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About The united American : a magazine of good citizenchip. (Portland, Or.) 1923-1927 | View Entire Issue (April 1, 1923)
12 APRIL, 1923 THE WESTERN AMERICAN Finnish Molders of National Ideals Worth Emulating XV HEN THE WAR-TORN world, struggling for a foothold, with revolutions and counter revolu tions engaging the attention everywhere, decided that the smaller world nations who had been deprived of their independence by the autocratic empire build ers of the past, should have the right of self determi nation restored to them, the people of Finland, among other smaller nations, claimed that right, and once more Finland took its place among the self governing nations of the world. Early in the nineteenth century the mighty army of the Russian empire was sent into Finland to sub due the Finns, abrogate the Finnish union with Sweden and annex Finland with Russia. The out rages perpetrated against the Finns by the Russians, in this campaign caused a national awakening of the Finnish people, an awakening of a national pride, a realization of a national heritage, that only comes to a people through suffering and sorrow. Unable successfully to combat the superior force of the Russian foe the Finnish people lost their inde pendence and suffered the humiliation of seeing their country, with its proud history made a vasal state under the Slav empire. The oppression was therefore more keenly felt, but while the Finnish people had lost their independence the national will of the people defied the conqueror. In this period of travail Fin land produced several master-minds, who by their genius shaped and molded the national ideals and gave them expression in writings and in musical compositions that have found a place among the rarest of the world’s literary and musical gems. Among Finland’s foremost writers, a product of this turbulent period in Finland’s history, is Johan Ludvig Runeberg. He was born in 1804 in the little Finnish village of Jacobstad of Finnish and Swedish parentage. His type was more distinctly Swedish than Finnish and though he wrote mostly in the Swe dish language, his heart was wed to the cause of Finland, the country he claimed as his own. Runeberg spent his childhood amid very humble surroundings in his native village. His parents were poor and he had to labor hard from early boyhood. By hard work he earned his way through the Latin school at Vasa and later through the university. The university which at that time was at Abo, is now at Helsingfors, the capital city of Finland. After taking his master’s degree he became an instructor in the university. Here his ability as a writer gained recog nition. His spirited heroic poem “stories,” pictur ing scenes of the Finnish soldiers, struggling against a superior foe, are held to have no parrallel in any literature. Runeberg died in 1877. Among his best known of these “stories’ are “The Stories of Ensign Stal (Fanrik Stal’s Sagner). The best known among this story-poems is “Sven Dufva.” While many have attempted to translate these liter ary gems of Runeberg into English few translations can be considered acceptable. The following translation of Sven Dufva is by Peer Stromme, a well-known American journalist and author of Norwegian parentage, who died in Minne sota a little more than a year ago. This translation of Sven Dufva which recently appeared in an Augs burg Publishing House publication, was one of Stromme’s last literary contributions in the language of America: SVEN DUFVA The father of Sven Dufva was a sergeant old and gray, Who had in stormy ’eighty-eight seen many a bloody fray. And now he tilled his little farm, respected of all men, And had a family of nine, the youngest being Sven. If Dufva had sufficient sense a portion to bestow On each of all his boys and girls, we can’t pretend to know. If so, he gave the others more than seems exactly fair; At any rate the youngest son had not received his share. Yet Sven grew up the biggest man in all the country round; With giant strength he felled the trees and broke the stub born ground; And toiled as hard as any slave from early morn till night, And always did as he was bid, but never did it right. “In heaven’s name, half-witted boy,” old Dufva often said, “Whatever will become of you with that poor, empty head?” Till Sven at last his patience lost and mopped his stupid brow, And did some thinking of his own as well as he knew how. So when the sergeant came again and sang the old refrain: “What will become of you, my boy, with your poor, addled brain?” He nearly had a fit when Sven brought down his mighty fist, Unclamped his ponderous jaws and said: “I’m going to enlist.” The old man laughed: “Well, I must say, you’re aiming pretty high; A soldier, you?” But Sven looked up and stoutly made reply: “It seems to me it might not be so difficult a thing To die in doing battle for my country and my king.” This touched the veteran to the quick; he had no more to say; And to the nearest post Sven Dufva found his way. They wanted men, and mighty Sven was mustered in with cheers A member of the famous troop of Duticker’s Volunteers. It was a sight for gods and men when Sven with right good will Began to learn the rudiments of military drill. With hearty zest he did his best, was patient as before. The while the corporal stormed and cried and chuckled, wept and swore. So tireless a recruit as Sven had not been seen, they said; The soil of Finland fairly quaked beneath his heavy tread. No matter what the order was, the effort he would make, But never did just what he should—excepting by mistake. He shouldered arms, presented arms—to him ’twas all the same; He wheeled and marched and faced about as one who loved the game. He’d hear the orders with a smile, nor ask the reason why; Then promptly do the opposite, and never bat an eye. His blunders were a standing joke with officers and men, And all the army laughed their fill at feeble-minded Sven. He went his patient way and did his duty like a man, And waited for the better time—and then the war began. The question then arose, if Sven possessed sufficient mind And could be taken to the front, or must be left behind. He let them talk, the while his eyes with valiant purpose shone. “Well, if I may not go with you, why, then I’ll go alone.”