“For the dance, no music can be better than that of a gipsy
band; there is a life and animation in it which carries you
away. If you have danced to it yourself, especially in a
czardas, then to hear the stirring tones without involuntarily
springing up, is, I assert, an absolute impossibility.”[64]
BONER’S _Transylvania_.
THE INVALID--RESTIVE DONKEYS--FIVA--AAK--VEBLUNGSNŒS--THE
NORWEGIAN FARMER--THE GRASSY KNOLL--A NORWEGIAN TOWN--THE
FJORD’S SHORE--THE VEBLUNGSNŒS’ BATHS--HERR SOLBERG--HOMME
GALANT--MUSICAL CONVERSAZIONE--GIPSY MUSIC.
Supremely happy in our wandering existence, we contrasted, in our
semi-consciousness of mind, our absence from a thousand anxious cares,
which crowd upon the social position, of those who take active part, in
an overwrought state of extreme civilization. How long we should have
continued our half-dormant reflections, which might have added a few
more notes upon the philosophy of life, we know not, but we were roused
by the rumble of a stolkjærre along the road; it was quite time we moved
on towards Veblungsnœs, and the gipsies began to get our things
together. The stolkjærre stopped. A tall pale invalid man descended; he
struggled through the bushes to where we were, though the exertion
evidently cost him much, but he conquered; he came, and he saw the
donkeys. A faint smile lighted up a countenance, expressive in its
deep-lined features, of a once firm and determined will, but now marked
with the last stage of consumption. Enveloped and wrapped up in dark
clothes, wearing gloves, long boots nearly to his knees, although in the
height of summer, he surveyed with a quiet smile our donkeys, ourselves,
our gipsies, and our baggage. He had a female with him whose countenance
was the exact expression of anxious care, and a young man who seemed
astonished at the weight of the baggage. What was to be done to show our
hospitality. Lucky thought; out came the quinine, a small tumbler filled
with water, and the white powder was mixed in it; we intimated that it
might be of benefit. Poor fellow! he wanted a strength-giving potent
draught; it could do him no harm, it might do him some good. Taking a
sip ourselves, and handing it to him, he drank it every spot. How did he
know that, like Rip Van Winkle, he might not have fallen in with another
Hudson and his band, and would sleep for twenty years beneath the shadow
of the Magician’s peaks. The tall, careworn-looking man handed me back
the glass, and seemed much pleased. We gave him the tin cannister which
had contained our potted tongue, with all the wonderful hieroglyphics
generally scrolled outside: it was a parting souvenir of the nomads.
Just as he had turned to go, the tarno-rye made a dash through the
bushes, with Zachariah and Esmeralda dragging, fighting and struggling
with him; crash, crash went the bushes close by us; the invalid was
nearly frightened out of his boots. What did he know about these
animals, and what habits of ferocity they might possess? The contention
was fierce between the tarno-rye and our gipsies, until he was brought
to the baggage for loading. The invalid struggled, with unsteady gait,
through the bushes, and, with the aid of his female attendant, ascended
with difficulty into his stolkjærre, which was immediately driven away.
He escaped the fate of Rip Van Winkle; may the draught he took under the
Magician’s peaks give him health for twenty years. Some young
woodcutters, with axes in their hands, came up as we were starting; they
accompanied us along the road. On our left across the Rauma, we noticed
a large pleasant residence called “Fiva.” The woodcutters said it was
the property and residence of Mr. Bromley Davenport and a Mr. Ingram.
They must have a splendid view from the house toward the Romsdalshorn;
we were informed that three farms had been purchased by the owner along
the banks of the Rauma, which made the fishing very complete. The salmon
in the Rauma do not ascend above Ormein. The situation of “Fiva” is
admirable; the various bends and windings of the river round the estate
are full of rapids and pools, that would have delighted the English
father of all anglers, Isaac Walton.
The valley now became more fertile. We passed through pleasant grassy
meads. Our woodcutters went to some houses on the roadside. We met
several stolkjærrers, whose horses were rather shy in passing our
donkeys. The peasants manifested the same curiosity about them. Now the
valley assumed a more smiling aspect, and we came in sight of Aak
“Lehnsmœnd,” Andreas Landmark’s House. The Hotel Aak is seven miles from
Horgheim, and three from Veblungsnœs. As we saw the comfortable wooden
house standing on a rise of ground above the road, with a diversity of
green slopes and shady woods about it, we knew it to be the spot
mentioned by Lady Diana Beauclerk in such high terms of commendation. In
contrast with the wild valleys we had left, it seemed a sort of oasis in
the desert.
When we passed Aak, some ladies who saw our party ran down from the
house to see us; but a turn of the road soon hid us from them. Crossing
two bridges, and passing a large comfortable house, we ascended the
steep hill to a rise of ground above Veblungsnœs. Then passing through a
gate upon the road, we saw a quiet lane through some waste ground
covered with bushes, where we told Esmeralda and Zachariah to stay with
the donkeys. Taking Noah, we went to reconnoitre for a camping ground.
Very soon we came to the edge of the descent to Veblungsnœs. Pausing a
moment to look at the wooden church and town below, we went to the left,
across a large space of open ground used as a drill-ground for the
Militia; and, after looking at a large wooden building erected for
military stores, we went down a lane to a gate, through which we saw
several men and women raking up new-mown hay. This quiet spot formed a
sort of knoll, above a small dingle, at the back of the bondegaard.
A green slope, and wooded mountain, rose abruptly from the other side of
the stream. This seemed a haven of rest, as Veblungsnœs was to be our
farthest point of travel north, our Ultima Thule. At once we entered,
and going up to the farmer’s son, as we rightly took him to be, we
proposed to come there and camp. Very much astonished he seemed. When he
recovered his breath, he said something about his father, and went with
us towards the bondegaard. The farmer’s house was of the better class,
and substantially built of wood. We entered a kind of family room, where
the master and his wife were seated at table, taking milk, and raw dried
salmon cut in slices on their fladbröd. The bonde was dressed in dark
clothes, being upwards of sixty; of respectable appearance, weather-worn
countenance, with sharp angular features, at once expressive of
shrewdness and cupidity. In social relations of life, he was a very
respectable man. Of generosity he had none in his composition--one who
would drive a hard bargain to the uttermost farthing.
The farmer came with us to the gate in a sort of bewildered state. It
was a fine scene as he came along with his son and a retinue of
peasants and peasant girls holding rakes in their hands. Then there was
the consultation at the gate opening to the junction of two deserted
lanes. Our imperfect Norsk was aided by signs; but we plunged through,
with Noah standing as a sort of aide-de-camp waiting for orders.
A consideration was mentioned. “Ah! a consideration! money _penge_! ha,
money _penge_! The silver key!” The donkeys must be seen. Noah soon had
them down with his peculiar whistle. The old man’s eyes twinkled as he
surveyed them. A consideration! we saw crossing his mind, as the hero in
Hans Breitman’s ballad, “He stood all shpell-pound.” The donkeys were
driven up to the knoll, and our things were unloaded down.
“Well,” thought we, “if we have to pay, we shall have strict
privacy--private ground!”
The hay was cleared off the knoll, the tents pitched; the donkeys were
put up in the wood above the mown slope, on to the other side the
dingle. Esmeralda said an officer, whom she designated as the Commandant
of Veblungsnœs, had passed them near the gate, and was a very pleasant
gentleman, who lived in the large house we had passed near the bridges.
Eggs and bread could not be purchased at the farm. Some visitors came to
our tents after tea; amongst others, Mr. L., of the telegraph office,
who said he should be glad to give us any assistance. Our visitors did
not stay late, and we retired to rest at an early hour.
It is Friday, the 22nd July. The morning being wet, we did not rise very
early. Taking Noah and Zachariah, we left our camp for Veblungsnœs, at
about three o’clock in the afternoon. Passing from the bondegaard,
across some open arable fields, to an avenue of trees, we entered under
its shade into a small wooden town. Passing up the main street, we soon
found ourselves in a kind of conglomeration of houses, with short lanes
having no continuance. One open space represented a kind of square.
Alleys, at occasional angles, debouched to the waters of the Isfjord,
which partly surrounds the town. Veblungsnœs is the port of Romsdal.
Though we could not account for it, we were at once interested in the
place. There was a charm about its silent quaintness which made us
linger with pleasure.
The telegraph office was closed till four o’clock. Veblungsnœs evidently
was buried in its siesta. The siesta, or kief, in mid-day is claimed by
the inhabitants of many northern countries. The tradesmen would be quite
offended if you went to their shops in their mid-day hours of
refreshment and repose. How different from the American style of one,
two, gulp, and gone! No busy scenes or people met our view. The extreme
quietude of the town seemed to communicate itself, and exercise its
influence on the spirit. At times we imagined we were in a large ship or
timber-yard, when the workmen had all gone to dinner. Strolling down a
short alley, we were at once on the strand of the Isfjord. Walking along
the water’s edge, we could not help admiring the beauty of the evening
scene. No one was visible. One small fishing-boat, partly drawn up on
the beach, was just ready for a cruise. Nets, everything--even the dried
fish, probably the store of provisions for the fishermen till their
return--were placed in order. Some curious-looking fish, probably
rejected as unsaleable, were lying on the shingle. One had green eyes,
with its mouth in its throat; two or three mouse-coloured fish, equally
singular and repulsive, were thrown near. It is strange what deformity
occurs in the fish creation. It is said that in a lake in Wales the fish
are all deformed. We have not yet verified the fact. Returning to the
telegraph office, we saw Mr. L. All that he could do to render our stay
agreeable he did. Our future route was discussed, and it seemed quite
clear that it would be impossible to reach Christiansand before the end
of the summer season. The idea that our party might take baths next
occurred to us; not that we expected to find anything approaching the
accommodation or luxury of ancient Rome. Baths, containing hundreds of
seats of marble, adorned with splendid frescoes, and whose fittings were
of alabaster, porphyry, and jasper, where every luxury was found that
human thought could devise.[65] What the baths of Veblungsnœs would have
been we know not; but they had only one, the spreading waters of the
Fjord, before us. The post-office was in the main street, and kept by
polite and kindly people. The postage of each letter to England cost
twelve skillings, and those to France fifteen skillings.
We sent a telegram to the Chevalier to announce our safe arrival;
another to Kongsberg, for our letters to be sent to Lom. It was also
mentioned to us that Herr Solberg, of Molde, wished very much to take
photographs of our donkeys and camp, if we would kindly consent. We were
even offered some copies without charge, as an inducement. The news of
the day was also important; for the first time we learned that France
and Prussia had declared war, and England would be neutral. Before we
left we purchased a large quantity of bread, which Noah took into his
possession. Leaving the quiet little town, we at length approached our
tents, where we found two Norwegian officers seated in cheerful mood
talking to Esmeralda at the tent entrance.
They were gayety itself as they reclined on the green turf. One officer,
who seemed about sixty, had all the manners of the “homme galant,” and
spoke some English. When they saw me they at once rose, saluted, and
left. Esmeralda said the older officer, who spoke some English, was very
polite, and said to her, “How do you manage with four men?” To which she
answered, “I have only three men.” Then the officer said, “Who do you
talk to most--I suppose your beloved Mr. Smith?” Esmeralda said she did
not talk to anyone. The officer then wanted to purchase a lock of her
hair; but she would not let him have any. We cannot venture to dwell on
his feelings of cruel disappointment.
We were much pressed by the people of the farm to give them some music
in a large room, probably used as a granary. We went to see it first.
The room was large and lofty on the ground-floor. We consented to play
for them at nine o’clock. The farmer himself we saw very seldom, and it
is scarcely probable that he originated the idea.
An English gentleman staying at Aak, who had been to the telegraph
office, came to our camp, and sat down in our tents. From his intimate
knowledge of Norway, he was able to give us considerable information. It
was very fortunate. We presented him with a copy of our gipsy song,
before he left, as a souvenir of our camp.
At nine o’clock, chairs having been placed for us, we took our seats and
commenced playing, ourself the guitar, Noah the tambourine, and
Zachariah his violin. We had a large party--unexpectedly so, some of the
officers and their wives, and many of the principal inhabitants of
Veblungsnœs; and we had not anticipated more persons than the people of
the bondegaard. Esmeralda was left in charge of the tents; but our
visitors had so much delicacy that directly we left the tent no one went
near it. What a scene! The room was suddenly filled with dancers and
visitors. One tall young officer, a fine young fellow, was especially
active. We had a favourite polka for them, which we afterwards
christened “Veblungsnœs.” Zachariah put all his gipsy nerve and feeling
into his music. Nay, our Romany Boshamengro, almost rivalled, if he did
not surpass, Barna Mihali, the celebrated gipsy Violinist of
Hungary.[66] Even Orpheus might have bit his lips; but he was not there.
All that wild gipsy inspiration could do, was done--tones that produced
a whirl of sensation. Noah did his part stoutly on the tambourine. We
made the acquaintance of several very pleasant officers and others--one
or two we had met in our wanderings. They seemed like old friends.
Then Esmeralda came and played, in place of Noah, with her tambourine.
Between the dances we conversed as well as we could with the officers
and other visitors. Mr. L. was also there. The Norwegian officers have
much military smartness about them. Many of them can speak French or
English, and sometimes both. We always found them gentlemen. The Militia
officers receive regular pay all the year; their men are only paid
whilst on duty. The Militia men we saw, were fine strong young men,
capable of any amount of endurance. Such was our introduction to the
inhabitants of Veblungsnœs. We saw almost as much of them, as if we had
made a series of visits to their houses. At the same time we had escaped
the inconvenience of too much hospitality, and still more, of being
obliged to sit in close warm rooms, which, to one accustomed to the
natural saloons of the wild forest, is at any time a very severe
penance. In the clear light of a Norwegian evening, the younger people
danced to the strains of our wild music; others looked on, and
conversed; all seemed to enjoy themselves. Ten o’clock came: our music
ceased. Specially requested, as we left, we seated ourselves on a slope
of turf near our tents, and sang, “The Gipsy Song,” with guitar
accompaniment. They seemed pleased. With many adieux, they left. So
ended what may be termed our gipsy conversazione at Veblungsnœs.