The Argosy — page 388: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Under Northern Skies. 367 But if they accepted the offer, doffed the monk’s cowl for the soldier’s helmet, laid aside pruning hooks for spears, history is silent upon the subject. History is not always silent or discreet ; does not always bear out the maxim the monks themselves would perhaps have been the first to charge upon her: De mortuis nil nisi bonum. In this castle, Eric XIV., son of the great Gustavus Vasa, kept his brother John a prisoner in a small turret room, a narrow passage encircling it the only change allowed him for air and exercise. Here he might walk round and round in endless monotony, returning always to the same point, now and then looking out upon the world and sighing forfreedom. Histimecame. He escaped, and eventually deposed his brother, who in his turn became a prisoner, went insane, and was put to death by John, with a revenge that was evidently deep and lasting. At Gripsholm, too, in 1809, Gustavus IV. signed his abdication. Thus Gripsholm has had vicissitudes, seen changes within and with- out her walls. For the present she has sunk into a state of well-earned repose. Her life is calm and uneventful; her peace disturbed only by such inroads as we have under contemplation, The irregular courtyard, with its round massive tower and brick walls, was imposing, almost medizval. ‘Iwo cannon were before it with mouths pointed, as if asking, like sentinels, whether you were friend or foe. One is called the doar, the other the sow, names too unromantic and undignified for such an atmosphere. On the walls _ were crests and coat of arms, so that the courtyard looked heraldic as well as military. It was the most imposing bit in all the building. Within, it might be called historical. Many of the rooms were extremely interesting; fitted up—some of them scantily enough—with medizeval furniture and tapestry, ancient objects of glass and silver, antique cabinets, carved and jewelled, and ivory images that might have adorned some pagan shrine. But if some of the rooms were barely furnished, the walls amply made up for any deficiency. They were lined with historical portraits to the number of some 2,000, many of them of the greatest interest. Some had been painted, and well painted, by the unhappy Eric XIV. ‘There were sovereigns and personages of all nations. Eric himself, and his father, Gustavus Vasa; Catherine de Medici, with an expression worthy of her character; Mary of Scotland, lovely and bewitching; Henry VIII, in great breadth and boldness. The captain of the steamer was standing beside us, greatly admiring the substantial proportions of this portly monarch. But when we informed him, by a slip of the tongue, that he had had eight wives, his admiration knew no bounds. ‘Then, feeling it a positive duty to the shade of the bluff old king and to history, to withdraw the surplus consorts, it was plainly visible that King Harry went down at least twenty-five per cent in the good skipper’s estimation. Some of the rooms were gloomy for want of light, often admitted COnnicboooks (c©) im