Book: A Visit to Iceland and the Scandinavian North

M >> Madame Ida Pfeiffer >> A Visit to Iceland and the Scandinavian North




At dinner or supper, the ladies--the Danish girl and myself--sat on
the little benches, where we were so squeezed, that we could
scarcely move; the two cavaliers--the captain and the steersman--
were obliged to stand before the table, and eat their meals in that
position. The table was so small that they were obliged to hold
their plates in their hands. In short, every thing shewed the cabin
was made only for the crew, not for the passengers.

The air in this enclosure was also not of the purest; for, besides
that it formed our bed-room, dining-room, and drawing-room, it was
also used as store-room, for in the side cupboards provisions of
various kinds were stored, also oil-colours, and a variety of other
matter. I preferred to sit on the deck, exposed to the cold and the
storm, or to be bathed by a wave, than to be half stifled below.
Sometimes, however, I was obliged to descend, either when rain and
storms were too violent, or when the ship was so tossed by contrary
winds that the deck was not safe. The rolling and pitching of our
little vessel was often so terrible, that we ladies could neither
sit nor stand, and were therefore obliged to lie down in the
miserable berths for many a weary day. How I envied my companion!
she could sleep day and night, which I could not. I was nearly
always awake, much to my discomfort; for the hatches and the
entrance were closed during the storm, and an Egyptian darkness, as
well as a stifling atmosphere, filled the cabin.

In regard to food, all passengers, captain and crew, ate of the same
dish. The morning meal consisted of miserable tea, or rather of
nauseous water having the colour of tea. The sailors imbibed theirs
without sugar, but the captain and the steersman took a small piece
of candied sugar, which does not melt so quickly as the refined
sugar, in their mouth, and poured down cup after cup of tea, and ate
ship's biscuit and butter to it.

The dinner fare varied. The first day we had salt meat, which is
soaked the evening before, and boiled the next day in sea-water. It
was so salt, so hard, and so tough, that only a sailor's palate can
possibly enjoy it. Instead of soup, vegetables, and pudding, we had
pearl-barley boiled in water, without salt or butter; to which
treacle and vinegar was added at the dinner-table. All the others
considered this a delicacy, and marvelled at my depraved taste when
I declared it to be unpalatable.

The second day brought a piece of bacon, boiled in sea-water, with
the barley repeated. On the third we had cod-fish with peas.
Although the latter were boiled hard and without butter, they were
the most eatable of all the dishes. On the fourth day the bill of
fare of the first was repeated, and the same course followed again.
At the end of every dinner we had black coffee. The supper was like
the breakfast,--tea-water, ship's biscuit and butter.

I wished to have provided myself with some chickens, eggs, and
potatoes in Reikjavik, but I could not obtain any of these luxuries.
Very few chickens are kept--only the higher officials or merchants
have them; eggs of eider-ducks and other birds may often be had, but
more are never collected than are wanted for the daily supply, and
then only in spring; for potatoes the season was not advanced
enough. My readers have now a picture of the luxurious life I led
on board the ship. Had I been fortunate enough to voyage in a
better vessel, where the passengers are more commodiously lodged and
better fed, the seasickness would certainly not have attacked me;
but in consequence of the stifling atmosphere of the cabin and the
bad food, I suffered from it the first day. But on the second I was
well again, regained my appetite, and ate salt meat, bacon, and peas
as well as a sailor; the stockfish, the barley, and the coffee and
tea, I left untouched.

A real sailor never drinks water; and this observation of mine was
confirmed by our captain and steersman: instead of beer or wine,
they took tea, and, except at meals, cold tea.

On Sunday evenings we had a grand supper, for the captain had eight
eggs, which he had brought from Denmark, boiled for us four people.
The crew had a few glasses of punch-essence mixed in their tea.

As my readers are now acquainted with the varied bill of fare in
such a ship, I will say a few words of the table-linen. This
consisted only of an old sailcloth, which was spread over the table,
and looked so dirty and greasy that I thought it would be much
better and more agreeable to leave the table uncovered. But I soon
repented the unwise thought, and discovered how important this cloth
was. One morning I saw our valet treating a piece of sailcloth
quite outrageously: he had spread it upon the deck, stood upon it,
and brushed it clean with the ship's broom. I recognised our
tablecloth by the many spots of dirt and grease, and in the evening
found the table bare. But what was the consequence? Scarcely had
the tea-pot been placed on the table than it began to slip off; had
not the watchful captain quickly caught it, it would have fallen to
the ground and bathed our feet with its contents. Nothing could
stand on the polished table, and I sincerely pitied the captain that
he had not another tablecloth.

My readers will imagine that what I have described would have been
quite sufficient to make my stay in the vessel any thing but
agreeable; but I discovered another circumstance, which even made it
alarming. This was nothing less than that our little vessel was
constantly letting in a considerable quantity of water, which had to
be pumped out every few hours. The captain tried to allay my
uneasiness by asserting that every ship admitted water, and ours
only leaked a little more because it was so old. I was obliged to
be content with his explanation, as it was now too late to think of
a change. Fortunately we did not meet with any storms, and
therefore incurred less danger.

Our journey lasted twenty days, during twelve of which we saw no
land; the wind drove us too far east to see the Feroe or the
Shetland Isles. I should have cared less for this, had I seen some
of the monsters of the deep instead, but we met with scarcely any of
these amiable animals. I saw the ray of water which a whale emitted
from his nostrils, and which exactly resembled a fountain; the
animal itself was unfortunately too far from our ship for us to see
its body. A shark came a little nearer; it swam round our vessel
for a few moments, so that I could easily look at him: it must have
been from sixteen to eighteen feet long.

The so-called flying-fish afforded a pretty sight. The sea was as
calm as a mirror, the evening mild and moonlight; and so we remained
on deck till late, watching the gambols of these animals. As far as
we could see, the water was covered with them. We could recognise
the younger fishes by their higher springs; they seemed to be three
to four feet long, and rose five to six feet above the surface of
the sea. Their leaping looked like an attempt at flying, but their
gills did not do them good service in the trial, and they fell back
immediately. The old fish did not seem to have the same elasticity;
they only described a small arch like the dolphins, and only rose so
far above the water that we could see the middle part of their body.

These fish are not caught; they have little oil, and an unpleasant
taste.

On the thirteenth day we again saw land. We had entered the
Skagerrak, and saw the peninsula of Jutland, with the town of
Skaggen. The peninsula looks very dreary from this side; it is flat
and covered with sand.

On the sixteenth day we entered the Cattegat. For some time past we
had always either been becalmed or had had contrary winds, and had
been tossed about in the Skagerrak, the Cattegat, and the Sound for
nearly a week. On some days we scarcely made fifteen to twenty
leagues a day. On such calm days I passed the time with fishing;
but the fish were wise enough not to bite my hook. I was daily
anticipating a dinner of mackerel, but caught only one.

The multitude of vessels sailing into the Cattegat afforded me more
amusement; I counted above seventy. The nearer we approached the
entrance of the Sound, the more imposing was the sight, and the more
closely were the vessels crowded together. Fortunately we were
favoured by a bright moonlight; in a dark or stormy night we should
not with the greatest precaution and skill have been able to avoid a
collision.

The inhabitants of more southern regions have no idea of the
extraordinary clearness and brilliancy of a northern moonlight
night; it seems almost as if the moon had borrowed a portion of the
sun's lustre. I have seen splendid nights on the coast of Asia, on
the Mediterranean; but here, on the shores of Scandinavia, they were
lighter and brighter.

I remained on deck all night; for it pleased me to watch the forests
of masts crowded together here, and endeavouring simultaneously to
gain the entrance to the Sound. I should now be able to form a
tolerable idea of a fleet, for this number of ships must surely
resemble a merchant-fleet.

On the twentieth day of our journey we entered the port of
Helsingor. The Sound dues have to be paid here, or, as the sailor
calls it, the ship must be cleared. This is a very tedious
interruption, and the stopping and restarting of the ship very
incommodious. The sails have to be furled, the anchor cast, the
boat lowered, and the captain proceeds on shore; hours sometimes
elapse before he has finished. When he returns to the ship, the
boat has to be hoisted again, the anchor raised, and the sails
unfurled. Sometimes the wind has changed in the mean time; and in
consequence of these formalities, the port of Copenhagen cannot be
reached at the expected time.

If a ship is unfortunate enough to reach Helsingor on a dark night,
she may not enter at all for fear of a collision. She has to anchor
in the Cattegat, and thus suffer two interruptions. If she arrives
at Helsingor in the night before four o'clock, she has to wait, as
the custom-house is not opened till that time.

The skipper is, however, at liberty to proceed direct to Copenhagen,
but this liberty costs five thalers (fifteen shillings). If,
however, the toll may thus be paid in Copenhagen just as easily, the
obligation to stop at Helsingor is only a trick to gain the higher
toll; for if a captain is in haste, or the wind is too favourable to
be lost, he forfeits the five thalers, and sails on to Copenhagen.

Our captain cared neither for time nor trouble; he cleared the ship
here, and so we did not reach Copenhagen until two o'clock in the
afternoon. After my long absence, it seemed so familiar, so
beautiful and grand, as if I had seen nothing so beautiful in my
whole life. My readers must bear in mind, however, where I came
from, and how long I had been imprisoned in a vessel in which I
scarcely had space to move. When I put foot on shore again, I could
have imitated Columbus, and prostrated myself to kiss the earth.


DEPARTURE FROM COPENHAGEN.--CHRISTIANIA.


On the 19th August, the day after my arrival from Iceland, at two
o'clock in the afternoon, I had already embarked again; this time in
the fine royal Norwegian steamer Christiania, of 170 horsepower,
bound for the town of Christiania, distant 304 sea-miles from
Copenhagen. We had soon passed through the Sound and arrived safely
in the Cattegat, in which we steered more to the right than on the
journey to Iceland; for we not only intended to see Norway and
Sweden, but to cast anchor on the coast.

We could plainly see the fine chain of mountains which bound the
Cattegat on the right, and whose extreme point, the Kulm, runs into
the sea like a long promontory. Lighthouses are erected here, and
on the other numerous dangerous spots of the coast, and their lights
shine all around in the dark night. Some of the lights are movable,
and some stationary, and point out to the sailor which places to
avoid.


August 20th.

Bad weather is one of the greatest torments of a traveller, and is
more disagreeable when one passes through districts remarkable for
beauty and originality. Both grievances were united to-day; it
rained, almost incessantly; and yet the passage of the Swedish coast
and of the little fiord to the port of Gottenburg was of peculiar
interest. The sea here was more like a broad stream which is
bounded by noble rocks, and interspersed by small and large rocks
and shoals, over which the waters dashed finely. Near the harbour,
some buildings lie partly on and partly between the rocks; these
contain the celebrated royal Swedish iron-foundry, called the new
foundry. Even numerous American ships were lying here to load this
metal. {46}

The steamer remains more than four hours in the port of Gottenburg,
and we had therefore time to go into the town, distant about two
miles, and whose suburbs extend as far as the port. On the landing-
quay a captain lives who has always a carriage and two horses ready
to drive travellers into the town. There are also one-horse
vehicles, and even an omnibus. The former were already engaged; the
latter, we were told, drives so slowly, that nearly the whole time
is lost on the road; so I and two travelling companions hired the
captain's carriage. The rain poured in torrents on our heads; but
this did not disturb us much. My two companions had business to
transact, and curiosity attracted me. I had not at that time known
that I should have occasion to visit this pretty little town again,
and would not leave without seeing it.

The suburbs are built entirely of wood, and contain many pretty one-
story houses, surrounded, for the most part, by little gardens. The
situation of the suburbs is very peculiar. Rocks, or little fields
and meadows, often lie between the houses; the rocks even now and
then cross the streets, and had to be blasted to form a road. The
view from one of the hills over which the road to the town lies is
truly beautiful.

The town has two large squares: on the smaller one stands the large
church; on the larger one the town-hall, the post-office, and many
pretty houses. In the town every thing is built of bricks. The
river Ham flows through the large square, and increases the traffic
by the many ships and barks running into it from the sea, and
bringing provisions, but principally fuel, to market. Several
bridges cross it. A visit to the well-stocked fish-market is also
an interesting feature in a short visit to this town.

I entered a Swedish house for the first time here. I remarked that
the floor was strewed over with the fine points of the fir-trees,
which had an agreeable odour, a more healthy one probably than any
artificial perfume. I found this custom prevalent all over Sweden
and Norway, but only in hotels and in the dwellings of the poorer
classes.

About eleven o'clock in the forenoon we continued our journey. We
steered safely through the many rocks and shoals, and soon reached
the open sea again. We did not stand out far from the shore, and
saw several telegraphs erected on the rocks. We soon lost sight of
Denmark on the left, and arrived at the fortress Friedrichsver
towards evening, but could not see much of it. Here the so-called
Scheren begin, which extend sixty leagues, and form the Christian's
Sound. By what I could see in the dim twilight, the scene was
beautiful. Numerous islands, some merely consisting of bare rocks,
others overgrown with slender pines, surrounded us on all sides.
But our pilot understood his business perfectly, and steered us
safely through to Sandesund, spite of the dark night. Here we
anchored, for it would have been too dangerous to proceed. We had
to wait here for the steamer from Bergen, which exchanged passengers
with us. The sea was very rough, and this exchange was therefore
extremely difficult to effect. Neither of the steamers would lower
a boat; at last our steamer gave way, after midnight, and the
terrified and wailing passengers were lowered into it. I pitied
them from my heart, but fortunately no accident happened.


August 21st

I could see the situation of Sandesund better by day; and found it
to consist only of a few houses. The water is so hemmed in here
that it scarcely attains the breadth of a stream; but it soon widens
again, and increases in beauty and variety with every yard. We
seemed to ride on a beautiful lake; for the islands lie so close to
the mountains in the background, that they look like a continent,
and the bays they form like the mouths of rivers. The next moment
the scene changes to a succession of lakes, one coming close on the
other; and when the ship appears to be hemmed in, a new opening is
suddenly presented to the eye behind another island. The islands
themselves are of a most varied character: some only consist of
bare rocks, with now and then a pine; some are richly covered with
fields and groves; and the shore presents so many fine scenes, that
one hardly knows where to look in order not to miss any of the
beauties of the scenery. Here are high mountains overgrown from the
bottom to the summit with dark pine-groves; there again lovely
hills, with verdant meadows, fertile fields, pretty farmsteads and
yards; and on another side the mountains separate and form a
beautiful perspective of precipices and valleys. Sometimes I could
follow the bend of a bay till it mingled with the distant clouds; at
others we passed the most beautiful valleys, dotted with little
villages and towns. I cannot describe the beauties of the scenery
in adequate terms: my words are too weak, and my knowledge too
insignificant; and I can only give an idea of my emotions, but not
describe them.

Near Walloe the country grows less beautiful; the mountains decrease
into hills, and the water is not studded with islands. The little
town itself is almost concealed behind the hills. A remarkable
feature is the long row of wooden huts and houses adjoining, which
all belong to a salt-work established there.

We entered one of the many little arms of the sea to reach the town
of Moss. Its situation is beautiful, being built amphi-theatrically
on a hillock which leans against a high mountain. A fine building
on the sea-shore, whose portico rests upon pillars, is used for a
bathing institution.

A dock-yard, in which men-of-war are built at the expense of the
state, is situated near the town of Horten, which is also
picturesquely placed. There does not seem to be much work doing
here, for I only saw one ship lying at anchor, and none on the
stocks. About eight leagues beyond Horten a mountain rises in the
middle of the sea, and divides it into two streams, uniting again
beyond it, and forming a pretty view.

We did not see Christiania till we were only ten leagues from it.
The town, the suburbs, the fortress, the newly-erected royal palace,
the freemasons' lodge, &c., lie in a semicircle round the port, and
are bounded by fields, meadows, woods, and hills, forming a
delightful coup-d'oeil. It seems as if the sea could not part from
such a lovely view, and runs in narrow streams, through hills and
plains, to a great distance beyond the town.

Towards eleven o'clock in the forenoon we reached the port of
Christiania. We had come from Sandesund in seven hours, and had
stopped four times on the way; but the boats with new-comers, with
merchandise and letters, had always been ready, had been received,
and we had proceeded without any considerable delay.



CHAPTER VIII



My first care on arriving in this town was to find a countrywoman of
mine who had been married to a lawyer here. It is said of the
Viennese that they cannot live away from their Stephen's steeple;
but here was a proof of the contrary, for there are few couples
living so happily as these friends, and yet they were nearly one
thousand miles from St. Stephen's steeple. {47}

I passed through the whole town on the way from the quay to the
hotel, and thence to my friend. The town is not large, and not very
pretty. The newly-built portion is the best, for it at least has
broad, tolerably long streets, in which the houses are of brick, and
sometimes large. In the by-streets I frequently found wooden
barracks ready to fall. The square is large, but irregular; and as
it is used as a general market-place, it is also very dirty.

In the suburbs the houses are mostly built of wood. There are some
rather pretty public buildings; the finest among them are the royal
castle and the fortress. They are built on little elevations, and
afford a beautiful view. The old royal palace is in the town, but
not at all distinguishable from a common private house. The house
in which the Storthing {48} assembles is large, and its portico
rests on pillars; but the steps are of wood, as in all stone houses
in Scandinavia. The theatre seemed large enough for the population;
but I did not enter it. The freemasons' lodge is one of the most
beautiful buildings in the town; it contains two large saloons,
which are used for assemblies or festivities of various kinds,
besides serving as the meeting-place of the freemasons. The
university seemed almost too richly built; it is not finished yet,
but is so beautiful that it would be an ornament to the largest
capital. The butchers' market is also very pretty. It is of a
semi-circular shape, and is surrounded by arched passages, in which
the buyers stand, sheltered from the weather. The whole edifice is
built of bricks, left in their natural state, neither stuccoed with
mortar nor whitewashed. There are not many other palaces or fine
public buildings, and most of the houses are one-storied.

One of the features of the place--a custom which is of great use to
the traveller, and prevails in all Scandinavian towns--is, that the
names of the streets are affixed at every corner, so that the
passer-by always knows where he is, without the necessity of asking
his way.

Open canals run through the town; and on such nights as the almanac
announces a full or bright moon the streets are not lighted.

Wooden quays surround the harbour, on which several large
warehouses, likewise built of wood, are situated; but, like most of
the houses, they are roofed with tiles.

The arrangement and display of the stores are simple, and the wares
very beautiful, though not of home manufacture. Very few factories
exist here, and every thing has to be imported.

I was much shocked at the raggedly-clad people I met every where in
the streets; the young men especially looked very ragged. They
rarely begged; but I should not have been pleased to meet them alone
in a retired street.

I was fortunate enough to be in Christiania at the time when the
Storthing was sitting. This takes place every three years; the
sessions commence in January or February, and usually last three
months; but so much business had this time accumulated, that the
king proposed to extend the length of the session. To this
fortunate accident I owed the pleasure of witnessing some of the
meetings. The king was expected to close the proceedings in
September. {49}

The hall of meeting is long and large. Four rows of tapestried
seats, one rising above the other, run lengthways along the hall,
and afford room for eighty legislators. Opposite the benches a
table stands on a raised platform, and at this table the president
and secretary sit. A gallery, which is open to the public, runs
round the upper portion of the hall.

Although I understood but little of the Norwegian language, I
attended the meetings daily for an hour. I could at least
distinguish whether long or short speeches were made, or whether the
orator spoke fluently. Unfortunately, the speakers I heard spoke
the few words they mustered courage to deliver so slowly and
hesitatingly, that I could not form a very favourable idea of
Norwegian eloquence. I was told that the Storthing only contained
three or four good speakers, and they did not display their talents
during my stay.

I have never seen such a variety of carriages as I met with here.
The commonest and most incommodious are called Carriols. A carriol
consists of a narrow, long, open box, resting between two immensely
high wheels, and provided with a very small seat. You are squeezed
into this contrivance, and have to stretch your feet forward. You
are then buckled in with a leather apron as high as the hips, and
must remain in this position, without moving a limb, from the
beginning to the end of your ride. A board is hung on behind the
box for the coachman; and from this perch he, in a kneeling or
standing position, directs the horses, unless the temporary resident
of the box should prefer to take the reins himself. As it is very
unpleasant to hear the quivering of the reins on one side and the
smacking of the whip on the other, every one, men and women, can
drive. Besides these carriols, there are phaetons, droschkas, but
no closed vehicles.

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