again.
Now the song-story, Herr Lönnrot said, was made up ages before; longbefore people had paper or pens with which to write. So the story hadbeen handed down from parents to their children, who sang it from yearto year simply from memory; for people had wonderful memories in thosedays.
It had begun so very long ago, however, and the whole story was solong, that the peasant folk had gradually forgotten parts of it; insome families one part or rune, as the people called it, would behanded down from generation to generation, and in others, some otherpart.
Now Herr Lönnrot was a physician of much learning, and aside fromhis work of healing the sick, he had a great fondness for beautifulstories. He had spent much time among the peasants especially to learnsuch parts of the lost song-story as they might happen to know, and wasnow devoting his old age to gathering up as many as possible of theserunes.
And then, he told Elsa, he intended to fit them together and write themdown so that none should ever again be forgotten, and so that thewhole world might read this great Finnish story.
“Ah,” said Herr Lönnrot, with kindling eyes, “every one who has lovefor old Finland should help save this wonderful song, for ’twill be tothe glory of our nation, even as the songs of Homer have been to theglory of the Greeks!”
And in this Herr Lönnrot spoke what is perfectly true: for all wisepersons know that to add a beautiful poem or song or story to thecollection that every nation gradually makes up for itself, is rightlyconsidered a far more glorious thing than to discover a whole mountainof gold and diamonds. And so the Herr wished greatly to find andrestore this beautiful scattered story to the poetic wealth of Finlandand of the world.
He then went on to explain to Elsa that the scholars found these songsto cluster about three ancient heroes, and of these, one, the mightywizard Wainamoinen, was the most powerful of all.
Here Elsa, who had been listening attentively, smiled.
“Yes,” she said, “I know many songs of Wainamoinen and the rest.”
“Of that I am sure,” said Herr Lönnrot; “but there is one rune thattells of the birth of the harp: how Wainamoinen fashioned the firstkantele from the bones of a magic fish, and how he sang with suchmarvelous sweetness that all living things drew near to harken to him.Of this rune I have heard many peasant-singers speak, but have soughtin vain for one who can teach me the whole of it. And I must find itbefore I can complete the story!”
Here Herr Lönnrot sighed, and dropping his head upon his breast seemedlost in thought. Presently a fit of coughing seized him; and then hecontinued:
“Dost think, little one, that thy father knows aught of this rune?”
Elsa thought very hard trying to recall the rune; she was obliged toanswer:
“Nay, sir; in truth he hath taught me many runes about Wainamoinen andthe others, but I know not how the harp was born. But,” she added,“my father will be home at supper-time; he is helping thatch neighborFriedvic’s new barn, and perhaps he can tell thee!”
“Perhaps,” said Herr Lönnrot. “Thy neighbor Jan told me he thought thyfather knew something of this rune I seek.”
Even as they talked, a whistle sounded without, and Elsa clapped herhands joyously.
“There is my father now!” and bounding to the door she flung it wideopen. As the peasant Sveaborg stepped within, seeing Herr Lönnrot, hetook off his cap and greeted him kindly, for strangers were alwayswelcome at the Sveaborg farm.
When the Herr told him why he was journeying through the country, andof the lost rune he was seeking, Elsa’s father grew much interested.
“The birth of the harp! Ah, sir,” said he, “I know not the whole runemyself, but I know of a peasant who does. I have heard him sing it,and truly ’tis of marvelous beauty! But he is very aged, and odd,sir”—here peasant Sveaborg tapped his forehead meaningly “and willteach it to no one else. Even now, I have been told, he is very ill,and like to die. I know not if thou canst learn aught from him, but ifthou wishest, I will take thee thither to-morrow.” And while they werebusy arranging the trip for the morrow, Fru Sveaborg came in, and withElsa’s help soon set out the evening meal.
As they ate their bowls of _pimea_ or sour milk, which is the chiefpart of every Finnish meal, Herr Lönnrot entertained them withwonderful stories of his travels and news of the outside world,till all were charmed; and Elsa, especially, thought him the mostdelightful traveler their roof had ever sheltered. Her admiration forhim deepened as the evening wore on, for the Herr, though evidently infeeble health and weary from his journey, yet talked so pleasantly thatall were sorry when by and by he bade them good night.
The next morning at breakfast, Herr Lönnrot did not appear; but thefamily did not think it strange, and supposing him still resting, didnot disturb him. Fru Sveaborg placed some breakfast for him in anearthen dish, which she set in the oven to keep warm. Then she wentabout her work.
But as the morning passed on, and still he did not come from hischamber, she became uneasy, and sent Elsa to tap upon his door. AsElsa lightly knocked, the door swung open, for there are no locks inFinland, and there lay Herr Lönnrot, motionless, on the floor of theroom! The aged physician had evidently arisen, and made himself readyfor the day, when, overcome by weakness, he had fallen in a swoon.
Elsa, thoroughly frightened, ran to the living-room, crying out:
“Mother! Mother! Herr Lönnrot is dying!”
At this the Fru hastened in, and with Elsa’s help, raised the frail oldman and placed him on a bench; and while her mother did what she couldto make him comfortable, Elsa hurried to the fields to send her fatherfor the village doctor.
As it was a long journey to the village it was almost nightfall beforethe peasant Sveaborg reached home.
Meantime Herr Lönnrot had passed from the swoon into a high fever, andall day his mind had wandered, and he had talked strangely; sometimesof his home and his journey, but more often of the lost rune of themagic harp, which seemed to trouble him sorely.
At last the doctor came, and after examining his patient, said that hewas suffering from the effects of a serious cold, and that he must bekept quiet and well cared for.
Then as Herr Lönnrot continued to toss and murmur, the doctor askedFru Sveaborg if she knew of aught that troubled him. As the Fru lookedperplexed, Elsa spoke.
“The rune, mother! Hark! even now he is speaking of it!”
And as they listened, the poor Herr, who had not the least notion ofwhat he was saying, exclaimed:
“The harp! Ah, yes, I must go seek it! the magic harp”—and here hebroke off into low, unintelligible words.
At this the doctor looked grave, and said that it was a pity thatanything seemed to be on the patient’s mind, as it might make the feverharder to overcome. He then measured out some medicines, and took hisleave, after giving Fru Sveaborg directions for caring for the agedpatient.
The next day, under the faithful nursing of Elsa’s mother, Herr Lönnrotseemed better, though still very weak, and when the doctor again sawhim, he said that with continued good care he thought all would gowell, but that the Herr must not think of going on with his journey fora week, at least. After this visit from the doctor, Elsa’s father, whohad been waiting at home in case he should be needed, told Fru Sveaborgthat he must go to finish the work he was doing at a neighboring farm,and as it would take him a day or two, he would stop on the way andsend the Fru’s sister to help her care for the sick stranger.
When her father was gone, and her mother busy about her work, Elsa drewout her wheel, and as she sat alone spinning as hard as she could, sheyet found time to think of a great many things. She thought of thelost rune of the birth of the harp, and of good Herr Lönnrot, lying onhis bed and chafing and worrying with every hour that his journey wasdelayed. Then she thought of the peasant Ulricborg, and of what herfather had told of his reported illness.
“Ah”, said she to herself, “what if he die before Herr Lönnrot cantravel thither! Then the rune may be lost forever, and dear HerrLönnrot c
an never, never finish the beautiful song-story!” The more shethought about it, the more Elsa became convinced that something shouldbe done, and that without delay.
She turned over in her mind a great many plans, and presently an ideaoccurred to her that made her smile happily; and, jumping up, she ranout to where Fru Sveaborg was arranging her milk-pans in the sun.
“Mother,” said Elsa, “mother, I wish to go to the peasant Ulricborg!”
“Why, child,” exclaimed her mother in amazement, “what dost thou wishwith the peasant Ulricborg?”
“I wish to learn from him the lost rune, so that Herr Lönnrot canfinish the beautiful song-story! He may die before the Herr can seehim!”
“But,” protested her mother, “thou canst not go alone, and thy fatheris too busy to go with thee now.”
“But, mother,” said Elsa, “’tis no such great journey; thou knowest Iwent thither once with father in the sleigh two years ago, and truly itseemed not far!” Elsa did not realize how swiftly a sleigh will speedover many, many miles. “I shall meet carts on the way, and I can stopat the Ringstrom farm
Troubadour Tales Page 5