As affording a little insight into the character of a Finn, the following incident may be of service. According to the legend, it took place precisely as it is here related:
Unnas was an only son. His mother died young, and his father, Andrew, was exceedingly fond of his only son. There was nothing in the world for which he cared except his son. But when Unnas was twenty years old, he had a very serious illness, and it was not thought possible that he could recover from it.
Unnas had been baptized by one of the priests of Petschenga Monastery, but his father, Andrew, was still a heathen. He would not consent to be baptized; he declared that he would live and die believing in his old gods. He was not a mere heathen, but was an active sorcerer (a ‘Noide’) or wiseman. He had, therefore, his sorcerer’s or magician’s drum, which he consulted whenever anything of particular importance was to be taken in hand, or to be prevented.
When Unnas was taken ill, his father sought at once, by means of sacrifice, to come to terms with one of his chief gods, who, in the form of a weather-worn stone, was standing a long way up by the side of the Kujasuga River, in a birch-wood, and was surrounded by a fence made of reindeer horns. But it was of no avail. His son grew worse and worse. The old man fretted terribly, and began to be afraid that the illness had no natural origin. According to the opinion of the old Finns, dangerous illnesses often proceeded from the fact that one or other of the sick person’s deceased relatives wanted to have his or her help and companionship in the other world. In that world the Finns, according to their notion, lived with their herds of reindeer, much in the same way as they had done upon earth, only, of course, they were free from their worst enemies, the wolves and the husbandmen.
Whenever, therefore, anybody was stricken by a serious illness, which had no very distinctive symptoms, it became an [[46]]urgent question whether by sacrifice a person might reconcile, or come to terms with, the deceased relative, or at least obtain some postponement of the death of the sick person.
Andrew consulted the sorcerer’s drum, and tried different sacrifices in order to excite the compassion of the deceased relative, but in vain. His son lay writhing with pain, and wandering in his talk. Then Andrew sent for his brother-in-law, who was a still greater sorcerer than he was himself, so that he might also consult the magic drum, and perhaps discover a conciliatory sacrifice.
The brother-in-law came, and different sacrifices were tried, until at last a whole reindeer was offered up; but even that did not succeed. A black cat was purchased—for offerings of black animals were considered the most acceptable—and the cat, too, was sacrificed, but all in vain. The father knelt down beside his son’s bed terrified and in despair, while the brother-in-law lay upon his knees, and beat the sorcerer’s drum; but the movable ring on it insisted on moving to the place which pointed to the Kingdom of Death, and stopped there, however much he struck, and knocked, and made promises of sacrifices. Nothing seemed to be of any avail; neither prayer nor payment sufficed.
At last the brother-in-law was compelled to have recourse to the last and most desperate remedy. He must himself cross over to the Kingdom of the Dead, in order to converse with the deceased relative. After a variety of ceremonies and charms, as well as taking some stupefying drink, he fell into a trance, and lay as if dead for half an hour, during which time his spirit was supposed to visit the other world.
Andrew watched him with anxiety, and when he again recovered consciousness, he asked him in great fear:
‘What does Jabmek, the dead one, demand?’