FOOTNOTES:
[10] Blinking weather.
[11] Sea-side.
[12] Lingering in the country.
[13] "Picture Book without Pictures."
[14] Good day.
[15] Farewell.
[16] Squares.
[17] Hunter, or Messenger.
CHAPTER III
"HURRAH FOR KING FREDERIK!"
"Valdemar, tell me! What is a real king like?" exclaimed Karl, as both boys sprang quickly out of bed bright and early Monday morning. "Is a real king something like a President, only he's all gorgeous with flashing decorations, and a sword and helmet,—like the pictures of Napoleon and the German Emperor?"
"Karl, you must have been dreaming about kings! I can't tell you whether a king is like a President or not, for I've never seen a President," said Valdemar. "But I am sure of one thing, and that is that our King isn't one bit like the German Emperor! King Frederik just looks like the very best king Denmark ever had, and that is what he really is!"
"Oh, excuse me, Valdemar. I forgot that you don't love the Germans. But does King Frederik come riding a great prancing charger with an arched neck and—"
"You'll soon enough see for yourself how the King looks, Karl. Oh, there's Uncle Thor! Uncle Thor, how long before we can start?" cried Valdemar, who was himself almost as excited over the prospect of seeing two great kings at once, as was Karl. Valdemar had never seen King Haakon of Norway, son of his own dear King, and, although Karl, who was nearly twelve years old, had seen two Presidents, and gone once with his father to the White House in Washington, he had never seen a real live king in all his short life.
"Oh, father dear!" he cried, "when can we start? There! I think I heard a bugle! Oh, do let's go!"
"We will start before very long, Karl, but not until you boys have had your tea and bread. And, if I'm not mistaken, I heard Valdemar's uncle say that he was to have a good lesson in drawing this morning. King Haakon's ship does not arrive in Copenhagen harbor before almost noon, so there will be plenty of time."
"Yes, I do want my lesson!" said Valdemar, as they finished their cups of hot tea. "I'm ready, Uncle Thor," he called out, as he saw his uncle passing.
Valdemar was in a very happy frame of mind this fine June morning, for his uncle had praised his work of the day before. Valdemar had modelled a half life-sized figure of his Great Dane, Frederik, and, to his great surprise, Uncle Thor had not only said that it was good, but had told his mother that it undeniably showed evidence of real talent. Nothing could please Valdemar more.
Saturday's sightseeing had given them all a taste for more. Fortunately, Karl had brought his bicycle with him from Chicago, and so the two boys followed on their wheels, while Fru Ingemann took her brother, Mr. Hoffman, and little Karen all in a carriage, and drove the length of the beautiful Shore Road, called the Langelinie, or Long Line,—Copenhagen's fashionable drive, that stretches for miles along the sea. The place was gay with Sunday crowds,—walking, riding, wheeling, driving,—all out enjoying the warm June sunshine, as well as the bracing sea-breeze.
When they reached the quaint old Citadel, they left the carriage and strolled about the earthworks, viewing the monument made from the guns of the wrecked Dannebrog, a ship fitly named after the Danish flag. Promenaders thronged the Shore Road at this point, gazing at the shipping of all nations which here covered the Sound, and off into the dim distance, at the shores of Sweden.
Karl thought that his Aunt Else must have hosts of little friends, for all the small boys bowed, and the little girls courtesied so prettily, as she passed. But Fru Ingemann explained to him that it was only a custom of all well-bred Danish children to bow and courtesy to their elders, and then she told him how, every spring at Paaske, or Easter, as we call it, this beautiful Shore Road is thronged all day long with gay crowds all decked out in their Paaske finery, as it is again later at Store Bededag, or Great Praying Day, on the fourth Friday after Easter.
From here they drove out to the old Castle of Rosenborg, with its fine garden where little children were playing about the statued-form of their beloved story-teller, Hans Christian Andersen; and then straight home again, passing, on their way, the royal residential quarter, Amalienborg, which forms a great open Square, adorned with the beautiful Marble Church, and, in the centre of the Square, with a statue of King Frederik V.
"Now we're off!" said Uncle Thor, as Valdemar finished a very good drawing lesson, for Karl and his father, and Karen and her mother were already waiting.
At first the electric tram simply flew. But, as they approached the down-town section of the city, its way was often blocked by the dense crowds, who, like themselves, were coming to witness the arrival of Copenhagen's honored royal guest, His Majesty, King Haakon of Norway.
"Norroway-over-the-Foam, as it was once called," laughed Fru Ingemann, "is a land of beauty which we must all visit some day. It is so many, many times the size of our little Denmark that it makes us feel, by comparison at least, a very small country indeed."
"But Denmark occupies more space on the map than either Belgium or Holland," said Valdemar.
"And Denmark is nearly twice the size of Massachusetts," added Karl. "But, oh! Just do look at the terrible crowds!—and right here is where we get off! Father says 'Come!'"
All at once they were thrust into the vast crowd. All Copenhagen seemed suddenly to have poured by thousands forth into the streets, and the flags of Norway and Denmark floated everywhere side by side.
"If only we can make the opposite side of the street!" said Uncle Thor, nervously looking about him in every direction, "we shall be safe, for right up there, on the second floor of that building, is my friend's office, from the window of which we are to view the royal procession. Ah! we're safe now!"
No sooner had they taken their positions in the large open window, than they heard, in the distance, a cannon's loud report. It was followed by a salute of guns and loud cheering.
"There!" said both boys at once. "That means that King Haakon has landed, and is now on his way here!"
The cheering sounded nearer and nearer, and the cannon continued to boom.
"Forty guns!" said Valdemar, who had been counting. "Forty guns is Denmark's royal salute. Karen dear, can you see?"
"Yes, thank you, brother," said the child, whose feet were fairly dancing with so much excitement. "But look! They are clearing the street! The people are being made to keep back on the sidewalks. Listen! That is our glorious old National Hymn that the splendid Royal Guards are now playing. The King must be near! Listen, Karl! Oh, isn't it all thrilling!"
Nearer and nearer sounded the familiar strains.
"It is splendid, Karen," conceded Karl, "but I'd like the Star Spangled Banner just as well, and, besides, I guess a king's no bigger'n a President! Oh, look!" But it was only an advance guard of mounted police.
"I'm glad, mother, that our window has the largest flag in town flying from it," said Valdemar. "I just do hope the King will look up here and see it! Listen! Now the people are beginning to cheer right down here under our very window! And the men are doffing their hats!"
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" cheered the loyal thousands, as the scarlet-coated King's Guard came in view.
"Oh!" gasped Karen, with a long-drawn breath of delight. "Oh! isn't it glorious! Hear the bugle! And here come the mounted Hussars with their little red capes fastened on one shoulder, and swords flashing! How splendidly they ride!"
"Mother, I'm going to wave my own flag when the King's carriage passes!" cried patriotic little Valdemar. "If King Frederik will only look up! Don't you hope he will, Karl? Oh! there's his carriage now! Yes, he sees my flag waving! He's looking! I'm going to cheer! Hurrah for King Frederik!"
The King heard and raised his head. His eyes fell directly upon Valdemar's bright face, as had been the case that long ago day, in the Children's Hospital. King Frederik smiled, bowed, and gave the lad a military salute of recognition. King Haakon was seated beside King Frederik, but Valdemar did not see him. In the following carriage were the two queens, Queen Maud of Norway, and their own beloved Danish Queen Lowisa, with little Crown Prince Olaf, of Norway, seated between them; but Valdemar saw only King Frederik.
"Mother! He knew me!" cried Valdemar, as the brilliant procession passed slowly out of sight, and the music, whose strains came faintly back to them, had changed from Denmark's "Kong Christian" to the Norwegian National Hymn in honor of King Haakon.
CHAPTER IV
UP THE SOUND TO HAMLET'S CASTLE
"Mother dear, how fine and cool the sea-breeze feels!" exclaimed Valdemar, as the little Sound steamer puffed along over the bright Baltic waves, past the big merchant-ships on the blue Sound, making many stops on its way up towards historic old Elsinore, the spot made famous by Shakespeare.
Uncle Oscar had departed three days before, going directly to the Jutland Park, to begin preparations for the entertaining of the thousands of loyal Danish-American visitors, expected to arrive in time for the Fourth celebration, and Fru Ingemann had given him her promise to meet him there, with the three children, for that great event.
For it had not taken Fru Ingemann long to decide that Uncle Oscar's plan for the summer was best. Summer days are long, but few, in Denmark,—the winters cold and stormy,—and Karen and Valdemar needed the trip as much as did Karl, she told herself. So the little party of four were already on their way north, to see for themselves all the wonders and beauties of Jutland, of which Karl's father had been telling them.
Once Fru Ingemann had decided, the days fairly flew. Valdemar wanted to start at once. But there was all the packing to be done—of things to be left, and things to be taken—and the flat to be closed for at least several months.
Karen, who had never before been farther from home than their own little villa up on the Strandvej, was overjoyed and danced busily about, saving her mother steps in a thousand different ways; while Valdemar and Karl surprised Fru Ingemann by getting out ladders, buckets and brushes, and nicely whitewashing all the flat windows, which was really being very useful indeed.
"Aunt Else, why is our steamer so awfully crowded with people? Are the Sound boats always like this?" asked Karl, who could hardly turn his chair around without knocking into some one.
"Yes, Karl, it's like this every year at 'Deer-Park-time.' The huge crowds are as eager as ourselves to leave Copenhagen with the first warm day and flee to Skoven,[18] for we Danes love our beautiful woods. With the first bursting of the beech-buds, everybody asks everybody else: 'Have you been in the woods yet?' And then by thousands—young and old—they flock to our beloved beech-woods. Those who cannot find room on the boats take the first train, or carriage, or cycle, or car, or even foot it—any way at all in order to reach the Deer Park, for that is where most of them go. After we make a stop there, we shall have plenty of room on our boat, Karl. Look! We are passing Charlottenlund, the Crown Prince's palace. You can see it up among those fine old trees."
"Then, Aunt Else," asked Karl, "isn't 'Deer-Park-time' something like our American 'Indian Summer,' only that it comes in the spring? It's your finest part of spring, and our best part of fall, when every one wants to live out of doors. Isn't that it?"
"That's just right, Karl," laughed Fru Ingemann. "And a little Danish boy would feel almost as badly not to be taken to the beech-woods when 'Deer-Park-time' comes, as would a little English boy if he got no plum pudding on Christmas day, or a little Scotch boy without his currant bun on New Year's Day, or a nice little American boy like you, Karl, if he couldn't have any firecrackers for his Fourth of July celebration. But here we are stopping at the Deer Park now. Half the people are getting off."
Valdemar's eyes looked far beyond the disembarking crowds landing at the pier. He saw only the dark pine trees in the distance, straight and tall, suggesting to his imaginative mind giant masts for Viking ships. Many a fine day had he spent tramping through those tree-shaded walks with his mother, while she told him wonderful stories about Denmark's great heroes of old.
"In America, we like to go to the woods, too," said Karl; "but not just to walk and walk all day. We like to play ball, or climb the trees for nuts, or keep doing something all the time. Do you ever do anything but just walk, in your woods?"
"Sometimes, on a warm summer's evening in the woods, we sing some beautiful old hymn, like Grundtwig's:
"'For Danes have their home where the fair beeches grow,
By shores where forget-me-nots cluster,
And fairest to us, by cradle and grave,
The blossoming field by the swift-flowing wave.'
There are no people in all the world, Karl, who have the same simple love for their trees, as do the Danes," explained his Aunt Else.
"There, Karl, we are starting again," said Valdemar.
The beautiful Deer Park, with its masses and pyramids of green foliage, followed the Sound-Shore for five miles before the steamer had left it behind. The boat kept close to the shore, stopping frequently at the little, red-roofed settlements, inviting little villas and sea-bathing resorts, to let off more passengers, for everybody in Copenhagen who can, must lie on the Strandvej for at least a part of every summer, enjoying the out-of-doors amusements, the bathing, the woods, sea, sky and sunshine. Nestling among the trees of the Strandvej, for miles, were little white, yellow, and green villas, among them Fru Ingemann's,—at the sight of which Karen, who always felt a little sick on the water, brightened, and exclaimed:
"There, Karl, is ours! You must come back and spend another summer with us up there. We do have the best times, don't we, Valdemar?"
The afternoon was singularly fine. Hundreds of ships were gliding silently past them in one continuous procession.
"Why," exclaimed Karl, "there must be the flags of every nation on the globe. I've counted the Russian, German, French, English, Swedish, Norwegian, Italian, Greek, Spanish and Portuguese flags, and, look!—there is a steamer with our dear old United States flag! How narrow the sound is growing, Aunt Else. The mountains of Sweden look nearer and nearer. I believe that, if I yelled loud enough, the people over there could easily hear me."
"Yes, Karl, we must be nearing Helsingör, for the Sound certainly is narrowing rapidly. It is less than two miles wide at that point. It hardly seems three hours since we left Copenhagen," remarked Fru Ingemann.
"Oh, mother, look! Isn't that old Kronborg now?" exclaimed Valdemar. "That is surely Hamlet's Castle, mother! Helsingör is where we land!"
"Yes, it is grim old Kronborg Castle, Valdemar. Many a tale its old gray walls could tell of terrible fighting, royal merrymaking, and of sadness. Karen and you, boys, shall go all through it when we land. For three hundred years Kronborg was the key to the Sound, keeping a sentry-like guard over the gate between the Baltic and the North Sea. For before the Kiel Canal was cut, as many as twenty thousand ships every year passed through this narrow strait, bound for Russian and Swedish ports; and Denmark grew rich from the Sound dues she collected. Now, the gates are open to the ships of all countries, and, when foreign sovereigns or men-of-war glide through this narrow silvery streak dividing Sweden and Denmark, old Kronborg's cannon give a friendly salute. But, come, we are landing now."
It was but a few minutes' walk up to the frowning old fortress on the promontory, with its many lofty, gray stone towers rising from the castellated roof. Karl was seeing for the first time in all his life a real "fairy-tale" castle, surrounded by a broad moat and ramparts.
First they were shown the apartments occupied by the royal family when, at rare times, they visit Kronborg. Passing a little chapel, with its carved choir-stalls and pulpit, they found themselves, after a fatiguing ascent, out upon the flat roof of a great square tower, from which they gazed in admiration in all directions, for the day was remarkably clear and bright.
Far and near, over land and sea, the view was magnificent. To the east rose the mountainous Swedish coast, and, to the north, the gleaming blue waters of the Sound expanded into the equally blue Kattegat. All was still, like noon. Nothing seemed to move but the multitude of white sails silently passing and repassing through the narrow silvery strait below.
"Mother dear, do you think I shall ever be able to paint anything so beautiful as this? Uncle Thor could do it justice, mother; but I—"
"Yes, dear, if you work hard enough," was his mother's only answer, as she drew his coat collar closer about his neck, for a chill wind had risen.
"The Swedish coast is so near, mother, that I can see the windows of the houses," said Karen. "The coast doesn't look dangerous, does it, mother; but Valdemar says the guard told him he had seen as many as six shipwrecks here in one night."
"Yes, child, there are often bad storms on this coast; for the Kattegat is very rough and dangerous at times. Now we must go."
"But Aunt Else, I want to see the famous platform where the ghost of Hamlet's father walked that night," protested Karl, as the little party started down.
"Why, my dear boy, the ghost of Hamlet's father is believed to have paraded this very platform, right here where we are standing," laughed his aunt, as she put her arm about little Karen, who shuddered at the thought.
"Don't you know the familiar verse, Karl?
"'And I knew that where I was standing,
In old days long gone by,
Hamlet had heard at midnight
The ominous spectre cry.'
"This is, indeed, the far-famed castle of Elsinore, of glorious Shakespeare's fancy, Karl. You must, of course, have read about it in your school in Chicago," said Fru Ingemann, with a twinkle in her eye. "Through the magic of Shakespeare's great genius this out-of-the-way corner of our beloved little Denmark has become forever famous the whole world over. But come quickly, all of you; we have much yet to see this afternoon, before we take our steamer for Aarhus."
"Wasn't it here in this fortress, too, that beautiful Queen Caroline Matilda was imprisoned until her brother, George III, sent her to Germany, where she soon died?" asked Valdemar, as they hurried down.
"And, oh, Aunt Else, isn't it right here in this castle that Holger Danske stays?" demanded Karl.
"Yes, Valdemar, Queen Caroline Matilda was a prisoner here; and Karl, no one can ever see Holger Danske, although it is believed that he is alive somewhere down in the underground vaults of this fortress, and that, whenever Denmark needs him, he will arise and come to her aid. All little Danish boys know him. Valdemar, you tell Karl the story," said Fru Ingemann, as the little party hurried on.
"Well, Karl, Holger Danske is the great national hero of Danish tradition, the founder of the Danish nation, in fact," began Valdemar, who was thoroughly familiar with his country's history and traditions. "Holger Danske's cradle was a warrior's shield, so the story goes, and he sits down in the deep dark dungeon of this fortress, all alone, clad in iron and steel, his head forever resting on his strong arms, bending over a marble table to which his great long beard has grown fast. There he forever slumbers and dreams that he sees and knows everything that is happening above in his beloved Denmark. Whenever his country is in peril, or stands in need of his services, he will appear. But, every Christmas night, one of God's angels visits him in his dungeon, and assures him that all his dreams are true, and that Denmark is threatened with no extraordinary danger, and that he may sleep on again."
As they reached the Castle grounds, the guide pointed out the old moat, where Ophelia drowned herself, and the spring near by that bears her name. Then he took them to the grave of the melancholy Dane, in a beautiful shaded spot, marked by a moss-grown cairn of stones, and a granite shaft bearing the inscription:
"HAMLET'S GRAV."