NORWAY AND SWEDEN.

We spent four days in Christiania, after completing our Norwegian travels.  The sky was still perfectly clear, and up to the day of our departure no rain fell.  Out of sixty days which we had devoted to Norway, only four were rainy ­a degree of good fortune which rarely falls to the lot of travellers in the North.

Christiania, from its proximity to the continent, and its character as capital of the country, is sufficiently advanced in the arts of living, to be a pleasant resting-place after the desagremens and privations of travel in the interior.  It has two or three tolerably good and very exorbitant hotels, and some bankers with less than the usual amount of conscience.  One of them offered to change some Prussian thalers for my friend, at only ten per cent. less than their current value.  The vognmand from whom we purchased our carrioles, endeavoured to evade his bargain, and protested that he had not money enough to repurchase them.  I insisted, however, and with such good effect that he finally pulled a roll of notes, amounting to several hundred dollars out of his pocket, and paid me the amount in full.  The English travellers whom I met had not fared any better; and one and all of us were obliged to recede from our preconceived ideas of Norwegian character.  But enough of an unpleasant theme; I would rather praise than blame, any day, but I can neither praise nor be silent when censure is a part of the truth.

I had a long conversation with a distinguished Norwegian, on the condition of the country people.  He differed with me in the opinion that the clergy were to some extent responsible for their filthy and licentious habits, asserting that, though the latter were petits seigneurs, with considerable privileges and powers, the people were jealously suspicious of any attempt to exert an influence upon their lives.  But is not this a natural result of the preaching of doctrinal religion, of giving an undue value to external forms and ceremonies?  “We have a stubborn people,” said my informant; “their excessive self-esteem makes them difficult to manage.  Besides, their morals are perhaps better than would be inferred from the statistics.  Old habits have been retained, in many districts, which are certainly reprehensible, but which spring from custom rather than depravity.  I wish they were less vain and sensitive, since in that case they would improve more rapidly.”  He stated also that the surprising number of illegitimate births is partly accounted for by the fact that there are a great number of connections which have all the character of marriage except the actual ceremony.  This is an affair of considerable cost and show; and many of the poorer people, unable to afford it, live together rather than wait, hoping that a time may come when they will be able to defray the expenses, and legitimate the children who may meanwhile be born.  In some cases the parties disagree, the connection is broken off, and each one seeks a new mate.  Whatever palliation there may be in particular instances, the moral effect of this custom is unquestionably bad; and the volume of statistics recently published by Herr Sundt, who was appointed by the Storthing to investigate the subject, shows that there is no agricultural population in the world which stands lower in the scale of chastity, than that of Norway.

In the course of our conversation, the gentleman gave an amusing instance of the very sensitiveness which he condemned.  I happened, casually, to speak of the Icelandic language.  “The Icelandic language!” he exclaimed.  “So you also in America call it Icelandic; but you ought to know that it is Norwegian.  It is the same language spoken by the Norwegian Vikings who colonised Iceland ­the old Norsk, which originated here, and was merely carried thither.”  “We certainly have some reason,” I replied, “seeing that it now only exists in Iceland, and has not been spoken in Norway for centuries; but let me ask why you, speaking Danish, call your language Norsk.”  “Our language, as written and printed, is certainly pure Danish,” said he; “but there is some difference of accent in speaking it.”  He did not add that this difference is strenuously preserved and even increased by the Norwegians, that they may not be suspected of speaking Danish, while they resist with equal zeal, any approach to the Swedish.  Often, in thoughtlessly speaking of the language as Danish, I have heard the ill-humoured reply, “Our language is not Danish, but Norsk.”  As well might we say at home, “We speak American, not English.”

I had the good fortune to find Professor Munck, the historian of Norway, at home, though on the eve of leaving for Italy.  He is one of the few distinguished literary names the country has produced.  Holberg the comedian was born in Bergen; but he is generally classed among the Danish authors.  In art, however, Norway takes no mean rank, the names of her painters Dahl, Gude, and Tidemand having a European reputation.  Professor Munck is about fifty years of age, and a fine specimen of the Viking stock.  He speaks English fluently, and I regretted that the shortness of my stay did not allow me to make further drafts on his surplus intelligence.  In the Museum of Northern Antiquities, which is small, as compared with that of Copenhagen, but admirably arranged, I made the acquaintance of Professor Keyser, the author of a very interesting work, on the “Religion of Northmen,” a translation of which by Mr. Barclay Pennock, appeared in New York, some three years ago.

I was indebted to Professor Munck, for a sight of the Storthing, or National Legislative Assembly, which was then in session.  The large hall of the University, a semi-circular room, something like our Senate Chamber, has been given up to its use, until an appropriate building shall be erected.  The appearance and conduct of the body strikingly reminded me of one of our State Legislatures.  The members were plain, practical-looking men, chosen from all classes, and without any distinguishing mark of dress.  The speaker was quite a young man, with a moustache.  Schweigaard the first jurist in Norway, was speaking as we entered.  The hall is very badly constructed for sound, and I could not understand the drift of his speech, but was exceedingly struck by the dryness of his manner.  The Norwegian Constitution has been in operation forty-three years, and its provisions, in most respects so just and liberal, have been most thoroughly and satisfactorily tested.  The Swedes and a small conservative party in Norway, would willingly see the powers of the Storthing curtailed a little; but the people now know what they have got, and are further than ever from yielding any part of it.  In the house of almost every Norwegian farmer, one sees the constitution, with the facsimile autographs of its signers, framed and conspicuously hung up.  The reproach has been made, that it is not an original instrument ­that it is merely a translation of the Spanish Constitution of 1812, a copy of the French Constitution of 1791, &c.; but it is none the worse for that.  Its framers at least had the wisdom to produce the right thing at the right time, and by their resolution and determined attitude to change a subject province into a free and independent state:  for, carefully guarded as it is, the union with Sweden is only a source of strength and security.

One peculiarity of the Storthing is, that a majority of its members are, and necessarily must be, farmers; whence Norway is sometimes nicknamed the Farmer State.  Naturally, they take very good care of their own interests, one of their first steps being to abolish all taxes on landed property; but in other respects I cannot learn that their rule is not as equitable as that of most legislative bodies.  Mugge, in his recently published Nordisches Bilderbuch (Northern Picture Book), gives an account of a conversation which he had with a Swedish statesman on this subject.  The latter was complaining of the stubbornness and ignorance of the Norwegian farmers.  Mugge asked, (the remainder of the dialogue is too good to be omitted): ­

“The Storthing, then, consists of a majority of coarse and ignorant people?”

STATESMAN.  “I will not assert that.  A certain practical understanding cannot be denied to most of these farmers, and they often bestow on their sons a good education before giving them the charge of the paternal fields.  One, therefore, finds in the country many accomplished men:  how could there be 700 students in Christiania, if there were not many farmers’ sons among them?”

AUTHOR.  “But does this majority of farmers in the Storthing commit absurdities? does it govern the country badly, burden it with debts or enact unjust laws?”

STATESMAN.  “That cannot exactly be admitted, although this majority naturally gives its own interests the preference, and shapes the government accordingly.  The state has no debts; on the contrary, its treasury is full, an abundance of silver, its bank-notes in demand, order everywhere, and, as you see, an increase of prosperity, with a flourishing commerce.  Here lies a statement before me, according to which, in the last six months alone, more than a hundred vessels have been launched in different ports.”

AUTHOR.  “The Farmer-Legislature, then, as I remark, takes care of itself, but is niggardly and avaricious when its own interests are not concerned?”

STATESMAN.  “It is a peculiar state of affairs.  In very many respects this reproach cannot be made against the farmers.  If anything is to be done for science, or for so-called utilitarian objects, they are always ready to give money.  If a deserving man is to be assisted, if means are wanted for beneficial purposes, insane asylums, hospitals, schools, and such like institutions, the Council of State is always sure that it will encounter no opposition.  On other occasions, however, these lords of the land are as hard and tough as Norwegian pines, and button up their pockets so tight that not a dollar drops out.”

AUTHOR.  “On what occasions?”

STATESMAN.  “Why, you see (shrugging his shoulders), those farmers have not the least comprehension of statesmanship!  As soon as there is any talk of appropriations for increasing the army, or the number of officers, or the pay of foreign ministers, or the salaries of high official persons, or anything of that sort, you can’t do anything with them.”

AUTHOR. (To himself.) “God keep them a long time without a comprehension of statesmanship!  If I were a member of the Storthing, I would have as thick a head as the rest of them.”

On the 5th of September, Braisted and I took passage for Gottenburg, my friend having already gone home by way of Kiel.  We had a smooth sea and an agreeable voyage, and awoke the next morning in Sweden.  On the day after our arrival, a fire broke out in the suburb of Haga, which consumed thirteen large houses, and turned more than two hundred poor people out of doors.  This gave me an opportunity to see how fires are managed here.  It was full half an hour after the alarm-bell was rung before the first engine began to play; the water had to be hauled from the canal, and the machine, of a very small and antiquated pattern, contributed little towards stopping the progress of the flames.  The intervention of a row of gardens alone saved the whole suburb from destruction.  There must have been from six to eight thousand spectators present, scattered all over the rocky knolls which surround Gottenburg.  The fields were covered with piles of household furniture and clothing, yet no guard seemed to be necessary for their protection, and the owners showed no concern for their security.

There is a degree of confidence exhibited towards strangers in Sweden, especially in hotels, at post-stations, and on board the inland steamers, which tells well for the general honesty of the people.  We went on board the steamer Werner on the morning of the 8th, but first paid our passage two days afterwards, just before reaching Carlstad.  An account book hangs up in the cabin, in which each passenger enters the number of meals or other refreshments he has had, makes his own bill and hands over the amount to the stewardess.  In posting, the skjutsbonder very often do not know the rates, and take implicitly what the traveller gives them.  I have yet to experience the first attempt at imposition in Sweden.  The only instances I heard of were related to me by Swedes themselves, a large class of whom make a point of depreciating their own country and character.  This habit of detraction is carried to quite as great an extreme as the vanity of the Norwegians, and is the less pardonable vice of the two.

It was a pleasant thing to hear again the musical Swedish tongue, and to exchange the indifference and reserve of Norway for the friendly, genial, courteous manner of Sweden.  What I have said about the formality and affectation of manners, and the rigidity of social etiquette, in the chapters relating to Stockholm, was meant to apply especially to the capital.  Far be it from me to censure that natural and spontaneous courtesy which is a characteristic of the whole people.  The more I see of the Swedes, the more I am convinced that there is no kinder, simpler, and honester people in the world.  With a liberal common school system, a fairer representation, and release from the burden of a state church, they would develop rapidly and nobly.

Our voyage from Gottenburg to Carlstad, on the Wener Lake, had but one noteworthy point ­the Falls of Trollhatten.  Even had I not been fresh from the Riukan-Foss, which was still flashing in my memory, I should have been disappointed in this renowned cataract.  It is not a single fall, but four successive descents, within the distance of half a mile, none of them being over twenty feet in perpendicular height.  The Toppo Fall is the only one which at all impressed me, and that principally through its remarkable form.  The huge mass of the Gotha River, squeezed between two rocks, slides down a plane with an inclination of about 50 deg., strikes a projecting rock at the bottom, and takes an upward curve, flinging tremendous volumes of spray, or rather broken water, into the air.  The bright emerald face of the watery plane is covered with a network of silver threads of shifting spray, and gleams of pale blue and purple light play among the shadows of the rising globes of foam below.