A grumble about roads--Mr. Dahl’s caravansary--“You’ve waked
me too early”--St. Halvard--Professor Munck--Book-keeping
by copper kettles--Norwegian society--Fresh milk--Talk
about the great ship--Horten the chief naval station of
Norway--The Russian Admiral G----Conchology--Tönsberg the
most ancient town in Norway--Historical reminiscences--A
search for local literature--An old Norsk patriot--Nobility
at a discount--Passport passages--Salmonia--A tale for
talkers--Agreeable meeting--The Roman Catholics in Finmark--A
deep design--Ship wrecked against a lighthouse--The courtier
check-mated.
The new road, which avoids some fearful hills, will soon be finished;
and that is the excuse for not repairing the old one, which was
something like what Holborn Hill would be with all the paving-stones up.
Prince Napoleon, who has just returned from his voyage to Spitzbergen
and the Arctic regions, is about to visit Kongsberg in company with
one of the Royal Princes of Sweden, to-morrow. It is lucky for the
highway surveyors that it is not the King of Oude. They doubtless
would have been put into the ruts to fill them up, or smelted in the
smelting-houses, or have had to undergo some other _refined_ process.
Sigur and I parted company at Hougesund; he proceeding homewards, and
I crawling along to Drammen, by the side of the elv, with the worst
horse I ever drove in Norway. Fortunately, the road is a dead level,
and good. The river abounds in salmon, which cannot get up higher than
Hougesund.
On the other side of it, I saw several lights, which I learned were at
saw-mills, which are working night and day. I suppose they are taking
time by the forelock. Hitherto, saw-mills have been in the hands of a
few privileged persons; but in 1860 the monopoly expires, and anybody
may erect one.
I had been strongly recommended to one Mr. Dahl. His caravansary I
found both comfortable and reasonable. The St. Halvard steam-boat,
which was to convey me next morning to some station in the Christiania
Fjord, started at seven o’clock, I found, so I requested to be called
at a little before six. The damsel walked into my bedroom, without any
preliminary knock, long before that hour.
“You’ve come too early,” said I; “the boat does not start till seven.”
“Oh, yes; but the passengers are accustomed to assemble on board half
an hour before.”
So much for the Norwegian value of time.
At five minutes to seven I found myself on board the boat, much to
the astonishment, no doubt, of the numerous passengers; who, with the
patient tranquillity of Norwegians, had long ago settled in their
places.
“St. Halvard--who was St. Halvard?” said I to a person near me, as we
scudded along through the blue wares, glistening in the morning sun,
and curled by a gentle breeze. He did not know, but he thought a friend
of his on board knew. The friend, an intelligent young lieutenant
in the army, from Fredrickshall, soon produced a book of Professor
Munck’s, but the volume made no mention of the enigmatical personage.
Seeing, however, that I looked over the pages with interest, nothing
would content the young _militaire_ but that I should retain possession
of it; which I accordingly did, with many thanks. It may be as well to
mention, that there are two Muncks in Norway; A. Munck, the poet, and
Professor A. P. Munck, the historian, a person of European reputation,
who is now engaged on a comprehensive work, “Norske Folks Historie,”
“History of the Norsk People.” He is also author of several other works
of antiquarian research.
“You have been in Thelemarken?” inquired the lieutenant. “That’s the
county for old Norsk customs and language. With all their dirt and
rude appearance, some of the bonders are very rich, and proud of their
wealth. I remember being at a farm some miles above Kongsberg, where I
saw a number of copper kettles ranged on a shelf, as bright as bright
could be; I found that these were the gauge of the bonder’s wealth.
For every thousand dollars saved a new copper kettle was added. You
have no idea how tenacious these people are of their social position.
When the son and daughter of two bonders are about to be married, a
wonderful deal of diplomacy is used, the one endeavouring to outwit the
other. It is surprising with all the chaffering and bargaining between
the elders that the marriages turn out so well as they do.
“And yet even the wealthiest of them live in the meanest manner.
I don’t suppose you would get any fresh milk in your travels in
Thelemarken, except at the sæters. You would not believe it, but
they are in the habit of keeping their milk from spring to autumn.
To prevent it becoming stale or maggoty, they stir it every day. In
process of time it assumes a very strong scent, which the people inhale
with great gusto. It is a filthy affair: but people accustomed to it
like it, I am told, above all things. A curious case in point occurs to
my mind: A Voged, who had been for some years stationed up in a wild
part of Thelemarken, was translated to Drammen, which is an agreeable
place, and by no means deficient in good society. But, with all this
improvement in neighbourhood, and the appliances of life; in spite of
his increased pay and higher position, the Voged sickened and pined; in
short, became a regular invalid. What could it be? He missed the thick,
stinking milk of the Thelemarken wilds. He petitioned to return to the
old Fogderie, where he would have less pay, but more milk; and, from
the last accounts, he is fully restored to health, and enjoying himself
amazingly.”
As we approached Horten, the chief naval station of Norway, I saw a new
church, apparently built in red stone, and in the Gothic style; which,
as far as I could judge, reflected no little credit on the architect.
At this moment, a Norskman tapped me on the shoulder, and asked--
“Are you an Englishman? Do you live in London? Have you seen the great
ship that is building on the banks of the Thames? They say it is twice
as long as the magazine at Horten yonder; but I can’t believe it.”
“You mean the _Great Eastern_, as they call it? I don’t know how long
the magazine is; but the ship is 680 feet long.”
“Vinkelig! det er accurat dobbelt.” (Really! then it is exactly double,
just as I heard.)
The daily steamer from Christiania to Fredrickshall met us here,
_Halden_, by name; and separated me from the intelligent lieutenant,
with whom I exchanged cards.
As we steamed out of Horten, past the gun-boats and arsenals, a
naval-looking man said--
“We have had a great man here lately, sir: the Russian Admiral G----.
The newspapers were strongly against his being allowed to pry about our
naval station; but he was permitted by the Government. After examining
everything very accurately, he said, ‘It’s all very good, too good: for
England will come and take it away from you.’”
“And what did the dockyard people think of that? Did they agree with
him?”
“Heaven forefend! They knew whom they had to deal with. As he walked
through the arsenal, he saw some shells lying about. ‘What is that?
some new invention?’ ‘Oh! no,’ said the officer; ‘it is only shells,
after the old fashion.’ The Russian admiral seemed contented with the
reply; but he was not going to be put off the real scent by a feint
of this kind. In fact, a Norwegian captain, not long ago, did invent
a peculiar kind of shell, which, with unerring precision, can be so
managed as to burst in a vessel’s side after effecting an entrance. The
Russian knew this, but kept his counsel then. Subsequently, he found an
opportunity of drawing a subaltern officer aside, to whom he offered
two hundred dollars to reveal the secret. But the Norskman would not
divulge the secret (shell out), only telling his superior, who took no
notice, but merely chuckled at the Russian’s duplicity.”
“It is an old Russian trick, that,” replied I; “if I remember rightly,
the Muscovites obtained the secret of the Congreve rocket by some such
underhand manœuvre.”
The admiral’s curiosity will remind the reader of the facetious
_Punch’s_ “Constantine Paul Pry,” who visited England and France for a
similar object.
As we steered down the vast Fjord, which is here of great width, and
ramifies into various arms, we see the _Nornen_, a new Norsk frigate,
in the offing, on her trial trip.
A little after noon, we were steaming down a shallow bay, surrounded
by low wooded islets, to Tönsberg, the most ancient town in Norway.
The harbour for shipping is in the Tönsberg Fjord, distant a bowshot
from where we land; but to get there by water would require a detour of
several miles. The isthmus is low and flat, and presents no engineering
difficulties whatever. In any other country, a ship canal would long
since have joined the two waters. At present, there is only a ditch
between.
The ruins of the old fortified castle are still discernible on the
elevation to the north of the town; and a sort of wooden building,
something between a summer-house and an observatory, has lately been
erected on the spot. The old castle (Tonsberg-hus) suffered a good deal
from an attack of the Swedes in 1503; and was totally destroyed in
1532, in the disturbances that ensued on the return of King Christian
II. to Norway. As early as the close of the ninth century, the city
was a place of resort for merchants, and the residence of the kings in
the middle ages. At one time there were half a score of churches in
the place; but of these none remained fifty years ago, except one very
ancient one, in the Pointed style; but this was pulled down by some
Vandal authorities of the place. During the troubles of the twelfth and
thirteenth centuries the town was taken and plundered more than once;
but it received its finishing blow from the Union of Calmar.
An eminence to the east of the town is called the Mollehaug, where in
the middle ages the renowned Hougathing, or Parliament, was held, and
the kings received homage. There being nothing left in the town to
indicate its former importance, I mounted up the Castle-hill, and took
a look of the surrounding country and Fjords, with the blue mountains
of Thelemarken far in the distance. The ancient seat of the Counts of
Jarlsberg is near at hand; from which family the surrounding district
bears the name of Grefskabet (county).
Afterwards I strolled into the cemetery. Some of the tombs were of
polished red granite, which is obtained in the neighbourhood; most of
them had long inscriptions. Under two relievo busts in white marble
was the short motto, “Vi sees igien,” (we shall meet again,) and then
a couple of joined hands, and the names of So-and-so and his Hustru
(gudewife). On an obelisk of iron I read--“Underneath rests the dust
of the upright and active burgher, the tender and true man and father,
merchant Hans Falkenborg. His fellow-burghers’ esteem, his survivors’
tears, testify to his worth. But the Lord gave, the Lord took. Blessed
be the name of the Lord.” On another stone was written--“Underneath
reposes the dust of the in-life-and-death-united friends, Skipper F.
and Merchant B. Both were called from the circle of their dear friends
December 10, 1850, at the age of 28. Short was their pilgrimage here
on earth; but who hath known the mind of the Lord, who hath been his
councillor? Peace be with their dust.” Altogether there was much good
taste exemplified in these memorials of the dead.
As I returned towards the inn, I called at the only bookseller’s in
this town of nearly three thousand inhabitants, in hopes of obtaining
some local literature in reference to a place of such historical
celebrity; Madame Nielsen, however, only sold school-books of the
paltriest description. After my walk, I was by no means sorry to sit
down to a good dinner at the inn. Opposite me sat a fine old fellow,
with grey streaming locks, while two bagmen and the host completed
the company. Under the influence of some tolerable Bordeaux, the old
gentleman became quite communicative; he had been in arms in ’14, when
Norway was separated from Denmark, and the Norskmen recalcitrated
against the cool handing them over from one Power to another.
“That was a perilous time for us; one false step, and we might have
been undone; but each man had only one thought, and that was for
his country. In this strait,” continued he, his eyes sparkling,
“one hundred Norskmen met at Eidsvold on May 1, and on May 17 the
constitution was drawn up which we now enjoy. Please God it may last.
The Norwegians may well be proud of it, and no wonder that the Swedes
are jealous of us with their four estates, and their miserable pretence
of a constitution--the worst in Europe. Their shoals of nobility are
the drag-chain; we got rid of them here in 1821. That was a great
blessing; Carl Johann was against it, and three thousand Swedish
soldiers were in the vicinity of Christiania. Count Jarlsberg, our
chief noble, was for the abolition; its chief opponent was Falsing. He
said in the Storthing, that if our nobility were abolished he would say
farewell to Norway. Another member took him up short, and said, ‘And
the Norsk hills would echo well.’”
Dinner over, I drove through the woods back to Vallö, where I was to
meet the steamer. Two Swiss gentlemen possess a large establishment
here for the manufacture of salt by the evaporation of salt water; a
cotton mill is also adjoining, belonging to the same proprietors.
On applying for my ticket at the office--where it may be had a trifle
cheaper than on board--my passport is demanded and examined, and the
office-keeper informs me that it is against the rules to give a ticket
for an outward-bound steamer to any one whose passport has not been
countersigned by the Norwegian authorities. Now, on leaving Norway by
way of Christiania, as I was aware, it is required to be shown to the
police, and _viséd_, but as I had never been near the capital this
year, and, from the moment I had landed to this, the passport had never
been demanded, it did not occur to me that a _visé_ would be required.
For the moment I was disconcerted, as nobody was to be found at Vallö
who could remedy the defect.
On inquiry, however, I found that the naval officer in command of the
coming vessel was my old friend Captain H., and so I felt secure. There
were plenty of faces that I knew on board, among the rest some Oxford
Undergraduates returning from a delightful excursion up the country;
there were also some “Old Norwegians,” who had been fishing in the
north, and complained loudly of the unfavourableness of the season.
There had been an unusual amount of rain and cold, and the rivers had
been so full of snow-water, that the salmon had stuck at the mouths, a
prey to nets, &c., in preference to braving the chills of the Elv.
Among other small talk, I began to recount as I sat in the Captain’s
room, how I had seen the old gentleman with the star and diplomatic
coat. (See _antè_). Just then somebody came and called out the first
lieutenant by name, which was, I perceived, the very same as that of
the last baron whom I was engaged in taking off.
“Is he any relation?” I inquired in alarm.
“Only his son,” was the reply.
Fortunately I had not said anything derogatory to the papa, or I might
have placed myself in an awkward fix. This is only another proof how
cautious you ought to be on board one of these steamers of talking
about whom you have seen, and what you think, for the coast being the
great high road, everybody of condition takes that route--you may have
been, perhaps, for instance, abusing some merchant for overcharges--and
after speaking your mind, _pro_ or _con_, the gentleman with whom you
are conversing may surprise you with a--
“Ja so! Indeed! That’s my own brother.”
“Were you ever up beyond the North Cape?” said a Frenchman to me, at
dinner.
“Oh! yes; I once went to Vadsö.”
“And what sort of beings are they up there? Half civilized, I suppose?”
“Not only half, but altogether, I assure you,” said I. “I met with
as much intelligence, and more real courtesy and kindness, than you
will encounter half the world over.” At this moment my neighbour to
the left, a punchy, good-humoured-looking little fellow, with a very
large beard and moustache, which covered most of his face, and who had
evidently overheard the conversation, said, in English:
“You not remember me? You blow out your eyes with gunpowder upon the
banks of the Neiden. What a malheur it was! Lucky you did not be blind.
I am Mr. ----, the doctor at Vadsö. We went, you know, on a pic-nic
up the Varanger Fjord. Count R----, the bear-shooter, who was such a
tippler, was one of the party.”
“Opvarter (waiter), bring me a bottle of port, first quality, strax
(directly),” said I, remembering the little gentleman perfectly well,
and how kindly he and his companions had on that occasion drunk skall
to the Englishman, and made me partake of the flowing bowl. We had a
long chat, and presently he introduced me to his wife; who, I found,
was, like himself, a Dane. They were journeying to their native
country, after several years’ absence.
“What are those Roman Catholics doing up in Finmark?” said I.
“The people hardly know yet what to make of them,” he replied. “The
supposition generally is, no doubt, that they wish to convert the Fins.
But I don’t think so. They are aiming at higher game.”
“How so?”
“Russia!--That’s their object. They can’t get into that country itself.
But a vast quantity of Russians are continually passing and repassing
between the nearest part of Russia and Finmark. And they will try to
indoctrinate them. Their _point d’appui_ is most dexterously selected.
There is no lack of funds, I assure you. They have settled on an estate
at Alten, which they have bought.”
“And so clever and agreeable they are,” put in the Dane’s lady. “Mr.
Bernard especially. He has a wonderfully winning manner about him.”
“The chief of the mission,” continued the doctor, “is M. Etienne, a
Russian by birth, whose real name is Djunkovsky, and who has become a
convert from the Greek faith. He is styled M. le Préfet Apostolique des
Missions Polàires du Nord, de l’Amerique, &c.; and proposes, he says,
to operate hereafter on parts of North America. On St. Olaf’s day, he
invited forty of the most respectable people in the neighbourhood to a
banquet, and, in a speech which he made, said that the Norsk religion
had much similarity with the Roman Catholic; and that Saint Olaf was
the greatest of Norsk kings. Still, I think they have higher game in
view than Norway.”
A master-stroke of policy, thought I. The Propaganda will have
surpassed itself if it should succeed in setting these people thinking.
The children of the autocrat will cast off their leading-strings yet;
and the strife between the Latin and Greek Church rage, not between the
monks at the Holy City, but in the heart of holy Russia.
At this pause in the conversation, the Frenchman, who did not seem a
whit disconcerted at his former _faux pas_, recommenced his criticisms.
The fare, and the doings on board generally, evidently did not jump
with his humour. “What is this composition?” he inquired of the
steward. “Miös-Ost?” (a sort of goat’s-milk cheese, the size and shape
of a brick, and the colour of hare-soup). “It’s very sweet,” observed
the Frenchman, sarcastically; “is there any sugar in it?”
“No!” thundered the captain, who did not seem to relish these
strictures. “No. It’s made of good Norsk milk, and that is so sweet
that no sugar is required.”
This remark had the effect of making the Gaul look small, and he gulped
down any further satire that he might have had on his tongue.
I heard, by-the-bye, an amusing anecdote of these cheeses. They are
considered a delicacy in Norway; and a merchant of Christiania sent
one as a present to a friend in England. The British custom-house
authorities took it for a lump of diachylon, and charged it
accordingly, as drugs, a great deal more than it was worth.
As we sail through the Great Belt, the mast-tops of a wrecked vessel
appear sticking out of the water near the lighthouse of Lessö. It
has been a case of collision, that dreadful species of accident that
threatens to be more fatal to modern navies than storms and tempests.
In this case, the schooner seemed determined to run against something,
so she actually ran against the lighthouse, in a still night, and when
the light was plain to see. The concussion was so great, that the
vessel sank a few yards off, with some of her crew. The lighthouse rock
is in _statu quo_.
Run your head against a wall,
It will neither break nor fall.
On board was Mr. D----, a chamberlain at the Court of Stockholm. This
gay gentleman professed to be terribly smitten by the charms of a
Danish lady, and wished very much to know whether she was married.
I heard that she was, but she apparently desired to relieve the
monotony of the voyage by a little flirtation, and kept her secret. On
awaking from a nap on one of the sofas, a friend informed me that the
chamberlain, whom I saw sketching a dozing passenger, had done the like
by me. I quietly got out my sketch-book, and took him off as quickly
as possible. Happening to look my way, he saw what was going on, and
sprang up, as if shot. “Those who live in glass houses,” &c. I begged
him to look at the caricature I had made;--eyes staring out of head,
hair brushed up, &c. This counterfeit presentment seemed to strike him
all of a heap; he shut up his sketch-book, and walked out of the cabin;
while a Swedish Countess, very young and pretty, who had been smoking
a very strong cigar on deck, and had to abide the consequences of her
rashness, came downstairs, and took refuge in the ladies’ apartment.
END OF VOL. I.
FOOTNOTES
[1] See Lempriere’s _Classical Dictionary_.
[2] His application has been refused.
[3] Since the above was written, we find that the plot is thickening.
Archdeacon Brun, of Norderhoug, insists on all communicants being
examined by him previously to being admitted to the rite; while, at
Sarpsborg, there has been a meeting to discuss the sin of eating the
blood of animals, and the possibility of holiness free from sin in this
life.
[4] Their days always began with the sunset of the day before. Our
fortnight and se’night are lingering reminiscences of this old Norsk
method of calculation by nights instead of days.
[5] In the original, kinn = cheek.
[6] (See _Oxonian in Norway_, second edition, p. 170.) Close to this
desolate spot lives the möller-gut (miller’s lad) as he is called,
whose real name is Tarjei Augaardson. This man is a famous fiddler.
His countryman, Ole Bull, hearing of his musical talents, sent for
him, and he often played in public at Christiania and Bergen. He now
only exercises his talents at bryllups (weddings), receiving at times
ten dollars and upwards, which are chiefly contributed by the guests.
With the money earned by him in the capital he bought a farm in this
desolate spot; but he seems but ill-adapted for the bonder’s life, and
is much in debt. Could not he emulate Orpheus, and set some of these
rocks dancing off which now encumber the land?
[7] “Yea” and “nay,” in Wiclif’s time, and a good deal later, were the
answers to questions framed in the affirmative. “Will he come?” To this
would have been replied “yea” and “nay,” as the case might be. But
“Will he not come?” To this the answer would have been “yes” or “no.”
Sir T. More finds fault with Tyndal that in his translation of the
Bible he had not observed this distinction, which was evidently going
out even then,--that is, in the reign of Henry VIII.; and, shortly
after, it was quite forgotten.--TRENCH’S _Study of Words_.
[8] “Under circumstances of most privation I found no comfort
so welcome as tea. We drank immoderately of it, and always with
advantage.”--_Dr. Kane’s Arctic Voyage._
[9] The greatest height at which grouse have been seen was by
Schlagentweit in the Himalaya, 11,000 feet above the sea.
[10] Many of these stones are so nicely balanced, that they may
be moved without losing their equilibrium. Hence they are called
Rokke-steene (rocking-stones). Formerly they were looked upon as
ancient funereal monuments, like similar upright stones in Great
Britain and elsewhere. Lieut. Mawry, who overturned the Logan stone,
and was forced to set it up again at his own expense, might indulge his
peculiar tastes with impunity in this country.
[11]
Anton Shiel he loves not me,
For I gat two drifts of his sheep.
_Border Ballad._
[12] Tordenskiold was a renowned admiral. According to tradition, he
never would have a man on board his ship who would not stand up at a
few paces with outstretched arm, and a silver coin in his fingers, and
let him have a shot at it. The Norwegian still considers it an honour
to trace his descent from one who served under Tordenskiold.
[13] It begins thus--
Lord of the North is Harald Haarfager,
Petty kings all from their kingdoms he hurls,
“Bloody axe” Erik for tyranny banished
After becomes one of England’s proud Earls, &c.
[14] Ordinarily on the high roads these animals are unshod, and yet
seem to take no damage from the want of this defence. One is reminded
of the text--“Their horses’ hoofs shall be counted like flint.” The
shoe of the mountain horses is usually fastened on with four prodigious
nails.
[15] The following is the printed tariff of charges at these places. It
is fixed by the Voged of the district:
skill. _d._
“Bed with warm room 24 = 10 English.
” ” cold room 16
Contor (_i.e._ large) cup of coffee 8
Small cup of coffee 4
Large cup of tea 6
Small ditto 3
Warm breakfast 20
Warm dinner 24
Bed for single folk 2
Eggedosis (glass of egg-flip) 10
Bottle of red wine 48
N.B.--Servants nothing, but if a traveller stops in cold room for half
an hour without taking any refreshment, he must pay 4 skill, or if in
a warm one, 8 skill.” It must be observed that the latter charges are
never enforced, and that in some districts a bed is only 12 skill, and
a cup of coffee 5 skill.
[16] Emerson.
[17] From “kige,” to spy, still extant in the Scottish word “to keek.”
[18] To life also sometimes. Thus, King Ormud was overwhelmed, Snorro
tells us, by a rush of stones and mud caused by rain after snow.
[19] The famous Oldenburg horn was, according to Danish tradition,
given by a mountain sprite to Count Otto of Oldenburg.
[20] The robber chief, Kombaldos, in Chinese Tartary, is related by
Atkinson to have entertained a similar idea.
[21] In the Isle of Man, so long occupied by Norwegians, we find a
similar legend. At the good woman’s second accouchement, Waldron
relates, a noise was heard in the cow-house, which drew thither the
whole assistants. They returned, on finding that all was right among
the cattle, and lo! the second child had been carried from the bed, and
dropped in a lane.
[22] Faye, Norske Folkesagn.
[23] I have not succeeded in obtaining any satisfactory information
about this plant.
NEW AND CHEAPER EDITION, REVISED.
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THE OXONIAN IN NORWAY;
Or, Notes of Excursions in that Country.
BY THE REV. F. METCALFE, M.A.,
Fellow of Lincoln College.
FROM THE SPECTATOR.--“By far the best book of general travels that we
have met with on this section of Scandinavia. Part of the excellence
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a plucky sportsman, he clomb mountains and threaded marsh and forest in
search of game. These pursuits, too, forced him into connexion with the
peasantry and farmers, with whom a knowledge of the language enabled
the traveller to make himself at home. His Oxford character gave him
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possesses an eye for the beauty of scenery, and the peculiarities of
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reader will find the _Oxonian in Norway_ a very agreeable companion.”
FROM THE MORNING CHRONICLE.--“_The Oxonian in Norway_ is replete with
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to those who contemplate a similar excursion, whilst people who remain
at home will scarcely find a better book from which to obtain useful
and interesting information concerning the country and its inhabitants.”
FROM THE ATHENÆUM.--“Mr. Metcalfe went about with much activity both by
land and sea, and a great deal of information is to be found in these
volumes. His matter is good, his style free, candid, and agreeable, and
his general tone manly and genial.”
FROM THE LITERARY GAZETTE.--“These volumes are extremely lively and
entertaining, written in a vein of high animal spirits, and full of
details which bring the country and the people vividly before us.”
FROM THE PRESS.--“We have to thank Mr. Metcalfe for a couple of very
amusing volumes. He has made several trips to Norway, and has here
given to the public the fruits of his experience. He is a keen angler,
and at the same time an intelligent observer--gifted with excellent
powers of description and a quick perception of humour. Hence his
notices of Norwegian scenery and of the manners and social state of the
people are of a kind to attract all classes of readers.”
HURST & BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN,
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Under the Especial Patronage of
HER MAJESTY & H.R.H. THE PRINCE CONSORT.
NOW READY, IN ONE VOLUME, ROYAL 8vo.,
WITH THE ARMS BEAUTIFULLY ENGRAVED,
_Handsomely Bound, with Gilt Edges_,
LODGE’S PEERAGE
AND
BARONETAGE,
For 1858.
ARRANGED AND PRINTED FROM
THE PERSONAL COMMUNICATIONS OF THE NOBILITY,
AND CORRECTED THROUGHOUT TO THE PRESENT TIME.
LODGE’S PEERAGE AND BARONETAGE is acknowledged to be the most
complete, as well as the most elegant, work of the kind that has ever
appeared. As an established and authentic authority on all questions
respecting the family histories, honours, and connexions of the titled
aristocracy, no work has ever stood so high. It is published under the
especial patronage of Her Majesty, and His Royal Highness the Prince
Consort, and is annually corrected throughout, from the personal
communications of the Nobility. It is the only work of its class in
which, _the type being kept constantly standing_, every correction is
made in its proper place to the date of publication, an advantage which
gives it supremacy over all its competitors. Independently of its full
and authentic information respecting the existing Peers and Baronets
of the realm, the most sedulous attention is given in its pages to the
collateral branches of the various noble families, and the names of
many thousand individuals are introduced, which do not appear in other
records of the titled classes. Nothing can exceed the facility of its
arrangements, or the beauty of its typography and binding, and for its
authority, correctness and embellishments, the work is justly entitled
to the high place it occupies on the tables of Her Majesty and the
Nobility.
[FOR THE CONTENTS OF THIS WORK SEE NEXT PAGE.]
* * * * *
LODGE’S PEERAGE AND BARONETAGE
LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL CONTENTS.
Historical View of the Peerage.
Parliamentary Roll of the House of Lords.
English, Scotch, and Irish Peers, in their orders of Precedence.
Alphabetical List of Peers of Great Britain and the United Kingdom,
holding superior rank in the Scotch or Irish Peerage.
Alphabetical List of Scotch and Irish Peers, holding superior titles in
the Peerage of Great Britain and the United Kingdom.
A Collective List of Peers, in their order of Precedence.
Table of Precedency among Men.
Table of Precedency among Women.
The Queen and Royal Family.
The House of Saxe Coburg-Gotha.
Peers of the Blood Royal.
The Peerage, alphabetically arranged.
Families of such Extinct Peers as have left Widows or Issue.
Alphabetical List of the Surnames of all the Peers.
Account of the Archbishops and Bishops of England, Ireland, and the
Colonies.
The Baronetage, alphabetically arranged.
Alphabetical List of Surnames assumed by members of Noble Families.
Alphabetical List of the Second Titles of Peers, usually borne by their
Eldest Sons.
Alphabetical Index to the Daughters of Dukes, Marquises, and Earls,
who, having married Commoners, retain the title of Lady before their
own Christian and their Husbands’ Surnames.
Alphabetical Index to the Daughters of Viscounts and Barons, who,
having married Commoners, are styled Honourable Mrs; and, in case of
the husband being a Baronet or Knight, Honourable Lady.
Mottoes alphabetically arranged and translated.
* * * * *
“A work which corrects all errors of former works. It is the production
of a herald, we had almost said, by birth, but certainly, by profession
and studies, Mr. Lodge, the Norroy King of Arms. It is a most useful
publication.”--_Times._
“Lodge’s Peerage must supersede all other works of the kind, for two
reasons; first, it is on a better plan; and, secondly, it is better
executed. We can safely pronounce it to be the readiest, the most
useful, and exactest of modern works on the subject.”--_Spectator._
“This work derives great value from the high authority of Mr. Lodge.
The plan is excellent.”--_Literary Gazette._
“This work should form a portion of every gentleman’s library. At all
times, the information which it contains, derived from official sources
exclusively at the command of the author, is of importance to most
classes of the community; to the antiquary it must be invaluable, for
implicit reliance may be placed on its contents.”--_Globe._
“The production of Edmund Lodge, Esq., Norroy King of Arms, whose
splendid Biography of Illustrious Personages stands an unrivalled
specimen of historical literature, and magnificent illustration. Of Mr.
Lodge’s talent for the task he has undertaken, we need only appeal to
his former productions. It contains the exact state of the Peerage as
it now exists, with all the Collateral Branches, their Children, with
all the Marriages of the different individuals connected with each
family.”--_John Bull._
HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN,
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET, LONDON.
TO BE HAD OF ALL BOOKSELLERS THROUGHOUT THE KINGDOM.