Part 13 (1/2)
Grat.i.tude to thee, dear mother, For thy tender care and guidance, For my birth and for my culture, Nurtured by thy purest life-blood!
Grat.i.tude to thee, dear brother, Grat.i.tude to thee, sweet sister, To the servants of my childhood, To my many friends and playmates!
Never, never, aged father, Never, thou, beloved mother, Never, ye, my kindred spirits, Never harbour care nor sorrow, Never fall to bitter weeping, Since thy child has gone to strangers, To the meadows of _Wainola_, From her father's fields and firesides.
s.h.i.+nes the Sun of the Creator, s.h.i.+nes the golden Moon of _Ukko_, Glitter all the stars of heaven, In the firmament of ether, Full as bright on other homesteads; Not upon my father's uplands, Not upon my home in childhood, s.h.i.+nes the Star of Joyance only.
Now the time has come for parting From my father's golden firesides, From my brother's welcome hearth-stone, From the chambers of my sister, From my mother's happy dwelling; Now I leave the swamps and lowlands, Leave the gra.s.sy vales and mountains, Leave the crystal lakes and rivers, Leave the sh.o.r.es and sandy shallows, Leave the white-capped surging billows, Where the maidens swim and linger, Where the mermaids sing and frolic; Leave the swamps to those that wander, Leave the cornfields to the plowman, Leave the forests to the weary, Leave the heather to the rover, Leave the copses to the stranger, Leave the alleys to the beggar, Leave the courtyards to the rambler, Leave the portals to the servant, Leave the matting to the sweeper, Leave the highways to the roebuck, Leave the woodland-glens to lynxes, Leave the lowlands to the wild-geese, And the birch-tree to the cuckoo.
Now I leave these friends of childhood, Journey southward with my husband, To the arms of Night and Winter, O'er the ice-grown seas of Northland.
All this must have seemed very sad to the bridegroom, who sat dumb in a corner, a perfect nonent.i.ty.
Moral for all young men--Never get married in Finland.
The second scene represented the wedding. It was the bridegroom's house.
They had been to the church, and he was bringing her home. The guests were a.s.sembled to receive her, some were baking cakes in great haste, others arranging the pots of _Kalja_, all excited and joyful.
At last some one rushed in to say ”They are coming, they are coming,”
and immediately appeared a procession of peasants with the bride and bridegroom _hand in hand_. She wore a dark-red cashmere gown with a handsomely embroidered white ap.r.o.n, and large round silver brooch, such as the Highlanders of Scotland use to fasten their kilt; but she was still covered by the linen cap with its lace adornments, which hung over her face. She was solemnly escorted to a seat by the table, and only raised this veil when the meal began. After ”the breakfast” was over, four young men and four girls danced a sort of lancers, with grand variations, and executed gymnastic feats--frog dancing and a sort of Highland-reel step--very pretty and very quaint. The bride and bridegroom did not join in the measure--both sat solemn as judges; indeed, a _Karjalan_ wedding is a monstrously sad affair for the bridegroom, at all events, for he plays a role of no importance, while it must be a melancholy business for the bride.
The men's dresses were of ordinary cloth with bright-coloured linen s.h.i.+rts, and leather boots turned up at the toe, the soft leather legs reaching nearly to the knees, the last two or three inches being laced _behind_, so as to enable the wearer to pull them on. The sisters of the bride wore crowns composed of plain bands of various-coloured ribbons--nearly a quarter of a yard high in front, but diminis.h.i.+ng towards the back, where the ends of the ribbons hung below the waist.
The words of the bride's lament are so strange, that we give some of them from _Kalevala_, thinking every man who reads the lines will sympathise with the wretched bridegroom, and every woman wish to have as devoted a husband as the young man is exhorted to make.
But alas! there comes a day of reckoning, when he may ”instruct her with a willow,” and even ”use the birch-rod from the mountains.”
THE BRIDE'S FAREWELL
Bridegroom, thou beloved hero, Brave descendant of thy fathers, When thou goest on a journey, When thou drivest on the highway, Driving with the Rainbow-daughter, Fairest bride of _Sariola_, Do not lead her as a t.i.tmouse, As a cuckoo of the forest, Into unfrequented places, Into copses of the borders, Into brier-fields and brambles, Into unproductive marshes; Let her wander not, nor stumble On opposing rocks and rubbish.
Never in her father's dwelling, Never in her mother's courtyard, Has she fallen into ditches, Stumbled hard against the fences, Run through brier-fields, nor brambles, Fallen over rocks, nor rubbish.
Magic bridegroom of _Wainola_, Wise descendant of the heroes, Never let thy young wife suffer, Never let her be neglected, Never let her sit in darkness, Never leave her unattended.
Never in her father's mansion, In the chambers of her mother, Has she sat alone in darkness, Has she suffered for attention; Sat she by the crystal window, Sat and rocked, in peace and plenty, Evenings for her father's pleasure, Mornings for her mother's suns.h.i.+ne.
Never mayest thou, O bridegroom, Lead the Maiden of the Rainbow To the mortar filled with sea-gra.s.s, There to grind the bark for cooking, There to bake her bread from stubble, There to knead her dough from tan-bark.
Never in her father's dwelling, Never in her mother's mansion, Was she taken to the mortar, There to bake her bread from sea-gra.s.s.
Thou should'st lead the Bride of Beauty To the garner's rich abundance, There to draw the till of barley, Grind the flower and knead for baking, There to brew the beer for drinking, Wheaten flour for honey-biscuits.
Hero-bridegroom of _Wainola_, Never cause thy Bride of Beauty To regret her day of marriage; Never make her shed a tear-drop, Never fill her cup with sorrow.
Should there ever come an evening When thy wife shall feel unhappy, Put the harness on thy racer, Hitch the fleet-foot to the snow-sledge, Take her to her father's dwelling, To the household of her mother; Never in thy hero-lifetime, Never while the moonbeams glimmer, Give thy fair spouse evil treatment, Never treat her as thy servant; Do not bar her from the cellar, Do not lock thy best provisions.
Never in her father's mansion, Never by her faithful mother Was she treated as a hireling.
Honoured bridegroom of the Northland, Proud descendant of the fathers, If thou treatest well thy young wife, Worthily wilt thou be treated; When thou goest to her homestead, When thou visitest her father, Thou shalt meet a cordial welcome.
Censure not the Bride of Beauty, Never grieve thy Rainbow-maiden, Never say in tones reproachful, She was born in lowly station, That her father was unworthy; Honoured are thy bride's relations, From an old-time tribe her kindred; When of corn they sowed a measure, Each one's portion was a kernel; When they sowed a cask of flax-seed, Each received a thread of linen.
Never, never, magic husband, Treat thy beauty-bride unkindly, Teach her not with lash of servants, Strike her not with thongs of leather; Never has she wept in anguish, From the birch-whip of her mother.
Stand before her like a rampart, Be to her a strong protection, Do not let thy mother chide her, Let thy father not upbraid her, Never let thy guests offend her; Should thy servants bring annoyance, They may need the master's censure; Do not harm the Bride of Beauty, Never injure her thou lovest; Three long years hast thou been wooing, Hoping every month to win her.
Counsel with the bride of heaven, To thy young wife give instruction, Kindly teach thy bride in secret, In the long and dreary evenings, When thou sittest at the fireside; Teach one year, in words of kindness, Teach with eyes of love a second, In the third year teach with firmness.