Midnight Sunbeams; or, Bits of Travel Through the Land of the Norseman. Edwin Coolidge Kimball
an excellent bronze statue, giving a spirited representation of the old Scandinavian duel, where the combatants were bound together by a belt at the waist, and fought with knives until one, or both, were killed. It is said that the women were wont to carry winding sheets for their husbands when they attended banquets where quarrels were likely to occur. On the pedestal are four bas-reliefs showing the origin and result of the duel—jealousy, drinking, the beginning of the combat, and the widow’s lament. In the last the widow is represented kneeling in grief before the tomb of her husband, the dead duellist.
The Northern Museum is interesting from its figures in costumes, representing peasant groups, brides adorned with heavy gold and silver crowns and trinkets, and family scenes with reproductions of interiors. In one large group of Laplanders, where some are seated in sledges drawn by reindeer, and other figures are gathered about a tent, were several stuffed dogs, as we thought, lying before the tent. They looked so natural that we could not refrain from chirping to them, when with a bound they sprang towards us, much to our dismay, for we expected to see the whole stuffed collection come to life.
There is a large collection of household articles, costumes, and ornaments, all interesting, as they illustrate the everyday life of the people in remote regions, or in past years. Hung against the wall were curious articles in wood, two feet long and six inches wide, with a smooth flat surface on the under side; they were elaborately painted and had handles carved grotesquely, and were used for ironing linen. We saw chairs made of the trunk of a tree, into the seat of which had been driven human teeth, in the belief that this would be a preventive of toothache in the future.
The young women who served as attendants in the Museum were dressed in the Dalecarlia costume, and we saw many in the same picturesque costume about the streets of Stockholm. It consists of a high peaked black cap with red piping along the seams, and a border of white trimming where it rests upon the head; a bright handkerchief worn over a loose sleeved white waist; a skirt of dark blue homespun with little bodice trimmed with red, and a rainbow-striped apron extending in front to the bottom of the dress, complete the striking costume. The jaunty cap sets off the rosy cheeks and fresh complexions of the “midnight sunbeams” thus adorned, while an abundance of silver trinkets, and a small bag swung over the shoulder by a gayly embroidered strap, render it the prettiest costume we saw in the North.
In our walks about the city, we constantly saw in the shop windows—Telephone ten öre; where such a notice is displayed any one is at liberty to enter and use a telephone at a cost of two and three quarters cents. We were told by a resident connected with the central office that, in proportion to its inhabitants, Stockholm has more telephones than any city in the world. We judged there must be a large number of subscribers, from the vast network of telephone wires which was the first thing to attract our attention as we approached the city in coming down Lake Mälar. Stockholm may be slow in obtaining new inventions, but when they come they are generally adopted.
The city has a good horse-car system, with large open cars the same as ours; one can make the complete circuit of the city at the cost of ten öre (two and three quarters cents). The conductor collected the fares in a closed box, much like a child’s bank, and if one did not happen to have the right change, he was given a sealed package of small money to enable him to make his contribution.
It seemed strange indeed to start after nine o’clock to walk out of the city to a high hill, to view the sunset. The sunset coloring is gorgeous, lingering for a long time, and succeeded by a twilight so bright, that at eleven o’clock one can read the finest print. This long twilight is the most enjoyable part of the whole day, and every one is out of doors. The people gather in the King’s Garden, a beautiful public resort adorned with statues of kings, fountains, and bright parterres of flowers; or in the Berzelii Park with its pleasant promenades. Adjacent to both are cafés and concert gardens, bright with lights more for decoration than for use, where bands or orchestras in brightly lighted music pavilions, furnish popular music for the entertainment of the merry throng seated at small round tables under the trees, sipping black coffee, eating ices, and drinking toddy, or the famous Swedish punch made of arrack, wine, and sugar. The stronger liquors seem to be more in vogue than beer, though the latter is good, but stronger and not so pleasant to the taste as German beer.
Within the restaurants, or upon the wide verandas, are gathered family groups and lively supper parties; all are laughing and talking, the busy waiters in dress suits are taking and delivering orders and pocketing fees, and the whole scene is one of great animation.
The Strömparterre is a popular evening resort on an island just below the palace, connected by the Norrbro bridge with the fine quays on each side. It is where the waters of Lake Mälar mingle with those of the Baltic Bay, and is the great centre of the city’s activity, and the principal starting point for the little steamers running in all directions.
Every evening on the brightly illuminated island there is a band concert. Whoever takes a seat at one of the tables before the band stand is expected to order something, but to the crowd of people who sit on the settees at the sides, who stand, or promenade outside the tables, the music is furnished “without money and without price.” All over Stockholm, on little islands, and at the Mosebacke on the heights, are evening concerts which are thronged until midnight, and the glare of lights, and the sound of music is wafted over the quiet waters.
The Swedes make the most of every pleasant hour of their short summer; when they slept we never knew, for even at midnight, as we went to our hotel, the streets were filled with people, and many were still sitting beneath the trees in the gardens; perhaps they hibernate during the long winter, and sleep enough for the whole year.
The Djurgard (deer park) is a delightful public park, occupying an island two miles long and about a mile wide situated a short distance down the Baltic Bay, and is reached by horse-cars and several lines of small steamers. It contains many restaurants and cafés, where concerts are given both day and evening, the finest of them all being the Hasselbacken, a favorite resort for dinner parties; there are also numerous summer theatres and places of popular amusement, among them a Tivoli, which is a very inferior copy of its model at Copenhagen.
The park has mostly been left in its natural state; drives and walks extend through its stretches of grassy lawn and natural forest, furnishing views, through occasional openings, of the rocky islands and shipping in the Baltic. A royal villa called Rosendal is situated on the northern side of the park, and upon a hill has been built a tower called the Belvedere, from which there is a view of Stockholm and its surroundings. Many private villas have been built on the island, and at one end near the water is an asylum for the deaf, dumb, and blind; yet a few paces away the rocky ledges and leafy solitudes give the impression that one is a long distance from civilization.
As in Stockholm water is so plentiful and bridges comparatively few, there is an abundance of little steam launches taking passengers for a few öre across the water, or up and down the bay from one island to another. The multitude of these little boats, the steamers running to places on the lake and up the fjords of the bay, together with the large sea-going steamers going out upon the Baltic and to foreign lands, present a scene of ever-changing variety and animation.
The delightful excursions one can make by steamer are the chief charm of Stockholm. They seem innumerable, and I think if one passed the entire summer there he could take a new excursion every day. The long lines of steamers drawn up to the quays, and the lists of places to which they run, were perfectly bewildering; our limited stay permitted us to visit only the most attractive points.
Sight-seeing at Stockholm furnished a restful variety. The mornings were devoted to the museums and sights of the city, the afternoons to steamer excursions up the lake or down the bay, returning for dinner to one of the garden restaurants, and the evenings were passed at the open-air concerts.
The trip by steamer to Vaxholm occupies an hour and a half; we pass down the Baltic Bay, full of small islands, at many of which, and at points on the mainland, the steamer touches to leave passengers, bound for their country seats scattered along the beautiful wooded shores. The whole family are on the wharf awaiting the steamer’s arrival; paterfamilias is kissed and embraced, the olive branches seize upon his baskets and bundles, and as we steam away the little groups disappear down shady walks, or gather