A BATHING SCENE.
I devoted the afternoon to a stroll on the sea-shore, which presents
many interesting features in the neighborhood of Helsingfors. A
considerable portion of the town, as already stated, is built upon
immense boulders of solid rock, and some of the streets are entirely
impracticable for wheeled vehicles, owing to the rugged masses of
stone with which Nature has thought proper to pave them. Indeed, it is
no easy task for a pedestrian to make his way through the suburbs,
over the tremendous slippery boulders that lie scattered over the
earth in every direction, the trail being in some instances higher
than the houses. I can not conceive how people can travel over such
streets in wet weather; it seems a task only fit for goats under
favorable circumstances; but the Finns are an ingenious people, and
probably ride on the backs of the goats when walking is impracticable.
Passing the straggling lines of fishermen's huts forming the outskirts
of the town, I rambled over two or three miles of rocky fields till I
found myself on the shores of the gulf, at a point sufficiently
lonesome and desolate to be a thousand miles from any inhabited
portion of the globe. Taking possession of a natural chair, worn in
the rocks by the rains of many centuries, I seated myself upon its
mossy cushion, and, baring my head to the pleasant sea-breeze, quietly
enjoyed the scene. Perhaps this very seat was the throne of an old
viking! Here were sea-shells, and glittering pebbles, and tufts of
moss for his crown; and here were sea-gulls to make music for him, and
the spray from the wild waves to keep him cool; and a thousand
rock-bound islands, lying outspread to the north, with grottoes in
them for his ships; and piles upon piles of rocky palaces all around,
covered with golden roofs of moss; and every thing, in short, that
could make glad the heart of a grim old viking residing on the edge of
the arctic circle. And if this summer scene, with its blue sea, and
wood-capped islands, and warm sun, and balmy breeze, could not make
glad his heart, it would not be difficult to imagine what changes
winter could bring over it, and how the old viking, sitting on his
throne by the sea-shore, could enjoy the dead and icy waste before
him; and how the winter drifts would whistle through his hair; and how
cheery the jagged rocks would look peeping up out of the snow-drifts;
and how balmy would be the night-air at sixty degrees below
freezing-point; and how the old viking would shake his beard with
laughter as he warmed his hands in a midday sun, only ten feet above
the horizon, and make the icicles rattle on his chin; and sit thus
laughing and blowing his fingers, and rattling his icy beard, and
saying to himself, "What a blessing to be a Finlander! How horribly
the natives of Spain and Italy must suffer from bad climate! What a
pity it is Finland is not large enough to accommodate the whole human
race." With such thoughts as these I amused myself for some time,
soothed and charmed by the pleasant sea-breeze and the music of the
waves upon the rocks. The air was deliciously pure, and the odor of
the sea-weeds had something in it so healthful and inspiring that I
was insensibly carried back to by-gone days. How short a time it
seemed since I was a wanderer upon the rock-bound shores of Juan
Fernandez, yet how many strange scenes I had passed through since
then--how much of the world I had seen, with its toils, and troubles,
and vicissitudes! Here I was now, after years of travel in every
clime, among the various nations of the earth, sitting solitary and
alone upon an isolated rock on the shores of Finland! Whither was I
going? What was the object? Where was the result? When was it to end?
Years were creeping over me; I was no longer in the heyday of youth,
yet the vague aspirations of boyhood still clung to me--the insatiable
craving to see more and more of the world--the undefined hope that I
would yet live to be cast away upon a desolate island, and become a
worthy disciple of the immortal Robinson Crusoe! Ah me! What a
lonesome feeling it is to be a visionary, enthusiastic boy all one's
life, in this practical world of dollars and cents, where other boys
are men, and men forget that they ever were young! But this, you say,
is all sentimental nonsense. Of course it is. I admit the full folly
of such thoughts. It would be a pitiable spectacle indeed to see every
body inspired by the vagabond spirit of Robinson Crusoe. No doubt, if
you were sitting upon a rock on the Gulf of Finland, my respected
Californian friend, you would be hammering off the croppings and
trying to discover the indications. You consider that the true
philosophy of life--to dig, and delve, and burrow in the ground, and
get gold and silver out of it, and suffer rheumatism in your bones and
cramps in your stomach, and wear out your life in a practical way,
while we visionaries are dreaming sentimental nonsense! But, after
all, does the one pay any better than the other in the long run? Will
gold or silver make you see farther into a millstone, or give you a
better appetite, or put youth and health into your veins, or cause you
to sleep more soundly of nights, or prolong your life to an indefinite
period beyond the span allotted to the average of mankind? Will you
never be convinced of the truth of these inspired words, which can not
be repeated too often: As you brought nothing into the world, so you
can take nothing out of it?
Come, then, let us be young again, and dash into the blue waters of
Finland, and buffet the sparkling brine as it seethes and boils over
the rocks! Away with your gold and your silver, and your toils and
cares, and let us play Robinson Crusoe and Friday here in this
solitary little glen, where "our right there is none to
dispute"--unless it may be the Czar of Russia. Off with your shirt,
your boots, your drawers, your all, and be for once a genuine
savage--be my man Friday, and I'll teach you how to enjoy life. Ye
gods! doesn't it feel fine--that plunge in the foaming brine! Why, you
look like a boiled lobster already; the glow of health is all over
you; your eyes sparkle, your skin glistens; you shoot out the salt
sea-spray from your nostrils in a manner that would surprise any
porpoise; you whoop and you yell like a young devil let loose! Never
in the world would I take you to be a hard, money-making, lucre-loving
man! Why, my dear Friday, you are a perfect jewel of a savage! I
didn't know it was you, and doubt if you knew it yourself! Isn't it
glorious? I feel a thousand years younger! Don't you hear me singing,
"Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe!
Tinky ting tang, tinky ting tang,
Oh, poor Robinson Crusoe!"
But the water is rather fresh--considering how much salt there is in
it. We had better take a race over the rocks. Run, Friday, for your
life. If I catch you, overboard you go into the sea again. Run, you
savage, run! Voices? you say, human voices?
Great Heavens! Where are you, Friday? Gone! disappeared behind that
projecting ledge of rocks. And here am I, all alone, up to my arm-pits
in the water, with a group of Finnish ladies standing there, not a
hundred yards off, looking at me!--ay, gazing steadfastly at me, and,
what is worse, splitting their sides laughing at my confusion! What in
the world is to be done? The water seems to be growing colder and
colder. I am chilled through. My jaws begin to chatter. Suppose a
shark should seize me by the leg--or a sudden and violent cramp should
take possession of me? My gracious! what are those women doing now?
Actually seating themselves on the rocks, within ten steps of my
clothes, and spreading several packages of bread, cheese, and cakes
around them! They are going to enjoy a picnic while I enjoy my bath! I
hear their merry voices; I can imagine the general drift of their
jokes. How innocently they eat, and drink, and laugh. Possibly they
take me for a seal or a walrus! Certainly nothing is visible but my
head, on the crown of which, I regret to say, is a bald spot about the
size of your hand. It may be very funny to see it dodging up and down
among the breakers--but I can't stand it much longer. Already the
spray has wellnigh strangled me; I shiver all over; a horrible
presentiment is uppermost in my mind that polypi, and sea-leeches, and
shiny jelly-fish are fastening their suckers upon my legs; I jump, and
kick, and plunge in an agony of apprehension, while those fair
creatures on the rock imagine, no doubt, that I am disporting myself
in sheer exuberance of joy. If they only knew that I had been full
half an hour in the water before they appeared, there might be some
hope of a release; but that does not seem to have entered their heads.
Never in all my experience, reader, was I in such a predicament. This
is no fancy sketch. It is true, every word of it. Had the picnickers
been old ladies, I might have shut my eyes, and made a break out of
the water for my clothes; but three of them, at least, were young,
and, worse than that, very pretty! The courage for so daring and
monstrous an act was not in me. I felt that it would be easier to die;
and yet to die in this way is pretty hard when it comes to a practical
test. What the deuce was to be done? I could not speak a word of
Finnish, otherwise I might have implored them to retire a few hundred
yards and let me get my clothes. With a shirt, or even a
pocket-handkerchief, I might have charged upon the enemy; but I had
nothing--not even a hat--as a shield against the battery of sparkling
eyes that bore down upon me! A thousand expedients flashed through my
mind in the extremity of my sufferings. I would slip out of the water
on all-fours, and creep over the rocks like a seal, but that would be
an extremely ungraceful way of approaching a bevy of strange ladies.
Then it occurred to me if I could get hold of a bunch of sea-weeds, it
might serve as a temporary substitute for a costume; but the weeds had
all drifted away by this time, and not a patch was in sight. Even a
large oyster-shell might have afforded some assistance; but who ever
heard of oyster-shells in the Gulf of Finland? Nothing remained save
to dive down and seize a big rock, detach it from the bottom, and,
holding it up before me, make a break for the pile of clothes; yet
when I came to consider the preposterous spectacle that a middle-aged
man would present in a state of nudity charging full tilt upon a party
of ladies, with a big rock in his hands and a gleam of desperation in
his eye, the idea seemed too monstrous to be entertained, and I was
forced to give it up. The difficulty was becoming really serious.
Doubtless it appears very funny to my California friends, but I can
assure them it was pretty near death to me. I would have given ten
dollars for the poorest cotton shirt that was ever dealt out by an
Indian agent to a Reservation Digger; nay, transparent as the blankets
are, I might have made one serve my purpose by doubling it three or
four times and holding it up front.
All this, however, though very well in its way, did not relieve me
from my embarrassing predicament. Something must be done, and that
very speedily. I was rapidly wilting under the chilling influence of
the water. Ten minutes more would render me a fit subject for a
coroner's inquest. I saw but one alternative: to work my course a few
hundred yards up the shore, and then creep out the best way I could,
and run for my life till I found some friendly nook among the rocks in
which I could conceal myself till these fair Finns took a notion to
depart.
Acting upon this idea, I ducked down as low as possible, and crept
over the jagged and slippery rocks, in mortal dread all the time that
some receding wave would leave me a dripping spectacle for these fair
damsels to laugh at; till, bruised and scarified beyond farther
endurance, I worked my way to a landing-place, where I paused in a
recumbent position--that is to say, on all-fours--to take an
observation. They must have perceived something ludicrous in my
attitude. A wild scream of laughter saluted my ears. I could stand no
more. What little warmth was left in my blood forced itself into my
head and face as I sprang to my feet. With a groan of shame and
mortification, I took to my heels; and never before, so help me
Jupiter! did I run so fast in my life. Scream after scream of laughter
followed me! It is impossible for me to conjecture how I looked, but I
felt dreadfully destitute of sail as I scudded over the rough pathway
that wound around the shore. Blushing, panting, and utterly
overwhelmed with conflicting emotions of modesty and despair, I darted
behind the friendly shelter of a rock, and inwardly resolved that if
ever I went bathing in Finland again, I would at least perform my
ablutions in a more appropriate costume than Nature had bestowed upon
me.
The next question was, how long were these people going to enjoy
themselves at my expense? Was I to be blockaded from my clothes all
the rest of the afternoon? I could not, upon any principle of
international law, undertake to break the blockade on the ground that
it was not effectual, and yet it was pretty hard to do without my
cotton. What I had suffered from the cold while in the water was
nothing to what I now began to experience from the unobstructed rays
of the sun. My skin was rapidly assuming every variety of color
supposed to exist in the rainbow, and a painful consciousness
possessed me that in half an hour more I would be blistered from head
to foot. There was no shade on my side of the rock, and nothing any
where in sight that could afford the least protection. Racked with
renewed anguish, I peeped out to see if there was any earthly prospect
reaching my clothes. Horror upon horror! what were they doing now? Did
my eyes deceive me? As sure as fate, they were all quietly undressing
themselves! Hats, scarves, parasols and dresses were scattered all
around them; there they sat, on the moss-covered rocks, their
alabaster necks and limbs glistening in the sun, looking for all the
world like a bevy of mermaids, laughing and chattering in the highest
glee, perfectly indifferent to my presence! I saw no more. A dizziness
came over me. Consternation seized my inmost soul. Drawing back behind
the rock. I held my face close up to it and shut both my eyes. Don't
talk to me about courage! Every man is a coward by nature. Of what
avail was it that I had killed whales and chased grizzly bears? Here I
was now, hiding my face, shutting my eyes, trembling in the hot sun
like a man with an ague, both knees knocking together, and my heart
ready to pop out of my mouth from abject fear! Strange--wasn't
it?--especially after having made the grand tour of Europe, in many
parts of which live men and women are ranked with statuary. What harm
is there, after all, in discarding those artificial trappings which
disfigure the human form divine? Many a man who looks like an Apollo
Belvidere in his natural condition, becomes a very commonplace fellow
the moment he steps into his conventional disguise. He is no longer
heroic; he may be a very vulgar-looking mortal, not at all calculated
to produce classical impressions on any body. His form divine has
fallen into the hands of a tailor, who may be neither an artist or a
poet. And since we can admire an Apollo Belvidere, why not a Venus de
Medici, or, still more, the living, breathing impersonation of beauty
buffeting the waves with
"Shapely limb and lubricated joint."
But, hang it all! though not an ill-shaped man, I don't flatter myself
there was any thing in my personal appearance, as I crouched behind
the rock, shutting both eyes as hard as I could, to remind the most
enthusiastic artist of the Apollo Belvidere! Nay, the gifted Hawthorne
himself could scarcely have made a Marble Faun out of so unpromising a
subject. And as for the fair bathers, who by this time were plunging
about in the water like naiads, it would of course be impossible for
me to say how far they were improved by lack of costume, since I
looked in another direction, and kept my eyes faithfully closed from
the very beginning. The question now occurred to me, Would I not be
justified by the law of nations in breaking the blockade? It was now
or never. If they once commenced dressing, farewell to hope! Well, I
did it. Heaven only knows how I got through the terrible ordeal. I
only remember that desperation gave strength and speed to my limbs,
and I ran with incredible velocity. A moment of terrible confusion
ensued as I grasped at my scattered habiliments. There came a scream
of laughter from the wicked naiads who were sporting in the waves. I
fled over the hills--my bundle in my arms--and never once stopped till
I reached a small valley about half a mile distant. Breathless,
mortified, and bewildered at the oddity of the adventure. I hurriedly
dressed, and walked back to town. Arrived at my hotel, I called for a
bottle of schnapps, retired to my room, locked the door, and
fervently ejaculated, "'All's well that ends well!' Here's to the
ladies of Helsingfors! But if ever you catch me in such a scrape
again, my name's not Browne!"