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.

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.

When a shoal of herring arrives, always announced by whales and flights of birds who feed on the small fish, telephones and telegraphs are set in motion to summon the fishermen to the spot, and to order barrels and salt for the packing of the fish. These are sent as speedily as possible by special steamers. When the shoal approaches the coast, an immense net encloses it as completely as possible. The fish are massed so compactly that a boat crossing the shoal is raised by them. The brilliancy of their scales as they dash about, almost on the surface of the water, is dazzling. Landed, they are immediately split open, cleaned, salted, and packed for transportation.

Whale fishing is carried on to some extent off the north of Norway. On the little island of Skaaro there is a building where whale oil is prepared for use. From afar off the sickening smell announces the industry of the island: repulsive morsels of greasy _debris_ float on the surface of the water. At the landing place the rocky beach is so covered with grease that it is difficult to walk without falling. A friend arrived just as a whaler appeared on the horizon, dragging after her the carcase of an enormous whale, weighing seventy-five thousand kilogrammes. Such an animal will give about fifty thousand pounds' weight of oil, and will bring the captors between L280 and L300. Such a giant requires for his daily meal twenty or thirty tons of fish. To take them he opens his jaws, and closes them on water and fish alike; he swallows the fish, allows the water to filter through the curious formation of his mouth, and then squirts it up like a fountain through an opening in the skull. It is this jet of water which often causes his ruin, by indicating his position to the watchful whalers. On the boat which is chasing him is a cannon, loaded with an enormous harpoon, which is attached to the ship by a long rope wound round a pulley. The extremity of the harpoon is armed with an explosive bomb. When the whale appears the harpoon is shot at it. Following its instinct of self-preservation, it dives deep. The rope gives out rapidly. When it is entirely unwound it naturally pulls against the harpoon, the forked ends of which, in the resistance, tear the flesh of the animal. As a final result the bomb bursts in the body of the whale, and generally wounds it mortally. The corpse floats on the surface; it is attached to the boat and towed to the station, where it is cut up. The fat produces a large amount of oil; the whalebone is a productive article of commerce; and most of the remainder of the animal is converted into manure.

It is on account of the great importance and interest which we in England attach to the salmon fishing that I do not dare to deal with it, except to make an apology that any book on Norway should be without at least a chapter on this splendid sport. Though the accomplished angler is allowed to relate fish stories without interruption from an absolutely incredulous audience, the remarks of an inexperienced outsider would, I fear, not be received with equal docility. I am sure that an angler is born, not made: for, though I am ignorant on the subject, all my life I have listened to enthusiastic fisherman's talk, and was brought up in a nursery in which were "skied" various victims of my father's prowess as an angler.

Since the beginning of my book I have learnt so much about the Lapps that I must enlarge on my borrowed history of them in Chapter VIII. The Lapps are nomadic on account of their reindeer, and it is following these animals where they choose to roam in search of food that takes them wandering all over the northern half of Norway. There are only two Lapp villages--Karasjok, in Finmarken, and Kontokeimo, near the Russian frontier. The permanent residences consist of cabins built of turf, stones, or small tree-trunks. These huts are round and have one opening in the top, where the light penetrates and the smoke comes out. In the middle of the hut a fire is kept continually burning, with a big cauldron hanging over it, suspended by a chain. The members of the family and their servants, if they have any, sleep on either side of the fire. The Lapps are small, in great contrast to the Norwegians of this region, who average over six feet in height. The children are often exceedingly pretty; but they soon lose their charm and become ugly, and are not rendered more attractive by their dirty habits. All their garments are made of reindeer skin, and the women add to these various silk shawls and handkerchiefs brightly coloured; by the quantity and the quality of these one may judge of their rank and richness. The Lapps are supposed to share a common origin with the Magyars of Hungary, though these, if they recognise the relationship, cannot feel flattered. It is certain that the Lapps were the first inhabitants of Norway. In appearance they are unprepossessing. They have small eyes, very low foreheads, flat noses, and thick-lipped mouths. Like the Hungarians, they are incredibly proud. They despise everything that is not Lapp, and refuse to allow their daughters in marriage to Norwegians. (I should have thought that the Norwegians would not have worried much about this restriction.) They are all baptized in the Lutheran Church; but that is as far as their religion goes in most cases. They are unmoral and superstitious.

One might gather from the books of some of Norway's great writers that the nation is on the whole rather casual about morality. It would appear that their religion, while condemning as worthy of hell quite honest pleasures, looks with indulgence on a certain moral laxity, which is indeed so habitual that it passes uncriticised. Among the very strictly religious population in the south-west, a pastor would be quickly got rid of if he forgot himself so far as to play the piano or drink intoxicants; but this same people some ten years ago venerated as a martyr one of their clergy who, forced to confess in public crimes against the morality of his own parishioners, was consequently deposed by the Government. His flock, of their own initiative, built him a magnificent church, and, providing him with a liberal sufficiency, retained him as the director of their spiritual welfare.

Two Oratorians, visiting Norway some years ago in a yacht, decided to spend a few days fishing at a hamlet somewhere in the Sogne Fjord. They had all the preparations for Mass with them, and wished to take a small unused chalet as a chapel. The farmer who owned the building was willing, and negotiations were concluded on payment of a nominal rent, when the farmer realised that my friends were of the Old Religion. There was no question of proselytism, as the idea concerned only the two priests and their Catholic English friends on the yacht; but all the countryside was up in arms, and a few days later prominent personages from Christiania had arrived on the scene to put a stop to the possibility of such happenings. In the meantime, however, my friends, little dreaming of the importance attached to their doings, had pursued their way along the coast, and were innocently fishing elsewhere. At present the ecclesiastical prejudice of the Norwegians is less marked, though Jews are sedulously discouraged, and Jesuits are forbidden the country.

Various hospitals are attended by Catholic nursing sisters, who are in great favour with the medical profession and with the patients who are lucky enough to fall under their care.

All this time I am trying hard, by roundabout means, to get back to Bergen, because I wish to fit in, in proper context, a remark which I heard about the town. It seems that I cannot get back there legitimately, though I had hoped that the Sisters of Charity would help me through with their hospitals.

I was listening to the woes of the American Consul in Bergen. He was descanting on the want of entertainment and the absence of all things which make an American's life possible in any country on the globe outside his perfect native land. I sympathised with him, and threw in a little grumble of my own, having relation to the weather. "O, the weather!" said my red-headed friend, very hopelessly and crossly. "Why, sure, if a Bergen horse sees a person without an umbrella, he shies." This seems pretty feeble as I set it down; but at the time the Consul was disconsolate and far from wishing to amuse me, bored and discontented. Thus his remark just happened to tickle me: we both laughed until we cried, and felt very much the better for the diversion.

Frequently, at times of _ennui_, we found diversion in music, or in information about that art. The lure, though perhaps it can hardly be called a musical instrument, is a primitive means of conveying sound. The herds on the mountains used it to call their cattle together. It is said that no two lures have tones exactly alike, and that the cattle are able to distinguish and place the particular sound of their guardian's lure. It is a wooden trumpet, nearly five feet long, made of two hollow pieces of birchwood, bound together throughout the whole length with strips of willow. Besides being used to call the cattle together, it is often carried by travelling parties to avert the risk of anyone being lost in the wilds. Its notes may be heard at a great distance, and are rather harsh and discordant, possessing none of the musical qualities of the Alp horn used by the Swiss for the same purpose. Grieg composed charming music for a song called "The Princess." The words led me to suppose that the lure is rather a fascinating instrument; and the above description rather disillusioned me, until I decided to allow a good deal for poetic licence.

The Norwegians are exceedingly musical. Their national music gives wonderful expression to their moods. Almost invariably in the gayest pieces one catches here and there a pathetic little droop which gives a very particular character to Norwegian music. In the country the post of fiddler is handed down from generation to generation, together with certain airs which are looked upon as family property; but official fiddlers are by no means the only musicians in the district. These are found in every family, dividing their favours between the violin and the guitar. The organist L. Lindeman did great service to his country by collecting and preserving hundreds of national ballads, dances, and hymns, which had lived only in the ear and the soul of the people, and thus were lost entirely to the outer world. The oldest of these songs are the sagas, sung traditions that have been handed down from immemorial ages. They recount the heroic exploits of the Vikings and warriors of heathen times. Many ballads tell of the beautiful _huldre_, of the fay who presages the destruction of fishermen, of the water sprite, and of the brownies who, living underground, are covetous of cattle. To gratify their taste, the brownies help themselves to such as graze on the mountains, but only if their guardian's eyes are turned off his charges; they make dwarfs of the beasts to enable them to enter crevices in the ground, in order that they may descend to subterranean passages. Many songs about these malicious fairies do the maidens sing as they keep their eyes carefully fixed on the herds, to prevent their being stolen in like manner. Some of the songs consist of hundreds of four-line verses, which must surely be a hard test to the memory of the singers. Sometimes two singers will have a duet in such a song, singing verse after verse alternately. He whose memory, or, in default of memory, invention, fails him first is loser.

The Norwegian national dances have in their melodies and rhythms a bold and natural character which gives them considerable worth. The principal are the _halling_, a Hardanger solo dance consisting of wild gyrations and vigorous kicks at rafters of the room. He who kicks highest is the champion. The other dance is the _springar_, which is a dance for two, with no less call for the display of muscular powers.

The two favourite instruments of the people, on which all this music has been played for centuries, are the langelik, which somewhat resembles a zither, and the Hardanger violin. The langelik has a long, flat body, with round holes, and at least seven strings, which are struck with a plectrum. The tone is rather weak, and the sound is somewhat monotonous, as the possibility of producing modulated sounds is almost entirely excluded.

The Hardanger fiddle is higher and more arched in its build than the violin we know. The instrument is decorated as much as possible, the scroll being a dragon's head, or something equally fantastic: and the body of the fiddle is richly carved and ornamented with incrustations of ivory and mother-of-pearl. Beneath the four upper strings, which are tuned to suit the individual tastes of the musician, and under the finger-board, there are four, sometimes more, sympathetic strings of fine steel wire. By the aid of this instrument the people make wonderful sketches in music descriptive of the beauty of dawn and the close of a summer's day, with the birds' trills, or the huldre's song, or the ringing of marriage bells. I have all this from a Norwegian book, and from instruments I have both seen and heard.

The best known of the modern music-makers of the north is the great Norwegian Edward Grieg, whose genius is familiar to all musicians the world over. He was born in Bergen, and lives there still, though he has travelled much in Germany, Holland, and Italy. Another name which we know well in this country is that of Sinding, who is of the younger generation.

Norway has no regular opera; but the concerts which are given in the beautiful National Theatre are eagerly attended, and the programmes are representative of the musical talent of Europe.

LEGENDS AND LITERATURE