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Transcriber's note:
Inconsistent spelling has been preserved, especially in the Finnish and
Swedish snippets found throughout the book. Only obvious errors have been
corrected, and a listing of those can be found at the end of this e-text.
THROUGH FINLAND IN CARTS
[Illustration: MRS. ALEC TWEEDIE.]
THROUGH FINLAND IN CARTS
BY
MRS. ALEC TWEEDIE
AUTHOR OF
"MEXICO AS I SAW IT," ETC.
[Illustration]
THOMAS NELSON & SONS
LONDON, EDINBURGH, DUBLIN
AND NEW YORK
TO MY HUSBAND
ALEC
TO MY DEAREST FRIEND
SIR JOHN ERIC ERICHSEN, BART., F.R.S., LL.D.
TO MY FATHER
DR. GEORGE HARLEY, F.R.S., F.R.C.P.
ALL OF WHOM DIED SUDDENLY WITHIN A SPACE OF FIVE MONTHS
I DEDICATE THESE PAGES IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE
OF THEIR LOVING INTEREST IN MY WORK
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. OUR FIRST PEEP AT FINLAND 11
II. A FINNISH COUNTRY-HOUSE 43
III. FINNISH BATHS 64
IV. A NIGHT IN A MONASTERY 84
V. SORDAVALA, OR A MUSICAL FESTIVAL 112
VI. "KALEVALA," AN EPIC POEM 136
VII. MANNERS AND CUSTOMS 169
VIII. IMATRA'S ROARING CATARACT 197
IX. "KOKKO" FIRES 210
X. WOMEN AND EDUCATION 219
XI. A HAUNTED CASTLE 238
XII. PUNKAHARJU 265
XIII. THE LIFE OF A TREE 275
XIV. THROUGH SAVOLAX IN CARTS 288
XV. ON WE JOG 309
XVI. A "TORP" AND "TORPPARI" WEDDING 335
XVII. TAR-BOATS 365
XVIII. DESCENDING THE RAPIDS 381
XIX. SALMON--ULEÅBORG 406
XX. A FASHIONABLE WATERING-PLACE 434
APPENDIX.
QUESTIONS OF NATIONALITY AND POLITICS 448
PREFACE
When I was first approached by Messrs. Nelson and Sons for permission to
publish _Through Finland in Carts_ in their shilling series, I felt
surprised. So many books and papers have jostled one another along my
path since my first journey to Finland, I had almost forgotten the
volume.
Turning to an old notebook, I see it was published in 1897 at sixteen
shillings. It appeared in a second edition. The demand still continued,
so a third edition, entirely revised and reprinted, was published at a
cheaper rate. Others followed, and it now appears on the market at the
reduced price of one shilling. Cheapness generally means deterioration
of goods, but cheapness in books spells popularity.
Since the last revise appeared, a few years ago, I had not opened the
pages of this volume; and strange though it may seem, I took it up to
correct with almost as much novelty as if it had been a new book by some
one else. An author lives with his work. He sees every page, every
paragraph, by day and by night. He cannot get away from it, it haunts
him; yet once the bark is launched on the waters of Fate, other things
fill his mind, and in a year or two he forgets which book contains some
special reference, or describes some particular thought. This is not
imagination but fact. The slate of memory would become too full and
confused were such not the case.
Finland has been progressing, and yet in the main Finland remains the
same. It is steeped in tradition and romance. There are more trains,
more hotels, larger towns; but that bright little land is still bravely
fighting her own battles, still forging ahead; small, contented, well
educated, self-reliant, and full of hopes for the future.
Finland has Home Rule under Russia, and her Parliament was the first to
admit women members.
For those interested in the political position of Finland, an appendix,
which has been brought up to date in every way possible, will be found
at the end of this volume.
E. ALEC TWEEDIE.
LONDON, _Easter 1913_.
THROUGH FINLAND IN CARTS
CHAPTER I
OUR FIRST PEEP AT FINLAND
It is worth the journey to Finland to enjoy a bath; then and not till
then does one know what it is to be _really_ clean.
Finland is famous for its baths and its beauties; its sky effects and
its waterways; its quaint customs and its poetry; its people and their
pluck. Finland will repay a visit.
Foreign travel fills the mind even if it empties the pocket. Amusement
is absolutely essential for a healthy mind.
Finland, or, as the natives call it in Finnish, _Suomi_, is a country of
lakes and islands. It is a vast continent about which strangers until
lately hardly knew anything, beyond such rude facts as are learnt at
school, viz., that "Finland is surrounded by the Gulfs of Finland and
Bothnia on the South and West, and bordered by Russia and Lapland on the
East and North," and yet Finland is larger than our own England,
Scotland, Ireland, aye, and the Netherlands, all put together.
When we first thought of going to _Suomi_, we naturally tried to procure
a Finnish guide-book and map; but no guide-book was to be obtained in
all London, except one small pamphlet about a dozen pages long; while at
our best-known map shop the only thing we could find was an enormous
cardboard chart costing thirty shillings. No one ever dreamed of going
to Finland. Nevertheless, Finland is not the home of barbarians, as some
folk then imagined; neither do Polar bears walk continually about the
streets, nor reindeer pull sledges in summer--items that have several
times been suggested to the writer.
Nothing daunted by want of information, however, we packed up our traps
and started.
We were three women, my sister, Frau von Lilly--a born Finlander--and
the writer of the following pages. That was the beginning of the party,
but it increased in numbers as we went along--a young man here, a young
girl there, an old man, or an old woman, joined us at different times,
and, alas, left us again.
Having made charming friends in that far-away land, and picked their
brains for information as diligently as the epicure does the back of a
grouse for succulent morsels, we finally--my sister and I--jogged home
again alone.
This looks bad in print! The reader will say, "Oh, how disagreeable they
must have been, those two, that every one should have deserted them!"
but this would be a mistake, for we flatter ourselves that we really
are rather nice, and only "adverse circumstances" deprived us of our
friends one by one.
Love and Friendship are the finest assets in the Bank of Life.
Grave trouble had fallen at my door. Life had been a happy bounteous
chain; the links had snapped suddenly and unexpectedly, and solace and
substance could only be found in work.
'Tis often harder to live than to die.
Immediate and constant work lay before me. The cuckoo's note trilled
forth in England, that sad, sad note that seemed to haunt me and speed
me on life's way. No sooner had I landed in _Suomi_ than the cuckoos
came to greet me. The same sad tone had followed me across the ocean to
remind me hourly of all the trouble I had gone through. The cuckoo would
not let me rest or forget; he sang a song of sympathy and encouragement.
It was on a brilliant sunny morning early in June that the trim little
ship _Urania_ steamed between the many islands round the coast to enter,
after four and a half days' passage from Hull, the port of
_Helsingfors_. How many thousands of posts, growing apparently out of
the sea, are to be met with round the shores of Finland! Millions, we
might say; for not only the coast line, which is some eight hundred
miles in length, but all the lakes and fjords through which steamers
pass are marked out most carefully by wooden stakes, or near the large
towns by stony banks and painted signs upon the rocks of the islands.
Sometimes the channels are so dangerous that the little steamers have to
proceed at half-speed, carefully threading their way in and out of the
posts, as a drag at Hurlingham winds its course between barrels at the
four-in-hand competitions.
Many places, we learnt, are highly dangerous to attempt at night, on
account of these stakes, which are put down by Government boats in the
spring after the ice has gone, and are taken up in November before it
forms again, because for about seven months all sea traffic is
impossible. Sometimes the channels are so narrow and shallow that the
screw of the steamer has to be stopped while the vessel glides through
between the rocks, the very revolutions of the screw drawing more water
than can be allowed in that particular _skär_ of tiny islands and rocks.
At other times we have seen the steamer kept off some rocky promontory
where it was necessary for her to turn sharply, by the sailors jumping
on to the bank and easing her along by the aid of stout poles; or again,
in the canals we have known her towed round particular points by the aid
of ropes. In fact, the navigation of Finland is one continual source of
surprise and amazement.
Finland is still rising out of the sea. Rocks that were marked with
paint one hundred and fifty years ago at the water's edge, now show that
the sea has gone down four or five feet. This is particularly noticeable
in the north: where large ships once sailed, a rowing boat hardly finds
waterway. Seaports have had to be moved. Slowly and gradually Finland
is emerging from the waters, just as slowly and gradually the people are
making their voice heard among other nations.
Few people in Great Britain realize the beauties of Finland. It is flat,
but it is fascinating. It is a land of waterways, interspersed with
forests. The winter is very cold, the summer very hot; the winter very
dark, the summer eternal light. _Helsingfors_ is one of the most
picturesque harbours in the world. It is not like anywhere else,
although it resembles Stockholm somewhat. It is so sunny and bright in
the summer, so delicious in colourings and reflections, that the primary
thought of the intricate watery entrance to the chief capital is one of
delight.
The first impressions on entering the Finnish harbour of _Helsingfors_
were very pleasing; there was a certain indefinable charm about the
scene as we passed in and out among the thickly-wooded islands, or dived
between those strong but almost hidden fortifications of which the
Russians are so proud. Once having passed these impregnable mysteries,
we found ourselves in more open water, and before us lay the town with
its fine Russian church of red brick with rounded dome, the Finnish
church of white stone, and several other handsome buildings denoting a
place of importance and considerable beauty. We were hardly alongside
the quay before a dozen Finnish officials swarmed on board to examine
the luggage, but no one seemed to have to pay anything; a small ticket
stuck on the baggage saving all further trouble.
Swedish, Finnish, and Russian, the three languages of the country, were
being spoken on every side, and actually the names of the streets, with
all necessary information, are displayed in these three different forms
of speech, though Russian is not acknowledged as a language of Finland,
the two native and official languages being Swedish and Finnish. Only
those who have travelled in Russia proper can have any idea of the joy
this means to a stranger; it is bad enough to be in any land where one
cannot speak the language, but it is a hundred times worse to be in a
country where one cannot read a word, and yet once over the border of
Russia the visitor is helpless. Vs becomes Bs, and such general
hieroglyphics prevail that although one sees charming tram-cars
everywhere, one cannot form the remotest idea where they are going, so
as to verify them on the map--indeed, cannot even tell from the written
lettering whether the buildings are churches or museums, or only music
halls.
Finnish is generally written with German lettering, Swedish with Latin,
and the Russian in its own queer upside down fashion, so that even in a
primitive place like Finland every one can understand one or other of
the placards, notices, and signs.
Not being in any particular hurry, we lingered on the steamer's bridge
as the clock was striking the hour of noon--Finnish time, by the way,
being a hundred minutes in advance of English time--and surveyed the
strange scene. Somehow _Helsingfors_ did not look like a Northern
capital, and it seemed hard to believe, in that brilliant sunshine,
that for two or three months during every year the harbour is solidly
ice-bound.
Yet the little carriages, a sort of droschky, savouring of Petersburg,
and the coachmen (_Isvoschtschik_) certainly did not come from any
Southern or Western clime. These small vehicles, which barely hold a
couple of occupants and have no back rest, are rather like large
perambulators, in front of which sits the driver, whose headgear was
then of beaver, like a squashed top hat, very broad at the top,
narrowing sharply to a wide curly brim, which curious head-covering,
well forced down over his ears, is generally ornamented with a black
velvet band, and a buckle, sometimes of silver, stuck right in the
front.
Perhaps, however, the most wonderful part of the _Suomi_ Jehu's attire
was his petticoat. He had a double-breasted blue-cloth coat fastening
down the side, which at the waist was pleated on to the upper part in
great fat folds more than an inch wide, so that from behind he almost
looked like a Scheveningen fishwife; while, if he was not fat enough for
fashionable requirements, he wore an additional pillow before and
behind, and tied a light girdle round his waist to keep his dress in
place.
All this strange beauty could be admired at a very cheap rate, for
passengers are able to drive to any part of the town for fifty _penniä_,
equal to fivepence in English money. These coachmen, about eighty inches
in girth, fascinated us; they were so fat and so round, so packed in
padding that on hot days they went to sleep sitting bolt upright on
their box, their inside pillows and outside pleats forming their only
and sufficient support. It was a funny sight to see half a dozen
_Isvoschtschiks_ in a row, the men sound asleep, their arms folded, and
their heads resting on their manly chests, in this case cuirassed with a
feathery pillow.
Drawing these Finnish carriages, are those strange wooden hoops over the
horses' withers so familiar on the Russian droschky, but perhaps most
extraordinary of all are the strong shafts fixed inside the wheels,
while the traces from the collar are secured to the axle itself outside
the wheel. That seemed a novelty to our mind any way, and reminded us of
the old riddle, "What is the difference between an inside Irish car and
an outside Irish car?" "The former has the wheels outside, the latter
has the wheels inside."
At the present day much of this picturesqueness has passed away, and
coachmen and chauffeurs in Western livery and the motor taxi-cab have
largely replaced them.
Queer carts on two wheels were drawn up along the quay to bear the
passengers' luggage to its destination, but stop--do not imagine every
one rushes and tears about in Finland, and that a few minutes sufficed
to clear the decks and quay. Far from it; we were among a Northern
people proverbially as dilatory and slow as any Southern nation, for in
the extreme North as in the extreme South time is _not_ money--nay, more
than that, time waits on _every_ man.
Therefore from the bridge of our steamer we heard much talking in
strange tongues, we saw much movement of queerly-dressed folk, but we
did not see much expedition, and before we left Finland we found that
the boasted hour and forty minutes advance on the clock really meant
much the same thing as our own time, for about this period was always
wasted in preparations, so that in the end England and Finland were
about quits with the great enemy. Three delightful Finnish proverbs tell
us, "Time is always before one," "God did not create hurry," "There is
nothing in this world so abundant as time," and, as a nation, Finns
gratefully accept the fact.
Every one seemed to be met by friends, showing how rarely strangers
visited the land. Indeed the arrival of the Hull boat, once a week, was
one of the great events of _Helsingfors_ life, and every one who could
went down to see her come in.
A delightful lady--a Finlander--who had travelled with us, and had told
us about her home in Boston, where she holds classes for Swedish
gymnastics, was all excitement when her friends came on board. She
travels to _Suomi_ every year, spending nearly three weeks _en route_,
to enjoy a couple of months' holiday in the summer at her father's
parsonage, near _Hangö_. That remarkably fine specimen of his race, Herr
S----, was met by wife, and brother, and a host of students--for he
returned from Malmö, victorious, with the Finnish flag. He, with
twenty-three friends, had just been to Sweden for a gymnastic
competition, in which Finland had won great honours, and no wonder, if
the rest of the twenty-three were as well-made and well-built as this
hardy descendant of a Viking race.
Then again a Finnish gentleman had to be transhipped with his family,
his horses, his groom, and his dogs, to wait for the next vessel to
convey them nearer to his country seat, with its excellent fishing close
to Imatra. He was said to be one of the wealthiest men in Finland,
although he really lived in England, and merely returned to his native
country in the summer months to catch salmon, trout, or grayling.
Then--oh yes, we must not forget them--there were the emigrants, nearly
sixty in number, returning from America for a holiday, though a few
declared they had made enough money and would not require to go back
again. There are whole districts of Finlanders in the United States, and
excellent settlers they make, these hardy children of the North. They
had been ill on the voyage, had looked shabby and depressed, but, as
they came within sight of their native land, they appeared on deck
beaming with smiles, and dressed out wondrous fine, in anticipation of
their home-coming.
But were they excited? Not a bit of it. Nothing excites a Finn. Although
he is very patriotic he cannot lightly rise to laughter or descend to
tears; his unruffled temperament is, perhaps, one of the chief
characteristics of his strange nature.
Yes, every one seemed met by friends on that hot June day; and we were
lucky too, for our kindly cicerone, Frau von Lilly, who had tempted us
to Finland, and had acquaintances in every port, was welcomed by her
brother and other relations, all of whom were so good to us that we left
their land many weeks afterwards with the most grateful recollections of
overwhelming hospitality.
Our welcome to Finland was most cordial, and the kindly greetings made
us feel at once at home among a strange people, none of whose three
languages we could talk; but, as one of them spoke French, another
English, and a third German, we found no difficulty in getting along.
Such servants as knew Swedish easily understood the Norwegian words we
had learnt sufficiently well to enable us to get about during two
enjoyable and memorable visits to Norway,[A] although strange
explanations and translations were vouchsafed us sometimes; as, for
instance, when eating some very _stodgy_ bread, a lady remarked, "It is
not good, it is unripe dough" (pronounced like cough).
We looked amazed, but discovered that she meant that the loaf was not
sufficiently baked.
As we drove along in the little droschky we passed the market, a
delightfully gay scene, where all the butchers wore bright pink blouses
or coats, and the women white handkerchiefs over their heads. We bumped
over cobble stones and across tram lines, little heeded by the numbers
of bicyclists, both men and women, riding about in every direction, for
Finland was in the forefront in the vogue for bicycle-riding. It was
most amusing to notice the cycles stacked in the railway vans of that
northern clime, while on the steamers it is nothing extraordinary to see
a dozen or more cycles amongst the passengers' luggage. In the matter of
steamers, the companies are very generous to the cyclist, for he is not
required to take a ticket for his machine, which passes as ordinary
baggage.
Although we supply the Finlanders with machines, we might take a lesson
from them in the matter of registration. At the back of every saddle in
large figures was engraved the number, bought at the time of
registration for four marks (three shillings and fourpence),
consequently, in case of accident or theft, the bicycle could
immediately be identified; a protection alike for the bicyclist and the
person to whom through reckless riding an accident is caused.
_Helsingfors_, although the capital, is not a large town, having only
150,000 inhabitants, but there are nearly five thousand registered
bicycles plying in its streets. The percentage of riders is enormous,
and yet cycling is only possible for about five months every year, the
country being covered with snow and ice the rest of the time. Here we
pass a Russian officer, who is busy pedalling along, dressed in his full
uniform, with his sword hanging at his side. One might imagine a sword
would be in the way on a cycle; but not at all, the Finland or Russian
officer is an adept in the art, and jumps off and on as though a sword
were no more hindrance than the spurs which he always wears in his
boots. There is a girl student--for the University is open to men and
women alike, who have equal advantages in everything, and among the
large number who avail themselves of the State's generosity are many
cycling dames.
The Finlander is brave. He rides over roads that would strike terror
into our souls, for even in towns the cobble stones are so awful that no
one, who has not trudged over Finnish streets on a hot summer's day, can
have any idea of the roughness. A Finlander does not mind the cobbles,
for as he says, "they are cheap, and wear better than anything else,
and, after all, we never actually live in the towns during summer, so
the roads do not affect us; and for the other months of the year they
are covered with snow, so that they are buried sometimes a foot or two
deep, and then sledges glide happily over them."
It is over such stones that the cyclist rides, and the stranger pauses
aghast to see him being nearly bumped off his machine--as we have
ourselves bumped towards the bottom of a steep hill when coasting--and
not apparently minding it in the least, judging by the benign smile
playing upon his usually solemn physiognomy. He steers deftly in and out
of the larger boulders, and soon shows us that he is a thorough master
of his iron steed.
All the students of both sexes wear the most charming cap. In shape it
closely resembles a yachting cap; the top is made of white velvet, the
snout of black leather, and the black velvet band that encircles the
head is ornamented in front by a small gold badge emblematic of the
University. No one dare don this cap, or at least the badge, until he
has passed his matriculation examination.
White velvet sounds thriftless; but in Finland, in the summer, it is
very hot and dry; in fact, the three or four months of summer are really
summer in all its glory. It is all daylight and there is no night, so
that June, July, and August seem one perpetual midsummer day. For
travelling or country rides, the Finland student wears a small linen
cover over his white velvet cap, which is made to fix on so neatly that
the stranger does not at first detect it is a cover at all. In the
winter, the white cap is laid aside, and a black velvet one takes its
place.
Among the lower orders the women work like slaves, because they must.
Women naturally do the washing in every land, and in the Finnish
waterways there are regular platforms built out into the sea, at such a
height that the laundresses can lean over the side and rinse their
clothes, while the actual washing is performed at wooden tables, where
they scrub linen with brushes made for the purpose.
Yet it seemed to us strange indeed to see women cleaning the streets;
huge broom in hand they marched about and swept the paths, while a whole
gang of female labourers were weeding the roadways.
Women in _Suomi_ do many unusual things; but none excited our surprise
so much as to see half a dozen of them building a house. They were
standing on scaffolding plastering the wall, while others were
completing the carpentry work of a door; subsequently we learnt there
were no fewer than six hundred women builders and carpenters in
Finland.
The Finns, though intellectually most interesting, are not as a rule
attractive in person. Generally small of stature, thickset, with high
cheek-bones, and eyes inherited from their Tartar-Mongolian ancestors,
they cannot be considered good-looking; while the peculiar manner in
which the blonde male peasants cut their hair is not becoming to their
sunburnt skins, which are generally a brilliant red, especially about
the neck where it appears below the light, fluffy, downy locks. Fat men
are not uncommon; and their fatness is too frequently of a kind to make
one shudder, for it resembles dropsy, and is, as a rule, the outcome of
liqueur drinking, a very pernicious habit, in which many Finlanders
indulge to excess. There are men in _Suomi_--dozens of them--so fat that
no healthy Englishman could ever attain to such dimensions; one of them
will completely occupy the seat of an _Isvoschtschik_, while the amount
of adipose tissue round his wrists and cheeks seems absolutely
incredible when seen for the first time, and one wonders how any chair
or carriage can ever bear such a weight. Inordinately fat men are
certainly one of the least pleasing peculiarities of these northern
nationalities.
Top hats seemed specially favoured by Finnish gentlemen.
Flannel shirts and top hats are, to an English mind, incongruities; but
in _Suomi_ fashion smiles approvingly on such an extraordinary
combination. At the various towns, therefore, mashers strolled about
attired in very bright-coloured flannel shirts, turned down flannel
collars, trimmed with little bows of silken cord with tassels to fasten
them at the neck, and _orthodox tall hats_.
The Finnish peasant women are as partial to pink cotton blouses as the
Russian peasant men are to red flannel shirts, and the bright colours of
the bodices, and the pretty white or black handkerchiefs over their
heads, with gaily coloured scarves twisted round their throats, add to
the charm of the _Helsingfors_ market-place, where they sit in rows
under queer old cotton umbrellas, the most fashionable shade for which
appears to be bright blue.
The market is a feature in Finland, and in a measure takes the place of
shops in other countries. For instance, waggons containing butcher's
meat stand in rows, beside numerous carts full of fish, while fruit and
flowers, cakes and bread-stuffs in trucks abound. Indeed, so fully are
these markets supplied, it seems almost unnecessary to have any shops at
all.
The old market folk all drink coffee, or let us be frank at once and say
chicory, for a really good cup of coffee is rare in Finland, whereas
chicory is grown largely and drunk everywhere, the Finlanders believing
that the peculiar bitter taste they know and love so well is coffee.
Pure coffee, brewed from the berry, is a luxury yet to be discovered by
them.
As we drove along, we noticed at many of the street corners large and
sonorous bells made of brass, and furnished with chains to pull them. We
wondered what this might mean, and speculated whether the watchman went
round and rang forth the hours, Doomsday fashion.
On asking information we were told--
"They are fire-bells, very loud, which can be heard at some distance."
"But does not a strong wind cause them to ring?"
"No; they must be pulled and pulled hard; but you had better not try, or
you may be fined heavily."
So we refrained, and pondered over the fire-bells.
It is as necessary to have a passport in Finland as in Russia. But
whereas in Russia a passport is demanded at once, almost before one has
crossed the threshold of an hotel, one can stay in a Finnish town for
three days without having to prove one's identity; any longer stay in a
hotel or private house often necessitates the passport being sent to the
police. It is a most extraordinary thing that a Finn should require a
passport to take him in or out of Russia; such, however, is the case,
and if a man in _Wiborg_ wishes to go to St. Petersburg to shop, see a
theatre, or to spend a day with a friend, he must procure a passport for
the length of time of his intended visit. This is only a trifle;
nevertheless it is a little bit of red-tapism to which the Finlander
might object. But it may have its advantages, for the passport
rigorously keeps anarchists, socialists, Jews, and beggars out of
_Suomi_.
Until 1905, the press was severely restricted by the Censor, though not
to the same extent as in Russia itself, where hardly a day passes
without some paragraph being obliterated from every newspaper. Indeed,
in St. Petersburg an English friend told us that during the six years he
had lived there he had a daily paper sent to him from London, and that
probably on an average of three days a week, during all that time, it
would reach him with all political information about Russia stamped out,
or a whole page torn away.
We ourselves saw eight inches blackened over in _The Times_, and about
the same length in that day's _Kölnische Zeitung_ and _Independence
Belge_ totally obliterated in Petersburg. We received English papers
pretty regularly during our jaunt through Finland, and what amazed us
most was the fact that, although this black mark absolutely obliterated
the contents, no one on receiving the paper could have told that the
cover had been tampered with in the least, as it always arrived in its
own wrapper, addressed in the handwriting we knew so well. It remained
an endless source of amazement to us how the authorities managed to pull
the paper out and put it in again without perceptibly ruffling the
cover.
It is not unknown for a Finnish paper, when ready for delivery, to have
some objection made to its contents, in which case it must not be
distributed; consequently, a notice is issued stating that such and such
a paper has been delayed in publication, and the edition will be ready
at a later hour in the afternoon. The plain meaning of which is that
the whole newspaper has been confiscated, and the entire edition
reprinted, the objectionable piece being taken out. _Presshinder_ is by
no means uncommon.
Unfortunately "a house divided against itself falleth," which is a
serious hindrance to progress. That _Suomi_ is divided, every one who
has studied Finnish politics must know. With its Russian rule, its
Finnish and Swedish proclivities, and its three languages, the country
has indeed much to fight against.
For those who are interested in the subject of its Home Rule, an
Appendix will be found at the end of this volume.
Very important changes have of late taken place in Finland. Less than
half a century ago the whole country--at least the whole educated
country--was still Swedish at heart and Swedish in language. From Sweden
Finland had borrowed its literature and its laws until Russia stepped
in, when the Finn began to assert himself. The ploughman is now educated
and raising his voice with no uncertain sound on behalf of his own
country and his language, and to-day the greatest party in the
Parliament are the Social-Democrats.
The national air of Finland is _Maamme_ or _Vårt Land_ in Swedish ("Our
Land").
The words were written by the famous poet, J. L. Runeburg, in Swedish,
which was at that time the language of the upper classes, and translated
into Finnish, the music being composed by Frederick Pacius. In Finnish
the words are--
MAAMME
Oi maamme, Suomi, synnyinmaa, soi sana kultainen!
Ei laaksoa, ei kukkulaa, ei vettä rantaa rakkaampaa,
Kuin kotimaa tää pohjainen, maa kallis isien.
On Maamme köyhä, siksi jää jos kultaa kaipaa ken.
Sen kyllä vieras hylkäjää, mut meille kallein maa on tää
Kans' salojen ja saarien se meist' on kultainen.
Ovatpa meistä rakkahat kohinat koskien,
Ikuisten honkain huminat, täht' yömme, kesät kirkkahat
Kaikk', kaikki laulain loistaen mi lumes' sydämen.
Täss' auroin, miekoin, miettehin isämme sotivat,
Kun päivä piili pilvihin tai loisti onnen paistehin,
Täss' Suomen kansan suurimmat he vaivat kokivat.
Ken taistelut ne kaikki voi kertoilla kansan tään,
Kun sota laaksoissamme soi ja halla nälän tuskat toi?
Sen vert' ei mittaa yksikään ei kärsimystäkään.
Täss' on se veri vuotanut edestä meidänkin,
Täss' ilonsa on nauttinut ja tässä huoltain huokaillut
Se kansa, jolle muinoisin kuormamme pantihin.
Täss' olla meidän mieluist' on ja kaikki suotuisaa;
Vaikk' onni mikä tulkohon, meill' isänmaa on verraton.
Mit' oisi maassa armaampaa, mit' oisi kalliimpaa?
Ja tässä' täss' on tämä maa, sen näkee silmämme;
Me kättä voimme ojentaa, ja vettä, rantaa osoittaa,
Ja sanoa: kas tuoss on se, maa armas isäimme!
Jos loistoon meitä saatettais vaikk' kultapilvihin,
Miss' itkien ei huoattais' vaan tähtein riemun sielu sais,
Ois tähän kurjaan kotihin halumme kwitenkin.
Totunuden, runon kotimaa, maa tuhatjärvinen,
Elomme sulta suojan saa, sä toivojen ja muistoin maa,
Ain' ollos onnen vaihdellen, sä vapaa, riemuinen.
Sun kukoistukses' kuorestaan kerrankin puhkeaa;
Viel' lempemme saa nousemaan sun toivos, riemus loistossaan,
Ja kerran laulus' synnyinmaa, korkeemman kaiun saa.
When the _Maamme_ is sung every one rises, the men take off their hats,
and nearly all those present join in the song, their demeanour being
most respectful, for a Finn is nothing if not patriotic.
Another very popular air is the following, written by Zachris Topelius,
whose fairy tales are now being translated into English--
SINUN MAASI
(_Finnish_)
Laps' Suomen, älä vaihda pois
Sun maatas ihanaa!
Sill' leipä vieraan karvast 'ois
Ja sana karkeaa.
Sen taivas, päiv' on loistoton,
Sen sydän sulle outo on.
Laps' Suomen, älä vaihda pois
Sun maatas ihanaa!
Laps' Suomen, kaunis sull' on maa
Ja suuri, loistokas.
Veet välkkyy, maat sen vihoittaa,
Sen rant 'on maineikas.
Yö kirkas, päivä lämpöinen
Ja taivas tuhattähtinen,
Laps' Suomen, kaunis sull 'on maa
Ja suuri, loistokas.
Laps' Suomen, armas maasi tää
Siis muista ainiaan!
Sull 'onnea ja elämää
Ej muuall' ollenkaan.
Jos minne tiesi olkohon,
Niin juures' synnyinmaassas' on
Laps' Suomen, armas maasi tää
Siis muista ainiaan!
DITT LAND
(_Swedish_)
O barn af Finland, byt ej bort
Din ädla fosterjord!
En främlings bröd är hårdt och torrt,
Och klanglöst är hans ord.
Hans sol är blek, hans himmel grå,
Hans hjerta kan ej ditt förstå.
O barn af Finland, byt ej bort
Din ädla fosterjord.
O Finland's barn, ditt land är godt,
Ditt land är stort och skönt.
Dess jord är grön, dess haf är blått,
Dess strand af ära krönt.
Dess natt är ljus, dess sol är klar,
Dess himmel tusen stjernor bar.
O Finland's barn, ditt land är godt,
Ditt land är stort och skönt.
Och derför, barn af Finland, minns
Ditt ädla fosterland!
Ej ro, ej lif, ej lycka finns
I fjerran från dess strand.
Hvarhelst din väg i verlden går,
Din rot är der din vagga står.
Och derför, barn af Finland, minns
Ditt ädla fosterland!
THY LAND[B]
(_English_)
O child of Finland, wherefore fly
Thy noble Fatherland?
The stranger's bread is hard and dry,
And harsh his speech and hand;
His skies are lead, his heart is dead
Thy heart to understand.
O child of Finland, wherefore fly
Thy noble Fatherland?
O Finland's heir, thy land is fair
And bright from bound to bound;
Her seas serene; no gayer green
On tree or lea is found.
Her sun's a blaze of golden rays,
Her night an eve star-crowned.
O Finland's heir, no land more rare
Or nobly fair is found.
Then, child of Finland, ne'er forget
Thy noble Fatherland;
For peace of mind is not to find
Upon a stranger's strand.
To that bright earth that gave thee birth
Thou owest heart and hand.
Then fealty swear to Finland fair,
Our famous Fatherland.
We dined at several restaurants in _Helsingfors_; for, in the summer,
the Finlanders live entirely out of doors, and they certainly make the
most of the fine weather when they have it. Perhaps our brightest
dining-place was on the island of _Högholmen_, to which little steamers
ply continually; but as we arrived at the landing-stage when a vessel
had just left, we engaged a boat to row us across. It was a typical
Finnish boat, pointed at both ends, wide in the middle, and a loving
couple sitting side by side rowed us over. They were not young, and they
were not beautiful; in fact, they looked so old, so sunburnt, and so
wrinkled, that we wondered how many years over a hundred they had
completed. But, judging by the way they put their backs into the work,
they could not have been as ancient as they appeared.
[Illustration: OUR SHIP IN WINTER.]
One of the first words one hears in Finland is _straxt_, which means
"immediately," and we soon found it was in universal use. No order is
complete without the word _straxt_ as an addition, and, naturally, the
stranger thinks what a remarkably punctual and generally up-to-time sort
of people the Finns must be. But the voyager seems born to be
disappointed. No Finn ever hurried himself for anybody or anything; the
word _straxt_ means, at least, a quarter of an hour, and the visitor may
consider himself lucky if that quarter of an hour does not drag itself
out to thirty minutes.
A man asks for his bill. _Straxt_ is the reply. He suggests his luggage
being fetched downstairs, reminds the landlord that the _kärra_ (little
carts) were ordered for noon, now long past.
"_Straxt, straxt_," is smilingly answered, but the landlord does not
move--not he; what is to be gained by being in a hurry? why fidget? an
hour hence is quite as good as the present quickly fleeting by. So
soothing his conscience by the word _straxt_, he leisurely goes on with
his work, and as "like master, like man," those below him do not hurry
either, for which reason most things in Finland are dominated more by
chance than ruled by time.
It is annoying, it is often exasperating, but there is a superb calm, or
shall we say obstinacy, about the Finnish character that absolutely
refuses to be bustled, or hurried, or jostled.
They are a grave, solid people, who understand a joke even less than the
Scotch, while such a thing as chaff is absolutely unintelligible to
them. Life to the Finns seems a serious matter which can be only
undertaken after long thought and much deliberation. They lose much
pleasure by their seriousness. They sing continually, but all their
music is sad; they dance sometimes, but the native dances are seldom
boisterous as in other lands. They read much and think deeply, for
unlike the Russians, only 25 per cent. of whom can read, in Finland both
rich and poor are wonderfully well educated; but they smile seldom, and
look upon jokes and fun as contemptible. Education is one constant
enquiry, and knowledge is but an assimilation of replies.
The men and women enjoy great freedom. Educated in the same schools,
they are brought up to ignore sex; the young folk can go out for a whole
day together, walking or snow-shoeing, skating or sledging, and a
chaperon is unheard of; yet in all social gatherings, as an antithesis
to this, we find an unexpected restraint. At a party the men all
congregate in one room, or at one end of the table, leaving the women
desolate, while the young of both sexes look askance at one another,
and, in the presence of their elders, never exchange a word, in spite of
their boasted freedom. Society is paradoxical.
More than that, by way of discouraging healthy chatter and fun among the
young people, the elder folk always monopolise conversation, two persons
invariably discussing some particular point, while twenty sit silently
round listening--result, that young men and women know little of one
another if they only meet in society, and the _bon camaraderie_ supposed
to result from the system of mixed education is conspicuous by its
absence. Everything is against it. The very chairs are placed round a
room in such a way that people must perforce sit in a circle--that
dreaded circle which strikes terror into the heart of a British hostess.
Even on the balconies an enormous table, with chairs packed closely
round it, is constantly in evidence, so that the circle is even to be
found there, with the consequence that every one sits and stares at
every one else, except the people who may or may not keep up a
conversation. The strange part of the whole arrangement is that
Finlanders do not understand how prim they really are socially, and talk
of their freedom, and their enormous emancipation, as they sit at table,
where the greater number of those present never dare venture to say
anything, while the young men and women rarely even sit together. They
apparently make up for lost time when away from their elders.
The people are most hospitable, to strangers particularly so, and
certainly the flowers and the books and sweets we were given, to say
nothing of invitations received to stay in houses after an hour's
acquaintance, to dine or sup, to come here or go there, were quite
delightful. They are generous to a remarkable degree, and hospitable
beyond praise. This is a Northern characteristic like honesty; both of
which traits are sadly lacking in the Southern peoples. Kindness and
thoughtfulness touch a warm chord in the heart of a stranger, and make
him feel that Finland is a delightful country, and her people the
staunchest of friends. But, after this divergence, let us return to our
first drive.
Those slouching men in long jack boots, butchers' blouses of white and
shapeless form, are Russian soldiers. Soldiers, indeed! where is the
smartness, the upright bearing, the stately tread and general air of
cleanliness one expects in a soldier? These men look as if they had just
tumbled out of their beds and were still wearing night-shirts; even the
officers appeared strange to our English ideas, although medals adorned
their breasts and swords hung at their sides even when bicycling.
"Do you mix much with the Russians?" we asked one of our new friends.
"Hardly at all; they have conquered us, they rule us, they plant whole
regiments among us, and they don't even take the trouble to understand
us, or to learn our language. No, we keep to ourselves, and they keep
to themselves; our temperaments are so different we could never mix."
And this is true. The position of Alsace-Lorraine towards Germany is
much the same as that of Finland towards Russia. Both have been
conquered by a country speaking another language to their own, and of
totally foreign temperament to themselves. After forty years the people
of Alsace-Lorraine are as staunchly French as before, and the same
applies to the position of the Finlanders.
Life in _Helsingfors_ is very pleasant for strangers in the summer; but
for the natives it has no attraction. Accustomed to a long and ice-bound
winter, the moment May comes every family, possessed of any means, flits
to the country for three or four months. All the schools close for
twelve weeks, and the children, who have worked hard during the long
dark winter, thoroughly enjoy their holiday. Summer comes suddenly and
goes swiftly. The days then are long, as the nights are short, for in
the north of Finland there is a midnight sun, and even in _Helsingfors_,
during June, he does not set till about eleven, consequently it remains
light all night--that strange weird sort of light that we English folk
only know as appertaining to very early morning. As we sat finishing
supper about ten o'clock at the Kapellet, we were strongly reminded of
the light at three A.M. one morning, only a week or two before, when we
had bumped to Covent Garden to see the early market, one of London's
least known but most interesting sights, in our friendly green-grocer's
van, with Mr. and Mrs. Green-grocer for sole companions.
The Kapellet is a delightful restaurant in the chief street of
_Helsingfors_, standing among trees, under which many seats and tables
are placed, and where an excellent military band plays during meal
times. Strange meal times they are too, for, after early coffee and
roll, every one breakfasts between ten and twelve on meats with beer or
wine, not an egg and fish breakfast such as we have, but a regular solid
meal. Finlanders in towns dine from two to four, and sit down to supper
between eight and ten, so that they have three solid meat meals a
day--probably a necessity in such a climate--and drink wines and spirits
at each of these functions, which so closely resemble one another that
the stranger would have difficulty in knowing which was supper and which
was breakfast.
In the summer mostly men frequent the Kapellet, for their wives and
families are away at their villas on the islands. Apparently any one can
build a villa on any island, and the moment he does so, like Robinson
Crusoe, he is master of the situation. One does not require to pay more
than a trifle for the site, and a beautiful wooden house can be erected
in about two months for two or three hundred pounds. Parents who are
well off generally have a nice island and a comfortable house, and when
their sons and daughters marry, they build thereon small villas for
them; thus whole families, scattered during the greater part of the
year, come together every summer.
For this reason family life in Finland is delightful. There are many
thousand islands--millions, one might almost say--and therefore plenty
of room for all. Finland is like a sponge; the lakes and islands being
represented by the holes.
We lived in a flat at _Helsingfors_. Frau von Lilly's brothers had a
delightful _étage_, with a dear old housekeeper, and thither we went.
Mina looked after our wants splendidly, and smiled upon us all day as
strange sort of beings because we liked so much _hett vatten_ (hot
water). She was always opening our door and walking in, for no one ever
dreams of knocking in Finland; standing before us, her hands folded on
her portly form, she smiled and smiled again. _Mycket bra_ (very nice),
we repeated incessantly to her joy--but still she stayed, whether
anxious to attend to our wants or to have a look at Englishwomen and
their occupations we know not; one thing, however, is certain, that
without a word in common we became fast friends. Her beautifully
polished floors made us afraid to walk across them, and the large rooms,
broad beds, and lots of towels came as a real treat after nearly five
days at sea. Every one lives in flats in the towns, there are only a few
private houses, and therefore long stone flights of stairs lead to the
"appartement" as they do in Germany, while the rooms, with their
enormous stoves and endless doors, remind one continually of _das
Vaterland_.
From our flat, which stood high, we had a most glorious view.
Immediately in front was the students' club, while beyond were the
Parliament Houses, charming churches, the fine park given to the town by
Henrik Borgström, the lovely harbour, the fortifications, and the deep,
dark sea.
As the sun set we revelled in the glories visible from our balcony, and
thoroughly enjoyed the charms of the Northern night. Midnight suns must
be seen to be understood, the gorgeous lights are enthralling. Our souls
were steeped in that great silence.
It is during such nights as these that vegetation springs into
existence. A day is like a fortnight under that endless sky of light.
Hence the almost tropical vegetation that so amazed us at times in this
ice-bound land. For though the Gulf of Bothnia is frozen for many
months, and the folk walk backwards and forwards to Sweden, the summer
bursts forth in such luxuriance that the flowers verily seem to have
been only hiding under the snow, ready to raise their heads. The land is
quickly covered by bloom as if kissed by fairy lips. And the corn is
ripe and ready for cutting before the first star is seen to twinkle in
the heavens.
Just outside our window, which looked away over the Russian and Lutheran
churches to the sea, we watched a house which was being built with some
interest. The town stands either on massive glacial rocks, or, in other
parts that have been reclaimed from the sea, on soft sand; in the latter
case the erection has to be reared on piles. For the foundation of the
house mentioned, long stakes, about twenty feet in length, were driven
into the ground. Above this pile a sort of crane was erected, from which
hung a large heavy stone caught by iron prongs. Some twenty men stood
round the crane, and with one "Heave oh!" pulled the stone up to the
top, where, being let loose, it fell with a tremendous thud upon the
head of the luckless pile, which was driven with every successive blow
deeper into the earth. When all the piles were thus driven home, four or
five feet apart, rough bits of rock or stone were fitted in between
them, and the whole was boarded over with wood after the fashion of a
flooring, on top of which the house itself was built. The men worked all
day and all night in relays at the job.
_Helsingfors_ is very advanced in its ideas; it then had electric light
everywhere, telephones in each house, and so on; nevertheless, it only
possessed one large carriage, and that was a landau which belonged to
the hotel. In this splendid vehicle, with two horses and a coachman
bedecked like an English beadle, we went for a drive, and so remarkable
was the appearance of our equipage that every one turned round to look
at us, and, as we afterwards learned, to wonder who we could possibly
be, since we looked English, spoke German, and drove out with
Finlanders.
Many happy days might be passed in _Helsingfors_, which contains museums
and various places of interest. But it is essentially a winter town,
and, as all the smart folk had flown and the windows were as closely
barred as those of London in August and September, we hurried on to
gayer and quainter scenes, which unfolded many strange experiences, or
this summer trip to Finland would never have been written.
During the ten weeks we were in _Suomi_ we slept in twenty-six different
beds. Beds did we say? Save the mark! We slept under twenty-six
different _circumstances_, would be more to the point, for our nights of
rest, or unrest, were passed in a variety of ways--in beautiful brass
bedsteads with spring mattresses; in wooden boxes dragged out until they
became a bed, the mattress being stuffed with the _luikku_ or _ruopo_
plant, which makes a hard and knotty couch. We slept in the bunks of
ships, which for curiosity's sake we measured, and found seldom exceeded
eighteen inches in width; we lay on the floor with only a rug dividing
us from the wooden boards; or we reposed on a canvas deck-chair, which
originally cost about five shillings in London; we even dozed on the top
of a dining-room table; and last, but not least, to avoid giving
ourselves up as a meal to unwelcome visitors, we avoided beds
altogether, and slept on the top of a grand piano, or, more properly
speaking, an old-fashioned spinet, the notes of which gave forth a hard
and tinny sound when touched.
It must not be imagined from this that there were not beds, for beds
were generally procurable, lots of beds, in fact, the mattresses piled
one on the top of another. BUT--well, we preferred the spinet!
FOOTNOTES:
[A] _A Winter Jaunt to Norway._
[B] Translated from the Swedish by Alfred Perceval Graves.