Читать книгу Tent life with English Gipsies in Norway - Hubert Smith - Страница 17

“Choriñoac kaiolan

Tristeric du cantatcen,

Duelarican cer jan,

Cer edan,

Campoa du desiratcen;

Ceren, ceren

Libertatia hain eder den.”

Le Pays Basque, par Francisque Michel.

“The little bird in the cage

Singeth sadly,

Withal to eat,

Withal to drink,

He would be out;

Because, because

Nothing is sweet but liberty.”

MODERATE BILL—PROVISIONS LOST—WE MEET AGAIN—GIPSIES IN ADVANCE—LEFT ALONE—A WELCOME TELEGRAM—NORWEGIAN BATH ROOM—SINGULAR PAINTINGS—ONCE MORE FAREWELL—THE TELEGRAPH CLERK—THE MJÖSEN LAKE—THE DRONNINGEN—RUINED CATHEDRAL—UTILITARIANISM—LILLEHAMMER—ONCE MORE IN CAMP.

Our bill was moderate—four dollars, four marks, and eight skillings; twenty-four skillings for attendance seemed quite sufficient. Our things were all placed on a truck; Esmeralda carried Zacharia’s violin, our guitar, and our two extra caps, whilst we took our courier-bags, and, under our arm, in two satchels made for them, the two Regent-street tambourines. Our appearance certainly much resembled travelling musicians.

Bidding adieu to the kind people of the house, we were soon descending the winding road to the steamer. As we walked along, we could not help alluding to the astonishment our numerous friends would express if they could see us. Noah and Zacharia soon after met us; they had left the donkeys at the railway-station, and came to say the provisions had not arrived. When we reached the station, another telegram was sent, in which we mentioned Hudson Brothers, as consignors to Messrs. Wilson. The clerk of the telegraph office began to regard us as an habitué of the bureau, and we looked upon him as a pupil in the English language. We were astonished at his progress, and he was apparently equally so at our large expenditure of money in telegrams. Rather in mournful mood, we went to the wooden platform to which the steamer was moored. There was the box; there stood the donkeys; there the men to put them into the box, and the sling, to sling them on board. How are the donkeys to be put into the box? Vain were the efforts made—all to no purpose; the donkeys had made up their minds. At last, with the united efforts of four men, and Noah, one by one they were pulled, dragged, lifted, carried, forced, in wild resistance, over the passenger’s bridge, and along the deck, in sight of the astonished lookers-on. The “Puru Rawnee” and his companions were at length safely placed before the windlass on the fore-deck, close to four brass guns, ready loaded for a salute. We decided to go to Christiania, in search of the provisions, and sent another telegram to Mr. Bennett. The passage-money of our gipsies, and the three donkeys to Lillehammer, amounted to five dollars, seventeen marks; we also paid six marks for our gipsies’ dinner, including one bottle of “Baiersk Öl” between them, and a cup of coffee each. The captain kindly promised to look after them, and arrange for them to camp, when they got to Lillehammer. Just before leaving, we gave them some Norsk words for bread, cheese, coffee, &c. The old man in the white hat, our guardian angel, was, of course, at hand. With much anxiety he wrote down the words for Noah. Unfortunately, Noah could not read; but as the old man pronounced each word aloud, Noah followed, and the old man did not suspect, apparently, the neglected education of his pupil.

There was the sound of the coming train, just before eleven; down came the passengers, hurrying with their things to the steamer. There was the officer, and his wife, with the Tyrolese hat and feather—we had met again. Their two carrioles27 are put on board—hasty salutations—we learn that the invalid barrister has left Christiania for Bergen—they are going to Gjövik. We told him our dilemma, and he said we had hurried too quickly through Christiania. They had been busy making purchases at Christiania. Our conversation now ceases, for the steamer must depart. The stout captain took up his position on the steamer’s pont, and, taking out his watch, he gave the signal for starting. As the Dronningen glided along the still waters of the Mjösen, our “cushty chavos” (gip., good children) made farewell signals to their Romany Rye.

NORWEGIAN FENCE.

Another telegram to Mr. Bennett, to say we should be in Christiania at seven o’clock in the evening, no train leaving Eidsvold before the afternoon. The telegraph clerk expressed his astonishment at the number of our telegrams, and increased his stock of English. We felt lonely away from our people. It was a very warm day, and we had some hours on hand. Crossing the bridge at the head of the lake, near the railway station, we passed the houses on the opposite side, and walked along the dusty narrow road beyond. We could see nothing but inclosures on either side the road. The common style of Norwegian road fence consists of posts, with two long parallel rails, supporting a number of slanting rails, of shorter length, loosely placed between them.

There was no shade. The wooden log houses, here and there, had generally tiled roofs. No attempt was made at ornament or picturesque effect. Everything in the rough. We sat on the narrow road side, and noted up our diary; then we returned to the houses again near the bridge, and being hungry, boldly walked into one which bore some resemblance to a place of refreshment. They civilly said they had nothing, and that there was a house on the hill, beyond the station, where refreshment might be had. They meant the house at which we had lately stayed.28 It was about half-past two o’clock when we again crossed the bridge, and called at the telegraph office. The polite clerk seemed rather pleased to see us, at the same time handing a telegram with much alacrity.

A life-boat on the ocean to the shipwrecked mariner, could not have given much greater pleasure. The provisions had been found. Our name was not on the case, but our mention of Messrs. Hudson Brothers, as consignors, had fortunately furnished the clue. They would reach Eidsvold that night. With some degree of satisfaction we soon ascended the hill, and came to our quiet retreat. The comely “pige” welcomed us—she seemed much pleased—and we were shown into a finer, and more stately chamber, than the one we had before occupied. We were hungry, and our dinner was quickly served. Côtelettes, potatoes, and some kind of sweet dish, with some “Baiersk Öl.” Then we wrote letters at a table near the window, in View of the Mjösen Lake. All was quietude; we felt as if we were lost. At six o’clock our thermometer was 82° Fahrenheit. We determined to take a Badekar (bath). The large wooden bath-house was at a short distance below the “gjœstgiver-gaard.”

NORWEGIAN BATH-ROOM.

Crossing over a light wooden bridge from the lake shore, we were immediately on a balcony extending round the building, above the waters of the lake. Doors opened from the balcony into the bath-rooms. Each visitor has a small dressing-room adjoining another small room, in which stands a zinc bath. As we looked in, a curious leather spout pendant from the ceiling supplied the water to the bath. It was a clumsy contrivance, and out of repair; part of the water poured in streams on the floor, whilst the other portion found its way into the bath.

The man in attendance, who came to prepare the bath, could not understand what heat we required, especially as they use Reaumur, and we use the Fahrenheit thermometer. A Norwegian gentleman, just taking his bath, and very scantily clothed, at the request of the man, politely came to the bath-room door to act as interpreter. He spoke some English, and kindly relieved us from our difficulty. Thanking him for his aid, he bowed and retired. The price of our bath was fivepence. Giving the attendant a few skillings, we returned to our pleasant room at the quiet “gjœstgiver-gaard.” How dreamy we felt at eve, as we watched from our window the lights and shadows on the Lake Mjösen. A gilded surface in the evening sun—how full of beauty—one seemed to view the imagery of other worlds. There is in nature more than art can tell, or language render. Not a leaf but has its history, a flower its tale, nor a sound without its music to the mind. There were some quaint old paintings on the panels of the chamber, which caught our attention as we sat musing there, and we hastily sketched them. One represented a priest in old-fashioned clerical costume walking unconsciously as he reads, into a river, or out to sea. The priest is saying, as he reads: “Jeg maa gaae til Bunden i dette Problem for jeg gaae vidre.” (I must go to the bottom of this problem before I go farther.)

The other painting represented a stout clergyman who is being rowed along a lake or river. He is so stout that the end of the boat in which he sits is nearly under water. He is supposed to be shouting to the boatman:

“Hal’ud manne. Der gaa er Dampen.” (Pull away, lad! There goes the steamer.)

With our mind much at ease we retired early to rest. By some chance they put us to sleep in Esmeralda’s bed. We rose at four o’clock the next morning, and wrote letters. Our “frokost” was served at seven o’clock. It was a beautiful morning: our comely “pige” was there, but she had no gipsy Noah to admire. We paid our account—three marks sixteen skillings. Slinging our courier-bag over our shoulder, as we gave the comely “pige” a douceur, we again wished these kind and attentive people farewell. It must be owned that we lingered for a moment near this quiet retreat, so full of pleasant moments and long-to-be-remembered reminiscences.

At the railway-station the case of provisions, which had arrived, cost us one dollar. Sealing our letters in the telegraph office, we posted them. The case of provisions, which was very heavy, was brought down to the steamer, and placed on the jetty to be taken on board. We then noticed, fastened to it, a letter from Mr. Bennett, and Hudson Brothers’ receipted bill, attached outside the case. It appeared that some of the packages in the case had burst open. Pea-flour, wheat-flour, salt, and other contents had got mixed and spread about in wild confusion. Mr. Bennett had kindly had the pea-flour and salt put into a bag. Great care is requisite in packing for long journeys. The provisions were all right at last. Paying another visit to the telegraph office, we remitted to Mr. Bennett a sum sufficient to cover all costs incidental to the baggage and expenses, and also wrote a letter to him. We must ever acknowledge his kind attention. Mr. Bennett’s services are invaluable to new arrivals; ten minutes’ conversation with him will often save the tourist days of trouble, vexation, and delay. You have, also, the feeling that he is a gentleman, and you can trust his advice. Our telegraph clerk was wonderfully polite, and we felt a certain amount of regret when for the last time we wished him good morning. As we left the office, he said, in very good English, “I think, sir, you are now all right.”

We returned to the steamer, which left Eidsvold at half-past eleven in the forenoon.29 The passengers were for the most part plainly dressed, and of the class of small farmers. The men wore large, ample trousers, and thick, heavy Wellington boots. The excursion along the lake was delightful. The Mjösen is sixty-three English miles in length. On the shores of the lake, the steamer passed numerous farms and pleasant homesteads, with pine and fir forests forming a distant background. Towards Lillehammer the scenery becomes more picturesque; the landing stations often reminded us of colonial settlements. Then we became acquainted with a young passenger and his friend who were going to Lillehammer. The friend spoke a few words of English. A tall, smart-looking young Norwegian officer, neatly dressed in plain clothes, who had travelled in England, France, and Prussia, spoke English fluently. Whilst we were conversing, an old man came up with a number of knives to sell; they were suspended to a wire. After some inspection, we selected two knives at six marks each, and one at one dollar. Then came the money payment; it was a serious business. We produced a handful of those varied coins, many not counting for the value they are marked. A young man who spoke a few words of English volunteered to count out the sum. The countenance of the old man gazing on my money, and the young man, who was anxious to be exact to a skilling, would have made a good subject for Frith, or some artist skilful in making a group on canvas convey its own wordless history. The hunting-knives were intended as presents to our gipsies. Although the only Englishmen on board, with such homely, kind people, we felt as with friends, and they seemed to give us welcome to their beautiful land. As we surveyed the Lake scene, the Dronningen steamed in sight. Our friend the captain took off his hat in salutation to our captain and passengers. When we were returning his greeting he seemed to recognise us, and again waved his hat in final adieu. The Dronningen is said to be the best steamer on the lake. What a strange exhilaration we felt as we inhaled the pure lake breeze, whilst the steamer glided along the waters of the Mjösen. We had no care. The moments seemed an existence of perfect enjoyment, with only a short span dividing us from our tents, and people, and first Norwegian camp, whence we should wander over many leagues of nature’s fairest scenes. On the shores of the lake, to our right, stand the ruins of Stor Hammer cathedral, forming some picturesque arches, in broken decay, nearly all that remains of a once noble pile destroyed in 1567. At this part of the lake, George Bidder, once renowned as the calculating boy, whose wonderful memory and rapid calculations we had often read of in days gone by, had purchased an estate.30

Although there are not many castles in Norway, on the island of Helgëo are the ruins of a fortress built by Hako IV. The old church of Ringsaker, on the eastern shore of the lake, is said to possess an altar curiously carved, and also the body of a priest, singularly preserved from the ruthless hand of time.31 The old church is said to stand on the battle-field where St. Olaf gained one of his many victories, and adds one more interesting association to the shores of the Mjösen.

Dinner on board the steamer is announced as “fertig” (ready). It was not a table d’hôte consisting of many dishes, but a substantial meal of fish, meat, and a Norwegian dish, of which milk formed a large ingredient. As we afterwards lounged on deck, the Norwegian officer looked over our song, gave us some hints of pronunciation of Norsk words, and said the English verses were well translated into Norwegian. The song, with its engraved bordure of gipsy life and Norwegian scenery, seemed to interest him very much; and before he left at Hammer he was much pleased with the copy we presented for his acceptance.

One large island, in the lake, we were told, was the most fertile in Norway. The shores of the lake are not very far distant from each other. All was sunshine, with a strong breeze upon the lake. How changed the scene in winter. One of the passengers told us the winter continued eight months, sometimes even nine months. The days in summer are often very warm, and the nights cold. The homesteads had no pretensions to Swiss decoration; and the villages had a similar appearance to a new settlement in Australia. Without the forest trees Norway would soon be a sterile spot. Take the timber from the mountains, and all would be a barren, cheerless wilderness of rocks and stones. It is to be hoped that government will one day restrain the rapid destruction of the forests. Even in England the shady lanes are fast vanishing before the close-cropped hedge-rows; barely a fence which is considered necessary in this utilitarian age. The birds, which once found shelter and convenience for building their nests, are diminishing fast, and one must often listen in vain for their cheerful song.32

The steamer passed a very picturesque rocky island towards Lillehammer. Only one traveller now remained who spoke English, and his stock was limited, consisting of two words. Fortunately, we arranged with the steward for a stock of three bottles of brandy, and two or three bottles of St. Jullien claret, before the officer who spoke English left the vessel. We paid one dollar for our fare, and three dollars one mark and eight skillings for dinner, coffee, ale, bread and cheese, three bottles of brandy, and two of claret. We tried in vain to pass an English sovereign, to economise our small coin. The steward spoke a little English. He was a jolly-looking, buzzy, fuzzy, smick-smack, smooth, straight up-and-down, and no mistake, sort of fellow. He did his best to assist us. We soon steamed up to the wooden pier below Lillehammer. Noah was standing between our two tents, pitched on a rise of ground, above a wooden building by the pier. Noah saw us at once, and came down to the pier as jauntily as possible, with a pipe, to our great surprise, stuck in his mouth.

Waiting until the passengers had gone on shore, we called Noah on board, and gave him the bottles to carry to our tents. The case was slung on to the pier. The steward referred to the captain, who spoke English, and decided that the amount we had already paid included carriage to Lillehammer. They wished us good-by, and we left the vessel. A porter from one of the hotels, who came to us, placed the case on a truck, and we told him to take it up to our tents. Esmeralda came forward as we approached the camp. The gipsies were much pleased to see us again. Esmeralda said she knew we were on the steamer. Whilst we were talking, we caught sight of the truck and case going up the road from the lake to the town of Lillehammer. Noah and ourselves went after it, and soon after Noah and the porter brought it to the tents. The case was a large wooden box of considerable weight. With much satisfaction we contemplated its arrival in camp. The tents were now actually pitched on the shore of the beautiful Mjösen Lake. Its calm waters, lovely in the eventide, and the quietude of nature, gave us one more glimpse of perfect happiness.