  Stockholm.—Story of the Hero King.—Upsala.—Norway.—Christiania.—King Olaf.—Drontheim.—The Fisherman of Faroe. THE narrative of travel and history was continued by Mr. Beal. “Strange is the evolution of cities. “We are about to glance at Stockholm. Let us go back in imagination six hundred years. “There are some rocky islands in the Baltic, at the foot of the northern peninsula. Sea birds wheel above them in the steel-gray air; they build their nests there. Storms sweep over these lonely islands; sunlight bursts upon them, and now and then a Viking’s ship finds a haven among them, and scares away the birds. “Years pass. Fishermen build huts on the islands. Hunters come there. There come also the sea kings. A mixed, strange people. “They build a village on the holms, or islets. They defend themselves with stockades, and they found on stocks, or beams, their strong houses. The growing town rises from stock holms; hence, Stockholm. GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. “The years pass, and the sea birds fly away. There are wings of gables where once were wings of birds. Stockholm becomes a fortress, and, as in the case of St. Petersburg in recent times, the sea “The wonder grows. The birds scream far away now. The islands are spanned by bridges. Stockholm stands a splendid city, one of the crowns of earth. “The city lies before us. Noble structures, villas, steeples, are seen among the green trees. The ships of many flags lie together like a town in the sea. “It is sunset. The tops of the linden-trees are crowned with sunlight, the Gothic windows burn. A shadow falls from the gray sky. Afar fly the white sea-gulls. The shadow deepens. It is night. We are in Stockholm. “Every nation has its hero. “You have been told how that poor Louis le Debonnaire, the son of Charlemagne, preferred to win crowns for Christ’s kingdom rather than for his own. He lost his own kingdom; but the missionaries he sent forth, though at first not successful, were the means of giving Christianity to all the nations of the North. THE HERO KING OF SWEDEN.There was born in Stockholm, in 1594, an heir to the Swedish throne, whose influence was destined to be felt throughout the world and to very distant periods of time. The child was named Gustavus Adolphus. He was educated for the kingdom. At the age of ten he was made to attend the sittings of the Diet and the councils of state. In boyhood he was able to discuss state affairs in Latin, and in youth he was able to speak nearly all European tongues. He was schooled in the arts of war as well as peace. In early manhood he entered Russia at the head of an army, and compelled the Czar to sue for peace. After the war the young king gave his whole heart to the development of the industries and institutions of his kingdom. He founded schools, assisted He was an ardent Protestant. The Catholic powers of the South and the Protestant powers of the North had become very hostile, and war between them seemed impending. In this crisis the Protestant leaders looked to Gustavus Adolphus as the champion of their cause. In 1630 Gustavus called a Diet in Stockholm, and reported the danger that was threatening the Protestant states of Germany, and which would involve Sweden unless checked. He announced that he had decided to espouse the cause of the German princes, and to enter the field. He took his little daughter in his arms, and commended her to the Diet as the heir to the crown. He landed in Germany on Midsummer’s day in 1630. He had an army of fifteen thousand men. It was a small army indeed for so perilous an undertaking. “Cum Deo et victricibus armis is my motto,” he declared, and trusting in this watchword he advanced on his dangerous course. The Imperialists, as the foes of the Reformed Faith were called, were led by Wallenstein. They were greatly superior in numbers to the Swedes and their allies. At Lutzen the great battle of Protestantism was fought, Nov. 6, 1632. “I truly believe that the Lord has given my enemies into my hands,” said Gustavus, just before the battle. The morning dawned gray and gloomy. A heavy mist hung over the two armies. The Swedish and German army united in singing Luther’s hymn,— “Ein’ feste Burg ist unser Gott.” Then Gustavus said,— “Let us sing ‘Christ our Salvation.’” DEATH OF GUSTAVUS AND HIS PAGE. “Be not dismayed, thou little flock, Although the foe’s fierce battle-shock, Loud on all sides, assail thee. Though o’er thy fall they laugh secure, Their triumph cannot long endure; Let not thy courage fail thee. “Thy cause is God’s,—go at his call, And to his hand commit thy all; Fear thou no ill impending: God’s Word and people manfully, In God’s own time, defending. “Our hope is sure in Jesus’ might; Against themselves the godless fight, Themselves, not us, distressing; Shame and contempt their lot shall be; God is with us, with him are we: To us belongs his blessing.” Clad in his overcoat without armor, he mounted his horse and rode along the lines. “The enemy is within your reach,” he said to the allies. “Swedes,” he said to his old army, “if you fight as I expect of you, you shall have your reward; if not, not a bone of your bodies will ever return to Sweden.” To the Germans he said,— “If you fail me to-day, your religion, your freedom, and your welfare in this world and in the next are lost.” He prophesied to the Germans,— “Trust in God; believe that with his help you may this day gain a victory which shall profit your latest descendants.” He waved his drawn sword over his head and advanced. The Swedes and Finns responded with cheers and the clash of arms. “Jesus, Jesus, let us fight this day for thy name,” he exclaimed. The whole army was now in motion, the king leading amid the darkness and gloom of the mist. The battle opened with an immediate success for the Swedes. But in the moment of victory the king was wounded and fell from his horse. “The king is killed!” The report was like a death-knell to the Swedes, but only for a moment. The king’s horse with an empty saddle was seen galloping wildly down the road. “Lead us again to the attack,” the leaders demanded of George of Saxe-Weimar. The spirit of the dead king seemed to infuse the little army with more than human valor. The men fought as though they were resolved to give their lives to their cause. The memory of the king’s words in the morning thrilled them. “We left Stockholm for Upsala, the student city. The paddles of the boat brushed along the waters of the MÄlar; the old city retreated from view, and landscape after landscape of variegated beauty rose before us. “The MÄlar Lake is margined with dark pines, bright meadows and fields, light green linden-trees, gray rocks, and shadowy woods. Here and there are red houses among the lindens. “We pass flat-bottomed boats, that dance about in the current made by the steamer. “The hills of Upsala come into view. The University next appears, like a palace; then a palace indeed, red like the houses; then the gabled town. “We went to the church, and were conducted into a vaulted chamber where were crowns and sceptres taken from the coffins of dead kings. We wandered along the aisle after leaving the treasure-room of the dead, and gazed on cold tombs and dusty frescos. “Here sleeps Gustavus Vasa. “In the centre aisle, under a flat stone, lies the great botanist, LinnÆus. “We visited the garden of LinnÆus, or the place where it once bore the blossoms and fruits of the world. Nettles were there; the orangeries were gone; the winter garden had disappeared. The place wore a desolate look; the master had departed, leaving little there but the ghost of a great memory. “We left Stockholm for Norway. CASCADE IN NORWAY. “We were landed from the steamer at Christiansand. This sea-port is a rude town, and except from the wild, strange expression of both land and sea, which affects one gloomily, yet with a kind of poetic LAZARETTO. “The scenery of Norway is unlike any other in the world. Take the map and scan the western coast. It looks like a piece of lace-work, so numerous are the inlets or fiords. “These fiords are many of them surrounded by headlands as high as mountain walls. They are little havens, with calm water of wondrous beauty and with walls that seem to reach to the sky. On a level spot in the mountainous formation, a hamlet or a little church is sometimes seen, one of the most picturesque objects with its setting in the world.” THE NAERO FIORD. “The mountains and valleys of Norway are unlike any other. Summer finds them as winter leaves them. Great hills are worn into cones by the snow and ice. The cataracts are numerous and wonderful. The water scenery has no equal for romantic beauty and wildness. “A twelve hours’ farther sail brought us to Christiania. It is situated in a lovely valley on the northern side of Christiania Fiord. “All of the cities of the North have great schools and libraries. The University at Christiania has nearly a thousand students, and a library of one hundred and fifty thousand books. “The port is covered with ice during some four months in the year. During the mild seasons some two thousand vessels yearly enter the harbor. “Olaf, the Saint, the King of ‘Norroway,’ who preached the Gospel ‘with his sword,’ is the hero of the western coast. I might relate many wonderful stories of him, but I would advise you to read ‘The Saga of King Olaf,’ by Longfellow, in the ‘Wayside Inn.’ “His capital was Drontheim, far up among the northern regions, where the sun shines all night in summer, and where the winters are wild and dreary, cold and long. It is a quaint old town. Summer tourists to the western coast of Norway sometimes visit it. Its cathedral was founded by Olaf, and is nearly a thousand years old. “And now in ten nights’ entertainments, you have taken hasty views of Germany and the old Kingdom of Charlemagne. Narratives of travel and history have been mingled with strange traditions and tales of superstition; all have combined to give pictures of the ages that are faded and gone, and that civilization can never wish to recall. Men are reaching higher levels in religion, knowledge, science, and the arts. Kingcraft is giving way to the governing intelligence of the people, and superstition to the simple doctrines of the Sermon on the Mount and to the experiences of a spiritual life. The age of castles and fortresses, like churches, is gone. The age of peace and good-will comes with the fuller light of the Gospel and intelligence. The pomps of cathedrals will never be renewed. The Church is coming to teach that character is everything, and that the soul is the temple of God’s spiritual indwelling.” LAKE IN NORWAY. THE FISHERMAN OF FAROE.When life was young, my white sail hung O’er ocean’s crystal floor; In the fiords alee was the dreaming sea, And the deep sea waves before. The Faroe fishermen used to call From the pier’s extremest post: “Strike out, my boy, from the ocean wall; There’s danger near the coast. Beware of the drifting dunes In the nights of the watery moons, Beware of the Maelstrom’s tide When the western wind blows free, Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, Of the shoals of the Cattegat; Strike out for the open sea, Strike out for the open sea!” “O pilot! pilot! every rock You know in the ocean wall.” “No, no, my boy, I only know Where there are no rocks at all, Where there are no rocks at all, my boy, And there no ship is lost. Strike out, strike out for the open sea; There’s danger near the coast. Beware, I say, of the dunes In the nights of the watery moons, Beware of the Maelstrom’s tide When the western wind blows free, Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, Of the shoals of the Cattegat; Strike out for the open sea, Strike out for the open sea!” Low sunk the trees in the sun-laved seas, And the flash of peaking oars Grew faint and dim on the sheeny rim Of the harbor-dented shores. Where rode like a dauntless host The white-plumed waves o’er the green sea graves Of the rock-imperilled coast. And I thought of the drifting dunes In the nights of the watery moons, And I thought of the Maelstrom’s tide When the western wind blew free, Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, Of the shoals of the Cattegat, And I steered for the open sea, I steered for the open sea. To far Faroe I sailed away, When bright the summer burned, And I told in the old Norse kirk one day The lesson my heart had learned. Then the grizzly landvogt said to me: “Of strength we may not boast; But ever in life for you and me There’s danger near the coast. Then think of the drifting dunes In the nights of the watery moons, And think of the Maelstrom’s tide When the western wind blows free, Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, Of the shoals of the Cattegat; Strike out for the open sea, Strike out for the open sea!” “O landvogt, well thou knowest the ways Wherein my feet may fall.” “Oh, no, my boy, I only know The ways that are safe to all, The ways that are safe to all, my boy, And there no soul is lost. Strike out in life for the open sea, There’s danger near the coast. Then think of the drifting dunes In the nights of the watery moons, And think of the Maelstrom’s tide When the western wind blows free, Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, Of the shoals of the Cattegat; Strike out for the open sea, Strike out for the open sea! The reef the land wave hides, And the ship goes down in sight of the town That safe the deep sea rides. ’Tis those who steer the old life near Temptation suffer most; The way is plain to life’s open main, There’s danger near the coast. Beware of the drifting dunes In the nights of the watery moons, Beware of the Maelstrom’s tide When the western wind blows free, Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, Of the shoals of the Cattegat; Strike out for the open sea, Strike out for the open sea!” And so on life’s sea I sailed away, Where free the waters flow, As I sailed from the old home port that day For the islands of far Faroe. And when I steer temptation near, The pilot, like a ghost, On the wave-rocked pier I seem to hear: “There’s danger near the coast. Beware of the drifting dunes In the nights of the watery moons, Beware of the Maelstrom’s tide When the western wind blows free, Of the rocks of the Skagerrack, Of the shoals of the Cattegat; Strike out for the open sea, Strike out for the open sea!” THE COAST. |
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