THE FAROE ISLES.
——“It is a wild and wondrous scene,
Where few but nature’s footsteps yet have been.”
IN our outward as well as return voyage we passed near the Faroe
Islands. These, like Iceland, are under the jurisdiction of Denmark,
and, though near 300 miles from their northern neighbor, have many
features in common with it. The scenery is singularly wild and
picturesque. We sailed nearly under some of the tall cliffs, and could
plainly see the pillared columns of basalt, so common throughout Iceland
and nearly all the northern isles. From conversation with two English
gentlemen that I met a short time since, who had just returned from
Faroe, where they had been “birds’ nesting,”[6] and from one or two
authentic narratives, I gathered some interesting particulars of their
topography and history. The Faroe Isles are probably less known to
modern travelers than any inhabited land in the northern sea. Many there
are that visit Greenland—some catching whales and seal; a few to convert
the heathen; some on a scientific tour; and, latterly, many in search of
a distinguished navigator and the hapless screws of two long-missing
ships—and not unfrequently do civilized men land on the bleak and frozen
shores of Spitzbergen; and any one can visit Lapland by steam; but one
may go round the world and not meet a christian man that has stepped on
one of the seventeen of the inhabited islands of Faroe. The whole group
consists of twenty-five islands, extending about sixty-five miles from
north to south, and forty-five from east to west; and containing a
little less than a thousand square miles. They lie between 61° 26″ and
62° 25″ N. Latitude, and 6° 40″ and 7° 40″ West Longitude from
Greenwich. They are 185 miles northwest of Shetland, and 400 from
Norway. This much for their location and size. The surface of the
different islands varies in appearance considerably, but they all have
remarkably bold, perpendicular banks. The northeastern one, Fugloe—or
Bird-island—is quite flat on the top; but the banks on every side are
high and perpendicular, so that boats must always be raised and lowered
with ropes. Oesteroe, the largest but one, is the highest of the entire
group, rising 3,000 feet above the level of the sea. On some parts of
its precipitous cliffs are majestic octagonal pillars of basaltic rock,
a hundred feet high and six feet in diameter. Were these in a land of
population and wealth they would undoubtedly be selected by builders,
and be seen supporting and adorning the porticoes of temples of Grecian
or Roman architecture. One of these pillars, sixty feet in length, has
fallen across a deep chasm, and forms a natural bridge from one side to
the other. Another enormous mass of rock, twenty-four feet long by
eighteen broad is so exactly balanced across another that the strength
of a finger will vibrate it; and though the waves have been dashing
against it for ages, there it remains, poised on a pivot, like the
famous rocking stone in Cornwall.
Stromoe, south of Oesteroe, is the largest of the Faroe group, and is 27
miles long by about 7 broad, and contains 140 square miles. On this
island is Thorshaven, the capital and principal seaport. The Danish
post-ship between Denmark and Iceland, lands here twice or three times
in a year. Thorshaven has a church, and about 100 dwellings; some of
them comfortable framed houses. This important place is well protected
by a substantial fort—an excellent fortification, that lacks but one
essential article, cannon! However, there is little chance that they
would ever be needed did they have them. Were there any thing here worth
the trouble of an invading army or a piratical crew, at the most
favorable landing on the islands, the natives would stand a good chance
to crush their invaders with their natural means of defense, and keep
them off by rolling stones down upon them. But what freaks old nature
plays here among these tall cliffs! What houses for sea-monsters does
old ocean create! The island of Nalsoe is pierced from side to side, so
that in calm weather a boat can sail through it, under a natural arch,
with near 2,000 feet of solid rock overhead. At the northern end of
Stromoe is the promontory of Myling, which rises perpendicularly to the
height of 2,500 feet. If the spectator had nerve enough, he might go to
the brink, and toss a pebble clear into the sea from the lofty summit.
One singular rock in this group of islands, rises out of the water like
a lofty spire, and is called by the natives the Trollekone-finger, or
_witch’s finger_. The most western of the islands is Myggeness; and,
though inhabited, is so difficult of access that communication between
that and the rest of the group is not usually more than three or four
times a year. It is surrounded by precipitous cliffs, from 1,200 to
1,400 feet in height; and the passage or fiorth between this and the
neighboring island is the most dangerous in the group. Off Myggeness, is
Myggenessholm,—a precipitous rock standing alone in the sea, like a
solitary sentinel attendant on the larger isle. Any one who has seen the
Meal-sack island off the southwest coast of Iceland, or the Holm of the
Noss in the Shetland group, or Ailsa Craig in the Clyde, will have an
idea of the appearance of this rocky islet. This is the only island in
the Faroe group where the Gannet, or Solan Goose, builds its nest. The
choice of such a location as this, or Ailsa Craig, or the Meal-sack—all
favorite localities of this bird—is not altogether from the generally
inaccessible nature of the place and its consequent immunity from
hostile man—though this is some consideration. These haunts of the
gannet are always near a good “run” of fish, and this is usually where
there is a strong flow of the tide between two islands or between an
island and the main shore. Graba, a late traveler in Faroe, speaks of
landing on the small island of Store Dimon. He says the clergyman visits
this island but once a year, and the sides are so steep they have to
pull him up with ropes as they would a bag of meal. When Graba landed,
the natives pushed one of their number up the rocks, with their long
sticks that they use in bird-catching, and then he drew up the rest. In
this way they all passed from one cliff to another, till they arrived at
the top, 250 feet above the water. The steepness of the rock was fully
appreciated on their return, when a basket of eggs was let down into the
boat by a rope. In passing up and down they sometimes walked on a narrow
shelf of rock; and when this ceased, the “highway” was continued by
having holes cut in the perpendicular face of the cliff, once in two or
three feet, for the fingers and toes. Along this frightful precipice, a
drunken native passed in safety with a sack of barley on his back.
One of the great natural curiosities of the islands, is the Vogelberg; a
terrible chasm, of an elliptical form, almost entirely surrounded by
rocks, at least a thousand feet in height. The entrance is by a narrow
passage at one end; and here, in this remarkable house, with the sea for
a floor and the sky for a roof, are thousands of birds. Sheltered from
every wind, the boat glides along with perfect safety. Gulls and
guillemots swim by without fear; the seal looks from his watery cave in
fancied security; and the lazy cormorant stretches out his neck to scan
the appearance of the newly-arrived visitors. Long lines of kittiwakes
show their white breasts and dove-like eyes; from narrow shelves of the
rock, nest succeeds nest, and the downy young appear in frightful
proximity to the edge of the precipice beneath. The puffins take the
highest stations, perhaps because they are puffed up with ideas of their
own importance, being favorites of man, and often captured for their
flesh and feathers. In sheltered and dark places, will be found the
rock-dove; and dashing past like a pirate, is seen the skua, pursuing
the gull or the puffin, and striving for a dinner he has never earned.
Graba visited this singular place in a boat, accompanied by several
natives. He describes the noise made by the innumerable sea-fowl, as
almost deafening. Seeing a rare bird that he was desirous of obtaining a
specimen of, he raised his gun and fired. “What became of it,” says he,
“I know not. The air was darkened by the birds roused from their repose.
Thousands hastened out of the chasm with a frightful noise, and spread
themselves in troops over the ocean. The puffins came wondering from
their holes, and regarded the universal confusion with comic gestures;
the kittiwakes remained composedly in their nests; while the cormorants
tumbled headlong into the sea.” That was, undoubtedly, the first gun
that was ever fired there since the creation of the world. In a little
time, the confusion and smoke passed away, and every thing resumed its
wonted appearance.
Suderoe, the most southern of the islands, as indicated by its name, is
of very irregular shape, contains about forty-four square miles, and
differs materially from the most northern of the group. This island
produces more and better grain, is better cultivated, and has some
valuable beds of coal. Several kinds of land birds, the lark, the rail,
and the swallow, are found in Suderoe, and not in the islands farther
north. The natives of Suderoe are said to be more industrious and
ingenious, and to speak a language differing considerably from the
inhabitants of the other islands. Their principal town, Qualhoe, is the
finest and best-built village in Faroe.
The climate of Faroe is much more genial and mild than would be supposed
from its latitude, and far less severe in winter than many places in a
more southern latitude on the continent of Europe. The curlew and some
other birds winter here, while they are not found on the continent, at
this season, as far north as Hamburg. The ground is seldom frozen for a
month, and snow never falls deep, or lasts over a week at a time. The
summer, neither here or in Iceland, is hot, though there are some warm
days in July and August. While grain is never grown in Iceland, here
they cultivate barley and oats, at a height of from two to six hundred
feet above the level of the sea. Grass grows at an elevation of two
thousand feet, but a little above that vegetation ceases, and the land
is a desert. Sometimes a violent wind occurs, that will roll up the
grassy turf like a side of sole leather; and in this way the tops of
some hills get entirely denuded, the turf being carried into the sea.
Trees do not grow here; these islands resembling, in that respect,
Iceland, and the groups of Shetland and Orkney. Thunder here, as in
Iceland, is heard in winter, but seldom in summer. There are a few lakes
in the islands; Leinumvatn, in Stromoe, being one of the largest. It is
in a somber, melancholy-looking valley, and resembles some of the small
lakes in the Highlands of Scotland. As in all mountainous and peat
districts, there are plenty of springs of fresh water.
The spoken language of the Faroese resembles that of the Icelanders, but
the people have not the same literary taste and love of history. Their
written language is the Danish. Originally settled from Norway by
piratical cruisers, and about the time of the settlement of Iceland, the
history of the islands has much in common with the more northern land.
They paid tribute, or were expected to, to the reigning chief in Norway;
but the latter was very unfortunate in his collection of it. The deputy
or collector sent out for this purpose seldom returned, and was rarely
or never seen in Norway again. Some, attracted by the independent
bearing of the people, took wives from among the fair Faroese, and
settled permanently; thus paying a very direct and unmistakable
compliment to a brave, independent, and republican people. Others
declared themselves firm and incorruptible, and determined to execute
their trust. Marriage is a most excellent institution and all the
Norwegian collectors who took brides from among the Faroe maidens, found
it, no doubt, particularly to their own advantage, and, at the same
time, in accordance with the good wishes and prosperity of the islanders
themselves. Those who would not accept wives on such fair terms, were
never heard of again. Their bones were buried at low tide! The king of
Norway kept sending his deputies to Faroe, and they and their ships
disappeared one after another, till finally none of his majesty’s
subjects would undertake the voyage. At last, Karl Mære, a celebrated
pirate, offered his services; left Norway, and arrived at Thorshaven
safely. He commenced collecting the tribute, and succeeded until he was
himself compelled to pay a capitation tax. He was decapitated, and his
companions returned without the money. Had the “wanderer” in Iceland
been favored with the office of collector, he might perhaps have visited
Faroe; and, in that case, he probably would not much longer have
continued a WANDERING BACHELOR.
FOOTNOTES:
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Footnote 6:
Obtaining birds’ eggs of every variety that could be had, for an
ornithological collection.