Life and love in Norway : a Norwegian and Lapland tale ; from the German of Theodore Mügge

Front matter

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Copyright^] 0 1

Preface

BY THE TRANSLATOR.

The following romance is the production of one of the most distinguished writers of fiction in Germany. It was published in the spring of the present year, and was received with the most cordial approbation by the critical press, as well as by the reading public.

Robert Prutz, a high authority in belle lettre criticism, at the conclusion of an extended review of German literature in the Morgenblatt , says : “ This popular writer has again displayed his genius in a graphic and interesting narration of entirely new and attractive scenes. His romance introduces us to a region with which he is thoroughly acquainted from personal observation, but which is a rare and almost untrodden field of fiction — the remote neighborhood of the North Pole, and those icy, desert steppes, where the Laplander pursues his wandering life of privation and suffering. His life-like descriptions of the maimers and customs of this curious people, and the Norwegian settlers on the coasts, are drawn with such power as to awaken the keenest interest in his brilliant story, and to keep the attention of the reader intensely excited from the first to the last page. The characters

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PREFACE.

are portrayed with a rare skill and fidelity to nature, and the whole composition cannot fail to augment the reputation of the author, and to place him in the front rank of German historical novelists.’^

The reader will discover, in his perusal of this beautiful work of genius, that this praise is fully merited ; and he will not fail to remark the high moral tone and pure sentiment which pervades the whole composition — the more striking from its contrast with the depraved taste and corrupting influence of so many of the works of fiction of the present day. It is lamentable to witness the growing depravity of this department of literature, and the unholy zeal with which great talents are prostituted to the inculcation of false views of life and duty, and the diffusion of immoral principles. The success of Afraja, however, in Germany, has demonstrated that the public mind has not lost its partiality for those who seek to refine and elevate the imagination, and to base their hopes of success on an appeal to the higher feelings of our nature.

The aim of the translator has been to faithfully render the original into our own tongue ; and if, notwithstanding the inherent difficulties of the undertaking, from the peculiarly idiomatic style of the author, he shall have succeeded, he will have accomplished the grateful task of extending the reputation of a writer of no common order of intellect.

E. J. M.

LIFE AND LOVE

IN

NORWAY.

FIRST PART.

ORIGIN OF NORWAY.

In the remote north of Europe a legend is current that God, when he had created the world, and was reposing from his labors, was suddenly aroused from his meditation by the fall of a monstrous mass in the abyss of waters. The Creator, as he looked up, perceived the devil, who had seized a prodigious mass of rock, which he had hurled into the deep, so that the axis of the new creation, trembling under the weight, threatened to break, and yet wavers, and will to all eternity. The Lord preserved his work from entire destruction by his mighty power. With one hand he sustained it, and with the other he threatened the base fiend, who, howling with fear, took to flight; but everywhere the fearful pile of rock rose above the waters. High and gloomily it projected out of the swelling flood to the clouds; jagged, wild, and shattered, its naked sides sank into the unfathomable depths, and filled the sea with innumerable cliffs 2 ( 13 )

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and peaks for many miles. The Maker cast a look of sadness and pity upon this waste, and then took he what remained of fruitful earth, and strewed it over the black rocks. But, alas ! it was too sparse to be of much avail. The ground was scarcely covered in the clefts and hollows, and only in a few spots was sufficient deposited to nourish fruit-trees and ripen seeds. The farther to the north, the scantier was the gift, until at last none remained, and the devil’s work rested under the curse of eternal barrenness. But God stretched out his omnipotent hand, and blessed the desolate earth. u Although no flower shall here bloom,” said the Almighty, “ no bird sing, and no blade of grass grow, yet the wicked spirit shall have no share in thee. I will have compassion on thee, and suffer men here to dwell, who, with love and affection shall cling to these rocks, and be happy in their possession.” Then the Lord commanded the fish to frequent the sea in vast swarms, and above, on the ice-fields, he placed a wonderful creature, half cow, half deer, which was to nourish man with milk, butter, and flesh, and clothe him with its furry skin.

Thus, according to the saga, originated Norway. For this reason is the sea, on its wild coasts, animated by such multitudes of the finny tribes, and the reindeer found on its deserts of ice and snow, without whose help no human being could live there. What a world of horror and silence there lies concealed ! With what awe trembles the heart of the solitary traveller when he wanders among the desert fiords and sounds, where the sea, in labyrinthine folds, loses itself between gloomy, snow-crowned rocks, in inaccessible gulfs and caverns ! With what astonishment he beholds his ship gliding through this immensity of cliffs, gigantic rocks, and black granite walls, which wind, as a girdle, for more than three hundred miles around the stony breast of Norway !

Man is but sparsely distributed over thd neglected land. Over rocks and swamps must he wander, eternally roving with the reindeer, which nourishes him ; in coves and inlets on the sea-shore he lives, solitary and secluded, and, with extreme toil and trouble supplies himself with fish. The land, however, can never become the fixed abode of any one. Deep lies it under swamp and ice, buried in cloud and darkness, without trees or fields, the hut of the peasant, or the lowing of cattle, and the genial blessings which spring from the industry of man, and social intercourse.

Such is the aspect that this region presents when a ship leaves the harbor of Trondheim, and, steering northwardly, pushes through the fiords and sounds. Behind, the coast rises in bold precipices; the fertile spots gradually disappear, and wilder, more naked rocks stretch to the desolate wastes, until the insurmountable glaciers of Helgeland mark the limits of human habitations. Human life withdraws into the bays and inlets. There dwells the merchant and the fisherman of Norman blood, and near them Danes and Laplanders are settled. The Laplander drives his antlered milch-cow over the snowy mountains* and the report of his gun, as he hunts the bear and the wolf, is echoed back from the dark sea-caverns. Wilder and more desolate grows the scene with every new morning. For miles no house is to be seen, and no sail or fishing-boat breaks the dismal monotony. Dolphins sportively gambol around the bows of the ship, and the whale spurts the water into the air; flocks of sea-gulls hover over, and dive upon the moving shoals of herrings; divers and auks spring from the rocks, the eider-

AFRA J A.

duck flutters over tlie foaming billows, and liigli in the clear, sharp air, the eagle pair circle around their rocky nest.

At last, winding around a thousand rocky capes, in the midst of this ocean labyrinth, you see the house of a trader upon the declivity of a birch-wooded promontory. There are his warehouses, his vessels, and his boats ; there rises the smoke of some ten scattered fishermen’s huts among the cliffs, and between them lies a narrow strip of green meadow, through which a brawling brook rushes to the sea. A few minutes more, and all has disappeared. Again the rocky desert meets the eye ; again the same sounds surround the ship, and the same deep and unruffled mirror of water reflects the passing sail; and, from the deep ravines the wind rushes out with the fury of a wild beast. Here begins our story.

LIFE AND LOVE

IN

NORWAY.

Chapter I

Something more than a hundred years ago, on a dark morning in March, a large vessel was steering through these wondrous mazes of rock. She was a Norwegian craft of the stoutest build, such as at this day set out from the northernmost cape for Bergen and intervening ports, twice a summer, to supply the merchants with fish and train oil ; and when fully laden with articles of food and merchandise, return to their sea-encompassed havens. A stumped mast rose from the middle of the vessel; forward, the bow shot up to a remarkable height; and near the stern stood an elevated poop-cabin, where the edge of the square sail was made fast to strong posts and iron rings. As the day advanced, the cold, grey fog lifted up, and a faint, quickly-expiring sunbeam flashed over the mountain coasts, and the glaciers which crown their summits. Curiously-scarred ranges of rocks loomed up from the sea, against which the resounding waves broke in sheets of foam. Wind squalls rushed down from the lofty heights, or from the dark mist which enveloped the fiords, lashing the sea into a wild fury, throwing the deeply-laden vessel upon her side, and causing her to tremble, from the force of the replicated blows, in every timber.

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AFRAJA.

A young man stood at the helm of this huge vessel, whose clear blue eyes were anxiously scanning the reefs and rocks, through the devious windings of which the ship urged her way. His nervous hands held the rudder with a firm grasp, against which his strong body gently leaned, and with a steady countenance and observing gaze, he directed the course of the vessel with such masterly skill, that she appeared to obey every nod and word of command. From time to time, the helmsman stretched forward to penetrate with his searching look into the distance ; and his sharp-cut features, glowing with fresh color, beamed with excitement. His muscles seemed to expand to their utmost tension; he stroked back his long floating hair under his glazed hat, and gazing joyously upon the reefs and ridges as old acquaintances, he began to hum a song. As he had finished the fifth or sixth verse, the cabin door opened, and another tenant of the vessel stepped out on the deck. A few years older than the helmsman, he was also an entirely different person. Instead of a dark fisherman’s jacket, or a rough southwester, he wore a long many-buttoned coat. His hair was combed back, and bound with a ribbon ; slender, and tall of stature, he appeared, in his manners and figure, to be a man of the world, and to belong to the privileged class who lay claim to the productions of the earth as their exclusive property. Such he was, in fact. He was the young lord of Marstrand, the scion of a noble house; the estate of which had been sadly impaired by the lavish expense and liberal hospitality of his father and grandfather at the court of Christian the Sixth, in Copenhagen. His father, the chamberlain, died in debt; and here, his son, gentleman of the bed-chamber, and lieutenant of the guards, was voyaging through the wild Polar sea in the yacht of a trader, who lived upon the extreme limits of Finnmark, and whose heir, Bjornarne Ilelgestad, was standing at the helm. The ship had sailed from Trondheim in the spring, to bring salt and provisions to Lofodden, where the great fishery was in full operation; the young Baron was received as a passenger — and in liis pocket lie carried a donation deed of the King, conferring upon him a broad tract of land, extending into the boundless desert on the northernmost confines of Europe, where there is neither lord nor serf.

It was with no friendly glance that John of Marstrand looked upon the savage coasts, and the foaming sea, as he stepped out of the cabin. The damp fog flew so violently about him, and beat in such heavy drops upon his face and clothes, that he shuddered with cold, and closely buttoned up his coat ; then he nodded to the helmsman, who, to the salutations of the morning, added some good-natured remark, which the wind carried away before it could reach the ear.

“ What do you think now of this country ?” said the helmsman, witli a proud, inquiring glance, as the young nobleman approached him. “ Is it not magnificent ? See, there is the promontory of Kunnen, and directly beyond sweeps the polar circle; farther to the left, in the deep Grimmfiord, you can perceive the gigantic Jokuln islands, which, in ice-pyramids, seemed to run far down into the sea. When the morning sunbeams strike upon them, they glow^ like molten silver. There is the way to the Salten — you have certainly heard of the salt stream ? And here, on this side of those low rocks, you will soon discover the Westfiord. The Westfiord ! Do you hear, man? the great fiord with its fishes! Hurrah ! What say you ? Have you ever seen anything so beautiful ?”

“ Foolish Bjornarne !” exclaimed John, with a jesting smile; “ you seem to think we are entering into paradise. You talk as if these gloomy, snow-covered' crags bloomed with almond trees; as if this stormy, icy sea was fanned by the softest zephyrs, and its miserable, oil-reeking fish swarms were fragrant with perfume.” He turned to the south, and continued, with a suppressed sigh, “No tree, no bush, no flower, no green leaf, no singing-bird, nor blade of grass waving to the breeze. Nothing but horror, darkness, fog, storms, rocks, and the raging sea.”

AFRAJA.

“ If the land is so displeasing to you, you had better have remained where you were.”

The young Dane looked upon the helmsman, and the expression of his countenance revealed the answer which he gently murmured. “ If,” whispered he, between his teeth, “ I were not obliged to seek my fortune in these wilds, cursed would be the plank which carried me hither.”

His melancholy silence, and the manner in which he buried his face in his hands, moved the boasting Bjbrnarne. “ You must not,” said he, “ give yourself up to such sad thoughts — it is not so dreary here as it seems. When the summer comes, the barley ripens even in Tromsoe ; flowers bloom in the gardens ; currants and blackberries grow luxuriantly in all the clefts and ravines; and upon the fielders the mountain bramble covers the earth for miles with purple and scarlet. You must learn to know and love the land where you have chosen to dwell. I would not change it for any other in the world ; for there is none more beautiful or better to be found.”

Provoked by the derisive smile of the Dane, he proudly proceeded; “ Boast, as you please, of your trees and plains. Have you such rocks, such fiords, and such a prolific sea? Have you bears and reindeers to hunt ? Have you a fishery like this, where, with every haul of the seine, millions of creatures are drawn from the deep ; where twenty thousand men, for months, lead a joyous life upon the heaving billows.”

“No, good Bjbrnarne, we do not, indeed, possess all this,” replied John of Marstrand, with a depreciating sneer.

“You shall see it,” exclaimed the Norman, joyfully. “ The fog is falling, and if you could hear, you would already now in the roar of the waves understand the strange sound which rushes through the Westfiord. There, before us, lies Ostvaagoen ; here is the old wife of Salten, and over there the old man with the white head. There, now you catch a glimpse of his hat. There rise the peaks of Hindoen, there gleam the glaciers of Tjclloen, and now comes the sun; look up !”

A F RAJ A.

And, as he spoke, the illuminating orb triumphantly brokethrough the thick veil of cloud, and, as with a magic spell, lit up a countless array of islands, rocks, and gulfs. The Westfiord opened before the astonished vision of the Dane, and exhibited land and sea in all their glory and splendor. Upon one side lay the coast of Norway, with its snowy summits. Salten loomed up behind, with its needle-like peaks, stretching with their inaccessible ice-covered declivities into the heavens, and its ravines and abysses half concealed in gloom. Upon the other side, six miles to the seaward of the Westfiord, extended a chain of dark islands far into the bosom of the ocean — a granite wall against which the ocean, in its most savage fury, for thousands of years had dashed its billows. Innumerable perpendicular pinnacles rose from this insular labyrinth — black, weather-beaten, and torn to their base by the tempests. Their bold summits were veiled by long lines of clouds, and from the gleaming beds of snow, the wondering blue eyes of Jokuln turned to the swelling floods of the fiord, which, with their thousand white teeth, bit the bow of the yacht, shook it like a reed, and drew it into the abyss.

11 Look there, now, how beautiful it is !” cried Bjornarne, with a shout. “ There are the Lofodden islands. For twenty miles the view extends over land and sea, and all is grand and glorious. See the grey head of Yaagoen, how it beams in gold. Look how the old woman of Salten nods to him, in her ruddy black mantle. Once they were two giants, children of night, a loving pair, who have here been transformed into rock, and must eternally remain such. Observe how the breakers leap against the rocks, in silvery columns; and see the vast circle of cliffs, whose extent no one has measured, upon which no human foot has ever trod, and where only the eagle, the cormorant, the falcon, and the gull have mounted. See the red-crested sTcarfe there on the crags, and the sea-geese, how they plunge into the green waves, followed by screaming flocks of gulls and falcons. Thither the herring shoals are attracted by the scent of prey.

A F It A J A .

Above, the 7 sky is clear and tranquil ; and the fresh, sparkling air awakens all the energies. Is not all this beautiful, and is it not the most sublime spectacle that the human eye can behold ?”

“ Yes, it is infinitely grand !” said John Marstrand, ravished by the wonderful grandeur and wildness of the scene.

“But the finest of all you do not yet know,” continued Bjornarne. “ Bo you see there, those many black dots upon the surface of the water ? Those are the fishing-boats. Three thousand boats, with twenty thousand stout-hearted men ) and in the gulf of Vaagoen you can already distinguish the flags and masts of the vessels which bring salt for the packing of the fish, and merchandize for the traders. They are filled with all kinds of provisions and stuffs. We shall there find my father, who has twenty boats under his charge. I am sure he will please you, and he will gladly serve you to the best of his ability.”

“I have a letter for him,” said the passenger, “from the commanding General Miinte, in Trondheim.”

“You would be welcome, without the recommendatory letter,” returned Bjornarne, laughing. “At Lyngenfiord, where is our house, but little question is made of your general. You come with me, because you please me, John Marstrand. You are a true fellow, know the value of words, and how to use them, and your arm is ever ready to render aid ; these qualities are appreciated with us, and therefore will I be your friend.” He lifted his hand from the helm, and seized in earnest grasp that of the nobleman, who responded with an equally friendly pressure. Alone in a strange region, the rough heartiness of his new friend gratified him more than the formal expressions of polite society, which he had so often heard. He knew that Bjornarne was incapable of falsehood, that he bore him a true affection ; and he was certain that, in the hour of need, he could rely upon him. For his future, this was of great importance.

During the interchange of these confidential expressions, the vessel had crossed the fiord, and rapidly approached Ostvaa-

AFR A JA.

gen and the fishing-grounds. The small black points floating on the sea gradually enlarged, until finally they came clearly into view, as heavy six-oared boats, in which an incessant activity prevailed. The figures of the fishermen, as they raised their nets and rods, the tremble of the sun’s rays upon their leather caps and sea-soaked jackets, the yawls moving about in all directions, and the thousand-voiced tumult, rising above the roar of the waves, united to form an animated picture which yet higher excited the feelings of MarstrancL He felt a longing to mingle in this motley throng ; in his enthusiasm he forgot that, in spite of the sunshine, ice-cold gusts, plunging down from the Salten and the Tinden, sweep the sea; and that here, in the Polar zone, within a few minutes, the wildest winterstorm bursts, and with its terrors envelopes land and ocean. At present he thought only of the mirthful fishing uproar, which mocked these horrors. He saw only the fluttering flags on the vessels, and the houses and huts on the rocks and strand, and it seemed to him as if a festival of spring was being celebrated, as he heard the trumpeting and fiddling on the peaks of the grey head of Vaagoen. He shouted for joy, as he saw a genuine Nordlander draw his net, with a ringed cod in every mesh. He waved his hat, as all did, as the vessel urged her way among the fishing smacks, and, surrounded by an hundred boats, whose crews shouted a hearty welcome, steered around the rocks, and to the harbor of the bay, where a number of large and small craft lay at anchor. Some time elapsed before a suitable position could be found in the line of vessels; but at last the cable rolled through the hawser-holes, and the “fair Ilda of Oerenaes” was secured by the long cables, and wearily shook off the drops which hung upon her bows and bulwarks.

Bjornarne had his hands full, and it was some time before he could trouble himself about his passenger, who, from the quarter-deck, was attentively regarding the taking of fish, which, in all its details, was passing before his eyes. At the entrance of the bay, around an island of bare rock, called

AFRAJA.

’Skraaven, it was pursued with the most activity. Five or six hundred boats, with three or four thousand fishermen, were there engaged in fishing. The nets were incessantly cast and drawn, with song and shout ; for all were overladen with fish, and great care was observed in extricating them from the meshes, to prevent the laceration of the threads. At many other spots there were immense cables, to which more than a thousand angling rods were fastened ; for the angle was more in use then than at present. The fishermen next hurried with their full boats into the bay, where, upon the rocks, scaffolds of poles, and tables fo'r-the disembowelling of the fish, and huts for shelter and rest were erected. The fish were brought hither from the boats, seized by blood-red hands, and thrown upon the tables. Sharp knives opened the body, with a grip of the finger the entrails were extracted, and, with a second cut, the head flew off into one tub, and the oily liver into another. The other parts were cast upon a nauseous heap of blood and viscera, and what a moment before was a living creature, hung, severed; dnd shaking in the wind, upon the drying-stand. The men pursued their murderous occupation with incredible dexterity and quickness. The lust of slaughter glowed in their eyes. They held the bloody knife between the teeth, whilst their hands were plunged in the belly of the dying creature, and, in their enthusiasm, they bit the unctuously fat livers, when they appeared unusually white and dainty. With naked arms, and broad, open bosoms, spattered with blood, they looked like cannibals celebrating a horrid feast of triumph. They greedily sought for the largest and stoutest victims, exercised upon them their executioner’s office with double zest, and made merry with the sufferings and violent struggles of the unfortunate wretches. Marstrand soon felt a disgust for this monotonous slaughter. He turned away, saying to himself “It is a cruel, cowardly torture — I will see no more of it. For this, twenty thousand men are attracted to these naked rocks ; for this, they shout and yell like persons possessed, despite the storms of the polar

A FRA J A.

sea. What a rude, coarse people — what an absence of humane sensations ! No,” continued he, “ most of them would remain at home, were they not driven by necessity to these latitudes. And does not want also drive me into this land of ice and mountain ?” said he, musingly. “ But fish I cannot catch — accursed be this filthy, bloody business ! A pestilential smell is wafted hither from the fishing-banks ; and these heaps of entrails, these tubs of train-oil and livers, these bloody heads, these wild, screaming flocks of birds, seeking their share of the prey, those dirty, oil-reeking men there ; the one is as disgusting and horrible as the other ”

Bjornarne clapped him on the shoulder, and exclaimed in his loud tones, “You must not meditate so much, friend John; you must be brisk and gay, for here every one is in good-humor. The whole year through, young and old, rejoice for the fishing at Lofodden; and no man in all Nordland hires himself oait, without making it a condition that he shall join the expedition to the islands. How do you like it ?”

“ Better at a distance, than near at hand,” replied Marstrand, with a smile.

“ You are no Norman,” said Bjornarne, “ otherwise you would not speak so; but wait, you will soon change your opinion. I am as glad as if all the fish in Westfiord belonged to me. My sister has come with my father.* See you yonder boat. There they are.” He drew Marstrand away with him, and at that moment the boat touched the vessel, from which a rope-ladder was thrown over, which the sea swayed about as it rose and fell. A robust man, in a blue fisherman’s coat, with a leather cape thrown over his shoulders, lifted up a young girl on the seat before him, whose dark blonde hair escaped in flowing tresses from beneath a gaily-striped fishing-hat.

“Take’ firm hold of the ladder, Ilda,” said the old man.

In the next moment the young girl stood upon the steps, and carefully climbing upward, as soon as she set foot on the deck, grasped her brother with both hands.

APRAJA.

“ Are you not surprised to see me, Bjdrnarne ?” said she, in a friendly tone.

u God’s joy be with you, Ilda !” he tenderly replied. u Have you had a good voyage ?”

“ A fortunate voyage, Bjornarne; I hope yours has been as happy?”

“ Perfectly so ; and how goes the fishing ?”

u Wonderfully well, Bjdrnarne. All the scaffolds are full. Yesterday was such a day as rarely happens, old people say. Fat, huge fish that tore the nets. It is a rare pleasure, Bjdrnarne; I am never tired of seeing and hearing. Father’s vessels are filled, all the casks are full of liver oil, and the fish are extraordinarily fat. It will be a good year, Bjdrnarne; a good voyage to Bergen ; full vessels.”

Here she looked around, and her laughing face suddenly assumed a graver aspect, as her glance lighted on the stranger. She was a tall, stout damsel, firmly set, of the true Norman stock, with a strong resemblance to her brother. The same strongly-marked features, the same broad brow, and clear, beaming eyes; but all was so firmly stamped, and so fully formed, that the absence of soft, feminine traits could easily offend a spoilecl,~e^e. So it was with John Marstrand. He could hardly suppress a laugh of derision, as he looked upon her, and remembered with what eloquent boasting Bjdrnarne had praised this sister, in honor of whose charms the yacht had been christened with the name of “ the fair Ilda of Oerenaes.”

“ A beauty born under the sixty-ninth degree of north latitude, among whales, cod-fish, and reindeer, can indeed vary a little from our standard,” said he, in an undertone, “ but this one here, in her neats’-leather shoes, her green, red-trimmed , frieze gown, her fur-jacket, and leather apron, with white woollen gloves upon her coarse hands, appears too bear-like, and polar-proportioned.”

While he made this observation to himself, Bjdrnarne whispered something to his sister, and then said aloud : “ I

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have brought a friend with me, Ilda, who will dwell with us. John Marstrand is his name, and this is he. Give him your hand, sister.”

The young girl mistrustfully examined the stranger with her bright eyes, and then, in obedience to the request of her brother, extended him her hand 3 in her strong-toned voice, saying, “ You are welcome, sir, to the country. God’s peace be with you !”