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Subject: Diary of Elisabeth Koren - 28-39
Date: Fri, 1 Aug 2003 09:08:06 -0700


Acknowledgment

The following selection is taken from "The Diary of Elisabeth Koren"
translated and edited by David T. Nelson and published by the
Norwegian-American Historical Association (NAHA) in 1955. The Volume is
still in print and available from NAHA at http://www.naha.stolaf.edu
where you will also find the first 33 volumes of Studies and Records
online as well as Theodore C. Blegen's 2 volumes on Norwegian Migration
to America. This chapter is published with the kind permission of NAHA.
The book this selection is drawn from is under copyright and permission
has been granted for educational purposes and it is not to be used in any
way for commercial purposes.

3 Slow Headway in the Atlantic
Saturday, October 29. It looks bad for the women today; the sea is rather
rough and the ship is rolling violently. The poor doctor's wife is sick
again, and she so sorely needed more days of rest. Mrs. Popp is ill today
too; she is very dispirited because of the wind and weather and
everything. It is now afternoon; the lamps have just been lit. We have
had, and still are having, a stormy day. It has blown almost as violently
as during the last storm, but I think that nothing more than a pair of
sails has gone to pieces.
Vilhelm took me on deck for a time to watch the stormy sea. It is
interesting when it is so angry; how it broods and breaks and what a
pretty color the wave crests have as they rush on! It is fascinating to
be up forward and see the ship plunge its prow into the water, and watch
the waves boil and foam about while the ship momentarily lies upon its
side, so that it seems to touch the surface of the water. It seems
impossible that the mountainous waves will not crash upon and flood the
whole deck. Seldom indeed, is the sea higher than today. I think I have
never been out in such a wind before. I could scarcely draw my breath,
and my face became quite salty from the sea spray.
When we came down again we found the company at breakfast; we, too, sat
down to eat and to help hold the unruly dishes and plates. Vilhelm was
going to stop the butter plate from fleeing, and stuck all five fingers
very deftly into the butter, whereupon Juul remarked very dryly, "You
need not be afraid of breaking your fingers there." The doctor's wife lay
on the floor for a time; but the doors began to bang open and shut so
violently that she took to her cabin. Madam Zeplin also took to her
berth. Miss Küsler and I then sat alone once more and worked with all our
might. One gets so dreadfully tired of the endless movement without a
support for one's head. We lay down and rested a while and then sat by
ourselves and chatted till noon. No doubt wholly out of concern for our
comfort, the steward gave us pease porridge today instead of soup.
Vilhelm is stretched out asleep; he is so sluggish today. I have suddenly
become wide awake, although I may be lulled to sleep again listening to
Franciska and Jean's monotonous song. {1} Giering already begins to nod.
The wind is so contrary that we are steering just opposite to where we
should. It would be splendid to get a somewhat calm night now after such
a day. My handwriting shows clearly enough how we are still rolling; it
is certainly not very easy to write.
Sunday, October 30. This is the seventh Sunday we have spent on board. I
am not fond of Sundays here; they pass about the same as other days of
the week. Most of the time the crew has even more to do, for there is
generally bad weather on Sundays. Yesterday's strong wind is still with
us, though fortunately it is not so warm as yesterday. It was then 18
degrees in the saloon --- so oppressive and disagreeable. {2}
Now, with great inconvenience, we have drunk our coffee, which today
"tasted strong as water," as Giering said. I have been reading Spitta's
hymns and am about to teach Miss Küsler some paradigms {3} V. is reading,
the doctor, too. Giering is conversing with the doctor's wife, who has
progressed so far that she is lying on the floor in the little entry to
her cabin. Juul is trying to solve Giering's puzzle. Madam Zeplin is in
her berth, Mrs. Popp and Kihn in theirs, but I think the latter will
grace us with her presence later on.
The tiresome children --- how many times we have had to tell them, in
vain, to be quiet this evening! Before I lie down, however, I shall see
if it is possible to write a couple of words despite this fearful
rolling; the wind has increased rather than fallen off today; it is still
storming. Such weather is unpleasant, aside from the annoyance of not
being able to sit anywhere without that howling, whistling, and cracking.
We --- that is V. and I --- have nevertheless passed the day gaily in
animated conversation.
The noonday meal was the most impossible one we have had so far, it seems
to me, for it is out of the question to describe how it looked with rice,
peas, and potatoes everywhere. My admiration for the steward's dexterity
increases with each meal in rough weather; I do not understand how he can
shuffle the pudding safely the length of the slippery deck. We lay down
and rested a couple of hours after dinner. When I came in, half the
saloon was full of sail that the captain is busily occupied in repairing.
So many sails are going to pieces that they must hurry. The others sat
about, wholly or half asleep, and consequently little interested, until
it was time to eat; then they are forced to stay awake, since there are
so many lively dishes to take care of.
It is now late, but I have no desire to go to my berth while it is so
rough; but I shall nevertheless be compelled to do so, for there is no
indication that the wind will subside. May God let the night pass quietly
and give the sick a chance to sleep! It is already late at home. It is
odd to think of this difference in time; when I got up this morning,
people were already going to church at home, or were returning, if there
was an early service.
Monday, October 31. It was a frightfully stormy night. God be praised
that all has gone so well! I do not mind lying awake now as much as I did
in the beginning. The storm is still with us; no sail can be set. The
wind blows from many directions during the day. The weather is fair.
Evening. The day has passed fairly quietly, nevertheless. It blew hard,
but not so hard as yesterday. It is still blowing, but today the men
could play their whist in peace, unlike the last time, when the captain
had the tricks which belonged to him, and also those which did not,
constantly in his lap.
The noon table looked so neat and clean that it was a delight. We are
acquiring more and more dexterity; yesterday, however, the coffeepot came
dancing into Küsler's lap, the hot coffee naturally all over her, and I,
who sat at her side, had my share too. Our meals are important business
for us; therefore I relate so faithfully what occurs at them. I have
actually been comfortable during these stormy days, when indeed there is
little that is agreeable, and have passed the time working, chatting,
reading, and paying visits to the poor women. Now I am off to bed. I
cannot understand how I slept so well last night during that terrible
storm.
Tuesday evening, November 1. This has been a gloomy, rainy day. Such days
are scarcely agreeable on board. All the women stayed inside and lay
about on the floor, and looked just as melancholy as the weather. I sat,
very industrious, and finished crocheting my piece of lace this forenoon.
V. read and played dominoes, and now is busy with whist. In the forenoon
the weather was very calm, the sea naturally still rough after yesterday;
but toward evening it began to blow increasingly hard, and the dog went
about uneasily with his tongue hanging from his mouth --- a sure sign of
storm. It was almost storming when I went to bed, prepared to pass an
uneasy, wakeful night; but this, God be thanked, did not happen.
Wednesday, November 2. The wind is such that we are making progress
today, and the barometer is rising. For the most part I have ceased to
inquire concerning wind and navigation now, for I never get anything but
an unfavorable answer. It looks as if we shall have fine weather today. I
shall spend the time sewing and reading Don Carlos. {4}
Now it is evening; we have eaten our boiled potatoes and herring, to
which Miss Kihn has looked forward since she awakened this morning. In
the forenoon I helped Mrs. Popp and Miss Kihn eat a plate of potatoes and
butter. During breakfast Kihn entertained us with a lecture on cooking
and what pertains thereto. She is tireless. The men played whist in the
forenoon. When they do not play whist, they play dominoes, that is,
Giering and the captain do; Vilhelm reads. We have had a calm day; it
blows very little. The women have their mattresses and blankets on the
floor, where they spend the day when they are not eating.
Thursday, November 3. For the first time in a long while I am seated on
deck, writing. The weather is beautiful; the sky is clear with a few
white, transparent clouds here and there; the great ocean is as calm and
smooth as a lake. Mr. Jäger is sitting in one of the boats, amusing
himself by fishing up seaweed that drifts by; I got some of it as a
souvenir of the Atlantic Ocean. Twice I have been lured from my seat to
see a shark that never would show itself after I got there. The deck is
littered with sails, and the passengers are camped about, enjoying this
day of rest; indeed, they needed it after all the stormy weather, though
I should prefer a little wind to this calm. Vilhelm is standing in the
shrouds, gazing down into the sea.
I recognize a delicious odor from the kitchen; we shall no doubt soon be
going down to eat. I know the bill of fare already from Miss Kiln. Today
she even had to bring out her cookbook at breakfast.
I am enjoying Pickwick, which is well suited for reading here. We have
seen many fish today --- they were thought to be porpoises. After dinner
I felt I must go on deck again immediately to make the most of the
beautiful day, and arrived just in time to gaze at the sunset. I had to
go down for V., who was sitting over his coffee cup, and we rejoiced
together at the beautiful sight. More gorgeous brilliancy of color I have
never seen, but the sunset we saw at Dover with the soft, fine shadings
appealed to me more. Long, long after the sun had set, the sky continued
to change colors -most beautiful and remarkable tints -and to throw
reflections on the sea. It spread farther and farther until at last we
lay wholly surrounded by its splendor. And then the transition to
darkness, when the stars began to appear and the new moon showed itself -
yes, it was beautiful, all of it. Sunsets are indeed loveliest at sea.
We walked up and down until I was very tired and went below, and I sit
here writing, with Vilhelm by my side jotting down his observations from
Hamburg, all the children boisterous just in front of us, Giering humming
on the opposite side of the mast, and noise from the steward's mortar out
in the pantry. He must be going to surprise us with something special
this evening. If he does he will surpass himself today, for the noon meal
was excellent. We were able to eat it in peace instead of having to sit
and watch our plates and then, despite all our trouble, getting something
spilled on ourselves. It is really fine to have such a calm day now and
then and see everyone once more about the table.
Friday, November 4. I hurried out of my berth this morning upon seeing a
bright red streak in our little window recess, and hoped to see the
sunrise, but I did not succeed, arriving on deck too late. So I went to
bed again, fell asleep, and slept so long, of course, that I was almost
too late for coffee instead of being one of the first there, as I usually
am. I do wish, however, that I might once be up early enough to see a
sunrise.
I have been on deck for a time. The morning was beautiful, but now the
sky is quite overcast. I saw several small black stormy petrels. The
barometer is falling, and soon the surface of the ocean, which is now so
calm, will take on a different aspect. All are sitting very quietly at
their work, waiting for the second act of eating, which Kihn never ceases
to spice up. The doctor's wife is sitting in her corner with "Fatty"
beside her. V. and Giering are playing dominoes as usual; the latter is
the champion here, however. The captain sat up and read pirate tales
until two o'clock last night, so he is not yet visible. One could easily
become melancholy looking at his wife, she seems so completely
disconsolate.
Now the sun has come out and the fine weather has lured us on deck. V. is
sitting in the top; I wish he were down --- I cannot reconcile myself to
seeing him aloft. We have a splendid west wind, but since, unfortunately,
we must go west, we cannot rejoice greatly over it. The captain is so
disheartened because of the wind that he will not leave his berth.
"Smiles" sits and talks busily with that old woman; everyone appears to
be much taken with her. {5} I am tired of listening to their prattle. The
wind is becoming stronger and stronger; our rest will soon end, I fear.
We are sitting in a long row with our backs toward the ship's staircase.
On the floor to my left I have Madam Zeplin in busy conversation with
"the old one"; by her side sits the doctor's wife, "Fatty" at her feet.
Anna lies spread out in all directions. On my other side I have Kihn and
Küsler. There comes the doctor. What a relief! He has had his long locks
cut! I hope V. will not make use of the same barber, but rather keep his
wavy hair until we get ashore.
The doctor, who is certainly the most affectionate, if not the most
cheerful, husband in the world, seats himself by the side of his wife,
lets her lean her head against his shoulder and in a whispering voice
begins to read aloud for her one of Giering's interesting tales. Since
she looks at the book with him all the time, she could easily dispense
with his voice. That is their customary occupation when they are not
munching figs or talking to Jean. They certainly look anything but merry.
Look! There we really have the captain, his wife, and his pirate tale. He
has realized at last that the wind took no notice of his wrath but blew
merrily to the east, and has left his berth. He has now made up a couch
of rugs for his wife, and starts in on his story, lying by her side.
Kihn, who follows Mrs. Popp like a faithful hound, no sooner noticed that
there was a little place left on the latter's blanket than she crawled
over there with the remark to me that now I could make myself so much
more comfortable. She left just at the right time for V. to come and take
her place.
V., as usual, was busy hushing the children and calling his favorite,
Emil, over to him; Emil is now lying by his side and learning to
distinguish between colors. The Swiss has been yodeling very prettily
today; he is lying on the roof of the second cabin entertaining the
steerage passengers, who are very merry. We sat on deck until we were
agreeably interrupted by "Wollen Sie so gut sein," who must have
suspected how hungry we were, to judge by the substantial dinner he gave
us.
The lamps are now lit and one by one the passengers come below, while the
captain throws a bundle of cloaks and blankets down through the skylight.
I have not been on deck since noon, but have been sitting below with V.,
who smoked his pipe and drank coffee with Giering. We have eaten supper -
the women except Küsler, who sews and nods as usual, and the captain's
wife, who, for what reason I do not know, always sleeps on the floor at
the door of her cabin instead of in her berth. The steward is very busy
pounding; it must be on account of the doctor's birthday. Now I shall put
this away and finish my stocking before I go to bed.
Saturday, November 5. Breakfast is over. The weather is raw and wet; we
had the porthole open for a moment, but had to close it because of rain.
Madam Zeplin is sitting on the floor in a corner of the ladies' saloon,
the door of which is closed. She looks very miserable. Her mouth is
closed; I do not know whether she is nearer to sleeping or crying; now
and then she makes a pitiful attempt to sew or read. "The old one" has
kept a little life in her by conversation, but now has moved over to the
companionway or corridor, as Kihn calls it, to bless the doctor's wife
with her presence. The doctor sits in the other corner studying an
English grammar; he looks like a gray rainy day. Küsler, as usual, is
sitting by my side sewing; I see now, however, she has laid aside her
stocking and started in on Maria Stuart, which she finds "sehr hübsch";
but I have a vague misgiving she does not find it particularly
interesting. {6}
Vilhelm and Giering have concluded their customary morning session of
dominoes, which lasts from coffee to breakfast, and now are seated on
opposite sides of the table, reading two very different books. The
captain is sitting on the medicine chest in great sea boots, buried in
his interesting book. Mrs. Popp is lying as usual in the doorway, with
the most melancholy expression in the world. She is reading Schiller, I
believe; but no, it is one of the interesting pirate tales; no wonder,
then, that her face has an expression of terror. Kihn came with her rug
just as her mistress appeared in the doorway, and now lies at her feet,
sharing her interest in those terrifying stories. I see that she too has
got herself one of the tales and laid her Meister on the shelf. Oh, well,
it is no doubt likely that her "Meisterwerke" became too heavy for her,
"hubsch" as they were. {7} The merriest of the whole party are the
children, who in their usual fashion are busy at one end of the table
with their houses and their inhabitants, and shout, talk, and sing all at
once. {8}
I hope that it will be a little gayer here tomorrow, that the sea will be
as calm as today, and that we can eat the steward's cakes in peace. The
wind is probably a trifle better than yesterday and the ship is fairly
steady. Now I shall start on my stocking again and see what best suits my
taste today, Pickwick or The Alhambra. {9} There comes that affected
steward, puffing, and pushing the children aside; he is after a bottle of
milk, I see, which he very carefully puts in his pocket, presumably so
that we shall not begin to wonder why he has quit giving us milk for our
coffee in the morning. It must be going into the puddings.
Now the lamps are lit and everything is almost as usual except that V.,
Giering, and the doctor are playing whist, something they have not done
these last days. Through the open door I catch a glimpse of the captain,
who is sleeping. His wife, like a faithful dog, lies on guard at the
entrance to the holy of holies with the poodle sleeping at her feet.
Madam Zeplin is sleeping in her corner with her nose in the air. "The old
one" is stretched out on the floor, with her feet near the doctor's wife
and her head near Zeplin, in order not to treat either of them in
stepmotherly fashion. Everyone is certainly sleeping soundly, for no one
has been wakened, even by little Anna's talk and shouting. When she no
longer has Giering to fuss with her she is a nuisance to the other
children, and at this moment is being carried out, shrieking, by her dear
uncle steward. Juul as usual stands back of one of the players, looking
on.
I went on deck for a while; it is good to get up there and breathe a
little fresh air when one has been below in one spot all day-even if it
is not very agreeable on deck, as was the case this afternoon. It was
cold and the wind blew hard. The ship was making headway, but it was
listing considerably. The sea looked cold and gray, just as on a winter's
day at home. The wind is still unfavorable. A flock of gulls flew about
the ship, quite near. I stood for a time and watched them as they flew
straight into the wind slowly and with difficulty, then like an arrow
back again and down into the water to rock a little on the waves, and
then again into the air.
Sunday, November 6. Today is our doctor's birthday; I just now
congratulated him as he came from his cabin, all spick-and-span. The
weather, too, is celebrating the day with beautiful sunshine. The
changeable barometer again stands at fair; this time nothing came of the
storm that I expected. The wind is the same as yesterday. Now we shall
begin the first act, which opens with the drinking of coffee. I see that
the steward treats us to biscuits today; that is no doubt on account of
the birthday.
The day will soon be over; the third act of eating has just ended. It has
been so cold today that we had to sit with heavy shawls on. We did a
double-time march on deck this morning to warm up a little. It was just
like a winter's day --- cold and sharp. After breakfast, at which we
received a kümmel to break the chill, we went to our cabin. V. read a
sermon and the rest of the morning we remained there, where it is always
best to be, until we were called in to dinner and the old scenes again.
In honor of the doctor there was a really festive touch to the dinner. We
had chicken broth, roast chicken with peas and potatoes, and a compote of
pears, or whatever it was. The captain served Rhine wine and champagne.
As nearly all the steward's wineglasses had been broken, the doctor's
health was drunk in a beautiful medley of coffee cups, big German beer
glasses, and wineglasses. Well, it tasted just as good. The health was
drunk; the doctor drank first with the captain and his wife and
thereafter passed around and drank and spoke a word or two with each one
individually. Whether that is the usual custom on board ship, or whether
it was from the impulse of his own kind heart, I do not know. For dessert
our steward had baked macaroons and other cakes, all very excellent, and
a welcome change from the pudding.
After the meal the men had cigars with their coffee and played a round of
whist. I have been sitting between Zeplin and Kiln, reading Dickens and
listening to Küsler, who has just finished Jungfrau von Orleans and now
has started on Maria Stuart, wondering whether there ever was such a
person as Jeanne d'Arc, or whether it was not simply a figment of the
imagination on Schiller's part; and every moment she bursts out with, "It
is frightful, indeed, the intrigues that were carried on at such courts,
and that Elizabeth must really have been a dreadful queen." She has not
read very widely in history.
The doctor's wife is lying in her corridor, where her husband also has
passed the greater part of the day, sitting behind her and reading pirate
tales aloud; he does not look like a happy-birthday child. Mrs. Popp is
lying in her doorway, with Kiln, near at hand as usual, giving extracts
from the cookbook. The captain reclines near them and is teasing his wife
in his usual way by snapping his fingers in her face and throwing paper
on her, which Kihn carefully picks off, protecting her against his
attack. It is their daily sport, of which I am very tired. The card game
is in full swing again. The day has gone quickly and quite agreeably
despite the cold. Küsler is beginning to nod over her Maria; I think I
too shall soon go to bed, for it is cold.
Monday, November 7. The wind is favorable, and that causes everything to
have a noticeably brighter appearance. The weather is beautiful but cold.
The coffee tray has been removed. V. and Giering are playing dominoes;
the children have not yet begun their usual sport. The doctor's wife has
actually been on deck but came down again pale and frozen. Küsler is
knitting; the other women have not come in; Miss Küsler and Mrs. Popp
were still lying here on the floor when V. turned in last night, Mrs.
Popp sleeping, as she does nearly all the time, the other with her
Leibrock, which she told me was very interesting --- "es sind
wunderhübsche" and "wundervolle Geschichten." I do not doubt at all that
they are "wundervolle." {10}

<1> Franciska is Madam Zeplin's daughter; Jean is the Viennese doctor's
son.
<2> Eighteen degrees centigrade would correspond to 64.4 degrees
Fahrenheit.
<3> Karl Johann Philipp Spitta (1801-59) was a German clergyman and hymn
writer.
<4> Friedrich Schiller, Don Carlos, Infant von Spanien (Leipzig, 1787).
<5> The top on which Vilhelm was sitting was a platform surrounding the
head of the lower mast. It is not known which of the passengers "that old
woman" or "the old one" is.
<6> Friedrich Schiller, Maria Stuart, ein Trauerspiel (Tübingen, 1801).
"Sehr hübsch" means "very nice."
<7> Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Wilhelm Mersters Lehriahre (Berlin,
179596). "Meisterwerke" are masterpieces.
<8> The houses and inhabitants were probably cut from paper. Mrs. Koren
was skillful at making them.
<9> Washington Irving, The Alhambra: A Series of Tales and Sketches of
the Moors and Spaniards (Philadelphia, 1832).
<10> The reference is probably to J. L. August Leibrock (1782-1853), an
extremely prolific writer of German popular novels. The expressions in
German mean, "They are exceedingly beautiful," and "wonderful stories."

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