Kitabı oku: «Through Finland in Carts», sayfa 22

CHAPTER XX
A FASHIONABLE WATERING-PLACE

One cannot be long in Finland during the summer without being asked "Are you going to Hangö?"

"See Rome and die" seems there to be transformed into "See Hangö and live."

"Where is Hangö, what is Hangö– why Hangö?" we at last inquired in desperation.

The Finlander to whom we spoke looked aghast, and explained that "not to have heard of Hangö was a crime, not to have been to Hangö a misfortune."

Accordingly, desiring to do the correct thing before leaving the land of thousands of lakes, we took the steamer from the ancient town of Åbo, to the modern fashionable watering-place of Hangö.

It was ten o'clock at night when we arrived from Åbo, and were met with warm welcome by kind friends on the quay, with whom we drove to the hotel, as we thought, but that was quite a mistake. We were at Hangö, and within five minutes the Isvoschtschik stopped before a pavilion where music was jingling inspiriting tunes; up the steps we were hurried, and at the top found ourselves, travel-stained and tired, in the midst of a wild and furious Finnish, or, to speak more properly, Russian ball.

It was a strange spectacle. At first we thought that some sixty or seventy sailors from the four Russian men-of-war lying in the harbour had been let out for the evening, their blue serge blouses and lighter linen collars with white stripes having a familiar air, still it seemed strange that such smart ladies, in dainty gowns, hats flowered in Paris, and laces fingered in Belgium, should be dancing with ordinary able-bodied seamen. Ere long we discovered these sailors were cadets, or midshipmen, as we should call them, among the number being two Russian princes and many of the nobility. Then there were officers in naval uniform, elderly Generals – who had merely come in to have a look – clad in long gray coats lined with scarlet; small persons wearing top-boots and spurs, with linen coats and brass buttons, who smilingly said they were "in the Guards," although their stature hardly reminded us of their English namesakes! girls in shirts and skirts and sailor hats, got up for the seaside and comfort, who looked as much out of place in this Casino ballroom as many high dames appeared next morning while wandering down to the "Bad Hus" to be bathed in mud or pine, their gorgeous silk linings and lace-trimmed skirts appearing absolutely ridiculous on the sandy roads or beach. To be well-dressed is to be suitably dressed, and Hangö, like many another watering-place, has much to learn in the way of common sense.

It was Sunday. The ball had begun as usual on that evening at seven, and was over about eleven; but while it lasted every one danced hard, and the youngsters from the ships romped and whirled madly round the room, as youth alone knows how. We all get old very soon – let us enjoy such wild delights while we may.

No one with a slender purse should go to Hangö, not at least unless he has made a bargain with an hotel, or he will find that even a little Finnish watering-place ventures to charge twelve marks (9s. 9d.) a day for a small room, not even facing the sea (with 1 mark 50 penni for bougies extra), in a hotel that has neither drawing-room, billiard-room, nor reading-room. But it must again be repeated that Finland is not cheap, that travelling indeed is just as expensive there as anywhere else abroad, more expensive, in fact, than in some of the loveliest parts of the Tyrol, or the quaintest districts of Brittany and Normandy. And perhaps the most distressing part of the whole business is the prevalent idea that every Englishman must be immensely rich, and consequently willing to pay whatever ridiculous sum the Finns may choose to ask – an idea which cannot be too soon dispelled.

Hangö is certainly a charming spot as far as situation goes, and lies in more salt water than any other place in Finland, for it is the nearest point to the German Ocean, while during the winter months it is the only port that is open for Finland and Northern Russia – even this is not always the case, though an ice-breaker works hard day and night to disperse the ice, which endeavour generally proves successful, or the winter export of butter, one of Finland's greatest industries, would be stopped and perhaps ruined. Not only Hangö but all the southern coast of Finland shelters the summer houses of many of the aristocracy of Russia.

Out to sea are islands; skirting the coasts are splendid granite rocks, showing the glacial progress later than in other lands, for Finland remained cold longer than our own country. Pine-trees make a sort of park thickly studded with wooden villas of every shape and size, some gray, some deep red, all with balconies wide enough to serve for dining-rooms, though the pretty villas themselves are often only one storey high. It is very difficult in such a seaside labyrinth to find one's friends, because most of the houses are nameless, and many are not even on roads – just standing lonely among the pines. They are dear little homes, often very picturesque and primitive, so primitive that it utterly bewilders any stranger, unaccustomed to such incongruities, to see a lady in patent leather shoes and silk stockings, dressed as if going to Hurlingham or the Bois de Boulogne, emerge from one of them and daintily step through sand to the Casino – walking hither and thither, nodding a dozen times a day to the same acquaintances, speaking to others, gossiping over everything and everybody with a chosen few, while her daughter is left to play tennis with that Finnish girl's idea of all manly beauty, "a lieutenant," or knocks a very big ball with a very small mallet through an ancient croquet hoop, that must have come out of the ark – that is to say, if croquet hoops ever went into the ark.

Hangö is a dear, sweet, reposeful, health-giving, primitive place, spoilt by gay Russians and would-be-fashionable Finns, who seem to aim at aping Trouville or Ostend without the French chic, or the Parisian gaieté de cœur.

Wonderful summer evenings, splendid effects of light and shade on the water, beautiful scenery, glorious dawns and sunsets – everything was there to delight the poet, to inspire the painter, to tempt the worldly to reflect, but no one paused to think, only nodded to another friend, laughed over a new hat, chaffed about the latest flirtation, and passed on.

After studying many over-gowned ladies, we turned by way of contrast to the ill-dressed emigrants leaving this famous port. It certainly seems strange, considering the paucity of skilled labour in Finland, that so many of the population should emigrate. In fact, it is not merely strange but sad to reflect that a hundred folk a week leave their native country every summer, tempted by wild tales of certain fortune which the steamship agents do not scruple to tell. Some of the poor creatures do succeed, it is true, but that they do not succeed without enduring much hardship is certain; whereas Finland wants skilled labourers badly, and other countries could spare them well. For instance, in the large granite factory at Hangö some four hundred men are always employed, and paid extremely well, yet skilled labour of the sort is difficult to get – emigration being presented on all sides as a golden lure. Granite is found all over Finland; indeed, Suomi has risen from the sea on a base of granite, green, gray, red, and black, all of fine quality.

Five million roubles were paid for the wonderful Denkmal to be erected at the Kremlin in Moscow as a memorial of Alexander the Second. The statue itself was entrusted to Russia's most famous sculptor, but the pedestals, stairs, etc., we saw in process of manufacture at Hangö. We were shown over the works by a professor well known as a mathematician, and were much interested to see how Finlanders cut and polish granite for tombstones, pillars, etc. The rough stone is generally hewn into form by hand, somewhat roughly with a hammer and mallet, then it is cut into blocks with a saw really made of pellets of steel powder.

Very slow and laborious work it is, and requires great exactitude. Often when the cutting is nearly accomplished some hidden flaw discloses itself, and a stone that had appeared of great value proves to be almost worthless; or the men when chipping the rough granite may suddenly find a flake too much has been chipped off by mistake, which involves not merely the loss of that block but of the labour expended on it.

Finnish granites are chiefly exported to Russia, but Scotland takes a few of the gray. Many of the great Russian churches contain beautiful specimens.

Some of the more experienced workers earn as much as ten and twelve shillings per diem – higher pay being given to the best polishers. Flat polishing can be done by machinery, but one of the four pedestals intended to support the great Alexander monument was being polished round the crevices by three men, who had spent twenty-two days doing those few square feet, and on which, when we left, they were still at work.

An afternoon we spent on one of the ships of the Russian squadron proved thoroughly enjoyable. The Admiral kindly invited us on board, and showed us over his vessel. The squadron at that time at Hangö consisted of four ships, two of which were utilised for training, one receiving young cadets from twelve to fourteen years of age, and the other, older lads who were waiting to be sent off as officers.

They arrange their naval training differently in Russia from what we do in England. That is to say, for six summer months cadets live on board the training-ships, but the six winter months are spent at the College in St. Petersburg, where they learn the theoretical part of their education.

A boat came to fetch us manned by twelve oars, all cadets, as well as the steersman who stood at the stern. They were the most charming lads imaginable, and during the following days we saw much of them, and learnt to appreciate their delightful manners, and to wonder more and more at their linguistic accomplishments. Several of them spoke English admirably, most knew French well, and some German. On an English training-ship, or, indeed, an English man-of-war, should we be likely to find such a large percentage acquainted with any language but their own? When we asked them how it was they were able to converse in foreign tongues so fluently, they invariably replied they had an English nurse or French governess in their home when young.

"But," we returned, "although you learnt it when children, how have you managed to keep it up as men?" For we know how our English schoolboys forget such languages as they learn at home, or are taught French and German on some hideous principle at school, which leaves them utterly incapable of understanding or speaking a word when they go out into the world.

"Oh," they answered, "we take great trouble to remember what we learnt when young, for a man must know something more than his own language. We all read foreign papers or books whenever we get an opportunity."

They were delightful young fellows, although we must own their dress at first somewhat surprised us, for they were clothed in our ordinary seamen's clothes – a white blouse and blue sailor collar, with white duck trousers, being their attire by day, or the same in blue serge by night.

They were unaffectedly proud of their ship, and showed us over it with great éclat, but we must confess that, although the Russians speak more languages than our own sailors, or officers for that matter, an English man-of-war seemed to us in every way smarter and better kept than a Russian.

Between decks was a piano, and the Russian Admiral suggested that some of the boys (many of whom were Finlanders) should play the Balalaika, the great national instrument, which is something like a triangular guitar, and emits sweet sounds. One lad at once sat himself down to the piano, and five others fetching their Balalaika, played some of the quaint national airs of Russia. Then a young man performed most wonderfully on the violin, and it turned out that they had great concerts among themselves – music and chess being two of their chief recreations.

Every cadet wore round his neck a silver or gold chain with a little cross attached, for each member of the Greek Church has such bestowed in the following manner: —

A christening was about to take place at the Isaak in St. Petersburg. Never having seen the rite of baptism performed in a Greek church, we sat at the golden base of a colossal Finnish granite pillar waiting. There was the font – a large silver bath on a pedestal, big enough to hold a child of eight or ten. Round its edges were placed four candles, three of which were lighted. At a table near sat a long-haired priest, with a kindly face, who was taking down all the details of the children from the respective fathers, of whom there were five. The first was a young officer. He came forward when called upon, and produced from a pocketbook his passport, which every Russian carries about with him to prove his identity, his marriage certificate, etc. From the church documents the statistics of Russia are taken, for it is the priests who supply all such information. Into a book, therefore, our kindly-faced priest copied the father's and mother's names, the child's baptismal name, adding the name of the Saint given to the child when received into the Church. On the father's passport of identity he entered the child's name, date of birth and baptism, afterwards duly signing the document. All this took a long time, and we were struck by the fact that one of the five fathers, a most respectable-looking person, could not write and had to put his x. One often hears of Russian lack of education, but certainly it is difficult to conceive that, in any other civilised country, an individual of the same rank – for he appeared to be worth some hundreds of pounds a year – could have been found unable to write his own name.

While all this was going on, the verger, if we may so call a uniformed gentleman in attendance, made himself busy in going from nurse to nurse collecting the baptismal garments. Each woman had brought a coverlet – a sort of white bedspread, and a small linen and lace chemise. A blue ribbon was run round the neck of the latter for a boy, and a pink one for a girl. Another small ribbon, on which hung a gold cross – the gift of the respective godfather – was placed round the child's neck as a blessing from the Church, and it was this we noticed every cadet wearing, no Russian ever going without. While this ceremony was in progress, the five babies, each one of which was only two or three days old, for infants must be baptized before they reach the age of eight days, yelled more or less – and no wonder.

At last all was ready; the five fathers gathered round the font, each holding the white coverlet into which he was to receive his new-born baby straight from the blessings of the Church, and between them stood the respective nurses holding their small charges. The priest donned a gorgeous robe, read the baptismal service, and went from infant to infant, crossing their heads, their hands, their feet with sacred oil, each baby lying naked the while in the coverlet its nurse had brought for the purpose. After another prayer he proceeded – hot water having been added to the font – to baptize them, and very cleverly he managed this extremely difficult undertaking. Putting his right hand on the chest and under the arms of the infant, he lifted the small nude specimen of humanity gently, and, with a muttered prayer, turned it upside down, dipping its head three times right into the water of the font, while with his left hand he splashed the pure lymph all over its back. Of course, the baby howled at such ablutions – what infant would not, for they were well-nigh sufficient to drown it – but he held each tiny creature securely and kindly till he placed it wet and dripping in its father's arms. The idea being that the father should receive his child back cleansed from sin by the hands of the Church.

Each nurse, when relieved of her charge, arranged the new coverlet under the father's chin and over his hands, as foreigners do their serviettes at table, and each man – especially the shy young officer – received the dripping squalling baby therein with an agonised expression of countenance. The father was obliged to hold his kicking and yelling infant till the priest had "dressed it in the clothes of the Church," by slipping the little chemise over its head and clasping the ribbon and cross round its neck. Even then, however, all was not ended. The infants had still to receive Holy Communion, there being, we understand, no confirmation ceremony in the Greek Church. This the priest administered by simply putting a small spoonful of mixed wine and water into each child's mouth. When this had been done the five fathers gave the five infants back to their nurses, who dressed them up and took them home.

New-born babies have their troubles in Russia, for such a christening must be a grave trouble indeed, and thus they receive their cross, which they have to carry to the grave. Beneath the low-necked blouses of our cadets the chain was distinctly visible.

The Russian mazurka being a great institution, we asked our friend the Admiral, before leaving his ship, if his cadets might dance it for us.

"Certainly," he said. And they did, but as the decks were small and the dance intricate, we entreated the Admiral to let them come on shore one night and dance it at the hotel. He very kindly agreed, so after eating the most delicious Russian sweets (marmalada) in his cabin, served on a great round meat dish, and congratulating him on his wonderful English, which he spoke most fluently, we left.

It is said no one can learn the Russian mazurka unless brought up to it from childhood; and, certainly, the figures are more intricate than the cotillion. Some of the steps resemble the Scotch reel or barn dance, especially when the dancers beat time with their heels, and we certainly think the swinging measure of the mazurka is often more knack than knowledge.

The ladies float through most of it, holding their arms on high as in the days of the old French minuet, but the men perform many more elaborate steps to a rattling time and tune. The Russian mazurka is a very long performance – indeed, it may go on all night; and as there are many figures, and all intricate, some one has to lead by word of mouth.

When one hears a man roaring for the first time in a ballroom, it sounds somewhat extraordinary, and yet this is the sort of thing which goes on during a Russian mazurka or quadrille.

"Ladies and gentlemen turn."

"Ladies in the middle."

"Gentlemen gallop round."

"Men on their knees."

"Ladies dance round them," etc. These commands being given incessantly for an hour, or perhaps two, until the unfortunate director is worn out and weary, and hoarse into the bargain.

It is a gift to be a good director, and any man who shows aptitude for this rôle has generally little time to dance, and has to work very hard during the evening's entertainment.

There is no doubt about it that the mazurka, when danced by stately court folk, is a very elegant and beautiful form of the terpsichorean art, although when young people get together it is apt to degenerate into something of a romp.

It was with sincere regret that we left Hangö, for to us leaving Hangö meant leaving Finland. Three months previously we had landed on those shores, strangers in a little-known country, where we met with warm friends, whose hospitality we enjoyed more than it is possible to say.

We were tired and weary, for we had travelled far and seen much, and learnt, we hope, not a little. If in this endeavour to give our impressions of Suomi as we saw it we have failed, the kind friends dwelling on the borders of Lapland and Russia must forgive us, and remember that few books exist by which to correct our impressions. They must not forget, either, that all our information was gleaned either by means of observation, and naturally English eyes look at many things differently from Finnish, or by the willing translations of those we met, who always had to speak what to them was a foreign language, and generally, indeed, almost always, a strange one to us. We were therefore both at a disadvantage, and we cannot help smiling as we remember some of our struggles to understand properly what the dear folk wished to impart.

Our eyes were tired with sights, our minds were chaotic with strange ideas and tongues, but yet we felt how misunderstood that beautiful county is, how well worthy of careful study, and what a delightful new field it opens up to the traveller who, though he believes he "knows all Europe," yet has omitted Suomi, one of her quaintest gems.

The days of prophecy are over; but as these pages are about an old-world land, a land that like Rip van Winkle has been sleeping, we may perhaps be allowed to predict that, having at last wakened from her long slumber, Suomi will rise to distinction, for this younger generation of Finlanders, as Ibsen says, is now "knocking at the door" of nations. Finnish women are the most advanced in the world to-day. All honour to them, and all congratulations to their wise men. Great women help to make great nations.