Where few but nature’s footsteps yet have been.”
IN our outward as well as return voyage we passed near the Faroe Islands. These, like Iceland, are under the jurisdiction of Denmark, and, though near 300 miles from their northern neighbor, have many features in common with it. The scenery is singularly wild and picturesque. We sailed nearly under some of the tall cliffs, and could plainly see the pillared columns of basalt, so common throughout Iceland and nearly all the northern isles. From conversation with two English gentlemen that I met a short time since, who had just returned from Faroe, where they had been “birds’ nesting,”[6] and from one or two authentic narratives, I gathered some interesting particulars of their topography and history. The Faroe Isles are probably less known to modern travelers than any inhabited land in the northern sea. Many there are that visit Greenland—some catching whales and seal; a few to convert the heathen; some on a scientific tour; and, latterly, many in search of a distinguished navigator and the hapless screws of two long-missing ships—and not unfrequently do civilized men land on the bleak and frozen shores of Spitzbergen; and any one can visit Lapland by steam; but one may go round the world and not meet a christian man that has stepped on one of the seventeen of the inhabited islands of Faroe. The whole group consists of twenty-five islands, extending about sixty-five miles from north to south, and forty-five from east to west; and containing a little less than a thousand square miles. They lie between 61° 26 and 62° 25 N. Latitude, and 6° 40 and 7° 40 West Longitude from Greenwich. They are 185 miles northwest of Shetland, and 400 from Norway. This much for their location and size. The surface of the different islands varies in appearance considerably, but they all have remarkably bold, perpendicular banks. The northeastern one, Fugloe—or Bird-island—is quite flat on the top; but the banks on every side are high and perpendicular, so that boats must always be raised and lowered with ropes. Oesteroe, the largest but one, is the highest of the entire group, rising 3,000 feet above the level of the sea. On some parts of its precipitous cliffs are majestic octagonal pillars of basaltic rock, a hundred feet high and six feet in diameter. Were these in a land of population and wealth they would undoubtedly be selected by builders, and be seen supporting and adorning the porticoes of temples of Grecian or Roman architecture. One of these pillars, sixty feet in length, has fallen across a deep chasm, and forms a natural bridge from one side to the other. Another enormous mass of rock, twenty-four feet long by eighteen broad is so exactly balanced across another that the strength of a finger will vibrate it; and though the waves have been dashing against it for ages, there it remains, poised on a pivot, like the famous rocking stone in Cornwall.
Stromoe, south of Oesteroe, is the largest of the Faroe group, and is 27 miles long by about 7 broad, and contains 140 square miles. On this island is Thorshaven, the capital and principal seaport. The Danish post-ship between Denmark and Iceland, lands here twice or three times in a year. Thorshaven has a church, and about 100 dwellings; some of them comfortable framed houses. This important place is well protected by a substantial fort—an excellent fortification, that lacks but one essential article, cannon! However, there is little chance that they would ever be needed did they have them. Were there any thing here worth the trouble of an invading army or a piratical crew, at the most favorable landing on the islands, the natives would stand a good chance to crush their invaders with their natural means of defense, and keep them off by rolling stones down upon them. But what freaks old nature plays here among these tall cliffs! What houses for sea-monsters does old ocean create! The island of Nalsoe is pierced from side to side, so that in calm weather a boat can sail through it, under a natural arch, with near 2,000 feet of solid rock overhead. At the northern end of Stromoe is the promontory of Myling, which rises perpendicularly to the height of 2,500 feet. If the spectator had nerve enough, he might go to the brink, and toss a pebble clear into the sea from the lofty summit. One singular rock in this group of islands, rises out of the water like a lofty spire, and is called by the natives the Trollekone-finger, or witch’s finger. The most western of the islands is Myggeness; and, though inhabited, is so difficult of access that communication between that and the rest of the group is not usually more than three or four times a year. It is surrounded by precipitous cliffs, from 1,200 to 1,400 feet in height; and the passage or fiorth between this and the neighboring island is the most dangerous in the group. Off Myggeness, is Myggenessholm,—a precipitous rock standing alone in the sea, like a solitary sentinel attendant on the larger isle. Any one who has seen the Meal-sack island off the southwest coast of Iceland, or the Holm of the Noss in the Shetland group, or Ailsa Craig in the Clyde, will have an idea of the appearance of this rocky islet. This is the only island in the Faroe group where the Gannet, or Solan Goose, builds its nest. The choice of such a location as this, or Ailsa Craig, or the Meal-sack—all favorite localities of this bird—is not altogether from the generally inaccessible nature of the place and its consequent immunity from hostile man—though this is some consideration. These haunts of the gannet are always near a good “run” of fish, and this is usually where there is a strong flow of the tide between two islands or between an island and the main shore. Graba, a late traveler in Faroe, speaks of landing on the small island of Store Dimon. He says the clergyman visits this island but once a year, and the sides are so steep they have to pull him up with ropes as they would a bag of meal. When Graba landed, the natives pushed one of their number up the rocks, with their long sticks that they use in bird-catching, and then he drew up the rest. In this way they all passed from one cliff to another, till they arrived at the top, 250 feet above the water. The steepness of the rock was fully appreciated on their return, when a basket of eggs was let down into the boat by a rope. In passing up and down they sometimes walked on a narrow shelf of rock; and when this ceased, the “highway” was continued by having holes cut in the perpendicular face of the cliff, once in two or three feet, for the fingers and toes. Along this frightful precipice, a drunken native passed in safety with a sack of barley on his back.
One of the great natural curiosities of the islands, is the Vogelberg; a terrible chasm, of an elliptical form, almost entirely surrounded by rocks, at least a thousand feet in height. The entrance is by a narrow passage at one end; and here, in this remarkable house, with the sea for a floor and the sky for a roof, are thousands of birds. Sheltered from every wind, the boat glides along with perfect safety. Gulls and guillemots swim by without fear; the seal looks from his watery cave in fancied security; and the lazy cormorant stretches out his neck to scan the appearance of the newly-arrived visitors. Long lines of kittiwakes show their white breasts and dove-like eyes; from narrow shelves of the rock, nest succeeds nest, and the downy young appear in frightful proximity to the edge of the precipice beneath. The puffins take the highest stations, perhaps because they are puffed up with ideas of their own importance, being favorites of man, and often captured for their flesh and feathers. In sheltered and dark places, will be found the rock-dove; and dashing past like a pirate, is seen the skua, pursuing the gull or the puffin, and striving for a dinner he has never earned. Graba visited this singular place in a boat, accompanied by several natives. He describes the noise made by the innumerable sea-fowl, as almost deafening. Seeing a rare bird that he was desirous of obtaining a specimen of, he raised his gun and fired. “What became of it,” says he, “I know not. The air was darkened by the birds roused from their repose. Thousands hastened out of the chasm with a frightful noise, and spread themselves in troops over the ocean. The puffins came wondering from their holes, and regarded the universal confusion with comic gestures; the kittiwakes remained composedly in their nests; while the cormorants tumbled headlong into the sea.” That was, undoubtedly, the first gun that was ever fired there since the creation of the world. In a little time, the confusion and smoke passed away, and every thing resumed its wonted appearance.
Suderoe, the most southern of the islands, as indicated by its name, is of very irregular shape, contains about forty-four square miles, and differs materially from the most northern of the group. This island produces more and better grain, is better cultivated, and has some valuable beds of coal. Several kinds of land birds, the lark, the rail, and the swallow, are found in Suderoe, and not in the islands farther north. The natives of Suderoe are said to be more industrious and ingenious, and to speak a language differing considerably from the inhabitants of the other islands. Their principal town, Qualhoe, is the finest and best-built village in Faroe.
The climate of Faroe is much more genial and mild than would be supposed from its latitude, and far less severe in winter than many places in a more southern latitude on the continent of Europe. The curlew and some other birds winter here, while they are not found on the continent, at this season, as far north as Hamburg. The ground is seldom frozen for a month, and snow never falls deep, or lasts over a week at a time. The summer, neither here or in Iceland, is hot, though there are some warm days in July and August. While grain is never grown in Iceland, here they cultivate barley and oats, at a height of from two to six hundred feet above the level of the sea. Grass grows at an elevation of two thousand feet, but a little above that vegetation ceases, and the land is a desert. Sometimes a violent wind occurs, that will roll up the grassy turf like a side of sole leather; and in this way the tops of some hills get entirely denuded, the turf being carried into the sea. Trees do not grow here; these islands resembling, in that respect, Iceland, and the groups of Shetland and Orkney. Thunder here, as in Iceland, is heard in winter, but seldom in summer. There are a few lakes in the islands; Leinumvatn, in Stromoe, being one of the largest. It is in a somber, melancholy-looking valley, and resembles some of the small lakes in the Highlands of Scotland. As in all mountainous and peat districts, there are plenty of springs of fresh water.
The spoken language of the Faroese resembles that of the Icelanders, but the people have not the same literary taste and love of history. Their written language is the Danish. Originally settled from Norway by piratical cruisers, and about the time of the settlement of Iceland, the history of the islands has much in common with the more northern land. They paid tribute, or were expected to, to the reigning chief in Norway; but the latter was very unfortunate in his collection of it. The deputy or collector sent out for this purpose seldom returned, and was rarely or never seen in Norway again. Some, attracted by the independent bearing of the people, took wives from among the fair Faroese, and settled permanently; thus paying a very direct and unmistakable compliment to a brave, independent, and republican people. Others declared themselves firm and incorruptible, and determined to execute their trust. Marriage is a most excellent institution and all the Norwegian collectors who took brides from among the Faroe maidens, found it, no doubt, particularly to their own advantage, and, at the same time, in accordance with the good wishes and prosperity of the islanders themselves. Those who would not accept wives on such fair terms, were never heard of again. Their bones were buried at low tide! The king of Norway kept sending his deputies to Faroe, and they and their ships disappeared one after another, till finally none of his majesty’s subjects would undertake the voyage. At last, Karl MÆre, a celebrated pirate, offered his services; left Norway, and arrived at Thorshaven safely. He commenced collecting the tribute, and succeeded until he was himself compelled to pay a capitation tax. He was decapitated, and his companions returned without the money. Had the “wanderer” in Iceland been favored with the office of collector, he might perhaps have visited Faroe; and, in that case, he probably would not much longer have continued a WANDERING BACHELOR.
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