A land journey of 334 English miles, which usually occupies five or six
days, was now before me. The road passes along one of the finest as
well as most extensive valleys in Norway, and is further distinguished
by crossing the celebrated range of mountains called the Dovre Field
[Dovre pronounced _Dovra_], which may be called the backbone of the
country, as the Grampian range is that of the Scottish Highlands. Along
this road, as usual, there is a series of stations, but none of them is
of so high a character as to present the luxury of wheaten bread. One
of my duties, therefore, on the last day of my stay in Christiania, was
to obtain a bag of biscuits for use on the way. Being anxious to secure
a passage in a steamer which was to leave Trondheim on the 18th July, I
allowed seven days for the journey, and started at one o'clock on the
11th, thus allowing an extra day for any accidental delay upon the road.
The first two or three stages being across certain intermediate
valleys, we have much up-hill and down-hill work along roads by no
means good. It was pitiable to see the little heavy-laden carts of
the peasantry toiling up the steep ascents, each with its forked pike
trailing behind it, on which to rest the vehicle, while the horse
should stop a few minutes at a time to recover breath and strength.
Many were conducted by women; and I could not but admire the hardy,
independent air of these females, as they sat, whip in hand, urging
their steeds along, though, as might be expected from such a rough
out-of-door life, their figures exhibit little of the attractions
of their sex. At many places I found rock-surfaces with dressings
generally in a north and south direction, being that of the valleys.
It is not unworthy of remark that two of the rivers are crossed by
modern wooden bridges, where a pontage is paid; and these were the only
charges approaching to the character of a toll to which I was subjected
throughout the whole of my travels in Scandinavia. Of the valleys,
one is full of sandy, a second of clay terraces, marking some decided
difference in the former submerged condition of the two districts. On
passing into a third at Trygstad, we find a vast plateau composed of
clay below and pure sand above, bearing magnificent pine-forests, and
which extends, without any intermission, to the foot of the Miösen
Lake. It would be a curious study to any native geologist to examine
this formation, and to trace its source, and the circumstances under
which it was deposited. There are remarkable generalities about
such things. Instructed by what I had seen in Scotland, as soon as
I observed the valley filled with sand up to a certain height a few
miles below where I knew a lake to be, I mentally predicted that this
formation would terminate at the foot of the lake, and that there would
be no terraces on the hill-sides above that sheet of water. Such proved
to be the case.
A short stage before reaching the foot of the Miösen Lake, we pass
one of those objects so extraordinary in Norway--a country mansion;
that is to say, a handsome house adapted for the residence of a family
in affluent circumstances. It is called Eidsvold, and was once the
property of a family named Anker, but now belongs to the public, in
consequence of the interesting distinction conferred on it in 1814,
when a national assembly sat here and framed the constitution under
which the country is now so happily placed. The purchase of this house
by a national subscription is an agreeable circumstance, as it marks
that deep and undivided feeling which the Norwegian people entertain
regarding their constitution--a feeling perhaps more important than
the character of the constitution itself, as it is what mainly secures
its peaceful working. This constitution has now stood for thirty-five
years, with a less amount of dissent and dissatisfaction on the part
of the people than has happened in the case of any other experiment
of the same kind in modern Europe. It is entitled to be regarded as
a successful experiment; and, as such, of course may well be viewed
with some interest by the rest of Europe, especially at a time when so
many political theories are on their trial, and so few seem likely to
stand good. The main fact is the election, every three years, of a body
called the Storthing, which separates itself into an Upper and Lower
House, enacts and repeals laws, and regulates all matters connected
with the revenue. The royal sanction is required for these laws; but
if the people are bent upon any measure disapproved of by the king,
they have only to re-introduce and pass it in two more successive
Storthings, when it would become law without the royal assent. Thus
the Norwegians may be said, in Benthamian language, to _minimise_
the monarchical principle. But how is the Storthing constituted? The
right of voting depends on a low property qualification. The qualified
voters in small districts elect persons called election-men, who again
meet by themselves, and elect, usually, but not necessarily, out of
their own number, representatives of larger districts, who in turn
form the Storthing, the whole numbers of which are somewhat under
a hundred. It is a system of universal suffrage, exclusive only of
the humblest labouring-class. It may be said to be a government of
what we call the middle-classes, and all but a pure democracy; but
it is essential to observe that the bulk of the people of Norway are
of the kind which we recognise as a middle-class, for of hereditary
nobility they have none, and the non-electors are a body too humble in
circumstances, and too well matched in numbers by the rest, to have
any power for good or evil in the case. There are other important
considerations: land is held in Norway, not upon the feudal, but the
_udal_ principle, which harmonises much better with democratic forms;
there being no right of primogeniture, estates are kept down at a
certain moderate extent; in the general circumstances of the country,
there can be no massing of wealth in a few hands, and therefore little
of that species of influence. The apparently ultra-liberal system of
Norway being thus adapted to many things more or less peculiar to the
country, it may have attained a success here which it would not obtain
elsewhere, or at least not till a proper groundwork had been laid in
social arrangements. This is a proposition which seems to derive much
support from recent political failures in Germany, Italy, and, shall
we add, France? The abrupt decreeing of a democratic constitution, in
supersession of a government which has been absolute for centuries,
is seen to be an absurdity, though one, perhaps, which nothing but
experiment could have demonstrated.
It was still far from night when I arrived at Minde, at the foot of the
Miösen Lake. This sheet of water, sixty-three English miles in length,
terminates here in a curve formed in the sandy plateau, through which
its waters have made for themselves a deep trench. The little inn
nestles under the steep bank on the west side of the outlet, commanding
from its back-windows a view along the lake. As the point where the
river must be ferried, and whence the steamers start on their course
along the lake, it is a place of some importance. It has even been
proposed to have a railway from Christiania to Minde, and the ground
has been surveyed by Mr Robert Stephenson; but this is not likely to be
realised for some years to come. I found the porch of the inn filled
with guests enjoying their pipes; two or three of them were officers,
and one of these, I was told, had the duty of superintending the post
stations of a certain district. Amongst others was one of those dirty
young men of the student genus who are so prevalent on the continent;
travelling with only a little satchel slung from their shoulders,
and thus evidently unprovided with so much as a change of linen or
a set of night-clothes, yet always sure to be found lugging along a
tobacco-pipe half as big as themselves, together with a formidable
pouch of tobacco depending from a button-hole. The inn consisted of two
floors, in the lower of which was a good-sized public room, gay with
prints of the royal family and such-like; from this on one side went
off two bedrooms; on the other adjoined a kitchen, and other family
apartments. Stables, sheds, and storehouses of various denominations
stood near by, so as to form what Allan Ramsay calls a rural square.
It was a comfortable establishment, and the females who conducted it
were respectable-looking people. There was also a landlord, who was
always coming in, apparently under an anxiety to do something, but
never did it. I had a good meal served up in the public room, and
enjoyed the evening scene on the lake very greatly, but found the
occasional society of the other guests in this apartment disagreeable,
in consequence of their incessant smoking, and their habit of frequent
spitting upon the floor. It is seldom that I find associates in inns
who come up to my ideas of what is right and proper in personal habits.
The most of them indulge, more or less, in devil's tattooing, in
slapping of fingers, in puffing and blowing, and other noises anomalous
and indescribable, often apparently merely to let the other people in
the room know that they are there, and not thinking of anything in
particular. Few seem to be under any sense of the propriety of subduing
as much as possible all sounds connected with the animal functions,
though even breathing might and ought to be managed in perfect silence.
In Norway the case is particularly bad, as the gentlemen, in addition
to everything else, assume the privilege of smoking and spitting in
every room of every house, and even in the presence of ladies.[2] To
a sensible and wellbred person all such things are as odious as they
are unnecessary. It is remarkable throughout the continent how noisily
men conduct themselves. They have not our sense of quietness being
the perfection of refined life. At Minde a gentleman over my head
made an amount of noise with his luggage and his personal movements
which astonished me, for it created the idea of a vast exertion being
undergone in order to produce it, as if it had been thought that there
was some important object to be served by noise, and the more noise the
better.
I had intended to proceed next morning by the steamer along the lake,
but I had been misinformed as to the days of sailing, and found it
necessary to spend my reserve day at Minde. It was less of a hardship
to me than it might have been to others, as I found more than enough
of occupation in examining the physical geography of the district.
The sandy plain runs up to the hills on both sides at an exceedingly
small angle of inclination, and perfectly smooth. On the east side,
near a place called Œvre, there is, close to the hills, a stripe of
plain of higher inclination, and composed of gravel, so that the whole
is exceedingly like that kind of sea-beach which consists partly of
an almost dead flat of sand, and partly of a comparatively steep
though short slope of gravel, adjoining to the dry land. That the
sea did once cover this plain, and rise against the gravel slope, I
could have no doubt: the whole aspect of the objects spoke of it.
There were also terraces in the valley below, indicating pauses in the
subsidence (so to speak) of the sea. It was of some importance, since
the point formerly reached by the sea could here be so clearly marked,
to ascertain how high that point was above the present sea-level. My
measurements, which were conducted with the level and staff, using
the lake as a basis, set it down as just about 656 feet above the
sea, being, as it chances, the height of an ancient sea-terrace at
Bardstadvig, on the west coast of Norway, and also that of certain
similar terraces in Scotland.[3] This coincidence may be accidental,
but it is worthy of note, as possibly a result of causes acting to a
general effect, more especially as it is not in this respect quite
solitary.
The dinner presented to me on the day of my stay at Minde might be
considered as the type of such a meal bespoken at a tolerable country
inn in Norway. It consisted of a dish of fried trout from the lake,
with melted butter-sauce, and something like Yorkshire pudding to
take with it: no more animal food, but a dish of cream prepared in a
manner resembling _trifle_, and accompanied by a copious supply of
an over-luscious warm jelly; finally, a salad. It is common in small
Norwegian inns to put down, with one dinner-like dish, a large bowl of
what we call in Scotland _lappered milk_, but bearing a creamy surface,
along with sugar: it seems to be a favourite regale with the natives;
but I never could get into a liking for it. In the clear warm day which
I spent in the Minde inn, the lake presented a beautiful placid scene;
a boat was now and then seen rowing lazily across its mirror-like
surface; but more generally nothing studded the silver sheet but the
image of a passing summer cloud.
In my rambles to-day I saw many of the peasantry, and the interiors of
a few of their houses. The women are poor-looking creatures, dressed in
the most wretched manner. They want the smart taste seen even among the
poorest young females farther south, as is particularly evidenced in
their head-dress, which consists merely of a coarse handkerchief tied
under the chin--a sort of apology for a hood rather than a head-dress.
There are great differences in the interiors of the peasants' houses;
but certainly many of them are miserable little cabins. As yet, I see
few symptoms of a prosperous life for the labouring-class in Norway. It
is different with the peasant proprietors or yeomen, called _bonder_ in
their own country. The house of a _bonde_ is a long, double-storeyed,
wooden house, painted a dull red or yellow, with gauze window-curtains,
and very neatly furnished within. The life of this class--the leading
class of Norwegian society--seems generally comfortable, though not
to the degree which is alleged in the glowing pages of Mr Laing; for
they are very often embarrassed by debt, mostly incurred in order to
pay off the claims of brothers and sisters to their inheritance. At
present, the labouring-class are leaving Norway in considerable numbers
to settle in America. There is one particular district in Wisconsin
which they flock to, and which, I am told, contains at least 6000 of
these poor people. A government officer, whom I conversed with at
Christiania, says it is owing to the superabundant numbers of the
people. The land, he alleges, has been brought to the utmost stretch of
its productive power. Meanwhile, to use his expression, there is _trop
du mariage_: the food being insufficient for the constantly-increasing
numbers, they must needs swarm off. There is a like emigration of the
humbler class of peasantry from Sweden. Thus we see that equally in
the simple state of things which prevails in Scandinavia, and in the
high-wrought system of wealthy England, there is but a poor life for
the hireling unskilled labourer. Nowhere does it afford more than a
bare subsistence; often scarcely gives this.
The weather was now becoming very warm, while, with the increasing
latitude, the day was sensibly lengthening. On the evening of the
12th of July I went to bed at ten o'clock under a single sheet, with
the window fully up, and read for an hour by the natural light. Next
morning at six I went on board the Jernbarden steamer, and was speedily
on my way along the Miösen Lake. A raft behind contained my own and
another carriage. It proved a pleasant day's sailing, though there
is nothing very striking in the scenery of the lake. The gentlemen
sauntered about, or sat upon deck, constantly smoking from their long
pipes. There were a few ladies, who seemed not at all discomposed by
the smoke, or any of its consequences. A tall old general of infantry,
in a dark cloak, exhausted I know not how many pipes, and his servant
seemed to have little to do but to fill the tube afresh from a _poke_
of chopped tobacco not much less than a nose-bag. Notwithstanding
these barbarian practices, there is a vast amount of formal politeness
among the native gentlemen and ladies; there is an incessant bowing
and taking off of hats; and whenever one is to leave the vessel, he
bids adieu to the company, though he perhaps never met one of them
before. The captain could converse in English, as is the common case
in steamers throughout Norway and Sweden, this gift being indeed held
as an indispensable qualification for the appointment. I had also some
conversation with the engineer, an intelligent German, who had been
some years in England. Along with these circumstances, the idea that
the engines had been made in Glasgow caused me to feel more at home on
the Miösen Lake than I could have expected. We had, however, a more
tedious voyage than usual, in consequence of the drag upon the vessel's
movements which we carried behind us, and we consequently did not reach
the landing-place beneath the town of Lillehammer till four o'clock.
This being the only town between Christiania and Trondheim, I was
desirous of stopping at it; but we had left ourselves barely enough
of time to reach the station of a steamer at the foot of a second and
smaller lake a few miles onward, by which I hoped to make out a hundred
miles of travelling before we should sleep, and thus leave myself
comparatively at ease about the remainder of the journey. I therefore
reluctantly drove through this pleasant-looking little place. Soon
after leaving Lillehammer, the hills, which as yet had been low and
rather tame, became steep and rough. We pass along the left bank of the
_Laug_, a large, fierce, and rapid stream, of that green colour which
indicates an origin among snow-clad mountains. My journey might now
have been described by a line from a Scottish poet--'By Logan's streams
that run sae deep'--for, by the usual affix of the article _en_, the
name of this river is sounded Logan, and thus is identical with a
name attached to more than one stream in Scotland.[4] Nor is this, by
the way, a solitary case. The river which enters the sea at Trondheim
is the Nid, identical with the Nith of Dumfriesshire fame. Even the
generic name for a river in Norway, _elv_, or, with the article,
_elven_, appears in our numerous tribe of Elvans, Alwynes, Allans,
Evans, and Avons.
About a couple of miles before reaching Mosshuus, the first station
from Lillehammer, we meet a steep rough barrier, which crosses the
valley, curving outwards from the hill-face towards the river, and
leaving only a narrow space between itself and the opposite hills for
the stream to pass. On mounting to the top, we find that it has a flat
surface of considerable extent. It is composed of blocks of stone of
all sizes, up to that of a cottage, mixed with a pale clay. Presently
another such mass appears, in a terrace-like form, on the opposite bank
of the river. A very little reflection, aided by the recollection of
some Swiss observations of the preceding summer, enabled me to detect
in these strange objects the fragments of an ancient _moraine_. A
glacier had once poured down the valley, terminating at this place, and
here depositing the loose materials which it had carried along with
it from the higher grounds. Such loose materials come to form what is
called the terminal _moraine_ of the glacier. Norway must have then
had a much colder climate than now, for there is not permanent snow in
this district except upon the tops of the mountains--though in Western
Norway there are still glaciers which descend almost to the level of
the sea. On an improved temperature becoming prevalent, the glacier of
the Logan valley had shrunk back, leaving its moraine as a memorial of
the point it had once reached. In connection with this object, it is
important to remark that the exposed rock-surfaces in the bottom, and
a little way up the sides of the valley, are smoothed; but the higher
parts of the hill-sides are extremely rough and angular, and have
evidently never been subjected to the action of ice. So far there is a
difference between this glen and the southern parts of the country. In
the latter, where the eminences are low, the ice has passed over hill
and vale in its own proper direction. Any ice that has been here has,
on the contrary, followed the direction of the valley, forming in it
one local and limited stream.
While Quist waited for fresh horses at Mosshuus, I walked on before to
examine the country. I found the rocks to be of a schistous character,
generally having their sharp angular sides presented to the road. The
contrast which they presented to the smoothed surfaces lower down, and
to the general surface of Sweden and Southern Norway, was striking, and
such as to leave no doubt that the one set of objects had been exempted
from a mechanical agency which had powerfully affected the other.
Amidst the thin woods of pine and birch which clothed the hill-sides I
found abundance of the wild strawberry, and made my acquaintance with
this pleasant fruit for the first time. Here and there were piles of
cut wood, and the woodman's stroke sounded through the glades. The
declining sun threw the one side of the valley into deep shade, and
brought out the other into equally strong light. Now and then a wain
was heard moving up the steep parts of the road, cheered by the voices
of a rustic cortège, whose red cowls would have been keenly appreciated
by the eye of a painter. It was a beautiful scene, and a beautiful
season--one of those opportunities which the heart sometimes finds to
fall in upon itself in perfect satisfaction and repose. I was glad,
however, when, after what I thought a too long delay, my carriage made
its appearance. We pushed rapidly on towards the bottom of the lake,
and were fortunate enough to reach it just as the steamer was about to
move off, about nine o'clock.
It was a small and plainly-furnished vessel, which seemed to have
exceedingly little custom, for there were not more than three other
passengers; and as I only paid about 1s. 8d. for myself, servant, and
carriage, the general receipts must be very small. The vessel is,
however, conducted on so economical a principle, that comparatively few
passengers must suffice to make it pay. A chatty old gentleman, who
seemed to be the sole or chief owner, took me down to the engine-room,
and showed me the pile of wood required for one of its voyages (sixteen
English miles); it measured a fathom each way, and cost 4s. 6d.
English! A good-looking, middle-aged woman, attended by a daughter, was
there to furnish refreshments, and I supped at an expense ludicrously
trifling. While light served, the view from the deck was fine, the
immediate banks of the lake presenting slopes of intense green, divided
into small farms, each provided with its snug little suite of wooden
buildings; while over these spaces rose the dark, steep mountains,
shaggy with rock and scrub. A little before midnight we arrived at
the landing-place under Elstad station, which is situated pretty far
up the hill-side, and to which it was necessary to send for horses to
take up the carriage. Walking on before, I soon found myself at the
house, but had some difficulty in attracting attention, as the inmates
were all in bed. After a little trouble, a stout lass came and bustled
about for the preparation of a couch in a very plain upper chamber, and
I consigned myself to Morpheus with all possible despatch, as it was
necessary that I should be on the road at an early hour on the morrow.
Rising between six and seven, I found Elstad picturesquely situated
on a prominence commanding extensive views of the valley. The house
is black with age: the date 1670 appears by the door-check, showing
that these wooden edifices are more durable than might be supposed.
There is, however, no observable difference between this and more
modern houses as regards the internal arrangements or the size of the
apartments. All such things are stereotyped in Norway. We started
at seven, and had a fine morning drive along the valley, which is
enlivened by some cataracts of the river, and by the inpouring of
two fierce side streams--the Vola and Fyre. At Oden, while they were
procuring fresh horses, I obtained breakfast with some difficulty,
using some tea of my own, but indebted to the house for sugar, eggs,
and butter. The charge for all, besides Quist's breakfast, was a
mark (9½d.); and it probably would have been less if I had not been
regarded as an Englishman. In the space between this station and the
next, at a place called Toostamona (spelt as pronounced), I found a
detrital barrier across the valley, very much like that at Mosshuus,
but so little charged with large blocks, that I felt doubtful whether
it was a second moraine, the mark of a second position of the skirt
of the glacier, or the spoils of some side stream, the product of a
later though still ancient time. Things are now becoming very simple.
The internal economy of the stations is manifestly getting more rude.
When, after a stage is done, I give, at Quist's dictation, four or five
skillings to the man who has come to take back the horses--and four or
five skillings are only about three-halfpence--the poor fellow takes
off his cowl, thrusts a huge coarse hand into the carriage to shake
mine, and utters his 'Tak, tak' (thanks, thanks) with an _empressement_
beaming in his honest visage which affects while it amuses me, it being
impossible to see a fellow-creature so profoundly gratified by anything
so trifling, without at once seeing that his share of the comforts of
life must be small indeed, and feeling contrite at the recollection of
the very slight impression which blessings incomparably greater make
upon myself.
At Sletsvig occurs an undoubted ancient moraine, exactly like that
at Mosshuus, being composed of huge angular blocks mixed with clayey
matter. As it lies opposite a side valley, which here comes in from the
west, it may have been a product of that valley; though I am inclined
to regard it rather as the accumulation left by the glacier of the
Logan vale after it had shrunk up to this point. On the inner side,
looking up the main valley, there is a bed of sand, evidently laid down
by water, and which it seems allowable to regard as the memorial of a
time when this moraine served as a barrier, confining the waters of
the river in the form of a lake. In this part of the valley there is a
system of irrigation extensively practised by means of wooden troughs
laid down along the hill-sides. The cheapness of the material makes
it of course highly available. On my journey to-day I met few persons
of any kind: amongst these were children offering little platefuls of
the wild strawberry for sale. A couple of skillings for a plateful was
evidently received as a great prize. Owing apparently to a change in
the stratification, the valley makes a rectangular bend at _Viig_--a
word, by the way, expressive of a _bend_, being identical with Wick,
which so often occurs in Britain in names of places signifying a bay.
The Viig station, which is a superior one, is said to contain in its
walls some of the timbers of the house in which St Olaf was born--a
fact strange if true, seeing that this saint, who was a king of Norway,
lived in the tenth century.
Having sent on no forebud to-day, I experienced some delay at each
station while fresh horses were procuring from the neighbouring
farmers. Leaving Quist to bring on the carriage from Solheim, I walked
forward to examine at leisure the scene of a remarkable historical
event in which some countrymen of mine were concerned. Above the
junction of a tributary from the west, the valley of the Logan becomes
still more contracted than formerly. The hill-side, steep to an unusual
degree, and rough with large blocks fallen from above, descends to the
left bank of the river, leaving no level stripe to form a road. The
public road is, in fact, by a preference of circumstances, conducted
along the hill-face fully a hundred feet above the stream. In the
year 1612, when the king of Denmark and Norway was at war with the
king of Sweden, a Colonel Mönnichhofen was despatched to Scotland
to hire troops for the assistance of the latter sovereign. He, with
1400 men, landed near Trondheim, and after an ineffectual attempt to
surprise that city, made his way through Norway by Stordalen into
Sweden. A second party of 900 men, under Colonel George Sinclair,
landed a fortnight later at Romsdalen, and endeavoured to pass into
Sweden by a different path. As all regular troops had been draughted
away from Norway to fight the king of Denmark's battles, there seemed
little likelihood of any difficulty being encountered on the march.
The peasantry, however, became exasperated by the extortion of free
provisions, and those of three parishes in this district assembled for
the purpose of opposing the Scotch. According to a Norwegian ballad,
which has been spiritedly translated by David Vedder--
----'the news flew east, the news flew west,
And north and south it flew;
Soon Norway's peasant chivalry
Their fathers' swords they drew.
The beacons blazed on every hill,
The fiery cross flew fast;
And the mountain warriors serried stood,
Fierce as the northern blast....
The boors of Lessie, Vaage, and Froen,
Seized axe, and scythe, and brand--
"Foredoomed is every felon Scot
Who stains our native land!"'[5]
A guide in the interest of the peasants conducted the Scottish party
towards the narrow defile which has been described. The peasants
themselves were gathered in force on the mountains above. As it was
impossible for them to see what was going on in the pass, they caused
a man mounted on a white horse to pass to the other side of the
river, and move a little way in front of the advancing enemy, that
they might know when he was near at hand. At the same time a girl was
placed on the other side of the Logan, to attract the attention of
the Scots by sounding her rustic horn. When the unfortunate strangers
had thus been led to the most suitable place, the boors tumbled down
huge stones upon them from the mountain-top, destroying them, to use
their own expression, like potsherds. Then descending with sword
and gun, they completed the destruction of the Scots. There is a
romantic story, which seems far from likely, that Sinclair had been
accompanied on this occasion by his wife. It is added that a young
lady of the neighbourhood, hearing of this, and anxious to save an
innocent individual of her own sex, sent her lover to protect the
lady in the impending assault. Mrs Sinclair, seeing him approach,
and mistaking his object, shot him dead. Some accounts represent the
immediate destruction of the Scottish party as complete, excepting only
that two men escaped. One more probable states that sixty were taken
prisoners, and kept by the peasants till next spring, when, provisions
failing, and the government making no movement in the matter, the poor
captives were put into a barn and murdered in cold blood, only two
escaping, of whom one survived to be the progenitor of a family still
dwelling in these wilds. Such were the circumstances of the bloody
affair of Kringelen, to commemorate which a little wooden monument has
been erected on the wayside, at the precise spot where the Scottish
party was surprised. The grave of Sinclair is also pointed out in the
neighbouring churchyard of Quham. An inspection of the scene of the
massacre gives a thrilling sense of the utterly desperate circumstances
of the Scottish troops when beset by the Norwegian boors. One looks
round with horror on the blocks scattered along the hill-side, every
one of which had destroyed a life. 'Now all is peaceful, all is still,'
on the spot where this piece of savage warfare was acted, save that
which only marks the general silence--the murmur of the river. Resting
here for a while, I could not but enter a mental protest against the
triumphant spirit with which the affair is still referred to by the
Norwegians, seeing that the assailants fought at such advantage, not
to speak of the safety in which they fought, that nothing but the
grossest misconduct could have failed to give them a victory. The
grace of a generous mercy would have been worth twice their boast. I
walked on about a mile to a hamlet where there is a sort of rustic
museum, devoted to keeping certain relics of the Scottishmen. In the
inner chamber of a little cottage a woman showed me, ranged along a
wall, five matchlocks, two of them very long, two Highland dirks, a
broadsword, a spur, two powder flasks, the wooden tube of a drum, and
a small iron-hooped box. The sight of these objects so near the scene
of the slaughter helps wonderfully to realise it; and it is impossible
for a Scotsman at least to look on them without emotion. I thought,
however, of the mercy of Providence, which causes the waves of time to
close over the most terrible and the most distressing things, sweeping
away all the suffering--exhaling calamity, as it were, into air--and
leaving only perhaps a few tangible objects to remind us by association
that 'such things were.'
In the evening I arrived at Laurgaard, where it was necessary to spend
the night.