“That gipsy grandmother has all the appearance of a sowanee” (sorceress).—“All the appearance of one!” said Antonio; “and is she not really one? She knows more crabbed things, and crabbed words than all the errate betwixt here and Catalonia; she has been amongst the wild Moors, and can make more drows, poisons, and philtres than any one alive. She once made a kind of paste, and persuaded me to taste, and shortly after I had done so, my soul departed from my body, and wandered through horrid forests and mountains, amidst monsters and duendes, during one entire night. She learned many things amidst the Corahai, which I should be glad to know.”

Borrow’s Bible in Spain.

THE MEISGRIE—WE CROSS A RIVER—THE SLIPPERY ROCK—AN ACTIVE GUIDE—THE CARRIER’S AID—THE LAME HORSE—MELKE-DALSTINDERNE—THE STONY WAY—THE NEDREVAND—OLE’S NIGHT QUARTERS—THE LAKE BY MOONLIGHT—EARLY RISING—EISBOD ON THE BYGDIN LAKE—THE POET’S HOUSE—VINJE THE POET—THE POETICAL MORTGAGE—PLEASANT ACQUAINTANCE—OLD NORWEGIAN POETRY—THE REINDEER HUNTER—ESMERALDA CONDONED.

At twenty minutes past two o’clock we were up. Calling Ole and our gipsies, we had our grÖd and milk for breakfast. Our expenses at SkÖgadal amounted to nine marks eighteen skillings, as follows—

Some little delay occurred in getting the carrier and his horse. He was the husband of the woman of one of the soeters. She was a tall powerful woman, with a red face, and sharp temper, much older than himself. It was whispered that he had married her for her money. If he had, she had certainly the best of the bargain. Our tents and heavy baggage, were soon packed up in a meisgrie or crate, and slung up on the wooden packsaddle of the carrier’s horse. The Norwegian meisgrie is a capital contrivance. It is a kind of network made of birch twigs, which laces up with a long tie, one foot eleven inches long. It is very strong and very light. Wishing the soeter women farewell, and they seemed sorry to lose us, especially the music, we soon reached the river.

Our people and baggage were soon forded across. We remained behind with our three donkeys, having a tether rope stretching across the river. Fastening it with a noose round the Puru Rawnee’s neck, she was first pulled across, plunging and struggling to the other bank. The Tarno Rye was assisted through the stream in a similar manner. The Puro Rye saved us the trouble by jumping into the stream, to follow his companions. There was a loud outcry by the gipsies that he would be drowned, but he fought through the torrent famously, and reached the other bank in safety.

The view was beautiful as we looked up the SkÖgadal. The Melkadalstind towered above the mountain ranges, which closed the upper portion of the valley, leaving no outlet, but a stony col on the distant ridge. The occasional wooded sides of the valley, with firs, birch, and dark foliaged alder, relieved the valley from all appearance of desolation. The white foam of two torrents, and occasional patches of snow, on the mountain sides, at the head of the valley, contrasted well with wooded slopes which margined the winding stream.

We had now crossed the river, and, following over the broken ground of its right bank, we at length reached the head of the pleasant valley of SkÖgadal. Again we had to cross the SkÖgadals Elv now a narrow impetuous torrent, rushing forth from a glacier, at some distance to our right.

The carrier with his strong horse, for which he wanted sixty dollars, crossed easily enough. Noah and Zachariah managed somehow to get to the other side with the donkeys. The SkÖgadals Elv was now not very wide, but rapid, and over our knees, in the middle of the stream, which was icy cold. Never shall we forget Ole in a narrow part of the stream, out of which rose two rocks, balancing on one, whilst he steadied Esmeralda, who had jumped on the other. The torrent narrowed in its course, swift, and impetuous, occasionally laved with its flowing waters Esmeralda’s boots, as she stood on the slippery rock, preparing, with Ole’s assistance, to make another jump. It was a question for some minutes whether Esmeralda would not lose her foothold, and drag Ole after her, into the foaming waters.

The scene was charming, the reindeer hunter on one rock, Esmeralda on the other, both hand in hand. Balanced above the flowing waters; sometimes we thought Esmeralda was slipping backwards, now with Ole’s assistance she has recovered herself. Another jump across the foaming waters; Esmeralda hesitates. A word of encouragement, Esmeralda jumps. She has reached Ole’s rock, she balances again; thanks to Ole, by another hasty spring, she is safe on the other side.

Soon joining our party, we ascended a winding stony track from the SkÖgadal, passing through a col, we reached a second long wild valley, wild and stony in the extreme, here and there a glacier above. The fine peak of the “Melkedals” above us. Sometimes we skirted the margin of small sheets of water, and lonely mountain tarns. Over this long reach of broken rock we made our way slowly; at last we again ascended towards another col, to reach apparently another valley beyond. We had nearly reached the top of the ascent towards the next valley, when the carrier suddenly halted, and Ole said he wished to take something to eat. Our carrier was a quiet, spare, muscular, and not bad-looking man; we had noticed him when we crossed the river; no shouting, bustle, bewilderment, or gesticulation, he simply did quietly what he thought best. If it did not succeed, and we had all been drowned, it is doubtful whether he would have moved a muscle of his countenance. Yet he was not a man without feeling, and would probably have felt all the more. All was regulated to one steady pace for horse and man, and to save the world he would not have gone slower or faster. A fire was made with the roots of stunted juniper, and our water boiled for tea. Our carrier had only some fladbrÖd, and raw old bacon for his dinner. From our commissariat we supplemented it with tea, and brandy and water. It was soon found that when we had halted at twelve o’clock, he considered his bargain ended, and that he was entitled to his dollar, and an extra mark for his second horse, to cross the SkÖgadals river. It was thought we should have had his services for the best part of the day.

Ole asked our carrier to give us another hour which would make what he considered the value of the dollar, but the man would not go any farther; an extra mark would not tempt him. He had come eleven miles; one of his horse’s shoes was loose. Our gipsies thought he should have continued until one o’clock. Lending the man our hammer, and axe, to fasten the horse shoe on, which was much too small, we paid him his six marks. Advancing towards us in a solemn manner, he shook hands, and with his horse rather lame, he went off at the same regulated steady pace. If intelligence had been suddenly brought that the SkÖgadals soeter, had been burnt down, and his tall wife in it, we do not think he would have gone one step faster towards the scene of conflagration.

Noah! Zachariah! let the donkeys be loaded. Esmeralda clears our dinner service into the kettle bag. Ole is up and stirring; we are soon off at ten minutes past one o’clock. Our party was soon over the ridge; a long stony valley lay before us beneath the rugged steeps of the Melkedalstinderne. The donkeys did their best with their loads; the lift with the carrier’s horse in the morning, had been very useful. Ole had evidently resolved to make a determined push towards Eisbod. Many swift, but shallow streams coming from the glaciers above, were crossed without difficulty. With some perseverance the Melkedals vand106 is reached; it is called the oevre vand or upper lake. A still dark lake, nothing but masses of loose rocks for its shores. Ole said there were no fish in it. How we made our way over the loose masses of stone on the left bank, from one end to the other, is a marvel, sometimes up, sometimes down, with often nothing, but pointed rocks, for our loaded animals to stand upon. Noah did his best. At last the Puru Rawnee slipped with her load, and fell with her legs between the rocks. We were much afraid she would break or cut her legs all to pieces. She was quickly unloaded. By good fortune our handsome Puru Rawnee, had not broken any bones; the hair was bruised off in some places; she was able to go on. Quickly reloading again, we were thankful to leave the desolate shores of the Melkedals vand, still struggling on step, by step, with our tired animals; at length we reached a small wild mountain tarn. At one place we crossed the track of a reindeer; time was fast fleeting towards night, we could not very well camp where we were, nothing but rocky steeps, and loose masses of stone on every side, not a blade of grass to be seen for our donkeys. Leaving the lonely tarn we came to a mountain stream. Our route now became very steep, often down loose masses of rock. Ole and ourself had to lead the way, and occasionally form a rough road, or form steps with loose fragments of rock, to enable our animals to proceed. All the care of our gipsies was necessary. A false step by either of the donkeys would probably disable it for further exertion. At some places we had to pile up masses of stone for a considerable height, to enable the donkeys to descend the rough, and broken declivities of rock. Slowly and cheerfully we made our way, everyone doing his best. Now and then some small streams of water had to be crossed. Coming down a steep declivity we at length came in sight of the waters of the Melkedals, “Nedre Vand,” or the Lower Lake.

As the shades of night were fast descending, we reached the lake, and making our way slowly along the left bank, we halted on a slope, close to the shore of the lake. There was a semblance of green; just enough blades of grass, to enable us to fancy we were on turf. Seeing nothing but loose rocks beyond, we decided to stay.

“Well, sir,” said the gipsies, “where’s the fire?”

“Ah,” said Ole, “perhaps you can do without one this evening, or we will go on if you like.”

We determined to stay.

“It is uncertain,” said Ole, “if we come to any better camping-ground.”

Zachariah, who was always foremost in settling all matters, had first to be extinguished before we could light our camp fire at the Nedre Vand.

“Fire,” said we; “some fuel shall be found somewhere—warm tea we will have.”

The donkeys were soon relieved of their burthens. It is astonishing how soon men accustomed to camp life in the mountains, quickly avail themselves of all material. With a few roots, and some dry turf, our water soon boiled over a camp fire. We had never failed during our campaign. There is, besides, something very cheerful in seeing your fire in the shades of evening, on the shore of a lake. Our spirits were soon as gay as usual. After our tea, fladbrÖd and butter, Ole made himself comfortable under a rock. First, putting up some sods with a spade; then placing a large flat piece of turf, and stunted juniper roots above, Ole slipped himself under, and wrapping a handkerchief, and his bag of pig’s bristles round his neck and head, with our waterproof over all, was soon asleep.

Ole said we had travelled about seventeen miles from SkÖgadal soeter. At one time just before tea, Ole went up the ridge beyond our camp, to examine the way. He thought he heard a rifle shot, and might meet some reindeer hunters.

It was a beautiful moonlight night; we stood on the shores of the lake after all had gone to rest. There was our sleeping guide under his rock. There our sleeping gipsies ’neath their tents; near our camp our three gallant merles. They had indeed fought their way well for us; nor did we forget to caress them sometimes. The Puru Rawnee had to be bathed occasionally with a little weak brandy and water; sometimes to be strengthened up with a little bruise mixture; biscuit, and now and then a piece of bread, also fell to their share.

Beyond a picturesque island on the other shore, we could see a large glacier stretching apparently into the very waters of the lake.107 How beautiful in the moonlight below those wild peaks. There were some dark crevasses to be seen on the glacier’s surface. At times, in the stillness of the night, we could hear that sound peculiar to glaciers, a loud cracking noise, which echoed across the waters to our camp.

Up at half-past three o’clock. Zachariah! Vand! water! yog! fire! now quick, Noah! Our gipsies are up. Ole is up, of course. We saw him to bed, or we should think he sat up over night to be ready. Tea, fladbrÖd, and our last tin of potted meat, for breakfast. Tents struck; all moving along the slope from the lake at seven o’clock.

We slowly make our way over loose stones, and a mountain ridge is soon gained. We commence our descent towards the Lake Bygdin far below us. Descending carefully down a snow slope, we crossed a wild torrent. Sometime afterwards we reached the left slopes of Melkedalen, between the Grava Fjeld and Slaataafjeld. Still continuing our descent of Melkedalen, we reached the shores of a lake.

As we came in sight of this long, and beautiful lake, Ole pointed out the “Poet’s House” on a bold promontory. At the head of the lake we could perceive it. It has just the appearance of a newly-built chÂlet, or soeter; something lonely and picturesque in its position. Its association with poetry gave it a further charm.

We were still at some distance from the “Poet’s House.” Ole signalled for a boat. In the distance we could see some figures near the house, apparently watching our party. They were probably puzzled, as to who we could be, issuing forth in early morning, from the wild recesses, of Melkedalstinderne.

Two boats came to the shore where we were. All our baggage was placed in one; we handed Esmeralda into the other. Ole, Noah, and Zachariah started off on the donkeys to ford the river, and round the upper bend of the lake to the “Poet’s House.”

The boats glided on the smooth water of the lake. The sun gilded the lofty mountains on either shore; all quietude, peace, and contentment. The Norwegian poet has well chosen, thought we, this charming seclusion from the world.

Our boats rounded the promontory past the “chÂlet.” Two ladies, and three gentlemen were near it; some were seated, watching us as we came near. They were making use of a large telescope.

Our boatmen landed at some little distance past the “Poet’s House” on the beach of the promontory,—a sort of inland bay. As we came to the shore, we noticed a man seated near a hut, whisking a leafy branch over some dark looking pieces of meat, hanging from a line. We afterwards found it was rein-deer meat, being dried in the sun. The man was keeping the flies off, while the meat was being dried for future consumption.

Our baggage was all safely deposited on a pleasant slope of ground, not far from the rein-deer hunter’s hut. We had a good View of the “Poet’s House.” Ole, and Noah, and Zachariah soon joined us. Our boatmen were well satisfied with one mark. Noah and Zachariah had got their legs wet in crossing the river, but Ole had the forethought to take off his stockings, before he rode into the stream.

The history of the “Poet’s House” appeared to be as follows:—The wooden cottage, which consists of two small rooms only, cost 100 dollars, Norwegian money, or about 20l. English. The poet, Aasmund Olafsen Vinje, joined with others in the cost of erection. When the poet was required to pay 25 dollars, his stipulated share, he was unable to do so. He had certainly more than 25 pence, but he could only spare 5 dollars. This was certainly better than the man who owed 465l. 4s. 6d., and offered his creditor the 4s. 6d. Poets, somehow, are seldom wealthy. We have occasionally bright exceptions. Vinje was not one. To release the poet from his difficulty, it was agreed that he should mortgage his interest in the house, and write a mortgage in poetry for the sum. Vinje did this. The mortgage deed in poetry, will ever remain, a curious, and interesting association, with the “Poet’s House” on the Bygdin lake.108

Our experience does not enable us to give a single instance of any of the English lawyers writing a mortgage in poetry. The only instance we know of any legal document being written in poetry, in England, is the will of Sir Willoughby Dixon, of Bosworth Park, Leicestershire. It was written by himself. United to the refinement of the scholar, there is often a sharp, sound, practical hitting the-right-nail-on-the-head sort of ability, among the country gentry of England. A manly vigour of intellect, united to an intense love of honourable dealing, and fair play, in all the affairs of life.

A rein-deer hunter, a friend of Ole’s, soon afterwards came to us. He was a tall, spare, keen man, and brought some rein-deer meat up in a small wooden tub. We were afraid to buy more than one piece; the weather was hot, and the meat would not keep long. Another reason for not buying more rein-deer meat was, our chance of obtaining fish at the Tyen Lake, which we expected to reach the same afternoon. Our fire was soon lighted. One of the gentlemen from the “Poet’s House” came up. The gipsies were very busy preparing our dinner. A young Norwegian gentleman, who wore a uniform tunic and trousers of green cloth, came to our camp. He was fair and prepossessing. Amiability was written in his countenance, without looking in his hand. He spoke some English. After our meal, it was arranged we should pay himself and friends a visit at the “Poet’s House,” where they were staying. Tea, fried rein-deer, pickled walnuts, and fladbrÖd, formed our repast. A short man, in a leather jacket, trousers, and cap, came up, and we paid him sixteen skillings for the rein-deer meat.

Skeaker was before us. Resolving in our mind to go without our gipsies to the “Poet’s House,” we left them to pack up and load the donkeys, whilst we went with Ole to visit the poet’s retreat.

The chÂlet is built of logs, on a rising point of land, at the head of the lake. The first of the two rooms it contained, had a fireplace for cooking, and two boarded bedsteads, not unlike “bunks,” but more finished, and elaborate. The room had also one window, which would not open. A door gave entrance to the inner room, also provided with two similar bedsteads. The inner chamber was occupied by the ladies, and had only one window, which apparently did not open for ventilation. A beautiful bouquet of wild flowers, stood upon the room table; all was order and neatness. How soon we distinguished the female hand, in domestic arrangement.

The view from the chÂlet was a scene of enchantment, as we looked in the glorious midday sun, over the distant expanse of lake. On the left shore of the lake, rise the mountains of the Grava Fjeld, Galdeberg, the lofty SletmarkhÖ, and the Svartdalspiggne. Again, to our right, rise the wild mountain ranges of the DryllenÖset, Volaahornene, and OxendalsnÖset, the home of the rein-deer, the eagle, the wolf, and the bear.

The visitors at the “Poet’s House” appeared to do everything for themselves. They had, no doubt, their commissariat, like ourselves. The young ladies were very agreeable, and good looking. We were told they were the daughters of a banker. The elder gentleman of the party, who spoke a little English, pointed out some old Norwegian poetry, written in pencil, on the inner room door. They had been staying at the chÂlet about eight days. Often, in after life, shall we remember our pleasant visit, to the “Poet’s House,” on the beautiful Lake Bygdin.

On our return to our party, we found Noah had broken his Alpine stock. Zachariah had commenced fishing in the lake, but was referred by some man to a stream near, which Zachariah alleged was destitute of fish. Esmeralda was short and chaffy.

One rein-deer hunter, made a start for the mountains with the telescope. We were told that it belonged to Proesten Halling, who seemed either in person, name, or belongings, to be everywhere. The rein-deer hunter swung off at a jaunty pace, as if he would make short work of the very steep mountain before him. Ole said he was going to look out for rein-deer.

The party from the “Poet’s House” came up to see us off. They seemed interested in our equipment. We also showed the young ladies our guitar. A copy of our song, had previously been given to one of the party. With very little delay, we hastened away from this region of poetry. Esmeralda was getting impetuous. Even the donkeys, after all their mishaps during the previous day, were eager to proceed on the journey. With many adieux to the very pleasant visitors at the “Poet’s House” we left Eisbod, and the Bygdin Lake.109

Esmeralda was very determined, stepping after the baggage, as only a gipsy can step. Ole, of course, leads the way. Three merles loaded, Noah and Zachariah, and then Esmeralda, and then ourselves.

Esmeralda had been very quick in movement, up and down, and everywhere, with now and then, something to say. We were thankful when we were removed, with this restless orbit of our wanderings, from the “Poet’s House.” Yet she said soon afterwards, she had only pretended to be offended, we must think nothing of it. We were on the eve of fresh scenes, why should we remember a slight ripple on the glittering surface of the waters of Lake Bygdin.