Collected Works of Johan Ludvig Runeberg
Page 8
Iron, powder, steel and lead,
Troops must care for, in his stead;
They the prime played, he the second,
With his whip the leader beckoned.
When he marched with it in hand,
Pressing on for king and land,
Like on old oak showed he vigor,
Little worn by war-play’s rigor.
All day long could battle dare,
Nor a de’il for triumph care;
Zeal for strife he but created, —
Thereto was his war-whip plaited.
Finlanders, he knew indeed,
Are too calm for needless speed;
He would help, with all devotion,
Not their valor, but their motion!
Yet his pipe must be a-light,
Elsewise nothing went aright;
But when smoke his mouth had sated,
Blithe he fought, though subjugated.
Often midst the battle’s roar
He tobacco took once more,
Let his nearest man be resting
And strike fire, ere re-contesting.
Then when in the strife he stood,
Overwhelmed with sweat and blood,
With his whip he made endeavor,
Deeper sucking smoke than ever.
Then drew up his troops in haste,
With their gleaming bayonets placed,
Charged the foe where thickest swelling,
As at home in his own dwelling;
Like expounder, Finnish spoke,
Shrieked as to his working-folk;
One was praised, one over-ridden; —
Ease and yawning were forbidden.
Then, so yet declare his men,
’Twas not well for foemen, when
Raged the old man like the devil; —
Else, as peasant he was level.
With his warriors thus he came, —
Pipe the same and coat the same,
After myriad conflicts chancing, —
Forth to Karstula advancing.
All the Finnish army’s hope
Was reposing in this troop,
Scarce twelve hundred men including;
Vlastoff three-fold more obtruding.
Jolly sport would this be then;
Fieandt filled his pipe again,
‘Gainst his heel his whip now proving,
And to swift attack was moving.
Sixteen hours he held his own,
But at last was overthrown;
By retreat his troops he shielded, —
To the devil all things yielded.
’Tis related by his men,
That he ceased to battle then,
Drew his hat low on his forehead,
And the calm of others borrowed.
So to Mottonen he fared,
On his saddle stifly stared,
Right hand over gorget closing, —
Pipe in pocket lay reposing.
On this journey, what he thought,
Others comprehended not;
With himself alone he pondered,
While at will his soldiers wandered.
Now when Lintulaks he saw,
Asked he for a bed of straw,
Sought to drown his cares by sleeping,
And his fast was constant keeping.
So completed he the day,
And near three, in morning’s gray,
By the bit of slumber taken,
Full restored did he awaken.
Like himself now, as before,
Gazed he out the cottage door;
As of old his glances twinkled,
And his brow he deeply wrinkled.
Ere he rode, he wet his tongue;
Crusty, snubbed his brother young,
Cuffed his ears when by the river,
Smoked at Perrho brisk as ever.
God knows how ’tis elsewhere planned,
But the field doth arms demand.
Fieandt’s method of contention
Yet may have its good to mention.
Therefore do his soldiers say,
When you question them today
Of each myriad vexation,
Fall of army and the nation:
“Soon had lost the foe his powers,
Had a general been ours,
Who his time had rightly measured,
And in strife tobacco treasured!”
CANTO ELEVENTH. SANDELS.
Johan August Sandels, next to Dobeln the most efficient commander in Finland, was now chief of the Savolaks light infantry. The scene herein described is that of the famous battle of Virta Bridge, which spanned the Koljonvirta stream.
The Russians had proclaimed that the truce of Lohteá would terminate at one o’clock on October 27, 1808. The day had come, the hour was approaching. Sandels’ Adjutant, Captain Brusin, had been sent as an envoy to the Russian camp, — in reality as a spy. He reached the camp about 12 o’clock, but he was driven away because by the Russian time it was 1 o’clock. He barely escaped over the bridge, hotly pursued by Cossacks and chasseurs. The advancing Russians took Kauppila farm on the west side of the stream. The battle was fierce. Entrenchments had been thrown up at Linna village by the Finns, whose cannon created havoc among the storming foes. Sandels coolly rode about and inspected the position. When the advancing Russians had reached the breast-works, he gave orders to his nearest man, Col. Fahlander. The Savolaks infantry, under Majors Grotenfelt, Duncker and Malm, with the “Vasa boys” under Lieutenant Conradi, now rushed forward and overcame the Russian forces of 6000 men, of whom many were lostl
Sandels was then made Major-General, later Count, President, and Field Marshal. He was for a time Governor in Pomerania, and later Governor of Norway; he died in Stockholm, 1831.
Genial, pleasure-loving, epicurean, his great bravery and quiet fearlessness often took even the form of recklessness.
XI. SANDELS.
Sandels he sat in quietude,
Ate breakfast at Pardala inn;
“To-day, at one, is the strife renewed,
And Virta Bridge sees us lose or win.
Sir Pastor, I have bidden you out;
Now please, have a morsel of trout.
“To keep you here as my guest to-day
Is my duty and my desire;
You know far better than I the way,
And can give me the light I require;
Rest calm, — to-day we shall smell no blood;
A glass? The Madeira is good.
“Tutschkoff a friendly massage has given
That our truce no more doth abide.
Enjoy your breakfast, Sir. Sauce, by heaven!
When we’ve eaten, out shall we ride.
We must enjoy what we have, you know; —
Perhaps you will order Margaux?”
Then came the word, by courier fleet:
“Our treaty is broken and void!
Brusin with our outpost has made retreat; —
The bridge not yet is destroyed!
Our time was twelve, and we followed our sun, —
By the Russians’ time it is one!”
But Sandels, with reins of appetite loose,
Ate well, as if naught had occurred.
“Pray try, Sir Pastor, a daube of goose! —
A savory taste has the bird.
It is Dolgoruki doth hither bend!
A glass to his honor, my friend!”
But the courier spoke: “Sir General,
May I take back your answer with me?” —
“Yea! tell Fahlander the bridge is small,
And batteries, too, has he.
He can hold out there an hour — or a half; —
Sir Pastor, a cutlet of calf?”
The courier left; a moment passed by,
When another horseman appeared;
Like a flash to the step did his charger fly, —
At a bound he the saddle had cleared.
He looked a young lie
utenant, you’d grant; —
It was Sandels’ adjutant.
He entered the hall with haste, and stood
By his chief, with glances of fire:
“Sir General, flowing are rivers of blood,
And blood is each moment’s hire!
Our troops, though brave, would press forward anew,
If a half mile nearer to you!”
Sandels he looked on his guest all unfired;
“Dear me! As an oven you’re hot!
You have surely ridden till hungry and tired;
Come, rest you awhile, — fume not!
One must attend to his hunger and thirst; —
See here, some gin for the first?”
The rider wavered: “Hard grows our fight!
Foes are forcing the bridge with success!
Our outposts totter at Kauppila height,
Where a whole battalion doth press.
The troops are confounded, and like to disband!
What orders now? What command?”
“Well, that you prettily take a seat,
Get your knife and fork in a wink;
And when you’ve got them, in quiet eat,
And when you’ve eaten, then drink;
And when you’ve drunken, why, eat again; —
You have my orders, now then!”
Wrath burned in the youthful warrior’s soul,
His indignant eye flashed fire;
“Sir General, ’tis due you the truth I unroll;
You are scorned by the army entire!
From every soldier this judgment I drew:
Our most cowardly man is — you!”
Sandels aside laid his fork, — he was mute
Then finally laughed aflame:
“What heard I? Sandels in coward’s repute?
And speaketh one so? For shame!
My horse, — now saddle my noble Bijou!
Sir Pastor, now part I with you.”
There was storm, there was crash, there was strife on the strand,
Where the army of Sandels had dashed;
In a smoke-cloud veiled was the water and land,
And fire from the cloud ever flashed;
As of thunder echoed the heavens around,
And trembled the blood-stained ground.
Behind their entrenchments stood Finland’s throng,
Defying the perils that reigned;
But from rank to rank ran a whisper along,
A mutter but half restrained:
“He is absent, he hides himself out of the way;
No General comes to the fray!”
But he came! To the foremost standard near,
On the earthworks stood he in view!
And his eye it was calm and his brow it was clear,
As he gleamed on his noble Bijou;
And he motionless sat with his field-glass in hand,
Surveying the bridge and the strand.
On his steed they beheld him from far around,
Nor could thousands atone, should he fall;
They heard redoubled the menacing sound
Of the guns on the enemy’s wall!
There was whizzing of bullets around his head,
But his features no change o’erspread.
And the valiant Fahlander delayed no more, —
To his Chief on the breast-works he cried:
“Ho! General, they’ve marked you, they aim at you sore!
Ride down, for your life, — now ride!”
“Down, down, O General! Your danger is ours!”
Shrieked all with their utmost powers.
Sandels moved never a shelter to seek,
But he proud did his colonel accost:
“Is it fear that has driven your soldiers to shriek?
If they waver to-day, they are lost.
Well then, an attempt! Be prepared, without fear;
Any moment the foe may be here!”
The meager throng that at Kauppila stood,
By a thousand foemen pursued,
Though all had fought in heroic mood,
Now approaching in flight he viewed.
They reached the General’s battery,
Precipitate passing it by.
He made not a move, waited proudly here,
As before, sitting full in view;
And his eye it was calm and his brow it was clear,
As he gleamed on his noble Bijou;
And he measured the host that with forces entire
Rushed triumphant against his fire!
And he saw them coming, full near they came,
But to danger he gave no thought!
Though a thousand of foes did his death now frame,
Yet appeared he to know it not.
He looked at his watch, while his time he chose,
And he sat as in deepest repose.
But the moment awaited had come; and now
To his Colonel a dash did he make;
“Are they ready, your men, their old valor to show?
Know they yet through a line how to break?
I have let the foe storm in their triumph; now then,
As one man hurl them backward again!”
It was spoken, — enough! There was needed no more;
There was joy, there was shouting aloud,
And warriors six hundred tempestuous tore
‘Gainst the enemy’s insolent crowd;
And backward they heaved them, platoon by platoon,
Till they fell at the bridge, trampled down.
Sandels he galloped up swift to his men
On the strand where in triumph they stood.
Then his white steed Bijou stepped midst them again,
With his snow-sheen purpled in blood;
And the General, with fire in his soul glowing bright,
Hailed leader and troops with delight.
No more there was uttered a sneering complaint,
No whispering, bitter and base;
Nay, a jubilee mighty and void of restraint
Now loudly re-echoed his praise;
And a thousand-voiced paean the champions gave:
“Hurrah for our General brave!”
CANTO TWELFTH. THE TWO DRAGOONS.
A story of the two war-comrades, Stål and Lod, who belonged to Sandels’ brigade, and hence to the dragoons (cavalry soldiers) of Karelen. Of course this Stål is not to be confused with Ensign Stål, the narrator of these Songs.
The circumstance is probably fictitious, as also the names of the two men, whom the poet portrays as having grown up from their childhood with equal honors and in mutual emulation.
The Cossacks were always riders, and armed with long lances.
Above all personal envy, the admiration of worth holds its place in every heart. So in The Cloud’s Brother the aged landsman’s derogation of his foster-son turns to deification; Sven Dufva’s madness becomes his glory; Lieutenant Ziden’s denunciation of his Vasa Boys changes to praise; Von Konow and Brask battle and forgive; The Dying Warrior spends his last strength for the sweetheart of the youth he has slain; Sandels, condemned for cowardice, is speedily proclaimed the greatest of generals; Kulneff, the Finn’s most formidable enemy, is yet loved by them all; Dobeln arises from his bed of anguish, and leads a great army to victory; Lotta Svard, the bar-woman, is yet honored by every soldier; Munter, untutored, promptly gives his life for the army’s officers; Von Essen’s servant, about to be flogged, turns and sends awe into his master’s soul; Wilhelm von Schwerin, the little boy, at once reveals himself to be one of the greatest of cannon-men; Dobeln elevates a tattered but valiant stranger to the honored place of Stolt; Vibelius’ sun-clear eye and unanswerable appeal conquers the Commander-in-Chief of the Russian army; Adlercreutz inspires his dejected troops to brilliant triumph.
Do not these deeds all spring from the divine force in human hearts, from the divine light in human eyes, from the divine fire that yields inspiration?
XII.
THE TWO DRAGOONS.
Stål was one called, and the other
In the field was known as Lod, —
Him resembling as a brother
Both in strength and mood.
On the same tract were they nourished
By the Saimen’s shore;
In the same home quarrels flourished,
But were quickly o’er.
They had been dragoons created
Both upon the self-same day,
Faithful shared all dangers fated
In each fierce affray; —
Yet as comrades had their squabbles,
Each by each defied,
And in deeds, for glory’s baubles,
With each other vied.
In the squadron’s foremost station
Both men soon had compassed fame;
None else dared, in self-laudation,
Claim a braver name.
Soon, as corporals created
By command, they stood;
But a quarrel vegetated,
‘Twixt them e’er renewed.
In their common zeal as brothers
Emulation still remained;
Every good must be the other’s
Which the one had gained.
Both men equal made contention
For the self-same goal;
Each time Lod got worthy mention,
That got likewise Stål.
Luck at length so changed its issues
That one earned a triumph-score;
In each strife Lod saved his tissues,
Stål was wounded sore.
So to lie in silent anguish,
Was his painful lot, —
In a hospital to languish,
While his comrade fought.
Here his long months of sojourning
To an ending slowly drew;
And the brave one was returning
To his troops anew.
But no longer was he counted
Foremost as before;
To his rank had others mounted, —
Lod a medal bore.
Stål saw how his comrade flourished,
Heard how rose his fame afield;
What his own heart felt and nourished,
Mutely he concealed, —
Let no word to this give version,
Not a feature’s play; —
Till on foraging excursion
Both had marched one day.
Well, the exploit now was ended,
Their return was now at hand,
When a dust-cloud quick ascended, —
Lo! A Cossack band!
Lod commanded; “Turn! For dangers
Now will gainless be;