Ulysses, having been directed by Nausicaa, reached the gate of the city, and was there met by Pallas in the guise of a maiden with an urn, who instructed him how to approach the king and queen. He passed through the town, wrapped in a cloud by Pallas, and paused on the threshold of Alcinoüs's palace.
For on every side beneathThe lofty roof of that magnanimous kingA glory shone as of the sun or moon.There from the threshold, on each side, were wallsOf brass that led towards the inner rooms,With blue steel cornices. The doors withinThe massive building were of gold, and postsOf silver on the brazen threshold stood,And silver was the lintel, and aboveIts architrave was gold; and on each sideStood gold and silver mastiffs, the rare workOf Vulcan's practised skill, placed there to guardThe house of great Alcinoüs, and endowedWith deathless life, that knows no touch of age.Along the walls within, on either side,And from the threshold to the inner rooms,Were firmly planted thrones on which were laidDelicate mantles, woven by the handsOf women. The Phæacian princes hereWere seated; here they ate and drank, and heldPerpetual banquet. Slender forms of boysIn gold upon the shapely altars stood,With blazing torches in their hands to lightAt eve the palace guests; while fifty maidsWaited within the halls, where some in quernsGround small the yellow grain; some wove the webOr twirled the spindle, sitting, with a quickLight motion, like the aspen's glancing leaves.The well-wrought tissues glistened as with oil.As far as the Phæacian race excelIn guiding their swift galleys o'er the deep,So far the women in their woven workSurpass all others. Pallas gives them skillIn handiwork and beautiful design.Without the palace-court and near the gate,A spacious garden of four acres lay.A hedge enclosed it round, and lofty treesFlourished in generous growth within,—the pearAnd the pomegranate, and the apple-treeWith its fair fruitage, and the luscious figAnd olive always green. The fruit they bearFalls not, nor ever fails in winter timeNor summer, but is yielded all the year.The ever-blowing west-wind causes someTo swell and some to ripen; pear succeedsTo pear; to apple, apple, grape to grape,Fig ripens after fig. A fruitful fieldOf vines was planted near; in part it layOpen and basking in the sun, which driedThe soil, and here men gathered in the grapes,And there they trod the wine-press. Farther onWere grapes unripened yet, which just had castThe flower, and others still which just beganTo redden. At the garden's furthest boundWere beds of many plants that all the yearBore flowers. There gushed two fountains: one of themRan wandering through the field; the other flowedBeneath the threshold to the palace-court,And all the people filled their vessels there.Such were the blessings which the gracious godsBestowed on King Alcinoüs and his house.Bryant's Translation, Book VII.
Penelope, weary of the importunities of the suitors, determined to end the contest by giving them the bow of Ulysses and allowing the one who could successfully send the arrow through the steel rings to become her husband. Having announced her intention, she ascended the stairs to the treasure chamber, where the bow was kept.
Now when the glorious lady reached the room,And stood upon the threshold, wrought of oakAnd polished by the workman's cunning hand,Who stretched the line upon it, and set upIts posts, and hung its shining doors, she loosedWith a quick touch the thong that held the ring,Put in the key, and with a careful aimStruck back the sounding bolts. As when a bullRoars in the field, such sound the beautiful doors,Struck with the key, gave forth, and instantlyThey opened to her. Up the lofty floorShe stepped, where stood the coffer that containedThe perfumed garments. Reaching forth her hand,The queen took down the bow, that hung withinIts shining case, and sat her down, and laidThe case upon her knees, and, drawing forthThe monarch's bow, she wept aloud. As soonAs that new gush of tears had ceased to fall,Back to the hall she went, and that proud throngOf suitors, bearing in her hand the bowUnstrung, and quiver, where the arrows layMany and deadly. Her attendant maidsBrought also down a coffer, where were laidMuch brass and steel, provided by the kingFor games like these. The glorious lady then,In presence of the suitors, stood besideThe columns that upheld the stately roof.She held a lustrous veil before her cheeks,And while on either side of her a maidStood modestly, bespake the suitors thus:—"Hear, noble suitors! ye who throng these halls,And eat and drink from day to day, while longMy husband has been gone; your sole excuseFor all this lawlessness the claim ye makeThat I become a bride. Come then, for nowA contest is proposed. I bring to youThe mighty bow that great Ulysses bore.Whoe'er among you he may be whose handShall bend this bow, and send through these twelve ringsAn arrow, him I follow hence, and leaveThis beautiful abode of my young years,With all its plenty,—though its memory,I think, will haunt me even in my dreams."She spake, and bade the master of the swine,The good Eumaeus, place the bow and ringsOf hoary steel before the suitor train.In tears he bore the bow and laid it down.The herdsman also wept to see againHis master's bow.
He (Telemachus) spake and, rising, from his shoulders tookThe purple cloak, and laid the trenchant swordAside; and first he placed the rings of steelIn order, opening for them in the groundA long trench by a line, and stamping closeThe earth around them. All admired the skillWith which he ranged them, never having seenThe game before. And then he took his placeUpon the threshold, and essayed the bow;And thrice he made the attempt, and thrice gave o'er,Yet hoping still to draw the cord, and sendAn arrow through the rings. He would have drawnThe bow at the fourth trial, but a nodGiven by his father caused him to forbear,Though eager for the attempt.
... And then Eupeithes' son,Antinoüs, to the crowd of suitors said:—"Rise one by one, my friends, from right to left.Begin where he begins who pours the wine."So spake Antinoüs, and the rest approved.Then rose Leiodes, son of Oenops, first.He was their seer, and always had his seatBeside the ample bowl. From deeds of wrongHe shrank with hatred, and was sore incensedAgainst the suitors all. He took the bowAnd shaft, and, going to the threshold, stoodAnd tried the bow, yet bent it not; it galledHis hands, for they were soft, and all unusedTo such a task.... The swineherd wentForward along the hall, and, drawing nearThe wise Ulysses, gave into his handsThe bow.
... but when the wary chiefHad poised and shrewdly scanned the mighty bow,Then, as a singer, skilled to play the harp,Stretches with ease on its new fasteningsA string, the twisted entrails of a sheep,Made fast at either end, so easilyUlysses bent that mighty bow. He tookAnd drew the cord with his right hand; it twangedWith a clear sound as when a swallow screams.The suitors were dismayed, and all grew pale.Jove in loud thunder gave a sign from heaven.The much-enduring chief, Ulysses, heardWith joy the friendly omen, which the sonOf crafty Saturn sent him. He took upA winged arrow, that before him layUpon a table drawn; the others stillWere in the quiver's womb; the Greeks were yetTo feel them. This he set with care againstThe middle of the bow, and toward him drewThe cord and arrow-notch, just where he sat,And aiming opposite, let fly the shaft.He missed no ring of all; from first to lastThe brass-tipped arrow threaded every one.Then to Telemachus Ulysses said:—"Telemachus, the stranger sitting hereHath not disgraced thee. I have neither missedThe rings, nor found it hard to bend the bow;Nor has my manly strength decayed, as theseWho seek to bring me to contempt pretend;And now the hour is come when we prepareA supper for the Achaians, while the dayYet lasts, and after supper the delightsOf song and harp, which nobly grace a feast."He spake, and nodded to Telemachus,His well-beloved son, who girded onHis trenchant sword, and took in hand his spear,And, armed with glittering brass for battle, cameAnd took his station by his father's seat.Then did Ulysses cast his rags aside,And, leaping to the threshold, took his standOn its broad space, with bow and quiver filledWith arrows. At his feet the hero pouredThe winged shafts, and to the suitors called:—"That difficult strife is ended. Now I takeAnother mark, which no man yet has hit.Now I shall see if I attain my aim,And, by the aid of Phoebus, win renown."He spake; and, turning, at Antinoüs aimedThe bitter shaft—Antinoüs, who just thenHad grasped a beautiful two-eared cup of gold,About to drink the wine. He little thoughtOf wounds and death; for who, when banquetingAmong his fellows, could suspect that oneAlone against so many men would dare,However bold, to plan his death, and bringOn him the doom of fate? Ulysses struckThe suitor with the arrow at the throat.The point came through the tender neck behind,Sideways he sank to earth; his hand let fallThe cup; the dark blood in a thick warm streamGushed from the nostrils of the smitten man.He spurned the table with his feet, and spilledThe viands; bread and roasted meats were flungTo lie polluted on the floor. Then roseThe suitors in a tumult, when they sawThe fallen man; from all their seats they roseThroughout the hall, and to the massive wallsLooked eagerly; there hung no buckler there,No sturdy lance for them to wield. They calledThen to Ulysses with indignant words:—"Stranger! in evil hour hast thou presumedTo aim at men; and thou shalt henceforth bearPart in no other contest. Even nowIs thy destruction close to thee. Thy handHath slain the noblest youth in Ithaca.The vultures shall devour thy flesh for this."So each one said; they deemed he had not slainThe suitor wittingly; nor did they see,Blind that they were, the doom which in that hourWas closing round them all. Then with a frownThe wise Ulysses looked on them, and said:—"Dogs! ye had thought I never would come backFrom Ilium's coast, and therefore ye devouredMy substance here, and offered violenceTo my maid-servants, and pursued my wifeAs lovers, while I lived. Ye dreaded notThe gods who dwell in the great heaven, nor fearedVengeance hereafter from the hands of men;And now destruction overhangs you all."He spake, and all were pale with fear, and eachLooked round for some escape from death.Bryant's Translation, Books XXI., XXII.
The national epic of Finland, the Kalevala, or Place of Heroes, stands midway between the purely epical structure, as exemplified in Homer, and the epic songs of certain nations.
It is a purely pagan epic, and from its complete silence as to Finland's neighbors, the Russians, Germans, and Swedes, it is supposed to date back at least three thousand years.
The first attempt to collect Finnish folk-song was made in the seventeenth century by Palmsköld and Peter Bäng. In 1733, Maxenius published a volume on Finnish national poetry, and in 1745 Juslenius began a collection of national poems. Although scholars saw that these collected poems were evidently fragments of a Finnish epic, it remained for two physicians, Zacharias Topelius and Elias Lönnrot, to collect the entire poem. Topelius, though confined to his bed by illness for eleven years, took down the songs from travelling merchants brought to his bedside. His collections were published in 1822 and 1831. Lönnrot travelled over Finland, collecting the songs, which he published, arranged in epical form, in 1835. A revised edition was published in 1849.
The Kalevala consists of fifty parts, or runes, containing twenty-two thousand seven hundred and ninety-three lines. Its historical foundation is the contests between the Finns and the Lapps.
Its metre is the "eight syllabled trochaic with the part-line echo," alliteration also being used, a metre familiar to us through Longfellow's "Hiawatha."
The labors of a Wolf are not necessary to show that the Kalevala is composed of various runes or lays, arranged by a compiler. Topelius and Lönnrot were conscientious collectors and compilers, but they were no Homers, who could fuse these disconnected runes into one great poem. The Kalevala recites many events in the lives of different heroes who are not types of men, like Rama, or Achilles, or Ulysses, but the rude gods of an almost savage people, or rather, men in the process of apotheosis, all alike, save in the varying degrees of magic power possessed by each.
The Finnish lays are interesting to us because they are the popular songs of a people handed down with few changes from one generation to another; because they would have formed the material for a national epic if a great poet had arisen; because of their pictures of ancient customs, and particularly the description of the condition of women, and because of their frequently beautiful descriptions of nature. But because they are simply runes "loosely stitched together" we can regard them only with interest and curiosity, not with admiration.
Andrew Lang's Homer and the Epic, pp. 412-419;
Andrew Lang's Kalevala, or the Finnish National Epic (in his Custom and Myth), 1885, pp. 156-179;
C. J. Billson's Folk-songs, comprised in the Finnish Kalevala, Folk-Lore, 1895, vi. pp. 317-352;
F. C. Cook's Kalevala, Contemporary, 1885, xlvii., pp. 683-702;
Preface of J. M. Crawford's Translation of the Kalevala, 1891.
The Kalevala, Tr. by J. M. Crawford, 2 vols., 1891;
The Kalevala, Tr. by W. F. Kirby, through the German translation of Schiefner;
Selections from the Kalevala, Tr. from a German version by J. A. Porter, with an introduction and analysis of the Poem, 1868.
Wainamoinen was born upon the ocean after his mother, Ilmatar, daughter of the illimitable Ether, had floated upon its surface for more than seven hundred years. During this time Ilmatar had created the islands, the rocks, and the continents. After eight years of swimming through the ocean, studying his surroundings, Wainamoinen left the waters and swam to a barren promontory, where he could rest himself on dry land and study the sun, the moon, and the starry skies. At last he called to him Pellerwoinen, that the slender youth might scatter seeds broadcast upon the island, sowing in their proper places the birch, the alder, the linden, the willow, the mountain ash, and the juniper. It was not long until the eyes of the sower were gladdened by the sight of trees rising above the hitherto barren soil.
But as Wainamoinen cast his eyes over the place he perceived that the oak, the tree of heaven, was wanting. The acorn planted in the sterile soil developed not until Tursas, the giant, arose from the ocean, burned some meadow grasses, and raking together the ashes, planted therein the acorn, from which soon sprang up a mighty oak-tree whose branches hid the sun rays and the starlight.
The oak-tree must be felled if the land was to prosper, but who could fell it? "Help me, Kapé, daughter of the Ether, help me, my ancient mother, to uproot this terrible tree that shuts out the sunshine," cried Wainamoinen.
Straightway arose from the ocean a little being clad in copper,—cap, boots, gloves, and belt. He was no longer than a man's forefinger, and the blade of the hatchet at his belt was but a finger's breadth. "Art thou divine, or human?" queried Wainamoinen. "Tell me who thou art. Thou surely hast the bearing of a hero, though so small. But thou must be of the race of the pygmies, and therefore useless."
"I came here to fell the oak," replied the pygmy. "I am a god and a hero from the tribes that rule the ocean."
"Never canst thou lop the branches of this mighty tree," replied Wainamoinen.
As he spoke, the pygmy became a giant; with one step he left the ocean, and stood piercing the clouds with his head. He whetted his hatchet on the great rocks, and with three steps reached the tree; with four blows felled it. The trunk fell eastward, its tops westward, the leaves to the south, the hundred branches to the north. Full of magic power were the parts of this tree, and happy was he who possessed himself of some part of it.
Then vegetation flourished, the birds sang happily in the trees, and all was well except that barley was wanting. On the ocean strand Wainamoinen discovered the barley seed; and, advised by the birds how to plant it, was soon gratified by the sight of the growing barley. His next act was to clear the forest; but he left the slender birch for the birds to nest in, thus winning the gratitude of the silver-voiced singers.
In the land of Kalevala, Wainamoinen passed many happy years, and the fame of his wonderful songs of wit and wisdom spread even to the land of the Lapps, in the dismal north, where lived Youkahainen, a young minstrel. Against the advice of his parents, the youth, filled with jealousy, visited Kalevala, to hold a singing contest with Wainamoinen.
He proudly displayed his wisdom to the old minstrel, who laughed at it as "women's tales and children's wisdom," and when Youkahainen declared in song that he was present at the creation, Wainamoinen called him the prince of liars, and himself began to sing. As he sang, the copper-bearing mountains, the massive rocks and ledges, trembled, the hills re-echoed, and the very ocean heaved with rapture. The boaster stood speechless, seeing his sledge transformed into reed grass and willows, his beautiful steed changed to a statue, his dog to a block of stone, and he himself fast sinking in a quicksand. Then comprehending his folly, he begged his tormentor to free him. Each precious gift he offered for a ransom was refused, until he named his beautiful sister Aino. Wainamoinen, happy in the promise of Aino for a wife, freed the luckless youth from his enchantment, and sent him home.
Aino's mother was rejoiced to hear that her daughter had been promised to the renowned Wainamoinen; but when the beautiful girl learned that she was tied by her brother's folly to an old man, she wandered weeping through the fields. In vain her mother and father sought to console her; she wept for her vanished childhood, for all her happiness and hope and pleasure forever gone. To console her daughter, the mother told her of a store of beautiful ornaments that she herself had worn in girlhood; they had been given her by the daughters of the Moon and Sun,—gold, ribbons, and jewels. Beautifully arrayed in these long-concealed ornaments, Aino wandered through the fields for many days, bewailing her sad fate. On the fourth day, she laid her garments on the sea shore, and swam out to the standing rock, a little distance from the shore. No sooner had she clambered on the rainbow-colored rock than it turned and fell to the bottom of the sea, carrying with it the weeping maiden, chanting a farewell to her family. The fleet and haughty hare bore the news of her death to the household, where her unfortunate mother sat weeping, urging other mothers never to force their daughters to wed against their choice. The tears that rolled down her cheeks formed three streamlets, that, growing larger, became torrents with foaming cataracts. From the cataracts towered three pillared rocks upon which rose three hillocks, and upon each hillock sprang a birch-tree. On the summit of each tree sat a golden bird singing; and the first sang, for three moons, his song of "Love! O Love!" the second called for six moons, "Suitor! Suitor!" but the third bird sang forever his sad song of "Consolation! Consolation!"
Wainamoinen was deeply grieved when he heard of the fate of the lovely Aino, and he at once went to angle in the deep where dwelt the mermaids, the daughters of Wellamo.
After he had fished many days in vain, he caught a wondrous salmon, larger and more beautiful than he had ever before caught. But as he took out his silver knife to cut it, the fish sprang from his hand into the deep, telling him that it was Aino who had thus come to him, and whom he had now lost forever by his stupidity. Then indeed the song of the golden bird seemed sad to Wainamoinen, and he was disconsolate until his mother spoke to him from her grave: "My son, go north and seek thy wife. Take not a silly Lapp, but choose one of the daughters of Suomi."
Quickly Wainamoinen prepared for his journey, and mounted his magic steed, that galloped over the plains of Kalevala and crossed the waste of blue sea-water as though it were land.
But the envious Youkahainen was informed of the journey, and had prepared a cruel cross-bow and three poisoned arrows. In spite of the protests of his mother, he waited for the hero and shot at him three times. The third arrow struck Wainamoinen's horse, which sank to the bottom of the ocean, leaving the hapless rider struggling in the water. "Seven summers must he tread the waves," chuckled Youkahainen; "eight years ride the billows."
For six days Wainamoinen floated on the waters; then he was rescued by a huge eagle that carried him on its back to Pohyola, the dismal Sariola, and left him on a barren promontory, where he bemoaned his unhappy fate. Here he was found by Louhi, the toothless dame of Pohyola, who took him home and fed him. Then she promised to provide him with a sledge that he might journey safely home if he would forge for her the Sampo, a magical jewel that gave success to its possessor. If he could make her this, she would also give him her daughter in marriage. "I cannot forge the Sampo, but if thou wilt help me to my distant country I will send thee my brother Ilmarinen, the blacksmith, who can forge for thee the magic Sampo, and win thy beautiful daughter."
Louhi provided a sledge and horse, and as Wainamoinen seated himself she warned him, as he journeyed, not to look upward before nightfall, or some great misfortune would befall him.
The maiden of the Rainbow, beautiful daughter of Pohyola, was sitting on the rainbow weaving, and Wainamoinen, hearing the whizzing of the loom, forgot the warning, and, looking up, was filled with love for the maiden.
"Come to me," he cried.
"The birds have told me," she replied, "that a maiden's life, as compared to a married woman's, is as summer to coldest winter. Wives are as dogs enchained in kennels."
When Wainamoinen further besought her, she told him that she would consider him a hero when he had split a golden hair with edgeless knives and snared a bird's egg with an invisible snare. When he had done these things without difficulty, she demanded that he should peel the sandstone, and cut her a whipstick from the ice without making a splinter. This done, she commanded that he should build her a boat from the fragments of her distaff, and set it floating without the use of his knee, arm, hand, or foot to propel it.
While Wainamoinen was engaged in this task, Hisi, the god of evil, caused him to cut his knee with the axe. None of his charms availed to stanch the blood, so he dragged himself to his sledge and sought the nearest village. In the third cottage he found a graybeard, who caused two maids to dip up some of the flowing blood, and then commanded Wainamoinen to sing the origin of iron. The daughters of Ukko the Creator had sprinkled the mountains with black, white, and red milk,—from this was formed iron. Fire caught the iron and carried it to its furnace, and later Ilmarinen worked the unwilling metal into various articles. As he sought something to harden it, Hisi's bird, the hornet, dropped poison into the water; and the iron dipped into it, formed the hard steel, which, angry because it could not be broken, cut its brother, and vowed that it would ever cause man's blood to flow in torrents.
The old man then addressed the crimson stream flowing from the wound, and prayed to mighty Ukko to stop it.
When it ceased to flow at his prayer, he sent forth his son to gather various charmed plants, steep them, and make a magic balsam. After many attempts the son was successful; and the balsam, applied to Wainamoinen's wound, healed it immediately.
Wainamoinen returned home and sought Ilmarinen, who refused to go north to forge the Sampo. Inducing his brother to climb a lofty fir-tree to bring down the Moon and the Bear he had conjured there, the wizard caused a great storm-wind to arise and blow Ilmarinen to the woodlands of Pohyola.
There the blacksmith at once set up a forge, and after four days' work saw the Sampo rising from the furnace, its many colored lid rocking and grinding, every day, many measures of meal.
Joyfully Louhi received the magic Sampo and locked it in a secret chamber under the copper-bearing mountains. But when Ilmarinen asked for the hand of the Rainbow Maid, he was refused. "Never shall I, in my lifetime, say farewell to maiden freedom." So the blacksmith was compelled to return alone to Wainola.
While Ilmarinen was forging the Sampo and Wainamoinen was building the magic boat, Lemminkainen, or Ahti, the reckless wizard, king of the islands, was longing for a bride from Ehstland. In spite of his mother's entreaties, Lemminkainen went to Ehstland, and when he found it was impossible to gain the favor of Kylliki, the Sahri maid of beauty, he carried her off by force in his sledge. She became reconciled to him when he promised that he would never go to battle, and she in turn vowed that she would not visit the village dances. They lived happily together until Lemminkainen tarried late at the fishing one evening, and Kylliki went to the village dance. When Lemminkainen returned, his sister told him of Kylliki's broken vow; and in spite of the prayers of his mother and wife, the hero declared that he would break his promise and go to war. To the Northland he would go, and win another wife. "When my brush bleeds, then you may know that misfortune has overtaken me," he said angrily, flinging his hairbrush at the wall.
Through many dangers he passed unscathed by the aid of his magic, until he stood in the halls of Louhi and asked for her daughter, the Rainbow Maiden.
"First bring me the wild moose from the Hisi-fields and forests," said Louhi.
From Kauppi, able smith, Lemminkainen procured the wondrous snow-shoes; but Hisi, who heard the boasts of the hero, fashioned a wild moose that ran so rapidly that Lemminkainen could not overtake it, but broke his snow-shoes in the race. He besought Ukko and the mistress of the forest and her king, and at last, with their aid, the moose was captured and led home to Louhi.
"Now bridle the flaming horse of Hisi," said she.
The mighty stallion stood on the Hisi mountain, breathing fire and smoke. When the hero saw him he prayed to Ukko, "Let the hail and icy rain fall upon him." His prayer was granted; and, going forward, Lemminkainen prayed the steed to put its head into the golden head-stall, promising to treat it with all gentleness. Then he led it to the courts of Sariola.
"Now kill for me the swan that swims in Tuoni, the black death-river. One shot only canst thou have. If thou succeed, then mayst thou claim thy bride."
When Lemminkainen entered Pohyola he had slain all his opponents but one blind shepherd, whom he spared because he despised his helplessness. This object of his scorn was waiting for him, and when Lemminkainen approached the river he fell by a shot from the enemy, regretting, as he died, that he had not asked his mother's advice before attempting to reach Tuoni.
Nasshut, the shepherd, threw the hero's body into the river, where it was seized and cut in pieces by the son of Tuoni.
At home the mother and wife awaited anxiously tidings of their hero. When they saw blood trickling from the brush, the mother could wait no longer, but at once set out for the dreary Northland. After repeated threats, she wrested from Louhi the fact that her son had gone to Tuoni; from the Sun she learned his fate.
Quickly seeking Ilmarinen, the mother bade him forge for her a mighty rake. With this she raked the deep death-river, collected the pieces of the hero, bound them together with the aid of the goddess Suonetar, and making a balsam, the materials for which were brought her by the bee, she healed her hero son, comforted him, and led him back to Kalevala.
In the mean time, Wainamoinen, who was building his boat for the Rainbow Maid, found that he had forgotten three magic words with which to fasten in the ledges and complete the boat's forecastle.
After examining in vain the mouths of the wild animals, he sought the dead hero Wipunen, forced open his jaws, and accidentally fell into his mouth. Wipunen quickly swallowed him; but Wainamoinen, setting up a forge in his body, caused him such discomfort that the giant was glad to give his information, and get rid of his unwelcome visitor. Having thus learned the secrets of the ages, and among them the three magic words, Wainamoinen hastened home and finished his boat.
The boat builded, he at once set out for the Northland to woo the Rainbow Maid. The boat was bedecked with silver and gold, and the linen sails were blue, white, and scarlet. The sails were merely for ornament, however, for the boat moved over the ocean without the aid of oars or sails. Wainamoinen's departure from Kalevala was observed by Anniki, the sister of Ilmarinen, who at once told her brother. With her assistance, Ilmarinen cleansed the black from his ruddy countenance, and jumping into his sledge, was soon on the way to Sariola. The approach of the heroes was perceived by Louhi. "Daughter," said she, "the old man brings thee a boat full of treasures; take him. Do not wed the empty-handed youth."
"Thy advice is good, but I will not take it. The young man shall be my husband."
When Wainamoinen was refused in spite of his gifts, Louhi addressed herself to Ilmarinen, and set him, in turn, three tasks: to plough the serpent field of Hisi, to muzzle Tuoni's bear, and to catch the pike of Mana, in the river of Tuoni.
With the help of his sweetheart, Ilmarinen accomplished these tasks, and the wedding day was set. Old Wainamoinen, heavy hearted, journeyed homeward, and sent the edict to his people that in the future old men should not go wooing, or strive with younger men.
Great preparations were made for the wedding feast; the mighty ox of Karjala was slain, and for the first time, beer was brewed in Pohyola. Invitations were sent to all the people of Pohyola and the tribes of Kalevala, to all save Lemminkainen.
When Ilmarinen returned for his bride, he was received with honor, and the wedding feast was merry. But when the time came to take the bride away, the Rainbow Maid was unwilling, she who before had been so ready to go with him. Many times had she been told of the miseries of the wife: her husband's slave, her whole life one of service, one long endeavor to please her husband's mother and father. After her lament, Osmatar, the Bride-adviser, instructed her how to please her husband's family, and admonished Ilmarinen to guard well his Bride of Beauty. Then the two set forth together, the Rainbow Maid shedding many tears at parting with her loved ones.
The bride and groom were received with joy by Ilmarinen's family, and old Wainamoinen himself sang at the wedding feast.
But Lemminkainen was angry because he had received no invitation to the wedding, and in spite of his mother's advice, set out to make war against the Lapps. He successfully overcame all the terrors that beset him, and reached Sariola, but was so coldly received there that, enraged at such treatment, he slew his host, the landlord of Pohyola, and fled homeward to escape the hosts whom Louhi called to defend her.
His mother sent him to the isle of refuge to escape the northern hosts. In the centre of the tenth ocean it rose, the refuge of his father; there he must abide three years, and must take a vow not to fight again for sixty summers.
The three years passed speedily on the happy isle, where dwelt many maidens who admired the reckless hero, and he departed just in time to escape the swords of the jealous heroes of the isle. His ancient home was in ashes when he returned, his mother missing; but while he mourned for her, he chanced upon her, hiding from the Lapps in the forest. Again he determined to seek out his enemies and be revenged on them. Taking with him his friend Tiera he sought the north, but was met by the Frost-Fiend and compelled to return.
To the house of Ilmarinen the blacksmith, was sold by Untamoinen a slave, Kullervo. He was a giant who had done naught but evil, until in despair his master sold him to the blacksmith. Kullervo, or Kullerwoinen, was made a shepherd and sent forth with the flocks. But rage at the blacksmith's wife, who baked a stone in his bread on which he broke the magic knife of his people, caused him to transform the flocks into wolves, who tore the Rainbow Wife to pieces when she went to milk them.
Then Kullerwoinen fled from the blacksmith, and set out to find his tribe-people, but on the way unknowingly corrupted his sister, and in despair at his evil deeds, destroyed himself.
Ilmarinen was full of grief at the loss of his wife. Unhappy and restless, he forged for himself a bride of gold; but the image failed to satisfy him, and Wainamoinen, reproving him, forbade his people in the future to worship any graven image. Then the blacksmith again sought the north to win the sister of his former bride, but was met with bitter reproaches for the sorrow he had brought upon the family. Nevertheless, he seized the maiden to carry her away, but she was so angry and so unhappy that he changed her to a seagull and came home wifeless and sad.
Wainamoinen and Ilmarinen soon conceived the idea of going to the Northland to win back the Sampo. On the way they allied to themselves the wizard Lemminkainen. As they approached the whirlpool near Pohyola, their vessel stuck on the shoulders of a great pike. When neither Lemminkainen nor Ilmarinen could slay it, Wainamoinen impaled it on his fire-sword, and the three banqueted on the great fish. From its bones, Wainamoinen framed the first harp. No one could win music from it but its creator; but when he touched its strings and sang, the very trees danced about him, wild animals lay in peace at his feet, and the hearts of men were ravished. As his listeners wept at the strains, Wainamoinen's tears rolled down into the ocean. Thence the duck brought them, changed to pearls, receiving for a reward its beautiful coat. Such was the origin of sea-pearls.
When Wainamoinen had put the inhabitants of Pohyola to sleep with his magic music, the heroes found the Sampo with little difficulty, and bore it away from the copper mountain. But as they hastened home, the discordant voice of Lemminkainen, who sang for joy of their capture, caused the crane to screech, and the bird's cry roused the people of Pohyola. Louhi speedily discovered her loss, and started in pursuit of the heroes. In various ways she attacked them,—with war ships that were stopped by a reef conjured up by Wainamoinen, by a terrible storm, and by a giant eagle that perched on their boat. In their struggle with her the Sampo was broken and its fragments scattered on the ocean. Louhi left them, uttering dire threats; and Wainamoinen, gathering up what fragments of the Sampo he could find, buried them where they would bring prosperity to his people.
Now Wainamoinen longed to sing to his harp to rejoice the hearts of his people, but the magic instrument had been lost in the storm conjured by Louhi. After raking the sea for it in vain, he constructed a new harp from the birch-tree, and delighted the people with his songs.
In revenge for the theft of the Sampo, Louhi sent nine diseases upon Wainamoinen's people,—colic, pleurisy, fever, ulcer, plague, consumption, gout, sterility, and cancer, the offspring of the fell Lowyatar; but by the use of vapor baths and balsams Wainamoinen healed his people. Then Louhi sent Otso the Bear, the honey-eater, but he was slain by the hero, who made a banquet of his flesh for the people. Enraged at her failures, she stole the sun, moon, and fire, and left Kalevala in darkness. Ukko, taking pity on his people, struck lightning from his fire-sword and gave the fire-child to a virgin to be cared for. In an unguarded moment it sprang earthward, fell into the sea, and was swallowed by a fish, that, in the agonies of torment, was swallowed by another. Wainamoinen went fishing with Ilmarinen, and at last caught the gray pike,—found in it the trout, found in the trout the whiting, and in the whiting the fireball. When he attempted to seize the fireball he burned his fingers, and dropped it. Ilmarinen did likewise. Then the ball rolled rapidly away until Wainamoinen caught it in an elm-tree, and took it home to gladden his people. Still they were cheerless without the sun and moon, and Wainamoinen was obliged to go to Louhi and compel her to give up the sun and moon. When he returned there was joy in Kalevala.
In the Northland dwelt a happy maiden, Mariatta, who, eating of the magic berry, as she wandered one day in the fields, bore by it a child which she called Flower. Her parents cast her off, and as no one would take her in, she was compelled to go to the flaming steed of Hisi, in whose manger the child was born. Once when she slumbered the child vanished, and she sought for it in vain, until told by the sun that it was in Wainola, sleeping among the reeds and rushes.
The child grew in grace and beauty, but no priest would baptize him, all saying that he was a wizard. Wainamoinen, too, counselled that he be destroyed; but when the two weeks old babe lifted its head and reproached him, saying that he had committed many follies but had been spared by his people, Wainamoinen baptized him, and gave him the right to grow a hero and become a mighty ruler over Karyala.
As Wainamoinen grew feeble with the passing years, he built himself a boat of copper, and singing a plaintive song in which he said the people of Suomi would look forward to his return as a time of peace and plenty, he set forth, sailing through the dusk of evening to the fiery sunset, and anchored in the purple horizon, leaving behind him for an heritage his harp, his wondrous songs, and his wisdom sayings.
Ilmarinen, the blacksmith, visited the Northland, won the Rainbow Maid, and successfully performed the tasks set by her mother Louhi. Great preparations were made in Pohyola for the wedding, and the coming of the bridegroom was anxiously expected.
Louhi, hostess of the Northland,Ancient dame of Sariola,While at work within her dwelling,Heard the whips crack on the fenlands,Heard the rattle of the sledges;To the northward turned her glances,Turned her vision to the sunlight,And her thoughts ran on as follow:"Who are these in bright apparel,On the banks of Pohya-waters,Are they friends or hostile armies?"Then the hostess of the NorthlandLooked again and well considered,Drew much nearer to examine,Found they were not hostile armies,Found that they were friends and suitors;In the midst was Ilmarinen,Son in-law to ancient Louhi.When the hostess of PohyolaSaw the son-in-law approaching,She addressed the words that follow:"I had thought the winds were raging,That the piles of wood were falling,Thought the pebbles in commotion,Or perchance the ocean roaring;Then I hastened nearer, nearer,Drew still nearer and examined,Found the winds were not in battle,Found the piles of wood unshaken,Found the ocean was not roaring,Nor the pebbles in commotion;Found my son-in-law was comingWith his heroes and attendants,Heroes counted by the hundreds."Should you ask of me the question,How I recognized the bridegroomMid the host of men and heroes,I should answer, I should tell you:'As the hazel-bush in copses,As the oak-tree in the forest,As the moon among the planets;Drives the groom a coal-black courser,Running like a famished black-dog,Flying like the hungry raven,Graceful as the lark at morning,Golden cuckoos, six in number,Twitter on the birchen cross-bow;There are seven blue-birds singingOn the racer's hame and collar.'"Noises hear they in the court-yard,On the highway hear the sledges.To the court comes Ilmarinen,With his body-guard of heroes;In the midst the chosen suitor,Not too far in front of others,Not too far behind his fellows.Spake the hostess of Pohyola:"Hie ye hither, men and heroes,Haste, ye watchers, to the stables,There unhitch the suitor's stallion,Lower well the racer's breast-plate,There undo the straps and buckles,Loosen well the shafts and traces,And conduct the suitor hither,Give my son-in-law good welcome!"Ilmarinen turned his racerInto Louhi's yard and stables,And descended from his snow-sledgeSpake the hostess of Pohyola:"Come, thou servant of my bidding,Best of all my trusted servants,Take at once the bridegroom's courserFrom the shafts adorned with silver,From the curving arch of willow,Lift the harness trimmed in copper,Tie the white-face to the manger,Treat the suitor's steed with kindness,Lead him carefully to shelterBy his soft and shining bridle,By his halter tipped with silver;Let him roll among the sand-hills,On the bottoms soft and even,On the borders of the snow-banks,In the fields of milky color.Lead the hero's steed to water,Lead him to the Pohya-fountains,Where the living streams are flowing,Sweet as milk of human kindness,From the roots of silvery birches,Underneath the shade of aspens."Feed the courser of the suitor,With the sweetest corn and barley,With the summer-wheat and clover,In the caldron steeped in sweetness;Feed him at the golden manger,In the boxes lined with copper,At my manger richly furnished,In the warmest of the hurdles;Tie him with a silk-like halter,To the golden rings and staples,To the hooks of purest silver,Set in beams of birch and oak-wood;Feed him on the hay the sweetest,Feed him on the grains nutritious,Give the best my barns can furnish."Curry well the suitor's courserWith the curry-comb of fish-bone,Brush his hair with silken brushes,Put his mane and tail in order,Cover well with silken blankets,Blankets wrought in gold and silver,Buckles forged from shining copper."Come, ye small lads of the village,Lead the suitor to my chambers,With your auburn locks uncovered,From your hands remove your mittens,See if ye can lead the heroThrough the door without his stooping,Lifting not the upper cross-bar,Sinking not the oaken threshold,Moving not the oaken casings,Great the hero who must enter."Ilmarinen is too stately,Cannot enter through the portals,Not the son-in-law and bridegroom,Till the portals have been lengthened;Taller by a head the suitorThan the doorways of the mansion."Quick the servants of PohyolaTore away the upper cross-bar,That his cap might not be lifted;Made the oaken threshold lowerThat the hero might not stumble;Made the birch-wood portals wider,Opened full the door of welcome,Easy entrance for the suitor.Speaks the hostess of the NorthlandAs the bridegroom freely passesThrough the doorway of her dwelling:"Thanks are due to thee, O Ukko,That my son-in-law has entered!Let me now my halls examine;Make the bridal chambers ready,Finest linen on my tables,Softest furs upon my benches,Birchen flooring scrubbed to whiteness,All my rooms in perfect order."Then the hostess of PohyolaVisited her spacious dwelling,Did not recognize her chambers;Every room had been remodelled,Changed by force of mighty magic;All the halls were newly burnished,Hedgehog bones were used for ceilings,Bones of reindeer for foundations,Bones of wolverine for door-sills,For the cross-bars bones of roebuck,Apple-wood were all the rafters,Alder-wood, the window casings,Scales of trout adorned the windows,And the fires were set in flowers.All the seats were made of silver,All the floors of copper-tiling,Gold-adorned were all the tables,On the floor were silken mattings,Every fire-place set in copper,Every hearth-stone cut from marble,On each shelf were colored sea-shells,Kalew's tree was their protection.To the court-room came the hero,Chosen suitor from Wainola,These the words of Ilmarinen:"Send, O Ukko, health and pleasureTo this ancient home and dwelling,To this mansion richly fashioned!"Spake the hostess of Pohyola:"Let thy coming be auspiciousTo these halls of thee unworthy,To the home of thy affianced,To this dwelling lowly fashioned,Mid the lindens and the aspens."Come, ye maidens that should serve me,Come, ye fellows from the village,Bring me fire upon the birch-bark,Light the fagots of the fir-tree,That I may behold the bridegroom,Chosen suitor of my daughter,Fairy Maiden of the Rainbow,See the color of his eyeballs,Whether they are blue or sable,See if they are warm and faithful."Quick the young lads from the villageBrought the fire upon the birch-bark,Brought it on the tips of pine-wood;And the fire and smoke commingledRoll and roar about the hero,Blackening the suitor's visage,And the hostess speaks as follows:"Bring the fire upon a taper,On the waxen tapers bring it!"Then the maidens did as bidden,Quickly brought the lighted tapers,Made the suitor's eyeballs glisten,Made his cheeks look fresh and ruddy;Eyes were neither blue nor sable,Sparkled like the foam of waters,Like the reed-grass on the margin,Colored as the ocean-jewels,Iridescent as the rainbow."Come, ye fellows from the hamlets,Lead my son-in-law and heroTo the highest seat at table,To the seat of greatest honor,With his back upon the blue-wall,Looking on my bounteous tables,Facing all the guests of Northland."Then the hostess of PohyolaServed her guests in great abundance,Richest drinks and rarest viands,First of all she served the bridegroom;On his platters honeyed biscuit,And the sweetest river-salmon,Seasoned butter, roasted bacon,All the dainties of Pohyola.Then the servants served the others,Filled the plates of all invitedWith the varied food of Northland.Spake the hostess of Pohyola:"Come, ye maidens from the village,Hither bring the beer in pitchers,In the urns with double handles,To the many guests in-gathered.Ere all others, serve the bridegroom."Thereupon the merry maidensBrought the beer in silver pitchersFrom the copper-banded vessels,For the wedding guests assembled;And the beer, fermenting, sparkledOn the beard of Ilmarinen,On the beards of many heroes.When the guests had all partakenOf the wondrous beer of barley,Spake the drink in merry accentsThrough the tongues of the magicians,Through the tongue of many a hero,Through the tongue of Wainamoinen,Famed to be the sweetest singerOf the Northland bards and minstrels.