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The Lynching
of Axel von Fersen
The Beginning of a Day Never to be Forgotten
The Age of Lead
What startling news! Sweden’s crown prince was dead. Only 42 years old, he had fallen from his horse and was found gone.
Suspicions were in the air on this summer day, cloudy and coolish, cloudy and foolish. The cause of death would soon be clarified in due course. But for now, it felt like a mystery. People were not apt to wait.
It’s only a twist of fate, but oddly enough, significant shifts in Sweden’s history tend to happen around Midsummer. Gustav Vasa, held as the founder of the modern nation-state of Sweden, rode into Stockholm on Midsummer Eve.
Now, Axel von Fersen, one of the Lords of the Realm, was preparing for the mourning procession. For him, it was a ride from rural Salem, a parish 30 kilometres south of Stockholm, to the Royal Palace. But von Fersen’s arrival in Stockholm a few days before Midsummer would certainly not be like Gustav Vasa’s long ago.
As to the customs, Lord Marshal von Fersen wore a floor-length mourning cloak; the blue ribbon of the Order of the Seraphim was his only adornment.
Little did he know that it was the last time he saw himself in a looking glass.
Everyone felt something unusual was about to happen on this very day, the 20th of June 1810. Sweden was in the middle of a crisis. The acute turmoil, now reaching its peak, had been evolving for almost two decades, starting with the assassination of King Gustav III.
There was a false rumour. Count Axel von Fersen, the Lord Marshal, one of the highest-ranking officials in the Swedish Monarchy, was widely claimed to have murdered the crown prince. The press once wrote about it as a fable where the von Fersen siblings were described as foxes. There was talk of a fox hunt. Friends and relatives warned him, but he had made up his mind.
His diary could give some insight into his reasoning. He is said to have kept a record of everything during his adventurous life. Visits to France during the Revolution, and before that, volunteering during the American Revolution. As a supporter of an ‘enlightened’ king, Gustav III, he held principles like Liberty and Reason high.
The French sided with the future Americans, and von Fersen sought experience and promotion. Fluent in English and French, he acted as an interpreter between the future president, George Washington and the French expedition’s leader. Von Fersen distinguished himself at a decisive battle; he was promoted leader of the Royal Swedish regiment.
But in 1810, at 54, von Fersen represented principles from which the rulers after Gustav III had long deviated. Interestingly enough, his stance in France, where he was a close friend to the Royal couple, differed from that in America. He supported the radical party in America whilst being conservative in France. But there is a time factor; he was around 25 when volunteering. During the French Revolution, he approached 40. And the decisive element: Marie-Antoinette, the French queen.
During von Fersen’s years in Paris, where he stayed with some interruptions between 1785 and 1791, he likely had a love affair with Marie-Antoinette. Which, as some claim, gave him world fame. From then on, he was conservative. After the king’s abolishment, the developments in France made him hostile to concepts like freedom for all. He even opposed the idea of a constitutional monarchy.
Some time passed. Even the French Republic was history; an emperor ruled the country. Napoleon Bonaparte, a politician and military leader during the Revolution, seized power in a coup d’état in 1799, assuming the position of First Consul. In 1804, he ascended to the rank of emperor.
Napoleon carefully avoided the word “king” because of its negative connotations. His precautions were careful. Before he elevated himself to emperor, he had made secret investigations about how his move was to be seen by ordinary people. They seemed to have no objections.
From 1804 in France, back to Sweden in 1810. Let me resume recent political changes. One year before, in 1809, Sweden lost a substantial portion of its realm. Until then, Sweden was a vast country, including the territories of present-day Finland and parts of north-western Russia.
As an immediate result of the defeat, the reigning king, Gustav IV Adolf, was violently overthrown by officers of his army. It was a coup with liberal tendencies following the murder of his father, Gustav III, 17 years earlier. A new constitution, which ended the king’s absolute power, was adopted.
Gustav IV Adolf’s reign is considered a failure. His contemporaries described him as high-strung and governed by whims. Additionally, he was highly dogmatic and believed he could never be deposed because power was ‘given to him by God’.
However, regarding realpolitik, the relationship with France, ruled by Emperor Napoleon, was the decisive factor. Gustav Adolf praised the Bourbon dynasty, which had lost power through the Revolution. In that case, he had the same sympathies as his father – in questions about enlightenment, they almost appear as antipodes.
Gustav Adolf aligned with Britain, France’s arch-enemy, when Napoleon’s power peaked. The Swedish people considered his politics reckless, and support for him dwindled. When, due to the defeat in the Finnish War, he lost a third of Sweden’s territory, Finland, the straw broke the camel’s back. His people deposed him.
What were the reasons? The first years after the assassination of Gustav III in 1792, before his son Gustav IV Adolf’s coming of age, Duke Karl, Gustav III’s younger brother, led a minor regency. In that capacity, he usurped unlimited power – which was against King Gustav III’s last will. But ironically enough, he could not manage state affairs. Sweden’s de facto leader was the king’s favourite adviser, Gustaf Adolf Reuterholm – afterwards described as a detested person.
But back to 1810, the late 18th century was history. The incapable Duke Karl was now a ruling monarch named Karl XIII. Recently, the Danish prince Kristian August was appointed the Swedish heir to the throne under a new name: Karl August. Kristian is also Swedish, but no Swedish kings have borne that name. Only Danish kings, for instance, Kristian II (overthrown by the Swedish King Gustav Vasa), have been christened Kristian. The present King Karl XIII’s children died at an early age.
Tragically enough, even the new prince died prematurely. As already told, he passed away during a troop inspection outside Helsingborg.
In due order, a procession was planned for the late crown prince. It would proceed through the capital, the destination being the Royal Palace. Count Axel von Fersen, as Lord Marshal, was to participate in the lengthy procession. The parade would be surrounded by a large crowd, many of whom believed Count von Fersen was a murderer. They suspected him of killing the crown prince.
Rumour had it that the Danish-born Crown Prince had not died a natural death. According to malicious tongues, Axel von Fersen, the Lord Marshal, had poisoned the crown prince. However, the post-mortem showed the crown prince died of a stroke.
While Axel von Fersen was no murderer – the trial to come vindicated him – he was still a Gustavian. He once supported Gustav III, and later, his son, Gustav IV Adolf – soon deposed. Finally, he seemed to favour the son of Gustav IV Adolf. These matters appear to be the valid ground for the hideous events on this gloomy summer day in 1810. There were two factions, and he chose the wrong one. No, there was no choice. His history linked him to Gustav III and his descendants for good and worse.
There it was – the golden carriage with its seven glass windows! Six footmen in dazzling white livery were about to walk beside the carriage – three on each side – during the procession in the centre of Stockholm. While the dead crown prince’s carriage had been covered with dirt during its ride, making it look shabby, von Fersen’s golden vehicle was shiny and elegant.
It was a disturbing fact, as ordinary people saw it. In Swedish history, there was, at times, a strong bond between the king and common folk; the aristocracy, on the other hand, was seen as a burden. This was a card kings during different eras could play – it added a certain amount of dynamics to Sweden’s internal affairs.
Axel von Fersen attracted attention at age fourteen with his unusually tall figure, large eyes, regular facial features, graceful demeanour, and sense of fashionable clothing. Nonetheless, he never married. The reason was his great love, the French queen Marie-Antoinette. They developed an intimate relationship over time, so close that he could not bring himself to marry another woman.
To illustrate his close relationship with the French royal family, it’s worth noting that he accompanied the royal couple during their infamous failed escape attempt, in 1791, during the French Revolution. He was also involved in making the arrangements.
The Italian filmmaker Ettore Scola depicted this dramatic episode in History in a partly fictional but highly praised film, ‘That Night in Varennes’, 1982.
In a letter to his sister, von Fersen later explained that his love for the late Queen Marie-Antoinette was so strong that he never would marry any other woman. That might be true, but private letters can be a deceptive source of facts. Sigmund Freud, the father of psychoanalysis around a hundred years later, had a saying: ‘Words are there to hide the truth.’ Axel von Fersen was famous for being a ‘ladies’ man’. Maybe he just enjoyed freedom.
Now that Marie-Antoinette had been dead for over 15 years, he sat in a horse-drawn carriage again. He knew about the widely spread rumour. Did he neglect it? Or did he feel that death breathed down his neck? He might have reckoned that with his experience as a skilled military man, he could cope with whatever might come.
The journey started in Salem, a parish around 30 kilometres south of Stockholm. Now, it reached Stockholm. The first jeers came shortly after the carriage passed the bridge connecting the rural Liljeholmen, outside the city limits, to Södermalm, also rustic but part of the city of Stockholm. Barefoot street urchins ran up to the golden carriage with the noble crown on the roof and spit on the seven glass windows.
As already suggested, it might have been about something more profound than the unexpected death of a Danish man, only recently appointed Swedish crown prince. Even though Karl August had become popular, there was something else; it was about the brutal class divisions in a country still led by its aristocracy.
The bourgeoisie stood against the nobility. In other words, at stake were the same matters as during the French Revolution. Axel von Fersen epitomised a privileged nobleman – he became a convenient target for the intense class conflicts. But even so, more personal matters might have been involved besides politics. Let me explain.
The parade consisted of up to ten carriages. Up front, Adjutant General Isaac Lars Silfversparre. He was tasked with maintaining order in the city – but the real question is how far his responsibilities extended. Things start to become intriguing.
Adjutant General Silfversparre’s highest superior, King Karl XIII, is said to have detested von Fersen, partly because many years earlier, the latter had an affair with the King’s wife, Queen Hedvig Elisabet Charlotta. One should have that in mind when considering why the King gave Adjutant General Silfversparre orders not to use violence against potential troublemakers and that soldiers along the parade route should not be provided with live ammunition.
Were there also other motives behind Karl XIII’s unusual decisions? A probable one could be that he feared that a political faction was secretly trying to pave the way for another king, the son of the exiled ex-king, Gustav IV Adolf. As mentioned earlier in this essay, some sources suggest that Karl XIII was unfit for his elevated position.
Another significant factor to consider is the stance of the late King’s older brother, Gustav III, who strongly opposed the French Revolution. The opposition continued through his son, King Gustav IV Adolf. This led to a dangerous situation where Sweden and Portugal were the United Kingdom’s only remaining allies. Against France and Russia, among several other states.
During the coup in 1809, also called the revolution, when King Gustav IV Adolf was deposed, Fersen did not take a stance, at least not publicly. But even so, Karl XIII might have suspicions that von Fersen was a foe. Probably, he preferred Gustav Adolf’s son.
Since Gustav III died in 1792, there were two distinct political factions. The first faction, known as the Gustavians, adhered to the principles and policies of Gustav III, which, to some extent, included the concepts of Enlightenment and Reason.
Gustaf Adolf Reuterholm, a nobleman from Finland, belonged to the second faction, the opposition against Gustaf III – at least since his father, a Council of the Realm member, was imprisoned during Gustav III’s coup in 1772.
After the assassination of Gustav III, Reuterholm was propelled into power through a friendship. From a young age, Reuterholm nurtured a fascination for mysticism and seances. Eventually, he became close friends with then-Duke Karl (later Karl XIII), Gustav III’s younger brother, who shared Reuterholm’s interest in this specific kind of spirituality.
It could also be seen in another context: Romanticism was the new cultural movement after the Enlightenment, characterised by a particular resistance against concepts such as Reason and Universalism. The rulers during this period reflected a new zeitgeist.
The Duke was the Grand Master of the Freemasons, a society Gustaf Adolf Reuterholm initiated in 1782. At the death of Gustav III, his son was a minor. The formal regent during Gustav IV Adolf’s childhood was Duke Karl. But since he seemed to lack the skills and competence for his position, Reuterholm was the one who de facto governed Sweden.
The Gustavians were effectively abolished from power, it seems. Nevertheless, Reuterholm soon got disturbing reports from his spies: The Gustavians were planning a coup! This was in the mid-1790s. Reuterholm and Duke Karl, the future King, were close allies; Duke Karl shared Reuterholm’s hatred and fear against the Gustavians.
Von Fersen’s ride began in a rural environment 30 kilometres south of Stockholm. Down by Röda slussen (“the red sluice”), a part of today’s Slussen, the streets were crowded with people. The weather was quite chilly for June, around 14 degrees, and it looked like rain.
In the crowd, one could see many colourful silk umbrellas. The bourgeoisie were out on the streets. But most people were likely to be poor; Sweden was not wealthy. Yet, the nation had another kind of possession, an immaterial one: every family had at least one member who could read and write. That was not common in Europe at large. Sweden was a literal country.
One of the reasons was Protestantism, one of its significant ideas being that the Bible should be accessible to everybody. This could have had a specific impact on the future prosperity that Sweden later acquired. In the Book of Sirach, the concept of Wisdom is valued. According to tradition, Wisdom (knowledge, insight) has a female gender.
‘Put your neck under her yoke, and let your souls receive instruction; it is to be found close by. See with your own eyes that I have labored but little and found for myself much serenity. Hear but a little of my instruction, and through me you will acquire silver and gold.”
The New Revised Standard Version (NRSV, 1989)
‘The Catholic church saw the idea of a personal relationship between God and the individual as alien. And beware: Gold can turn into stone.
Some boys shouted as the Lord Marshal’s somewhat old-fashioned gala carriage rolled over to Kornhamnstorg on the islet now known as Gamla stan (Old Town).
“Stones at Fersen! Stones at Fersen!”
When he reached Stora Nygatan, it got even worse.
As von Fersen huddled inside the carriage and pulled the black mourning cloak over his head for protection, an older woman shouted.
“Kill him!”
Some Finnish-speaking men dressed as sailors ran up to the horses and loosened the reins, causing the entire carriage to stop, roughly where the jazz club Stampen stands today. It was around half past twelve. The Lord Marshal had about an hour left to live.
The exact sequence of events is unclear. The testimonies in the subsequent trial are contradictory. But it could have happened like this.
Suddenly, in the standstill, a uniformed man rushed to Fersen’s carriage and pulled him onto the street. While the man led the bleeding Fersen toward the Hultgren’s house, now located at Stora Nygatan 1, they were bombarded with stones and logs.
Adjutant General Silfversparre arrived and urged the Lord Marshal to enter the building, which housed a tavern. Fersen was led up a narrow and winding staircase into a small chamber.
The count wiped sweat and blood from his face with a handkerchief, drank a glass of water and caught his breath.
The drunken clamour from the room outside the chamber grew stronger. Tension was escalating minute by minute. More and more people streamed in.
A man in sailor attire, his face marked by scars and prominent sideburns, navigated the bustling street crowd. He was Otto Johan Tandefeldt, a member of an ancient Finnish noble lineage, masquerading as a commoner. Though this interpretation of the situation was widely accepted, some uncertainty emerged during the trial; witnesses alleged seeing Tandefeldt in nobleman’s garb during the procession, implying a case of mistaken identity.
“He must be crushed!” shouted Tandefeldt, nodding meaningfully toward Hultgren’s Tavern and getting those around him to join in with cheers. Tandefeldt’s statement would soon prove to have a literal and eerie meaning.
“In the name of the nation, I demand Count von Fersen be arrested!” The command raised loudly from the crowd outside the Hultgren’s house came from a well-dressed merchant. It was most likely prearranged that he would phrase it exactly that way.
Up in the tavern, the atmosphere was tense. The Lord Marshal was confronted by threatening men. Silfversparre managed to calm the situation – but only for a moment, soon the tumult resumed.
Someone yanked Fersen’s black mourning cloak off his shoulders. Tandefeldt, who had now entered the building, grabbed the blanket and threw it out of the window to the jubilant crowd below on the street. No one paid any further attention to General Adjutant Silfversparre.
A man in a brown coat prompted several men in the tavern to pounce on Fersen.
‘Prince murderer, you deserve to die!’
At last, Adjutant General Silfversparre decided to act. He dismounted his horse and ascended the steep staircase in a few swift steps.
The few brave souls who dared to assist the count ushered him back into the small chamber. He was bloody around the neck, face, and hands. His clothing had been partially torn and soiled by spit.
Adjutant General Silfversparre took care of von Fersen and accompanied him from the small chamber. He believed he had secured the crowd’s assurance of safe passage in exchange for his promise to escort the Lord Marshal to the prison.
But in vain. Somebody almost immediately delivered a blow to Fersen’s head with a forceful cane – the rod broke.
The beatings continued as they descended the stairs. People kept striking wherever they could. Axel von Fersen’s long, flowing hair became an easy target, and a man grabbed it forcefully, causing large tufts to come loose, and blood streamed from his scalp.
‘I see that my time is nearly up,’ Fersen stuttered.
With shoves, kicks, and bangs, the disfigured count was driven through the crowd at a pace that made it seem like he was floating. They reached Riddarhustorget and headed toward Bondeska Palatset, back then Stockholm’s City Hall.
Fersen called out in a weak voice to the first row of soldiers from the Svea Life Guards, who stood just a few meters away:
‘Boys, save me!’
A group of guardsmen fixed their bayonets and moved toward the mob. However, they were immediately revoked.
So there you are. The soldiers just watched as one of the highest-ranking officials in the kingdom was pushed forward by the drunken mob, enduring blows and strikes, toward the guardroom under the City Hall stairs.
With some of those courageous men who had aided him during the tumult, Fersen was pushed through the door and bolted from the inside. He collapsed onto a bench, more dead than alive. In the guardroom, the Lord Marshal had a few minutes of respite.
He utilized this brief reprieve to drink water from a simple wooden container. Then, a compassionate man poured water over his throbbing, battered head.
This was the last act of kindness that Axel von Fersen would experience in his life. The next moment, the door was violently thrown open, and a group of men dressed as sailors burst in.
The End of a Life, the Birth of Shame
A Tale Never to be Forgotten
Von Fersen stumbled forward, trembling with fear and exhaustion. He held his hands clasped before his bloody, nearly naked chest. It appeared as if the tormented man was silently praying.
He extended his hands desperately toward his tormentors and uttered with a barely audible voice:
‘Please, dear friends, don’t hit me!’
These were Axel von Fersen’s last words.
A man who had led a life in absolute grandeur in Sweden, France and America was now treated as a pariah. There was no mercy. People, drunk because of free alcohol, had succumbed to hysteria.
In the presence of two hundred motionless soldiers and officers from Svea Livgarde, von Fersen was shoved around the courtyard. He fell to the ground, was lifted, fell again, and was raised once more.
The beating continued for a few minutes amid shouts and cries. Then, von Fersen received a violent blow to the back of his neck and fell forward lifelessly.
The impact of his forehead striking the stone pavement was so powerful that it resounded throughout the courtyard despite all hues and cries.
In the depths of suffering, words prove insufficient. So do pictures.
These facts remain. A war correspondent recently captured it: Neither words nor pictures can convey the impossible horror that war, or any lethal violence, embodies.
Confronted with unrestrained brutality – its smells, its sounds, its endless fear – words fall short.
On this summer day, the crowd, a frenzy of madness, engulfed the Lord Marshal, a torrent of terror and torment.
Men and women alike kicked him in the head. They poked his eyes with the tips of their umbrellas. They tore his clothes to shreds.
They even attempted to sever his limbs from his body.
Now, I confine myself to words. They are just letters. Also, they can be neglected, while a figurative picture, with its reflections of Reality, can be too intrusive.
Of course, you can leave Reality behind. Echo symbols. Guernica.
Yet there is another possibility. Metaphorical pictures – a single depiction of war, proven to have stood the test of time, can express something different. It may not look the same, not at all, but it still contains the essence of what it is all about.
Absolute brutality. Absence of righteousness. Abyssalness.
There had been no trial, we know that. And we know in hindsight that the charges were false.
When reports tell about the victim lying on the street, there is an apparent reference to another death, which in the same way contradicts everything we call justice.
They left him lying on his back with his arms outstretched – as if crucified.
At that precise moment, the sailor-clad Tandefeldt steps onto the unconscious nobleman’s chest and roars: “This is what you deserve, you regicide!”
He delivers the fatal blow by jumping with both feet so the ribs are smashed with a cracking sound.
Later, the post-mortem showed that von Fersen was already dead when his ribs were crushed.
The aftermath raises many questions. In the subsequent trial, no one was convicted of murder. Not even manslaughter.
The court faced a challenging task, no doubt. Events were chaotic. Most people involved were heavily intoxicated. Cameras were yet to be invented; any picture with a photographic look in this story is a reconstruction based on general facts, recollections, and imagination.
The evidence was what people told, sometimes lying, sometimes not. Which individuals had witnessed specific phases of the events?
In the courtroom, a motley crew of witnesses. Vague recollections, most tainted by excessive drinking during the day of the crime. Not the pristine tableau any judge would hope for. Tangled webs of personal vendettas and concealed motives. Evasive truth.
And the tragic victim at the centre of it all, the Lord Marshal, had a saga of his own. With both former and present allies and enemies, and not only in the kingdom of Sweden, he was a looming peril to King Karl XIII – though the king seems to have lacked the courage to confront him openly. Instead, he opted for clandestine moves and proxies – sinister strategies reminiscent of tyrants in a world two centuries ahead of von Fersen.
Trump clamping his swamp. Putin’s spetsialnaya routines.
Karl XIII was cut from the same cloth. All reflecting the timeless wisdom of Machiavelli’s ‘The Prince’, the manual for people with blood on their hands. This dark chapter in Swedish history, known as the Age of Lead, bears witness to his methods, marking an era of cunning plots and hidden alliances.
Signs suggest that the lynching was not a spontaneous act. Instead, an intricate plan. There are remarkable facts: alcohol in large quantities was provided for free, quite extraordinary. And the egregious reports of a nobleman appearing in a sailor’s attire and participating in the lynching in several phases.
The preceding rumour that the crown prince was ‘poisoned’ by Axel von Fersen and his siblings seems quite far-fetched. But at the same time, conspiratory theories appeal to people.
It is not too daring to claim that King Karl XIII bore the moral responsibility with his order that the military refrain from intervening at any cost against potential troublemakers. It was an unconventional order. And meticulously followed.
On the other hand, rulers are prone to adhere to certain principles — be they Machiavellian or not. First and foremost, they want to stay in power. King Karl XIII was not a strong ruler, partly due to an early onset of dementia. He had reason to believe he could be overthrown.
Seen in a broader historical context, the drama bears a faint resemblance to the French Revolution, the Great Revolution. Karl’s older brother, the glorious King Gustav III, was a friend of the French royal family. He got involved in the resistance against the French Revolution. Furthermore, Axel von Fersen was tasked by Gustav III to report on what was happening in France.
Duke Karl, later to become King Karl XIII, was closely connected to the opposition against his brother, King Gustav III. He might have even known of and supported the plans to assassinate the king.
King Gustav III’s reign is often described as “an Age of Gold” in Swedish history, an enlightened era when the fine arts bloomed, even if there were clear signs of autocracy.
The assassination of the king changed everything. The “Age of Lead” began. It combined elements of Jacobin’s ideas and ruthless totalitarianism.
the end of the age of lead
The Birth of a New Era
King Gustav III was assassinated; three weak or even harmful leaders followed him; a mob lynched Axel von Fersen, Sweden’s maybe last enlightened Gustavian, all of whom opposed the French Revolution.
Finally, a new king was chosen among “the children of the revolution” – the French generals who gained fame during the wars following the Grand Revolution.
That is quite some change to happen in less than 20 years. The road may have been winding. But a clear direction emerges when you compare the journey’s starting point with its destination.
The large pattern of a series of events, or even the mighty flow of History itself, might be easier to grasp if one widens the time gap, the perspective. If we seek a deeper understanding – ‘sub specie Aeternitas’, under the aspect of eternity – we might sense the grand scheme of History.
What I focus on is a transitional period. It starts with Gustav III, an “enlightened despot”, a concept that combines absolute power with enlightened principles, at least some of them: Reason, Justice, Education, Individual Liberty, Tolerance, Empirism. However, the notion of absolute power is not an enlightened one. Gustav III was assassinated in 1792 by Captain Anckarström, a nobleman who disliked the king’s strengthening of the non-aristocratic classes.
This is one of many dramatic incidents in a chain of rivalry between the nobility and the Monarchy. Both sides strived for control, authority – and influence. Even if the murderer’s family, Anckarström, cut all links to him, he did not lack support. A token of that is the unexpectedly mild sentences of those involved in the regicide of Gustav III.
Before Gustav III’s coup 20 years earlier, in 1772, the Monarchy had lost almost all power after Karl XII’s death. The assassination of the ‘enlightened’ Gustav III was followed by a weakening of the Monarchy, represented by three inept or even detrimental leaders, during 1792–1810.
But after the period of disorder, summarised in the lynching of Axel von Fersen, when even the concept of a republican government gained strong support, the Lords of the Realm made an unexpected move.
To refrain from being attacked by zealous republicans, they left Stockholm for Örebro. They appointed a new crown prince without connection to the former Swedish kings – even if Karl XIII formally adopted him.
The new king neither represented the nobility nor the Monarchy since his power struggle started with the French Revolution. The Great Revolution honoured the notion that anyone, regardless of background, could reach the highest ranks if capable. A principle that Karl Johan embodied in the person.
The election of a French Marshal reveals an entirely new direction in Swedish policies compared to the reigns of Gustav Adolf Reuterholm, Gustav XIV Adolf and Karl XIII.
Karl Johan, the new king, ruled under a constitution in the spirit of the division of power – an enlightened principle that Gustav III did not share. However, after some time, he assumed a firmer hold of power. Nevertheless, Karl XIV Johan is considered one of the most respected kings in Swedish History.
It would not be an exaggeration to claim that Sweden still enjoys a period of peace, which we could call ‘Pax Carolus Johannes’. Sweden has not waged war since Karl Johan, even if that blessing once in a while has come with a price in terms of political integrity.
All in all, the timeline is interesting. The violent murder of Axel von Fersen – a supporter of the late Gustav III and a close friend to the French royal couple, killed during the revolution – took place just a month before Karl Johan was elected crown prince.
Sweden had supported ‘l’ancien regime’ – France before the Great Revolution. Then, overnight, it became a supporter of Napoleonic France, an offspring of the revolution.
Gustav III’s younger brother not only paved the way for the murder of the wrongly accused, Axel von Fersen, but he also adopted Jean Bernadotte, making a child of the revolution the heir to the Swedish throne. The crown prince was now a direct outcome of the French Revolution, once so detested. The revolution enabled a man of humble origin to rise to the highest rank of an officer. And even more.
The idea that the Swedish period of chaos, defeat and strong opposition against all radical ideas would be ended by a man formed by the French Revolution seems highly improbable.
However, that is precisely what happened. Karl Johan’s rule ushered in a period of peace that has prevailed for more than 200 years.
This story aims to show how swiftly the mighty flow of History can reshape seemingly solid structures. I publish it at a historical moment when a fixed pattern of balance between the most potent powers in the world has become fragile.
The period we have lived through is called Pax Americana and will probably bear the same name in future history books. It was about the military strength of the U.S., combined with its commitment to the rule of law and democracy. A state of equilibrium that prevailed since World War II’s end is now at risk.
What seemed possible twenty or thirty years ago, the emergence of democracy in former authoritarian states, assuming human rights in priorly anti-democratic areas, has proven to be a false hope. It was never about freedom, only about power and control. Neither was it about the people, only about their leaders. Tyrants, if you will: We see the writing on the wall, the prospect of former democracies becoming dictatorships.
Crucial in interpreting History is whether or not strong individuals control the string of events. Is it all about personal agents or anonymous processes in the background, beyond anything human beings could influence? That is how some philosophers in the 19th century saw it. For instance, Hegel and Marx both of whom, to some extent, based their thinking on speculative reasoning.
The perception of History as shaped by invisible patterns, discernible only through Reason and transcending empiricism, finds its roots in religious ideology. This notion illuminates the transformation in intellectual currents since the Enlightenment era. During the Romantic period, it became natural to ground one’s understanding in something more subjective than mere empiricism, leading to the rise of esoteric perspectives.
Unexpectedly, there are reflections of religious speculation, most prominently, Talmudic Logic, in the approach of philosophers like Hegel and Marx: abstract reasoning rather than empirical studies. In Marxism, you can also find components reminiscent of the concepts of the ‘enlightened despot’ – which in Marx’s theory translates into the notion of ‘dictatorship of the proletariat’.
When steering the course of History, some emphasise robust, or even visionary, leaders. Personages who get hold of the transition, the flood of events, and reshape circumstances beyond what anyone else could expect.
On the other hand, the question may be irrelevant or simplistic. Diverse agents, among them both abstract and personal, closely intertwined, can be what fuels History. What came first, the chicken or the egg? We don’t know.
But we know what we now are witnessing: a chicken race, where several foolish leaders try to confront one another in a way that makes it impossible to foresee any inevitable outcome. A plethora of possible pitfalls – a fog called chaos. We guide in the same mist that blinded people in Sweden during the Age of Lead.
And we experience, precisely as they did back then, how irrational emotions, maybe intertwined with cold calculation, kill people. No matter if good or bad.
I began this story with a piece of news: the unexpected death of a crown prince. I end it with a feeling transformed into an idiom: No news is good news.
The smell of lead is in the air.
Rosendals Slott, located in Djurgården in Stockholm. A unique example of the Swedish Empire style, also known as the Karl Johan style.
The Summer Palace is an idyll that can be seen as a symbol of the peaceful era that commenced during King Karl Johan.
In time and space, a tiny island of peace in a vast ocean of storm.
