We landed a single passenger--a government surveyor apparently--on the

heap of rocks beyond, and ran out under the northern headland, which

again charmed us with a glory peculiarly its own. Here the colours were

a part of the substance of the rock, and the sun but heightened and

harmonised their tones. The huge projecting masses of pale yellow had a

mellow gleam, like golden chalk; behind them were cliffs, violet in

shadow; broad strata of soft red, tipped on the edges with vermilion;

thinner layers, which shot up vertically to the height of four or five

hundred feet, and striped the splendid sea-wall with lines of bronze,

orange, brown, and dark red, while great rents and breaks interrupted

these marvellous frescoes with their dashes of uncertain gloom. I have

seen many wonderful aspects of nature, in many lands, but rock-painting

such as this I never beheld. A part of its effect may have been owing to

atmospheric conditions which must be rare, even in the North; but,

without such embellishments, I think the sight of this coast will nobly

repay any one for continuing his voyage beyond Hammerfest.

We lingered on deck, as point after point revealed some change in the

dazzling diorama, uncertain which was finest, and whether something

still grander might not be in store. But at last Nordkyn drew nigh, and

at three o'clock the light became that of day, white and colourless.

The north-east wind blew keenly across the Arctic Ocean, and we were

both satisfied and fatigued enough to go to bed. It was the most

northern point of our voyage--about 71° 20', which is further north than

I ever was before, or ever wish to be again.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE VARANGER FJORD.--ARCTIC LIFE.

When we awoke, after six hours' sleep, with curtains drawn to keep out

the daylight, our steamer was deep in the Tana Fjord, which receives the

waters of the Tana River, the largest Lapland stream flowing into the

Arctic Ocean. The greater part of the day was consumed in calling at two

settlements of three houses each, and receiving and delivering mails of

one letter, or less. The shores of this fjord are steep hills of bare

rock, covered with patches of snow to the water's edge. The riven walls

of cliff, with their wonderful configuration and marvellous colouring,

were left behind us, and there was nothing of the grand or picturesque

to redeem the savage desolation of the scenery. The chill wind, blowing

direct from Nova Zembla, made us shiver, and even the cabin saloon was

uncomfortable without a fire. After passing the most northern point of

Europe, the coast falls away to the south-east, so that on the second

night we were again in the latitude of Hammerfest, but still within the

sphere of perpetual sunshine. Our second night of sun was not so rich in

colouring as the first, yet we remained on deck long enough to see the

orb rise again from his lowest dip, and change evening into morning by

the same incomprehensible process. There was no golden transfiguration

of the dreadful shore; a wan lustre played over the rocks--pictures of

eternal death--like a settled pallor of despair on Nature's stony face.

One of the stations on this coast, named Makur, consisted of a few

fishermen's huts, at the bottom of a dismal rocky bight. There was no

grass to be seen, except some tufts springing from the earth with which

the roofs were covered, and it was even difficult to see where so much

earth had been scraped together. The background was a hopelessly barren

hill, more than half enveloped in snow. And this was midsummer--and

human beings passed their lives here! "Those people surely deserve to

enter Paradise when they die," I remarked to my friend, "for they live

in hell while upon earth." "Not for that," he answered, "but because it

is impossible for them to commit sin. They cannot injure their

neighbours, for they have none. They cannot steal, for there is nothing

to tempt them. They cannot murder, for there are none of the usual

incentives to hate and revenge. They have so hard a struggle merely _to

live_, that they cannot fall into the indulgences of sense; so that if

there is nothing recorded in their favour, there is also nothing against

them, and they commence the next life with blank books."

"But what a life!" I exclaimed. "Men may be happy in poverty, in

misfortune, under persecution, in life-long disease even, so that they

are not wholly deprived of the genial influences of society and

Nature--but what is there here?" "They know no other world," said he,

"and this ignorance keeps them from being miserable. They do no more

thinking than is necessary to make nets and boats, catch fish and cook

them, and build their log-houses. Nature provides for their marrying and

bringing up their children, and the pastor, whom they see once in a long

time, gives them their religion ready made." God keep them ignorant,

then! was my involuntary prayer. May they never lose their blessed

stupidity, while they are chained to these rocks and icy seas! May no

dreams of summer and verdure, no vision of happier social conditions, or

of any higher sphere of thought and action, flash a painful light on the

dumb-darkness of their lives!

The next day, we were in the Varanger Fjord, having passed the fortress

of Vardöhuus and landed our military committee. The Norwegian shore was

now low and tame, but no vegetation, except a little brown grass, was to

be seen. The Russian shore, opposite, and some twenty-five or thirty

miles distant, consisted of high, bold hills, which, through a glass,

appeared to be partially wooded. The Varanger Fjord, to which so

important a political interest has attached within the last few years,

is about seventy miles in depth, with a general direction towards the

south-west. The boundary-line between Norwegian and Russian Finmark

strikes it upon the southern side, about half-way from the mouth, so

that three-fourths, or more, of the waters of the fjord belong to

Norway. There is, however, a wonderful boundary-line, in addition, drawn

by Nature between the alien waters. That last wave of the Gulf Stream

which washes the North Cape and keeps the fjords of Finmark open and

unfrozen the whole year through, sweeps eastward along the coast, until

it reaches the head of Varanger Fjord. Here its power is at last spent,

and from this point commences that belt of solid ice which locks up the

harbours of the northern coast of Russia for six months in the year. The

change from open water to ice is no less abrupt than permanent. Pastor

Hvoslef informed me that in crossing from Vadsö, on the northern coast,

to Pasvik, the last Norwegian settlement, close upon the Russian

frontier, as late as the end of May, he got out of his boat upon the

ice, and drove three or four miles over the frozen sea, to reach his

destination.

The little fort of Vardöhuus, on an island at the northern entrance of

the fjord, is not a recent defence, meant to check Russian plans in this

quarter. It was established by Christian IV. nearly two and a half

centuries ago. The king himself made a voyage hither, and no doubt at

that time foresaw the necessity of establishing, by military occupation,

the claims of Denmark to this part of the coast. The little fortress has

actually done this service; and though a single frigate might easily

batter it to pieces, its existence has kept Russia from the ownership of

the Varanger Fjord and the creation (as is diplomatically supposed,) of

an immense naval station, which, though within the Arctic waters, would

at all times of the year be ready for service. It is well known that

Russia has endeavoured to obtain possession of the northern side of the

fjord, as well as of the Lyngen Fjord, near Tromsöe, towards which her

Lapland territory stretches out a long arm. England is particularly

suspicious of these attempts, and the treaty recently concluded between

the Allied Powers and Sweden had a special reference thereto. The

importance of such an acquisition to Russia is too obvious to be pointed

out, and the jealous watchfulness of England is, therefore, easy to

understand. But it is a singular thing that the conflicting forces of

Europe find a fulcrum on a little corner of this dead, desolate,

God-forsaken shore.

About ten o'clock we reached Vadsö, the limit of the steamer's route.

Here we had intended taking a boat, continuing our voyage to Nyborg, at

the head of the fjord, crossing thence to the Tana, and descending that

river in season to meet the steamer in the Tana Fjord on her return. We

were behind time, however, and the wind was light; the people informed

us that we could scarcely carry out the project; so we reluctantly gave

it up, and went ashore to spend the day. Vadsö is a town of about 800

inhabitants, with a secure though shallow harbour, which was crowded

with fishing vessels and Russian traders from the White Sea. It lies on

the bleak hill-side, without a tree or bush, or a patch of grass large

enough to be seen without close inspection, and its only summer perfume

is that of dried fish. I saw in gardens attached to one or two houses a

few courageous radishes and some fool-hardy potatoes, which had ventured

above ground without the least chance of living long enough to blossom.

The snow had been four feet deep in the streets in the beginning of

June, and in six weeks it would begin to fall again. A few forlorn cows

were hunting pasture over the hills, now and then looking with

melancholy resignation at the strings of codfish heads hanging up to

dry, on the broth of which they are fed during the winter. I took a walk

and made a sketch during the afternoon, but the wind was so chill that

I was glad to come back shivering to our quarters.

We obtained lodgings at the house of a baker, named Aas, who had learned

the art of charging, and was therefore competent to conduct a hotel. In

order to reach our room, we were obliged to pass successively through

the family dwelling-room, kitchen, and a carpenter's workshop, but our

windows commanded a full view of a grogshop across the way, where

drunken Lapps were turned out with astonishing rapidity. It was the

marriage month of the Lapps, and the town was full of young couples who

had come down to be joined, with their relatives and friends, all in

their gayest costumes. Through the intervention of the postmaster, I

procured two women and a child, as subjects for a sketch. They were

dressed in their best, and it was impossible not to copy the leer of

gratified vanity lurking in the corners of their broad mouths. The

summer dress consisted of a loose gown of bright green cloth, trimmed on

the neck and sleeves with bands of scarlet and yellow, and a peculiar

head-dress, shaped like a helmet, but with a broader and flatter crest,

rounded in front. This, also, was covered with scarlet cloth, and

trimmed with yellow and blue. They were greatly gratified with the

distinction, and all the other Lapps, as in Kautokeino, would have

willingly offered themselves. I found the same physical characteristics

here as there--a fresh, ruddy complexion, inclining to tawny; bright

blue eyes, brown hair, high cheek-bones, and mouths of enormous width.

They are not strikingly below the average size, Heine says, in one of

his mad songs:

"In Lapland the people are dirty,

Flat-headed, and broad-mouthed, and small

They squat round the fire while roasting

Their fishes, and chatter and squall;"

which is as good a description of them as can be packed into a stanza.

On the present occasion they were all drunk, in addition. One of them

lay for a long time at the door, with his legs doubled under him as he

fell, the others stepping over his body as they went in and out. These

poor creatures were openly and shamelessly allowed to drug themselves,

as long as their money lasted. No wonder the race is becoming extinct,

when the means of destruction is so freely offered.

Vadsö, although only forty miles from Vardö, at the mouth of the fjord,

has a much drier and more agreeable climate, and the inhabitants are

therefore loud in praise of their place. "We have no such fogs as at

Vardö," say they; "our fish dry much better, and some years we can raise

potatoes." For the last four or five years, however, the winters have

been getting more and more severe, and now it is impossible to procure

hay enough to keep their few cattle through the winter. We had on board

a German who had been living there five years, and who appeared well

satisfied with his lot. "I have married here," said he; "I make a good

living with less trouble than in Germany, and have no wish to return."

Singularly enough, there were also two Italian organ grinders on board,

whom I accosted in their native language; but they seemed neither

surprised nor particularly pleased. They dropped hints of having been

engaged in some political conspiracy; and one of them said, with a

curious mixture of Italian and Norsk words "_Jeg voglio ikke

ritornare_." I said the same thing ("I shall not return") as I left

Vadsö.

We sailed early the next morning, and in the afternoon reached Vardö,

where we lay three hours. Here we took on board the three officers, who

had in the meantime made their inspection. Vardöhuus is a single

star-shaped fort, with six guns and a garrison of twenty-seven men.

During the recent war, the garrison was increased to three hundred--an

unnecessary precaution, if there was really any danger of an attack to

be apprehended, so long as the defences of the place were not

strengthened. One of the officers, who had gone out fishing the night

previous, caught eighty-three splendid cod in the space of two hours. It

was idle sport, however, for no one would take his fish as a gift, and

they were thrown on the shore to rot. The difficulty is not in catching

but in curing them. Owing to the dampness of the climate they cannot be

hung up on poles to dry slowly, like the _stock-fish_ of the Lofodens,

but must be first salted and then laid on the rocks to dry, whence the

term _klip_ (cliff) fish, by which they are known in trade.

At the mouth of the Tana we picked up four Englishmen, who had been

salmon fishing on the river. They were sunburnt, spotted with mosquito

bites, and had had little luck, the river being full of nets and the

fjord of seals, between which the best of the salmon are either caught

or devoured; but they spoke of their experience with true English

relish. "Oh, it was very jolly!" said one: "we were so awfully bitten by

mosquitoes. Then our interpreter always lost everything just before we

wanted it--think of his losing our frying-pan, so that we had to fry in

the lids of our kettles; He had a habit of falling overboard and getting

nearly drowned before we could pull him in. We had a rough time of it,

but it was very jolly, I assure you!" The young fellows meant what they

said; they were all the better for their roughing, and I wish the

spindle-shanked youths who polk and flirt at Newport and Saratoga had

manliness enough for such undertakings.

We reached Hammerfest on the last day of July, and re-occupied our old

quarters. That night the sun went below the horizon for the first time

in eight days, but his depth was too slight to make any darkness

visible. I was quite tired of the unending daylight, and would willingly

have exchanged the pomp of the arctic midnight for the starlit darkness

of home. We were confused by the loss of night; we lost the perception

of time. One is never sleepy, but simply tired, and after a sleep of

eight hours by sunshine, wakes up as tired as ever. His sleep at last is

broken and irregular; he substitutes a number of short naps, distributed

through the twenty-four hours, for the one natural repose, and finally

gets into a state of general uneasiness and discomfort. A Hammerfest

merchant, who has made frequent voyages to Spitzbergen, told me that in

the latitude of 80° he never knew certainly whether it was day or night,

and the cook was the only person on board who could tell him.

At first the nocturnal sunshine strikes you as being wonderfully

convenient. You lose nothing of the scenery; you can read and write as

usual; you never need be in a hurry, because there is time enough for

everything. It is not necessary to do your day's work in the daytime,

for no night cometh. You are never belated, and somewhat of the stress

of life is lifted from your shoulders; but, after a time, you would be

glad of an excuse to stop seeing, and observing, and thinking, and even

enjoying. There is no _compulsive_ rest such as darkness brings--no

sweet isolation, which is the best refreshment of sleep. You lie down in

the broad day, and the summons, "Arise!" attends on every reopening of

your eyes. I never went below and saw my fellow-passengers all asleep

around me without a sudden feeling that something was wrong: they were

drugged, or under some unnatural influence, that they thus slept so fast

while the sunshine streamed in through the port-holes.

There are some advantages of this northern summer which have presented

themselves to me in rather a grotesque light. Think what an aid and

shelter is removed from crime--how many vices which can only flourish in

the deceptive atmosphere of night, must be checked by the sober reality

of daylight! No assassin can dog the steps of his victim; no burglar can

work in sunshine; no guilty lover can hold stolen interviews by

moonlight--all concealment is removed, for the sun, like the eye of God,

sees everything, and the secret vices of the earth must be bold indeed,

if they can bear his gaze. Morally, as well as physically, there is

safety in light and danger in darkness; and yet give me the darkness and

the danger! Let the patrolling sun go off his beat for awhile, and show

a little confidence in my ability to behave properly, rather than worry

me with his sleepless vigilance.

I have described the smells of Hammerfest, which are its principal

characteristic. It seemed to me the dreariest place in the world on

first landing, a week previous; but, by contrast with what we had in the

meantime seen, it became rather cheerful and comfortable. I was visiting

a merchant after our return, and noticed with pleasure a stunted ash

about eight feet high, in an adjoining garden. "Oh!" said he, in a tone

of irritated pride, "we have plenty of trees here; there is quite a

forest up the valley." This forest, after some search, I found. The

trees were about six feet high, and some of them might have been as

thick as my wrist. In the square before the merchant's house lay a crowd

of drunken Lapps, who were supplied with as much bad brandy as they

wanted by a licensed grogshop. The Russian sailors made use of the same

privilege, and we frequently heard them singing and wrangling on board

their White Sea junks. They were _unapproachably_ picturesque,

especially after the day's work was over, when they generally engaged in

hunting in the extensive forests of their beards, and exercised the law

of retaliation on all the game they caught.

A long street of turf-roofed houses, whose inhabitants may be said to be

under the sod even before they die, leads along the shore of the bay to

a range of flakes redolent of drying codfish. Beyond this you clamber

over rocks and shingles to a low grassy headland, whereon stands a

pillar commemorating the measurement of a meridian line of 25° 20', from

the Danube to the Polar Sea, which was accomplished by the Governments

of Austria, Russia, and Sweden, between the years 1816 and 1852. The

pillar marks the northern terminus of the line, and stands in lat. 70°

40' 11.3". It is a plain shaft of polished red granite, standing on a

base of grey granite, and surmounted by a bronze globe, on which a map

of the earth is roughly outlined.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE RETURN TO DARKNESS.--NORWEGIAN CHARACTER.

I do not intend to trace our return, step by step, down the Norwegian

coast. The splendid weather which prevailed during our upward voyage,

enabled us to see all the interesting points, leaving only those parts

which we missed in the few hours devoted to sleep, to give a little

novelty to our return. During the whole trip we had not a drop of

rain,--the rarest good fortune in these latitudes,--and were therefore

twice enabled to enjoy, to the fullest extent, the sublime scenery of

the Lofoden Isles and the coast of Nordland. This voyage has not its

like in the world. The traveller, to whom all other lands are familiar,

has here a new volume of the most wonderful originality and variety,

opened to him. The days are illuminated pages, crowded with pictures,

the forms and hues of which he can never forget. After I returned to the

zone of darkness, and recovered from the stress and tension of three

weeks of daylight, I first fully appreciated the splendours of the

arctic sun. My eyes were still dazzled with the pomp of colour, and the

thousand miles of coast, as I reviewed them in memory, with their chaos

of island-pyramids of shattered rock, their colossal cliffs, their

twisted fjords, and long fjeld-levels of eternal snow, swam in a sea of

saffron and rosy light, in comparison with which the pale blue day

around me seemed dull and dead. My dream of the North, in becoming a

reality, has retained the magical atmosphere of dreams, and basks in the

same gorgeous twilight which irradiates the Scandinavian sagas.

I was particularly struck during the return, with the rapid progress of

summer--the flying leaps with which she clears her short course. Among

the Lofodens, the potatoes were coming into blossom, and the rye and

barley into head; the grass was already cut, in many places, and drying

on poles, and the green of the woods and meadows showed the dark, rich

character of southern lands. Owing to this rapidity of growth, all the

more hardy varieties of vegetables may be successfully cultivated. Mr.

Thomas informed me that his peas and beans at Kaafjord (lat. 70° N.)

grew three inches in twenty-four hours, and, though planted six weeks

later than those about Christiania, came to maturity at the same time.

He has even succeeded in raising excellent cauliflowers. But very few of

the farmers have vegetable gardens, and those which I saw contained only

radishes and lettuce, with a few useful herbs. One finds the same

passion for flowers, however, as in Northern Sweden, and the poorest are

rarely without a rose or a geranium in their windows.

Pastor Hvoslef, who was again our fellow-traveller for a few hours, gave

me some interesting information concerning the Lapps. They are, it

seems, entitled to the right of suffrage, and to representation in the

Storthing, equally with the Norwegians. The local jurisdiction repeats

on a small scale what the Storthing transacts on a large one, being

entirely popular in its character, except that the _vogts_ and _länsmen_

(whose powers are somewhat similar to those of our judges and country

magistrates) are not elected. But each district chooses from among its

inhabitants a committee to confer upon and arrange all ordinary local

matters. These committees, in turn, choose persons to constitute a

higher body, who control the reciprocal relations of the several

districts, and intervene in case of difficulties between them. The

system is necessarily simpler and somewhat more primitive in its

character than our local organisations in America; but it appears at

present to answer every purpose. The heavy responsibility resting upon

judges in Norway--the severity of the checks and penalties by which

their probity is insured--probably contributes to make the

administration of the laws more efficacious and easy. The Lapps are not

a difficult people to govern, and much of the former antagonism between

them and the poorer classes of the Norwegians has passed away. There is

little, if any, amalgamation of the two races, nor will there ever be,

but there is probably as little conflict between them as is compatible

with the difference of blood.

At Tromsöe, a tall, strong, clerical gentleman came on board, who proved

to be the noted Pastor Lamers, one of the first if not the very first

Clergyman in Norway, who has refused to receive the government

support--or, in other words, has seceded from the Church, as a State

establishment, while adhering to all its fundamental doctrines. It is

the first step towards the separation of Church and State, which must

sooner or later come, in Norway and in Sweden. He has a congregation of

three hundred members, in Tromsöe, and is about organising a church at

Gibostad, on the island of Senjen. He has some peculiar views, I

believe, in relation to the baptism of children, and insists that the

usual absolution dealt out by the Pastors is of no effect without full

confession and the specification of particular sins--but in other

respects he is entirely orthodox, retaining even the ceremonial of the

Eucharist. This, in the Lutheran church of Norway, comes so near to the

Roman Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation, that one cannot easily

perceive any difference. Instead of bread, an unleavened wafer is

administered to the communicants, the priest saying, as he gives it,

"This is the _true_ body and blood of Jesus Christ." Mr. Forrester, a

devout admirer of the Church, which he thinks identical with that of

England in all its essentials, says, "The Lutherans reject the Romish

doctrine of transubstantiation, but they hold that of a spiritual and

ineffable union of the divine nature with the elements, the substance of

which remains unchanged. This is called _consubstantiation_." Verily,

the difference between tweedledum and tweedledee--one being as absurd as

the other.

No one, coming from a land where all sects stand upon an equal footing,

and where every church must depend for existence on its own inherent

vitality, can fail to be struck with the effete and decrepit state of

religion in Sweden and Norway. It is a body of frigid mechanical forms

and ceremonies, animated here and therewith a feeble spark of spiritual

life, but diffusing no quickening and animating glow. I have often been

particularly struck with the horror with which the omission of certain

forms was regarded by persons in whom I could discover no trace of any

religious principle. The Church has a few dissensions to combat; she has

not been weakened by schism; but she is slowly ossifying from sheer

inertia. The Reformation needs to be reformed again, and perhaps the

tardy privileges granted to the _Haugianer_ and _Läsare_--the northern

Methodists--may result in producing a body of Dissenters large enough to

excite emulation, action, and improvement. In Norway, the pastors have

the best salaries and the easiest places of all government officials.

Those who conscientiously discharge their duties have enough to do; but

were this universally the case, one would expect to find the people less

filthy, stupid, and dishonest than they are in many parts of the

country. A specimen of the intelligence of one, who is now a member of

the Storthing, was communicated to me by a gentleman who heard it. The

clergyman advocated the establishment of telegraph lines in Norway, "not

for the sake of sending news," said he, "that is of no consequence. But

it is well known that no wolf can pass under a telegraph wire, and if we

can get lines put up throughout the country, all the wolves will be

obliged to leave!" Of course, I do not mean to assert that the Norwegian

clergymen, as a body, are not sincere, zealous, well-informed men. The

evil lies rather in that system which makes religion as much a branch of

government service as law or diplomacy; and which, until very recently,

has given one sect an exclusive monopoly of the care of human souls.

I had a strong desire to converse with Pastor Lamers in relation to the

stand he has taken, but he was surrounded by a crowd of persons during

his stay on board, and no opportunity presented itself. The sensation

which his presence produced, showed that there are restless elements at

work in the mind of the people. The stony crust is beginning to heave

and split at last. Even the deck-passengers gathered into little groups

and talked earnestly. Two gentlemen near me were discussing the question

of an Established Church, one contending, that a variety of sects tended

only to confuse, perplex, and unchristianise the uneducated, unthinking

class, while the other asserted that this very class adhered most

tenaciously to whatever faith had been taught them. At this moment a

woman standing near us exclaimed: "There were false prophets in all

times, and there are false prophets now! We must beware of them!"--the

earnestness of her speech affording a good comment on the argument just

produced. Whatever may be the popular opinion concerning the course of

Pastor Lamers, I could not but notice the marked respect displayed by

every one who approached him.

In passing Hindöe we saw two magnificent golden eagles wheeling around

one of the loftiest cliffs. The wind blew strongly from the south-west,

increasing until we had what sailors call a dry gale in crossing the

West Fjord, but it abated the next day and by the late twilight we

recrossed the arctic circle. This night there was great rejoicing on

board, at the discovery of a star. We had not seen one for a month, and

some of the passengers coming from Finmark had been more than two months

in daylight. While we were all gazing upon it as upon some extraordinary

phenomenon, a flood of yellow lamp-light suddenly streamed through the

cabin skylight. The sky was still brilliant with sunset in the north,

but it was dark enough to see to sleep. We could not yet cover ourselves

all over, even as with a cloak; still there was a shelter and friendly

covering for the helpless body. Our sleep became sound and regular, and

its old power of restoration was doubly sweet, since we had known what

it was to be deprived of it.

Our fellow-passengers, after leaving Carlsoe, where the young Englishmen

stopped to hunt, were almost exclusively Norwegian, and this gave us

further opportunities of becoming acquainted with some peculiarities of

the national character. Intelligent Norwegians, especially those who

have travelled, are exceedingly courteous, gentlemanly, and agreeable

persons. The three officers on board were men of unusual intelligence

and refinement, and we considered ourselves fortunate in having their

company during the entire voyage. The _landhand lare_, or country

merchants, and government officials of the lower ranks, exhibit more

reserve, and not unfrequently a considerable amount of ignorance and

prejudice. Perhaps the most general feature of the Norwegian character

is an excessive national vanity, which is always on the alert, and fires

up on the slightest provocation. Say everything you like, except that

Norway in any respect is surpassed by any other country. One is assailed

with questions about his impressions of the scenery, people, government,

&c.--a very natural and pardonable curiosity, it is true, and one only

demands in return that his candour be respected, and no offence taken.

This, however, is rarely the case. If there is no retaliatory answer on

the spot, you hear a remark days afterwards which shows how your mild

censure has rankled in the mind of the hearer. My friend was asked by a

passenger whether he did not think the women of Finmark very beautiful.

It was impossible to answer in the affirmative: the questioner went off

in high dudgeon, and did not speak to him again for several days.

In the Varanger Fjord, we had pretty freely expressed our impressions of

the desolate coast. Afterwards on returning past the grand cliff scenery

of Nordkyn, we were admiring some bold formation of the rocks, when a

Norwegian came up and said, in a tone of angry irony: "Ah, you find a

little to admire at last, do you? You find _some_ beauty in our country,

after all?" So in regard to the government. The Norwegians may be justly

proud of their constitution, which is as republican in its character as

our own. There is so much in the administration of the government which

every one must heartily commend, that they should be less sensitive in

regard to minor faults. This sensitiveness, however, is partly accounted

for, when we remember that for four hundred years Norway was a Danish

province, and that only forty-three years ago she leaped at once from

subjection to a freedom such as no other country in Europe enjoys. The

intense pride and self-glorification of the people resembles that of a

youth who for the first time assumes a dress-coat and standing collar.

King Oscar, on his accession to the throne, gave the country a separate

national flag, and nowhere does one see such a display of flags. All

over the land and all along the shores, the colours of Norway are

flying.

Jealousy of Sweden and dislike of the Swedes are inherited feelings, and

are kept alive by a mutual prejudice on the part of the latter people.

One cannot but smile a little at the present union of Sweden and Norway,

when he finds that the countries have separate currencies, neither of

which will pass at its full value in the other--separate tariffs, and of

course Custom-house examinations between the two, and, if the Norwegians

had their way, would have separate diplomatic representatives abroad.

Yet the strength of Norway is undoubtedly in her alliance with Sweden:

alone, she would be but a fourth-rate power. Enough has been done to

satisfy her national feeling and secure her liberties against assault,

and it is now time that this unnecessary jealousy and mistrust of a

kindred race should cease. The Swedes have all the honesty which the

Norwegians claim for themselves, more warmth and geniality of character,

and less selfish sharpness and shrewdness. Mügge tells a story of a

number of Swedes who were at a dinner party in Paris, where the health

of "the King of Sweden and Norway" was proposed and drunk with great

enthusiasm. One glass was observed to be untouched. It belonged to a

Norwegian, who, when called upon for an explanation, said: "I cannot

drink such a toast as this, but I will drink the health of the King of

Norway, who is also King of Sweden!"

One cannot find fault with a people for their patriotism. I have always

admired that love of _Gamle Norge_ which shines through Norwegian

history, song, and saga--but when it is manifested in such ridiculous

extremes, one doubts the genuineness of the feeling, and suspects it of

being alloyed with some degree of personal vanity. There are still evils

to be eradicated,--reproaches to be removed,--reforms to be achieved,

which claim all the best energies of the best men of the country, and

positive harm is done by concealing or denying the true state of

things.

CHAPTER XXIX.

DRONTHEIM AND BERGEN.

We spent another day and a half in Drontheim, before reshipping in the

steamer for Bergen. With the exception of a trip to the Lierfoss, or

falls of the Nid, however, it was by no means a satisfactory sojourn.

The hotel was full, and we could only get quarters in the billiard-room,

through which other guests were continually passing and repassing. Two

small boys were quite inadequate to the service; the table d'hote was

the scantiest I ever saw, and the charges at the rate of three dollars a

day. The whole of Sunday was consumed in an attempt to recover our

carrioles, which we left behind us on embarking for Hammerfest. The

servants neglected to get them on Saturday evening, as we had ordered,

and in the morning the man who had the key of the warehouse went into

the country, taking it with him. The whole day was spent in searching

and waiting, and it was only by unremitting exertions that we succeeded

in putting them on board in the evening. Owing to this annoyance, I was

unable to attend service in the cathedral, or even to see the inside of

it.

Our drive to the Lierfoss, in the evening, was an exquisite enjoyment.

The valley of the Nid, behind Drontheim, is one of the most carefully

cultivated spots in Norway. Our road led up the stream, overlooking rich

levels of grain and hay fields, studded with large and handsome

farm-houses, while the lower slopes of the hills and the mound-like

knolls scattered along their bases, were framed to the very summit,

steep as they were. The whole scene was like a piece of landscape

gardening, full of the loveliest effects, which were enhanced by the

contrast of the grey, sterile mountains by which the picture was framed.

The soft, level sunshine, streaming through the rifts of broken

thunder-clouds in the west, slowly wandered over the peaceful valley,

here lighting up a red-roofed homestead, there a grove in full summer

foliage, or a meadow of so brilliant an emerald that it seemed to shine

by its own lustre. As we approached the Lierfoss, the road was barred

with a great number of gates, before which waited a troop of ragged

boys, who accompanied us the whole of the way, with a pertinacity equal

to that of the little Swiss beggars.

The Nid here makes two falls about half a mile apart, the lower one

being eighty, and the upper one ninety feet in height. The water is of a

dark olive-green colour, and glassy transparency, and so deep that at

the brink it makes huge curves over the masses of rock in its bed

without breaking into the faintest ripple. As you stand on a giant

boulder above it, and contrast the swift, silent rush with the

thundering volume of amber-tinted spray which follows, you feel in its

full force the strange fascination of falling water--the temptation to

plunge in and join in its headlong revelry. Here, however, I must admit

that the useful is not always the beautiful. The range of smoky mills

driven by a sluice from the fall had better be away. The upper fall is

divided in the centre by a mass of rock, and presents a broader and more

imposing picture, though the impetus of the water is not so great.

The coast between Drontheim and Bergen is, on the whole, much less

striking than that further north; but it has some very grand features.

The outer islands are, with few exceptions, low and barren, but the

coast, deeply indented with winding fjords, towers here and there into

sublime headlands, and precipitous barriers of rock. Christiansund,

where we touched the first afternoon, is a singularly picturesque place,

built on four islands, separated by channels in the form of a cross. The

bare, rounded masses of grey rock heave up on all sides behind the

houses, which are built along the water's edge; here and there a tree of

superb greenness shines against the colourless background, and the

mountains of the mainland, with their tints of pink and purple, complete

the picture. The sun was burningly hot, and the pale-green water

reflected the shores in its oily gloss; but in severe storms, I was

told, it is quite impossible to cross from one island to another, and

the different parts of the town sometimes remain for days in a state of

complete isolation. I rose very early next morning, to have a view of

Molde and the enchanting scenery of the Romsdals-fjord. The

prosperous-looking town, with its large square houses, its suburban

cottages and gardens, on the slope of a long green hill, crowned with

woods, was wholly Swiss in its appearance, but the luminous morning

vapors hovering around the Alpine peaks in the east, entirely hid them

from our view. In this direction lies the famous Romsdal, which many

travellers consider the grandest specimen of Norwegian scenery.

Unfortunately we could not have visited it without taking an entire

week, and we were apprehensive lest the fine weather, which we had now

enjoyed for twenty-four days, should come to an end before we were done

with the Bergenstift. It is almost unexampled that travellers make the

voyage from Drontheim to the Varanger Fjord and back without a cloudy

day. While we had perpetual daylight, the tourists whom we left behind

were drenched with continual rains.

Aalesund is another island port, smaller than Christiansund, but full as

picturesque. The intense heat and clearness of the day, the splendour of

the sunshine, which turned the grassy patches on the rocks into lustrous

velvet, and the dark, dazzling blue of the sea belonged rather to

southern Italy than to Norway. As we approached Bergen, however, the sky

became gradually overcast, and the evening brought us clouds and

showers. Not far from Aalesund was the castle of Rollo, the conqueror of

Normandy. All this part of the coast is Viking ground: from these fjords

went forth their piratical dragons, and hither they returned, laden with

booty, to rest and carouse in their strongholds. They were the

buccaneers of the north in their time, bold, brave, with the virtues

which belong to courage and hardihood, but coarse, cruel, and brutal.

The Viking of Scandinavian song is a splendid fellow; but his original,

if we may judge from his descendants, was a stupid, hard-headed,

lustful, and dirty giant, whom we should rather not have had for a

companion. Harold Haarfager may have learnt in Constantinople to wash

his face, and comb his beautiful hair, but I doubt if many of his

followers imitated him. Let us hope that Ingeborg changed her dress

occasionally, and that Balder's temple was not full of fleas; that

Thorsten Vikingsson placed before his guests something better than

_fladbröd_ and rancid butter; and that Björn and Frithiof acted as

honestly towards strangers as towards each other. The Viking chiefs,

undoubtedly, must have learned the comfort of cleanliness and the

delights of good living, but if such habits were general, the nation has

greatly degenerated since their time.

We stayed on deck until midnight, notwithstanding the rain, to see the

grand rock of Hornelen, a precipice 1200 feet high. The clouds lifted a

little, and there was a dim, lurid light in the sky as our steamer swept

under the awful cliff. A vast, indistinct mass, reaching apparently to

the zenith, the summit crowned with a pointed tour, resembling the

Cathedral of Drontheim, and the sides scarred with deep fissures, loomed

over us. Now a splintered spire disengaged itself from the gloom, and

stood defined against the sky; lighter streaks marked the spots where

portions had slid away; but all else was dark, uncertain, and sublime.

Our friendly captain had the steamer's guns discharged as we were

abreast of the highest part. There were no separate echoes, but one

tremendous peal of sound, prolonged like the note of an organ-pipe, and

gradually dying away at the summit in humming vibrations.

Next morning, we were sailing in a narrow strait, between perpendicular

cliffs, fluted like basaltic pillars. It was raining dismally, but we

expected nothing else in the neighbourhood of Bergen. In this city the

average number of rainy days in a year is _two hundred_. Bergen weather

has become a by-word throughout the north, and no traveller ventures to

hope for sunshine when he turns his face thither. "Is it still raining

at Bergen?" ask the Dutch skippers when they meet a Norwegian captain.

"Yes, blast you; is it still blowing at the Texel?" is generally the

response.

We took on board four or five lepers, on their way to the hospital at

Bergen. A piece of oil-cloth had been thrown over some spars to shield

them from the rain, and they sat on deck, avoided by the other

passengers, a melancholy picture of disease and shame. One was a boy of

fourteen, upon whose face wart-like excrescences were beginning to

appear; while a woman, who seemed to be his mother, was hideously

swollen and disfigured. A man, crouching down with his head between his

hands, endeavoured to hide the seamed and knotted mass of protruding

blue flesh, which had once been a human face. The forms of leprosy,

elephantiasis, and other kindred diseases, which I have seen in the

East, and in tropical countries, are not nearly so horrible. For these

unfortunates there was no hope. Some years, more or less, of a life

which is worse than death, was all to which they could look forward. No

cure has yet been discovered for this terrible disease. There are two

hospitals in Bergen, one of which contains about five hundred patients;

while the other, which has recently been erected for the reception of

cases in the earlier stages, who may be subjected to experimental

courses of treatment, has already one hundred. This form of leprosy is

supposed to be produced partly by an exclusive diet of salt fish, and

partly by want of personal cleanliness. The latter is the most probable

cause, and one does not wonder at the result, after he has had a little

experience of Norwegian filth. It is the awful curse which falls upon

such beastly habits of life. I wish the Norwegians could be made

Mussulmen for awhile, for the sake of learning that cleanliness is not

only next to godliness, but a necessary part of it. I doubt the

existence of filthy Christians, and have always believed that St. Jerome

was atrociously slandered by the Italian painters. But is there no

responsibility resting upon the clergymen of the country, who have so

much influence over their flocks, and who are themselves clean and

proper persons?

Bergen is also, as I was informed, terribly scourged by venereal

diseases. Certainly, I do not remember a place, where there are so few

men--tall, strong, and well-made as the people generally are--without

some visible mark of disease or deformity. A physician of the city has

recently endeavoured to cure syphilis in its secondary stage, by means

of inoculation, having first tried the experiment upon himself; and

there is now a hospital where this form of treatment is practiced upon

two or three hundred patients, with the greatest success, as another

physician informed me. I intended to have visited it, as well as the

hospital for lepers; but the sight of a few cases, around the door of

the latter establishment, so sickened me, that I had no courage to

undertake the task.

Let me leave these disagreeable themes, and say that Bergen is one of

the most charmingly picturesque towns in all the North. Its name, "The

Mountain," denotes one of its most striking features. It is built upon

two low capes, which project from the foot of a low mountain, two

thousand feet high, while directly in its rear lies a lovely little

lake, about three miles in circumference. On the end of the northern

headland stands the fortress of Berghenhuus, with the tall square mass

of Walkendorf's Tower, built upon the foundations of the former palace

of King Olaf Kyrre, the founder of the city. The narrow harbour between

is crowded with fishing-vessels,--during the season often numbering from

six to eight hundred,--and beyond it the southern promontory, quite

covered with houses, rises steeply from the water. A public grove,

behind the fortress, delights the eye with its dark-green mounds of

foliage; near it rise the twin towers of the German Church, which boasts

an age of nearly seven hundred years, and the suburbs on the steep

mountain-sides gradually vanish among gardens and country-villas, which

are succeeded by farms and grazing fields, lying under the topmost

ridges of the bare rock. The lake in the rear is surrounded with the

country residences of the rich merchants--a succession of tasteful

dwellings, each with its garden and leafy arbours, its flowers and

fountains, forming a rich frame to the beautiful sheet of water. Avenues

of fine old lindens thread this suburban paradise, and seats, placed at

the proper points, command views of which one knows not the loveliest.

Everything has an air of ancient comfort, taste, and repose. One sees

yet, the footsteps of mighty Hansa, who for three centuries reigned here

supreme. The northern half of Bergen is still called the "German

Quarter," and there are very few citizens of education who do not speak

the language.

With one or two exceptions, the streets are rough and narrow. There are

no quaint peculiarities in the architecture, the houses being all of

wood, painted white or some light colour. At every door stands a barrel

filled with water, to be ready in case of fire. Owing to the great

number of fishing-vessels and its considerable foreign trade, Bergen is

a much more lively and bustling place than either Christiania or

Drontheim. The streets are well populated, and the great square at the

head of the harbour is always thronged with a motley concourse of

fishermen, traders, and country people. Drunkenness seems to be a

leading vice. I saw, at least, fifty people, more or less intoxicated,

in the course of a short walk, one afternoon. The grog shops, however,

are rigidly closed at six o'clock on Saturday evening, and remain so

until Monday morning, any violation or evasion of the law being severely

punished. The same course has been adopted here as in Sweden; the price

of brandy has been doubled, by restrictions on its manufacture, and

every encouragement has been afforded to breweries. The beer of

Christiania is equal in flavour and purity to any in the world, and it

is now in great demand all over Norway.

The day after our arrival the sky cleared again, and we were favoured

with superb weather; which might well be the case, as the people told me

it had previously been raining every day for a month. The gardens,

groves, and lawns of velvet turf, so long moistened, now blazed out with

splendid effect in the hot August sunshine. "Is there such a green

anywhere else in the world?" asked my friend. "If anywhere, only in

England--but scarcely there," I was obliged to confess. Yet there was an

acquaintance of mine in Bergen, a Hammerfest merchant, who, in this

rare climax of summer beauty, looked melancholy and dissatisfied. "I

want to get back to the north," said he, "I miss our Arctic summer.

These dark nights are so disagreeable, that I am very tired of them.

There is nothing equal to our three months of daylight, and they alone

reconcile us to the winter." Who will say, after this, that anything

more than the fundamental qualities of human nature are the same in all

climates? But from the same foundation you may build either a Grecian

temple or a Chinese pagoda.

The lions of Bergen are soon disposed of. After you have visited the

fortress and admired the sturdy solidity of Walkendorf's Tower, you may

walk into the German church which stands open (or did, when we were

there), without a soul to prevent you from carrying off some of the

queer old carved work and pictures. The latter are hideous enough to be

perfectly safe, and the church, though exceedingly quaint and

interesting, is not beautiful. Then you may visit the museum, which

contains an excellent collection of northern fish, and some very curious

old furniture. The collection of antiquities is not remarkable; but it

should be remembered that the museum has been created within the last

twenty years, and is entirely the result of private taste and

enterprise. One of the most singular things I saw was a specimen (said

to be the only one in existence) of a fish called the "herring-king,"

about twelve feet in length by one in thickness, and with something of

the serpent in its appearance. The old Kraaken has not shown himself for

a number of years, possibly frightened away by the appearance of

steamers in his native waters. In spite of all the testimony which

Capell Brooke has collected in favour of his existence, he is fast

becoming a myth.

Bergen, we found, is antiquated in more respects than one. On sending

for horses, on the morning fixed for our departure, we were coolly told

that we should have to wait twenty-four hours; but after threatening to

put the law in force against the _skyds-skaffer_, he promised to bring

them by one o'clock in the afternoon. In this city of 30,000

inhabitants, no horses are kept in readiness at the post-station; but

are furnished by farmers somewhere at a distance. In the matter of

hotels, however, Bergen stands in the front rank of progress, rivalling

Christiania and Drontheim. The fare is not so good, and the charges are

equally high. There are two little inns, with five or six rooms each,

and one boarding-house of the same size. We could only get one small

room, into which all three were packed, at a charge of a dollar and a

quarter per day; while for two wretched meals we paid a dollar and a

half each. The reader may judge of our fare from the fact that one day

our soup was raspberry juice and water, and another time, cold beer,

flavoured with pepper and cinnamon. Add tough beafsteaks swimming in

grease and rancid butter, and you have the principal ingredients. For

the first time in my life I found my digestive powers unequal to the

task of mastering a new national diet.

CHAPTER XXX.

A TRIP TO THE VÖRING-FOSS.

After waiting only five hours, we obtained three horses and drove away

from Bergen. It was a superb afternoon, spotlessly blue overhead, with

still bluer water below, and hills of dark, velvety verdure throbbing

and sparkling in the sunshine, and the breezes from off the fjord. We

sped past the long line of suburban gardens, through the linden avenues,

which, somehow or other, suggested to me the days of the Hanseatic

League, past Tivoli, the Hoboken of Bergen, and on the summit of the

hill beyond stopped to take a parting look at the beautiful city. She

sat at the foot of her guardian mountain, across the lake, her white

towers and red roofs rising in sharp relief against the purple

background of the islands which protect her from the sea. In colour,

form, and atmospheric effect, the picture was perfect. Norway is

particularly fortunate in the position and surroundings of her three

chief cities. Bergen bears away the palm, truly, but either of them has

few rivals in Europe.

Our road led at first over well-cultivated hills dotted with

comfortable farmhouses--a rolling, broken country enclosed by rugged and

sterile groups of hills. After some miles we turned northward into a

narrow valley running parallel to the coast line. The afternoon sun,

shining over the shoulder of the mountain-ridge on our left, illuminated

with dazzling effect the green pastures in the bosom of the valley, and

the groves of twinkling birch and sombre fir on the opposite slope. I

have never seen purer tints in the sunshine--never a softer transparency

in the shadows. The landscape was ideal in its beauty, except the

houses, whose squalor and discomfort were real. Our first station lay

off the road, on a hill. A very friendly old man promised to get us

horses as soon as possible, and his wife set before us the best fare the

house afforded--milk, oaten shingles, and bad cheese. The house was

dirty, and the aspect of the family bed, which occupied one end of the

room, merely divided by boards into separate compartments for the

parents, children and servants was sufficient to banish sleep.

Notwithstanding the poverty of the place, the old woman set a good value

upon her choice provender. The horses were soon forthcoming, and the

man, whose apparent kindness increased every moment, said to me, "Have I

not done well? Is it not very well that I have brought you horses so

soon?" I assented cheerfully, but he still repeated the same questions,

and I was stupid enough not to discover their meaning, until he added;

"I have done everything so well, that you ought to give me something for

it." The naïve manner of this request made it seem reasonable, and I

gave him something accordingly, though a little disappointed, for I had

congratulated myself on finding at last a friendly and obliging

_skyds-skaffer_ (Postmaster) in Norway.

Towards evening we reached a little village on the shore of the

Osterfjord. Here the road terminated, and a water station of eighteen

miles in length lay before us. The fjords on the western coast of Norway

are narrow, shut in by lofty and abrupt mountains, and penetrate far

into the land--frequently to the distance of a hundred miles. The

general direction of the valleys is parallel to the line of the coast,

intersecting the fjords at nearly a right angle, so that they, in

connection with these watery defiles, divide the mountains into immense

irregular blocks, with very precipitous sides and a summit table-land

varying from two to four thousand feet above the sea level. For this

reason there is no continuous road in all western Norway, but alternate

links of land and water--boats and post-horses. The deepest fjords reach

very nearly to the spinal ridge of the mountain region, and a land-road

from Bergen to this line would be more difficult to construct than any

of the great highways across the Alps. In proportion to her population

and means, Norway has done more for roads than any country in the world.

Not only her main thoroughfares, but even her by-ways, give evidence of

astonishing skill, industry, and perseverance. The Storthing has

recently appropriated a sum of $188,000 for the improvement of roads, in

addition to the repairs which the farmers are obliged to make, and which

constitute almost their only tax, as there is no assessment whatever

upon landed property. There seems a singular incongruity, however, in

finding such an evidence of the highest civilisation, in connection with

the semi-barbaric condition of the people. Generally, the improvement

of the means of communication in a country is in the ratio of its social

progress.

As we were obliged to wait until morning before commencing our voyage,

we set about procuring supper and lodging. Some dirty beds in a dirty

upper room constituted the latter, but the former was a doubtful affair.

The landlord, who persisted in calling me "Dock," made a foraging

excursion among the houses, and, after some time, laid before us a

salted and smoked leg of mutton, some rancid butter, hard oaten bread,

and pestilential cheese. I ate as a matter of duty towards my body, but

my companions were less conscientious. We deserve no credit for having

risen early the next morning, neither was there any self-denial in the

fact of our being content with a single cup of coffee. The boatmen, five

in number, who had been engaged the evening before, took our carrioles

apart and stowed them in the stern, while we three disposed ourselves

very uneasily in the narrow bow. As we were about pushing off, one of

the men stepped upon a stone and shouted in a loud voice, "Come and help

us, fairies!"--whereat the others laughed heartily. The wind was against

us, but I thought the men hugged the shore much more than was necessary.

I noticed the same thing afterwards, and spoke of it, but they stated

that there were strong currents in these fjords, setting towards the

sea. The water, in fact, is but slightly brackish, and the ebb and flow

of the tides is hardly felt.

The scenery in the Osterfjord is superb. Mountains, 2000 feet high,

inclose and twist it between their interlocking bases. Cliffs of naked

rock overhang it, and cataracts fall into it in long zigzag chains of

foam. Here and there a little embayed dell rejoices with settlement and

cultivation, and even on the wildest steeps, where it seems almost

impossible for a human foot to find hold, the people scramble at the

hazard of their lives, to reap a scanty harvest of grass for the winter.

Goats pasture everywhere, and our boatmen took delight in making the

ewes follow us along the cliffs, by imitating the bleating of kids.

Towards noon we left the main body of the fjord and entered a narrow arm

which lay in eternal shadow under tremendous walls of dark rock. The

light and heat of noonday were tropical in their silent intensity,

painting the summits far above with dashes of fierce colour, while their

bases sank in blue gloom to meet the green darkness of the water. Again

and again the heights enclosed us, so that there was no outlet; but they

opened as if purposely to make way for us, until our keel grated the

pebbly barrier of a narrow valley, where the land road was resumed. Four

miles through this gap brought us to another branch of the same fjord,

where we were obliged to have our carrioles taken to pieces and shipped

for a short voyage.

At its extremity the fjord narrowed, and still loftier mountains

overhung it. Shut in by these, like some palmy dell in the heart of the

porphyry mountains of the Sahara, lay Bolstadören, a miracle of

greenness and beauty. A mantle of emerald velvet, falling in the softest

slopes and swells to the water's edge, was thrown upon the valley; the

barley had been cut and bound to long upright poles to dry, rising like

golden pillars from the shaven stubble; and, to crown all, above the

landing-place stood a two-story house, with a jolly fat landlord smoking

in the shade, and half-a-dozen pleasant-looking women gossiping

in-doors. "Can we get anything to eat?" was the first question. "The

gentlemen can have fresh salmon and potatoes, and red wine if they wish

it," answered the mistress. Of course we wished it; we wished for any

food clean enough to be eatable, and the promise of such fare was like

the falling of manna in the desert. The salmon, fresh from the stream,

was particularly fine; the fish here is so abundant that the landlord

had caught 962, as he informed us, in the course of one season.

We had but two miles of land before another sheet of water intervened,

and our carrioles were again taken to pieces. The postillions and

boatmen along this route were great scamps, frequently asking more than

the legal fare, and in one instance threatened to prevent us from going

on unless we paid it. I shall not bore the reader with accounts of our

various little squabbles on the road, all of which tended more and more

to convince us, that unless the Norwegians were a great deal more

friendly, kind, and honest a few years ago than they are now, they have

been more over-praised than any people in the world. I must say,

however, that they are bungling swindlers, and could only be successful

with the greenest of travellers. The moment an imposition is resisted,

and the stranger shows himself familiar with the true charges and

methods of travel, they give up the attempt; but the desire to cheat is

only less annoying to one than cheating itself. The fees for travelling

by _skyds_ are, it is true, disproportionably low, and in many instances

the obligation to furnish horses is no doubt an actual loss to the

farmer. Very often we would have willingly paid a small increase upon

the legal rates if it had been asked for as a favour; but when it was

boldly demanded as a right, and backed by a falsehood, we went not a

stiver beyond the letter of the law.

Landing at Evanger, an intelligent landlord, who had four brothers in

America, gave us return horses to Vossevangen, and we enjoyed the long

twilight of the warm summer evening, while driving along the hills which

overlook the valley connecting the lakes of Vossevangen and Evanger. It

was a lovely landscape, ripe with harvest, and the air full of mellow,

balmy odours from the flowers and grain. The black spire of Vossevangen

church, standing dark against the dawning moonlight, was the welcome

termination of our long day's journey, and not less welcome were our

clean and comfortable quarters in the house of a merchant there. Here we

left the main road across Norway, and made an excursion to the

Vöring-Foss, which lies beyond the Hardanger Fjord, about fifty miles

distant, in a south-eastern direction.

Vossevangen, in the splendour of a cloudless morning, was even more

beautiful than as a moonlit haven of repose. The compact little village

lay half buried in trees, clustered about the massive old church, with

its black, pointed tower, and roof covered with pitched shingles, in the

centre of the valley, while the mountains around shone bald and bright

through floating veils of vapour which had risen from the lake. The

people were all at work in the fields betimes, cutting and stacking the

barley. The grass-fields, cut smooth and close, and of the softest and

evenest green, seemed kept for show rather than for use. The bottom of

the valley along which we drove, was filled with an unbroken pine

forest, inclosing here and there a lake,

"Where Heaven itself, brought down to Earth,

Seemed fairer than above;"

while the opposite mountain rose rich with harvest fields and

farmhouses. There are similar landscapes between Fribourg and Vevay, in

Switzerland--finer, perhaps, except that all cultivated scenery in

Norway gains wonderfully in effect from the savage environment of the

barren fjelds. Here, cultivation is somewhat of a phenomenon, and a

rich, thickly settled valley strikes one with a certain surprise. The

Norwegians have been accused of neglecting agriculture; but I do not see

that much more could be expected of them. The subjugation of virgin

soil, as we had occasion to notice, is a serious work. At the best, the

grain harvests are uncertain, while fish are almost as sure as the

season; and so the surplus agricultural population either emigrates or

removes to the fishing grounds on the coast. There is, undoubtedly, a

considerable quantity of wild land which could be made arable, but the

same means, applied to the improvement of that which is at present under

cultivation, would accomplish far more beneficent results.

Leaving the valley, we drove for some time through pine forests, and

here, as elsewhere, had occasion to notice the manner in which this

source of wealth has been drained of late years. The trees were very

straight and beautiful, but there were none of more than middle age. All

the fine old timber had been cut away; all Norway, in fact, has been

despoiled in like manner, and the people are but just awaking to the

fact, that they are killing a goose which lays golden eggs. The

government, so prudently economical that it only allows $100,000 worth

of silver to be quarried annually in the mines of Kongsberg, lest the

supply should be exhausted, has, I believe, adopted measures for the

preservation of the forests; but I am not able to state their precise

character. Except in valleys remote from the rivers and fjords, one now

finds very little mature timber.

"The tallest pine,

Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast

Of some great admiral,"

I have not yet seen.

We at last came upon a little lake, in a close glen with walls 1000 feet

high. Not suspecting that we had ascended much above the sea-level, we

were surprised to see the gorge all at once open below us, revealing a

dark-blue lake, far down among the mountains. We stood on the brink of a

wall, over which the stream at our side fell in a "hank" of divided

cataracts. Our road was engineered with great difficulty to the bottom

of the steep, whence a gentler descent took us to the hamlet of

Vasenden, at the head of the lake. Beyond this there was no road for

carrioles, and we accordingly gave ours in charge of a bright, active

and intelligent little postmaster, twelve years old. He and his mother

then rowed us across the lake to the village of Graven, whence there was

a bridle-road across the mountains to a branch of the Hardanger Fjord.

They demanded only twelve skillings (ten cents) for the row of three

miles, and then posted off to a neighbouring farmhouse to engage horses

for us.

There was a neat white dwelling on the hill, which we took to be the

parsonage, but which proved to be the residence of an army captain on

leave, whom we found sitting in the door, cleaning his gun, as we

approached. He courteously ushered us into the house, and made his

appearance soon afterwards in a clean shirt, followed by his wife, with

wine and cakes upon a tray. I found him to be a man of more than

ordinary intelligence, and of an earnest and reflective turn of mind,

rare in men of his profession. He spoke chiefly of the passion for

emigration which now possesses the Norwegian farmers, considering it not

rendered necessary by their actual condition, but rather one of those

contagions which spread through communities and nations, overcoming

alike prudence and prejudice. He deplored it as retarding the

development of Norway. Personal interest, however, is everywhere

stronger than patriotism, and I see no signs of the emigration

decreasing for some years to come.

After waiting a considerable time, we obtained two horses and a

strapping farmer's son for guide. The fellow was delighted to find out

where we came from, and was continually shouting to the people in the

fields: "Here these are Americans: they were born there!" whereat the

people stared, saluted, and then stared again. He shouldered our packs

and marched beside the horses with the greatest ease. "You are strong,"

I remarked. "Yes," he replied, "I am a strong Normand," making his

patriotism an excuse for his personal pride. We had a terribly tough

pull up the mountain, through fine woods, to the summit level of the

fjeld. The view backwards, over the lake, was enchanting, and we

lingered long on the steep, loth to lose it. Turning again, a desolate

lake lay before us, heathery swells of the bleak table-land and distant

peaks, touched with snow. Once upon the broad, level summit of a

Norwegian fjeld, one would never guess what lovely valleys lie under

those misty breaks which separate its immense lobes--what gashes of life

and beauty penetrate its stony heart. There are, in fact, two Norways:

one above--a series of detached, irregular masses, bleak, snowy,

wind-swept and heather-grown, inhabited by herdsmen and hunters: and one

below--a ramification of narrow veins of land and water, with fields and

forests, highways and villages.

So, when we had traversed the upper land for several miles, we came to a

brink overlooking another branch of the lower land, and descended

through thick woods to the farms of Ulvik, on the Eyfjord, an arm of the

Hardanger. The shores were gloriously beautiful; slopes of dazzling turf

inclosed the bright blue water, and clumps of oak, ash, and linden, in

park-like groups, studded the fields. Low red farmhouses, each with its

hollow square of stables and granaries, dotted the hill-sides, and the

people, male and female, were everywhere out reaping the ripe barley and

piling it, pillar-wise, upon tall stakes. Owing to this circumstance we

were obliged to wait some time for oarsmen. There was no milk to be had,

nor indeed anything to eat, notwithstanding the signs of plenty on all

sides. My friend, wandering from house to house, at last discovered an

old man, who brought him a bowl of mead in exchange for a cigar. Late

in the afternoon two men came, put us into a shabby and leaky boat, and

pulled away slowly for Vik, ten miles distant.

The fjord was shut in by lofty and abrupt mountains, often interrupted

by deep lateral gorges. This is the general character of the Hardanger

Fjord, a broad winding sheet of water, with many arms, but whose extent

is diminished to the eye by the grandeur of its shores. Nothing can be

wilder or more desolate than this scenery, especially at the junction of

the two branches, where all signs of habitation are shut out of sight,

and one is surrounded by mighty precipices of dark-red rock, vanishing

away to the eastward in a gloomy defile. It was three hours and a half

before we reached Vik, at the head of a bay on the southern side. Here,

however, some English fishermen were quartered and we made sure of a

supper. The landlord, of course, received their superfluous salmon, and

they were not the men to spare a potato-field, so both were forthcoming,

and in the satisfaction of appeased hunger, we were willing to indorse

the opinion of a former English traveller in the guest's book: "This

place seems to me a paradise, although very probably it is not one." The

luxury of fishing, which I never could understand, has taught the

Norwegians to regard travellers as their proper prey. Why should a man,

they think, pay 50_l._ for the privilege of catching fish, which he

gives away as soon as caught, unless he don't know how else to get rid

of his money? Were it not that fishing in Norway includes pure air, hard

fare, and healthy exercise, I should agree with somebody's definition of

angling, "a rod with a fly at one end and a fool at the other;" but it

is all that, and besides furnished us with a good meal more than once;

wherefore I respect it.

We were now but eight miles from the Vöring-Foss, and set out betimes

the next morning, taking with us a bottle of red wine, some dry bread,

and Peder Halstensen as guide. I mention Peder particularly, because he

is the only jolly, lively, wide-awake, open-hearted Norwegian I have

ever seen. As rollicking as a Neapolitan, as chatty as an Andalusian,

and as frank as a Tyrolese, he formed a remarkable contrast to the men

with whom we had hitherto come in contact. He had long black hair,

wicked black eyes, and a mouth which laughed even when his face was at

rest. Add a capital tenor voice, a lithe, active frame, and something

irresistibly odd and droll in his motions, and you have his principal

points. We walked across the birch-wooded isthmus behind Vik to the

Eyfjordsvand, a lake about three miles long, which completely cuts off

the further valley, the mountains on either side falling to it in sheer

precipices 1000 feet high.

We embarked in a crazy, leaky boat, Peder pulling vigorously and

singing. "_Frie dig ved lifvet_" ("Life let us cherish"), with all the

contentment on his face which is expressed in Mozart's immortal melody.

"Peder," said I, "do you know the national song of Norway?" "I should

think so," was his answer, stopping short in the midst of a wild

fjeld-song, clearing his throat, and singing with a fervour and

enthusiasm which rang wide over the lonely lake:--

"Minstrel, awaken the harp from its slumbers,

Strike for old Norway, the land of the free!

High and heroic, in soul-stirring numbers,

Clime of our fathers, we strike it for thee!

Old recollections awake our affections--

Hallow the name of the land of our birth;

Each heart beats its loudest, each cheek glows its proudest,

For Norway the ancient, the throne of the earth!"[D]

"Dost thou know," said he, becoming more familiar in his address, "that

a lawyer (by the name of Bjerregaard) wrote this song, and the Storthing

at Christiania gave him a hundred specie dollars for it. That was not

too much, was it?" "No," said I, "five hundred dollars would have been

little enough for such a song." "Yes, yes, that it would," was his

earnest assent; and as I happened at that moment to ask whether we could

see the peaks of the Halling Jökeln, he commenced a soeter-song of life

on the lofty fjeld--a song of snow, and free winds, and blue sky. By

this time we had reached the other end of the lake, where, in the midst

of a little valley of rich alluvial soil, covered with patches of barley

and potatoes, stood the hamlet of Sæbö. Here Peder procured a horse for

my friend, and we entered the mouth of a sublime gorge which opened to

the eastward--a mere split in the mighty ramparts of the

Hardanger-Fjeld. Peder was continually shouting to the people in the

fields: "Look here! These are Americans, these two, and the other one is

a German! This one talks Norsk, and the others don't."

We ascended the defile by a rough footpath, at first through alder

thickets, but afterwards over immense masses of rocky ruin, which had

tumbled from the crags far above, and almost blocked up the valley. For

silence, desolation, and awful grandeur, this defile equals any of the

Alpine passes. In the spring, when the rocks, split by wedges of ice,

disengage themselves from the summit, and thunder down upon the piled

wrecks of ages, it must be terribly sublime. A bridge, consisting of two

logs spanned across abutments of loose stones, and vibrating strongly

under our tread, took us over the torrent. Our road, for some distance

was now a mere staircase, scrambling up, down, under, over, and between

the chaos of sundered rocks. A little further, and the defile shut in

altogether, forming a _cul de sac_ of apparently perpendicular walls,

from 2000 to 3000 feet high. "How are we to get out of this?" I asked

Peder. "Yonder," said he, pointing to the inaccessible summit in front.

"But where does the stream come from?" "That you will soon see." Lo! all

at once a clean split from top to bottom disclosed itself in the wall on

our left, and in passing its mouth we had a glimpse up the monstrous

chasm, whose dark-blue sides, falling sheer 3000 feet, vanished at the

bottom in eternal gloom and spray.

Crossing the stream again, we commenced ascending over the débris of

stony avalanches, the path becoming steeper and steeper, until the

far-off summit almost hung over our heads. It was now a zigzag ladder,

roughly thrown together, but very firm. The red mare which my friend

rode climbed it like a cat, never hesitating, even at an angle of 50°,

and never making a false step. The performance of this noble animal was

almost incredible. I should never have believed a horse capable of such

gymnastics, had I not seen it with my own eyes, had I not mounted her

myself at the most difficult points, in order to test her powers. You,

who have climbed the _Mayenwand_, in going from the glacier of the Rhone

to the Grimsel, imagine a slant higher, steeper, and composed of loose

rocks, and you will have an exact picture of our ascent. We climbed

well; and yet it took us just an hour and a half to reach the summit.

We were now on the great plateau of the Hardanger Fjeld, 2500 feet above

the sea. A wild region lay before us--great swells, covered with

heather, sweeping into the distance and given up to solitude and

silence. A few isolated peaks, streaked with snow, rose from this upper

level; and a deep break on our left revealed the top of the chasm

through which the torrent made its way. At its extremity, a mile or more

distant, rose a light cloud of vapour, seeming close at hand in the thin

mountain air. The thick, spongy soil, not more than two feet deep, rests

on a solid bed of rock,--the entire Hardanger Fjeld, in fact, is but a

single rock,--and is therefore always swampy. Whortleberries were

abundant, as well as the multeberry (_Rubus chamoemorus_), which I have

found growing in Newfoundland; and Peder, running off on the hunt of

them, was continually leading us astray. But at last, we approached the

wreath of whirling spray, and heard the hollow roar of the Vöring-Foss.

The great chasm yawned before us; another step, and we stood on the

brink. I seized the branch of a tough pine sapling as a support and

leaned over. My head did not swim; the height was too great for that,

the impression too grand and wonderful. The shelf of rock on which I

stood projected far out over a gulf 1200 feet deep, whose opposite side

rose in one great escarpment from the bottom to a height of 800 feet

above my head. On this black wall, wet with eternal spray, was painted a

splendid rainbow, forming two thirds of a circle before it melted into

the gloom below. A little stream fell in one long thread of silver from

the very summit, like a plumb-line dropped to measure the 2000 feet. On

my right hand the river, coming down from the level of the fjeld in a

torn, twisted, and boiling mass, reached the brink of the gulf at a

point about 400 feet below me, whence it fell in a single sheet to the

bottom, a depth of between 800 and 900 feet.

Could one view it from below, this fall would present one of the

grandest spectacles in the world. In height, volume of water, and

sublime surroundings it has no equal. The spectator, however, looks down

upon it from a great height above its brink, whence it is so

foreshortened that he can only guess its majesty and beauty. By lying

upon your belly and thrusting your head out beyond the roots of the

pines, you can safely peer into the dread abyss, and watch, through the

vortex of whirling spray in its tortured womb, the starry coruscations

which radiate from the bottom of the fall, like rockets of water

incessantly exploding. But this view, sublime as it is, only whets your

desire to stand below, and see the river, with its sprayey crest shining

against the sky, make but one leap from heaven to hell. Some persons

have succeeded, by entering the chasm at its mouth in the valley below,

in getting far enough to see a portion of the fall, the remainder being

concealed by a projecting rock; and the time will come, no doubt, when

somebody will have energy enough to carry a path to its very foot. I

envy the travellers who will then visit the Vöring-Foss.

A short distance above the fall there are a few cabins inhabited by

soeters, or herdsmen, whither we repaired to procure some fresh milk.

The house was rude and dirty; but the people received us in a friendly

manner. The powerful housewife laid aside her hay-rake, and brought us

milk which was actually sweet (a rare thing in Norway,) dirty, but not

rancid butter, and tolerable cheese. When my friend asked for water, she

dipped a pailful from a neighbouring stream, thick with decayed moss and

vegetable mould, and handed it to him. He was nice enough to pick out a

rotten root before drinking, which one of the children snatched up from

the floor and ate. Yet these people did not appear to be in want; they

were healthy, cheerful, and contented; and their filthy manner of living

was the result of sheer indolence and slovenliness. There was nothing to

prevent them from being neat and comfortable, even with their scanty

means; but the good gifts of God are always spoiled and wasted in dirty

hands.

When we opened our bottle of wine, an exquisite aroma diffused itself

through the room--a mingled smell of vine blossoms and ripe grapes. How

could the coarse vintage sent to the North, watered and chemically

doctored as it is, produce such a miracle? We tasted--superb old Chateau

Latour, from the sunniest hill of Bordeaux! By whatever accident it had

wandered thither, it did not fall into unappreciative hands. Even Brita

Halstendsdatter Höl, the strong housewife, smacked her lips over the

glass which she drank after sitting to me for her portrait.

When the sketch was completed, we filled the empty bottle with milk and

set out on our return.

FOOTNOTES:

[D] Latham's translation.

XXXI.

SKETCHES FROM THE BERGENSTIFT.

Our return from the Vöring-Foss to the hamlet of Sæbö was accomplished

without accident or particular incident. As we were crossing the

Eyfjordsvand, the stillness of the savage glen, yet more profound in the

dusk of evening, was broken by the sudden thunder of a slide in some

valley to the eastward. Peder stopped in the midst of "_Frie dig ved

lifvet_" and listened. "Ho!" said he, "the spring is the time when the

rocks come down, but that sounds like a big fellow, too." Peder was not

so lively on the way back, not because he was fatigued, for in showing

us how they danced on the fjeld, he flung himself into the air in a

marvellous manner, and turned over twice before coming down, but partly

because he had broken our bottle of milk, and partly because there was

something on his mind. I waited patiently, knowing that it would come

out at last, as indeed it did. "You see," said he, hesitatingly, "some

travellers give a drink-money to the guide. It isn't an obligation, you

know; but then some give it. Now, if you should choose to give me

anything, don't pay it to the landlord for me, because then I won't get

it. You are not bound to do so you know but _some_ travellers do it,

and I don't know but you might also. Now, if you should, give it

directly to me, and then I will have it." When we reached Vik, we called

Peder aside and gave him three marks. "Oh, you must pay your bill to the

landlord," said he. "But that is your drink-money," I explained. "That?"

he exclaimed; "it is not possible! _Frie dig ved lifvet_," &c., and so

he sang, cut a pigeon-wing or two, and proceeded to knot and double knot

the money in a corner of his pocket-handkerchief.

"Come and take a swim!" said Peder, reappearing. "I can swim ever since

I fell into the water. I tumbled off the pier, you must know, and down I

went. Everything became black before my eyes; and I thought to myself,

'Peder, this is the end of you.' But I kicked and splashed nevertheless,

until my eyes opened again, wide enough to see where a rope was. Well,

after I found I could fall into the water without drowning, I was not

afraid to swim." In fact, Peder now swam very well, and floundered about

with great satisfaction in the ice cold water. A single plunge was all I

could endure. After supper the landlady came in to talk to me about

America. She had a son in California, and a daughter in Wisconsin, and

showed me their daguerreotypes and some bits of gold with great pride.

She was a stout, kindly, motherly body, and paid especial attention to

our wants on finding where we came from. Indeed we were treated in the

most friendly manner by these good people, and had no reason to complain

of our reckoning on leaving. This experience confirms me in the belief

that honesty and simplicity may still be characteristics of the

Norwegians in the more remote parts of the country.

We bade a cordial farewell to Vik next morning, and set off on our

return, in splendid sunshine. Peder was in the boat, rejoiced to be with

us again; and we had no sooner gotten under way, than he began singing,

"_Frie dig ved lifvet_." It was an intensely hot day, and the shores of

Ulvik were perfectly dazzling. The turf had a silken gloss; the trees

stood darkly and richly green, and the water was purest sapphire. "It is

a beautiful bay, is it not?" said the farmer who furnished us with

horses, after we had left the boat and were slowly climbing the fjeld. I

thought I had never seen a finer; but when heaven and earth are in

entire harmony, when form, colour and atmosphere accord like some rich

swell of music, whatever one sees is perfect. Hence I shall not say how

beautiful the bay of Ulvik was to me, since under other aspects the

description would not be true.

The farmer's little daughter, however, who came along to take back one

of the horses, would have been a pleasant apparition at any time and in

any season. She wore her Sunday dress, consisting of a scarlet boddice

over a white chemise, green petticoat, and white apron, while her

shining flaxen hair was plaited into one long braid with narrow strips

of crimson and yellow cloth and then twisted like a garland around her

head. She was not more than twelve or thirteen years old, but tall,

straight as a young pine, and beautifully formed, with the promise of

early maidenhood in the gentle swell of her bosom. Her complexion was

lovely--pink, brightened with sunburnt gold,--and her eyes like the

blossoms of the forget-me-not, in hue. In watching her firm yet graceful

tread, as she easily kept pace with the horse, I could not realise that

in a few more years she would probably be no more graceful and beautiful

than the women at work in the fields--coarse, clumsy shapes, with frowzy

hair, leathery faces, and enormous hanging breasts.

In the Bergenstift, however, one sometimes sees a pretty face; and the

natural grace of the form is not always lost. About Vossevangen, for

instance, the farmers' daughters are often quite handsome; but beauty,

either male or female, is in Norway the rarest apparition. The grown-up

women, especially after marriage, are in general remarkably plain.

Except among some of the native tribes of Africa, I have nowhere seen

such overgrown, loose, pendant breasts as among them. This is not the

case in Sweden, where, if there are few beauties, there are at least a

great many passable faces. There are marked differences in the blood of

the two nations; and the greater variety of feature and complexion in

Norway seems to indicate a less complete fusion of the original stocks.

We were rowed across the Graven Lake by an old farmer, who wore the

costume of the last century,--a red coat, _à la_ Frederic the Great,

long waistcoat, and white knee-breeches. He demanded double the lawful

fare, which, indeed, was shamefully small; and we paid him without

demur. At Vasenden we found our carrioles and harness in good condition,

nothing having been abstracted except a ball of twine. Horses were in

waiting, apparently belonging to some well-to-do farmer; for the boys

were well dressed, and took especial care of them. We reached the

merchant's comfortable residence at Vossevangen before sunset, and made

amends on his sumptuous fare for the privations of the past three days.

We now resumed the main road between Christiania and Bergen. The same

cloudless days continued to dawn upon us. For one summer, Norway had

changed climates with Spain. Our oil-cloths were burnt up and cracked by

the heat, our clothes covered with dust, and our faces became as brown

as those of Bedouins. For a week we had not a cloud in the sky; the

superbly clear days belied the old saying of "weather-breeders."

Our road, on leaving Vossevangen, led through pine-forests, following

the course of a stream up a wild valley, enclosed by lofty mountains.

Some lovely cataracts fell from the steep on our left; but this is the

land of cataracts and there is many a one, not even distinguished by a

name, which would be renowned in Switzerland. I asked my postillion the

name of the stream beside us. "Oh," said he, "it has none; it is not big

enough!" He wanted to take us all the way through to Gudvangen,

twenty-eight miles, on our paying double fare, predicting that we would

be obliged to wait three hours for fresh horses at each intermediate

station. He waited some time at Tvinde, the first station, in the hope

that we would yield, but departed suddenly in a rage on seeing that the

horses were already coming. At this place, a stout young fellow, who had

evidently been asleep, came out of the house and stood in the door

staring at us with open mouth for a full hour. The postmaster sat on the

step and did likewise. It was the height of harvest-time, and the

weather favourable almost to a miracle; yet most of the harvesters lay

upon their backs under the trees as we passed. The women appeared to do

most of the out-door, as well as the in-door work. They are certainly

far more industrious than the men, who, judging from what I saw of them,

are downright indolent Evidences of slow, patient, plodding toil, one

sees truly; but active industry, thrift, and honest ambition, nowhere.

The scenery increased in wildness and roughness as we proceeded. The

summit of Hvitnaset (White-nose) lifted its pinnacles of grey rock over

the brow of the mountains on the north, and in front, pale, blue-grey

peaks, 5000 feet high, appeared on either hand. The next station was a

village of huts on the side of a hill. Everybody was in the fields

except one woman, who remained to take charge of the station. She was a

stupid creature, but had a proper sense of her duty; for she started at

full speed to order horses, and we afterwards found that she must have

run full three English miles in the space of half an hour. The

emigration to America from this part of Bergenstift has been very great,

and the people exhibited much curiosity to see and speak with us.

The scenery became at the same time more barren and more magnificent, as

we approached the last station, Stalheim, which is a miserable little

village at the head of the famous Naerödal. Our farmer-postillion wished

to take us on to Gudvangen with the same horses, urging the same reasons

as the former one. It would have been better if we had accepted his

proposal; but our previous experience had made us mistrustful. The man

spoke truth, however; hour after hour passed away, and the horses came

not. A few miserable people collected about us, and begged money. I

sketched the oldest, ugliest and dirtiest of them, as a specimen, but

regretted it afterwards, as his gratitude on receiving a trifle for

sitting, obliged me to give him my hand. Hereupon another old fellow,

not quite so hideous, wanted to be taken also. "Lars," said a woman to

the former, "are you not ashamed to have so ugly a face as yours go to

America?" "Oh," said he, "it does not look so ugly in the book." His

delight on getting the money created some amusement. "Indeed," he

protested, "I am poor, and want it; and you need not laugh."

The last gush of sunset was brightening the tops of the savage fjeld

when the horses arrived. We had waited two hours and three quarters and

I therefore wrote a complaint in the post-book in my best Norsk. From

the top of a hill beyond the village, we looked down into the Naerödal.

We stood on the brink of a tremendous wall about a thousand feet above

the valley. On one side, the stream we had been following fell in a

single cascade 400 feet; on the other, a second stream, issuing from

some unseen defile, flung its several ribbons of foam from nearly an

equal height. The valley, or rather gorge, disappeared in front between

mountains of sheer rock, which rose to the height of 3000 feet. The

road--a splendid specimen of engineering--was doubled back and forth

around the edge of a spur projecting from the wall on which we stood,

and so descended to the bottom. Once below, our carrioles rolled rapidly

down the gorge, which was already dusky with twilight. The stream, of

the most exquisite translucent azure-green colour, rolled between us;

and the mountain crests towered so far above, that our necks ached as we

looked upwards. I have seen but one valley which in depth and sublimity

can equal the Naerödal--the pass of the Taurus, in Asia Minor, leading

from Cappadocia into Cilicia. In many places the precipices were 2000

feet in perpendicular height; and the streams of the upper fjeld,

falling from the summits, lost themselves in evanescent water-dust

before they reached the bottom. The bed of the valley was heaped with

fragments of rock; which are loosed from above with every returning

spring.

It was quite dark before we reached Gudvangen, thoroughly tired and as

hungry as wolves. My postillion, on hearing me complain, pulled a piece

of dry mutton out of his pocket and gave it to me. He was very anxious

to learn whether brandy and tobacco were as dear in America as in

Norway; if so, he did not wish to emigrate. A stout girl had charge of

Braisted's horse; the female postillions always fell to his lot. She

complained of hard work and poor pay, and would emigrate if she had the

money. At Gudvangen we had a boat journey of thirty-five miles before

us, and therefore engaged two boats with eight oarsmen for the morrow.

The people tried hard to make us take more, but we had more than the

number actually required by law, and, as it turned out, quite as many as

were necessary. Travellers generally supply themselves with brandy for

the use of their boatmen, from an idea that they will be stubborn and

dilatory without it. We did so in no single instance; yet our men were

always steady and cheerful.

We shipped our carrioles and sent them off in the larger boat, delaying

our own departure until we had fortified ourselves with a good

breakfast, and laid in some hard bread and pork omelette, for the day.

The Gudvangen Fjord, down which we now glided over the glassy water, is

a narrow mountain avenue of glorious scenery. The unseen plateaus of the

Blaa and Graa Fjelds, on either hand, spilled their streams over

precipices from 1000 to 2000 feet in height, above whose cornices shot

the pointed summits of bare grey rock, wreathed in shifting clouds, 4000

feet above the sea. Pine-trees feathered the less abrupt steeps, with

patches of dazzling turf here and there; and wherever a gentler slope

could be found in the coves, stood cottages surrounded by potato-fields

and ripe barley stacked on poles. Not a breath of air rippled the dark

water, which was a perfect mirror to the mountains and the strip of sky

between them, while broad sheets of morning sunshine, streaming down the

breaks in the line of precipices, interrupted with patches of fiery

colour the deep, rich, transparent gloom of the shadows. It was an

enchanted voyage until we reached the mouth of the Aurlands Fjord,

divided from that of Gudvangen by a single rocky buttress 1000 feet

high. Beyond this point the watery channel is much broader, and the

shores diminish in grandeur as they approach the Sogne Fjord, of which

this is but a lateral branch.

I was a little disappointed in the scenery of Sogne Fjord, The mountains

which enclose it are masses of sterile rock, neither lofty nor bold

enough in their forms to make impression, after the unrivalled scenery

through which we had passed. The point of Vangnæs, a short distance to

the westward, is the "Framnæs" of Frithiof's Saga, and I therefore

looked towards it with some interest, for the sake of that hero and his

northern lily, Ingeborg. There are many bauta-stones still standing on

the shore, but one who is familiar with Tegner's poem must not expect

to find his descriptions verified, either in scenery or tradition. On

turning eastward, around the point of Fronningen, we were surprised by

the sudden appearance of two handsome houses, with orchards and gardens,

on the sunny side of the bank. The vegetation, protected in some degree

from the sea-winds, was wonderfully rich and luxuriant. There were now

occasional pine-woods on the southern shore, but the general aspect of

this fjord is bleak and desolate. In the heat and breathless silence of

noonday, the water was like solid crystal. A faint line, as if drawn

with a pencil along the bases of the opposite mountains, divided them

from the equally perfect and palpable mountains inverted below them. In

the shadows near us, it was quite impossible to detect the boundary

between the substance and its counterpart. In the afternoon we passed

the mouth of the northern arms of the fjord, which strike into the heart

of the wildest and grandest region of Norway; the valley of Justedal,

with its tremendous glaciers, the snowy teeth of the Hurunger, and the

crowning peaks of the Skagtolstind. Our course lay down the other arm,

to Lærdalsören, at the head of the fjord. By five o'clock it came in

sight, at the mouth of a valley opening through the barren flanks on the

Fille Fjeld. We landed, after a voyage of ten hours, and found welcome

signs of civilisation in a neat but exorbitant inn.

Our boatmen, with the exception of stopping half an hour for breakfast,

had pulled steadily the whole time. We had no cause to be dissatisfied

with them, while they were delighted with the moderate gratuity we gave

them. They were tough, well-made fellows, possessing a considerable

amount of endurance, but less actual strength than one would suspect.

Braisted, who occasionally tried his hand at an oar, could pull them

around with the greatest ease. English travellers whom I have met inform

me that in almost every trial they find themselves stronger than the

Norwegians. This is probably to be accounted for by their insufficient

nourishment. Sour milk and oaten bread never yet fed an athlete. The

proportions of their bodies would admit of fine muscular development;

and if they cannot do what their Viking ancestors once did, it is

because they no longer live upon the spoils of other lands, as they.

CHAPTER XXXII.

HALLINGDAL--THE COUNTRY-PEOPLE OF NORWAY.

There are two roads from Lærdalsören to Christiania, the eastern one

passing through the districts of Valders and Hadeland, by way of the

Little Miösen Lake and the Randsfjord, while the western, after crossing

the Fille Fjeld, descends the long Hallingdal to Ringerike. In point of

scenery there is little difference between them; but as we intended

visiting the province of Tellemark, in Southern Norway, we chose the

latter. The valley of the Fille Fjeld, which we entered on leaving

Lærdalsören, is enclosed by wild, barren mountains, more isolated and

irregular in their forms than the Hardanger and Dovre Fjelds. There were

occasional precipices and dancing waterfalls, but in general the same

tameness and monotony we had found on the Sogne Fjord. Down the bed of

the valley flowed a large rapid stream, clear as crystal, and of a

beautiful beryl tint. The cultivation was scanty; and the potato fields,

utterly ruined by disease, tainted the air with sickening effluvia. The

occasional forests on the hill-sides were of fir and birch, while

poplar, ash, and linden grew in the valley. The only fruit-trees I saw

were some sour red cherries.

But in the splendour of the day, this unfriendly valley shone like a

dell of the Apennines. Not a cloud disturbed the serenity of the sky;

the brown grass and yellow moss on the mountains were painted with sunny

gold, and the gloss and sparkle of the foliage equalled that of the

Italian ilex and laurel. On the second stage a new and superb road

carried us through the rugged defile of Saltenaaset. This pass is

evidently the effect of some mighty avalanche thousands of ages ago. The

valley is blocked up by tremendous masses of rock, hurled one upon the

other in the wildest confusion, while the shattered peaks from which

they fell still tower far above. Threading this chaos in the shadow of

the rocks, we looked across the glen upon a braided chain of foam,

twisted together at the end into a long white cascade, which dropped

into the gulf below. In another place, a rainbow meteor suddenly flashed

across the face of a dark crag, betraying the dusty spray of a fall,

else invisible.

On the third stage the road, after mounting a difficult steep, descended

into the valley of Borgund, in which stands most probably the most

ancient church in Norway. It is a singular, fantastic structure,

bristling with spiky spires and covered with a scale armour of black

pitched shingles. It is certainly of no more recent date than the

twelfth century, and possibly of the close of the eleventh. The

architecture shows the Byzantine style in the rounded choir and the

arched galleries along the sides, the Gothic in the windows and pointed

gables, and the horned ornaments on the roof suggest the pagan temples

of the ante-Christian period. A more grotesque affair could hardly be

found in Christendom; it could only be matched among the monstrosities

of Chinese art. With the exception of the church of Hitterdal, in

Tellemark, a building of similar date, this is the best preserved of the

few antiquities of Norway. The entire absence of feudal castles is a

thing to be noticed. Serfdom never existed here, and one result of this

circumstance, perhaps, is the ease with which institutions of a purely

republican stamp have been introduced.

Our road still proceeded up the bottom of a rough barren valley,

crossing stony headlands on either side. At the station of Haug our

course turned to the south-east, climbing a slope leading to the plateau

of the Fille Fjeld--a severe pull for our horses in the intense heat.

The birch woods gradually diminished in size until they ceased

altogether, and the naked plain stretched before us. In this upper land

the air was delicious and inspiring. We were more than 3000 feet above

the sea, but the summits to the right and left, with their soft gleams

of pale gray, lilac and purple hues in the sunshine, and pure blue in

shadow, rose to the height of 6000. The heat of the previous ten days

had stripped them bare of snow, and the landscape was drear and

monotonous. The summits of the Norwegian Fjelds have only the charm of

wildness and bleakness. I doubt whether any mountains of equal height

exhibit less grandeur in their upper regions. The most imposing features

of Norwegian scenery are its deep valleys, its tremendous gorges with

their cataracts, flung like banners from steeps which seem to lean

against the very sky, and, most of all, its winding, labyrinthine

fjords--valleys of the sea, in which the phenomena of the valleys of the

land are repeated. I found no scenery in the Bergenstift of so original

and impressive a character as that of the Lofoden Isles.

The day was Sunday, and we, of course, expect to see some evidence of it

in the appearance of the people. Yet, during the whole day, we found but

one clean person--the hostess of an inn on the summit of Fille Fjeld,

where we stopped to bait our horses. She was a young fresh-faced woman,

in the first year of her wifehood, and her snowy chemise and tidy

petticoat made her shine like a star among the dirty and frowzy

creatures in the kitchen. I should not forget a boy, who was washing his

face in a brook as we passed; but he was young, and didn't know any

better. Otherwise the people lounged about the houses, or sat on the

rocks in the sun, filthy, and something else, to judge from certain

signs. At Haug, forgetting that it was a fast station, where there is no

_tilsigelse_ (money for ordering horses) to be paid, I handed the usual

sum to the landlady, saying: "This is for _tilsigelse_." "It is quite

right," said she, pocketing the coin.

Skirting an azure lake, we crossed the highest part of the pass, nearly

four thousand feet above the sea, and descended a naked valley to the

inn of Bjöberg. The landlord received us very cordially; and as the inn

promised tolerable accommodation, he easily persuaded us to stop there

for the night. His wife wore a frightful costume, which we afterwards

found to prevail throughout all Hemsedal and Hallingdal. It consisted

simply of a band across the shoulders, above the breasts, passing around

the arms and over the back of the neck, with an immense baggy, dangling

skirt hanging therefrom to the ancles. Whether she was fat or lean,

straight or crooked, symmetrical or deformed, it was impossible to

discern, except when the wind blew. The only thing to be said in favour

of such a costume is, that it does not impede the development and

expansion of the body in any direction. Hence I would strongly recommend

its adoption to the advocates of reform in feminine dress at home. There

is certainly none of that weight upon the hips, of which they complain

in the fashionable costume. It is far more baggy, loose, and hideous

than the Bloomer, with the additional advantage of making all ages and

styles of beauty equally repulsive, while on the score of health and

convenience, there is still less to be said against it. Do not stop at

half-way measures, oh, fair reformers!

It seems incredible that, in a pastoral country like Norway, it should

be almost impossible to procure sweet milk and good butter. The cattle

are of good quality, there is no better grass in the world; and the only

explanation of the fact is to be found in the general want of

cleanliness, especially among the inhabitants of the mountain districts,

which are devoted to pasturage alone. Knowing this, one wonders the less

to see no measures taken for a supply of water in the richer

grain-growing valleys, where it is so easily procurable. At Bjöberg, for

instance, there was a stream of delicious water flowing down the hill,

close beside the inn, and four bored pine-trunks would have brought it

to the very door; but, instead of that, the landlady whirled off to the

stream in her revolving dress, to wash the dishes, or to bring us half a

pint to wash ourselves. We found water much more abundant the previous

winter in Swedish Lapland.

Leaving Bjöberg betimes, we drove rapidly down Hemsedal, enjoying the

pure delicious airs of the upper fjeld. The scenery was bleak and grey;

and even the soft pencil of the morning sun failed to impart any charm

to it, except the nameless fascination of utter solitude and silence.

The valley descends so gradually that we had driven two Norsk miles

before the fir-forests in its bed began to creep up the mountain-sides.

During the second stage we passed the remarkable peak of Saaten, on the

opposite side of the valley--the end or cape of a long projecting ridge,

terminating in a scarped cliff, from the very summit of which fell a

cascade from three to four hundred feet in height. Where the water came

from, it was impossible to guess, unless there were a large deposit of

snow in the rear; for the mountains fell away behind Saaten, and the

jagged, cleft headland rose alone above the valley. It was a strange and

fantastic feature of the landscape, and, to me, a new form in the

repertory of mountain aspects.

We now drove, through fir-woods balmy with warm resinous odours, to

Ekre, where we had ordered breakfast by _förbud_. The morning air had

given us a healthy appetite; but our spirits sank when the only person

at the station, a stupid girl of twenty, dressed in the same bulging,

hideous sack, informed us that nothing was to be had. After some

persuasion she promised us coffee, cheese, and bread, which came in due

time; but with the best will we found it impossible to eat anything. The

butter was rather black than yellow, the cheese as detestable to the

taste as to the smell, the bread made apparently of saw-dust, with a

slight mixture of oat-bran, and the coffee muddy dregs, with some sour

cream in a cup, and sugar-candy which appeared to have been sucked and

then dropped in the ashes. The original colour of the girl's hands was

barely to be distinguished through their coating of dirt; and all of us,

tough old travellers as we were, sickened at the sight of her. I verily

believe that the poorer classes of the Norwegians are the filthiest

people in Europe. They are even worse than the Lapps, for their habits

of life allow them to be clean.

After passing Ekre, our view opened down the valley, over a wild stretch

of wooded hills, to the blue mountain folds of the Hallingdal, which

crosses the Hemsedal almost at right angles, and receives its tributary

waters. The forms of the mountains are here more gradual; and those

grand sweeps and breaks which constitute the peculiar charms of the

scenery of the Bergenstift are met with no longer. We had a hot ride to

the next station, where we were obliged to wait nearly an hour in the

kitchen, our _förbud_ not having been forwarded from the former station

as soon as the law allowed us to expect. A strapping boy of eighteen

acted as station master. His trowsers reached considerably above his

shoulder blades, leaving barely room for a waistcoat, six inches long,

to be buttoned over his collar bone. The characteristic costumes of

Norway are more quaint and picturesque in the published illustrations

than in the reality, particularly those of Hemsedal. My postillion to

this station was a communicative fellow, and gave me some information

about the value of labour. A harvest-hand gets from one mark (twenty-one

cents) to one and a half daily, with food, or two marks without. Most

work is paid by the job; a strong lumber-man may make two and a half

marks when the days are long, at six skillings (five cents) a tree--a

plowman two marks. In the winter the usual wages of labourers are two

marks a week, with board. Shoemakers, tailors, and other mechanics

average about the same daily. When one considers the scarcity of good

food, and the high price of all luxuries, especially tobacco and brandy,

it does not seem strange that the emigration fever should be so

prevalent. The Norwegians have two traits in common with a large class

of Americans--rampant patriotism and love of gain; but they cannot so

easily satisfy the latter without sacrificing the former.

From the village of Göl, with its dark pretty church, we descended a

steep of many hundred feet, into Hallingdal, whose broad stream flashed

blue in the sunshine far below us. The mountains were now wooded to

their very summits; and over the less abrupt slopes, ripe oats and

barley-fields made yellow spots of harvest among the dark forests. By

this time we were out of smoking material, and stopped at the house of a

_landhandlare_, or country merchant, to procure a supply. A riotous

sound came from the door as we approached. Six or eight men, all more or

less drunk, and one woman, were inside, singing, jumping, and howling

like a pack of Bedlamites. We bought the whole stock of tobacco,

consisting of two cigars, and hastened out of the den. The last station

of ten miles was down the beautiful Hallingdal, through a country which

seemed rich by contrast with Hemsedal and the barren fjeld. Our

stopping-place was the village of Næs, which we reached in a famished

condition, having eaten nothing all day. There were two _landhandlare_

in the place, with one of whom we lodged. Here we found a few signs of

Christianity, such as gardens and decent dresses; but both of the

merchant's shops swarmed with rum-drinkers.

I had written, and sent off from Bjöberg, _förbud_ tickets for every

station as far as Kongsberg. By the legal regulations, the

_skyds-skaffer_ is obliged to send forward such tickets as soon as

received, the traveller paying the cost thereof on his arrival.

Notwithstanding we had given our _förbud_ twelve hours' start, and had

punctually paid the expense at every station, we overtook it at Næs. The

postmaster came to know whether we would have it sent on by special

express, or wait until some traveller bound the same way would take it

for us. I ordered it to be sent immediately, astounded at such a

question, until, making the acquaintance of a Scotchman and his wife,

who had arrived in advance of us, the mystery was solved. They had spent

the night at the first station beyond Bjöberg, where our _förbud_

tickets were given to them, with the request that they would deliver

them. They had punctually done so as far as Næs, where the people had

endeavoured to prevent them from stopping for the night, insisting that

they were bound to go on and carry the _förbud_. The cool impudence of

this transaction reached the sublime. At every station that day, pay had

been taken for service unperformed, and it was more than once demanded

twice over.

We trusted the repeated assurance of the postmaster at Næs, that our

tickets had been forwarded at once, and paid him accordingly. But at the

first station next morning we found that he had not done so; and this

interlinked chain of swindling lasted the whole day. We were obliged to

wait an hour or two at every post, to pay for messengers who probably

never went, and then to resist a demand for payment at the other end of

the station. What redress was there? We might indeed have written a

complaint in imperfect Norsk, which would be read by an inspector a

month afterwards; or perhaps it would be crossed out as soon as we left,

as we saw done in several cases. Unless a traveller is very well versed

in the language and in the laws relating to the _skyds_ system, he has

no defence against imposition, and even in such a case, he can only

obtain redress through delay. The system can only work equitably when

the people are honest; and perhaps they were so when it was first

adopted.

Here I must tell an unpleasant truth. There must have been some

foundation in the beginning for the wide reputation which the Norwegians

have for honest simplicity of character; but the accounts given by

former travellers are undeserved praise if applied at present. The

people are trading on fictitious capital. "Should I have a written

contract?" I asked of a landlord, in relation to a man with whom I was

making a bargain. "Oh, no," said he, "everybody is honest in Norway;"

and the same man tried his best to cheat me. Said Braisted, "I once

heard an old sailor say,--'when a man has a reputation for honesty,

watch him!'"--and there is some knowledge of human nature in the remark.

Norway was a fresh field when Laing went thither opportunities for

imposition were so rare, that the faculty had not been developed; he

found the people honest, and later travellers have been content with

echoing his opinion. "When I first came to the country," said an Irish

gentleman who for ten years past has spent his summers there, "I was

advised, as I did not understand the currency, to offer a handful in

payment, and let the people take what was due to them." "Would you do it

now?" I asked. "No, indeed," said he, "and the man who then advised me,

a Norwegian merchant, now says he would not do it either." An English

salmon-fisher told me very much the same thing. "I believe they are

honest in their intercourse with each other," said he; "but they do not

scruple to take advantage of travellers whenever they can." For my own

part, I must say that in no country of Europe, except Italy, have I

experienced so many attempts at imposition. Another Englishman, who has

been farming in Norway for several years, and who employs about forty

labourers, has been obliged to procure Swedes, on account of the

peculations of native hands. I came to Norway with the popular

impression concerning the people, and would not confess myself so

disagreeably undeceived, could I suppose that my own experiences were

exceptional. I found, however, that they tallied with those of other

travellers; and the conclusion is too flagrant to be concealed.

As a general rule, I have found the people honest in proportion as they

are stupid. They are quick-witted whenever the spirit of gain is

aroused; and the ease with which they pick up little arts of

acquisitiveness does not suggest an integrity proof against temptation.

It is but a negative virtue, rather than that stable quality rooted in

the very core of a man's nature. I may, perhaps, judge a little harshly;

but when one finds the love of gain so strongly developed, so keen and

grasping, in combination with the four capital vices of the

Norwegians--indolence, filth, drunkenness, and licentiousness,--the

descent to such dishonest arts as I have described is scarcely a single

step. There are, no doubt, many districts where the people are still

untempted by rich tourists and sportsmen, and retain the virtues once

ascribed to the whole population: but that there has been a general and

rapid deterioration of character cannot be denied. The statistics of

morality, for instance, show that one child out of every ten is

illegitimate; and the ratio has been steadily increasing for the past

fifty years. Would that the more intelligent classes would seriously set

themselves to work for the good of "_Gamle Norge_" instead of being

content with the poetical flourish of her name!