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Archive for the tag “New Sweden”

A colony, a colony – we need a fricking colony!

Sweden hasn’t given American culture all that much: one very famous hymn (How Great Thou Art), one so-and-so famous revolutionary (Joe Hill), and one most emblematic building (the log cabin).  The log cabin? I see my American readers wrinkling their brows. Isn’t the log cabin a home grown invention? Nope. It’s as Swedish as zippers (oh, yes) and dynamite (sadly, yes).

But let’s take it from the beginning, shall we?

In the 17th century, every country that aspired to greatness needed a colony.  It was the accessory, so to say, and those that didn’t have one, didn’t really qualify as an important nation.

cabin Ferdinand_of_Aragon,_Isabella_of_Castile

Fernando & Isabel

This vogue started in the 15th century. After years of vicious bickering between Spain and Portugal, in 1493 Pope Alexander IV decided enough was enough and divided up the world between these two countries by establishing a dividing meridian 100 leagues west of Cape Verde. Portugal wasn’t too happy with the pope (who was Spanish and therefore, as per Portugal, biased) and after a lot of noise, the Portuguese king and Their Most Catholic Majesties of Spain, Fernando and Isabel, signed the Treaty of Tordesillas in 1494.

As per this treaty, Spain and Portugal divided up the non-Christian world, establishing a separating meridian approximately 370 leagues west of the Cape Verde islands. Anything west of that line befell to the Spanish – should they want it. They most certainly did, blatantly claiming everything beyond as theirs. And it was so easy to claim, wasn’t it? They just planted a flag in the sand and said “this is ours”.

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Columbus planting flags & thanking God

What the original inhabitants might have thought of all this was neither here nor there – at least as per the Europeans. In fact, the Spanish argued they were doing these poor savages a favour by bringing them the word of God. Unfortunately, with the word of God came such things as measles and smallpox and slavery, but hey, small price to pay for eternal salvation.

While Spain was busy sinking teeth and claws into the newly discovered continents to the west, Portugal was hogging everything else, from Africa to the Far East.

However, claiming and holding on to are two very different things. The Dutch had no intention of leaving all of Asia or Africa to the Portuguese. After all, the Dutch considered themselves as great a  nation of seafarers and merchants as the Portuguese – the Dutch would argue they were even greater – and where the Portuguese sailed, so did the Dutch. Nor did the Dutch intend to leave all of America to Spain and Portugal, being very quick to establish their own presence in Curacao.

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Handsome Raleigh

England had no intention of being left behind in this “grab what you can and annex it” rally. After all, what the Dutch could do, the English could do better. Men like Raleigh and Drake set their eyes on North America and with them came shiploads of their compatriots, all of them eager to claim their share of this virgin land.

Attendez! As any self-respecting Frenchman would tell you, there was nothing the English could do that they couldn’t do, and so off they went to claim their share of this new continent.

By the first decades of the 17th century, that old Treaty of Tordesillas was a dead duck in the water. Yes, the Spanish still insisted all of America was theirs, but no one listened to them. With French colonies here, English colonies there, the odd Dutch outpost somewhere else, it was apparent even to the haughty Spaniards that they were fighting a losing battle in North America. Instead, the Spanish government decided to concentrate its resources on defending South America and Mexico (after all, that was where the gold was).

Some European countries felt very left out. Take Sweden, which at the time was suffering from severe megalomaniac delusions. Had not that magnificent Swedish warrior king, Gustavus Adolphus more or less singlehandedly conquered all of Europe? (No. But us Swedes like to think he did…) And yet, something was missing, a je-ne-sais-quoi to raise Sweden to a station equivalent to that of Spain or France (Sweden never compared itself to England: too small, too poor…)  After some consideration, it dawned on the Swedes that what they needed was a colony.

cabin manhattan

“I get lands, you get beads, yes?” 

For those of you familiar with Swedes, you know we dither a long time over taking decisions (it’s called “creating consensus”) but are amazingly effective in implementing once the decision is taken. Once the Swedish Government had decided to go for a colony, off we went, and as Swedes can be quite pragmatic when necessary, in this case Sweden decided to hire a Dutch guy to find a colony for them. The Dutch guy in question was Peter Minuit, a true colonial veteran. This was the man credited with buying all of Manhattan from the natives for the equivalent of 60 Dutch guilders. Not only had he been governor of New Amsterdam, he had also been a director of the Dutch West India Company, and was therefore very familiar with who was claiming what where.

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Kalmare Nyckel

After some consideration, Peter Minuit directed the two Swedish ships, Kalmare Nyckel and Fågel Grip to the Delaware River. Somewhat devious, as this effectively meant he was infringing on land claimed by the Dutch. Not that Peter Minuit cared; he had scores to settle with his former colleagues in the Dutch West India Company, still smarting after having been ousted from the job as Governor of New Netherlands. Besides, Minuit insisted the Dutch only had deeds to the eastern shore of the Delaware River, and upon arrival in March of 1638, Minuit immediately assembled the local Indian chiefs and had them sign deeds which effectively gave Sweden the western shore.

The Dutch protested loudly. I dare say a bottle or two of genever must have been thrown to crash against a wall as angered Dutchmen cursed Minuit for his treachery. Minuit shrugged and went on with organising his little colony – at least until he drowned, a year or so later.

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Kristina, pre-huzzah to judge from her sour expression

A fort was hastily constructed and named Fort Christina after Sweden’s twelve-year-old queen. I imagine Christina celebrated this event by exclaiming a rousing “huzzah!”  At last the young Swedish queen could hold her head up high among her royal peers; she too had a colony now.

Two years after that first landing, a further 600 immigrants arrived in New Sweden. Towns were established, an embryonic administration was created, and the little colony thrived. Although the Dutch continued to grumble and moan, they had other concerns, even if now and then they glanced at New Sweden with covetous eyes. The English were as irritated as the Dutch by these Nordic latecomers to the party, but England was engulfed by the initial stages of the Civil War, and so Sweden’s little piece of America was left alone. For now.

The Swedish colonists were used to living in dense forests. Most of them grew up with trees standing thick around them, and what land they cleared, they cleared by the slash-and-burn method – as effective in their new home as in their old. The trees they felled, they used to build log cabins in the tradition of their homelands, constructions where dovetailed logs were stacked into four walls, often topped by a shingle roof.

The benefit of the log cabin is that it is relatively quick to build and very robust. Chinks between the logs would generally be filled with moss, and the resulting sturdy structure did as well in Delaware winters as it had done in Swedish winters – or should I say Scandinavian winters? This is probably an opportune moment to come clean. You see, the majority of those Swedish immigrants who arrived in Delaware in the 1640’s were not really Swedish. They were Forest Finns, a derogatory word used by Swedes to describe the Finns that were forcibly transferred from Finland to Sweden to clear land in Western Sweden.

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Log Cabin, courtesy of Norsk Folkhem Museum

These Forest Finns leapt at the chance of going to the New World. Few of them had any warmer feelings for Sweden, where they were often treated with scorn. None of them remembered Finland – they were second or third generation poor immigrants by the 17th century – and all of them knew they would never be allowed to return to Finland. (Sweden was doing its own form of ethnical cleansing by moving stubborn Finns to Sweden, oppositional Danes to Finland, truly obstructive people to the Baltic States, Baltic people to Sweden – in brief, stirring the pot so that local loyalties were effectively disarmed) Having to settle for second best, the Forest Finns opted for New Sweden, where they were promised land of their own.

I suppose this means that the emblematic log cabin is as much a Finnish invention as a Swedish one. If you ask a Norwegian, he’ll tell you they’ve been building log cabins since the Ice Age. So maybe we should agree on the log cabin being a Scandinavian contribution to the American architecture – but introduced in the land of the free and brave by the colonial ambitions of Sweden.

Sweden’s forage into the world of colonial matters was destined to be brief. After some years of uneasy if not unfriendly cohabitation, the Dutch decided to build a fort of their own, Fort Casimir, uncomfortably close to Swedish land. In a rash act of daring, the dashing governor of New Sweden, Johan Rising, captured Fort Casimir in 1654. In doing so, he inadvertently signed New Sweden’s death sentence. Enraged, the powerful Governor of New Netherlands, Peter Stuyvesant, attacked New Sweden in 1655. In a matter of weeks, the Swedish governor was forced to surrender, and with that the Swedish foothold on the American continent was gone.

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Swedish colonists conversing with the locals

Or was it? During the 17 years that Sweden had its colony, close to 1 000 settlers had come over from Sweden. No matter that the Dutch now controlled the area the settlers were still there, still speaking Swedish (or Finnish) to each other, still holding on to their customs and traditions. Their Dutch overlords didn’t mind, and everyone seems to have rubbed together quite happily for a decade or so. I guess the Dutch and the Swedes could meet over their common love of herring (and genever).

In the early 1660’s, the English were done with their Civil War. Peace was restored, the king was back where he belonged, and the English government at last found the time to study the situation in America. What they saw, they did not like. Like a huge sore thumb between the northern English colonies such as Massachusetts, Rhode Island and present day Connecticut, and the southern colonies Virginia and Maryland was New Netherlands.
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” uttered the Duke of York, and so the English set out in force to take control over “their” continent.

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The Nothnagle Log House, dating from the 17th century

By 1664, Delaware – together with the rest of New Netherlands – was taken over by the English. With the English came new colonial administration, new laws – and a new, more practical language. (Even back then, Swedish suffered from being a language VERY few speak) The original settlers held on to their antiquated Swedish when at home or in church, but overtime their language and those traditions and customs they’d carried with them from their homeland faded into obscurity – except for one small and utilitarian building: the log cabin.

Over time, this ingenious and simple little piece of architecture would go walk-about all over the North American continent, home to an endless number of intrepid settlers who, just like the 17th century Swedes (and Finns) came to America in search of a better life. Not a bad contribution, all in all. On the other hand, neither is “How Great Thou Art”

(And for those of you interested in one of the more colourful inhabitants of New Sweden, allow me to introduce you to Armegott, a determined Swedish Amazon)

An Amazon in the colonies

nswdmpFor a brief period in history, Sweden was a colonial power. Well, if we’re going to be quite correct, that should be for TWO brief  periods, one in the 17th century (very brief), one longer in the 18th-19th century (almost one hundred years). Let’s leave the latter period to the side for now and concentrate on 17th  century New Sweden – and even more specifically on one specific Swedish (or New Swedish) woman.

New Sweden existed for 17 proud years, to be more precise, between 1638 and 1655. Oh, halcyon days, when Sweden had a colony of its own! (Well…) While I was reading up on this short-lived colony, I came upon the story of a woman. I must admit that at first it was mostly her odd name that caught me eye. Seriously, what were the poor child’s father and mother thinking of, when they baptised her Armegott?


Thirty Years’ War

I’ve never heard of any other Swedish person named Armegottt. I’d hazard it’s German in origin, meaning roughly “Poor God”. At the time, Sweden was more or less on top of Germany, what with the Swedish army scything their way down through small German states towards the promising treasure houses in Prag and elsewhere which they enthusiastically looted. And before we go all morally superior regarding this (most) despicable Swedish behaviour, let me point out that a lot of that army was commanded by mercenary officers, many of them Scots, such as David Leslie, who would go on to captain the Scottish Covenanter Army in the English Civil War. Ah well; not of much interest to little Armegott Prinz.

Armegott’s father, Johan Björnsson Printz, was a Swedish officer. Not that he wanted to be – he aspired to be a priest, but while in Germany studying for priesthood, the poor young man was pressed into military service, first for the Austrian Archduke, then for the Swedish king. By then he was well reconciled with his new occupation, but after having surrendered a crucial city in 1625, the king sent him home in disgrace. Johan licked his wounded pride and did amends as well as he could, and by the 1640’s he was back in royal favour. By then, Gustavus Adolphus was dead and the country was run by Axel Oxenstierna on behalf of the underage Queen Christina.


Johan Printz

Johan was appointed Governor of the fledgling New Sweden, and by all accounts he did a good job, insisting on cordial and respectful relations with the natives  and the neighbouring colonies. He also brought his family with him to New Sweden, a bevy of daughters and a wife. Must have been a welcome female addition, I suppose. Johan was an obese man, nick-named “Big Belly” by the local natives. Armegott seems to have inherited her father’s build, being tall and big all over. She was also, one gathers, a rather forceful young lady – this being a characteristic that would stay with her throughout her life.

In 1645, twenty-year-old Armegott was wed to Johan Papegoja (John Parrot), who arrived in the colony with the permission of his overlord to marry the young lady in question. Papegoja’s lord was also Johan Prinz’s lord, so I guess there was no room for refusing this match. Two people less suited is difficult to find. Armegott was independent, loud and tall. Johan was somewhat spineless and very much in awe of his wife. It was an unhappy marriage, despite several children. Johan complained loudly that his wife was wilfull and refused to submit to his authority. Armegott merely shrugged, and the Governor chose to turn two deaf ears to the constant discord between his daughter and son-in-law.

As per the laws and customs of the time, Johan Papegoja could demand his wife’s total obedience. Women were weak-willed creatures that needed a firm ruling hand to keep them on the straight and narrow – everyone knew that! Well, apparently not Armegott, and while Johan moaned and complained, she went on with her business, thriving like a wayward stand of kudzu in the fertile and somewhat lawless soil of New Sweden.

EHFA LowerSwedishCabin

A Swedish Settler’s cabin, est 1640’s

In 1654, Governor Printz returned home to Sweden, and for a short while Johan Papegoja was Governor of New Sweden. He was replaced by one Johan Risingh and returned to Sweden – but Armegott wasn’t going anywhere, she stayed where she was, ostensibly to manage her father’s estates. I think it was more a matter of her wanting to be free of her husband… Johan Risingh had problems of his own with this formidable lady, viewed by everyone (including herself) as the first lady in the colony. So subversive was her presence to Johan Risingh’s rule, that he sent to Sweden for a wife, begging the government to send out a lady capable of taking Armegott on.

In the event, there was no clash of Swedish Amazons. Long before a suitable lady could be shipped out to Johan Rising, the Dutch annexed New Sweden by force. After an initial bout of severe unrest, leaving Armegott’s residence Printzhof a looted shell, the Dutch take-over was a relatively civilised procedure, with most of the landowners allowed to hold on to what they had. Johan Papegoja wrote at the time that there had been severe unrest, and that Mrs Papegoja had lost a lot of valuables as a consequence, Fortunately, Johan Papegoja went on, two junior Papegojas had made it safely across the seas to him. I suppose this means Armagott was sending her older sons back to Sweden, just in case.

After some initial wrangling as to who owned what, Armegott was allowed to remain in control of her father’s extensive holdings and chose to stay on until 1662 when she sold Printzhof for an impressive sum of money to a Joost de la Grange – some of which had to be collected in Amsterdam.

Off our Armegott went, only to arrive in Amsterdam to find there was no money. She fumed, we suppose, and after a brief visit to Sweden,  where she managed to seriously upset the entire Swedish Church by her refusal to submit to her husband’s wishes and stay with him, she returned to America in 1663, intent on extracting the payment due to her. Things went a bit messy, one could say. There was no money to pay Armegott, and Joost set off to Holland to find it but died en route. His wife, Margaret,  remained in residence in Printzhof, and when the English took over New Netherlands in 1664, she quickly married Andrew Carr, hoping that his English status would protect her claim to Printzhof. Huh. Margaret seriously underestimated Armegott, who just wouldn’t give up, like a huge overweight terrier worrying at a bone.

Years passed, Armegott hung on, over and over petitioning for her money – or for Printzhof, in lieu of unreceived monies. She also established an inn, a distillery, and in general made a good life for herself. In the meantime,things were not always peaceful sailing for the new colonial overlords. Some of the Swedish and Finnish settlers resented the imposed Anglification, and even more so when a certain Captain Carr, Andrew’s brother,  tried to enrich himself through various manipulative schemes, most of them directed against the natives, who until now had lived on friendly terms with the white settlers. Carr also had hopes of getting his hands on the prime land along the Delaware River, but to do so he had to oust the Swedes and Finns, and these, like barnacles, refused to be budged.

swedish-colonists--native-americans-grangerIt seems somewhat propitious that in this somewhat tense climate, there should suddenly arise a rebellion. One could almost suspect lurid manipulation behind the scenes, causing a man known to history as the Long Finn to raise his voice in loud protest against the English. This supposed Finn was named Markus Jakobsson (sounds Swedish, if you ask me – but many Finns had Swedish roots) and in 1669 he urged his fellow Swedes to rise in rebellion and throw the English out of New Sweden.

The hero of the hour was Captain Carr (hmm) who nipped the planned insurrection in the bud. Markus Jakobsson was hauled before the court, accused of treason, and was condemned to die. However, his sentence was commuted to public flogging, a branded R on his cheek and lifetime servitude as a slave on Barbados. Not so sure that was a winning ticket for poor Markus, who apparently had had a previous encounter with English justice, at which point he’d been sent out to Maryland as an indentured servant. Markus boarded a ship destined for Barbados in 1670 and sailed out of history. What befell the man afterwards is pure speculation – but I suspect it wasn’t much fun…

Armegott was accused of participating in the rebellion. “Proof!” I imagine her snorting. There was no proof, and Armagott was let off with a slap to her wrist, no more. However, the incident seems to have left Armegott somewhat disenchanted with the whole colonial experience. She increased her efforts to have her claims to Printzhof validated, and in 1672  it was finally returned to her, now a substantially less impressive place than when she sold it back in 1662.

In 1675, Armegott sold Printzhof and sailed back to Sweden. She was to live out the rest of her life ambulating between the various households of her children, dying at the ripe old age of seventy.

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