Travellerbruce's travel blogs:
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Researching in Arendal
Entry 17 of 24 | show all | print this entry |
JB wrote :
I was shown into a beautiful chamber, where a fire was lit in the iron stove, and then left to enjoy a sound sleep until the morrow. On the following morning I was awakened by the entrance of the servant, who came to re-light the fire in the stove. As I lay contemplating this operation, the door again opened, and a mild inoffensive - looking man came in, and walked up to me. "God Morgen!" said he, and laid hold of my trousers, which hung over the back of a chair by the bedside. Before I could arrange a grammatical sentence in my mind as to what he wanted with my clothes, he put his hands into the pockets of the garment, and drew therefrom a motley heap of things, inclusive of three clasp knives (one of which was for cutting the throats of wolves, in case of meeting with any, and another for cheese, only there was none to be had), scraps of paper, a purse, a pocket-comb, two bits of string, a key, and a substratum of the coins of five nations, viz.: Great Britain, Hamburg, Denmark, Sweden, and Norway. But the man's countenance changed not: if he had found a live kitten, I believe he would have laid it in the heap, without making any remark. He went on until the pockets were emptied, and then, giving the trousers a shake, threw them across his arm, and bore them out of the room. When he returned with them, I found he was "Pudsen" (or Boots, for the Norsk word appears to be an adaption of our own). I asked him if he would bring me a little boiling water to shave with, passing my hand over my chain to prevent his misunderstanding my idion. He promised to do so, and disappeared. Now I was in no hurry about dressing - for I was very tired - and besides this, the coffee had not been brought in, and I did not know whether to wait for it or not. Presently another strange man entered. What he wanted I could not tell, and I asked him what his pleasure was.
"I am come to shave you!"
"Oh! Indeed - then I had better get up?"
"No - if you please I can shave you in bed."
Whereupon he produced from this pocket a silk handkerchief, tied up; in the corner of which was a napkin, containing razors, a small brass-box for soap, and a phial bottle of hot water - all of which he used adroitly. When he had performed the operation, I pointed to the money still lying on the table, and told him to pay himself out of it, which he did. I dressed, and now found that to bring coffee to travellers in bed is a custom in the country places, and not in large towns, where they expect people to get up and breakfast properly. So that now I had bidden farewell to that indolent practice, and was living in what we should call the usual English style. As to coffee, I never drank it so good in English hotels as in Norway, for there it is in perfection. I suspect the Norsemen are too honest and sincere a people to mix chicory with it: they hate shams of all sorts. Every one who knows much of them will testify how thoroughly they deserve this character.
I sallied out on to the quay to seek for the residence of Captain S H ___________, whose acquaintance I had made at Gloucester some three years before; and inquiring of a man whom I met, he told me it was across the water, and that he would take me there if I would step into his boat. I did so, and felt very much puzzled, on arriving at the opposite side, to know whether I should offer him payment or not. From the tone of his voice, and his manner, I judged him a gentleman; yet as it might nevertheless happen that he was a ferryman, I made a kind of feint in the direction my pocket, as being the the safest side on which to err; but he immediately declined any remuneration, assuring me I was welcome to his assistance. Captain H ______ came out and seized me by the hand, and instantly drew me into his house, where I received such kindness as I can never forget. But it is not the object of this sketch to describe the hospitalities of private friendship, and must therefore very briefly pass over the period of my stay in Arendal.
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Well, nobody shaved me, but the service at the Hotel at the Marine Hotel was excellent, with a series of attractive Norwegian lasses on reception.
In the morning I went for my appointment with Kjell Knudsen, keeper of the Arendal Archives. What a font of knowledge; he had been looking for a while, and was able to confirm that he had identified not only the "Captain Kroger and his son Jens" but also the mysterious Captain S____ H_____ who, it would appear was Stian Herlofsen. Captain Herlofsen had been in Gloucester three years before (as stated). The only problem was that there was no trace of any young woman dying.... The only one was just under 16. Furthermore, it was becoming pretty obvious that it was a bit far-fetched to think that a ship captain's daughter (a) had accompanied him on a trip, and (b) in the period of a brief visit to Gloucester met, wooed and agreed to marry JB.
So, if this was the case, what was the real story? I phoned my aunt to try to find out the background to the "courted and eventually promised to marry", but she couldn't recall; so all I can do is wait until I return to the UK to follow that up.
In the meantime, I discovered an interesting fact from Kjell. Stian Herlofsen had been the founder of a religious group "Indermision". Also, in 1863 a bunch of Norwegians returned from New York and introduced Methodism to Arendal. There was clearly religious fervour in the air. This followed the liberalisation of freedom of religion in 1851 when - for the first time - Jews were no longer banned from Norway.
Kjell provided me with some other information. In his book-case he had some volumes of the Norsk Dictionary similar to those carried by JB.
I fairly quickly found out that I'd chosen a really bad time to try to contact any local historians, as they were all involved in the costume re-creations which went on every evening of the weekend I was in Arendal.
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JB wrote :
I sallied out on to the quay to seek for the residence of Captain S H ___________, whose acquaintance I had made at Gloucester some three years before; and inquiring of a man whom I met, he told me it was across the water, and that he would take me there if I would step into his boat. I did so, and felt very much puzzled, on arriving at the opposite side, to know whether I should offer him payment or not. From the tone of his voice, and his manner, I judged him a gentleman; yet as it might nevertheless happen that he was a ferryman, I made a kind of feint in the direction my pocket, as being the the safest side on which to err; but he immediately declined any remuneration, assuring me I was welcome to his assistance. Captain H ______ came out and seized me by the hand, and instantly drew me into his house, where I received such kindness as I can never forget. But it is not the object of this sketch to describe the hospitalities of private friendship, and must therefore very briefly pass over the period of my stay in Arendal.
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So I thought I should "sally forth" and see what I could find. I found the ferry over to the island of Hisøy where, I'd been told, I might find the house of the Herlofsen family.
Kjell had given me some copies of stuff, and one was a drawing depicting somebody being rowed to the islands in - of all years - 1863! I allowed my imaginaion to consider this might have been JB. I've just realised as I write this that the Norwegian writing underneath (which I still need to get interpreted) includes the words "Peter Herlofsen"....
I hoped I would find a shop or museum or bar where I could ask questions, but they all evaded me. Eventually I found the next-best thing - a man with a dog sitting at a bench in the sunshine.
Initially, he was rather cautious of me, but we chatted, and after a while he warmed and proved to be a font of local knowledge. As far as he knew, the Herlofsen family had lived in a big house in the middle of town, but also had what he described as an estate on the outskirts of town. He clearly described where it was, calling it the Herlofsen "Gorg" - or some similar word - and saying it had a gatehouse, long drive, etc... I mentioned the religious "Indermision" and he said that he thought it was just up the street from my Hotel, close to what I could only assume was the Salvation Army.
I said I was also looking for the Krøger family and he said "- but they live just along there at the end of the road", so I went along and after asking a couple of times found the house and rang on the doorbell. An upstairs window opened and an elderly lady poked her head out. I asked if she spoke English, and she said "no" and shortly afterwards a young girl - her grand-daughter - opened the door. She spoke English, and I explained myself. She said her mother was out and she couldn't help me, nor could her (blind) uncle. She said I needed to speak to someone else (the Sorensons?) and I gave her my card and asked her to pass it on to somebody to contact me. It was clear she felt uncomfortable at being "doorstepped" by me, and I didn't press to stay any longer, but took a few photos.
What struck me about the location of the house is that - absent the Volvo and surfaced road - this was almost exactly as I had imagined the house from which "Captain H ______ came out and seized me by the hand". (The one on the left is the Krøger house). I was pretty happy aboutthis, although disappointed not to be able to have an immediate conversation with the people and find out if they had any interesting tit-bits of family history that could tie in with JB's visit.
I went back and found that the man was still sitting with his dog enjoying the sunshine. I thanked him, and he gave me his name (Kare Vilmann), and I returned on the ferry.
I decided to get in the car and drive up the coast to Grimstad, also hoping to look for the "Herlofsen Estate" described to me. I found Grimstad to be rather missable - or perhaps I saw the wrong side of it? - but I DID find the gates to what I can only assume is the Herlofsen Estate described to me by the man on the bench!
I might add here that whilst I've seen a lot of very nice houses in Norway, this was the first I noticed which boasted a gate-house!
Returning to the centre of Town I went to the Kløckers Hus Museum, but of course it was closed because of the re-enactment festivals; However, I did manage to see the curator (Karin H Kamman?) who apologized for it being closed as they were baking bread for the festival. I briefly explained myself, and she got quite excited, saying thet the Herlofsen house was next door.
I was getting more and more information, but still wasn't any closer to understanding WHY JB had been there. I went and found the Salvation Army, and almost next door there was an "Adventkirkenn"
I returned to the quayside, and watched the world go by. It's very relaxing there, although I was reminded that there are few parts of the world the young evangelicals don't reach... perhaps nothing's changed since 1863. By the quayside the crab fishermen cook, prepare and sell their wares. Can't get dinner much fresher than that, or with a more pleasing setting.
Where I stayed:
Marine Hotel
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