Chapter XXXVI Home Again
September 24
To-day our Norwegian friends who lent us the hut at Rus Vand came to dine with us, and then saw us safely aboard the ‘Angelo,’ and at five o’clock, in the presence of an immense crowd which covered the whole quay, some of the people cheering, but many more weeping, we steamed out of the harbour.
As the sound of the last bell died away, and the last gangway fell with a crash on to the landing-stage, a hatless, breathless man rushed up the companion and darted at the spot where he supposed the gangway to be: seeing that he was too late, he yelled to the people on shore, and made as though he would have cast himself into the water, but was restrained by the passengers. Meanwhile a fleet of little boats endeavoured to catch a rope and be towed until he could be lowered into one of them; but all failed, and the unfortunate man was carried off to Christiansand, so that on his involuntary voyage he would have leisure to meditate on the folly of a too prolonged farewell.
With a gentle breeze we steamed down the fjord, which never looked more lovely than on this evening; and so beautiful was the night, so warm, so radiant, and with such a depth of glorious colouring from the departed sun, that people crept away into the shade out of the moonlight, from pure force of habit, after the heat of the summer.
The influence of such a night, together with a certain sense of something completed; the calm ocean all round us, and the soothing, monotonous throbbing of the untiring screw, produced a longing for confidence in John’s bosom, so that he gave utterance to his sentiments as he leant with Esau over the rail of the hurricane deck, and watched the ever-sparkling phosphorescent lights caused by the passage of the vessel through the quiet water.
‘Yes, I’m sorry to be leaving Norway, for, you know, there’s something delightful to me about the simplicity of the people’ (Esau’s mind reverted to Ivar Tofte and his plate cupboard); ‘they seem to place a childlike confidence in a stranger, which is quite incomprehensible to me. Then there is an unwordable calm, an indescribable tranquillity, which seems to cling both to the country and its inhabitants; even the houses seem to possess an imperturbable serenity of demeanour which you will not find on any other island in Europe. In fact, y’know, Esau, it’s a country where one might live quietly and die in peace, where “moths do not corrupt, neither do worms break through and steal,” don’t you know, Esau? And I’m deuced sorry to have to count among past memories the time we have spent here, where the unbroken harmony of existence is that repose for which my soul has longed these many years; but never until now, no, by George! never, has it been able to discover the most uncertain tracings of its ideal.’
Here Esau, who had his deck shoes on, seeing what sort of a mood John was in, stole away quietly towards the cabin, and left him prosing on to the German Ocean. He paused, however, a moment before descending the companion stairs, and caught a few more words which, as the moon had now set, John was confiding to the darkness.
‘A couple more days, and we shall be back in England, where, y’know, I think civilisation is overdone. My existence there is a perpetual state of toadying and being toadied: you see, it’s a place where the serpent of social emulation creeps into our very beds, and hangs suspended over our heads by a mere thread when we least expect him; and, y’know, Esau——’ But Esau had slunk down the stairs, and the rest of this impassioned outburst is, we fear, lost to humanity.
September 25
We woke up to find ourselves just leaving Christiansand, and soon reached the lighthouse at what the Skipper calls ‘the bottom left-hand corner of Norway,’ but remained in bed while we glared at it through the port.
We were taking out a great number of emigrants for America, fine, sturdy-looking young fellows, probably as hard as nails, and quite equal to coping with the difficulties of a new country. They all looked so cheery and full of hope and expectation, that we could not help thinking rather sadly of the day when they will wake up to some of the unpleasant realities of Yankee life, and wish themselves back again in their native hills among their own simple-minded friends.
The day passed in the manner usual at sea when the water is smooth and the ship goes merrily homeward bound. Hardly any one missed a meal—rather a difference from the ordinary state of affairs in the wild North Sea; and at evening the sun went down in a blaze of scarlet and gold, which was reflected from the perfectly calm surface; and we turned in with tranquil minds, even Esau being now reasonably hopeful of seeing the Humber without suffering the pangs of starvation.
Esau is not a good sailor. On the last occasion of our return from Norway he crossed by the ‘Angelo’ a fortnight before the Skipper; and the latter, on arriving on board prepared for the voyage, saw the steward, and asked him, ‘What sort of a passage did you have last trip, George?’
‘Beautiful, sir. I never see a smoother sea.’
Then the Skipper went on, ‘Did you see anything of Mr. Esau on the voyage?’
To which George replied, ‘I seen him come aboard.’
And this brief remark of George’s conveyed a world of untold fact.
September 26
We dropped anchor outside Hull at half-past five this evening, in the remainder of the very same drizzling rain that was going on when we left England in July.
Hull on Sunday in a soaking rain is not a place to grow romantic about, so we omit all reference to our first sensations and maledictions on our return to our native climate, and proceed to a more agreeable subject—dinner.
It was a merry meal in company with four of our fellow-passengers, who were likewise returning from sport in Norway—two from salmon fishing, two from red-deer stalking, and with whom there was consequently a bond of sympathy.
With these kindred spirits, after British beef had been washed down with British beer, a Skaal drunk in British champagne, and tongues were loosened by the confidential pipe and British cigar, we chatted long and pleasantly; wandering again with rod and gun among the rugged mountains of that wild north land, recalling exploits performed, and perhaps indulging in those mild and harmless exaggerations of doughty deeds which no traveller or sportsman can resist. Already we found ourselves forgetting the few disagreeable incidents that occurred during our trip, and viewing everything through that rosy mist which happily arises before all past hours of pleasure and discomfort alike. Too soon bedtime put an end to our retrospect, and we slept the sleep of the wearied traveller, with dreams of trout, ryper, and reindeer—steamboat, cariole, and sleigh—mountain, lake, and river—tent and sæter—paddle and pony—hurrying through our brains in wild confusion.
To-morrow, alas! we commence again a life of gilded misery and gloomy magnificence. Give to us the untrammelled freedom of ‘Gammle Norgé,’ and the humble crust of fladbrod——with JAM.
Spottiswoode & Co., Printers, New-street Square, London.
THE JOTUNFJELD
Showing various Routes to it.
E. Weller Lith.
Phonetic Spellings
“Pandecāges” with macron on second a:
the vowel is broad, as in “father”.
“căno” with breve over a:
the speaker pronounced the word as “can” + “oh” (that is, neither the Norwegian nor the correct English pronunciation).
“Gammle Norgé”... “Queen Victooria”
both represent Norwegian pronunciation: final e is not silent, and o is pronounced like “continental” u.
Norwegian
Written Norwegian has three extra vowels: æ, ø, å. At the time Three in Norway was published, the language generally used Danish spelling. Many words written with æ would now use simple e, and the letter å (pronounced like “continental” o) was written aa.
The letter ø is equivalent to ö (“o umlaut”); the correct letterform may have been unavailable to the printer.
The spelling “Ragnild” (expected form “Ragnhild”) is used consistently. The forms “Bred Sjö”: “Bredsjö”, “skin tukt”: “skintukt” (see Berries), and Jotun Fjeld: Jotunfjeld each occur.
Double vowels representing a single long sound are rare except in a few names; the macron on the first “u” in “Tronhūus” is redundant.
The inconsistent capitalization of “Ryper”: “ryper” is unchanged. The plural form “ryper” is used throughout for both singular and plural.
Consistent o/ö (ø) Errors
Öla (the name) for Ola brod, fladbrod for brød, fladbrød
Formö, kröne, mölte bær, spör, Strömkarl for Formo, krone, moltebær, spor, Stromkarl
Other uses of ö (ø) are correct: öl, öre, hö, sjö and any place names.
Words
Skoggaggany... is merely the Norwegian for a scaup duck one Norwegian translation says, in paraphrase, “we called it Skoggaggany because we thought it sounded so Norwegian”. If the word is real, it should end in -and, “duck”.
‘Ingen dyr, ingen fresk spör, ingen gammle spör,’ as the Norsk jäger would remark
The spelling with ä for æ is anomalous. Modern Norwegian would have “jeger”, though “jæger” is correct for the time. The spelling “spör” is here an error for “spor” (tracks).
Other corrected forms are shown with popups in the body text.
Berries (Pgs. 178-179)
Most of the berries of the country are now just at their best, and Memurudalen is a grand valley for all of them, except of course the strawberry and raspberry, which will not grow at this altitude. But we have ‘klarkling’ (the English crowberry) in great abundance; blau bær (wimberry), the finest and best ever seen, in quantities; also ‘skin tukt,’ another blue berry rather larger than a wimberry, and with a thicker skin and wonderful bloom on it; this we think does not grow in England. Then less numerous are a berry something between a raspberry and a red currant, but of better flavour than either of them; and the great and glorious ‘mölte bær’ (cloudberry); to say nothing of ‘heste bær,’ and ‘tutti bær,’ and several others of unknown names. The last one grows in England, but we have forgotten its name; they make jelly from it here, and prize it highly for its acid taste.
blau bær
blåbær (etymologically “blueberry”, but not the same as the American blueberry)
skin tukt
probably blokkebær, also called skinntryte
heste bær
possibly heggebær
“we have forgotten its name”
English “lingonberry”, from its Swedish name lingon
Footnotes to Song (Pgs. 196-97)
4) ‘Brod,’ bread. The word does not rhyme to god, being pronounced something like Broat, but it looks as if it rhymed.
The Norwegian word is “brød”. Here the writers almost seem to be talking about the German equivalent “Brot”.
8) ‘Stor,’ big, pronounced Stora before a consonant.
The writers have misunderstood a rule. The word does vary between “stor” and “store”, but the difference is grammatical, not phonetic.