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CHAPTER XXXIX.
DEMOCRATIC NORWAY – HER SUN, HER SCENERY AND HER CORONATION

Norway was so full of attractions at the time of our visit that I am at a loss to know in what order to treat of them. As those things which are permanent will interest a larger number than the transient ceremonies attending the crowning of a new king, I shall give the preference to the most distinguishing feature of Norway, that which has been interwoven with her name, viz., the midnight sun. Owing to its accessibility and to the fact that its climate is moderated by the influence of the Gulf stream, the coast of upper Norway furnishes the best opportunity which Europeans have to mount the Arctic merry-go-round and view the sun through the whole nightless day. It is a weird experience, this passing from day to day without intervening darkness, and one returns from it somewhat exhausted, for the light tempts him to encroach upon the hours of sleep.

The North Cape, the northernmost point of the continent of Europe, is usually the destination of the tourist, but it is not necessary to go so far to see all that there is worth seeing. There are several towns above the Arctic circle where for several weeks the sun never sinks to the horizon. At Bodo, which is but little more than a day's ride by boat from Trondhjem, the sun is visible at midnight from May 30 to July 11. At Hammerfest, which is the terminus of some of the steamboat lines and which claims to be the northernmost town in the world, the sun does not set between May 13 and July 28, while at Tromso, not quite so far north as Hammerfest, the inhabitants have but ten days less of the midnight sun.

We stopped at Svolvaer, one of the chief fishing stations of the Lofoden Islands, nearly two hundred miles north of the Arctic circle. We arrived about seven in the evening, and would have seen the sun the previous night but for a bank of clouds behind which it passed at about 11:30. Svolvaer nestles at the foot of some snow-crowned peaks which shut out the northern horizon, and it is necessary to go out into the open sea or to climb a mountain to get an uninterrupted view. With our usual good luck we found an English-speaking Norwegian who had studied in the United States, and with him to direct us, we spent a memorable night among the islands.

The channel to the north, known as Raftsund, is one of the most picturesque along the entire coast, and the Troldfjord which leads from it through a rockbound gorge to the outlet of a famous mountain lake, is not surpassed in rugged grandeur. Troldfjord deserves to be described by a poet, for prose can not do it justice. If any of my readers have ever passed through the Royal Gorge in southern Colorado, they may understand me when I say that Troldfjord is a Royal Gorge with its walls widened to a quarter of a mile and lengthened to a mile, and the space between them filled with a transparent sea, whose surface perfectly mirrors every rock and shrub. At the upper end of the fjord is a majestic cascade, the dashing, splashing, foaming outlet of the lake two hundred feet above. Our launch ceased its throbbing and sat swanlike on the fathomless water, while we feasted our eyes upon a picture so beautiful that darkness hesitates to draw a curtain over its charms.

The mountain, Digermulkollen, selected as an observation point, is on the Raftsund and not far from the Troldfjord. I can not give its height, but when I guessed at it before the ascent, I put it at five or six hundred feet; after ascending it I am satisfied that it is a thousand. We timed our trip so as to reach the top at midnight, slaking our thirst from the snowbanks along the trail, and it was the fault of the clouds that we did not see the orb of day – at this season and in this latitude he is orb of the night as well – as he reached the lowest point; but they were kind to us a little later, for through a rift in them we saw the face of old Sol just long enough to be sure that he, like ourselves, was up for all night. Even though the clouds concealed the sun at the witching hour of midnight, the light was the light of day, and I had no difficulty in reading a paper (which truth, as well as loyalty to my own publication, compels me to say was The Commoner). The fact that we almost missed seeing the sun at all leads me to remark that many make the entire trip without catching a glimpse of it. We were informed that an excursion steamer had gone to the North Cape and back in mist and rain just a few days before. It had not occurred to us in planning our visit to Norway that cloudy weather had to be taken into consideration, but we found that clear nights are the exception rather than the rule, especially during the latter part of the season.

Svolvaer is a quiet place in summer, but during January, February and March its little harbor is full of fishing smacks, for thirty thousand men fish in the waters of the Lofoden Islands. Cod is the principal fish taken and codliver oil is one of the chief products of the islands. Immense quantities of dried fish are shipped to southern Europe, while the fresh and salted fish find a market in the British Isles and Germany.

If one desires to see merely fjords, glaciers, lakes and mountain streams, the southern part of Norway offers a sufficient variety of each. Bergen, the principal city on the west coast, the second city in the country and a former member of the Hanseatic League, is the seaport of this northern Switzerland. With the Sogne Fjord on the north, Hardanger Fjord on the south and west and a chain of lakes almost connecting the two, one can see every variety of scenery in a three days' trip around Bergen. As we had but two days to spend there, we had to miss the northern fjord, but Hardanger, the twenty-one mile ride across the mountains and the railroad from Voss back to Bergen, furnished such a wealth of scenery that another day could hardly have added much to our enjoyment.

Taking a boat at Bergen, we devoted eleven hours to winding about through Hardanger Fjord, and every moment presented some new attraction. These fjords seem to have been formed by a convulsion that opened great cracks in the mountains which line the coast of Norway. In some places the shores are precipitous cliffs, reaching from the water upwards for hundreds of feet, but for most of the way the banks slope back and are covered with stunted pines and undergrowth. Scattered all along the way are innumerable cascades and waterfalls, varying in width from a few inches to many feet. At one place we counted eleven of these in sight at one time, and we were never out of hearing of their music. Some of them are harnessed to little sawmills. At one point the boat halted within a few hundred yards of a great glacier, which is crawling down a mountain gorge, and from whose mouth, as from a fountain, gushes a ceaseless stream. For ages this mass of ice has been slowly moving down from the mountains, and every day tons upon tons melt and disappear, but its losses at its base are made good at its top, and it lives on like the human race, ever dying and yet ever young.

Disembarking at Eide we took a four-hours carriage ride, following a mountain stream to its source, crossing the range at an elevation of a thousand feet and descending along another stream to the lake upon which the village of Voss is situated. From this point a scenic railroad, which passes through fifty-two tunnels in seventy miles, took us back to Bergen. As might be gathered from what has already been said, Norway does not impress the tourist as a farmer's paradise, although agriculture is first among her industries. The farms, as seen from the routes of travel, seem very diminutive and are usually triangular in form and look like wedges inserted in the cracks of the mountains. Occasionally a valley is broad enough to invite the cultivation of a level piece of land and the invitation was long ago accepted. Potatoes grow well in Norway and are of excellent flavor. On the coast boats they furnished the staple, and sometimes almost the only, vegetable, although the bill of fare often included seven different kinds of fish, nearly as many varieties of cold meat, half as many brands of cheese, besides white, brown and black bread. Rye, barley and wheat are grown in the southern districts and grass everywhere. Owing to the frequent showers and the long days of summer, grass grows very rapidly, but as it is difficult to cure it, the people have adopted a plan which looks peculiar to foreigners. They build frames that look like sections of a fence and the green hay is hung upon the boards or wire as the case may be. The lower rows are protected from the rain by the upper one, and the air has access to all of it.

About three hours' drive from Bergen there is a little wooded island on which the great Norwegian violinist, Ole Bull, built a summer home where he was wont to retire at the conclusion of his tours and where at last he died. He was not only a great admirer of American institutions and of the American people in general, but he married an American, and his daughter returns to Norway every year to celebrate May 17, Norway's independence day, at her father's home and with her father's countrymen. The daughter is one of the many connecting links between the two countries, and by her invitation, extended through our consul, Mr. Cunningham, we had the privilege of visiting this historic spot. We were glad to do so, because Ole Bull was not only one of the great musicians of the last century, but he was one of the greatest democrats that Norway has produced – a democrat not in a partisan sense, but in that broader sense in which it describes one who believes in the people, trusts them and labors for their welfare.

There are many public men in Norway worthy of mention, but space forbids an enumeration of them. There is, however, a relic of great historic interest to which I must devote a line. It is the Viking Ship, a thousand years old, now on exhibition at Christiania. It was dug up twenty-five years ago and is fairly well preserved. It gives one an idea of the ships used by those early seamen of the north whose daring exploits make fiction seem tame.

It so happened that we arrived in Norway just in time to attend the coronation of King Haakon VII., and we had our first opportunity to see royalty on parade. The new king is a son of the king of Denmark, and his wife, Queen Maud, is daughter of the king of England. When, last year, Norway withdrew from her union with Sweden, the crown was offered to a son of King Oscar, but the offer was refused, and it is probably not too much to say that the Norwegians expected it to be refused, but they wanted to show that separation was not due to antagonism to the reigning house. It was then tendered to the son of King Frederick and accepted. I shall speak later of the circumstances which explain this selection; it is sufficient at present to say that the new king is a sober, earnest, sensible looking young man of about thirty-five and seems to have made a very favorable impression upon the Norwegian people. By the courtesy of Minister Graves, who represents our country at Stockholm, and who, our minister to Norway not having received his appointment in time, was our nation's special ambassador to attend the coronation, we received invitations to the coronation ceremonies and were presented at court. While the newspaper reports of the coronation may rob what I am about to say of some of its freshness as news, I shall venture to describe what we saw, begging the reader's indulgence if I betray a lack of familiarity with the technical phrases employed on such occasions.

The coronation took place at Trondhjem, the former capital, a city situated on one of the numerous fjords that indent the western coast. The building selected for the occasion was the Gothic cathedral, the largest in Scandinavia, which was commenced in the eleventh, and completed in the fourteenth century. It is a historic building and belonged to the Bishopric of which Ireland was a part before America was discovered by Columbus. The cathedral has suffered from several fires, and a part of it was in ruins for three centuries. It is now sufficiently restored to furnish a larger audience room than is to be found in most cities of the size. Under the dome a circular space was left for the royal party while the visitors were seated, the foreign representatives nearest the center, on raised seats in the nave and transepts. A broad aisle was left, extending from the entrance through the center to the chapel at the other end. Just before time for the king to arrive, a company of white-robed Lutheran priests marched from the chapel to the door, and a stalwart body of men they were. They marched back at the head of the procession, the king following, his crimson, ermine-lined robe trailing many feet behind – or it would have trailed but for the fact that it was carried by four attendants. The king was accompanied by several officers and followed by the standard bearer holding aloft the royal banner. Then came the queen wearing a robe similar to the king's, but it only required three attendants to keep its folds from the floor. She was attended by three maids of honor. The king and queen were escorted to thrones on opposite sides of the aisle, and the representatives of royal families occupied seats next to them. The Prince of Wales sat nearest the queen, next to him Prince Henry of Germany, and the American ambassador next. Near the king sat Denmark's representative, then Russia's, and next to him the representative from France. There was gold braid galore; some of the foreign representatives had enough on their clothes to put the Sultan of Sulu to shame. I never before saw so much gold, and I have been wondering since whether there may not be a new yellow peril of which our financiers have little dreamed. Our representatives used less of this ornamentation (they all wore military uniforms) than those of any other country, and the question arises, what is going to become of the honest dollar if, with the spread of the ideas of a republic, the amount of gold braid is decreased and a vast quantity of gold is poured through the mints into the volume of the world's currency? It might so enlarge the volume of money as to make the money changers clamor for the demonetization of gold, and, then the silverites would be called gold bugs for insisting upon the free and unlimited coinage of gold.

After some excellent music, instrumental and vocal, a member of the clergy ascended a pulpit not far from the king and queen and delivered an earnest address. He was a typical Norwegian, powerful of frame and strong of face – such as we might imagine one of the Viking chiefs to have been. Then there was more music, and it may interest the readers to know that all the music was prepared for the occasion, the words of the cantata being by the pastor of the church, and the hymns being written in the language of the peasants. Finally the king arose, proceeded down the aisle to the chapel and kneeling, received from the bishop the insignia of office, the crown being placed upon his head, a gold chain about his neck, a sceptre in one hand and a golden globe in the other. As soon as he returned to the throne, the queen advanced to the chapel and was likewise invested, and then the premier, Mr. Michelson, proposed a salute to the king and queen. The people responded with earnestness and the exercises were concluded.

I do not expect to witness another coronation, and it will be some satisfaction to remember that the first and only one attended was that of a king whom the people of their own accord selected; for if there is anything more democratic than a republican form of government, it is the fundamental principle that the people have a right to have whatever form of government they desire. Jefferson emphasized this doctrine when the people of France called Napoleon to the throne, and it has Bible sanction as well, for when the children of Israel still demanded a king, even after Samuel explained what a king would do, he was told to let them have their way.

The next day we put on our best clothes and joined the line that passed before the king and queen. It was not a very satisfying experience, but it is worth something to know how such things are done, and I may add, the more an American sees of it, the more he appreciates the simplicity of public life in his own country.

Norway, in spite of the choosing of a king, is the most democratic country in northern Europe. She has no nobility, confers no titles and had to go outside of her own realm to find one of royal birth. She had her kings and princes in the early days, but one Norwegian statesman explained to us that when they lost their privileges they emigrated to America and went to farming. The choice of a Dane was not strange, if a king was to be chosen from without, for Norway was united with Denmark for more than three centuries, and there has always been a friendly feeling between the two countries. It was expedient, too, under the circumstances, to offer the crown to the son of the Danish king, for this brought Norway's throne into kinship with the thrones of England and Russia, as well as with that of Denmark. In fact, the circumstances and the situation had a good deal to do with the four-to-one vote in favor of a monarchy. When it is remembered that Norway's paramount aim was to secure independence and that this might have been jeopardized by an attempt to establish a republic at the same time, it is really surprising that one-fifth of the people had the courage to vote to plant a republic amid surrounding monarchies. There are many in Norway who prefer a president to a king and who object to having two and a half millions of people taxed nearly two hundred thousand dollars a year to pay the salary of a kingly figurehead, but the monarchists reply that the king's position is purely ornamental and enables the government to maintain cordial relations with other European countries while the people govern themselves through the storthing. They point out that the king has much less power than our president. While this is true, they forget that a president elected by the people and holding office but four years can be trusted with more executive authority than an hereditary monarch. The storthing has absolute power, and as its members are elected by universal suffrage every three years, and as there is but the one parliamentary body, public sentiment finds prompt expression in the government. It can be truthfully said, therefore, that with the exception of the executive branch of the government, Norway is thoroughly democratic and that the influence of the king is reduced to a minimum.

Norway has a promising future. Her people are hardy and intelligent. Education has been compulsory for fifty years, and it is the country's boast that it spends more per capita on schools than any other country in Europe. Because of Norway's immense shipping interests, she demanded a separate consular service, and this was one of the causes of friction between her government and the government of Sweden. Norway has a great future, and much is to be expected of her people. Her sons and daughters, those who have emigrated to America, as well as those who have remained at home, prove to the world that it is possible for a people to acquire the refinements of civilization without losing their original strength and vigor.

CHAPTER XL.
ENGLAND'S NEW LIBERAL GOVERNMENT

Great Britain has recently experienced one of the greatest political revolutions she has ever known. The conservative party, with Mr. Balfour, one of the ablest of modern scholars, at its head, and with Mr. Joseph Chamberlain, a powerful orator and a forceful political leader, as its most conspicuous champion, had won a sweeping victory after the Boer war, and this victory, following a long lease of power, led the Conservatives to believe themselves invincible. They assumed, as parties made confident by success often do, that they are indispensable to the nation and paid but little attention to the warnings and threats of the Liberals. One mistake after another, however, alienated the voters and the special elections two years ago began to show a falling off in the Conservative strength, and when the general election was held last fall the Liberals rolled up a majority of something like two hundred in the House of Commons. A new ministry was formed from among the ablest men of the party – a ministry of radical and progressive men seldom equaled in moral purpose and intellectual strength. My main object in visiting London at this time was to become acquainted with the personnel of the new government and learn of their program.

Before speaking of the ministers, just a word in regard to the king, who is the head of the government whether it be liberal or conservative. The government of Great Britain is always in harmony with the House of Commons, and as the ministers speak for the king, he does not emphasize the virtue of consistency, for he may be put in the attitude of advocating a thing to-day and opposing it to-morrow. He is not expected to have opinions upon public questions or, if he has them, they are always presented with the understanding that if the ministers will not adopt his views he will adopt theirs. It is much easier to be a king now than it used to be and the burdens of a monarchy have been very much lightened in the nations which, like England, recognize the omnipotence of parliament.

I was very glad to avail myself of the opportunity offered by a private audience to meet his majesty, King Edward, and to be assured of his personal interest in the promotion of peace. The king has a very genial face and makes the visitor feel at ease at once. He has a knowledge of world politics and, by his tact and good nature, has done much to promote cordial relations between his own and other countries. It may not be out of place to correct an impression that has gone abroad with regard to the style of dress required of those who are admitted to the presence of the king. Because knee breeches are worn at court functions many have understood, and I among them, that they were required on all occasions; but this is not the case. Most of the calls made upon him informally are made before lunch and the ordinary black coat is worn. The requirements are not as strict as they are in Russia, Japan and Sweden, where I was advised to wear an evening suit for a morning call.

Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, a sturdy Scotchman, is the new prime minister, and those who know him intimately feel that his selection is a vindication of the doctrine that patience and courage, when joined with merit, are invincible. He is now well advanced in years and during his entire public career has stood unflinchingly for democratic ideas. He has not been discouraged by the fact that he has often been in the minority; on the contrary, he has felt as confident in his position when he has had to maintain it amid taunts and jeers as when his speeches brought forth applause. He is not as great an orator as Gladstone, but he has a very persuasive manner and his fine sense of humor gives brilliancy to his speeches.

In outlining the policy of the Liberal party last December, he credited the victory at the polls to several causes – the tariff question, the Chinese question, the educational problem and municipal questions. He pledged his party to certain reforms and boldly advocated a reduction of military and naval expenses. He pointed out that there could be no retrenchment in taxation if the appropriations for armaments and for armies continued to increase. He has been called a "little Englander," but that did not deter him from uttering a protest against rivalry in the building of warships.

In view of his utterances in favor of arbitration and against militarism it was most appropriate that he should deliver the address of welcome at the recent session of the Interparliamentary Union, better known as the peace congress. His speech on that occasion was an epoch-making deliverance. In no uncertain tones he threw the influence of his ministry on the side of peace and opened the door for the adoption of a far-reaching proposition in favor of the submission of all questions to investigation before hostilities are commenced. He used the North Sea incident as an illustration and urged the extension of the powers of the board of inquiry. His now famous exclamation, "The Duma is dead – long live the Duma," illustrates both his moral courage and his devotion to representative government. The sentence was a part of his peace congress speech and was uttered in the presence of the duma representatives who left Russia before the proroguing of that body. It electrified the audience and has been widely commented on throughout Europe.

Few premiers have had so large a majority back of them or possessed so fully the confidence of their supporters, and the program prepared by the ministry is a most comprehensive one. It is too much to expect that the Liberal majority can be maintained on all the questions which will be under discussion, but it is evident that the new government will have a number of important reforms to its credit when it finishes its work.

The president of the House of Lords, the lord chancellor, is one of the most popular of the Liberal leaders. His name is Robert Reed and he is also a Scotchman. He is a rare combination and one of the most lovable of men. There is a striking resemblance between him and the Edinburgh statue of Walter Scott and in his heart there is the democracy of Burns. With high ideals, an eloquent tongue and a disposition which attracts men to him, he is especially fitted for public life, and it is to be regretted that upon retirement from his present position he becomes a judge, for the bench does not afford an equal opportunity with the forum for the molding of public opinion.

The foreign secretary, Sir Edward Grey, is a man who would attract attention anywhere by the strength of his face. He reminded me of the late William Evarts, of New York. He played an important part in the campaign which led up to the Liberal victory and his selection was regarded as a fitting one. His position, however, is not so difficult to fill, because Great Britain's relations with the other powers are quite amicable.

We extended our stay in London in order to hear the minister of war, Mr. Haldane, make his argument in favor of a reduction in the size and cost of the army. By the courtesy of our ambassador, Hon. Whitelaw Reid, I had an excellent seat in the gallery of the House of Commons. The reader may be interested in a brief sketch of this most ancient of parliaments and most powerful of all the factors which enter into the political life of the British Isles. The hall will seat sixty per cent of the members – an astonishing fact to an American who is accustomed to see each of his senators, congressmen and state legislators occupying the seat assigned to him for the session. The members who are present sit on cushioned benches, resembling church pews, and these benches rise one above another on each side of the hall. The Liberals sit on the right of the speaker and the front bench is reserved for the ministry. The Conservatives occupy the benches at the speaker's left, the front bench being reserved for the leaders of the opposition. On the left, but farther from the speaker, are the Irish members and the Labor members. There is a narrow gallery on each side, which is occupied by members when there is a large attendance, and there is a small gallery in the rear for visitors. The ladies' gallery is just over the speaker's desk and is so carefully screened that the occupants of the gallery can not be recognized from the floor. While no one, least of all the ladies, seems to defend this screen, it still remains. Most of the members wear their hats in the hall, but as they have no desks they can not write when a colleague is speaking, although I was told of one member who occasionally occupied his time knitting.

As parliament virtually selects the ministers and as these ministers are responsible to parliament rather than to the king, they must attend the sessions at stated times and answer questions. Any member of parliament is at liberty to submit a question in writing and the minister is obliged to give answer, provided, of course, the answer would not make an improper disclosure.

The leaders, facing each other from the opposing benches, present a very interesting picture and after listening to the discussions back and forth, one can understand why free speech has had so large an influence in the development of the political institutions of Great Britain. Here every idea is threshed out and every measure moulded into permanent form.

But to return to the minister of war. Mr. Haldane might be taken for Tom L. Johnson, Cleveland's redoubtable mayor, so much is he like him in face and figure. He is plausible in speech and so good natured that no one can be angry with him, however much he may dissent from his conclusions. For two hours he held the attention of the house and gallery – an unusual feat in London where the speeches are not so long as in America. He was frequently encouraged by cries of "Hear! Hear!" the usual applause in the House of Commons. It was noticeable that the heartiest responses were drawn forth by his expressions in favor of peace and arbitration. The reorganization scheme which he presented provides for a reduction of several thousand men and a considerable decrease in the total cost, but to make the scheme more acceptable the remaining regiments are so disposed as to give the country a larger fighting force than it now has. It was interesting to watch the opposition benches, whose able leaders vigorously attack everything that the new government proposes. Ex-War Minister Foster followed Mr. Haldane and picked flaws in his plans, but he did not receive the attention accorded the war minister.