DEMOCRATIC NORWAY--HER SUN, HER SCENERY AND HER CORONATION.
Norway was so full of attractions at the time of our visit that I am
at a loss to know in what order to treat of them. As those things
which are permanent will interest a larger number than the transient
ceremonies attending the crowning of a new king, I shall give the
preference to the most distinguishing feature of Norway, that which
has been interwoven with her name, viz., the midnight sun. Owing
to its accessibility and to the fact that its climate is moderated
by the influence of the Gulf stream, the coast of upper Norway
furnishes the best opportunity which Europeans have to mount the
Arctic merry-go-round and view the sun through the whole nightless
day. It is a weird experience, this passing from day to day without
intervening darkness, and one returns from it somewhat exhausted,
for the light tempts him to encroach upon the hours of sleep.
The North Cape, the northernmost point of the continent of Europe,
is usually the destination of the tourist, but it is not necessary
to go so far to see all that there is worth seeing. There are
several towns above the Arctic circle where for several weeks
the sun never sinks to the horizon. At Bodo, which is but little
more than a day's ride by boat from Trondhjem, the sun is visible
at midnight from May 30 to July 11. At Hammerfest, which is the
terminus of some of the steamboat lines and which claims to be the
northernmost town in the world, the sun does not set between May 13
and July 28, while at Tromso, not quite so far north as Hammerfest,
the inhabitants have but ten days less of the midnight sun.
We stopped at Svolvaer, one of the chief fishing stations of the
Lofoden Islands, nearly two hundred miles north of the Arctic
circle. We arrived about seven in the evening, and would have seen
the sun the previous night but for a bank of clouds behind which
it passed at about 11:30. Svolvaer nestles at the foot of some
snow-crowned peaks which shut out the northern horizon, and it is
necessary to go out into the open sea or to climb a mountain to
get an uninterrupted view. With our usual good luck we found an
English-speaking Norwegian who had studied in the United States,
and with him to direct us, we spent a memorable night among the
islands.
The channel to the north, known as Raftsund, is one of the most
picturesque along the entire coast, and the Troldfjord which leads
from it through a rockbound gorge to the outlet of a famous mountain
lake, is not surpassed in rugged grandeur. Troldfjord deserves to
be described by a poet, for prose can not do it justice. If any of
my readers have ever passed through the Royal Gorge in southern
Colorado, they may understand me when I say that Troldfjord is
a Royal Gorge with its walls widened to a quarter of a mile and
lengthened to a mile, and the space between them filled with a
transparent sea, whose surface perfectly mirrors every rock and
shrub. At the upper end of the fjord is a majestic cascade, the
dashing, splashing, foaming outlet of the lake two hundred feet
above. Our launch ceased its throbbing and sat swanlike on the
fathomless water, while we feasted our eyes upon a picture so
beautiful that darkness hesitates to draw a curtain over its charms.
[Illustration: THE VIKING SHIP AT CHRISTIANIA.]
The mountain, Digermulkollen, selected as an observation point, is
on the Raftsund and not far from the Troldfjord. I can not give
its height, but when I guessed at it before the ascent, I put it
at five or six hundred feet; after ascending it I am satisfied
that it is a thousand. We timed our trip so as to reach the top at
midnight, slaking our thirst from the snowbanks along the trail,
and it was the fault of the clouds that we did not see the orb of
day--at this season and in this latitude he is orb of the night
as well--as he reached the lowest point; but they were kind to us
a little later, for through a rift in them we saw the face of old
Sol just long enough to be sure that he, like ourselves, was up for
all night. Even though the clouds concealed the sun at the witching
hour of midnight, the light was the light of day, and I had no
difficulty in reading a paper (which truth, as well as loyalty to
my own publication, compels me to say was The Commoner). The fact
that we almost missed seeing the sun at all leads me to remark that
many make the entire trip without catching a glimpse of it. We were
informed that an excursion steamer had gone to the North Cape and
back in mist and rain just a few days before. It had not occurred
to us in planning our visit to Norway that cloudy weather had to be
taken into consideration, but we found that clear nights are the
exception rather than the rule, especially during the latter part of
the season.
[Illustration: IN HJORENDFIORD.]
Svolvaer is a quiet place in summer, but during January, February
and March its little harbor is full of fishing smacks, for thirty
thousand men fish in the waters of the Lofoden Islands. Cod is the
principal fish taken and codliver oil is one of the chief products
of the islands. Immense quantities of dried fish are shipped to
southern Europe, while the fresh and salted fish find a market in
the British Isles and Germany.
If one desires to see merely fjords, glaciers, lakes and mountain
streams, the southern part of Norway offers a sufficient variety of
each. Bergen, the principal city on the west coast, the second city
in the country and a former member of the Hanseatic League, is the
seaport of this northern Switzerland. With the Sogne Fjord on the
north, Hardanger Fjord on the south and west and a chain of lakes
almost connecting the two, one can see every variety of scenery
in a three days' trip around Bergen. As we had but two days to
spend there, we had to miss the northern fjord, but Hardanger, the
twenty-one mile ride across the mountains and the railroad from Voss
back to Bergen, furnished such a wealth of scenery that another day
could hardly have added much to our enjoyment.
[Illustration: TROLDFJORD.]
Taking a boat at Bergen, we devoted eleven hours to winding about
through Hardanger Fjord, and every moment presented some new
attraction. These fjords seem to have been formed by a convulsion
that opened great cracks in the mountains which line the coast of
Norway. In some places the shores are precipitous cliffs, reaching
from the water upwards for hundreds of feet, but for most of the
way the banks slope back and are covered with stunted pines and
undergrowth. Scattered all along the way are innumerable cascades
and waterfalls, varying in width from a few inches to many feet. At
one place we counted eleven of these in sight at one time, and we
were never out of hearing of their music. Some of them are harnessed
to little sawmills. At one point the boat halted within a few
hundred yards of a great glacier, which is crawling down a mountain
gorge, and from whose mouth, as from a fountain, gushes a ceaseless
stream. For ages this mass of ice has been slowly moving down from
the mountains, and every day tons upon tons melt and disappear, but
its losses at its base are made good at its top, and it lives on
like the human race, ever dying and yet ever young.
Disembarking at Eide we took a four-hours carriage ride, following
a mountain stream to its source, crossing the range at an elevation
of a thousand feet and descending along another stream to the lake
upon which the village of Voss is situated. From this point a
scenic railroad, which passes through fifty-two tunnels in seventy
miles, took us back to Bergen. As might be gathered from what has
already been said, Norway does not impress the tourist as a farmer's
paradise, although agriculture is first among her industries. The
farms, as seen from the routes of travel, seem very diminutive and
are usually triangular in form and look like wedges inserted in the
cracks of the mountains. Occasionally a valley is broad enough to
invite the cultivation of a level piece of land and the invitation
was long ago accepted. Potatoes grow well in Norway and are of
excellent flavor. On the coast boats they furnished the staple,
and sometimes almost the only, vegetable, although the bill of
fare often included seven different kinds of fish, nearly as many
varieties of cold meat, half as many brands of cheese, besides
white, brown and black bread. Rye, barley and wheat are grown in
the southern districts and grass everywhere. Owing to the frequent
showers and the long days of summer, grass grows very rapidly, but
as it is difficult to cure it, the people have adopted a plan which
looks peculiar to foreigners. They build frames that look like
sections of a fence and the green hay is hung upon the boards or
wire as the case may be. The lower rows are protected from the rain
by the upper one, and the air has access to all of it.
About three hours' drive from Bergen there is a little wooded island
on which the great Norwegian violinist, Ole Bull, built a summer
home where he was wont to retire at the conclusion of his tours and
where at last he died. He was not only a great admirer of American
institutions and of the American people in general, but he married
an American, and his daughter returns to Norway every year to
celebrate May 17, Norway's independence day, at her father's home
and with her father's countrymen. The daughter is one of the many
connecting links between the two countries, and by her invitation,
extended through our consul, Mr. Cunningham, we had the privilege
of visiting this historic spot. We were glad to do so, because Ole
Bull was not only one of the great musicians of the last century,
but he was one of the greatest democrats that Norway has produced--a
democrat not in a partisan sense, but in that broader sense in which
it describes one who believes in the people, trusts them and labors
for their welfare.
[Illustration: OLE BULL.]
There are many public men in Norway worthy of mention, but space
forbids an enumeration of them. There is, however, a relic of great
historic interest to which I must devote a line. It is the Viking
Ship, a thousand years old, now on exhibition at Christiania. It was
dug up twenty-five years ago and is fairly well preserved. It gives
one an idea of the ships used by those early seamen of the north
whose daring exploits make fiction seem tame.
It so happened that we arrived in Norway just in time to attend the
coronation of King Haakon VII., and we had our first opportunity to
see royalty on parade. The new king is a son of the king of Denmark,
and his wife, Queen Maud, is daughter of the king of England. When,
last year, Norway withdrew from her union with Sweden, the crown
was offered to a son of King Oscar, but the offer was refused, and
it is probably not too much to say that the Norwegians expected
it to be refused, but they wanted to show that separation was not
due to antagonism to the reigning house. It was then tendered to
the son of King Frederick and accepted. I shall speak later of
the circumstances which explain this selection; it is sufficient
at present to say that the new king is a sober, earnest, sensible
looking young man of about thirty-five and seems to have made a very
favorable impression upon the Norwegian people. By the courtesy of
Minister Graves, who represents our country at Stockholm, and who,
our minister to Norway not having received his appointment in time,
was our nation's special ambassador to attend the coronation, we
received invitations to the coronation ceremonies and were presented
at court. While the newspaper reports of the coronation may rob what
I am about to say of some of its freshness as news, I shall venture
to describe what we saw, begging the reader's indulgence if I betray
a lack of familiarity with the technical phrases employed on such
occasions.
The coronation took place at Trondhjem, the former capital, a city
situated on one of the numerous fjords that indent the western
coast. The building selected for the occasion was the Gothic
cathedral, the largest in Scandinavia, which was commenced in
the eleventh, and completed in the fourteenth century. It is a
historic building and belonged to the Bishopric of which Ireland
was a part before America was discovered by Columbus. The cathedral
has suffered from several fires, and a part of it was in ruins
for three centuries. It is now sufficiently restored to furnish
a larger audience room than is to be found in most cities of the
size. Under the dome a circular space was left for the royal party
while the visitors were seated, the foreign representatives nearest
the center, on raised seats in the nave and transepts. A broad
aisle was left, extending from the entrance through the center to
the chapel at the other end. Just before time for the king to
arrive, a company of white-robed Lutheran priests marched from the
chapel to the door, and a stalwart body of men they were. They
marched back at the head of the procession, the king following,
his crimson, ermine-lined robe trailing many feet behind--or it
would have trailed but for the fact that it was carried by four
attendants. The king was accompanied by several officers and
followed by the standard bearer holding aloft the royal banner. Then
came the queen wearing a robe similar to the king's, but it only
required three attendants to keep its folds from the floor. She was
attended by three maids of honor. The king and queen were escorted
to thrones on opposite sides of the aisle, and the representatives
of royal families occupied seats next to them. The Prince of
Wales sat nearest the queen, next to him Prince Henry of Germany,
and the American ambassador next. Near the king sat Denmark's
representative, then Russia's, and next to him the representative
from France. There was gold braid galore; some of the foreign
representatives had enough on their clothes to put the Sultan of
Sulu to shame. I never before saw so much gold, and I have been
wondering since whether there may not be a new yellow peril of which
our financiers have little dreamed. Our representatives used less of
this ornamentation (they all wore military uniforms) than those of
any other country, and the question arises, what is going to become
of the honest dollar if, with the spread of the ideas of a republic,
the amount of gold braid is decreased and a vast quantity of gold is
poured through the mints into the volume of the world's currency? It
might so enlarge the volume of money as to make the money changers
clamor for the demonetization of gold, and, then the silverites
would be called gold bugs for insisting upon the free and unlimited
coinage of gold.
After some excellent music, instrumental and vocal, a member of
the clergy ascended a pulpit not far from the king and queen and
delivered an earnest address. He was a typical Norwegian, powerful
of frame and strong of face--such as we might imagine one of the
Viking chiefs to have been. Then there was more music, and it may
interest the readers to know that all the music was prepared for
the occasion, the words of the cantata being by the pastor of the
church, and the hymns being written in the language of the peasants.
Finally the king arose, proceeded down the aisle to the chapel and
kneeling, received from the bishop the insignia of office, the crown
being placed upon his head, a gold chain about his neck, a sceptre
in one hand and a golden globe in the other. As soon as he returned
to the throne, the queen advanced to the chapel and was likewise
invested, and then the premier, Mr. Michelson, proposed a salute to
the king and queen. The people responded with earnestness and the
exercises were concluded.
I do not expect to witness another coronation, and it will be some
satisfaction to remember that the first and only one attended was
that of a king whom the people of their own accord selected; for
if there is anything more democratic than a republican form of
government, it is the fundamental principle that the people have a
right to have whatever form of government they desire. Jefferson
emphasized this doctrine when the people of France called Napoleon
to the throne, and it has Bible sanction as well, for when the
children of Israel still demanded a king, even after Samuel
explained what a king would do, he was told to let them have their
way.
[Illustration: KING HAAKON AND QUEEN MAUD.]
The next day we put on our best clothes and joined the line that
passed before the king and queen. It was not a very satisfying
experience, but it is worth something to know how such things are
done, and I may add, the more an American sees of it, the more he
appreciates the simplicity of public life in his own country.
Norway, in spite of the choosing of a king, is the most democratic
country in northern Europe. She has no nobility, confers no titles
and had to go outside of her own realm to find one of royal birth.
She had her kings and princes in the early days, but one Norwegian
statesman explained to us that when they lost their privileges they
emigrated to America and went to farming. The choice of a Dane was
not strange, if a king was to be chosen from without, for Norway
was united with Denmark for more than three centuries, and there
has always been a friendly feeling between the two countries. It
was expedient, too, under the circumstances, to offer the crown to
the son of the Danish king, for this brought Norway's throne into
kinship with the thrones of England and Russia, as well as with that
of Denmark. In fact, the circumstances and the situation had a good
deal to do with the four-to-one vote in favor of a monarchy. When it
is remembered that Norway's paramount aim was to secure independence
and that this might have been jeopardized by an attempt to establish
a republic at the same time, it is really surprising that one-fifth
of the people had the courage to vote to plant a republic amid
surrounding monarchies. There are many in Norway who prefer a
president to a king and who object to having two and a half millions
of people taxed nearly two hundred thousand dollars a year to pay
the salary of a kingly figurehead, but the monarchists reply that
the king's position is purely ornamental and enables the government
to maintain cordial relations with other European countries while
the people govern themselves through the storthing. They point out
that the king has much less power than our president. While this is
true, they forget that a president elected by the people and holding
office but four years can be trusted with more executive authority
than an hereditary monarch. The storthing has absolute power, and as
its members are elected by universal suffrage every three years, and
as there is but the one parliamentary body, public sentiment finds
prompt expression in the government. It can be truthfully said,
therefore, that with the exception of the executive branch of the
government, Norway is thoroughly democratic and that the influence
of the king is reduced to a minimum.
Norway has a promising future. Her people are hardy and intelligent.
Education has been compulsory for fifty years, and it is the
country's boast that it spends more per capita on schools than
any other country in Europe. Because of Norway's immense shipping
interests, she demanded a separate consular service, and this
was one of the causes of friction between her government and the
government of Sweden. Norway has a great future, and much is to
be expected of her people. Her sons and daughters, those who have
emigrated to America, as well as those who have remained at home,
prove to the world that it is possible for a people to acquire the
refinements of civilization without losing their original strength
and vigor.