Little Erik of Sweden

"It is Erik Lindgren," answered the boy.

"Erik Lindgren," repeated Herr Banker. "That name may some day be known to all the world."

He blew his nose. "Jenny Lind was a child like you," he continued, "and she lived in Sweden, too. One day she was heard singing a lullaby to her cat, and from that time on, a great opera house became her home. She grew up to be one of the best singers in all the world, and they called her 'the Swedish Nightingale.'"

Erik's eyes suddenly blazed with anger, and he threw back his head. "I am not a girl!" he cried. "I'm a boy and shall some day be a sea captain or – or a warrior!"

He looked very fierce, and Herr Banker laughed.

"No, no, Erik," he said. "Never a warrior! Ours is a peaceful land, remember. A sea captain, perhaps. But – " He sat down on the sofa and drew Erik toward him, saying, "Tell me why you came to see me, child. What can I do for you?"

He listened kindly as Erik told his story, ending, "And so, Herr Banker, will you lend Fru Hansson the money?"

Herr Banker was looking down at his hands. He was silent. The big hall clock ticked firmly, and Erik's heart pounded in time. What was Herr Banker going to say?

At last he raised his head. "You have asked something which is not easy to grant, Erik," he said. "Hanssonborg, like many other large estates, is burdened with debts. My bank has already loaned Fru Hansson sums of money. I am afraid we can lend no more."

"Oh, but, Herr Banker," cried Erik, "for Greta's sake! The Baron is a gnome!"

"The Baron is a – a gnome?" Herr Banker was puzzled.

"Yes, a sickly, cowardly old gnome!" declared Erik. "And Greta must not marry him. My brother Nils is strong and brave, and when he finishes his studies, he will manage Hanssonborg and marry Greta and pay you back your money – every cent!"

Erik drew a deep breath, and Herr Banker smiled.

"But where do you think I am to find this money to lend Fru Hansson?" he inquired. "That which is in the bank does not belong to me. It belongs to other people, who put it there to keep it safe. If I were to take it out and maybe lose it, I should be stealing. Shouldn't I?"

Erik had not thought of that. Nor did he know that his country was noted for its successful management of money affairs. The Bank of Sweden is the oldest bank in Europe. Erik only knew that he was bitterly disappointed and unhappy.

"So you cannot help Fru Hansson and Greta?" he asked, with piteous despair.

Herr Banker again blew his nose. It sounded like the blast of a trumpet.

"Come back again tomorrow, Erik," he said. "I will give you my answer then."

CHAPTER VII

THE WEDDING DATE

On the evening when Erik was visiting Herr Banker in Stockholm, Greta and Fru Hansson were sitting alone in their drawing-room at Hanssonborg. The Baron had gone to bed with a hot water bottle. He had sneezed twice after dinner.

The wind howled outside. It sounded like a pack of hungry wolves. Greta turned on the radio, but Fru Hansson made her switch it off.

She said, "You know that every sound disturbs the Baron."

Just then there came a terrific crash. Tiles were torn from the roof. The wind was trying to scalp the head of Hanssonborg.

"We cannot keep this house standing another winter without repairs," sighed Fru Hansson. Then she sat up straighter, and Greta could see the question forming on her lips. "When are you going to set your wedding day?"

Greta suddenly stood up. Her lovely face was flushed with anger.

"You cannot force me to marry a coward," she told her mother.

Fru Hansson stiffened. "But the Baron is not a coward," she said. "In his family are men of valor, as brave and strong as those in our own."

Greta laughed. "You surely do not call Baron Karl brave and strong!" she said scornfully.

"Perhaps not strong," replied her mother. "His health is poor – for which he is not to blame. But I am sure he is no coward. If he were, you know well that I would never ask you to marry him!"

Greta knew. She knew that Fru Hansson, fearless and proud, loathed cowards.

She started to walk back and forth in the room. Suppose she were to prove to her mother that Baron Karl really was a coward. In that case, she would not have to marry him. But what good would it do? They would only lose Hanssonborg. She was in a trap, with no way out.

Another blast of wind, and the whole house shook. One day it might fall down. They would have to watch it crumble before their very eyes.

Next morning, Baron Karl came down to breakfast in a sullen mood. He said that the storm had kept him awake all night. He told them that he would soon be leaving Hanssonborg. Fru Hansson sighed and gave her daughter a wistful look of appeal.

After breakfast, when Greta went for her usual stroll with the Baron, she said, "Please don't go away. We want you to stay."

Karl stopped and stared at her unbelievingly. It was the first time she had ever spoken to him like that.

"Then you will set our wedding day?" he asked her, and his nose twitched with excitement and hay fever.

"Yes," answered Greta. "Let it be whenever you wish it."

At that, the Baron became so excited that he swallowed three pills at once and choked. They had to hurry back to the house. Greta spent the rest of the morning weeping in her room.

Meanwhile, in the twisting streets of Stockholm, Erik and his schoolmates were again sightseeing. It was their last day. They were returning home that evening.

However, Erik was planning to go to Herr Banker's house that afternoon to hear Herr Banker's answer. He was seeing the city through a maze of worried hopes, praying that Herr Banker would agree to help the Hanssons.

Everywhere in Stockholm was water; everywhere were glistening waterways with ships upon them. There were bridges and harbors and quays.

The royal palace was the most important building. The teacher told them that Sweden is one of the few countries in Europe which still retains its king.

They visited the spot where, hundreds of years ago, the King of Denmark beheaded the leading citizens of Stockholm. This terrible tragedy is known as "the Blood Bath."

They stopped to admire a statue of Jenny Lind. Erik remembered what Herr Banker had said last evening about the "Swedish Nightingale." He had said that Erik, too, might grow up to be a singer.

"And I shall sing for Herr Banker all the rest of my life," thought Erik, "if only he will say, 'yes' to me this afternoon."

"What are you muttering about, Erik?" asked the teacher. "Why do you walk with your head in the clouds? You can see nothing that way."

It was true. Erik might as well have been in the moon. He had forgotten where he was, in thinking about Herr Banker.

Now he brought himself back to earth and found that they had arrived at the Outdoor Museum of Skansen. Old-fashioned cottages, tiny farms, and windmills had been brought here from every part of Sweden.

Children danced in the costumes of their provinces, and one could often tell to which parish they belonged by the dress they wore. If a woman was married, her cap was white. But if she was single, then it was red.

When the day's excursion was over, Erik started off to Herr Banker's. He promised to return to the hotel and join his schoolmates in time to take the train.

He ran almost all the way to the banker's house. Once an automobile came near hitting him, but he jumped upon one of the small safety islands. There he stayed for what seemed like weeks, while buses, taxicabs, motorcycles, and swarms of bicycles passed in a steady stream.

He would put down his foot and start to cross, when whiz! – something with an angry horn or bell would almost take off his nose. At last, however, he made a dash and found himself on the other side of the street.

When he reached Herr Banker's house, he rang the doorbell and felt his heart slide down into his boots. This time, the butler did not make him wait, but showed him right into Herr Banker's private study. There sat Herr Banker behind a big desk, smiling at him.

"Good day, Erik," he said.

"Good day, sir," gulped Erik and promptly fell over a footstool.

His face turned scarlet. He felt ashamed. He was only an awkward country boy.

"Sit down, Erik," said his host kindly.

Erik sat down upon the edge of a chair and leaned forward eagerly.

"Oh, sir," he breathed, "are you going to help Fru Hansson?"

The banker began, "I should like to, Erik, very much – "

"He's going to help! He's going to help!" sang Erik inside.

"But – " Herr Banker's smile faded and Erik's song died, "but I'm afraid that I cannot." There was a moment's silence before Herr Banker went on. "Still," he said, "I can do something else for you, Erik. I am planning a little journey through Sweden. I am taking my family along. How would you like to go with us?"

Erik's eyes grew big. He had never been on a real journey. This trip to Stockholm had been his very first. He had never traveled before in his whole life. He forgot Hanssonborg. He forgot Greta and Nils and everything except this promise of a new adventure. It was too wonderful to be true. He had always hoped to see the beauties of his country, about which he had read so much.

"Oh, thank you, sir!" he cried.

Then he remembered. Herr Banker was not going to lend Fru Hansson the money. Greta would have to marry the Baron, and the Baron would become master of Hanssonborg.

He rose from his chair. He twisted his little cap in his hands, and said slowly, "I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot go with you."

Herr Banker seemed astonished. "And why not, Erik?" he asked.

"Because," replied Erik, "I could not enjoy myself while at home there is so much sorrow."

Herr Banker stroked his chin. Then suddenly he clapped his hand down hard on the desk.

"Very well. You have won, Erik," he said. "I'll lend Fru Hansson the money. But it will be my own, and if I should lose it – " He frowned darkly, but Erik could tell that it was a make-believe frown. "If I should lose it, do you know what I'll make you do?"

Erik shook his head. He could not trust himself to speak. He thought that he might cry if he did, because he was so happy.

"I'll make you sing to me night and day forever afterwards."

Herr Banker laughed, and so did Erik, and it was all settled between them. Herr Banker was to secure the permission of Erik's parents and of his teacher, that he might go along on the trip through Sweden. Summer vacation would soon be here, so he would not miss school. Besides, the trip itself would be a wonderful education to the little country boy.

Herr Banker gave Erik a letter to Fru Hansson, written in his own handwriting. It promised Fru Hansson a loan on her estate, and Erik was to deliver the letter himself when he returned to Hanssonborg. What a glorious surprise for Fru Hansson and for Greta and for Nils!

But Erik did not know what had recently taken place at Hanssonborg. He did not know that Greta had at last agreed to let the Baron name their wedding day.

Fru Hansson was, on the contrary, delighted when she heard this. That same evening, they talked over plans for the wedding.

Greta was silent and finally the Baron said, "Greta has made no suggestions. I think she should be the one to set the happy day."

Greta wanted to cry out, "It will not be a happy day. I wish it would never come." But aloud she answered, "It makes no difference to me."

"Then let us be married on Midsummer Eve," said Baron Karl, and poor Greta felt a lump come into her throat.

Midsummer Eve is one of Sweden's most festive occasions, for then the sun is at its highest. Greta recalled the many happy times when she and Nils had danced around the Maypole with the peasants. For on that night, tenant and landlord celebrate together, and there is no difference in class.

Fru Hansson saw the tears come into Greta's eyes, and she quickly said, "Very well. It shall be as the Herr Baron wishes. The wedding shall take place on Midsummer Eve."

So the invitations were sent out.

CHAPTER VIII

THE TRIP

That evening Erik dined with the banker and his family. The banker's little girl was named Inga and the boy, Johan. Johan was Erik's age; Inga was younger.

When dinner was over, the children were excused from the table and both rushed up to their parents crying, "I first! I first!"

This same thing happened every day. They always argued as to which should be the first to kiss their parents and to thank them for their bountiful meal.

Erik was bursting with happiness and also with the bountiful meal. Herr Banker's letter was safely tucked away in his pocket. He wondered whether it might not be well to send it right off. But he decided not to.

He wanted to be there to watch Greta's joy and Nils's relief and the Baron's departure. Besides, what difference would a few days make? Erik could hardly have guessed.

And so, the letter still in his pocket, he left Stockholm several days later with Herr Banker and his family. They were bound for the island of Gotland.

As the boat pulled out of the harbor, Erik was so excited that he nearly fell over the rail. Johan pulled him back by the coattails.

Next morning at daybreak the passengers were on deck to see the famous skyline of Visby (vēs´bü), Gotland's "City of Ruins and Roses." It is one of the oldest in western Europe.

"They call Visby 'the Lost City,'" said Johan, "because once it was supposed to be down at the bottom of the sea."

Later as they entered the dream-like town, with its roofless ruins and rose-covered cottages, Erik almost believed the strange legend to be true.

But the truth is that, years ago, this tiny island town was the richest and most important trading center on the Baltic Sea.

Great walls surrounded it, with towers and gateways and moats. These walls are still there – a medieval memory of grandeur and strength.

The boys left Herr Banker, Fru Banker, and young Inga at an open-air cafe, sipping coffee, and started off to explore.

They stood in a market square before the ruins of a fine old cathedral, and they thought of the sacking of Visby. In 1361, the King of Denmark captured the town. He sat upon a throne in the market place, while the terrified people laid the wealth of their city at his feet.

There was a battle, and eighteen hundred peasants were killed. The boys visited a museum, where they saw relics and learned how the townspeople were tortured by the Danish king.

They felt further depressed, as they went to the spot where sea robbers of old were hanged. They gazed raptly upon the gallows tree where pirates used to dangle.

"Like washing hanging out to dry, I suppose," said Erik solemnly.

Finally they stood on the warm beach, and they thought of the Vikings. Johan told Erik that those rugged seafarers had once lived upon this island.

"They traveled to far countries," said the banker's son, "and they brought back their treasure. They settled in many other places, too: in Scotland and Ireland and even in North America."

Johan knew so much. Erik wanted to show that he, too, knew interesting things.

So he said, "Old Scandinavian legends say that Leif Ericson was the first Norseman to land in North America."

That was important. Erik stuck his hands firmly into his pockets and frowned knowingly.

But Johan added, "Leif Ericson was said to have named that country Vinland because he and his men found grapes growing wild there. Today it is part of the United States. Historians think it may have been the states of Virginia and Maryland."

Erik frowned more heavily than ever. Was there nothing that Johan didn't know?

Erik said furiously, "The Monitor was a famous United States battleship. It was built by a Swede."

"There now," he thought, "I've told him something."

But again Johan added, "His name was John Ericsson, and he also invented the first ship's screw propeller."

Erik made a noise like a porpoise coming out of the water for air. Could he never get ahead of Johan?

They started back to join the family. All the way, Johan talked about the disasters that had robbed Visby of her power: fights among the merchants, the Black Death, and the siege by the King of Denmark. Finally other countries captured her trade and Visby became "the Lost City."

The following day, the banker's party left the island and returned to the mainland.

"Little boys must never play with matches," said Herr Banker and laughed.

Erik did not know what he meant. They were on the train going to Jönköping (yûn´chû´pĭng).

When they arrived, Erik discovered that the town of Jönköping is the home of the Swedish Match Company. It was clean and well kept and full of flowers, though it is a factory center.

Erik wanted to see the factories, but Herr Banker informed him that it was against the rules for visitors to enter the buildings.

"They guard their secrets," said Herr Banker. Then he asked the boys some questions. "How many people on earth do you suppose use Swedish matches?" he inquired.

They looked at him with blank expressions.

Herr Banker answered, "Two out of every three. And how many different box labels do you think are made?" he next inquired.

Their faces resembled pink zeros.

"Nine thousand, and in different languages," he told them. "Certain uncivilized countries use these match boxes in place of money."

From Jönköping they traveled through the province of Smaland, (smō´länd) where for centuries men have been making glass.

In the south, they visited the Cathedral of Lund, where a sacred grove once grew. London, England, was also built upon a sacred "lund," which means "grove" in Swedish.

At noontime, people flocked to the great cathedral to hear and see a most unusual clock. Mechanical figures marched out, music played, and Erik's mouth fell open.

Inga, who was full of mischief, dropped her rubber ball into Erik's mouth, and he was so wrapped up in the music that he started to chew it. He came back to earth quite abruptly.

They were now in the province of Scania (skā´nĭ-ȧ). The ancestors of these Scanians are supposed to have given the name, Scandinavia, to the countries of Sweden, Norway, Denmark, and Finland.

Scania is rich and beautiful. It is called "the granary of Sweden." Its plains are dotted with fine old castles and estates.

They reminded Erik of his beloved Hanssonborg, and he pulled the banker's letter to Fru Hansson out of his pocket. Should he send the letter to Fru Hansson?

Erik had gone out alone today and was wandering about the city of Hälsingborg (hĕl´sĭng-bŏr´y'). Johan had stayed at the hotel, nursing a blister on a travel-weary foot. Fru Banker and Inga were resting, and Herr Banker had gone to Copenhagen (kō´p'n-hā´gĕn), Denmark. He would be back for dinner.

Erik felt a bit concerned. The trip had taken much longer than he had expected, and there was, even now, no mention of their return home.

He stood on one of the many slopes of the city, which is called "Pearl of the Sound," and he looked across at the Danish coast. Over there was historic Elsinore, the scene of Shakespeare's play, "Hamlet."

Erik knew only one line from that play, and it was: "To be or not to be; that is the question." His question was: Should he or should he not post Fru Hansson's letter?

He did not want to post it. He wanted to bring it home himself. He could imagine the exciting scene. He saw himself handing the letter to Fru Hansson with a flourish. He pictured her beaming gratitude.

Greta would muss up his hair and laugh and call him her brave knight. Then the Baron would eat up all his pills, including the bottles, and Nils would marry Greta.

They would "live happily ever afterwards." These were Erik's favorite words in the fairy tales, and there was a whole library of fairy tales stuffed inside of Erik. He longed to take part in one.

So he decided not to post the letter, but to bring it home himself. It meant nothing to him that Midsummer Eve was fast approaching.

The banker's family journeyed to Gothenburg (gŏt´ĕn-bûrg), Sweden's second city and most important seaport. Herr Banker told them how it had been founded.

"One day," said he, "a little bird fell at the feet of the soldier-king, Gustavus Adolphus. It had been pursued by an eagle. Gustavus believed this to be a good sign, so he built a city in the valley below."

In the Gothenburg Art Museum they saw the paintings of Sweden's great artist, Anders Zorn. Herr Banker took them to the busy harbor. It was filled with fishing boats and many tiny islands, which looked like red-brown freckles on the water. The sun shone down with real Swedish energy, as though enjoying its work.

Erik heard Herr Banker say that tomorrow they were to leave for Stockholm. They were to cross Sweden in the train.

"And tomorrow night we shall be at home once more," said Fru Banker.

"Oh, let us go by way of the Göta (yû´tä) Canal!" begged Johan. "Erik has never been there, and it is so much fun!"

"But it will take three days longer," objected Fru Banker.

She was eager to return, for there was much to be done in preparation for the yearly holiday at their country home.

"Oh, please!" urged Johan, and now Inga and Erik joined in the chorus. "Please, please!" they cried. "The Göta Canal!"

Fru Banker hesitated. "The time is flying by," she said. "Midsummer Eve will soon be – "

But the chorus of voices shouting, "Please! Please!" drowned out her words.

CHAPTER IX

THE GÖTA CANAL

Fru Banker agreed to return to Stockholm by way of the Göta Canal. Herr Banker assured her that they would be home two days before Midsummer Eve; and so she was satisfied.

The attractive little canal boat pulled out of Gothenburg's cobbled docks. The Göta River made a lazy pathway through fields and meadows.

It was like floating through land, and one could almost touch the horses and cows in the pastures close by.

Erik felt just the way he did at the circus. There was so much to see that he could not possibly see it all. The river was so narrow in places that at times it seemed as though the ship would stick between shores. But the captain always steered them through safely.

The boat was lifted up and down for seventy-two locks. Erik never tired of watching the lock gates opening and closing.

Frequently the boat would stop to take on passengers and freight. At these times, Erik and Johan would jump off and wander about the countryside. It was upon one of these excursions that something happened to them.

They had been passing medieval castles along the route. Among them was Bohus, once a powerful stronghold, whose two ruined towers are now called Father's Hat and Mother's Cap.

Another was Läcko (lĕck´ō) Castle, which sits upon Lake Väner (vĕ´nẽr), the largest lake in Europe, except for those in Russia. Erik was charmed with Läcko's fierce mystery.

But as the great bulk of Vadstena (vaud´stān-ȧ) Castle came into view across Lake Vätter (vĕt´tẽr), Erik felt a thrill of pride. He could hardly wait to visit it.

Whenever the boys left the boat, Fru Banker cautioned them to remember to return in time. For, should they be late, the boat would go off without them.

Now, however, as they examined Vadstena Castle, with its ancient moats and ramparts, they forgot this advice. Their minds were filled with pictures of the days when Sweden was at war, when Gustavus Vasa (gŭs tā´vŭs vä´sȧ), who built it, gained independence for the Swedish people.

Wandering farther and farther from the boat, the boys talked of their hero.

"I heard," said Erik, "that once Gustavus Vasa dressed himself as a peasant and went from village to village, trying to raise an army with which to fight the Danish King."

Johan gave him a look which plainly said, "Everybody knows that," and added, "He had to give up, though. He started to leave the country, hungry and discouraged, when the people of Dalecarlia sent ski-runners after him and brought him back."

"There is a ski competition every year," barked Erik, "and the ski-runners cover the same ground that Gustavus Vasa traveled that day!" He'd show Johan!

But Johan calmly returned, "I've been there. I've seen his statue at Mora, which is the finish of the race."

Erik glared. Then suddenly and for no reason, except that he had nothing more to say, he cried, "I'll race you!"