Читать книгу Tent life with English Gipsies in Norway - Hubert Smith - Страница 19

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Ewn law law, cymm’rwn lili,

A’u blodau’n rhanau i ni,

A bysedd rhwymwn bosi,

Ffel yw hyn nid ffol wyt ti,

Rhoet yn glòs, fel ar rosyn,

Gwlwm da ar galon dyn.

Let’s hand in hand pursue our way,

And pluck the lily as we stray,

Its flowers pretty we will take—

Our fingers can a posy make.

This, and with a fragrant rose,

Place on man’s heart, whence goodness flows.

Welsh Pennillion, by Leathart.

NIGHT ALARM—THE PURU RAWNEE—DONKEYS ADMIRED—NORWEGIAN PONIES—OUR GIPSY LIFE—NORWEGIAN FLOWERS—WILD FOREST—THE PIPE OF TOBACCO—PICTURES OF IMAGINATION—THE CRIPPLED MAN—CAMP NEAR HOLMEN—NOAH’S SELF-DENIAL—WET NIGHT—PEASANT GIRLS’ SERENADE—ZACHARIAH’S GAIETY—LOVELY NATURE—NORWEGIAN NEWSPAPER—THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED—FROKOST SPOILT.

Our tents were pitched with a balk towards the embankment, made with our blue rug embellished with foxes’ heads. The rug was stretched along our Alpine stocks driven in the ground. At the top of the embankment, some of the people still remained watching. Our large siphonia waterproof was stretched, and fastened over the intervening space between the tents. Only an opening was left close to the edge of the steep and almost perpendicular declivity.

The sound of the river was music to us, as it foamed in the stillness of the night. We retired within the parascenium or partition of our tent, and were soon asleep. Soundly we slept, lulled by the roar of the falls of the Honnefos; we did not even hear the noise of a small stone afterwards thrown against the tent from above, or the rush of Noah and Zachariah outside with nothing on but their shirts, nor their shouts to the people above, who only laughed, and had no doubt done it merely to take a last fond look of our tall gipsy, Noah. They must have been profoundly impressed by their very picturesque attire.

We awoke at 12.20; it was rather too early for our start, so we turned, missed the time, and awoke at half-past five instead of four o’clock. The word was given. All were soon stirring. It had rained heavily in the night. Tents were struck, donkeys packed; at a quarter past seven o’clock we were en route. Esmeralda was as lively as possible. We were all in excellent spirits, our donkeys stepping out bravely with their loads. Our beautiful Puru Rawnee leads the way, the hawk bells jingling on its light collar of scarlet bocking. At every place we passed, we had a rush of the country peasants to see us. It was amusing to observe their eagerness to be in time, as they left their occupations in hot haste to gaze upon our donkeys. At some places we had been expected. Some mysterious intimation had been given, and the peasants were ready drawn up waiting with great expectations our approach. As we journeyed onwards, it was desirable to buy bread to save our stock of biscuits. Noah tried at one or two houses. The first was a large house where they were evidently waiting our arrival. The windows were embellished by many heads: the female sex predominated; most of the males appeared in a courtyard opening to the road. “Try here,” we said to Noah, giving him some money to take in his hand, “and say, ‘smör og bröd.’ ” He was not successful, for he was shown into a large room, with coffee, bread, &c., on the table. Probably he could not make any one understand, or they had no bread to sell, for he returned empty-handed. One man we noticed soon afterwards running in the distance across the fields. It was amusing to see the wild struggles he made to be in time. With much sympathy for his unwonted efforts to accomplish so much speed, we had regulated the pace of our donkeys to give him a chance.

At last we came to a quiet part of the road between two fir woods, with a narrow space of green sward on each side; a rippling stream crossed the road in its course to the River Logan. The sun gleamed pleasantly forth. Our fire was soon lighted, and our meal consisted of biscuit, Australian preserved meat, and tea. The Australian meat was much appreciated as an edible: we were all agreeably surprised to find it so good. In a country like Norway, it is indispensable to those who seek the freedom of camp-life. As we concluded our meal down came the rain, but we were prepared, and all our things were immediately under our large waterproof. Then we sheltered ourselves with the waterproof rugs, and quietly waited for the heavy shower to cease. Several carrioles were driven by, and some carts passed. Noah had to lead one pony who shied at our donkeys; another pony had to be taken out and coaxed by them. The Norwegian ponies, who are the most docile animals in the world, were often suspicious of our harmless donkeys, who, quietly browsing, looked as unlike dangerous ferocity as could possibly be imagined. The rain ceased. It was eleven. Esmeralda and ourselves pushed on along the road with two donkeys already loaded, whilst Noah and Zachariah were putting the remaining baggage on the third. When they came in sight shortly afterwards, Esmeralda said we must pretend to be strange gipsies, and ask them where they were gelling to.

“Shawshon baugh?” (how do you do), said Esmeralda, drawing herself up with an assumed look of contempt, as her brothers came up with their donkey and baggage.

“Shawshon baugh?” said they; “where be you a gelling (going) to? I suppose you Romany’s have been married some time.”

“Howah,” (yes) said Esmeralda, “we’ve been married about a year.”

We must confess to a queer sensation that by some gipsy incantation we were no longer free.

“Which is your merle?” (gip., donkey), demanded Noah, stalking up to the front.

“That’s mandys” (mine), said Esmeralda, pointing to the Puru Rawnee, which she claimed for her own. Gipsy wives have evidently separate rights of property, thought we, which we were not before aware of. “The other is my husband’s,” said Esmeralda, looking at us with her dark eyes, which made us feel as if we were merged into another individuality.

“Will you gipsies chaffer with us?” said Noah and Zachariah.

But we remarked, “Your merle’s got no tail.” This was said in disparagement of the one supposed to be theirs, for our donkeys were by no means wanting in this respect. The tail of one was perhaps rather smaller than the other’s.

“Why,” said Esmeralda, “that’s your donkey. You don’t know one merle from another.”

They had got mixed, and we had mistaken the one just come up. The serious earnestness of the gipsy girl gave us a hearty laugh. So they went on rockering (talking) in their Romany mous (gipsy language). As we journeyed onwards, how fragrant the wild flowers. Those wild flowers of Norway can never be forgotten. Gipsies like flowers, it is part of their nature. Esmeralda would pluck them, and, forming a charming bouquet interspersed with beautiful wild roses, her first thought was to pin them in the button-hole of the Romany Rye (gipsy gentleman). We were not the only party with tents and baggage; for we had noticed, as we passed along the road from Lillehammer, a number of white military tents pitched in the valley below us, on a pleasant flat of turf land on the opposite side the River Logan. We were informed afterwards, it was an encampment of the Norwegian militia for military training.

Shortly afterwards we passed a large house near the roadside, which appeared to be a gjœstgiver gaard. The people came out to look at us. Noticing some articles for sale in the window, we sent Noah back with some money, and he soon after returned with ten loaves of bread, and a pound and a half of butter, for which he paid four marks and a half. Noah said he bought all the bread they had. We were so well pleased with the acquisition, that, finding it was a general shop, Zachariah was sent back to replace his dilapidated hat with a new wide-a-wake, which cost us one dollar. When we examined the hat on his return, we read within it the well-known English name of Christy. Noah and Zachariah had each invested in a handkerchief; Noah’s consisted of four pictures of the loudest pattern. Noah’s commercial transactions had also extended to a pipe and tobacco, and he appeared smoking it to the disgust of the rest of the party. Indications of coming rain caused us to arrange the waterproofs over our baggage. Several people came up to look at our donkeys.

The bread being packed safely away, we again pushed on, and entered a wild, thick forest at the foot of some steep rocky hills. The River Logan was not far to our left. Taking the first opportunity, we now told Noah that it was contrary to the rules of our camp to smoke, and that he must at once give up his pipe and tobacco.

“No, no, sir,” said Noah, in a melancholy tone, “I must have some tobacco.”

“Well, Noah,” we replied, “we must have our wish, we have always done what we could for you, and we expect some sacrifice in return.”

Esmeralda and Zachariah joined in the request.

A slight cloud passed over Noah’s look as he dropped behind. We must, however, do him the justice to say that his temper was excellent. Noah was ever cheerful under the greatest difficulties.

As we quietly journeyed through the forest, how delightful its scenes. Free from all care, we enjoy the anticipation of a long and pleasant ramble in Norway’s happy land. We felt contented with all things, and thankful that we should be so permitted to roam, with our tents and wild children of nature in keeping with the solitudes we sought. So we travelled onwards towards Holmen. The rain had soon ceased. Tinkle, tinkle went the hawk-bells on the collar of our Puru Rawnee, as she led the way along the romantic Norwegian road.

“Give the snakes and toads a twist,

And banish them for ever,”

sang Zachariah, ever and anon giving similar wild snatches. Then Esmeralda would rocker about being the wife of the Romany Rye, and as she proudly paced along in her heavy boots, she pictured, in painful imagery, the pleasant life we should lead as her Romany mouche. She was full of fun: yet there was nothing in her fanciful delineations which could offend us. They were but the foam of the crested wave, soon dissipated in air. They were the evanescent creations of a lively, open-hearted girl. Wild notes trilled by the bird of the forest. We came again into the open valley. Down a meadow gushed a small streamlet, which splashed from a wooden spout on to the road-side below. From a log cottage in the meadow above, a man quickly crawled down the steep bank, like a spider along in his web. He took his station on the bank near the streamlet’s falling water. The man was pale and wan, and begged for alms. He seemed to have no use in his legs. Could we refuse? We who roamed free as the birds of the air. We gave him some skillings. The man seemed very thankful, and we soon after saw him crawling slowly up to his small wooden cottage, from whence he commanded a view of the road. Now we came near the river-side, and pushed along to find a camping ground. We had again forest on either side. The river was near, and on the hills of the narrow valley we could see many farms. At last we decided to camp on a rise of ground above the road: an open woodland, on the edge of the thick forest, which covered the hill above. The road wall was broken down in one place, giving passage for the donkeys, after we had unloaded them. Our things were hoisted up, and soon carried to a pleasant slope, partly secluded with scattered brushwood and trees, having a view of the road, river, and lofty hills on the opposite side of the valley. The rain commenced as we were pitching our tents. The first losses we discovered were our two caps and guard, with a carved fish at the end of it, and the green veil in which they were wrapped. It was provoking. They must have been left on the roadside when we halted near the house where we bought the ten loaves of bread; probably near Gillebo or Skardsmoen. They were of black felt, and we were now left with only the straw hat we then wore.

Our tents had not been long pitched, and our fire made, when a tall, pale man came to us from the road. He carried a wallet; had a walking-stick in his hand, and we understood him to say he was going to Romsdalen. He seemed much interested with our tents, and accepted some brandy and tobacco. The spot where our tents were pitched was near a sort of small natural terrace, at the summit of a steep slope above the road, backed by a mossy bank, shaded by brushwood, and skirting the dense foliage of the dark forest of pine and fir rising above our camp. We had tea and bread, and our Australian meat, which was excellent. The clouds gathered darkly over the mountains, and there were some heavy showers. More visitors came in succession; some had brandy. Their attention seemed divided between the tents and donkeys. At length the rain probably prevented more from coming.

In the course of the afternoon, when we got into camp, Noah came and said, “I think, sir, instead of buying tobacco, I had much better have put the money by to get me a pair of stockings.” We asked how much he gave, and he said half a mark. “Then, Noah, give up the pipe and tobacco, and you shall have the half-mark.” Our gipsy came soon after. He had evidently made up his mind.

“Mr. Smith, you don’t like my smoking, sir; here’s the tobacco and pipe. I don’t wish you to say I didn’t do what you required.”

As Noah handed over the pipe and tobacco, one would have thought he had given up some dearly-prized treasure. Although we gave him the half-mark with pleasure, we could not help feeling some compunction; still, as “shorengro” (gipsy chief) of the party, we were bound to see the camp rules obeyed, and Noah knew them before he started. Pusillanimity and want of firmness would have destroyed the success of the expedition.

After tea we sat up to write our notes. The occurrences and events of each day must be written whilst they are fresh in the memory. Nor must they be left to remembrance, or the clear lettering of correctness and truth will be lost. What are now given are mere transcripts of notes written on the spot, and at the time. Whatever be their worth, rough as they are, it is hoped their truth will give them some value. We were glad to retire to rest. It rained heavily in the night. Once or twice the light Siphonia waterproof was blown off. Noah had to get up in the night to put it on, and to dig a trench round the tents. We could feel the moisture coming in from the bank above. It was with difficulty we kept our provisions dry.

Our first Sunday morning in camp. It was one of our camp rules never to travel on a Sunday. It was made a day of rest for ourselves and the animals. We looked forward throughout our travels to our Sunday for quietude and repose. The morning was dull and wet. We breakfasted about seven o’clock. The frokost (Nor., breakfast) consisted of fried bacon, bread, and tea. The materials for a soup for dinner were put ready. Whilst it was cooking, a German gentleman, accompanied by his skydskarl, came up from the road. He inquired if we were German. Then he informed us that there was an account of us in the newspapers. Having looked at our tents, we sent Zachariah with him to see the donkeys. The German gentleman seemed much gratified, and, shaking hands with Zachariah, left our camp. Many carriages passed along the road during the day. After our dinner of soup, made of ham, peas, flour, and Liebig’s essence of meat, we remained in our tents. Some young peasant men and women came and sat in the rain outside looking at us. We gave two of the peasants some brandy and tobacco. Then all our visitors left, except four interesting young peasant girls, who still lingered. One had an umbrella, and all four standing in the rain at a short distance from our camp, sang for us a Norwegian song to a pretty Norwegian air. They had pleasant voices. We listened to them with much pleasure. There was so much sweetness and feeling in the melody. It was a serenade of four Norwegian peasant girls. We appreciated their kind attention to wanderers from a far land. Though we could not converse, we thanked them with our looks when they afterwards left the camp.