Tent life with English Gipsies in Norway

by Hubert Smith

SERENADE.

Thy gipsy-eye, bright as the star
That sends its light from heaven afar,
Will, with the strains of thy guitar,
This heart with rapture fill.
Then, maiden fair, beneath this star,
Come, touch with me the light guitar.

Thy brow, unmarked by lines of care,
Deck’d with locks of raven hair,
Seems ever beautiful and fair
At moonlight’s stilly hour.
What bliss! beside the leafy maze,
Illumined by the moon’s pale rays,
On thy sweet face to sit and gaze,
Thou wild, uncultured flower.
Then, maiden fair, beneath this star,
Come, touch with me the light guitar.

ESMERALDA AT THE LAKE—OUR CADEAU—THE VISITORS—DISAPPOINTMENT—AN ADONIS—THE SILENT VISIT—THE OLD MILL—A NORWEGIAN FOX—THE PURU RAWNEE’S FALL—THE FOREST SCENE—ZACHARIAH’S TORMENT—UNDER DISCIPLINE—MUSIC IN THE FOREST—DISTANT ADMIRERS—THE ENGLISH HUNTER’S GIFT—OUR GIPSIES FISHING—THE MILITIA CAMP—SILENT VISITOR—ORNAMENTAL FLADBRÖD—A FOREST CONCERT.

Some of the peasants, especially women, were most anxious to explore the hidden recesses of our tents, but this could not be permitted. Our gipsies were very well conducted, and quiet in their demeanour, as befitted the day.

After dinner Esmeralda, who had washed and dressed herself in her robe with silver buttons, accompanied us for a quiet stroll to the shores of the lake; her brothers were left in charge of the tents. The distance was not very far. Seated on a wooded knoll above the shores of the lake, we watched its silvery waters and the picturesque outline of the Kjölen mountain; its patches of snow near the summit were not yet melted by the summer’s sun. How enjoyable was life in the wild mountains near the smooth lake whose silvered waters seem ever smiling; all seemed in repose as we breathed the pure air of heaven. The lake, we understood, was called the Logan Vand. A peasant woman, at a house near the lake, asked us to come in, both going and returning, but we preferred the open air.

We returned to tea at about seven o’clock. A large number of peasants were scattered in all directions about our camp and round the donkeys. Four eggs were boiled for our tea, with bread and butter. After tea, we presented our friend, the boy who spoke English, with “Views of Jerusalem and its Environs.” The boy read a passage, vivâ voce, from it in English with great correctness and good accent; the present pleased him very much, and we were glad we had thought of giving it to him. If we spoke to a peasant a crowd immediately collected round us. It appeared to disappoint them that music was not permitted, but we were quite firm.

At nine o’clock we wished them good night; still they remained, and a large number kept wandering round our tents. Some few lighted a fire of juniper; the smoke blew towards our tents, and Noah rushed out with an alpenstock and put it out.

The hum of voices at length became less distinct, and we were thinking of retiring to rest. Esmeralda was already partly asleep behind her tent partition, we were seated opposite our gipsies, when another party came up from the road. One was upwards of six feet high, and dressed differently from the peasants’ usual costume—a tall young fellow with a very long pipe. The waterproof cover was arranged so that the entrance to our tent was only about two feet high; the tall visitor, who seemed to have been enjoying himself, and was rather unsteady, lay down on the turf, so that he could see us. At first he said to Noah, “Spille a little,” meaning that we should play. Then he turned to us, “You speak English?” But when we spoke to him, he said, “I cannot understand you.” Then he asked Noah if he spoke Norsk. Noah’s knowledge of the Norsk language was still very limited. Our tall visitor, whiffing his pipe in a half-fuddled state, kept saying in English, “I have beautiful girls, mony, mony—you have beautiful girls.” We said, “Nei, nei.” And as he said something about “den asen,” we pointed in their direction, and he went off with his friends to see them. We thought they were gone, when our tall Norwegian suddenly came back again, and lay down on the turf. After a pause he said, “Spille a little;” and then said, “I hear you have beautiful girl; I should like to see her. I have beautiful girls—mony, mony.” He tried to pull the curtain aside, but we prevented him, with “Nei, nei.” In vain we wished him good night; still he kept saying occasionally, “You have beautiful girl, I have heard; I will show you my beautiful girls—I have beautiful girls, mony, mony.” His friends, however, seemed anxious to get him away, and at last, with some reluctance, he left our tents, probably to join the beautiful girls, of which he said he had mony, mony.

At the last moment, before going to bed, we strolled out in the stillness of the night. We were just at the moment standing in the shadow of some firs, when we observed the figure of a man advancing noiselessly towards the tents. When he saw them, he retired, and soon after returned, followed by another man. We could only just discern the two figures as they advanced, step by step, cautiously towards the tents. They paused. Very probably they thought we were all fast asleep, and did not wish to disturb us. They stood for some short time gazing motionless at the tents, and then retired as quietly as they came.

At half-past five o’clock we were again bustling about. More peasants came even at that early hour. The man from the house near the lake brought six trout, which we bought for six skillings. An old woman brought some grass for the donkeys. One woman brought milk, but too late for breakfast; not being able to carry it with us, we did not buy it. An old peasant woman, with a peasant man in a red cap, wanted us to play some music for them. They looked disappointed, when we said we were going off at once.

It commenced to rain when we were packing, and we were anxious to proceed on our wanderings. We turned from our camp to the road, and bade adieu to our peasant friends, whom we left sitting in the rain, looking at our now-deserted camp.

Proceeding up the valley, the views were pleasing. The rain was not heavy. At Motterud a curious old mill attracted our attention. Passing through the hamlet of Moseneden, as we understood it to be, we reached the open forest just beyond, and halted on the right of the road. Our middags-mad consisted of tea, fried fish, fladbröd, and butter. Some peasant girls watched us at a distance in the forest. A jolly, pleasant old man came to us, and a boy, with a large hump on his chest instead of his back. The order was given to load, but no donkeys could be found; fortunately a stream of water between two deep banks at some distance gave us a clue to the direction they had gone.

After some trouble, and a hint from the jolly peasant, the donkeys were found near the hamlet of Moseneden, on the borders of the forest, and brought back. When Noah was loading the puru rawnee we presented the jolly peasant with an oil bottle just emptied. The peasant seemed very pleased with his sudden acquisition of fortune, and showed it to the peasant girls, who brought down a Norwegian fox for us to see.

The girls had the fox fastened by a chain. It is called a “Rœv” in Norwegian, and is smaller than the English fox, being rather lighter in colour. Foxes are very numerous in some parts of Norway. The peasant did not smoke, but the usual discussion took place about the donkeys.

At this juncture a storm of rain came on, and my gipsies disappeared with the baggage under the large waterproof. The peasant contented himself with the scanty shelter of the trees; and we were protected by our light waterproof coat. Whilst we conversed with the old man, Noah now and then put his head out from underneath the waterproof, and would say “Blankesko.” The peasant, looking round, could see nothing, and appeared puzzled to understand what blacking shoes had to do with his observations about the donkeys. Sometimes it was “meget godt,” or a “Romany” word, or scrap of a song, with smothered laughter from Esmeralda. We spoke to Noah afterwards, and he promised to be more careful. Some license we permitted among themselves, to exhaust their exuberant spirits.

The rain ceased. The donkeys were loaded. Wishing the peasants adieu, with mutual salutations, we continued our route through the forest. Scotch firs, and light sandy soil; no enclosures—nothing but open forest. Here and there, the trees were scattered thickly near the road. Occasionally we came to an open glade. Zachariah, who had gone on before, fell asleep on a rock on the road-side. As we came near, he suddenly jumped up, and our puru rawnee, taking fright, shied across the road, and fell all fours under her load.

Of course there was a torrent of Romany and English poured by Noah on his brother’s devoted head. The puru rawnee was unloaded, and fortunately unhurt. The place where she fell was soft, with loose sand. Our journey continued, and at about half-past four o’clock we came to some open greensward in the forest. The road made a curve round it. At the farther corner, sloping from the road, about a hundred yards distance, at the foot of a wooded bank, near a small narrow purling stream of clear water, we pitched our tents.

A picturesque mountain, with pointed summit, rose to view above the dense mass of forest trees which intervened between our camp and the Logan. On the other side the stream, a narrow green mossy glade, fringed with thickets, diverged to another bend of the main road through the forest.

Our tents, when pitched, could be seen from the road. Zachariah suffered every kind of misery it was possible to imagine from irritation of the skin, resulting from bites of insects or impurity of blood—perhaps both. His feet were the worst. We made him bathe his feet in warm water and oatmeal, which relieved him very much. At night, when he was warm, the itching was intolerable. Instances of this kind only experienced at night without eruption or rash on the skin’s surface, we had met with before in camp life. Yet it does not seem to be a common occurrence in gipsy life. Potatoes enter largely into their diet in England. Noah’s feet were slightly troubled with this irritation. When an opportunity occurred, we determined to dose them all with brimstone and treacle.

Noah went to look out for a bonde-gaard, and purchased some fladbröd for twelve skillings, and a pound of butter for one mark. Just before tea, a boy in a red cap came to our tents. The boy was a fair, interesting, slim boy, about seventeen. His features were good. There was a serious earnestness about him which we admired. He had a small quantity of brandy to drink, and he left. Then his father and mother came, as we supposed them to be, to the tents, and some other people. They came from the farm-house, where Noah had bought the fladbröd. The father was a bearded, thickset, middle-aged man. There was a look of much intelligence about him. Whilst we were taking our tea and fladbröd and butter, they all sat on the opposite side the stream looking at us. Noah commenced pitching our tents directly after. When Noah had put up our tent, and our things were all arranged in it, they seemed much astonished. After we had shown them the arrangements of our tent they were going away, when we went after them, and said, if they came back, we would give them some music. Noah and Zachariah played several airs. Esmeralda began to remark upon our visitors’ appearance; but we very sharply rebuked her, and, murmuring something about not being able to say a word, she retired submissively into the privacy of the tents. Upon an expedition of this kind it is necessary to maintain discipline.

One of our female visitors had a child slung on her shoulders. When they had left in the still hour of closing evening—so delicious in the forest—we sang two songs to the accompaniment of the guitar, violin, and tambourine.

Our health had wonderfully improved. Continued and incessant reading was now impossible. The mind transplanted, as it were, to new fields of observation, gathered fresh tone and vigour. The physical senses became quickened. The disturbing influences of the busy world were felt no longer. Seated on the turf near our tents we were busily engaged writing our notes. The gipsy girl came noiselessly behind us—so quietly we did not hear her, as she came from the tents in her stockings, treading lightly on the green sward. Silently she gave us a chuma (gip. kiss). It was a kiss for reconciliation. We looked up surprised. A peasant boy, till now unseen, stood looking through the bushes in amazement. He did not appear to comprehend the scene, nor could we give him any explanation. We turned, and were again alone. What could we do? We dismissed it as the chimera of a forest dream. We had forgotten it; yet it is upon our notes, and so it is left.

Several peasants were looking at the donkeys quite late. We alone were up. They afterwards came to our tents, and conversed till we wished each other good night. The musketos continued their attacks during the evening.

The morning was very rainy. About eight o’clock some people came and walked round our tents. We were not up. They walked away without observation. When we got up at half-past eight o’clock, the rain had partly abated. We were not troubled with musketos in our tent during the night. Zachariah was much benefited by the oatmeal and water. A mark’s worth of fladbröd was consumed for breakfast; this, with the addition of butter and tea, completed our meal. Whilst we were at breakfast the farmer’s son came by carrying three calves’ skins on his back, accompanied by some peasant boys. Nearly all the Norwegians carry hunting-knives by their sides. Another boy afterwards passed by our tents with a long pole, used as a “fisk-stang,” or fishing-rod. After breakfast two women tramps, or “highflyers,” as the gipsies called them, passed along the road. One had a child fastened on her back, and was leading another by the hand. They seemed astonished at our tents and donkeys, and sat down looking towards our camp for some time.

The weather being unsettled, we sent Noah and Zachariah with their fishing-rods towards the Logan. They were told to try a lake in that direction through the forest. Directly they were gone, a man and some boys came to see us, and the man had some tobacco. He possessed a pipe which he seemed to prize very much; the pipe had been given him by an English gentleman named Ferrand, who had been in the mountains, reindeer hunting. Our visitor was a fine strong fellow, and said that the reindeer were numerous in that part of Norway. The hunter was exceedingly pleased with the tents, as also another man who afterwards came.

In the course of the morning a carriage and pair passed along the road; they were evidently English. We heard one young lady exclaim, as she caught sight of our camp, “What an awfully comfortable tent.” A lady in a carriole followed them. They stopped a short time in contemplation and then continued their journey, which we hope they enjoyed as much as we did ours.

A young Norwegian traveller and his wife drove up in a Stolkjœrre. They both got down and came to our camp, and asked a number of questions about the donkeys.

We made a sketch of our camp whilst Esmeralda, or “daughter,” as her brothers sometimes called her, went up to the “Bondegaard.” Esmeralda returned with twenty-three fladbröd cakes, and eight extra ones given as a present by the farmer’s wife—a kind, homely, respectable woman. She was very busy baking, and asked Esmeralda in, and said they should come down for some music in the evening.

The rain cleared off, and about half-past three Noah and Zachariah returned. Noah had caught twenty-one and Zachariah ten grayling and trout, some of fair size. The addition to our provisions was very satisfactory. All the fish had been caught in the river Logan; some of the fish were immediately fried, and eaten for dinner with fladbröd. Noah was the subject of some amount of joking about his success, and we kept an account of the number of fish he and Zachariah had caught during the journey. At half-past four o’clock we started them off again to the river. After Esmeralda had cleared up her things, and put the dinner away, she went up to the “Bondegaard” for another pound of butter, and a mark’s worth of flabröd and salt. Whilst she was away a militia soldier in dark green uniform tunic, and cap, came by in a “Stolkjœrre,” a sort of light cart. When he saw our tents from the road, he pulled up. After waiting some time, looking towards our camp, he came down and saluted. It appeared he had come from the camp near Lillehammer. As one who had had some experience in camp matters he appeared much interested in our arrangements. We explained everything as well as our knowledge of the language permitted. After he had drunk to Gamle Norge, he returned to his conveyance. Then his wife came down, and looked at our tents; she also drank to Gamle Norge,[54] and then returned, and they continued their journey.

The soldier and his wife seemed very quiet and respectable people. Esmeralda had only just returned when down came three travellers from their carrioles. Our visitors were in light summer blouses and straw hats, and had round tin cases suspended from a strap over their shoulders; they were evidently men of education. One, I believe, was from Throndjhem, another from Drammen, and the third from Christiania. We answered their questions about our tents, and informed them they were English gipsy tents (zigeuner). Our visitors were apparently going to Romsdal themselves. As we shook hands we hoped their journey would be a pleasant one. When they were gone another traveller drove along the road in a carriole, and came down. He was dressed in a white round-crowned hat, black surtout coat, and possessed a German silver watch-chain. He wandered about our tents; we could not make much of him; whatever we said scarcely produced a word, and we at last left him to continue our writing. Then he came and looked over our notes as we wrote—a breach of good manners which occasioned us to shut our book. He then walked away to our camp spade, scanned it very minutely, and left.

The farmers’ wife came down to our camp with her three children, and made us a present of some fladbröd and milk. The fladbröd we had from this farm was the best we met with in Norway. They made three kinds: one kind of fladbröd was very thin, and stamped with curious tracery that made us regret its demolition; so much did the ornamental fladbröd excite our admiration that we managed with much care to bring back one specimen to England. A representation of it is now given, together with an ornamental Norwegian box-lid which we afterwards found on the shores of the Lille Mjösen. We trust the fidelity of the engraving will be recognised by the farmer’s wife if she ever sees this book. We told her our music would commence at nine o’clock.

After she had left, an old peasant with a round cap came, and we showed him our tents and donkeys. He seemed in raptures with the donkeys, and kept exclaiming Peen giœre! Peen giœre!!—meaning very beautiful. This was a common expression of the peasants as they lifted their hands and expressed their admiration of our donkeys. As far as we could make out we were near “Lœsjeskogen,” and the station of “Lesje Vœrk.” On our right are the mountains of the “Stor Hö,” and the “Sœter Fjeld.” Across the Logan are the Tœver Fjeld, Hyrion Fjeld, and the Skarvehöerne. We should think this would be a good position for fishing, and reindeer hunting, though we scarcely think the reindeer hunting of these parts is so good as formerly, and a sportsman must seek the wilder recesses of the mountains.

Our gipsies, Noah and Zachariah, returned. Noah had caught four trout, and Zachariah one. Although cautioned specially, Noah had been wading, and his feet were very wet. Some of our trout were fried for tea. Three men and a woman came down to the stream, and watched with interest our method of cooking. After tea we gave our visitors some music—guitar, violin, and tambourine. It was a very damp evening, and few visitors came. At last Zachariah broke a violin-string, and the rain commencing, ended our concert.