MANNERS AND CUSTOMS
Such are the manners and customs of the past; now let us take a look at
the _Suomi_ of 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; only legislative
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 for _ski_, 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 at _Sordavala_, were
reinstated.
Parliament began meeting regularly, and hope beamed brightly.
Nevertheless danger is lurking within and without, for the Finlanders
speak three languages; the _Finlanders_ themselves only speak Finnish,
the more educated people speak Swedish, and in official circles they
must know Russian, a language which has been forced upon them; 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 at
_Tavasland_, _Karelen_, or _Österbotten_.
The people in _Tavasland_ are 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 of _Tavasland_:--
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 the _Karelen_ district 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 native peasant; 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 as _Svecomans_, 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, and _Finlander_ is the common name for both
Finnish-speaking and Swedish-speaking people. _Finn_ is 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.
The _Fennomans_ take interest in, and work for the Finnish language,
literature, and culture; while the _Svecomans_, 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 the _Fennomans_ and
_Svecomans_ tried to remember that their real object is the same,
namely, the welfare of 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 the _Helsingfors_
newspapers, 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
a _skatt-öre_, the word originating from the small coin of that name,
and each town decides whether the _öre_ shall be charged on two hundred
or four hundred marks. Let us take as an example a 400-mark _öre_
(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-nine
_skatt-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, the _öre_, which
includes parochial rates, is very low. In _Wiborg_ they 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 to
_Sordavala_, 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
sleeping apartment of the man was really a passage which conducted
directly into the _Konttoori_ or 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 the _Konttoori_ (which is pronounced, by the bye,
exactly in the same manner as an Irishman says _country_), 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 word _Konttoori_.
"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 the
_bed_, 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 the _Konttoori_.
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 Grand Duchy 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 at _Sordavala_, 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 with one'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 at _Sordavala_ for
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
at night 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 the sheets. 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 arranged _four 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 drinking
_aqua pura_ is 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 was
_luikku_, the Latin name of which is _Eriophorum 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 the _luikku_, 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 be _ruoko_ (_Phragmites communis_), 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, the _ruoko_ sways 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 a _talkko_.
A _talkko_ is 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 called _Kalja_, 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 their crop 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.
A _talkko_ relieves 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 in _Suomi_.
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 a _talkko_. 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
names are musical and pretty, we give a few of the most usual--
MEN.
Onni
Ilmari
Yrjö (George)
Väinö
Armas
Aarne
Arvo
Reijo
Esko
Heikki (Henry)
Urpo
Eero (Eric)
Mauno (Magnus)
Lauri (Laurence)
Vilho (William)
Toivo
Pekka (Peter)
Ahti (Kalevala)
Sampsa "
Antero "
Youko "
Kullervo "
Kalervo "
Untamo "
Kammo "
Nyyrikki "
Osmo "
Valio
Ensi
WOMEN.
Aino
Saima
Helmi
Aili
Kyllikki
Eine
Aura
Sirkka
Lempi
Siviä
Rauha (Friede, Irene)
Hellin
Ainikki (Kalevala)
Ilpotar "
Inkeri "
Louhi "
Lyyli, or Lyylikki
Mielikki (Kalevala)
Tellervo "
Tuulikki "
Hilja
Tyyne
Suoma
Alli
Impi
Laina
Ilma
Iri
SURNAMES.
Aaltola
Vuorio
Lallukka
Ritola
Aitamurto
Haapaoja
Häkli
Sutinen
Pösö
Matikainen
Koskinen
Piispanen
Pilvi (a cloud)
Vitikka
Vipunen (Kalevala)
Korhonen
Lyytikäinen
Päivärinta
Päiviö
Makkonen
Porkka
Rahkonen
Ojanen
Reijonen
Alkio
Teittinen
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 round
_Helsingfors_ in 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 in Finland 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.
_Skidåkning_ is also much in vogue, but in Finland it is not so
dangerous as in more mountainous countries. In Norway _ski_ are
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 their _ski_. 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 use _ski_ so much as a necessity, as for pleasure and
sport. The upper classes go on _skidor_ as 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 a _Winter Jaunt to Norway_, I described a jump of eighty-eight feet
made on these strange snow-shoes, and the _ski_ themselves, as
follows:--
It is perhaps a bold statement to call _ski_-racing one of the
finest sports of the world, but to our mind it undoubtedly is, and
one which requires wondrous pluck and skill, and for a man to jump
eighty-eight feet from a height, with a pair of _ski_ securely
fixed on his feet, requires some courage!
They are utterly unlike Canadian snow-shoes, because they are
required for a very hilly country, and over a great depth of snow.
An ordinary-sized man's _ski_ are eight or nine feet long. They are
only about 4½ inches wide, and an inch at the thickest part,
that is to say, immediately under the foot, but towards either end
they taper to half this thickness. As a rule they are both the
same length, and pointed upwards at the toes; but in some of the
Norwegian valleys and in Finland, one _ski_ is much longer than the
other, and that one is usually quite flat.
In the middle of this plank-like piece of wood, which is split with
the grain to stand the great strain often imposed upon it, and
never sawn at all, the toes are fastened by a leather strap.
Another strap goes round the heel in a sort of loop fashion,
securing the foot, but at the same time giving the heel full play.
A special _ski_ boot is worn over enormously thick horsehair
stockings. This boot has no hard sole at all, and, instead of being
sewn at the sides, the large piece of thick leather which goes
under the foot is brought well over the top and secured to what
might ordinarily be called a leather tongue. At the back of the
boot is a small strap, which is used to fasten the _ski_ heel-strap
securely to the boot. Once fixed on the _ski_, the foot is so
secure no fall can loosen it, and the only way to extricate the
foot is to undo the three straps. Outside these huge ungainly hair
stockings and strangely comfortable boots very thick gaiters are
worn. It is very necessary to keep the feet and legs warm in such a
cold land as Norway, where the mercury freezes oft-times in the
thermometers, and snow six or seven feet deep covers the land
sometimes for months. Such cold sounds appalling, but it is quite
the reverse. The air is absolutely dry, and there is seldom any
wind.
At the given word, No. 1 rushed from the plateau on the hilltop,
down the hill itself. The pace, in consequence of the steepness,
was tremendous. On he came; on to the little platform built out
from the mountain-side he rushed; then, with a huge spring, his
legs doubled up, and whirling his arms like a windmill to keep his
balance, he jumped.
Oh, what a moment of profound excitement! Would he regain his
footing all that distance below? Balancing himself for a moment in
the air after his jump, he regained his footing, and sped away down
the hillside, stopping himself by a sharp turn of the _ski_ as he
was nearing the loudly applauding spectators. One after another
they came, and at least 50 per cent, succeeded in landing on their
feet and speeding away.
The longest jump of all was 26½ metres, that is to say, nearly
88 feet, and this was done by Ustvedt; but he did not regain his
footing. Ingemann Sverre, who jumped 22 metres, and landed on his
feet to continue his course, won the king's cup and the ladies'
purse.
We looked on and marvelled.
Since then a hundred and twenty feet is the record jump. Strange
as it may seem, _ski_ was a word practically unknown in England.
Such competitions are now held in Finland, where _ski_ soon promise to
be as fashionable as in Norway. _Ski_ are called--
In Swedish _Skida_, plural _Skidor_.
In Finnish _Suksi_, " _Sukset_.
They are almost the same as the Norwegian shoes, excepting that they
always have an inward curve under the foot, and seldom have a
heel-strap. The heel-strap is only necessary for jumping or for going
uphill, and as there is little jumping and no hills to speak of in
Finland, the shoe, being curved up at the toe like a Chinaman's, is
sufficient to keep the _Sukset_ on the feet.
Bears, as said before, do not walk hourly in the streets of Finland.
Nevertheless, bears do exist, and in the Northern and Easterly districts
in considerable numbers. It is in winter that the bear-hunts take place,
and, having discovered the whereabouts of the monarch of the forest, the
Finlander disturbs him from his winter sleep, either by smoke or by the
aid of dogs, and then for days follows him over the snow. The bear is an
adept at walking through snow, but man on _sukset_ is his match. After
circling bruin in parties, or chasing him alone, the bear generally
falls in the end to some sportsman's gun. It is a great day when the
dead bear is brought back to the village, and one usually celebrated by
a triumphal procession, merry-making, and a grand feast, followed by
much singing of the national songs, handed down from father to son, and
thrilling tales of wondrous acts of daring at bear-hunts, for, as we
have seen, in the _Kalevala_ the bear is a great subject for the poet's
verse. The man who fired the fatal shot is, on the occasion of the
bear-feast, naturally the hero, and for him it is an occasion to be
gratefully remembered. Every Finn speaks with profound admiration and
bated breath of _Mårten Kitunen_, who during his life killed a hundred
and ninety-eight fully-grown bears, besides innumerable young ones. It
must not be imagined from this that bear-killing is an easy sport; on
the contrary, it is extremely dangerous, for the fatigue and perils of
_skidåkning_ the wild forests, with a very low temperature, for hours
and hours is in itself a perilous pastime. Frost-bite is by no means
uncommon, and, of course, in such cold, it is impossible to sit down and
rest, lest that drowsy sleep, so dreaded in northern climates, should
take hold of the weary man and gradually lull him into his last slumber.
Nevertheless, women, who in Finland are particularly enterprising,
sometimes take part in bear-hunts, and it is on record that several have
themselves shot fully-grown animals. No mean achievement for a woman;
but Finnish women are go-ahead, and have given the world a lead by
gaining admittance to Parliament.
Many women stalk the deer in Scotland, and some have made wonderful
bags, but then, although stalking often necessitates many weary hours'
walking, there is not in Scotland such severe and perilous cold to deal
with. In Finland many ladies shoot, and when a hare is killed the cry
of _All's Tod_ rings through the forest, and sounds almost as
inspiriting as the cry of the hounds at home.
Tobogganing is another great institution in Finland, and as the hills in
the South are not steep enough for a really good spin, the Finlanders
put up a _Kälkbacke_ or _Skrinnbacke_, in imitation of their Russian
friends, and enjoy rattling spins, and moments of intense excitement,
gliding down these dangerous routes. They are really switchbacks made of
ice and snow, and as they are steep, the pace is terrific.
In summer yachting is one of the great institutions of Finland, and we
were lucky enough to be in _Wiborg_ at the time of the great race
between _Wiborg_ and _Helsingfors_ for the Yacht Cup.
It was a delightful day, and a large steamer having been chartered by
our host, whose son was the President of the _Wiborg_ Yacht Club, he
invited his friends to see the race. We were a very merry party of forty
or fifty, as we steamed away from the _Wiborg_ pier to where the two
yachts were to meet.
The _Menelik_ belongs to _Wiborg_; the _Thelma_ to _Helsingfors_. The
_Menelik_ is a lugger, built in _Wiborg_ at the yard of Hackman Company,
although designed by Arthur E. Payne of Southampton. She is a two and a
half rater.
The _Helsingfors_ boat was designed by Charles Sibbick in Cowes,
England.
The Yacht Club in _Helsingfors_ began its existence in 1876, and is
certainly in a very flourishing condition. The course was a long one,
and the two best days' sailing out of three secures the Cup. The first
day was a trial to the patience of the steersmen. It was a dead calm;
such a calm as one seldom meets with, and not until the afternoon did
the faintest breeze spring up, while even then the sailing so far
exceeded the seven hours' time allowed that the day was drawn as a
blank.
But, as onlookers, we enjoyed ourselves immensely; there were numbers of
steamers like ourselves on pleasure bent, the umpire's boat, and several
rowing boats which had managed to come out so far to sea, the day being
calm. The end was all that our kind host could wish, for the _Menelik_
won by three minutes. Yachting and canoeing are fine pastimes in this
land of waterways.
Dancing is a very popular form of entertainment in Finland, and often
indulged in by old and young. It is quite a custom on Saturday evening
for the young folk from various villages to meet together at some
workmen's recreation room, or at one of the larger farms, and have a
ball. One of the best specimens of such an entertainment we chanced to
see was at the old-world city of _Åbo_. About a mile from the town a new
park has been opened, in the arrangements of which our friend, the Chief
of the Police, took the greatest interest, and to it, after a charming
little dinner, he escorted us to see the peasant ball in full swing.
Every Saturday at six o'clock it begins; and, as some sort of restraint
is necessary, the sum of one penny is charged to each would-be dancer.
In the middle of the park is a large _kiosk_, big enough for a
couple of hundred folk to pirouette at a time. It has a roof supported
by pillars, but there are no side walls. A couple of fiddlers were
playing hard when we entered, and a cornet coming in at odd minutes
composed the band, and, until midnight, the couples twirled and whisked
round and round the wooden floor. Why should not something of the kind
be allowed in our parks from seven to twelve in the evening at a charge
of a few pence?
The great national dance of the country is called the _jenka_. It is
more like a schottische perhaps than anything else; and really it was
extraordinary to see how well these peasants danced, and how they beat
time. Thoroughly they entered into the spirit of the thing, the polka,
waltz, and _jenka_ being all danced in turn, until the park closed.
Writing letters in Finland is an expensive amusement. Every epistle, not
delivered by private hand, costs twopence for transmission; rather a
high rate for home postage, considering that foreign letters only cost a
fourth more. Postcards cost one penny, whether for home or foreign use.
This high rate of postage seems very remarkable, considering the almost
universal adoption of my father's old friend's (Sir Rowland Hill)
enlightened suggestion that a penny would pay.
We learn that during the year 1896 our English post-office passed
1,834,200,000 letters and 314,500,000 postcards; and, writing on the
same subject, the Duke of Norfolk said, "The penny letter has long been
known to be the sheet anchor of the post-office, and it is interesting
to record that no less than 95 per cent. of the total number of inland
letters passed for a penny each." Fifteen years later every
English-speaking land could be reached by a penny stamp.
Finland might take the hint and institute a penny post; but we hope she
will not send some fifty thousand letters _unaddressed_, as we English
did, their valuable contents amounting to several thousands of pounds!
The quickest postal route to Finland is _viâ St. Petersburg_; but
letters are often delayed to be searched, and they are not unfrequently
lost, so that all important epistles are best registered; and one
Finnish family, some of whose relations live in Germany, told us they
never thought of sending letters either way without registering them
first.
Finland has her own stamps, but all letters passing direct from Russia
to Finland, or Finland to Russia, must have special stamps upon them,
the Tzar having forbidden the Finnish stamps to be used on letters going
out of Finland, which is contrary to Finnish laws.
Telegrams from or to Finland are ruinous. Even in _Suomi_ itself they
cost a small fortune, and outside they are even worse; but then no one
telegraphs to any one in the territory, for almost every person has a
telephone, which can be annexed from town to town, and those who have
not telephones can go to a public office in every village and expend a
penny on their message, therefore in that respect the Finns are in
advance of us.
We were amused to find the Finlanders very inquisitive. This is as much
a trait in their character as their stubborn obstinacy, their intense
truthfulness, or their wondrous honesty. And a Finn runs a Scotchman
very hard in evading a straightforward answer.
"Does the train leave at two?"
The question is replied to by the Scot, "Maybe it does;" but the
Finlander says, "It is advertised to do so;" thus getting out of a
direct answer, for where the Englishman would say "Yes" or "No" if he
knew, the other two nations would never dream of doing such a thing. The
inhabitants of this Grand Duchy are, as has been stated, wondrously
inquisitive. The peasant asks where you come from the moment he sees you
are a stranger, and the better-class folk soon turn the traveller in
their midst inside out with questions. They ask not only "Where do you
come from?" but, "Where are you going?" "What is your business?" "Have
you a husband, wife, father, mother, brother, sisters," and so on. One
inquiry is piled upon another, just as is the custom in the United
States, where a railway journey is like a query and answer column.
The Finns do it all most good-naturedly, 'tis true, but occasionally it
is inconvenient nevertheless.
Finns are very intense; they are men of few words; slow to anger, and
slower to forgive. They never do anything in a hurry. Life is very
serious to them, and they endure great privations with patience. They
never trifle; flirtation they abhor; and chaff they simply do not
understand. They are honest to a degree, kindhearted, respect law and
order, and love peace. They are more than hospitable; they are, in fact,
overpoweringly generous in their invitations to the veriest stranger;
they are kind in their dealings with foreigners--doing their best to
entertain them, to understand their speech, although often speaking four
or five languages themselves, and to show them all they can of their
land, of which they are immensely proud.
They have none of the beauty, brilliancy, or charm of the South; but all
the sterling assets and good qualities of the North.