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| Albert Edelfelt, one of the first Finnish artists to reach international fame, illustrated The Tales of Ensign Stål. His illustrations have been admired by generations of Finns and Swedes. This drawing shows a part of the Lake Saimaa district, one of the "national landscapes" of Finland. |
Finland's national poet Johan Ludvig Runeberg (1804 - 1877) is nowadays not very well known outside his own country, and perhaps Sweden (Runeberg wrote in Swedish, his mother tongue), but there was a time he was a "celebrity" in wider international circles.
In an article, published in the National Biography of Finland, historian Matti Klinge describes Runeberg's crucial role in the shaping of the Finnish identity:
The poet J. L. Runeberg created an ideal of Finland's people and Nature, and he gave the country a moral identity, a justification for its existence, with his lyrics, epics and Fänrik Ståls sägner ('Tales of Ensign Stål'). Even during his lifetime, but especially after his death, he became a very important cult figure as a creator of a feeling of nationhood and the writer of the poem Vårt land (Finnish: Maamme; Our Country), which became the national anthem of Finland.
Runeberg was a notable lyric and epic poet; his creative work acquired an especial importance from the era and environment in which he was active. Along with Lönnrot, Runeberg helped to raise the newly created Grand Duchy of Finland to the status of a cultured nation in the eyes of both Finns and foreigners. In the 1830s and 1840s he created an ideal of Finland's people and Nature, and he gave the country a moral identity with his Fänrik Ståls sägner ('Tales of Ensign Stål'). Runeberg's ideological stance was influenced by the neo-humanists' admiration for Greece; politically, it adhered to the conservative line of the era of Emperor Nicholas I. Even during his lifetime, but especially after his death, he became a very important cult figure, particularly as a creator of a feeling of nationhood and the writer of the poem Vårt land (Finnish: Maamme; Our Country), which became the national anthem of Finland.
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All of Runeberg's works were translated into Finnish, starting as far back as the 1840s. Runeberg began to become known in Russia as early as the 1830s. Many of his works were translated into German, Danish, French and English; Hanna, Nadeschda, Kung Fjalar and Fänrik Ståls sägner at the least were translated into these languages; Hanna and Nadeschda were translated into Italian; and so forth. The celebrations marking the centenary of Runeberg's birth also attracted widespread interest abroad. In Sweden, Runeberg has always been numbered amongst the most prominent writers of Swedish.
The Tales of Ensign Stål consists of tales of the War of Finland of 1808-09 between Sweden/Finland and Russia. In the war, Sweden lost Finland, which then became a Grand Duchy in the Russian empire.
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| Sven Duva on the bridge. Illustration by Albert Edelfelt. |
Sven Duva
His father, once a sergeant, was poor and old and gray,
For he had fought in 'eighty-eighty, was old then, you
might say.
And now he farmed a bit of ground his daily bread to gain
And had around him children nine, the youngest was
Sven.
That old man Duva had himself enough of brains to share
Among a brood as large as his, one hardly could declare.
He surely gave the elder ones too much of his small wit,
For the son that last was born was left the tiniest bit.
Sven Duva grew up just the same, was strong and broad
of chest,
Toiled like a slave in field or wood with unremitting zest,
Was willing, gay, and kind of heart, far more than clever
folk,
Would turn his hand to anything, but was in all joke.
"In gracious heaven's name, poor son,what can you ever
be?"
The old man often said to him in sad perplexity.
But when such talk would never end, Sven Duva's pa-
tience failed,
At last he set his head to work for all that it availed.
So one fine day it chanced when sergeant Duva cooed
again.
The old unanswered song: "What will become of you,
my Sven?"
The old man started backward in astonishment, because
"I'll be a soldier," said the son, and spread his uncouth
jaws.
The aged sergeant smiled a smile full of contemptuous
doubt:
"You rascal, take a gun and be a soldier? Oh, get out!"
"Well,"said the lad, "I make a botch of all I take in hand;
Perhaps I'll find it easier to die for king and land."
Old Duva was surprised and touched, a tear rolled down
his face;
And Sven - he shouldered knapsack for the first recruit-
ing-place.
Full size they found him; brisk and strong; 't was all they
asked, and he
Became forthwith a raw recruit in Duncker's company.
And now came Duva's time to drill and go through ex-
ercise,
To watch was a wondrous sight; he drilled in curi-
ous wise.
The corporal might shout and laugh, might laugh and
shout his best,
The new recruit went on alike for earnest or for jest.
When all the rest were tired out, he never seemed to fret.
He tramped until the ground would quake, and marched
till all a-sweat;
But when the order came to turn, 't was his unhappy
lot,
To face to right or face to left, whichever he should not.
Then he was tought to "shoulder arms," and tought to
"ground arms," too.
"Present arms,""lend bayonets," - all these they thought
he knew;
When "Should arms!" was called, he'd "lend bayonets" maybe,
At "Ground arms!" up his gun went to his shoulder in-
stantly.
So finally Duva's drill grew famous far and wide,
The officers and soldiers came and laughed until they
cried;
But still he kept on patiently, untroubled by a doubt,
And waited for a better time - 't was then the war broke
out.
When orders were to break up camp, the questions had
to come,
Had Duva wit enough to fight or should he stay at home.
He listened calmly to their plans, but soon proposed his
own;
"If I can't go with all the rest, I'll have to go alone."
They left him gun and knapsack to do his own behest,
A soldier he when battle raged, a servant for the rest;
And fighting-man or serving-man, alike sedate and cool,
He never played the coward, though he sometimes played
the fool.
One day with Sandels in retreat, the Russians on each
flank,
Our troops were drawing slowly back along a river bank.
Right in the army's line of march a little foot-bridge
spanned.
The stream, and there an outpost stood, scarce twenty
in the band.
Merely to mend the broken road this band was sent ahead,
Which done, far off from shot or blow, they rested free
from dread.
They happened on a farmer's home and stripped the larder bare.
And Duva passed the victuals round, for he was with
them there.
But on a sudden all was changed, for from the near-by
steep
With foamy horse an adjutant came spurring leap on leap.
"Go to the bridge," he shouted, "lads, for God's sake,
no delay!
We've word a troop of enemy would cross and
bar our way."
He bade the leader, "Get the bridge demolished if you can,
And if you can't, well, hold it it then, and fight to the last
man!
The army's lost if now the foe should tak us in the rear.
Sandels will come to your support, he'll soon himself be
here."
He galloped off. But scarce the band had gotten to the
bridge
Before platoons of Russians rose above the farther bridge.
They opened ranks, closed up, took aim and fired. At the
sound
Of their first volley eight bold Finns went reeling to the
gound.
The rest shrunk back; why tarry there when nothing
could be gained?
Another crash of musketry, and but five Finns remained.
The all obeyed the sergeant's call "Trail arms!" and
then "Retreat!"
Only Sven Duva got it wrong and leveled bayonet.
Still worse, the order to retreat got twisted in his head,
And, far from facing right about, down to the bridge he
sped.
He stood there firm with shoulders squared, quite calm
and easy still,
Ready to show to all that came how well he know his
drill.
They didn't give him long to wait, for ere he took his
stand,
Behold, upon the little bridge there thronged a hostile
band.
Man after man they rushed across, but each as he came on
Got face-to-right or face-to-left, fell over, and was gone.
No human arm was strong enough to make that giant
to yield,
And when the rear ranks tried to shoot, the front ranks
were his shield.
The fiercer was the foe, the more his hope would come
to naught,
When up came Sandels, with his men and saw how
Duva fought.
"Bravo!" he shouted, "fine; keep on you splendid fel-
low, you!
Throw every devil off the bridge, hold on, for God's
sake, do!
That's how a Finn should fight, ay, that's a soldier you
may say.
Come on boys, hurry to his help! for he has saved the
day!"
The enemy soon found themselves checkmated in the
game;
The Russians, turning right about, retreated whence
they came.
When all was quiet, Sandels left his horse and went to
see
The soldier who stood on the bridge and fought so gal-
lantly.
They pointed out Sven Duva then. His battle-lust was
gone,
For he had fought there like a man, and now the strife
was done.
It seemed as though in weariness he rested after play,
No longer bold and confident, but very pale he lay.
Then Sandels bent him down above that face so white
of hue;
No unfamiliar man was that, but one whom all men
knew.
But Sandels saw that underneath his heart the grass was
red.
His breast was pierced, and through the wound his life
now had sped.
These were the words the general spake: "We'll all of
us admit
That bullet knew far more than we, it knew the place to
hit;
It left unhurt the poor lad's head, which was not of the
best,
And found itself a worthier mark, his noble, valiant
breast."
And afterwards whenever men would tell about the fight,
They each and every one agreed that Sandel's words
were right.
"It's true," they used to say, "his mind did did less than
most men's could,
A sorry head Sven Duva had, his heart, though, that was good."
(The text is published in the same way as it appeared in the anthology).
Here are a few more illustrations to the Tales of Ensign Stål by Albert Edelfelt:
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