“That gipsy grandmother has all the appearance of a sowanee”
(sorceress).--“All the appearance of one!” said Antonio; “and is
she not really one? She knows more crabbed things, and crabbed
words than all the errate betwixt here and Catalonia; she has
been amongst the wild Moors, and can make more drows, poisons,
and philtres than any one alive. She once made a kind of paste,
and persuaded me to taste, and shortly after I had done so, my
soul departed from my body, and wandered through horrid forests
and mountains, amidst monsters and duendes, during one entire
night. She learned many things amidst the Corahai, which I
should be glad to know.”
BORROW’S _Bible in Spain_.
THE MEISGRIE--WE CROSS A RIVER--THE SLIPPERY ROCK--AN ACTIVE
GUIDE--THE CARRIER’S AID--THE LAME
HORSE--MELKE-DALSTINDERNE--THE STONY WAY--THE NEDREVAND--OLE’S
NIGHT QUARTERS--THE LAKE BY MOONLIGHT--EARLY RISING--EISBOD ON
THE BYGDIN LAKE--THE POET’S HOUSE--VINJE THE POET--THE POETICAL
MORTGAGE--PLEASANT ACQUAINTANCE--OLD NORWEGIAN POETRY--THE
REINDEER HUNTER--ESMERALDA CONDONED.
At twenty minutes past two o’clock we were up. Calling Ole and our
gipsies, we had our gröd and milk for breakfast. Our expenses at
Skögadal amounted to nine marks eighteen skillings, as follows--
_m._ _s._
2 lbs. butter 2 0
Cheese 0 6
36 cakes of fladbröd 2 6
5 cans milk, 9 skillings per can 1 21
8 lbs. barley meal 1 8
Sœter women 0 13
Carrier crossing river 1 0
------
9 6
======
Some little delay occurred in getting the carrier and his horse. He was
the husband of the woman of one of the sœters. She was a tall powerful
woman, with a red face, and sharp temper, much older than himself. It
was whispered that he had married her for her money. If he had, she had
certainly the best of the bargain. Our tents and heavy baggage, were
soon packed up in a meisgrie or crate, and slung up on the wooden
packsaddle of the carrier’s horse. The Norwegian meisgrie is a capital
contrivance. It is a kind of network made of birch twigs, which laces up
with a long tie, one foot eleven inches long. It is very strong and very
light. Wishing the sœter women farewell, and they seemed sorry to lose
us, especially the music, we soon reached the river.
Our people and baggage were soon forded across. We remained behind with
our three donkeys, having a tether rope stretching across the river.
Fastening it with a noose round the Puru Rawnee’s neck, she was first
pulled across, plunging and struggling to the other bank. The Tarno Rye
was assisted through the stream in a similar manner. The Puro Rye saved
us the trouble by jumping into the stream, to follow his companions.
There was a loud outcry by the gipsies that he would be drowned, but he
fought through the torrent famously, and reached the other bank in
safety.
The view was beautiful as we looked up the Skögadal. The Melkadalstind
towered above the mountain ranges, which closed the upper portion of the
valley, leaving no outlet, but a stony col on the distant ridge. The
occasional wooded sides of the valley, with firs, birch, and dark
foliaged alder, relieved the valley from all appearance of desolation.
The white foam of two torrents, and occasional patches of snow, on the
mountain sides, at the head of the valley, contrasted well with wooded
slopes which margined the winding stream.
[Illustration: VIEW OF MELKADALSTIND, FROM THE VALLEY OF SKÖGADAL,
SKÖGADALS ELV.]
We had now crossed the river, and, following over the broken ground of
its right bank, we at length reached the head of the pleasant valley of
Skögadal. Again we had to cross the Skögadals Elv now a narrow impetuous
torrent, rushing forth from a glacier, at some distance to our right.
The carrier with his strong horse, for which he wanted sixty dollars,
crossed easily enough. Noah and Zachariah managed somehow to get to the
other side with the donkeys. The Skögadals Elv was now not very wide,
but rapid, and over our knees, in the middle of the stream, which was
icy cold. Never shall we forget Ole in a narrow part of the stream, out
of which rose two rocks, balancing on one, whilst he steadied Esmeralda,
who had jumped on the other. The torrent narrowed in its course, swift,
and impetuous, occasionally laved with its flowing waters Esmeralda’s
boots, as she stood on the slippery rock, preparing, with Ole’s
assistance, to make another jump. It was a question for some minutes
whether Esmeralda would not lose her foothold, and drag Ole after her,
into the foaming waters.
The scene was charming, the reindeer hunter on one rock, Esmeralda on
the other, both hand in hand. Balanced above the flowing waters;
sometimes we thought Esmeralda was slipping backwards, now with Ole’s
assistance she has recovered herself. Another jump across the foaming
waters; Esmeralda hesitates. A word of encouragement, Esmeralda jumps.
She has reached Ole’s rock, she balances again; thanks to Ole, by
another hasty spring, she is safe on the other side.
Soon joining our party, we ascended a winding stony track from the
Skögadal, passing through a col, we reached a second long wild valley,
wild and stony in the extreme, here and there a glacier above. The fine
peak of the “Melkedals” above us. Sometimes we skirted the margin of
small sheets of water, and lonely mountain tarns. Over this long reach
of broken rock we made our way slowly; at last we again ascended
towards another col, to reach apparently another valley beyond. We had
nearly reached the top of the ascent towards the next valley, when the
carrier suddenly halted, and Ole said he wished to take something to
eat. Our carrier was a quiet, spare, muscular, and not bad-looking man;
we had noticed him when we crossed the river; no shouting, bustle,
bewilderment, or gesticulation, he simply did quietly what he thought
best. If it did not succeed, and we had all been drowned, it is doubtful
whether he would have moved a muscle of his countenance. Yet he was not
a man without feeling, and would probably have felt all the more. All
was regulated to one steady pace for horse and man, and to save the
world he would not have gone slower or faster. A fire was made with the
roots of stunted juniper, and our water boiled for tea. Our carrier had
only some fladbröd, and raw old bacon for his dinner. From our
commissariat we supplemented it with tea, and brandy and water. It was
soon found that when we had halted at twelve o’clock, he considered his
bargain ended, and that he was entitled to his dollar, and an extra mark
for his second horse, to cross the Skögadals river. It was thought we
should have had his services for the best part of the day.
Ole asked our carrier to give us another hour which would make what he
considered the value of the dollar, but the man would not go any
farther; an extra mark would not tempt him. He had come eleven miles;
one of his horse’s shoes was loose. Our gipsies thought he should have
continued until one o’clock. Lending the man our hammer, and axe, to
fasten the horse shoe on, which was much too small, we paid him his six
marks. Advancing towards us in a solemn manner, he shook hands, and
with his horse rather lame, he went off at the same regulated steady
pace. If intelligence had been suddenly brought that the Skögadals
sœter, had been burnt down, and his tall wife in it, we do not think he
would have gone one step faster towards the scene of conflagration.
Noah! Zachariah! let the donkeys be loaded. Esmeralda clears our dinner
service into the kettle bag. Ole is up and stirring; we are soon off at
ten minutes past one o’clock. Our party was soon over the ridge; a long
stony valley lay before us beneath the rugged steeps of the
Melkedalstinderne. The donkeys did their best with their loads; the lift
with the carrier’s horse in the morning, had been very useful. Ole had
evidently resolved to make a determined push towards Eisbod. Many swift,
but shallow streams coming from the glaciers above, were crossed without
difficulty. With some perseverance the Melkedals vand[106] is reached;
it is called the œvre vand or upper lake. A still dark lake, nothing but
masses of loose rocks for its shores. Ole said there were no fish in it.
How we made our way over the loose masses of stone on the left bank,
from one end to the other, is a marvel, sometimes up, sometimes down,
with often nothing, but pointed rocks, for our loaded animals to stand
upon. Noah did his best. At last the Puru Rawnee slipped with her load,
and fell with her legs between the rocks. We were much afraid she would
break or cut her legs all to pieces. She was quickly unloaded. By good
fortune our handsome Puru Rawnee, had not broken any bones; the hair was
bruised off in some places; she was able to go on. Quickly reloading
again, we were thankful to leave the desolate shores of the Melkedals
vand, still struggling on step, by step, with our tired animals; at
length we reached a small wild mountain tarn. At one place we crossed
the track of a reindeer; time was fast fleeting towards night, we could
not very well camp where we were, nothing but rocky steeps, and loose
masses of stone on every side, not a blade of grass to be seen for our
donkeys. Leaving the lonely tarn we came to a mountain stream. Our route
now became very steep, often down loose masses of rock. Ole and ourself
had to lead the way, and occasionally form a rough road, or form steps
with loose fragments of rock, to enable our animals to proceed. All the
care of our gipsies was necessary. A false step by either of the donkeys
would probably disable it for further exertion. At some places we had to
pile up masses of stone for a considerable height, to enable the donkeys
to descend the rough, and broken declivities of rock. Slowly and
cheerfully we made our way, everyone doing his best. Now and then some
small streams of water had to be crossed. Coming down a steep declivity
we at length came in sight of the waters of the Melkedals, “Nedre Vand,”
or the Lower Lake.
As the shades of night were fast descending, we reached the lake, and
making our way slowly along the left bank, we halted on a slope, close
to the shore of the lake. There was a semblance of green; just enough
blades of grass, to enable us to fancy we were on turf. Seeing nothing
but loose rocks beyond, we decided to stay.
“Well, sir,” said the gipsies, “where’s the fire?”
[Illustration: MELKEDALS, NEDRE VAND.]
“Ah,” said Ole, “perhaps you can do without one this evening, or we will
go on if you like.”
We determined to stay.
“It is uncertain,” said Ole, “if we come to any better camping-ground.”
Zachariah, who was always foremost in settling all matters, had first
to be extinguished before we could light our camp fire at the Nedre
Vand.
“Fire,” said we; “some fuel shall be found somewhere--warm tea we will
have.”
The donkeys were soon relieved of their burthens. It is astonishing how
soon men accustomed to camp life in the mountains, quickly avail
themselves of all material. With a few roots, and some dry turf, our
water soon boiled over a camp fire. We had never failed during our
campaign. There is, besides, something very cheerful in seeing your fire
in the shades of evening, on the shore of a lake. Our spirits were soon
as gay as usual. After our tea, fladbröd and butter, Ole made himself
comfortable under a rock. First, putting up some sods with a spade; then
placing a large flat piece of turf, and stunted juniper roots above, Ole
slipped himself under, and wrapping a handkerchief, and his bag of pig’s
bristles round his neck and head, with our waterproof over all, was soon
asleep.
Ole said we had travelled about seventeen miles from Skögadal sœter. At
one time just before tea, Ole went up the ridge beyond our camp, to
examine the way. He thought he heard a rifle shot, and might meet some
reindeer hunters.
It was a beautiful moonlight night; we stood on the shores of the lake
after all had gone to rest. There was our sleeping guide under his rock.
There our sleeping gipsies ’neath their tents; near our camp our three
gallant merles. They had indeed fought their way well for us; nor did we
forget to caress them sometimes. The Puru Rawnee had to be bathed
occasionally with a little weak brandy and water; sometimes to be
strengthened up with a little bruise mixture; biscuit, and now and then
a piece of bread, also fell to their share.
Beyond a picturesque island on the other shore, we could see a large
glacier stretching apparently into the very waters of the lake.[107] How
beautiful in the moonlight below those wild peaks. There were some dark
crevasses to be seen on the glacier’s surface. At times, in the
stillness of the night, we could hear that sound peculiar to glaciers, a
loud cracking noise, which echoed across the waters to our camp.
Up at half-past three o’clock. Zachariah! Vand! water! yog! fire! now
quick, Noah! Our gipsies are up. Ole is up, of course. We saw him to
bed, or we should think he sat up over night to be ready. Tea, fladbröd,
and our last tin of potted meat, for breakfast. Tents struck; all moving
along the slope from the lake at seven o’clock.
We slowly make our way over loose stones, and a mountain ridge is soon
gained. We commence our descent towards the Lake Bygdin far below us.
Descending carefully down a snow slope, we crossed a wild torrent.
Sometime afterwards we reached the left slopes of Melkedalen, between
the Grava Fjeld and Slaataafjeld. Still continuing our descent of
Melkedalen, we reached the shores of a lake.
As we came in sight of this long, and beautiful lake, Ole pointed out
the “Poet’s House” on a bold promontory. At the head of the lake we
could perceive it. It has just the appearance of a newly-built châlet,
or sœter; something lonely and picturesque in its position. Its
association with poetry gave it a further charm.
We were still at some distance from the “Poet’s House.” Ole signalled
for a boat. In the distance we could see some figures near the house,
apparently watching our party. They were probably puzzled, as to who we
could be, issuing forth in early morning, from the wild recesses, of
Melkedalstinderne.
Two boats came to the shore where we were. All our baggage was placed in
one; we handed Esmeralda into the other. Ole, Noah, and Zachariah
started off on the donkeys to ford the river, and round the upper bend
of the lake to the “Poet’s House.”
The boats glided on the smooth water of the lake. The sun gilded the
lofty mountains on either shore; all quietude, peace, and contentment.
The Norwegian poet has well chosen, thought we, this charming seclusion
from the world.
Our boats rounded the promontory past the “châlet.” Two ladies, and
three gentlemen were near it; some were seated, watching us as we came
near. They were making use of a large telescope.
Our boatmen landed at some little distance past the “Poet’s House” on
the beach of the promontory,--a sort of inland bay. As we came to the
shore, we noticed a man seated near a hut, whisking a leafy branch over
some dark looking pieces of meat, hanging from a line. We afterwards
found it was rein-deer meat, being dried in the sun. The man was keeping
the flies off, while the meat was being dried for future consumption.
Our baggage was all safely deposited on a pleasant slope of ground, not
far from the rein-deer hunter’s hut. We had a good View of the “Poet’s
House.” Ole, and Noah, and Zachariah soon joined us. Our boatmen were
well satisfied with one mark. Noah and Zachariah had got their legs wet
in crossing the river, but Ole had the forethought to take off his
stockings, before he rode into the stream.
The history of the “Poet’s House” appeared to be as follows:--The wooden
cottage, which consists of two small rooms only, cost 100 dollars,
Norwegian money, or about 20_l._ English. The poet, Aasmund Olafsen
Vinje, joined with others in the cost of erection. When the poet was
required to pay 25 dollars, his stipulated share, he was unable to do
so. He had certainly more than 25 pence, but he could only spare 5
dollars. This was certainly better than the man who owed 465_l._ 4_s._
6_d._, and offered his creditor the 4_s._ 6_d._ Poets, somehow, are
seldom wealthy. We have occasionally bright exceptions. Vinje was not
one. To release the poet from his difficulty, it was agreed that he
should mortgage his interest in the house, and write a mortgage in
poetry for the sum. Vinje did this. The mortgage deed in poetry, will
ever remain, a curious, and interesting association, with the “Poet’s
House” on the Bygdin lake.[108]
Our experience does not enable us to give a single instance of any of
the English lawyers writing a mortgage in poetry. The only instance we
know of any legal document being written in poetry, in England, is the
will of Sir Willoughby Dixon, of Bosworth Park, Leicestershire. It was
written by himself. United to the refinement of the scholar, there is
often a sharp, sound, practical hitting the-right-nail-on-the-head sort
of ability, among the country gentry of England. A manly vigour of
intellect, united to an intense love of honourable dealing, and fair
play, in all the affairs of life.
A rein-deer hunter, a friend of Ole’s, soon afterwards came to us. He
was a tall, spare, keen man, and brought some rein-deer meat up in a
small wooden tub. We were afraid to buy more than one piece; the weather
was hot, and the meat would not keep long. Another reason for not buying
more rein-deer meat was, our chance of obtaining fish at the Tyen Lake,
which we expected to reach the same afternoon. Our fire was soon
lighted. One of the gentlemen from the “Poet’s House” came up. The
gipsies were very busy preparing our dinner. A young Norwegian
gentleman, who wore a uniform tunic and trousers of green cloth, came to
our camp. He was fair and prepossessing. Amiability was written in his
countenance, without looking in his hand. He spoke some English. After
our meal, it was arranged we should pay himself and friends a visit at
the “Poet’s House,” where they were staying. Tea, fried rein-deer,
pickled walnuts, and fladbröd, formed our repast. A short man, in a
leather jacket, trousers, and cap, came up, and we paid him sixteen
skillings for the rein-deer meat.
Skeaker was before us. Resolving in our mind to go without our gipsies
to the “Poet’s House,” we left them to pack up and load the donkeys,
whilst we went with Ole to visit the poet’s retreat.
The châlet is built of logs, on a rising point of land, at the head of
the lake. The first of the two rooms it contained, had a fireplace for
cooking, and two boarded bedsteads, not unlike “bunks,” but more
finished, and elaborate. The room had also one window, which would not
open. A door gave entrance to the inner room, also provided with two
similar bedsteads. The inner chamber was occupied by the ladies, and had
only one window, which apparently did not open for ventilation. A
beautiful bouquet of wild flowers, stood upon the room table; all was
order and neatness. How soon we distinguished the female hand, in
domestic arrangement.
The view from the châlet was a scene of enchantment, as we looked in the
glorious midday sun, over the distant expanse of lake. On the left shore
of the lake, rise the mountains of the Grava Fjeld, Galdeberg, the lofty
Sletmarkhö, and the Svartdalspiggne. Again, to our right, rise the wild
mountain ranges of the Dryllenöset, Volaahornene, and Oxendalsnöset, the
home of the rein-deer, the eagle, the wolf, and the bear.
The visitors at the “Poet’s House” appeared to do everything for
themselves. They had, no doubt, their commissariat, like ourselves. The
young ladies were very agreeable, and good looking. We were told they
were the daughters of a banker. The elder gentleman of the party, who
spoke a little English, pointed out some old Norwegian poetry, written
in pencil, on the inner room door. They had been staying at the châlet
about eight days. Often, in after life, shall we remember our pleasant
visit, to the “Poet’s House,” on the beautiful Lake Bygdin.
On our return to our party, we found Noah had broken his Alpine stock.
Zachariah had commenced fishing in the lake, but was referred by some
man to a stream near, which Zachariah alleged was destitute of fish.
Esmeralda was short and chaffy.
One rein-deer hunter, made a start for the mountains with the
telescope. We were told that it belonged to Prœsten Halling, who seemed
either in person, name, or belongings, to be everywhere. The rein-deer
hunter swung off at a jaunty pace, as if he would make short work of the
very steep mountain before him. Ole said he was going to look out for
rein-deer.
The party from the “Poet’s House” came up to see us off. They seemed
interested in our equipment. We also showed the young ladies our guitar.
A copy of our song, had previously been given to one of the party. With
very little delay, we hastened away from this region of poetry.
Esmeralda was getting impetuous. Even the donkeys, after all their
mishaps during the previous day, were eager to proceed on the journey.
With many adieux to the very pleasant visitors at the “Poet’s House” we
left Eisbod, and the Bygdin Lake.[109]
Esmeralda was very determined, stepping after the baggage, as only a
gipsy can step. Ole, of course, leads the way. Three merles loaded, Noah
and Zachariah, and then Esmeralda, and then ourselves.
Esmeralda had been very quick in movement, up and down, and everywhere,
with now and then, something to say. We were thankful when we were
removed, with this restless orbit of our wanderings, from the “Poet’s
House.” Yet she said soon afterwards, she had only pretended to be
offended, we must think nothing of it. We were on the eve of fresh
scenes, why should we remember a slight ripple on the glittering surface
of the waters of Lake Bygdin.