Introductory material (continued 2)

The moment came when, much against our inclinations, and especially against Nico's wishes, we were obliged to leave our comfortable quarters at Dalen. For the last time I basked in the warm sunshine which had favoured us during our entire stay; for the last time I retired from the too warm welcome to the shadowy balcony studio belonging to my room, which complaisantly looked north as Nico required. Only this once more should I drop sticks of chocolate on to the golden curls of the little Andrea as she came within range during her eternal roamings over the big farmyard in search of mischief. No fewer than ten cats of variegated colours prowled over this area; they delicately fished and fought for the more toothsome morsels from the barrel outside the kitchen window containing all the refuse of food stuffs, the eventual emptying of which was to the advantage of the pigstye. In the middle of this interesting land was a well. Over it hung, high in the air, an empty bucket suspended by a chain from the lighter end of an immense pole. The pretty cowherd would fill the pail with water to plenish the tubs from which her charges drank. Most evenings, in a spirit of wickedness, the worthy brother of the golden-haired baby would fill the bucket and leave it standing by the well, the weight of the water in it keeping it on the ground. Up would come an unsuspecting cow, which thirstily would drink the contents. Slowly she would lift her head from the now empty pail, which, flying as by magic into the air, would almost invariably give the bewildered creature a smart blow on the head. Of course, it did not hurt the animal; but her expression of startled and grieved surprise was most amusing. It was one of the excitements of my days at Dalen to have mild bets with Nico whether the day's intended victim would be free of the bucket in time.

MOLDÖEN

The sun went in; the air grew cold; soon darkness was upon us. This was the proudest moment of the day. I lit my fire, invariably with success, with peelings of birch bark that I had sedulously collected during my walks. This last time all my savings went together—how they blazed! Then in came the farmer, our host, with his exceedingly easy bill, including entries for various delightful painted butter-boxes and three immense wooden drinking bowls which I had bought from him. Then followed his worthy wife and his pretty daughter, bearing a tray on which was a bottle of arac punch and four glasses—he wished to drink to us before we went, and so we clinked the small glasses, and in various words of various languages expressed that we were pleased with one another, and almost arranged that the pretty daughter should come with us to learn English and to help my nurse to look after my babies. I have not got little Andrea with me yet; but I expect that by the time this book is published she will be in my house, wearing her pretty national costume, and rejoicing us with her charming little face, which is reproduced on the frontispiece of the book.

Next morning we were obliged to be up by six. An hour beforehand one of the delightful serving-maids lit my fire, and our breakfast, including more arac punch, was brought upstairs. By and by, in the cold grey morning, we boarded the little steamer which was to take us through the series of lakes and canals to Skien, whence it is possible to go by train to Christiania.

A COTTAGE INTERIOR, TELEMARKEN

It was a wonderful day, albeit very long. These days that one begins at six o'clock seem always of unnatural length—what should be luncheon time in the ordinary way is only breakfast time on these occasions; and, when all the hours are unoccupied, how delightedly one would welcome bedtime in the afternoon! However, before we had time to become very discontented, the sun came out to cheer us up, and then breakfast was announced, and after that we began to shake off our drowsy ill-humours and look about. Our captain was a good-looking man, quite young, and an excellent English scholar. He was a great traveller, and from his talk we gathered that he was not too well pleased to be passing his days on this little lake steamer, going backwards and forwards alternately with another boat; he was rather discontented at this time, quite the close of the season, when the English passengers that his soul loved were few and far between, and his most usual freight a few peasants, changing at every station, and an occasional herd of cattle. He pointed out to us on our right a group of rocks known as "The Monk and Lady." I could fancy I did see a resemblance to two human beings, one kneeling before the other's uplifted hand, apparently asking for a blessing. Had I not known the name given to the group, I might have thought I saw the image of a guilty being receiving corporal chastisement.

At the first station we stopped at, the little boat rolled a good deal, and it was only by clinging to steadfast objects that the passengers preserved their balance. Several young men boarded the boat. Also there joined us two very beautiful women wearing long coats to cover their best costumes, their charming head-dress concealing hair hanging loose down their backs. They were both married women. Two of the young men had pockets full of beautiful yellow apples; they ate them steadily, by the dozen I should say, until the pockets were empty. I coveted the fruit. When I am an early riser, it is astonishing how my most extreme longing is for unattainable apples. At the next station several children came on board with baskets of the fruit for sale. Already my appetite had become fainter; but Nico bought the stock-in-trade of a person of some three or four years, and so much occupied was I in watching the exhibition of the boy's triumph over his less fortunate fellows, that I did not notice the piling up of interest which was going on around me.

A NORWEGIAN GIRL

Really it was too much for one stoppage! First, the apple-sellers, who left us, however, before we started; next, a man with a foal two or three weeks old; also a herd of about thirty cattle, tied up variously on deck, in close proximity to the passengers; last, but not least, a Sætersdalen woman, in the full glory of her elaborate and brightly coloured costume. Walking in the fields in their own district, the women take off the dark cloth upper frock which this woman wore, and work in a grey underfrock made in exactly the same way. Here was material for heaps of excitement in our simple lives. When we had sampled our apples in the little deck-house which was all the covered accommodation, I left Nico half asleep and went out to look for adventures. The foal, with terrified eyes fixed on the water, was neighing piteously; every now and then a horse would trot to the edge of the water, apparently to neigh comfort to the poor little fellow making his first water journey. Frequently the boat would give an alarming lurch, and the cattle would slip helplessly from one side to the other, stamping and kicking in their efforts to regain a steady footing on the slippery deck. Later, at Nico's suggestion, a board was put up between the pony and the water, and this seemed to quiet the poor beast. At the next station the boat gave a fearful roll, and tipped over to such an extent that the perfectly smooth water of the lake washed one side of the deck. We were all rather frightened for a few seconds. The cattle were in a sprawling, kicking, terrified mass on the side which leaned to the water. The passengers struggled to the opposite side, and held on as best they could. By some means the steamer righted herself, and off we started.

The captain was attentive to us on this trip. I think he was glad to air his English. He pointed out, on our right, another curious formation in the mountains, which he called "St. Olaf's Ship." I daresay in the time of St. Olaf ships were like that: so I will not emphasise my ignorance by criticism.

St. Olaf's name is found all over the country. It is well known that he is Norway's greatest saint: but I daresay his history is not such common property. Therefore I tell it as our captain on the steamer told it to me. Here I may say that there is surely no country in the world where the average inhabitant has such an exceedingly great knowledge of histories, national or general.

KJENDALSBRÆ

Olaf Haraldssen was a descendant of Harald Haarfajer, or "The Fair," who was the first king to rule the whole of Norway. Harald Haarfajer flourished in the ninth century, and was one of the first of the heroic Vikings sung of in sagas. After Harald the Fair, the most splendid king was Olaf Trygvasen, who with his many followers harried us to such an extent that the English sovereign was obliged to sue for peace. He endeavoured to implant Christianity among his subjects by sword and fire, and, after making a heroic defence and losing nearly all his men, fell mortally wounded during a battle against the Swedish and Danish kings. Norway was now in the hands of the two conquering kings; but they gave up their shares to a powerful Norwegian earl, who had given them his aid against King Olaf Trygvasen. The earl agreed to hold these lands as their vassal. In this capacity he was obliged to leave his country when the Danish king called upon him to join in an invasion of England. He never returned from this expedition. In 1015 Olaf Haraldssen, another worthy descendant of Harald the Fair, returning from a pirating raid, seized the opportunity of assuming the leadership of the country, determined to carry out the intention of his noble ancestor, Olaf Trygvasen. With the help of various petty kings from the north, he overthrew the dominion of the earls and their overlords, the Danish and Swedish kings. He made Trondhjem his capital, and there he received homage from the lesser chieftains as king of Norway. In his turn he enforced Christianity; but on account of the extreme severity of his policy he alienated many of his people, who sought the aid of the Danish king against him. Defeated, Olaf fled to Russia. After gathering his forces together he endeavoured to win back his kingdom, but was again beaten. He was killed at the battle of Stiklestad in 1030. His body was taken to a place called Nidaros, and buried on the banks of a river. A year later his corpse was exhumed, and it was found that there was no trace of corruption—the face was just as in life, and the hair and nails had grown. This, and certain miracles wrought through his intercession, caused him to be proclaimed a saint. His body was encased in silver and placed in Trondhjem Cathedral, where it received great veneration until the time of the Reformation.

A TYPICAL NORWEGIAN MAIDEN

The history of Norway, with its continual relations and dissensions with Sweden and Denmark, is intensely interesting; but there are such splendid books on the subject that it would be ridiculous for me to attempt to introduce more than these few words into a book which professes to give merely the superficial impressions of a traveller—exceedingly interested, it is true, but—having almost everything to learn about her subject.

Rather regretfully, we came back from the eleventh century, for the captain was obliged to superintend the disembarkation of the cows. We were rather glad to get rid of them; and they, poor things, were, I am sure, heartily pleased that their startling journey was over, and that they found themselves safely on dry land, with plenty of space to roam in. The pony we kept with us for a while, attempting to persuade it to drink milk, which, however, it refused to consider.

The luncheon was pork and stewed rhubarb, served in a very small and stuffy dining cabin. Nico and I refused it, and regaled ourselves on a tin of Brand. Soon we entered the wonderful canal that joins the Bandak Lake to the Nordsjo Lake, which is connected by another canal with the head of the Skien Fjord, thus opening up an inland waterway from the sea at Skien right into the heart of the mountains at Dalen, the extreme end of Lake Bandak. Lake Bandak is a hundred and eighty-seven feet higher than Lake Nordsjo, with which it is connected: this immense difference is overcome by no fewer than fourteen locks, the average rise in each lock being something over thirteen feet. All the locks are blasted out of solid rock and faced with grey granite. When we reached the end of this stupendous triumph of engineering, the effect as we looked back was overwhelming. The chief difficulty in construction was a fall of eighty feet, called the Vrangfos. No bottom could be found to the gorge, and a massive bridge of granite was constructed between the two rocky sides, on which foundation a dam was built. Five of the fourteen locks are at the Vrangfos, which rages alongside in impotent fury. This immense work cost the country three million kroner.

A BABY OF TELEMARKEN

At the end of this canal is a rather pleasant little station, Ulefos, on the Nordsjo Lake; but we were in a hurry to get to Christiania and civilisation. We did not get off the boat, but continued on our way to Skien. We were still chatting with the captain. On our left in the rocks, he pointed out to us a yawning gap, ten or twelve feet high. That cavern, he told us, was used as a chapel, and dedicated to Saint Michael. He also told us that it was the tomb of the last Catholic priest in Norway just after the Reformation. The King of Denmark, who at that time was also King of Norway, had decreed that the Catholic religion should cease to be in both Norway and Denmark. In Norway the people were all the more against the fulfilment of this decree as they recognised that the Danish king wished to enrich himself at the expense of the Catholic Church. Cunning as well as force, therefore, was necessary to establish the Lutheran religion in the country of St. Olaf. The Catholic priests were banished, and their places were taken by foreign preachers, who, to deceive the people, kept up for a long time the external appearances of Catholicism. Several years after these primary steps had been taken, a Danish soldier named Porl, cruel and fanatical, was appointed preacher to the church of Solum; the little rock chapel of St. Michael having been destroyed, the parish of which it was the centre had been united to that of Solum. Soon Porl discovered that his parishioners still went in great numbers to pray in the grotto, and sometimes at night a mysterious light was seen among the rocks. One autumn evening, returning from Holden in a boat rowed by three young watermen, Porl beheld them suddenly cease their rowing, and, throwing themselves on their knees in the boat, cross themselves. This act of devotion was performed exactly opposite St. Michael's Chapel, from which the mysterious light reflected itself in the lake.

ROMSDALS HORN

Furious, Porl ordered them to row him to the foot of the hilly path which led to the chapel; but here he met with determined opposition. They would rather die than obey his wish. He was therefore obliged to return to Solum, promising himself a speedy solution of the mystery. In such a matter he could not trust his parishioners, devoted as they were to the old religion: so he took into his service two men from Skien, and ordered them to keep watch from afar on the grotto of St. Michael. One night, the eve of St. Michael's feast, they rushed to him, breathlessly, to announce that they had seen the mysterious light issuing from the cave. There was no doubt about it. He could see it with his own eyes. He took a sword from the wall to arm himself against the unknown enemy, and his two spies rowed him to the grotto. As they got nearer the light became of more importance. His men took him to the foot of the steep narrow path; but neither threats nor hope of reward could persuade them, fearing the supernatural, to accompany him. Filled with anger, he made his way alone; but at the moment when he had all but reached the opening to the chapel the light went out, and there he was between heaven and earth in the pitch darkness, afraid to take either one step back or one step forward. Gathering all his courage, he went forward, and managed to feel his way into the cave. God alone knew what awaited him there, and on His name he called. At the sound, at the far end of the cave a big stone was moved, and the darkness was flooded with light. Porl could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw before him an altar, and on the altar a crucifix surrounded by innumerable candles. From this sanctuary a venerable old man, wearing sacerdotal vestments, as if about to say Mass, advanced towards him.

"You come in the name of God?" said he. "Come, then, in peace."

But the preacher, brandishing his sword, fell on the old priest, crying in anger, "I was right, then! I guessed that there was still an accursed Papist in my parish!"

"You were indeed right," said the old man. "It is he you are now assaulting."

"It is not you that I quarrel with," said the Lutheran, "but the error of your ways, and the black artifices you employ to turn the heads of my parishioners."

"Your parishioners?" repeated the old priest with dignity. "Do you know who I am? I am Sylvester, the legitimate pastor of those poor souls whom you call your parishioners, and the last Catholic priest left in this unhappy country. With cunning and force you have made war on the religion which has made Norway what it is. You have robbed her people of their faith; you have sacked our churches and banished our priests. Far from my flock, I have eaten my bread in tears and exile for long years; I have wept and prayed; almost have I died of grief at leaving my poor children deserted. But I could not die away from them. In spite of a thousand dangers, I returned and buried myself here in the ruins of my dear church. Only the inhabitants of one farm know of my return, and from them I receive the bread on which I live and the straw which is my couch. As for my 'artifices'—alas! I am old and incapable of doing anything for my children, who still love and reverence the Church of their fathers. All I can do for them is to pray and to celebrate Mass for them on the great feasts under cover of the charitable darkness. These are my ruses, these my terrible mysteries. Now that I have told you them, raise your sword against the last of God's anointed priests living in my unhappy land. Strike—for I wish to die here."

OLD AGE, TELEMARKEN

The ci-devant Danish soldier was touched.

"No," he said. "God forbid that I should raise my hand against an old man. Live, and die when God shall call you, in this spot. Adieu, and may God enlighten you at your last hour."

"Amen," said the old man. "Both you and I have great need of the light."

Porl left. From that day he ceased to persecute his flock, who held still to their Catholic practices. A few more times the mysterious light shone from St. Michael's grotto, and the belated wayfarer who saw it piously crossed himself. But when Christmas came the cave remained in darkness. The last Catholic priest had died. The initiated farm people had made a tomb for their beloved pastor in the depths of his chapel; and there his body lies to this day, waiting for the resurrection.

The simple facts of the above narrative were given me by our captain; but for the complete and detailed history I am indebted to no less a person than the present Catholic Bishop of Norway—Monseigneur Fallize.

ARTS AND CRAFTS

CHAPTER VI

ARTS AND CRAFTS

We landed at Skien, and wandered about the town before taking train to Christiania. In the first place we went to a hotel and supplemented our day's diet of Brand by steaks that were really the best I had ever eaten, and by little rolls of delicious white bread, which was a luxury we had not had the chance of appreciating since we had left the Britannia Hotel at Trondhjem.

The town is very prettily situated, and has charming environments—of which the Nordsjo Lake, if it can be spoken of in such a way, is much the most delightful. From the town one sees it against the background formed by the Liffeld Mountains. It was on these heights that during the Franco-German War two French officers landed in a balloon. They had not the slightest idea of their whereabouts, and would probably have perished in the snow had not the presence of an empty wooden match-box given them sure proof that they were in a civilised country, and probably within reach of human habitation. They sought hopefully for shelter, and were found by two woodcutters, who showed them such hospitality as was in their power.

Across certain bridges are "the islands," where may be seen many large wood-pulp and paper mills. The manufacture of pulp for making paper is an important and ever-increasing source of revenue to Norway. The pine timber is ground by powerful machinery into pulp. When the trees are first taken from the water which carries them hither from their various native forests, they are sawed into blocks about eighteen inches long; these are quickly passed on to workmen, who with drills extract the knots; the surface is then cleared of bark and dirt, and they are ready for the stones. In the machine the sides of the blocks are forced against rapidly-revolving stones, and are thus ground into fine powder, which in the volume of water conveying it to the draining machine is scarcely distinguishable, so fine is it, and so small in proportion to the bulk of water. After the draining process, which is accomplished by passing the liquid over fine wires, the sheets are taken up by girls and put under powerful hydraulic presses; afterwards they are made into bales and are ready for market. These mills, and the many hundreds of others, are all worked by the immense water power which is one of Norway's greatest assets, though these resources are by no means fully utilised.

ROMSDALS WATERFALL

This knowledge, I may confess, is all at second hand. We did not devote any considerable time to Skien, but took the train on the day of our arrival.

While we were waiting in the station for the ticket office to open, which it does one minute before the time of departure, we were amused by the antics of two barefooted, very ragged, dirty little boys. They examined us pretty thoroughly in a rather furtive way: I have no doubt they had no business where they were and fully expected to be turned out. I held out a silver ten-ore piece in each hand, and with a good deal of embarrassed giggling they approached and took the tiny pieces of silver. Very gravely they each shook hands with me, and, walking right over to the other side of the station, performed the same ceremony for Nico's benefit. Then, full of importance, they walked up to the refreshment counter, and each parted with five ore—about a halfpenny—for chocolates, and the other five ore for cigarettes.

At last the authorities allowed us to buy our tickets, and we got into the train, which, like most Norwegian trains, consisted of second-class and third-class carriages. In spite of the threats of the booking office, we were evidently in no hurry to be off; but in the fulness of time we moved, and presently slept. When we awoke—at least, when I awoke, for Nico insisted that he had not closed his eyes—we had arrived at Christiania. Allowing ourselves and our many paper parcels to be cared for by a hotel porter, we drove with him whither he would. It happened to be to the Grand Hotel, which is comfortable, and furnished with heaps of Sheffield plated candlesticks—to say nothing of a lift and other luxuries to which we had for long been unaccustomed. We were gently borne upwards to the floor where was the room which the hotel porter had decided we should occupy. We ordered an immense jug of thick chocolate, and after disposing of as much of this as we possibly could, we sought our couches, and slept amid electric lights and other modern luxuries.

THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT (STORTHING), CHRISTIANIA The Storthing is convened every year, and is divided into an Upper House (Lagthing) and a Lower House (Odelsthing)

Christiania is built on a magnificent site at the foot of pine-clothed hills which extend their protection over the land-bound borders of the town. As one stands on these hills and looks over the town a delightful panorama spreads itself before one's eyes. Beyond the crowded houses stretches the beautiful Christiania Fjord, which, as it nears the town, breaks itself up into a thousand tiny fjords, and thus creates innumerable islands, which are chosen spots for the summer villas of the richer inhabitants of the town.

We stayed for some time in Christiania, a delightful town, full of life and movement. During certain hours of the day the whole population seems to turn out and walk up and down the fine road in which our hotel is situated, and I noticed that everyone seemed to be acquainted with every other.

We had here two good friends, one of whom was away during almost the whole of our visit; the other, a captain of artillery, did the honours of Holmenkollen for us during a delightful day we spent together. He called quite early in the day, and drove us up the hill which leads to the scene of the great ski competition every winter. All the way, on either side of the road, are villas, which, however, are farther and farther apart as the hill is ascended. Just before the big hotel on the left of the road is a small lake; beyond this is the steep hill down which the ski-jumpers seem to fly as they take their leaps through the air. The record leap is a hundred and thirty feet. Of course, this sport is in the winter, when the ground is covered with snow and the lake is frozen over and capable of bearing on its surface thousands of spectators; on either side of the hill also the spectators are massed. Nico was present on one of these occasions, and declares that he had never witnessed such an inspiriting scene. Everyone was excited and happy; many of the crowd had come up from the town on their skis, or had dragged their little sleighs behind them, to skim down the long slope to Christiania after the festivities were over. The girls and the younger women wear short skirts and their hair flowing, and it is not resented as a liberty if one addresses fellow-sportsmen or women without the formality of an introduction.

SKI SPORTS The Great Holmencollen Day outside Christiana

The big hotel at Holmenkollen is a wonderful wooden structure, built by a Norwegian architect named Sverre, who is responsible for many buildings of the same character throughout Norway, but especially in Christiania and its neighbourhood. It is as far as possible in accordance with the old Norwegian style of architecture. It contains many beautiful rooms, including two bedrooms furnished in Norwegian style with genuine old pieces of furniture. Then, there are various rooms reserved for the Committee or Royalty; the delightful smoking-room, with its splendid log-filled fireplace and its alcoves and corners; the magnificent dining-hall, characteristically decorated, its walls clothed with Norwegian tapestry of a singularly happy design. Architect Sverre collaborates with the great decorative artist Munthe, who is responsible for many of the adornments. Leading out of the dining-room is a singular little chamber, which is entirely decorated and furnished after designs by Munthe. In this strange room Nico ensconced himself to make a drawing which should give some idea of its quaintness. The wooden walls are primitively carved to represent various scenes from Norwegian fairy tales. The door is guarded by two grotesque monsters, and the chairs and small tables are of equally original shape and colouring. On the night of the ski competition the enormous dining-room is crammed with excited, happy parties, most of the tables having been engaged weeks beforehand, for it is a favourite resort for supper-parties on this night.

After luncheon on the autumn day which witnessed my one and only visit to Holmenkollen, we drove farther up the hill, and examined with much interest the exteriors and furnished interiors of various old Norwegian buildings which have been transplanted from other parts to this centre, in order that the Norwegian people may keep safely some relics of their olden days, of which they have lost many by fire or neglect. There are further excellent examples of their various periods of architecture to be seen at Bygdo, a small beautifully wooded peninsula on the west of the town. It is possible, and very pleasant, either to drive or to walk to that place; but we went one cold Sunday morning by a ferry steamer, which landed us within a few minutes of our destination. There was a tennis tournament going on the same day and in the same direction; it is evident that Norwegians are great enthusiasts over this game, as indeed they are over athletic sports generally. A committee have bought a large piece of land on this peninsula. They wish to gather a representative collection of old houses from various parts of the country. The chief building is "the people's museum." Though not an old building, it contains a most interesting collection of furniture, clothes, religious objects, and domestic utensils from all parts of Norway and of various dates. Surrounding it are such old buildings as the committee have already acquired. Most of the residents of Christiania are subscribers to this institution and have the right of free entrance. Near by is a small Royal villa called Oscar's Hall. It looks a delightful place, standing in its brilliant whiteness among dark pine trees. On the King's estate is situated an old stavekirke, one of the few which remain intact. It is built of logs, and has a species of balcony running almost round it. The interior is very dark; but when one's eyes get used to the semi-obscurity it is to be seen that the church is most elaborately and beautifully carved. All these pole churches date from pre-Reformation times, and were consecrated Catholic places of worship. Catholics are still few in Norway; but the old religion is spreading, and in Christiania itself there are three or four parishes that have each a church and a priest.

ROOM BY MUNTHE AT HOLMENCOLLEN

I should love to return to this interesting little peninsula some warm summer's day; but all my enjoyment was spoilt and the edge of my interest dulled by the extreme cold, for which I was ill prepared.

The Christiania Fjord being less influenced by the Gulf Stream than the fjords on the western and northern coasts, the winter is longer in Christiania than in many places farther north. Generally this piece of water is entirely frozen over, and the country is tightly locked in the arms of Winter from December until March; the snowfalls, untampered with by thaws, accumulate and cause gigantic obstructions. The cold, though much more intense than in the English climate, is more easily bearable than our milder winters. The atmosphere is dry and pleasant, and often the sun shines brilliantly during the short days, and the delightful sports of this season are innumerable. Skiing, of course, must take the first place. The skis are really snow skates. They consist of a pair of very long, but very narrow, strips of wood, very thin and elastic. In front they are slightly turned up and pointed. The correct length should measure a third more than the height of the wearer. The skis are attached to shoes, or merely to straps, set a little back from the middle of the strip of wood. The Norwegians are great adepts at getting about on skis. They make extraordinarily rapid progress over the snow, especially when it is neither too hard nor too sticky. They help themselves along and partly steer themselves by the aid of long poles. Sometimes a traveller on skis, becoming thirsty, will stop at a little unfrozen spring, and, lowering himself with wonderful cleverness until he lies at full length with his skis disposed just as they should be, he puts his mouth to the edge of the water and drinks. This is what is called "drinking goose wine," and I assure you there is a good deal of knack necessary both to get down and to get up.

SKIERS DRINKING GOOSEWINE

Skating is another favourite sport, for which there are plenty of opportunities. Sledging takes the place of driving through the winter months. Another gloriously exhilarating sport is tobogganing, either alone or in parties. The leader steers his rapid progress with a stick. One may meet with an unforeseen obstacle, and the occupants may be thrown out head-first with a jerk; but the fall in the soft snow is not often serious.

The shops in Christiania are very good, and generally, to the stranger at least, very dear; but at the big fur store there I bought for a ridiculously small sum two of the prettiest little reindeer-skin coats, made by the Lapps, and as worn by the Lapps. I brought them home with great glee to my babies, but was nonplussed by my boy, who absolutely refused to have anything to do with his after he had elicited by hundreds of questions that the stuff the coat was made of was fur, that fur was the skin of the reindeer, that reindeer were young and had mothers and fathers, and that his coat couldn't run about in the snow because it was dead, and at last, that it was dead because Loye had to have a winter coat.

When after some weeks I persuaded him that the reindeer would be much more sad if the coat was not worn, he consented to have it on, but only on condition that it should be slipped on over his feet. Both the little garments were a great success; but I am afraid that the children's nurse never quite approved them. I think she found it hard to get used to coats that had no hooks or buttons but were fastened with plaited leather strings, and she thought her charges looked rather outré.

Christiania has but one picture-dealer of any importance. From what we saw of the pictures there we concluded that Norwegian art on the whole is so intensely affected as to say absolutely nothing to the beholder. We met two art enthusiasts at luncheon at the house of an exceedingly clever friend of ours, who was and is one of the editors of Christiania's chief newspaper. These two were man and wife, and obviously it was the wife's opinion, on art at least, that dominated. Their greatest artist in Europe's eyes they scoffed at; scarcely would they admit that he was clever, beauty and success being two attributes which do not belong to art as they understand it. They belonged to the ever-increasing number of folk who, to appear original and extra-cultivated, refuse to see beauty unless it is expressed grotesquely or incomprehensibly. So insistent was this particular devotee that she carried us along on the wave of her heated argument out of our friend's dining-room through the cold streets to her flat, where she planted us in front of a picture by her favourite artist. It was dark-green and white in patches laid quite rawly on the canvas. "Isn't it wonderful?" she cried. "Now you must own yourselves vanquished!"

GIRLS ON OVERTURNED SLEDGE, HOLMENCOLLEN

"What is it?" I asked, with tactless ignorance, after examining it long and patiently from as many different points as I could discover in the small room.

"What is it?" said Nico, with artistic licence, not moving from the spot where he had taken up his stand.

"What does it matter what it is?" the owner answered, turning on us with flashing eyes. "Don't you recognise the wonder of it? I myself had it for three weeks, loving it and admiring it, and asking myself how to hang it. The artist himself told me it must hang as you see it, and explained to me that it was a picture of a woman standing in the moonlight."

"But where does she stand?" said Nico. "And where is the moon?"

"At her feet," said the worshipper. "My friend is such a great artist that he reverses the natural order of things, subjugating everything to his art."

Surely all this is rather extravagant, and surely it is not this art that will live when the painter is no longer at hand to explain and to decide "which way up." It is a great pity that all these clever people—for the painter has immense talent, as is shown in his earlier work, and our two interested friends were evidently people of intellect—should be so extraordinarily perverted in their tastes. Norwegian art is comparatively young; but it has made great strides. It has produced Fritz Thaulow, who, though not recognised by the enthusiasts of the class I have described, can boast the admiration of all Europe; among many clever designers, the decorative Munthe; that rather morbid youth, Edward Munch, whose lithographs give evidence of the great things of which he is capable; and many other artists whose names, known and praised in their own country, are not of such widespread celebrity in this.

OLD CANAL, CHRISTIANIA.

During the middle of the nineteenth century flourished the great painter of peasant life, Tidemand. A series of his work is to be seen in the King's summer villa near Christiania, and his paintings, while not, perhaps, among the masterpieces of art, are very useful and interesting as showing the peasant life of Norway, under almost every condition, at a period when the people still wore their interesting costumes and had not lost any of their old ways and customs. These pictures are reproduced in every form, and are to be met with in many books on Norway, and in very many Norwegian houses.

There are also in Norway painters who devote themselves to the beauties of Nature, with which their fatherland is so generously endowed. This school has produced many fine pictures; but it seems to be rather falling out of favour in these days of exaggeration.

Arts in which the Norwegians have excelled since early times, and continue to excel, are those of weaving and embroidery. In these their nation shows an originality and charm, both of colour and of design, which are truly admirable. From as early as the twelfth century relics of cloths with figures interwoven are extant. One at present preserved in a church represents some of the months in allegorical pictures, and is evidently a fragment of a much larger piece which would include symbols of all the months of the year.

Examples of the history of picture-weaving become plentiful and important with the beginning of the seventeenth century. As with all arts of the period, this branch was principally dedicated to the representation of sacred subjects. Besides these there are many samples of purely decorative weaving, beautiful for their colour and quaint conventional designs, often geometrical, or a continued repetition of one or two very simple expressions of the form of a doubtful animal. The cultured Norwegians treasure these pieces of woven cloth, and hang them on their walls, or even have them framed. In the various museums are excellent examples of every branch of this art. To-day it is a very thriving industry. The weavers sit at an upright loom, and work in fast-dyed wools with an immense range of colours. The design is exactly the same on both sides, and the article when finished will wear almost indefinitely. Large quantities of it are used for wall-covering, and I can imagine nothing more delightful for this purpose. Any design can be produced, and their great artist, Munthe, has made many drawings, especially for this manner of reproduction. Embroidery in Norway I find all the more charming because it is not very varied. In other countries embroidery does many things; but here the workers cling to their very beautiful old-fashioned lines, and fill them in with strongly contrasted colours, mixing silk and wool. Mittens, gloves, bonnets, cloth, and all conceivable articles are gorgeously embroidered for personal wear or for sale, and the Norwegians themselves are by no means the least enthusiastic buyers.

SLEDGING BY TORCHLIGHT

Work in silver is another of the nation's handicrafts. In all the towns through which the tourist travels he will find large and small shops devoted to the sale of silver or silver-gilt filigree work and enamel. When he has seen one such shop, he has seen all; for over the country the same enamelled salt-cellars and butterflies and spoons, the same fairylike brooches and other ornaments, are repeated. Indeed, I became as heartily sick of these rather pretentious ornaments as I was enthusiastically charmed with the peasants' jewellery of an earlier age, frequently made by themselves, and showing an attractive absence of the machine-accomplished finish of the modern jewellery. By expressing the presence of the something which lifts hand work above machine work, I do not mean that there is not among the original silver work evidence of the greatest talent in this direction. The embossed filigree work is truly admirable. Precious stones do not take any important place. A coloured stone here and there, more often than not false, justifies its presence by increasing the beauty of the ornament, and not only by adding immensely to the expense of the object. One of the most striking pieces of jewellery is an enormous round brooch or buckle, often as large as a small plate. Dozens of these saucer-like pieces of metal, highly polished, are suspended by links to the body of the brooch, shaking and glittering with every movement.

MAKING NATIVE TAPESTRY Working a design by Gerard Munthe, the well-known decorative artist

As for Norwegian wood-carving, words fail me to express my admiration for the bold and strong effects produced with wonderful skill and by very primitive methods. During the long winters the peasants labour, often with no other tool than penknives. Their broadly carved furniture, with the invariable circular design which is so prominent in their embroidery also, has a charm that I miss in the wonderful and delicate carving of the East. I tried hard to possess myself of a few such pieces of furniture—a very tall grandfather clock, a carved and coloured cradle, a sideboard, and a cupboard—but in vain. The peasant owners refused to sell—wisely indeed, for surely these things are more appropriate in their big yellow-painted log-built rooms than anywhere else. Other objects which I sought to obtain from various antiquaries were absolutely beyond the reach of my purse: charming as they were, the prices asked were ridiculously high. I suppose that the sums asked are special during the tourist season, and that Norwegians get what they want at much reduced figures during the winter months. The explanation of this is obviously the absence of any competition. Two or three big shops have a corner in such things.

In all our travels we did not come across any little shop of the type one meets so frequently in most towns in England and on the Continent. It must be admitted that in such a country as Norway to buy such things as the peasants may be willing to dispose of necessitates a considerable outlay. For the joy of buying give me Italy, or Spain, or Belgium, of which countries swarm with small antiquaries to whom the chance of a sale is too precious to be allowed to slide for such a slight reason as a difference between the price asked and the price the would-be purchaser feels inclined to pay.

BIRDS-EYE VIEW OF CHRISTIANIA

FARM-HOUSES: WEDDING FESTIVITIES

CHAPTER VII

FARM-HOUSES: WEDDING FESTIVITIES

The climatic conditions of Norway necessitate much expenditure in the building of a farm. On account of the intense cold of the winter, warm houses must be provided for the live-stock, and dry storage also is necessary. As a rule, nowadays the buildings on a farm are four, though in former times there were often many small buildings—notably the charmingly carved storehouses one still sees here and there on the farms, standing on round stones and piles some three or four feet from the ground, for fear of rats as well as for dryness. Of the four buildings usual on an ordinary farm, the main house is, of course, the dwelling-place, the size of which varies. A cellar the size of the whole area of the house is generally built under this for storage of potatoes and other necessaries. The buildings are almost invariably of logs dovetailed together at the corners, painted inside and out. Near this living place is another erection which contains the rooms for the farm hands, the laundry, and the winter supply of wood and peat. The third building is chiefly for the animals, and is divided into different compartments, of which some are devoted to the storage of farming implements, grains, etc. These outhouses are often built with two stories connected by an inclined plane of logs, up which the various vehicles of the farm are pulled to be housed during the winter months. The fourth building is the storehouse, built from the ground, in which are kept the household provisions and sometimes bedding and clothes not in actual use. Many of the most elaborate and ancient of these stabur have been bought by the State or by private persons for presentation to the various museums which devote themselves to the collection of relics of old Norway and try to reproduce both houses and churches of old times with as many of their original belongings and fittings as possible.

A VOSSE BRIDE

The farms surrounded by these necessary buildings are often many miles apart, and consequently social reunions are comparatively rare. In winter the snow-covered ground is traversed with great rapidity by sledges or on ski-shod feet, and, the farm work being not so heavy or so pressing as at other seasons, the country people give dancing parties on the slightest excuse. The music is primitive; but the hearts and feet are light, and food and drink go round in abundance. In summer all the residents on the farm are busily engaged in planting and gathering their small crops, cutting every available blade of the grass which is so precious and means so much to their supplies of milk and butter and cheese when the ground is frozen and deep in snow. Their method of drying the grass is rather strange. Tall stakes are planted in the ground at short intervals, and on these small bunches of grass are impaled. To facilitate the operation, the stake is capped with a sharp steel point. In this manner scarcely a blade of grass escapes the gatherers, and the drying process is much more rapid than it could otherwise be on these slopes. In summer the cattle, the goats, and the sheep are sent out to graze on the mountain slopes. In charge of each flock are two or three persons, generally girls. They spend their summer in tiny rough huts called saeters. Hearing of these saeters, I inquired by what means, if not by long and difficult daily journeys, the dwellers in them were provided with food, and how did the farm people obtain from the heights their daily supply of cheese, milk, and butter? Simply enough: one end of a thick wire rope is fixed up on the heights; the other is attached to a post below. The rope traverses precipices, ravines, and raging torrents. With the aid of a pulley and a second length of wire of less thickness, one may thus transport buckets of milk, bundles of hay, and packages of all sorts. The operators at either end are warned by a whistle that their attention is required. We were told, by the people of a farm where we stayed, that a young man sending down a bundle of hay slipped, and, clinging to the wire, slid with fearful rapidity to the opposite side. Midway over the fjord which this wire traversed his fingers were cut right through, and he dropped. Fortunately, there had been spectators of the adventure, and he was rescued without further injury. In spite of the dangers, I believe the peasants often avail themselves of this mode of descent from the saeters to their homes. They are courageous. On our long drives through different districts of Norway, we frequently met with these aerial wireways; and always on the steepest slopes one could gain on foot one saw cattle calmly grazing on the scanty grass at angles which make a poor human being dizzy. How the great beasts can keep their foothold on the loose soil, almost as steep as the side of a house, puzzled me often; and how they can look fat and well-fed on the miserable supply of green stuff which is all they find in many districts is indeed a problem.

FARM-HOUSES BUILT OF POLES

The devout Norwegians have a theory to explain the poorness of their soil. At the creation of the world the angels whose duty it was to scatter the soil forgot Norway. Seeing this, the guardian angel of the land made complaints to the Creator. What was to be done? Impossible to restart the whole of the creation for the sake of Norway. "Come, my little angels," said He: "look carefully, and perhaps you may still find a little earth." The conscience-stricken angels swept the floor of Heaven, and the little dust they found they gathered in their draperies and scattered over the Norwegian rocks. That is why, while Norway is rich in stones, she is poorly provided with soil. Even in many of the valleys the earth is plentifully bestrewn with big stones and boulders fallen from the mountains, and where there are small tracts without stones one frequently finds that the ground is so marshy as to be useless. That there is as much cultivated ground only shows what can be dragged from Nature by men endowed with patience and industry. Round the fjords the fisherman chooses for his log hut a spot where his wife may feed a cow and cultivate a small plot of potatoes, while he devotes his life to gathering the hard and difficult harvest of the sea.

At the country fairs or other rare meetings of folks for one reason or another, the young Norwegians meet and court. The girl must be a good housewife and should be able to make bread, to spin, and, in short, be capable of almost everything, for in this country of isolated homes it is impossible or difficult to provide a substitute for the invalid or incompetent member of a family. Sometimes among the humbler classes the betrothed couple wait years for the completion of their tie, as it is sometimes necessary to await the demise of an older couple to obtain a dwelling-place. During this time the bride-elect spins and makes up the linen that will last her for life. The betrothed couple are allowed all liberty to see each other and even to journey together.

I have taken from a Norwegian paper an accurate account of wedding customs in the middle of the last century, and I am assured that, with a few exceptions, everything remains much the same to this day. The usages vary slightly in different districts. The Norwegian writer has chosen Hardanger for his description.

When a young man of the people wishes to offer his heart and hand to the maiden of his choice, he does not accomplish the deed himself, but appoints as his spokesman opordsmannen, a man of consequence in the district, a relation if possible. Together they go to the house of the desired one's parents. First they interview the father, all standing. If the father agrees to consult his wife a good sign has been given, and the opordsmann seats himself. Settlements and dowry are discussed, and finally the girl herself is consulted. If she consents to shake hands with her lover the engagement is a settled thing. All seat themselves for refreshments, and the party drink healths out of the best silver mug. Without waiting for the ceremony, the young couple take possession of the best room; and they are looked upon as man and wife. The morning after the contract the bridal pair are served with coffee and food in their room by the bride's parents.

This interview is always on a Saturday. In Telemarken the mode of procedure differs slightly. The spokesman, after consulting the girl's parents, goes to her room, and drags her out of bed and into the barn, where the suitor waits to receive her.

The mother of a friend once nearly had a very disagreeable experience. Her child's nurse was a Norwegian; the family were spending the summer in a hotel at Telemarken. In the night the lady's door was burst open, and in spite of protestations she was dragged out of bed by her wrists. Only the opportune arrival of her husband brought to light the fact that this violent attack was really intended for the courting of her nurse.

To return to the Hardanger bridal. Soon after this the nearest friends and relations are invited to the betrothal party, which is occasion for much eating and drinking, in about a fortnight. During the interval the young lover presents to his mistress a wooden box carved or painted by himself, and containing all the jewellery he can afford to present to her; and the damsel prepares for her gift to him embroidered braces and a belt. Though maidenly modesty refuses to acknowledge it, these articles of attire have been in preparation for many months. The saying goes that he who weds a girl who is "getting on" will have the best supply of braces and belts.

The wedding proper is usually in the summer. Invitations must be given in person at least a fortnight in advance, and as far as possible on the same day, so that on comparing notes the guests may have no cause for complaint. These invitations are on a large scale. Everyone for miles round of the same social position as the bride's family is invited; so, of course, are all the relations of the happy couple. I am given to understand that caste prejudices are very strong in the country districts. If the child of a jaardemann (rich farmer) should insist on marrying into the family of a husmann (small tenant-farmer), the family of the rich farmer will refuse to have anything to do with the young people, or even to see their child again.

Preparations for feasting on an enormous scale are begun. Barrels of the native corn-brandy and a smaller quantity of cognac, together with kegs of mead and wine and abundance of beer, are provided to encourage the gaiety of the guests. Three or four days before the wedding the klejvekjaeringer arrive. These are eight or ten of the women friends of the family, who are invited to assist in the preparations and to attend to the guests during the feast. It is looked upon as a great honour to be invited in this capacity. Cooking begins in hot earnest. Piles of cakes are made of rye and milk. Stalks of fladbrod—pancakes of a kind—are representative standbys. Mountains of bread and raw smoked meat are cut up. The ox and pig, which have been killed in anticipation, are made ready. Cylinders of butter, weighing from twelve to fourteen pounds, are placed at intervals on the board; the guests will help themselves, smearing their bread and cakes with it and then sprinkling sugar over.

Two days beforehand arrives the kjogemester. Each district possesses an official of that kind, who is paid for his services. He is chief steward and master of ceremonies. On him falls the responsibility of placing all the guests in the order of precedence. As if this were not enough for one man, he has also control over the drinks, and during the festivities is liable to be called upon at any moment to make various speeches in extemporised verse.

The day before the wedding the servants of the guests arrive. They are laden with presents, mostly of food and drink. They are shown into the stabur (storehouse), where the presents and wedding clothes are on view, given food and drink, and allowed to go their ways home.

COUNTRY GIRL, BERGEN DISTRICT

In the evening of the same day the party begins. At the time this account was written, all came in their national costume and wore elaborate jewellery; but now few besides the bride have preserved this costume, though in Hardanger it is certainly much more common than in other districts. The cap mostly seen is a small tight-fitting bonnet—black for married women and blue for girls. In parts where costume is worn this rule as to colour holds good for men also.

It is now the business of the master of ceremonies to direct each guest to the correct place at the table. The bride and the bridegroom sit at either end of the table, both in unmarried costumes.

When they seat themselves two shots are fired. The kjogemester, in verse, thanks the guests for their presence at the feast, and gives out the names of the various voluntary helpers, of the four best men, of the four bridesmaids, and of the fiddler and the drummer. The musicians give a sample of their skill and seat themselves at the festive board.

Early in the night the bridal pair retire.

Then, after more eating and drinking, the guests dance until the small hours. Sleeping accommodation is found for all—bedrooms for the older and more respected persons, the barns for younger ones—and often a near neighbour's house shelters many.

In the morning at eight or nine o'clock the waitresses carry round food and drink to the sleepers, who then get up and eat and drink still more. The best men brush the bridegroom's clothes and boots and help him to dress, and in the storehouse the bridesmaids render the same service to the bride. The young couple are then on view, but only to the parents and those of the immediate circle, to the fiddler, and to the drummer. The bride stands like a queen in her picturesque dress, decked in a silver or gilt crown, often set with many stones and with red, white, and blue ribbons in her flowing hair. Her breast is covered with brooches and ornaments linked together by silver chains; and one may notice that from the centre jewel hang danglements like small saucers, the especial perquisite of the matron. Her fingers are covered with rings, and she wears a gorgeous silver belt and silver buckles on her shoes. The bridegroom wears knee-breeches and a silver cord round his hat, and the rest of his clothes are in keeping with this grandeur.

SÆTERSDALEN BRIDE

Then the drummer beats his drum and the fiddler fiddles, and all the party crowd to the door of the stabur and receive drink from the hands of the bride. A squad of the men helpers lead the way to church. In former times the journey, if by land, was made on foot; but now the party drives. Occasionally the fjord too has to be crossed. One can imagine how romantic such a sight would be. The boats are long and broad. In the first one go the music, the bride and bridegroom, the attendant men and maids, and the parents of the couple. Before starting the master of ceremonies provides all the guests with brandy. Arrived at the church and while waiting for the pastor, who often comes from afar, the party adjourn to the nearest house, and drink. Naturally a crowd has collected to see the wedding. All who ask are provided with drink by the kjogemester, who has also to bid the bride's parents good-bye in her name and in verse.

The celebrant arrived, this ubiquitous official leads the way to the church. He is followed immediately by the drummer and the fiddler, who, however, drop out of line at the church door. The bride is accompanied by the four best men; the groom is attending the bridesmaids. At the church door the maids give the groom to his bride, who is treated in the same manner by the best men. Then the marriage ceremony proceeds. The interesting pair stand throughout; the rest of the party are seated. At the conclusion of the ceremony all the guests make offerings to the parson and to the parson's clerk. When this important duty has been fulfilled the parson is offered wedding food and drink in a neighbouring house. In many cases he is presented with a bottle of spirits and more food. These he is to take home, that his wife and family may share in the feast.

The journey back is made in much rejoicing. Arrived, after more food and drink, the party dance; the bride performing first with her husband, and then with the best men, and so on through the party; dancing last with the drummer, who, as a final compliment, must kick the highest beam in the ceiling. For the privilege of dancing with the bride her partner tips the fiddler, and at the conclusion presents her with a small sum, known as cradle money, to be spent on the layette of the hoped-for children. Sometime during the wedding day the party is regaled with bridegroom's porridge, which is a paste made with flour and cream, stirred so quickly that the cream partly turns to butter. This indigestible mass is followed by more drains of spirits to the accompaniment of music, and the master of ceremonies recites a toast to the honour of marriage in verse which would not bear translation.

A HARDANGER BRIDE

While the youths and maidens dance the matrons work and gossip, and the older men have drinking competitions, won by him who manages to keep his senses longest. The bride and the bridegroom retire early. The others dance, eat, and drink, as before, into the next day. In the morning the servants of the guests arrive with buckets full of sweet milk, which they offer to the keeping up of the banquet. In return they are given beer, and their empty buckets are filled with wedding food. After this—at least, so it happened when this account was written—the pair seat themselves, and every guest in turn deposits a money present on a large pewter plate placed for the purpose. On each donation the giver drinks with the couple out of a large silver mug, which is kept brimming by one of the best men. Then is eaten the bride's porridge, which is a paste made of flour and milk, and not so great a luxury as the bridegroom's porridge, eaten the previous day.

The fun and feasting go on all day. If one may believe certain Norwegian paintings and engravings, fights are not infrequent. Next day all sleep, and badly they must need to do so; during the day adieux are said, and the guests, after much pressing to the contrary, at last take their departure.

A week later the couple leave the farm and take up their abode in the bridegroom's house, whence the bride immediately pays a round of visits to her neighbours, who assemble the following day for more feasting at the new home. This is the end of the romance. Henceforward hard work and the bearing of many children are the lot of the Norwegian woman, varied but seldom by dissipation in any form.

MAKING "FLAD-BROD"—A COTTAGE INTERIOR

I have not been able to discover how far this account of the marriage customs of Norway may be applied to the present day; but I am assured by the Norwegian friend who kindly helped me with the translation that in the isolated country districts such affairs still follow the course I have described.

At funerals there are celebrations of much the same kind. Although there is no actual dancing until after the return from the burial, drink passes freely. I am told by an acquaintance, who assisted at the funeral of one of his tenants, that the whole party were overcome by drink to such an extent that at the churchyard it was discovered that the corpse had been forgotten. The pastor was naturally indignant. He and the mourners had to wait in the snow-covered cemetery until the coffin containing the remains could be fetched. In districts far removed from a town the food and drink for a funeral party are generally ordered while the funeral subject is still alive. A friend, calling to offer condolences, was served with cakes, which she was begged to partake of on the plea that "the corpse herself made them." Many of the rich farmers order their own coffins and keep them in the stabur. In winter the ground is frozen so hard that it has to be blasted.

FORESTRY: REINDEER: LAND TENURES

CHAPTER VIII

FORESTRY: REINDEER: LAND TENURES

During my long walks while Nico was painting, I was refreshed and delighted by the abundance of wild fruit which I found everywhere, delicious little strawberries and large raspberries. Once, while I was greedily stripping a bush of raspberries, sitting at my ease on a rock beside the shrub, a large snake glided from under my skirt, and hid itself beneath the stone on which my feet were resting. I had a terrible fright for a moment. I have never discovered whether there are poisonous snakes in Norway. Every four or five years certain districts are infested by animals about the size and form of a guinea-pig. They swarm all over the country, and do a good deal of damage. Immense numbers are killed, and the race seems to die out, until, when a period of four or five years has elapsed, they appear again. I was told this by an English inhabitant, who could give me no reason for this intermittent character of their presence.

The Norwegian horses take their pleasures sadly. When they are not working, and are set at liberty to feed along the strip of herbage, they are either attached by a short chain round one leg to a staple fixed in the ground, or, what is worse, their forefeet are linked closely together by an arrangement like handcuffs. To see the poor things trying to be frisky amid these circumstances is quite painful. Nico describes the movement which results as "hirpling." It is a cross word, I suppose, between hopping and limping, and is extremely expressive of what it is intended to represent. In the towns the horse's forefoot is tied to the wheel of the cart when the driver is obliged to leave it. What would happen if wandering musicians were to strike up an equine cake-walk, I tremble to think!

SNOW PLOUGH DRAWN BY EIGHT OR TEN HORSES

In a country of such scattered population, the keeping of the miles of road in good order is naturally a question of moment. On most of his drives the traveller will notice hundreds of little poles painted red, and bearing some kind of inscription, planted at short intervals. These signposts give the name of the farmer or landowner appointed by the lensmand to look after and repair a certain area of road, which is also indicated on the post. I do not know whether the farmer or the careless lensmand is to be blamed for the terrible condition of some few of the roads over which we passed. On the other hand, the difficulties to be contended with considered, the condition of the chief ways is wonderfully good. Many of the roads are cut up inconveniently by gates, placed at quite short intervals. Every second minute one has to scramble off one's cart to open these obstacles; but I believe they are less for the purpose of causing trouble than for keeping some sort of control over the straying of the farm animals. All along the route one meets with curious wedge-shaped constructions of wood. These are the snow ploughs. When they are needed, as many as six or eight horses are harnessed to them, and slowly they force a passage through the deep snow. I think they can be used only at the beginning or at the end of winter, though I am not quite certain; but why should people use ploughs when winter transit is entirely and most conveniently accomplished on sledges and skis? The deep valleys which are generally a feature on one side of a Norwegian roadway are levelled with drifts of snow, and it is only when spring comes that the road may be tracked by the heads of the ten-foot poles planted along the path, which begin to show themselves only as the thaw sets in. What a lonely, mysterious journey for the solitary postman!

Somewhere in the neighbourhood of Odde lives to this day a postman who had a terrible adventure in the snow. The history of it was told me by a man who drove us for days along the road across Norway between Odde and Christiania. In the winter in the farming districts letters are delivered only once a week—perforce by the postmen on skis. I gathered that the day of delivery is not absolutely certain, and the man is sometimes days on his trip. The postman in question set out, as usual, alone; half way to his destination he sank into a snow-drift on the side of the mountain. In a day or two, when his continued absence was remarked, search-parties of thirty or forty men set out to find him. Of these searchers my driver was one. With them they took his coffin, expecting indeed to find him, but resigned to the certitude of finding his dead body only. Before the third day was over they sorrowfully gave up the search, and returned to their homes to wait until spring should force the secret from the snow. At the end of the third day, a feeble, white-haired man staggered into the station, and fell fainting to the ground. For three days the postman had been buried alive, and at last, by dint of digging with his post-horn, he had got free. The rescue party had passed over his very head, and he had heard them speaking of him and finally deciding to give up the search; but of course it was impossible for him to discover himself to them. Imagine the joy of the community at his return! You may be sure he was well nursed back to health; and still, summer and winter alike, he carries the mail-bag over his allotted route.

FISHING THROUGH THE ICE ON CHRISTIANIA FJORD

It is obvious that the winter is in Norway a time of enforced cessation from farm work. With the exception of a certain amount of labour connected with the cattle, there is little to be done for several months. The men pass most of this quiet time in carving wood and making various articles out of birch bark. The women spin for their household needs, and knit and embroider what may be called fancy goods in expectation of the tourist season. The large shops buy up enormous quantities of the peasants' winter work, and each of the posting inns is a small centre where the peasants of the neighbourhood endeavour to get large prices for the products of their winter industry—prices which dwindle through the summer as the days become shorter and the tourists fewer. It must be admitted that they are extraordinarily clever carvers; and they have a rather primitive method of painting their wares which is very decorative and, when it is not too well done, quite attractive. Their nicest carving they keep to themselves: witness the delightful fairy-tale animals which form the handle of the family mangling-board, and the equally charming monsters which seem to perch on the arms and backs of chairs.

A word on their primitive method of mangling may not be amiss. Two utensils are necessary—the first a kind of rolling-pin, round which the sprinkled linen is tightly swathed. The other, a mangling-board, a narrow flat piece of wood wielded by the picturesque handle I have described, is then pressed tightly on the linen and rolled with as much force as possible. I do not really believe that this operation can, even with great strength, make very much difference to the condition of the linen; but the process is much more interesting to watch than the working of a civilised mangling-machine.

It is in the winter that the work of a forester is at its height. The felling of trees begins late in September, and is continued under many difficulties and hardships all through the winter. As the large forests are often at some distance from populated areas, the woodsmen build themselves log huts. They fill up the crannies between the logs with moss and turf, but on the roof they lay first a covering of birch bark to keep things close and dry. These huts are warmed day and night by a wood fire, which is always kept burning; on this they make their tea and coffee and do what little cooking they may need. I could not discover what happens to the poor horses that help the woodsmen in their labours. Do they share the hut with their masters, or do they sleep as best they may outside in the cold and snow?

The trees are felled, the branches lopped off, and the trunks stripped of their bark, which is kept and applied to many useful purposes. They are then gathered together where it is most convenient, and when the snow becomes deep enough they are dragged or slid to the nearest practicable waterway. I believe that it is at this stage that the owner, or his representative, marks the timber for recognition. In many cases the owner of the forest sells his felled trees to a merchant, and it is here in such a case that the wood changes hands. In spring, when the ice-bound rivers begin to thaw, and the melting snow swells them in force and volume, the logs are carried by these torrents to the main river. During their journey hundreds of logs get stuck here and there, sometimes lying crossways between the banks and damming the river. The river drivers have their work cut out to obviate this happening, and, if possible, to be rid of it after its event, for to such a stoppage may be due most dangerous floods, and many accidents, when the immense mass of logs, stopped in their eager passage, at last are free. Sometimes the logs are chained together and sent down in rafts; but more often each one pursues a separate course. If they are jammed, the river driver, with the help of his long pole, must balance himself as best he can on the logs, as he springs from one to another, poking and prodding till at last he loosens the mass; and how to save himself is the question of the moment, for a risky calling is that of the man who endeavours to direct the logs in the way they should go. Sometimes, when the danger appears great even to these hardy Norwegians, accustomed though they are to risking their lives daily, the man whose duty it is to discover and cut the log which is probably causing the whole stoppage is put into a kind of harness and attached by ropes to both banks of the river, so that when the whole mass rends itself free he may be lifted directly above their violence and so drawn into safety. As it is bad for the wood to lie through the summer, it is important that all this work should be done completely and with regularity. If it is a dry season, the logs will be left high and dry, and be liable to crack; on the other hand, one may often see logs lying at the bottom of deep water so saturated that they cannot float. All this timber is a great source of wealth to the country. It is used enormously for fuel, for fencing, and in building. Immense quantities are exported in the raw; others are prepared for use in the form of doors or window frames; there is even a certain market for complete log houses of various sizes. Naturally, in such a country, one meets frequently with sawmills, and here the countless cataracts are found useful in supplying motive power. It is surely strange, all these things considered, that so little discretion is exercised in the felling and planting of trees. Although of late years, I believe, the Government has bestowed a good deal of attention on this question, so much of the forest land is in private hands and beyond surveillance that on the whole sadly little care can be taken to prevent the ill-treatment of the forests. It is acknowledged that there are many tracts of bare land which within the memory of living man were thick forests. In several districts wood is too scarce to be used for fuel, and consequently the inhabitants are dependent upon peat. Bogs are to be found all over the country—on the lonely tablelands as in the inhabited valleys. These bogs are generally moss lands, and, in the north particularly, they contain thick strata of decayed matter from the luxuriant forests of former days. The digging and cutting of splendid peat is one of the smaller industries of the country. It is thought that it will become of much greater importance as peat more and more takes the place of wood as fuel.

FISHING-NETS AT SUNDALSOREN

In other times there were thousands of acres of common land in Norway. The difficulties which this places in the way of a complete utilisation of the soil have led to attempts by the local governments to partition the common land among responsible owners; but there are obstacles, and in many cases the ground is shared by several farmers.

THE MIDNIGHT SUN

On the private property of many large farmers a feudal system of a kind is very much in vogue. Almost the same method is found on the Italian podere. Dwelling-places are built on the estate, and together with a greater or lesser plot of land, and under certain conditions which differ in various districts, are leased to a class of farm-labourers called husmaend. These men have certain rights of grazing on the farmer's land, and in addition to the rent, which is exceedingly small, the farmer has a right to their services during a certain time of the year. Superior to these husmaend are the placemaend, who own their houses but lease a certain amount of the farmer's land.

In the south-east of Norway the cultivation of fruit is carried on to a large extent. In favourable years peaches, apricots, tomatoes, and even grapes, are grown in the open air; in the north, on the mountains, the summer warmth is insufficient for even hardy plants.

Rye and oats are the most important cereals. They flourish and ripen amid harsher conditions than other grains can endure. Rye is the chief bread cereal of the country. A large area of ground is devoted to the cultivation of a mixture of barley and oats which is known as mangcorn. Experience has shown that the two grains planted together produce a larger crop than they do when planted singly. Besides being used as a human food, it is also a fodder for cattle, and a peculiarly excellent means of fattening swine. Berries are found growing wild in abundance in most of the inhabited regions; but vegetables play a very unimportant part in the feeding of the peasant.

The Norwegian horse, while not remarkable for beauty or carriage, is an exceedingly useful beast. It is hardy, gentle, and very active. On the Norwegian roads, which are in some parts very bad and in other parts merely rough bridle-paths, it cannot be surpassed. In Lapland, as everyone knows, the horse is almost entirely superseded by the reindeer. These are indeed a source of profit to their masters. From them the Lapps obtain their milk, cheese, peat, and the skin from which a good deal of their clothing is made. The small sledges which the reindeer draw are usually for one person. They are made of skin and are without shafts. The reins are tied to the horns of the beast, and this is all the control the driver has over the animal. Occasionally the reindeer is vexed and turns on his master, who saves himself by rolling out of the sledge and covering himself with it. It is a wonderful fact that a well-trained reindeer can run down the steepest hill without once coming in contact with the vehicle behind it, though there is nothing in the world but its own cleverness in covering the ground in a sort of zig-zag movement to prevent constant bumping and collisions. While young reindeer are being trained in the way they should go, a big buck animal is fastened to the back, to do nothing but pull against the other continually. This animal lives almost entirely on the moss, its natural food, which in the winter it scrapes out from under the snow with its strong hoof. Many Lapps keep a thousand or more head of these deer. They herd them together with the help of their clever dogs. Sometimes during the winter a family of these tent-dwellers descend upon districts more favoured than their own, and I believe the immense flocks of reindeer do untold damage in the forests. Besides clothing themselves in the skin of the reindeer, the Lapps make from it many objects for sale in the towns. Shoes and coats in the Lapp style, and all sorts of small articles, such as boxes, bags, knife-handles, in the fur, are produced by this people. I came across a very old book which—in an account of a visit to Norway—gives a short description of a meeting with some Lapps. I imagine that much of it may stand as if it had been written to-day.

"We accordingly provided a supply of drink and eatables; and, with a guide and an interpreter, set out on horseback. After travelling about forty hours, without seeing either any people or the road, we pitched our tents, at night, near a wood, with a part of which we made our fire. At length we met a family of about twenty persons, with their wives and children, who cordially saluted us, and we all shook hands. We shared out tobacco and brandy among them. They conducted us to their huts, and gave us dried reindeer flesh and milk.

MUNDAL, FJÆRLAND, SOGNEFJORD

"Their countenances are a miniature resemblance of the Calmuck faces; they are diminutive in size, and to appearance wretched; sufficiently generous, but full of uneasiness. They suffered us to go about everywhere, and do as we chose; and they readily showed us whatever they had. We were soon as intimate as if we had been born among them. Their language is very harmonious. A herd of about thirty reindeer strayed around. Our interpreter, who, by the bye, knew but little of their language, contrived to let them know that we wished to proceed onwards, to visit a few families of their people, by means of a carriage with reindeer. Immediately they harnessed a sledge for us; but it went very slowly, as no track in the snow had been previously beaten down. We arrived at a tribe who were all brothers and sisters of those we had quitted. Their huts were formed of large poles of wood, and set circularly, covered with branches, moss, earth, and reindeers' hides; they have holes for the smoke to escape and another hole made in the ground. We stayed three days with these people. In the middle of their huts a stove is placed, on which they make their fire, all sitting round it. Their clothing is made of deerskin, similar to a shirt, and tied about the loins with a cord. We saw some, however, dressed in linen, for which they had made an exchange of skins. These people, whose manners and habits are well worth observation, seem to enjoy the freedom of their way of life. They have no words in their language which express the ideas we attach to king, prince, governor, laws, rights, etc. We presented them with a few trifles, with which they were highly delighted, and took leave of them, to continue our route to Tuffendalen, where, after eight days' dragging, we at last found good boor-cottages. Whether the Laplanders indirectly belong to any regular constitution, or contribute anything to it, I cannot tell; but I remarked that, generally speaking, like the poor Indian of Pope, they have no artificial wants; and thus far, at least, they appear contented. The whole of this tract of land is solitary and desert. The superficial and level extent of it may comprehend a thousand and eight hundred square miles. Laplander is with them considered as a term of reproach, or a mere nickname; they call themselves Samalatzes."

Since I wrote about the restrictions on the shooting of wild animals, I have learned that, whilst only one elk may be shot during one year on any estate, the owner of the estate may mark his ground for the purpose into certain divisions, and by paying a slight increase on his licence has thereby the right to kill as many elk as he has these partitions of his land.

While wandering in the forest, a Norwegian friend was attacked by a bull elk. Having no weapons and considering prudence the better part of valour, he climbed an adjacent tree. Not to be baulked of his victim, the elk had recourse to the extraordinarily brilliant idea (for an elk) of gnawing away the roots of the tree. For eight mortal hours the object of his endeavours sat on the top of the tree momentarily expecting its fall and his destruction. At last the elk turned his attention for a time to food, and on this quest he absentmindedly wandered away, leaving my friend to scramble down and be free. I should imagine there was an elk hunt next day on that estate.

Inhabiting the innumerable small islands on the south-west coast of Norway are a race different from the land dwellers, with whom they have no communication. They are miserably poor, and live in abominably dirty huts on the barren land which is their heritage. Among these islanders consumption and leprosy claim many victims. The spread of leprosy is due mainly to the uncleanly habits of the people. They eat very little meat with the exception of pigs' flesh. The pigs feed on anything they can pick up, which resolves itself chiefly into the rotting remains of fish. The name given to them speaks for itself—"fish pig." Once a year, in the families that can afford it, such a pig is killed, and on its flesh they depend for their meat for months. It is not to be wondered at that such food, combined with their unsavoury habits, produces such terrible results. Statistics seem to show that leprosy has been growing less prevalent since the middle of the last century; but it is still necessary to keep several hospitals for the lepers.

Another remarkable fact gives rather an interesting example of the evolution which must follow on any abnormal conditions. For hundreds of years these people have had no opportunity of duly exercising their lower limbs, which are in consequence short and undeveloped; while the extraordinary muscular development of their arms and shoulders is not astonishing when one considers that all their transit exercise must be done by rowing. In consequence of this, and perhaps also on account of the consanguineous marriages, many of the inhabitants of these islands present extraordinary appearances.

FISHERIES: THE LAPPS: RELIGION AND MORALS: MUSIC

CHAPTER IX

FISHERIES: THE LAPPS: RELIGION AND MORALS: MUSIC

Although most Englishmen with any knowledge of Norway have been originally attracted to the country by the hope of sport, especially of salmon fishing, and though the rents which they are willing and eager to pay for rivers or sections of rivers are a substantial sum brought into the country, the sea fisheries are, of course, of immeasurably greater importance.

The old sagas tell that over a thousand years ago "splendid painted ships, with sails of several colours," sailed laden with fish to England, and the abundant and varied supply of fish which distinguishes the coast of Norway has always been one of the chief sources of the country's income. In 1897 it was estimated that the total receipts of the trade amounted to about sixty million kroner. The coastline of Norway is exceedingly long; in many places it slopes down to great ocean depths. These various depths and the different conditions of the submerged surface determine the nature of the submarine fauna, and consequently of the fish. Perhaps the most important of these are cod, herring, and salmon. Cod are principally fished for in March and April, with lines and nets. The Lofoten cod fishery is carried on from several stations, spread over various islands. Here are the warehouses and the very primitive dwelling-places of the fishermen. The cod are caught with lines and with nets, which are baited with herrings or little metal fish whose gleam serves equally well to deceive the cod in search of food. At the favourable spots in the right season, the fish are so abundant that the fisherman has only to throw the line and pull it out again to find that a fish has bitten and thus closed its career. The spoil is taken ashore, split open, attached two and two together by the tail, and thus hung over long lines to dry. The liver is used for the fabrication of cod-liver oil, a medicine whose unpleasantness is more than equalled by its excellence as a remedy. The heads of this profitable fish are used for manure. In these cold regions, where grass is scarce, the cod heads and herrings are used as fodder for cattle.

FISHING-BOATS AT LOFOTEN

During the season fishermen from all northern Norway flock to the stations. Sometimes as many as five or six thousand fishing boats, with a total crew of thirty-two thousand men, are gathered together. The catch averages thirty-five millions; and the fish are usually sold by the hundred, generally prepared either as "klip fish"—salted and dried—or as the evil-smelling torfisk (stock fish), which haunted our wanderings through Holland, which imports large quantities. In old fishing laws of the islands it is insisted that no torfisk should be hung up after April 12, or taken down before June 12. I presume that after this treatment they will last and be odorous for ever. In the off-seasons small cargoes of this fish are carried by many of the passenger steamers, to the profit, perhaps, of the captain, but to the intense displeasure of the passengers. Indeed, all down the coast of Norway we noticed that the air was impregnated with the smell of stock fish; our towels and napkins, and indeed everything we had washed, had the same repulsive odour.

Though the financial side of it is very satisfactory, this industry costs the country much in lives of men. The great enemy of the fisher-folk are the violent tempests which spring up suddenly in the Vestfjord. Often the boat is overturned, and the occupants cling as best they may to the various iron rings and chains. Often they drive their knives deep into the wood of the boat and hang on thus as long as they are able. Though there are lifeboats permanently attached to the stations, the greater number of fishermen lose their lives in pursuit of their calling; and after the tempest dies down, and the wrecks are washed ashore, often the clues to the number and identity of the poor drowned owners are the knives still planted in their boats. Nowhere are widows and orphans so many as on these coasts of Norway. During the fishing season the sale of intoxicating liquor is prohibited by the Government.

The herring come next in importance to the cod. They are variable in quantity, and in some years are almost altogether absent. The fishermen insist that there are "herring periods," with years good and bad. Such periods are said to last for about thirty years. During recent times such a period seems to have set in. The herring season is very short. Suddenly, as if by magic, the sea swarms with fish, which after a time disappear as rapidly as they came. To a certain extent they may be relied on twice a year—for the spring fishing off the south coast between Stavanger and Bergen, and early in winter off the northern coast between the Romsdal and Tromso. This is called the "large herring fishery," from the greater size of the fish in these parts. Besides this, fishing goes on in a measure at all times of the year. The herring are caught either by going out to sea in search of shoals; or by lying in wait for them in the small bays and fjords, preventing their escape by arrangements of nets, and baling them out at leisure. In the open sea they are also caught with nets, and are more to be relied on as to quantity.