IMATRA'S ROARING CATARACT
The scenery of Finland is, as a rule, neither grand nor impressive. It
has not the mountains of Switzerland topped with everlasting snow, nor
the rocky fjords of Norway; no dear little Tyrolese chalets, nor sweet
English cottages set in fair gardens, no splendid stretches of
emerald-green sward, and iron-bound coast scenery such as is the delight
of the tourist in Ireland, nor purple-crowned hills as in Scotland;
nevertheless, it has a charm of its own, and can boast more lakes,
canals, and rivers, all connected in some marvellous way, than any of
the countries mentioned.
It is indeed a land of many thousand lakes, and one might add many, many
thousand islands. There are large islands covered with pine forests,
tiny solitary rocky islets, on which perchance a house has been built
for a pilot; mere patches of earth islands, where flourishes one
solitary pine, that looks from a distance as if it were actually growing
on the surface of the water.
Round the coast line there are dangerous and hidden haunts where
smuggling goes on to a large extent, while, when traversing the inland
lakes, big steamers have to keep to certain routes marked by
buoys--sometimes merely by sticks.
Except in the far North the country is very flat, and even in the North
a few hundred feet is the limit of the highest land. Further South even
less elevation is found, although the country is by no means so
uniformly level as Holland, Denmark, or Russia.
One can travel nearly all over Finland in steamers, and very comfortable
steamers they are too, with nice little cabins and good restaurants.
Provided with one's own deck-chair, many pleasant days can be passed on
the calm waters round the coast, or the yet calmer lakes and canals
inland, where one marvels at the engineering skill and the wonderful
steering powers of English-speaking captains of Finnish birth.
We decided on our way back from _Sordavala_ to stop at the famous
cataract of _Imatra_. It was one of the few railway journeys we made
during our jaunt in Finland, for we always went by water for choice, and
it proved somewhat remarkable.
Can there be such a thing as a musical train? If so, verily the name
would apply to that by which we travelled. The passengers were made up
of odds and ends; among them were most of the students who had taken
part in the Festival, a great many representatives of various choirs,
some of the athletes who had charmed us with their gymnastic exercises,
for which the country is famous, and several visitors like ourselves. Of
course, these folk never previously practised singing together, but
after Professor Dickenson, standing on the platform, had returned thanks
on behalf of the visitors for their cordial reception in _Sordavala_,
which speech was replied to by the Mayor of the town, some one called
upon the audience to sing the national air "_Maamme_." The voices rose
and fell immediately. Heads were poked out from carriage windows in
order that lusty throats might sing their beloved air. All at once three
students on the platform waved their caps on high, and a regular musical
performance ensued. To a stranger it seemed a remarkable demonstration.
Supposing the occupants of an English train were suddenly called upon to
sing "God save the King," what would be the result? Why, that more than
half the passengers would prove so shy they could not even attempt it;
another quarter might wander about the notes at their own sweet will,
and, perhaps, a small percentage would sing it in tune. But then, just
think, the Finns are so imbued with music, and practise so
continually--for they seem to sing on every conceivable occasion--that
the sopranos naturally took up their part, the basses and the tenors
kept to their own notes, and perfect harmony prevailed.
Not content with singing half a dozen songs while waiting for the train
to get under way, many carriage loads sang off and on during the whole
seven hours of the journey to _Andrea_, where we changed in order to
catch a train for _Imatra_. Having an hour to spare at this junction, a
walk was suggested along the railway line. This was not at all so
dangerous a feat as might be imagined, for although only a single line,
trains ran so very seldom that pedestrians might walk up and down for
half a day and never see one.
We wandered with a delightful man whose rôle it was to act as
interpreter between the Finnish and Swedish languages in the House of
Commons, a position called _tulkki_ or translator, just as Canada uses
interpreters for English and French.
We were amazed to find him conversant with all kinds of English
literature; he spoke with familiarity of Dickens, Thackeray,
Shakespeare, twelve of whose plays, by the bye, have been translated
into Finnish and performed at the theatre, and he was even acquainted
with the works of Rudyard Kipling, Swinburne, Browning, and Mrs. Humphry
Ward. With equal aptitude he discussed Daudet and Zola, Tolstoi and
Tourgenieff, and, to our astonishment, we found that although he spoke
only indifferent German, he could read English, French, German, and
Russian authors in the original.
As we wandered down the railway line, our attention was arrested by an
extraordinary carriage which stood on a siding. A sort of engine was in
front, but, behind, a glass house composed the remainder of the waggon.
We had never before seen anything like it, and wondered if it could be
an observatory on wheels, until we noticed that in the forepart of the
train was a snow-plough, such as is to be seen on every engine in Norway
during mid-winter, a plough which closely resembles an American
cow-catcher.
"That," remarked our friend, "is a Finnish snow-plough. It is with the
greatest difficulty we can keep the lines clear in winter, and it is not
sufficient to have an ordinary snow-plough attached to the engine,
therefore, just as ice-breakers endeavour to keep the port of _Hangö_
open during winter, so these snow-ploughs ply to and fro along the
railway lines, throwing up vast heaps of snow on each side, until they
make a wall sometimes ten or twelve feet high. These walls form a sort
of protection to the trains, and gradually become so hard that, by the
end of the winter snow, they might be built of stone, they are so
strong."
There are not many railways in Finland, the first being laid in 1862;
with the exception of private ones, which are narrow, they all have the
wide Russian gauge.
Speaking of the ice-breaker at _Hangö_, we may say that, in spite of all
endeavours to keep the only winter port of Finland open during the cold
months, ice sometimes gains the mastery, and for several weeks that
Finnish port becomes closed.
Our friend was a most interesting companion, and explained something of
the mysteries of the University. He told us that it was first founded in
1640 at _Åbo_, but in 1829, when _Åbo_ was burnt to ashes and many
thousand volumes were destroyed, it was considered advisable to move the
University to _Helsingfors_, a town which at that time had a larger
population than the older capital.
"You see," he said, "we have no Court here, no great wealth, but few
nobility, and, therefore, every one and everything is centred round our
University. It comprises four faculties--Theology, Law, Medicine, and
Philosophy."
"What does your title of _Magister_ mean?" we ventured to ask.
"It is equivalent to your M.A.," he said; "but our degrees are only
given every fourth year, when we keep up much old-fashioned pomp. Crowds
of people come to see the ceremony, and all the successful candidates,
as they receive their degrees, are given, if they are Master of Arts, a
gold ring, if doctors, a silk-covered hat, while on their heads a crown
of laurels is actually placed. It is an old custom for each man to
choose one from among his lady friends to be his _wreath-binder_, and
she is supposed to undertake the making of his laurel crown. This was
all very well so long as men only took the degree, but great jokes have
arisen since women have stepped in, because ladies naturally think it is
only right that men should weave their laurel-wreaths."
"And do they?"
"I believe they do. If not actually with their own hands, they
superintend the making of such wreaths for their lady friends, whom we
welcome to our University with open arms."
When we had arrived at _Andrea_, on our journey to _Imatra_ from the
Russian frontier, out tumbled a number of cyclists, who found to their
distress that it would be necessary to wait about half an hour to
continue their journey. It was overpoweringly hot; these young students
stood on the platform discussing the situation, and at last they
decided to cycle the twenty or thirty miles instead of waiting for the
train. They took off their coats and strapped them on to the handles of
their machines, and in pretty flannel shirts, gaily chaffing and
laughing, off they started for their ride. We rather pitied them, as we
saw them start under those melting sun's rays, and preferred our own
idea of a quiet stroll.
At last we heard the whistle of our train, and had to scamper back along
the railway line in order to secure our seats.
We crawled along, in the usual fashion of Finnish trains, to the
world-renowned _Imatra_. Arrived at the hotel, which is built beside the
roaring cataract, where thousands of tons of water rush and tear from
January to December, we went into the dining-room to order dinner, and
there, sitting round the table in the best of spirits, were the
students, who had actually ridden quicker from _Andrea_ than our train
had brought us.
Parts of Finland are very beautiful, and travelling through the country
is a most interesting experience; but, at the same time, there are none
of the excellent motor roads such as we find in France or Germany. It is
not a good country for motorists, waterways being its chief attraction,
and its boat service is excellent; but the roads, although well marked
by sign-posts and mile-stones (kilometres), are certainly not good.
Oh! the joy that night of being in a real hotel, with a real brass
bedstead and a real spring mattress, to say nothing of once again
seeing a proper sized wash-hand basin and jug.
Above the roar of the seething waters, fretting at our very feet, claps
of thunder made themselves heard, and rain descended in torrents, while
vivid, flashes of lightning lit up the wondrous cataract of _Imatra_.
Thunderstorms are quite common in those parts, and we felt glad of that
one, as it did something to dispel for a time the oppressive heat.
Next morning the scene was changed, and as we looked in calm weather
from the balcony window, we were fascinated by the vast volume of water
dashing ceaselessly on its ruthless way below.
Later, sitting on a rocky boulder, we gazed in awe at the scene before
us. This was _Imatra_. This is one of the three famous falls which form
the chain of a vast cataract. This avalanche of foam and spray, this
swirling, tearing, rushing stream, this endless torrent pursuing its
wild course, year in, year out--this was _Imatra_, one of the strongest
water powers in the world--the Niagara of Europe.
Not a waterfall in the real sense of the word, for within the space of
half a mile the water only actually falls about forty feet; but that
narrow channel, scarcely twenty yards across, with its rock-bound walls,
is daily washed by thousands and thousands of tons of foaming water,
poured into it from the quickly flowing _Vuoksen's_ wide waters.
As we sat and contemplated one of the grandest efforts of creation, this
wonderful compression of a vast river into a narrow gorge, we realised
how small is the power of man compared with the mighty strength of
nature. See how the waves, which can be likened only to the waves of the
sea in time of storm, as if in fury at their sudden compression, rush
over that rock, then curl back, and pause in the air a moment before
tearing on, roaring and hissing with rage, to the whirlpool farther down
the stream. See how they dash from side to side, see how the spray rises
in the air for the dainty sunlight to play among its foam. Hear the
noise, like that of thunder, as a great angry white horse dashes down
that storm-washed chasm. This is strength and force and power, this is
beauty and grandeur. This is _Imatra_, one of Finland's gems set in a
regal crown.
Such a scene enters one's very soul; such grand majestic power, such
might, such force, inspire one with lofty feelings, and make one realise
a greater power, a greater strength than our poor world can give. Are we
not all the better for looking on such scenes? These vast glories of
nature, however, should be viewed in peace to enable the spectator to
enjoy their greatness and to receive their full influence. Niagara is
more vast--and Niagara is boarded by chimneys and men's villainy.
_Imatra_, if humbler, therefore, is almost more impressive.
Yet the hand of the Philistine is, alas! to be found even in primitive
Finland. As the modern Roman lights his glorious Colosseum with red and
purple fires, so the Finn illumines his wondrous falls with electric
light; spans it by the most modern of modern bridges, and does not even
attempt to hide "the latest improvements" by a coating of pine trunks.
Worse still, he writes or carves his name on every bench and on numerous
rocks, and erects hideous summer-houses built of wooden plankings and
tin, where the knotted pine-tree would have been as useful and twice as
picturesque.
Finland, pause! If you wish to entice travellers to your shores, to
bring strangers among you, keep your beautiful nature unspoiled, or,
where change is absolutely necessary, try to imitate nature's own
methods by using the glorious trees around you, instead of iron and tin
shaped by man's hand; pause before you have murdered your natural
loveliness by ghastly modernity, or you will be too late.
Attend to your sanitation if you will--that requires seeing to badly;
provide more water and more towels for travellers who are accustomed to
wash themselves in private, but don't imagine hideous modern erections
will attract tourists, they but discourage them.
_Imatra_ is glorious. _Wallinkoski_, the lower fall, is more
picturesque, perhaps, but both are wonderful; they are worth journeying
far to see, and holding in recollection for ever. We have nothing like
them anywhere in Britain. The Falls of Foyers are as crumbs in a loaf of
bread when compared with _Imatra_. The fall at Badgastein is as nothing
beside Finland's great cataract; _Hönefos_ in Norway a mere trifle. In
Europe _Imatra_ stands alone, with _perhaps_ the exception of its
solitary rival, _Trollhättan_ in Sweden, the exquisite beauty of which
is already marred by the sacrilegious hand of the Philistine.
Above all, Finland, you should not allow St. Petersburg to light her
streets with your water power; there is enough water in _Imatra_ to
light half Europe--but keep it for yourselves, keep it as a pearl in a
beautiful casket. _Imatra_ is one of Finland's grandest possessions.
It seems impossible that salmon could live in such a cataract, but yet
it is a fact that they do.
Verily, Finland is a paradise for fishermen. A paradise for lines and
rods, reels and flies, for masters of the piscatorial art; there are to
be found freshwater lakes, and glorious rivers full of fish. Some call
it the heaven of anglers, and permission to fish can easily be obtained,
and is absurdly inexpensive.
The best-known spot is _Harraka_, near _Imatra_, because the English
Fishing Club from St. Petersburg found sport in those wonderful waters
until they acquired _Varpa Saari_, an island a little farther down the
river.
The _Saimen Lake_ is about 150 miles long, and the river _Vuoksen_,
which forms _Imatra_, joins this fishing water with the famous _Ladoga_,
the largest lake in Europe, which again empties itself into the sea by
the _Neva_. This is not a fishing-book, or pages might be written of
happy hours spent with grayling or trout with a fly, or spinning from a
boat with a minnow.
Kind reader, have you ever been driven in a _Black Maria_? That is, we
believe, the name of the cumbersome carriage which conveys prisoners
from one police-station to another, or to their prison home? We have;
but it was not an English _Black Maria_, and, luckily, we were never
anywhere taken from one police-station to another. Our _Black Maria_ was
the omnibus that plies between _Imatra_ and _Rättijärvi_, some twenty
miles distant, where we travelled in order to catch the steamer which
was to convey us down the famous _Saimen Canal_ back to our delightful
_Ilkeäsaari_ host, in time for the annual _Johanni_ and the wonderful
_Kokko_ fires, more famous in Finland to-day than the Baal fires
formerly were in Britain.
It was a beautiful drive; at least we gathered that it would have been a
beautiful drive if we had not been shut up in the _Black Maria_. As it
was, we were nearly jolted to death on the hardest of hard wooden seats,
and arrived stiff, sore, and tired, with aching backs at _Rättijärvi_.
A good dinner, however, soon made us forget our miseries, though it
really seemed as if we had come in a prison van, when, the moment our
_Black Maria_ drew up at the small inn, a man rushed down the steps,
seized upon our poor friend the _Magister_ and began, violently
gesticulating, to explain something about money.
What on earth had the poor _Magister_ done that he should be jumped on
in this way? Were we criminals without our knowledge, and was this our
jailor who stood gesticulating, and scowling, and waving his arms about
in excitement? We felt we must immediately produce our passports to
prove our respectability, and, strong in our knowledge of innocence,
were quite prepared to maintain our rights of freedom in spite of the
appearance of any limb of Finnish law.
After all, it proved to be a mere flash in the pan. Explanation was soon
vouchsafed. We had driven that morning in a private carriage to
_Wallinkoski_ to see the wonderful fall below _Imatra_, and the
landlord, having forgotten to charge that journey in the bill, had
allowed us to leave _Imatra_ without paying for his beautiful equipage;
discovering his mistake, however, as soon as our backs were turned, he
had telephoned to the inn that we should send back the money by _Black
Maria_. Though we had so dishonestly departed without paying our just
debts, nothing worse came of the matter.
We might have been locked up in a Finnish prison!
We paid in coin for the carriage, and by our profound gratitude to the
_Magister_ and Grandpapa, who had added so ably to our enjoyment. Our
time together for the moment was over, and once more my sister and I
were alone.