No lust of wealth, nor scent of distant war,
Nor wisdom’s glory lures them on afar;
’Tis not for these the children of the night
Have burst at once on realms of life and light;
’Tis the dread curse--behind them and before--
That goads them on till time shall be no more;
They claim no thrones--they only ask to share
The common liberty of earth and air--
Ask but for room to wander on alone,
Amid earth’s tribes, unnoticed and unknown.
DEAN STANLEY’S _Oxford Prize Poem, The Gipsies_.
GIPSIES’ AFFECTION--LAURGAARD ADIEU--BEAUTIFUL GORGES--ONWARD
EVER--ESMERALDA’S IRISH SONG--DOVRE--FRIENDLY TRAVELLERS--THE
KRAMBOD--THE HERR TOFTE--KING’S VISIT--OUR NIGHT CAMP--NIGHT
DISTURBANCE--KINDNESS TO ANIMALS--OUR BEAUTIFUL
BOUQUET--SNEHÆTTEN FJELD--DOMBAAS--COMFORTABLE SITUATION--WILD
SCENERY--OPPORTUNE VISIT--ILLUSORY HOPE.
More than once we were half-inclined to tie a loose piece of rock to our
gipsies’ necks and throw them into the Logan; still, we had promised to
bring them back, dead or alive, to their parents. Gipsies, whatever
their faults may be, have boundless affection for their offspring,
perhaps too much so. A promise is a promise; we kept ours. Our music
ceased in the valley of Laurgaard, and we wished our visitors all
good-by. Many lingered by the donkeys as we retired to our tent, and
watched the picturesque valley before us. The delightful stillness
seemed to give to our musings a charm and novelty only experienced in
tent life. Then we heard the sound of merry voices in the road below; a
children’s game; the peasant boys united to keep the girls from coming
up the bank to the road. Sometimes there were sharp and vigorous
contests, and the girls, for a time, had almost taken the road by storm.
Here and there we saw single-handed encounters; then several girls, who
had maintained the struggle, would be pushed down, and rolled over the
bank pell-mell on one another. Now and then boys would be dragged from
the road and swung in a heap on the green sward. To whom the victory, we
know not; exposure to the open air predisposes to sleep. What a deep and
refreshing sleep was ours when all was still. In the early morning,
within view of Laurgaard and its bridge, the tents of the wanderers,
with three donkeys browsing near, might be seen on the hill side.
We were late the next day, for we did not rise before seven o’clock. At
eight o’clock, we had a good breakfast of trout; they were excellent.
The old fisherman with red cap came to see us again, and gave us some
reindeer flesh; we made him a present of some fishing-flies.
Striking camp, with a hearty farewell to those peasants who came as we
were leaving, we were again _en route_. Esmeralda, Noah, and Zachariah
were full of spirits, as we entered the beautiful wild gorge beyond
Laurgaard. A man from a sæter in the mountains followed us for some
short distance, and we saw him afterwards sitting on an eminence,
watching us as we toiled up the steep ascent of the romantic glen.
At Romungaard, near Laurgaard, Colonel Sinclair stayed the night
previous to his death at the Kringelen. The road also branches off from
Laurgaard to Vaage. On either side the mountain slopes were thickly
wooded with Scotch fir, interspersed with birch. We had a long ascent
from Laurgaard, but the scenery amply repaid us for our toil.[51] The
river foamed in the rocks below, and at one place Zachariah tried his
fly, but without success. The Haalangen Fjeld, and the Rusten Fjeld
bounded our route on either side. We met several carrioles, and some
peasants followed us. At last, we came to a small wood of alder bushes,
open to the road. On the opposite side the valley we noticed a very
large house. The donkeys were no sooner unloaded, than a tall young man
and several peasants came to us. It is not pleasant to have visitors
pressing round when you are preparing for your bivouac meal. Explaining
that if they would leave us for half-an-hour we would give them some
music they at once left. Our mid-day’s meal, consisting of fish, was
scarcely finished when our visitors returned. The tall young man was a
very intelligent fellow. The peasant who had introduced us to our
partner the evening before was there. We sang our gipsy song with the
guitar; Zachariah and Noah played for them; and one of our visitors also
played some Norwegian airs. The order was at length given to load; Noah
did so, with a considerable amount of chaff with his brother and sister.
All being ready, we bade our visitors adieu, who seemed disappointed we
were not going to camp there for the night.
The valley now became more open, and we began to descend towards
“Dovre.” The usual number of peasants came at various points on the road
to see us; sometimes Zachariah played his violin, sometimes Esmeralda
sang. One song was an Irish song; it is a curious specimen of song lore.
Esmeralda would sometimes dance as she sang the words of the song; we
have never met with it before, and therefore give the words. The song
and the dance, and air, by the gipsy girl, with all the accessories of
pine forest, rising mountains, and a wilderness of interesting scenery,
was very effective.
ESMERALDA’S SONG.
“Shula gang shaugh gig a magala,
I’ll set me down on yonders hill,
And there I’ll cry my fill;
And every tear shall turn a mill,
Shula a gang shaugh gig a magala
To my Uskadina slawn slawn.
Shula gang shaugh gig a magala;
I’ll buy me a petticoat, and dye it red,
And round this world I’ll beg my bread.
The lad I love is far away,
Shula gang shaugh gig a magala
To my Uskadina slawn slawn.
Shul, shul gang along with me,
Gang along with me, I’ll gang along with you;
I’ll buy you a petticoat, and dye it in the blue;
Sweet William shall kiss you in the rue,
Shula gang shaugh gig a magala
To my Uskadina slawn slawn.”
We passed “Brœndhaugen,” having the Jetta Fjeld on our left and St.
Kaven and Vesle Fjeld on our right. Two very civil peasants at length
joined our party. The clouds seemed very wild and dark over the
mountains of the Dovre Fjeld. At length we crossed a bridge near Dovre.
The loose blocks of water-washed stones on our road towards the bridge
added to the wildness of the evening scene. After some failures, we made
the men understand that we wanted to find a shop to buy bread. When we
had passed the bridge a lame boy came to solicit alms, and we gave him
two shillings. As we approached the village of Dovre a close carriage
drove up, and the donkeys were halted for it to pass. The traveller also
pulled up and began leisurely to inspect the donkeys through the
carriage window. Our time was pressing. Noah was indignant that we
should be expected to wait to satisfy the curiosity of every traveller.
If they had been ladies the case might have been different, but now our
party moved on without delay.
The road we had followed during the day was at one time as high as 1800
feet above the level of the sea. Now we had descended to about 1500
feet. A gentleman drove past in his four-wheeled carriage, having
apparently some of his family with him. Stopping his carriage, he seemed
much interested with our party. Some hay was given to the donkeys from
the stock he had for his own use. There was something so friendly in his
manner, that if he had wished to gaze on the donkeys all night they
would probably have remained where they were. Comfortable houses were
scattered here and there, and we noticed posts and rails set up in the
fields, which seemed to us to have no sort of use as fences. At first we
thought they must be somehow connected with the winter’s snows, as drift
barriers, but we afterwards found that the grass when cut is placed on
them to dry, and in many places we observed the same method of making
hay.
The village landhandelri, or shop, stood near the church. Noah was sent
with money to buy bread, whilst we went down a short steep descent of
the road beyond the churchyard and halted. In a very short time a number
of boys and children collected around us; a dog began to bark at the
donkeys, and a man immediately hit the dog and took him away. We
afterwards gave the man some tobacco. We could not help remarking the
kind and orderly conduct of the peasant children.
The church, of wood, is roofed with large slates surmounted by a steeple
painted green. Though not in accordance with our idea of architectural
taste, it was immeasurably superior to the green pagoda we once saw on
the top of the old church of Guérande, in Brittany. Noah was very
successful, and bought nineteen loves of bread for three marks nine
skillings. As we left Dovre, Zachariah was sent back for eggs, and he
joined us soon after with twenty-one eggs in a handkerchief, for which
he had given one mark nineteen skillings.
Our way continued along a very pleasant road to Toftemoen. A number of
peasant boys followed us, who were, no doubt, anxious to see us camp.
The station of Toftemoen stands from the road, with a large open space
before it. A great number of Norwegian ponies were loose near the
station. The house seems very comfortable, with ample accommodation. It
is the residence of Herr Tofte, a descendant of Harold Haarfager (the
Fair-haired). Harold Haarfager died in 933, and was succeeded by his
son, Hako the Good, so that Herr Tofte has a splendid and royal
ancestry. It is stated they never marry out of their own family.
In Mr. Bennett’s hand-book it is noted that the king dined here on his
way to be crowned at Throndjhem, in 1860, and Herr Tofte had sufficient
silver plate for the use of his Majesty and all his retinue.
A traveller accosted us near the station, who was probably one of the
passengers of the close carriage we had seen near Dovre. He seemed
anxious to know how far we were going. No time was to be lost, for it
was eight o’clock. We passed along the sandy road by a piece of rough
broken ground, and then all the peasant boys left us when they found we
did not camp there. At last, descending a short declivity of the road,
we came to some open greensward lying between the road and the river. A
narrow patch of turf with a stream running through it. On the opposite
side the road a thick wood, inclosed by a fence, made an admirable
shelter; a quiet retired place between two hillocks. As we came to the
flat we saw the trace of fires, and at once unloaded and pitched our
tents as far from the roadside as possible, and very near to the low
river bank. It was a romantic camp-ground.
The view was beautiful--a rocky island in the river formed the
foreground, and beyond we gazed upon the mountains of the Dovre Fjeld.
The day’s toil was soon forgotten as the fire burnt brightly and night
cast its dark shadows on our lonely camp. Our eggs were broken one by
one into a bowl. If stale, they were consigned to the river; if fresh,
to the frying-pan. About seventeen out of twenty-one remained for the
omelette, which with bread formed our evening’s meal.
A jolly, pleasant old man came up whilst we were camping, and taking a
dram of brandy bowed and retired. Then the donkeys strayed and a tall
peasant came and helped Zachariah to search for them. The donkeys were
found up a lane, at some distance from our camp, and Zachariah asked the
man to ride one of them back, but the peasant shrunk from it with alarm,
and said something which probably meant, “Not if I know it.” Zachariah
mounted on one of the donkeys, drove the other two before him at racing
speed, whilst the peasant followed almost dead with laughter. Zachariah
informed us some carriers were halted for the night on the road-side, at
a short distance from our camp. The name of the place, as far as we
could make out, was Losere. We were left undisturbed, and in the quiet
enjoyment of our camp fire, till we retired to rest.
On the top of the short road ascent, near our camp, a large gate led
from the road towards a house above. Some traffic seemed to be going on
towards this place. About four o’clock in the morning we heard a heavy
tramp of horses’ feet, apparently close to our tent. Then there was the
sound of a man’s voice--pūr-r-r-r! pūr-r-r-r. It was evident that the
animal fought shy of our tent or the donkeys. We called to Noah, but
beyond a heavy snort or two we had no response. We went out twice; the
second time we saw a man with a pony going up the opposite ascent. His
pony still fought very shy of one of the donkeys grazing near the road.
About seven o’clock, when we were getting ready for breakfast, we saw a
boy driving a load of wood towards the gate. The pony just as he came to
the gate, seeing our tent below, turned suddenly round. We struck our
tent, and going up found the boy with the wood fastened on a low, light
Norwegian wood-carriage, overturned in a ditch. With Noah’s assistance
the pony, timber, and carriage passed without difficulty through the
gate, and we gave the boy four skillings, which seemed to astonish him.
In Norway we particularly noticed the temperate manner with which
drivers manage their horses. All is patient kindness. The animals are in
consequence docile to a degree. Beyond the quiet pūr-r-r-r, and a shake
of the reins, nothing is heard; no coarse expletives, no brutality of
treatment, such as we have occasionally witnessed in our own country,
unworthy the Christian and the man. In England, necessity founded a
society, and passed a stringent Act of Parliament, for the protection of
dumb animals, &c., but in Norway it is unnecessary.[52]
A few peasants came up as we were loading our donkeys, and the gipsies
gave them some music before we continued our journey. The soil now
became very sandy, and the ground below the road jutted out into large
promontories towards the river’s bank.
We were joined by a travelling shoemaker and his companion, who evinced
much curiosity about the boots worn by our party. The route now ascended
far above the river Logan, and the view became very wild. In some Scotch
firs Noah and Zachariah and the shoemaker saw a squirrel, which had a
narrow chance for its life; but to our satisfaction escaped. The wild
flowers were beautiful. Esmeralda plucked them as we went along, and,
as usual, presented the Rye with a handsome bouquet. The shoemaker and
his friend left us at some bondegaard, and we soon after reached
_Dombaas_. This is apparently named as _Lie_ station in an early edition
of Murray. The Dombaas Post Station is a short distance from the
junction of the Romsdal and Throndjhem routes. The road to Romsdalen
branches off to the left, and that to _Throndjhem_ to the right. Dombaas
appears to be an excellent station. We, of course, cannot give our
actual experience; but we have no doubt most excellent accommodation
would be found there. We halted in some open ground of the extensive
forest on the opposite side the road to the station. What a ravishing
scene met our view, as we sat down on the mossy turf, whilst the gipsies
made preparations for dinner. What a wilderness of pine forest! On our
right, the road we had just turned from continued over the Dovre Fjeld
to Throndjhem. Not far from us, on the left of the road to Thronjhem, is
the Snehœtten Fjeld, 7714 English feet above the level of the sea. The
ascent to this mountain is gradual, and its peaked summit is only 3500
feet. Some few people came to see our donkeys; but they did not disturb
us whilst we were preparing and taking our mid-day’s meal. Our meal
consisted of fried bacon, one fish Zacharia had caught, and bread and
tea. A very intelligent, pleasant young Norwegian came to us afterwards
and spoke English. It is possible that he was the son of the owner of
the station. He told us where there was good pasture for the donkeys;
but we were going on, and did not intend to camp for the night. Yet we
left with regret, for it was a beautiful ground for our tents. Large
forests extended on various sides, with excellent pasture. A young
ragged boy, to whom we gave some tobacco and brandy, came and conversed,
whilst one, who was probably the owner of the station, stood in the road
above, smoking his pipe as he contemplated our party. Whilst we wrote
our notes, Noah loaded the donkeys, and he chaffed his brother and
sister in a jumble of English, Romany, and a few Norwegian words he had
now learnt. Two or three respectably dressed, quiet, well-fed men, who
had come to see us, were probably connected with the station. The
gipsies played a few tunes, and then we passed through the forest across
two wild, brawling, rapid streams; and, ascending the steep road on the
side of a picturesque valley, we came to some houses. We were at once
followed by several boys; one of whom was very intelligent and spoke
some English. Zachariah was mounted on the packs of one of the loaded
donkeys. The boys evidently expected us to camp; but at last, after
walking some distance, gave up in despair. The road now crossed the side
of a mountain, with no inclosures. Below us lay the valley and the
river. Finding we should shortly come to more houses and inclosures, we
at once decided to camp without delay at the foot of a rocky slope
covered with low scrub and bushes. As we were just unloading our
donkeys, a man came in sight with an axe in one hand and a piece of wood
in the other. The sight of our party soon stopped his progress. He
looked as if he thought we were fairies or some such visitants to earth.
The axe reminded us that our tent pole was now so broken as to be almost
useless. We beckoned him in vain. The peasant had evidently resolved not
to venture nearer. Noah and ourself, taking the broken tent pole, went
to him and gave him a dram of brandy to screw up his courage. The
peasant soon saw what we wanted, and taking the broken pole as a
pattern, went off to make a new one.
As the gipsies lighted our fire, they noticed in the valley far below
us, at the base of the mountains, a curling smoke, which they thought in
the indistinctness of the evening to be a “gipsies’ camp.” Very anxious
indeed were we to meet with a camp of Norwegian gipsies. Ever on the
look-out--as yet we had been unable to meet with any Romany tents--the
meeting of English gipsies with Norwegian zigeuner, and their greeting
in Romany, would have been a most interesting study. The route we were
travelling was evidently too much populated and frequented for these
wanderers. Prœsten Sundt indeed says, “They choose the most devious and
least-frequented roads or ways between Stavanger and Aggerhuus, and
northwards away to Throndjhem and Finmarken.” Still there was the
chance, and we hoped as we travelled northwards we should be fortunate
enough to meet some gipsy tribe of dusky wanderers with their tents,
horses, trappings, pigs, and baggage. In this instance, after watching
for some short time with earnest attention, it was decided by our
gipsies that the smoke did not issue from the camp of any of their
people.