A HAUNTED CASTLE
The bells rang! It was four A.M. when the ship _Concordia_, which had
been our home for thirty-six hours, arrived at _Nyslott_, one of the
small towns which are sparsely scattered over Finland.
_Nyslott_ is famous for two things: its very modern "bath cure"
accompanied by a "kasino"--of which French watering-places need have no
jealousy--and, by way of extreme from such modernity, its other
attraction is an old ruined castle, built originally in 1475. The castle
is the most perfect left in Finland, and its position is certainly the
most picturesque, for it stands quite alone on an island of rock, round
which the current forms endless whirlpools. It is built with sharp
buttresses, and once had five towers, of which, alas, only three remain,
but those three are very perfect.
What stories that castle could tell of wars and sieges, of Russian and
Swedish possessors, of Catholic and Lutheran sway, and of cruelty too
horrible to dwell upon, although one cannot help realising its
possibilities after entering the little dark cell in which two men were
built up to live together in darkness and in hunger till death ended
their sufferings.
The Roman Catholic Chapel still remains; windowless, save for a small
hole over the stone altar, which certainly suggests artificial light
having been thrown from behind on some sacred relic or picture--a
theatrical effect not unknown to that faith. Its uneven stone floor, and
its niches for the sacramental cup, all remain in weird darkness to
remind one of ages long gone by. In turn the Castle has been Catholic,
Lutheran, and Greek--so three persuasions have had their sway, and each
has left its mark.
Our thoughtful friend, Grandpapa, whom we had left a fortnight before at
_Rättijärvi_, was waiting for us at _Nyslott_, or rather, a moment after
the ship stopped at the quayside in the early dawn of morning, he
arrived, accompanied by a man in a boat, one of those regular Finnish
boats pointed at each end known as a _kuiru_.
"Where are we to live?" we called, over the side.
"In the Castle, as you wished," was the reply; and overjoyed at the
prospect of anything so romantic, we quickly transferred ourselves and
our baggage into the boat below.
"I'm very anxious about this arrangement," said our youthful old friend.
"When I arrived a fortnight ago, and found there was not a room to be
had in the town, I was in despair; after wandering from house to house,
again I beseeched the little hotel to take me in; but even their sofas
were occupied. However, determining not to leave _Nyslott_ till I had
seen the famous castle, I got a boat and rowed across. _Veni, vidi,
vici_--for I persuaded the watchman to put me up for the night, and
there I am still. When, yesterday, I could find no habitation for you, I
reluctantly telegraphed that the town was full and I was only put up by
the _Vahtimestari_ of the Castle. Imagine my horror when I got your
reply--'_Arrive_ 4 A.M., _arrange stay Castle_.'"
"Were you so very much horrified?" we laughed. "We thought it would be
such fun, and so delightfully romantic."
"It was no fun to me. I felt utterly taken aback, and went off to
consult an artist friend, who was painting the queer old place.
"'Nonsense, my dear fellow,' he said, 'you can't lodge ladies in this
barrack. It's all very well for two watchmen, or for you, if you like,
to rough it--but for women--nonsense, it is impossible.'
"'But,' I remarked, 'they are very enterprising, and one of them, who is
writing a book, loves queer corners, odd experiences, and native life.'
"'I daresay,' replied he, 'but this Castle, I repeat, is impossible,
especially for Englishwomen, who are all accustomed to much luxury.'
"Back into the town I went again to try for rooms, but without success.
What was to be done? You were on the way, time was growing short, and I
had arranged nothing. So once more to my watchman I returned and told
him my awful dilemma, and the depths of my despair. He so thoroughly
entered into the spirit of the thing, that he promised to do the best he
could, and in an hour's time he had arranged for extra towels and a few
necessaries to be sent over from the town."
"Delightful!" we exclaimed; "what a dear man! It is like a romance in a
story book."
"But my story is not finished," Grandpapa replied, with a rueful face;
"we had set to work to sweep, and brush, and clean with a will, in order
to make the room more worthy of its occupants, when the _Vahtimestari_
suddenly said--
"'I'm afraid, after all, you will have to go and get permission from the
Mayor, or I may get into trouble for allowing ladies to sleep in this
ruined Castle.'"
Here was an adventure. Our hearts quailed a little as we waited
breathlessly for the finish of the story.
"I got into the boat," went on our friend, "pulled on shore, and set off
to the Mayor, in order to obtain permission for you to sleep there. At
first he sternly refused.
"'Ridiculous!' he said, 'bats and owls, goblins and ghosts! that is not
a fit home for ladies--ridiculous, and quite impossible.'
"I explained and argued, told him how enterprising you were, and how
well versed in travel, and at last he gave in, saying, 'Well, the old
Castle has withstood many sieges, and it is hard it must give in without
powder or shot to two Englishwomen.'
"Thus his reluctant permission was granted, and away I came triumphant.
You are to have the watchmen's room, they the kitchen, and I am to
sleep in the Lutheran Church, which chances to have a roof."
We were delighted, and at once started for our haunted Castle. We rowed
away to our island home, and, when we appreciated the difficulty of
steering through the fast-running whirlpool, to the only gate with its
fine portcullis, we realised we were indeed on adventure bent.
It was barely dawn, and as we swept over the seething waters, and stood
under the ancient archway, we felt like Mary Queen of Scots before the
gates of Fotheringay.
We were indeed triumphantly triumphant. Far from the whistle of a train,
right in the interior of Finland, standing beneath the portals of a
famous castle virtually ruined and uninhabited--we felt at home.
The streaks of early morning sunlight lent enchantment to the romantic
surroundings, as we wandered along queer passages, where the walls
varied from five to fifteen feet thick, peeped into cellars and
dungeons, and bending our heads under Norman arches, at last entered the
first courtyard. We saw mysterious winding staircases, generally spiral,
leading up and down into deep dark mystery. Certainly so far the ruins
did not look as though they would protect any one from wind and rain,
and we passed on, through walls that seemed impregnable, to ruined
chambers, utterly roofless, in and out of which pigeons were flying
happily at their sweet will.
The second courtyard was gravelled; but round its sides tangled beds of
syringa in full flower, red and black currants nearly ripe, pretty wild
roses and lilac almost looked homely, while white and yellow marguerites
shadowed dear little wild strawberries, and a general air of naturalness
prevailed. We had reached the very centre of our enchanted castle! How
often had this courtyard been the scene of revelry, of tournaments and
joustings, at which lovely woman had smiled and distributed her favours
from the surrounding battlements.
"There is your room," exclaimed Grandpapa at last, pointing to a modern
little bit of building erected for the custodian's use, in which, sure
enough, was a real glass window.
Up the modern steps we mounted, to find a nice big room, poorly
furnished, 'tis true, with one bed and a garden seat, two wooden chairs
and a long wooden school bench, a table on which stood a brown
earthenware bowl, and a large glass water carafe, that glass bottle
which had haunted us since we set foot in Finland. The bench was to do
duty for washstand and the impedimenta thereto. The wooden floor was
delightfully scrubbed, and what mattered the simplicity when all was so
delightfully clean!
Lo and behold, a bouquet of flowers stood in a tumbler on the table, the
votive offering of the Finnish custodian himself; a charming welcome to
his English visitors.
Out of this large bare chamber led a dear little kitchen, and farther
along a passage and up some stairs we came to the old church--capable
of seating a couple of hundred persons, although it did not really
possess a single seat--which was to serve as Grandpapa's bedroom.
Churches invariably do service for sleepers even to-day in Iceland,
where hotels are practically non-existent, except in two or three
instances, and even habitations are few and far between.[C]
So this was to be for a brief space our home; a real, wild, weird,
romantic home, seated on its rocky island away from the world, away from
every sign of life save pigeons or bats; full of grim spirits--if
tradition were to be believed--and nightly walked by strange women and
blood-stained men--for stories there are in plenty concerning the great
Castle of _Olavin Linna_ as the Finns call it, at _Savonlinna_, the
Finnish name for _Nyslott_.
We wandered everywhere: we peered into all the mysteries. Verily a ruin.
Mounting to an upper floor by the solid stone steps outside, we found
ourselves in another chamber, the roof of which was supported by
rafters, through the thick walls of which a long dark passage led us
round two sides of the courtyard, passing a small tower by the way from
which we could see yet another court, whose wide grass-grown ramparts
overhung the rapidly-flowing current of the lake.
Here was the hall of the knights, a long and dark chamber--so dark, in
fact, that we wondered how any one had ever been able to see clearly in
it. On all sides were rooms and pitch-black dungeons, for at the time
the Castle was built (1475) the powers-that-were thought nothing of
shutting people up in dark little holes, where they left them to die,
and the _Olavin Linna_ seems to have been particularly rich in such
choice chambers. From where we stood, a few steps up a winding staircase
led us to a big tower containing a large round room, called the ladies'
drawing-room. The dames of that period certainly had a glorious view all
round for miles and miles, although they were far removed from the life
going on below. From this point of vantage we saw how the Castle
literally covered the whole of the rock, and occupied a most commanding
position where three lakes met. As we wandered down again, we chanced
into a queer sort of chamber, wherein half a dozen weird straggling
trees struggled to exist. It was almost dark; the storms of winter could
rustle through those blank windows, and the trees were white, and gray,
and sickly--more like phantoms than real trees--so queer and withered
and pale and anæmic were their leaves, and yet they stood eight or ten
feet high, showing they had boldly struggled for life.
After having thus gained a general idea, snatched a sort of bird's-eye
view of this strange Castle, we returned to our room and investigated
its capabilities.
There was _one_ small bed, already honourably mentioned, and a garden
seat--one of those well-known benches made of thin wooden laths, with a
rounded uncomfortable seat and back.
"Could we manage with such meagre accommodation?" Grandpapa asked
timorously, "or must another bed be hired; that is to say, if another
bed can be hired, or bought, in a town already overcrowded."
We looked at our friend's troubled face, and, feeling we had already
caused him a sad amount of inconvenience, valiantly replied, "We will
manage." And manage we did.
To the "elderly scribe" was allotted the bed, a very finely carved
wooden erection; but let me at once own that, although I had slept on
hay in a tent in other lands, passed a night on a dining-room table,
several on the floor, and in deck-chairs, I never slept in anything
quite so "knobby" as that extraordinary bed. A lump here, and a lump
there, always seemed to select the most inconvenient part of one's frame
to stick in, and sometimes getting on a nerve quite numbed the spot.
After the first night I asked the _Vahtimestari_ to turn and knead the
mattress, which he cheerfully promised to do, and no doubt did. But all
his turning and pounding was perfectly useless, so after a second
restless night, which left me beautifully black and blue from head to
foot, I determined to investigate the mysteries of that bed for myself.
When I removed the under-sheet a bewildering problem was solved. On the
top of the mattress lay an enormous coat, lined throughout with black
sheepskin. Its double-rolled collar had made a huge ridge down the
middle of my back, across which a thick waist-belt had not
unsuccessfully tried to form a bridge--the sleeves could only be
accounted mountains, while innumerable buttons had left their impress on
every inch of my body! I felt very sorry for my flesh that morning!
Four nights passed on a hard garden seat does not sound entrancing;
nevertheless, on such a non-captivating couch, my sister, helped by rugs
and a pillow, slept the sleep of the just, and of youth.
Her "plank bed" may have been--nay, certainly must have been--hard, and
the Castle certainly was primitive, but everything, bedding included,
was spotlessly clean, and, after all, cleanliness and a quiet conscience
compensate for much--anyhow she slept; that is a fact for which I can
vouch.
During the first night of our stay at _Nyslott_ one of us lay and
dreamed a semi-waking dream, in which the old rock--Nature's
fortress--appeared in the lake bleak, bare, grim, and lonely until 1475,
when the first stones of _Olavin Linna_ were laid. After that the scene
suddenly shifted, and the bloody battles of 1743, when _Nyslott_ was
taken by the Russians, were again fought for the benefit of a new
spectator, only, as it seemed, for the Castle to be given back four
years later to Finland! A very curious reminiscence to occur to any
person's mind between "sleeping and waking." Later on, that over-tired
traveller mused dreamily on the three periods of history, pictured
scenes during the two hundred and sixty-eight years of Swedish
sovereignty, the half century under Russian sway, and the more modern
happenings under Finnish rule, its troubles practically ended in 1871,
from which date they have been but a souvenir in the history of Europe.
_Olavin Linna_ was the spot around which three different races met and
struggled; the Russians, the Finns, and the Swedes. The Russians with
their superior numbers, their riches, and their sharpness, pushed the
Finns towards the North and took their country, the now northern half of
Russia in Europe. The Swedes came and conquered the Slavs; founded a
dynasty and called their State Russia (_i.e._ Sweden, _Ruotsi_ being the
Finnish name for Sweden to this day). The Swedes also conquered the
remaining part of ancient Finland, and introduced Christianity, and the
strong and freedom-loving Scandinavian law.
The struggle now remained between the Scandinavians and the
Slavs--between a democratic and courageous race and an oligarchic and
diplomatic one. Then our Castle--our own--for had we not conquered
it?--was built on the frontier to resist the inroads of the Slavs. But
again the Russians were triumphant. Sweden succumbed, while Russia took
the remainder of ancient Finland. Since then Russia has become a great
power.
Alexander I. granted to that part of Finland, imbued with Scandinavian
law, the privilege of considering itself a nation, and continuing its
former laws and government. Under this state of things the country grew
prosperous. It arose and shook itself from its dormant existence of the
previous six hundred years, collected its own traditions, and worked
hard for education, so that it might continue a distinct race.
Then was built the large modern red brick schoolhouse at _Savonlinna_--a
fortress of learning to take the place of the old Castle, and to teach
the people that "the pen is indeed mightier than the sword."
One of us twain dreamed again! Saw the Castle built by _Erik Tott_, a
member of one of the greatest Finnish-Swedish families, and read the
inscription--
_Anno Domini 1475 leth iag Erik Axelsson Ridder i Lagnö, bygia
thette Slåt, Gud till loff, Christum, helga Christna tro till
styrkielse, och thå var hustra min Elin Götstaffsdotter i
Lagmansöö._
Translation--
Anno Domini 1475 let Erik, son of Axel Knight of Lagnö, build this
Castle to the Glory of God, to strengthen the Holy Christian Faith
in Christ: and then was my wife's name Elin, daughter of
Götstaff[D] in Lagmansöö.
That weary traveller saw the indignation at its erection at _Nyslott_,
just within the Russian limits of the frontier, saw the five splendid
towers finished, of which three now remain, and the _Bastion Dick_
properly rebuilt.
And then all grew suddenly dark, and, in a deeper sleep, that dreamer
groped along the gloomy subterranean passage, said to run from the clock
tower to the town, seemed to hear the rushing water, a hundred and
twenty feet deep at this point, tearing like a cataract overhead, peered
into those many strange dark chambers, and hearkened, appalled, to the
piercing shrieks of those two wretched men bricked up together in
yonder small chamber, in darkness till death brought relief.
What a life, and what a death! Four stone walls round a room about six
feet by ten--with an earthen floor and a low ceiling--no window for
light, no stove for warmth in that bitterly cold land.
Half waking from troubled slumber the weary traveller shivered to think
of the horror that had been enacted so close to her elaborately carved
bedstead and its lumpy mattress.
How hot it still was! The day had been almost tropical, but it is a
merciful provision of Providence that all days, even one beginning at
four A.M., must end at last, and as I, the nineteenth century traveller,
the "elderly scribe," aroused myself sufficiently to shake off those
terrible visions of a cruel past, I realised it was getting on for
midnight. I heard our friend going to rest in his chapel-chamber, and,
turning over, tried to go to sleep. How quiet everything was! Except for
the gnawing of the rats or mice under the floor--no unusual sound in an
old castle, of course--and so unconsciousness came--I slept--yes, I
slept--till----
Ah! what was that! Was it? yes, it was--some one calling; and yet it
could not be.
The custodians had both retired to their kitchen to rest I knew--for had
I not heard them trudging upstairs to seek their improvised couches long
before?--and yet, most certainly, a loud strange call had broken the
silence of night. Was it, really uttered by a human being, or could it
be--no, no, of course not. A spirit? Ridiculous! The very idea was
preposterous, and, lying down again, I argued how absurd were such
fears, how I had been simply dreaming; over-fatigued after a long day's
travel--how, in fact, my mind was disorganised, and the best thing to do
was to fall asleep at once. At that moment a tremendous peal of thunder
broke overhead, while, simultaneously, the whole room was flooded with
light. It played over the walls, it danced over the floor, and then a
clap more tremendous than the first seemed to shake the very building.
Yet through the roll of heaven's artillery I heard that hideous weird
cry distinctly audible.
Starting up again in response, I began to think sleeping in a haunted
castle was not such fun after all; that there _must be_ something very
uncanny about _Nyslott_, more especially when a strange door creaked on
its hinges, that sort of rasping squeak one associates with the opening
of a door generally kept firmly closed--and muffled feet pattered over
the stairs.
Nearer came the sound, nearer, yet nearer. My heart jumped into my
mouth, it ceased almost to beat as the strange footsteps stopped on the
very threshold of our room. "Oh!" I gasped, thinking that in another
moment spirit fingers would turn the handle, and a ghostly figure enter
the room. What form would it take? Would the phantom be man or
woman--tall or short--an assassin, murderer, or victim? Yes, the steps
had ceased at our very door, and the next moment they would be upon us.
But after that brief pause the muffled patter passed on, it became more
and more indistinct, and again all was still.
What a relief! it was perhaps nothing after all--imagination,
hallucination probably, but nothing real--nothing any way to fear.
Stay though! The voice, a voice, another voice unheard before, spoke in
murmured accents, and then a deeper bass than that which had previously
called shouted again and again in muffled reply.
This was too horrible!
It must be a ghost; nay, not even a single ghost but two, and what
chance had one poor living woman and a sleeping girl against such odds
from the spirit land?
The whole thing, even at _Nyslott_, seemed too terribly impossible; so I
pinched myself to make sure I was awake, only to hear the awful
footsteps--duplicated--_coming back_! By this time my sister was awake,
and lazily asking "What is the matter?"
"H-st-st," I answered under my breath.
Thud, thud--the mysterious footsteps drew nearer and nearer--
They were almost again at our door, when absolutely petrified by fear,
and clammy by reason of the awful _Nyslott_ stories we had been told, we
twain sat up straight feeling creepy and cold all over.
The footsteps came on apace, and we held our breath, thinking our time
had come; but was it? could it be? Yes, yes, thank heaven it was! We
recognised the voice of _our own custodian talking softly to his
comrade_.
It was no ghost after all! only the under _Vahtimestari_ who, having
spent the evening on shore, shouted as usual to be admitted. It was his
strange voice echoing through those empty corridors and vaulted
chambers that had waked us from our first sleep. His cries not being
heard by reason of thunder roaring and rolling, he had called and called
again with increasing energy till admitted.
What an unromantic ending to a most weird story, with every surrounding
at hand, every element ready except the actual ghost himself! A happy
ending. Stay, now it is over, I almost wish the ending had been less
happy and more romantic.
Woman is seldom satisfied, and man never! One woman, however, I am not
ashamed to say, was never in all her previous life so frightened as
during that midnight hour at _Nyslott_.
Happy days followed after this terrifying episode. We explored dark
chambers with a candle and matches, we cooked coffee on the stove for
breakfast, and boiled eggs in an enormous tea-kettle, aided in our
pleasant toil by two smiling much-interested watchmen, and afterwards
ate our meal among tangled shrubs in a courtyard shaded from the sun's
heat by a linden tree.
We idled generally; wrote letters, scribbled up our diaries, chatted or
made sketches in the _Bastion Dick_ with its eight windows, each of
which are at the narrow end of a wall measuring fifteen feet thick, thus
forming the deep recesses of a large octagonal chamber with long benches
stretching down the side of each of the fifteen feet walls. A wondrous
and remarkable hall, always cool even on a hot day with its windowless
look-outs over that beautiful lake.
Up the centre of this huge hall was a column of solid masonry coming
from the chamber below, and rising some thirty feet to support the
arched roof.
We enjoyed it all; but, be it owned, the life was very primitive, and to
many people would have seemed ghastly.
For dinner (which is always between two and four in Finland), we were
obliged to cross to the _Kasino_ or _Societetzhuset_ (Hotel), our
commissariat and _chef de cuisine_ not rising to the requirements of
such a meal.
We learnt how ugly ordinary small Finnish towns are, with their
one-storey wooden houses, ill-paved roads, totally devoid of side
paths--how very like cheap wooden Noah's arks, such as children have;
all straight and plain with glaring windows painted round with white
paint, no gardens of any kind, while every casement is blocked with a
big indiarubber plant. Generally they possess a huge stone or brick
school-house, large enough to contain all the thousand inhabitants in
the district, instead of the town's two hundred children, but then it is
built ready for contingencies.
All this hideous inartistic modernity contrasted sadly with the massive
beauty and vast strength of our castellated home.
_Nyslott_, as already said, is famous for its baths, which are a great
institution, and charmingly arranged--douche baths, steam, mud,
swimming, etc., and about forty or fifty little private rooms, some
containing sofas--and at least a dozen women to attend to the comfort
of visitors. They are regular Finnish bathing-women, wearing the
ordinary uniform of their calling, viz. a thick blue serge skirt, red
flannel outside stays, opening at the lacing in front and showing the
white cotton chemise that is _de rigueur_, cut low at the neck and with
quite short sleeves, a very pretty simple dress that allows great
freedom to the arms when massaging, one of the important items of every
Finnish bath.
We always returned to our castellated home for our evening meal, and,
armed with a basket containing sardines, bread, butter, cold tongue, or
ham, delicious cakes or fruit for dessert, we thoroughly enjoyed
ourselves.
Our table in the courtyard was gray with age, and notched with the
initials of young Philistines of former generations. We had no cloth,
why should we; our forefathers ate without cloths and were happy
nevertheless. We had a large brown earthenware pot, such as is used as a
bread pan in England, at the head of the table filled with milk, which
we served by dipping a cup into its depths. A mat of birch bark was our
bread trencher, a cabbage leaf our butter dish, for although we had
plates and knives and forks, cups and tumblers, there were not enough to
accommodate the many articles displayed upon our liberal board.
The pigeons generally joined us at our meal, and seemed to know when we
sallied forth in solemn procession, each with a black tin tray, what
coming event was casting its shadow before, for they began to arrive
whenever they heard the first rattle of cups and saucers. Our feathered
friends guessed intuitively that scraps would immediately follow the
pleasant music, more delectable than any the Castle had hitherto
furnished. If our bedroom was quaint, our youthful Grandpapa's was
quainter.
Never was there a more strange sleeping-chamber than the old church
where Grandpapa reposed on a mattress on the floor. It was a long narrow
room with windows on both sides, the only place which boasted real
windows except our own room, and the wee kitchen in that rambling old
_Olavin Linna_.
Although this church had been Catholic, Lutheran, and Greek, and then
Lutheran again, all that remained of decoration were the remnants of an
altar, at the far end, above which hung a large picture of the
Crucifixion, and below a representation of the Lord's Supper; both badly
painted, if one might judge from the scant colour remaining on the
canvas. On one side stood a pulpit with a top like an extinguisher, much
the worse for wear; formerly it had been painted all over with bright
colours, the panels of the saints being surrounded by garish festoons
and queer designs. In the opposite corner of the room was a very
remarkable representation of Our Lord, with the five foolish virgins on
one side, and the five wise ones on the other. It was a truly wonderful
picture, for all the arms were out of drawing and all the heads too big
for the bodies, and every one of the faces hideous. But even more
wonderful than all the rest was the dado painted on a wooden panelling
which ran round the church. The background was pale green, and the
persons represented were prophets, apostles, and saints in the most
rude form of art. Finnish art about a hundred and fifty years ago
closely resembled the very earliest examples known of the Italian, only
it was yet a hundredfold more primitive. But then, we presume, the
village artist had never really seen a good picture in his life, and had
nothing to go by.
On the panels were the following:--
_P. Isak_ (P. standing for Pylia = saint), dressed in a blue kilt, with
black top boots, a red cape, and a black billycock hat!
_P. Jacob_, who was next to him, wore brown knickerbockers and long
stockings, a red and blue plaid, and a red felt hat.
_P. Samuel_ had a hat like a Jewish Rabbi and a long black cloak.
_Judas Iskariot_ a most wonderful red head and beard, and carried in his
hand a Finnish peasant's tobacco pouch.
But the most wonderful was _Noak_ or Noah in blue and white tartan
knickerbockers with a short kilt above them, carrying a red cloak and
black slouch hat _over his arm_.
At the end of the room, opposite the altar, was a sort of wide wooden
stair, on which prisoners used to sit during service at the commencement
of the nineteenth century.
We bathed in that hot weather from the rock on which _Nyslott_ is built,
and enjoyed the cool water amazingly. To find a safe spot, however, from
which to make our plunge proved a difficulty, and one we had to solve
for ourselves.
Leaving the main and only entrance of the Castle, and descending some
wide steps leading to the water edge, bathing dresses and towels in
hand, we found a little ledge of stone-work barely twelve inches broad,
just above the level of the lake. Literally only a foothold. Any nervous
person inclined to turn giddy would hardly have dared to venture along
such a path at all. But it led to the only spot where we could stand on
solid earth outside the Castle walls, so completely did the edifice
cover the rock on which it was built. A gust of wind at the turn of the
tower almost blew us over, it was so sudden and unexpected.
After climbing on in this way for a short while we came to a little cove
between two towers, with enough land for three or four trees to find
soil to grow on, and beneath them a perfect bed of wild strawberries. It
was a very small and very primitive bath chamber, but trees afforded
shade from the sun's powerful rays, and two massive walls shut us in
from curious eyes.
Near the Castle gate the water was smooth, but the current round other
parts of the battlements was great, and almost baffled the wonderful
swimming powers of Grandpapa and his friend, the delightful student who
joined us at _Nyslott_, fresh from his newly-won honours at the
University. They swam round it--but they had a struggle to accomplish
their feat.
Our student was a great acquisition to the party, though many scenes we
lived together were not altogether devoid of embarrassment. We spoke
English, French, and German, but he knew no language that we knew. For
his University work he had learned book-German, and could read it well,
but he had never heard it spoken, and his tongue had never framed the
words. Still, with this solid foundation, we soon taught him, and at the
end of the three weeks that he spent with us, we flatter ourselves his
German was _excellent_! Many a laugh we had over his deliciously amusing
struggles, and, in spite of being a Finlander, he laughed too.
We also had many quaint linguistic adventures with our "hotel keeper."
That custodian was a poet--a real live poet. He used to disappear for
hours; and we wondered where he was, until one fine day, as we rowed
home to our enchanted Castle, we saw a man on the top of the watch tower
waving his arms and gesticulating with dramatic gestures into space.
This was our _Vahtimestari_. From his exalted position, with one of the
most beautiful panoramas eye could wish lying at his feet--resting on a
famous battlement, that had withstood the ravages of love and war--he
evolved his magic verse. Truly no scene could be more inspiring, no
motive more sublime, for even we humble humdrum matter-of-fact
Englishwomen felt almost inspired to tempt the poet's muse. But happily
no--our friends are spared--the passion was but fleeting.
One day our _Vahtimestari_ met us all smiles. We could not quite
understand what he meant, but Grandpapa and our student told us some
strange news as soon as the _Vahtimestari_ had imparted it to them.
It seemed that a party of people had rung the bell on the shore for the
Castle boat to go to fetch them, so, accordingly, our nocturnal host had
gone across to earn his penny per head for ferrying them over. A papa,
mamma, son, and daughters, with a couple of acquaintances, comprised the
party. They calmly owned they had not come to see the Castle--they had
seen it before. They had come to see the English ladies. Was it really
true that two Englishwomen were staying there as the papers stated? Had
they actually come from London? What were they like? What did they do?
And why on earth did they sleep among the ghosts and hobgoblins?
Then, in a hushed voice and with subdued breath they asked--
"Are they mad?"
"No," the man answered, "he didn't think they were, they seemed much
like other folk."
"Could they talk."
"Not Finnish; but they understand a little Swedish, and talk French and
German with their friends."
"Did they do anything very remarkable or strange?"
"No. They cook their breakfast, and afterwards eat it; write, work,
sketch, and bathe; in fact, they are ordinary people and seem quite
sane."
"Could they see the strange ladies?"
"He was afraid not, as they were on shore."
"Might they see where they slept?"
"Certainly," replied the _Vahtimestari_.
And on reaching the room they exclaimed--
"Why, this is an ordinary room with windows, how very disappointing,"
whereupon, much distressed and disillusioned, they turned and departed.
At this very time we were walking on the promenade in front of the
bath-houses, where a nice fat comfortable-looking old gentleman stood
before me, and cap in hand asked in English--
"Excuse me, do you like Finland?"
"Very much," I replied, smiling at the question; "but why do you ask?"
"I am a Finn--we all are Finns, and we are very proud of our country,
about which most of Europe knows nothing, or at least next to nothing,
and I am desirous to hear what you think of it all?"
"I am delighted with it. But again I must ask why you inquire?"
"Because we all know about _you_ from the newspapers (not one word of
which we could read ourselves), and we are very anxious you should like
us and our land, and tell the people in England we are not barbarians as
they suppose. Please excuse my speaking to you, but I am the spokesman
of many, who will be delighted to hear you are satisfied, and wish you a
pleasant journey. If a stranger may be so bold--I thank you for coming."
"Finland certainly deserves to be better known," I replied.
"You think so? oh, I am glad;" and after a few minutes more conversation
he said, "I hope you will enjoy _Punkaharju_."
"How do you know I am going to _Punkaharju_?"
"I heard so, and that you are actually living in our Castle, and that
you are going through the country to _Uleåborg_."
I almost collapsed; but he was so nice and so smiling I dared not be
angry at his somewhat inquisitive interest in my movements.
On another occasion it was an elderly general who calmly sat down and
addressed me in German, in order to inquire what I was going to write,
how I was going to write it, and when it would appear.
These are only three instances of several, all showing the keen interest
of the people that the land may be known and the Finlander a little
better understood than he is by half the world to-day, who seem to
imagine him to be a cross between a Laplander and an Esquimo--instead of
what he really is, a very cultured gentleman.
My sister eased the troubles of life for me by kindly doing the packing;
but once, so she says, virtue seized me in a rigid grip--and I packed.
It was at _Olavin Linna_--at our Castle. We were leaving next day, and
one Gladstone had to be filled with things we did not want for a short
time, and the other to be packed with everything we required
immediately.
I worked hard. Sorted everything; filled the Gladstone with clean linen,
guide books, foods, papers, etc., strapped it, and then,
feeling the incarnation of industry and pride, threw myself
on that precious deck-chair to rest and read.
Presently my sister danced into the room. I told her of my virtue,
received her congratulations and thanks, beamed with delight at my
success, and answered her question as to the whereabouts of her bathing
cap that "I had never seen it."
"Strange," she said, "I feel sure I left it on the window-sill to dry
last night as usual, and it has gone, and I want a swim."
We both looked. We went down into the courtyard and scrambled among the
lilac bushes immediately below the window. Finally, we decided it had
been left on the tree at the bathing ground the night before. So off she
went round that dangerous edge to find the cap. It was not there.
We called Grandpapa--Grandpapa called the _Vahtimestari_--the
_Vahtimestari_ called his under man; every one explained to every one
else what was missing. At last the custodian remarked--
"Oh, now I understand what you mean; that sponge bag which lies beside
the bathing dresses to dry; I didn't know what you meant by 'cap to
bathe.'"
"Yes, yes, that is it," replied Grandpapa; "where is it?"
"I don't know."
"But it must be found. This lady dives and swims under water, and her
long hair would get wet without it."
And so we looked, and looked, and all looked again.
"Let us go and buy another," remarked my sister in desperation.
"Impossible," replied our student, who had now joined in the search,
"you might get one in _Helsingfors_, but nowhere else."
We were in despair. Before evening the whole town had heard of the
English ladies' strange loss, and the bathing cap was as much commented
upon as though it had been a dynamite bomb.
Confession, they say, is good for the soul. Then let me own my sin. The
next day that bathing cap was found--_I had packed it up_!
Wherefore my sister on all inconvenient occasions says--
"Yes, she packed _once_; she put away everything we wanted, and left out
everything we had no use for."
How cruelly frank one's relations are!
* * * * *
Alas! my haunted Castle is restored, and the revels of the ghosts and
the goblins are now disturbed by the shrieks and snorts of the modern
locomotive.
FOOTNOTES:
[C] A Girl's Ride in Iceland.
[D] Götstaff is old Finnish for Gustavus.