Chapter III: On the Fjords

We were awakened rather roughly next morning. At an early hour two steamers landed at Naes, and a stream of tourists emerged. For two hours vehicles of all sorts filed past our hotel. They took the drive we had taken in solitude and moonlight the previous evening, and by the time the last carriage of the goers passed out of sight the first carriole of the comers-back was visible. Our dream was ended. We fled the Romsdal, thanking a merciful chance which, at least for a time and for our first impression, had given us the Romsdal in its most ideal beauty.

Moonlight also was it when we left on an almost passengerless steamer, which took us up the glorious fjord back to Molde. Here we passed another week to our profit and satisfaction. Some interesting old wooden buildings on the water, about to be pulled down, provided subjects for Nico's brush, and I wandered about and admired, peaceful in the consciousness that when Nature for a time should cease to suffice me I had in reserve a resource--the hotel library consisted of a sixteen-volume History of England and a few odd volumes of an Encyclopaedia!

In an old book on Norway which I came across, the author mentions a visit he made to a little village near a river which he calls Osterthal. It was rather an involuntary visit: they had lost their way.--"We came to a minister's house, whose son's wedding was being celebrated. It was full of people of all descriptions, forming a droll caricature scene. [At the date this was written all the country-folk would be in national costume.] Our effects were brought in by the multitude without our paying any attention to them; the parson's silver plate was lying about in every direction, his watches hung in every room. [The author mentions this apparent plenitude of watches on several occasions, as giving a sign of prosperity.] A hundred persons at least were present of the poorest sort, eating and drinking in every room of the house, yet such is the honesty of the population that everything was safe. Our host received us most generously, and would accept of no reward; he was even seriously displeased that we presented his daughter with a couple of ducats, because she would load us with bread and other provisions. We spent the night in the utmost conviviality, and proceeded the next day over waste mountains and marshes on foot, till we crossed the frontier and arrived at Lerma."

Later we read that in one place they were indeed most hospitable and caught fish enough to feed the family for eight days. What joy!

In another place he tells us that the bread, "generally made of the rind of trees, was miserable."

Again: "Bonaparte is the common theme of the Norwegians. In no country is such praise lavished on him as in this, where his power is only felt in undesigningly promoting the country's advantage--from this standpoint the Norwegians admire him and calmly survey the convulsions around them."

It is interesting to observe that at this date the writer gives the population of Norway as being under a million; now it is considerably over two millions. He remarks that the women, though strong, robust, and generally over six feet in height, are sadly wanting in feminine charms. In our days they have changed. We may suppose from practical experience that what the Norwegian women have lost in stature they have gained in beauty. The number of pretty women is well above the average.

In the fulness of time we left Molde by steamer, and so southwards along the coast, stopping for a few hours at the ruins of Aalesund, the thriving little town that was entirely burnt down in January 1904. Of the twelve thousand inhabitants who were almost all bereft of house and home, only one lost her life, and that through rashness. She was an old woman who, finding she had forgotten some cherished possession, insisted on entering the burning house to recover it. At least, this is what was told me by an inhabitant of the place; and I take it to be correct, for the Norwegians of to-day are as honest and trustworthy as were their ancestors at the beginning of last century.

We landed on this island of ruins and climbed the pretty hill which overlooks the town. Thence we obtained a magnificent view over the sea, and were able to realise the complete and terrible desolation wrought by the fire. At the time of this disaster Nico was in Norway, and the whole country rang with the praises of the Emperor William of Germany, whose immediate and practical generosity was a theme for the warmest recognition. To judge from all we heard in different parts of the country, it would appear that he has won the heart of Norway, and has made himself immensely popular with the people.

The ancestor of our King William the Conqueror gives his name to a castle not far south of Aalesund. He was called Rollo the Walker, because he was so tall and heavy that no horse could be found strong enough to carry him. He conquered parts of France, and founded the Duchy of Normandy.

As far as I remember, from Aalesund south the steamer behaved in such a way that we thought it would be as well to leave it for a while, and we landed as soon as was possible at a charmingly situated island called Moldoeen. For various reasons, the place was without a quay. In torrents of rain and buffeted by the gale, we scrambled off the steamer on to a flat-bottomed boat, and were rowed to the island.

What a dreary little place it seemed! Even though we had strawberries and cream at tea, and even though the best room was furnished with two beautiful bouquets of wax flowers under glass, the rain beat down such spirits as we might have had, and we went to bed disconsolate and cold. The beds were extraordinarily uncomfortable. I tried three of the four in my small room, and stayed in the third in despair. I awoke to find the sun pouring into the room, and the strains of "Rule, Britannia" filling the house with gramophonic sound. We got up and dressed to the tunes of the "Marseillaise" and "Willie, we have missed you"; ate our breakfast to a popular cake-walk; and proceeded to investigate. It turned out that the hospitality of the house, which we had deemed ours alone, was shared by a commercial traveller. Steamer-bound there for two days, he carried about with him for use on such occasions five phones of different kinds. As far as we could discover, he made Moldoeen a centre from which he radiated to various islands, bearing with him on his outgoings and incomings one or two of the instruments. He entertained us all day long with disquisitions on the advantages of this one and the disadvantages of that, with practical examples. This was a labour of love, for he "travelled" in machinery. He had lived for many years in America. He had a wife and family in Christiania, whom he was in the habit of seeing for not more than a week in the year. When we left the island he left too, and endeavoured to get me a berth on a southward-bound steamer which had about a dozen berths and fifty or sixty passengers. He was not successful, and we all sat up on deck; but I have a kindly memory of him for his excellent intentions and his music.

While we were on the island I saw several reindeer on the mountains opposite.

We had intended to travel from Moldoeen along the Sogne Fjord; but, finding it impossible to control the steamers coming from the north, we were obliged to postpone our visit to these celebrated parts. A friend who was staying at Balholm in the 'eighties related to me how one fine day, when they were boating on the fjord, they saw a whale. All the craft on the water scuttled for their lives, and the whale, after creating much excitement, quietly made its way back to the open and was seen no more.

We arrived at Bergen in pouring rain. Surrounded as this town is by high mountains, which, while protecting her from the extreme violence of the storms, attract and imprison the clouds, it has rarely a rainless day. We stayed for three weeks.

Bergen, which is still one of the most important ports of Scandinavia, has had an interesting commercial history. It began its growth in the eleventh century, and its importance may be judged by the fact that in 1302 a decree fixed the number of its dock labourers at two hundred. In these centuries several commercial treaties were concluded between Norway and various Powers. Among others is still extant an agreement between England and Norway. A German body known as the Hanseatic League, recognising the great commercial importance of such a town as Bergen, began in the thirteenth century to obtain a footing there. Until their arrival the Norwegian trade was almost confined to the summer months. The first step taken by the Hansards was to struggle to establish themselves during the winter. The Norwegians strove for a long time to prevent this, and as late as 1300, it appears, the number of Germans wintering at Bergen was inconsiderable. Later in that century the Hansards instituted a factory in the town; and, aided by three visitations of the plague, which reduced the population of Norway, and by extensive privileges granted to them by Magnus Kagaboter, which rendered it almost impossible for the Norwegians to carry on an independent trade, they arrived at practically controlling all the commerce of the country, and in other respects held the trump cards in their own hands. As they increased in power, these foreigners became domineering, in Bergen especially, where they committed acts of aggression and violence against the Norwegian population. The native merchants in the various ports made a stubborn and vindictive resistance; but the Germans were there in such numbers that when at last the Norse efforts were crowned with success and the foreigners to some extent driven out, these towns found themselves much reduced in strength. Bergen, however, aided by her enormous fishing trade, continued to be the most important commercial town, and the Hanseatic population struggled hard to keep the supremacy which they had enjoyed. During the seventeenth century the Thirty Years' War weakened them in their own country, and the growing supremacy of the Dutch fleet was another influence against them. It was not until the middle of the eighteenth century, however, that the German factory entirely ceased. Even now the houses of the Hanseatic quarter are only beginning to be pulled down. When we were in Bergen we watched the process of destruction, and admired the immense strength of the foundations of enormous piles on which the old Germans built their dwelling-places and storehouses. In the quarter there is an interesting museum, containing many Hanseatic relics, including much domestic furniture.

To-day, with its trade and its immense influx of visitors to the country, Bergen presents an animated sight. One of my favourite haunts during solitary wanderings was the fish-market. On two days of the week--Wednesday and Saturday, I believe--if one gets there early enough, the little quay is crowded with amusing folk, the solemn fishermen from the islands, who bring their spoil to be disposed of to the best advantage, and the shrewd becapped fishwives, determined on not giving an ore beyond the lowest possible price. It is delightful to listen to their rapid speech with its quaint inflections. Some of the women wear charming starched white caps like those of Sisters of Charity, and others tightly-fitting black or blue bonnets with little frills relieving their austerity. Here and there, under a flight of stone steps or built like a niche in a blank wall, one catches a glimpse of a tiny stall where twisted cakes containing much spice are sold, or of the wooden boxes of varying sizes and prices which the Norwegians use where we use baskets and bags. Some are plain, some ornamented with poker work, and others more or less elaborately painted in the brilliant colours and the conventional flower-designs beloved of the Norsemen and the tourist. The Norsemen employ the boxes in every size, and for every purpose, from the big receptacle which contains the whole outfit of a young man or maid starting in life to the tiny five-ore box which holds little Ragna's ball of cotton and her jointed crotchet-hook.

The place is surrounded by seven hills, which we did not climb, and has _en plus_ a theatre which we did not visit. We did, however, take ourselves to a music-hall, which, if it satisfied the Bergenites' idea of comfort and entertainment, proves them to be a people of contented mind. That, I am afraid, is one of the blessings of which I am deprived. In spite of the seven hills, the Hanseatic remains, and the rain, I believe I was bored in Bergen. I was not to interrupt Nico, because he was working very hard; I could not roam about much while all my clothes were in a continual state of being dried; I could scarcely afford to read a book an hour at one and two kroner apiece; I was quite destitute; even Satan found no mischief for my idle hands to do; and I was glad when the money we were waiting for arrived and we were able to make our way inland. I am just beginning to grow rather fond of Bergen, and by the time I see this grumbling in print I daresay I shall wish to take back all I have written in any way derogatory to the place.

We left in the middle of the night, going by steamer the whole way to Odde in preference to taking train to a place called Voss--a remarkable railway journey through grand and varied scenery, the track being almost entirely hewn out of solid rock. There are no fewer than fifty-five tunnels between Voss and Bergen. However, we contented ourselves with that old-established means of transit, the fjord steamer--in this case a biggish vessel, though without sleeping accommodation beyond the smoking-room and a ladies' small room on deck. Fortunately, there were only two feminine passengers. I was one. The other was an American girl who, making a European tour with the necessary aunts, had left them in luxury and comfort in Berlin while she made a carriole journey over Norway. At the time we met on the steamer she was beginning to regret her persistence, and we were both glad of each other's company until she left the country to join her relations.

In the morning, drawing the curtains of our cabin, we beheld the glorious scenery of the far-famed Hardanger Fjord. We breakfasted with good appetite on biscuits, delicious prawns, and excellent chocolate. I do not know if the menu sounds tempting; but the coffee left much to be desired, and by that time we had grown accustomed to stranger mixtures than shell-fish and chocolate. The weather was magnificent, and thus, though it was rather late in the year, we enjoyed all the pleasure offered by Nature to visitors of this delightful arm of the sea without the disadvantages of mosquitoes and crowds experienced by those tourists who pay their homage of admiration in the usual season. We sat on deck the whole morning, enjoying the wonderful panorama that unfolded itself before us at every turn of the fjord. As the steamer twisted in and out we noticed that the fjord was generally edged with a narrow band of fertile, smiling country; immediately above, the wooded heights rose precipitously, parted here and there by silver torrents that poured foaming over the rocks into the fjord. Occasionally, as we passed close by these cascades, the spray they threw off caught the sun's rays and showed for a moment a wonder of all the imaginable beauty of the commingling of the diamond with the rainbow. High above were the snow-crowned mountains and the blue whiteness of glaciers. What a wonderful country! It seems sometimes that Nature is too prodigal. Where an hour of such beauty leaves one overwhelmed with marvel and delight, days and weeks of a panorama ever increasing in splendour dull the senses and--dare I say it?--almost satiate.

Late in the afternoon we stopped at a small station to pick up a few passengers who had chosen to go so far by rail and carriole, and my American friend was much pleased to recognise two young scions of French nobility, whose titles she had read on her journey from Molde to Bergen, when most of the passengers were invisible through illness. She was convinced that Dr. Conan Doyle had been her neighbour at table, and she begged me to find out if he had been in Norway during the summer. She had a wonderful gift of enthusiasm, and did our rather jaded spirits a great deal of good by that intense keenness which is characteristic of her race.

After dinner we came again on deck, to find the moon pouring her soft light over all and imparting to the earth a romantic illusiveness. However, it was also exceedingly cold, and we retired early, Nico to smoke and doze, and I with our American to discuss the war between North and South and other important matters; of course, we discovered friends in common. All through the nights one passes on these fjord steamers one is constantly aroused by weird bumpings and stampings, and we had learnt from previous experience that this was due to the stoppage of the steamer at different stations to pick up and deliver cargoes. About eleven o'clock on this particular night, the noises were of such an extraordinary character, and seemed to last so long, that we put on our big coats and went out on the deck to explore. By the light of two small lamps a herd of fifty cows was being embarked. Some of them protested vigorously against stepping on to the thin plank bridging the water between them and the boat. The whole business was tiresome and lengthy. At last a band was improvised to pass round the animals' bodies; one by one they were hauled up, willy-nilly, by the crane and pulley, and dropped into their allotted quarters.

An hour or two later we were startled from our sleep. The scene was reversed, and the cattle were landed at their destination.

About four o'clock we were again disturbed by the running backwards and forwards of many feet. When the steamer settled into silence, we dropped off to sleep, too quickly to discover that all motion had ceased and that we were at a standstill. We were not shipwrecked; nor had we met with any untoward accident. We had arrived, and, though most of the passengers had left the boat and finished their night in more comfortable quarters, we slept on in blissful ignorance until after eight o'clock, when Nico came to inform us that all our baggage was at the hotel and breakfast ordered.

We dressed with alacrity, and made our way to the enormous hotel of Odde, which is about the most popular resort of the tourist in Norway, though when we were there late in August it was without guests. We breakfasted in a lofty room, and noticed that the waitresses, who are famed for their allegiance to Norwegian costume, had relinquished it with their hopes of other foreign guests, and were soberly dressed in black. The day after our departure the proprietor and his family left the place, and caught us up when we finally rested at Dalen. I wonder if Norway is glad or sorry when the enthusiastic but destroying tourist ceases for nine months to take up his abode within her gates?

MINOR ROMANTIC EPISODES