Twist ye, twine ye! even so,
Mingle shades of joy and woe,
Hope and fear and peace and strife,
In the thread of human life.
_Song of Meg Merrilies._ SIR WALTER SCOTT.
WET TRAVELLING--VODVANG--OUR RUSSIAN LAMP--SWEDISH VISITORS--
ALL WELL--MY HOBBINENGREE--THE CHILD OF NATURE--GUITAR
SONGS--THE VILLAGE BEAU--MERLES GONE--THE MUSKETOS’ VICTORY
--MORE RAIN--SCOTCH TRAVELLER--TIMBER FLOATERS--GIPSIES--
ENRAGED ENGLISHMAN--THE FRIGHTENED SKYDSKARL--GIPSIES’
ENDURANCE--THE LISTARI COMMOTION--LISTAD SCENERY.
Our donkeys were pressed onwards, and passed some carts laden with
merchandise. Anxiously our gipsies looked out for a camping ground. The
waters of the lake, dashed in waves on the stony shore. The wind and
rain met us in the teeth. Misty clouds gathered on the summit of the
mountains opposite, as we travelled along at a quick pace. The packs on
our donkeys, were carefully covered with our waterproofs. In vain we
looked at every point for a camping ground. At one log cottage on the
hill above the road, a woman with a yellow handkerchief over her head,
rushed out, and ran down towards the road. Then a boy suddenly appeared
on the other side of the house, and throwing up his arms when he saw us,
they revolved like the sails of a windmill, as he struggled with
quickened pace after the woman. Both ran towards an eminence of ground
at some distance below the house near the road. “I hope they will get
safe down,” remarked we to our gipsies. Sometimes the boy gained upon
the woman. The race was exciting. Speculations were hazarded as to which
would get in first. The woman might fall, but she did not, and won the
race. Both stood in breathless contemplation as we passed. At last we
reached Vodvang, splashed, wet, and weary.
There were not many houses at Vodvang. People were looking out of their
windows, and several men had collected on the balcony of a large house,
probably the gjœstgiver-gaard, to see us as we passed. The church was a
quaint wooden structure painted red. The monumental records in the
graveyard round it, were few in number--small wooden crosses, generally
of similar pattern. Two men followed us along the road. Noah was sent up
a wild-looking pathway to the top of a wooded hill, but found no camping
ground. Then we inquired from the two men, who pointed several times to
a thick fir wood a short distance beyond. We gave them twelve skillings,
which they seemed very reluctant to take, and wished to return, but we
said it was drike penge, and left them. Proceeding as fast as our
donkeys could travel, for it was now past eight o’clock, we at length
came to a private road, leading, through a gate, to the wood. There was
no time to hesitate. We must go somewhere. Zachariah swung open the
gate, and our wayworn looking party, were soon in a large, and
picturesque forest glade. The track apparently led to some house. Almost
immediately, we unloaded our baggage, and commenced pitching our tents,
in a small gulley below the forest track.
The tent rods were scarcely in the ground, when up came three men, and
two boys. The brandy flask was brought out in the heavy rain, and brandy
poured out for the three men. They seemed pleased that we were going to
camp there, and showed us a better place in the wood, for the donkeys to
graze, than where Zachariah had tethered them. It was raining fast. Noah
and Zachariah were wet through. Esmeralda not very dry; and our own
boots and legs very wet. Our gipsies were not easily dispirited. We
could not have selected better people for our campaign; accustomed to
all weathers from their infancy, they met with ourselves cheerfully, all
difficulties. Our tents were soon pitched, the siphonia waterproof cover
fastened, and our things stowed away. Then the fire must be lighted in
the rain. Whilst we prepared the Russian lamp, Noah gathered sticks.
Only damp ones could be got. A crowd of peasants had come to our camp,
and watched with curious interest our Russian lamp. They looked on with
much astonishment, especially when the Russian lamp, underneath the
sticks, gave forth its brilliant stream of flame. At the first trial the
lamp ignited the sticks, but the fire was soon extinguished by the
falling rain.
A boy kindly brought us some dry wood, and notwithstanding the rain, our
lamp succeeded upon the second trial, and our kettle was soon boiling
for tea.
Just as we had made the tea, Noah called out in Romany, that a boro rye
(gip., great gentleman) was a vellin (gip., coming). The new visitor was
a young gentleman wearing spectacles. He said he was not a native of
Norway, but from Sweden. He was staying at a large house on the side of
the wood above the road, and had seen our party come up in the rain from
the main route. Two ladies who were travelling with him were in the
forest track near our tents. Though he did not speak French, he informed
us that one of the ladies was well acquainted with the language. The
ladies then came to our camp. The rain had partly ceased. One of the
ladies, yet young and good-looking, possessed an ease and dignity of
manner we have seldom met with. She asked permission, in French, to see
our tents. How useful we always find the French language as a medium of
communication in our wanderings over the world. The tents were examined.
Our gipsies were described as gitanos, who always dwelt in tents and
were faithful to us. The young lady, her companion, who seemed amused
during the visit, was also much interested in our wild, wandering life.
At length, after a pleasant conversation, they all three left our camp.
Then we had our tea. The peasants did not come during the meal, lest
they might disturb us. When a number of them came afterwards, Zachariah
played his violin, and Noah and Esmeralda their tambourines. Great
curiosity was manifested, whilst Zachariah, all life and spirit, sitting
in his damp clothes, on the wet grass by the fire, was ever pulling
queer faces, new and then saying, “Dit a kei, look at that Bongy mouee,
ha, ha”; and again they played some lively and spirited tune. We lounged
in a corner of our tent. The Swedish gentleman came again. For some time
he sat with Noah by the camp fire, asking occasional questions in broken
English. He was lively and pleasant, and much fun seemed going on. Noah
gave him some very original answers. The peasants seemed anxious to see
us all in bed, but at last dispersed, and we fell asleep.
After a sound and refreshing night’s rest we were up at 7 o’clock; the
morning was fine, and we could now appreciate the beauties of the
woodland scene. The forest extended over the rocky hills, which bounded
the valley. Esmeralda bustled about to prepare our breakfast; no one was
the worse for the toil and fatigue of yesterday. Some peasants came, and
were told we should give them some music at Otta Klokken (Nor., 8
o’clock). Noah and Zachariah were furnished with fishing tackle, and
sent off fishing.[40] The Swedish gentleman and the two ladies, we
observed early in the morning, passing along a track through the wood
near our camp. We both saluted. They were making an excursion, partly on
foot, through Norway. As they crossed the river, they met Zachariah, and
asked him if he always slept out in tents, and how many they were in
family. The morning was devoted by Esmeralda and ourself to our camp
arrangements; she was becoming an excellent housekeeper. What an
impulsive dark-eyed girl! notwithstanding her odd sayings, and at times
roughly turned phrases, one could not but admire the rude energy, and
exercise of will she possessed. Noah and Zachariah returned. Mid-day
meal consisted of broiled ham, tea, and bread and cheese. Two men came,
and also the woman with bare legs, who had visited our last camp; they
took much interest in our Australian method of making tea.[41] Some
children who came had bread and butter; one man had tobacco, and as they
sat near, our musical box seemed to give them much pleasure. The two men
suggested a better spot in the wood for the donkeys to feed, and they
were taken there. Esmeralda and ourself left at 3 o’clock, and ascending
a steep hill through the forest, reached some broken rocks, where we had
a delightful view. After we had seated ourselves, we wrote our notes,
and Esmeralda, who sat at our side, conversed occasionally. Who could
feel other than regret, at so much want of culture, and so much wild
sterility of mind, yet if she had undergone the modern methods of
training, she would no longer have been the wild flower of nomadic
life; she would not have been my companion in the wild forest, the
valley, and lonely glen. There was much that was impulsive, and
original, much that was impassioned, and sensitive in her powers of
appreciation. It was astonishing, with all her disadvantages, she was
what she was. As the brilliant sunshine of a Norwegian evening, gilded
the pine forests, and distant fjelds, the indescribable feeling of happy
freedom, cast its bright rays upon our hearts. Lingering for a moment,
as we shut our note book we quitted a scene we may never view again, and
returned through broken forest glades, to our camp, ready for tea at 6
o’clock. When we reached our camp, no one was there. Noah came in soon
after, having been in quest of eggs. When our tea, and bread and butter
was consumed, Zachariah returned from a boating expedition; presently
the peasants came, and asked when the music would begin. Taking out our
watch we told them it was five minutes to 8, and we should begin at 8
o’clock. We sat in our tents, and opened our concert, first with our
gipsy song and guitar accompaniments, and then with the “Mocking Bird.”
The tents were decorated with a picture of Alpine scenes. One or two
tunes were played by all our gipsy party, but the peasants crowded round
our tents until they nearly brought them down. Finding they wished to
dance, we took some rugs, and went to the side of the flat roadway
through the forest.
The forest scene pleased us; the evening was very fine. Zachariah never
tired as he played his violin; sometimes we joined with castanets,
sometimes with guitar, and occasionally with tambourine, relieving each
other by turns.
Noah and Esmeralda waltzed together, and the couples who danced
increased. The young men who danced were not many; the beau of the
village, (and we always had one at all our peasant re-unions) was very
active. We shall never forget, his good-tempered chubby face, and
country bumpkin appearance, as he spun round in large low shoes, and
worsted stockings, voluminous trowsers, and short jacket, which did not
reach below his waist. The proportions of his Dutch build, were shown to
advantage. It must have been warm work, as he puffed in his thick cloth
snuff-coloured suit. If we looked through a powerful microscope at the
fat boy in “Pickwick” we should see our friend exactly represented. He
was Wackford Squeers’s sample schoolboy on a large scale. We can see him
now in the open track of the forest at closing eve, with that stout
young peasant girl of the Rubens style of beauty, twirling in an agony
of exertion as Noah executed a roulade on the tambourine; we liked to
see him, and his dancing was no doubt the envy of those peasants, who
would have done likewise, if they could.
At half-past 9 our music ceased; several peasants pressed us to
continue; the beau of the village even went so far as to offer us four
skillings--he was, no doubt, a rich landed proprietor--of course we
politely refused with mange tak (Nor., many thanks). Our heart at once
relented--we have danced ourselves. The beau of the village, was again
in his element, as a whale is at sea. They had got into step; we had
found out the tunes they liked. At 10 o’clock our music again ceased.
Wishing them good-night, we retired. Several peasants came to see the
tents, one asked for more music, but finding we did not respond, the
last group took off their hats, and left.
The peasants had not long departed, when down came Noah in haste to our
camp: “The merles (donkeys) are gone, sir,” said the gipsy. Noah could
see how it was. The ropes were left, and the men who had told us that it
was a better place for grass, had only done so to steal them. We could
not bring ourselves to suspect our friends, the Norwegian peasants, whom
we had just been entertaining as our visitors, and who were always so
kind, and friendly with us.
We immediately went with Esmeralda in search of our missing donkeys.
Taking a track through the forest, we met some peasant children, to
whom, with some difficulty, we explained that the donkeys were gone.
They seemed to divine our thoughts, “Nei, nei,” said one little girl,
pointing to a particular part of the wood, and as she was coming with
us, a shout from Noah, and Zachariah, informed us they were safe. The
peasants had kindly moved them to a better spot for grass. When the
gipsies had tethered one of the donkeys, which they usually did, they
returned to the tents. Noah said some of the peasants were still gazing
at our merles.
The thermometer had been 74° during the day.
Sleep, who could sleep? Myriads of musketos had invaded our tents. We
were all dreadfully bitten. Sleeping in a rug bag, our face only
suffered. Our forehead was one mass of small swellings. We were all up
at 2 o’clock in the morning. In the tent or out of the tent it was all
the same.
Grievous were the complaints as we ate our breakfast. Wildly Zachariah
flourished his Norwegian knife, as the enemies of his comfort attacked
him on every side. In vain he vowed vengeance against the “skeatos.” We
were determined not to endure the persecutions of our numerous
tormentors any longer. The morning was cloudy, with drizzling rain.
Striking our tents, we loaded our donkeys, and a little before 6 o’clock
left the forest, and Losnœs _en route_ for Listad. Near a beautiful
lake, we passed two hamlets, at each of which our cavalcade occasioned
great excitement. New and varied scenes met us at each turn, as we now
left far behind us the town of Lillehammer, and the picturesque shores
of the Mjösen Vand. It was astonishing the interest our donkeys
occasioned. Here and there as we passed along, people rushed from their
various pursuits, to get a glimpse of our party. One woman ran after us,
and eagerly asked if the donkeys eat grass, at the same time plucking
some from the road side, that we might better understand her question.
At one place, we purchased four loaves of bread, and a pound of butter
for 1_s._ 3_d._ Esmeralda at the same time tried to buy a stardy (gip.
for hat) to replace those lost, but could not get one. At length we
reached a large wet marshy valley, and met some men with long poles
tipped with iron hooks. Soon afterwards a gentleman driving a carriole
overtook us, and asked Noah if we were Italians. Finding he spoke
English, we went up to him, and he told us he was from Scotland. Telling
him we were travelling _à l’aise_ with our tents and baggage, the
novelty of the idea seemed to delight him, and bowing, he continued his
journey. The end of the marshy valley, through which the Logan still
held its course, was at length reached. On the side of a large
projecting mass of rock, on the road side, near a stream of water, we
found a large open space of ground, strewn with loose rocks. Part of the
baggage was taken off the donkeys, who foraged about in rocks for scanty
herbage. Lighting a fire, we had tea, bread, sardines, and Australian
meat. The men with the poles again made their appearance with increased
number. They drew up in line, and having grounded their poles, stood at
ease. First they stared at ourselves and gipsies, as we rested near our
baggage, and then at our donkeys. There were nine of them, of all sizes,
and miscellaneous costumes. They were timber floaters. Their long poles
were used to push the logs of timber adrift, when they stuck fast on the
sides of the river. Quantities of timber cut down in the forests, and
marked, finds transit in this way to the sea. As we were writing our
notes, we also made a rough sketch of the men. A boy soon afterwards
came, and said something in Norwegian about a quarter of a mile, which
we at last understood to mean a convenient camping ground at that
distance beyond us. Several other people came, and stood in the road,
gazing at the donkeys, as they wandered about the rocks.
[Illustration: TIMBER-FLOATERS.--MID-DAY HALT.]
The sun was now brilliant; the scene was particularly beautiful. Our
gipsies after lunch fell into a sound sleep.
We had halted about 10 o’clock, and we left at 4 o’clock. Noah was quite
unwell, and all suffered, more or less, from mosquito bites of the
previous night. As we looked back, we could not help pausing some few
minutes, to admire the picturesque outline of the mountains. We had not
been long _en route_ when three Englishmen in carrioles, came suddenly
round a turn in the road. We heard one exclaim, “Gipsies!” as they
overtook us, and drove by. We noticed the first was a bronzed, military,
good-looking man. The driver of the second carriole, who was an
excellent specimen of the English gentleman, said something, and bowed,
and they were rapidly followed by a younger gentleman, and soon out of
sight. Two or three travellers with carrioles met us afterwards, and
looked at us with much curiosity as they passed. The evening was fine
and enjoyable; the country on either side, was well wooded and
mountainous. The river Logan added much to the picturesque beauty of the
scene. Suddenly a carriole appeared behind us, driven by one who was
evidently bent on salmon fishing. He wore a mackintosh, and had a
south-wester over his head. When any carriages appeared my gipsies
immediately got our donkeys in line along the side of the road. Noah at
the head of the first, Zachariah the second, and Esmeralda led the
third, so that they were all kept well out of the way. The traveller’s
Norwegian pony seemed a little shy in passing us; but the traveller was
driving quietly by, as the donkeys were halted, when down jumped the
Skydskarl, and rushed to the pony’s head, which was suddenly checked
into the road fence.
“What the devil are you doing, boy!” shouted the driver, whose
nationality was unmistakable.
Esmeralda went to the pony’s head. We could hardly help laughing.
“Let go his head,” shouted our enraged countryman at the boy. Poor
fellow, he was too bewildered, and probably did not understand English.
With redoubled energy as he stared at the donkeys, he kept pulling the
pony’s head against the fence, whilst Esmeralda was pulling the contrary
way. In vain the traveller urged the pony. Wildly the Skydskarl held its
head down.
“Get behind, boy,” shouted the traveller, “you’re pulling back. He’s
quiet enough--let go, boy!!”
At last the Skydskarl retreated in confusion to the back of the
carriole, half crying. The traveller was soon out of his difficulty, and
rapidly disappeared along the road, apparently intent on his fishing
expedition. Occasionally we came to a rural cottage, at one of which we
noticed a lamb, and a goat. Zachariah played a pretty slow waltz, as we
lounged along the road, all rather sleepy and tired. There was something
of pure romance, and feeling, as we stood apart in spirit, and
contemplated our calvacade, pushing their way to some unknown camping
ground. There was our fine, strong, light-coloured donkey, with its
Jerusalem cross, carrying its heavy packs with ease, stepping to the
music of the bells on its scarlet collar. There was something soothing
in those bells, timed by the animal’s movement. Then followed the puro
rye, and the tarno rye, contrasting in colour. There was Zachariah
walking by their side, now and then performing, a slow waltz, to the
tune he was playing on his violin. However long the day, however wet and
disagreeable the weather, still his gleaming eyes and merry ha! ha! dit
a kei, the _tarno rye_, by gum, Mr. Smith is going to _dell_ (gip.,
give) _mandy_ a _metramengery_ (gip., tea) this evening. Then came the
tall form of Noah with his Alpine stock, and deer-stalking hat, set
jauntily on one side. Noah was an admirable fellow for loading and
packing; he had much improved since our campaign last summer; never out
of temper, with plenty of energy and determination. By our side walked
Esmeralda, in her long tweed cloak, fastened round her waist, small hat
and feather, and thick boots studded with nails. Our guitar, in a light
cover, was slung over her shoulder, whilst we carried, in a light cover,
made on purpose, her tambourine, with our courier bag. Tall and slim,
with raven hair, and jet black eyes, about our own height, the young
gipsy girl had an indomitable spirit. Sometimes she caught hold of our
hand, so that it might be more help to her, as we journeyed onwards,
for she had had no sleep the previous night, and was much tired, all had
been dreadfully bitten with mosquitos. The log houses we came to, had
their groups of peasants waiting to see us. Some would run with
tumultuous haste, to be in time, and a red cap generally appeared
prominently as one of the number. They had often a good-humoured smile
on their countenances. It was lovely scenery all the way, especially
when we reached the turning to “Venebrygden” and crossed a rapid, broad
stream, issuing from a rocky gorge, beneath a lofty mountain, whose base
to nearly its summit, was covered with fir. An old man with a wallet
came from a log house, near the road, and we gave him a piece of money.
At length we came to a place we were told was Listari. It was a large
house of superior construction, on the road side, with extensive
buildings, and an appearance of much comfort. Some heads appeared at the
windows as we approached. Then we heard the sudden clatter of feet,
running downstairs, to obtain a nearer view of our party.
There was an excited rush. One gentleman stuck to a front window
commanding the road, and looked at us with a curious, and amused
expression of countenance. The old man with the wallet joined us again,
and we gave him another piece of two shillings. He said something, which
we thought meant camping ground beyond, and passed on. We were now
anxious to camp. Coming near Listad we noticed some unenclosed ground,
rising in a steep slope, to the base of some fine bold precipitous
rocks, close above the valley. The sloping ground was steep, with little
grass, covered with loose rocks and scattered birch-trees. A rough
turf-way led apparently to a first ridge, of lofty ground, immediately
above the road. Zachariah went up first, and hearing his peculiar gipsy
whistle, we all climbed the track, rough with uneven grassy hillocks,
studded with birch-trees, and sheltered by rocks. In a small hollow,
near a rough fence, at the summit of the ridge, our donkeys were
unloaded. It was a beautiful camping ground for our night’s repose.