FROM DRONTHEIM TO THE NORTH CAPE.
Mild Climate of the Norwegian Coast.--Its Causes.--The Norwegian
Peasant.--Norwegian Constitution.--Romantic coast Scenery.--
Drontheim.--Greiffenfeld Holme and Väre.--The Sea-eagle.--The
Herring-fisheries.--The Lofoten Islands.--The Cod-fisheries.--
Wretched Condition of the Fishermen.--Tromsö--Altenfiord.--The
Copper Mines.--Hammerfest the most northern Town in the World.--
The North Cape.
Of all the lands situated either within or near the Arctic Circle none
enjoys a more temperate climate than the Norwegian coast. Here, and
nowhere else throughout the northern world, the birch and the fir-tree
climb the mountain-slopes to a height of 700 or 800 feet above the
level of the sea, as far as the 70th degree of latitude; here we still
find a flourishing agriculture in the interior of the Malanger Fjord in
69°. On the opposite side of the Polar Ocean extends the inaccessible
ice belt of East Greenland; Spitzbergen and Nova Zembla are not 400
miles distant from Talvig and Hammerfest, and yet these ports are never
blocked with ice, and even in the depth of winter remain constantly
open to navigation. What are the causes which in this favored region
banish the usual rigors of the Arctic zone? How comes it that the
winter even at the North Cape (mean temperature +22°) is much less
severe than at Quebec (mean temperature +14°), which is situated 25° of
latitude nearer to the equator?
The high mountain chains which separate Norway from Sweden and Finland,
and keep off the eastern gales issuing from the Siberian wastes, while
its coasts lie open to the mild south-westerly winds of the Atlantic,
no doubt account in some measure for the comparative mildness of
its climate; but the main cause of this phenomenon must no doubt be
sought for in the sea. Flowing into the Atlantic Ocean between Florida
and Cuba, the warm Gulf Stream traverses the sea from west to east,
and although about the middle of its course it partly turns to the
south, yet a considerable portion of its waters flows onward to the
north-east, and streaming through the wide portal between Iceland and
Great Britain, eventually reaches the coasts of Norway. Of course its
warmth diminishes as it advances to the north, but this is imparted to
the winds that sweep over it, and thus it not merely brings the seeds
of tropical plants from Equatorial America to the coasts of Norway, but
also the far more important advantages of a milder temperature.
The soil of Norway is generally rocky and sterile, but the sea amply
makes up for the deficiencies of the land, and with the produce of
their fisheries, of their forests, and their mines, the inhabitants are
able to purchase the few foreign articles which they require. Though
poor, and not seldom obliged to reap the gifts of nature amidst a
thousand hardships and dangers, they envy no other nation upon earth.
The Norwegian peasant is a free man on the scanty bit of ground
which he has inherited from his fathers, and he has all the virtues
of a freeman--an open character, a mind clear of every falsehood, a
hospitable heart for the stranger. His religious feelings are deep and
sincere, and the Bible is to be found in every hut. He is said to be
indolent and phlegmatic, but when necessity urges he sets vigorously
to work, and never ceases till his task is done. His courage and his
patriotism are abundantly proved by a history of a thousand years.
Norway owes her present prosperity chiefly to her liberal constitution.
The press is completely free, and the power of the king extremely
limited. All privileges and hereditary titles are abolished. The
Parliament, or the “Storthing,” which assembles every three years,
consists of the “Odelthing,” or Upper House, and of the “Logthing,”
or Legislative Assembly. Every new law requires the royal sanction;
but if the Storthing has voted it in three successive sittings, it is
definitively adopted in spite of the royal veto. Public education is
admirably cared for. There is an elementary school in every village,
and where the population is too thinly scattered, the schoolmaster
may truly be said to be abroad, as he wanders from farm to farm, so
that the most distant families have the benefit of his instruction.
Every town has its public library, and in many districts the peasants
annually contribute a dollar towards a collection of books, which,
under the care of the priest, is lent out to all subscribers. No
Norwegian is confirmed who does not know how to read, and no Norwegian
is allowed to marry who has not been confirmed. He who attains his
twentieth year without having been confirmed has to fear the House
of Correction. Thus ignorance is punished as a crime in Norway, an
excellent example for far richer and more powerful nations.
The population of Norway amounts to about 1,350,000, but these are very
unequally distributed; for while the southern province of Aggerhuus has
513,000 inhabitants on a surface of 35,200 square miles, Nordland has
only 59,000 on 16,325, and Finmark, the most northern province of the
land, but 38,000 on 29,925, or hardly more than one inhabitant to every
square mile. But even this scanty population is immense when compared
with that of Eastern Siberia or of the Hudson’s Bay territories, and
entirely owes its existence to the mildness of the climate and the open
sea, which at all seasons affords its produce to the fisherman.
[Illustration: 66. NORWEGIAN FARM.]
It is difficult to imagine a more secluded, solitary life than that
of the “bonders,” or peasant proprietors, along the northern coasts
of Norway. The farms, confined to the small patches of more fruitful
ground scattered along the fjords, at the foot or on the sides of
the naked mountains, are frequently many miles distant from their
neighbors, and the stormy winter cuts off all communication between
them. Thus every family, reduced to its own resources, forms as it were
a small commonwealth, which has but little to do with the external
world, and is obliged to rely for its happiness on internal harmony,
and a moderate competency. Strangers seldom invade their solitude, for
they are far from the ordinary tracks of the tourist, and yet a journey
from Drontheim to Hammerfest and the North Cape affords many objects of
interest well worthy of a visit. The only mode of communication is by
sea, for the land is everywhere intersected by deep fjords, bounded by
one continuous chain of precipitous cliffs and rocks, varying from one
thousand to four thousand feet in height. Formerly, even the sea-voyage
was attended with considerable difficulties, for the miserable “yoegt,”
or Scandinavian sloop, the only means of conveyance at the disposal
of the traveller, required at the best of times at least a month
to perform the voyage from Drontheim to Hammerfest, and in case of
stormy weather, or contrary wind, had often to wait for weeks in some
intermediate port. Now, however, a steamer leaves the port of Drontheim
every week, and conveys the traveller in five or six days to the remote
northern terminus of his journey.
[Illustration: 67. STEAMING ALONG THE COAST.]
Innumerable isles of every size, from a few yards in diameter to as
many miles, stud the line of coast, and between these and the mainland
the steamer ploughs its way. Sometimes the channel is as narrow as
the bed of a river, at others it expands into a mighty lake, and the
ever-varying forms of the isles, of the fjords, and of the mountains,
constantly open new and magnificent prospects to the view. One grand
colossal picture follows upon another, but unfortunately few or none
show the presence of man. From time to time only some fishing-boat
makes its appearance on the sea, or some wooden farm-house rises on
the solitary beach. On advancing farther to the north, the aspect of
nature becomes more and more stern, vegetation diminishes, man is more
rarely seen, and the traveller feels as if he were on the point of
entering the gloomy regions of perpetual death.
With the sole exception of Archangel, Drontheim is the most populous
and important town situated in so high a latitude as 63° 24´. Although
the cradle of ancient Scandinavian history, and the residence of a
long line of kings, it looks as if it had been built but yesterday, as
its wooden houses have frequently been destroyed by fire. The choir
of its magnificent cathedral, built in the eleventh century, and once
the resort of innumerable pilgrims who came flocking to the shrine
of St. Olave from all Scandinavia, is the only remaining memorial of
the old Tronyem of the Norse annalists and scalds. The modern town
has a most pleasing and agreeable appearance, and the lively colors
with which the houses are painted harmonize with the prosperity of
its inhabitants, which is due in a great measure to its thriving
fisheries, and to the rich iron and copper mines in its neighborhood.
The tall chimneys of many smelting-huts, iron foundries, and other
manufactories, bear evidence that modern industry has found its way
to the ancient capital of Norway. In point of picturesque beauty, the
bay, on a peninsula of which the town is situated, does not yield to
that of Naples. Up and down, in every direction, appear the villas of
the merchant, and ships of all burden riding at anchor in the bay, and
boats passing and repassing. In a small island of the bay, fronting the
town, is the celebrated castle of Munkholm, where in former times many
a prisoner of state has bewailed the loss of his liberty. Here, among
others, Greiffenfeld, who had risen from obscurity to the rank of an
all-powerful minister, was incarcerated for eighteen years (1680–98).
[Illustration: 68. THE PUFFIN.]
At Hildringen, where the potato is still cultivated with success,
and barley ripens every four or five years, begins the province
of Nordland, which extends from 65° to 69° 30´ N. lat. The mostly
uninhabited isles along the coast are called “Holme,” when rising like
steep rocks out of the water, and “Väre” when flat and but little
elevated above the level of the sea. The latter are the breeding-places
of numberless sea-fowls, whose eggs yield a welcome harvest to the
inhabitants of the neighboring mainland or of the larger islands. A
well-stocked egg-vär is a valuable addition to a farm, and descends
from father to son, along with the pasture-grounds and the herds of
the paternal land. When the proprietor comes to plunder the nests,
the birds remain quiet, for they know by experience that only the
superfluous eggs are to be removed. But not unfrequently strangers
land, and leave not a single egg behind. Then all the birds, several
thousands at once, rise from their nests and fill the air with their
doleful cries. If such disasters occur repeatedly they lose courage,
and, abandoning the scene of their misfortunes, retire to another vär.
Most of these birds are sea-gulls (_Maasfugl_, or _Maage_), their eggs
are large, and of a not disagreeable taste. The island of Lovunnen is
the favorite breeding-place of the puffin, which is highly esteemed on
account of its feathers. This silly bird is very easily caught. The
fowler lets down an iron hook, or sends a dog trained on purpose into
the narrow clefts or holes of the rock, where the puffins sit crowded
together. The first bird being pulled out, the next one bites and
lays hold of his tail, and thus in succession, till the whole family,
clinging together like a chain, is dragged to light.
This rocky coast is also much frequented by the sea-eagle, who is very
much feared over the whole province, as he not only carries away lambs
and other small animals, but even assails and not seldom overpowers the
Norwegian oxen. His mode of attack is so singular that if Von Buch had
not heard it so positively and so circumstantially related in various
places, situated at great distances from each other, he would willingly
have doubted its truth. The eagle darts down into the waves, and then
rolls about with his wet plumage on the beach until his wings are quite
covered with sand. Then he once more rises into the air and hovers over
his intended victim. Swooping down close to him, he claps his wings,
flings the sand into the eyes of the unfortunate brute, and thoroughly
scares it by repeated blows of his pinions. The blinded ox rushes away
to avoid the eagle’s attacks, until he is completely exhausted or
tumbles down some precipitous cliff.
The sea-coast from Alsten to Rodoë, which is crossed by the Arctic
Circle, is particularly rich in herrings, as it furnishes more than
one-half of the fish exported to Bergen.
In respect of the capital invested, the cod-fishery must be regarded
as the most important of the Norwegian deep-sea fisheries, but in
the number of hands employed, the herring-fishery takes precedence.
The number of men actually engaged in the latter is not less than
60,000, and considerably more than double that number are directly or
indirectly interested in the result of their operations. The herrings
taken in 1866 filled 750,000 barrels, each weighing 224 lbs., the
largest catch ever taken on the Norwegian coast, at least in recent
years. As the movements of the fish are extremely erratic, large shoals
being found one year in a part of the coast where none will be seen
the year following, the fishermen are forced to move from place to
place, and formerly the herrings frequently escaped altogether for want
of hands to capture them. Now this difficulty is in a great measure
removed. Telegraph stations are erected at different places on the
coast, from which the movements of the shoals are carefully watched;
and field telegraphs are kept in readiness to be joined on to the main
line, so as to summon the fishermen from every part of the country on
the first appearance of the fish at any new point. The best time for
the herring-fishery is from January to March, and in 1866, 200,000
barrels, or more than one-fourth of the total catch, were caught
between February 11th and 14th.
At the northern extremity of the province of Nordland, between 68° and
69° N. lat., are situated the Lofoten Islands, or Vesteraalen Oerne,
which are separated from the mainland by the Vestfjord. This broad arm
of the sea is remarkable both for its violent currents and whirlpools,
among which the Maelstrom has attained a world-wide celebrity, and
also from its being the most northerly limit where the oyster has been
found. But it is chiefly as the resort of the cod that the Vestfjord
is of the highest importance, not only to Nordland, but to the whole
of Norway. No less than 6000 boats from all parts of the coast, manned
probably by more than half of the whole adult male population of
Nordland, annually assemble at Vaage, on the island of Ost Vaagoe, and
besides these, more than 300 yoegts, or larger fishing-sloops, from
Bergen, Christiansand, and Molde, appear upon the scene. The banks of
Newfoundland hardly occupy more hands than the fishing-grounds of the
Vestfjord, which, after the lapse of a thousand years, continue as
prolific as ever;[7] nor is there an instance known of its having ever
disappointed the fisherman’s hopes. In Harold Haarfagr’s times, Vaage
was already renowned for its fisheries, and several yarls had settled
in this northern district, to reap the rich harvest of the seas. At
a later period, under the reign of Saint Olave (1020), the annual
Parliament of Nordland was held at Vaage, and, in 1120, the benevolent
King Eystein, brother of Sigurd the Crusader, caused a church to be
erected here in honor of his saintly predecessor, along with a number
of huts, to serve as a shelter to the poor fishermen, a deed which he
himself prized more highly than all his chivalrous brother’s warlike
exploits in the East, for “these men,” said he, “will still remember in
distant times that a King Eystein once lived in Norway.”
The reason why the fish never cease visiting this part of the coast is
that the Lofoten Isles inclose, as it were, an inland or mediterranean
sea, which only communicates with the ocean by several narrow channels
between the islands, and where the fish find the necessary protection
against stormy weather. They assemble on three or four banks well
known to the fishermen, seldom arriving before the middle of January,
and rarely later than towards the end of February. They remain in
the sheltered fjord no longer than is necessary for spawning, and in
April have all retired to the deeper waters, so that the whole of the
fishing season does not last longer than a couple of months. The fish
are either caught by hooks and lines, or more frequently in large
nets about twenty fathoms long and seven or eight feet broad, buoyed
with pieces of light wood, and lested with stones, so as to maintain
a vertical position when let down in the water. The fish, swimming
with impetuous speed, darts into the meshes, which effectually bar
his retreat. The nets are always spread in the evening, and hauled
up in the morning; for as long as it is daylight, the fish sees and
avoids them, even at a depth of sixty or eighty fathoms. A single haul
of the net frequently fills half the boat, and the heavy fish would
undoubtedly tear the meshes if they were not immediately struck with
iron hooks, and flung into the boat as soon as they are dragged to the
surface.
Claus Niels Sliningen, a merchant of Borgund, first introduced the
use of these nets in the year 1685, an innovation which more than
doubled the total produce of the fisheries. But (as with all useful
inventions) loud complaints were raised against him in Norway, and as
late as 1762 no nets were allowed at Drontheim, “to prevent the ruin
of the poor people who had not the capital to provide themselves with
them.”
[Illustration: 69. THE DOVREFJELD.]
The life of a fisherman is everywhere full of privations and dangers,
but nowhere more so than at the Lofoten Islands. Here, after toiling
on the stormy sea for many hours, he has nothing but the miserable
shelter of a damp, filthy, over-crowded hut, which affords him neither
the rest nor the warmth needed after his fatiguing day’s work. Even
the iron-framed sons of the North are frequently unable to resist
such continuous hardships, and bring home with them the seeds of
contagion and death. Malignant fevers have frequently decimated the
population of Norway, and their origin may generally be traced to
the fishing-grounds. “The Arab and the Persian,” says Leopold von
Buch, “build caravanseras for the wayfarers through the desert; the
inhabitants of the Alps have founded ‘hospices’ on the summits of the
mountain passes; and the Norwegian has erected houses of refuge on
Dovrefjeld, but none for the fishermen of Lofoten. Near Rodoë there
is a large hospital for the sick of Nordland; would it not be as well
to build houses in Lofoten, so as not to crowd the hospitals and
churchyards?” This was written at the beginning of the present century,
but the poor fishermen are still as neglected as ever, for a more
recent traveller, Marmier, beheld with pity the wretched huts in which
they spend three winter months far from their families.
In the channel between Hvalö and the mainland lies, in 69° 45´ N. lat.,
the small island of Tromsö, where about fifty years since only a few
fishermen resided, whose huts have gradually expanded into a thriving
little town of about 3000 inhabitants, along the shore opposite the
mainland. Its staple exports are dried and salted cod, and train-oil.
The livers of the cod are put in open barrels and placed in the sun,
and the melted portion which rises to the surface is skimmed off, being
the purest oil. The coarse refuse is boiled in great iron pots by the
side of the sea, and yields the common “train-oil.” The muscular matter
which remains is collected into barrels and exported as a powerful
manure; some of it is sent to England.
The town consists mainly of one long straggling street, following
the windings of the shore, and has a picturesque appearance from the
harbor. The houses are all of wood painted with lively colors, and the
roofs, mostly covered with grass, diversified with bright clusters of
yellow and white flowers, look pretty in summer. Tromsö has a Latin
school, and even boasts of a newspaper, the _Tromsö Tidende et Blan
for Nordland og Finmarken_ (“The Tromsö Gazette, a paper for Nordland
and Finmark”). This paper is published twice a week; and as only one
mail arrives at Tromsö every three weeks, the foreign news is given
by instalments, spreading over six successive numbers, until a fresh
dispatch arrives.
The island of Tromsö is beautifully situated, being on all sides
environed by mountains, so that it seems to lie in the midst of a
huge salt lake. Its surface rises in gentle slopes to a tolerable
elevation, and no other Arctic isle contains richer pasturage, or
dwarf plantations of greater luxuriance. Many meadows are yellow with
buttercups and picturesque underwood, and the heathy hills are covered
with shrubs, bearing bright berries of many hues. The pride of the
Tromsöites in their island and town, and their profound attachment to
it, are remarkable. No Swiss can be more enthusiastically bound to his
mountains and vales, than they are to their circumscribed domain.
To the north of Tromsö lies the broad and deep Altenfjord, whose
borders are studded with numerous dwellings, and where the botanist
meets with a vegetation that may well raise his astonishment in so
high a latitude. Here the common birch-tree grows 1450 feet, and the
_Vaccinium myrtillus_ 2030 feet above the level of the sea; the dwarf
birch (_Betula nana_) still vegetates at a height of 2740 feet, and the
Arctic willow is even found as high as 3500 feet, up to the limits of
perennial snow.
Alten is moreover celebrated through its copper-mines. A piece of
ore having been found by a Lap-woman in the year 1825, accidentally
fell into the hands of Mr. Crowe, an English merchant in Hammerfest.
This gentleman immediately took measures for obtaining a privilege
from Government for the working of the mines, and all preliminaries
being arranged, set off for London, where he founded a company, with a
capital of £75,000. When Marmier visited the Altenfjord in 1842, more
than 1100 workmen were employed in these _most northerly mining-works_
of the world, and not seldom more than ten English vessels at a time
were busy unloading coals at Kaafjord for the smelting of the ores.
New copper-works had recently been opened on the opposite side of the
bay at Raipass, and since then the establishment has considerably
increased.
Hammerfest, the capital of Finmark, situated on the west side of the
island of Hvalö, in 70° 39´ 15´´, is the most _northern_ town in the
world. Half a century since, it had but 44 inhabitants; at present its
population amounts to 1200. As at Tromsö, very many of the houses,
forming one long street winding round the shore, have grass sown on
their roofs, which gives the latter the appearance of little plots
of meadows. With us the expression, “he sleeps with grass above his
head,” is equivalent to saying “he is in his grave;” but here it may
only mean that he sleeps beneath the verdant roof of his daily home.
Many large warehouses are built on piles projecting into the water,
with landing-quays before them; and numerous ranges of open sheds are
filled with reindeer skins, wolf and bear skins, walrus tusks, reindeer
horns, train-oil, and dried fish, ready for exportation. The chief home
traffic of Hammerfest consists in barter with the Laps, who exchange
their reindeer skins for brandy, tobacco, hardware, and cloth. Some
enterprising merchants annually fit out vessels for walrus and seal
hunting at Spitzbergen and Bear Island, but the principal trade is
with Archangel, and is carried on entirely in “lodjes,” or White Sea
ships, with three single upright masts, each hoisting a huge try-sail.
These vessels supply Hammerfest with Russian rye, meal, candles, etc.,
and receive stock-fish and train-oil in exchange. Sometimes, also, an
English ship arrives with a supply of coals.
The fishing-grounds off the coast of Finmark, whose produce forms the
staple article of the merchants of Hammerfest, are scarcely inferior
in importance to those of Lofoten, the number of cod taken here in
1866 amounting to 15,000,000. A great part of the fish is purchased
by the Russians as it comes out of the water. Of the prepared cod,
Spain takes the largest quantity, as in 1865 upwards of 44,000,000
lbs. of clip-fish (nearly the whole yield for the year) was consigned
to that country. Of the dried variety, 10,000,000 lbs. were exported
to the Mediterranean, and upwards of 4,000,000 lbs. more to Italy.
Sweden and Holland come next in order, the supply in each case being
over 5,000,000 lbs. Great Britain takes scarcely any stock-fish, but
1,500,000 lbs. of clip-fish, and the large export to the West Indies is
almost entirely composed of the latter article.
The winter, though long and dark, has no terrors for the jolly
Hammerfesters, for all the traders and shopkeepers form a united
aristocracy, and rarely a night passes without a feast, a dance, and
a drinking-bout. The day when the sun re-appears is one of general
rejoicing; the first who sees the great luminary proclaims it with
a loud voice, and every body rushes into the street to exchange
congratulations with his neighbors. The island of Hvalö has a most
dreary, sterile aspect, and considerable masses of snow fill the
ravines even in summer. The birch, however, is still found growing 620
feet above the sea, but the fir has disappeared.
It may well be supposed that no stranger has ever sojourned in this
interesting place, the farthest outpost of civilization towards the
Pole, without visiting, or at least attempting to visit, the far-famed
North Cape, situated about sixty miles from Hammerfest, on the island
of Magerö, where a few Norwegians live in earthen huts, and still
manage to rear a few heads of cattle. The voyage to this magnificent
headland, which fronts the sea with a steep rock-wall nearly a
thousand feet high, is frequently difficult and precarious, nor can it
be scaled without considerable fatigue; but the view from the summit
amply rewards the trouble, and it is no small satisfaction to stand on
the brink of the most northern promontory of Europe.
“It is impossible,” says Mr. W. Hurton, “adequately to describe the
emotion experienced by me as I stepped up to the dizzy verge. I
only know that I devoutly returned thanks to the Almighty for thus
permitting me to realize one darling dream of my boyhood. Despite the
wind, which here blew violently and bitterly cold, I sat down, and
wrapping my cloak around me, long contemplated the spectacle of Nature
in one of her sublimest aspects. I was truly alone. Not a living object
was in sight; beneath my feet was the boundless expanse of ocean, with
a sail or two on its bosom at an immense distance; above me was the
canopy of heaven, flecked with fleecy cloudlets; the sun was luridly
gleaming over a broad belt of blood-red mist; the only sounds were the
whistling of the wandering winds and the occasional plaintive scream of
the hovering sea-fowl. The only living creature which came near me was
a bee, which hummed merrily by. What did the busy insect seek there?
Not a blade of grass grew, and the only vegetable matter on this point
was a cluster of withered moss at the very edge of the awful precipice,
and this I gathered, at considerable risk, as a memorial of the visit.”
[Illustration: 70. MIDNIGHT SUN OFF SPITZBERGEN.]