A. REPORTS FROM THE PROMISED LAND

Lack of educational opportunities for immigrant children in rural America, 1805

Friedrich Herman, "Die Deutschen in Nord Amerika," Minerva, II (April-June 1805), 53- 55; translated by the editors.

It is easy to understand that elementary instruction under these circumstances must be in a very sad state. In the countryside there are usually no qualified teachers. Those who can bring themselves to undertake the hard and poorly paid work of a school teacher in these remote and still very desolate areas are only too often men who could not make a go of it elsewhere — pedagogical quacks, ignorant, without principles, and often of bad character. Even if a locality is lucky enough to have a good teacher in its preacher or some other person, it can scarcely be very happy about that. In the first place the individual houses are often too far from the school, and so separated from it by water holes, thick woods, and the like, that a person can scarcely hazard sending his children (especially if they are of tender age) to school all year round. Secondly a person lacking hired help needs the children too much at home for field work or housekeeping to part with them willingly. Thus the benefit of the children is secondary to their parents' needs. In this way nothing is done for the upbringing and education of the child except what the parents are able to do at home. How little this is, however, a person can easily gather from the fact that they themselves can be compared almost to children in their lack of knowledge. They don't have the slightest idea how to treat these tender hearts, and even worse they are hindered by their endless tasks in the fields from giving them the necessary supervision. There are two fundamental principles which a father seeks to inculcate in his child and which indeed should be omitted from no education, though they by no means constitute its entirety. The first is: Fear God! This embraces all religion, in which, however, the parents themselves are guided more by obscure emotions than by clear thinking. Therefore they are in a position to instruct the young spirits only very imperfectly. The second is: Be industrious! This [commandment] covers the entire range of their duties as citizens, which consist largely in manual labor to be sure and, according to their fathers, should not encompass anything further. One can see that this practice hardly suffices to protect the heart from vice, not to speak of filling it with a real love for virtue. If the simple habits of the parents, the ignorance of luxury, and the distance they live from big cities and their depravity were not more effective than this upbringing, youth would be in real danger.

"Nothing has made me more happy . . .than the fact that we . . . journeyed to this country"

Letter of Gjert Gregoriussen Hovland, April 22,1835, in George M. Stephenson, "A Typical 'American Letter,' " Mississippi Valley Historical Review, IX (1922-1923), 69-72.

Hovland came to America in 1831 and settled in western New York, in a colony founded in 1825 by the first group of Norwegian immigrants to America. Hundreds of copies of Hovland's letters circulated in southern Norway. They aroused interest among peasants, and apparently influenced the Norwegian migration to America in 1836 and 1837.

I must take this opportunity to let you know that we are in the best of health, and that we both my wife and I—find ourselves exceedingly well satisfied. Our son attends the English school, and talks English as well as the native-born. Nothing has made me more happy and contented than the fact that we left Norway and journeyed to this country. We have gained more since our arrival here than I did during all the time that I lived in Norway, and I have every prospect of earning a livelihood here for myself and my family — even if my family were larger, so long as God gives me good health.

Such excellent plans have been developed here that, even though one be infirm, no one need suffer want. Competent men are elected whose duty it is to see that no needy persons, either in the cities or in the country, shall have to beg for their living. If a man dies and is survived by a widow and children who are unable to support themselves—as is often the case they have the privilege of petitioning these officials. To each one will then be given every year as much as is needed of clothes and food, and no discrimination will be shown between the native-born and those from foreign countries. These things I have learned through daily observation, and I do not believe there can be better laws and arrangements for the benefit and happiness of the common man in the whole world.

No, everyone must work for his living here, and it makes no difference whether he is of low or of high estate. It would heartily please me if I could learn that everyone of you who are in need and have little chance of gaining support for yourselves and your families would make up your mind to leave Norway and to come to America, for, even if many more were to come, there would still be room here for all. For all those who are willing to work there is no lack of employment and business here. It is possible for all to live in comfort and without suffering want.

"Your interest in your children must be the deciding factor"

Letter of Herman Steines to his parents, brothers, and friends, St. Louis, Mo., Nov. 8,1833, in William G. Bek, "The Followers of Duden," Missouri Historical Review, XIV (1919-1920),64-70.

In May 1833, Herman and Frederick Steines, natives of Rhenish Prussia, sailed from Bremen leading a group of pioneers to settle in Missouri.

. . . Those whose line of work is in demand will prosper . . . Fortunately [Cousin Adolph] found work at once, and now earns from $1.25 to $3.00 per day, since he is working by the piece. But it must be remembered that one cannot buy as much for $2.00 in St. Louis as one can buy for $1.00 in Solingen or any other German city. Almost all necessities are twice as high here as abroad. Meat and vegetables are in some instances cheaper here, or at least as cheap as at home. But even at that they are able to save something. Adolph's daughter Ida works at the house where I am staying and earns five dollars a month, while his son William is an apprentice to a furniture maker. He is obliged to work four years for this man, and receives an annual wage of $30.00 and has an allowance of $1.50 per week for board and lodging which he has with his own parents. During half the year his master sends the boy to school, part of the time to the day school and part time to the night school. In case of sickness he receives free medical attention and at the end of his apprenticeship he will get a number of tools... A young single man is not so much to be pitied, because he can fight his way thru for some time, but if the disappointed person happens to be the father of a family, then it is hard indeed. I repeat that $666.00 is the absolute minimum with which one should attempt to make a start here…

Now a few words to you, my mother and my sisters, in order that you not become intimidated by my letter, for I did not intend to do that. If you feel strong enough in body to endure the hardships of the journey, and buoyant enough in spirit to participate in the attempt of realizing the fond dream of your men folks, then we shall all be happy and greatly benefitted. The older members of our family will not be materially benefitted by coming here, but your interest in your children must be the deciding factor if you take this step. You women must have a clear understanding with your men.

Farewell, Norway, 1847

Anonymous poem in Nordlyset, Aug. 19, 1847, in Martin B. Ruud, ed. and trans., ''Norwegian Emigrant Songs," Norwegian-American Studies and Records, II (Northfield, Minn. 1927), 5-6.

Farewell, Norway, and God bless thee. Stern and severe wert thou always, but as a mother I honor thee, even though thou skimped my bread. All things vanish. Grief and care sink down upon the heart; still the memory of thee refereshes the soul like the deep sleep of a child.

Other lands offer me independence, and for my labor well-being to my children. These, oh Norway, thou didst not give me, for thou art a land of lords and slaves, where the great ones ruled and we obeyed.

Once more. God bless thee; to the day of my death I will pray God to keep thee; for thou wert the keeper of my childhood and the joys of childhood thou gavest me. I will remember thee always, whatever life may bring, and I will pray, "Throw off the chains that embittered my youth for me."

"To spare my children the slavish drudgery"

Letter from Stephan Stephanson, May 17, 1854, in George H. Stephenson, "When America was the Land of Canaan," Minnesota History, X (September 1929), 254.

I am glad that I migrated to this land of liberty, in order to spare my children the slavish drudgery that was my lot; in this country if a laborer cannot get along with his employer, he can leave his job at any time, and the latter is obliged to pay him for the time he has put in at the same wage that was agreed upon for the month or year. We are free to move at any time and to any place without a certificate from the employer or from he pastor, because neither passports nor certificates are in use here.

Life and death in the promised land

Letter from Andrew Pauley to his uncle and family in Philadelphia, Aug. 21,1854, courtesy of Professor Arnold Schrier, University of Cincinnati.

There has been a long silence between you and me and it seems my fate to be the first to break that silence. I have to relate to you some things that has been rather unpleasant to me, within the last year.

On the 7th of July last our youngest child "Mary Ann" died being about 6 months old. She was only about 2 days sick. A few days afterwards I started to Ohio to see Father & Mother & Bro. remained there about a week sister Mary came back here again with me. . . but when I got home I met with more trouble, for a few days after I returned, our son William took sick, and lived 2 or 3 days. He was 2 1/4 years old when he died. This was full trying enough on both Margaret and me to loose the two in such a short time. Of course Margaret feels bad about them. It has left us now all alone only Sister Mary is staying with us at present, this has been a very sickly summer here and a great many deaths. Some weeks as high as 4 or 6 hundred deaths. There is a report that the cholera is bad here but I do not know whether it is or not.

I have got along very well since I came here and has saved some money. I never regretted coming out here, and any young person that cannot got along well there would do well to come here if they intended to conduct themselves decently. Yet I would not say to any one to come for most people dislike it for a while and have difficulties at first too but they can get over that and make money if they only help themselves right. But if they don't intend to do that they had better stay at home for they be only in disgrace to themselves and then friends here. But old people have no great chance here except their families are with them, and go to the country and can give themselves a little to farming for they can do nothing living in a city, but are a burden to themselves and their family. And then they cannot enjoy themselves aged in the city as they could in the country as they have been used all their life. But young people can more easily suit themselves to any locality.

An immigrant family on the Minnesota frontier, 1862-1866

Letter from Guri Olsdatter to relatives. Dec. 2,1866 in Theodore C. Blegen, "Immigrant Women and the American Frontier " Norwegian-American Studies and Records, V (Northfield, Minn., 1930), pp. 26-29.

Guri Olsdatter was the wife of Lars Endreson; her husband and son were among the several hundred white settlers killed during the Sioux massacre of 1862.

1 have received your letter of April fourteenth, this year, and I send you herewith my heartiest thanks for it, for it gives me great happiness to hear from you and to know that you are alive, well, and in general thriving. I must also report briefly to you how things have been going with me recently, though I must ask you to forgive me for not having told you earlier about my fate. I do not seem to have been able to do so much as to write to you, because during the time when the savages raged so fearfuly here I was not able to think about anything except being murdered, with my whole family, by these terrible heathen. But God be praised, I escaped with my life, unharmed by them, and my four daughters also came through the danger unscathed. Guri and Britha were carried off by the wild Indians, but they got a chance the next day to make their escape when the savages gave them permission to go home to get some food, these young girls made use of the opportunity to flee and thus they got away alive, and on the third day after they had been taken, some Americans came along who found them on a large plain or prairie and brought them to people. I myself wandered aimlessly around on my land with my youngest daughter and I had to look on while they shot my precious husband dead, and in my sight my dear son Ole was shot through the shoulder. But he got well again from this wound and lived a little more than a year and then was taken sick and died. We also found my oldest son Endre shot dead, but I did not see the firing of this death shot. For two days and nights I hovered about here with my little daughter between fear and hope and almost crazy, before I found my wounded son and a couple of other persons, unhurt, who helped us to get away to a place of greater security. To be an eyewitness to these things and to see many others wounded and killed was almost too much for a poor woman; but. God be thanked, I kept my life and my sanity, though all my movable property was torn away and stolen. But this would have been nothing if only I could have had my loved husband and children—but what shall I say? God permitted it to happen thus, and I had to accept my heavy fate and thank Him for having spared my life and those of some of my dear children.

I must also let you know that my daughter Gjaertru has land, which they received from the government under a law that has been passed, called in our language "the Homestead law," and for a quarter section of land they have to pay sixteen dollars, and after they have lived there five years they receive a deed and complete possession of the property and can sell it if they want to or keep it if they want to. She lives about twenty-four American miles from here and is doing well. My daughter Guri is away in house service for an American about a hundred miles from here; she has been there working for the same man for four years; she is in good health and is doing well; I visited her recently, but for a long time I knew nothing about her, whether she was alive or not.

My other two daughter, Britha and Anna, are at home with me, are in health, and are thriving here. I must also remark that it was four years on the twenty-first of last August since I had to flee from my dear home, and since that time I have not been on my land, as it is only a sad sight because at the spot where I had a happy home, there are now only ruins and remains left as reminders of the terrible Indians. Still I moved up here to the neighborhood again this summer. A number of families have moved back here again so that we hope after a while to make conditions pleasant once more. Yet the atrocities of the Indians are and will be fresh in memory; they have now been driven beyond the boundaries of the state and we hope that they never will be allowed to come here again. I am now staying at the home of Sjur Anderson, two and a half miles from my home. I must also tell you how much I had before I was ruined in this way. I had seventeen head of cattle, eight sheep, eight pigs, and a number of chickens; now I have six head of cattle, four sheep, one pig; five of my cattle stayed on my land until February, 1863, and lived on some hay and stacks of wheat on the land; and I received compensation from the government for my cattle and other movable property that I lost. Of the six cattle that I now have three are milk cows and of these I have sold butter, the summer's product, a little over two hundred and thirty pounds; I sold this last month and got sixty-six dollars for it. In general I may say that one or another has advised me to sell my land, but I would rather keep it for a time yet, in the hope that some of my people might come and use it; it is difficult to get such good land again, and if you, my dear daughter, would come here, you could buy it and use it and then it would not be necessary to let it fall into the hands of strangers. And now in closing I must send my very warm greetings to my unforgetable dear mother, my dearest daughter and her husband and children, and in general to all my relatives, acquaintances, and friends. And may the Lord by his grace bend, direct, and govern our hearts so that we sometime with gladness may assemble with God in the eternal mansions where there will be no more partings, no sorrows, no more trials, but everlasting joy and gladness, and contentment in beholding God's face. If this be the goal for all our endeavors through the sorrows and cares of this life, then through his grace we may hope for a blessed life hereafter, for Jesus sake.

                                                                                                                        Write to me soon.