Oh, I have roamed o’er many lands, but never yet have seenNature’s face so grand and fair, as in this land, I ween.And from this cleft, how calmly grand, the varied beauties vie—The nestling hamlet, glassy lake, and mountain towering high.’Tis true! ’tis worth a pilgrimage; but why not smooth the way?Help us, my friend; yon box, your mite, it shall be, as you may.
Oh, I have roamed o’er many lands, but never yet have seenNature’s face so grand and fair, as in this land, I ween.And from this cleft, how calmly grand, the varied beauties vie—The nestling hamlet, glassy lake, and mountain towering high.’Tis true! ’tis worth a pilgrimage; but why not smooth the way?Help us, my friend; yon box, your mite, it shall be, as you may.
We gave a mark. The inscription is also written in Danish and German.
From this point we were now only twenty-one English miles from Christiania.
As we were copying the inscription, Noah and Zachariah, had proceeded onwards, along the road towards Christiania.
After following them about a mile, we returned back in a heavy shower of rain, to camp on the open space at the head of the Krogkleven gorge.
“I fear, Colonel,” I replied, “that I must plead guilty to having been an associate of these gipsy vagabonds, and I may as well add that I have spent nearly all the summer with them, and found them pleasant, healthy, and instructive companions. I like the gipsies, and the wild life they live; and it is a pleasant occupation for me to study their manners, customs, traditions, and language.”George S. Phillips(January Searle).
“I fear, Colonel,” I replied, “that I must plead guilty to having been an associate of these gipsy vagabonds, and I may as well add that I have spent nearly all the summer with them, and found them pleasant, healthy, and instructive companions. I like the gipsies, and the wild life they live; and it is a pleasant occupation for me to study their manners, customs, traditions, and language.”
George S. Phillips(January Searle).
SUMMER WANING—NORWEGIAN SCENERY—SPLENDID VIEWS—THE CROSS FIRE—SORTE DÖD—ROMANTIC CAMP—MANDY’S A RYE—THE TOURIST’S DOG—THE HOBBENENGREE’S SURPRISE—THE BARON AT BŒRUMS VERK—SNAKE KILLED NEAR OUR TENT—OUR LAST NIGHT IN CAMP—ADIEU, CAMP LIFE.
On the open space near the road, our donkeys were unloaded. The spot was surrounded by forest. It was convenient for an early visit to the King and Queen’s views next morning. A can of milk was procured from the house near, for nine skillings, and with some barley-meal, we had our aftens-mad, which consisted of gröd. It was rather thin, but Noah pronounced it meget godt. Whilst the tents were being pitched, the pale young Norwegian from Sundvolden passed by our camp, and conversed for a short time, and then continued his route. We retired to rest at eight o’clock. The nights were now getting cold, and damp, with heavy dews, and the air had a wintry feeling. Night draws on quickly, and the ferns are already changing tint.
It is Saturday, the 20th of August. We rise at five o’clock. Noah obtained water; a fire was lighted, and we had tea, bread, butter and cheese for our breakfast. First we took Noah with us up a broken, rough track, through the forest to the Kongen’s Udsigt. It was not far from our camp. A lady and gentleman had preceded us on horseback. The morning was dull, and cloudy. In twenty minutes we were at the top of the cliff, and standing on a kind of large balcony of rough boards.
An old man suddenly appeared from the rocks near, as a spider would pounce on two flies. He pointed out different fjelds, and told many of their names. What a magnificent extent of wild mountain, wood, and water lay before us! The Gousta we could distinctly see, although said to be distant seventy English miles. It recalled to mind a period of former travel, when we once ascended its wild, and narrow ridge, of loose rocks, to its highest point.
Far below us, we could see the smooth waters of the Tyri Fjord, the Steens Fjord and the Holz Fjord.
As to the wooden frame-work, it was covered with names—the pencilled autographs of numerous travellers; many now dead and gone. Yet, amongst the many, we saw the name of “B. Disraeli.”
Half a mark as we left made it indispensably necessary that we should shake hands with the old man of the Krogkleven.
In a short time we reached the Dronning’s Udsigt. The plateau is at a somewhat lower elevation, between two cliffs wooded with birch and fir; whilst we sat on the wooden seat, Noah quite agreed with ourself, that theview, though very beautiful and extensive, did not equal the Kongen’s Udsigt.
As we returned to our camp, we observed on a gate the name of Luk Grindon. At the house, the woman showed us a horn of birch wood, about a yard long, which she sounded for us, and ultimately Esmeralda succeeded in blowing it.
When we came to our camp, Zachariah had struck our tents, and packed the things up ready for loading. The pale young Norwegian again passed along the road; speaking in Norwegian, he said, “It must be very cold.” Esmeralda got out our tin box, and we presented him with our gipsy song. Esmeralda was full of energy and fire. Our visitor seemed much astonished, as she flung the things about, and occasionally we had a cross-fire of English, and Romany, which he did not understand. Our visitor, apparently, did not know what to make of it as he left, but Esmeralda meant no harm. The superabundant energy must be exhausted, and, occasionally, like other people, she got up on the wrong side the turf.
Away we all go at ten o’clock, through the charming wild forest towards Christiania. The sky has cleared, and it is a sunny day.
During our route from Stee by Lomen, Slidre, and other places in the district of the Valders, until we reached Aurdal, we had looked in vain for anyone resembling a gipsy. The gipsies who visited the fairs at Veblungsnoes generally stated they came from the Valders, so that we had some hope, that in passing through the district, we might meet with some of this people.
As we now refer to the Valders, it was this district that suffered so severely in the 14th century from theSorte Död(black death).
It is said that a foreign vessel stranded on the Norwegian coast with a dead crew. In a short time a kind of plague, called the “black death,” depopulated many districts, so that not a single inhabitant remained.131
We soon came near a Bondegaard in the forest, and met a young Norwegian lady; she smiled as she passed us. “Ah, sir!” said Zachariah, “you diks as if you would like the cova juval for your Rawnee.”
Again we came to open ground in the forest, and halted at twelve o’clock. Our middags-mad consisted of tea, sardines, bread and cheese. The oil from the sardines had a most soothing effect on Esmeralda’s temper, she became the perfection of amiability, and politeness.
Again we were moving, at three o’clock in the afternoon; our wanderings seemed somehow coming to a close. “Upmyderydowno,” said Noah, as he lifted the heavy pocket on our Puru Rawnee.
Mephistopheles soon after took his violin. The echoes of the forest were awakened with wild gipsy music, as we tramped along at a swinging pace. Sometimes Noah with the tambourine—sometimes Esmeralda, even the Rye, we believe, took it occasionally, to the astonishment of one or two stray peasants.
It was a sunny evening; except at one place, near a sheet of water, we scarcely saw a house. After crossing a picturesque river in a deep ravine, we reached the borders of the forest, at a less distance than a mile. An extensive view of cultivated country, and enclosures, towards Bœrum, decided us to return to the ravine.
We had noticed a steep, and lofty wooded knoll on our left, above the broken river of the ravine. On our return to it, we found an open space on its summit to pitch our tents. It was a beautiful camp-ground; a thicket of firs secluded us; we had bilberry bushes and juniper, heath and moss in luxuriance. A steep and lofty bank of loose stones, covered with moss, sloped steeply to the river. From our camp we could command a view of the road crossing the river. At the side of the stream, on the opposite side the forest road, some green turf gave excellent pasture for our donkeys. The river wound its broken course round our camp, and was lost in the deep and tangled thickets. Esmeralda at once went down to the river, near where the road crossed, to wash. Noah had only one shirt, and he did not like to take it off to be washed, and be without one. At last we gave him one of our old white shirts.
Noah was delighted—“Dawdy!” said Noah, skippingabout, when he had put it on, and had given his own for his sister to wash. “Dawdy! mandy’s a Rye.”132
Presently two tourists crossed the river below, with their knapsacks and dogs; one traveller was tall, the other short, with sandy hair. The dogs commenced barking at the donkeys. They seemed surprised to see Esmeralda, apparently alone. Whilst calling their dogs away from our donkeys, they spoke to Esmeralda; as they looked up, they saw us looking down, from our camp.
Immediately after they came up, and we found them very agreeable; one spoke French. They had come from Christiania, and were going to the Krogkleven. They told us some news of the war. The tall tourist’s English dog sat up with a pipe in his mouth, and his master’s hat on. This formed an exception to our rule—no smoking in camp.
Before they left, Noah pitched our tents. Then Esmeralda came from her washing. They were much pleased with two copies of our songs, and, as they left, they said they should call on their return, but we never saw them again.
The aftens-mad consisted of soup, made of our last ham bones, Liebig’s essence, pea-flour, rice, and bread.
There is something delightful in the closing evening of the wild forest; the murmuring waters are below us; Esmeralda has gone into our tent; our visitors are gone. As we linger near, we can perceive that our Hobbenengree is surprised at the confusion in which we have left our things; she has turned aside our blue curtain, with its zig-zag braid, as she enters. Soon we hear anexclamation,—“Well, now, I’ll be blessed! Dableau! If the Rye hasn’t pulled out everything, and put nothing in! My word, I will warm somebody’s listner just now!”
Reader, we must plead to being rather absent. Our campaign is nearly ended; we are going to rest. Mephistopheles comes in. “Sir, I have just seen an adder in the stones below the tent.”
“Let the sapeau alone, Zachariah,” said we, not wishing to hear more about adders.
Our camp was soon buried in sleep.
On Sunday, 21st August, it was a beautiful morning, when we rose at four o’clock. Our breakfast consisted of cold ham bones, biscuits, and English cheese. About half-past ten o’clock we took Noah with us to Sandviken. Our route lay through Bœrums Verk. It is an interesting spot as belonging to one of the last Barons of Norway. A fine chateau stands upon the crest of a hill above the village, something in the style of Oscars-hall.
The Baron is a courteous and polite man. We at once noticed the influence and effect of such a mind upon the manners of his dependants. The Baron possesses large iron works at Bœrums Verk. The church near is built of bricks, and, for the first time in Norway, we heard bells. There is something about bells which reminds us of prayer, of peace, and contentment. At the inn at Sandviken we found every attention we could wish. They must have been somewhat astonished at tall Noah, my Sancho Panza, his trowsers being patched to the utmost extent human ingenuity could devise; they included the best part of a coat, amongst other additions.
At the inn at Sandviken there is a sort of travellers’ room. Our middags-mad consisted of a beefsteak each, at one mark six skillings the steak, and one bottle of Baiersk öl at twelve skillings; we gave the pige four skillings. Sandviken is a pleasant village, about nine miles from Christiania. We arranged for a carriole, from Sandviken to Christiania the next day, and, leaving, we reached our camp, at seven o’clock.
Esmeralda and Zachariah had not taken any dinner, but had waited our return. Mephistopheles had actually killed a snake in the stones near our tent. It measured one foot eight inches long, having a brown back, and black belly. It was the only one we saw in Norway; it was no myth; Mephistopheles said there were more.
Two tourists, when we returned, were looking at our tents, and talking to Esmeralda; they were going to take the steamer, at nine o’clock that night, from Sandviken, and were obliged to leave at once. They were very nice young fellows. As we sat in our tents, taking our tea, biscuits, and cheese, another party of tourists came, and bowed to us. When we had finished, a number of peasants congregated round our camp fire. They did not seem disposed to leave, although we were anxious to retire for the night. Mephistopheles at length approached the fire in a mysterious manner, and throwing into it some crumpled paper, walked away. They thought it explosive, for they quickly left.
Now the closing scenes of summer had come, we were told that the nights in Norway were cold, and frosty, from the 20th to the 23rd of August. No one will ever know our feelings as we paced, up and down,on this last evening of our camp wanderings. It was the last night of our tent life in Norway. Somehow even our donkeys seemed to take an enlarged sphere, in the region of our affections, as we viewed them, quietly grazing, in the picturesque ravine. A clinging affection seemed to return, now that we were about to bid adieu to our tents, equipage, to our gipsies, even to our donkeys; we were now to end our camp life, with our English gipsies, in this wild Norwegian forest.
We had for a time escaped from our books, which are as whetstones to the human understanding; yet, occasionally, they wear away the intellect, until it has nothing left to sharpen. Is it necessary to bestow so much time in classical study? There was a time when it entered largely into our necessities. Now there is a great change. Our intercourse with all parts of the world requires a knowledge of many modern languages. Life is short. One often doubts if competitive examinations are useful. Some individuals, all mind, and no energy, occasionally attain to positions, requiring more physical energy than mind, to the country’s disadvantage, and their own misery. Camp life is the obverse of book study; whilst it fosters the physical energy, it develops, and strengthens, the nervous system, and gives a self-reliance, which cannot be comprehended by the Kairengro, of what is called civilized life.
It is our last morning; we are up at four o’clock. Our breakfast consisted of bread and cheese, and tea. Noah was presented with another pair of trowsers, to appear at Christiania. Taking our courier bag, and a few books, and clothes, we left; reluctantly, we must say. More than once, we turned, as we saw our tentsabove the ravine. More than once, as we turned, we saw our beautiful Puru Rawnee on the greensward near the river; we had reached the top of the ascent. As we left the ravine, once more, we saw the form of some one coming after us—it was Esmeralda. Our camp life in Norway has ended.
ESMERALDA.
ESMERALDA.
“The King of the Gipsies, or El Capitan as he is called, is a fine musician, and we invited him to come up to the hotel one evening to play to us. Captain Antonio’s company is not to be had for the asking.... It was a wretchedly poor instrument, and we began to wonder what sort of torments were about to be inflicted upon us, when on a sudden the tuning ceased, and the music seized hold of us like galvanism; for it was such music as one had never dreamed of before.”Matilda Betham Edwards’Through Spain.133
“The King of the Gipsies, or El Capitan as he is called, is a fine musician, and we invited him to come up to the hotel one evening to play to us. Captain Antonio’s company is not to be had for the asking.... It was a wretchedly poor instrument, and we began to wonder what sort of torments were about to be inflicted upon us, when on a sudden the tuning ceased, and the music seized hold of us like galvanism; for it was such music as one had never dreamed of before.”
Matilda Betham Edwards’Through Spain.133
CHRISTIANIA—GENEROUS OFFER—ADVICE WE DO NOT TAKE—THE PAPER—VIKEN FISHERMEN—CHRISTOPHERSON’S—NORWAY FAREWELL—DONKEYS’ ACCOMMODATION—WANT OF FEELING—OUR STEWARD—THE GIPSIES’ FRIENDS—THE SPANISH COURIER—THE LITERARY AMERICAN—THE GIPSIES’ MAL DE MER—THE DONKEYS IN A SMOKE ROOM—THE LOST NECKLACE—ENGLAND’S SHORE—TO OUR READERS.
Very lightly shall we touch upon the remaining portion of our journey. A carriole from the Skyds Station at Sandviken conveyed us to the Victoria Hotel at Christiania. We had dined there on our first landing; we went there on our return. Every attention, and comfort, is to be found at the Victoria.
Our friend the Chevalier gave our gipsies a beautiful camp ground for the tents, on a wooded knoll, near the Christiania Fjord.
They were to follow us to Christiania the next morning after we left them.
About noon on the following day after our arrival, we strolled out of the city to meet them. Our gipsies had halted in the shade of some trees. A young officer had stepped down from his carriage, and was speaking to Esmeralda. The lady in the carriage had kindly offered them camping-ground on her property. It was kindly meant, but we had already arranged. The same evening, our gipsies were encamped near Christiania Fjord—the last camp of the English gipsies in Norway.
It seemed as if we had left the Bendigo, or the Goulborn gold-diggings, or some scenes of the boundless Bush forest of Australia, and had just come down to Melbourne. Australian readers will understand the feeling.
Our steamer would leave on Friday afternoon. It is the “Hero,” under command of Captain Nicholson.
We call at H. Heitman’s office, and showed our return ticket, and informed him that two of our donkeys would return with our party. H. Heitman made some objection about finding accommodation for the donkeys, and suggested leaving them behind. Either, said he, they must be on full deck, or go below. The full amount for their return passage had been paid as for horses, and they were entitled to proper accommodation. We said we had quite determined to take them with us.
The time passed quickly from Monday until Friday the 26th August. It is not our intention to give any description of Christiania. Excellent descriptions of all worth seeing in this beautifully situated capital, have been given by many English writers, and in Murray’s Guide Book. We like Christiania, for the home-like feeling we experienced, as we wandered through its streets, and conversed with its people. The city has nearly, if not quite,doubled, its population, within the last twenty years, Norway must advance.134It is a country where one breathes a true spirit of freedom. Norway exhibits an instance of the greatest amount of liberty being quite compatible with a monarchical form of government.
Sometimes we lounged at Paperviken, watching the anglers, as we waited for the steamer, when we were going to visit our friend the Chevalier.
The hospitality of the Chevalier and his agreeable wife was boundless.
We believe we only slept once in our room, at the Victoria. Then our host had friends, and very pleasant hours we spent with them.
One clergyman knew something of the Romany language, and was much interested in our gipsies. Then we had Norwegian souvenirs to purchase for our friends in England.
A camp kettle was purchased for tall Noah, exactly of similar pattern to that used by Ole Halvorsen. It was the one great wish of Noah’s existence. Esmeralda was not forgotten.
Then there was the usual lounge at that quaint old place 17 Store Strandgade, where you are sure to find Mr. Bennett, and some English tourists whose heads are full of carrioles, forbuds, fast and slow stations, routes, provisions for their Tine,135and a bewildering amount of small money of all sorts and sizes.
Then we met with our friend from the Poet’s House at Eisbod, who had quite recovered. He dined with us, and whiffed his cigar in the charming smoking, and lounging-room of the Victoria.
Nor did we forget to look into Christopherson’s dining-room, or take our cup of coffee under the verandah there, with its trees before it, and the small tables and chairs under it, reminding us of the Paris boulevards.
The weather was so sunny, the atmosphere so pure and clear, and our visit rendered so pleasant by kind friends, that with much reluctance we ordered our things to be taken from the Victoria to the steamer.
Christiania, with its palace, Storthing House, Library, Museum of Northern Antiquities and zoological collection; its Oscarshall with Tiedman’s paintings, the old castle of the Agershuus, must now be left.
Our gipsies left their last camp on the Christiania Ford that morning. The wooded knoll above the Fjord to the left of our engraving was the last camp of the English gipsies in Norway.
Parting souvenirs had been given them by our friends which showed the interest they had taken in them. All our baggage was safe on board the steamer, and our Puru Rawnee and Puro Rye were on deck.
The steam is up. We say farewell to our valued friend the Chevalier. The View of Scandinavian scenery he left in our hands, as a parting gift from his lovely young wife and himself, will always be prized. Adieu, also, to our friend from the “Poet’s House” at Eisbod. Adieu, Norway, adieu!!!
Esmeralda’s and Noah’s tambourines may never again be heard in the Norwegian valleys. Zachariah’s violin issilent. Our guitar is put up. Once more we say farewell!!!
We had our usual complement of passengers, officers, tourists, and fishermen, including our former fellow passengers, the officer and his handsome wife, with the Tyrolese hat and feather, and the portly gentleman, whom we had also met at Christiania. The Birmingham bagman had, somehow, not found his way out of the Horungerne mountains, or wherever he might be.
THE LAST CAMP OF THE ENGLISH GIPSIES IN NORWAY.
THE LAST CAMP OF THE ENGLISH GIPSIES IN NORWAY.
The vessel was well ventilated, but we preferred the “Albion;” the “Hero” being full-decked from stem to stern, there was very little shelter, except in the smoke-room.
We had a number of Norwegian emigrants, going to America, in the second-class cabins.
No accommodation had been provided for our donkeys. They were left to take their chance on deck, in a cold, damp night, at sea. When we went to see them, our Puru Rawnee looked as if she could have kicked H. Heitman overboard. Captain Nicholson did what he could for us, when we spoke to him about them. No agent of common feeling would have left them thus to take their chance. As God is to man, so man is to animals. Kindness is required from man to those living creatures created for his use.
We could not help liking Captain Nicholson. There was a manly spirit about him, and at the same time we saw he possessed a kindly heart. The sailors put up by his directions afterwards, a sort of rude tent of sails, under which our donkeys had to balance themselves, on the wet deck, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, and out of place. They had been exposed all the Friday night near the fore-hatchway, without the slightest shelter.
It so happened that by good fortune John Smith was our steward, his wife the stewardess. They are wonderful people. John Smith is slightly past the meridian of age; a little bald, but active and stirring, and of such energy! Always on his legs. He could far surpass the most distinguished, and eminent acrobat, in the way he balanced plates, dishes of fowl, bottles of champagne, anchovy sauce, wine glasses, and dozens of other things besides.
“Coming, sir. Iced champagne, if you please; who said seltzer water and brandy? Mange tak. Eating sir! nothing but eating!”
Impatient tourist.—“John Smith, you have not given me any sauce with my fish.”
“Caper, sir, or Worstershire? Coming, captain. Oh,dear! what are they about up there? Oh, here it is, all hot. That’s right,” says John Smith, balancing hot plates, on the tips of his fingers, as if he expected a round of applause from the passengers. “Here you are—hot plates, sir. Perry for you. Did you say tea? ver so artig. Sugar and cream—Tak skal de have. The year’s over—bang, bang. Thank goodness, here are some empty bottles broken—I did not know what to do with them. How could I find a father for so many dead men? Ah, pease pudding for you, sir—half a pound? No, not for you, sir. You, sir? Here it is on a smaller plate, so that you should not think it was the same. I wish I could change my name; I’m tired of hearing it. Have you everything you want, sir?” as he looked across the table at us. “More bread? here it is, sir,” and the identical John Smith still pushed about without assistance, but every finger, was worth its weight in gold.
On Saturday morning we came to Christiansand, and on going ashore received two letters from the post-office, paying eighteen skillings. They were both from some English gipsies, who expected we should be all killed in the war. Their ideas of geography were very loose.
Our gipsies are quitehors de combat, and wretchedly seasick and helpless. On Sunday, our last day at sea, the weather was rough, wet, and excessively disagreeable. We were up at five o’clock. Only four passengers, and Captain Nicholson, appeared at breakfast when we sat down.
A Mr. McG——, an old veteran fishing-tackle maker, was never sea-sick, and particularly hardy. The Honourable Mr. V——, who had camped out in America, with his tent, and the tall owner of the Rus Vand, wereamongst the passengers, who seem quite at home during the voyage.
The Honourable Mr. V—— was a fine-looking, handsome fellow, who had been fishing between Christiansand and Throndjhem.
Amongst other passengers we had an American gentleman, and his wife, and courier. His courier was apparently Spanish, and was much interested in our gipsies. He expatiated on the El Capitano of the gipsies at Granada. The tall, intelligent American gentleman, and his wife, we had observed at the table-d’hôte at the Victoria Hotel.
Before landing, he told several of us he was going to Ireland to examine for himself, and ascertain how it was possible so many uneducated, bigoted, quarrelsome, discontented, drunken people could be annually sent to the American shores, from any country supposed to be civilized, and under a good government.
Some passenger suggested, he would see the bright side of society when he reached Ireland, the Irish being extremely kind and hospitable.
The American passenger, said he would see the dark side also. He was a tall, intelligent-looking man, and evidently a man of observation.
Few of the passengers escaped sea-sickness. The captain told our gipsies that we stood the sea exceedingly well; our appetite was very good, and we were never unwell all the voyage.
Land was announced about eight o’clock. John Smith began lighting the saloon lamps; when they did not light readily, he said, “God bless the Queen and all the Royal Family!” which fervent, and loyal ejaculationseemed to facilitate amazingly the undertaking on hand.
When the saloon was lighted up, we could enjoy the views on the saloon panels, of Windsor Castle, and the King of Sweden’s palace at Stockholm, until John Smith suddenly said we had twenty-five miles of river before landing, which apparently dulled most of the passengers’ appreciation of the beautiful.
Several passengers were determined to go on shore when they had the opportunity, at any early hour in the night. Our donkeys were put near the engine boiler for warmth. The gipsies were dreadfully sea-sick, as we went to bed.
We were told that some time afterwards John Smith, who was at any hour, night and day, here, there, and everywhere, had been suddenly called to the smoke-room on deck. Some of the passengers, possibly belonging to the Humane Society, had placed our donkeys in the smoke-room. The biscuits on the table had rapidly disappeared.
Fancy John Smith in the dim light of the deserted smoke-room, with his head whirling round from his attendance on passengers, politely inquiring at the door what the gentlemen pleased to want.
Getting no answer, it seems he went in to see if the gentlemen were hopelessly sea-sick, and some jovial passenger, we were told, locked him in with his strange companions.136
By some means our steward was released, for he suppliedus with tea in the early morning, when we also settled our expenses, for the gipsies, and ourselves, at £3 9s.Nor did we forget John Smith’s and the second steward’s fee.
We had another item for corn, for our donkeys from Christiania—3 marks 16 skillings. We are afraid our faithful animals had a miserable voyage.
Our gipsies would require the donkeys before they reached their friends, and they ultimately found them somewhere in Gloucestershire. The Tarno Rye was left as a souvenir with the Chevalier, the only donkey we believe in Norway.137
Before we left the vessel, Esmeralda discovered that her necklace of blue and white beads, and Norwegian coins, had been stolen. Captain Nicholson, and the stewards, did all they could to recover it. Although not of much intrinsic value, it was a gipsy relic, which Esmeralda prized. We offered a reward, which was afterwards increased to £10, but without result.
Fortunately, another similar necklace was in the possession of the family. This was given to her, and we supplied other Norwegian coins in the place of those stolen.
As we left the Hero, and landed on England’s shore, John Smith was still on the wing, for a thousand different requirements. “Coming, sir! there is no peace for thewicked; I must be very wicked, I know I must.” Would that all discharged their duty as faithfully as John Smith!
Reader, I gently take you by the hand. We have met, but in the pages of this book. Yet, if you have followed us in our wanderings, we have made some sort of acquaintance. Perhaps we may meet again—perhaps not;—farewell.
So farewell,The students’ wandering life! Sweet serenadesSung under ladies’ Windows in the night,And all that makes vacation beautiful!—To you, ye cloistered shades of Alcalá,To you, ye radiant visions of romance,Written in books, but here surpassed by truth.Longfellow’sSpanish Student.
So farewell,The students’ wandering life! Sweet serenadesSung under ladies’ Windows in the night,And all that makes vacation beautiful!—To you, ye cloistered shades of Alcalá,To you, ye radiant visions of romance,Written in books, but here surpassed by truth.Longfellow’sSpanish Student.
ALLURING PROMISES—COMPLIMENT TO ENGLISHMEN—TRUE SKETCHES OF GIPSY LIFE—THE GIPSIES’ ORIGIN—YET A MYSTERY—ESMERALDA—NOAH AND ZACHARIA—BEFORE THE CURTAIN—THE END.
We have felt that the alluring promises of our fellow voyageurs must not be neglected. So many copies of this record of our wanderings already ordered. Even the Birmingham Bagman, of far-seeing speculative mind, had ordered two copies; this in itself would give confidence. What became of him we do not know. We trust he did not see fit to follow us, and so get lost in the Wild recesses of the Horungerne138. Again, much curiosity has been evinced by friends, to know the incidents of our expedition. Only a short time since, we received the following letter, from a French gentleman, who, although he has never been in England, is a devoted student ofthe English language. We know our friend will not be offended if we give the letter. There is so much genuineness of feeling about it, that the reader will not be surprised, if it added another reason to those mentioned:—
“I learn always English, but I am a dull learner. I not plod on, but I work on—gift comes by nature. I am steady, and I am not cast down by unsuccessfulness.
“You are upon a journey; doubtless you shall climb up some hill covered with snow, or you shall go into some country which the sun dry or dries up; or you will go into some old castle haunted by the ghosts, but you cannot light upon such buildings, amongst the Norwegians or in Australia.
“If you relate, or you give forth, which you saw, send me that writing. Write a letter, is a hard work to me, but translate, or read, is more facil.
“I am much pleased by reading the book you have presented me, I read it over. It affords illustrations of English character—daring, patience, energy, are the qualities of the Englishmen.
“I remain, &c.”
Again, our intention has been to give some truthful sketches of gipsy character, divested of any imaginary fiction.
Esmeralda, Noah, and Zachariah are, we believe, a fair average type of the true tenting gipsy. There has been a scrupulous avoidance of anything tending to gloss their faults. They are presented to the reader, rough as they are, surrounded with only such romantic interest as theyderive from the real occurrences, incidents, and adventures, which occurred in every-day life. We did not leave them any the worse than we found them; indeed, we trust that some influences may not be lost on their future. In utilising their rough gipsy energy, no attempt was made to struggle against the established instincts and traditions of their race. Past experience shows the inutility of all hope of much practical result in trying to do so. For some purpose we know not of, they have fulfilled, and now fulfil, a singular destiny. The facts before us, as given by the research of many authors, in various parts of Europe, leave no doubt as to the inscrutable hand of Providence, in their mission upon earth. Not before that is accomplished, will they, like other races, be blotted out.
Even to the present time, their origin is a mystery, not yet solved.139Their language, to which they have clung, as the drowning man clutches the straw, links them undoubtedly to a very early date, a bygone past, far remote in the history of men and nations.
Esmeralda! Oh, yes, my readers; the Rye has had painful experience of the Rawnee’s temper. She is now seventeen years of age, five feet eight inches high, and dark to the extreme gipsy eyes and hair. Yet she is honest, energetic, and kindly in disposition; which covers a multitude of faults, in these nomads of the world. She can sing, and she likes to dance. Yet she has much tact, control, and common sense. Few girls at Esmeralda’sage would have ventured with the Rye, and her brothers, over the sea to a distant land. She followed them through all their wild wanderings.140No! Esmeralda has something of the Cleopatra blood, which is not quite used up.
OLE HALVORSEN, OUR GUIDE.
OLE HALVORSEN, OUR GUIDE.
Well, readers, after all, Noah is not a bad young fellow, six feet high, without his boots, about which so much trouble had been taken, and which cost so much. He is in want of a wife. In camp, and out of camp, his temper is excellent. Noah at times is chaffy—Noah likes dancing. Noah is honest, and Noah likes his beer, when camp rules, which are very stringent, permit it. Noah can pack and pitch tents—can you doubt it? He packed our donkeys through Norway, and unceasinglyrockered his brother and sister, to use a mild term, whilst they did their share in that interesting department, and failed to hit his rigid regulations to a shade.
Well, readers, Zachariah, Mephistopheles, after all is a nice dark young fellow when you don’t put him out of temper, and then—we won’t say what. He can fish, go for vand, and light the yog.141He is honest—we hope he won’t be hung; at the same time our experience shows he cannot be drowned. If you attend our camp, he can play the violin.
LAST GROUP. FAREWELL!
LAST GROUP. FAREWELL!
As we are about to make our parting adieux, do we not hear some call for Uncle Elijah—Ezekiel—Uncle Sam of Bosbury—the beaux of the village, the Reindeer hunters, more than all, the pretty girl of Skeaker, and our many peasant friends. No one answers; where is our guide tolead the way? Ever ready, our gallant Ole Halvorsen, steps to the front, and for himself and them bids you all good-by.
Nor shall our gipsy band be wanting at the last. Come, Esmeralda, Noah and Zachariah—quick! Mephistopheles, to the front. Kind readers, we bid you all farewell.
And now, adieu I we must leave you,To wander o’er forest and fell,Our blessing for ever attend you,And echo our parting farewell!
And now, adieu I we must leave you,To wander o’er forest and fell,Our blessing for ever attend you,And echo our parting farewell!
The very important works relating to the Norwegian gipsies which have been compiled and published for the Norwegian Government, by Prœsten Eilert Sundt, are peculiarly interesting, not only as affording the most recent and reliable information regarding this singular people, but from the many details and facts which are noted, as to their modes of life, language, religion, customs, and occupations. The first work, “Beretning om Fante-eller Landstrygerfolket i Norge,” published in Christiania in 1850, followed by another edition, published, Christiania, 1852,142contain the results, and the most reliable information that Prœsten Sundt, then a candidate for holy orders, could collect during two years’ patient and persevering research. During this period, he was able to obtain with tolerable accuracy, their probable number, and a great amount of reliable information, relating to their habits, means of existence, and, above all, the prospect of inducing them to abandon their ordinary mode of life. Prœsten Sundt had many facilities to aid him in accomplishing this undertaking, with the sanction and authority of the Norwegian Government. He had free access to all local and public records and documents, and thus had unusual opportunities of satisfying himself, from time to time, and testing the truth and falsehood of the accounts given to him by the gipsies. Again, his clerical character was a ready passport to every village clergyman and Prœstgaard.
Prœsten Sundt describes the Norwegian gipsies as a race of yellowish-brown, black-haired people, having dark, piercing eyes, and who are of foreign and suspicious aspect. Wandering incessantly, up and down the country, they frequent the most devious and solitary roads and ways between Stavanger and Agershuus, and, northwards, away to Throndjhem and Finmark.
Their bands vary in number, and consist of men, women, and children, provided, sometimes, with horses, carts, and some few domestic animals, particularly pigs. They assume the most varied characters, and some of them are tinkers, sievemakers, horsedealers, and horse-doctors, and, in fact, follow many of those occupations generally adopted by the gipsies of every country, as most compatible with a roving life. Prœsten Sundt also states that many are plunderers and robbers, and our own experience has clearly shown, that the gipsies, deservedly or otherwise, have acquired a very indifferent reputation in Norway.143They are clearly regarded with far less favour than in England, where the romantic life they lead has furnished endless incidents for the novel, the drama, and the feuilleton of the press. This, and their strange, wandering life, and mysterious origin, may account in some degree for the passing interest they at times create and obtains for them, here and there,par souffrancethough it be, occasional shelter and protection. The earliest mention, according to Prœsten Sundt, of the gipsies in Norway, is to be found in an Ordinance of 1589, and he is of opinion that they did not enter by way of Denmark and South Sweden, but through the north of Sweden, and Duchy of Finland; in fact, through North Russia.
Another reason stated by Prœsten Sundt, why the gipsies are regardedwith a mixed feeling of fear and aversion, is on account of a belief, of which the Norwegian peasant cannot altogether divest himself, that the foreign-looking “Fanter” has power to bewitch both man and beast.
They invest these wanderers with supernatural powers, a power which has occasionally been attributed to some of the peaceful Laplanders, who dwell in Norwegian Finmark; for Laing says, in his work on Norway, page 411, when referring to the Laplanders, “The idea of witchcraft is not entirely worn out; and the bonder have many tales of the supernatural powers of the old fjelde women.”
Originally, these wanderers were all of pure gipsy blood; but in recent times they have gradually become, in many instances, mixed with a section of the Norwegian population, vagrant outcasts or “Skoiern,” a class which they would at one time have refused all intercourse with; and the result is, the occasional mixture of fair-haired children.
The blending of such a strain of Norwegian blood would not improve, but rather have a deteriorating effect. This has not happened to the same extent in England, where the admixture has often been from those of the better class of the English population, to the proportionate advantage of the gipsy tribe.
Yet, even in England, there is a feeling among gipsies, once still stronger than it is, against mixed marriages, and one of their own people is generally preferred to the gorgios.
Since the beginning of the present century, Norwegian laws relating to gipsies have been made much less stringent, and therefore more easily enforced. The regulations, also, with regard to all persons being required, at a certain age, to know how to read and write, and to be confirmed, has consigned many gipsies to prison, until they were sufficiently instructed, as mentioned at page 301 of this work.
From inquiries made by Prœsten Sundt, it appears that gipsies who remember “the good old times,” deeply lament their admixture with other blood, and formerly, according to their accounts, a gipsy woman who had consorted with a fair-skinned man, became “food for fire;” that is, she was tied to a stake, and burnt. In the case of male offenders, the old gipsy law was less severe; for they were expelled the tribe. His doom—“fallen i brodt”—was pronounced, and he became an outcast for ever.
It would appear that Prœsten Sundt’s efforts to reclaim the Norwegian gipsies met with little success, and he found much which led him to fear, that it is very improbable they will ever adopt the habits of civilised life. An irrepressible desire to wander seems natural tothe race; and even their children, adopted and well-treated by farmers and clergymen of the country, generally run away to the woods, in search of their relatives, as soon as they are able. From the accounts given by Prœsten Sundt, it would seem that the Norwegian gipsies are much lower in morality than the gipsies of some other countries. It is a mere chance if they are baptized; they seldom, if ever, frequent church; an impenetrable mystery surrounds the death of their aged people. No Norwegian pastor has ever been present at the burial of a gipsy, unless, indeed, we except such as may have died in prison. Though Prœsten Sundt carefully questioned the gravediggers of the parishes wherever he went, one alone was able to remember that he had once dug a grave for a gipsy.144
Nothing being known as to what becomes of their dead, it is not singular that the Norwegian people believe that the gipsies kill their aged parents and relatives, to save themselves the trouble of taking care of them. This conclusion is quite contrary to our own experience of the English gipsies, who exhibit great affection towards their agedpeople, many of whom have survived to great ages, receiving to the last constant care and attention.145
Prœsten Sundt says the gipsies vehemently deny that they kill their old people, but state that, in former days, the aged people killed themselves, and that even yet, weak folk end their days as their fathers did.
It may be imagined by some, that the gipsies may have been of the same race as the nomadic Laplanders, but it is conclusively shown that the Norwegian “Tatare” or “Fantefolket” are not in any way belonging, either in blood, or in language, to the Laplander of Finmark. With regard to language, it is entirely different, and we have extracted from Prœsten Sundt’s work, published in 1852, some words of comparison between the Norwegian gipsy and the Norwegian Lap, having added the synonymous English, English gipsy, Hindee, and Sanscrit words.