Ribe, an Old Danish Town, 1911
"After an encounter with the North Sea in one of its ugly moods...the visitor to Denmark may do worse than spend a day of convalescence in visiting the old town…
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“An Old Danish Town,” from Rural Denmark and its Lessons by Henry Rider Haggard, 1911.
After an encounter with the North Sea in one of its ugly moods, emphasised by the fact that the steamers from Harwich to Esbjerg bring little cargo and therefore roll proportionately, the visitor to Denmark may do worse than spend a day of convalescence in visiting the old town of Ribe. It lies about fifteen miles to the south of Esbjerg, not far from the German frontier, and is best reached by rail, though perhaps a motor-cab would do the journey in less time. Some Danish trains progress but slowly.
Thither I went upon a beautiful Sunday in September 1910. The first thing that I noticed was the enormous number of Danes who seem to travel on the Sabbath, apparently for holiday reasons. The fine station of the rising port of Esbjerg was full of them, as was every other at which we stopped, and in the train itself there were no seats to spare.
As for the travellers, these much resembled a collection of ordinary English folk in their best clothes; indeed at a distance and out of earshot it would be difficult to discover any difference, perhaps because the blood is so largely identical. In manners, however, there is a difference, since the average Dane is much more polite than the average Englishman. Everybody takes off his hat to everybody else, even to the hall-porter or the guard, and is delighted to give the stranger any help or information in his power. The people also have an educated look, and clearly are great readers of newspapers, of which I was informed about 250 appear in Denmark. That is one paper for every ten thousand of the inhabitants. I wonder whether they all make money.
The land here upon the west coast is reported to be some of the poorest in Denmark, and certainly it is very light and sandy, though varied by marshes of fair grazing quality. The cultivation is in small strips, in some of which the rye or oats had been reaped, while others were under potatoes or roots, the latter for the most part not too free of weeds. A good many conifers are being planted in this district, but most of these are still small.
As the country is perfectly flat, the prospect is extensive but characteristic. Here and there appears a typical Danish church with its white tower surmounted by a wedge-shaped roof, or a windmill, or a farm-steading surrounded by a belt of trees to protect it from the tearing gales. These farms, if old, are half-timbered, with whitewashed squares between, or if of more recent erection are built of brick. It is wonderful, and very suggestive of the agricultural prosperity of the land, how many comparatively new farms are to be seen everywhere, also neat cottages and out-buildings occupied by small freeholders.
Poor as the soil is in this part, without doubt the most is made of it, for I noted that even the heather land was being ploughed up and put under crops. The cattle, many of which were of the spotted black-and-white variety, were all tethered by ropes long enough to allow them just sufficient to eat, no more; as, it being Sunday, were the farm horses. Such is the general rule in Denmark, partly on account of the complete absence of fences and still more because the thrifty farmer does not believe in wasting green fodder by allowing his beasts to soil and trample what they do not eat.
This plan, which, by the way, may be seen in practice in the Channel Islands, has considerable advantages. Thus the clover, or whatever it may be that the cattle are feeding on, looks almost as though it had been mown behind them, and in front remains quite fresh and tempting. Also an even manuring of the field is secured. On the other hand the continual driving in and pulling out of pegs involves a good deal of labour. The beasts, too, cannot seek shade from the heat, or water themselves at a neighbouring pond, and, as their space for exercise is so limited, must be rugged in canvas coats when the weather grows at all cold.
Lastly, these cattle have been accustomed to tethering from generation to generation, and bear its inconveniences with dignified calm, never becoming entangled in the ropes or otherwise misbehaving themselves. What would happen if an attempt were made to peg down an uneducated herd of English cows I am sure I do not know. I should not care to be the one to make the experiment, to which in Denmark even the sheep consent, though these, it should be added, are few in number.
Ribe itself has, I think, a more old-world appearance than any other city that I visited in Denmark. Once it was a very important place and the residence of kings, but now its trade and glory have departed, its castle is destroyed; of this there is left but a mound surrounded by a wide moat filled with feathered and whispering reeds. Indeed it re- minded me much of some of what are known as the Dead Cities in Holland. The cathedral remains, however, built for the most part of stone that was brought by sea from the Rhine in the twelfth century. It presents a strange mixture of styles — Norman, Byzantine, and, so far as the tower and two aisles are concerned, Gothic.
The whole building has been very carefully restored of late years, perhaps a little over-restored. At any rate the seventeenth-century organ, glittering with enamels, struck me as rather too brilliant. It was pleasant to turn from it and contemplate the monuments of old worthies let into the walls and containing oil-portraits of the deceased — a lady and her two husbands, for instance, or a gentleman and his two wives. This form of monument is common in Denmark, though personally I have seen it nowhere else. It is to be observed that the portrait painters of those days did not condescend to flattery.
Ribe is a country town in the truest sense of the word. Thus many cows are stabled there, and driven out every day to pasture. The inhabitants, too, often divide their attentions between a shop and a farm. It boasts a co-operative butter factory, but a great deal of the milk produced is consumed in the neighbourhood.
Perhaps the most charming thing about the place is the vast prospect it commands, say from the top of the castle mound. Indeed the local jest is that any one lying flat on his back outside Ribe can see twenty-four miles in whatever direction he turns his eyes. I did not try the experiment, but standing on my feet I observed and was delighted with the endless extent of verdant marshes dotted with cattle.
In the foreground the river flashed in the sunlight, while far away the plain was broken by the dense mass of a wood, and to the left of this by a tall windmill. In the middle distance appeared a building with a roof of brilliant red, and around it yellow stacks. This I took for a farm, but in fact it is some kind of a workhouse, which the inhabitants of Ribe have contrived to render picturesque. Then to the right rose the tall tower of the cathedral dominating the gabled roofs beneath. Altogether the scene was lovely and peaceful, at any rate to one who finds beauty in a flat and fruitful land.
Many of these rich marshes are the property of the town, and their freehold value appears to be about £55 the acre. The old buildings I have no space to describe, or the little museum in which there is a nice collection of executioners' swords. I confess that I left Ribe with regret, and with grateful memories of the kind reception that I met with at the hands of some of its leading inhabitants.
Haggard, Henry Rider. Rural Denmark and its Lessons. Longmans, 1911.
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