2> +</div> + +<p>Of all the foolish wars that were ever waged, it would seem that the +one declared by Denmark against Sweden in 1657 had the least excuse. +A century before, the two countries had fought through eight bitter +years over the momentous question whether Denmark should carry in +her shield the three lions that stood for the three Scandinavian +kingdoms, the Swedish one having set up for itself in the +dissolution of the union between them, and at the end of the fight +they were where they had started: each of them kept the whole brood. +But this war was without even that excuse. Denmark was helplessly +impoverished. Her trade was ruined; the nobles were sucking the +marrow of the country. Of the freehold farms that had been its +strength scarce five thousand were left in the land. It could hardly +pay its way in days of peace. Its strongholds lay in ruins; it had +neither arms, ammunition, nor officers. On its roster of thirty +thousand men for the national defence were carried the dead and the +yet unborn, while the Swedish army of tried veterans had gone from +victory to victory under a warlike king. To cap the climax, +Copenhagen had been harassed by pestilence that had killed one-fifth +of its fifty thousand people.</p> + +<p>So ill matched were they when a stubborn king forced a war that +could end only in disaster. When one of his councillors advised +against the folly, he caned him and sent him into exile. Yet out of +the fiery trial this king came a hero; his queen, whose pride and +wasteful vanity<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> had done its full share in bringing the country +to the verge of ruin, became the idol of the nation. In the hour of +its peril she grew to the stature of a great woman who shared danger +and hardship with her people and by her example put hope and courage +into their hearts.</p> + +<p>Karl Gustav, the Swedish king, was campaigning in Poland, but as +soon as he could turn around he marched his army against Denmark, +scattered the forces that opposed him, and before news of his +advance had reached Copenhagen knocked at the gate of Denmark +demanding “speech of brother Frederik in good Swedish.” A winter of +great severity had bridged the Baltic and the sounds of the island +kingdom. In two weeks he led his army, horse, foot, and guns, over +the frozen seas where hardly a wagon had dared cross before. Great +rifts yawned in their way, and whole companies were swallowed up; +his own sleigh sank in the deep, but nothing stopped him. Danish +emissaries came pleading for peace. He met them on the way to the +capital, surrounded by his Finnish horsemen, and gave scant ear to +their speeches while he drove on. Before the city he halted and +dictated a peace so humiliating that one of the Danish commissioners +exclaimed when he came to sign, “I wish I could not write.” Perhaps +the same wish troubled the conqueror’s ambitious dreams. The peace +was broken as swiftly as made. In five months he was back before +Frederik’s capital with his whole army, while a Swedish fleet +anchored in the roadstead outside. “What difference does it make to +you,” was the contemptuous taunt flung at the anxious envoys who +sought his camp, “whether the name of your king is Karl or Frederik +so long as you are safe?” He had come to make an end of Denmark.</p> + +<p>Copenhagen was almost without defences. The old earth walls mounted +only six guns, with breastworks scarce knee-high. In places King +Karl could have driven his sleigh into the heart of the city at the +head of his army. But for the second time he hesitated when a swift +blow would have won all—and lost. Overnight the Danish nation awoke +to a fight for its life. King and people, till then strangers, in +that hour became one. Frederik the Third met the craven counsel that +he fly to Norway with the proud answer, “I will die in my nest, if +need be, and my wife with me.” With a shout the burghers swore to +fight to the last man. The walls of the city rose as if by magic. +Nobles and mechanics, clergy and laborers, students, professors and +sailors worked side by side; high-born women wheeled barrows. Every +tree was cut down and made into palisades. The crops ripening in +the fields were gathered in haste and the cattle driven in. The city +had been provisioned for barely a week and garrisoned by four +hundred raw recruits. Sailors from the useless ships took out their +guns and mounted them in the redoubts. Peasants flocked in and were +armed with battle-axes, clubs, and boat-hooks when the supply of +muskets gave out. When Karl Gustav drew his lines tight he faced six +thousand determined men behind strong walls. The city stood in a +ring of blazing fires. Its defenders were burning down the houses +and woods beyond the moats to clear the way for their gunners. The +King watched the sight from his horse in silence. He knew what it +meant; he had fought in the Thirty Years’ War: “Now, I vow, we shall +have fighting,” was all he said.</p> + +<p class="p2bot">It was not long in coming. On the second night the garrison made a +sortie and drove back the invaders, destroying their works with +great slaughter. Night after night, and sometimes in the broad day, +they returned to the charge, overwhelming the Swedes where least +expected, capturing their guns, their supplies, and their outposts. +Short of arms and ammunition, they took them in the enemy’s lines. +In one of these raids Karl Gustav himself was all but made prisoner. +A horseman had him by the shoulder, but he wrenched himself loose +and spurred his horse into the sea where a boat from one of the +ships rescued him. The defence took on something of the fervor of +religious frenzy. Twice a day services were held on the walls of the +city; within, the men who could not bear arms, and the women, +barricaded the streets with stones and iron chains for the last +fight, were it to come. In his place on the wall every burgher had a +hundred brickbats or stones piled up for ammunition, and by night +when the enemy rained red-hot shot upon the city, he fought with a +club or spear in one hand, a torch in the other.</p> + +<div class="figcenter illowp70" style="max-width: 43.75em;" id="i-275"> +<img alt="" class="w100" src="images/i-275.jpg"> +<div class="caption"> +<p class="right"><em>From a painting by Lund</em>   </p> +<p class="nobreak center"><span class="smcap">The Siege of Copenhagen</span>, 1658</div> +</div> + +<p class="p2">Eleven weeks the battle raged by night and by day. Then a Dutch +fleet forced its way through the blockade after a fight in which it +lost six ships and two admirals. It brought food, ammunition, and +troops. The joy in the city was great. All day the church bells were +rung, and the people hailed the Dutch as the saviours of the nation. +But when they, too, would thank God for the victory and asked for +the use of the University’s hall, they were refused. They were +followers of Calvin and their heresies must not be preached in the +place set apart for teaching the doctrines of the “pure faith,” said +the professors, who were Lutheran. It was the way of the day. The +Reformation had learned little from the bigotry of the Inquisition. +The Dutchmen had to be content with the court-house. But the siege +was not over. Another hard winter closed in with the enemy at the +door, burrowing hourly nearer the outworks, and food and fire-wood +grew scarcer day by day in the hard-pressed city. When things were +at the worst pass in February, the Swedes gathered their hosts for a +final assault. In the midnight hour they came on with white shirts +drawn over their uniforms to make it hard to tell them from the +snow. Karl Gustav himself led the storming party and at last was in +the way of “getting speech of brother Frederik,” for the Danish King +was as good as his word. He had said that he would die in his nest, +and time and again he had to be sternly reasoned with to prevent him +from exposing himself overmuch. Where the danger was greatest he +was, and beside him ever the queen, all her frivolity gone and +forgotten. She who had danced at the court fetes and followed the +hounds on the chase as if the world had no other cares, became the +very incarnation of the spirit of the bitter and bloody struggle. +All through that winter the royal couple lived in a tent among their +men, and when the alarm was sounded they were first on foot to lead +them. Now that the hour had come, they were in the forefront of the +fight.</p> + +<p>Where the famous pleasure garden Tivoli now is, the strength of the +enemy was massed against the redoubts at the western gate. The name +of “Storm Street” tells yet of the doings of that night. King Karl +had promised to give over the captured town to be sacked by his army +three days and nights, and like hungry wolves they swarmed to the +attack, a mob of sailors and workmen with scaling ladders in the +van. The moats they crossed in spite of the gaps that had been made +in the ice to stop them, but the garrison had poured water over the +walls that froze as it ran, until they were like slippery icebergs. +A bird could have found no foothold on them. Showers of rocks and +junk and clubs fell upon the laddermen. Three times Karl Gustav +hurled his columns against them; as often they were driven back, +broken and beaten. A few gained a foothold on the walls only to be +dashed down to death. The burghers fought for their lives and their +homes. Their women carried boiling pitch and poured it over the +breastworks, and when they had no more, dragged great beams and +rolled them down upon the ladders, sweeping them clear of the enemy. +In the hottest fight Gunde Rosenkrantz, one of the king’s +councillors, trod on a fallen soldier and, looking into his face, +saw that it was his own son breathing his last. He bent over and +kissed him, and went on fighting.</p> + +<p>In the early morning hour Karl Gustav gave the order to retreat. The +attack had failed. Many of his general officers were slain; nearly +half of his army was killed, disabled, or captured. Six Swedish +standards were taken by the Danes. The moats were filled with the +dead. The Swedes had “come in their shrouds.” The guns of the city +thundered out a triple salute of triumph and the people sang Te +Deums on the walls. Their hardships were not over. Fifteen months +yet the city was invested and the home of daily privation; but their +greatest peril was past. Copenhagen was saved, and with it the +nation; the people had found itself and its king. That autumn a +second Swedish army under the veteran Stenbock was massacred in the +island of Fyen, and Karl Gustav exclaimed when the beaten general +brought him the news, “Since the devil took the sheep he might have +taken the buck too.” He never got over it. Three months later he lay +dead, and the siege of Copenhagen was raised in May, 1660. It had +lasted twenty months.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Seven score years and one passed, and the morning of Holy +Thursday<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> saw a British fleet sailing slowly up the deep before +Copenhagen, the deck of every ship bristling with guns, their crews +at quarters, Lord Nelson’s signal to “close for action” flying from +the top of the flag-ship <i>Elephant</i>. Between the fleet and the shore +lay a line of dismantled hulks on which men with steady eyes and +stout hearts were guarding Denmark’s honor. Once more it had been +jeopardized by foolish counsel in high places. Danish statesmen had +trifled and temporized while England, facing all Europe alone in the +fight for her life, made ready to strike a decisive blow against the +Armed Neutrality that threatened her supremacy on the sea. Once more +the city had been caught unprepared, defenceless, and once more its +people rose as one man to meet the danger. But it was too late. +Outside, in the Sound, a fleet as great as that led by Nelson +waited, should he fail, to finish his work. That was to destroy the +Danish ships, if need be to bombard the city and so detach Denmark +from the coalition of England’s foes. So she chose to consider such +as were not her declared friends.</p> + +<p>Denmark had no fighting ships at home to pit against her. Her +sailors were away serving in the merchant marine. She had no +practised gunners, nothing but a huddle of dismantled vessels in her +navy-yard, most of them half-rotten hulks without masts. Those that +had standing rigging were even worse, for none of them had sails and +the falling spars in battle lumbered up the decks and menaced the +crew. But such as they were she made the most of them. Eighteen +hulks were hauled into the channel and moored head and stern. Where +they lay they could not be moved. Only the guns on one side were +therefore of use, while the enemy could turn and manœuvre. They +were manned by farm lads, mechanics, students, enlisted in haste, +not one of whom had ever smelt powder, and these were matched +against Nelson’s grim veterans. Even their commander, J. Olfert +Fischer, had not been under fire before that day, for Denmark had +had peace for eighty years. But his father had served as a +midshipman with Tordenskjold and the son did not flinch, outnumbered +though his force was, two to one, in men and guns.</p> + +<p>The sun shone fair upon the blue waters as the great fleet of +thirty-odd fighting ships sailed up from the south. From the city’s +walls and towers a mighty multitude watched it come, unmindful of +peril from shot and shell; the Danish line was not half a mile away. +In the churches whose bells were still ringing when the first gun +was fired from the block-ship <i>Prövestenen</i>, the old men and women +prayed through the long day, for there were few homes in Copenhagen +that did not have son, brother, or friend fighting out there. A +single gun answered the challenge, now two and three at once, then +broadside crashed upon broadside with deafening roar. When at length +all was quiet a tremendous report shook the city. It was the +flag-ship <i>Dannebrog</i> that blew up. She was on fire with only three +serviceable guns left when she struck her colors, but no ship of her +name might sail with an enemy’s prize crew on board, and she did +not.</p> + +<p>The story of that bloody day has been told many times. Briton and +Dane hoist their flags on April 2 with equal right, for never was +challenge met with more dauntless valor. Lord Nelson owned that of +all the hundred and five battles he had fought this was hottest. On +the <i>Monarch</i>, which for hours was under the most galling fire from +the Danish ships, two hundred and twenty of the crew were killed or +wounded. “There was not a single man standing,” wrote a young +officer on board of her, “the whole way from the mainmast forward, a +district containing eight guns a side, some of which were run out +ready for firing, others lay dismounted, and others remained as they +were after recoiling.... I hastened down the fore ladder to the +lower deck and felt really relieved to find somebody alive.” The +slaughter on the Danish ships was even greater. More than one-fifth +of their entire strength of a little over five thousand men were +slain or wounded. Of the eighteen hulls they lost thirteen, but only +one were the British able to take home with them. The rest were +literally shot to pieces and were burned where they lay. As one +after another was silenced, those yet alive on board spiked their +last guns, if indeed there were any left worth the trouble, threw +their powder overboard and made, for the shore. Twice the Danish +Admiral abandoned his burning ship, the last time taking up his post +in the island battery Tre Kroner. Each time one of the old hulls was +crushed, a Briton pushed into the hole made in the line and raked +the remaining ones fore and aft until their decks were like huge +shambles. The block-ship <i>Indfödsretten</i> bore the concentrated fire +of five frigates and two smaller vessels throughout most of the +battle. Her chief was killed. When the news reached head-quarters on +shore, Captain von Schrödersee, an old naval officer who had been +retired because of ill health, volunteered to take his place. He was +rowed out, but as he came over the side of the ship a cannon-ball +cut him in two. <i>Prövestenen</i>, as it was the first to fire a shot, +held out also to the last. One-fourth of her crew lay dead, and her +flag had been shot away three times when the decks threatened to +cave in and Captain Lassen spiked his last guns and left the wreck +to be burned. All through the fight she was the target of ninety +guns to which she could oppose only twenty-nine of her own sixty.</p> + +<p>Nelson had promised Admiral Parker to finish the fight in an hour. +When the battle had lasted three, Parker signalled to him to stop. +Every school-boy knows the story of how Lord Nelson put the glass to +his blind eye and, remarking that he could see no signal, kept right +on. In the end he had to resort to stratagem to force a truce so +that he might disentangle some of his ships that were drifting into +great danger in the narrow channel. The ruse succeeded. Crown Prince +Frederik, moved by compassion for the wounded whom Nelson threatened +to burn with the captured hulks if firing did not stop, ordered +hostilities to cease without consulting the Admiral of the fleet, +and the battle was over. Denmark’s honor was saved. “Nothing,” wrote +our own Captain Mahan, “could place a nation’s warlike fame higher +than did her great deeds that day.” All else was lost; for “there +had come upon Denmark one of those days of judgment to which nations +are liable who neglect in time of peace to prepare for war.” It had +been long coming, but it had overtaken her at last and found all the +bars down.</p> + +<p>Alongside the <i>Dannebrog</i> throughout her fight with Nelson’s +flag-ship, and edging ever closer in under the <i>Elephant’s</i> side +until at last the marines were sent to man her rail and keep it away +with their muskets, lay a floating battery mounting twenty guns +under command of a beardless second lieutenant. The name of Peter +Willemoes will live as long as the Danish tongue is spoken. Barely +graduated from the Naval Academy, he was but eighteen when the need +of officers thrust the command of “Floating Battery No. 1” upon him. +So gallantly did he acquit himself that Nelson took notice of the +young man who, every time a broadside crashed into his ship or +overhead, swung his cocked hat and led his men in a lusty cheer. +When after the battle he met the Crown Prince on shore, the English +commander asked to be introduced to his youthful adversary. “You +ought to make an admiral of him,” he said, and Prince Frederik +smiled: “If I were to make admirals of all my brave officers, I +should have no captains or lieutenants left.” When the <i>Dannebrog</i> +drifted on the shoals, abandoned and burning, Willemoes cut his +cables and got away under cover of the heavy smoke. Having neither +sails nor oars, he was at the mercy of the tide, but luckily it +carried him to the north of the Tre Kroner battery, and he reached +port with forty-nine of his crew of one hundred and twenty-nine dead +or wounded. The people received him as a conqueror returning with +victory. His youth and splendid valor aroused the enthusiasm of the +whole country. Wherever he went crowds flocked to see him as the +hero of “Holy Thursday’s Battle.” Especially was he the young +people’s idol. Sailor that he was, he was “the friend of all pretty +girls,” sang the poet of that day. He danced and made merry with +them, but the one of them all on whom his heart was set, so runs the +story, would have none of him, and sent him away to foreign parts, a +saddened lover.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile much praise had not made him vain. “I did my duty,” he +wrote to his father, a minor government official in the city of +Odense where four years later Hans Christian Andersen was born on +the anniversary day of the battle, “and I have whole limbs which I +least expected. The Crown Prince and the Admiral have said that I +behaved well.” He was to have one more opportunity of fighting his +country’s enemy, and this time to the death.</p> + +<p>In the summer of 1807, England was advised that by the treaty of +Tilsit Russia and Prussia had secretly joined Napoleon in his +purpose of finally crushing his mortal enemy by uniting all the +fleets of Europe against her, Denmark’s too, by compulsion if +persuasion failed. Without warning a British fleet swooped down upon +the unsuspecting nation, busy with the pursuits of peace, bombarded +and burned Copenhagen when the Commandant refused to deliver the +ships into the hands of the robbers as a “pledge of peace,” and +carried away ships, supplies, even the carpenters’ tools in the +navy-yard. Nothing was spared. Seventy vessels, sixteen of them +ships of the line, fell into their hands, and supplies that filled +ninety-two transports beside. A single fighting ship was left to +Denmark of all her fleet,—the <i>Prince Christian Frederik</i> of +sixty-eight guns. She happened to be away in a Norwegian port and so +escaped. Willemoes was on leave serving in the Russian navy, but +hastened home when news came of the burning of Copenhagen, and found +a berth under Captain Jessen.</p> + +<p>On March 22, 1808, the <i>Prince Christian</i>, so she was popularly +called, hunting a British frigate that was making Danish waters +insecure, met in the Kattegat the <i>Stately</i> and the <i>Nassau</i>, each +like herself of sixty-eight guns. The <i>Nassau</i> was the old +<i>Holsteen</i>, renamed,—the single prize the victors had carried home +from the battle of Copenhagen. Three British frigates were working +up to join them. The coast of Seeland was near, but wind and tide +cut off escape to the Sound. Captain Jessen ran his ship in close +under the shore so that at the last he might beach her, and awaited +the enemy there.</p> + +<p>The sun had set, but the night was clear when the fight between the +three ships began. With one on either side, hardly a pistol-shot +away, Jessen returned shot for shot, giving as good as they sent, +and with such success that at the end of an hour and a half the +Britons dropped astern to make repairs. The <i>Prince Christian</i> +drifted, helpless, with rudder shot to pieces, half a wreck, rigging +all gone, and a number of her guns demolished. But when the enemy +returned he was hailed with a cheer and a broadside, and the fight +was on once more. This time they were three to one; one of the +British frigates of forty-four guns had come up and joined in.</p> + +<p>When the hull of the <i>Prince Christian</i> was literally knocked to +pieces, and of her 576 men 69 lay dead and 137 wounded, including +the chief and all of his officers who were yet alive, Captain Jessen +determined as a last desperate chance to run one of his opponents +down and board her with what remained of his crew. But his officers +showed him that it was impossible; the ship could not be manœuvred. +There was a momentary lull in the fire and out of the night came a +cry, “Strike your colors!” The Danish reply was a hurrah and a +volley from all the standing guns. Three broad-sides crashed into +the doomed ship in quick succession, and the battle was over. The +<i>Prince Christian</i> stood upon the shore, a wreck.</p> + +<p>Young Willemoes was spared the grief of seeing the last Danish +man-of-war strike its flag. In the hottest of the fight, as he +jumped upon a gun the better to locate the enemy in the gloom, a +cannon-ball took off the top of his head. He fell into the arms of a +fellow officer with the muttered words, “Oh God! my head—my +country!” and was dead. In his report of the fight Captain Jessen +wrote against his name: “Fell in battle—honored as he is missed.” +They made his grave on shore with the fallen sailors, and as the sea +washed up other bodies they were buried with them.</p> + +<p>The British captured the wreck, but they could only set fire to it +after removing the wounded. In the night it blew up where it stood. +That was the end of the last ship of Denmark’s proud navy.</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>Footnotes:</h3> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> It is of record that Queen Sofie Amalie used one-third +of the annual revenues of the country for her household. The menu of +a single “rustic dinner” of the court mentions 200 courses and +nearly as many kinds of preserves and dessert, served on gold, with +wines in corresponding abundance.</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> The battle of Copenhagen was fought April 2, 1801.</p> +</div> +</div> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_TROOPER_WHO_WON_A_WAR_ALONE">THE TROOPER WHO WON A WAR ALONE<a id="263"></a></h2> +</div> + +<p>Jens Kofoed was the name of a trooper who served in the disastrous +war of Denmark against Sweden in Karl Gustav’s day. He came from the +island of Bornholm in the Baltic, where he tilled a farm in days of +peace. When his troop went into winter quarters, he got a furlough +to go home to receive the new baby that was expected about +Christmas. Most of his comrades were going home for the holidays, +and their captain made no objection. The Swedish king was fighting +in far-off Poland, and no one dreamed that he would come over the +ice with his army in the depth of winter to reckon with Denmark. So +Jens Kofoed took ship with the promise that he would be back in two +weeks. But they were to be two long weeks. They did not hear of him +again for many moons, and then strange tidings came of his doings. +Single-handed he had bearded the Swedish lion, and downed it in a +fair fight—strangest of all, almost without bloodshed.</p> + +<p>The winter storms blew hard, and it was Christmas eve when he made +land, but he came in time to receive, not one new heir, but twin +baby girls. Then there were six of them, counting Jens and his wife, +and a merry Christmas they all had together. On Twelfth Night the +little ones were christened, and then the trooper bethought himself +of his promise to get back soon. The storms had ceased, but worse +had befallen; the sea was frozen over as far as eye reached, and the +island was cut off from all communication with the outer world. +There was nothing for it but to wait. It proved the longest and +hardest winter any one then living could remember. Easter was at +hand before the ice broke up, and let a fishing smack slip over to +Ystad, on the mainland. It came back with news that set the whole +island wondering. Peace had been made, and Denmark had ceded all its +ancient provinces east of the Öresund to Karl Gustav. Ystad itself +and Skaane, the province in which Jens Kofoed had been campaigning, +were Swedish now, and so was Bornholm. All unknown to its people, +the island had changed hands in the game of war overnight, as it +were. A Swedish garrison was coming over presently to take charge.</p> + +<p>When Jens Kofoed heard it, he sat down and thought things over. If +there was peace, his old captain had no use for him, that was +certain; but there might be need of him at home. What would happen +there, no one could tell. And there were the wife and children to +take care of. The upshot of it all was that he stayed. Only, to be +on the safe side, he got the Burgomaster and the Aldermen in his +home town, Hasle, to set it down in writing that he could not have +got back to his troop for all he might have tried. Kofoed, it will +be seen, was a man with a head on his shoulders, which was well, for +presently he had need of it.</p> + +<p>There were no Danish soldiers in the island, only a peasant militia, +ill-armed and untaught in the ways of war; so no one thought of +resisting the change of masters. The people simply waited to see +what would happen. Along in May a company of one hundred and twenty +men with four guns landed, and took possession of Castle +Hammershus, on the north shore, the only stronghold on the island, +in the name of the Swedish king. Colonel Printzensköld, who had +command, summoned the islanders to a meeting, and told them that he +had come to be their governor. They were to obey him, and that was +all. The people listened and said nothing.</p> + +<p>Perhaps if the new rulers had been wise, things might have kept on +so. The people would have tilled their farms, and paid their taxes, +and Jens Kofoed, with all his hot hatred of the enemy he had fought, +might never have been heard of outside his own island. But the +Swedish soldiers had been through the Thirty Years’ War and plunder +had become their profession. They rioted in the towns, doubled the +taxes, put an embargo on trade and export, crushed the industries; +worse, they took the young men and sent them away to Karl Gustav’s +wars in foreign lands. They left only the old men and the boys, and +these last they kept a watchful eye on for drafts in days to come. +When the conscripts hid in the woods, so as not to be torn from +their wives and sweethearts, they organized regular man-hunts as if +the quarry were wild beasts, and, indeed, the poor fellows were not +treated much better when caught.</p> + +<p>All summer they did as they pleased; then came word that Karl Gustav +had broken the peace he made, and of the siege of Copenhagen. The +news made the people sit up and take notice. Their rightful +sovereign had ceded the island to the Swedish king, that was one +thing. But now that they were at war again, these strangers who +persecuted them were the public enemy. It was time something were +done. In Hasle there was a young parson with his heart in the right +place, Poul Anker by name. Jens Kofoed sat in his church; he had +been to the wars, and was fit to take command. Also, the two were +friends. Presently a web of conspiracy spread quietly through the +island, gripping priest and peasant, skipper and trader, alike. Its +purpose was to rout out the Swedes. The Hasle trooper and parson +were the leaders; but their secret was well kept. With the tidings +that the Dutch fleet had forced its way through to Copenhagen with +aid for the besieged, and had bottled the Swedish ships up in +Landskrona, came a letter purporting to be from King Frederik +himself, encouraging the people to rise. It was passed secretly +from hand to hand by the underground route, and found the island +ready for rebellion.</p> + +<p>Governor Printzensköld had seen something brewing, but he was a +fearless man, and despised the “peasant mob.” However, he sent to +Sweden for a troop of horsemen, the better to patrol the island and +watch the people. Early in December, 1658, just a year after Jens +Kofoed, the trooper, had set out for his home on furlough, the +governor went to Rönne, the chief city in the island, to start off a +ship for the reënforcements. The conspirators sought to waylay him +at Hasle, where he stopped to give warning that all who had not paid +the heavy war-tax would be sold out forthwith; but they were too +late. Master Poul and Jens Kofoed rode after him, expecting to meet +a band of their fellows on the way, but missed them. The parson +stayed behind then to lay the fuse to the mine, while Kofoed kept on +to town. By the time he got there he had been joined by four others, +Aage Svendsön, Klavs Nielsen, Jens Laurssön, and Niels Gummelöse. +The last two were town officers. As soon as the report went around +Rönne that they had come, Burgomaster Klaus Kam went to them openly.</p> + +<p>The governor had ridden to the house of the other burgomaster, Per +Larssön, who was not in the plot. His horse was tied outside and he +just sitting down to supper when Jens Kofoed and his band crowded +into the room, and took him prisoner. They would have killed him +there, but his host pleaded for his life. However, when they took +him out in the street, Printzensköld thought he saw a chance to +escape in the crowd and the darkness, and sprang for his horse. But +his great size made him an easy mark. He was shot through the head +as he ran. The man who shot him had loaded his pistol with a silver +button torn from his vest. That was sure death to any goblin on whom +neither lead nor steel would bite, and it killed the governor all +right. The place is marked to this day in the pavement of the main +street as the spot where fell the only tyrant who ever ruled the +island against the people’s will.</p> + +<p>The die was cast now, and there was need of haste. Under cover of +the night the little band rode through the island with the news, +ringing the church bells far and near to call the people to arms. +Many were up and waiting; Master Poul had roused them already. At +Hammershus the Swedish garrison heard the clamor, and wondered what +it meant. They found out when at sunrise an army of half the +population thundered on the castle gates summoning them to +surrender. Burgomaster Kam sat among them on the governor’s horse, +wearing his uniform, and shouted to the officers in command that +unless they surrendered, he, the governor, would be killed, and his +head sent in to his wife in the castle. The frightened woman’s tears +decided the day. The garrison surrendered, only to discover that +they had been tricked. Jens Kofoed took command in the castle. The +Swedish soldiers were set to doing chores for the farmers they had +so lately harassed. The ship that was to have fetched reënforcements +from Sweden was sent to Denmark instead, with the heartening news. +They needed that kind there just then.</p> + +<p>But the ex-trooper, now Commandant, knew that a day of reckoning was +coming, and kept a sharp lookout. When the hostile ship <i>Spes</i> was +reported steering in from the sea, the flag of Sweden flew from the +peak of Hammershus, and nothing on land betrayed that there had been +a change. As soon as she anchored, a boat went out with an +invitation from the governor to any officers who might be on board, +to come ashore and arrange for the landing of the troops. The +captain of the ship and the major in charge came, and were made +prisoners as soon as they had them where they could not be seen from +the ship. It blew up to a storm, and the <i>Spes</i> was obliged to put +to sea, but as soon as she returned boats were sent out to land the +soldiers. They sent only little skiffs that could hold not over +three or four, and as fast as they were landed they were overpowered +and bound. Half of the company had been thus disposed of when the +lieutenant on board grew suspicious, and sent word that without the +express orders of the major no more would come. But Jens Kofoed’s +wit was equal to the emergency. The next boat brought an invitation +to the lieutenant to come in and have breakfast with the officers, +who would give him his orders there. He walked into the trap; but +when he also failed to return, his men refused to follow. He had +arranged to send them a sign, they said, that everything was all +right. If it did not come, they would sail away to Sweden for help.</p> + +<p>It took some little persuasion to make the lieutenant tell about the +sign, but in the end Jens Kofoed got it. It turned out to be his +pocket-knife. When they saw that, the rest came, and were put under +lock and key with their fellows.</p> + +<p>The ship was left. If that went back, all was lost. Happily both +captain and mate were prisoners ashore. Four boat-loads of +islanders, with arms carefully stowed under the seats, went out with +the mate of the <i>Spes</i>, who was given to understand that if he as +much as opened his mouth he would be a dead man. They boarded the +ship, taking the crew by surprise. By night the last enemy was +comfortably stowed, and the ship on her way to Rönne, where the +prisoners were locked in the court-house cellar, with shotted guns +guarding the door. Perhaps it was the cruelties practised by Swedish +troops in Denmark that preyed upon the mind of Jens Kofoed when he +sent the parson to prepare them for death then and there; but +better counsel prevailed. They were allowed to live. The whole war +cost only two lives, the governor’s and that of a sentinel at the +castle, who refused to surrender. The mate of the <i>Spes</i> and two +of her crew contrived to escape after they had been taken to +Copenhagen, and from them Karl Gustav had the first tidings of how +he lost the island.</p> + +<p>The captured ship sailed down to Copenhagen with greeting to King +Frederik that the people of Bornholm had chosen him and his heirs +forever to rule over them, on condition that their island was never +to be separated from the Danish Crown. The king in his delight +presented them with a fine silver cup, and made Jens Kofoed captain +of the island, beside giving him a handsome estate. He lived +thirty-three years after that, the patriarch of his people, and +raised a large family of children. Not a few of his descendants are +to-day living in the United States. In the home of one of them in +Brooklyn, New York, is treasured a silver drinking cup which King +Frederik gave to the ex-trooper; but it is not the one he sent back +with his deputation. That one is still in the island of Bornholm.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CARL_LINNE_KING_OF_THE_FLOWERS">CARL LINNÉ, KING OF THE FLOWERS<a id="277"></a></h2> +</div> + +<p>Years ago there grew on the Jonsboda farm in Smaland, Sweden, a +linden tree that was known far and wide for its great age and size. +So beautiful and majestic was the tree, and so wide the reach of its +spreading branches, that all the countryside called it sacred. +Misfortune was sure to come if any one did it injury. So thought the +people. It was not strange, then, that the farmer’s boys, when they +grew to be learned men and chose a name, should call themselves +after the linden. The peasant folk had no family names in those +days. Sven Carlsson was Sven, the son of Carl; and his son, if his +given name were John, would be John Svensson. So it had always been. +But when a man could make a name for himself out of the big +dictionary, that was his right. The daughter of the Jonsboda farmer +married; and her son played in the shadow of the old tree, and grew +so fond of it that when he went out to preach he also called himself +after it. Nils Ingemarsson was the name he received in baptism, and +to that he added Linnæus, never dreaming that in doing it he handed +down the name and the fame of the friend of his play hours to all +coming days. But it was so; for Parson Nils’ eldest son, Carl Linné, +or Linnæus, became a great man who brought renown to his country and +his people by telling them and all the world more than any one had +ever known before about the trees and the flowers. The King knighted +him for his services to science, and the people of every land united +in acclaiming him the father of botany and the king of the flowers.</p> + +<p>They were the first things he learned to love in his baby world. If +he was cross, they had but to lay him on the grass in the garden and +put a daisy in his hand, and he would croon happily over it for +hours. He was four years old when his father took him to a wedding +in the neighborhood. The men guests took a tramp over the farm, and +in the twilight they sat and rested in the meadow, where the spring +flowers grew. The minister began telling them stories about them; +how they all had their own names and what powers for good or ill +the apothecary found in the leaves and root of some of them. Carl’s +father, though barely out of college, was a bright and gifted man. +One of his parishioners said once that they couldn’t afford a whole +parson, and so they took a young one; but if that was the way of it, +the men of Stenbrohult made a better bargain than they knew. They +sat about listening to his talk, but no one listened more closely +than little Carl. After that he had thought for nothing else. In the +corner of the garden he had a small plot of his own, and into it he +planted all the wild flowers from the fields, and he asked many more +questions about them than his father could answer. One day he came +back with one whose name he had forgotten. The minister was busy +with his sermon.</p> + +<p>“If you don’t remember,” he said impatiently, “I will never tell you +the name of another flower.” The boy went away, his eyes wide with +terror at the threat; but after that he did not forget a single +name.</p> + +<p>When he was big enough, they sent him to the Latin school at Wexiö, +where the other boys nicknamed him “the little botanist.” His +thoughts were outdoors when they should have been in the dry books, +and his teachers set him down as a dunce. They did not know that his +real study days were when, in vacation, he tramped the thirty miles +to his home. Every flower and every tree along the way was an old +friend, and he was glad to see them again. Once in a while he found +a book that told of plants, and then he was anything but a dunce. +But when his father, after Carl had been eight years in the school, +asked his teachers what they thought of him, they told him +flatly that he might make a good tailor or shoemaker, but a +minister—never; he was too stupid.</p> + +<p>That was a blow, for the parson of Stenbrohult and his wife had set +their hearts on making a minister of Carl, and small wonder. His +mother was born in the parsonage, and her father and grandfather had +been shepherds of the parish all their lives. There were tears in +the good minister’s eyes as he told Carl to pack up and get ready to +go back home; he had an errand at Dr. Rothman’s, but would return +presently. The good doctor saw that his patient was heavy of heart +and asked him what was wrong. When he heard what Carl’s teachers +had said, he flashed out:</p> + +<p>“What! he not amount to anything? There is not one in the whole lot +who will go as far as he. A minister he won’t be, that I’ll allow, +but I shall make a doctor of him such as none of them ever saw. You +leave him here with me.” And the parson did, comforted in spite of +himself. But Carl’s mother could not get over it. It was that +garden, she declared, and when his younger brother as much as +squinted that way, she flew at him with a “You dare to touch it!” +and shook him.</p> + +<p>When Dr. Rothman thought his pupil ready for the university, he sent +him up to Lund, and the head-master of the Latin School gave him the +letter he must bring, to be admitted. “Boys at school,” he wrote in +it, “may be likened to young trees in orchard nurseries, where it +sometimes happens that here and there among the saplings there are +some that make little growth, or even appear as wild seedlings, +giving no promise; but when afterwards transplanted to the orchard, +make a start, branch out freely, and at last yield satisfactory +fruit.” By good luck, though, Carl ran across an old teacher from +Wexiö, one of the few who had believed in him and was glad to see +him. He took him to the Rector and introduced him with warm words of +commendation, and also found him lodgings under the roof of Dr. +Kilian Stobæus.</p> + +<p>Dr. Stobæus was a physician of renown, but not good company. He was +one-eyed, sickly, lame in one foot, and a gloomy hypochondriac to +boot. Being unable to get around to his patients, he always had one +or two students to do the running for him and to learn as best they +might, in doing it. Carl found a young German installed there as the +doctor’s right hand. He also found a library full of books on +botany, a veritable heaven for him. But the gate was shut against +him; the doctor had the key, and he saw nothing in the country lad +but a needy student of no account. Perhaps the Rector had passed the +head-master’s letter along. However, love laughs at locksmiths, and +Carl Linnæus was hopelessly in love with his flowers. He got on the +right side of the German by helping him over some hard stiles in the +<i lang="it" xml:lang="it">materia medica</i>. In return, his fellow student brought him books +out of the library when the doctor had gone to bed, and Carl sat up +studying the big tomes till early cockcrow. Before the house +stirred, the books were back on their shelves, the door locked, and +no one was the wiser.</p> + +<p>No one except the doctor’s old mother, whose room was across the +yard. She did not sleep well, and all night she saw the window +lighted in her neighbor’s room. She told the doctor that Carl +Linnæus fell asleep with the candle burning every single night, and +sometime he would upset it and they would all be burned in their +beds. The doctor nodded grimly; he knew the young scamps. No doubt +they both sat up playing cards till dawn; but he would teach them. +And the very next morning, at two o’clock, up he stumped on his lame +foot to Carl’s room, in which there was light, sure enough, and went +in without knocking.</p> + +<p>Carl was so deep in his work that he did not hear him at all, and +the doctor stole up unperceived and looked over his shoulder. There +lay his precious books, which he thought safely locked in the +library, spread out before him, and his pupil was taking notes and +copying drawings as if his life depended upon it. He gave a great +start when Dr. Stobæus demanded what he was doing, but owned up +frankly, while the doctor frowned and turned over his notes, leaf by +leaf.</p> + +<p>“Go to bed and sleep like other people,” he said gruffly, yet +kindly, when he had heard it all, “and hereafter study in the +daytime;” and he not only gave him a key to his library, but took +him to his own table after that. Up till then Carl had merely been a +lodger in the house.</p> + +<p>When he was at last on the home stretch, as it seemed, an accident +came near upsetting it all. He was stung by an adder on one of his +botanizing excursions, so far from home and help that the bite came +near proving fatal. However, Dr. Stobæus’ skill pulled him through, +and in after years he got square by labelling the serpent <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">furia +infernalis</i>—hell-fury—in his natural history. It was his way of +fighting back. All through his life he never wasted an hour on +controversy. He had no time, he said. But once when a rival made a +particularly nasty attack upon him, he named a new plant after him, +adding the descriptive adjective <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">detestabilis</i>—the detestable +so-and-so. On the whole, he had the best of it; for the names he +gave stuck.</p> + +<p>It was during his vacation after the year at Lund that Linnæus made +a catalogue of the plants in his father’s garden at Stenbrohult that +shows us the country parson as no mean botanist himself; for in the +list, which is preserved in the Academy of Sciences at Stockholm, +are no less than two hundred and twenty-four kinds of plants. Among +them are six American plants that had found their way to Sweden. The +poison ivy is there, though what they wanted of that is hard to +tell, and the four-o’clock, the pokeweed, the milkweed, the pearly +everlasting, and the potato, which was then (1732) classed as a rare +plant. Not until twenty years later did they begin to grow it for +food in Sweden.</p> + +<p>When Carl Linnæus went up to Upsala University, his parents had so +far got over their disappointment at his deserting the ministry that +they gave him a little money to make a start with; but they let him +know that no more was coming—their pocket-book was empty. And +within the twelvemonth, for all his scrimping and saving, he was on +the point of starvation. He tells us himself that he depended on +chance for a meal and wore his fellow students’ cast-off clothes. +His boots were without soles, and in his cheerless attic room he +patched them with birch bark and card board as well as he could. He +was now twenty-three years old, and it seemed as if he would have to +give up the study that gave him no bread; but still he clung to his +beloved flowers. They often made him forget the pangs of hunger. And +when the cloud was darkest the sun broke through. He was sitting in +the Botanical Garden sketching a plant, when Dean Celsius, a great +orientalist and theologian of his day, passed by. The evident +poverty of the young man, together with his deep absorption in his +work, arrested his attention; he sat down and talked with him. In +five minutes Carl had found a friend and the Dean a helper. He had +been commissioned to write a book on the plants of the Holy Land and +had collected a botanical library for the purpose, but the work +lagged. Here now was the one who could help set it going. That day +Linnæus left his attic room and went to live in the Dean’s house. +His days of starvation were over.</p> + +<p>In the Dean’s employ his organizing genius developed the marvellous +skill of the cataloguer that brought order out of the chaos of +groping and guessing and blundering in which the science of botany +had floundered up till then. Here and there in it all were flashes +of the truth, which Linnæus laid hold of and pinned down with his +own knowledge to system and order. Thus the Frenchman, Sebastian +Vaillant, who had died a dozen years before, had suggested a +classification of flowers by their seed-bearing organs, the stamens +and pistils, instead of by their fruits, the number of their petals, +or even by their color, as had been the vague practice of the past. +Linnæus seized upon this as the truer way and wrote a brief treatise +developing the idea, which so pleased Dr. Celsius that he got his +young friend a license to lecture publicly in the Botanical Garden.</p> + +<p>The students flocked to hear him. His message was one that put life +and soul into the dry bones of a science that had only wearied them +before. The professor of botany himself sat in the front row and +hammered the floor with his cane in approval. But his very success +was the lecturer’s undoing. Envy grew in place of the poverty he had +conquered. The instructor, Nils Rosén, was abroad taking his +doctor’s degree. He came home to find his lectures deserted for the +irresponsible teachings of a mere undergraduate. He made grievous +complaint, and Linnæus was silenced, to his great good luck. For so +his friend the professor, though he was unable to break the red tape +of the university, got him an appointment to go to Lapland on a +botanical mission. His enemies were only too glad to see him go.</p> + +<p>Linnæus travelled more than three thousand miles that summer through +a largely unknown country, enduring, he tells us, more hardships and +dangers than in all his subsequent travels. Again and again he +nearly lost his life in swollen mountain streams, for he would not +wait until danger from the spring freshets was over. Once he was +shot at as he was gathering plants on a hillside, but happily the +Finn who did it was not a good marksman. Fish and reindeer milk were +his food, a pestilent plague of flies his worst trouble. But, he +says in his account of the trip, which is as fascinating a report of +a scientific expedition as was ever penned, they were good for +something, after all, for the migrating birds fed on them. From his +camps on lake or river bank he saw the water covered far and near +with swarms of ducks and geese. The Laplander’s larder was easily +stocked.</p> + +<p>He came back from the dangers of the wild with a reputation that was +clinched by his book “The Flora of Lapland,” to find the dragon of +professional jealousy rampant still at Upsala. His enemy, Rosén, +persuaded the senate of the university to adopt a rule that no +un-degreed man should lecture there to the prejudice of the +regularly appointed instructors. Tradition has it that Linnæus flew +into a passion at that and drew upon Rosén, and there might have +been one regular less but for the interference of bystanders. It may +be true, though it is not like him. Men wore side-arms in those days +just as some people carry pistols in their hip-pockets to-day, and +with as little sense. At least they had the defence, such as it was, +that it was the fashion. However, it made an end of Linnæus at +Upsala for the time. He sought a professorship at Lund, but another +got it. Then he led an expedition of his former students into the +Dalecarlia mountains and so he got to Falun, where Baron Reuterholm, +one of Sweden’s copper magnates, was seeking a guide for his two +sons through the region where his mines were.</p> + +<p>Linnæus was not merely a botanist, but an all around expert in +natural science. He took charge of the boys and, when the trip was +ended, started a school at Falun, where he taught mineralogy. It had +been hit or miss with the miners up till then. There was neither +science nor system in their work. What every day experience or the +test of fire had taught a prospector, in delving among the rocks, +was all there was of it. Linnæus was getting things upon a +scientific basis, when he met and fell in love with the handsome +daughter of Dr. Moræus. The young people would marry, but the +doctor, though he liked the mineralogist, would not hear of it till +he could support a wife. So he gave him three years in which to go +abroad and get a degree that would give him the right to practise +medicine anywhere in Sweden. The doctor’s daughter gave him a +hundred dollars she had saved, and her promise to wait for him.</p> + +<p>He went to Harderwyk in Holland and got his degree at the university +there on the strength of a thesis on the cause of malarial fever, +with the conclusions of which the learned doctors did not agree; +but they granted the diploma for the clever way in which he defended +it. On the way down he tarried in Hamburg long enough to give the +good burghers a severe jolt. They had a seven-headed serpent that +was one of the wonders of the town. The keen sight of the young +naturalist detected the fraud at once; the heads were weasels’ +heads, covered with serpent’s skin and cunningly sewed on the head +of the reptile. The shape of the jaws betrayed the trick. But the +Hamburgers were not grateful. The serpent was an asset. There was a +mortgage on it of ten thousand marks; now it was not worth a +hundred. They took it very ill, and Linnæus found himself suddenly +so unpopular that he was glad to get out of town overnight. What +became of the serpent history does not record.</p> + +<p>Linnæus had carried more than his thesis on malarial fever with him +to Holland. At the bottom of his trunk were the manuscripts of two +books on botany which, he told his sweetheart on parting, would yet +make him famous. Probably she shook her head at that. Pills and +powders, and broken legs to set, were more to her way of thinking, +and her father’s, too. If only he had patients, fame might take care +of itself. But now he put them both to shame. At Leyden he found +friends who brought out his first book, “Systema Naturæ,” in which +he divides all nature into the three kingdoms known to every child +since. It was hardly more than a small pamphlet, but it laid the +foundation for his later fame. To the enlarged tenth edition +zoölogists point back to this day as to the bed-rock on which they +built their science. The first was quickly followed by another, and +yet another. Seven large volumes bearing his name had come from the +press before he set sail for home, a whole library in botany, and a +new botany at that, so simple and sensible that the world adopted it +at once.</p> + +<p>Dr. Hermann Boerhaave was at that time the most famous physician in +Europe. He was also the greatest authority on systematic botany. +Great men flocked to his door, but the testy old Dutchman let them +wait until it suited him to receive them. Peter the Great had to +cool his heels in his waiting-room two long hours before his turn +came. Linnæus he would not see at all—until he sent him a copy of +his book. Then he shut the door against all others and summoned the +author. The two walked through his garden, and the old doctor +pointed proudly to a tree which was very rare, he said, and not in +any of the books. Yes, said Linnæus, it was in Vaillant’s. The +doctor knew better; he had annotated Vaillant’s botany himself, and +it was not there. Linnæus insisted, and the doctor, in a temper, +went for the book to show him. But there it was; Linnæus was right. +Nothing would do then but he must stay in Holland. Linnæus demurred; +he could not afford it. But Dr. Boerhaave knew a way out of that. He +had for a patient Burgomaster Cliffort, a rich old hypochondriac +with whom he could do nothing because he would insist on living high +and taking too little exercise. When he came again he told him that +what he needed was a physician in daily attendance upon him, and +handed him over to Linnæus.</p> + +<p>“He will fix your diet and fix your garden, too,” was his +prescription. The Burgomaster was a famous collector and had a +wondrous garden that was the apple of his eye. He took Linnæus into +his house and gave him a ducat a day for writing his menu and +cataloguing his collection. That was where his books grew, and the +biggest and finest of them was “Hortus Cliffortianus,” the account +of his patron’s garden.</p> + +<p>Armed with letters from Dr. Boerhaave and the Burgomaster, he took +one stronghold of professional prejudice after another. Not without +a siege. One of them refused flatly to surrender. That was Sir Hans +Sloan, the great English naturalist, to whom Dr. Boerhaave wrote in +a letter that is preserved in the British Museum: “Linnæus, who +bears this letter, is alone worthy of seeing you, alone worthy of +being seen by you. He who shall see you both together shall see two +men whose like will scarce ever be found in the world.” And the +doctor was no flatterer, as may be inferred from his treatment of +Peter the Great. But the aged baronet had had his own way so long, +and was so well pleased with it, that he would have nothing to do +with Linnæus. At Oxford the learned professor Dillenius received him +with no better grace. “This,” he said aside to a friend, “is the +young man who confounds all botany,” and he took him rather +reluctantly into his garden. A plant that was new to him attracted +Linnæus’ attention and he asked to what family it belonged.</p> + +<p>“That is more than you can tell me,” was the curt answer.</p> + +<p>“I can, if you will let me pluck a flower and examine it.”</p> + +<p>“Do, and be welcome,” said the professor, and his visitor after a +brief glance at the flower told its species correctly. The professor +stared.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Linnæus, who had kept his eyes open, “what did you mean +by the crosses you had put all through my book?” He had seen it +lying on the professor’s table, all marked up.</p> + +<p>“They mark the errors you made,” declared the other.</p> + +<p>“Suppose we see about that,” said the younger man and, taking the +book, led the way. They examined the flowers together, and when they +returned to the study all the pride had gone out of the professor. +He kept Linnæus with him a month, never letting him out of his sight +and, when he left, implored him with tears to stay and share his +professorship; the pay was enough for both.</p> + +<p>A letter that reached him from home on his return to Holland made +him realize with a start that he had overstayed his leave. It was +now in the fourth year since he had left Sweden. All the while he +had written to his sweetheart in the care of a friend who proved +false. He wanted her for himself and, when the three years had +passed, told her that Carl would never come back. Dr. Moræus was of +the same mind, and had not a real friend of the absent lover turned +up in the nick of time Linnæus would probably have stayed a Dutchman +to his death. Now, on the urgent message of his friend, he hastened +home, found his Elisabeth holding out yet, married her and settled +down in Stockholm to practise medicine.</p> + +<p>Famous as he had become, he found the first stretch of the row at +home a hard one to hoe. His books brought him no income. Nobody +would employ him, “even for a sick servant,” he complained. Envious +rivals assailed him and his botany, and there were days when herring +and black bread was fare not to be despised in Dr. Linnæus’ +household. But he kept pegging away and his luck changed. One +well-to-do patient brought another, and at last the queen herself +was opportunely seized with a bad cough. She saw one of her ladies +take a pill and asked what it was. Dr. Linnæus’ prescription for a +cold, she said, and it always cured her right up. So the doctor was +called to the castle and his cure worked there, too. Not long after +that he set down in his diary that “Now, no one can get well without +my help.”</p> + +<p>But he was not happy. “Once, I had flowers and no money,” he said; +“now, I have money and no flowers.” That they appointed him +professor of medicine at Upsala did not mend matters. His lectures +were popular and full of common sense. Diet and the simple life were +his hobbies, temperance in all things. He ever insisted that where +one man dies from drinking too much, ten die from overeating. +Children should eat four times a day, grown-ups twice, was his rule. +The foolish fashions and all luxury he abhorred. He himself in his +most famous years lived so plainly that some said he was miserly, +and his clothes were sometimes almost shabby. The happiest day of +his life came when he and his old enemy Rosén, whom he found filling +the chair of botany at the university, and with whom he made it up +soon after they became fellow members of the faculty, exchanged +chairs with the ready consent of the authorities. So, at last, +Linnæus had attained the place he coveted above all others, and the +goal of his ambition was reached.</p> + +<p>He lived at Upsala thirty-seven years and wrote many books. His +students idolized him. They came from all over the world. Twice a +week in summer, on Wednesday and Saturday, they sallied forth with +him to botanize in field and forest, and when they had collected +specimens all the long day they escorted the professor home through +the twilight streets with drums and trumpets and with flowers in +their hats. But however late they left him at his door, the earliest +dawn saw him up and at his work, for the older he grew the more +precious the hours that remained. In summer he was accustomed to +rise at three o’clock; in the dark winter days at six.</p> + +<p>He found biology a chaos and left it a science. In his special field +of botany he was not, as some think, the first. He himself +catalogued fully a thousand books on his topic. But he brought order +into it; he took what was good and, rejecting the false, fashioned +it into a workable system. In the mere matter of nomenclature, his +way of calling plants, like men, by a family name and a given name +wrought a change hard to appreciate in our day. The common blue +grass of our lawns, for instance, he called, and we call it still, +<i lang="nl" xml:lang="nl">Poa pratensis</i>. Up to his time it had three names and one of them +was <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Gramen pratense paniculatum majus latiore folio poa +theophrasti</i>. Dr. Rydberg, of the New York Botanical Gardens, said +aptly at the bicentenary of his birth, that it was as if instead of +calling a girl Grace Darling one were to say “Mr. Darling’s +beautiful, slender, graceful, blue-eyed girl with long, golden curls +and rosy cheeks.”</p> + +<p>The binomial system revolutionized the science. What the lines of +longitude and latitude did for geography Linnæus’ genius did for +botany. And he did not let pride of achievement persuade him that he +had said the last word. He knew his system to be the best till some +one should find a better, and said so. The King gave him a noble +name and he was proud of it with reason—vain, some have said. But +vanity did not make the creature deny the Creator. He ever tried to +trace science to its author. When the people were frightened by the +“water turning to blood” and overzealous priests cried that it was a +sign of the wrath of God, he showed under the magnifying glass the +presence of innumerable little animals that gave the water its +reddish tinge, and thereby gave offence to some pious souls. But +over the door of his lecture room were the words in Latin: “Live +guiltless—God sees you!” and in his old age, seeing with prophetic +eye the day of bacteriology that dawned a hundred years after his +death, he thanked God that He had permitted him to “look into His +secret council room and workshop.”</p> + +<p>He was one of the clear thinkers of all days, uniting imagination +with sound sense. It was Linnæus who discovered that plants sleep +like animals. The Pope ordered that his books, wherever they were +found in his dominions, should be burned as materialistic and +heretical; but Linnæus lived to see a professor in botany at Rome +dismissed because he did not understand his system, and another put +in his place who did, and whose lectures followed his theories. When +he was seventy he was stricken with apoplexy, while lecturing to his +students, and the last year of his life was full of misery. +“Linnæus limps,” is one of the last entries in his diary, “can +hardly walk, speaks unintelligibly, and is scarce able to write.” +Death came on January 10, 1778.</p> + +<p>Under the white flashes of the northern lights in the desolate land +he explored in his youth, there grows in the shelter of the spruce +forests a flower which he found and loved beyond any other, the +<i>Linnæa borealis</i>, named after him. In some pictures we have of him, +he is seen holding a sprig of it in his hand. It is the twin flower +of the northern Pacific coast and of Labrador, indeed of the far +northern woods from Labrador all the way to Alaska, that lifts its +delicate, sweet-scented pink bells from the moss with gentle appeal, +“long overlooked, lowly, flowering early” despite cold and storm, +typical of the man himself.</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="NIELS_FINSEN_THE_WOLF-SLAYER">NIELS FINSEN, THE WOLF-SLAYER<a id="305"></a></h2> +</div> + +<p>Hard by the town of Thorshavn, in the Faröe islands, a little lad +sat one day carving his name on a rock. His rough-coated pony +cropped the tufts of stunted grass within call. The grim North Sea +beat upon the shore below. What thoughts of the great world without +it stirred in the boy he never told. He came of a people to whom it +called all through the ages with a summons that rarely went +unheeded. If he heard he gave no sign. Slowly and laboriously he +traced in the stone the letters N.R.F. When he had finished he +surveyed his work with a quiet smile. “There!” he said, “that is +done.”</p> + +<p>The years went by, and a distant city paused in its busy life to +hearken to bells tolling for one who lay dead. Kings and princes +walked behind his coffin and a whole people mourned. Yet in life he +had worn no purple. He was a plain, even a poor man. Upon his grave +they set a rock brought from the island in the North Sea, just like +the other that stands there yet, and in it they hewed the letters +N.R.F., for the man and the boy were one. And he who spoke there +said for all mankind that what he wrought was well done, for it was +done bravely and in love.</p> + +<p>Niels Ryberg Finsen was born in 1860 in the Faröe islands, where his +father was an official under the Danish Government. His family came +of the sturdy old Iceland stock that comes down to our time unshorn +of its strength from the day of the vikings, and back to Iceland his +people sent him to get his education in the Reykjavik Latin school, +after a brief stay in Denmark where his teachers failed to find the +key to the silent, reserved lad. There he lived the seven pregnant +years of boyhood and youth, from fourteen to twenty-one, and ever +after there was that about him that brought to mind the wild +fastnesses of that storm swept land. Its mountains were not more +rugged than his belief in the right as he saw it.</p> + +<p>The Reykjavik school had a good name, but school and pupils were +after their own kind. Conventional was hardly the word for it. Some +of the “boys” were twenty and over. Finsen loved to tell of how they +pursued the studies each liked best, paying scant attention to the +rest. In their chosen fields they often knew much more than the +curriculum called for, and were quite able to instruct the teacher; +the things they cared less about they helped one another out with, +so as to pass examinations. For mere proficiency in lessons they +cherished a sovereign contempt. To do anything by halves is not the +Iceland way, and it was not Niels Finsen’s. All through his life he +was impatient with second-hand knowledge and borrowed thinking. So +he worked and played through the long winters of the North. In the +summer vacations he roamed the barren hills, helped herd the sheep, +and drank in the rough freedom of the land and its people. At +twenty-one the school gave him up to the university at Copenhagen.</p> + +<p>Training for life there was not the heyday of youthful frolicking we +sometimes associate with college life in our day and land. Not until +he was thirty could he hang up his sheepskin as a physician. Yet the +students had their fun and their sports, and Finsen was seldom +missing where these went on. He was not an athlete because already +at twenty-three the crippling disease with which he battled twenty +years had got its grip on him, but all the more he was an outdoor +man. He sailed his boat, and practised with the rifle until he +became one of the best shots in Denmark. And it is recorded that he +got himself into at least one scrape at the university by his love +of freedom.</p> + +<p>The country was torn up at that time by a struggle between people +and government over constitutional rights, and it had reached a +point where a country parish had refused to pay taxes illegally +assessed, as they claimed. It was their Boston tea-party. A +delegation of the “tax refusers” had come to Copenhagen, where the +political pot was boiling hot over the incident. The students were +enthusiastic, but the authorities of the university sternly +unsympathetic. The “Reds” were for giving a reception to the +visitors in Regentsen, the great dormitory where, as an Iceland +student, Finsen had free lodging; but it was certain that the Dean +would frown upon such a proposition. So they applied innocently for +permission to entertain some “friends from the country,” and the +party was held in Finsen’s room. Great was the scandal when the +opposition newspapers exploited the feasting of the tax refusers in +the sacred precincts of the university. To the end of his days +Finsen chuckled over the way they stole a march on the Dean.</p> + +<p>For two or three years after getting his degree he taught in the +medical school as demonstrator, eking out his scant income by +tutoring students in anatomy. His sure hand and clear decision in +any situation marked him as a practitioner of power, and he had +thoughts once of devoting himself to the most delicate of all +surgery,—that of the eye. He was even then groping for his +life-work, without knowing it, for it was always light, light—the +source or avenue or effect of it—that held him. And presently his +work found him.</p> + +<p class="p2bot">It has been said that Finsen was a sick man. A mysterious malady<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> +with dropsical symptoms clutched him from the earliest days with +ever tightening grip, and all his manhood’s life he was a great but +silent sufferer. Perhaps it was that; perhaps it was the bleak North +in which his young years had been set that turned him to the light +as the source of life and healing. He said it himself: “It was +because I needed it so much, I longed for it so.” Probably it was +both. Add to them his unique power of turning the things of every day +life to account in his scientific research, and one begins to +understand at once his success and his speedy popularity. He dealt +with the humble things of life, and got to the heart of things on +that road. And the people comprehended; the wise men fell in behind +him—sometimes a long way behind.</p> + +<div class="figcenter illowp70" style="max-width: 43.75em;" id="i-343"> +<img alt="" class="w100" src="images/i-343.jpg"> +<div class="caption"><span class="smcap">Dr. Niels Finsen</span></div> +</div> + +<p class="p2">In the yard of Regentsen there grows a famous old linden tree. +Standing at his window one day and watching its young leaf sprout, +Finsen saw a cat sunning itself on the pavement. The shadow of the +house was just behind it and presently crept up on pussy who got up, +stretched herself, and moved into the sunlight. In a little while +the shadow overtook her there, and pussy moved once more. Finsen +watched the shadow rout her out again and again. It was clear that +the cat liked the sunlight.</p> + +<p>A few days later he stood upon a bridge and saw a little squad of +insects sporting on the water. They drifted down happily with the +stream till they came within the shadow of the bridge, when they at +once began to work their way up a piece to get a fresh start for a +sunlight sail. Finsen knew just how they felt. His own room looked +north and was sunless; his work never prospered as it did when he +sat with a friend whose room was on the south side, where the sun +came in. It was warm and pleasant; but was that all? Was it only the +warmth that made the birds break into song when the sun came out on +a cloudy day, made the insects hum joyously and man himself walk +with a more springy step? The housekeeper who “sunned” the +bed-clothes and looked with suspicion on a dark room had something +else in mind; the sun “disinfected” the bedding. Finsen wanted to +know what it was in the sunlight that had this power, and how we +could borrow it and turn it to use.</p> + +<p>The men of science had long before analyzed the sunlight. They had +broken it up into the rays of different color that together make +the white light we see. Any boy can do it with a prism, and in the +band or spectrum of red, yellow, green, blue, and violet that then +appears, he has before him the cipher that holds the key to the +secrets of the universe if we but knew how to read it aright; for +the sunlight is the physical source of all life and of all power. +The different colors represent rays with different wave-lengths; +that is, they vibrate with different speed and do different work. +The red vibrate only half as fast as the violet, at the other end of +the spectrum, and, roughly speaking, they are the heat carriers. The +blue and violet are cold by comparison. They are the force carriers. +They have power to cause chemical changes, hence are known as the +chemical or actinic rays. It is these the photographer shuts out of +his dark room, where he intrenches himself behind a ruby-colored +window. The chemical ray cannot pass that; if it did it would spoil +his plate.</p> + +<p>This much was known, and it had been suggested more than once that +the “disinfecting” qualities of the sunlight might be due to the +chemical rays killing germs. Finsen, experimenting with earthworms, +earwigs, and butterflies, in a box covered with glass of the +different colors of the spectrum, noted first that the bugs that +naturally burrowed in darkness became uneasy in the blue light. As +fast as they were able, they got out of it and crawled into the red, +where they lay quiet and apparently content. When the glass covers +were changed they wandered about until they found the red light +again. The earwigs were the smartest. They developed an intelligent +grasp of the situation, and soon learned to make straight for the +red room. The butterflies, on the other hand, liked the red light +only to sleep in. It was made clear by many such experiments that +the chemical rays, and they only, had power to stimulate, to “stir +life.” Finsen called it that himself. In the language of the +children, he was getting “warm.”</p> + +<p>That this power, like any other, had its perils, and that nature, if +not man, was awake to them, he proved by some simple experiments +with sunburn. He showed that the tan which boys so covet was the +defence the skin puts forth against the blue ray. The inflammation +of sunburn is succeeded by the brown pigmentation that henceforth +stands guard like the photographer’s ruby window, protecting the +deeper layers of the skin. The black skin of the negro was no longer +a mystery. It is his protection against the fierce sunlight of the +tropics and the injurious effect of its chemical ray.</p> + +<p>Searching the libraries in Copenhagen for the records of earlier +explorers in his field, and finding little enough there, Finsen came +across the report of an American army surgeon on a smallpox epidemic +in the South in the thirties of the last century. There were so many +sick in the fort that, every available room being filled, they had +to put some of the patients into the bomb-proof, to great +inconvenience all-round, as it was entirely dark there. The doctor +noted incidentally that, as if to make up for it, the underground +patients got well sooner and escaped pitting. To him it was a +curious incident, nothing more. Upon Dr. Finsen, sitting there with +the seventy-five-year-old report from over the sea in his hand, it +burst with a flood of light: the patients got well without scarring +<em>because</em> they were in the dark. Red light or darkness, it was all +the same. The point was that the chemical rays that could cause +sunburn on men climbing glaciers, and had power to irritate the sick +skin, were barred out. Within a month he jolted the medical world by +announcing that smallpox patients treated under red light would +recover readily and without disfigurement.</p> + +<p>The learned scoffed. There were some of them who had read of the +practice in the Middle Ages of smothering smallpox patients in red +blankets, giving them red wine to drink and hanging the room with +scarlet. Finsen had not heard of it, and was much interested. +Evidently they had been groping toward the truth. How they came upon +the idea is not the only mystery of that strange day, for they knew +nothing of actinic rays or sunlight analyzed. But Finsen calmly +invited the test, which was speedy in coming.</p> + +<p>They had smallpox in Bergen, Norway, and there the matter was put to +the proof with entire success; later in Sweden and in Copenhagen. +The patients who were kept under the red light recovered rapidly, +though some of them were unvaccinated children, and bad cases. In no +instance was the most dangerous stage of the disease, the festering +stage, reached; the temperature did not rise again, and they all +came out unscarred.</p> + +<p>Finsen pointed out that where other methods of treatment such as +painting the face with iodine or lunar caustic, or covering it with +a mask or with fat, had met with any success in the past, the same +principle was involved of protecting the skin from the light, though +the practitioner did not know it. He was doing the thing they did in +the middle ages, and calling them quacks.</p> + +<p>It is strange but true that Dr. Finsen had never seen a smallpox +patient at that time, but he knew the nature of the disease, and +that the sufferer was affected by its eruption first and worst on +the face and hands—that is to say, on the parts of the body exposed +to the light—and he was as sure of his ground as was Leverrier +when, fifty years before, he bade his fellow astronomers look in a +particular spot of the heavens for an unknown planet that disturbed +the movements of Uranus. And they found the one we call Neptune +there.</p> + +<p>Presently all the world knew that the first definite step had been +taken toward harnessing in the service of man the strange force in +the sunlight that had been the object of so much speculation and +conjecture. The next step followed naturally. In the published +account of his early experiments Finsen foreshadows it in the words, +“That the beginning has been made with the hurtful effects of this +force is odd enough, since without doubt its beneficial effect is +far greater.” His clear head had already asked the question: if the +blue rays of the sun can penetrate deep enough into the skin to +cause injury, why should they not be made to do police duty there, +and catch and kill offending germs—in short, to heal?</p> + +<p>Finsen had demonstrated the correctness of the theory that the +chemical rays have power to kill germs. But it happens that these +are the rays that possess the least penetration. How to make them go +deeper was the problem. By an experiment that is, in its simplicity, +wholly characteristic of the man, he demonstrated that the red blood +in the deeper layers of the skin was the obstacle. He placed a piece +of photographic paper behind the lobe of his wife’s ears and +concentrated powerful blue rays on the other side. Five minutes of +exposure made no impression on the paper; it remained white. But +when he squeezed all the blood out of the lobe, by pressing it +between two pieces of glass, the paper was blackened in twenty +seconds.</p> + +<p>That night Finsen knew that he had within his grasp that which would +make him a rich man if he so chose. He had only to construct +apparatus to condense the chemical rays and double their power many +times, and to apply his discovery in medical practice. Wealth and +fame would come quickly. He told the writer in his own simple way +how he talked it over with his wife. They were poor. Finsen’s salary +as a teacher at the university was something like $1200 a year. He +was a sick man, and wealth would buy leisure and luxury. Children +were growing up about them who needed care. They talked it out +together, and resolutely turned their backs upon it all. Hand in +hand they faced the world with their sacrifice. What remained of +life to him was to be devoted to suffering mankind. That duty done, +what came they would meet together. Wealth never came, but fame in +full measure, and the love and gratitude of their fellow-men.</p> + +<p>There is a loathsome disease called lupus, of which, happily, in +America with our bright skies we know little. Lupus is the Latin +word for wolf, and the ravenous ailment is fitly named, for it +attacks by preference the face, and gnaws at the features, at nose, +chin, or eye, with horrible, torturing persistence, killing slowly, +while the patient shuts himself out from the world praying daily for +death to end his misery.</p> + +<p>In the north of Europe it is sadly common, and there had never been +any cure for it. Ointments, burning, surgery—they were all equally +useless. Once the wolf had buried its fangs in its victim, he was +doomed to inevitable death. The disease is, in fact, tuberculosis of +the skin, and is the most dreadful of all the forms in which the +white plague scourges mankind—was, until one day Finsen announced +to the world his second discovery, that lupus was cured by the +simple application of light.</p> + +<p>It was not a conjecture, a theory, like the red light treatment for +smallpox; it was a fact. For two years he had been sending people +away whole and happy who came to him in despair. The wolf was +slain, and by this silent sufferer whose modest establishment was +all contained within a couple of small shanties in a corner of the +city hospital grounds, at Copenhagen.</p> + +<p>There was a pause of amazed incredulity. The scientific men did not +believe it. Three years later, when the physician in charge of +Finsen’s clinic told at the medical congress in Paris of the results +obtained at the Light Institute, his story was still received with a +polite smile. The smile became astonishment when, at a sign from +him, the door opened and twelve healed lupus patients came in, each +carrying a photograph of himself as he was before he underwent the +treatment. Still the doctors could not grasp it. The thing was too +simple as matched against all their futile skill.</p> + +<p>But the people did not doubt. There was a rush from all over Europe +to Copenhagen. Its streets became filled with men and women whose +faces were shrouded in heavy bandages, and it was easy to tell the +new-comers from those who had seen “the professor.” They came in +gloom and misery; they went away carrying in their faces the +sunshine that gave them back their life. Finsen never tired, when +showing friends over his Institute, of pointing out the joyous +happiness of his patients. It was his reward. For not “science for +science’s sake,” or pride in his achievement, was his aim and +thought, but just the wish to do good where he could. Then, in three +more years, they awarded him the great Nobel prize for signal +service to humanity, and criticism was silenced. All the world +applauded.</p> + +<p>“They gave it to me this year,” said Finsen, with his sad little +smile, “because they knew that next year it would have been too +late.” And he prophesied truly. He died nine months later.</p> + +<p>All that is here set down seems simple enough. But it was achieved +with infinite toil and patience, by the most painstaking +experiments, many times repeated to make sure. In his method of +working Finsen was eminently conservative and thorough. Nothing +“happened” with him. There was ever behind his doings a definite +purpose for which he sought a way, and the higher the obstacles +piled up the more resolutely he set his teeth and kept right on. +“The thing is not in itself so difficult,” he said, when making +ready for his war upon the wolf, “but the road is long and the +experiments many before we find the right way.”</p> + +<p>He took no new step before he had planted his foot firmly in the one +that went before; but once he knew where he stood, he did not +hesitate to question any scientific dogma that opposed him, always +in his own quiet way, backed by irrefutable facts. In a remarkable +degree he had the faculty of getting down through the husk to the +core of things, but he rejected nothing untried. The little thing in +hand, he ever insisted, if faithfully done might hold the key to the +whole problem; only let it be done <em>now</em> to get the matter settled.</p> + +<p>Whatever his mind touched it made perfectly clear, if it was not so +already. As a teacher of anatomy he invented a dissecting knife that +was an improvement on those in use, and clamps for securing the +edges of a wound in an operation. As a rifle shot he made an +improved breech; as a physician, observing the progress of his own +disease, an effective blood powder for anaemia. At the Light +Institute, which friends built for him, and the government endowed, +he devised the powerful electric lamps to which he turned in the +treatment of lupus, for the sun does not shine every day in +Copenhagen; and when it did not, the lenses that gathered the blue +rays and concentrated them upon the swollen faces were idle. And +gradually he increased their power, checking the heat rays that +would slip through and threatened to scorch the patient’s skin, by +cunning devices of cooling streams trickling through the tubes and +the hollow lenses.</p> + +<p>Nothing was patented; it was all given freely to the world. The +decision which he and his wife made together was made once for all. +When the great Nobel prize was given to him he turned it over to the +Light Institute, and was with difficulty persuaded to keep half of +it for himself only when friends raised an equal amount and +presented it to the Institute.</p> + +<p>Finsen knew that his discoveries were but the first groping steps +upon a new road that stretched farther ahead than any man now living +can see. He was content to have broken the way. His faith was +unshaken in the ultimate treatment of the whole organism under +electric light that, by concentrating the chemical rays, would +impart to the body their life-giving power. He himself was beyond +their help. Daily he felt life slipping from him, but no word of +complaint passed his lips. He prescribed for himself a treatment +that, if anything, was worse than the disease. Only a man of iron +will could have carried it through.</p> + +<p>A set of scales stood on the table before him, and for years he +weighed every mouthful of food he ate. He suffered tortures from +thirst because he would allow no fluid to pass his lips, on account +of his tendency to dropsy. Through it all he cheerfully kept up his +labors, rejoicing that he was allowed to do so much. His courage was +indomitable; his optimism under it all unwavering. His favorite +contention was that there is nothing in the world that is not good +for something, except war. That he hated, and his satire on the +militarism of Europe as its supreme folly was sharp and biting.</p> + +<p>Of such quality was this extraordinary man of whom half the world +was talking while the fewest, even in his own home city, ever saw +him. Fewer still knew him well. It suited his temper and native +modesty, as it did the state of his bodily health, to keep himself +secluded. His motto was: “<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">bene vixit qui bene latuit</i>—he has +lived well who has kept himself well hidden”—and his contention was +always that in proportion as one could keep himself in the +background his cause prospered, if it was a good cause. When kings +and queens came visiting, he could not always keep in hiding, though +he often tried. On one of his days of extreme prostration the +dowager empress of Russia knocked vainly at his door. She pleaded so +hard to be allowed to see Dr. Finsen that they relented at last, and +she sat by his bed and wept in sympathy with his sufferings, while +he with his brave smile on lips that would twitch with pain did his +best to comfort her. She and Queen Alexandra, both daughters of King +Christian, carried the gospel of hope and healing from his study to +their own lands, and Light Institutes sprang up all over Europe.</p> + +<p>In his own life he treated nearly nineteen hundred sufferers, +two-thirds of them lupus patients, and scarce a handful went from +his door unhelped. When his work was done he fell asleep with a +smile upon his lips, and the “universal judgment was one of +universal thanksgiving that he had lived.” He was forty-three years +old.</p> + +<p>When the news of his death reached the Rigsdag, the Danish +parliament, it voted his widow a pension such as had been given to +few Danes in any day. The king, his sons and daughters, and, as it +seemed, the whole people followed his body to the grave. The rock +from his native island marks the place where he lies. His work is +his imperishable monument. His epitaph he wrote himself in the +speech another read when the Nobel prize was awarded him, for he was +then too ill to speak.</p> + +<p>“May the Light Institute grasp the obligation that comes with its +success, the obligation to maintain what I account the highest aim +in science—truth, faithful work, and sound criticism.”</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>Footnotes:</h3> +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> The autopsy which he himself ordered on his death-bed +as his last contribution to medical knowledge, showed it to be a +slow ossification of the membrane of the heart, involving the liver +and all the vital organs. He was “tapped” for dropsy more than +twenty times.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="center noindent p3 p2bot">Printed in the United States of America.</p> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HERO TALES OF THE FAR NORTH ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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