CHAPTER XXXII.FINLAND (Continued).
AT the close of a delightful day’s sail along the coast of Finland, we reached the harbor of Helsingfors. The distant sight of the city is imposing, and one’s admiration is doubtless heightened by the surprise he feels when first finding such splendid structures in this part of the world.
The Fortress of Sweaborg, commanding the approach to the city, is rather a series of fortifications than a single fort. The works of nature have been turned to as good an account at this point as in the Straits of Gibraltar. Seven islands were placed by the Great Maker in just the right position for the purpose of being fortified to protect the city, and they have been so strongly fortified as to defy the force of any foe. The combined fleets of France and England tried their guns upon it in 1855, and retired from the trial, quite content to get away.
Peace is reigning now. The fortress fell into the hands of the Russians in 1808, after the garrison was reduced to the last extremity by famine, and it was the last stronghold that Sweden held in Finland. When this was gone, all was gone, and the Finns changed masters. But their subjection is rather nominal than real, as we shall see when we enter the town. On the shore where we land is the “Society House,” or, as we should call it, “The Company’s Hotel;” and we find similar houses in many parts of northern Europe. They are hotels built by the company running the steamers, or by associations, and they combine many of the features of the first-class hotels at watering-places in England or America. Near it is the palace in which the Emperor of Russia, who is also the Grand Duke of Finland, resides when he makes his brief visit, now and then, to this remote and “outlandish” part of his empire. His accommodations here are very narrow, but just as comfortable as those in the Winter Palace of St. Petersburg, holding five thousand people.
On the ship we had formed the acquaintance of a gentleman of Helsingfors, whose pleasant manners and intelligent conversation had greatly interested us during the voyage. As we had now reached his home, and were going ashore, he gave us a warm invitation to his house, which, of course, we declined, and then he insisted upon being our guide to see the famous old town. It is one of the richest in historical interest in the north.
On a grand square stand the chief public buildings, and they present an appearance that would be commanding in Paris or London. The senate-house stretches across one side of the square, the Lutheran church adorns another, the university fills a third, and from the fourth a broad avenue opens, half a mile long, to the foot of a hill crowned with anOBSERVATORY.
The University of Finland! In our ignorance, we hadassociated Finlanders with the Laps and the Esquimaux, and had never thought of letters and science and art in connection with this race. Among the pleasures of a visit to Finland we had not reckoned an introduction to a venerable university, endowed, sustained, and flourishing on a par with those of Germany. In fact, very few of the German universities have accommodations and advantages equal to this at Helsingfors. It would be considered first-class in England or France, and there is nothing comparable to it in the United States. It has a magnificent stone edifice of architectural proportions and finish, that make the building a perpetual lecture on the beautiful and sublime in art; and within is the most complete system of rooms for every department of knowledge here pursued,—for museums, laboratories, lectures, recitations. The professors were in session in the great audience-room as we entered it; the place was adorned with a full-length portrait of the Emperor Alexander I., who is styled, in the Latin inscription, “the father of his country and the university.” The prophecy is added that art will preserve his features, and his fame will fill the whole earth. The professors seemed an earnest set of men, mostly young, all fine-looking and well dressed. I took them to be happy and successful in their calling, and I wished much that I understood their language, so as to enter into the sympathies of a set of scholars giving their lives to the pursuits of science in Finland.
The university has five separate departments, law, medicine, theology, &c., withthirty-one professors, and it is older than any university in Russia. It was founded in 1630 by the Empress Christina, eleven years before the art of printing was introduced into Finland. Its charter was signed by Axel Oxenstiern, a famous name in his country’s annals. The library contains 200,000 volumes, in all languages and in every realm of human learning. It is admirablyarranged in a series of beautiful rooms, in niches and galleries, having an air of repose and seclusion inviting to quiet study, such as Ptolemy anticipated when he put over the Alexandrian doors the fitting inscription, “The food of the soul.”
And the halls, floors, walls, and the whole interior, are kept with a scrupulous neatness unknown in any institution of learning claiming the dignity of a college, or university, that my feet ever entered, in the most enlightened, civilized, and beloved land in the world. Yet there is little in the way of literature in the Finnish language, which is spoken only by the peasants, the Swedish being the language of law and social life among the other classes. Some rich treasures of popular poetry have been discovered floating about in the memories of the people, and these have been gathered as curious specimens of an unlettered, but imaginative race. Kalewala, an epic poem, was first printed in 1835, and an earnest effort has been made to rouse young Finland to seek laurels in the fields of song. Two of the professors deliver lectures in Finnish. Schiller and Shakespeare have been done into the native tongue of the Finns. And the imperial decree has gone forth that after 1883 the Finnish language shall be the official tongue of the country. If Russia would be as kind and considerate of the feelings of Poland, she would conciliate her southern subjects as readily as she has her northern.
We were now led to the Senate-house. The Diet, or Congress of Finland, consists of four chambers, the nobles, the clergy, the citizens, the peasants. Each of them has a hall of its own for meeting; that of the nobles has a large chamber, with two hundred or more handsome chairs. On the walls is placed the coat-of-arms of each noble family in Finland, with the name inscribed upon it, an ostentatious display indeed, but very interesting. We came upon one familiar name; it was that of our friend who was ourguide. His brother is the head of the family, and, in his absence, the next in order, our friend, takes his seat in the senate.
We rode out of town a mile to the beautiful Botanical Garden, one of the resorts of the ladies and gentlemen of the city. Here they come toward evening, and enjoy themselves in social intercourse, and take a cup of tea in the grounds. The park is laid out tastefully,—beautiful shaded avenues, green meadows, banks of flowers, and the walks lead up to rocky heights overlooking the bay and sea; and these heights have been fortified to resist the coming foe. The guns, which were brought up here in the Crimean war time, are now lying about useless; but they are doing as much service when dismounted and rusting on the ground as they did in the fight, for they were not big enough to reach the ships of the enemy, whose bombs went easily over these heights into the town.
Below, and in front of a beautiful “House of Refreshments,” tables are scattered about in great numbers, and at one of these our company sat, to enjoy the hospitality of Herr Edelfelt, our new-made friend, who insisted upon entertaining us at tea in the Finland fashion out of doors, as we had declined his invitation to his own house. This custom of taking dinner, tea, or supper at a garden or restaurant is prevalent among respectable people in many parts of continental Europe, and, by the accession of Europeans into the United States, is gradually becoming an accepted custom there.
Near to this garden is a health establishment of great repute. All the medicinal springs of Europe and America, and of Asia and Africa too, I presume, are reproduced by skilful doctoring, and whosoever drinks may be cured of whatsoever disease he has, provided the disease is curable by any of the waters of the world. To this many-mouthed fountain of life thousands resort in the morning and drinkthe waters. As they are required by the rules of health to take a brisk walk up the heights and down again, before and after taking the refreshing draught, there can be no manner of doubt that strangers resorting hither must derive great benefit. The air is salubrious, the scenery magnificent, the climate bracing, the regimen judicious, and the morning exercises quite as edifying for invalids as those prescribed by Dr. Jay, of Bath. It is quite probable that this artificial fountain in Finland has cured as many patients as Baden or Kissingen, and yet it has not been celebrated half so widely. Besides drinking, bathing is plentifully enjoyed; and his case must be hard that is not softened somewhat by the internal and external application of pure cold water, with plenty of exercise in the open air, on the heights of Helsingfors, in Finland. I drank none of the water, inhaled the air, took the constitutional walk, and was perfectly well when I came away. As I stayed there only about an hour, the inference is fair that if I had used the waters and remained a week or two, I should have been competent to give the cure a first-rate certificate.
We are now at thesixtiethdegree of north latitude, eighteen degrees further north than New York city, or more than a thousand miles nearer the North Pole. We have returned to the ship, and night is nominally about us, but no darkness settles on the world. We can read and write all night without a candle, if we are so disposed. And there is no sleep to be had, for all the livelong night the natives are pouring on board with freight; passengers are coming; they fill up the cabin and spend the parting hours with friends, eating, drinking, laughing, and talking obstreperously; and the leaving-taking, with the inevitable indiscriminate kissing, keeps the place in a constant uproar, that knows no alleviation until at four in the morning we put to sea, and find rest in the cradle of the deep.
We are now going further north, by narrow passagesamong islands simply masses of rocks, utterly barren, washed by the waves till they are perfectly smooth; and not a tree, nor shrub, nor blade of grass is in sight upon them. The channel is very tortuous, marked by poles, and sometimes it is so near the rocks that we seem to be grazing their precipitous sides. The weather is cool, clear, and delightful; though midsummer, the overcoat or shawl is agreeable; and the exhilaration of the day and the passage among the islands became general among the passengers, who throng the hurricane-deck to enjoy the scenery. Some of the islands that we pass in the course of the day have some available land and a few inhabitants, whose chief pursuit is fishing. And these scattered islands, and the adjoining shores on the mainland, furnish sailors that enter the service of other countries, and are among the most hardy, healthful, and valuable seamen to be found. The subjects of the Russian government, either here or in any other part of the empire, are not allowed to expatriate themselves at their own pleasure, as thousands would gladly do, if they could make their way into some more hospitable portion of the globe. But they can often find opportunities to get on board merchant vessels as seamen, and they are not slow to avail themselves of such opportunities. The soil does not give them food. They have no market for the fish that the sea would furnish. They are therefore very poor, and in bad seasons famine overtakes them. The people that have money, the well-to-do people,—and there are many such in Finland,—have plenty of dried salmon, and fresh too, beef and potatoes, which, with bread and butter, make good enough living for anybody; and to these staples they add some of the luxuries that money will command anywhere. But the poor are very poor, and they constitute the masses of the people,—the great multitude whose condition we go to look into when we visit foreign lands.
Abo is pronounced Obo. It is the name of the northernmosttown of any note in Finland, and a famous old town it is. We were told that the hotel is the farthest north of any hotel in the world. Away up above us on the borders of the Gulf of Bothnia,—and Abo is at the dividing line between the Baltic and Bothnia,—is Bjonneborg, and Christireestad, and Wasa, and Uleaborg, and Tornea on the very head of the gulf, where there is something in the way of a house of refreshment for travellers, I have not a doubt. Perhaps this is the last that aspires to the distinction of a hotel on the European plan, and we will enjoy the comfortable satisfaction of thinking that, as we are going no farther north, there is no place of rest and entertainment to receive us if we should.
A large crowd of people was standing at the wharf to see the steamer, to greet friends expected, and to hear the news. They were quiet, orderly, and well-looking. There was no rush to the gangway, no pulling and hauling to get on, or get baggage and passengers, though there were hundreds waiting for any kind of a job by which a little money could be made. The hotel—the Society House, as it is called—is close by the landing, and affords all the substantial comforts a traveller requires.
The old castle, historic, romantic, and famous, is in full view; a massive stone tower on which the storms of centuries, in war and peace, have spent their fury. The streets of the town are wide and the houses low, and one looks in vain for the appearances of a city that was founded by Eric the Saint, who reigned from 1157 to 1160, the time when the Sun of Christianity first softened the rigor of this northern clime. The castle was founded then, and for long centuries held in check the Russians who sought the conquest of Finland.
The cathedral has been an object of intense interest for ages past, as the first monument of Christianity in this region, and the burial-place of the most illustrious personsin the history of the country. One of the tombs bears the name of Catharine Monsdotter, who was taken from humble life and married to the King of Sweden, and by one of those strange reverses, now ceasing to be strange, she returned to Finland and died in obscurity, and her husband perished in prison. Her remains repose among queens and princes, but she finds no compensation in this for the loss of a diadem. Two white marble statues, life-size, stand on a sarcophagus in one of the chapels, over the dust of a man and wife who were celebrated for their wealth and noble birth, having the blood of kings; and the statue of the wife is even now decked (not adorned) with necklace and bracelets,—gaudy jewelry indeed to garnish a whited sepulchre.
In 1827 an awful conflagration swept over this city of only 20,000 inhabitants, and consumed two-thirds of all the houses in it; the inside of the cathedral was destroyed, the university and its great library, and the chief public edifices fell a prey to the flames, and the town will never recover from the disaster. Its university was removed to Helsingfors, where we have already visited it. Its trade is now of no account. The interior of the country furnishes little or nothing for export, and the glory of Abo—for it once had some glory—is departed for ever.
The Gulf of Bothnia extends six degrees to the north of Abo, but there is no trade or travel that requires a steamer, and ours is now to strike across the gulf, through the Aland Isles to Stockholm. We are bound there to visit Sweden and Norway. Those who have not this trip in view, and wish to see more of the country, can remain at Abo and go back to Wyborg and St. Petersburg by land. There is semi-occasionally a coach for travellers in Finland, but the more excellent way is by private carriage, orcarriole, the carriage of the country; a narrow low sulky, with room enough for one, hardly for two, besides the driver. It hasno top; but there is another trap called akibitka, a long, narrow wagon with no springs, and a leathern hood which you can draw over you in case of rain, and with a bed in the bottom of it, on which, if not too long, you can stretch yourself out, while the driver attends to the little animal ahead, that tears up and down hill, through the sand, at a fearful pace, regardless of an occasional break-down and turn-over. This is a Russian innovation, and in the Paris Exhibition there were several very handsome specimens of the vehicle, which is far more pleasant to read about than to ride in. Thebondkarais still another wretched contrivance, about the same thing as ourbuck-board; with this essential, not to say fatal difference, that ours has four wheels, and the board extending from the forward to the hind axle makes an agreeable spring; an experienced driver sitting before, and the passenger behind him, holding on with both hands, can ride astride and not suffer much. Thebondkaraof Finland has but two wheels, and the bench, without a back, is fastened to the axle-tree, the driver before, the traveller behind; the equilibrium must be preserved with care or the load goes to the ground, and when the wild horse tears down hill as if running away, the passenger must hold on tight with both hands on the sides of the seat, and the other—but he has no other, unless he’s a little behindhand, in which case he would do well to use it as best he can. The average speed of ten miles an hour is made, and that is pretty well in such a country as this.
It is very strange that the intercourse of nations does not lead to the more rapid adoption of improvements which have been found to be useful. Nations are slow to learn of one another. We in America have railroad arrangements that Europeans know, but will not introduce. They have many things in their system that we ought to apply, but will not. People of different countries have an idea that what they do not know is not worth knowing, and sothey prefer a poor way of their own to a better way of others. But we have nothing to learn from Finland in the line of travel. Patient endurance is something, and the people of Finland deserve credit for the spirit with which they have borne themselves through the long period of their dreary history. They are not numerous, the entire population amounting to but 1,800,000 souls: 40,000 are members of the Russian or Greek Church; the rest are Protestants, mostly Lutherans. It embraces only 6,844 geographical miles of surface, and no other country is so much covered with water. Yet it has a splendid university, with thirty-one professors; it abounds in churches, it has a peaceful, moral, and intelligent population, and some of the gentlemen and ladies whom it was my pleasant fortune to meet were among the most agreeable and cultivated persons I have encountered abroad.