THE CAPITAL--REYKJAVIK
Much to our surprise, when about two miles outside Reykjavik, we met
our fellow-passenger by the _Ceres_, him with whom we had lunched at
Thorshavn on the outward journey. We had left him behind at that port,
and he had intended to stay for several weeks at the Faroes and to
return thence to England; but having found things rather slow there, he
had followed us to Iceland by the next steamer; hence the meeting on
the road.
We created some sort of sensation as we entered the capital of Iceland.
The clocks were striking ten as we clattered down the long main street;
it was a time when the populace were at leisure and on the street,
and they evinced no little curiosity as we rode by them. They were
congregated in small groups, and it was evident to us that we were
being discussed--and no wonder, for we were a motley-looking cavalcade!
We must have presented a very grotesque appearance, clad as we were
in oilskins, and covered with mud from head to foot: it had been
raining at intervals on the way, and we had had a rather disagreeable
journey. We caught glimpses of faces at most of the windows peering
curiously at us and watching our progress through the town. Many
of the members of the groups, by the wayside saluted as we passed
by--the Icelanders are a polite people, as a rule, and they doff their
head-gear in salutation to strangers. So we progressed, being saluted,
and acknowledging the salutes. It was a sort of triumphal entry, for
the news had been carried forward by one of the guides, who was some
little distance ahead with some of the pack-ponies, that we had just
crossed the country by way of the uninhabited interior. All things
come to an end, and so did our journey when we reached the end of the
main street in Reykjavik, for there, at a great wooden building four
stories high, we took up our quarters, and the crossing of Iceland was
an accomplished fact.
If Reykjavik is not a town to be admired, it must be said that the
surrounding scenery is most beautiful; and one of the finest sights I
saw in Iceland was one evening when sunset effects were on hill and
dale and over the sea.
Glasgow House--why so named we were unable to discover--was where we
were quartered. The accommodation was fairly good, though there was a
lack of furniture in some of the rooms. We learned that the proprietor
had but lately entered into possession, and that the furniture had come
from a much smaller house; it certainly required some additions to make
the general accommodation equal to the table kept there. We came in
hungry after our thirty-six miles' ride, so we fully appreciated the
good things set before us by our hostess, a Danish woman, who was a
capable head of the kitchen. The dining-room was on the ground floor,
but a steep staircase led to a large hall-like room above, from which a
number of doors opened into bedrooms.
After we had eaten a most excellent meal--dinner or supper--we went
for a midnight prowl round the town. Our fellow-passenger by the
_Ceres_, an Oxford man, whom Thomas and I had known there, was staying
at Glasgow House, so he accompanied us, and we strolled about the more
retired parts away from the main street, discussing the incidents of
our travels in the interior.
[Illustration: THE BUSINESS END OF REYKJAVIK BY THE GOVERNOR'S HOUSE.]
Reykjavik is not a very large town, as its population of about four
thousand indicates. It is built on the coast and is a long, straggling
place; and although just in the business quarter there are several
streets running parallel or at right angles to one another, yet, with
this exception, the houses are built along the main thoroughfare.
The buildings for the most part are of wooden construction, with
galvanised iron roofs, though here and there a turf-roofed shanty
stands as a reminder that the habitation of the average Icelander has
no galvanised iron about it. Some of the principal business people
are Danes, and many of the houses have been built more in conformity
with Danish ideas than with those of the Icelander. The natives are
fishermen and farmers, and have no very strong predilections for
general business--they are inclined to leave that sort of thing to the
Danes, who are more adapted to it. The clergymen and doctors are, as a
rule, the sons of farmers who exhibit signs of greater brightness than
the average. They first go through a course at the Latin School, and
then proceed to the Theological College or the Medical School; some
afterwards go to Copenhagen to the University there. Both clergy and
medical men are paid by the State, though the latter receive a nominal
fee from their patients. The finest building in Iceland is said to
be the Bank in the main street of Reykjavik. It is a strongly built,
solid-looking square structure. The ground floor is used for banking
business, but the upper floor contains a good collection of Icelandic
curiosities and antiquities--it is known as the Antiquarian Museum,
I think. Old weapons, ladies' saddles, women's national dress, snuff
and various other kinds of carved boxes, gold and silver ornaments,
altar-cloths, altarpieces, and other church furniture, etc., are among
the exhibits. This collection is never open to the public in the way
that similar collections are open in other parts of the world. A
visitor cannot walk in at any stated definite hour--the doors are
always locked against admission unless an appointment is made with
the caretaker of the collection to open them, and if, as in our case,
one happens to be a little after the appointed time, a wait of half
an hour while the attendant guide goes in search of the caretaker may
be necessary. In the Ornithological Museum--a large room attached to
a small house just away from the business part of the town--there is
a fine collection of the birds of Iceland. We tried to gain admission
here without having made an appointment with the caretaker, but quite
failed: the door was locked, and we were unable to make known what
we wanted. The only person on the premises, a middle-aged Icelandic
woman, laughed and giggled and talked, and evinced no little curiosity
regarding certain articles of our clothing. We thought, in our
ignorance of her tongue, that she was making fun of us and of our
dress. When we went away from the Museum, this woman followed us down
town, and on meeting our guide we learnt that our curious friend was
not quite in her right mind--a fact that accounted for her peculiar
actions and manner. We saw the collection of birds on another occasion
by appointment.
Facing a grassy square there are two buildings of importance--one of
these, a wooden structure, is the Cathedral; the other, a massive stone
building, is the Senate House, where the members of the Althing, or
Parliament, meet.
[Illustration: REYKJAVIK--INTERIOR OF THE CATHEDRAL.]
Iceland has recently been granted Home Rule, but at the time of our
visit the Althing consisted of two Houses--the Upper and the Lower.
The Upper House was composed of twelve members, all of whom were
Icelanders--six of these were appointed by the King of Denmark, the
other six being elected by the people. The Lower House consisted of
twenty-four members, all Icelanders, and all elected by the people.
Each House had a President, who was elected by the members. The
President had no vote, so in the Upper House the Icelanders always
tried to elect a President from the members appointed by the King of
Denmark in order to give the people's representatives a majority of
six votes to five. The Governor, an Icelander appointed by the King,
to whom he was answerable, had the right to sit in each House; he
occupied a seat beside the presidential chair. The members of each
House were elected for three sessions; but as the Houses met in every
alternate year only, there was an election but once in six years. A
Prime Minister was appointed by the King of Denmark, but he did not sit
in either House; in fact, the Minister of two years ago had never been
in Iceland. He was a Dane, residing in Copenhagen and knowing nothing
of Iceland or its requirements except from report. The Prime Minister
resembled our Colonial Secretary in his relations with our Colonies,
though there was a difference in that he was _nominally_ answerable to
the Icelandic Althing as well as to the King of Denmark. Bills were
presented in either House by the whole House, by a section of the
House, or by an individual member. The Bills were read three times, and
the House might go into Committee on a Bill at any time. The Committee
might consist of three, five, or seven members in the Upper House--it
was more often three and five--and of three, five, seven, or nine in
the Lower House. Either House might reject a Bill passed by the other
House. The King of Denmark, acting on the advice of the Icelandic Prime
Minister, used to approve a Bill passed by both Houses, when it became
law.
In the Althing there are no parties as we know them, for all the
members are united on high politics, are republican in their feeling,
and most anxious to retain their independence of action. The members
often have differences of opinion about a particular Bill, of course.
The session used to last for eight weeks only, and during that period
the Houses sat daily (Sunday excepted), often having two sittings a
day. The members assembled at mid-day, and if the business was not got
through by four, they adjourned and met again at five. As the Althing
met but once in two years, and the session was so short, there was a
gap of a year and ten months when legislation was at a standstill.
During that period, however, the members were often in communication
one with another, and any Bills that it was desirable should be
presented to the Althing at the next session were discussed in that
way. The press was also the medium for the discussion of desirable
legislation. As some of the members contributed to and wrote for the
newspapers, the pros and cons of a particular Bill were often pretty
well thrashed out before being presented to the Althing. Local affairs
were managed by Sysselmen, or sheriffs, who had great powers vested in
them.
When our party broke up, as it did the next day, I went on board the
_Bothnia_ to see off those who were leaving Iceland. The whole party
had pulled so well together, and had been so successful, that we
separated with feelings of regret that all could not proceed on further
travels in the west of the island.
The day after the departure of those leaving Iceland, Miss Hastie and
I visited Engey Island, one of the homes of the eider duck. On landing
from a rowing-boat that had been hired to convey us from Reykjavik, a
distance of two to three miles, we were delayed for a while by a heavy
shower of rain. When it had abated we could find no one at the wharf
able to speak English, so we made our way to the house of the owner
of the island, for we had been informed at Reykjavik that we should
find some one at Engey to point out the resorts of the ducks. We found
there a young girl who could speak English very well. On learning our
desires she at once offered to conduct us to the ducks, and led the
way, accompanied by a sister, over a series of slippery stones and
rough hummocks, to the ducks' nesting-ground. The season was almost
over, so we did not see many birds in the nests. Most of the eggs had
been hatched, and the parents had departed with their young, or else
were swimming about in the waters around the island. Nevertheless a few
birds still remained in their nests, and we found them comparatively
tame; they were not quite undisturbed by our presence, though, for
they moved away a few yards in an agitated state, leaving their young
to blunder and stumble about all around. In vain we tried to keep the
ducklings from wandering, but they would struggle out of the nest time
after time, the mother walking round us the while with a watchful eye
upon her brood. It is said that the down which the old birds pluck
from their breasts to line the nests may be removed two or three times
before they abandon them. Some of the nests, which were in the hollows
between the hummocks, had bad eggs in them; so that, unless care was
taken in moving from one hummock to another, a bad odour might make
us aware that we had taken a false step. On returning to the house,
the girls who had accompanied us showed the process of cleaning the
eider-down. It is taken in handfuls and rubbed over a wire grating: the
down clings to the wires, while the dirt falls through; the grating
is reversed from time to time, and the down removed from the wires
and rubbed repeatedly until properly cleaned and freed from dirt and
foreign substances.