Olaf Kyrre, the old Norse king, built, or rather developed, Bergen into a town about 1070. Easy of access, and naturally adapted as a centre for trade, it has now become the most important commercial town of the west coast. The principal tradition of Bergen is, that ever since the introduction of umbrellas every little Bergenite has been presented with one as soon as born, another being bestowed by the godfathers and godmothers at confirmation; and it is only reasonable to suppose that at a wedding every one gives the bride a Sangster or a Gamp, according to circumstances. Anyhow, it is an indisputable fact that umbrellas are plentiful in Bergen, and, when not devoted to keeping off the rain, they serve as a screen against the occasional visits of the sun. No doubt this humidity is owing to the position of the town, which lies between two mountains not less than 2,500 feet high, upon and around which Jupiter Pluvius reigns supreme.

Passing from the climate, we must notice the town or city. Approaching it from the fjord, it looks picturesque and busy, with merchantmen, steam tugs, steam launches, and coasting steamers entering the harbour. On the left is the old castle or palace, with the remains of its banqueting hall, supposed to have been built by Olaf at the same time as the church. On the right is the landing-place for steamers, above which, on a part of the town abutting on the fjord and forming a continuation of the principal street, is a fort. Proceeding farther down the harbour, with the churches before us, on the left we pass the ship-building yard, and come upon a long line of white wooden houses with wharfs in front of them—a busy scene, fraught with energy and bouquet de stokfiske. Alongside lie the Nordland jægts, or vessels which bring the fish down dried from the Lofoden Islands, and their crews are in close commercial relationship with the owners of the white wooden structures which are known by the name of the Hanseatic Houses. Olaf Kyrre had favoured the Scotch with certain privileges for trading at Bergen, but in after years the Hanseatic League made great efforts in the same direction, and successfully; for in 1228 they settled and began to trade in Bergen, and by some extraordinary means ousted the Scotch and English entirely by 1312, when they were left in their trading glory. They soon developed the vast fishing trade of Nordland, and made Bergen the great commercial centre which it now is, receiving dried cod-fish and roes from the north. These are sent, in exchange for wine, corn, iron, and so forth, to Sweden, Denmark, Holland, Spain, England, and various parts of the Mediterranean, but especially to the Roman Catholic countries. Still, these German merchants were not entirely happy; they, the Hanseatics, located together on one side of the harbour, were not much liked by the youth and beauty of the Bergen proper side of the town, receiving from the Norske piger, or Bergen beauties, the characteristic and appropriate sobriquet of “Pepper Youngsters” (Pfeffer Junkers), which still clings to them.

Bergen.

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Bergen: Fish Market in the distance.

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Bergen must have been very imposing in appearance in the old times, when the large Hanseatic craft were warping out of the entrance of the harbour, with their high quarter-deck and taffrail-deck lamps, squarely rigged three masts and steeving bowsprit, jack-yard and water-sail, long pennons and streamers from the yard-arms, the sides of the vessel falling well in, and the guns bristling to frighten any who might take a fancy to the good cargo on board. Now the Hanseatic League is a matter of ancient history, but it did its work well, and will not soon be forgotten. Bergen is at present the source of supply to all places to the north of it, and in itself is interesting to the visitor as being a centre of costume—that charming relic of days almost bygone, when each district had its distinctive dress and its special form of silver ornament, which, however quaint, or, to go further, even ugly, still commanded favour by the respect its presence offered to those who had gone before, and most likely had worn it. The costumes are well seen at the market, when the farmers, or bönder, come in with farm produce, bringing their wives and daughters, with the milk in wooden kegs formed like churns, with leather stretched over the top, and hoops pressed down tightly to keep it from spilling. These milk-cans are carried by the women on their backs, with straps or ropes, like knapsacks. One costume is very noticeable here, that of the fish-girls. It consists of a dark blue petticoat and jacket, a kind of Scotch bonnet well pulled over the head, with a white edging of cap coming a little down and showing all round, and roll upon roll of kerchief round their necks. Robust, pictures of health, and muscular, how they row! When their husbands or brothers are with them they row all the same, being quite capable of the first law of nature—self-preservation. They work hard and in earnest, and always look bien soignées. For flow of language the early fish market conveys a good idea of the activity of the tongue and power of gesticulation—features of life not common to Norway. The boats are all down below, and the purchasers, generally domestic servants, hang over the woodwork above, craning their necks and stretching down, pointing first to this, and then to that, and possibly pushed aside ere long by some one else worming in for a bargain.

In the meantime the fishermen in the boats are taking it very quietly, sorting their fish, feeling that their purchasers can be supplied strax. Now this word in the dictionary is described thus:—“Strax, directly or immediately.” Practically, in Norwegian life, the traveller finds that it is no such thing, strax being a movable feast—so movable that it is impossible to say where it will be. It is not even so sure as the “Coming, sir,” mumbled by a flying waiter in the midst of a crowd of customers about one o’clock; for in the latter case, if you wait until two o’clock, you feel there is a probability looming, but with a Norwegian strax, especially if applied to getting horses for carrioles, it may be hours, or, in the words of what was thought a charming song in our younger days, though now half forgotten, “It may be for years, or it may be for ever.”