But, in the second place, it conveys the same information in a more entertaining manner: the author is able to piece his characters; making them, like Mrs. Malaprop’s Cerberus, “three gentlemen at once,” by combining into one the incidents that happened to many. The author has thus availed himself of other journals and other note-books besides his own, and has been able to appropriate their contents, and to distribute whatever was characteristic of the country, into a series of connected sketches, instead of perpetually changing his locality and introducing new characters. He by no means intends to identify himself with his fictitious Parson, nor will he even undertake to say, that he was himself in all instances personally present whenever the Parson comes upon the scene: he will answer for the truth of nothing beyond the detached incidents and descriptions.
Neither can these Sketches be used as an itinerary. Now and then, though not often, names of places have been even suppressed or altered, and incidents transplanted. They will, indeed, give glimpses—slight, but true as far as they go—of northern scenery, costume, travelling peculiarities, and, above all, sport. They will contain practical hints and available directions, but it is only in a general way. They are not at all intended as a guide-book, nor will they at all supersede the indispensable Murray.
The traveller, following upon the author’s footsteps, will find himself lost at two points of the narrative—the village of Soberud, and the locality of the Skal. In the former of these the reason is evident enough—the author wishes to convey an idea of what sort of men the Norwegian clergy are, not to draw the attention of subsequent travellers to any individual clergyman. In the case of the skal there is another reason. Although Mr. Lloyd, the author of “Northern Wild Sports,” being a great hunter, has always contrived to get a shot at the bear, it is, nevertheless, true, that an ordinary man sees about as much of a skal as a regimental officer does of a battle—that is to say, he sees about a dozen men on each side of him: and, it may well happen, that the share of any given individual in the most successful of skals, will amount to hearing a great deal of firing, and, at the end of three or four days’ hard work, seeing five or six carcasses paraded at the nearest village. In order, therefore, to give his readers a graphic sketch of a skal, without violently outraging probability, it was necessary for the author to make his ground, that is to say, to imagine ground of such a description that it was possible for his characters to see what was going on. It is not altogether fictitious either, for the traveller will find a good deal of it in the Toftdahl Valley, though this was never, so far as the author knows, the scene of a summer skal.
Similarly, also, though there is no such village as Soberud, that being the name of a district near Larvig in which Sir Hyde Parker’s fishing-lodge is situated and where the author caught a good many salmon and trout, yet the traveller will be able to patch together the fictitious country from real and actual elements. The church is Hitterdahl—but as there is no lake at Hitterdahl, one has been borrowed for it from the country between Larvig and Frederiksvärn—the “Lake of the Woods” is, really, about four miles north-east of the village of Boen; the little lake where the diver was shot, together with the forest about it, about as far to the west of the same place; and the dark sombre pine wood is, really, situated in the valley of the Nid. This last has been slightly altered to suit the locality, for it is next to impossible to lose oneself in the Nid forest, the river itself being sufficient guide; but the rest is all drawn as accurately as the author’s recollections, aided by his journals, will enable him to depict it. With respect to the characters, Tom, Torkel, and Jacob were attendants on the author and his companions, and, though “a little rose upon,” to use a nautical expression, are drawn from actual life, and in their own proper names. The Captain and Parson, as has been said before, are not to be considered actual characters; that is to say, characters responsible as having done and said all that they are represented to have done and said, but merely as pegs upon which to hang the author’s personal experiences, or pieces of information which he may have received. The same may be said of Birger. It was necessary to associate with the party an intelligent Swede, and Lieut. Birger was chosen to fill that office. Bjornstjerna is wholly fictitious. Hjelmar is a real character; and his adventure in the Najaden frigate was related by him exactly as they are conveyed to the reader, the steamer following out among the islands the precise track of the chase. The author, however, will not undertake to say that the actual name of Hjelmar will be found on the watch and quarter bills of the frigate, though Hulm was actually her captain, and was actually buried near Lyngör, where his monument may be seen to this day. Moodie is a real character, though his name, also, is fictitious; or, rather, it is derived from a nick-name that the author understands he has acquired either by his courage or his foolhardiness: the appellation Modige, which is pronounced very like our English name, Moodie, is translatable either way. He does not, however, live at Gäddebäck, which is the name of a house formerly occupied by the celebrated Mr. Lloyd, the author of “Wild Sports of the North,” and “Scandinavian Adventures,” to whose kindness the author is indebted for his being able to describe, from experience, the fishing of the Gotha, which is drawn as accurately as the author’s recollection served him. The traveller need not, however, fear the quicksand which engulphed poor Jacob; that scene, and a very ridiculous one it was, occurred on the Torjedahl just below Oxea. The fisherman is cautioned not to be guided in his choice of a river by the author’s success on the Torjedahl. It is too clear, too much overhung, and too steadily and regularly rapid to be a first-rate river under any circumstances. There are few shallows in it, for there are no tributaries below the Falls of Wigeland, and no salmon can get above them; therefore, its breeding-ground is very limited indeed; probably the flats of Strei, Oxea, and Mosse Eurd, form the whole of it. The author’s success must be attributed to the fact of his fly having been the first of his kind that ever floated on those transparent waters.
The songs which are put into the mouths of the different characters, are really Norwegian or Swedish, and are given as specimens. They are translations by Hewitt, Forester, Knightley, and others. Scandinavia has always been remarkable for its lyrical poetry from the earliest times; and the Gammle Norgé of Bjerregaard, which is given in chapter viii., would seem to show that the cup of poetic inspiration which Odin stole from the keeping of Gunlauth, and stored up in Asgard, is not yet empty. By far the best of the modern poets of the North is Grundtvig, but his subjects are, for the most part, of a nature too solemn for a work so light as this; a short specimen from his hymns is given in chapter xviii. The Evening Hymn, in chapter xxiii., though in common use in Norway, is not Norwegian; it belongs to the ancient church, and is said to be as old as the days of Ambrose and Augustine.
The legends are collected from all manner of sources: many of them from Tom and Torkel, some from the Eddas and Sagas, some from Malet and Knightley; they are all, however, legitimate Scandinavian legends, believed implicitly by some one or other.
One word about the voyage out. It signifies little to the public when and where those incidents really happened—whether in the North Sea, or in the Bay of Biscay, or in the Mediterranean; but it signifies to them a great deal, to know that these things actually did happen once, and may happen again at any time.
The main incidents adapted to that fictitious voyage are strictly and literally true. A large steamer was upon one occasion in the precise situation ascribed to the Walrus,—and—in the absence of its skipper, who for the time had mysteriously disappeared—was saved by the promptness of one of the passengers, precisely as is described in the narrative. And it is also true that the same vessel, after a run of not more than five hundred miles, did find herself fifty miles out of her course. The compasses, no doubt, being in fault, as they always are on such occasions—poor things!
These are important matters for the public to be made acquainted with; for the public do very frequently go down to the sea in steamers, and therefore any individual reader may at any time find himself in the very same situation.