A NORWEGIAN HORSE-JOCKEY.
Late one evening I arrived at a lonely little station by the wayside,
not far beyond the valley of the Drivsdal. I was cold and hungry, and
well disposed to enjoy whatever good cheer the honest people who kept
the inn might have in store for me. The house and outbuildings were
such as belong to an ordinary farming establishment, and did not
promise much in the way of entertainment. Upon entering the rustic
doorway I was kindly greeted by the host--a simple, good-natured
looking man--who, as usual, showed me into the best room. Now I am not
aware of any thing in my appearance that entitles me to this
distinction, but it has generally been my fate, in this sort of
travel, to be set apart and isolated from the common herd in the fancy
room of the establishment, which I have always found to be
correspondingly the coldest and most uncomfortable. It is a great
annoyance in Norway to be treated as a gentleman. The commonest lout
can enjoy the cozy glow and social gossip of the kitchen or ordinary
sitting-room, but the traveler whom these good people would honor must
sit shivering and alone in some great barn of a room because it
contains a sofa, a bureau, a looking-glass, a few mantle-piece
ornaments, and an occasional picture of the king or some member of the
royal family. I have walked up and down these dismal chambers for
hours at a time, staring at the daubs on the walls, and picking up
little odds and ends of ornaments, and gazing vacantly at them, till I
felt a numbness steal all over me, accompanied by a vague presentiment
that I was imprisoned for life. The progress of time is a matter of no
importance in Norway. To an American, accustomed to see every thing
done with energy and promptness, it is absolutely astounding--the
indifference of these people to the waste of hours. They seem to be
forever asleep, or doing something that bears no possible reference to
their ostensible business. If you are hungry and want something to eat
in a few minutes, the probability is you will be left alone in the
fine room for several hours, at the expiration of which you discover
that the inn-keeper is out in the stable feeding his horses, his wife
in the back yard looking after the chickens, and his children sitting
at a table in the kitchen devouring a dish of porridge. Upon
expressing your astonishment that nothing is ready, the good man of
the house says "Ja! it will be ready directly, min Herr!" and if you
are lucky it comes in another hour--a cup of coffee and some bread
perhaps, which you could just as well have had in ten minutes.
Patience may be a virtue in other countries, but it is an absolute
necessity in Norway. I believe, after the few weeks' experience I had
on the road to Trondhjem, I could without difficulty sit upon a
monument and smile at grief.
[Illustration: THE PRIZE.]
Perceiving through the cracks of the door that there was a good fire
in the kitchen, and hearing the cheerful voices of the man and his
wife, varied by the merry whistle my skydskaarl, I made bold to go in
and ask leave to stand by the fire. The good people seemed a little
astonished at first that a person of quality like myself should prefer
the kitchen to the fine room with the sofa and bureau, the
mantle-piece ornaments and pictures of the royal family; but, by dint
of good-humored gossip about the horses, and an extravagant compliment
thrown in about the beauty of the landlady's children--for which I
hope to be pardoned--I secured a comfortable seat by the fire, and was
soon quite at home. The great open fireplace, the blazing pine logs,
the well-smoked hobs, the simmering pots and steaming kettles, had
something indescribably cheerful about them; and lighting my pipe, I
puffed away cozily during the pauses in the conversation, having a
delightful consciousness that nature had peculiarly adapted me for the
vulgar enjoyments of life, and that every thing approaching the
refinements of civilization was a great bore. It was doubtless this
taint of the savage in my disposition that made me look with such
horror upon neat rooms and civilized furniture, and fall back with
such zest upon the primitive comforts of savage life. When I told the
people of the house that I was all the way from California--that I had
come expressly to see their country--there was no end to the interest
and excitement. "Dear me!" they cried, "and you have traveled a long
way! You must be very tired! And you must be very rich to travel so
far! Ah Gott--how wonderful!" "Did you come all the way in a cariole?"
inquired the simple-minded host. "No; I came part of the way by sea,
in a great ship." "How wonderful!" "And what sort of horses had they
in California?" I told some tough stories about the mustang horses, in
which the landlord was profoundly interested, for I soon discovered
that horses were his great hobby. Whatever we talked of, he invariably
came back to horse-flesh. His head was overrunning with horses. I
praised his cariole horses, and he was enchanted. He gave me the
pedigree of every horse in his stable, scarcely a word of which I
understood, and then wound up by telling me he was considered the best
judge of horses in all Norway. I did not think there was much in his
appearance indicative of the shrewd horse-jockey, but was soon
convinced of his shrewdness, for he informed me confidentially he had
drawn the great prize at the last annual horse-fair at Christiania,
and if I didn't believe it he would show it to me! I tried to make him
understand that I had no doubt at all what he said was strictly true;
but, not satisfied at this expression of faith in his word, he went to
a big wooden chest in the corner and took out a bag of money, which he
placed upon the middle of the table with a proud smile of triumph.
"That," said he, "is the prize! A hundred and fifty silver
dollars--_silver_, mind you--all SILVER!" But perhaps I didn't
believe it was a prize? Well, he would convince me of that. So he left
the bag of money on the table and went into a back room to get the
certificate of the society, in which it was all duly written out, with
his name in large letters, the paper being neatly framed in a carved
frame, the work of his own hands. There it was; I could read for
myself! I tried to read it to oblige him, and as I blundered over the
words he took it into his head that I was still incredulous. "Nai!
nai!" said he, "you shall see the money! You shall count it for
yourself!" In vain I strove to convince him that I was entirely
satisfied on the subject--that he must not go to so much trouble on my
account. "Nai! nai!" cried the enthusiastic dealer in horse-flesh, "it
is no trouble. You shall see the money WITH YOUR OWN EYES!" And
forthwith he untied the string of the bag, and poured out the shining
dollars in a pile on the middle of the table. His good wife stood by,
professing to smile, but I suspected, from the watchful expression of
her eye, that she did not feel quite at ease. The skydskaarl leaned
over with a general expression of the most profound astonishment and
admiration. "See!" cried the old man; "this is the prize--every dollar
of it. But you must count it--I'll help you--so!" As there was no
getting over the task imposed upon me without hurting his feelings, I
had to sit down and help to count the money--no very pleasant job for
a hungry man. After summing up our respective piles, there appeared to
be only a hundred and forty-nine dollars--just a dollar short. "Lieb
Gott!" cried the man, "there must be a mistake! Let us count it
again!" I felt that there was a necessity for counting it very
carefully this time, for the landlady's eye was on me with a very
searching expression. "Een, to, tre, five, fem, sex," and so on for
nearly half an hour, when we summed up our counts again. This time it
was only a hundred and forty-eight dollars--just two dollars short!
The old man scratched his head and looked bewildered. The landlady
moved about nervously, and stared very hard at me. It was getting to
be rather an embarrassing affair. I blamed myself for being so
foolishly drawn into it. Wishing to know if there really was a
mistake, I begged my host to let me count it alone, which I did by
making fifteen piles of ten dollars each, carefully counting every
pile. It was all right; the whole amount was there, a hundred and
fifty dollars. "All right!" said I, much relieved; "don't you see,
every pile is exactly the same height!" "Ja! Ja!" said the man; "but I
don't understand it. Here, wife, you and I must count it!" So the wife
sat down, and they both began counting the money, varying every time
they compared notes from two to ten dollars. Once they had it a
hundred and sixty dollars. "The devil is in the money!" exclaimed the
horse-dealer; "I'm certain I counted right." "And so am I!" said the
woman; "I can not be mistaken. It is you who have made the mistake.
You always were a stupid old fool about money!" This she said with
some degree of asperity, for she was evidently displeased at the whole
proceeding. "A fool, eh? A fool!" muttered the old man; "you do well
to call me a fool before strangers!" "Ja, that's the way! I always
told you so!" screamed the woman, in rising tones of anger; "you'll
lose all your money yet!" "Lose it!" retorted the man; "don't you see
I have made ten dollars by counting it to-night! There! count it
yourself, and hold your peace, woman!" Here the wife, suppressing her
wrath, made a careful and deliberate count, which resulted in the
exact sum of a hundred and fifty dollars! I was much relieved; but by
this time the old man, unable to bear the torrent of reproaches heaped
upon him by his good wife for his stupidity, swore she must have made
a mistake. He was sure he had counted a hundred and sixty; therefore
he would count it again, all alone, which he proceeded to do, very
slowly and cautiously. This time the result was a hundred and
fifty-five dollars. "The devil's in it!" cried the astonished dealer;
"there's some magic about it! I don't understand it. I must count it
again!" The woman, however, being satisfied that it was all right, I
now thought it best to return to my seat by the fire, where she soon
began to busy herself preparing the supper, turning round now and then
of course to let off a broadside at her old man. She took occasion to
inform me, during the progress of her culinary labors, that he was a
very good sort of man, but was somewhat addicted to brandy-wine, of
which he had partaken a little too freely on the present occasion. I
must excuse him. She would send him to bed presently. And now, if I
pleased, supper was ready.
I could not help thinking, as I lay in bed that night, how lucky it
was for these simple-minded people that they lived in the interior of
Norway. Even in California, where public and private integrity is the
prevailing trait of the people, it would hardly be considered safe to
pull out a bag of money at a wayside inn and show it to every passing
stranger. I have known men there in high public positions whom I would
scarcely like to tempt in that way, especially if there was money
enough in the bag to make robbery respectable.
All along the route during the next day the scenery was a continued
feast of enjoyment. In looking back over it now, however, after the
lapse of several months, it would be difficult to recall any thing
beyond its general features--pine-covered mountains, green valleys,
dark rocky glens, foaming torrents of water, and groups of farm-houses
by the wayside. At Bjerkager I reached the first of the
"slow-stations;" that is to say, the established post-houses, where a
margin of three hours is allowed for a change of horses. I had
supposed that in a country, and on a public route, where during the
summer there must be considerable travel, it would hardly be possible
that so long a delay could take place; but in this I was mistaken. The
slow-stations are emphatically slow; the keepers are slow, the horses
are slow, the whole concern is slow. From Bjerkager to Garlid, and
from Garlid to Hov, including all delays, a distance of three hours
and a half ordinary time, it took me all day. No entreaties, no offers
of extra compensation, no expressions of impatience produced the
slightest effect. The people at these places were not to be hurried.
Kind and good-natured as they were in appearance and expression, I
found them the most bull-headed and intractable race of beings on the
face of the earth.
I was particularly struck with the depressing lethargy that hung over
a wretched little place called Soknaes, which I made out to reach the
next morning. A dead silence reigned over the miserable huddle of
buildings by the roadside. The houses looked green and mildewed. A few
forlorn chickens in the stable-yard, and a half-starved dog crouching
under the door-steps, too poor to bark and too lazy to move, were the
only signs of life that greeted me as I approached. I knocked at the
door, but no answer was made to the summons. Not a living soul was to
be seen around the place. I attempted to whistle and shout. Still the
terrible silence remained unbroken save by the dismal echoes of my own
melancholy music. At length I went to a rickety shed under which some
carts were drawn up for shelter from the weather. In one of the carts,
half-covered in a bundle of straw, was a bundle of clothes. It moved
as I drew near; it thrust a boot out over the tail-board; it shook
itself; it emitted a curious sound between a grunt and a yawn; it
raised itself up and shook off a portion of the straw; it thrust a red
night-cap out of the mass of shapeless rubbish; the night-cap
contained a head and a matted shock of hair; there was a withered,
old-fashioned little face on the front part of the head, underneath
the shock of hair, which opened its mouth and eyes, and gazed at me
vacantly; it was an old man or a boy, I could not tell which till it
spoke, when I discovered that it was something between the two, and
was the skydskaarl or hostler of this remarkable establishment. He
rubbed his eyes and stared again. "Hello!" said I. He grunted out
something. "Heste og Cariole!" said I. "Ja! Ja!" grunted the hostler,
and then he began to get out of the cart. I suppose he creaked, though
I do not pretend that the sounds were audible. First one leg came out;
slowly it was followed by the other. When they both got to the ground,
he pushed his body gradually over the tail-board, and in about five
minutes was standing before me.
"A horse and cariole," said I; "let me have them quick!"
"Ja! Ja!"
"_Strax!_" [directly!] said I.
"Ja! Ja!"
"How long will it be?"
"Ach!"--here he yawned.
"An hour?"
"Ja! Ja!"
"Two hours?"
"Ja! Ja!"
"Three hours?"
"Ja! Ja!"
"Sacramento! I can't stand that, I must have one
STRAX--directly--forstoede?"
"Ja! Ja!" and the fellow rubbed his eyes and yawned again.
"Look here! my friend," said I, "if you'll get me a horse and cariole
in half an hour, I'll give you two marks extra--forstoe?"
"Ja! Ja! twa mark" (still yawning).
"Half an hour, mind you!"
"_Tre time_--three hours!" grunted the incorrigible dunderhead.
"Then good-by--I must travel on foot!" and, with rage and indignation
depicted in every feature, I flung my knapsack over my shoulder and
made a feint to start.
"Adieu! farvel!" said the sleepy lout, good-naturedly holding out his
hand to give me a parting shake. "Farvel, min Herr! May your journey
be pleasant! God take care of you!"
The perfect sincerity of the fellow completely dissipated my rage,
and, giving him a friendly shake, I proceeded on my way. As I turned
the corner of the main building and struck into the road, I cast a
look back. He was still standing by the cart, yawning and rubbing his
eyes as before. That man would make money in California--if money
could be made by a bet on laziness. He is lazier than the old Dutch
skipper who was too lazy to go below, and gave orders to the man at
the helm to follow the sun so as to keep him in the shade of the
main-sail, by reason of which he sailed round the horizon till his
tobacco gave out, and he had to return home for a fresh supply. I call
that a strong case of laziness, but scarcely stronger than the
traveler meets with every day in Norway.