Chapter 3

His example was followed by many of his enthusiastic countrymen, the more prominent of whom are Castrén, Europæus, Polén and Reniholm. Through the collections of these scholars so many additional parts of the epical treasure of Finland were made public that a new edition of the Kalevala soon became an imperative necessity. The task of sifting, arranging, and organizing the extensive material, was again allotted to Dr. Lönnrot, and in his second editions of the Kalevala, which appeared in 1849, the epic, embracing fifty runes and 22,793 lines, had reached its mature form. The Kalevala was no sooner published than it attracted the attention of the leading scholars of Europe. Men of such world-wide fame as Jacob Grimm, Steinthal, Uhland, Carrière and Max Müller hastened to acknowledge its surpassing value and intrinsic beauty. Jacob Grimm, in a separate treatise, published in his Kleinere Schriften, said that the genuineness and extraordinary value of the Kalevala is easily proved by the fact that from its mythological ideas we can frequently interpret the mythological conceptions of the ancient Germans, whereas the poems of Ossian manifest their modern origin by their inability to clear up questions of old Saxon or German mythology. Grimm, furthermore, shows that both the Gothic and Icelandic literatures display unmistakable features of Finnish influence.

Max Müller places the Kalevala on a level with the greatest epics of the world. These are his words:

“From the mouths of the aged an epic poem has been collected equalling the Iliad in length and completeness; nay, if we can forget for a moment, all that we in our youth learned to call beautiful, not less beautiful. A Finn is not a Greek, and Wainamoinen was not a Homer [Achilles?]; but if the poet may take his colors from that nature by which he is surrounded, if he may depict the men with whom he lives, the Kalevala possesses merits not dissimilar from those of the Iliad, and will claim its place as the fifth national epic of the world, side by side with the Ionian Songs, with the Mahabharata, the Shahnameth, and the Nibelunge.”

Steinthal recognizes but four great national epics, viz., the Iliad, Kalevala, Nibelunge and the Roland Songs.

The Kalevala describes Finnish nature very minutely and very beautifully. Grimm says that no poem is to be compared with it in this respect, unless it be some of the epics of India. It has been translated into several European languages; into Swedish by Alex. Castrén, in 1844; into French prose by L. LeDuc, in 1845; into German by Anton Schiefuer, in 1852; into Hungarian by Ferdinand Barna, in 1871; and a very small portion of it—the legend of Aino—into English, in 1868, by the late Prof. John A. Porter, of Yale College. It must remain a matter of universal regret to the English-speaking people that Prof. Porter’s life could not have been spared to finish the great work he had so beautifully begun.

Some of the most convincing evidences of the genuineness and great age of the Kalevala have been supplied by the Hungarian translator. The Hungarians, as is well known, are closely related to the Finns, and their language, the Magyar dialect, has the same characteristic features as the Finnish tongue. Barna’s translation, accordingly, is the best rendering of the original. In order to show the genuineness and antiquity of the Kalevala, Barna adduces a Hungarian book written by a certain Peter Bornemissza, in 1578, entitled _Ördögi Kisertetekröl_ (on Satanic Specters), the unique copy of which he found in the library of the University of Budapest. In this book Bornemissza collected all the incantations (_ráolvasások_) in use among Hungarian country-people of his day for the expulsion of diseases and misfortunes. These incantations, forming the common stock of all Ugrian peoples, of which the Finns and Hungarians are branches, display a most satisfactory sameness with the numerous incantations of the Kalevala used for the same purpose. Barna published an elaborate treatise on this subject; it appeared in the Transactions of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Philological Department, for 1870. Again, in 1868, twenty-two Hungarian deeds, dating from 1616-1660, were sent to the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, as having been found in the Hegyalja, where the celebrated wine of Tokay is made. These deeds contained several contracts for the sale of vineyards, and at the end of each deed the customary cup of wine was said to have been emptied by both parties to the contract. This cup of wine, in the deeds, was termed, “Ukkon’s cup.” Ukko, however, is the chief God according to Finnish mythology, and thus the coincidence of the Magyar Ukkon and the Finnish Ukko was placed beyond doubt.

The Kalevala (the Land of Heroes) relates the ever-varying contests between the Finns and the “darksome Laplanders”, just as the Iliad relates the contests between the Greeks and the Trojans. Castrén is of the opinion that the enmity between the Finns and the Lapps was sung long before the Finns had left their Asiatic birth-place.

A deeper and more esoteric meaning of the Kalevala, however, points to a contest between Light and Darkness, Good and Evil; the Finns representing the Light and the Good, and the Lapps, the Darkness and the Evil. Like the Niebelungs, the heroes of the Finns woo for brides the beauteous maidens of the North; and the similarity is rendered still more striking by their frequent inroads into the country of the Lapps, in order to possess themselves of the envied treasure of Lapland, the mysterious Sampo, evidently the Golden Fleece of the Argonautic expedition. Curiously enough public opinion is often expressed in the runes, in the words of an infant; often too the unexpected is introduced after the manner of the Greek dramas, by a young child, or an old man.

The whole poem is replete with the most fascinating folk-lore about the mysteries of nature, the origin of things, the enigmas of human tears, and, true to the character of a national epic, it represents not only the poetry, but the entire wisdom and accumulated experience of a nation. Among others, there is a profoundly philosophical trait in the poem, indicative of a deep insight into the workings of the human mind, and into the forces of nature. Whenever one of the heroes of the Kalevala wishes to overcome the aggressive power of an evil force, as a wound, a disease, a ferocious beast, or a venomous serpent, he achieves his purpose by chanting the origin of the inimical force. The thought underlying this idea evidently is that all evil could be obviated had we but the knowledge of whence and how it came.

The numerous myths of the poem are likewise full of significance and beauty, and the Kalevala should be _read between the lines_, in order that the fall meaning of this great epic may be comprehended. Even such a hideous impersonation as that of Kullerwoinen, is rich with pointed meaning, showing as it does, the incorrigibility of ingrained evil. This legend, like all others of the poem, has its deep-running stream of esoteric interpretation. The Kalevala, perhaps, more than any other, uses its lines on the surface in symbolism to point the human mind to the brighter gems of truth beneath.

The three main personages, Wainamoinen, the ancient singer, Ilmarinen, the eternal forgeman, and Lemminkainen, the reckless wizard, as mentioned above, are conceived as being of divine origin. In fact, the acting characters of the Kalevala are mostly superhuman, magic beings. Even the female actors are powerful sorceresses, and the hostess of Pohyola, especially, braves the might of all the enchanters of Wainola combined. The power of magic is a striking feature of the poem. Here, as in the legends of no other people, do the heroes and demi-gods accomplish nearly everything by magic. The songs of Wainamoinen disarm his opponents; they quiet the angry sea; they give warmth to the new sun and the new moon which his brother, Ilmarinen, forges from the magic metals; they give life to the spouse of Ilmarinen, which the “eternal metal-artist” forges from gold, silver, and copper. In fact we are among a people that endows everything with life, and with human and divine attributes. Birds, and beasts, and fishes, and serpents, as well as the Sun, the Moon, the Great Bear, and the stars, are either kind or unkind. Drops of blood find speech; men and maidens transform themselves into other shapes and resume again their native forms at will; ships, and trees, and waters, have magic powers; in short, all nature speaks in human tongues.

The Kalevala dates back to an enormous antiquity. One reason for believing this, lies in the silence of the Kalevala about Russians, Germans, or Swedes, their neighbors. This evidently shows that the poem must have been composed at a time when these nations had but very little or no intercourse with the Finns. The coincidence between the incantations adduced above, proves that these witch-songs date from a time when the Hungarians and the Finns were still united as one people; in other words, to a time at least 3000 years ago. The whole poem betrays no important signs of foreign influence, and in its entire tenor is a thoroughly pagan epic. There are excellent reasons for believing that the story of Mariatta, recited in the 50th Rune, is an ante-Christian legend.

An additional proof of the originality and independent rise of the Kalevala is to be found in its metre. All genuine poetry must have its peculiar verse, just as snow-flakes cannot exist without their peculiar crystalizations. It is thus that the Iliad is inseparably united, and, as it were, immersed in the stately hexametre, and the French epics, in the graceful Alexandrine verse. The metre of the Kalevala is the “eight-syllabled trochaic, with the part-line echo,” and is the characteristic verse of the Finns. The natural speech of this people is poetry. The young men and maidens, the old men and matrons, in their interchange of ideas, unwittingly fall into verse. The genius of their language aids to this end, inasmuch as their words are strongly trochaic.

This wonderfully versatile metre admits of keeping the right medium between the dignified, almost prancing hexameter, and the shorter metres of the lyrics. Its feet are nimble and fleet, but yet full of vigor and expressiveness. In addition, the Kalevala uses alliteration, and thus varies the rhythm of time with the rhythm of sound. This metre is especially fit for the numerous expressions of endearment in which the Finnish epic abounds. It is more especially the love of the mother for her children, and the love of the children for their mother, that find frequent and ever-tender expression in the sonorous lines of the Kalevala. The Swedish translation by Castrén, the German, by Schiefner, and the Hungarian, by Barna, as well as the following English translation, are in the original metre of the Kalevala.

To prove that this peculiar and fascinating style of verse is of very ancient origin, the following lines have been accurately copied from the first edition in Finnish of the Kalevala, collated by Dr. Lönnrot, and published in 1835 at Helsingfors, the quotation beginning with the 150th line of the 2nd Rune:

Louhi Pohjolan emanta Sanan wirkko, noin nimesi: “Niin mita minulle annat, Kun saatan omille maille, Oman pellon pientarelle, Oman pihan rikkasille?” Sano wanha Wainamoinen: “Mitapa kysyt minulta, Kun saatat omille maille, Oman kaën kukkumille, Oman kukon kuuluwille, Oman saunan lampimille?” Sano Pohjolan emanta: “Ohoh wiisas Wainamoinen! Taiatko takoa sammon, Kirjokannen kirjaëlla, Yhen joukkosen sulasta, Yhen willan kylkyesta, Yhen otrasen jywasta, Yhen warttinan muruista.”

As to the architecture of the Kalevala, it stands midway between the epical ballads of the Servians and the purely epical structure of the Iliad. Though a continuous whole, it contains several almost independent parts, as the contest of Youkahainen, the Kullervo episode, and the legend of Mariatta.

By language-masters this epic of Suomi, descending unwritten from the mythical age to the present day, kept alive from generation to generation by minstrels, or song-men, is regarded as one of the most precious contributions to the literature of the world, made since the time of Milton and the German classics.

Acknowledgment is hereby made to the following sources of information used in the preparation of this work: to E. Lenquist’s De Superstitione veterum Fennorum theoretica et practica; to Chr. Ganander’s Mythologia Fennica; to Becker’s De Vainamoine; to Max Müller’s Oxford Essays; to Prof. John A. Porter’s Selections from the Kalevala; to the writings of the two Grimms; to Latham’s Native Races of the Russian Empire; to the translations of the Kalevala by Alex. Castrén, Anton Schieffier, L. LeDuc and Ferdinand Barna; and especially to the excellent treatises on the Kalevala, and on the Mythology of the Finns, by Mace Da Charda and Alex. Castrén; to Prof. Heléna Klingner, of Cincinnati, a linguist of high rank, and who has compared very conscientiously the manuscript of the following pages with the German translation of the Kalevala by Anton Schiefner; to Dr. Emil Reich, a native Hungarian, a close student of the Ugrian tongues, who, in a most thorough manner, has compared this translation with the Hungarian by Ferdinand Barna, and who, familiar with the habits, customs, and religious notions of the Finns, has furnished much valuable material used in the preparation of this preface; and, finally, to Prof. Thomas C. Porter, D.D., LL.D., of Lafayette College, who has become an authority on the Kalevala through his own researches for many years, aided by a long and intimate acquaintance with Prof. A. F. Soldan, a Finn by birth, an enthusiastic lover of his country, a scholar of great attainments, acquainted with many languages, and once at the head of the Imperial Mint at Helsingfors, the capital of Finland. Prof. Porter has very kindly placed in the hands of the author of these pages, all the literature on this subject at his command, including his own writings; he has watched the growth of this translation with unusual interest; and, with the eye of a gifted poet and scholar, he has made two careful and critical examinations of the entire manuscript, making annotations, emendations, and corrections, by which this work has been greatly improved.

With this prolonged introduction, this, the first English translation of the Kalevala, with its many imperfections, is hesitatingly given to the public.

JOHN MARTIN CRAWFORD.

October 1, 1887.

THE KALEVALA.

PROEM

Mastered by desire impulsive, By a mighty inward urging, I am ready now for singing, Ready to begin the chanting Of our nation’s ancient folk-song Handed down from by-gone ages. In my mouth the words are melting, From my lips the tones are gliding, From my tongue they wish to hasten; When my willing teeth are parted, When my ready mouth is opened, Songs of ancient wit and wisdom Hasten from me not unwilling.

Golden friend, and dearest brother, Brother dear of mine in childhood, Come and sing with me the stories, Come and chant with me the legends, Legends of the times forgotten, Since we now are here together, Come together from our roamings. Seldom do we come for singing, Seldom to the one, the other, O’er this cold and cruel country, O’er the poor soil of the Northland. Let us clasp our hands together That we thus may best remember. Join we now in merry singing, Chant we now the oldest folk-lore, That the dear ones all may hear them, That the well-inclined may hear them, Of this rising generation. These are words in childhood taught me, Songs preserved from distant ages, Legends they that once were taken From the belt of Wainamoinen, From the forge of Ilmarinen, From the sword of Kaukomieli, From the bow of Youkahainen, From the pastures of the Northland, From the meads of Kalevala. These my dear old father sang me When at work with knife and 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.

Incantations were not wanting Over Sampo and o’er Louhi, Sampo growing old in singing, Louhi ceasing her enchantment. In the songs died wise Wipunen, At the games died Lemminkainen. There are many other legends, Incantations that were taught me, That I found along the wayside, Gathered in the fragrant copses, Blown me from the forest branches, Culled among the plumes of pine-trees, Scented from the vines and flowers, Whispered to me as I followed Flocks in land of honeyed meadows, Over hillocks green and golden, After sable-haired Murikki, And the many-colored Kimmo. Many runes the cold has told me, Many lays the rain has brought me, Other songs the winds have sung me; Many birds from many forests, Oft have sung me lays in concord Waves of sea, and ocean billows, Music from the many waters, Music from the whole creation, Oft have been my guide and master. Sentences the trees created, Rolled together into bundles, Moved them to my ancient dwelling, On the sledges to my cottage, Tied them to my garret rafters, Hung them on my dwelling-portals, Laid them in a chest of boxes, Boxes lined with shining copper. Long they lay within my dwelling Through the chilling winds of winter, In my dwelling-place for ages.

Shall I bring these songs together From the cold and frost collect them? Shall I bring this nest of boxes, Keepers of these golden legends, To the table in my cabin, Underneath the painted rafters, In this house renowned and ancient? Shall I now these boxes open, Boxes filled with wondrous stories? Shall I now the end unfasten Of this ball of ancient wisdom, These ancestral lays unravel? Let me sing an old-time legend, That shall echo forth the praises Of the beer that I have tasted, Of the sparkling beer of barley. Bring to me a foaming goblet Of the barley of my fathers, Lest my singing grow too weary, Singing from the water only. Bring me too a cup of strong-beer, It will add to our enchantment, To the pleasure of the evening, Northland’s long and dreary evening, For the beauty of the day-dawn, For the pleasure of the morning, The beginning of the new-day.

Often I have heard them chanting, Often I have heard them singing, That the nights come to us singly, That the Moon beams on us singly, That the Sun shines on us singly; Singly also, Wainamoinen, The renowned and wise enchanter, Born from everlasting Ether Of his mother, Ether’s daughter.

RUNE I. BIRTH OF WAINAMOINEN.

In primeval times, a maiden, Beauteous Daughter of the Ether, Passed for ages her existence In the great expanse of heaven, O’er the prairies yet enfolded. Wearisome the maiden growing, Her existence sad and hopeless, Thus alone to live for ages In the infinite expanses Of the air above the sea-foam, In the far outstretching spaces, In a solitude of ether, She descended to the ocean, Waves her coach, and waves her pillow. Thereupon the rising storm-wind Flying from the East in fierceness, Whips the ocean into surges, Strikes the stars with sprays of ocean Till the waves are white with fervor. To and fro they toss the maiden, Storm-encircled, hapless maiden; With her sport the rolling billows, With her play the storm-wind forces, On the blue back of the waters; On the white-wreathed waves of ocean, Play the forces of the salt-sea, With the lone and helpless maiden; Till at last in full conception, Union now of force and beauty, Sink the storm-winds into slumber; Overburdened now the maiden Cannot rise above the surface; Seven hundred years she wandered, Ages nine of man’s existence, Swam the ocean hither, thither, Could not rise above the waters, Conscious only of her travail; Seven hundred years she labored Ere her first-born was delivered. Thus she swam as water-mother, Toward the east, and also southward, Toward the west, and also northward; Swam the sea in all directions, Frightened at the strife of storm-winds, Swam in travail, swam unceasing, Ere her first-born was delivered.

Then began she gently weeping, Spake these measures, heavy-hearted: “Woe is me, my life hard-fated! Woe is me, in this my travail! Into what have I now fallen? Woe is me, that I unhappy, Left my home in subtle ether, Came to dwell amid the sea-foam, To be tossed by rolling billows, To be rocked by winds and waters, On the far outstretching waters, In the salt-sea’s vast expanses, Knowing only pain and trouble! Better far for me, O Ukko! Were I maiden in the Ether, Than within these ocean-spaces, To become a water-mother! All this life is cold and dreary, Painful here is every motion, As I linger in the waters, As I wander through the ocean. Ukko, thou O God, up yonder, Thou the ruler of the heavens, Come thou hither, thou art needed, Come thou hither, I implore thee, To deliver me from trouble, To deliver me in travail. Come I pray thee, hither hasten, Hasten more that thou art needed, Haste and help this helpless maiden!”

When she ceased her supplications, Scarce a moment onward passes, Ere a beauteous duck descending, Hastens toward the water-mother, Comes a-flying hither, thither, Seeks herself a place for nesting. Flies she eastward, flies she westward, Circles northward, circles southward, Cannot find a grassy hillock, Not the smallest bit of verdure; Cannot find a spot protected, Cannot find a place befitting, Where to make her nest in safety. Flying slowly, looking round her, She descries no place for resting, Thinking loud and long debating, And her words are such as follow: “Build I in the winds my dwelling, On the floods my place of nesting? Surely would the winds destroy it, Far away the waves would wash it.”

Then the daughter of the Ether, Now the hapless water-mother, Raised her shoulders out of water, Raised her knees above the ocean, That the duck might build her dwelling, Build her nesting-place in safety. Thereupon the duck in beauty, Flying slowly, looking round her, Spies the shoulders of the maiden, Sees the knees of Ether’s daughter, Now the hapless water-mother, Thinks them to be grassy hillocks, On the blue back of the ocean. Thence she flies and hovers slowly, Lightly on the knee she settles, Finds a nesting-place befitting, Where to lay her eggs in safety. Here she builds her humble dwelling, Lays her eggs within, at pleasure, Six, the golden eggs she lays there, Then a seventh, an egg of iron; Sits upon her eggs to hatch them, Quickly warms them on the knee-cap Of the hapless water-mother; Hatches one day, then a second, Then a third day sits and hatches. Warmer grows the water round her, Warmer is her bed in ocean, While her knee with fire is kindled, And her shoulders too are burning, Fire in every vein is coursing. Quick the maiden moves her shoulders, Shakes her members in succession, Shakes the nest from its foundation, And the eggs fall into ocean, Dash in pieces on the bottom Of the deep and boundless waters. In the sand they do not perish, Not the pieces in the ocean; But transformed, in wondrous beauty All the fragments come together Forming pieces two in number, One the upper, one the lower, Equal to the one, the other. From one half the egg, the lower, Grows the nether vault of Terra: From the upper half remaining, Grows the upper vault of Heaven; From the white part come the moonbeams, From the yellow part the sunshine, From the motley part the starlight, From the dark part grows the cloudage; And the days speed onward swiftly, Quickly do the years fly over, From the shining of the new sun From the lighting of the full moon.