Hveen

THE little island of Hveen, which belongs to Sweden and lies in the narrow strait of the Oresund, was, in the time of my girlhood, frequently visited by the crowned heads of Europe. Landskrona, the little Swedish town in which I lived, was on the mainland close by, and these royal gatherings were of great interest to us.

Upon the rocky shores of Hveen stand the ruins of the Uraniborg, the first astronomical observatory in northern Europe, but it was not these famous ruins that brought kings and emperors to this out-of-the-way place; it was the fact that the island was full of wild hares — big, gray-white fellows — which were carefully protected for the entertainment of their majesties, who not infrequently met here for a day’s shooting.

It was in 1890, I think, that there was one special gathering that overshadowed all others before or since, and in it I had a part. I was only thirteen, but I was fortunate enough to be chosen as a flower girl for the occasion. Our guests were Czar Alexander of Russia, King Edward of Great Britain, Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany, Crown Prince Christian of Denmark, and King George of Greece. The host was our own beloved monarch, King Oscar of Sweden. Each was attended, of course, by a number of nobles and statesmen.

On the morning of which I speak, King Oscar had already arrived in the Sound on his flagship, the Drott, and the Alexandra, with King Edward on board, was also at anchor. The Dannebrog, bearing Crown Prince Christian and King George, was just steaming in. The royal salute of twentyone guns was fired from the Drott and the Alexandra and returned by the Dannebrog. King Oscar and his attendants were now at the railroad station, as were most of the townsfolk, I among them, to meet Kaiser Wilhelm and Czar Alexander, who had been hunting in other parts of Sk&229;ne.

Wilhelm, a young man of thirty, was smart and trim, with a snappy military stride. He wore an olive-green hunting suit, a Tyrolese hat with a green feather, and a sort of cape over his left shoulder. He was always austere, even when he smiled at us and in the German fashion gave us a slight peck on each cheek. We had been schooled to answer his pleasantries in perfect German. Czar Alexander, on the other hand, was quietly dressed in a dark suit. He was a mild-mannered man of medium height, and some of his aides in their bright uniforms looked far more important than he. He smiled at us rather wistfully, saying some nice things in French, to which we responded in our best manner.

The greetings over, we all hurried to cross to Hveen, where the shooting and festivities were to take place. King Oscar took his guests over to the Drott, thus giving us time to have everything in readiness. By now the Hohenzollern had arrived to greet its Kaiser, and again we heard the royal salute booming over the waters. As we landed on Hveen, the ladies and gentlemen walked on to the pavilion erected for this occasion, but we flower girls waited at the landing, where we were soon lined up, six on each side.

Now the launches started to arrive, King Oscar being the first to disembark. Flow proud we all were as he stepped ashore! For nobody else was quite like our king — tall, kindly, with smiling eyes and a friendliness that one knew was genuine. We girls had small boutonnières for all the men, and for each flower that we fastened in a buttonhole we received a kiss. But King Oscar did not stop with the one who decorated him. He gave each of us a resounding kiss on the cheek, at the same time playfully warning us to take care lest the hunters mistake us for small rabbits and shoot us! Crown Prince Christian, then a youth of twenty, and King George walked together from the landing to the hunting ground, as did also King Edward and Czar Alexander. But King Oscar and Kaiser Wilhelm each rode in a sulky, with a lackey standing erect behind him, his arms folded high on his chest. We children wondered — and I wonder to this day — how the man could stand there without being thrown off.

Hours before this, the inhabitants of the island had begun to drive the hares toward the hunters, with rattles and tin pans to scare them from their burrows. One could hear them now, coming closer and closer, and soon the animals began to come into view. By this time the hunters had taken the places assigned to them, rank and order of precedence being strictly observed. Behind each principal hunter stood an attendant with another gun.

As the hares appeared the shooting began. If the first-row hunter missed, his attendant quickly took a shot, and if that was good it counted for his principal; the attendant’s shots were never scored as his own. Behind this double line we children were grouped, quite safe, for the rules did not allow a hunter to turn away from the oncoming game. The hares were driven toward the line, shot after shot was heard, and the poor creatures fell. Once in a while, however, to our great delight, a hare would have the good luck to pass safely through the line of hunters and dash on to freedom.

After hours of ardent shooting, during which hundreds of hares were brought down, the hunters were called to rest and refreshment. By the pavilion the military band was playing; speeches were made and national songs were sung. We young people, although told to keep in the background, contrived nevertheless to mingle with the crowd and to have friendly chats with the younger naval aides. Evening came all too soon, and the launches began to carry the royal guests to their flagships, where each was met and escorted over the side with appropriate ceremonies.

As the evening shadows grew deeper, other launches laden with happy young people left the island, each setting its course for one of the flagships. Coming close enough to be heard by those on board, they would serenade that ship and its ruler. It was a thing never to be forgotten — those clear voices floating over the silent waters.

I managed to get aboard the last boat which headed for the Drott. As we drew near we began to sing the old songs of Sweden, and in response King Oscar himself came to greet us. Descending halfway down the ladder, he called to us to come closer; then ordered our boat held alongside while he personally served each of us with a glass of champagne. He, our King, stood there before us with lifted glass while we sang the Swedish Anthem, joining us as we drained our glasses in a toast to King and country! Although I was but little more than a child, it gave me a thrill of affection and patriotism that has never been forgotten.