Like a cranberry in feature,Like a strawberry in flavour......Wedded to the mountain berry.....Wedded only to his honour......I shall bear a noble hero,I shall bear a son immortal,Who will rule among the mighty,Rule the ancientWäinämöinen......In the stable is a manger,Fitting birth-place for the hero......Thereupon the horse, in pity,Breathed the moisture of his nostrils,On the body of the Virgin,Wrapped her in a cloud of vapour,Gave her warmth and needed comforts,Gave his aid to the afflictedTo the virginMariatta.There the babe was born and cradled,Cradled in a woodland manger.
Like a cranberry in feature,Like a strawberry in flavour......Wedded to the mountain berry.....Wedded only to his honour......I shall bear a noble hero,I shall bear a son immortal,Who will rule among the mighty,Rule the ancientWäinämöinen......In the stable is a manger,Fitting birth-place for the hero......Thereupon the horse, in pity,Breathed the moisture of his nostrils,On the body of the Virgin,Wrapped her in a cloud of vapour,Gave her warmth and needed comforts,Gave his aid to the afflictedTo the virginMariatta.There the babe was born and cradled,Cradled in a woodland manger.
This shows Christian origin!
Wäinämöinen'splace is gradually usurped by the "Wonder-babe," and the former departs in this stanza—
Thus the ancientWäinämöinen,In his copper-banded vesselLeft his tribe inKalevala,Sailing o'er the rolling billows,Sailing through the azure vapours,Sailing through the dusk of evening,Sailing to the fiery sunset,To the higher landed regions,To the lower verge of heaven;Quickly gained the far horizon,Gained the purple-coloured harbour,There his bark he firmly anchored,Rested in his boat of copper;But he left his harp of magic,Left his songs and wisdom sayingsTo the lasting joy ofSuomi.
Thus the ancientWäinämöinen,In his copper-banded vesselLeft his tribe inKalevala,Sailing o'er the rolling billows,Sailing through the azure vapours,Sailing through the dusk of evening,Sailing to the fiery sunset,To the higher landed regions,To the lower verge of heaven;Quickly gained the far horizon,Gained the purple-coloured harbour,There his bark he firmly anchored,Rested in his boat of copper;But he left his harp of magic,Left his songs and wisdom sayingsTo the lasting joy ofSuomi.
Thus oldWäinämöinensails away into unfathomable depths.
TheKalevalahas, up to the present time, been a much-neglected poem, but there is now an excellent English translation by Martin Crawford, an American by birth, from which we have taken the liberty of quoting. Mr. Andrew Lang has charmingly discoursed on the great national poem of the Finns, and Mr. Edward Clodd, who wrote a delightful series of articles inKnowledgeon the same subject, has kindly placed his notes in my hands.
There is no doubt about it that the fantastic mythology of the Finns has not received as much attention as it deserves. "Although mythology and theology are one," says Mr. Clodd, "we find among the ancient Finns the worship of natural objects, all living things being credited with life, and all their relations being regarded as the actions of the mighty powers."
Naturally in a country so undisturbed and isolated as Finland, fantastic mythology took firm root, and we certainly find the most romantic and weird verses in connection with the chief heroes of theKalevala, namely,WäinämöinenandIlmarinen, who broadly resemble the Norse demigods Odin and Thor.
After any one has been to Finland, he reads theKalevalawith amazement. What pen could describemore faithfully the ways of the people? Every line is pregnant with life. Their food, their clothing, their manners and customs, their thoughts and characteristics are all vividly drawn, as they were hundreds of years ago, and as they remain to-day.
When we peep into the mysteries of theKalevalaand see how trees are sacred, how animals are mythological, as, for instance, in the forty-sixth rune, which speaks of the bear who "was born in lands between sun and moon, and died not by man's deeds, but by his own will," we understand the Finnish people. Indeed the wolf, the horse, the duck, and all animals find their place in this wondrousKalevala; and dream stories are woven round each creature till the whole life of Finland has become impregnated by a fantastic sort of romance.
TheKalevalaopens with a creation myth of the earth, sea, and sky from an egg, but instead of the heroes living in some supernatural home of their own, they come down from heaven, distribute gifts among men, and work their wonders by aid of magic, at the same time living with the people, and entering into their daily toils.
It is strange that the self-developing egg should occur in theKalevalaof Northern Europe, for it also appears among the Hindoos and other Eastern peoples, pointing, maybe, to the Mongolian origin of the Finnish people.
The way the life of the people is depicted seems simply marvellous, and the description holds good even at the present time. For instance, these lines taken at hazard speak of spinning, etc.—
Many beauteous things the maiden,With the spindle has accomplished,Spun and woven with her fingers;Dresses of the finest textureShe in winter has upfolded,Bleached them in the days of spring-time,Dried them at the hour of noonday,For our couches finest linen,For our heads the softest pillows,For our comfort woollen blankets.
Many beauteous things the maiden,With the spindle has accomplished,Spun and woven with her fingers;Dresses of the finest textureShe in winter has upfolded,Bleached them in the days of spring-time,Dried them at the hour of noonday,For our couches finest linen,For our heads the softest pillows,For our comfort woollen blankets.
Or, again, speaking of the bride's home, it likens the father-in-law to her father, and describes the way they all live together in Finland even to-day, and bids her accept the new family as her own—
Learn to labour with thy kindred;Good the home for thee to dwell in,Good enough for bride and daughter.At thy hand will rest the milk-pail,And the churn awaits thine order;It is well here for the maiden,Happy will the young bride labour,Easy are the resting branches;Here the host is like thy father,Like thy mother is the hostess,All the sons are like thy brothers,Like thy sisters are the daughters.
Learn to labour with thy kindred;Good the home for thee to dwell in,Good enough for bride and daughter.At thy hand will rest the milk-pail,And the churn awaits thine order;It is well here for the maiden,Happy will the young bride labour,Easy are the resting branches;Here the host is like thy father,Like thy mother is the hostess,All the sons are like thy brothers,Like thy sisters are the daughters.
Here is another touch—the shoes made from the plaited birch bark, so commonly in use even at the present time; and, again, the bread made from bark in times of famine has ever been the Finnish peasant's food—
Even sing the lads of LaplandIn their straw-shoes filled with joyance,Drinking but a cup of water,Eating but the bitter tan bark.These my dear old father sang meWhen at work with knife or hatchet;These my tender mother taught meWhen she twirled the flying spindle,When a child upon the mattingBy her feet I rolled and tumbled.
Even sing the lads of LaplandIn their straw-shoes filled with joyance,Drinking but a cup of water,Eating but the bitter tan bark.
These my dear old father sang meWhen at work with knife or hatchet;These my tender mother taught meWhen she twirled the flying spindle,When a child upon the mattingBy her feet I rolled and tumbled.
To-day, Finnish women still wash in the streams, and they beat their clothes upon the rocks just as they did hundreds, one might say thousands, of years ago and more—for the greater part ofKalevalawas most undoubtedly written long before the Christian era in Finland.
Northlands fair and slender maidenWashing on the shore a head-dress,Beating on the rocks her garments,Rinsing there her silken raiment.
Northlands fair and slender maidenWashing on the shore a head-dress,Beating on the rocks her garments,Rinsing there her silken raiment.
In the following rune we find an excellent description of the land, and even a line showing that in those remote days trees were burned down to clear the land, the ashes remaining for manure—a common practice now.
Groves arose in varied beauty,Beautifully grew the forests,And again, the vines and flowers.Birds again sang in the tree-tops,Noisily the merry thrushes,And the cuckoos in the birch-trees;On the mountains grew the berries,Golden flowers in the meadows,And the herbs of many colours,Many lands of vegetation;But the barley is not growing.Osma'sbarley will not flourish,Not the barley ofWäinölä,If the soil be not made ready,If the forest be not levelled,And the branches burned to ashes.Only left the birch-tree standingFor the birds a place of resting,Where might sing the sweet-voiced cuckoo,Sacred bird in sacred branches.
Groves arose in varied beauty,Beautifully grew the forests,And again, the vines and flowers.Birds again sang in the tree-tops,Noisily the merry thrushes,And the cuckoos in the birch-trees;On the mountains grew the berries,Golden flowers in the meadows,And the herbs of many colours,Many lands of vegetation;But the barley is not growing.
Osma'sbarley will not flourish,Not the barley ofWäinölä,If the soil be not made ready,If the forest be not levelled,And the branches burned to ashes.Only left the birch-tree standingFor the birds a place of resting,Where might sing the sweet-voiced cuckoo,Sacred bird in sacred branches.
One could go on quoting passages from this strange epic—but suffice it to say that in the forty-sixth runeWäinämöinenspeaks toOtso, the bear—
Otso, thou my well beloved,Honey eater of the woodlands,Let not anger swell thy bosom.Otsowas not born a beggar,Was not born among the rushes,Was not cradled in a manger;Honey-paw was born in etherIn the regions of the Moonland.With the chains of gold she bound itTo the pine-tree's topmost branches.There she rocked the thing of magic,Rocked to life the tender baby,'Mid the blossoms of the pine-tree,On the fir-top set with needles;Thus the young bear well was nurtured.SacredOtsogrew and flourished,Quickly grew with graceful movements,Short of feet, with crooked ankles,Wide of mouth and broad of forehead,Short his nose, his fur robe velvet;But his claws were not well fashioned,Neither were his teeth implanted.Swore the bear a sacred promiseThat he would not harm the worthy,Never do a deed of evil.ThenMielikki, woodland hostess,Wisest maid ofTapiola,Sought for teeth and claws to give him,From the stoutest mountain-ashes,From the juniper and oak-tree,From the dry knots of the alder.Teeth and claws of these were worthless,Would not render goodly service.Grew a fir-tree on the mountain,Grew a stately pine in Northland,And the fir had silver branches,Bearing golden cones abundant;These the sylvan maiden gathered,Teeth and claws of these she fashioned,In the jaws and feet ofOtsoSet them for the best of uses.Taught him how to walk a hero.He freely gave his life to others.
Otso, thou my well beloved,Honey eater of the woodlands,Let not anger swell thy bosom.
Otsowas not born a beggar,Was not born among the rushes,Was not cradled in a manger;Honey-paw was born in etherIn the regions of the Moonland.
With the chains of gold she bound itTo the pine-tree's topmost branches.There she rocked the thing of magic,Rocked to life the tender baby,'Mid the blossoms of the pine-tree,On the fir-top set with needles;Thus the young bear well was nurtured.
SacredOtsogrew and flourished,Quickly grew with graceful movements,Short of feet, with crooked ankles,Wide of mouth and broad of forehead,Short his nose, his fur robe velvet;But his claws were not well fashioned,Neither were his teeth implanted.
Swore the bear a sacred promiseThat he would not harm the worthy,Never do a deed of evil.ThenMielikki, woodland hostess,Wisest maid ofTapiola,Sought for teeth and claws to give him,From the stoutest mountain-ashes,From the juniper and oak-tree,From the dry knots of the alder.Teeth and claws of these were worthless,Would not render goodly service.Grew a fir-tree on the mountain,Grew a stately pine in Northland,And the fir had silver branches,Bearing golden cones abundant;These the sylvan maiden gathered,Teeth and claws of these she fashioned,In the jaws and feet ofOtsoSet them for the best of uses.
Taught him how to walk a hero.
He freely gave his life to others.
These are only a few stanzas taken haphazard fromKalevala, but they give some idea of its power.
At the Festival we met, among the Runo performers, a delightful woman. About forty, fat and broad, she had a cheerful countenance and kindly eyes, and she sang—if such dirges could be called singing—old Finnish songs, all of which seemingly lacked an end. She was absolutely charming, however, perfectly natural and unaffected, and when we got her in a corner, away from the audience, proved even more captivating than before the public.
First she sang a cradle song, and, as she moaned out the strange music, she patted her foot up and down and swayed her body to and fro, as though she were nursing a baby. She was simply frank too, and when asked to sing one particular song exclaimed—
"Oh yes, I can sing that beautifully; I sing it better than any one on the East Coast of Finland."
Abundant tears shed for no sufficient cause—forno cause at all, indeed—would seem to be a characteristic of these lady vocalists.
The singer of the bear legend wore a beautiful red-brocaded cap. In fact, her attire was altogether remarkable; her skirt, a pretty shade of purple shot with gold silk, was cut in such a way as to form a sort of corset bodice with braces across the shoulders, under which she wore a white chemisette. A beautiful, rich, red silk apron, and a set of well-chosen coloured scarves drawn across the breast completed her costume and added to the fantastic colouring and picturesqueness of the whole. She was very friendly; again and again she shook hands with us all in turn, and, during one of the most mournful of her songs, she sat so close to me that her elbow rested in my lap, while real tears coursed down her cheeks. It was quite touching to witness the true emotion of the woman; she rocked herself to and fro, and mopped her eyes with a neatly folded white cotton handkerchief, the while she seemed totally oblivious of our presence and enwrapped in her music. When she had finished she wiped away her tears, and then, as if suddenly recalled from another world, she appeared to realise the fact that we were present, and, overcome with grief, she apologised most abjectly for having forgotten herself so far as to cry before the strange ladies! This was no affectation; the woman was downrightly sorry, and it was not until we had patted her fondly and smiled our best thanks that she could be pacified at all and believe we were not offended.
In her calmer moments she drew, as we thought, a wonderful purse from under her apron—a cloth embroidered thing with beads upon it. Great was our surprise to discover that it contained snuff, from which she helped herself at intervals during the entertainment, never omitting to offer us some before she took her own pinch.
This unexpected generosity reminded us of an incident that occurred while crossing the Grosser Glockner mountain in the Tyrol, when we were overtaken by a violent snowstorm. Being above the snow line the cold and wind were intense. One of the guides, feeling sorry for us and evidently thinking we looked blue with cold, produced from hisrucksacka large flask which contained his dearly loved schnapps. He unscrewed the cork and gravely offered it to us each in turn. There was no glass, nor did he even attempt to wipe the rim, although but an hour before we had seen all the guides drinking from the same bottle.
This equality of class is always to be found in lands where civilisation has not stepped in. "Each man is as good as his neighbour" is a motto in the remote parts of Finland, as it is in the Bavarian Highlands and other less-known parts. What the peasants have, they give freely; their goodness of heart and thoughtfulness are remarkable.
TheRunowoman, who wept so unrestrainedly, had most beautiful teeth, and her smile added a particular charm to her face. When she was not singing she busied herself with spinning flax on the usual wooden oar, about five feet long and muchcarved and ornamented at one end. On the top, at the opposite end, was a small flat piece like another oar blade, only broader and shorter, fixed at such an angle that when she sat down upon it the carved piece stood up slant-wise beside her. Halfway up the blade some coloured cotton bands secured a bundle of flax, while in her hand she held a bobbin on to which she wove the thread.
She was never idle, for, when not occupied in singing to us, she spent her time spinning, always repeating, however, the second line of the other performers.
Another woman danced with her head bent low, a very strange slow shuffle round and round, something like an Arab measure, but after a while she broke into a sort of waltz. The dancing, like theRunomusic, was primitive.
TheseRunosingers could but be regarded as a connecting link between the present and the past.
Here were people, the representatives of generations gone before, who had handed down by word of mouth the runes of that wonderful epic, theKalevala. Just such folk as these had sat during long winters in their small wooden huts, practically windowless; besides, it was generally too cold to put back the wooden shutter, used for economy instead of glass, for more than a few moments at a time; they had sat in the dusk chanting the songs of their land, the mystic lines of which they had sucked in almost with their mother's milk, until music and verse filled their very souls. The weird, the wild, the fantastic, had become their nature.The mind loves to dwell on the supernatural, the unreal; and in those lonely, dreary, darkened lives mythological legends flourished as mushrooms in a cellar. The population literally feasted on the mythical, just as the twentieth century society revels in Christian Science, Theosophy, or New Thought.
As the women applied the scrutcher to the flax, or carded the wool, they dreamed wild dreams of ghosts and goblins, and repeated to themselves, in queer chant, the stories of the sacred bear, or those beautiful lines to the sun and the moon to be found inKalevala. They lived again withAhti, the Finnish sea god, otherwise calledLemminkäinen; or the husband invoked the aid of charms, as at his work he recited howLemminkäinenreachedPohjolabut to quarrel and fight, and related verses showing how he finally cut off the head of the representative champion of the beautifulLouhi. Or wild stories of an ox with a thousand heads engrossed their fancy, and they lingered fondly over the tales of the hundred horns to plough up the land. Or, again, the old wife would chime in with the weird rune whereWäinämöinen'sharp blew into the sea, when a boat was manned with a thousand oars to fetch it back, butWäinämöinendestroyed that boat by means of magic.
Louhithen changed herself into an eagle, with claws and scythes of iron, and wondrous breastplate, while on her wings she bore aloft a thousand armed men, and upon her tail sat a hundred archers, and ten upon every feather.
With one wing she sweeps the heavens,With the other sweeps the waters.
With one wing she sweeps the heavens,With the other sweeps the waters.
This is cleverly represented in a picture byGallén, a well-known Finnish artist.
In another stirring verse, the poem goes on to tell howLouhiswooped down upon the heroes, when desperate battle ensued for the treasure under dispute.
Wounded and exhausted,Louhithrew the treasure into the sea rather than surrender it, emblematic still in the tenacity of the Finnish race.
Such are the manners and customs of the past; now let us take a look at theSuomiof to-day, that we may better understand the life of the people before we start on our trip in carts through the interior of that enchanting but far-away land.
For some hundreds of years Finland belonged to Sweden, and the stamp of Sweden is to be found on its inhabitants; especially among the aristocracy, who still speak that language in their homes. But in 1808 Russia stepped across the frontier, seized Finland, annexed it as her own, and a year later the King of Sweden renounced all his claims.
Since Finland was ceded to Russia, the Russian sovereigns, as Grand Dukes of Finland, have on the whole faithfully observed the pledges given to the Grand Duchy by Alexander I., though, especially in recent years, they have been frequently broken.
It was because the Finlanders behaved so well that the Tzar conceded much, and left them their independent constitution and their Lutheran Church. The Tzar is really the Grand Duke of Finland. The Governor-General is President of the Senate, which is the real Executive Body in Finland. The Diet has no executive power; onlylegislative authority. It is composed of four Houses—the Nobles, the Clergy, the Burghers, and the Peasants. The members of Parliament meet every third year, and have the power of voting money, altering the constitutional laws of the country, and regulating commercial enterprise.
Since 1863 has come the renaissance of Finland. Art, literature, industry, commerce, and politics have revived. The people saw themselves once more a nation conscious of its own gigantic tenacity of soul, prompted with a knowledge of its destiny, though sneered at, and threatened on all sides by famine, contempt, and absorption. Finland is like a man who has slept long and suddenly wakes up refreshed, with renewed vigour to work. That is why he has come so much forward in the last quarter of the century, and is now prepared to make gigantic strides. Learned, artistic, commercial, and athletic societies sprang up, each imbued with a fresh and sincere national enthusiasm. Tournaments were held forski, rifle-shooting, yachting, and other sports. Attention was called to the ancient songs and national music, and the great musical festivals, such as was held atSordavala, were reinstated.
Parliament began meeting regularly, and hope beamed brightly. Nevertheless danger is lurking within and without, for the Finlanders speak three languages; theFinlandersthemselves only speak Finnish, the more educated people speak Swedish, and in official circles they must know Russian, a language which has been forced uponthem; while the great Russian people are ready to overwhelm and absorb, and march over them to new fields. Still, as a Finlander truly said to the writer, "The destiny of a people is in the hands of the Lord, and Finland has courage in God;" and therefore it is possible a great future may be in store for that beautiful country, beautiful whether we peep atTavasland,Karelen, orÖsterbotten.
The people inTavaslandare fair-haired, slow, but exceedingly tenacious, and also somewhat boorish. Here the principal towns, manufactures, etc., are to be found. Many of the inhabitants speak Swedish, and all have been influenced by Sweden.
The following little anecdote gives some idea of the character of the natives ofTavasland:—
A fortress was besieged by the Russians in 1808. After a severe struggle it was at last taken by assault, when the Russians discovered that fifty-five out of the sixty defenders were dead.But none had yielded!
The people are determined and persevering, and it is no uncommon thing for a lad to follow the plough until he is thirteen years of age, reading for his school and his university, and finally taking his M.A. degree, and even becoming a Professor.
The people of theKarelendistrict are quicker and of lighter heart. They are nearer to Russia, and the Russian influence is distinctly seen. They are not so cleanly or so highly educated as the rest of the country, but they are musical and artistic.
One must remember the word Finn implies nativepeasant; the upper classes are called Finlanders. Until lately the two spoken languages of Finland represented two parties. The Finns were the native peasants who only spoke Finnish, the Radical party practically—the upper classes who spoke Swedish among themselves were known asSvecomans, and roughly represented the Conservatives. But since the serious troubles early in the twentieth century, these two parties have been more closely drawn together against Russia, andFinlanderis the common name for both Finnish-speaking and Swedish-speaking people.Finnis often used as synonymous with Finlander. There are Swedish peasants as well as Finnish; and while the Finn speaks only Finnish, the Finlander only knew Swedish until quite lately, except what he was pleased to call "Kitchen Finnish," for use amongst his servants; but every year the Finlander is learning more and more of his native language, and Swedish bids fair to be relegated to the classics as far as Finland is concerned.
TheFennomanstake interest in, and work for the Finnish language, literature, and culture; while theSvecomans, who are principally composed of the old Swedish families, try to maintain the old Swedish culture in Finland.
Since 1899 Finland's relations with Russia and the defence of the Finnish Constitution is the principal question in politics.
Party strife is terrible. It would be far better if theFennomansandSvecomanstried to remember that their real object is the same, namely, the welfareof their own country, and turned their attention only in that direction instead of to petty and often ridiculous political squabblings.
It is wonderful to note how democratic the people are in Finland. Each peasant is a gentleman at heart, brave, hasty, independent, and he expects every one to treat him as his equal.
Few persons are rich in Finland according to English lights, but many are comfortably off. It would be almost impossible there to live beyond one's income, or to pretend to have more than is really the case, for when the returns are sent in for the income tax, the income of each individual is published. In January every year, in theHelsingforsnewspapers, rows and rows of names appear, and opposite them the exact income of the owner. This does not apply if the returns are less than £200 a year; but, otherwise, every one knows and openly discusses what every one else has.
Very amusing to a stranger, but horrible for the persons concerned. Fancy Jones saying to Brown, "Well, old chap, as you have £800 a year, I think you could afford a better house and occasionally a new suit of clothes;" and even if Jones didn't make such a remark, his friend feeling he thought it!
It is the fashion for each town to select a committee in December for the purpose of taxing the people. Every one is taxed. The tax is called askatt-öre, the word originating from the small coin of that name, and each town decides whether theöreshall be charged on two hundred or four hundred marks. Letustake as an example a 400-marköre(tax). The first four hundred marks are free; but payment is required on every further four hundred, and so on. For instance, if a man has 16,000 marks, he pays nothing on the first four hundred, and has therefore thirty-nine sets of four hundred to pay for, which is called thirty-nineskatt-öre. If overtaxed, the aggrieved person can complain to a second committee; and this sometimes happens. The tax varies very much; in some of the seaport towns, which receive heavy dues, theöre, which includes parochial rates, is very low. InWiborgthey have had to pay as much as fifteen marks on every four hundred; but as a rule it is less.
The habit of publishing the returns of all the incomes began about 1890, and is now a subject of much annoyance—as much annoyance to a Finlander as the habit of never knocking at the door to a stranger. No one ever thinks of knocking at a door in Finland. People simply march in, and as few doors possess bolts, the consequences are sometimes appalling, especially to English people, who go through more daily ablutions than most nations, and prefer to do them in private. During our visit toSordavala, for the Musical Festival, we had some curious experiences in connection with boltless doors. We were located at the brewer's. Now this was a great favour, as he was a private individual who cheerfully gave up his beautiful salon upholstered in red velvet "to the English ladies," but, unfortunately, this sumptuous apartment was reached by a smaller chamber where a man had to sleep. Not only that, but the sleepingapartment of the man was really a passage which conducted directly into theKonttoorior office of the brewery. As far as the man was concerned, this did not so much matter; eventually he became quite accustomed to hearing his door suddenly opened and seeing a stranger with an empty basket on his arm standing before him and demanding the way to theKonttoori(which is pronounced, by the bye, exactly in the same manner as an Irishman sayscountry), when with a wave of the hand he indicated the office. But for us it was different. One morning, when the gentleman occupant of the passage was away and we were in the early stage of dressing, our door opened, and a fat burly man dashed into the middle of our room, where he stood transfixed, as well he might.
"Go away," we exclaimed. He heeded not. We waved and indicated, with the help of a brandished stocking, our desire that he should leave our apartment. But the stolidity of a Finn is always remarkable, and the appearance of strange Englishwomen in somewhat unusual attire appeared really to fascinate the gentleman, who neither moved nor spoke, only simply stared. "Go away," we repeated, gesticulating more violently than before. The situation was intensely awkward, and it seemed to us as though hours instead of moments had passed since the entrance of our burly friend, and we were just wondering how on earth we were to get rid of him, when slowly, as though rolling the letters round his mouth, he pronounced the wordKonttoori.
"Yes, go into the country," we answered, pointing vehemently in the direction of that oft-inquired-for office. Very solemnly and quietly he turned round and marched out of the door—let us hope much impressed and less disconcerted by the interview than we had been. Once we were rid of him, we sat down and laughed so immoderately over the scene that thebed, one of those wooden collapsable affairs, peculiar to the country, on which my sister was sitting, completely gave way, and she was deposited upon the floor. The peals of merriment that followed this second misadventure apparently aroused the interest of some other visitor outside, for again the door opened and a youth of about seventeen stood before us. This was really getting too much of a good thing, for what may be considered a joke once becomes distressing if repeated a second time, and absolutely appalling on a third occasion.
However, as we could not understand him, and he could not understand us, we wished him good-morning, and gently waved him away. Eleven times in the course of five days did odd men and women thus rush like avalanches into our room, all having mistaken the way to theKonttoori.
Another peculiarity of the Finlander is that he never shakes hands. He seizes one's digits as though they were a pump handle, and warmly holds them, wrestles with them, waggles them, until the unsuspecting Britisher wonders if he will ever again be able to claim his hand as his own. In this way the gentleman from the GrandDuchy is demonstrative with his acquaintances; he is very publicly devoted also to his wife, fondling her before his friends. On the other hand, he seldom kisses his mother, and never his sisters. Indeed, all the outward affection seems reserved for husbands and wives; daughters seldom kiss their parents, and brothers and sisters rarely even shake hands. This struck us as particularly strange, because the members of an English family generally greet one another warmly when meeting for breakfast, especially parents and children; yet in Finland, as a rule, they hardly take any notice of one another. A certain son we knew kissed his mother's hand on the occasion of leaving her for some weeks, while he merely nodded to his brothers and sisters standing around.
Another strange freak, in a land where there is no night for two or three months, is that the better houses never have shutters, and seldom blinds, at the windows; therefore the sun streams in undisturbed; and when a room has four windows, as happened to us atSordavala, the light of day becomes a positive nuisance, and a few green calico blinds an absolute godsend; indeed, almost as essential as the oil of cloves or lavender or the ammonia bottle for gnat bites, or the mosquito head-nets, if one sleeps with open windows. Mosquitoes have fed upon me in tropical lands, but they are gentlemen in comparison with the rough brutality of the mosquitoes of the far North; there their innings is short and violent.
It is indeed a strange experience to sleep withone's head in a sort of meat safe, for that is what these unsightly green muslin bags called mosquito nets resemble. They are flat on the top, with a sort of curtain hanging down all round, which one ties neatly under one's chin before retiring to rest. Behold a beautiful lady—for all ladies are as certain to be beautiful when they write about themselves, as that authoresses are all old and ugly, which seems to be a universal idea in the eyes of the public generally—behold then a beautiful lady enveloped in a large unwieldy and very wobbly net head-covering, of such a vivid green hue that the unfortunate wearer looks jaundiced beneath! Well, they had one advantage, they saved some bites, and they afforded us much amusement; but becoming they were not.
In our strange chamber, with its four windows only protected by white muslin blinds from the fierce glare of that inquisitive sun, that seemed to peer in upon our movements all day and all night, we endured a small martyrdom, till we begged the maid to make our beds the reverse way; that is, to put the pillows where one's feet are usually to be found, as by this means the wooden bedstead kept a little of the light out of our weary eyes. No one can realise the weariness of eternal light until he has experienced it, any more than he can appreciate the glaring effects of everlasting day. We stayed with our kind friends atSordavalafor some days, and were a great source of interest to the servant, who, one day screwing up her courage, curiosity having got the better of her shyness,thus addressed a person she thought could furnish the required information—
"Is it part of the English ladies' religion to sleep the wrong way round?"
"No," was the reply; "what do you mean?"
"Is it in their worship that they should sleep with their heads towards the sun?"
"Certainly not; how did such an idea get into your head?"
"Every night the English ladies have made me make their beds the wrong way round, and I thought perhaps it was one of their religious customs."
We were much amused when this conversation was repeated to us. Such a notion as keeping the sun out of one's eyes had never entered the girl's head. Apparently Finlanders cannot have too much sunlight; probably by way of contrast to the darkness they live in during the long winter, for be it remembered that in the far North, where we travelled later, the sun disappears altogether in December and January, and winter every year lasts for eight or nine months.
We were surprised to find that every basin is left by the housemaid with cold water in it, and there it stands waiting at all seasons; but such a thing as warm water is considered positively indecent, and the servant generally looks as if she would fall down with amazement at the mention of such a strange thing being wanted.
In quite a large hotel at which we were once staying, the landlord being the only person who could speak anything except Finnish, we asked him atnight if he would be so kind as to explain to the housemaid that we wished to be called at half-past seven the following morning, when we should like her to bring us hot water.
"Certainement, Madame," he replied, and bowing low took his leave.
After a few minutes we heard a knock at the door (the door actually possessed a bolt or he would not have knocked), and on opening it we found the landlord.
"Pardon, Madame, but how much hot water do you want for grog?"
"No, no," we answered; "to wash with."
He looked amazed; evidently he was more accustomed to people drinking tumblers of hot water—for grog—than he was to our requiring it for washing purposes.
Finland has much to learn in the way of sanitation, and yet more as to the advisability of a daily bath, for while even in hotels they give one an enormous carafe, which might be called a giraffe, its neck is so long, filled with drinking water surrounded by endless tumblers, the basin is scarcely bigger than a sugar bowl, while the jug is about the size of a cream ewer.
Very, very tired one night we arrived at a little inn. The beds were not made, and, knowing how long it took a Finn to accomplish anything of the kind, we begged her to be as quick as possible, as we were dead beat. She pulled out the wooden bed, she thumped the mattress, and at last she went away, we hoped and believed to fetch thesheets. She remained absent for some time, but when she returned it was not with the sheets; it was with what to her mind was far more important, viz., a tin tray on which were arrangedfour glass tumblers and a huge glass bottle full of fresh water, which she had been to the bottom of the garden to pump from a deep well!
We often pondered over that water subject, and wondered whether Finns had nightly carousals with the innocent bottle, or whether drinkingaqua purais a part of their religion, as the housemaid had thought sleeping with our heads the wrong way was a part of ours!
Our minds were greatly exercised also as to why the pillows were so hard and often gave forth such a strange smell, but that mystery was one day solved. When driving along a pretty road, we saw masses of soft white cotton flower waving in the wind, the silvery sheen catching the sunlight and making it look like fluffy snow. This we were told wasluikku, the Latin name of which isEriophorum angustifolium. Women were gathering it and packing it into a sack.
"That," explained our Finnish friend, "is used for stuffing the pillows and sometimes even beds."
"Really?" we returned; "then that is why they are so hard and lumpy."
"Oh, but there is another plant even less soft than theluikku, which is employed for the same purpose. It grows at the water's edge and is a kind of rush."
This plant turned out to beruoko(Phragmitescommunis), a common species of water shrub in Finland; after its dark red flowers have turned silvery gray, they look beautiful swaying with the wind, the long reed-like leaves making a pretty swish at the water's edge as they bend. Going up the canals it is quite strange to notice how, when the steamer sucks the water from the sides to her screw, theruokosways and bows its head down to her, and, as she passes on, it lifts its majestic head again, and gently sways down the other side as though to bid the ship farewell.
In the summer months, when things often have to be done in a hurry, getting in the hay or reaping the harvest, for instance, since the moment the weather is propitious and the crop ripe no time must be lost, or a night's frost may prove destructive to all the crops, it is very common to have atalkko.
Atalkkois a sort of popular amusement at which a great deal of work is done. The farmer invites all his friends to help him clear a rye field, for example. They all come in eager haste, and generally have a sort of picnic. Work proceeds much quicker in company than alone, and while they reap with old-fashioned sickles, they chat and laugh and sing their national songs, eat and make merry on small beer, that terrible concoction which we explained before is calledKalja, which they drink out of the same spoon, regardless of disease germs.
The corn and rye when cut are put on pine-tree trunks to dry. They saw down the small pines, chop off the branch a foot from the trunk, plant them in a line along the field, and loosely throw theircrop over these stumps exposed to the sun and wind; then, after binding by hand, carry them on sledges—summer sledges—to the farmstead, where thrashing, also by hand, completes the business of harvesting.
Farm work is very primitive still in parts of Finland; the small plough, behind which the native plods, guiding it in and out of the stones, which his small sturdy pony drags, is a long and tedious business.
Atalkkorelieves labour much; and thus it comes to pass that, after Jones and party have helped Smith on Monday, Smith and party help Jones on Tuesday; a very socialistic arrangement, like many others inSuomi.
From the poor the rich have taken a hint, and where, in England, we have work parties for bazaars, or to make garments for the village clubs, in Finland they have atalkko. Especially is this the custom just before Christmas time, when many presents have to be got ready, and all the girl friends assemble and prepare their little gifts for distribution on Christmas Eve. On this night there is much festivity. A tree is lighted even in the poorest homes, and presents are exchanged amid much feasting and merriment.
Christmas comes in the winter, when snow and ice are everywhere; therefore the richer folk drive to their balls and parties in sledges, rolled up in furs, and big skating-parties are the order of the day.
It is amusing at these gatherings to hear the young people all calling one another by their Christian names, and as some of the real Finnish namesare musical and pretty, we give a few of the most usual—
Winter in the South of Finland generally sets in about the last week of November, and when it comes is usually very severe, while the nights are long and the days short. As a rule the air is dry, and therefore that delightful fresh crispness, which is so invigorating, prevails, as it does in Norway, where,one day when we were with Dr. Nansen at Lysaker, the thermometer registered 9° below zero Fahr., yet we found it far less cold than England on a mild damp day.
The mean temperature of the North of Finland is 27° Fahr., and roundHelsingforsin the South, 38° Fahr.
As November advances every one in the Southern districts looks forward eagerly to black ice; that is to say, that the ice should form before the first fall of snow covers the land. This often happens, and then the lakes, the rivers, and all round the coast, rapidly freeze some inches thick, the surface being as flat as a looking-glass, unless the wind has seriously disturbed the ice much while forming, and Finland becomes one enormous skating-rink from end to end. Every one throughout the country skates—men, women, and children. Out they come in the early morning, and, with some refreshments in their pockets, they accomplish visits and journeys which, to the uninitiated, seem impossible. Fifty or sixty miles a day can be managed on skates, and even the peasantry avail themselves of this opportunity of enjoying sport, and, at the same time, accomplishing a vast amount of friendly visiting and work. It is during this black ice that the ice-boats are most in requisition; for the bumpiness so often experienced when snow has settled on the frozen surface does not exist, and the ice-boats' speed, which is tremendous at all times, becomes absolutely terrific and wildly exciting, as we know from our experiences in Holland.
However, Finland is not always so fortunate, and sometimes the frost and snow come together; and then, although the peasantry, as in Holland, skate over the waterways to market and on business, the better-class folk, who skate for amusement, betake them to rinks.
Roadways are marked out on the ice in Finland the same as in Norway; that is to say, little holes are dug along the would-be path into which small fir-trees are stuck, and therefore these impromptu roads look like little avenues.
In the case of an ice-rink, fir-trees are planted all round the edge in a veritable wall, to keep out the non-paying public. Bands play in the afternoon and evening, and when it becomes too dark to see by nature's light, electric lamps are kindled, and the place becomes a regular rendezvous, not only for skaters, but for onlookers, who walk about on those bright starlight evenings, chatting to their friends, sipping their coffee, and listening to the music.
As a rule, in Finland they go in more for distance than figure-skating, as is also the case in Holland, Norway, etc., where long distances have to be traversed, and speed is of more importance than style. Still, in the Finnish towns, where people skate on rinks merely for amusement, some beautiful figure-skating may be seen.
Once a Finnish lady went over to Paris and received the sum of £120 a month for giving entertainments in figure-skating. All Paris was charmed, and Finland naturally felt proud.
Sledging, of course, is everywhere necessary inFinland in the winter, and only those who have enjoyed the delights of a drive, with a good horse briskly passing through the crisp air to the tingling of sleigh bells, can realise its delights.
Skidåkningis also much in vogue, but in Finland it is not so dangerous as in more mountainous countries. In Norwayskiare absolutely essential. There the snow lies so deep on the mountains and in the valleys that the peasantry could never get about at all were it not for theirski. But in Finland the country is so much flatter, and the lakes so much more numerous, that people can walk on the hard-frozen surface readily. Therefore the peasantry—except in certain districts—do not useskiso much as a necessity, as for pleasure and sport. The upper classes go onskidoras constantly as they skate. They get up competitions; they go for whole days' expeditions into the country, and, on their "wooden shoon," enjoy themselves thoroughly in the winter months.
In aWinter Jaunt to Norway, I described a jump of eighty-eight feet made on these strange snow-shoes, and theskithemselves, as follows:—