A DAY IN SKANSEN
It was in the Djurgård that poor Erik first learned that he was a
Lapp,--a dirty Lapp.
Of course he knew that his ancestors had lived in Lapland for hundreds of
years; but before he went to the Djurgård that day with Birger and Gerda,
he had never heard himself called a Lapp in derision.
The Djurgård, or Deer Park, is a beautiful public park on one of the
wooded islands near Stockholm. There one finds forests of gigantic oaks,
dense groves of spruce, smiling meadows, winding roads and shady paths.
Through the tree-branches one catches a glimpse of the blue waters of the
fjord, rippling and sparkling in the sun; little steamers go puffing
briskly to and fro; and great vessels sail slowly down to the sea.
In summer, steamers and street cars are constantly carrying people back
and forth between the Deer Park and other parts of the city. It is not
a long trip; from the quay in front of the Royal Palace it takes only ten
minutes to reach the park, and day and night the boats are crowded
with passengers.
People go there to dine in the open-air restaurants and listen to the
bands; they go to walk along the beautiful, tree-shaded paths; or they
go to visit Skansen, one of the most interesting museums in the world.
It was to look at the Lapp encampment in Skansen that Birger and Gerda
took Erik to the Djurgård. It was to see the birthday celebration in
honor of Sweden's beloved poet, Karl Bellman, that they took Karen, for
Gerda had already discovered that Karen knew many of Bellman's verses and
songs.
The happy little party started early in the afternoon, and as they walked
through the city streets, many were the curious glances turned upon the
Lapp boy.
Erik wore a suit of Birger's clothes, and although he was five years
older, they fitted him well. He was short, as all Lapps are, and his face
was broad, with high cheek-bones; but he had a pair of large, honest,
black eyes which looked at everybody and everything in a pleasant, kindly
way.
"What is that great, upward-going box?" he asked, as he caught sight of
the Katarina Hissen, on the quay at the south side of the fjord.
"That is an elevator which will take you up to the heights above, where
you can look over the whole city," was Birger's answer. Then he whispered
to Gerda to ask if she thought they might go up in the elevator before
going to the Deer Park.
Gerda shook her head. "It costs five öre to go up in the lift, and three
öre to come down," she replied. "That would be thirty-two öre for us all,
and we must save our money to spend in the Djurgård. There is the boat
now," and she led the way to the little steamer.
"I have heard you say so much about Skansen," said Karen, when they had
found seats on the deck together, "that I'd like to know what it is
all about."
"It is all about every old thing in Sweden," laughed Gerda. "The man
who planned it said that the time would come when gold could not
buy a picture of olden times--the old homes and costumes and ways of
living--and then people would wish they could know more about them.
"So he travelled all over Sweden, from one end to the other, making a
collection of all sorts of old things to put in a museum in Stockholm.
Then he thought of showing the real life of the country people, so he
bought houses and set them up in Skansen, and hired the peasants to come
and live in them.
"When he finished his work, there was an example of every kind of Swedish
dwelling, from the Laplander's tent and the charcoal burner's hut, to the
farmhouse in Dalarne and the fisherman's cot in Skåne. And people were
living in all the houses just as they had lived at home,--spinning,
weaving, baking, and celebrating all the holidays in the same old way."
"And there are cages of wild animals and birds too," added Birger, "polar
bears and owls and eagles and reindeer--"
"That is what I want to see,--the reindeer," interrupted Erik; so when
the steamer reached the quay at the Deer Park, the children went at once
to find the Laplander's tent in Skansen.
Erik stood still for a long time, looking at the rocks, and the Lapps and
reindeer; and the twins waited for him to speak. Gerda expected that he
would say it was just like home; but, instead, he turned to her at last
and asked, "Do you think it is like Lapland?"
The little girl was rather taken aback at his question. "Well, you know,
Erik," she stammered, "they have done the best they could."
Erik shook his head. "They could not move the forest, with the rivers and
mountains and wild birds," he said. "Without them it is not a real
Lapland home."
His whole face said so plainly, "It is only an imitation," that Birger
could not help laughing.
"There is no museum in all Europe like Skansen," he said at last, quite
proudly; "and there are many people who come here to see it, because
they cannot travel, as Gerda and I did, and see the real homes in the
country."
"I am one of them," said Karen. "This is the only way I shall ever see a
Laplander's tent and reindeer."
"I will show you a house that is just like my grandmother's home in
Rättvik," suggested Gerda, and they walked slowly through the woodland
paths, so that Karen would not get tired with her crutch.
In a few minutes they came upon a place where some peasants, dressed in
their native costumes, were dancing folk-dances; for that is one of the
pleasant Skansen ways of saving the old customs.
"Oh, let us stop and look at the dancers!" cried Karen in delight. "I
wonder what they are doing," she added, watching their graceful movements
forward and back and in and out.
"They are 'reaping the flax,'" said Gerda, who knew all the different
dances because she often went to Skansen with her mother and father on
sunny summer evenings.
After the flax dance was finished, a company of boys took the platform,
and made everyone laugh with a queer, half-comical, half-serious dance
which Gerda called the "ox-dance."
"I should like to dance with them," said Erik suddenly.
"Yes, it is a great deal more fun to dance than to watch others," said
Gerda kindly; but she moved away from the sight at once, lest Erik should
push in among the dancers.
"This is just the time to go over to the Bellman oak," she suggested. "It
is the poet's day, and there will be wreaths and garlands hanging on his
tree, and a band of music playing some of his songs."
Erik walked along slowly, his eyes looking back longingly toward the
dancing, and finally Gerda looked back, too.
"See, Erik," she said, "the boys have finished, and now the girls are
going to dance alone. You would not like to dance with the girls;" and
then he followed her willingly to the other side of the island.
Crowds of people were gathering under the Bellman oak, and the four
children found a seat near-by, where they could see and hear everything
that went on around them.
"We must keep Erik here, or else he will insist on going to blow in the
band," Gerda whispered to her brother, as she saw the Lapp boy watching
the man with the trombone. Then she began to talk about Karl Bellman, the
songs and poems he wrote, and how much the people loved him.
"He is one of our most famous poets," she said earnestly, and Erik looked
at her and repeated solemnly:--
"Cattle die,
Kinsmen die,
One's self dies, too;
But the fame never dies,
Of him who gets a good name."
"Why, Erik!" exclaimed Karen in surprise; "that is from 'The Song of the
High' by Odin, the king of the gods. How did you happen to know it?"
"I know many things," said Erik with an air of importance. But there were
some things which Erik did not know. One was, how to play the trombone;
and it was his strongest trait that he liked to investigate everything
that was new and strange.
Now, when Karen spoke in such a tone of admiration, Erik felt that he
must find out at once about that queer instrument which made such loud
music; and before Gerda knew what he was doing, he had jumped up from the
ground and walked to the stand where the musicians were playing.
"Let me try it," he said, and held out his hand for the trombone.
Gerda was in an agony of distress. "Run and get him, Birger," she urged.
"Oh, run quick!"
"Erik, Erik, come here!" cried Birger, running after his friend. But
before Birger's voice reached his ears, the trombonist had said very
plainly and harshly, "Get away from here, you dirty Lapp!" and poor Erik
was looking at him with shame and anger in his eyes, when Birger took
hold of his clenched hand and led him away from the bandstand.
It was a hard moment for the twins. People were looking at them and
laughing, and the words, "Lapp! Lapp!" spoken in a tone of ridicule,
could be heard on every side.
"Let us go home," suggested Gerda, her face scarlet with shame at so much
unpleasant attention.
"No," said Birger stoutly, "let us stay right here and show that we don't
care."
But Karen all at once felt very tired, and when she told Gerda about it,
the little party went sadly through the crowd and took their places in
silence on the return steamer.
Neither Birger nor Gerda had any heart to tell their friends the names of
the different buildings which they saw from the deck of the boat,
although Gerda said once, with a brave little effort to make Erik forget
his shame, "We will go home through Erik-gatan."
But Erik looked at her with troubled eyes and made no answer. Not until
they were safely within the walls of home did he speak, and then it was
to ask, "Why did he call me a dirty Lapp?"
"Because many Lapps _are_ dirty," replied Birger, feeling just as
miserable as Erik looked. "They don't bathe, nor eat from dishes, nor
sleep in beds, as good Swedish people do."
"I shall bathe, and eat from dishes, and sleep in beds all the rest of my
life," said Erik, his face very white, his eyes very angry. "And I shall
learn to use that strange tool that makes loud music," he added.
Lieutenant Ekman stood in the doorway, listening to his words. "Good," he
said heartily; "that is the way for you to talk. And you shall learn to
use many other tools, too. I have made arrangements to-day for you to
work in the ironworks at Göteborg, where they make steamers, engines and
boilers. I have a friend there who will look after you, and see that you
are taught a good trade."
"But, Father," cried Birger, "Göteborg is a long way from Stockholm! How
can Erik go so far alone?"
"I am going over to Göteborg myself next month," replied Inspector Ekman,
"and he can go with me. A new lightship is ready to be launched, and I
shall have to inspect it and give the certificate before it is accepted
by the government."
"Let us go with you! Let us go, too!" begged the twins, dancing round and
round their father.
"But what will become of Karen?" he asked.
Gerda and Birger stopped short and looked at their new friend. It was
plain to be seen that she was not strong enough to take such a trip.
Fru Ekman put her arm tenderly around the little lame girl. "Karen will
visit me," she said kindly.
So it was decided that the twins should go to Göteborg with their father
by way of the Göta Canal. When the day for the journey arrived, the
satchels were packed once more, and Gerda showed Karen how to water her
plants and feed her pet parrot in her absence.