In the early summer of 1885 I ventured, for the first time during my editorship at Leeds, to take a holiday whilst Parliament was sitting. It had always previously been my rule never to leave my post during the session of Parliament, but in 1885 everything seemed to be in a state of profound calm, so far as the political world was concerned. General Gordon was dead, but the Ministry had survived his loss. It had even survived the ignominious collapse of the attempt to "break the power of the Mahdi at Khartoum" which it had professed to make. One knew that bitter intrigues were in progress behind the scenes. But now that Mr. Forster was off the scene Mr. Chamberlain seemed bent upon trying conclusions with Mr. Gladstone himself, and was preaching those doctrines of an extreme and Socialistic Radicalism which the Conservatives frankly denounced as being based on the policy of Jack Cade. But time was needed for the successful development of the new political movement, and meanwhile public affairs seemed to be running in a very humdrum course. I thought it, in consequence, a favourable opportunity for carrying out a long-cherished intention of visiting the Land of the Midnight Sun. Accordingly, at the beginning of June I went over to Bergen in a Wilson steamer from Hull. The vessel was crowded with salmon-fishers and their wives, going to Norway for the summer fishing. I was much amused by the extreme clannishness of these persons. They absolutely refused to exchange a word with anybody who was not going to Norway for purposes of sport. Those of us who, like myself, were going there either for health or to see the country were regarded by the salmon-fishing people as intruders, whose presence on the scene was to be actively and rudely resented. I have travelled much in my time, and have had only too many opportunities of observing the ridiculous and offensive behaviour of the English snob when he finds himself in foreign parts; but I do not think that I ever saw snobbish vulgarity carried further than it was by the salmon-fishers on this Wilson steamer in the summer of 1885.
For my part, I had no greater desire for their company than they had for mine, and when I reached Bergen, I speedily transhipped myself to a native cargo-boat that was announced as being about to start for the first visit of the season to the North Cape. The accommodation on board the vessel, though somewhat homely, was comfortable. I had a good cabin, and soon made friends with the officers. No other Englishman was on board. We steamed slowly up the coast as far as Trondhjem, and I had ample opportunities of admiring the fine scenery, as our vessel touched at almost every small port upon the way. After resting a day at Trondhjem, we resumed our journey for the North Cape. The passengers were chiefly Norwegians, most of whom were bound for the Lofoten Islands, where the great annual fair was about to be held. In the saloon my companions from Trondhjem were two young Frenchmen, bent, like myself, upon visiting the North Cape, and an Austrian, attached to the Court at Vienna, who, for some inscrutable reason, was fired with the same ambition. We made a very cheery company, and I was able to cast off all editorial cares in the society of these people, to whom English politics were of no account. The weather, after leaving Trondhjem, was for some days positively frightful. It was the month of June, but it rained incessantly, except when it snowed. It was bitterly cold, and heavy mists prevented our seeing anything.
The Austrian and I bore the discomforts of the situation as philosophically as we could. We smoked always, and we read and played bezique alternately, but our mercurial French friends were less happy, and on the third day of this detestable weather, on entering the little smoking-room on deck, I discovered them both sitting in tears, and bewailing the fact that they were not at home with their mothers. I laughed so much at their distress that a coolness sprang up between us which lasted for several days.
Once, indeed, as I find noted in my memorandum-book, the young Frenchmen revived. It was at one of the stations at which we called. We saw a large group of people, including several young women, gathered in front of a building that looked half-church, half-schoolhouse. The Parisians insisted that they had assembled in our honour; for, as a matter of fact, they looked upon themselves as being engaged in a desperate and most heroic enterprise. Accordingly, as we approached the wharf, they brought out their pocket handkerchiefs, and, waving them wildly, uttered loud shouts of greeting. To their great chagrin, not the slightest notice was taken of them. They redoubled their efforts to attract attention, but neither man nor woman moved a head. Then one of the officers came along, and drily informed the Frenchmen that the object of their demonstrations was a funeral party!
I had many other amusing experiences during this little trip, and feel strongly tempted to inflict upon my readers some extracts from the diary which I kept during the voyage. But nowadays everybody has been to the North Cape, and we have all seen the midnight sun. I think I saw it, and the wonderful scenery of the Lofoten Islands, in my little Norwegian cargo-boat, under far more favourable auspices than my successors who have travelled in great tourist steamers, surrounded by all the luxuries that are now supplied to the passengers on the large Atlantic and Mediterranean liners. Certainly, one saw something of the people, as well as of the country, when travelling in this modest fashion; and I still have the most pleasant recollection of these friendly Norwegians and of the glorious fiords and mountains of the Far North. But that which entitles this trip of mine to a special place in these reminiscences of a journalist is the fact that it cut me off from all connection with affairs in England at the very moment when those affairs became unexpectedly interesting.
I had left Hull on the 2nd of June, and after parting from my chance companions of the Eldorado, had not seen a single Englishman, or heard a scrap of English news, until I found myself at Tromsoe, within the Arctic circle, on June 17th. The captain of my vessel, knowing that I wanted to hear what was going on at home, drew my attention to the fact that a steam collier from Leith had just arrived in Tromsoe Harbour, and suggested that I should go on board and get the latest newspapers. Accordingly, I went off in one of the ship's boats to the grimy collier. It was eleven p.m., but the sun was shining brilliantly. For some time I hailed the vessel in vain, but at last a black-faced man who was manifestly one of the officers thrust his head through a port and asked what I wanted. I told him that I had come to see if he had any newspapers from home. "I will go and see," he said, in a strong Glasgow dialect, and presently he returned with a copy of the Glasgow Mail of June 3rd, and threw it down to me. I was disappointed that he had nothing of a later date, and after thanking him for his kindness was returning to my own steamer, when a sudden thought occurred to me, and I said, "Have you heard any news later than this?" holding up the newspaper. He considered for a moment, then shook his head reflectively, and said, "Na, I've heard naething later." So again I started on my way to the ship. I had not gone more than a yard or two when I heard him calling to me loudly. Once more I put back. "I forgot to tell ye that they've kicked oot that blasted auld deevil, Gladstone." "What!" I exclaimed, in incredulous horror. "Kicked out Mr. Gladstone! What do you mean?" "I mean that they've kicked him oot of office, and a d——d good job, too."
I fairly gasped for breath as I heard the astonishing news. Here was I, the editor of an English daily newspaper, away up in the Arctic circle, separated by days of travel from newspapers or means of getting news, and I suddenly heard this startling piece of intelligence. I could not credit it, and eagerly asked for further particulars. But the old tar could tell me nothing more. He could only persist in affirming and reaffirming his conviction that Mr. Gladstone's loss of office was the best thing that could have happened to the country. And this was the end of the great Ministry of 1880, for the formation of which I had worked so hard, and which I had so constantly and ardently supported with my pen! I went back to the Kong Halfdan much excited, and rushing to the captain told him that I must go back to England at once. He heard my news and sympathised with my dilemma, but assured me that the earliest mode of returning to Trondhjem would be by sticking to his ship. I went ashore, and made further inquiries, only to have the captain's statement confirmed; so, willy-nilly, I had to go on to the North Cape, bitterly conscious of the fact that I ought to have been at my post at Leeds. But a man in a hurry is always the victim of circumstances, and there was nothing for it but to possess my soul in patience. How eagerly I looked for further news! It was not, however, until several days later that, on returning to Tromsoe, I found a mail-steamer going north, and saw an unmistakable Englishman on the deck, whom I immediately accosted with a request for information. All he could tell me was that Mr. Gladstone had resigned on the 12th of June, and that Lord Salisbury on the next day had been hastily summoned by the Queen to Balmoral and had accepted office. From Trondhjem I made hot haste by rail to Christiania, and taking the first steamer for Hull, which to me seemed to make haste slowly, returned to my own country to face the unexpected fact that a great political revolution had suddenly occurred, and that the Tories were once more in power.
INDEX.
A
Addison Road North,
Author's residence in.
Adullamites.
Albrecht, Archduke,
Author's visit to estate of.
American Civil War,
Conclusion of.
Armstrong, Lord,
as a solicitor at Newcastle-upon-Tyne;
as president of British Association.
Arundel Club in 1868.
Aurora Borealis in 1870.
Ayrton, Mr.,
Attack of, on Queen Victoria.