LAPLAND AND THE LAPPS.
Lapland, or the Land of the Lapps, which the Lapps themselves call
Sameanda or Somellada, forms the north and north-eastern portions of
the Scandinavian peninsula, and is divided between Sweden and Russia.
Norwegian Lapland includes the provinces of Norrland and Finmark;
Swedish, of North and South Bothnia; and Russian, of Kola and Kemi.
The last-named has an area of 11,300 square miles, with a population
of 9000; Swedish Lapland, an area of 50,600 square miles, with 4000
inhabitants; and Norwegian, an area of 26,500 square miles, with a
population of 5000. We are here referring to the number of true Lapps;
in each division the population would be largely increased if we
included Finns, Russians, Swedes, Norwegians.
Lapland, for nine months in the year, is blighted by the rigour of
a winter climate. The summer months, when the sun does not set for
several weeks, are July and August; and these are preceded by a brief
spring, and followed by even a briefer autumn. Cereals do not thrive
higher than the sixty-sixth parallel, with the exception of barley,
which is cultivated as far north as the seventieth. The greater part
of the country comes within that wooded zone which we described in an
earlier chapter, and the forests, consisting of birch, pine, fir, and
alder, spread over a very extensive area. On the mosses and lichens
which grow abundantly in their shelter, are fed the immense herds of
reindeer which constitute the principal wealth of the inhabitants.
The Lapps may almost be regarded as a nation of Lilliputians. Their men
seldom exceed five feet in height, while the majority are some inches
below that very moderate stature; and the women are even shorter. They
are, however, a robust race, with muscular limbs, and unusual girth
of body, the circumference of their chest being nearly equal to their
height. Their complexion is dark, tawny, or copper-coloured; their
dark, piercing, deep-sunken eyes are set very wide apart, so as to
communicate a peculiar character to the physiognomy. The wild, strange
effect is further increased by the unkempt masses of dark, lank,
straight hair which droop on either side of the whiskerless, beardless
face. The cheek-bones are prominent, like those of a Celtic Highlander;
the nose is flat; the mouth wide, with thin compressed lips. It may
be supposed that the Lapps, from these indications, are not models of
masculine or feminine beauty; and Dr. Clarke asserts that, when aged,
many of them, if exposed in a menagerie, might be mistaken for the
long-lost transitional form intermediate between man and ape. And,
certainly, there is something repulsive in the constant blinking of
eyes rendered sore by the pungent smoke of their huts, or the white
glare of the snow, as well as in the expression of obstinacy and low
cunning which one reads in every feature.
An aristocrat might be proud of their small and finely-shaped hands;
but their arms, like their legs, are disproportionately short, clumsy,
and thick. Clumsy, we mean, in shape; certainly not in movement, for
the extraordinary flexibility of their limbs is one of the traits by
which a Lapp is easily distinguished.
Of the dress of the Lapps it is needless to say much. In winter it
consists of bears’ skins, in which both male and female wrap themselves
up, with the fur outward. In summer the men wear a sort of tunic, the
_poesk_, made of coarse light-coloured woollen cloth, depending
to the knee, but bound about the waist with a belt or girdle. Their
head-gear consists of a kind of fez, made of wool, and adorned with a
red worsted band round the rim, and a bright red tassel. Their boots
or shoes are cut from the raw skin of the reindeer, with the hair
outwards, and they are peaked in shape. They are thin, and they have
no lining; but the Lapp defends his feet and ankles from the cold by
stuffing the vacant space of the boot with the broad leaves of the
_Carex vesicaria_, or Cyperus grass, which he cuts in summer, rubs
in his hands, and dries before using. The female costume resembles that
of the males, but their girdles are gayer with rings and chains.
The Lapps are a superstitious race. Like all the Norse tribes, they
believe in witchcraft; and of old the Lapland witches had a reputation
which extended to England, for being able to ward off rain or disperse
storms. The English seamen trading to Archangel frequently visited
their coast in order to buy a favourable wind.
Many of the Lapps claim the ability to foretell future events, and
fall, or pretend to fall, into a trance or ecstasy, during which they
see visions, utter prophecies, and unlock the secrets of those who
trust to their divination. They also read the fortunes of inquiring
dupes by means of a cup of liquor, or by the vulgarest jargon of
palmistry. Superstition is the daughter of Ignorance. It is also the
sister of Fear, for the superstitious are invariably prone to see
supernatural signs and wonders in the appearances of the heavens, or to
hear unearthly voices borne upon the midnight wind, and in everything
they cannot understand to imagine the presence of some antagonistic
power. As the American natives were panic-stricken at the occurrence of
an eclipse, so the Lapps are filled with dread when the sky glows with
the coruscations of the aurora.
These superstitions prevail in spite of the exertions of priests and
schoolmasters. They are nourished in secret even when they are not
openly proclaimed; and the Lapp, after listening devoutly to the
harangue of his pastor, will return home to offer homage to his saidas,
or wooden idols; to cower at the name of Trolls, the evil spirit of the
forest; and to be deluded by the artifices of any so-called witch or
fortune-teller.
There are Lapps, and Lapps; each, according to the region he inhabits,
bearing his distinctive characteristics, and preserving his individual
habits. Thus, there are the Fjälllappars, or Mountain Lapps; the
Skogslappars, or Wood Lapps; and the Fisherlapps.
From the nature of the country the reader will expect, and will be
right in expecting, that the Fjälllappars form the most numerous
section. They are the nomads of Lapland, and their mode of life is
entirely pastoral. As the Arabs with their flocks move from one oasis
to another, or the Tartars with their cattle, so the Lapps migrate from
place to place, compelled by the necessity of finding sustenance for
their herds of reindeer. The mosses and lichens on which these animals
feed are soon exhausted, and some time elapses before the half-frozen
soil replaces them. The same cause operates to prevent the Lapps from
assembling in large communities. Seldom more than three, four, or five
families encamp in the same neighbourhood.
It will not be supposed that the temporary abode of a nomad exhibits
any architectural completeness. Their _tuguria_, or huts, are of
the rudest construction. They raise a conical framework, composed of
the flexible stems of trees, and this they cover with a coarse kind of
canvas, and in winter with the skins of reindeer and other animals. No
doorway is required, and egress and ingress are provided for by turning
up a portion of the canvas at the bottom, so as to form a triangular
gap; and the portion so turned up is let down again at night. In the
centre of the interior some large stones are piled together for a
fireplace, and a square opening in the roof above carries off the
smoke, and lets in the light and air--not to say rain, snow, and fog,
when these prevail.
The tent or hut we have described generally measures about six feet in
diameter, and eighteen to twenty in circumference. It does not exceed
ten feet in height. There is no floor, but the ground is covered with
reindeer skins, and upon these the inhabitants sit or crouch by day,
and huddle themselves up at night. The household utensils, implements,
and weapons are suspended from the sides of the hut; and the clothing
of the family, no very extensive stock, is preserved in a chest.
On a shelf or platform, raised high above the reach of dogs and wolves,
between two neighbouring trees, the Lapp keeps his store of dried
reindeer flesh, and cheese, and curds; for his diet is as plain as his
general habit of living. His herd of reindeer he puts up at night, or
when they are required for milking, in a large enclosure, about four
hundred to five hundred feet in circuit, formed by a barrier of posts
and stumps of trees, supporting a row of horizontal poles. Against the
latter birch poles and branches of trees are placed diagonally, forming
a kind of abattis, which is found to be a sufficient security against
the attacks of wolves.
It is said that the milking of a herd of reindeer affords a lively and
picturesque spectacle. When they have been driven within the area, and
all the outlets closed, a Lapp, selecting a long cord or thong, twists
both ends round his left hand, and then in his right gathers the thong
itself in loose coils. Fixing on a reindeer, he flings the coils over
its antlers. Sometimes the latter offers no resistance; but generally,
on feeling the touch of the thong, it darts away, and its pursuer, in
order to secure it, is called upon for the most vigorous efforts. And
the scene is animated indeed, when half-a-dozen reindeer, pursued by as
many Lapps, sweep round and round the enclosure, until the former are
finally overcome, or, as now and then happens, wrest the cord from the
hands of the discomfited Lapp, and leave him prostrate on the ground.
When the animal is secured, his master takes a dexterous hitch of the
thong round his muzzle and head, and then fastens him to the trunk of a
prostrate tree. The operation of milking is performed by both men and
women.
As soon as the pasture in the neighbourhood is exhausted, the
encampment is broken up, and the little company migrate to some fresh
station. The rude tuguria are dismantled in less than half an hour, and
packed with all the household furniture on the backs of the reindeer,
who, by long training, are inured to serve as beasts of burden. On
the journey they are bound together, five and five, with leather
thongs, and led by the women over the mountains; while the father of
the family precedes the march to select a suitable site for the new
encampment, and his sons or servants follow with the remainder of the
herd.
As spring verges upon summer, the Lapps abandon their mountain
pastures, and move towards the shore. No sooner do the reindeer
scent the keen sea-air than, breaking loose from all control, they
dash headlong into the briny waves of the fiord, and drink long
draughts of the salt sea-water. The Lapps consider this sea-side
migration essential to the health of their herds. When summer reaches
its meridian, and the snow melts, they return to the pleasant
mountain-solitudes, ascending higher and higher, according to the
increase of temperature. Then, on the approach of winter, they retire
into the woods, where their great difficulty is to defend their herds
and themselves from the attacks of the wolves. In this incessant
warfare they derive much assistance from the courage of their dogs.
These are about the size of a Scotch terrier, with long shaggy hair,
and a head bearing a curiously close resemblance to that of a lynx.
[Illustration: REINDEER IN LAPLAND.]
In the winter the Lapp accomplishes his journeys either by sledging or
skating.
Their skates are not exactly things of beauty, but they answer their
purpose admirably. One is as long as the person who wears it; the other
is about a foot shorter. The feet of the wearer are placed in the
middle, and the skates, or _skidas_, fastened to them by thongs
or withes. They are made of fir-wood, and covered with the skins of
reindeer, which check any backward movement by acting like bristles
against the snow. It is astonishing with what speed the Lapp, thus
equipped, can traverse the frozen ground. The most dexterous skater on
the canals of Holland could not outstrip him. He runs down the swiftest
wild beasts; and the exercise so stimulates and warms his frame that,
even in mid-winter, when pursuing one of these lightning-like courses,
he can dispense with his garment of furs. When he wishes to stop, he
makes use of a long pole, which is provided with a round ball of wood
near the end, to prevent it from sinking too deep into the snow.
He is no less expert as a sledger. His vehicle, or _pulka_, is
fashioned like a boat, with a convex bottom, so as to slip over the
snow with all the greater ease; the prow is sharp and pointed, but
the hind part flat. Perhaps it may better be compared to a punt than
a boat. At all events, in this curious vehicle the Lapp is bound and
swathed, like an infant in its cradle. To preserve its equilibrium, he
trusts to the dexterity with which he moves his body to and fro, and
from side to side, as may be needed; and he guides it by means of a
stout pole. His steed, a reindeer, is fastened to it by traces attached
to its collar, and connected with the fore part of the sledge; the
reins are twisted round its horns; and all about its trappings are hung
a number of little bells, in the tintinnabulation of which the animal
greatly delights. Thus accoutred, it will perform a journey of fifty or
sixty miles a day; sometimes travelling fifty miles without pause, and
with no other refreshment than an occasional mouthful of snow.
[Illustration: TRAVELLING IN LAPLAND.]
With wonderful accuracy the Lapp will guide himself and his steed
through a seemingly labyrinthine wilderness, when the usual signs and
characters of the landscape are buried deep in snow. But his memory is
tenacious, and a blighted tree, or a projecting crag, or a clump of
firs, affords him a sufficient indication of the correctness of his
course. He frequently continues his rapid journey throughout the night,
when the moon invests the gleaming plains with a strange brilliancy,
or the aurora fills both earth and heaven with the reflection of its
wondrous fires.
A French traveller, M. de Saint-Blaize, is of opinion that the Lapps,
like all savage and semi-civilized races, are rapidly diminishing in
numbers. Yet this diminution is hardly owing to the conditions under
which they live. Their life, to the civilized European, seems severe
and almost intolerable; but though it is marked by privation and
fatigue, it is not without its charms. It is free and independent, and
without anxiety. As for the privation and fatigue, the Lapp is hardly
conscious of them, because his capacity of endurance is great, and he
is accustomed to them from his earliest years. Temperate, active, and
inured to exertion, his physical frame is wonderfully vigorous, and he
knows nothing of the majority of maladies which afflict the dweller in
cities. One terrible disease, indeed, he does not escape, and this may
have had much to do with their decline,--the smallpox. Otherwise, they
are a healthy as well as a hardy race. If during a journey a Lapp woman
gives birth to a child, she places the new-born in a frame of hollow
wood, in which a hole has been cut to receive the little one’s head;
then slings this rude cradle on her back, and continues her march.
When she halts, she suspends the infant and its cradle to a tree, the
wirework with which it is covered affording a sufficient protection
against wild beasts.
Professor Forbes, however, describes a more comfortable cradle, which
is cut out of solid wood, and covered with leather, in flaps so
arranged as to lace across the top with leathern thongs; the inside
is lined with reindeer moss, and a pillow, also of reindeer moss, is
provided for the head of the infant, who fits the space so exactly that
it can stir neither hand nor foot.
* * * * *
The Lapp is a bold hunter, and will encounter the bear single-handed.
Like the Siberian, he entertains a superstitious reverence for this
powerful animal, which he regards as the wisest and most acute of all
the beasts of the field, and supposes to know and hear all that is said
about it; but as its fur is valuable and its flesh well-favoured, he
does not refrain from pursuing it to the death, though careful, so to
speak, to kill it with the highest respect.
Early in winter the bear retires to a rocky cave, or a covert of
branches, leaves, and moss, and there remains, without food, and in a
state of torpidity, until the spring recalls him to active life. After
the first snow-fall, the Lapp hunters seek the forest, and search for
traces of their enemy. These being found, the spot is carefully marked,
and after a few weeks they return, arouse the slumbering brute, and
stimulate it to an attack; for to shoot it while asleep, or, indeed, to
use any weapon but a lance, is considered dishonourable.
Hogguer, whose narrative is quoted by Hartwig, accompanied a couple of
Lapps, well armed with axes and stout lances, on one of these dangerous
expeditions. When about a hundred paces from the bear’s den, the party
halted, and one of the Lapps advanced shouting, and his comrades made
all the din they could. He ventured within twenty paces of the cavern,
and then threw stones into it. For awhile all was quiet, and Hogguer
began to think they had come upon an empty den; but suddenly an angry
growl was heard.
The hunters now renewed and redoubled their clamour, until slowly,
like an honest citizen roused from his virtuous sleep by a company of
roisterers, the animal came forth from his lair.
At first he seemed indifferent and lethargic; but, catching sight
of his nearest enemy, he was filled with rage, uttered a short but
terrible roar, and rushed headlong upon him. The Lapp, with his lance
in rest, awaited the onset calmly, while the bear, coming to close
quarters, reared himself on his haunches, and struck at his antagonist
with his fore paws.
To avoid these powerful strokes, the daring huntsman crouched, and
then, with a sudden spring, drove his lance, impelled by a sturdy arm,
and guided by a sure eye, into the creature’s heart.
The victor escaped with only a slight wound on the hand, but the marks
of the bear’s teeth were found deeply impressed on the iron spear-head.
According to an old custom, the wives of the hunters assemble in one
of their huts, and as soon as they hear them returning, raise a loud
discordant chant in honour of the bear. When the men, loaded with
their booty of skin and flesh, draw near, it is considered necessary
to receive them with words of reproach and insult, and they are not
allowed to enter through the door; they are compelled, therefore, to
obtain admission through a hole in the wall. But when the animal’s
_manes_ have been thus propitiated, the women are not less eager
than the men to make the most of its carcass; and after the skin, fat,
and flesh have been removed, they cut up the body, and bury it with
great ceremony, the head first, then the neck, next the fore paws, and
so on, down to the animal’s “last,”--its tail. This is done from a wild
belief that the bear rises from the dead, and if it has been properly
interred, will kindly allow itself to be killed a second time by the
same hunter!
The principal article of food of the Lapps is reindeer venison. This
they boil, and it supplies them both with meat and broth. In summer
they vary their bill of fare with cheese and reindeer milk; and the
rich eat a kind of bread or cake, baked upon hot iron plates or
“girdles.” For luxuries they resort to brandy and tobacco; and these
are not less appreciated by the women than by the men. As for the
latter, they are never seen without a pipe, except at meals; and the
first salutation which a Lapp addresses to a stranger is a demand for
“tabak” or “braendi.” Dr. Clarke tells us that on paying a visit to
one of their tents, he gave the father of the family about a pint of
brandy, and as he saw him place it behind his bed, near the margin of
the tent, he concluded it would be economically used. In a few minutes
the daughter entered, and asked for a dram, on the ground that she had
lost her share while engaged upon domestic duties outside. The old Lapp
made no reply, but slily crept round the exterior of the tent until he
came to the place where the brandy was concealed. Then, thrusting in
his arm, he drew forth the precious bottle, and emptied its contents at
a draught.
* * * * *
We find no great difference of habits existing between the Mountain
Lapp and the Skogs or Forest Lapp, except that the latter takes up
fishing as a summer pursuit, and devotes the winter months to his herds
and the chase. But in course of time his herds demanding more attention
than he can give to them, he is transformed into a Fisher Lapp, who
dwells always upon the sea-coast, and is at once the filthiest and
least civilized of the race. He resembles the Mountain Lapp in his love
of tobacco and brandy. He differs from him in never migrating, and in
wholly abandoning the pastoral life.
[Illustration: FISHER LAPPS.]
A picture of what the artists call a Lapland “interior,” of the
domestic economy of a Lapp hut, is painted for us by the author of a
recent book of travel, entitled “Try Lapland.”
After a long day’s journey, in the neighbourhood of Lake Randejaur,
weary and cold, he and his companions came upon a small hut, and had
visions of obtaining a night’s rest; but a closer acquaintance with the
hut convinced them that such a proceeding would be undesirable.
For, knocking at the door, and pulling up the latch, they entered, to
see before them a family scene!
In an inconceivably dirty room stood a still dirtier beldame, making
coffee. Her husband, an old man of seventy, sat on one side; while a
hideous, deformed little Lapp, whether man or woman they could hardly
tell, squatted on the floor on the other, in full costume, consisting
of high-peaked blue cloth cap, and reindeer-skin dress, ornamented
with beads and spangles. Her face was brown as a berry, long lanky
black hair streamed down her cheeks; and, staring at the intruders, she
begged for “penge” (money). Two young men were snoring in one bed, and
two boys in another placed opposite to it, each being covered with a
few reindeer-skins.
The entrance of the strangers aroused the sleepers to give one hasty
look, and then they snored again.
The lady of the house offered coffee; and though everything looked so
dirty as to create a positive feeling of disgust, the travellers could
not afford to be particular, and accepted her offer, which put her in a
perfect ecstasy of delight.
Quickly she scuttled off to the well for water, and, filling her
kettle, set to work to roast fresh coffee.
The old man got up and endeavoured to rouse the sleepers, when he
understood that the strangers were in immediate want of boats and
rowers.
Leaving him to make the necessary preparations, they went out to take
a look at the surrounding scenery; and returning in a quarter of an
hour, expected to find them preparing the boats, which lay two or three
hundred yards off. But, to their surprise, not the slightest change had
occurred in the position of the sleepers; and, after drinking their
coffee out of the one cup the Lapps possessed, they grew impatient, and
stormed at the young men, trying even to pull them out of bed--but they
would not budge.
“The father,” says our authority, “who protested great love for the
English, but turned out the biggest rascal we had come across, was as
anxious as we were that his sons should get up and row us;--but not
a bit of it! He told us that they had been out three days and three
nights on the Fells, and were thoroughly exhausted. What was to be
done, we could not think. It was getting serious; we certainly could
not sleep in this dreadful hole, and there was no other shelter near.
“Money had no power: though I showed the almighty dollar to the weary
slumberers, (they had surely never been in America!) they turned away
with a grunt.
“Then, O happy thought, I recollected the _brandy_; and bringing
my keg to the bedside, I tapped it, and offered them a glass if they
would get up. This was quite another thing; they yawned, stretched
their limbs, and stood upon the floor. Poor fellows! we then saw how
ill and fagged they looked, though they were splendid specimens of the
human race.
“Pouring a glass of the fiery compound down their throats, they put on
their coats, and followed us like sleepy dogs; but in a few moments
were rowing us like heroes.”
All travellers agree in bearing witness to the passion of the Lapps for
alcoholic liquors. If we could spare our apostles of temperance and
advocates of Good Templarism, which, alas! we cannot afford to do, few
better fields could be found for their admirable labours than Lapland.
* * * * *
Captain Hutchinson, however, has more pleasant experiences to relate,
and more agreeable “interiors” to sketch, than the preceding. Let us
accompany him, for instance, on a visit to the island of Bjorkholm.
The settlement here is very small, consisting of only two or three
houses, and a few barns and sheds. The inhabitants, after the usual
manner of the Lapps, support themselves by fishing in summer, and by
the reindeer in winter. Not a tree or shrub grows upon the island; only
grass.
The hostess, on this occasion, was an active, good-natured little
woman, not more than four feet high, who flew to and fro with a really
wonderful agility. At one moment she was mounted on the dresser,
searching for forks and spoons; at another, almost buried in a deep
box, diving for sheets and table-cloth. Crockery was decidedly scarce;
and a china slop-basin, with a wreath of prettily painted little
flowers round the margin, had really a hard time of it.
It was first presented to Captain Hutchinson and his party for the
purpose of washing their hands; at supper it appeared filled with
chocolate; in the morning it reappeared as their joint washing-basin.
However, the little Lapp entertained them right royally, with hot
kippered salmon, pancakes, dried reindeer, and eggs.
The beds were very comfortable, the mattresses of hay, with the whitest
of sheets. And though the hostess and her family seemed very poor,
relics of former grandeur were visible in the silver spoons, teapot,
goblet, and cream-jug.
* * * * *
A recent writer observes that the inferiority of the Lapp race is
as conspicuous from the intellectual as from the physical point of
view. This is evident from the most cursory glance at their lives
and manners. The Lapp is, on the whole, a simple, timid, regular,
honest creature. To his great defect we have already adverted,--that
excessive partiality for strong liquors, which would be sufficient
to bring about the annihilation of his race within a more or less
limited period, even if his days were not numbered from every other
concurrent cause. He is essentially nomadic. He is perfectly free and
independent throughout the solitary wastes which extend from the North
Cape to the sixty-fourth degree of latitude; he plants his tent where
he pleases, generally close to a wood or lake; and he moves on when
the moss all around it has been eaten up. Such a mode of life is, of
course, incompatible with the progress of Swedish, Norwegian, and even
Finlandish civilization, which, year by year, curtails the territory
given up to the migration of the nomadic Lapps.
There is about the life of the Lapps, in summer, says Count D’Almeida,
a certain charm of independence, which might prove seductive to
certain minds, weary of civilization and unwitting of mosquitoes.
But in winter, no being of any other race could with impunity endure
such privations and sufferings as they undergo. They are compelled to
keep a careful watch upon their herds, which are in constant danger
from the snow-storms and the wolves. In the hard frosts, when the
snow is upwards of three feet in depth, they are compelled to dig it
up with their axes, so as to obtain access for their reindeer to the
moss, which constitutes their only food in winter. Their vigorous
constitutions and their power of enduring privation and climatic
rigour, explain how it was that man, in the Glacial Age, though without
any of the appliances of civilization, could endure its tremendous
severity. What the Lapps can bear in point of toil and want is almost
incredible. They suffer, and are strong, in a sense the poet never
contemplated. It frequently happens that they are surprised by a
snow-hurricane; they sleep on the ground, covered with snow-flakes,
which, on awaking, they simply shake off, and pursue their way. In an
excess of cold which would chill our blood, even if we were running
at the top of our speed, they will fall, in a fit of intoxication, on
the ground, and lie there with impunity for hours. It is said that in
mid-winter, women, suddenly seized with the pains of childbirth while
on the road, are delivered in the snow, without any ill result, either
to them or their offspring.
But, as the same writer remarks, human strength cannot exceed certain
limits. The Lapp ages early in life, and dies young. When he attains an
advanced age, his fate is still more lamentable. It is said that if an
old man falls sick while a tribe is accomplishing one of its customary
migrations, his children frequently abandon him,--leaving him with some
provisions at the foot of a tree, or on the bank of a stream, with the
terrible prospect before him of dying of starvation, or falling a prey
to wild beasts. The Lapp is always poor even when he may be called
rich; for it is calculated that to maintain a family of four persons,
a herd of fully four hundred reindeer is necessary, representing a
capital of about £160.
* * * * *
The Lapp dialect is described as resembling the Finnish. When we
remember that the Lapps and the Quénes, or Finns, wear a similar
costume, are distinguished by very similar customs, and that the
two people call themselves by the same generic name, Suomi, we can
understand why some travellers persist in regarding them as sprung
from the same common stock. But a careful investigation shows the
absolute distinctness of the Lapps from the Finns, notwithstanding
this similarity of name and language--a similarity due, as in many
other countries, to the influences of conquest or colonization. Some
ethnologists, and among them M. D’Omalins, include the Finns among
the white, or Caucasian race, and leave the Lapps among the inferior
branches of the great Mongol family. It seems certain that a greater
difference exists between the Quénes and the Lapps of Northern Norway
than between the Quénes and the Scandinavians of the same region.
The Quénes have adapted themselves completely to sedentary and
agricultural habits, while the Lapps, as yet, have not made a single
advance in the direction of raising themselves above a pastoral and
nomadic life. On the other hand, Finns constantly intermarry with the
Swedes or Norwegians; while unions between Lapps and Scandinavians,
or even between Lapps and Finns, are regarded throughout the entire
country as monstrous anomalies. Lastly: laying aside the arguments
founded upon the physical conformation of the Lapps and the Finns,
an important historical consideration seems to prove their distinct
co-existence from a period far anterior to the settlement of the
Suiones and the Goths in the peninsula; it is that in the Finnish
mythology we constantly meet with legends of battles between dwarfs and
giants. It is impossible that these can refer to the warfare between
the Finns and the Scandinavians, for the latter were of the same
stature as the former; and it is in comparison with the Lapps only that
the Finns could relatively be called _giants_.
* * * * *
We borrow from Count D’Alviella a few particulars relating to
the stationary Lapps, who inhabit the region of West Bothnia, or
Westerbotten, a long, narrow strip of land dividing the Gulf of Bothnia
from Lapland proper. These Lapps seem to be the product of a mixture of
races in which the Scandinavian element predominates. They are of an
ordinary stature, robust, with regular features, light hair, and clear
gray eyes.
The country in which they dwell has a strange, an original, but a
monotonous character. It is its monotony which wearies the traveller,
though at first he will be impressed by its fresh yet severe beauty.
The forests of birch and fir seem endless, and the great lakes
in their depths fatigue the eye with their wastes of cold, drear
water. Occasionally, however, the traveller comes upon a smiling
plain, enamelled with myosotis, and brightened by a silver-shining,
music-murmuring stream. Here and there the wood is thinner, and lean
cows may be seen feeding among the half-stripped stems. Next comes a
clearing, where the forest has been swept away by fire; a clearing with
fields of rye and barley; a palisade enclosure, and a group of châlets,
with a comparatively spacious and undilapidated building in the centre.
These _gârds_, as they are called, closely resemble each other
throughout the North. Neither material nor space is begrudged to the
West Bothnian architects. Even the smallest farm comprises three or
four buildings, which generally form a square on the four sides of
an inner court. These buildings--how unlike the wretched, filthy
hut of the nomadic Lapp!--comprise three living-rooms, kitchen, and
stables; and are divided from each other only by a partition of
horizontally-laid planks, the interstices being filled up by moss.
The furniture is simple, convenient, suitable, and shining with
cleanliness, like a Dutch kitchen. Around the hearth is hung a series
of brightly-coloured prints, representing either a Scriptural scene
or events in the life of an illustrious personage,--King Charles
XV., or the bishop of the diocese, side by side with the universal
legendary figures, Napoleon I. and Garibaldi. Close by stands the old
hereditary locker, in which the husband accumulates his money and the
wife deposits her trinkets; to the wall is suspended a complete trophy
of knives, pipes, belts with silver buckles, sledge-bells, and a whip
with a carved horn handle. The whole scene is one of order and the
proprieties of family life.
All these dwellings, it may be added, do not wear the same aspect
of prosperous neatness; but even where poverty is present, it is
unaccompanied by that sullen gloom and melancholy squalidness which, in
other countries, is the painful indication and result of long-endured
privation. And here, we must also remember, poverty and famine are not
always inseparable companions. The shadow of hunger frequently darkens
the rich man’s door, and a man might perish for want of food on a sack
of gold. One winter, the wealthiest members of the community were
reduced to the necessity of eating bread made of bark mixed with moss.
Still, we see how wide a difference separates the stationary from the
nomadic Lapp, and how impossible it is for a wandering population to
acquire or appreciate the comforts of civilized life. A pastoral race,
in the present age of the world, is, and must be, a decaying, because a
barbarous race. If it touches the borders of civilization, it is only
to become infected with its vices, and thus to hasten its inevitable
decay.