Vilhelm Moberg - The Settlers

Sheriffs from the South had been all the way up to Taylors Falls looking for runaway slaves, but people there had hid them from the pursuers and helped them on their flight. Kristina had hoped runaway Negroes would come to their house so she could give them lodging. Their own white skin, which protected them from being hunted like animals, had been given them as an unearned gift; they ought to pay something for it.

Karl Oskar cut out the picture of the man who wanted to abolish both masters and slaves. Old Abe had said: In this country one man is as good as another, and sometimes better. This wonderful expression the settlers heard often, laughing heartily and proudly each time. It was a good slogan for free men in America, especially for those who handled ax and plow.

— 5—

In the following year’s general election, the Republicans won and Alexander Ramsey was elected governor of Minnesota by a majority of more than 5,000 votes. The people’s self-governing ability had developed since last year: only a few hundred nonexistent voters participated this time, and only a few votes were bought for whiskey — and a much better whiskey at that than the year before.

The settlers’ own party was at the helm in Minnesota and would hold it for many years to come.

The Republicans had won with a great majority in all the counties with Swedish settlers, especially Chisago, Marine, and Goodhue. “Minnesota has shed the Democratic yoke!” was the jubilant expression of the Minnesota-Posten. But shortly after this the Swedish-language paper died an early death. Unlike people dying of old age, the paper died of youth. The number of Republicans had increased, but the number of subscribers had decreased. The paper was often late, which the editor excused by saying he had been on long journeys and delayed by bad weather, which had prevented him from getting the paper out on time. But people grew tired of a paper whose editor never traveled in good weather.

Hemlandet was again the only paper in the Duvemåla settlement. They need no longer fetch their paper in Taylors Falls, and it now came to Klas Albert’s store in Center City. Klas Albert was usually referred to as Mr. Persson, but the old Ljuder people continued to call their storekeeper the churchwarden’s Klas Albert. His first months had been rather hard, but gradually his business flourished. He served his countrymen well, buying a horse and wagon to deliver groceries to his customers, summer and winter. And the young man understood how to treat his women customers so that they always came back; many of them, it was rumored, not to make purchases, but to propose marriage to the young businessman. The number of women in the St. Croix Valley had during the last years increased so much that there now was one woman to seven men — but seven for Klas Albert, according to the rumor.

One humid summer day, during the hay harvesting, the young storekeeper drove up to Duvemåla with his load of groceries. He was waving their copy of Hemlandet, and called out before he stepped down from the wagon:

“The king is dead!”

Karl Oskar was busy stacking hay, aided by Johan and Marta. He thrust the hayfork into the ground and leaned against the handle.

“What king, Klas Albert?”

“Oskar, of course! Our Swedish king!”

He handed the Hemlandet to Karl Oskar, who read: “An electric telegraphic dispatch from Stockholm July 8 announced that His Majesty King Oskar I’s valuable life had flickered out this date at 8 A.M.”

Karl Oskar said he would take a few minutes’ rest and they walked into the kitchen, where Kristina lit a fire in the Prairie Queen and put on the coffeepot. She was greatly moved by the news that Sweden’s king had died; her eyes grew moist and she dried them intermittently with the corner of her apron.

“But he was no longer our king,” said Karl Oskar.

“It is sad anyway. He too was a human being.”

“Even a king can’t escape death — that might be some comfort for us.”

She reminded Karl Oskar that he had been named after Oskar’s father, Charles XIV John, who had reigned at the time of his birth, and that his second name had been given him after Oskar, who was then Crown Prince. He could thank the dead man for one of his royal names.

“A name doesn’t honor a man,” said Karl Oskar. “The man must honor the name.”

Later, at the table, Klas Albert read from Hemlandet: “Oskar I was a gracious father to his subjects and wielded a prosperous scepter. During his reign he fostered liberalism among his people to the comfort and advantage of every inhabitant. Therefore all his subjects now mourn the loss of a king who won the affection and love of his people through his mild and just rule. .”

“King Oskar I’s High Remains will lie in state in the Serafimer Hall for three days where the mourning subjects can view it.”

Karl Oskar Nilsson, the Swedish-born settler with two royal names, listened skeptically as he sipped his coffee. “Well, well, so is there really such an awful weeping in Sweden!”

“It sounds like a great funeral wailing throughout the country,” said Klas Albert.

“It says all his subjects mourn him — that’s a lie that we won’t fall for out here in America!”

“Perhaps they put that in to fill out the space in the paper,” suggested Kristina.

But Karl Oskar said further that if everyone in Sweden had been so happy and satisfied during Oskar’s mild and just reign, why, then, had so many thousands of his subjects emigrated to North America?

“Do you understand it, Klas Albert?”

“No. I know as well as you, Karl Oskar, how miserable things were at home.”

“The king was probably a kind man,” said Kristina. “But perhaps he didn’t rule alone.”

“He became king the same year I took over Korpamoen. He has reigned ever since I became a farmer, fifteen years.”

“The new king is Charles XV,” said Klas Albert, and turning again to the paper, he read: “In the fullness of his manhood Charles XV has inherited the glorious scepter which his father’s weakened hand relinquished even before his death. Charles XV has assured his subjects that he wants to be their most gracious king, that he will discharge well the duties of his high office which Providence has entrusted to him, and that he will pursue a mild and just reign.”

At the last words Karl Oskar nodded in recognition. “Yes, the government in Sweden has always been mild and just! The new king has already learned that by heart!”

Yes, of course. All the people in Sweden had donned their black mourning clothes and were weeping for their king from morning to night. Except the peasants, of course — they must get in their hay while the sunshine lasted.

Karl Oskar added that he expected a still greater immigration after this. All the Swedes unable to endure the loss of their king would probably show up in Minnesota, sooner or later.

— 1—

The fire burned and crackled on the hearth in the big room where the Nilsson family sat within the circle of light this November evening. Kristina was carding wool for stocking yarn while Marta, who had just learned to spin, picked up the wool wads as they came from her mother’s carding combs. Johan sat like a man reading the latest issue of Hemlandet, while Harald spelled his way through a chapter in his First Reader. Dan was working on the runners for a sled he was building; with some help from his father he hoped to have it ready for the first snow. Ulrika was dressing a doll, given to her by Ulrika Jackson; when the doll was dressed she removed all the garments and began to dress it again. Of the children, only Frank was not with them; he had been in bed for a few days with a sore throat, although he was improving. Karl Oskar, too, was missing from the fire-lit circle this evening. He had gone to St. Paul to look at horses; a drove had just arrived from Iowa. He would be away for the night and was not expected home until tomorrow evening. The children were in a state of great anticipation at the prospect of their father returning with a new horse.