MINOR ROMANTIC EPISODES
From Odde we returned to our old friend the stolkjaerre, and the
American girl took a carriole. In this manner we had a little variety,
for we changed places now and then. Both vehicles belonged to one man,
who drove with us all the way, putting up when we did. This prevented
the nuisance of continual change of horses and conveyance. The driver
assured us that the carriole had been used by the German Emperor. I
believe that in the season a great point is made of providing every
stranger with _the_ carriole: hundreds are so honoured. Well, the
Kaiser Wilhelm is a wonderful man, and he would be rash who should
say, "This even the Emperor cannot do." To explain his frequent
presence here, a story must be told. A few years ago, a young German
lieutenant, riding down the steep road not far from the Laatefos on
his bicycle, swerved from the straight course, and was hurled into
the raging waters beside which runs the road. The incident is supposed
to have been witnessed by a child and an old man, and a few weeks
afterwards the poor victim's body, torn by the rocks beyond all
recognition, was found at some distance from the spot where the
disaster happened. The Emperor, with two hundred men, arrived to
search for the body, and a stone to the soldier's memory has been
erected by his Imperial Majesty. There is another story on the
subject, which is only whispered; but our romantic friend seized upon
it with eagerness, and wove a yarn of possibilities and
improbabilities, of which she persists in believing the hero to be
alive.
On our right hand as we drove in procession from Odde, preceded by the
carriage and pair of the French nobility, lay the Buar glacier. It was
of a wonderful green which we had not before seen, inasmuch as many of
the glaciers we had passed were almost covered with snow and debris,
which concealed their colour. The road took us for some way beside a
charming lake; after this we passed several beautiful waterfalls, the
spray from one of which was so considerable that the road beside it
was converted into a pond, and in the moment we took to pass
through it our clothes were made quite wet.
[Illustration: A HARDANGER COUNTRY GIRL]
At Seljestad we rested, and then drove zig-zag uphill, or, rather, our
horses walked zig-zag, and we, on foot, cut across the winding road,
and reached the top of the hill without much effort long before our
horses were in sight. We were three thousand four hundred feet above
the level of the sea, and the air was chilly. Matters were not mended
when we drove down the hill: the sun had gone in, and the late
afternoon at that time of the year is often too cold for enjoyment.
Therefore we stayed awhile at a big hotel at Horre, and made
acquaintance with a very warming drink, arac punch. After this we had
recourse to it pretty frequently on our cold drives. Our driver tried
to persuade us to stop at Horre; but it was still daylight, and we all
wanted to get on. The landlady seemed rather chagrined at this
obstinacy and bad taste; but on we drove for another half hour or so,
when we arrived at Roldal. Here we found most of the hotels closed,
and the owners almost on the point of departure. Also we found the
young Frenchmen, who informed us that _they_ had ordered supper for
8.30--to consist of trout and chicken. This, of course, was the
supper provided for the possible traveller, and of necessity was our
supper too; but one of these boys apologised for its scantiness, and
said he had only ordered for their party. This was rather a joke, as,
acting on the advice of our driver, we had from our luncheon-place
ordered supper to be ready at 8.30. However, the meal, as far as it
went, was very good. Afterwards we all assembled in the one small
sitting-room still available, and endeavoured to drink the white
spirit which is drunk all over the country and called "aqua vita." To
my taste it is abominable; but it is exceedingly strong, and perhaps
this is a virtue which carries it far. We found two old packs of
cards; the five of us played a good many rather ridiculous games,
which amused us vastly, and brought the servants of the hotel to the
door to discover the reason of our laughter. At breakfast we were all
delighted with the delicious jam made from wild strawberries. Then we
started on a day's drive in good spirits, the carriage and pair
leading. Up, up, and always up, getting colder and colder by the way;
a short rest at a wayside saeter; a drink of delicious creamy milk, not
possessing, however, the warming qualities of our arac punch. The tiny
masses of drifted snow which lie among the rocks, neglected by the
sun, increased in size and volume. Here, on one of the rocks by the
wayside, a big snowball had been placed, probably by the youths who
led us on. Colder and colder grew the air, until at last we turned a
corner, and saw before us a huge mass of dirty snow. It was impossible
to plough this, or otherwise to get rid of it: so we drove through a
tunnel hollowed out in the snow. This was the coldest place we
reached. Gradually we descended and got into a less icy atmosphere.
All the same, we were exceedingly glad to get out and warm ourselves
at a little farm, where we drank port, and I used what powers of
persuasion I possess in the endeavour to render myself the owner of a
particularly attractive ironing-board, wielded by a blob of wood that
was the most delightful attempt at reproduction of a horse that I have
ever seen. Neither offers of money nor blandishments had the desired
effect, and I was obliged to leave the longed-for object behind me.
[Illustration: SKJAEGGEDALSFOS, HARDANGER]
Cheered and fortified by our wine, we drove on to the spot appointed
for our luncheon. Haukelidsaeter is an enormous hotel under Government
control. Prices are reasonable; they are regulated by the Norwegian
Tourist Club. The immense dining-room is pleasing, being simple in
design and embellishment. Opposite the hotel is a building in the
style of the much-admired old storehouses. It was closed while we were
there; but in the season it provides excellent sleeping accommodation.
Here we fell in again with our fellow-travellers and their servant,
and we ate very gaily together of tough stewed goat and excellent
cream pudding.
We drove on, and arrived rather early at a very pleasant little
station, of which, however, I have forgotten the name. It was only
about five o'clock, and in Norway there is nothing satisfactory to eat
between dinner at two and supper at eight or nine: so I bought half a
kilogramme of chocolate, and asked for milk and cream. I had some
difficulty in getting a saucepan; but eventually I discovered the
kitchen and helped myself, to the amusement of the scarlet-coated
maid, who was already making preparations for our supper. I made the
chocolate; and we all drank it, after our fish supper, with the
remainder of a bottle of a very sweet and cloying liqueur called
Augustine, which we had bought at Haukelidsaeter by general
subscription, in place of the arac punch, which was not attainable.
The American girl and I left Augustine severely alone.
[Illustration: HARDANGER HEADDRESS]
Next morning I bought with much joy an old and beautifully carved
wooden box. I was very glad to give fifteen kroner for it; but, deeply
attached to it as I was, we went off without it. I remembered it
before we had gone very far, and raced back alone in the carriole.
Then I caught the others up. Our driver expressing great curiosity as
to my parcel, I showed it to him. He wanted to know the price, and I
told him, rather proud of myself at having made a good bargain, as I
thought; but he laughed discreetly, and informed us that in the depth
of winter, when money is scarce among the peasants, their treasures
are bought up by men, going round for the purpose, for next to
nothing. Thus the summer tourist always pays heavily. If he gets
things from the peasants themselves, they have to "get even" with the
forced sales of the winter. As for the town antiquaries, the price
they ask for their treasures would make a Dutch peasant blush, and
anyone who has endeavoured to obtain the object of his fancy from such
an one will realise that this is no light task.
That day we drove through mysterious pine-woods, which kept from us
all the warming rays of the sun. Before we reached the forest the road
followed the course of a river, and then, leaving that, ran beside a
lake. Most of the way we walked, to warm ourselves. It was late in the
year for this route, and we were alone on the road--at any rate, for
this portion of it. Later we met strings of peasants coming from a
fair.
We had luncheon at a little place which was quite off its head with
business. There had been a cattle fair some distance off, and all
those interested were on the road, making their way home. During our
drive that afternoon we met some of the prize-winners, horses and
cattle decorated with ribbon rosettes of many colours, and carrying
their certificates suspended from their horns or from their necks. The
placing of the rosettes was amusing. In most cases the animals were
attended by a handmaiden in a dark skirt, a black velvet bodice
elaborately embroidered in coloured silk, and a fringed kerchief tied
gracefully round the head, and falling down the back with the long
thick hair. Most of the peasant women in Telemarken, of whatever age,
wear their hair loose, as indeed do the poorer country women all over
Norway. However, the prize cows were making their way but slowly,
grazing unchidden on invisible food among the fallen leaves by the
wayside; doubtless the women were the wives and daughters of the
burly farmers whom we had left enjoying their dinner at our last
halting-place.
[Illustration: RIVER AT HAUKELI]
Somewhere that day we passed a turning in the road that, had we taken
it, would have led us to the wonderful Rjukan Fos, of which romantic
stories have been told. Many of the most beautiful spots in Norway are
rendered more interesting by various legends connected with them. One
cannot guarantee their accuracy; but they are very welcome. I quote
this tragic romance as a dark gem set in the Rjukan Fos.
"Near the Rjukan Fos there is a path over the mountain called the
'Marie Stige,' on the brink of the precipice of the famous fall, which
even at this day the traveller treads with fear, and which was
discovered by a young maiden in the courage of love. It was by this
path that the beautiful Marie of Westfjorddalen went with light and
fearless step to meet the friend of her childhood, Ejestein
Halfoordsen. But the avarice of her father separated them, and Marie's
tears and prayers prevailed upon her lover to fly, to escape the plot
formed by a treacherous rival against his life. Years passed, and
Marie was firm in her constancy. Her father died; Ejestein had by his
valour and nobleness made his former enemy his friend, and after
their long separation the lovers were to meet again. Ejestein hastened
by the shortest way, the Marie Stige, to meet his beloved. Long had
she watched for him; she saw him coming, and his name burst from her
with a joyful cry. He saw and rushed to meet her, but fell, and the
Rjukan whirled him into its foaming depths. For many years after this
a pale form, in whose beautiful eyes a quiet madness lay, wandered
daily on the Marie Stige, and seemed to talk with someone in the abyss
below. Here she walked until a merciful voice summoned her to go and
rest in the arms of her beloved."
All the way to Dalen our drive was brightened by the rosetted cows,
making their way up the hill which we descended. The mountain rose
sheer on our right, two thousand feet above the road; on our left,
awe-inspiring precipices made us hold our breath, as every now and
then we were obliged to pass a vehicle coming the opposite way. The
young Frenchmen in the carriage and pair were driving immediately
before us. Suddenly there was a crash, and down fell one of their
horses. The outer wheels of the vehicle were over the edge of the
precipice. For one terrible second it was as if an awful tragedy could
not be averted. The splendid little pony on the mountain-side held
good his ground, and my driver, by sheer bodily force, half lifted,
half pushed, the carriage from its dangerous position. The three
occupants had jumped out; but the driver, almost paralysed with
terror, was still sitting on his box. The pony had broken the shaft on
which it had fallen, but, fortunately, had done itself no harm.
Between them the men patched it up as well as they could, and we
proceeded. We were not very far from Dalen, however, and the young men
elected to walk the rest of the journey. We kept behind the carriage,
in fear of further accidents, and went along so slowly that the
walkers arrived some time before we did.
[Illustration: A PEASANT OF SAETERSDALEN]
The big hotel at Dalen was closed, and we all took rooms in a smaller
place almost opposite, which proved one of the most comfortable
resting-places we had come across in Norway. Indeed, that very evening
Nico and I made up our minds to stay there for some time, and so
turned our supper into a farewell meal. In celebration, we drank one
another's health in exceedingly sweet champagne, and then again in
small glasses of arac punch, in which we invited our host and his wife
to join us, thus establishing a friendly feeling of which Nico and I
reaped the benefit during our stay.
[Illustration: ESPELANDSFOS, HARDANGER.]
The American girl and the French youths with their valet were
travelling together as far as Christiania: so we bade them good-bye
before we retired for the night. Nico, in the fulness of his heart,
announced his intention of getting up next morning at five, to see
them off. He went to the length of asking the maid to call him when
she should awake the travellers; and in the dark hours of the morning,
when, following her directions, she awoke only me, I finished her
work, and pointed out to Nico the necessity of fulfilling rash
promises. My arguments were strong, and Nico got up and saw the party
off. He was exceedingly pleased with himself when he came back.
We stayed for some time at Dalen. We were well fed, well lodged, and
smiled upon by charming waitresses in their red sleeveless bodices and
white frilled blouses; besides, we were favoured with most glorious
weather. Nico worked hard, and found delightful models in the farmer's
two daughters--one a lovely Madonna-like girl of fifteen, and the
other a curly-haired little pickle of three. I passed most of the day
hours basking in the sun and reading anything I could find, which
resolved itself into a few numbers of _Cook's Tourist Gazette_ and
three numbers of Dowie's paper from Zion City, U.S.A. The American
journals contained many violent remarks about the prophet's reception
in England; but in one number I read he appeared to pity us for our
denseness. This literature, advertisements and all, did not entertain
me long, and I went to the shop which was part of the premises to see
if there was anything I could buy. I found only a very ordinary
assortment of German hand-made goods, together with a strongly
smelling selection of various food-stuffs, and one or two drawers full
of mixed sweets for the entertainment of the youth of the village. So
I unpicked a blouse of my own, and sewed it together again by hand,
and that very neatly. Then I looked through the papers again, and
found that I had missed a few words in the course of several of the
sheets, stating who was the printer of these effusions. One night a
party of English folk arrived, travelling from Christiania to Odde, at
forbidden speed: that is to say, by rising early and travelling until
late they were making in two days a journey which is fixed by law as
taking three. I persuaded Nico to go to them after supper and to ask
them if they had anything to read which they would exchange for the
books I had carried with me and read three or four times. With great
joy he brought back two magazines and a book.
Another day I hired a carriole and the farmer's son to drive me to the
Ravngju (the Raven's Abyss), which is a rock hanging over a precipice
at a height of fourteen hundred feet, above a dashing river. I learnt
from my guide-book that the draught of air is so strong that if one
throws a hat over the precipice it will be refused by the abyss and
blown back. I tried the experiment with my own head-gear, for which,
fortunately, I had no respect and but little affection. Contrariwise,
the Raven's Abyss changed its reputed tactics and stuck to it; at any
rate, I never saw it again, and I drove home bareheaded.
[Illustration: A BOY OF SAETERSDALEN.]
During our stay here I discovered with great difficulty a few more
facts about the Norwegian peasants' poetic and very interesting
superstitions. The little gnomes, in whom all believe, often attach
themselves to special farms. If any of the horses or cattle appear to
thrive much better than their fellows, the folk will explain it,
entirely to their own satisfaction, by saying that such beasts are the
favourites of the pixies, who steal fodder from the other mangers
to feed the animals in which they have chosen to interest themselves.
Sometimes the gnomes devote themselves, by petty vexations, to
worrying the life out of the people to whom they bear malice. The milk
turns sour, the butter is rancid, the cattle pine away; and all from
no apparent cause. It is told that one such haunted family at last
made up their minds to move very secretly, and thought to leave the
fairy cause of all their trouble behind them. As the last cartload of
belongings left the farm and the people were congratulating themselves
that they would get away without being discovered by the malicious
familiar, he popped his head out of an empty barrel, and piping, "Oho!
We are moving to-day!" jumped on the cart and followed them to their
new home.
The trolls are big giants who live in the mountains and are very
rarely seen. These spirits always dwell in the seventh mountain
visible in the blue distance. Thus, of course, they can never be
approached by those who set out in search of them; but in their
fastness they keep beautiful maidens stolen from earthly homes.
The huldra also is an inhabitant of the heights. She is a witch who
takes the form of a lovely woman, and meeting humans in the woods she
lures them to follow her. Her dwelling is in the mountains, which she
opens with a magic word. Inside is a gorgeous palace, filled with
immense riches, and having dining-rooms containing splendidly
decorated tables laden with all the food a Norwegian enjoys most,
served on golden dishes. He who eats of these things is thenceforth in
the power of the huldra. Occasionally he wins free; but never
afterwards is he as he was.
In the country the folks speak of idiots and madmen as being
"mountain-taken," believing that these are victims of the huldra's
wiles.
If, however, the involuntary guest refuses to partake of the magic
dishes in the mountain passes, he sees before his eyes the dishes of
exquisite food turning to pine cones and slabs of earth, while the
huldra loses her fascination, and can no longer hide from him the
cow's tail by which she is to be known, nor can she keep him prisoner
any longer. Without knowing how, he finds himself back in the woods on
the mountain-side; and he cannot discover the entrance to the fairy
palace.
[Illustration: SUNDALSFJORD]
At Christmas, and indeed during all festivities, these various unseen
powers are propitiated by offerings of food and drink, which are
placed outside the farm, and invariably disappear. I should not
like to swear that no agency but magic is responsible.
At several of the trees on the land of the farm hotel at Dalen were
fixed little shelters, each having a small entrance and a gabled roof.
These, we surmised correctly, were for the birds. The Norwegians are
very fond of the small songsters, and in many districts it is
forbidden to destroy them. This delighted us, the more, perhaps, that
we had spent the previous spring in Italy, where heartless massacre of
birds is carried on, one of the Italian's favourite dishes being half
a dozen or a dozen tiny ones served on polenta. The sportsmen who
indulge in the hunt sell the birds strung together--a thread through
their heads--by the dozen. In Norway the birds are encouraged and
petted, and in the winter fed. At Christmas time every one buys
sheaves of oats or other cereals still in the ear, and hangs them
outside the windows, or, fastening the bundles on poles, erects them
in gardens and in the open spaces of the cities. He would be poor
indeed who had not a few _ore_ to devote to the entertainment of the
little feathered friends at this season of universal joy.
Poverty as we know it in England is scarcely to be found in Norway,
and, on the other hand, riches as understood by a Norwegian living in
his own country would by no means satisfy an aspirant for wealth on
this side of the North Sea. Statistical information concerning income
and property shows but a small difference between the principal
classes. The income of the employer often does not exceed the wages of
the average workman. A very slight change in the balance would bring
many employers into the ranks of the employed. This happy country,
though under the government of a Limited Monarchy, seems to fulfil the
dreams of at least the reasonable Socialist. It has no nobility with
political or economic principles, no great capitalists, no immense
estates. The difficulty of earning a livelihood in the inclement
climate and on the stormy coast calls for energy and endurance, and
accustoms the worker to self-restraint. More than half the population
own deposits in the Savings Banks. The spirit of equality is
noticeable to the most casual observer. The proprietor of the station
where you pass your nights is absolutely the equal of the guest, who
avails himself of the house's hospitality for his own convenience, and
apparently not for the profit of the owner. The servants who wait on
one are pleasant and willing, working for their living, it is true,
but showing none of the servility largely dependent on tips which is
the characteristic of their class in other countries. If a _pourboire_
is given, small or large, it is accepted invariably with a frank
handshake; in some cases it is difficult to induce its acceptance. A
Norwegian, whatever his standing may be, is the equal of everyone.
Politeness on the part of the traveller is such a necessity that the
guide-books mention it. The domineering tourist will meet with
difficulties and rebuffs.
[Illustration: SAETERSDALEN GIRL IN NATIONAL COSTUME]
MAINLY ABOUT SAINTS