"_Piscator._--Come, sir, let us be going; for the
sun grows low, and I would have you look about you as you
ride, for you will see an odd country, and sights that will
seem strange to you."
--_The Complete Angler._
John Hardy, before he retired to rest, had arranged with the hotel
manager at Veile to telegraph to Baekke, where he designed to have a
late breakfast, or rather lunch, and to a little inn, a few English
miles further on, where they could pass the night. Thus the horses
could rest at Baekke, and then go further to a station that would leave
them but a little distance to reach Esbjerg.
It was eleven before they reached Baekke, travelling over not the best
of roads, and when they got there Hardy's forethought in telegraphing
was apparent. The Pastor was tired, but as conversational as ever.
Karl and Axel were obviously hungry, and as there was nothing to be
had but fried eggs, and the usual indigestible _et ceteras_, Hardy was
anxious to get on to their destination for the night. The Pastor went
into the carriage, and Helga got up by Hardy's side, but her father
had specially stipulated that she was not to drive the horses. This,
of course, had to be obeyed, as the Pastor's wish once expressed was
enough for Helga. The direction was over by-roads, and it was perhaps
best the Pastor had been so decisive.
Helga talked as before, unreservedly, and the ring of her clear voice,
with its transparent truth, was a pleasure to hear.
"Travelling like this is such a pleasure," she said; "the sound of the
step of the horses even has its effect, as we feel they go easily to
themselves. There is the succession of change of place and scene,
fresh green meadows after dry and dusty roads, and, after a dull bit,
there comes a pretty prospect of a country house, with its woods and
lake. The coming also to a fresh place every night has its interest. I
cannot think of a more pleasant way of travelling. Do you, Herr
Hardy?"
"Yes," said Hardy. "I like a fresh breeze blowing in the wished-for
direction, and an English sailing yacht, as a means of travelling. You
do not go so fast as you appear to sail, but it is pleasant to see the
bright wave flashing by, and to feel the yacht rushing through the
sea."
"But, then, there is not the varied change of scene as in travelling
as we now do, Herr Hardy," said Helga.
"There is nothing like yachting for variety, if there be favourable
winds, but on that it is dependent," said Hardy. "For instance, the
Mediterranean can be explored in a winter, and places in Spain and
Portugal visited on the way to Gibraltar, and then Italy and the
Ionian Islands and Greece."
"It must be a great drawback to be so dependent on the wind," said
Helga.
"Yes; and particularly so in yachting on the coast of Norway, amongst
the Danish islands, or up the Baltic," said Hardy; "but this
difficulty is got over by the use of steam, and steam yachts are
becoming the rule."
"Have you a yacht, Herr Hardy?" asked Helga.
"I am having one built," replied Hardy. "My mother likes the sea, and
I am having one built so that she may be as comfortable as possible.
It is a steam yacht, and we shall be at sea in a fortnight, and I
shall take Karl, if he wishes."
"He likes the sea, and when we go to Copenhagen from Aarhus in the
steamer, we enjoy the journey," said Helga.
"There is one small matter which has struck me with regard to Karl,"
said Hardy, "and that is, you Scandinavians are liable to what you
call Hjemve (home sickness). I wish you would ask your father to say
to him that he goes to England to try to get on in life, and that it
is childish to be afraid of meeting strange people, but to look to the
future and not be occupied with the present."
"Thank you very much, Herr Hardy; you are very thoughtful. Karl has
been very quiet the last two days, and you have anticipated what I had
thought," said Helga.
They had arrived at Hoisted, where they had to pass the night. The
modest little inn did its best for them, and the Pastor was glad to
rest; but after dinner his enjoyment of his pipe was great. It is not
understood in England that such is good or necessary. _Tot homines
quot sententiae_. The question is in England, Is it wrong for a parson
to enjoy his pipe? The answer is, "No," with some people, "Yes," with
others; but the question whether it is good for him is very generally
answered in the negative.
"You have but few stories of the people, or, as you call them,
Eventyr?" asked Hardy.
"There are very many," replied the Pastor. "But in Norway you will
have found an even richer store. The grandness of nature there has
influenced the imaginations of the people. Their legends, traditions,
and stories are more romantic and weird. Their traditions of the Huldr
are exquisitely fantastic and picturesque to a degree. Their
Folke-Eventyr is rich in colour. There is a depth of thought and of
the knowledge of human nature as it is that fills the mind with
astonishment. There is in them all a sense of justice, a feeling of
appreciation of what is good and true, as if the thought had been
inspired. Nationally, the Norwegians are honest, and their
Folke-Eventyr has contributed to form the character of the people. It
has engendered a respect for what is good and true. There is also an
idea of rough justice and humour; and I will tell you a story which
will illustrate this. There was once a priest who was very
overbearing. When he drove in the roads, he shouted to the people he
met, 'Out of the way, I am coming; out of the way!' He did this so
often that the king determined to check his pride, and drove to the
priest's. As he was coming, he met the priest, who shouted as usual.
The king drove as he should do, as king, and the priest had to give
way. When the king was at the side of the priest's carriage, he said,
'Come to me at the palace to-morrow, and if you cannot answer three
questions I put to you, I will punish you for your pride's sake.' This
was treatment the priest was not accustomed to. He could bully the
Bonder, but answering questions did not suit him. So he went to his
clerk and told him that one fool can ask more questions than ten wise
men could answer, and that he must go up to the palace to the king and
reply to his questions. So the clerk went in the priest's gown. The
king was in the balcony with his crown and sceptre, and was dressed in
such a costume that he looked a king."
"'So you have come,' said the king.
"'Yes,' said the clerk. It was quite certain that he was there.
"'Tell me' said the king, 'how far the east is from the west?'
"'A day's journey,' answered the clerk.
"'How can that be?' said the king.
"'The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, and generally does
it in a day,' answered the clerk.
"'Good,' said the king. 'But tell me now how much money I am worth?'
"'Well,' replied the clerk, 'Christ was sold for thirty pieces of
silver, and I should put you at twenty-nine.'
"'A good answer,' said the king. 'But tell me now what I am at this
moment thinking about?'
"'That's easy to answer,' replied the clerk. 'The fact is, you think I
am the priest, but I am only the clerk.'
"'Then go you home and be priest, and, let the priest be clerk,'
commanded the king."
"A very excellent story," said Hardy, "and, as you say, shows a strong
sense of rough justice and humour."
"There is a child's story," said the Pastor, "with its humour; but it
is very simple, as all stories of the people should be. A boy found a
pretty box in a wood, but he could not open it, for it was locked. A
little further he found a key. The question was whether the key would
fit the box. He blew into the key and put the key into the lock, when
lo! it fitted, and the box opened. But can you guess what was in the
box? No, of course not. There was a calf's tail in the box, but if the
calf's tail had been longer, so would this story be."
"But that is a Norwegian story," said Hardy. "Are there none
essentially Danish?"
"They are related to some extent in H. C. Andersen's stories, and they
have been translated into English. There is a story, however, that may
not have been translated. A king and queen had no children; but a
beggar came to her and said, 'You can have a son, if you will let me
be his godfather when he is christened.' The queen assented. The queen
had a son, but the king had to go to war to quell a rebellion. The
king made her promise that she would nurse the child herself, and not
trust to nurses and other people. The queen did so, and the beggar
stood godfather. The beggar bent down over the child, and said that
everything it wished for it should have. This the king's attendant
heard. He was accustomed to attend the king when hunting, and he
thought that such a child was worth possessing. The queen, however,
watched the child night and day. One day she was in a summer-house and
had fallen asleep, with the child in her lap; when she woke the child
was gone. When the king returned, he had a tower built in a wood, and
he walled the queen up in it, as a punishment for losing the child.
The attendant brought the child up as his own, and there was no
suspicion. He took the child, when grown up, out hunting when the king
went, and taught him to wish for such and such a head of game, and if
he shot an arrow at it, he always hit. The king could not understand
how so young a hunter could always be so successful, but the attendant
assured him that it was only a sure hand and eye. The attendant had
meanwhile become very rich, by getting the king's son to wish him to
be so. The attendant had taken a girl into his service, who grew up to
be very beautiful. She had suspicions that all was not right, and
asked the attendant; but he would not tell her. At last the attendant
told her the boy must be killed, and she must do it, and cut out his
tongue, to show him that she had murdered him. She, however, killed a
hind, and cut out its tongue, and showed the attendant the tongue. The
attendant thought she had done as she was told, and told her the
story, which the king's son heard from a place where she had hid him.
The king's son immediately wished the attendant should be a
three-legged dog, that must always follow him. He wished the girl to
be a rose and put her in his button-hole. The king's son then attended
the court, as the king wished to go hunting. 'Where is the attendant?'
asked the king. 'He is here close by,' said the king's son. The king
was satisfied with the answer, and went out hunting. The king's son
led the hunt to the tower where the queen was walled in, and wished
that the tower might fall down and the queen be found in it yet
living. This happened, although she had been there seventeen years.
The prince then took the rose out of his button-hole, and married the
girl who had so well served him."
"A graphic story," said Hardy, "and has the same tendency that you
attributed to the Norwegian stories of the people, or Folke-Eventyr."
"There is a story more peculiarly belonging to Jutland," said Pastor
Lindal, "and that is of a Trold who lived in a wood in a large
Kaempehoi, or tumulus. He was an old grey-bearded Trold, and the people
in the district were afraid of him. There was an old woman who lived
near with her son. They had a cow, and it was difficult to get grass
for it, particularly in the winter. The boy took the cow and grazed it
on the Trold's Kaempehoi. The Trold came out and objected, and
threatened, and drove the boy and the cow away. The boy, however, got
a piece of soft cheese from his mother, and stole a bird sitting on
its eggs in a nest, these he put in his pocket; so the next day he
took the cow to the same place, and the Trold came out and threatened.
The Trold took up a stone and pressed it in his hand, so that water
came from it, to show how he could crush him. The boy said that is
nothing, and took the cheese from his pocket and pressed it, so that
it appeared as if he was squeezing more out of a stone than the Trold
could. So the Trold said, 'I will throw a stone up, and you can count
until it comes down. The boy did so, and counted up to one hundred and
thirty-one. 'That is good!' said the boy. 'But now count for the stone
I cast;' and the Trold counted, but the boy threw the bird up in the
air, and of course it flew away. The Trold was astonished, and asked
the boy if he would come into his service. The first thing was to
fetch water, as the Trold wanted to brew. The Trold had a large bucket
to fetch water, which the boy could not even lift; so he said, 'This
will not do at all; we had best fetch in the river.' But this the
Trold could not do. The boy behaved in the same way with fetching turf
and fuel; and when the Trold went out to pick nuts, he picked up
stones and gave the Trold to crack. This gave him the toothache, but
the boy advised him to fill his mouth full of water and sit on the
fire until it boiled. This did not succeed, and so the boy continued
to tease the Trold until he compassed his destruction, and taking all
the Trold's gold and silver, he went home, and had enough to live on
all his days, with his mother."
"I have heard a parallel story from many lands," said Hardy.
"That is true enough; it is a story very widespread, with different
incidents and features," said the Pastor.
The next day they drove into Esbjerg, and Garth and Hardy put the
horses on board the steamer for England. It would leave in the
evening, when the tide would allow it to get out of dock.
The Pastor had arranged to stay the night at Esbjerg, to see the very
last of his son Karl on his leaving for England.
As they left, Hardy said, "I shall be at Rosendal in May, and I hope
my mother will be with me; but you will hear from me many times before
then, and I dare say Karl will write you more frequently than I do."
Helga said simply, "I thank you, Herr Hardy, for your kindness to us."
The steamer left that night, and the next day Pastor Lindal went to
the railway station at Esbjerg to take three tickets to the station
nearest his parsonage. Three tickets were handed to him, and the
Pastor expostulated.
"They are first-class tickets, and----"
"Yes," said the station clerk; "but they are already taken and paid
for."