CAPITAL OF FAIRYLAND

Evening Star, Issue 21634, 1 February 1934, Page 16

CAPITAL OF FAIRYLAND

IN PRAISE OF ODENSE Everything that is best in the happy little country of Denmark can be found in Odense, on the island of Funen; kindliness, good sane architecture, a respect for tradition, and quiet lives, ordered and established and secure (writes J. B. Morton, in the ‘Manchester Guardian’). Odense is, as it were, the quintessence of Denmark. and to come out of the n'oisv and shaken towns of Europe to-day, where all that made our civilisation is threatened, into this little place of peace is an unforgettable experience. it seems, as one walks about the streets or gardens, that whatever late overtakes Europe this will endure. Here is decent respectability living in solid homes and carrying on that happy, middle-class life which is only possible in an agricultural country. As if that were not enough there is one of the best hotels in the world where you can lie in a comfortable bed in a room that is modern without trying to be ultra-modern. There is every convenience and comfort and none of the tomfoolery of hideous and uncomfortable furniture, and no ostentation or display of gilt. The food is excellent and well served. The waiters do not clash about, since nobody could be in a hurry here, and the music is of the kind that we should call Victorian, and is played in the distance, outside the dining room. The faint rhythm of "a waltz; does not disturb conversation,, and makes a pleasant background for the thoughts. Whoever runs the hotel understands leisure and dignity. “ H.C.” I went to Odense because ! knew that it was the birthplace of Hans Christian Andersen, called by the Danes all over the country, grown-ups and children, “ H.C.” 1 did not expect to find a place to which he might return to-day without having violence done to his feelings. There is a statue of him, looking like Disraeli, with his long nose and curly, dark hair; and there is the bouse in the Mnnkeinollestraede ‘where he spent a good deal of his childhood ; a small, low house, where his father, the poor shoemaker, brought up his family until 1816, when he died. But more interesting is the house in Jensensstraede, now a museum, in which they say. the great story-teller was horn, ft seems odd that there is no certainty in the matter. The street cannot 'have changed much since his lime, and any one of the small houses might shelter one of his witches or trolls. The museum consists of letters and manuscripts, photographs sent to him by the groat men of his time, and such personal relics as his tall hat, his pipe, his spectacles. Behind the house is a little court, partly covered in, and with a seat against the wall, and in the centre of the court is a stone basin 11 lied with water. All the repose of Odense is gathered here, and as 1 sat here meditating 1 thought that the little court might have been designed as a memorial and dedicated to the use of all those visitors who wished to think undisturbed. . . So powerful is the spirit (or whatever vou may care to call it) of Odense that anything which might seem anomalous or a peril to the character ox the town is in sonic way absorbed and brought into harmony with all tho rest. Thus it is no shock to find a railway running by the town and a railwav station. For the train cannot be taken seriously. When you have been some hours in the place yon look upon it as a toy railway for a child to play with; perhaps a grown-up child .like Andersen. The more so as the King s Garden, with formal walks and ancient nllevs, is the first thing you see from the station. There is no jnore surprise in discovering that tue terminus oi the trams is called Our Lady’s Beech Trees, or that private motor cars are parked in the square of the Grey Brothers. In the centre of the citv is the cathedral of St. Canute, near the market, mid here as a boy of fourteen Hans was confirmed. At this time he was intended for a tailor, hut he had other ambitions, and before the year was out he went to Copenhagen. In later years he travelled extensively, bat something of Odense and its narrow streets and finmeadows of Funen remained in his writings. HIS CITY AND PEOPLE. When evening was beginning to fall I went out to wander about the town without plan or purpose. All that 1 saw delighted me; th; well-fe-1 men and women, full of common sensep the young lads and girls laughing in the streets; the architecture, which so far has escaped the disease that has bi'oken out all over Europe. Scandinavia prides itself on its experiments—particularly on the abominable City Hall of Stockholm, with its pseudo-ecclesiastical windows and its vulgar blobs of gilt. But here in Odense 1 saw none of the ghastlv buildings which I had expected ; nothing like the new shops in Oslo or the flats in Stockholm or Copenhagen or Gothenburg. 1 came to a residential neighbourhood, evidently t.:o quarter chosen by well-to-do tradesmen or successful oflk.als, and went along road after road of well-built houses in the traditional style. And everywhere there were flowers. Later on 1 found myself in pleasant gardens, with a stream running through them. A happy boat load passed in the dusk, singing softly in chorus. When the lamps were lit the town seemed to grow quieter, and although there were plenty of people going to and fro in the streets their activities did not seem real. There were faint colours in the sky that might have been the embers of sunset or the first sparks of dawn; and there was a mysterious wind that cunio round a corner and shook a loose shutter, so that 1 stopped, startled by an echo of something read long ago/ A little child dressed in bright colours ran by me; the face of a woman appeared at an upper window; the very sound of footsteps upon the pavement grew strange —until 1 remembered that the frontiers of fairyland are not upon any map. It was a relief to come into the bright light of the hotel again, and that night I slept in such quiet as is not to he found in many towns to-day. My dreams were of that happy kind of which no memory remains in the daylight. hut only vague, unreasoning happiness.