Is such a declension not enough to strike terror to the stoutest heart?

But now to return to the _Kalevala_ itself, which is said to be one of the grandest epic poems in existence. The word _Kalevala_ means "Land of heroes," and it is undoubtedly a poem of nature-worship. It points to a contest between Light and Darkness, Good and Evil, and in this case the Light and Good are represented by the Finns, the Darkness and Evil by the Laps. Although it is a poem of nature-worship, full of most wonderful descriptions--some of the lines in praise of the moon and sun, the sea and water-ways, the rivers and hills, and the wondrous pine forests of Finland, are full of marvellous charm--it also tells the story of love, and many touching scenes are represented in its verses.

"It is unlike other epics," says Edward Clodd, "in the absence of any apotheosis of clique or clan or dynasty, and in the theatre of action being in no ideal world where the G.o.ds sit lonely on Olympus, apart from men. Its songs have a common author, the whole Finnish people; the light of common day, more than that of the supernatural, illumines them."

Before going further, it may be well to mention how the _Kalevala_ came into existence. Finland is thinly peopled, but every Finn is at heart musical and poetical; therefore, far removed from the civilised world, they made songs among themselves--fantastic descriptions of their own country. By word of mouth these poems were handed on from generation to generation, and generally sung to the accompaniment of the _kantele_ in a weird sort of chant. By such means the wonderful _Sagas_ of Iceland were preserved to us until the year 1270, when they first began to be written down on sheepskins, in Runic writing, for Iceland at that date shone as a glorious literary light when all was gloom around. By means of tales, and poems, and chanted songs, the Arabian Nights stories, so dearly loved by the Arabs, which as yet have not been collected as they should have been, are related even to-day by the professional story-tellers we have seen in the market-places of Morocco.

Professor _Elias Lonnrot_, as mentioned in the last chapter, realising the value to scholars and antiquaries of the wonderful poems of Finland, so descriptive of the manners and customs of the Finns, set to work in the middle of the nineteenth century to collect and bring them out in book form before they were totally forgotten. This was a tremendous undertaking; he travelled through the wildest parts of Finland; disguised as a peasant, he walked from village to village, from homestead to homestead, living the life of the people, and collecting, bit by bit, the poems of his country. As in all mythological or gipsy tales, he found many versions of the same subject, for naturally verses handed on orally change a little in different districts from generation to generation. But he was not to be beaten by this extra amount of work, and finally wove into a connected whole the substance of the wondrous tales he had heard from the peasantry. This whole he called _Kalevala_, the name of the district where the heroes of the poem once existed.

Gramophones will in future collect such treasures for posterity.

In 1835 the first edition appeared. It contained thirty-two runos or cantos of about twelve thousand lines, and the second, which was published in 1849, contained fifty runos or about twenty-two thousand eight hundred lines (seven thousand more than the _Iliad_).

There is no doubt about it, experts declare, that the poems or verses were written at different times, but it is nearly all of pre-Christian origin, for, with the exception of a few prayers in the last pages, there are few signs of Christian influence.

No one knows exactly how these poems originated. Indeed, the _Kalevala_ is unique among epics, although distinct traces of foreign influence may occasionally be found, the Christian influence being only noticeable in the last runos when the Virgin's Son, the Child Christ, appears, after which advent _Wainamoinen_ disappears for unknown lands. With this exception the entire poem is of much earlier date.

The last runo is truly remarkable.

"_Mariatta_, child of beauty," becomes wedded to a berry--

Like a cranberry in feature, Like a strawberry in flavour.

Wedded to the mountain berry

Wedded only to his honour.

I shall bear a n.o.ble hero, I shall bear a son immortal, Who will rule among the mighty, Rule the ancient _Wainamoinen_.

In the stable is a manger, Fitting birth-place for the hero.

Thereupon the horse, in pity, Breathed the moisture of his nostrils, On the body of the Virgin, Wrapped her in a cloud of vapour, Gave her warmth and needed comforts, Gave his aid to the afflicted To the virgin _Mariatta_.

There the babe was born and cradled, Cradled in a woodland manger.

This shows Christian origin!

_Wainamoinen's_ place is gradually usurped by the "Wonder-babe," and the former departs in this stanza--

Thus the ancient _Wainamoinen_, In his copper-banded vessel Left his tribe in _Kalevala_, Sailing o'er the rolling billows, Sailing through the azure vapours, Sailing through the dusk of evening, Sailing to the fiery sunset, To the higher landed regions, To the lower verge of heaven; Quickly gained the far horizon, Gained the purple-coloured harbour, There his bark he firmly anch.o.r.ed, Rested in his boat of copper; But he left his harp of magic, Left his songs and wisdom sayings To the lasting joy of _Suomi_.

Thus old _Wainamoinen_ sails away into unfathomable depths.

The _Kalevala_ has, up to the present time, been a much-neglected poem, but there is now an excellent English translation by Martin Crawford, an American by birth, from which we have taken the liberty of quoting. Mr.

Andrew Lang has charmingly discoursed on the great national poem of the Finns, and Mr. Edward Clodd, who wrote a delightful series of articles in _Knowledge_ on the same subject, has kindly placed his notes in my hands.

There is no doubt about it that the fantastic mythology of the Finns has not received as much attention as it deserves. "Although mythology and theology are one," says Mr. Clodd, "we find among the ancient Finns the worship of natural objects, all living things being credited with life, and all their relations being regarded as the actions of the mighty powers."

Naturally in a country so undisturbed and isolated as Finland, fantastic mythology took firm root, and we certainly find the most romantic and weird verses in connection with the chief heroes of the _Kalevala_, namely, _Wainamoinen_ and _Ilmarinen_, who broadly resemble the Norse demiG.o.ds Odin and Thor.

After any one has been to Finland, he reads the _Kalevala_ with amazement. What pen could describe more faithfully the ways of the people? Every line is pregnant with life. Their food, their clothing, their manners and customs, their thoughts and characteristics are all vividly drawn, as they were hundreds of years ago, and as they remain to-day.

When we peep into the mysteries of the _Kalevala_ and see how trees are sacred, how animals are mythological, as, for instance, in the forty-sixth rune, which speaks of the bear who "was born in lands between sun and moon, and died not by man's deeds, but by his own will,"

we understand the Finnish people. Indeed the wolf, the horse, the duck, and all animals find their place in this wondrous _Kalevala_; and dream stories are woven round each creature till the whole life of Finland has become impregnated by a fantastic sort of romance.

The _Kalevala_ opens with a creation myth of the earth, sea, and sky from an egg, but instead of the heroes living in some supernatural home of their own, they come down from heaven, distribute gifts among men, and work their wonders by aid of magic, at the same time living with the people, and entering into their daily toils.

It is strange that the self-developing egg should occur in the _Kalevala_ of Northern Europe, for it also appears among the Hindoos and other Eastern peoples, pointing, maybe, to the Mongolian origin of the Finnish people.

The way the life of the people is depicted seems simply marvellous, and the description holds good even at the present time. For instance, these lines taken at hazard speak of spinning, etc.--

Many beauteous things the maiden, With the spindle has accomplished, Spun and woven with her fingers; Dresses of the finest texture She in winter has upfolded, Bleached them in the days of spring-time, Dried them at the hour of noonday, For our couches finest linen, For our heads the softest pillows, For our comfort woollen blankets.

Or, again, speaking of the bride's home, it likens the father-in-law to her father, and describes the way they all live together in Finland even to-day, and bids her accept the new family as her own--

Learn to labour with thy kindred; Good the home for thee to dwell in, Good enough for bride and daughter.

At thy hand will rest the milk-pail, And the churn awaits thine order; It is well here for the maiden, Happy will the young bride labour, Easy are the resting branches; Here the host is like thy father, Like thy mother is the hostess, All the sons are like thy brothers, Like thy sisters are the daughters.

Here is another touch--the shoes made from the plaited birch bark, so commonly in use even at the present time; and, again, the bread made from bark in times of famine has ever been the Finnish peasant's food--

Even sing the lads of Lapland In their straw-shoes filled with joyance, Drinking but a cup of water, Eating but the bitter tan bark.

These my dear old father sang me When at work with knife or hatchet; These my tender mother taught me When she twirled the flying spindle, When a child upon the matting By her feet I rolled and tumbled.

To-day, Finnish women still wash in the streams, and they beat their clothes upon the rocks just as they did hundreds, one might say thousands, of years ago and more--for the greater part of _Kalevala_ was most undoubtedly written long before the Christian era in Finland.

Northlands fair and slender maiden Washing on the sh.o.r.e a head-dress, Beating on the rocks her garments, Rinsing there her silken raiment.

In the following rune we find an excellent description of the land, and even a line showing that in those remote days trees were burned down to clear the land, the ashes remaining for manure--a common practice now.

Groves arose in varied beauty, Beautifully grew the forests, And again, the vines and flowers.

Birds again sang in the tree-tops, Noisily the merry thrushes, And the cuckoos in the birch-trees; On the mountains grew the berries, Golden flowers in the meadows, And the herbs of many colours, Many lands of vegetation; But the barley is not growing.

_Osma's_ barley will not flourish, Not the barley of _Wainola_, If the soil be not made ready, If the forest be not levelled, And the branches burned to ashes.

Only left the birch-tree standing For the birds a place of resting, Where might sing the sweet-voiced cuckoo, Sacred bird in sacred branches.

One could go on quoting pa.s.sages from this strange epic--but suffice it to say that in the forty-sixth rune _Wainamoinen_ speaks to _Otso_, the bear--

_Otso_, thou my well beloved, Honey eater of the woodlands, Let not anger swell thy bosom.

_Otso_ was not born a beggar, Was not born among the rushes, Was not cradled in a manger; Honey-paw was born in ether In the regions of the Moonland.