by David King
Efforts to raise money are related in Rudbeck’s letters as well, including selling paper damaged in the spring flood of 1677, according to his letter to De la Gardie, 22 April 1677, Annerstedt, Bref II, 146. He tried to divert customs duties, as seen already in Rudbeck’s letter to De la Gardie, 17 February 1674, Annerstedt, Bref II, 92. Securing of loans from “good friends” was admitted and described years later, Rudbeck to De la Gardie, 31 March 1685; LUB, De la Gardie släktarkiven. Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie 93:1. On pawning the family silver, see Rudbeck to De la Gardie, 7 November 1677, Annerstedt, Bref II, 58–59.
CHAPTER 12: HANGING BY A THREAD
Besides Rudbeck’s letters, among the more lively sources for the dispute about Old Uppsala, my account is based primarily on Schück, KVHAA III, 322–66; Eriksson (2002), 271–76; Lindroth (1975), 311–15; Annerstedt, Bref II, xcv–xcvi; and Gödel (1897), 170–72. Schefferus’s background and career are summarized in Lindroth, 206–14, and his cape was noted, 212. Schück discusses Schefferus’s Upsalia in KVHAA III, 322–25, and Epistola Defensoria III, 340–44. As an effect of the problems with Schefferus, Atterbom reported a saying popular in Rudbeck’s house: “It is as true as if it were written in Schefferus’s Lapponia” ([1851], 36–37).
Rudbeck’s use of the prisoners of war is related, among other places, in Atl. I, 100, 109. The stakes in the dispute are described by Rudbeck in a letter to De la Gardie, 24 May 1677 (Annerstedt, Bref II, 153–54). The count’s letter of 17 May 1677 announcing the prohibition was printed by Schück in KVHAA III, 345–46. Schück outlines the problems with Bishop Karl’s Annotations (357–60), and he, like Annerstedt, believed the controversial letter was a forgery. No one, though, as Schück notes, had accused Rudbeck of this forgery (355).
Reference to Lundius as a “worse Rudbeckian than Rudbeck himself” is found in Annerstedt, Bref II, cxvii. Schück’s words on Lundius are in KVHAA III, 355–56. The anecdote of Lundius meeting the devil in his bedroom is found in many sources, for instance, Strindberg, Bondenöd, 224–25. The story of Zalmoxis comes first from Herodotus’s Histories IV, 94. Lindroth’s summary, (1975), 315, and the reference to Schefferus’s mistake, Schück, KVHAA III, 329. Archaeological opinion comes from Sune Lindqvist, “Olof Rudbeck d.ä. som fältarkeolog,” in Rudbecksstudier (1930), 249–58.
Verelius’s problems with the college are discussed by Schück in KVHAA, as well as in his biography of Johan Hadorph (1933). His being paid only once for his many years of service as Professor of Antiquities of the Fatherland is noted, for instance, in Hadorph, 45.
CHAPTER 13: ET VOS HOMINES
The significance of De la Gardie’s donations can still be seen today. Besides the Uppsala Edda, there were also the Heimskringla, Olafssaga, early editions of Saxo Grammaticus, and a codex containing a fragment of Olof Tryggvason’s Saga. Some, however, were lost in the fire of 1702, including Snorri’s Heimskringla, on loan at that time to Olof Rudbeck. De la Gardie’s donation is discussed by Gödel (1897), 84–85; and Fåhraeus (1936), 220–23.
The Silver Bible is discussed by Lars Munkhammer, Silverbibeln: Theodoriks bok (1998); and Tönnes Kleberg, Codex Argenteus: The Silver Bible at Uppsala (1984). The Dutchman who owned the Silver Bible was Franciscus Junius. Rudbeck’s reference to the Gothic Bible comes from Atl. I, 154–57, and a related derivation of the word Uppsala is found on page 261.
Some pages of the Silver Bible have continued to surface, including one that turned up, to considerable attention, in August 1970. Construction crews were restoring Speyer Cathedral, lowering the floor to add a more modern heating system. The page was found in a secret hiding place, in a potato sack, along with some other relics, including the bones, supposedly, of the Renaissance humanist Erasmus. As for the theft in April 1995, I was then living in Sweden and remember listening to the radio when a rather shocked disc jockey announced it. Munkhammer’s account (1998) explains many of the details that, at the time, were so strange.
Lundius’s specialties included, among other things, Swedish law, Roman law, and natural law theories of the influential thinker Samuel Pufendorf, who was then in Sweden as royal historiographer (Lindroth, Stormaktstiden, 368–70). Lindroth also discusses Lundius as a Rudbeckian (300–301). Lundius’s Zamolxis, primus getarum legislator (1687) has been translated from Latin by Maria Crisan and into English by Honorius Crisan (available on the Web at www.dacia.org).
Outright forgeries and fabrications were circulating around Uppsala, according to Joseph Svennung in Zur Geschichte Gothicismus, 91–92. Svenbro discusses “veritable counterfeit workshops” in “L’idéologie ‘gothisante’ et l’Atlantica d’ Olof Rudbeck. Le mythe platonicien de l’Atlantide au service de l’Empire suédois du XVIIe siècle,” in Quaderni di storia 6, no. 11 (January–June 1980): 137. Gunnar Eriksson’s comments on the forgery are found in (2002), 307–9. The phrase “the conscious effort to deceive” comes from Nils Ahnlund’s definition of forger in his study Nils Rabenius (1648–1717): Studier i svensk historiografi (1927).
The runes were among the last findings to be incorporated into Atlantica, though Rudbeck had made the initial discovery at least as early as the end of 1675. The problem he faced, as usual, was how to find time for all the discoveries. His words about “how the Greeks have received their letters from us” is from chapter 38, Atl. I, 524. Loccenius, Verelius, and Norcopensis were reading Rudbeck’s theories “with admiration,” he noted in a letter to De la Gardie, 29 November 1675, Annerstedt, Bref II, 126.
Pliny discussed the transmission of the alphabet in Natural History VII, 192. Runes were “stones with old letters or unknown carved marks” overgrown with moss and not effaced by heat, cold, fire, or water (Atl. I, 14). The derivation of the word runes from “mystery” and “secret” appears in Ralph W. V. Elliot’s Runes: An Introduction (1989), 1.
According to the Edda, nothing of importance escaped Heimdall, a god who could hear the wool grow on the backs of sheep. No wonder he was chosen to guard the entrance to the world of the gods at the rainbow bridge Bifrost, and send divine messages with his massive, earth-shaking horn (Gylf. 27).
Pan, fire, and many of the words Rudbeck chose for showing the Swedish impact on ancient Greece can be found in Plato’s Cratylus dialogue (408C, 409D–410B). In this work, Socrates and his students discuss the roots of the Greek language, and openly admit the overwhelming barbarian, or non-Greek, influence—golden words for Olof Rudbeck, for he believed that each of Plato’s words could be found in Swedish, or at least he believed that he could show they could. In either case, the words were from the barbarians, or more accurately, in his view, bor-barn, “children of Bor.”
Discussion of world chronology, particularly the four or five hundred years after Noah, comes from Atl. I, 525–26. Rudbeck’s dating of Swedish civilization back to 2300–200 B.C., or Anno Mundi 1700–1800, is found in Atl. I, 77–78, and Atl. II, 199. Rudbeck’s investigations of the soil around the monuments are related in Atl. I, 66–79, 91, and applied to the runes on pages 525–26. The history of the ancient Greek alphabet, and its derivation from Scandinavian runes, is outlined in Atl. I, 527–39. The theory of Mercury’s Swedish origins is argued in Atl. I, 457–66, and continued on 539–42. The illustration of the staff appears on page 541, and its interpretation is on 539–42. Later, Mercury’s position in ancient Sweden was elaborated and, in some ways, altered (Atl. IV, esp. 104ff.). Hermes, Zeus’s favorite son, appears as the messenger of the gods more in the Odyssey than in the Iliad. “Hermes the Wayfinder” comes from Odyssey V, line 48ff., and his ambrosial golden sandals, wand, and other descriptions are found here, as well as at many other places in the epic, for instance Odyssey I, line 123ff. Hermes leads the suitors to the Underworld in Odyssey XXIV, line 409.
Rudbeck thought the runic staffs were as old as the runes themselves. In Rudbeck’s scheme, they were invented by Atle (Atlas) or Atin, and approved by Disa (Isis). The story of the peasant in the anatomy theater follows Rudbeck’s own account in Atl. I, 562–63; an
d the gardener, on page 563, is also discussed by Eriksson (2002), 340.
CHAPTER 14: ON NOTHING
The first volume of Atlantica, published in March 1679 at Curio’s press, appears in a number of different ways. Some have no title page, some a title page and no date, some the correct year of publication, some the year 1679 and the words “second edition,” and some the publication year 1675. This last instance has led some authorities to claim, incorrectly, that Atlantica was published in that year, and some even to accuse Rudbeck of backdating the publication year. This is possible, but a simpler explanation is that Rudbeck started printing the work in 1675, as he in fact intended at the end of 1674. The work was not finished at the press until March 1679, as seen in Rudbeck’s letter of 20 March 1679, printed in Annerstedt, Bref II, 164–65. One of Rudbeck’s descendants, Johannes Rudbeckius, investigated the surviving copies of his ancestor’s book (1918). He found a total of 111 copies of the first edition, dispersed around European libraries.
Inclement weather delayed the transport of De la Gardie’s copy, Rudbeck wrote to De la Gardie, 22 March 1679, RA, Kanslers embetets handlingar för Uppsala universitet arkiv E.11:6.
The priest in Stockholm, Olaus Bergius, vicar of St. Clara’s Church, noted Rudbeck’s strengths, “immeasurable labor” and “wonderful genius,” in an undated letter, probably from late 1682, inserted in the collection Auctarium Testimoniorum de Cl Rudbeckii Atlantica, reprinted in Nelson (1950), 43. D. G. Morhof describes his reading of Atlantica in a letter from Kiel, 23 June 1681 (Nelson [1950], 28). In his enthusiasm, Morhof claims that he, too, had once planned to write a book about the importance of the north in the ancient world. The title was to have been Mysterium Septentrionis (Secrets of the North). Pleased that his own work “lay dormant for many years,” Morhof now rejoiced that many of his suspicions had been confirmed. After reading Rudbeck’s Atlantica, he threw away his notes, remarking how “foolish and ill-considered” it was to dance after this master. (He must have retrieved them, however, since a few years later Morhof would publish his own theory about the ancient past, with the Germans very much playing the role of Rudbeck’s Swedes.)
The director of the Witchcraft Commission, Anders Stiernhöök, noted how Rudbeck had satisfied him astonishingly, 1 September 1679, Nelson (1950), 5. By November, Stiernhöök was continuing according to his plan of daily readings, and this had not changed his previously reported positive opinion of Atlantica (20 November 1679, Nelson [1950], 11). Information about the admiring Germans who visited Old Uppsala comes from Rudbeck’s letter to De la Gardie, 5 May 1679, Annerstedt, Bref II, 170–71. The reference to the envy of his contemporaries is found in Lund University professor of history and poetry Stobaeus (Nelson [1950], 103). The description of the Furies comes from Aeschylus’s Libation Bearers, 1048–49.
The Royal Society’s secretary Francis Aston wrote to Rudbeck to say that Atlantica was “very much desired in these regions,” 11 January 1682 (Nelson [1950], 34). Aston also wrote to thank Rudbeck for his copy of Atlantica, with his words on the “power of genius and the abundance of learning” found in the letter of 11 January 1682. This was evidently the letter President Christopher Wren asked him to write, 4 January 1681/82 (Birch, History of the Royal Society, 4 vols. [1756–57]).
The passage on “this deservedly famous Author” is taken from the anonymous review in Philosophical Transactions, 10 January 1681/2, reprinted in Nelson (1950), 33. The reviewer also praised Rudbeck’s conclusions on the location of the cradle of civilization in Sweden: “That Japhet and the first Race inhabited there, may be probable, in that it’s said he possest the Isles, under which title Sweonia has gone.” About the classical gods coming from Sweden, the reviewer commented on how well the Swedish language suited the names of the gods.
Rudbeck was proposed as a member of the Royal Society at the meeting on 14 December 1681. He had been mentioned as a possible candidate for membership for some time, at least since Oldenburg extended the offer as early as the late 1660s (RS, Letterbook III, Oldenburg to Rudbeck, 8 January 1668/69; RS, Letterbook III, Oldenburg to Rudbeck, 9 December 1669). But it was not until Atlantica was published and reviewed that the proposal of membership was official. There is some uncertainty on who reviewed Atlantica; Thomas Gale was asked, according to the minutes for 26 October 1681, and Cluverus on 7 December 1681.
Glad to hear the praise from London, Rudbeck informed the count of the Royal Society’s view of his work (24 May 1682), and forwarded a copy of their letter (4 June 1682, RA, Kanslers embetets handlingar för Uppsala universitet arkiv E.11:7). The student who brought Atlantica to the Royal Society, Johan Heysig, is treated by Carl Harald Eugène Lewenhaupt in “Johan Heysig-Ridderstjerna,” Samlaren, vol. 10 (1889) and vol. 14 (1893).
Atlantica was hailed as Rudbeck’s own Herculean labor by G. Cuperus, 20 June 1690 (Nelson [1950], 97). The claim about the many heroic and warlike nations pouring out of Sweden like a Trojan horse comes from a speech delivered in Kiel by S. H. Musaeus, 26 April 1688 (Nelson [1950], 100). The reference to the Swedish Heracles who restored light to an area where Cimbrian darkness prevailed is in O. Bergius, undated (Nelson [1950], 43).
It would be unreasonable to expect Rudbeck’s theory to sail through the learned world, especially in Uppsala, where he had so many enemies, without at least some opposition. One detailed critique of Atlantica appeared in W. E. Tentzel’s journal, Monatliche Unterredungen einiger Guten Freunde von Allerhand Büchern . . . , a 200-page review running through the February to July issues. (See Nelson IV [1950], 293, and Eriksson [2002], 425–27). Many other critiques are noted in the later volumes of Atlantica.
Notice of Rudbeck’s lecture series “On Nothing,” appearing in Uppsala University’s catalog in October 1679, was printed in Annerstedt’s Bref II, 177, and discussed in Eriksson’s article “Om Ingenting: Olof Rudbecks föreläsningsprogram 1679,” Lychnos (1979–80). Rudbeck’s explanation is found in a letter to De la Gardie, 3 November 1679 (Annerstedt, Bref II, 178–79). Annerstedt discusses this episode in Bref II, ci–ciii; and Eriksson (2002), 146, interprets De Nihilo as serious, joking, and having fun with the enemies all at the same time. The description of Schefferus’s reaction is in Rudbeck’s letter to Count de la Gardie, 5 April 1679, printed in Annerstedt, Bref II, 166. The rest of Schefferus’s words were taken from Elias Palmsköld, Palmsk. samlingen XV: T.15, 557; thanks to Annerstedt for this information, Bref II, cxxv, n. 2.
The slow sales were already noted in Rudbeck’s letter to De la Gardie, 5 April 1679, Annerstedt, Bref II, 165–69. The continued slow rate is seen in his letter of 14 September 1679, Annerstedt, Bref II, 173–75. Two hundred forty copies were sold by March 1682. This did not count the twenty that were lost at sea when the ship carrying them went down outside of Rostock. Rudbeck to De la Gardie, 2 March 1682, RA, Kanslers embetets handlingar för Uppsala universitet arkiv E.11:7.
Verelius was showing signs of ill health at least by the late 1670s, and Rudbeck described his friend standing at the doorway short of breath, exhausted by even a short walk, 5 April 1679, Annerstedt, Bref II, 168. Punishment of Norcopensis for allegedly neglecting university duties is in Arrhenius’s letter to De la Gardie, 2 January 1683, copied in UUB, U40:5. The last years of De la Gardie’s life were “full of misfortunes, sorrows, and humiliations” (“olyckor, sorger, och förödmjukelser”), Annerstedt, Bref III, clxxxvi. This episode is discussed in Fåhraeus (1936), 282–319; and Magnusson (1993), 132ff. Rudbeck’s loyalty to the count is well known and was praised by Atterbom, who saw this as one of the “more beautiful” sides of Rudbeck’s character ([1851], 82).
The reduction is defined by Anthony Upton in Charles XI and Swedish Absolutism (1998), ix, as “a legal process, based on the principle of the inalienability of the crown’s lands and revenues. The principle meant that even if a ruler made a grant to a subject in perpetuity from these lands and revenues, he, or his successors, could recall the grant at any time on grounds of public necessity.” Information abo
ut the political culture of this period also comes from Kurt Ågren’s “The reduktion,” in Roberts (1973). Strindberg (1937), 79–87, discusses the Crown properties sold, bestowed, and dispersed to meet the needs of Swedish warfare, and the background to the reduction, 110ff.
Many aristocratic families were ruined in the reduction, literally reduced to begging for clemency at the palace gates where they had formerly been welcomed as guests. Voltaire described this sight in his History of Charles XII, translated by Winifred Todhunter (1908), 13, and many others have noted it as well. Michael Roberts has printed many documents about this period in his Sweden as a Great Power 1611–1697: Government, Society, Foreign Policy (1968). Besides the effects of the war on morale, the council was losing influence through the deaths of its prominent members and the king’s slow replacement of them (and then with his own favorites). Surviving members were often sick and elderly, if not also away from the capital on various activities (Rystad, Karl XI: En biografi [2001], 147–48). The council’s demotion was already a fact before 1680 (179).
In addition to Makalös, De la Gardie owned the following castles and properties at one time or the other: “Drottningholm, Karlberg, Jakobsdal (Ulriksdal), Venngarn, Ekolsund, and Ekholmen in Uppland; Frövdi with Hinseberg in Västmanland, Kägleholm in Närke. Läckö, Traneberg, Mariedal, Katrineberg, Höjentorp, Synnerby hospital, Slädene, Magnusberg, Råda ladugård and Jönslunda in Västergötland. Along with these came large areas in Finland and Livonia, among others Pernau and Arensburg on the island of Ösel. He also had property in Pomerania and Mecklenburg” (Gunda Magnusson, Magnus Gabriel [1993], 62). See Fåhraeus (1936), 236–62; and Sten Karling’s “Slott och trädgårdar,” in Magnus Gabriel de la Gardie: Nationalmusei utställningskatalog nr.434 (1980), 29–40. De la Gardie’s words from the Swedish hymnal were translated by Göran Rystad in Roberts, ed., Sweden’s Age of Greatness 1632–1718 (1973), 236.