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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 _outre_.

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!"

"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.

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.

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.

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.

FARM-HOUSES: WEDDING FESTIVITIES