FORESTRY: REINDEER: LAND TENURES
During my long walks while Nico was painting, I was refreshed and
delighted by the abundance of wild fruit which I found everywhere,
delicious little strawberries and large raspberries. Once, while I was
greedily stripping a bush of raspberries, sitting at my ease on a rock
beside the shrub, a large snake glided from under my skirt, and hid
itself beneath the stone on which my feet were resting. I had a
terrible fright for a moment. I have never discovered whether there
are poisonous snakes in Norway. Every four or five years certain
districts are infested by animals about the size and form of a
guinea-pig. They swarm all over the country, and do a good deal of
damage. Immense numbers are killed, and the race seems to die out,
until, when a period of four or five years has elapsed, they appear
again. I was told this by an English inhabitant, who could give me no
reason for this intermittent character of their presence.
The Norwegian horses take their pleasures sadly. When they are not
working, and are set at liberty to feed along the strip of herbage,
they are either attached by a short chain round one leg to a staple
fixed in the ground, or, what is worse, their forefeet are linked
closely together by an arrangement like handcuffs. To see the poor
things trying to be frisky amid these circumstances is quite painful.
Nico describes the movement which results as "hirpling." It is a cross
word, I suppose, between hopping and limping, and is extremely
expressive of what it is intended to represent. In the towns the
horse's forefoot is tied to the wheel of the cart when the driver is
obliged to leave it. What would happen if wandering musicians were to
strike up an equine cake-walk, I tremble to think!
[Illustration: SNOW PLOUGH DRAWN BY EIGHT OR TEN HORSES]
In a country of such scattered population, the keeping of the miles of
road in good order is naturally a question of moment. On most of his
drives the traveller will notice hundreds of little poles painted red,
and bearing some kind of inscription, planted at short intervals.
These signposts give the name of the farmer or landowner appointed
by the _lensmand_ to look after and repair a certain area of road,
which is also indicated on the post. I do not know whether the farmer
or the careless lensmand is to be blamed for the terrible condition of
some few of the roads over which we passed. On the other hand, the
difficulties to be contended with considered, the condition of the
chief ways is wonderfully good. Many of the roads are cut up
inconveniently by gates, placed at quite short intervals. Every second
minute one has to scramble off one's cart to open these obstacles; but
I believe they are less for the purpose of causing trouble than for
keeping some sort of control over the straying of the farm animals.
All along the route one meets with curious wedge-shaped constructions
of wood. These are the snow ploughs. When they are needed, as many as
six or eight horses are harnessed to them, and slowly they force a
passage through the deep snow. I think they can be used only at the
beginning or at the end of winter, though I am not quite certain; but
why should people use ploughs when winter transit is entirely and most
conveniently accomplished on sledges and skis? The deep valleys which
are generally a feature on one side of a Norwegian roadway are
levelled with drifts of snow, and it is only when spring comes that
the road may be tracked by the heads of the ten-foot poles planted
along the path, which begin to show themselves only as the thaw sets
in. What a lonely, mysterious journey for the solitary postman!
Somewhere in the neighbourhood of Odde lives to this day a postman who
had a terrible adventure in the snow. The history of it was told me by
a man who drove us for days along the road across Norway between Odde
and Christiania. In the winter in the farming districts letters are
delivered only once a week--perforce by the postmen on skis. I
gathered that the day of delivery is not absolutely certain, and the
man is sometimes days on his trip. The postman in question set out, as
usual, alone; half way to his destination he sank into a snow-drift on
the side of the mountain. In a day or two, when his continued absence
was remarked, search-parties of thirty or forty men set out to find
him. Of these searchers my driver was one. With them they took his
coffin, expecting indeed to find him, but resigned to the certitude of
finding his dead body only. Before the third day was over they
sorrowfully gave up the search, and returned to their homes to wait
until spring should force the secret from the snow. At the end of
the third day, a feeble, white-haired man staggered into the station,
and fell fainting to the ground. For three days the postman had been
buried alive, and at last, by dint of digging with his post-horn, he
had got free. The rescue party had passed over his very head, and he
had heard them speaking of him and finally deciding to give up the
search; but of course it was impossible for him to discover himself to
them. Imagine the joy of the community at his return! You may be sure
he was well nursed back to health; and still, summer and winter alike,
he carries the mail-bag over his allotted route.
[Illustration: FISHING THROUGH THE ICE ON CHRISTIANIA FJORD]
It is obvious that the winter is in Norway a time of enforced
cessation from farm work. With the exception of a certain amount of
labour connected with the cattle, there is little to be done for
several months. The men pass most of this quiet time in carving wood
and making various articles out of birch bark. The women spin for
their household needs, and knit and embroider what may be called fancy
goods in expectation of the tourist season. The large shops buy up
enormous quantities of the peasants' winter work, and each of the
posting inns is a small centre where the peasants of the neighbourhood
endeavour to get large prices for the products of their winter
industry--prices which dwindle through the summer as the days become
shorter and the tourists fewer. It must be admitted that they are
extraordinarily clever carvers; and they have a rather primitive
method of painting their wares which is very decorative and, when it
is not too well done, quite attractive. Their nicest carving they keep
to themselves: witness the delightful fairy-tale animals which form
the handle of the family mangling-board, and the equally charming
monsters which seem to perch on the arms and backs of chairs.
A word on their primitive method of mangling may not be amiss. Two
utensils are necessary--the first a kind of rolling-pin, round which
the sprinkled linen is tightly swathed. The other, a mangling-board, a
narrow flat piece of wood wielded by the picturesque handle I have
described, is then pressed tightly on the linen and rolled with as
much force as possible. I do not really believe that this operation
can, even with great strength, make very much difference to the
condition of the linen; but the process is much more interesting to
watch than the working of a civilised mangling-machine.
It is in the winter that the work of a forester is at its height. The
felling of trees begins late in September, and is continued under many
difficulties and hardships all through the winter. As the large
forests are often at some distance from populated areas, the woodsmen
build themselves log huts. They fill up the crannies between the logs
with moss and turf, but on the roof they lay first a covering of birch
bark to keep things close and dry. These huts are warmed day and night
by a wood fire, which is always kept burning; on this they make their
tea and coffee and do what little cooking they may need. I could not
discover what happens to the poor horses that help the woodsmen in
their labours. Do they share the hut with their masters, or do they
sleep as best they may outside in the cold and snow?
The trees are felled, the branches lopped off, and the trunks stripped
of their bark, which is kept and applied to many useful purposes. They
are then gathered together where it is most convenient, and when the
snow becomes deep enough they are dragged or slid to the nearest
practicable waterway. I believe that it is at this stage that the
owner, or his representative, marks the timber for recognition. In
many cases the owner of the forest sells his felled trees to a
merchant, and it is here in such a case that the wood changes hands.
In spring, when the ice-bound rivers begin to thaw, and the melting
snow swells them in force and volume, the logs are carried by these
torrents to the main river. During their journey hundreds of logs get
stuck here and there, sometimes lying crossways between the banks and
damming the river. The river drivers have their work cut out to
obviate this happening, and, if possible, to be rid of it after its
event, for to such a stoppage may be due most dangerous floods, and
many accidents, when the immense mass of logs, stopped in their eager
passage, at last are free. Sometimes the logs are chained together and
sent down in rafts; but more often each one pursues a separate course.
If they are jammed, the river driver, with the help of his long pole,
must balance himself as best he can on the logs, as he springs from
one to another, poking and prodding till at last he loosens the mass;
and how to save himself is the question of the moment, for a risky
calling is that of the man who endeavours to direct the logs in the
way they should go. Sometimes, when the danger appears great even to
these hardy Norwegians, accustomed though they are to risking their
lives daily, the man whose duty it is to discover and cut the log
which is probably causing the whole stoppage is put into a kind of
harness and attached by ropes to both banks of the river, so that when
the whole mass rends itself free he may be lifted directly above their
violence and so drawn into safety. As it is bad for the wood to lie
through the summer, it is important that all this work should be done
completely and with regularity. If it is a dry season, the logs will
be left high and dry, and be liable to crack; on the other hand, one
may often see logs lying at the bottom of deep water so saturated that
they cannot float. All this timber is a great source of wealth to the
country. It is used enormously for fuel, for fencing, and in building.
Immense quantities are exported in the raw; others are prepared for
use in the form of doors or window frames; there is even a certain
market for complete log houses of various sizes. Naturally, in such a
country, one meets frequently with sawmills, and here the countless
cataracts are found useful in supplying motive power. It is surely
strange, all these things considered, that so little discretion is
exercised in the felling and planting of trees. Although of late
years, I believe, the Government has bestowed a good deal of
attention on this question, so much of the forest land is in private
hands and beyond surveillance that on the whole sadly little care can
be taken to prevent the ill-treatment of the forests. It is
acknowledged that there are many tracts of bare land which within the
memory of living man were thick forests. In several districts wood is
too scarce to be used for fuel, and consequently the inhabitants are
dependent upon peat. Bogs are to be found all over the country--on the
lonely tablelands as in the inhabited valleys. These bogs are
generally moss lands, and, in the north particularly, they contain
thick strata of decayed matter from the luxuriant forests of former
days. The digging and cutting of splendid peat is one of the smaller
industries of the country. It is thought that it will become of much
greater importance as peat more and more takes the place of wood as
fuel.
[Illustration: FISHING-NETS AT SUNDALSOREN]
In other times there were thousands of acres of common land in Norway.
The difficulties which this places in the way of a complete
utilisation of the soil have led to attempts by the local governments
to partition the common land among responsible owners; but there are
obstacles, and in many cases the ground is shared by several farmers.
[Illustration: THE MIDNIGHT SUN]
On the private property of many large farmers a feudal system of a
kind is very much in vogue. Almost the same method is found on the
Italian _podere_. Dwelling-places are built on the estate, and
together with a greater or lesser plot of land, and under certain
conditions which differ in various districts, are leased to a class of
farm-labourers called _husmaend_. These men have certain rights of
grazing on the farmer's land, and in addition to the rent, which is
exceedingly small, the farmer has a right to their services during a
certain time of the year. Superior to these husmaend are the
_placemaend_, who own their houses but lease a certain amount of the
farmer's land.
In the south-east of Norway the cultivation of fruit is carried on to
a large extent. In favourable years peaches, apricots, tomatoes, and
even grapes, are grown in the open air; in the north, on the
mountains, the summer warmth is insufficient for even hardy plants.
Rye and oats are the most important cereals. They flourish and ripen
amid harsher conditions than other grains can endure. Rye is the chief
bread cereal of the country. A large area of ground is devoted to the
cultivation of a mixture of barley and oats which is known as
_mangcorn_. Experience has shown that the two grains planted together
produce a larger crop than they do when planted singly. Besides being
used as a human food, it is also a fodder for cattle, and a peculiarly
excellent means of fattening swine. Berries are found growing wild in
abundance in most of the inhabited regions; but vegetables play a very
unimportant part in the feeding of the peasant.
The Norwegian horse, while not remarkable for beauty or carriage, is
an exceedingly useful beast. It is hardy, gentle, and very active. On
the Norwegian roads, which are in some parts very bad and in other
parts merely rough bridle-paths, it cannot be surpassed. In Lapland,
as everyone knows, the horse is almost entirely superseded by the
reindeer. These are indeed a source of profit to their masters. From
them the Lapps obtain their milk, cheese, peat, and the skin from
which a good deal of their clothing is made. The small sledges which
the reindeer draw are usually for one person. They are made of skin
and are without shafts. The reins are tied to the horns of the beast,
and this is all the control the driver has over the animal.
Occasionally the reindeer is vexed and turns on his master, who saves
himself by rolling out of the sledge and covering himself with it. It
is a wonderful fact that a well-trained reindeer can run down the
steepest hill without once coming in contact with the vehicle behind
it, though there is nothing in the world but its own cleverness in
covering the ground in a sort of zig-zag movement to prevent constant
bumping and collisions. While young reindeer are being trained in the
way they should go, a big buck animal is fastened to the back, to do
nothing but pull against the other continually. This animal lives
almost entirely on the moss, its natural food, which in the winter it
scrapes out from under the snow with its strong hoof. Many Lapps keep
a thousand or more head of these deer. They herd them together with
the help of their clever dogs. Sometimes during the winter a family of
these tent-dwellers descend upon districts more favoured than their
own, and I believe the immense flocks of reindeer do untold damage in
the forests. Besides clothing themselves in the skin of the reindeer,
the Lapps make from it many objects for sale in the towns. Shoes and
coats in the Lapp style, and all sorts of small articles, such as
boxes, bags, knife-handles, in the fur, are produced by this people. I
came across a very old book which--in an account of a visit to
Norway--gives a short description of a meeting with some Lapps. I
imagine that much of it may stand as if it had been written to-day.
"We accordingly provided a supply of drink and eatables; and, with a
guide and an interpreter, set out on horseback. After travelling about
forty hours, without seeing either any people or the road, we pitched
our tents, at night, near a wood, with a part of which we made our
fire. At length we met a family of about twenty persons, with their
wives and children, who cordially saluted us, and we all shook hands.
We shared out tobacco and brandy among them. They conducted us to
their huts, and gave us dried reindeer flesh and milk.
"Their countenances are a miniature resemblance of the Calmuck faces;
they are diminutive in size, and to appearance wretched; sufficiently
generous, but full of uneasiness. They suffered us to go about
everywhere, and do as we chose; and they readily showed us whatever
they had. We were soon as intimate as if we had been born among them.
Their language is very harmonious. A herd of about thirty reindeer
strayed around. Our interpreter, who, by the bye, knew but little of
their language, contrived to let them know that we wished to proceed
onwards, to visit a few families of their people, by means of a
carriage with reindeer. Immediately they harnessed a sledge for us;
but it went very slowly, as no track in the snow had been previously
beaten down. We arrived at a tribe who were all brothers and sisters
of those we had quitted. Their huts were formed of large poles of
wood, and set circularly, covered with branches, moss, earth, and
reindeers' hides; they have holes for the smoke to escape and another
hole made in the ground. We stayed three days with these people. In
the middle of their huts a stove is placed, on which they make their
fire, all sitting round it. Their clothing is made of deerskin,
similar to a shirt, and tied about the loins with a cord. We saw some,
however, dressed in linen, for which they had made an exchange of
skins. These people, whose manners and habits are well worth
observation, seem to enjoy the freedom of their way of life. They have
no words in their language which express the ideas we attach to king,
prince, governor, laws, rights, etc. We presented them with a few
trifles, with which they were highly delighted, and took leave of
them, to continue our route to Tuffendalen, where, after eight days'
dragging, we at last found good boor-cottages. Whether the Laplanders
indirectly belong to any regular constitution, or contribute anything
to it, I cannot tell; but I remarked that, generally speaking, like
the poor Indian of Pope, they have no artificial wants; and thus far,
at least, they appear contented. The whole of this tract of land is
solitary and desert. The superficial and level extent of it may
comprehend a thousand and eight hundred square miles. _Laplander_ is
with them considered as a term of reproach, or a mere nickname; they
call themselves _Samalatzes_."
[Illustration: MUNDAL, FJAERLAND, SOGNEFJORD]
Since I wrote about the restrictions on the shooting of wild animals,
I have learned that, whilst only one elk may be shot during one year
on any estate, the owner of the estate may mark his ground for the
purpose into certain divisions, and by paying a slight increase on his
licence has thereby the right to kill as many elk as he has these
partitions of his land.
While wandering in the forest, a Norwegian friend was attacked by a
bull elk. Having no weapons and considering prudence the better part
of valour, he climbed an adjacent tree. Not to be baulked of his
victim, the elk had recourse to the extraordinarily brilliant idea
(for an elk) of gnawing away the roots of the tree. For eight mortal
hours the object of his endeavours sat on the top of the tree
momentarily expecting its fall and his destruction. At last the elk
turned his attention for a time to food, and on this quest he
absentmindedly wandered away, leaving my friend to scramble down and
be free. I should imagine there was an elk hunt next day on that
estate.
Inhabiting the innumerable small islands on the south-west coast of
Norway are a race different from the land dwellers, with whom they
have no communication. They are miserably poor, and live in abominably
dirty huts on the barren land which is their heritage. Among these
islanders consumption and leprosy claim many victims. The spread of
leprosy is due mainly to the uncleanly habits of the people. They eat
very little meat with the exception of pigs' flesh. The pigs feed on
anything they can pick up, which resolves itself chiefly into the
rotting remains of fish. The name given to them speaks for
itself--"fish pig." Once a year, in the families that can afford it,
such a pig is killed, and on its flesh they depend for their meat for
months. It is not to be wondered at that such food, combined with
their unsavoury habits, produces such terrible results. Statistics
seem to show that leprosy has been growing less prevalent since the
middle of the last century; but it is still necessary to keep several
hospitals for the lepers.
Another remarkable fact gives rather an interesting example of the
evolution which must follow on any abnormal conditions. For hundreds
of years these people have had no opportunity of duly exercising their
lower limbs, which are in consequence short and undeveloped; while the
extraordinary muscular development of their arms and shoulders is not
astonishing when one considers that all their transit exercise must be
done by rowing. In consequence of this, and perhaps also on account of
the consanguineous marriages, many of the inhabitants of these islands
present extraordinary appearances.
FISHERIES: THE LAPPS: RELIGION AND MORALS: MUSIC