ARTS AND CRAFTS
We landed at Skien, and wandered about the town before taking train to
Christiania. In the first place we went to a hotel and supplemented
our day's diet of Brand by steaks that were really the best I had ever
eaten, and by little rolls of delicious white bread, which was a
luxury we had not had the chance of appreciating since we had left the
Britannia Hotel at Trondhjem.
The town is very prettily situated, and has charming environments--of
which the Nordsjo Lake, if it can be spoken of in such a way, is much
the most delightful. From the town one sees it against the background
formed by the Liffeld Mountains. It was on these heights that during
the Franco-German War two French officers landed in a balloon. They
had not the slightest idea of their whereabouts, and would probably
have perished in the snow had not the presence of an empty wooden
match-box given them sure proof that they were in a civilised country,
and probably within reach of human habitation. They sought hopefully
for shelter, and were found by two woodcutters, who showed them such
hospitality as was in their power.
Across certain bridges are "the islands," where may be seen many large
wood-pulp and paper mills. The manufacture of pulp for making paper is
an important and ever-increasing source of revenue to Norway. The pine
timber is ground by powerful machinery into pulp. When the trees are
first taken from the water which carries them hither from their
various native forests, they are sawed into blocks about eighteen
inches long; these are quickly passed on to workmen, who with drills
extract the knots; the surface is then cleared of bark and dirt, and
they are ready for the stones. In the machine the sides of the blocks
are forced against rapidly-revolving stones, and are thus ground into
fine powder, which in the volume of water conveying it to the draining
machine is scarcely distinguishable, so fine is it, and so small in
proportion to the bulk of water. After the draining process, which is
accomplished by passing the liquid over fine wires, the sheets are
taken up by girls and put under powerful hydraulic presses;
afterwards they are made into bales and are ready for market. These
mills, and the many hundreds of others, are all worked by the immense
water power which is one of Norway's greatest assets, though these
resources are by no means fully utilised.
[Illustration: ROMSDALS WATERFALL]
This knowledge, I may confess, is all at second hand. We did not
devote any considerable time to Skien, but took the train on the day
of our arrival.
While we were waiting in the station for the ticket office to open,
which it does one minute before the time of departure, we were amused
by the antics of two barefooted, very ragged, dirty little boys. They
examined us pretty thoroughly in a rather furtive way: I have no doubt
they had no business where they were and fully expected to be turned
out. I held out a silver ten-ore piece in each hand, and with a good
deal of embarrassed giggling they approached and took the tiny pieces
of silver. Very gravely they each shook hands with me, and, walking
right over to the other side of the station, performed the same
ceremony for Nico's benefit. Then, full of importance, they walked up
to the refreshment counter, and each parted with five ore--about a
halfpenny--for chocolates, and the other five ore for cigarettes.
At last the authorities allowed us to buy our tickets, and we got into
the train, which, like most Norwegian trains, consisted of
second-class and third-class carriages. In spite of the threats of the
booking office, we were evidently in no hurry to be off; but in the
fulness of time we moved, and presently slept. When we awoke--at
least, when I awoke, for Nico insisted that he had not closed his
eyes--we had arrived at Christiania. Allowing ourselves and our many
paper parcels to be cared for by a hotel porter, we drove with him
whither he would. It happened to be to the Grand Hotel, which is
comfortable, and furnished with heaps of Sheffield plated
candlesticks--to say nothing of a lift and other luxuries to which we
had for long been unaccustomed. We were gently borne upwards to the
floor where was the room which the hotel porter had decided we should
occupy. We ordered an immense jug of thick chocolate, and after
disposing of as much of this as we possibly could, we sought our
couches, and slept amid electric lights and other modern luxuries.
[Illustration: THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT (STORTHING), CHRISTIANIA
The Storthing is convened every year, and is divided into an Upper
House (Lagthing) and a Lower House (Odelsthing)]
Christiania is built on a magnificent site at the foot of pine-clothed
hills which extend their protection over the land-bound borders of
the town. As one stands on these hills and looks over the town a
delightful panorama spreads itself before one's eyes. Beyond the
crowded houses stretches the beautiful Christiania Fjord, which, as it
nears the town, breaks itself up into a thousand tiny fjords, and thus
creates innumerable islands, which are chosen spots for the summer
villas of the richer inhabitants of the town.
We stayed for some time in Christiania, a delightful town, full of
life and movement. During certain hours of the day the whole
population seems to turn out and walk up and down the fine road in
which our hotel is situated, and I noticed that everyone seemed to be
acquainted with every other.
We had here two good friends, one of whom was away during almost the
whole of our visit; the other, a captain of artillery, did the honours
of Holmenkollen for us during a delightful day we spent together. He
called quite early in the day, and drove us up the hill which leads to
the scene of the great _ski_ competition every winter. All the way, on
either side of the road, are villas, which, however, are farther and
farther apart as the hill is ascended. Just before the big hotel on
the left of the road is a small lake; beyond this is the steep hill
down which the ski-jumpers seem to fly as they take their leaps
through the air. The record leap is a hundred and thirty feet. Of
course, this sport is in the winter, when the ground is covered with
snow and the lake is frozen over and capable of bearing on its surface
thousands of spectators; on either side of the hill also the
spectators are massed. Nico was present on one of these occasions, and
declares that he had never witnessed such an inspiriting scene.
Everyone was excited and happy; many of the crowd had come up from the
town on their skis, or had dragged their little sleighs behind them,
to skim down the long slope to Christiania after the festivities were
over. The girls and the younger women wear short skirts and their hair
flowing, and it is not resented as a liberty if one addresses
fellow-sportsmen or women without the formality of an introduction.
[Illustration: SKI SPORTS
The Great Holmencollen Day outside Christiana]
The big hotel at Holmenkollen is a wonderful wooden structure, built
by a Norwegian architect named Sverre, who is responsible for many
buildings of the same character throughout Norway, but especially in
Christiania and its neighbourhood. It is as far as possible in
accordance with the old Norwegian style of architecture. It
contains many beautiful rooms, including two bedrooms furnished in
Norwegian style with genuine old pieces of furniture. Then, there are
various rooms reserved for the Committee or Royalty; the delightful
smoking-room, with its splendid log-filled fireplace and its alcoves
and corners; the magnificent dining-hall, characteristically
decorated, its walls clothed with Norwegian tapestry of a singularly
happy design. Architect Sverre collaborates with the great decorative
artist Munthe, who is responsible for many of the adornments. Leading
out of the dining-room is a singular little chamber, which is entirely
decorated and furnished after designs by Munthe. In this strange room
Nico ensconced himself to make a drawing which should give some idea
of its quaintness. The wooden walls are primitively carved to
represent various scenes from Norwegian fairy tales. The door is
guarded by two grotesque monsters, and the chairs and small tables are
of equally original shape and colouring. On the night of the ski
competition the enormous dining-room is crammed with excited, happy
parties, most of the tables having been engaged weeks beforehand, for
it is a favourite resort for supper-parties on this night.
After luncheon on the autumn day which witnessed my one and only visit
to Holmenkollen, we drove farther up the hill, and examined with much
interest the exteriors and furnished interiors of various old
Norwegian buildings which have been transplanted from other parts to
this centre, in order that the Norwegian people may keep safely some
relics of their olden days, of which they have lost many by fire or
neglect. There are further excellent examples of their various periods
of architecture to be seen at Bygdo, a small beautifully wooded
peninsula on the west of the town. It is possible, and very pleasant,
either to drive or to walk to that place; but we went one cold Sunday
morning by a ferry steamer, which landed us within a few minutes of
our destination. There was a tennis tournament going on the same day
and in the same direction; it is evident that Norwegians are great
enthusiasts over this game, as indeed they are over athletic sports
generally. A committee have bought a large piece of land on this
peninsula. They wish to gather a representative collection of old
houses from various parts of the country. The chief building is "the
people's museum." Though not an old building, it contains a most
interesting collection of furniture, clothes, religious objects,
and domestic utensils from all parts of Norway and of various dates.
Surrounding it are such old buildings as the committee have already
acquired. Most of the residents of Christiania are subscribers to this
institution and have the right of free entrance. Near by is a small
Royal villa called Oscar's Hall. It looks a delightful place, standing
in its brilliant whiteness among dark pine trees. On the King's estate
is situated an old _stavekirke_, one of the few which remain intact.
It is built of logs, and has a species of balcony running almost round
it. The interior is very dark; but when one's eyes get used to the
semi-obscurity it is to be seen that the church is most elaborately
and beautifully carved. All these pole churches date from
pre-Reformation times, and were consecrated Catholic places of
worship. Catholics are still few in Norway; but the old religion is
spreading, and in Christiania itself there are three or four parishes
that have each a church and a priest.
[Illustration: ROOM BY MUNTHE AT HOLMENCOLLEN]
I should love to return to this interesting little peninsula some warm
summer's day; but all my enjoyment was spoilt and the edge of my
interest dulled by the extreme cold, for which I was ill prepared.
The Christiania Fjord being less influenced by the Gulf Stream than
the fjords on the western and northern coasts, the winter is longer in
Christiania than in many places farther north. Generally this piece of
water is entirely frozen over, and the country is tightly locked in
the arms of Winter from December until March; the snowfalls,
untampered with by thaws, accumulate and cause gigantic obstructions.
The cold, though much more intense than in the English climate, is
more easily bearable than our milder winters. The atmosphere is dry
and pleasant, and often the sun shines brilliantly during the short
days, and the delightful sports of this season are innumerable.
Skiing, of course, must take the first place. The skis are really snow
skates. They consist of a pair of very long, but very narrow, strips
of wood, very thin and elastic. In front they are slightly turned up
and pointed. The correct length should measure a third more than the
height of the wearer. The skis are attached to shoes, or merely to
straps, set a little back from the middle of the strip of wood. The
Norwegians are great adepts at getting about on skis. They make
extraordinarily rapid progress over the snow, especially when it is
neither too hard nor too sticky. They help themselves along and
partly steer themselves by the aid of long poles. Sometimes a
traveller on skis, becoming thirsty, will stop at a little unfrozen
spring, and, lowering himself with wonderful cleverness until he lies
at full length with his skis disposed just as they should be, he puts
his mouth to the edge of the water and drinks. This is what is called
"drinking goose wine," and I assure you there is a good deal of knack
necessary both to get down and to get up.
[Illustration: SKIERS DRINKING GOOSEWINE]
Skating is another favourite sport, for which there are plenty of
opportunities. Sledging takes the place of driving through the winter
months. Another gloriously exhilarating sport is tobogganing, either
alone or in parties. The leader steers his rapid progress with a
stick. One may meet with an unforeseen obstacle, and the occupants may
be thrown out head-first with a jerk; but the fall in the soft snow is
not often serious.
The shops in Christiania are very good, and generally, to the stranger
at least, very dear; but at the big fur store there I bought for a
ridiculously small sum two of the prettiest little reindeer-skin
coats, made by the Lapps, and as worn by the Lapps. I brought them
home with great glee to my babies, but was nonplussed by my boy, who
absolutely refused to have anything to do with his after he had
elicited by hundreds of questions that the stuff the coat was made of
was fur, that fur was the skin of the reindeer, that reindeer were
young and had mothers and fathers, and that his coat couldn't run
about in the snow because it was dead, and at last, that it was dead
because Loye had to have a winter coat.
When after some weeks I persuaded him that the reindeer would be much
more sad if the coat was not worn, he consented to have it on, but
only on condition that it should be slipped on over his feet. Both the
little garments were a great success; but I am afraid that the
children's nurse never quite approved them. I think she found it hard
to get used to coats that had no hooks or buttons but were fastened
with plaited leather strings, and she thought her charges looked
rather _outre_.
Christiania has but one picture-dealer of any importance. From what we
saw of the pictures there we concluded that Norwegian art on the whole
is so intensely affected as to say absolutely nothing to the beholder.
We met two art enthusiasts at luncheon at the house of an exceedingly
clever friend of ours, who was and is one of the editors of
Christiania's chief newspaper. These two were man and wife, and
obviously it was the wife's opinion, on art at least, that dominated.
Their greatest artist in Europe's eyes they scoffed at; scarcely would
they admit that he was clever, beauty and success being two attributes
which do not belong to art as they understand it. They belonged to the
ever-increasing number of folk who, to appear original and
extra-cultivated, refuse to see beauty unless it is expressed
grotesquely or incomprehensibly. So insistent was this particular
devotee that she carried us along on the wave of her heated argument
out of our friend's dining-room through the cold streets to her flat,
where she planted us in front of a picture by her favourite artist. It
was dark-green and white in patches laid quite rawly on the canvas.
"Isn't it wonderful?" she cried. "Now you must own yourselves
vanquished!"
[Illustration: GIRLS ON OVERTURNED SLEDGE, HOLMENCOLLEN]
"What is it?" I asked, with tactless ignorance, after examining it
long and patiently from as many different points as I could discover
in the small room.
"What is it?" said Nico, with artistic licence, not moving from the
spot where he had taken up his stand.
"What does it matter what it is?" the owner answered, turning on us
with flashing eyes. "Don't you recognise the wonder of it? I myself
had it for three weeks, loving it and admiring it, and asking myself
how to hang it. The artist himself told me it must hang as you see it,
and explained to me that it was a picture of a woman standing in the
moonlight."
"But where does she stand?" said Nico. "And where is the moon?"
"At her feet," said the worshipper. "My friend is such a great artist
that he reverses the natural order of things, subjugating everything
to his art."
Surely all this is rather extravagant, and surely it is not _this_ art
that will live when the painter is no longer at hand to explain and to
decide "which way up." It is a great pity that all these clever
people--for the painter has immense talent, as is shown in his earlier
work, and our two interested friends were evidently people of
intellect--should be so extraordinarily perverted in their tastes.
Norwegian art is comparatively young; but it has made great strides.
It has produced Fritz Thaulow, who, though not recognised by the
enthusiasts of the class I have described, can boast the admiration of
all Europe; among many clever designers, the decorative Munthe;
that rather morbid youth, Edward Munch, whose lithographs give
evidence of the great things of which he is capable; and many other
artists whose names, known and praised in their own country, are not
of such widespread celebrity in this.
[Illustration: OLD CANAL, CHRISTIANIA.]
During the middle of the nineteenth century flourished the great
painter of peasant life, Tidemand. A series of his work is to be seen
in the King's summer villa near Christiania, and his paintings, while
not, perhaps, among the masterpieces of art, are very useful and
interesting as showing the peasant life of Norway, under almost every
condition, at a period when the people still wore their interesting
costumes and had not lost any of their old ways and customs. These
pictures are reproduced in every form, and are to be met with in many
books on Norway, and in very many Norwegian houses.
There are also in Norway painters who devote themselves to the
beauties of Nature, with which their fatherland is so generously
endowed. This school has produced many fine pictures; but it seems to
be rather falling out of favour in these days of exaggeration.
Arts in which the Norwegians have excelled since early times, and
continue to excel, are those of weaving and embroidery. In these their
nation shows an originality and charm, both of colour and of design,
which are truly admirable. From as early as the twelfth century relics
of cloths with figures interwoven are extant. One at present preserved
in a church represents some of the months in allegorical pictures, and
is evidently a fragment of a much larger piece which would include
symbols of all the months of the year.
Examples of the history of picture-weaving become plentiful and
important with the beginning of the seventeenth century. As with all
arts of the period, this branch was principally dedicated to the
representation of sacred subjects. Besides these there are many
samples of purely decorative weaving, beautiful for their colour and
quaint conventional designs, often geometrical, or a continued
repetition of one or two very simple expressions of the form of a
doubtful animal. The cultured Norwegians treasure these pieces of
woven cloth, and hang them on their walls, or even have them framed.
In the various museums are excellent examples of every branch of this
art. To-day it is a very thriving industry. The weavers sit at an
upright loom, and work in fast-dyed wools with an immense range of
colours. The design is exactly the same on both sides, and the article
when finished will wear almost indefinitely. Large quantities of it
are used for wall-covering, and I can imagine nothing more delightful
for this purpose. Any design can be produced, and their great artist,
Munthe, has made many drawings, especially for this manner of
reproduction. Embroidery in Norway I find all the more charming
because it is _not_ very varied. In other countries embroidery does
many things; but here the workers cling to their very beautiful
old-fashioned lines, and fill them in with strongly contrasted
colours, mixing silk and wool. Mittens, gloves, bonnets, cloth, and
all conceivable articles are gorgeously embroidered for personal wear
or for sale, and the Norwegians themselves are by no means the least
enthusiastic buyers.
[Illustration: SLEDGING BY TORCHLIGHT]
Work in silver is another of the nation's handicrafts. In all the
towns through which the tourist travels he will find large and small
shops devoted to the sale of silver or silver-gilt filigree work and
enamel. When he has seen one such shop, he has seen all; for over the
country the same enamelled salt-cellars and butterflies and spoons,
the same fairylike brooches and other ornaments, are repeated.
Indeed, I became as heartily sick of these rather pretentious
ornaments as I was enthusiastically charmed with the peasants'
jewellery of an earlier age, frequently made by themselves, and
showing an attractive absence of the machine-accomplished finish of
the modern jewellery. By expressing the presence of the something
which lifts hand work above machine work, I do not mean that there is
not among the original silver work evidence of the greatest talent in
this direction. The embossed filigree work is truly admirable.
Precious stones do not take any important place. A coloured stone here
and there, more often than not false, justifies its presence by
increasing the beauty of the ornament, and not only by adding
immensely to the expense of the object. One of the most striking
pieces of jewellery is an enormous round brooch or buckle, often as
large as a small plate. Dozens of these saucer-like pieces of metal,
highly polished, are suspended by links to the body of the brooch,
shaking and glittering with every movement.
[Illustration: MAKING NATIVE TAPESTRY
Working a design by Gerard Munthe, the well-known decorative artist]
As for Norwegian wood-carving, words fail me to express my admiration
for the bold and strong effects produced with wonderful skill and by
very primitive methods. During the long winters the peasants
labour, often with no other tool than penknives. Their broadly carved
furniture, with the invariable circular design which is so prominent
in their embroidery also, has a charm that I miss in the wonderful and
delicate carving of the East. I tried hard to possess myself of a few
such pieces of furniture--a very tall grandfather clock, a carved and
coloured cradle, a sideboard, and a cupboard--but in vain. The peasant
owners refused to sell--wisely indeed, for surely these things are
more appropriate in their big yellow-painted log-built rooms than
anywhere else. Other objects which I sought to obtain from various
antiquaries were absolutely beyond the reach of my purse: charming as
they were, the prices asked were ridiculously high. I suppose that the
sums asked are special during the tourist season, and that Norwegians
get what they want at much reduced figures during the winter months.
The explanation of this is obviously the absence of any competition.
Two or three big shops have a corner in such things.
In all our travels we did not come across any little shop of the type
one meets so frequently in most towns in England and on the Continent.
It must be admitted that in such a country as Norway to buy such
things as the peasants may be willing to dispose of necessitates a
considerable outlay. For the joy of buying give me Italy, or Spain, or
Belgium, of which countries swarm with small antiquaries to whom the
chance of a sale is too precious to be allowed to slide for such a
slight reason as a difference between the price asked and the price
the would-be purchaser feels inclined to pay.
[Illustration: BIRDS-EYE VIEW OF CHRISTIANIA]
FARM-HOUSES: WEDDING FESTIVITIES