The coast line of the south of Norway is very irregular. This is the
work of the mountains and rivers. The former end in hillocks and
headlands, off which often lie islands; the latter have dug out valleys
and end in fjords or smaller inlets.
In one of these inlets, known as "Kroken" (the nook), lies the
homestead. The original name of the place was Krokskogen. In the
documents of the Danish government officials this was transformed into
Krogskoven; now it is Krogskogen. The owners originally called
themselves Kroken; Anders and Hans Kroken were the regularly recurring
names. In course of time they came to call themselves Krogh; the general
in the Danish army subscribed himself _Von_ Krogh. Now they are Krog,
plain and simple.
The passengers on the small steamers which, on their way to and from the
neighbouring town, touch at the landing-place below the little chapel,
never fail to remark on the beautifully sheltered, snug situation of
Krogskogen.
The mountains rise high on the horizon, but here they have dwindled
down. The families between two long wooded ridges which project into the
sea--its buildings so close to the right-hand ridge that to the
steamer-passengers it seems as if a man might easily jump from their
roofs on to the steep hill-side. The west wind cannot find its way in
here. The place seems, after the manner of children playing at
hide-and-seek, to have the right to cry: _Pax!_ to it. And it is almost
in a position to say the same to the north and east winds. Only a gale
from the south can make its entrance, and that in humble fashion.
Islands, one large and two small, detain and chasten it before they
allow it to pass. The tall trees in front of the houses merely bow their
topmost branches rhythmically; they abate none of their dignity.
In this sheltered bay is the best bathing-place of the whole
neighbourhood. In summer the youth of the town used to come out here on
the Saturday evenings and Sundays to disport themselves in the sandy
shallows or to swim out to the large island and back. It was at the left
side of the bay, reckoning from Krogskogen, that this went on, the side
where the river falls into the sea, where the landing-place lies, and, a
little above it and nearer the ridge, the chapel, with the graves of the
Krog family clustered round it. The distance from here to the houses on
the right is considerable. Up there the noise made by the merry bathers
was seldom heard. But Anders Krog often came down to watch them, when
they had lighted fires on the beach or in the wood on the point. He
doubtless came to keep an eye on the fires; but nothing was ever said of
this. Anders was known as the politest man, "the most thorough
gentleman," in the town. His large, peculiarly bright eyes beamed a
gentle welcome into the faces of all; the few words which fell from him
expressed only kindly interest. He soon passed on, to climb the ridge
and take his usual slow walk round. As long as his tall, slightly
stooping form was visible in the wood above, there was silence. But what
a good time the bathers had here! They were for the most part working
men from the town, members of gymnastic societies or choral unions,
troops of boys. Their gathering-place was beside the landing-stage and
the chapel. There they undressed. The main road which follows the coast
passes the spot; but it was little frequented in summer; people came to
the place by boat or in the small steamers. So long as the bathers kept
a watchman on the ridge, they were certain of not being surprised.
Up at the house it was quiet, always quiet. The front of the main
building does not even face the bay; it looks on the fields. The
building is of two high storeys, with the roof flattened over the
gables--a long, broad house.
The foundation wall rises very high in front; a flight of easy steps
leads up to the door. The whole building is painted white, except the
foundation wall and the windows, which are black. The outhouses lie
nearer the ridge; they cannot be seen from the steamer. At one side of
the main building an orchard slopes towards the sea; at the other is a
large flower and kitchen garden.
The level land, a long, narrow strip, lies between the ridges. It is
carefully and skilfully cultivated. The big Dutch cows thrive here.
The history of the property and that of its owners was predetermined by
the woods. These were large and valuable, and fortunately came in good
time under careful Dutch management. This happened in the days when the
small Dutch merchant-vessels traded directly with the owners of the
woods in Norway. The Dutchmen were supplied with timber, and in turn
supplied the Norwegians with their civilisation and its products.
Krogskogen was specially fortunate, for, some three hundred years ago,
the owner of one of the "koffs" which lay loading in the bay, fell in
love with the peasant's fair-haired daughter. He ended by buying the
whole place. A beautifully painted portrait of him and her still hangs
in the best room of the house, in the corner nearest the bay. It
represents a tall, thin man, with peculiarly bright eyes. He is
dark-haired, and has a slight stoop of the neck. The race must have been
a vigorous one, for the Krogs are like this to-day.
The first Dutch owner was not called Krog, nor did he live at
Krogskogen; but the son who inherited the place was baptised Anders
Krog, after his mother's father; he called his son Hans, after his own
father; and since then these two names have alternated. If there were
several sons, one was always named Klas and another Juerges, which names
in the course of time became Klaus and Joergen. The family continued to
intermarry with its Dutch kinsfolk, so that the race was as much Dutch
as Norwegian; for long all the domestic arrangements at Krogskogen were
Dutch. In a manner, the nationalities did not seem really to mix. The
reason of this probably was that the Dutch element was not pure
Dutch--if it had been, it would have intermingled more easily with the
Norwegian; it was a mixture of Dutch and Spanish. The black hair, the
bright eyes, the lean body, were inherited by the men from generation to
generation; the women inherited the fairness and the strong build; in
them Norwegian blood flowed along with Dutch. Rarely indeed did the one
sex make over any of its family characteristics to the other;
occasionally fair and dark hair met in red, and once in a way the bright
eyes would make their appearance in a woman's face.
It was a peculiarity of the race that in all its families more daughters
than sons were born. The Krogs were fine-looking men and women, and, as
a rule, were well off; consequently, the family made good connections
and held a good position. They had the character of being clannish and
able to hold their own.
One quality which marked them all was that of prudent moderation. In
Norway a fortune rarely descends to the third generation. If it is not
squandered in the second, it is certain to be in the third. Not so in
this case. To the main branch of the Krog family the woods were now the
same source of wealth that they had been three hundred years before.
A desire which was transmitted from generation to generation was the
desire to travel. In the book-cases at Krogskogen books of travel
predominated, and additions were constantly made to their number. Even
as children the Krogs travelled. They planned tours with the help of
books, pictures, and maps. They sat at the table and played at
travelling. They voyaged from one town built of coloured card-board
houses to another of the same description. They navigated cardboard
ships, loaded with beans, coffee, salt, and wooden pegs. In the bay they
rowed and sailed and swam from the pier to the island. One day it was
from Europe to America, another, from Japan to Ceylon. Or they crossed
the ridge, that is the Andes, to the most wonderful Indian villages.
No sooner were they grown up than they insisted on seeing something of
the world. They generally began with a voyage to Holland and a visit to
their kinsfolk there. Some two hundred years ago a youth of the family,
after a very short stay in Holland, went off in a Dutch East Indiaman.
He, however, returned to Amsterdam, resolved to become an architect and
engineer--the professions were at that time combined. He made himself a
name, and in course of time was called to Copenhagen to teach. He
entered the military service and rose to the rank of general in the
engineer corps. At the time of his retirement his earnings, added to his
patrimony, constituted a considerable fortune. He settled at Krogskogen,
which he bought after the death of a childless brother. He called
himself Hans _von_ Krogh. It was he who erected the present house, which
is of stone, a very unusual building material in a Norwegian forest
district. The old engineer-architect wanted occupation and amusement.
Though he was not married, he made the house large, "for those to come."
He rebuilt the farm-steading; he drained and he planted; he sent to
Holland for a gardener--old Siemens, of whose strictness and angry
insistence upon cleanliness and order stories are still told. For him
the General put up hot-houses and built a cottage.
The General lived to be a very old man. After his day nothing special
happened until the younger of two brothers emigrated to America and
settled on the shores of Lake Michigan--at that time virgin soil. This
was regarded as a great event. The man's name was Anders Krog. He
prospered over there, and people wondered that he did not marry. He
invited one of his brother's sons to come out to him, promising to make
him his heir. And thus it came about that Hans, the elder brother of the
Anders Krog of our story, went to America.
At exactly the same time, however, arrived a young Norwegian girl, also
a Krog; and with her the elderly uncle fell in love. He proposed to Hans
to pay his journey home. But the young man felt that he would disgrace
himself by returning. He stayed on and set up in business for
himself--in the timber trade, which he understood. The undertaking
prospered. By rights Hans should have gone home and taken possession of
Krogskogen at the time of his father's death; but he refused to do so.
The younger brother, Anders, who in the meantime had also taken to
trade, and acquired the largest grocery business in the neighbouring
town, was obliged to take over the property as well.
Young Anders Krog was not really a good business man. But his
extraordinary conscientiousness and considerateness soon gained him the
custom of the whole town. Another man in his place might have made a
fortune; he did not. When he entered on possession of Krogskogen he had
not yet paid up the price of his business in town, and in taking over
the property he incurred a still larger debt. For both he had been made
to pay well. Travel he must, but he had to content himself with going
off for a month each year--one year to England, another to France, and
so on. His greatest desire was a visit to America, but on this he dared
not venture yet. He contented himself with reading of the new
wonderland. Reading was his chief pleasure; next to it came gardening,
in which he possessed more skill than most trained gardeners.
This quiet man with the bright eyes was shyer than a girl of fourteen.
Every week-day morning he chose, if possible, a seat by himself on the
little steamer which took him to town as long as the bay was not frozen
over. In going on shore he showed extreme consideration for others; then
he hurried off, bowing respectfully to his acquaintances, to his house
on the market-place, where he was to be found until evening, when he
returned as he had come. At times he cycled. In winter he drove; and at
this season he sometimes stayed over night in town, where he occupied
two modest attic rooms in his own house.
The town knew of no other man possessing in such a degree all the
qualities of a perfect husband. But his invincible modesty made all
overtures impossible until ... the right woman came. But then he was
already over forty. The same fate befell him as had befallen his uncle
and namesake at Lake Michigan; a young girl of his own family came and
took possession of him. And she was this very uncle's only child.
He was working one Sunday morning, in his shirt-sleeves, in the kitchen
and flower garden on the northern side of the house, when a young girl,
wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat, laid her ungloved hands on the white
fence and looked in between its round tops.
Anders, bending over a flower-bed, heard a playful: "Good morning!" and
started up. Speechless and motionless he stood, with earth-soiled hands,
his eyes drinking her in like a revelation.
She laughed and said: "Who am I?" Then his thinking power returned. "You
are--you must be----"; he got no further, but smiled a welcome.
"Who am I?"
"Marit Krog from Michigan."
He had heard from his sister, who lived on the farther side of the left
ridge, that Marit Krog was on her way to Norway. But he had no idea that
she had arrived.
"And you are my father's nephew," said she with an English accent. "How
like him you are! How very like!"