Lands of Red and Gold
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A fascinating post, east quote tells a story and reveals so much about the world while also tantalizing the reader to wonder, ask questions and desire a deeper delve into the meaning and implications of each quote, incredible stuff.
Emphasis on the idea of men aside, I think this is one of my favorites as its a pretty well thought, eloquent and scathing indictment or run away capitalism which is always a joy to read.
Makan/Jenkins is primarily a labour oganiser, rather than a close Marx-analogue. Class does feature in his writings, in a sense, but it's not significantly related to Marx's views on class.Oh my God.
This timeline Marx is Australian?!
rofl:
He is secondarily an ideologue, but not in anything which is related to Marxism.
He will feature in a flash-forward in a couple of chapters, which will give something of a sense of what he is. (Though it will take a while for the timeline to catch up to the period when he lives.)
Been on here for a while. Updated from the AH.com version, too. Most of those changes are just minor tweaks/additions, but there's a few "director's commentary" type posts (three so far) which are not found on AH.com.
Glad you liked that one. The "idea of men" bit is meant to be reflective of the usual social turmoil which is inevitable in any shift to industrialisation (and also that at this point, people use "men" to mean "humans", but that's one issue which eludes even Makan, for now.)
Lands of Red and Gold #51: As the Butterfly Breaks the Earth...
Lands of Red and Gold #51: As the Butterfly Breaks the Earth...
A few glimpses of how the broader world has been changed by Aururian contact...
--
In history as we know it, China in the 1630s was ruled by the Ming Dynasty (大明); once great, now crumbling.
For over two and a half centuries, Ming rule had brought stability to the greatest economy in the world. But as the 1630s began, Ming authority was failing.
The economy relied on silver currency, largely imported from the New World, and Spain had curtailed those imports. Later in the decade, Japan's closure of most overseas trade eliminated another source of bullion. With the loss of silver imports, the economic structure collapsed, leading to rampant inflation and collapsing tax revenues.
Coupled with the economic problems came climate change; the advent of the Little Ice Age brought cooler and drier weather to most of China. In turn, that led to crop failures and widespread famines. These two problems led to inevitable unrest, with growing rebellions threatening the revenue-starved Ming government.
Externally, the Manchurian tribes, once tributaries to China, had been unified under Nurhaci (努尔哈赤). Nurhaci had rebelled against Ming authority in 1618, and began a campaign of military expansion against China, Korea, the Mongols, and his Manchurian neighbours. Nurhaci had several notable successes, until in 1626 he was defeated by a Ming army commanded by Yuan Chonghuan (袁崇焕), and died of his wounds a few days later.
Nurhaci's son, Huang Taiji (皇太極), took command of the Manchus and continued the raids into China. Yuan, one of the few Ming generals to have any success against the Manchu, successfully defended Beijing from Huang's forces in 1629, but was betrayed by his own emperor and condemned to death.
After Yuan's execution, the Manchus continued their expansion, breaking Ming control over Korea in 1638, and pushing into China. Major rebellions within China saw rebel leaders such as Li Zicheng (李自成) and Zhang Xianzhong (张献忠) gain control of large parts of the country. Li Zicheng broke Ming rule in 1644 by capturing Beijing; the last Ming emperor committed suicide by hanging himself from a tree.
Li proclaimed himself emperor, but his dynasty was one of the shortest-lived in Chinese history. The Manchus under Huang drove Li out of Beijing after less than two weeks of his rule, and chased him across much of China until he died a year later. Huang proclaimed himself emperor of the Qing Dynasty (大清) in 1644. The Manchus were effective rulers of China from that time, although some Ming loyalists held out for nearly two more decades.
*
In history as it might have been, the fate of China moved onto another path. In 1619, the Dutch explorer Frederik de Houtman first made contact with the natives of what he called the Great South Land, and which would later be known in English as Aururia. This was a land of gold and silver, spices and the strange new drug kunduri. Most important of all for the fate of China, Aururia was the home of two new epidemic diseases; the two-stage disease known in Aururia as the Waiting Death (Marnitja), and a new version of influenza called blue-sleep.
Contact with Aururia saw these two diseases escape into the wider world, even as Old World diseases were beginning to ravage Aururia. In later European history, the familiar story of these two plagues would see Marnitja, most commonly known as the Dutch curse, brought by ship to the Netherlands and then sweep through Europe in 1627-9. Blue-sleep was carried by Portuguese ships first into Flores, then through Indonesia and into mainland Asia, where it burned a path across the continent to emerge into Europe in 1631-2 and strike a population still reeling from the previous plague.
In China, the course of those two epidemics was reversed. Merchant ships brought blue-sleep from the Indies to China in 1629-30. Marnitja traced a slower path through much of the Old World, from Madagascar to mainland Africa to Arabia, before being carried by returning hajj pilgrims to India, then to Southeast Asia, and then by ship to Guangzhou (Canton) in 1632, from whence it spread across China in 1632-4.
The effects of the plagues wrenched China's fate into a new path. Blue-sleep appeared first in Guangzhou in February 1629, from whence it spread both by land and sea. Ships carried it to Tianjin in May 1629, from where it was carried both into Beijing and into the Manchu-occupied province of Liaoning.
Blue-sleep has the peculiarity that its mortality is most severe amongst young adults, and thus it took a considerable toll among the young men of military age in both the Ming and Manchu armies. While both sides were disrupted, this was of most advantage to Yuan Chonghuan, who in the winter of 1629 fought the Manchu armies further from Beijing, and made effective use of his superior artillery to rout the enemy armies.
Now confirmed as a military hero, with no aura of betrayal, Yuan spent 1630-1632 in overall command of China's northeastern armies, where he worked hard to rebuild military forces, strengthen his artillery corps, and planned the reconquest of Liaoning.
While the consequences of the blue-sleep were fortunate indeed for Yuan personally, the wider effects of the twin plagues were catastrophic. The famines of the 1620s had left a weakened, vulnerable population. Blue-sleep killed over 6% of the population, and had a disproportionate effect on young adults.
The Marnitja epidemic which followed was even worse. In southern China it killed around 15% of the remaining population, while in famine-stricken northern China the mortality was even worse, reaching over 20%.
The current Ming ruler, the Chongzen Emperor, had the fortune to survive both plagues. Had he known the fate of his counterpart in another history, the Emperor would doubtless have celebrated the fact that Marnitja claimed people who would have been prominent rebel leaders: Li Zicheng slipped into a fatal coma in 1633, while Zhang Xianzhong died of the pink cough in 1634.
Since the Chongzen Emperor lacked that knowledge, of course, he was far more concerned with the problems in the China he found. The massive death toll of the plagues was taken as a sign that the Ming Dynasty had lost divine legitimacy. While the historical rebel leaders were lost to the plagues, others emerged to take their place; revolts sprung up throughout China.
Busy planning his campaigns on the frontier, Yuan was almost indifferent to the troubles in the rest of China. In 1634-5, with the effects of Marnitja subsiding, Yuan launched his planned reconquest of Liaoning province. With disciplined troops and his advantage in artillery, he pushed the Manchus out of China and back into Manchuria proper. Korea, which in another history would have been lost to Chinese influence, remained a tributary state.
Yuan's reconquest brought considerable glory to himself and his armies, but his very success was deemed suspicious in a time when rebel generals were springing up in several provinces. Some of Yuan's allies at court sent him word that his victories were viewed as too effective, that he was now thought to be cooperating with the Manchus and planning to turn them into allies and launch a revolt of his own.
In April 1636, Yuan received an order calling on him to surrender command of his armies and return to Beijing. He was astute enough to realise what this order meant. Knowing that he would be deemed as a rebel regardless of his actions, and believing that the plagues were proof that the Ming had lost their legitimacy, Yuan refused the summons. Legend claims that his reply to the Emperor was: "When I return to Beijing, I will not come alone."
Huang Taiji heard rumours of Yuan's plans, and tried to launch more raids into Liaoning. Yuan fought one last great battle against the Manchus near Xingjing (兴京) in May 1636, where Huang was killed in the fighting, and the surviving Manchus sued for peace.
With his rear secure, Yuan marched into China himself. Feted as a hero by the local population, he won a battle north of Beijing in late June, and captured the city after the Chongzen Emperor fled the city ahead of his forces. Yuan pushed further into northern China, finding plenty of local support. In April 1637, at a battle near the city of Liaocheng (聊城), Yuan defeated the Ming armies under Hong Chengchou (洪承疇) who had been sent to reconquer northern China.
After this victory, Yuan proclaimed himself as the first emperor of the You Dynasty (大佑) [1]. He was quick to consolidate control over northern China, but lacked the manpower or support to push further south and conquer the whole country. The result was a stalemate: Yuan did not want to risk his previous triumphs by a military gamble in southern China, while the surviving Ming rulers did not have the strength to push him out.
So, as had happened so many times before in its history, China was again divided, with the You ruling in the north while the Southern Ming tried to arrest their decay in their new southern dominions...
--
In history, France from 1624 onwards was dominated by the famous Armand Jean du Plessis, Cardinal-Duc de Richelieu et de Fronsac, or Cardinal Richelieu as he is usually known. The Cardinal served as King Louis XIII's chief minister, and before his death in 1642 he would do much to strengthen the central authority of the French state.
In domestic affairs, Richelieu sought to bolster royal power at the expense of the nobility and religious dissidents. The former saw the dismantling of most fortifications in France, to limit aristocrats' ability to rebel. The latter led to Huguenot rebellions in 1625 and 1627-9. Charles I of England tried to intervene in the latter rebellion, resulting in the brief Anglo-French War of 1627-9.
As part of suppressing the Huguenot rebellion of 1627-9, the Cardinal took personal control of the troops besieging the fortified Huguenot city of La Rochelle. Despite British naval efforts to relieve the siege, La Rochelle surrendered in October 1628. The Huguenot rebellion persisted for a few more months, until Richelieu negotiated the Peace of Alais with the Huguenots. Under the terms of this peace, the Huguenots were guaranteed tolerance, but were stripped of their political rights.
In foreign affairs, Richelieu's core goal was opposition to the Habsburgs whose dominions in Spain, Austria, and the Netherlands came close to encircling France. A pragmatic statesman, Richelieu put French national interest above religion. While the Thirty Years' War had begun as a religious struggle between Protestants and Catholics, the Cardinal provided French support for several Protestant nations against the Catholic Habsburgs.
Early in the Thirty Years' War, Richelieu sought to use French subsidies to finance opposition to the Habsburgs, with French military action being limited to secondary fronts. In that cause, France subsidised the Dutch to fight the Spanish, and the Danes and then the Swedish to fight against the Habsburg forces in the Holy Roman Empire. Meanwhile, France fought directly against the Habsburgs in northern Italy during the War of the Mantuan Succession (1628-1631), where Richelieu again took personal command of French forces, this time in northern Italy.
Ultimately, the Cardinal's indirect efforts to weaken the Habsburgs were insufficient, since neither Denmark nor Sweden were able to break Habsburg power. As a result, Richelieu engineered direct French intervention in the Thirty Years' War. France declared war on Spain in 1635, and on the Austrian Habsburgs in 1636. These wars both continued after Richelieu died in 1642. The French war against the Austrians continued until the Thirty Years' War ended in 1648, while the war with Spain lasted even longer, ending only in 1659.
One of the Cardinal's other goals was expansion of French colonial power. He was a supporter of Samuel de Champlain, the French explorer who founded New France. In the early seventeenth century, a variety of companies had been granted monopolies in the fur trade from New France, but had problems enforcing their monopolies due to traders from other nations, and because of political opposition in France. In 1627, Richelieu founded the Company of One Hundred Associates, granting it a monopoly on the fur trade, and ensured Champlain was involved both as an investor and the commander of the Company's first fleet sent to Quebec.
Richelieu continued to advocate for the interests of Champlain and New France even when another problem emerged: the war with England. During the Anglo-French War of 1627-29, the English military efforts against France proper were largely unsuccessful. English colonial forces had more success in North America, with much of New France being conquered; even Quebec City itself was captured in July 1629, with Champlain being forced to surrender the colony.
Fortunately for the future of New France, France and England had signed the Treaty of Suza in April 1629, which permitted both sides to retain colonies they had captured before that date, but required the return of ones captured later. This included Quebec City and other parts of New France. Getting England to hand back those colonies was a harder task, but Richelieu persisted. The Treaty of Saint-Germain-en-Laye (signed in March 1632) returned Quebec, Acadia and Cape Breton Island to France.
*
In allohistory, the fate of France and New France was shifted onto a new course. The early years of Dutch contact with Aururia meant little to France; a new source of gold for the Netherlands meant that France provided slightly reduced subsidies to the Dutch, while the Dutch in turn would provide additional subsidies to Denmark when the latter nation intervened in the Thirty Years' War.
As with all of Europe, France would suffer the effects of the Aururian plagues. Marnitja swept across France in 1628-9. The effects were not as severe as they would later be in China, but were still devastating: about 14% of the population died. The most notable victim was Cardinal Richelieu himself. At the siege of La Rochelle, in April 1628, he died coughing up blood, and many of the government soldiers died with him. The casualties of the epidemic, and the power vacuum left by Richelieu's death, saw the siege of La Rochelle lifted, for the time being.
With the French court intrigue-ridden after Richelieu's death, Louis XIII turned to Honoré d'Albert, Duc de Chaulnes, marshal of France and brother of his former favourite, Charles d'Albert, Duc de Luynes. De Chaulnes became the effective chief minister of France by July 1628, replacing Richelieu. De Chaulnes had an equal desire to Richelieu to ensure France's safety from the encircling Habsburgs, but he also had an appreciation of how heavy a toll the "Dutch curse" had taken on French manpower and prosperity. De Chaulnes supported the policy of subsidising the Habsburgs' enemies, but was disinclined to take direct military action.
De Chaulnes had no shortage of political opponents within the French court, but perhaps the most prominent was Marie de' Medici, Louis XIII's mother and former regent. Half-Habsburg herself, Marie sought to advise Louis to maintain peace with that family rather than continue a bloody war. De Chaulnes's arguments, and Louis' own suspicion, proved to be decisive, and Marie was exiled to Compiègne in February 1629.
Under De Chaulnes' direction, while La Rochelle was left alone, French royal forces continued the fight against the Huguenot forces in southern France. The weakened French economy meant that the struggle took longer, but the Huguenot leader, Henri, Duc de Rohan, was eventually forced to peace terms. In February 1631, the Peace of Alais concluded the civil war, on terms which restored most of the Huguenots political rights, except that they were no longer permitted to build any fortifications [2]. This peace was rather timely, since blue-sleep would sweep over France later in the same year.
The problems within France meant that the war with England continued for a few crucial months longer, with the English believing that the continued Huguenot effort offered opportunities. In practice, though, the only real English actions were naval efforts or colonial ventures; Charles I had neither the money nor the interest to invade France itself. English ships under the Duke of Buckingham made half-hearted efforts to bombard Calais in October 1628, and Le Havre in February 1629, with the main intention being to require France to keep royal forces in the north and thus weaken the offensive against the Huguenots in the south.
After the failure at Le Havre, Charles I gave up interest in the endeavour. Peace negotiations were concluded at Suza in August 1629. As happened with the historical Treaty of Suza, the treaty terms were essentially that each nation kept any territory acquired until that time.
Peace in Europe itself was easily restored, since neither nation had seized any European territory from the other, but that left the fate of New France much more ambiguous. Marnitja had not yet crossed the Atlantic, leaving the French and English/Scottish colonists in North America to fight each other without distractions.
The English/Scottish colonists had rather more success; as they had done historically, the English/Scottish colonists had seized most of New France by July 1629, including Quebec City, Port Royal, and Cape Breton Island, and the isolated trading post of Fort Pentagouet [Castine, Maine]. At the time the Treaty of Suza was signed, the only part of New France which still held out was Cape Sable [Port La Tour, Nova Scotia].
Even though Richelieu was dead, the Company of One Hundred Associates lived on, and its investors still looked for returns. De Chaulnes personally did not care that much about New France, but he did find it galling that England should come away with so much colonial territory when its forces in Europe had been so spectacularly unsuccessful. Once the Huguenots had been subdued, he began fresh negotiations with England for a revised treaty.
These peace negotiations were caught up in the broader foreign policy dynamics of post-Richelieu France, and the ravages of blue-sleep which swept through Europe in this era. Under De Chaulnes' guidance, France avoided direct war with Spain. In Italy, this meant that France did not intervene in the disputed succession of Mantua, leaving the Spanish to partition the Mantuan succession between the rival claimants [3]. In the Holy Roman Empire, this meant that France offered subsidies to Denmark until that nation made peace in April 1630, and then that France began to offer subsidies to Bavaria and Sweden.
The new negotiations between France and England continued through much of 1631. With the civil war over, the threat of renewed French military action was a credible one, and Charles I was in a poor domestic position due to lack of money. All negotiations were suspended when Charles I himself succumbed to blue-sleep in November 1631.
France continued to press for a resolution, and with the chaos amongst the Austrian Habsburgs, France also had no clear rival that might be credibly considered to threaten it if it took military action against England. In England, though, the new Duke Regent, William Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle, also could not afford to undermine his own position by handing back all of the colonial acquisitions.
Eventually, the Treaty of Bobigny was signed in May 1632. In it, England agreed to restore Quebec City and the St Lawrence River to French rule. France recognised the new Scottish colonies in Nova Scotia and Cape Breton Island, although it retained Cape Sable and a vaguely-defined part of southern Nova Scotia (neither side had accurate maps of the interior). France also obtained English recognition of its control over mainland Acadia [roughly New Brunswick and parts of eastern Maine], which would have a new capital founded at Fort Saint Marie [Saint John, New Brunswick] [4], and where the displaced colonists from Nova Scotia could resettle.
The other captured French outpost was the small trading post at Fort Pentagouet [Castine, Maine]. Settlers from the Plymouth Colony had seized Fort Pentagouet in 1628 and claimed it for their colony. France wanted it removed from English rule, but it had also received a request from Gustavus Adolphus, king of Sweden, that Sweden be granted the region of Penobscott Bay (including Fort Pentagouet). Gustavus Adolphus had his own visions of securing part of his legacy in the New World, while France wanted to maintain good relations with Sweden to ensure its continued efforts against the Habsburgs in the Holy Roman Empire. Under the Treaty of Bobigny, England relinquished control of Fort Pentagouet and, in turn, recognised the French cession of that outpost to Sweden...
--
In their long isolation from the other two worlds, Aururian peoples developed both crops and agricultural techniques which were distinct from any known in the Old World or the New. Perennial crops, combined with systems of crop rotation, companion planting, low-till farming, and soil restoration, were well-suited to the poor soils and irregular rainfall of most of Aururia.
After European contact in 1619, it was inevitable that many Aururian crops would spread around the globe. Whether the associated techniques would also be passed on, and how quickly, was another question entirely. Transporting a few seeds across the seas was one thing; bringing all of the accumulated agricultural knowledge was quite another.
The Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie was open to any new crop which might turn a profit; in his second voyage to the Great South Land, de Houtman brought back the first Aururian crops back to Batavia. The Old World received its first samples of red yams, warran yams, wattles, murnong, and Aururian flax.
Whether through optimism or foolishness, Company officials tried to plant these crops in Batavia itself. Perhaps they had heard that Aururia was hot too, and so thought that the tropics would be suitable. These efforts were spectacular failures. Red yams simply would not form tubers in tropical latitudes, and the other plants could not cope with the heat and excessive rainfall of the tropics.
Some Dutch trading captains brought more samples of the crops over the next few years. Some of them tried to plant the crops in different parts of the East Indies, with no more success than the first efforts in Batavia.
Other captains brought the crops back to the Netherlands. The first European efforts to cultivate Aururian crops were also largely unsuccessful. Where Batavia was largely too hot, Amsterdam was mostly too cold, and for some crops, too wet. Red yams, wattles [5] and Aururian flax all failed to grow in the Netherlands.
One crop, though, did grow around Amsterdam: murnong. This perennial plant, a staple in its Aururian homeland, grows above ground in a form which to the Dutch reminded them of a dandelion. But it is the portion below ground which is useful as a crop; each plant produces either four or eight radish-shaped tubers. When farmed in Aururia, one or two of these tubers would be left in the ground to regrow the following year, while the rest would be harvested.
Unlike the other Aururian crops, murnong tolerated the cold of Amsterdam without difficulty. It required well-drained soils, and too much rain or inadequate drainage could ruin the crops, but it was at least possible to grow murnong in the Netherlands.
To the Dutch of the 1620s and 1630s, murnong was a flavoursome but occasional addition to their cuisine. Its taste was sweet, vaguely reminiscent of coconut, and some Dutchmen and Dutchwomen developed a fondness for it. Still, murnong did not grow easily in the Netherlands, with some areas receiving too much rain, or with poor drainage in soils already below sea level. More, while murnong can grow in poorer soils than many other crops, it did not yield as abundantly as its obvious rival, the potato. So, while murnong was adopted into the Netherlands, in its early years it did not become more than a minor crop.
Things changed in 1637, when Lars Knudsen returned home to Amsterdam. Knudsen was a man of Danish birth, but who had migrated to the Netherlands in 1616 and joined the Company's service in 1621 [6]. His foreign birth created some initial mistrust, but he had served the Company well. After ten years occupying a variety of roles, and with the shortage of native-born talent created by the Aururian plagues, in 1631 he was chosen to serve a five-year term as governor of one of the most valuable outposts, Fort Nassau [Fremantle, Western Australia].
After five years distinguished service at Fort Nassau, Knudsen returned to Amsterdam to live a more profitable life based on the private wealth he had accumulated at such a lucrative outpost. Knudsen had an interest in agriculture, and he had been quite observant of Aururian agricultural practices during his tenure. He planned to become a landowner on his return to the Netherlands.
Knudsen did much to spread knowledge of Aururian crops throughout the Netherlands and, indeed, further. While his efforts to grow wattles in the Netherlands met with little more success than his predecessors, the name he used for them, cornnarts (meaning grain-trees), would become the standard name for them in many languages, including English. Knudsen's descriptions of Aururian crops were among the factors which led the Company to decide to try those crops at the Cape after European crops had failed. This meant that in 1640, Aururian farmers recruited by the Company were established in the Dutch settlement at the Cape, and brought with them both their crops and their agricultural knowledge.
Another of Knudsen's actions, made almost in passing, would also have great consequences. While he wanted to live in the Netherlands, he had not forgotten the land of his birth. He had a fondness for murnong as a part of cuisine, and thinking that it might grow in Denmark too, sent seeds and tubers back to his home town of Lemvig.
The consequences were revolutionary.
Murnong turned out to be almost the ideal crop for much of Denmark. Many parts of the country, particularly in western Jutland, had poor, sandy soils which did not give good yields of most European crops. Even potatoes did not grow particularly well there. Murnong, though, was native to a continent where nutrient-poor soils were the norm. Even on the poor soils of western Jutland, murnong yielded about as well per acre as turnips.
Better still, as a perennial crop the requirements for ploughing and harvesting were lower; a valuable trait indeed in the labour shortage conditions of post-plague Europe. Cultivation of murnong spread quickly across the country, and it transformed Danish agriculture. Murnong was perfectly useful as human food, albeit not as a complete diet, but it was even more useful as a fodder crop. Murnong-fed cattle allowed larger herds to survive over Danish winters, and the growing herds added considerably to Danish agricultural wealth.
In short, the cultivation of the "Dutch dandelion" (murnong) was the first part of what later scholars would call the Danish Agricultural Revolution.
The second element of that revolution also owed its inspiration to Lars Knudsen, although this time the particular crop he introduced to Denmark was of European origin. Knudsen had learned of Aururian techniques of crop rotation, where wattles were alternated with other crops to replenish the soil, particularly its nitrate content.
Despite his best efforts, Knudsen still could not find varieties of wattles that could grow in the Netherlands. However, the Dutch had other crops that could be used for rotation, particularly red clover. Knudsen found red clover to be a reasonable replacement, if not quite as effective as wattles were in Aururia, and used it in his own farming. As he had done with murnong, Knudsen realised that crop rotation would work equally well in Denmark, and sent samples of red clover to Lemvig in 1645. As that crop spread, the system of crop rotation dramatically boosted Danish agricultural productivity, and in turn, the population and wealth of the Danish state [7].
While Knudsen's direct actions benefited Denmark in particular, his inspiration for the adoption of Aururian crops at the Cape would eventually benefit much of the world. The Aururian farmers who were settled at the Cape brought over the core of the Aururian crop package, and vigorously applied their indigenous techniques of production in their new homeland. And since the Cape was a regular resupply point for ships both Dutch and foreign, in time these crops would be carried over much of the globe.
Of the early vectors of Aururian crops from the Cape, two were particularly noteworthy. The first successful introduction of the red yam into Europe was by a Portuguese sailor named Miguel Ferreira do Amaral, who in 1648 collected some tubers from the Cape, and replanted the surviving ones when he returned to Portugal.
Red yams thrived in the Portuguese climate; the latitude is appropriate for them, and as a drought-tolerant plant, the red yams grew vigorously even during the dry heat of a Mediterranean summer. From Portugal, red yams would in time spread to Spain, Italy, and the Ottoman dominions of Greece, Turkey and North Africa. The red yam would boost agriculture in the Mediterranean almost as much as the potato would boost agriculture in northern Europe.
The other major early introduction of Aururian crops came in 1654, when a Spanish ship blown off course resupplied at the Cape before returning across the Atlantic to its original destination of Buenos Aires. This ship, the Santa Maria, brought with it wattle seeds, and a couple of sailors who had seen how vigorously those trees grew in South Africa. They planted some wattles around Buenos Aires, both as ornamentation and in two outlying farms.
The wattles thrived around Buenos Aires; in such a climate, they grew readily even without deliberate farming. Wattles were quite capable of spreading wild, and proceeded to do that over the next couple of decades. The trees became an invasive species which would spread over much of the interior.
What mattered more for the future of Buenos Aires, though, was in the early 1670s, when farmers started making major use of wattles as crops. For relatively limited labour, the wattles yielded abundant food and timber. Farming around Buenos Aires was transformed in productivity and in nutritional yield, and South America would never be the same again.
--
[1] The word "You" can be translated as "bless" or "protect", with the connotation that the people of China would be safe with Yuan in charge.
[2] In effect, the *Peace of Alais has continued the terms of the original Edict of Nantes (1598), with the exception of no fortifications being permitted.
[3] This meant that Ferrante II, Duke of Guastalla, received the Duchy of Mantua, while Charles Emmanuel I, Duke of Savoy, was given the Duchy of Montferrat. This also means that northern Italy has been spared a rather bloody war which would otherwise have significantly depopulated the region.
[4] Historically, Fort Saint Marie was founded in 1631. Allohistorically, it will be founded in 1633 and become the new capital of Acadia.
[5] There are some varieties of Aururian domesticated wattles which are capable of withstanding Amsterdam's winters, but these are mostly grown in *Tasmania and *Victoria, not the varieties in *Western Australia which were available to the early Dutch visitors.
[6] Knudsen features in post #28.
[7] Historically, red clover was introduced to Denmark about a century later, and brought similar agricultural benefits when it arrived.
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Thoughts?
A few glimpses of how the broader world has been changed by Aururian contact...
--
In history as we know it, China in the 1630s was ruled by the Ming Dynasty (大明); once great, now crumbling.
For over two and a half centuries, Ming rule had brought stability to the greatest economy in the world. But as the 1630s began, Ming authority was failing.
The economy relied on silver currency, largely imported from the New World, and Spain had curtailed those imports. Later in the decade, Japan's closure of most overseas trade eliminated another source of bullion. With the loss of silver imports, the economic structure collapsed, leading to rampant inflation and collapsing tax revenues.
Coupled with the economic problems came climate change; the advent of the Little Ice Age brought cooler and drier weather to most of China. In turn, that led to crop failures and widespread famines. These two problems led to inevitable unrest, with growing rebellions threatening the revenue-starved Ming government.
Externally, the Manchurian tribes, once tributaries to China, had been unified under Nurhaci (努尔哈赤). Nurhaci had rebelled against Ming authority in 1618, and began a campaign of military expansion against China, Korea, the Mongols, and his Manchurian neighbours. Nurhaci had several notable successes, until in 1626 he was defeated by a Ming army commanded by Yuan Chonghuan (袁崇焕), and died of his wounds a few days later.
Nurhaci's son, Huang Taiji (皇太極), took command of the Manchus and continued the raids into China. Yuan, one of the few Ming generals to have any success against the Manchu, successfully defended Beijing from Huang's forces in 1629, but was betrayed by his own emperor and condemned to death.
After Yuan's execution, the Manchus continued their expansion, breaking Ming control over Korea in 1638, and pushing into China. Major rebellions within China saw rebel leaders such as Li Zicheng (李自成) and Zhang Xianzhong (张献忠) gain control of large parts of the country. Li Zicheng broke Ming rule in 1644 by capturing Beijing; the last Ming emperor committed suicide by hanging himself from a tree.
Li proclaimed himself emperor, but his dynasty was one of the shortest-lived in Chinese history. The Manchus under Huang drove Li out of Beijing after less than two weeks of his rule, and chased him across much of China until he died a year later. Huang proclaimed himself emperor of the Qing Dynasty (大清) in 1644. The Manchus were effective rulers of China from that time, although some Ming loyalists held out for nearly two more decades.
*
In history as it might have been, the fate of China moved onto another path. In 1619, the Dutch explorer Frederik de Houtman first made contact with the natives of what he called the Great South Land, and which would later be known in English as Aururia. This was a land of gold and silver, spices and the strange new drug kunduri. Most important of all for the fate of China, Aururia was the home of two new epidemic diseases; the two-stage disease known in Aururia as the Waiting Death (Marnitja), and a new version of influenza called blue-sleep.
Contact with Aururia saw these two diseases escape into the wider world, even as Old World diseases were beginning to ravage Aururia. In later European history, the familiar story of these two plagues would see Marnitja, most commonly known as the Dutch curse, brought by ship to the Netherlands and then sweep through Europe in 1627-9. Blue-sleep was carried by Portuguese ships first into Flores, then through Indonesia and into mainland Asia, where it burned a path across the continent to emerge into Europe in 1631-2 and strike a population still reeling from the previous plague.
In China, the course of those two epidemics was reversed. Merchant ships brought blue-sleep from the Indies to China in 1629-30. Marnitja traced a slower path through much of the Old World, from Madagascar to mainland Africa to Arabia, before being carried by returning hajj pilgrims to India, then to Southeast Asia, and then by ship to Guangzhou (Canton) in 1632, from whence it spread across China in 1632-4.
The effects of the plagues wrenched China's fate into a new path. Blue-sleep appeared first in Guangzhou in February 1629, from whence it spread both by land and sea. Ships carried it to Tianjin in May 1629, from where it was carried both into Beijing and into the Manchu-occupied province of Liaoning.
Blue-sleep has the peculiarity that its mortality is most severe amongst young adults, and thus it took a considerable toll among the young men of military age in both the Ming and Manchu armies. While both sides were disrupted, this was of most advantage to Yuan Chonghuan, who in the winter of 1629 fought the Manchu armies further from Beijing, and made effective use of his superior artillery to rout the enemy armies.
Now confirmed as a military hero, with no aura of betrayal, Yuan spent 1630-1632 in overall command of China's northeastern armies, where he worked hard to rebuild military forces, strengthen his artillery corps, and planned the reconquest of Liaoning.
While the consequences of the blue-sleep were fortunate indeed for Yuan personally, the wider effects of the twin plagues were catastrophic. The famines of the 1620s had left a weakened, vulnerable population. Blue-sleep killed over 6% of the population, and had a disproportionate effect on young adults.
The Marnitja epidemic which followed was even worse. In southern China it killed around 15% of the remaining population, while in famine-stricken northern China the mortality was even worse, reaching over 20%.
The current Ming ruler, the Chongzen Emperor, had the fortune to survive both plagues. Had he known the fate of his counterpart in another history, the Emperor would doubtless have celebrated the fact that Marnitja claimed people who would have been prominent rebel leaders: Li Zicheng slipped into a fatal coma in 1633, while Zhang Xianzhong died of the pink cough in 1634.
Since the Chongzen Emperor lacked that knowledge, of course, he was far more concerned with the problems in the China he found. The massive death toll of the plagues was taken as a sign that the Ming Dynasty had lost divine legitimacy. While the historical rebel leaders were lost to the plagues, others emerged to take their place; revolts sprung up throughout China.
Busy planning his campaigns on the frontier, Yuan was almost indifferent to the troubles in the rest of China. In 1634-5, with the effects of Marnitja subsiding, Yuan launched his planned reconquest of Liaoning province. With disciplined troops and his advantage in artillery, he pushed the Manchus out of China and back into Manchuria proper. Korea, which in another history would have been lost to Chinese influence, remained a tributary state.
Yuan's reconquest brought considerable glory to himself and his armies, but his very success was deemed suspicious in a time when rebel generals were springing up in several provinces. Some of Yuan's allies at court sent him word that his victories were viewed as too effective, that he was now thought to be cooperating with the Manchus and planning to turn them into allies and launch a revolt of his own.
In April 1636, Yuan received an order calling on him to surrender command of his armies and return to Beijing. He was astute enough to realise what this order meant. Knowing that he would be deemed as a rebel regardless of his actions, and believing that the plagues were proof that the Ming had lost their legitimacy, Yuan refused the summons. Legend claims that his reply to the Emperor was: "When I return to Beijing, I will not come alone."
Huang Taiji heard rumours of Yuan's plans, and tried to launch more raids into Liaoning. Yuan fought one last great battle against the Manchus near Xingjing (兴京) in May 1636, where Huang was killed in the fighting, and the surviving Manchus sued for peace.
With his rear secure, Yuan marched into China himself. Feted as a hero by the local population, he won a battle north of Beijing in late June, and captured the city after the Chongzen Emperor fled the city ahead of his forces. Yuan pushed further into northern China, finding plenty of local support. In April 1637, at a battle near the city of Liaocheng (聊城), Yuan defeated the Ming armies under Hong Chengchou (洪承疇) who had been sent to reconquer northern China.
After this victory, Yuan proclaimed himself as the first emperor of the You Dynasty (大佑) [1]. He was quick to consolidate control over northern China, but lacked the manpower or support to push further south and conquer the whole country. The result was a stalemate: Yuan did not want to risk his previous triumphs by a military gamble in southern China, while the surviving Ming rulers did not have the strength to push him out.
So, as had happened so many times before in its history, China was again divided, with the You ruling in the north while the Southern Ming tried to arrest their decay in their new southern dominions...
--
In history, France from 1624 onwards was dominated by the famous Armand Jean du Plessis, Cardinal-Duc de Richelieu et de Fronsac, or Cardinal Richelieu as he is usually known. The Cardinal served as King Louis XIII's chief minister, and before his death in 1642 he would do much to strengthen the central authority of the French state.
In domestic affairs, Richelieu sought to bolster royal power at the expense of the nobility and religious dissidents. The former saw the dismantling of most fortifications in France, to limit aristocrats' ability to rebel. The latter led to Huguenot rebellions in 1625 and 1627-9. Charles I of England tried to intervene in the latter rebellion, resulting in the brief Anglo-French War of 1627-9.
As part of suppressing the Huguenot rebellion of 1627-9, the Cardinal took personal control of the troops besieging the fortified Huguenot city of La Rochelle. Despite British naval efforts to relieve the siege, La Rochelle surrendered in October 1628. The Huguenot rebellion persisted for a few more months, until Richelieu negotiated the Peace of Alais with the Huguenots. Under the terms of this peace, the Huguenots were guaranteed tolerance, but were stripped of their political rights.
In foreign affairs, Richelieu's core goal was opposition to the Habsburgs whose dominions in Spain, Austria, and the Netherlands came close to encircling France. A pragmatic statesman, Richelieu put French national interest above religion. While the Thirty Years' War had begun as a religious struggle between Protestants and Catholics, the Cardinal provided French support for several Protestant nations against the Catholic Habsburgs.
Early in the Thirty Years' War, Richelieu sought to use French subsidies to finance opposition to the Habsburgs, with French military action being limited to secondary fronts. In that cause, France subsidised the Dutch to fight the Spanish, and the Danes and then the Swedish to fight against the Habsburg forces in the Holy Roman Empire. Meanwhile, France fought directly against the Habsburgs in northern Italy during the War of the Mantuan Succession (1628-1631), where Richelieu again took personal command of French forces, this time in northern Italy.
Ultimately, the Cardinal's indirect efforts to weaken the Habsburgs were insufficient, since neither Denmark nor Sweden were able to break Habsburg power. As a result, Richelieu engineered direct French intervention in the Thirty Years' War. France declared war on Spain in 1635, and on the Austrian Habsburgs in 1636. These wars both continued after Richelieu died in 1642. The French war against the Austrians continued until the Thirty Years' War ended in 1648, while the war with Spain lasted even longer, ending only in 1659.
One of the Cardinal's other goals was expansion of French colonial power. He was a supporter of Samuel de Champlain, the French explorer who founded New France. In the early seventeenth century, a variety of companies had been granted monopolies in the fur trade from New France, but had problems enforcing their monopolies due to traders from other nations, and because of political opposition in France. In 1627, Richelieu founded the Company of One Hundred Associates, granting it a monopoly on the fur trade, and ensured Champlain was involved both as an investor and the commander of the Company's first fleet sent to Quebec.
Richelieu continued to advocate for the interests of Champlain and New France even when another problem emerged: the war with England. During the Anglo-French War of 1627-29, the English military efforts against France proper were largely unsuccessful. English colonial forces had more success in North America, with much of New France being conquered; even Quebec City itself was captured in July 1629, with Champlain being forced to surrender the colony.
Fortunately for the future of New France, France and England had signed the Treaty of Suza in April 1629, which permitted both sides to retain colonies they had captured before that date, but required the return of ones captured later. This included Quebec City and other parts of New France. Getting England to hand back those colonies was a harder task, but Richelieu persisted. The Treaty of Saint-Germain-en-Laye (signed in March 1632) returned Quebec, Acadia and Cape Breton Island to France.
*
In allohistory, the fate of France and New France was shifted onto a new course. The early years of Dutch contact with Aururia meant little to France; a new source of gold for the Netherlands meant that France provided slightly reduced subsidies to the Dutch, while the Dutch in turn would provide additional subsidies to Denmark when the latter nation intervened in the Thirty Years' War.
As with all of Europe, France would suffer the effects of the Aururian plagues. Marnitja swept across France in 1628-9. The effects were not as severe as they would later be in China, but were still devastating: about 14% of the population died. The most notable victim was Cardinal Richelieu himself. At the siege of La Rochelle, in April 1628, he died coughing up blood, and many of the government soldiers died with him. The casualties of the epidemic, and the power vacuum left by Richelieu's death, saw the siege of La Rochelle lifted, for the time being.
With the French court intrigue-ridden after Richelieu's death, Louis XIII turned to Honoré d'Albert, Duc de Chaulnes, marshal of France and brother of his former favourite, Charles d'Albert, Duc de Luynes. De Chaulnes became the effective chief minister of France by July 1628, replacing Richelieu. De Chaulnes had an equal desire to Richelieu to ensure France's safety from the encircling Habsburgs, but he also had an appreciation of how heavy a toll the "Dutch curse" had taken on French manpower and prosperity. De Chaulnes supported the policy of subsidising the Habsburgs' enemies, but was disinclined to take direct military action.
De Chaulnes had no shortage of political opponents within the French court, but perhaps the most prominent was Marie de' Medici, Louis XIII's mother and former regent. Half-Habsburg herself, Marie sought to advise Louis to maintain peace with that family rather than continue a bloody war. De Chaulnes's arguments, and Louis' own suspicion, proved to be decisive, and Marie was exiled to Compiègne in February 1629.
Under De Chaulnes' direction, while La Rochelle was left alone, French royal forces continued the fight against the Huguenot forces in southern France. The weakened French economy meant that the struggle took longer, but the Huguenot leader, Henri, Duc de Rohan, was eventually forced to peace terms. In February 1631, the Peace of Alais concluded the civil war, on terms which restored most of the Huguenots political rights, except that they were no longer permitted to build any fortifications [2]. This peace was rather timely, since blue-sleep would sweep over France later in the same year.
The problems within France meant that the war with England continued for a few crucial months longer, with the English believing that the continued Huguenot effort offered opportunities. In practice, though, the only real English actions were naval efforts or colonial ventures; Charles I had neither the money nor the interest to invade France itself. English ships under the Duke of Buckingham made half-hearted efforts to bombard Calais in October 1628, and Le Havre in February 1629, with the main intention being to require France to keep royal forces in the north and thus weaken the offensive against the Huguenots in the south.
After the failure at Le Havre, Charles I gave up interest in the endeavour. Peace negotiations were concluded at Suza in August 1629. As happened with the historical Treaty of Suza, the treaty terms were essentially that each nation kept any territory acquired until that time.
Peace in Europe itself was easily restored, since neither nation had seized any European territory from the other, but that left the fate of New France much more ambiguous. Marnitja had not yet crossed the Atlantic, leaving the French and English/Scottish colonists in North America to fight each other without distractions.
The English/Scottish colonists had rather more success; as they had done historically, the English/Scottish colonists had seized most of New France by July 1629, including Quebec City, Port Royal, and Cape Breton Island, and the isolated trading post of Fort Pentagouet [Castine, Maine]. At the time the Treaty of Suza was signed, the only part of New France which still held out was Cape Sable [Port La Tour, Nova Scotia].
Even though Richelieu was dead, the Company of One Hundred Associates lived on, and its investors still looked for returns. De Chaulnes personally did not care that much about New France, but he did find it galling that England should come away with so much colonial territory when its forces in Europe had been so spectacularly unsuccessful. Once the Huguenots had been subdued, he began fresh negotiations with England for a revised treaty.
These peace negotiations were caught up in the broader foreign policy dynamics of post-Richelieu France, and the ravages of blue-sleep which swept through Europe in this era. Under De Chaulnes' guidance, France avoided direct war with Spain. In Italy, this meant that France did not intervene in the disputed succession of Mantua, leaving the Spanish to partition the Mantuan succession between the rival claimants [3]. In the Holy Roman Empire, this meant that France offered subsidies to Denmark until that nation made peace in April 1630, and then that France began to offer subsidies to Bavaria and Sweden.
The new negotiations between France and England continued through much of 1631. With the civil war over, the threat of renewed French military action was a credible one, and Charles I was in a poor domestic position due to lack of money. All negotiations were suspended when Charles I himself succumbed to blue-sleep in November 1631.
France continued to press for a resolution, and with the chaos amongst the Austrian Habsburgs, France also had no clear rival that might be credibly considered to threaten it if it took military action against England. In England, though, the new Duke Regent, William Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle, also could not afford to undermine his own position by handing back all of the colonial acquisitions.
Eventually, the Treaty of Bobigny was signed in May 1632. In it, England agreed to restore Quebec City and the St Lawrence River to French rule. France recognised the new Scottish colonies in Nova Scotia and Cape Breton Island, although it retained Cape Sable and a vaguely-defined part of southern Nova Scotia (neither side had accurate maps of the interior). France also obtained English recognition of its control over mainland Acadia [roughly New Brunswick and parts of eastern Maine], which would have a new capital founded at Fort Saint Marie [Saint John, New Brunswick] [4], and where the displaced colonists from Nova Scotia could resettle.
The other captured French outpost was the small trading post at Fort Pentagouet [Castine, Maine]. Settlers from the Plymouth Colony had seized Fort Pentagouet in 1628 and claimed it for their colony. France wanted it removed from English rule, but it had also received a request from Gustavus Adolphus, king of Sweden, that Sweden be granted the region of Penobscott Bay (including Fort Pentagouet). Gustavus Adolphus had his own visions of securing part of his legacy in the New World, while France wanted to maintain good relations with Sweden to ensure its continued efforts against the Habsburgs in the Holy Roman Empire. Under the Treaty of Bobigny, England relinquished control of Fort Pentagouet and, in turn, recognised the French cession of that outpost to Sweden...
--
In their long isolation from the other two worlds, Aururian peoples developed both crops and agricultural techniques which were distinct from any known in the Old World or the New. Perennial crops, combined with systems of crop rotation, companion planting, low-till farming, and soil restoration, were well-suited to the poor soils and irregular rainfall of most of Aururia.
After European contact in 1619, it was inevitable that many Aururian crops would spread around the globe. Whether the associated techniques would also be passed on, and how quickly, was another question entirely. Transporting a few seeds across the seas was one thing; bringing all of the accumulated agricultural knowledge was quite another.
The Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie was open to any new crop which might turn a profit; in his second voyage to the Great South Land, de Houtman brought back the first Aururian crops back to Batavia. The Old World received its first samples of red yams, warran yams, wattles, murnong, and Aururian flax.
Whether through optimism or foolishness, Company officials tried to plant these crops in Batavia itself. Perhaps they had heard that Aururia was hot too, and so thought that the tropics would be suitable. These efforts were spectacular failures. Red yams simply would not form tubers in tropical latitudes, and the other plants could not cope with the heat and excessive rainfall of the tropics.
Some Dutch trading captains brought more samples of the crops over the next few years. Some of them tried to plant the crops in different parts of the East Indies, with no more success than the first efforts in Batavia.
Other captains brought the crops back to the Netherlands. The first European efforts to cultivate Aururian crops were also largely unsuccessful. Where Batavia was largely too hot, Amsterdam was mostly too cold, and for some crops, too wet. Red yams, wattles [5] and Aururian flax all failed to grow in the Netherlands.
One crop, though, did grow around Amsterdam: murnong. This perennial plant, a staple in its Aururian homeland, grows above ground in a form which to the Dutch reminded them of a dandelion. But it is the portion below ground which is useful as a crop; each plant produces either four or eight radish-shaped tubers. When farmed in Aururia, one or two of these tubers would be left in the ground to regrow the following year, while the rest would be harvested.
Unlike the other Aururian crops, murnong tolerated the cold of Amsterdam without difficulty. It required well-drained soils, and too much rain or inadequate drainage could ruin the crops, but it was at least possible to grow murnong in the Netherlands.
To the Dutch of the 1620s and 1630s, murnong was a flavoursome but occasional addition to their cuisine. Its taste was sweet, vaguely reminiscent of coconut, and some Dutchmen and Dutchwomen developed a fondness for it. Still, murnong did not grow easily in the Netherlands, with some areas receiving too much rain, or with poor drainage in soils already below sea level. More, while murnong can grow in poorer soils than many other crops, it did not yield as abundantly as its obvious rival, the potato. So, while murnong was adopted into the Netherlands, in its early years it did not become more than a minor crop.
Things changed in 1637, when Lars Knudsen returned home to Amsterdam. Knudsen was a man of Danish birth, but who had migrated to the Netherlands in 1616 and joined the Company's service in 1621 [6]. His foreign birth created some initial mistrust, but he had served the Company well. After ten years occupying a variety of roles, and with the shortage of native-born talent created by the Aururian plagues, in 1631 he was chosen to serve a five-year term as governor of one of the most valuable outposts, Fort Nassau [Fremantle, Western Australia].
After five years distinguished service at Fort Nassau, Knudsen returned to Amsterdam to live a more profitable life based on the private wealth he had accumulated at such a lucrative outpost. Knudsen had an interest in agriculture, and he had been quite observant of Aururian agricultural practices during his tenure. He planned to become a landowner on his return to the Netherlands.
Knudsen did much to spread knowledge of Aururian crops throughout the Netherlands and, indeed, further. While his efforts to grow wattles in the Netherlands met with little more success than his predecessors, the name he used for them, cornnarts (meaning grain-trees), would become the standard name for them in many languages, including English. Knudsen's descriptions of Aururian crops were among the factors which led the Company to decide to try those crops at the Cape after European crops had failed. This meant that in 1640, Aururian farmers recruited by the Company were established in the Dutch settlement at the Cape, and brought with them both their crops and their agricultural knowledge.
Another of Knudsen's actions, made almost in passing, would also have great consequences. While he wanted to live in the Netherlands, he had not forgotten the land of his birth. He had a fondness for murnong as a part of cuisine, and thinking that it might grow in Denmark too, sent seeds and tubers back to his home town of Lemvig.
The consequences were revolutionary.
Murnong turned out to be almost the ideal crop for much of Denmark. Many parts of the country, particularly in western Jutland, had poor, sandy soils which did not give good yields of most European crops. Even potatoes did not grow particularly well there. Murnong, though, was native to a continent where nutrient-poor soils were the norm. Even on the poor soils of western Jutland, murnong yielded about as well per acre as turnips.
Better still, as a perennial crop the requirements for ploughing and harvesting were lower; a valuable trait indeed in the labour shortage conditions of post-plague Europe. Cultivation of murnong spread quickly across the country, and it transformed Danish agriculture. Murnong was perfectly useful as human food, albeit not as a complete diet, but it was even more useful as a fodder crop. Murnong-fed cattle allowed larger herds to survive over Danish winters, and the growing herds added considerably to Danish agricultural wealth.
In short, the cultivation of the "Dutch dandelion" (murnong) was the first part of what later scholars would call the Danish Agricultural Revolution.
The second element of that revolution also owed its inspiration to Lars Knudsen, although this time the particular crop he introduced to Denmark was of European origin. Knudsen had learned of Aururian techniques of crop rotation, where wattles were alternated with other crops to replenish the soil, particularly its nitrate content.
Despite his best efforts, Knudsen still could not find varieties of wattles that could grow in the Netherlands. However, the Dutch had other crops that could be used for rotation, particularly red clover. Knudsen found red clover to be a reasonable replacement, if not quite as effective as wattles were in Aururia, and used it in his own farming. As he had done with murnong, Knudsen realised that crop rotation would work equally well in Denmark, and sent samples of red clover to Lemvig in 1645. As that crop spread, the system of crop rotation dramatically boosted Danish agricultural productivity, and in turn, the population and wealth of the Danish state [7].
While Knudsen's direct actions benefited Denmark in particular, his inspiration for the adoption of Aururian crops at the Cape would eventually benefit much of the world. The Aururian farmers who were settled at the Cape brought over the core of the Aururian crop package, and vigorously applied their indigenous techniques of production in their new homeland. And since the Cape was a regular resupply point for ships both Dutch and foreign, in time these crops would be carried over much of the globe.
Of the early vectors of Aururian crops from the Cape, two were particularly noteworthy. The first successful introduction of the red yam into Europe was by a Portuguese sailor named Miguel Ferreira do Amaral, who in 1648 collected some tubers from the Cape, and replanted the surviving ones when he returned to Portugal.
Red yams thrived in the Portuguese climate; the latitude is appropriate for them, and as a drought-tolerant plant, the red yams grew vigorously even during the dry heat of a Mediterranean summer. From Portugal, red yams would in time spread to Spain, Italy, and the Ottoman dominions of Greece, Turkey and North Africa. The red yam would boost agriculture in the Mediterranean almost as much as the potato would boost agriculture in northern Europe.
The other major early introduction of Aururian crops came in 1654, when a Spanish ship blown off course resupplied at the Cape before returning across the Atlantic to its original destination of Buenos Aires. This ship, the Santa Maria, brought with it wattle seeds, and a couple of sailors who had seen how vigorously those trees grew in South Africa. They planted some wattles around Buenos Aires, both as ornamentation and in two outlying farms.
The wattles thrived around Buenos Aires; in such a climate, they grew readily even without deliberate farming. Wattles were quite capable of spreading wild, and proceeded to do that over the next couple of decades. The trees became an invasive species which would spread over much of the interior.
What mattered more for the future of Buenos Aires, though, was in the early 1670s, when farmers started making major use of wattles as crops. For relatively limited labour, the wattles yielded abundant food and timber. Farming around Buenos Aires was transformed in productivity and in nutritional yield, and South America would never be the same again.
--
[1] The word "You" can be translated as "bless" or "protect", with the connotation that the people of China would be safe with Yuan in charge.
[2] In effect, the *Peace of Alais has continued the terms of the original Edict of Nantes (1598), with the exception of no fortifications being permitted.
[3] This meant that Ferrante II, Duke of Guastalla, received the Duchy of Mantua, while Charles Emmanuel I, Duke of Savoy, was given the Duchy of Montferrat. This also means that northern Italy has been spared a rather bloody war which would otherwise have significantly depopulated the region.
[4] Historically, Fort Saint Marie was founded in 1631. Allohistorically, it will be founded in 1633 and become the new capital of Acadia.
[5] There are some varieties of Aururian domesticated wattles which are capable of withstanding Amsterdam's winters, but these are mostly grown in *Tasmania and *Victoria, not the varieties in *Western Australia which were available to the early Dutch visitors.
[6] Knudsen features in post #28.
[7] Historically, red clover was introduced to Denmark about a century later, and brought similar agricultural benefits when it arrived.
--
Thoughts?
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
So China avoided the Manchu, but seeing as it's now divided I wonder if it'll experience anything like OTL's "Century of Humiliation"...or worse.
Arthur Frayn
Fake God by Occupation, Magician by Inclination
- Location
- Land of Do As You Please
- Pronouns
- They/Him
So Europe goes through both a major die off (what's the exact percentage the population that was killed off, 20%?) then a major agricultural revolution that vastly boosts crop yields. Talk about a roller coaster ride, I imagine that's massively going to boost the population, not to mention the general wealth of the population. Historically, while plagues themselves are (obviously) apocalyptic, the aftermath can be a huge boost economically (lot of deaths=a lot of job openings), and now the population rebound will get a shot in the arm via Aururian crops.
Also, Swedish New England? Paradox sponsorship confirmed.
Also, Swedish New England? Paradox sponsorship confirmed.
That makes sen its just one of those things that always jumps out at me XD
This was super cool and interesting, so detailed and intricate, seeing the vast web of political alliances, deals, multi layered scheming and chaos all playing off one another was fascinating, enthralling and intimidating, kudos!
That final lead out line is just begging for more details and I cannot wait to see where that line goes.
Beyond that what stood out as a personal fave for me was the China segment, in particular, Yuan, it really says a lot about his former masters that they brought about their own empires split by trying to prevent it by executing one of their own finest servants cos like, wow, self fulfilling prophecy much? His letter back about not coming alone was awesome and likely to be the kind of thing that would be used in trailers for movies, and in great quote lists of historical figures.
Anyway a thoroughly enjoyable segment, thanks for sharing!
- Location
- Meycauayan, Bulacan, Philippines
I don't think so.
Alternate China, both alternate China will be at the top of their games seeing as they are in the middle of a civil war.
Europe will find a divided but forcibly and rapidly innovating China when they come in force.
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In the short term, a divided China doesn't mean much humiliation, just a place which is marginally more open for trade, since both parts of China will want to manage their own exports. In OTL the early Manchus had a period of (relative) trade restrictions for about the first forty years of their dynasty; here that period will be open.
Militarily, China is still quite capable of matching it with Europeans during this era, of course, whether divided or not. Koxinga kicked the Dutch out of Taiwan using only a small part of China's resources and without any imperial support, for instance.
Whether things will be different if China remains divided into the longer term is a harder question to answer.
This falls under the category of one of those things which could go either way. Sometimes division requires regions to innovate, while at other times the divisions make them more vulnerable to exploitation or result in infighting at crucial moments. Either way China is safe until the technological equivalent of the nineteenth century (or maybe very late eighteenth century), since there is no way that Europeans can project enough power before then.
After that... well, it rather depends on whether China remains divided by then or not, for starters.
Europe's total population loss was a bit less than 20%, about 18-19% on average, though it varied significantly per region. More urbanised regions had a higher toll, as did those where there were poorly-nourished populations due to the *Thirty Years' War, such as Bohemia. More isolated regions with more rugged terrain did a bit better, since some of them were skipped more or less entirely, such as some of the highland areas of the Balkans.
The effects of the agricultural revolution are going to be harder to assess, and will vary a lot per region. When compared to the global norm, Europeans were actually more resistant to new crops. Better-yielding New World crops like potatoes, cassava and maize were taken up much more quickly in Africa and Asia than they were in Europe. Aururian crops will face similar resistance in most of Europe, although there will be some early adopters.
How much of a population boost this translates into is also a bit more variable. When it comes to yield per acre, Aururian crops are not the highest; that honour goes to the potato, where it can be grown (and it can be grown in a lot of places). The spread of potatoes was slow in much of Europe, but it is still likely to proceed eventually. That spread will displace many existing European crops as staples, such as turnips and rye, and also limit the opportunity for Aururian crops to spread. The areas which will benefits from Aururian crops are mostly in southern Europe, particularly the Mediterranean littoral. There are a couple of other regions where the soils are so poor that Aururian crops are more useful, but even many of those are too cold (Denmark is an exception).
So short answer: it depends on the region, but on the whole Europe is going to have a lower population than at the same point in OTL for quite a while.
Well, Swedish Maine, at least. There's still lots of English colonists in the regions corresponded to OTL Massachusetts, Rhode Island and parts of Connecticut.
The effects on South America will take a while to be depicted in much detail - though there'll be a few snippets - until Act III.
Yes, Yuan is one of those people who have immense potential, based on what he accomplished historically and how much more he might have accomplished, given more opportunities in a changed history. He certainly has potential for movies, historical dramas and the like.
Lands of Red and Gold #52: The Shape of Things to Come
Lands of Red and Gold #52: The Shape of Things to Come
A glimpse of the future...
--
Dawson (formerly Unega) [Montgomery, Alabama]
Alleghania
Above, a waning gibbous moon hangs low over the western horizon, offering steady light in an otherwise cloudless sky. In the east, as if in counterpoint, faint glimmers of blue are beginning to emerge from the blackness; the first signs of the approaching dawn.
Below, Myumitsi Makan makes his way carefully through the streets of Dawson. Today marks his second morning in this growing new town, this place of mills and workshops. A town which would be most appropriately titled if the same unegas who dominate it had not renamed it [1].
In this time of pre-dawn, the light is not yet bright, nor is the world yet balanced, but it meets Makan's needs. He can see well enough for his purposes; all he wants, for now, is to follow the right streets to reach the park, without stumbling over horse manure or street rails or any of the other hazards on the roadways of this crowded town.
A shout rings out from behind him, a wordless warning for him to stand aside. He does so, as the fading shout is replaced by the clip-clop of iron-shod horse hooves and the fainter slide of iron wheels on iron rails.
A horsecar [horse-drawn tram] passes by; evidently, even this early hour is not enough to deter the inhabitants of Dawson from labour. Few if any of the inhabitants follow the path laid down by the Good Man, so they would not have risen for prayers; only the ravenous demands of the ever-growing mills could have called them from their beds. These mills and horsecars mark a new way of shaping the world, or so he has heard from a dozen or more people during his short sojourn in this town. Alleghanians are a proud people, it seems.
The hints of blue are becoming more dominant in the eastern sky as Makan resumes his walk through Dawson. The distance remaining is not far, if he can trust a day and a half's worth of memories of the town's layout.
He will have to learn more, of course, and quickly. Dawson is a town crying out for labourers, by all reports. The rich soils which once supported the farms and diverse crops of the Congxie are now being replaced by endless cotton fields. Once that cotton is harvested, most of it is brought here to the mills of Dawson.
All in all, a welcome opportunity to earn some Alleghanian coin. And, if he is honest with himself, an even more auspicious opportunity to live somewhere that people will not recognise him for his father's name. The past shapes a man's future, both his deeds and those of his forebears, but surely some consequences can be side-stepped.
His strides bring him to an open expanse of green parkland, grass scattered with a few cornnart [wattle] and hickory trees. A perfect place for morning invocation; the time when night is in balance with day and prayers are most harmonious. Most Congxie make their morning invocations in a temple or in a shrine in their own homes, but Makan has always preferred to pray out of doors. He needs only himself, a mat, and a copy of Oora Gulalu [The Endless Road] or The Great Dreaming and, if possible, an open space.
As he looks more closely around the park, he notices that signs have been placed at several points around the entrance. He had not come close enough to see them yesterday when he first heard of the park; now, he has the time to look more closely.
The nearest sign shows a dark-skinned face, with tightly curled black hair, grossly exaggerated lips, and round yellow circles for eyes; just as the Alleghanians – or, more accurately, the Cavendians – depict the African race. Two diagonal red lines cross over the face.
Below the crossed face is writing. In English only, which he can read to a degree, though he is more fluent in French, and most fluent in his own language. The words on the sign proclaim: NO BLACKS ALLOWED.
That message is clear enough, so Makan ignores it. Here is the openness he needs, and dawn is about to break. He unrolls the mat, facing east, kneels down upon it, and places his copy of Oora Gulalu to one side, for the moment.
Now, Makan prays, as he has done every dawn and dusk for all of his adult life. He prays for wisdom, for knowledge, and for his deeds to bring only harmony. He invokes guides to aid his course through the day, calling in turn on the Fire Brothers, then Tsul Kalu, then the Rainbow Serpent.
Before he can invoke a fourth guide, a most unwelcome voice interrupts him. "What are you doing here, nigger?"
Makan brings himself to his feet, however reluctantly; to leave a prayer unfinished is a most inauspicious start to any day.
A clean-shaven, wig-festooned, typically overdressed unega stands before him, the colour of his rage showing plainly on his sickly, creamy skin, even in this early light. As is true of most unegas, this man is shorter than Makan, but speaks much more loudly than is required in such circumstances.
"I am praying," Makan says.
"Go pester your pagan gods somewhere else," the unega says. His clipped accent marks him as a Cavendian, although that would be obvious anyway. "Even if you can't read, you can see the sign. No blacks allowed here."
"I've read it," Makan says. Calmness is called for; the first path will not be followed by responding with anger.
"So get your black arse out of here!" the other man proclaims.
"But I'm not black. I'm Congxie," he says. Even an unbalanced unega should see that much. Makan's skin and curly hair have much the same shade as Africans, but the breadth of his nose, the bulk of his jaw, and the height of his cheekbones announce to all the world that he is Congxie.
"Who cares what tribes you niggers divide yourselves into?" the unega says. "The same rules are for all of you."
"Rules you wrote for bondsmen, not for free men," Makan says.
"Don't get fresh, nigger," the other man says. "This is Alleghania now, and our laws are what matter. Get your big black arse out of the park before I call the militia."
Not worth a fight, Makan tells himself. Pride has its place, but so does judgement. He rolls up his mat, collects the book, and walks away. As he leaves, though, one thought runs through his mind again and again.
If those are the rules, then they must be changed.
--
[1] Unega is one of the Congxie words for white; originally borrowed from Cherokee, but now almost exclusively used to refer to people of European descent rather than as a general name for the colour.
--
Thoughts?
A glimpse of the future...
--
Dawson (formerly Unega) [Montgomery, Alabama]
Alleghania
Above, a waning gibbous moon hangs low over the western horizon, offering steady light in an otherwise cloudless sky. In the east, as if in counterpoint, faint glimmers of blue are beginning to emerge from the blackness; the first signs of the approaching dawn.
Below, Myumitsi Makan makes his way carefully through the streets of Dawson. Today marks his second morning in this growing new town, this place of mills and workshops. A town which would be most appropriately titled if the same unegas who dominate it had not renamed it [1].
In this time of pre-dawn, the light is not yet bright, nor is the world yet balanced, but it meets Makan's needs. He can see well enough for his purposes; all he wants, for now, is to follow the right streets to reach the park, without stumbling over horse manure or street rails or any of the other hazards on the roadways of this crowded town.
A shout rings out from behind him, a wordless warning for him to stand aside. He does so, as the fading shout is replaced by the clip-clop of iron-shod horse hooves and the fainter slide of iron wheels on iron rails.
A horsecar [horse-drawn tram] passes by; evidently, even this early hour is not enough to deter the inhabitants of Dawson from labour. Few if any of the inhabitants follow the path laid down by the Good Man, so they would not have risen for prayers; only the ravenous demands of the ever-growing mills could have called them from their beds. These mills and horsecars mark a new way of shaping the world, or so he has heard from a dozen or more people during his short sojourn in this town. Alleghanians are a proud people, it seems.
The hints of blue are becoming more dominant in the eastern sky as Makan resumes his walk through Dawson. The distance remaining is not far, if he can trust a day and a half's worth of memories of the town's layout.
He will have to learn more, of course, and quickly. Dawson is a town crying out for labourers, by all reports. The rich soils which once supported the farms and diverse crops of the Congxie are now being replaced by endless cotton fields. Once that cotton is harvested, most of it is brought here to the mills of Dawson.
All in all, a welcome opportunity to earn some Alleghanian coin. And, if he is honest with himself, an even more auspicious opportunity to live somewhere that people will not recognise him for his father's name. The past shapes a man's future, both his deeds and those of his forebears, but surely some consequences can be side-stepped.
His strides bring him to an open expanse of green parkland, grass scattered with a few cornnart [wattle] and hickory trees. A perfect place for morning invocation; the time when night is in balance with day and prayers are most harmonious. Most Congxie make their morning invocations in a temple or in a shrine in their own homes, but Makan has always preferred to pray out of doors. He needs only himself, a mat, and a copy of Oora Gulalu [The Endless Road] or The Great Dreaming and, if possible, an open space.
As he looks more closely around the park, he notices that signs have been placed at several points around the entrance. He had not come close enough to see them yesterday when he first heard of the park; now, he has the time to look more closely.
The nearest sign shows a dark-skinned face, with tightly curled black hair, grossly exaggerated lips, and round yellow circles for eyes; just as the Alleghanians – or, more accurately, the Cavendians – depict the African race. Two diagonal red lines cross over the face.
Below the crossed face is writing. In English only, which he can read to a degree, though he is more fluent in French, and most fluent in his own language. The words on the sign proclaim: NO BLACKS ALLOWED.
That message is clear enough, so Makan ignores it. Here is the openness he needs, and dawn is about to break. He unrolls the mat, facing east, kneels down upon it, and places his copy of Oora Gulalu to one side, for the moment.
Now, Makan prays, as he has done every dawn and dusk for all of his adult life. He prays for wisdom, for knowledge, and for his deeds to bring only harmony. He invokes guides to aid his course through the day, calling in turn on the Fire Brothers, then Tsul Kalu, then the Rainbow Serpent.
Before he can invoke a fourth guide, a most unwelcome voice interrupts him. "What are you doing here, nigger?"
Makan brings himself to his feet, however reluctantly; to leave a prayer unfinished is a most inauspicious start to any day.
A clean-shaven, wig-festooned, typically overdressed unega stands before him, the colour of his rage showing plainly on his sickly, creamy skin, even in this early light. As is true of most unegas, this man is shorter than Makan, but speaks much more loudly than is required in such circumstances.
"I am praying," Makan says.
"Go pester your pagan gods somewhere else," the unega says. His clipped accent marks him as a Cavendian, although that would be obvious anyway. "Even if you can't read, you can see the sign. No blacks allowed here."
"I've read it," Makan says. Calmness is called for; the first path will not be followed by responding with anger.
"So get your black arse out of here!" the other man proclaims.
"But I'm not black. I'm Congxie," he says. Even an unbalanced unega should see that much. Makan's skin and curly hair have much the same shade as Africans, but the breadth of his nose, the bulk of his jaw, and the height of his cheekbones announce to all the world that he is Congxie.
"Who cares what tribes you niggers divide yourselves into?" the unega says. "The same rules are for all of you."
"Rules you wrote for bondsmen, not for free men," Makan says.
"Don't get fresh, nigger," the other man says. "This is Alleghania now, and our laws are what matter. Get your big black arse out of the park before I call the militia."
Not worth a fight, Makan tells himself. Pride has its place, but so does judgement. He rolls up his mat, collects the book, and walks away. As he leaves, though, one thought runs through his mind again and again.
If those are the rules, then they must be changed.
--
[1] Unega is one of the Congxie words for white; originally borrowed from Cherokee, but now almost exclusively used to refer to people of European descent rather than as a general name for the colour.
--
Thoughts?
- Location
- Illinois
What a prick. Also, I'm a bit surprised that the Congxie regions were annexed by Alleghania--if I'm interpreting the racist's statement correctly.
That person was indeed a bigoted oxygen-thief. Also indicative of the attitudes of some of this timeline's Cavendians.
It's quite correct that the Alleghanians will take over at least part of Congxie territory. It's not meant to be a surprise, it's just a consequence of demographics and existing territorial claims. The various English colonies on the eastern seaboard claimed all the way to the Pacific, as they did historically (except for the few who had other colonies further west than them, such as Delaware). The English colonies are also far more populous than the Congxie can equal, and have easier access to imported weapons and the like.
The Congxie founding population was less than 10,000, which included escaped slaves/indentured labourers, Nuttana, and various Native Americans who joined them (some more willingly than others). Since their founding, they received minimal immigration - a handful of escaped slaves or Europeans who joined for one reason or another. Their population was thus largely growing through natural increase only. Even using the most generous possible population growth rates, the Congxie are still going to be severely outnumbered by the English colonies (or their descendant states) which are also growing through high natural increase and through significant immigration.
Given that, it's inevitable that the English colonies will end up taking over at least some Congxie territory. Of course, that doesn't mean that all of the Congxie end up (or stay) under English/Alleghanian rule, but some territorial loss is inevitable.
Lands of Red and Gold Interlude #2: The Twelve Tales of Christ’s Mass
Lands of Red and Gold Interlude #2: The Twelve Tales of Christ's Mass
This is a glimpse of how Christmas may be viewed in the future of the Lands of Red and Gold timeline. As with other Christmas specials, this should be taken in a light-hearted vein.
--
For the prevention of disorders, as have arisen in diverse places within this dominion by reason of some still observing such festivals as were superstitiously kept in other communities, to the great dishonor of God and offense of others: it is therefore ordered by my authority that whosoever shall be found observing any such day as Christmas or All Hallows' Eve or the like, either by forbearing of labor, feasting, or in any other way, every such person so offending shall pay for every such offence a fine, not exceeding six shilling, as shall be set by the court of each county.
Set this day by my hand and seal,
Martin Armstrong
Governor of New England
4 July 1697
--
Taken from The Westmoreland [Williamsburg, Virginia] Courant
26 December 1954
CHRISTMAS TRUCE HOLDS!
With the passing of midnight, Alleghania has reason to celebrate. The old proverb has been confirmed: no news is good news. No reports of acts of terrorism have been received from anywhere in the country.
This proves a fact which many found hard to credit, including your humble commentator. The CJP [1] were sincere in their announcement of a truce. For the first time in more than a decade, they have refrained from their traditional Christmas bombing campaign...
--
23 December 1962
Shrewsbury, Pembroke [Cambridge, Maryland]
Two dozen men, with varying skin tone and varying height, but all dressed in similar attire: forest green jackets and pointed caps, with chestnut pants. The traditional costume of a wassailer out to sing evening noëls [Christmas carols].
Jamet Byrne is third from the front as the group moves on to the next house. A large two-level white building, almost a mansion, with four mature chestnut trees growing in its front garden. No point going wassailing in a poor district, of course. What would they gain from that?
"This is the true spirit of Christmas," Byrne murmurs, to quiet sounds of acclamation around him. Wassailing is a grand old tradition, and part of a proper Christmas as far as he is concerned. Not like all of the new-fangled gimmicks which are celebrated these days, which are driven by traders and merchants. Scarcely Christian in most cases, and explicitly non-Christian in a few cases. Why, for the last few years, the Christmas decorations around the Shrewsbury town hall had included chimes, of all godless things.
No, Christmas should be celebrated in the proper way, with hearty singing, drinking, gifts, and wassailing.
The wassailers reach the front of the white building, which now he sees really should be called a mansion. So much the better. With loud but marvellous harmony, the wassailers begin their performance:
"Noël, noël, noël, noël.
Who is there that sings so: Noël, noël, noël?
I am here, Father Christmas.
Welcome, my lord, Father Christmas!
Welcome to us all, both more and less!
Come near, Noël." [2]
The wassailers continue with the noël, describing the story of the Nativity, while Jamet hopes that the owners will come out soon. Wassailing is an exhausting task, and requires the traditional gifts of pudding and good sweet wine for the wassailers to recover from their efforts before they move on to the next house.
--
17 December 1976
Offices of Wyatt & Rolfe Shipbuilding
Newport News, Virginia
Friday night a week before Christmas Eve: the perfect time for an office Christmas party, in John Thomas Rolfe's not so humble opinion. His fellow director Edmund Wyatt had disagreed, which was why he was nowhere to be found tonight, along with virtually all of the workers who were directly involved in ship construction. Those who had come to the party were the office workers: finance, office administration, sales, and manpower [personnel].
For all of that, Rolfe thought that he organised a damned fine party. Quiet music played in the background; instrumental tunes only that had a suitably festive feel if not actually Christmas songs. Gifts for everyone who came, as befit a good host: candies, chocolates, perfume. Food enough for all who came – two roast turkeys had pride of place on the table – and, most of all, alcohol. Wine, ale, duranj [gum cider], brandy, whiskey... something for everyone, or so he hoped.
Everything seemed to be going well. Until he heard raised voices coming from the other side of the room. Very raised voices, of the kind which could only not be called shouting because it was nearly Christmas and he was feeling kind.
As he strode over, Rolfe saw there were two people involved in the argument: William Beal and Generosity Enoli. A handful of other men and women looked on, with expressions ranging from amusement to horror. But it was the two men in the middle who held his attention: short, pale, blond and muscular William looked up at tall, thin, dark and black-haired Generosity with no sign of backing down, either literally or metaphorically.
They were arguing something about the merits of the Populists. Of course, the content of their argument mattered nothing to Rolfe, only their volume. "Come on, partners, cool it down. Show some Christmas spirit."
Generosity raised an eyebrow. "What, assume that someone will show up and magically make everything right for you, rather than taking responsibility for your own actions?"
"This isn't the place to start religious arguments," Rolfe said.
"Then why did you bring it up?" Generosity said. "I don't expect you to celebrate Mamabula [3]; Rene here doesn't expect you to celebrate Passover. Why do you think we should care about the day your holy man was born?"
For the first time, Rolfe understood why Wyatt had not wanted to hold a Christmas party.
--
Episode Guide: Mighty Mouse Saves Christmas [4]
Episode No. 21 (also called the first Christmas special)
First broadcast 24 December 1977
Cast:
Mighty Mouse – a mouse
El Gato – a cat
Lechien – a dog and part-time used furniture dealer
Father Christmas – an anthropomorphic personification and spirit of Christmas
Mary Christmas – a recurring pun
White Bess – a horse
Grampa Thorn – an anthropomorphic personification and head of the Child Hunt
Davey Cricket – a Hunter
Bison Bill – a Hunter
Danielle Bloom – a Hunter
Freddy Flames – a Hunter
Hopi Smith – a Hunter
Guido Folks – a man with an apparently bottomless, multidimensional toolbox
Synopsis
The episode opens in Greenland, where Father Christmas and Mary Christmas are relaxing over cups of tea, talking about how good it is that everything is ready for Yuletide. They are visited by Grampa Thorn [5] and a couple of his fellow Hunters. They have an argument about a few children who Thorn says have been naughty, but eventually Father Christmas produces his list, and says that they are good, so Thorn has to leave them alone.
After Grampa Thorn leaves, Father Christmas gets suspicious about the visit, and goes to check the rest of the ice cave. He finds that while Thorn had been distracting him, the rest of the Hunters have tunnelled inside and stolen his magic sack, which contains all of the gifts needed for the good children.
Meanwhile, unaware of this catastrophic turn of events, Mighty Mouse is preparing an ambush for El Gato. He collects an elaborate set of items in preparation: a birdbath, a clutch of feathers, a rope, quick-setting cement, a cape, and an apple pie.
The precise plan for these items is never revealed, for when El Gato is about to enter the room, Lechien stops the ambush. The Dog, whose canine hearing is unsurpassed, says that he has heard the sound of ultimate despair coming from the north. Given where it is coming from, and the season, that can only be Father Christmas who is unhappy.
Realising that something has gone wrong with Christmas, El Gato and Mighty Mouse agree to a truce until things are fixed. Since they need a quick way to get to Greenland, they call on Guido to help them [6]. Guido appears, and after hearing their problem, reaches into his toolbox, and pulls out a hyper-powered shovel.
Mighty Mouse and El Gato take it in turns to dig to dig under the house, under the city, and then under the sea. They get exhausted along the way and have to come up to Kesteven [Boston, Massachusetts] for a meal. They go back, keep digging, and come up just outside the entrance to Father Christmas's ice cave.
They find Lechien waiting for them. When they ask how he got there ahead of them, the Dog simply shrugs and says, "Atlantic Flyways."
The three of them go in to visit Father Christmas, who explains how Grampa Thorn has stolen the sack. Father Christmas tells them that they will have to retrieve the sack, and that he cannot help them since White Bess is powerless without the sack.
Mighty Mouse leads his friends down the tunnel which the Hunters used to sneak in, and find that it comes out near a walrus-covered beach, but with no way to find out where the Hunters have gone. The Mouse wants to call Guido again, but there is no mirror nearby. Eventually, El Gato realises that ice can be polished enough to act as a mirror, and so the three scrape clear a patch of ice, and smooth it until they can use it as a mirror and call on Guido again.
Guido gives them a magic carpet which he says will let them chase Grampa Thorn, although what happens when they get there is up to them. The magic carpet takes them on a wild ride around the world, showing people of a variety of nations preparing for Christmas, including children who are writing their letters, before stopping somewhere on nameless tundra covered by wandering reindeer.
The three find the entrance to Grampa Thorn's cave, whereupon Mighty Mouse, in traditional style, decides to charge right in and attack Thorn. The other two chase after him, and find Thorn inside along with five of the Hunters. Mighty Mouse does not wait any further, but starts a fight with Thorn. El Gato and Lechien need to hold off the other Hunters, leaving the Mouse to fight off Thorn and retrieve the sack. The three run back out, leaving Thorn cursing and swearing behind them, and take the carpet back to Father Christmas.
--
Song list for "It's Christmas Time", a popular Christmas album released by Yvonne [7] in 1987
--
24 December 1994
Université de Bourbon
Chaleurs, Louisiana [Alexandria, Louisiana]
Mid-afternoon on the eve of Noël. The sandstone buildings and courtyards of Bourbon University, so crowded with students only the day before, are nearly deserted now. Only a relative handful of students and faculty remain here, those who for one reason or another have not returned to their homes and family over the week's break.
Alix Bourque is one of those. Except for her youngest sister, none of her family would welcome her at any time. They would tolerate her attending a funeral, she muses briefly, even if a couple would be secretly hoping that she had been the guest of honour at that event.
The thought is only a passing one, though. Alix returns her focus to the immediate surroundings, which are much more pleasant. She nestles her head against Tsiyu's welcoming shoulder, leaving her long black hair to fall over his arm.
A slight breeze blows across the courtyard, carrying a sweet lemony fragrance with it. The university is set just outside the town limits of Chaleurs proper, and ringed on three sides by groves of lemon verbena [lemon myrtle]. That distinctive odour is one of the most pleasant aspects of life at Bourbon University, although the spice farmers have hardly planted the trees for the students' benefit.
Tsiyu starts to run his fingers along her shoulder in that electric touch which she knows so well. She murmurs softly in response, in that way where the words do not matter so much as the tone in which they are said.
Before his fingers or lips can move much further, though, the breeze shifts and brings a fresh set of smells with it: the odours of cooking. Frying fish, pork or some similar meat being smoked, and boiling mixtures of seafood and vegetables, with the smell of onions predominating.
She glances over at the kitchen window; fortunately, it does not mean she needs to move her head much or disturb Tsiyu's actions. "It'll be a change, celebrating Christmas properly," she says.
"How so?" he murmurs, though his fingers keep moving.
"I've missed réveillon," Alix says. All of the students and lecturers who are still at the university are automatically invited to the long dinner-cum-party that will last past midnight and the proper arrival of Noël. A much more attractive prospect than a caustic evening with her parents and sisters, even setting aside Tsiyu's attentions.
"It happens every year," he says, bemused.
"Not everywhere," she says. "The last two years, I was at the Panipat [8]. A place to learn, like few others, but I missed Noël. They don't care about it at all there; it's just another day on the calendar."
"How odd," Tsiyu says, but a moment later he moves his lips to kiss her. Alix forgets, for the moment, about her sojourn overseas and even about the coming réveillon feast.
--
25 December 1995
Gustavsburg [Bangor, Maine]
"I do declare: I doubt I can move," Astrid Kruse said.
It had, in fact, been an excellent Christmas lunch. Just four people, but easygoing, relaxed conversation. The lunch had featured a wide variety of scrumptious food, though the goose took pride of place. The overall effect was splendid; it just meant that staying in place for the next hour or two would probably be the wisest course of action.
"Oh, no room for dessert?" Irma said.
"Not for a good long while," Astrid answered. "Digestion essential: motion non-trivial." Both of their husbands made similar comments.
Irma laughed. "Just as long as you spared room for a genu-wine Christmas toast."
Astrid raised an eyebrow. "You mean...?"
Irma produced a bottle of wine with a flourish. A blue-tinted bottle. "Yes. The proper article. No Virginian imitation or Cali-fornication. Real Castilian blue, just for you."
Scott rose to get the glasses, but Irma managed the uncorking and pouring herself. So she should, if she'd obtained a real bottle of Castilian blue. At Christmas, anyone could find something which called itself blue wine, but a decent bouquet was another thing altogether.
Bubbles rose and sparkled within the glass as Irma passed it over. Astrid took it, and inhaled the spicy bouquet of verbena, and the promise of more to come.
Ingrid proposed the traditional toast, and they repeated it: "To Christmas and the New Year!"
The first sip of the blue delivered everything it promised: a spicy, sparkling flavour of anise and cinnamon, with a hint of lemon. Astrid could not fit any more in, yet, but that was all to the good: it would be a long, pleasant afternoon.
--
25 December 1996
Reading, Berkshire
Getting up before the children is always a challenge on Christmas morning. Fortunately for Jerome Duke's sanity, getting them to sleep early on Christmas Eve is not. So he and Anne set everything out ready the night before, and only need to wake up at a suitably early hour. This is still difficult, with two boys who have internal alarm clocks more efficient than any mere human construction, and a girl who could sneak up on a werewolf.
This year, at least, something has worked properly. Jerome wakes up in the winter darkness, and quietly moves back out to the living room. He flicks on a lamp and gives everything one final check.
The Christmas fir tree is in place, with the bulkier gifts stored beneath it. By the front door, four boots have been filled with small toys and candies; four because Electra, with impeccable eight-year-old logic, argues that fairness requires that the boys and girls divide equal numbers of presents. The four-branched candelabra is in place opposite the fir tree, with four rows of three candles pointing in each cardinal direction, and the larger thirteenth candle in the centre.
The candelabra is the only task that remains undone, so he lights the candles, starting with the central candle, then the east, south and western branches, and finally the northern branch. Thank God that the children are old enough nowadays that he doesn't need to dress up in bright green and act as Father Christmas any more.
Now, he needs only to wait for the storm that will begin when the children come out.
--
Taken from: "The Guide to the Perfect Christmas"
Together with the Christmas tree, the Christmas candelabra is one of the two iconic elements of a proper Christmas. In many ways, the candelabra is the more cherished of the two. A natural Christmas tree must be replaced every year, and even artificial trees are often likewise obtained anew each year. Yet a high-quality, exquisite Christmas candelabra is an artefact which will last for a lifetime.
While many elements of the modern Christmas tradition have antecedents which go back for a millennium or more, the candelabra is a relatively recent addition. Candles have been used in various Christmas roles for centuries, such as being held for nightly vigils or inclusion in an Advent wreath. But the particular use of a dedicated candle-holder is first known from southern France in the late eighteenth century, where four-candle holders were used. The number of candles increased over time, until the modern version which holds thirteen candles in total: four candles for each cardinal direction and a larger central candle.
Candelabras were first introduced into North America in Louisiana around 1820, and gradually spread to other countries. By 1890, they were well-known in Cavendia and Virginia, and were adopted in Tigeria around the turn of the century, and are now popular over the continent...
Selection of a proper candelabra is an important decision. Quality workmanship is important, as is durability, but it should not be over-decorated or elaborate. The best candelabras have an elegant simplicity to them. Height of the candelabra is equally important; it should stand within easy reach for an adult, but should never be taller than the Christmas tree.
Tradition dictates that the candelabra should be lit at the central candle, and then the branches should be lit east, south, west, then finally north. Within each branch, the closest candle to the centre must be lit first, and then the next closest, then the third. The candelabra must be lit sometime over Christmas Eve and kept alight for the following morning, with candles replaced if necessary. It is usually considered unlucky to open Christmas gifts if the candelabra is unlit.
--
Taken from Intellipedia.
Christmas (Old English: Crīstesmæsse, literally "Christ's mass") is an annual celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, generally conducted on 25 December. Commemorated as a religious and cultural holiday by billions around the globe, and a legal holiday in many nations, Christmas is celebrated throughout the Christian world, and by growing numbers of non-Christians. Although only rarely in predominantly Muslim nations, and virtually never in the Plirite world [citation needed]. However, Plirites in majority-Christian nations often celebrate Christmas as a secular holiday. Christmas is a fundamental part of the festive season.
The date of Jesus' birth is not known [discuss]. The celebration of Christmas on 25 December is first recorded in the early fourth century. Christianity adopted the date of the Roman winter solstice and linked it to ancient pre-Christian winter festivals to incorporate those of pagan faith into Christianity, and reduce the appeal of pagan holdouts. [This sentence has been tagged as offensive and flagged for removal. Refer to the discussion page.]
Celebratory customs associated with Christmas include a hodge-podge of pagan, Christian and secular themes which have been blended into the modern event [informal tone: discuss]. Popular modern holiday customs include giving or exchange of Christmas gifts and cards, Christmas music both religious and secular, special meals, church commemorations, wassailing, evening vigils, and displaying a variety of special decorations, including Christmas trees and candles, Christmas lights, religious scenes (usually of the Nativity), mistletoe, wreaths, holly and chimes. [This sentence has been locked due to repeated attempted vandalism to remove the reference to chimes. Refer to the discussion page.]
Also, several related figures are associated with bringing gifts during the Christmas season, and have their own body of traditions and lore. These figures are variously known as Father Christmas, Saint Nicholas, and the Christkind. In the English-speaking world, Father Christmas is the traditional figure: an old man dressed in a bright green suit trimmed with white fur, and associated with drinking, singing and merry-making. And gifts, which he traditionally produces from a magic sack that he carries with him. The sack knows which children have been good or naughty, and will only provide gifts for the good children.
An additional mythological figure has also been associated with the negative aspects of Christmas, variously called Grampa Thorn, Krampus, or Gumphinckel. Grampa Thorn has his own body of tradition and lore, and is generally depicted as a figure who travels the countryside on Christmas Eve (or another winter night) searching for bad children, and either warning them or punishing them. In the English-speaking world, Grampa Thorn is said to play tricks or scare naughty children, or give them a useless gift such as a lump of coal. For children who have been particularly badly behaved, Grampa Thorn is said to carry them away for a year, where they have to make the gifts which next year will be given to the good children.
Due to gift-giving and associated festival aspects of Christmas, economic activity grows during the holiday season, and this is a critical sales period for the retail sector. However, this increasing trend of commercialisation is widely regarded [by whom?] as harming the religious aspects of Christmas [bias: discuss].
Name
The word "Christmas" originated as a compound meaning "Christ's mass". It is derived from the Middle English Cristemasse, which is from Old English Crīstesmæsse. The form "Christenmas" was also historically used, but is now considered archaic.
In addition to "Christmas", the holiday has been known by various other names throughout its history. The Anglo-Saxons referred to the feast as Midwinter, or, more rarely as Nativity. Yule (or Yuletide) was previously used to refer to the December-January period, and the name has been revived as a secular alternative to refer to the holiday season, although rarely to refer to Christmas Day itself. Noel (or Nowell or Noël) entered English in the late 14th century, derived from Old French.
Celebration
Main article: Christmas globewards [worldwide]
Christmas Day is a major festival and public holiday in many countries around the world, including some whose populations are mostly non-Christian. In some non-Christian countries, periods of former colonial rule introduced the celebration, while in others, Christian minorities or foreign cultural influences have led populations to observe the holiday. In such countries, the main secular aspects of Christmas which have been adopted include gift-giving, Christmas trees and candelabras.
Christmas celebrations around the world vary considerably, based on different cultural and national traditions. In countries with a strong Christian tradition, participating in a religious service is usually an important part of the season. Christmas, along with Easter, is the period of highest annual church attendance.
In Catholic and Orthodox countries, a range of religious processions or parades are held in the days leading up to Christmas. In Protestant and non-Christian countries, secular processions or parades featuring Father Christmas and other seasonal figures are often held.
Family reunions are an integral part of Christmas in most traditions; Christmas is usually held to be the day when dispersed families reunite. Exchange of gifts is likewise a major feature of the season, either on Christmas Day or on a nearby religiously significant day (eg 6 December, Saint Nicholas Day, is used in Tigeria).
While many non-Christian countries observe Christmas as a secular holiday, in some non-Christian countries, public celebration of Christmas is considered offensive [by whom?]. In particular, in several Plirite countries, Christmas Day is not a public holiday and public Christmas displays are stigmatised. Plirite minorities in some majority-Christian countries have adopted Christmas as a secular holiday (eg the Kogung), while in other countries, Plirite non-observation of Christmas has become a mark of cultural identity (eg the Congxie).
Also, even in some countries with a strong Christian tradition, celebration of Christmas is predominantly secular. In New England, the early colonists strongly disapproved of public celebrations of Christmas, based on religious objections. Observation of Christmas was legally forbidden, and later socially prohibited even when no longer outlawed. Recent adoption of Christmas traditions in New England has focused on the secular aspects of gift-giving and decoration, rather than religious celebrations...
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22 December 1999
Horeb [Providence, Rhode Island], Narragansett
Evening draws near, but the night is not yet come. The chill is growing, but snow has not yet fallen. The perfect time to take to the streets as Old Man Thorn, or so John Beckwith thinks.
His costume is modelled on the devil which is said to inhabit the great swamp to the south: brown fur covering his body, hoofed feet, unfurled bat wings, and clawed hands. His face is covered in a devil-mask, too, complete with fangs and forward-curving horns.
Not the most traditional form for Grampa Thorn, but it will do well, he thinks. It needs to be scary enough, but not horrific. The chains are wrapped around his wrist, to be clanked whenever children come near.
As he starts his walk through the streets, lights begin to flicker on in a few houses. Elaborate Christmas decorations, those, even if they will be better appreciated once night has truly fallen.
In the meantime, the most soothing sound is the chimes hung outside most of the houses he passes. The breeze off the bay is slight, but enough to set them ringing from time to time. A reassuring part of Christmas, as far as he is concerned. He's heard that down in Alleghania, too many people complain that they are a pagan symbol, but who cares [9]? They are part of Christmas now.
As he walks, he starts to sing the traditional song. "You'd better watch out, you'd better take care, Old Man Thorn is coming to town..."
--
[1] Congxie Jamaane Pliri, or roughly translated into in English, Congxie Homeland and Harmony. Congxie comes from the most widespread name which that people use for themselves. Jamaane is a Congxie word adapted from the Soninke language, which in a Congxie sense means something like "territory" or "homeland". Pliri is from a Gunnagalic root (via the Nangu and Nuttana) which means "harmony", although in this context it is used in a largely non-religious sense to mean stability or security.
[2] This is a historical carol, with words slightly changed by the passage of allohistorical time. It was composed by Robert Smert sometime in the fifteenth century, although the real modern form has changed considerably.
[3] Mamabula, or Liberty Day, is a celebration of the day when the forefathers (and foremothers) of the Congxie revolted in Cavendia (*South Carolina/Georgia) and began their flight to freedom in the uplands. It is celebrated on the June new moon, to mark the historical use of that new moon as a sign to trigger a unified revolt.
[4] Mighty Mouse is an allohistorical cartoon character who has very little in common with the historical version. He is a small-sized, big-talking mouse who knows martial arts, and who often gets himself into trouble due to his combative attitude. (The allohistorical author based in the name in part on a pun about "mighty mouth").
His main foil is a cat named El Gato; the two often clash, although they occasionally cooperate too, as in this Christmas special. Another recurring character is Lechien (the dog), who oddly enough gets on with Mighty Mouse rather well.
[5] Grampa Thorn is the English-speaking world's version of Krampus, who hunts down naughty children. He has been incorporated into a version of the old Germanic tradition of the Wild Hunt, and has several Hunters who accompany him. Traditions differ as to the number and names of those Hunters, although there are rarely more than 12.
[6] In this cartoon, the way to call on Guido Folks is to stand in front of a mirror, say "handy man" five times in a row, and Guido will appear behind you, holding his toolbox above his head.
[7] Her full name is Yvonne Martin, but her musical career has been successful enough that she simply goes by Yvonne.
[8] In full, the Tjagarr Panipat. This is a Gunnagalic name which, literally translated, means "Place of Great Disputation".
[9] This is because chimes are an integral part of Plirite worship, being used in most of their temples. In Alleghania, some efforts have been made to adopt chimes as a Christmas symbol, to show that it is a secular holiday that is not exclusive to Christians. This has not been particularly well-received either by Christians or by the Congxie who follow Plirism. Nevertheless, the use of chimes has been publicised enough that they have been adopted in some other nations, particularly in New England, where the observation of Christmas is largely a secular affair anyway.
--
Thoughts?
This is a glimpse of how Christmas may be viewed in the future of the Lands of Red and Gold timeline. As with other Christmas specials, this should be taken in a light-hearted vein.
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For the prevention of disorders, as have arisen in diverse places within this dominion by reason of some still observing such festivals as were superstitiously kept in other communities, to the great dishonor of God and offense of others: it is therefore ordered by my authority that whosoever shall be found observing any such day as Christmas or All Hallows' Eve or the like, either by forbearing of labor, feasting, or in any other way, every such person so offending shall pay for every such offence a fine, not exceeding six shilling, as shall be set by the court of each county.
Set this day by my hand and seal,
Martin Armstrong
Governor of New England
4 July 1697
--
Taken from The Westmoreland [Williamsburg, Virginia] Courant
26 December 1954
CHRISTMAS TRUCE HOLDS!
With the passing of midnight, Alleghania has reason to celebrate. The old proverb has been confirmed: no news is good news. No reports of acts of terrorism have been received from anywhere in the country.
This proves a fact which many found hard to credit, including your humble commentator. The CJP [1] were sincere in their announcement of a truce. For the first time in more than a decade, they have refrained from their traditional Christmas bombing campaign...
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23 December 1962
Shrewsbury, Pembroke [Cambridge, Maryland]
Two dozen men, with varying skin tone and varying height, but all dressed in similar attire: forest green jackets and pointed caps, with chestnut pants. The traditional costume of a wassailer out to sing evening noëls [Christmas carols].
Jamet Byrne is third from the front as the group moves on to the next house. A large two-level white building, almost a mansion, with four mature chestnut trees growing in its front garden. No point going wassailing in a poor district, of course. What would they gain from that?
"This is the true spirit of Christmas," Byrne murmurs, to quiet sounds of acclamation around him. Wassailing is a grand old tradition, and part of a proper Christmas as far as he is concerned. Not like all of the new-fangled gimmicks which are celebrated these days, which are driven by traders and merchants. Scarcely Christian in most cases, and explicitly non-Christian in a few cases. Why, for the last few years, the Christmas decorations around the Shrewsbury town hall had included chimes, of all godless things.
No, Christmas should be celebrated in the proper way, with hearty singing, drinking, gifts, and wassailing.
The wassailers reach the front of the white building, which now he sees really should be called a mansion. So much the better. With loud but marvellous harmony, the wassailers begin their performance:
"Noël, noël, noël, noël.
Who is there that sings so: Noël, noël, noël?
I am here, Father Christmas.
Welcome, my lord, Father Christmas!
Welcome to us all, both more and less!
Come near, Noël." [2]
The wassailers continue with the noël, describing the story of the Nativity, while Jamet hopes that the owners will come out soon. Wassailing is an exhausting task, and requires the traditional gifts of pudding and good sweet wine for the wassailers to recover from their efforts before they move on to the next house.
--
17 December 1976
Offices of Wyatt & Rolfe Shipbuilding
Newport News, Virginia
Friday night a week before Christmas Eve: the perfect time for an office Christmas party, in John Thomas Rolfe's not so humble opinion. His fellow director Edmund Wyatt had disagreed, which was why he was nowhere to be found tonight, along with virtually all of the workers who were directly involved in ship construction. Those who had come to the party were the office workers: finance, office administration, sales, and manpower [personnel].
For all of that, Rolfe thought that he organised a damned fine party. Quiet music played in the background; instrumental tunes only that had a suitably festive feel if not actually Christmas songs. Gifts for everyone who came, as befit a good host: candies, chocolates, perfume. Food enough for all who came – two roast turkeys had pride of place on the table – and, most of all, alcohol. Wine, ale, duranj [gum cider], brandy, whiskey... something for everyone, or so he hoped.
Everything seemed to be going well. Until he heard raised voices coming from the other side of the room. Very raised voices, of the kind which could only not be called shouting because it was nearly Christmas and he was feeling kind.
As he strode over, Rolfe saw there were two people involved in the argument: William Beal and Generosity Enoli. A handful of other men and women looked on, with expressions ranging from amusement to horror. But it was the two men in the middle who held his attention: short, pale, blond and muscular William looked up at tall, thin, dark and black-haired Generosity with no sign of backing down, either literally or metaphorically.
They were arguing something about the merits of the Populists. Of course, the content of their argument mattered nothing to Rolfe, only their volume. "Come on, partners, cool it down. Show some Christmas spirit."
Generosity raised an eyebrow. "What, assume that someone will show up and magically make everything right for you, rather than taking responsibility for your own actions?"
"This isn't the place to start religious arguments," Rolfe said.
"Then why did you bring it up?" Generosity said. "I don't expect you to celebrate Mamabula [3]; Rene here doesn't expect you to celebrate Passover. Why do you think we should care about the day your holy man was born?"
For the first time, Rolfe understood why Wyatt had not wanted to hold a Christmas party.
--
Episode Guide: Mighty Mouse Saves Christmas [4]
Episode No. 21 (also called the first Christmas special)
First broadcast 24 December 1977
Cast:
Mighty Mouse – a mouse
El Gato – a cat
Lechien – a dog and part-time used furniture dealer
Father Christmas – an anthropomorphic personification and spirit of Christmas
Mary Christmas – a recurring pun
White Bess – a horse
Grampa Thorn – an anthropomorphic personification and head of the Child Hunt
Davey Cricket – a Hunter
Bison Bill – a Hunter
Danielle Bloom – a Hunter
Freddy Flames – a Hunter
Hopi Smith – a Hunter
Guido Folks – a man with an apparently bottomless, multidimensional toolbox
Synopsis
The episode opens in Greenland, where Father Christmas and Mary Christmas are relaxing over cups of tea, talking about how good it is that everything is ready for Yuletide. They are visited by Grampa Thorn [5] and a couple of his fellow Hunters. They have an argument about a few children who Thorn says have been naughty, but eventually Father Christmas produces his list, and says that they are good, so Thorn has to leave them alone.
After Grampa Thorn leaves, Father Christmas gets suspicious about the visit, and goes to check the rest of the ice cave. He finds that while Thorn had been distracting him, the rest of the Hunters have tunnelled inside and stolen his magic sack, which contains all of the gifts needed for the good children.
Meanwhile, unaware of this catastrophic turn of events, Mighty Mouse is preparing an ambush for El Gato. He collects an elaborate set of items in preparation: a birdbath, a clutch of feathers, a rope, quick-setting cement, a cape, and an apple pie.
The precise plan for these items is never revealed, for when El Gato is about to enter the room, Lechien stops the ambush. The Dog, whose canine hearing is unsurpassed, says that he has heard the sound of ultimate despair coming from the north. Given where it is coming from, and the season, that can only be Father Christmas who is unhappy.
Realising that something has gone wrong with Christmas, El Gato and Mighty Mouse agree to a truce until things are fixed. Since they need a quick way to get to Greenland, they call on Guido to help them [6]. Guido appears, and after hearing their problem, reaches into his toolbox, and pulls out a hyper-powered shovel.
Mighty Mouse and El Gato take it in turns to dig to dig under the house, under the city, and then under the sea. They get exhausted along the way and have to come up to Kesteven [Boston, Massachusetts] for a meal. They go back, keep digging, and come up just outside the entrance to Father Christmas's ice cave.
They find Lechien waiting for them. When they ask how he got there ahead of them, the Dog simply shrugs and says, "Atlantic Flyways."
The three of them go in to visit Father Christmas, who explains how Grampa Thorn has stolen the sack. Father Christmas tells them that they will have to retrieve the sack, and that he cannot help them since White Bess is powerless without the sack.
Mighty Mouse leads his friends down the tunnel which the Hunters used to sneak in, and find that it comes out near a walrus-covered beach, but with no way to find out where the Hunters have gone. The Mouse wants to call Guido again, but there is no mirror nearby. Eventually, El Gato realises that ice can be polished enough to act as a mirror, and so the three scrape clear a patch of ice, and smooth it until they can use it as a mirror and call on Guido again.
Guido gives them a magic carpet which he says will let them chase Grampa Thorn, although what happens when they get there is up to them. The magic carpet takes them on a wild ride around the world, showing people of a variety of nations preparing for Christmas, including children who are writing their letters, before stopping somewhere on nameless tundra covered by wandering reindeer.
The three find the entrance to Grampa Thorn's cave, whereupon Mighty Mouse, in traditional style, decides to charge right in and attack Thorn. The other two chase after him, and find Thorn inside along with five of the Hunters. Mighty Mouse does not wait any further, but starts a fight with Thorn. El Gato and Lechien need to hold off the other Hunters, leaving the Mouse to fight off Thorn and retrieve the sack. The three run back out, leaving Thorn cursing and swearing behind them, and take the carpet back to Father Christmas.
--
Song list for "It's Christmas Time", a popular Christmas album released by Yvonne [7] in 1987
- Messiah
- Feliz Navidad
- Desire of Ages
- God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen
- See the Mistletoe?
- Yuletide Hunt
- Big, Fat Father Christmas
- Glory to the King
- Hear Heaven Sing
- Coming Home for Christmas
- Three Red Candles
- Blue Wine
- Night of Nights
--
24 December 1994
Université de Bourbon
Chaleurs, Louisiana [Alexandria, Louisiana]
Mid-afternoon on the eve of Noël. The sandstone buildings and courtyards of Bourbon University, so crowded with students only the day before, are nearly deserted now. Only a relative handful of students and faculty remain here, those who for one reason or another have not returned to their homes and family over the week's break.
Alix Bourque is one of those. Except for her youngest sister, none of her family would welcome her at any time. They would tolerate her attending a funeral, she muses briefly, even if a couple would be secretly hoping that she had been the guest of honour at that event.
The thought is only a passing one, though. Alix returns her focus to the immediate surroundings, which are much more pleasant. She nestles her head against Tsiyu's welcoming shoulder, leaving her long black hair to fall over his arm.
A slight breeze blows across the courtyard, carrying a sweet lemony fragrance with it. The university is set just outside the town limits of Chaleurs proper, and ringed on three sides by groves of lemon verbena [lemon myrtle]. That distinctive odour is one of the most pleasant aspects of life at Bourbon University, although the spice farmers have hardly planted the trees for the students' benefit.
Tsiyu starts to run his fingers along her shoulder in that electric touch which she knows so well. She murmurs softly in response, in that way where the words do not matter so much as the tone in which they are said.
Before his fingers or lips can move much further, though, the breeze shifts and brings a fresh set of smells with it: the odours of cooking. Frying fish, pork or some similar meat being smoked, and boiling mixtures of seafood and vegetables, with the smell of onions predominating.
She glances over at the kitchen window; fortunately, it does not mean she needs to move her head much or disturb Tsiyu's actions. "It'll be a change, celebrating Christmas properly," she says.
"How so?" he murmurs, though his fingers keep moving.
"I've missed réveillon," Alix says. All of the students and lecturers who are still at the university are automatically invited to the long dinner-cum-party that will last past midnight and the proper arrival of Noël. A much more attractive prospect than a caustic evening with her parents and sisters, even setting aside Tsiyu's attentions.
"It happens every year," he says, bemused.
"Not everywhere," she says. "The last two years, I was at the Panipat [8]. A place to learn, like few others, but I missed Noël. They don't care about it at all there; it's just another day on the calendar."
"How odd," Tsiyu says, but a moment later he moves his lips to kiss her. Alix forgets, for the moment, about her sojourn overseas and even about the coming réveillon feast.
--
25 December 1995
Gustavsburg [Bangor, Maine]
"I do declare: I doubt I can move," Astrid Kruse said.
It had, in fact, been an excellent Christmas lunch. Just four people, but easygoing, relaxed conversation. The lunch had featured a wide variety of scrumptious food, though the goose took pride of place. The overall effect was splendid; it just meant that staying in place for the next hour or two would probably be the wisest course of action.
"Oh, no room for dessert?" Irma said.
"Not for a good long while," Astrid answered. "Digestion essential: motion non-trivial." Both of their husbands made similar comments.
Irma laughed. "Just as long as you spared room for a genu-wine Christmas toast."
Astrid raised an eyebrow. "You mean...?"
Irma produced a bottle of wine with a flourish. A blue-tinted bottle. "Yes. The proper article. No Virginian imitation or Cali-fornication. Real Castilian blue, just for you."
Scott rose to get the glasses, but Irma managed the uncorking and pouring herself. So she should, if she'd obtained a real bottle of Castilian blue. At Christmas, anyone could find something which called itself blue wine, but a decent bouquet was another thing altogether.
Bubbles rose and sparkled within the glass as Irma passed it over. Astrid took it, and inhaled the spicy bouquet of verbena, and the promise of more to come.
Ingrid proposed the traditional toast, and they repeated it: "To Christmas and the New Year!"
The first sip of the blue delivered everything it promised: a spicy, sparkling flavour of anise and cinnamon, with a hint of lemon. Astrid could not fit any more in, yet, but that was all to the good: it would be a long, pleasant afternoon.
--
25 December 1996
Reading, Berkshire
Getting up before the children is always a challenge on Christmas morning. Fortunately for Jerome Duke's sanity, getting them to sleep early on Christmas Eve is not. So he and Anne set everything out ready the night before, and only need to wake up at a suitably early hour. This is still difficult, with two boys who have internal alarm clocks more efficient than any mere human construction, and a girl who could sneak up on a werewolf.
This year, at least, something has worked properly. Jerome wakes up in the winter darkness, and quietly moves back out to the living room. He flicks on a lamp and gives everything one final check.
The Christmas fir tree is in place, with the bulkier gifts stored beneath it. By the front door, four boots have been filled with small toys and candies; four because Electra, with impeccable eight-year-old logic, argues that fairness requires that the boys and girls divide equal numbers of presents. The four-branched candelabra is in place opposite the fir tree, with four rows of three candles pointing in each cardinal direction, and the larger thirteenth candle in the centre.
The candelabra is the only task that remains undone, so he lights the candles, starting with the central candle, then the east, south and western branches, and finally the northern branch. Thank God that the children are old enough nowadays that he doesn't need to dress up in bright green and act as Father Christmas any more.
Now, he needs only to wait for the storm that will begin when the children come out.
--
Taken from: "The Guide to the Perfect Christmas"
Together with the Christmas tree, the Christmas candelabra is one of the two iconic elements of a proper Christmas. In many ways, the candelabra is the more cherished of the two. A natural Christmas tree must be replaced every year, and even artificial trees are often likewise obtained anew each year. Yet a high-quality, exquisite Christmas candelabra is an artefact which will last for a lifetime.
While many elements of the modern Christmas tradition have antecedents which go back for a millennium or more, the candelabra is a relatively recent addition. Candles have been used in various Christmas roles for centuries, such as being held for nightly vigils or inclusion in an Advent wreath. But the particular use of a dedicated candle-holder is first known from southern France in the late eighteenth century, where four-candle holders were used. The number of candles increased over time, until the modern version which holds thirteen candles in total: four candles for each cardinal direction and a larger central candle.
Candelabras were first introduced into North America in Louisiana around 1820, and gradually spread to other countries. By 1890, they were well-known in Cavendia and Virginia, and were adopted in Tigeria around the turn of the century, and are now popular over the continent...
Selection of a proper candelabra is an important decision. Quality workmanship is important, as is durability, but it should not be over-decorated or elaborate. The best candelabras have an elegant simplicity to them. Height of the candelabra is equally important; it should stand within easy reach for an adult, but should never be taller than the Christmas tree.
Tradition dictates that the candelabra should be lit at the central candle, and then the branches should be lit east, south, west, then finally north. Within each branch, the closest candle to the centre must be lit first, and then the next closest, then the third. The candelabra must be lit sometime over Christmas Eve and kept alight for the following morning, with candles replaced if necessary. It is usually considered unlucky to open Christmas gifts if the candelabra is unlit.
--
Taken from Intellipedia.
Christmas (Old English: Crīstesmæsse, literally "Christ's mass") is an annual celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, generally conducted on 25 December. Commemorated as a religious and cultural holiday by billions around the globe, and a legal holiday in many nations, Christmas is celebrated throughout the Christian world, and by growing numbers of non-Christians. Although only rarely in predominantly Muslim nations, and virtually never in the Plirite world [citation needed]. However, Plirites in majority-Christian nations often celebrate Christmas as a secular holiday. Christmas is a fundamental part of the festive season.
The date of Jesus' birth is not known [discuss]. The celebration of Christmas on 25 December is first recorded in the early fourth century. Christianity adopted the date of the Roman winter solstice and linked it to ancient pre-Christian winter festivals to incorporate those of pagan faith into Christianity, and reduce the appeal of pagan holdouts. [This sentence has been tagged as offensive and flagged for removal. Refer to the discussion page.]
Celebratory customs associated with Christmas include a hodge-podge of pagan, Christian and secular themes which have been blended into the modern event [informal tone: discuss]. Popular modern holiday customs include giving or exchange of Christmas gifts and cards, Christmas music both religious and secular, special meals, church commemorations, wassailing, evening vigils, and displaying a variety of special decorations, including Christmas trees and candles, Christmas lights, religious scenes (usually of the Nativity), mistletoe, wreaths, holly and chimes. [This sentence has been locked due to repeated attempted vandalism to remove the reference to chimes. Refer to the discussion page.]
Also, several related figures are associated with bringing gifts during the Christmas season, and have their own body of traditions and lore. These figures are variously known as Father Christmas, Saint Nicholas, and the Christkind. In the English-speaking world, Father Christmas is the traditional figure: an old man dressed in a bright green suit trimmed with white fur, and associated with drinking, singing and merry-making. And gifts, which he traditionally produces from a magic sack that he carries with him. The sack knows which children have been good or naughty, and will only provide gifts for the good children.
An additional mythological figure has also been associated with the negative aspects of Christmas, variously called Grampa Thorn, Krampus, or Gumphinckel. Grampa Thorn has his own body of tradition and lore, and is generally depicted as a figure who travels the countryside on Christmas Eve (or another winter night) searching for bad children, and either warning them or punishing them. In the English-speaking world, Grampa Thorn is said to play tricks or scare naughty children, or give them a useless gift such as a lump of coal. For children who have been particularly badly behaved, Grampa Thorn is said to carry them away for a year, where they have to make the gifts which next year will be given to the good children.
Due to gift-giving and associated festival aspects of Christmas, economic activity grows during the holiday season, and this is a critical sales period for the retail sector. However, this increasing trend of commercialisation is widely regarded [by whom?] as harming the religious aspects of Christmas [bias: discuss].
Name
The word "Christmas" originated as a compound meaning "Christ's mass". It is derived from the Middle English Cristemasse, which is from Old English Crīstesmæsse. The form "Christenmas" was also historically used, but is now considered archaic.
In addition to "Christmas", the holiday has been known by various other names throughout its history. The Anglo-Saxons referred to the feast as Midwinter, or, more rarely as Nativity. Yule (or Yuletide) was previously used to refer to the December-January period, and the name has been revived as a secular alternative to refer to the holiday season, although rarely to refer to Christmas Day itself. Noel (or Nowell or Noël) entered English in the late 14th century, derived from Old French.
Celebration
Main article: Christmas globewards [worldwide]
Christmas Day is a major festival and public holiday in many countries around the world, including some whose populations are mostly non-Christian. In some non-Christian countries, periods of former colonial rule introduced the celebration, while in others, Christian minorities or foreign cultural influences have led populations to observe the holiday. In such countries, the main secular aspects of Christmas which have been adopted include gift-giving, Christmas trees and candelabras.
Christmas celebrations around the world vary considerably, based on different cultural and national traditions. In countries with a strong Christian tradition, participating in a religious service is usually an important part of the season. Christmas, along with Easter, is the period of highest annual church attendance.
In Catholic and Orthodox countries, a range of religious processions or parades are held in the days leading up to Christmas. In Protestant and non-Christian countries, secular processions or parades featuring Father Christmas and other seasonal figures are often held.
Family reunions are an integral part of Christmas in most traditions; Christmas is usually held to be the day when dispersed families reunite. Exchange of gifts is likewise a major feature of the season, either on Christmas Day or on a nearby religiously significant day (eg 6 December, Saint Nicholas Day, is used in Tigeria).
While many non-Christian countries observe Christmas as a secular holiday, in some non-Christian countries, public celebration of Christmas is considered offensive [by whom?]. In particular, in several Plirite countries, Christmas Day is not a public holiday and public Christmas displays are stigmatised. Plirite minorities in some majority-Christian countries have adopted Christmas as a secular holiday (eg the Kogung), while in other countries, Plirite non-observation of Christmas has become a mark of cultural identity (eg the Congxie).
Also, even in some countries with a strong Christian tradition, celebration of Christmas is predominantly secular. In New England, the early colonists strongly disapproved of public celebrations of Christmas, based on religious objections. Observation of Christmas was legally forbidden, and later socially prohibited even when no longer outlawed. Recent adoption of Christmas traditions in New England has focused on the secular aspects of gift-giving and decoration, rather than religious celebrations...
--
22 December 1999
Horeb [Providence, Rhode Island], Narragansett
Evening draws near, but the night is not yet come. The chill is growing, but snow has not yet fallen. The perfect time to take to the streets as Old Man Thorn, or so John Beckwith thinks.
His costume is modelled on the devil which is said to inhabit the great swamp to the south: brown fur covering his body, hoofed feet, unfurled bat wings, and clawed hands. His face is covered in a devil-mask, too, complete with fangs and forward-curving horns.
Not the most traditional form for Grampa Thorn, but it will do well, he thinks. It needs to be scary enough, but not horrific. The chains are wrapped around his wrist, to be clanked whenever children come near.
As he starts his walk through the streets, lights begin to flicker on in a few houses. Elaborate Christmas decorations, those, even if they will be better appreciated once night has truly fallen.
In the meantime, the most soothing sound is the chimes hung outside most of the houses he passes. The breeze off the bay is slight, but enough to set them ringing from time to time. A reassuring part of Christmas, as far as he is concerned. He's heard that down in Alleghania, too many people complain that they are a pagan symbol, but who cares [9]? They are part of Christmas now.
As he walks, he starts to sing the traditional song. "You'd better watch out, you'd better take care, Old Man Thorn is coming to town..."
--
[1] Congxie Jamaane Pliri, or roughly translated into in English, Congxie Homeland and Harmony. Congxie comes from the most widespread name which that people use for themselves. Jamaane is a Congxie word adapted from the Soninke language, which in a Congxie sense means something like "territory" or "homeland". Pliri is from a Gunnagalic root (via the Nangu and Nuttana) which means "harmony", although in this context it is used in a largely non-religious sense to mean stability or security.
[2] This is a historical carol, with words slightly changed by the passage of allohistorical time. It was composed by Robert Smert sometime in the fifteenth century, although the real modern form has changed considerably.
[3] Mamabula, or Liberty Day, is a celebration of the day when the forefathers (and foremothers) of the Congxie revolted in Cavendia (*South Carolina/Georgia) and began their flight to freedom in the uplands. It is celebrated on the June new moon, to mark the historical use of that new moon as a sign to trigger a unified revolt.
[4] Mighty Mouse is an allohistorical cartoon character who has very little in common with the historical version. He is a small-sized, big-talking mouse who knows martial arts, and who often gets himself into trouble due to his combative attitude. (The allohistorical author based in the name in part on a pun about "mighty mouth").
His main foil is a cat named El Gato; the two often clash, although they occasionally cooperate too, as in this Christmas special. Another recurring character is Lechien (the dog), who oddly enough gets on with Mighty Mouse rather well.
[5] Grampa Thorn is the English-speaking world's version of Krampus, who hunts down naughty children. He has been incorporated into a version of the old Germanic tradition of the Wild Hunt, and has several Hunters who accompany him. Traditions differ as to the number and names of those Hunters, although there are rarely more than 12.
[6] In this cartoon, the way to call on Guido Folks is to stand in front of a mirror, say "handy man" five times in a row, and Guido will appear behind you, holding his toolbox above his head.
[7] Her full name is Yvonne Martin, but her musical career has been successful enough that she simply goes by Yvonne.
[8] In full, the Tjagarr Panipat. This is a Gunnagalic name which, literally translated, means "Place of Great Disputation".
[9] This is because chimes are an integral part of Plirite worship, being used in most of their temples. In Alleghania, some efforts have been made to adopt chimes as a Christmas symbol, to show that it is a secular holiday that is not exclusive to Christians. This has not been particularly well-received either by Christians or by the Congxie who follow Plirism. Nevertheless, the use of chimes has been publicised enough that they have been adopted in some other nations, particularly in New England, where the observation of Christmas is largely a secular affair anyway.
--
Thoughts?
I find it neat that the Candelabras are so present, the blue and carrolling were really nice scenes that feel like they'd be recurring themes in some Christmas stories. The influence of cultural issues and micro aggression, along with the presence of yearly attacks, wow that was intense, really give a great view into all the different facets of this new world from the wholesome, to the realistic, to the grand to the dangerous.
This was an excellent read, its so hard to know what to comment on with so many differing senses, but that s to the posts advantage because you paint a marvelous picture of the world and all the different ways this alt history has manifested, painting a real, vivid and lived in picture of a modern world, kudos!
This was an excellent read, its so hard to know what to comment on with so many differing senses, but that s to the posts advantage because you paint a marvelous picture of the world and all the different ways this alt history has manifested, painting a real, vivid and lived in picture of a modern world, kudos!
Lands of Red and Gold #53: Meeting in Twain
Lands of Red and Gold #53: Meeting in Twain
"In granting the [English East India] Company a monopoly on trade with the Indies, the Crown has forgone all the wealth that it could have earned, but gained none of the benefits that it could have found by requiring merchants to compete with each other."
- David Franklin, Fortune and Famine
--
Wealth, uncounted and limitless. A land to rival the fortunes which the Spanish conquistadors had found in the Americas.
Or so an endless stream of rumours claimed. Filtered through sailors, barkeepers, drunkards, whores and optimists, the tales grew stranger with each retelling. Everyone in Europe knew someone who had heard from someone about what could be found in this strange land, this place of gold and spices.
In England, the ever-rising crescendo of tales, combined with worsening relations with the Dutch, led the English East India Company, in time, to risk their peaceful accord to investigate the South Land.
The man they chose was William Baffin, one of the most accomplished captains in the Company's service [1]. His instructions were thorough in their details, but simple in essence: find out the truth of the Great Spice Island, map what you can, establish whatever positive relations you can with the natives, and don't interfere with the Dutch unless you can get away with it.
Baffin was, in truth, an excellent choice by the Company's directors. An astute navigator by European standards of the time, his observations of coasts, tides and magnetism would be found to be astonishingly accurate when later explorers retraced his voyages. His techniques of instrumentation and charts were alien to the Islanders who were the premier navigators of his target land, and in some ways inferior to the accumulated traditions and lore possessed by those Nangu, but still more than sufficient to let him act as a pioneer for what would be generations of Company sailors to follow.
In July 1635, Baffin took command of the Intrepid, the lead ship in a fleet which also included Godspeed, Lady Harrington and Delight. Sailing from London, they made the long voyage to the South Land with several stopovers. These included Dutch-ruled northern Brazil where Baffin let the word be that he was sailing to India, as so many Company ships did, and afterward a stop in uninhabited Mauritius, which according to rumours had been the last resupply point used by François Thijssen before he became the first European to visit the eastern parts of the South Land. Baffin hoped to follow in his footsteps, in more ways than one.
As the Dutch had discovered before him, Baffin learned that sailing east was easier by dropping down into the latitude of the Roaring Forties, where the winds made for a fast if risky passage to the Orient. Lacking precise knowledge of the longitude of the South Land, he did not turn further north until he was already past the realms of the Atjuntja. Even then, that was fortunate for him, since by this time the Dutch had established a firm presence in the Middle Country and would be difficult to dislodge.
Baffin's ships discovered [2] the same cliff-lined, dry, treeless coast that one of his Dutch predecessors had called the Nightmare Coast. One of the most hostile shores in the world, battered by endless waves and with winds that pushed any sailing ships straight into the cliffs, this unwelcoming landscape was one which Baffin's normally scrupulously detailed charts would show only in sketchy outlines.
Persistence had always been one of Baffin's virtues, and he had the advantage of knowing that somewhere to the east, wealth awaited. In time, breaks began to appear in the cliffs, and the shores were covered in trees and other greenery; the more fertile lands of the east. Baffin's ships charted the coast which another history would call the Eyre Peninsula, and which the local Mutjing inhabitants called the Seven Sisters.
Baffin's ships passed three coastal city-states, Luyandi [Port Kenny, South Australia], Nilkerloo [Elliston] and Yorta [Coffin Bay], but Baffin chose not to make contact until they arrived at what was clearly a major port. Pankala [Port Lincoln], its inhabitants called it, and they proudly proclaimed it the greatest of the Mutjing city-states [3].
In Pankala, Baffin found that several of the natives were passably fluent in Dutch. He found this welcome for its easing of communication, but distressing because it meant that the Dutch influence was strong even here. With his explicit orders not to break the peace with the Dutch, Baffin and his crew asked only elliptically about how the Dutch were viewed, and were left with an equally vague impression that the Dutch were occasional but valued traders "second to the Island".
The first English contact with the Mutjing did not match the vision of stupendous wealth which the rumours had found. The Mutjing knew of gold, and had a few items of gold jewellery, but not in the abundant fortune which had been eagerly anticipated. For adornment, the natives made more common use of some unfamiliar opaque gemstone whose colours ranged from white to green.
In drugs and spices, Baffin found the new land more promising. It seemed that every man of substance had his food flavoured by a strange kind of intense peppery spice, and the appeal of such a crop was obvious. The Mutjing used other flavourings too, if not always with clear trading potential: river mint, some aromatic eucalyptus leaves, and a grass which reminded the Englishmen of lemon [4]. They also had a little of a drug which they called kunduri, but which Baffin christened "greater tobacco".
To Baffin, though, the most valuable feature of all about Pankala was that it brought him into direct contact with the Islanders. He had arrived at the most-frequently visited port in all of the South Land; not a week went past without several Nangu ships arriving to trade for the red yams and wattleseeds needed to sustain life on an Island too crowded to grow its own food.
The Islanders were eager indeed to speak to the Englishmen. Baffin's biggest problem was sorting through the endless questions, requests to view their goods, trade proposals, invitations to the Island, and efforts to persuade them to follow the Seven-fold Path. Plenty of them spoke Dutch, too; another reminder that the sons of Albion were latecomers to the South Land.
Baffin learned quickly of the rival bloodlines at the heart of Nangu commerce, and he recognised how this could be turned to the Company's advantage in time. Any firm pacts would be premature, though, when he could come into contact with a Dutch ship or Dutch allies on any day, and with the nearest help at the Company outpost in the Indies. So he responded with generic overtures of friendship, but little more. After spending enough days in Pankala to suit his own assessment of the Mutjing, he did accept an invitation to follow a Nangu ship directly to the Island.
Once on the Island itself, Baffin realised that the signs of Nangu commerce he had seen in Pankala were merely faint shadows beside the buzzing activity of their homeland. The Islanders had plenty of ships in the port whose name they translated, apparently literally, as Crescent Bay. Thankfully, no Dutch ships were among those in the port, but several Islander ships arrived and departed each day. Finding out their destinations proved to be harder, for the Nangu viewed that sort of information as part of their trade secrets, and refused to describe it without receiving information or English goods in recompense.
Baffin was nothing if not persistent, though, and in time he learned that there was one port where almost every Islander urged him not to go. A native empire. The Yadji, the weavers of gold. Never mind the greater tobacco or sweet peppers they proffered, no matter how appealling those commodities might be. Gold was the ultimate lucre, the most convertible of trade goods, the source of glory, and what the Directors back in London wanted to find above all else.
Negotiations for a guide to the Yadji proved quite difficult; the Islanders were most reluctant to visit there. Baffin had to offer a substantial combination of English goods, particularly woollen textiles and a clock, before a captain of the Manyilti bloodline agreed to act as guide and translator in a visit to the Yadji realm.
With that deal struck, Baffin left the Island behind, to obvious consternation from the other Nangu bloodlines. The Manyilti captain proved an excellent navigator, guiding Baffin's four ships to a Yadji port which they called Gurndjit [Portland, Victoria]. Here, Baffin's men became the first Europeans to visit the Yadji Empire, and not coincidentally, the first to witness why their neighbours called them the weavers of gold. Baffin was so impressed that he decided to mark the name of this new land on his charts as Aururia, from the Latin for the land of gold.
Dealing with the Yadji proved to be frustrating in many respects, for they were disinclined to explain themselves, and the guide repeatedly warned about the dangers of asking questions which might be deemed impertinent. Yet the advantages of a pact with them were plain; here was the greatest native empire in Aururia, a source of gold, and one which so far had not entered into any alliances with the Dutch. Baffin arranged for some of his men to stay behind in Gurndjit until the next visit from English ships, together with dropping some apparently welcomed hints about a possible trade pact when the next Englishmen returned.
With that deal concluded, Baffin ordered his ships to sail on, with a stronger sense of urgency. He still had his existing orders to chart the coast and establish relations with the natives, but he doubted that anything he could find after Gurndjit would be as impressive as the gold he had found amongst the Yadji.
He was wrong.
Learning of his mistake took Baffin some time, as his exploration continued. He sailed over the strait which the natives called the Narrow Sea [Bass Strait], and established contact with another native people called the Tjunini. They had gold, too, but displayed it much less opulently [5], and cared little about trade or much of anything else except for any weapons which could aid them in their apparently endless war with some other group of natives called the Kurnawal. Baffin made similar promises of friendship, enjoyed the gum cider that was their main form of hospitality, and noted in his journal that this would be a market for selling whatever weapons the Company wished to provide, but did not make any immediate efforts to exploit the contact for profit.
In the Cider Isle, Baffin left his native guide behind as had been negotiated, and returned to the north side of the Narrow Sea. Here, he continued charting the coast of the Yadji Empire, although he was careful never to land on any of their towns. It had taken only brief contact with the Yadji for him to realise that their reputation for capriciousness was well-deserved.
The four ships of Baffin's fleet made steady progress along the southern coast of Aururia, and they found in time that the coast turned to the north. Baffin naturally ordered that the ships turn north to follow the coast, recording in his journal that this corresponded with the eastern limit of the Yadji realm.
In fact, Baffin was mistaken, although the main error was not of his own making. The headland he had reached [Wingan Inlet, Victoria] was considerably east of any meaningful Yadji presence, but the Yadji claimed much further than they controlled.
After this, the fleet sailed north along Aururia's eastern coast. None of them realised yet, but they were now exploring waters that no Europeans had ever reached before; François Thijssen, the only Dutch explorer to come nearly this far had sailed further east to Aotearoa instead of turning north.
Baffin found that the eastern coast of Aururia, at least at first, had little to commend it when compared to the wealth of the Yadji, or even the Tjunini of the Cider Isle. While not as bleak as the forbidding treeless cliffs earlier in his voyage, the coastline was generally rugged, with few areas of flat land or cultivation. Villages and towns clustered along some of the bays and harbours, but they looked to be small when compared to the previous places of wealth.
Baffin ordered his sailors to venture ashore twice during the first part of the eastern coast voyage, at places which the natives called Maliwa [Eden, NSW] and Wanderribee [Narooma, NSW]. He found little to interest him here, and for the next part of the voyage north he contented himself with charting the coast and did not risk landing to make contact with potentially hostile natives. He continued to believe that nothing else in Aururia could match what he had seen in Gurndjit.
In time, Baffin's ships came far enough north to reach the coastline of what another history could call the Hunter Valley, and which in allohistory was inhabited by a people who called themselves the Patjimunra. These were a mostly inward-looking, caste-ridden society, whose political history was marked by alternating periods of near-complete unification and collapse into competing city-states.
In 1636, most of them had been reunited into a kingdom with its capital at Kinhung [Maitland, NSW] and an oceanic port at Gogarra [Newcastle], but some of their outlying regions maintained their independence as city-states. Baffin would never see Gogarra; though the city was a port for Islander and Maori traders, the sandbars at the mouth of the Kuyal [Hunter River] appeared treacherous enough that his ship captains bypassed it altogether.
Not far north of Gogarra, though, the English fleet did find a place promising enough to land. A new harbour, its entrance marked by twin headlands, which would clearly give shelter from even the worst of storms [Port Stephens, NSW]. Baffin may have explored the harbour anyway, since it had such obvious promise, but at the time when his ships were sailing past, they saw a small fishing boat emerging from the harbour. This boat was a tiny, pitifully-made vessel by the standards of the Islanders, but its mere presence was an invitation to enter the harbour, in Baffin's judgement.
What awaited the English inside the harbour was Torimi, a reasonably prosperous independent Patjimunra city-state. It proved to be about the same size as Gurndjit, although its inhabitants had less in the way of gold and the other adornments which the Yadji had possessed [6].
Fortunately, though, they included a few of their number who spoke the Nangu language, so communication was relatively straightforward. Even more fortunately, from Baffin's perspective, they cultivated a range of spices much broader than those which he had found amongst the Mutjing or Yadji. These included more kinds of sweet peppers, a flavouring like lemon but sweeter, several other kinds of leaf spices with flavours like aniseed or cinnamon or with no alternatives that the Englishmen could name, and a couple of pungent fruits [7].
Baffin lost no time in procuring samples of those spices. But the new crop which he found most valuable of all was a beverage which the natives called jeeree, but which he called lemon tea. This beverage had a pleasing, refreshing, mildly calming effect, and Baffin deemed this to be as valuable a trade commodity as greater tobacco, although not all of his crew agreed.
While the Company's ships were at Torimi, they received an even greater surprise. A fleet of great-ships and other Islander vessels sailed into the harbour. Baffin had known, of course, that the Nangu had contact here, as the natives' knowledge of the language demonstrated, but he had not expected such a fleet.
Contact between the Englishmen and Islanders was wary, but in time the Islanders explained that they had returned from a voyage to the Indies, where they had traded with the Dutch. Knowledge of this opened many possibilities, but as he had done previously, Baffin knew better than to make any firm commitments. He settled for vague talk of friendship, and then led his ships north again. Again, he had the feeling that what he had seen in Torimi could not match Gurndjit, and that the rest of his voyage would not lead to anything much more promising.
Baffin kept that thought in his mind as his ships sailed further north.
Until one dawn, where the morning sky in the east had started to turn red and orange as the sun began to fight its way above the horizon. Baffin was on the Intrepid, as always, standing near the bow while he watched the land to the west. So it was that he was the first person on his ship to see a colossal, obviously man-made structure.
A step pyramid rose out of the western shoreline, built of some pale stone that looked almost golden in the dawn sun. The pyramid towering above his ship, but even that was not the most impressive feature. The steps of the pyramid glistened and shone, with some creation of glass or gemstone that reflected the light, brilliantly enough that as the sun rose, the reflection was so bright that Baffin could no longer look directly at the pyramid.
So William Baffin became the first European to glimpse the greatest religious monument of the kingdom of Daluming. And when he landed, he became the first to see the skulls which had been entombed behind that glistening glass, and it was he who christened the pyramid Glazkul.
--
[1] Historically, Baffin died in 1622 during a raid on a Portuguese fort in the Persian Gulf. Allohistorically, the raid was delayed, Baffin survived, and he has continued the service with the English East India Company which began in 1617.
[2] For a given value of 'discovery' which excludes the people who were actually born there and so don't really count as discoverers.
[3] Pankala was not always the most important Mutjing city-state, but it has grown considerably in prominence over the last couple of centuries since it is the most convenient port for Nangu traders to visit.
[4] Baffin and his crewmen will naturally try to relate these spices to their closest Old World equivalents, although not all of them are close relatives. River mint (Mentha australis) is a true mint, and its flavour is similar to peppermint. The Mutjing also cultivate another spice called mintbush (Prostanthera rotundifolia), which has no close relative outside of Australia, but whose flavour has been described as somewhere between thyme and peppermint. The "sweet peppers" are pepperbushes (Tasmannia lanceolata and relatives) which have an intense peppery taste that is roughly ten times as strong as true peppers. The "lemon grass" is lemon-scented grass (Cymbopogon ambiguus), a relative of common lemongrass. The aromatic eucalyptus leaves include varieties from several species, the most common of which is blue-leaved mallee (Eucalyptus polybractea).
[5] The Cider Isle (Tasmania) produces if anything more gold than the Yadji realms, but the Tjunini and Kurnawal who live there do not value it quite as highly, and much of their gold is taken by the Nangu for export, mostly in exchange for kunduri.
[6] The Patjimunra are relatively wealthier than most other eastern coast peoples because they live far enough north that they can cultivate a range of spices unknown further south, and because the mountains west of the *Hunter Valley do not present much in the way of a barrier to inland travel. This has made them one of the major sources of spices for the kingdoms along the *Murray-Darling.
[7] These spices include some other kinds of sweet peppers, lemon myrtle, aniseed myrtle, cinnamon myrtle, curry myrtle, strawberry gum, and the fruit of the Illawarra plum (Podocarpus elatus).
--
Thoughts?
"In granting the [English East India] Company a monopoly on trade with the Indies, the Crown has forgone all the wealth that it could have earned, but gained none of the benefits that it could have found by requiring merchants to compete with each other."
- David Franklin, Fortune and Famine
--
Wealth, uncounted and limitless. A land to rival the fortunes which the Spanish conquistadors had found in the Americas.
Or so an endless stream of rumours claimed. Filtered through sailors, barkeepers, drunkards, whores and optimists, the tales grew stranger with each retelling. Everyone in Europe knew someone who had heard from someone about what could be found in this strange land, this place of gold and spices.
In England, the ever-rising crescendo of tales, combined with worsening relations with the Dutch, led the English East India Company, in time, to risk their peaceful accord to investigate the South Land.
The man they chose was William Baffin, one of the most accomplished captains in the Company's service [1]. His instructions were thorough in their details, but simple in essence: find out the truth of the Great Spice Island, map what you can, establish whatever positive relations you can with the natives, and don't interfere with the Dutch unless you can get away with it.
Baffin was, in truth, an excellent choice by the Company's directors. An astute navigator by European standards of the time, his observations of coasts, tides and magnetism would be found to be astonishingly accurate when later explorers retraced his voyages. His techniques of instrumentation and charts were alien to the Islanders who were the premier navigators of his target land, and in some ways inferior to the accumulated traditions and lore possessed by those Nangu, but still more than sufficient to let him act as a pioneer for what would be generations of Company sailors to follow.
In July 1635, Baffin took command of the Intrepid, the lead ship in a fleet which also included Godspeed, Lady Harrington and Delight. Sailing from London, they made the long voyage to the South Land with several stopovers. These included Dutch-ruled northern Brazil where Baffin let the word be that he was sailing to India, as so many Company ships did, and afterward a stop in uninhabited Mauritius, which according to rumours had been the last resupply point used by François Thijssen before he became the first European to visit the eastern parts of the South Land. Baffin hoped to follow in his footsteps, in more ways than one.
As the Dutch had discovered before him, Baffin learned that sailing east was easier by dropping down into the latitude of the Roaring Forties, where the winds made for a fast if risky passage to the Orient. Lacking precise knowledge of the longitude of the South Land, he did not turn further north until he was already past the realms of the Atjuntja. Even then, that was fortunate for him, since by this time the Dutch had established a firm presence in the Middle Country and would be difficult to dislodge.
Baffin's ships discovered [2] the same cliff-lined, dry, treeless coast that one of his Dutch predecessors had called the Nightmare Coast. One of the most hostile shores in the world, battered by endless waves and with winds that pushed any sailing ships straight into the cliffs, this unwelcoming landscape was one which Baffin's normally scrupulously detailed charts would show only in sketchy outlines.
Persistence had always been one of Baffin's virtues, and he had the advantage of knowing that somewhere to the east, wealth awaited. In time, breaks began to appear in the cliffs, and the shores were covered in trees and other greenery; the more fertile lands of the east. Baffin's ships charted the coast which another history would call the Eyre Peninsula, and which the local Mutjing inhabitants called the Seven Sisters.
Baffin's ships passed three coastal city-states, Luyandi [Port Kenny, South Australia], Nilkerloo [Elliston] and Yorta [Coffin Bay], but Baffin chose not to make contact until they arrived at what was clearly a major port. Pankala [Port Lincoln], its inhabitants called it, and they proudly proclaimed it the greatest of the Mutjing city-states [3].
In Pankala, Baffin found that several of the natives were passably fluent in Dutch. He found this welcome for its easing of communication, but distressing because it meant that the Dutch influence was strong even here. With his explicit orders not to break the peace with the Dutch, Baffin and his crew asked only elliptically about how the Dutch were viewed, and were left with an equally vague impression that the Dutch were occasional but valued traders "second to the Island".
The first English contact with the Mutjing did not match the vision of stupendous wealth which the rumours had found. The Mutjing knew of gold, and had a few items of gold jewellery, but not in the abundant fortune which had been eagerly anticipated. For adornment, the natives made more common use of some unfamiliar opaque gemstone whose colours ranged from white to green.
In drugs and spices, Baffin found the new land more promising. It seemed that every man of substance had his food flavoured by a strange kind of intense peppery spice, and the appeal of such a crop was obvious. The Mutjing used other flavourings too, if not always with clear trading potential: river mint, some aromatic eucalyptus leaves, and a grass which reminded the Englishmen of lemon [4]. They also had a little of a drug which they called kunduri, but which Baffin christened "greater tobacco".
To Baffin, though, the most valuable feature of all about Pankala was that it brought him into direct contact with the Islanders. He had arrived at the most-frequently visited port in all of the South Land; not a week went past without several Nangu ships arriving to trade for the red yams and wattleseeds needed to sustain life on an Island too crowded to grow its own food.
The Islanders were eager indeed to speak to the Englishmen. Baffin's biggest problem was sorting through the endless questions, requests to view their goods, trade proposals, invitations to the Island, and efforts to persuade them to follow the Seven-fold Path. Plenty of them spoke Dutch, too; another reminder that the sons of Albion were latecomers to the South Land.
Baffin learned quickly of the rival bloodlines at the heart of Nangu commerce, and he recognised how this could be turned to the Company's advantage in time. Any firm pacts would be premature, though, when he could come into contact with a Dutch ship or Dutch allies on any day, and with the nearest help at the Company outpost in the Indies. So he responded with generic overtures of friendship, but little more. After spending enough days in Pankala to suit his own assessment of the Mutjing, he did accept an invitation to follow a Nangu ship directly to the Island.
Once on the Island itself, Baffin realised that the signs of Nangu commerce he had seen in Pankala were merely faint shadows beside the buzzing activity of their homeland. The Islanders had plenty of ships in the port whose name they translated, apparently literally, as Crescent Bay. Thankfully, no Dutch ships were among those in the port, but several Islander ships arrived and departed each day. Finding out their destinations proved to be harder, for the Nangu viewed that sort of information as part of their trade secrets, and refused to describe it without receiving information or English goods in recompense.
Baffin was nothing if not persistent, though, and in time he learned that there was one port where almost every Islander urged him not to go. A native empire. The Yadji, the weavers of gold. Never mind the greater tobacco or sweet peppers they proffered, no matter how appealling those commodities might be. Gold was the ultimate lucre, the most convertible of trade goods, the source of glory, and what the Directors back in London wanted to find above all else.
Negotiations for a guide to the Yadji proved quite difficult; the Islanders were most reluctant to visit there. Baffin had to offer a substantial combination of English goods, particularly woollen textiles and a clock, before a captain of the Manyilti bloodline agreed to act as guide and translator in a visit to the Yadji realm.
With that deal struck, Baffin left the Island behind, to obvious consternation from the other Nangu bloodlines. The Manyilti captain proved an excellent navigator, guiding Baffin's four ships to a Yadji port which they called Gurndjit [Portland, Victoria]. Here, Baffin's men became the first Europeans to visit the Yadji Empire, and not coincidentally, the first to witness why their neighbours called them the weavers of gold. Baffin was so impressed that he decided to mark the name of this new land on his charts as Aururia, from the Latin for the land of gold.
Dealing with the Yadji proved to be frustrating in many respects, for they were disinclined to explain themselves, and the guide repeatedly warned about the dangers of asking questions which might be deemed impertinent. Yet the advantages of a pact with them were plain; here was the greatest native empire in Aururia, a source of gold, and one which so far had not entered into any alliances with the Dutch. Baffin arranged for some of his men to stay behind in Gurndjit until the next visit from English ships, together with dropping some apparently welcomed hints about a possible trade pact when the next Englishmen returned.
With that deal concluded, Baffin ordered his ships to sail on, with a stronger sense of urgency. He still had his existing orders to chart the coast and establish relations with the natives, but he doubted that anything he could find after Gurndjit would be as impressive as the gold he had found amongst the Yadji.
He was wrong.
Learning of his mistake took Baffin some time, as his exploration continued. He sailed over the strait which the natives called the Narrow Sea [Bass Strait], and established contact with another native people called the Tjunini. They had gold, too, but displayed it much less opulently [5], and cared little about trade or much of anything else except for any weapons which could aid them in their apparently endless war with some other group of natives called the Kurnawal. Baffin made similar promises of friendship, enjoyed the gum cider that was their main form of hospitality, and noted in his journal that this would be a market for selling whatever weapons the Company wished to provide, but did not make any immediate efforts to exploit the contact for profit.
In the Cider Isle, Baffin left his native guide behind as had been negotiated, and returned to the north side of the Narrow Sea. Here, he continued charting the coast of the Yadji Empire, although he was careful never to land on any of their towns. It had taken only brief contact with the Yadji for him to realise that their reputation for capriciousness was well-deserved.
The four ships of Baffin's fleet made steady progress along the southern coast of Aururia, and they found in time that the coast turned to the north. Baffin naturally ordered that the ships turn north to follow the coast, recording in his journal that this corresponded with the eastern limit of the Yadji realm.
In fact, Baffin was mistaken, although the main error was not of his own making. The headland he had reached [Wingan Inlet, Victoria] was considerably east of any meaningful Yadji presence, but the Yadji claimed much further than they controlled.
After this, the fleet sailed north along Aururia's eastern coast. None of them realised yet, but they were now exploring waters that no Europeans had ever reached before; François Thijssen, the only Dutch explorer to come nearly this far had sailed further east to Aotearoa instead of turning north.
Baffin found that the eastern coast of Aururia, at least at first, had little to commend it when compared to the wealth of the Yadji, or even the Tjunini of the Cider Isle. While not as bleak as the forbidding treeless cliffs earlier in his voyage, the coastline was generally rugged, with few areas of flat land or cultivation. Villages and towns clustered along some of the bays and harbours, but they looked to be small when compared to the previous places of wealth.
Baffin ordered his sailors to venture ashore twice during the first part of the eastern coast voyage, at places which the natives called Maliwa [Eden, NSW] and Wanderribee [Narooma, NSW]. He found little to interest him here, and for the next part of the voyage north he contented himself with charting the coast and did not risk landing to make contact with potentially hostile natives. He continued to believe that nothing else in Aururia could match what he had seen in Gurndjit.
In time, Baffin's ships came far enough north to reach the coastline of what another history could call the Hunter Valley, and which in allohistory was inhabited by a people who called themselves the Patjimunra. These were a mostly inward-looking, caste-ridden society, whose political history was marked by alternating periods of near-complete unification and collapse into competing city-states.
In 1636, most of them had been reunited into a kingdom with its capital at Kinhung [Maitland, NSW] and an oceanic port at Gogarra [Newcastle], but some of their outlying regions maintained their independence as city-states. Baffin would never see Gogarra; though the city was a port for Islander and Maori traders, the sandbars at the mouth of the Kuyal [Hunter River] appeared treacherous enough that his ship captains bypassed it altogether.
Not far north of Gogarra, though, the English fleet did find a place promising enough to land. A new harbour, its entrance marked by twin headlands, which would clearly give shelter from even the worst of storms [Port Stephens, NSW]. Baffin may have explored the harbour anyway, since it had such obvious promise, but at the time when his ships were sailing past, they saw a small fishing boat emerging from the harbour. This boat was a tiny, pitifully-made vessel by the standards of the Islanders, but its mere presence was an invitation to enter the harbour, in Baffin's judgement.
What awaited the English inside the harbour was Torimi, a reasonably prosperous independent Patjimunra city-state. It proved to be about the same size as Gurndjit, although its inhabitants had less in the way of gold and the other adornments which the Yadji had possessed [6].
Fortunately, though, they included a few of their number who spoke the Nangu language, so communication was relatively straightforward. Even more fortunately, from Baffin's perspective, they cultivated a range of spices much broader than those which he had found amongst the Mutjing or Yadji. These included more kinds of sweet peppers, a flavouring like lemon but sweeter, several other kinds of leaf spices with flavours like aniseed or cinnamon or with no alternatives that the Englishmen could name, and a couple of pungent fruits [7].
Baffin lost no time in procuring samples of those spices. But the new crop which he found most valuable of all was a beverage which the natives called jeeree, but which he called lemon tea. This beverage had a pleasing, refreshing, mildly calming effect, and Baffin deemed this to be as valuable a trade commodity as greater tobacco, although not all of his crew agreed.
While the Company's ships were at Torimi, they received an even greater surprise. A fleet of great-ships and other Islander vessels sailed into the harbour. Baffin had known, of course, that the Nangu had contact here, as the natives' knowledge of the language demonstrated, but he had not expected such a fleet.
Contact between the Englishmen and Islanders was wary, but in time the Islanders explained that they had returned from a voyage to the Indies, where they had traded with the Dutch. Knowledge of this opened many possibilities, but as he had done previously, Baffin knew better than to make any firm commitments. He settled for vague talk of friendship, and then led his ships north again. Again, he had the feeling that what he had seen in Torimi could not match Gurndjit, and that the rest of his voyage would not lead to anything much more promising.
Baffin kept that thought in his mind as his ships sailed further north.
Until one dawn, where the morning sky in the east had started to turn red and orange as the sun began to fight its way above the horizon. Baffin was on the Intrepid, as always, standing near the bow while he watched the land to the west. So it was that he was the first person on his ship to see a colossal, obviously man-made structure.
A step pyramid rose out of the western shoreline, built of some pale stone that looked almost golden in the dawn sun. The pyramid towering above his ship, but even that was not the most impressive feature. The steps of the pyramid glistened and shone, with some creation of glass or gemstone that reflected the light, brilliantly enough that as the sun rose, the reflection was so bright that Baffin could no longer look directly at the pyramid.
So William Baffin became the first European to glimpse the greatest religious monument of the kingdom of Daluming. And when he landed, he became the first to see the skulls which had been entombed behind that glistening glass, and it was he who christened the pyramid Glazkul.
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[1] Historically, Baffin died in 1622 during a raid on a Portuguese fort in the Persian Gulf. Allohistorically, the raid was delayed, Baffin survived, and he has continued the service with the English East India Company which began in 1617.
[2] For a given value of 'discovery' which excludes the people who were actually born there and so don't really count as discoverers.
[3] Pankala was not always the most important Mutjing city-state, but it has grown considerably in prominence over the last couple of centuries since it is the most convenient port for Nangu traders to visit.
[4] Baffin and his crewmen will naturally try to relate these spices to their closest Old World equivalents, although not all of them are close relatives. River mint (Mentha australis) is a true mint, and its flavour is similar to peppermint. The Mutjing also cultivate another spice called mintbush (Prostanthera rotundifolia), which has no close relative outside of Australia, but whose flavour has been described as somewhere between thyme and peppermint. The "sweet peppers" are pepperbushes (Tasmannia lanceolata and relatives) which have an intense peppery taste that is roughly ten times as strong as true peppers. The "lemon grass" is lemon-scented grass (Cymbopogon ambiguus), a relative of common lemongrass. The aromatic eucalyptus leaves include varieties from several species, the most common of which is blue-leaved mallee (Eucalyptus polybractea).
[5] The Cider Isle (Tasmania) produces if anything more gold than the Yadji realms, but the Tjunini and Kurnawal who live there do not value it quite as highly, and much of their gold is taken by the Nangu for export, mostly in exchange for kunduri.
[6] The Patjimunra are relatively wealthier than most other eastern coast peoples because they live far enough north that they can cultivate a range of spices unknown further south, and because the mountains west of the *Hunter Valley do not present much in the way of a barrier to inland travel. This has made them one of the major sources of spices for the kingdoms along the *Murray-Darling.
[7] These spices include some other kinds of sweet peppers, lemon myrtle, aniseed myrtle, cinnamon myrtle, curry myrtle, strawberry gum, and the fruit of the Illawarra plum (Podocarpus elatus).
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Thoughts?
That was an awesome read, as always its super enjoyable just to see someone travelling around to lands they have never before scene and heard of only in rumors, meeting with people they know only through stories and trying to rectify what they know with what they see and find some sort of accord. It just has such a fresh and enjoyable vibe to it if that makes sense, and it really adds to the world feeling lived in that there's so many towns, small city states, larger one's and the trading fleets scene was great. Baffin was quite solid and enjoyable, and the final lead out with Glazkul was just, wow, kudos, that felt grandly epic with a powerful finality.
Lands of Red and Gold #54: Slings and Arrows...
Lands of Red and Gold #54: Slings and Arrows...
Author's Note: This chapter is about the history of the Thirty Years' War and how it has changed with the discovery of alt-Australia. It's perforce rather detailed about the many small and medium sized entities which made up the Holy Roman Empire, made worse by royalty's tendency to recycle a few chosen names for many individuals. It's also extremely long, even by my standards. If this doesn't sound like your thing, feel free to skip over this chapter - knowing what happens in this chapter isn't necessary to follow the rest of the timeline.
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"Call no man happy, until he is dead."
- Herodotus, Histories I. xxxii
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"Everything that belonged to the use and commodity of man was and is there... Nature seemed to make the country [Bohemia] her storehouse and granary."
Jedidja Frühling-Feld, History of the Twenty Years' War, 1869.
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In history as it is usually known, the conflict which would be called the Thirty Years' War became one of the most devastating wars that Europe had ever seen. Fought mainly in the territory of what would later become Germany, what began as a religious struggle within the Holy Roman Empire expanded into a broader struggle which drew in most of the major European powers, and became the longest-lasting continuous war in modern history.
The war originated from unresolved religious conflict within the Holy Roman Empire, which had been temporarily halted by the Peace of Augsburg in 1555. That peace established that, in most cases, the ruler of a state could choose the religion of their realm, and require their subjects to convert to that faith (cuius regio, eius religio). Exceptions were made for Lutherans living under the rule of a Catholic prince-bishop, who were still permitted to follow their religion, although a prince-bishop who converted to Lutheranism would be required to relinquish his realm.
Augsburg was an incomplete peace, since the only religions it recognised were Lutheranism and Catholicism. It ignored the more radical Anabaptist sects, and did not address the emergence of Calvinism as a separate faith in the second half of the sixteenth century. Moreover, Augsburg's provisions were often unenforced; some bishops who changed religions refused to abandon their realms, leading to fresh struggles.
Religious conflict returned to the Holy Roman Empire during the later sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Neighbouring powers had a keen interest in this contest, whether from genuine religious fervour or as a pretext for territorial and economic gains. The staunchly Catholic Spanish branch of the Habsburgs were displeased over the relative religious tolerance of their Austrian relatives, and directly intervened in some struggles. Conversely, the Lutheran realms of Denmark and Sweden sought to support their co-religionists, partly from religious unity, and partly from a desire to extract economic concessions in northern Germany.
The immediate trigger for what became the Thirty Years' War was a contest over the inheritance of Bohemia. Matthias, Holy Roman Emperor and King of Bohemia was elderly and had no immediate heirs. On his death, his lands would be inherited by the devout Catholic Ferdinand II, Archduke of Austria. Several of the Protestant notables of Bohemia feared Ferdinand's succession as a threat to their religious liberty, and supported an alternative Calvinist candidate, Frederick V, Elector of the Palatinate. Nevertheless, in 1617 Ferdinand II was duly elected as heir apparent by the Bohemian estates.
In May 1618, Ferdinand II sent two Catholic emissaries to administer Bohemia in his absence. A group of Protestant notables responded by hurling the emissaries out of the palace window into a pile of manure. This event, famously called the Defenestration of Prague [1], marked the start of the Bohemian revolt, and the beginning of the Thirty Years' War.
As events played out historically, the Thirty Years' War is traditionally [2] divided into four stages: the Bohemian revolt, the Danish intervention, the Swedish intervention, and the French intervention.
The Bohemian revolt saw religious conflict spread throughout the Bohemian estates, and into neighbouring regions such as Austria. The Protestant Bohemians named Frederick V, Elector Palatine, as King of Bohemia, and he eventually accepted. The revolt had some early success, with one Bohemian army reaching Vienna, but it was gradually crushed by a combination of Imperial and Spanish forces. Not all of the divisions were along religious lines; after due consideration [3], the Protestant John George I, Elector of Saxony, invaded Bohemia in support of the Imperial forces.
Bohemia was re-occupied before the end of 1620; Frederick V's brief reign (almost exactly a year) saw him derisively referred to as the Winter King. The war continued in the Palatinate, Frederick V's ancestral lands, which were invaded and gradually occupied by the Spanish [4]. Frederick V was outlawed from the Holy Roman Empire, with his lands given to Catholic rulers, and his title as Elector handed to his distant relation, Maximilian I of Bavaria.
Frederick V withdrew to exile in the Dutch Republic, which in 1621 had restarted a separate war with the Spanish. From there he agitated for restoration of his ancestral lands, without success. He remained banned by Imperial edict. He had a boating accident in January 1629 where he nearly drowned, and he lost his eldest son Frederick Henry. The near-drowning had severe effects on Frederick V's health, and he died in November 1632.
In 1624, the war nearly ended. The Protestant forces were reeling, with the Bohemian revolt crushed and the Palatinate occupied. However, the situation changed when Denmark intervened in support of the Protestants. Christian IV, King of Denmark, was also the Duke of Holstein, part of the Holy Roman Empire, and feared the success of the Catholic forces. He also received generous French subsidies to support his armies; national interest trumped religion here, since Catholic France held strong fears about being encircled by the equally Catholic Habsburgs.
The Danish intervention lasted from 1625-1629. As with the Bohemian revolt, despite early success, most of the military victories were on the Catholic side. Denmark was a wealthy kingdom, and received French subsidies, but found itself strategically isolated. England stood aside, France was busy with internal religious struggles, Sweden was engaged in a war with Poland, and the northern German Protestant powers of Brandenburg and Saxony preferred to maintain their precarious peace.
The leading Catholic generals were Albrecht von Wallenstein, who had grown rich by confiscating the estates of Protestant Bohemian nobles, and Johann Tserclaes, Count of Tilly. Between them, Wallenstein and Tilly pushed the Danish forces out of the Holy Roman Empire, and eventually occupied mainland Jutland. Nevertheless, they lacked the naval power to occupy the Danish islands, and eventually the two sides negotiated the Treaty of Lübeck. This stipulated, in effect, that Christian IV could keep Denmark provided that he withdrew his support for Protestant forces in the Holy Roman Empire.
With the withdrawal of Danish support, the course of the war turned even worse for the Protestants. The remaining Protestant forces were largely crushed; only the single Baltic port of Stralsund remained defiant against Wallenstein and the Imperial forces. In 1629, the Emperor announced an Edict of Restitution which claimed to be enforcing the provisions of the Peace of Augsburg. In practical terms, the Edict meant that significant parts of Protestant territory and property were to be transferred to Catholic rule, and interfered with some Protestants' practice of religion. In some ways this was a miscalculation on the Emperor's part. The Edict widened the war from a religious contest into a dynastic struggle for control of territories, and turned many lesser German princes against the Emperor.
Still, in the short term, the war was apparently almost won. Forces within Ferdinand II's court, led by Maximilian I of Bavaria, turned against Wallenstein. While an excellent general and in command of a large personal army, his political loyalty was questioned, and he was dismissed from service in September 1630.
With hindsight, Ferdinand II probably considered that a mistake.
For on 20 July 1630, Swedish forces under the command of Gustavus II Adolphus landed at Stettin, in Pomerania, marking the beginning of the Swedish intervention in the war (usually dated 1630-1635). Gustavus Adolphus's motives for entering the war have never been entirely clear, but he shared a common religion with the Lutherans, was suspicious of the power of the Holy Roman Emperor, and stood to gain economic benefits from control of more of the Baltic coastline.
Sweden's armies were well-trained and equipped, and adept in new military techniques such as lighter and more mobile artillery. Like Denmark before them, Sweden received generous French subsidies to fight the Habsburgs. The Swedish forces won several critical battles between 1630-1632, including the Battle of Rain in April 1632 which led to Tilly's death. Due to these setbacks and the loss of his most prominent general, Ferdinand II recalled Wallenstein to service.
Wallenstein and Gustavus Adolphus met at the Battle of Lützen on 6 November 1632. The Swedish forces proved victorious, but Gustavus Adolphus died while leading a cavalry charge. While Sweden remained in the war after the death of their monarch, their campaign gradually lost political and strategic direction, and the Imperial forces and their Spanish allies regained the initiative. Wallenstein brought himself under suspicion in 1633 when he tried to mediate between the two sides, and he was dismissed, arrested, and then assassinated by one of his men.
With the Swedish forces lacking focus, the Spanish and Imperial forces gradually drove them out of southern Germany. Most notably, at the Battle of Nördlingen on 6 September 1634, an army under the control of the Spanish Cardinal-Infante Ferdinand (later governor of the Spanish Netherlands) routed the Swedish army.
While Sweden did not abandon the war after Nördlingen, its influence was curtailed. German Protestants opened negotiations with the Emperor, which led to the Peace of Prague in 1635. This peace essentially repealed the Edict of Restitution and replaced it with a new understanding that Protestants could keep what they had held in 1627, but with some restrictions on their political power. The Peace also forbade formal alliances between states in the Empire, or with foreign powers. It created a notionally unified command for all armies within the Holy Roman Empire to defend it from invasion. The Peace extended amnesty to rulers who had taken up arms against the Emperor, with the notable exclusion of the descendants of Frederick V, the disgraced and now-dead Winter King.
The Peace of Prague did not, in fact, end the war. Sweden had no part in the negotiations, and Spain was also not bound by it. Most importantly, though, the terms of the peace alarmed France. Under Cardinal Richelieu, France had been indirectly supporting opponents of the Habsburgs, with subsidies at various times going to the Dutch, the Danish and the Swedish. With the Protestant opposition to the Holy Roman Emperor nearly ended, France intervened directly, declaring war on Spain in 1635 and the Holy Roman Empire in 1636.
This began the longest, and in many ways the bloodiest stage of the war, the French intervention (1635-1648). The French fought in the Holy Roman Empire as allies with the Swedish, but also fought separately against the Spanish within and outside the Empire. Sweden regained the military initiative in northern Germany, while France was at first unsuccessful with many of its own territories invaded and ravaged by Spanish and Imperial forces. With the resources available to both sides, though, the war continued for many years, at the cost of much blood and treasure and devastation of much of the fought-over territory.
Denmark and Sweden fought a local war (1643-45) as part of the broader struggle, nicknamed the Torstenson War after the leading Swedish marshal. Sweden had naval victories and extracted territorial and economic concessions from Denmark, marking the beginning of a rivalry which would continue long after the Thirty Years' War ended.
The cost of the war provoked internal revolt in Spain. Catalonia erupted into revolt in 1640, beginning a bitter struggle of regular and then irregular warfare which would not be fully suppressed for about two decades. Portugal, too, resented Spanish encroachment which it viewed as an effort to turn it into another Spanish province and break the power of the Portuguese nobility. This provoked a Portuguese revolution in 1640 which named John IV Braganza as king of Portugal. This revolution re-established a separate Portuguese crown, although Spain would not recognise it until 1668, after a long period of diplomatic standoffs interrupted by bouts of warfare.
By the mid-1640s, both sides were suffering from the long war, and negotiations opened between several of the powers. The Thirty Years' War ended not in a single treaty, but a series of treaties between the various powers. Concluded in 1648, these were collectively called the Peace of Westphalia, and marked not just the end of the Thirty Years' War, but the much longer Eighty Years' War between Spain and the Netherlands. Westphalia did not, however, resolve all the warfare; France and Spain continued their war until 1659.
The Peace of Westphalia broadly established the principle that princes could choose the established religion of their states, with certain exceptions, and did not allow a prince who changed religion after 1648 to change the established religion of their state. Calvinism was recognised as a religion, and a degree of toleration was established for Catholics, Lutherans and Calvinists who lived in a state which had a different established religion. Other faiths, most notably the Anabaptists, were still excluded.
Westphalia involved many territorial changes, including those which established Swedish territory within the Empire, recognised the independence of the Netherlands and Switzerland from the Empire, and which granted Bavaria control of the Upper Palatinate, and a recognised vote as Elector. Charles Louis, the second son of the now-dead Frederick V, was restored to the Lower Palatinate only, and had a new Electorship created for him.
Westphalia also established the concept of sovereignty for each member state over its lands and people. This concept of Westphalian sovereignty would later be seen as the foundation of the modern conception of a sovereign state [5]. In practice, Westphalia broke most of the power of the Holy Roman Empire as a supranational entity. While the Empire was not abolished, after Westphalia, many of the states within the Empire established de facto independence.
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In allohistory as it is about to become known, the course of the four-staged struggle would be wrenched into a new course.
The first stage of the war, the Bohemian revolt, passed largely unchanged. The first blow in that war was struck before Frederik de Houtman made the first landing in the Atjuntja lands in south-western Aururia. The key battles in that stage were fought when the gold, drugs and spices of Aururia were but distant and mostly unheeded rumours of a new spice island. The extra gold flowing into Dutch coffers buoyed their war effort with Spain after their truce expired in 1621, meaning that they needed fewer French subsidies. The Netherlands even provided some subsidies of their own to Denmark after Christian IV declared war, as he had done historically.
The early course of the Danish intervention, too, passed much as history knew it. Outmatched in the field by the Imperial forces commanded by Wallenstein and Tilly, the Danish forces were pushed out of the Empire. Jutland itself was invaded, though the Danish isles were protected by their fleet.
Lacking a fleet on the Baltic, Wallenstein made preparations to capture the port of Stralsund, which had the facilities to build a suitable fleet to invade insular Denmark. However, Wallenstein's plans for a siege of Stralsund were overwhelmed by a much larger event: the outbreak of a strange new epidemic which swept through Europe.
At the time, the inhabitants of the Holy Roman Empire knew it only as the Dutch curse, a horrible malady which saw its victims coughing up fluid, and often blood, and which later afflicted some of the initial survivors with a fevered delirium that spelled nigh-inevitable death to any who exhibited those symptoms. This disease appeared in Amsterdam in August 1627, causing a heavy death toll there, and spread across the Netherlands and into the Holy Roman Empire later that year. In 1628, particularly in the spring and early summer, the Dutch curse swept across Germany, bringing death on a scale not seen since the Black Death.
The new disease was no respecter of rank. Ferdinand II, the Holy Roman Emperor himself, was severely afflicted by the pink cough. It did not claim his life, but took his health: he had severe breathing difficulties from that time on. His last surviving brother, Leopold, died from the Dutch curse in April 1628. Count Tilly was even less fortunate; while he survived the pink cough in November 1627, he was one of the first to be claimed by delirium two months later, and after a futile struggle he breathed his last on 9 February 1628. Wallenstein was luckier, catching only a mild dose of the pink cough in March 1628. Still, the deaths amongst his troops and in broader Germany were severe enough that, for now, he suspended his plans to besiege Stralsund.
Protestant rulers were not spared from the epidemic either. John George I, the Protestant Elector of Saxony who had supported the Emperor during the Bohemian revolt, died of vomiting and 'blood in the urine' associated with the pink cough. Christian IV survived the Dutch curse with no major ill effects, but his children were less fortunate. His son Frederick [who would later have become King Frederick III], succumbed to delirium. The designated heir, Prince Christian, survived with severe scarring of his lungs that caused him breathing problems and vulnerability to infection, and which ultimately would shorten his life. Georg Wilhelm, Elector of Brandenburg and Duke of Prussia, was permanently invalided by breathing problems, and for governance he largely relied on his Catholic chancellor, Adam, Count of Schwarzenberg.
The disease casualties were heavy for both sides' armies, but for the moment this worked in Denmark's favour. With Tilly's death and the related chaos, the armies of the Catholic League were temporarily withdrawn. Danish forces liberated parts of Jutland, with Wallenstein forced to respond there and abandon his thoughts of Straslund. The result was a year of inconclusive manoeuvring in Jutland, with the two sides fighting several engagements but without a decisive victory. War exhaustion still told heavily on both sides, and by mid-1629 they sought peace terms.
The outcome, in April 1630, was an allohistorical Treaty of Lübeck. Denmark had its occupied possessions of Jutland and royal Holstein restored, and had their allies the Dukes of Mecklenburg likewise returned to their rule. This concession was significant because Wallenstein had confiscated estates in Mecklenburg; he was compensated by estates around Stettin in central Pomerania, which gave him the bonus of collecting tolls from river trade along the Oder. (There are benefits to being the chief negotiator.)
Denmark obtained a number of smaller concessions as part of the negotiations. The Duchy of Holstein was granted joint overlordship of Hamburg. Prince Ulric, Christian IV's younger son, collected the titles of Prince-Bishop of Verden and Bishop of Schwerin, and was named as the heir of the Lutheran Prince-Bishop of Bremen, when the incumbent died.
In exchange for these concessions, Christian IV agreed to withdraw all Danish forces from elsewhere in the Holy Roman Empire, and not to provide any further support to Protestants in Germany [7].
Ferdinand II had only been generous with Denmark because the Imperial forces needed an end to external intervention to subdue the Protestant forces in southern Germany. To some degree he was successful, since during the de facto ceasefire in mid-1629 the Imperial forces acted against Protestant rulers in the south, even while the negotiations continued. In May 1629, Ferdinand II issued an Edict of Restitution which was similar to its historical counterpart in seeking to restore Catholic control over former ecclesiastical lands that had been taken over by Protestants since the Peace of Augsburg. The reaction to this Edict was similarly polarising.
The Treaty of Lübeck itself, though, gave the Emperor only momentary respite. For while the negotiations in Lübeck were drawing to a conclusion, a secondary wave of the Dutch curse swept through Sweden and Danish-ruled Norway. Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden, caught the pink cough in May 1630, less than a month after the treaty was signed. He survived that cough with no major ill-effects, but by now the symptoms of the disease were notorious; Gustavus Adolphus knew that he faced a three-year wait to see whether he would be consumed by a fatal delirium.
Gustavus was of no mind to wait around for death. He had already been considering intervention in the Holy Roman Empire, in the name of the Protestant faith, and saw the Danish failure as a betrayal of the Protestant cause. Now, with Germany in chaos, glory beckoned, and he sought to secure his legacy. Swedish forces landed near Stettin in June 1630, with Gustavus Adolphus at their head and with conquest on his mind. He occupied Pomerania from a military standpoint, but did not yet lay formal claim to it, while using it as a base to push further into Germany.
As with Denmark before them, the Swedish cause was generously funded by French subsidies; the death of Richelieu did not mean the death of Realpolitik. Gustavus sought to bring Denmark back into the war, too, and offered the Baltic island of Rügen as an incentive. Christian IV declined the offer, though, on the grounds that he was too busy rebuilding his country. (Or, less charitably, too busy seeing which way the winds were blowing and looking for a legitimate causus belli.)
Despite their monarch's grand intentions, the Swedes spent the remainder of 1630 consolidating alliances and control in northern Germany, most notably securing the alliance of the duchies of Mecklenburg. Diplomacy played a part here, too; France had also subsidised Bavaria to maintain neutrality, and wanted Sweden to honour this pact. The most notable battle of the year was fought near Brunow, in Mecklenburg, in September 1630, where the Swedish forces defeated Wallenstein's personal army. Wallenstein remained politically suspect, but with the death of Tilly, the Emperor had no real alternative but to rely on Wallenstein to fight the Swedish.
In February 1631, in a deliberately timed announcement while winter still held, Brandenburg-Prussia confirmed its neutrality in "the matter of Sweden". Brandenburg's territories offered a useful route for Sweden to march further south, but neither the unwell Georg Wilhelm nor his Catholic chancellor trusted the Swedish monarch's intentions.
Brandenburg's neutrality blocked what was reportedly Gustavus Adolphus's earliest intention: to march south and persuade or pressure the young John George II, the new Elector of Saxony, to take up the Protestant cause rather than follow his father's previous support for the Empire.
Gustavus Adolphus chose, for the moment, to push into the Empire via a more westerly route, via Mecklenburg and Brunswick-Lüneburg, and thence toward Saxony. He knew that this would bring him into further conflict with Wallenstein and with the forces of the Catholic League, and hoped that another victory there would sway Brandenburg, Saxony and the lesser Protestant princes of northern Germany to his side.
In May 1631, the Swedish forces under Gustavus Adolphus again met Wallenstein's forces near Brunlem, northeast of Hidesheim. Wallenstein's forces had been bolstered by allies from the Catholic League, but this proved insufficient, and again the Swedes claimed the victory. The diplomatic consequences of this victory were immense; with Swedish military prowess confirmed, more of the Protestant princes in northern Germany began to pledge support, although Brandenburg and Electoral Saxony still reserved judgement. In turn, the victory alarmed Maximilian I of Bavaria, who had previously maintained neutrality due to French subsidies, but who now expressed support for the Catholic League.
These diplomatic manoeuvrings were soon overtaken by another devastating epidemic. In June 1631, the first word came of a strange, devastating form of influenza ravaging Ottoman lands. As the summer rolled on, this disease swept through Hungary and into the Holy Roman Empire, with the Habsburg lands of Austria and Bohemia the first victims.
This malady was recognisably a form of influenza, but with distinctive symptoms: a particularly intense fatigue immediately after onset, and the faces and lips of its victims turned blue. Europeans knew the disease as Turkish flu, and the Habsburgs in particular would have reason to fear it. For while Turkish flu was overall less deadly than the Dutch curse which preceded it, the new disease took a particularly heavy toll on young adults, including the men of military age. Armies were severely weakened on both sides as the Turkish flu swept through the Empire in 1631 and 1632.
The most prominent victims of Turkish flu were found among the Austrian Habsburgs themselves; the disease devastated their family. Contrary to what most people believed then and later, Ferdinand II, the Holy Roman Emperor, was not among those victims. On 6 September 1631, the Emperor died of pneumonia brought on by lung damage from the previous epidemic, the Dutch curse. His children, though, were of the most vulnerable age to the new epidemic, and the effects were devastating.
Ferdinand III had only succeeded his father for six weeks – and even then, not officially elected as Emperor – before he succumbed to the Turkish flu on 18 October 1631. His only brother, Archduke Leopold, did not even live that long, dying on 5 October. The only surviving children of Ferdinand II were two daughters, Cecilia Renata and Maria Anna, and Cecilia herself survived only a few more weeks, dying on 9 November.
The only surviving close male relative of the Austrian Habsburgs was a three-year old boy, Ferdinand Charles, Archduke of Further Austria, posthumous son of the elder Leopold who had died from the Dutch curse. This unfortunate child had never known his father, but on his young shoulders rested the legacy of the Austrian Habsburgs. As the poet Johannes Schmidt would later write in a much-quoted line: "Only one heir, young and slender, but a host of pretenders."
Chaos was the initial result on all sides, with all previous plans forgotten by the new circumstances of no clear Emperor, and what seemed like a divine blow to dispossess the Austrian Habsburgs.
The fastest monarch to move was Maximilian I of Bavaria. His first wife had already been ill, and died of the Turkish flu in October. While Maximilian mourned his wife, this did not stop him seeking the most politically promising replacement: Maria Anna, Archduchess of Austria. Maximilian hastened to Vienna, where he paid his respects to both dead Ferdinands, but took the opportunity to more or less force Maria Anna into marriage [8]. Based on this marriage and existing Bavarian claims, Maximilian began to make overtures about the possibility of acquiring Inner Austria, Bohemia, and the entirety of the Palatinate.
In Bohemia, the restive Protestant population began fresh calls for a Protestant monarch. In Denmark, Christian IV started to consider whether to abolish his peace deal with the Empire. In Brandenburg and Saxony, the respective Electors pondered what was usually a simple decision: who should be elected Emperor.
And, in his exile in The Hague, Frederick V, Elector Palatine, saw what seemed divine opportunity. He had already been more fortunate than he had been historically; the disruptions of the Dutch curse meant he never suffered the boating accident in 1629 that invalided him, and his heir Henry Frederick also survived. Acting on this apparent miracle, Frederick V not only reasserted his claims on his ancestral lands of the Palatinate, but proclaimed a much bolder bid: he sought to be named Holy Roman Emperor.
The election of a new Emperor required the votes of four out of the seven Electors: the three spiritual Electors, the Archbishops of Mainz, Trier, and Cologne, and the four lay Electors, the King of Bohemia, the Margrave of Brandenburg, the Count Palatine of the Rhine, and the Duke of Saxony.
This election, already contentious, was made even more controversial because of rival claimants to some of the electoral titles. Maximilian I asserted his vote as Elector Palatine, which had been awarded to him when Frederick V was outlawed, but this claim was not universally recognised. Frederick V himself still claimed this title, even in his exile.
Likewise, the Austrian Habsburgs claimed the title of King of Bohemia, and while the majority of the Empire had backed that claim, the people of Bohemia were themselves more supportive of Frederick V.
Naming an Emperor would prove problematic since not all of the claimants could even meet the Electors during their deliberations; Frederick V was, after all, still outlawed within the Empire. The election was managed, at first, by the various Electors publicly stating their preferences or, in some cases, by rather more publicly not stating any preference.
The three spiritual Electors were undecided whether to back Ferdinand Charles or another Catholic prince. The young Ferdinand Charles did not even speak on his own behalf, but his Habsburg relatives had named his Spanish cousin, Cardinal-Infante Ferdinand, as his regent. Insofar as the spiritual Electors took a position, the Archishops of Trier and Mainz broadly favoured the Habsburg claim; it was entirely coincidental, of course, that they were neighbours to the Spanish Habsburgs. The Archbishop of Cologne did not express any position publicly, but privately preferred to support whoever was named by his brother, Maximilian I of Bavaria.
Frederick V continued to assert that he had claims both as King of Bohemia and Elector Palatine, even though the Catholics did not recognise these claims. Of course, he faced another problem: one man could not claim two votes as an Elector. Frederick V devised a novel solution, abdicating as Count Palatine in favour of his son Henry Frederick. As well as the immediate benefit of a claim for two electoral votes, he knew that this meant that even if he lost his claim to Bohemia, his son would have a greater chance of retaining the Palatinate.
Ferdinand Charles – or, more precisely, Cardinal-Infante Ferdinand – claimed the electoral vote of Bohemia, but the Protestants did not recognise this claim. Indeed, John George II, the new Elector of Saxony, was far less cautious than his father, and more inclined to listen to his Protestant relations. He publicly proclaimed his support for Frederick V as Holy Roman Emperor.
Georg Wilhelm of Brandenburg vacillated, as he had done throughout much of his reign. He mistrusted the Swedes and Saxons both, but was caught between them, so voting for any Catholic candidate could have proved problematic. In the end, he reluctantly announced support for Frederick V, hoping that a Calvinist Emperor would in turn have influence to help him with the Seudo-Saxon vice now gripping his country.
In the midst of all the electoral manoeuvring, Maximilian I found himself in an odd position. He had refused to become a candidate for the Imperial throne over a decade before, but now ambition tempted once more. He had at least two electoral votes, if he chose to make a bid. However, the practice was that electoral votes could not be recast once made, and so he held off his own claims to the Imperial crown while he evaluated the situation.
Eventually, Maximilian decided that he could not secure the Imperial diadem, and opted for a compromise which suited his interests almost as well. At the time, Ferdinand Charles had already been named as heir to Further Austria and Tyrol, but had never been named as ruler of Inner Austria, since that title was held by Ferdinand III until his death.
Through his marriage to Maria Anna, Maximilian asserted his right to inherit Inner Austria [9], and for continued imperial recognition of his right to the Upper Palatinate, including the Electoral vote. In exchange, he yielded his family claim to Bohemia. That left Ferdinand Charles with Further Austria, Bohemia, Silesia, parts of Hungary and Croatia, and the Lower Palatinate. With that deal concluded, Maximilian I exercised his vote as Elector Palatine, and named Ferdinand Charles as Holy Roman Emperor, with Cardinal-Infante Ferdinand (formerly of Spain, now of Austria) as regent [10].
In March 1632, after Maximilian's proclamation, the spiritual Electors fell into line behind him, announcing their support for Ferdinand Charles as the Holy Roman Emperor.
That now meant there were five votes for Ferdinand Charles: three Archbishop-Electors, Maximilian as Elector Palatine, and Ferdinand Charles himself as King of Bohemia. However, Frederick V also claimed four votes: the Duke of Saxony, the Margrave of Brandenburg, Frederick V himself as King of Bohemia, and his son Henry Frederick as Elector Palatine.
Two men thus claimed the title of Holy Roman Emperor. With good reason, the third stage of the war would be known to allohistory as the War of the Habsburg Succession.
Under Gustavus Adolphus's aegis, most of the Protestant states in Germany formed the Protestant Union, a successor of sorts to the earlier Protestant Union which had been dissolved in 1621 at the order of Ferdinand II. The Union formally backed Frederick V as the Holy Roman Emperor. The notable exceptions were the Danish-aligned areas of north-western Germany, which remained neutral, and Brandenburg, which granted Sweden transit rights into Habsburg lands, but did not join the war.
Still in exile in the Netherlands, Frederick V did not have an army of his own, but soon found support. Under the guidance of chief minister De Chaulnes, France continued to provide aid to anyone who fought against the Habsburgs. The subsidies which had previously been provided to Bavaria were now redirected to Frederick V, and with those funds he raised a fresh army of his own.
The Catholic forces in the War of the Habsburg Succession fought in the name of the Holy Roman Emperor, but in practice there were two powers that mattered: the Spanish, fighting on behalf of their Austrian cousins and seeking to bring them more into their orbit; and the Catholic League, dominated by Bavaria, which fought against the Protestants with religious fervour, but which also quietly opposed having too strong an Emperor.
The military campaigning in 1632-3 had two main theatres. In eastern Germany, the Swedes and Saxons sought to occupy the Habsburgs possessions of Bohemia and Silesia. The conquest of Bohemia was in the name of Frederick V, although Saxony expected to gain some concessions there, while Sweden had designs on Silesia. Gustavus Adolphus also had plans for his legacy: while Frederick V might be named King of Bohemia, so far his heir had been designated as ruler of the Palatinate only. Gustavus wanted to have his daughter Kristina named as heir to Bohemia after Frederick V's death. In the west, Frederick V fought against the Spanish and sought to reconquer the Palatinate.
The Bohemian campaign saw what became the most notorious action of an already destructive war. The Protestant population of Bohemia were already resentful of Habsburg rule, and viewed the death of Ferdinand II and the subsequent chaos as an invitation to revolt. Unfortunately, their actions were premature. Wallenstein fought against the Protestants in Silesia, and while he could not force a decisive victory, he was capable enough to keep the Swedes and Saxons busy there while the Bohemian revolt was quelled.
The task of subduing Bohemia fell to the Catholic League, which essentially meant Bavaria. Since the death of Tilly, Count Johann von Aldringen had taken command of the League's armies. He hastened to Bohemia, and sought to subdue the Bohemians with fire and sword. Aldringen routed the Bohemian Protestant militias, and encircled Prague in a siege which lasted eight months, from April to November 1632.
The city finally fell after parts of the walls were mined, and the League's forces broke into the city. The attacking troops went berserk, massacring most of the inhabitants. Prague caught fire during the final assault, although reports differed as to whether it had been fired by the defenders to deny it to the enemy, or if the fires had been set by the attacking troops. In any event, before Aldringen regained control of his troops, most of the city had been ruined and its inhabitants killed.
No-one knew exactly how many people were killed in the sack of Prague. The city had around sixty thousand inhabitants before the war started, and many of them had died or fled the city during the first Bohemian revolt, but nonetheless, tens of thousands died from fire or the sword. After it was over, Prague had fewer than four thousand inhabitants left alive.
By all reports, Aldringen did not plan or authorise the massacre. Nevertheless, his name became associated with it, and for Protestants in Germany from that time on, the Sack of Prague, on 20 November 1633, became a day which would live in ignominy. From that time on, whenever Catholic forces tried to surrender or sought quarter, the common Protestant response was to offer "Prague justice" and execute them [11].
Silesia fell more or less entirely to the Swedes and Saxons by November 1633, too late to spare the people of Prague. The Suedo-Saxon forces could not move into Bohemia until the following spring. When they did, the war-ravaged population were sympathetic to the Protestants, but could offer little tangible support.
Wallenstein had gradually reformed his armies after the plagues and defeats, and had started to refine his tactics to counter the Swedish advantages. In addition, he was reinforced by Aldringen. Between them, these two generals held their own in two major battles against the Protestants; neither side could inflict a major defeat on the other.
In the circumstances, Wallenstein took it upon himself to try to mediate a peace between Sweden and the Empire. The content of these negotiations has been lost to history, but the rumour was that he disliked the Edict of Restitution, and that he sought to present the new Emperor with a peace treaty as a fait accompli.
Regardless of the reason, with the rumours that Wallenstein was negotiating with the enemy, he was deemed to be a traitor. The Cardinal Regent gave orders for his assassination, but Wallenstein was warned, and in early May responded by changing sides to the Protestant cause, taking his personal army with him.
The defection of Wallenstein and his forces should have been seen as a great boost to the Swedish cause. But it coincided with a rather more monumental event. Throughout the first week of May, Gustavus Adolphus had been suffering from headaches and a creeping fever. On 10 May, the same day that Wallenstein announced his defection, Gustavus suffered a seizure.
This seizure was not severe in itself, but confirmed a hideous truth. Gustavus Adolphus had held off the delirium for three years, an astonishing length of time, but this seizure meant that he had not been spared from the second stage of the Dutch curse after all. From here, death was inevitable, and sanity itself would slowly slip away.
The Swedish monarch took advantage of what moments of sanity remained. He issued his final orders, and dictated his last testament, which would be nicknamed "The Legacy of the Lion". In that testament he laid out his vision for Sweden, including how he foresaw a future where "on every shore of the Baltic flies the yellow cross on blue", and that the recently-founded outpost of Gustavsburg [Bangor, Maine] would become the capital of "a New Sweden over the waves". One of his final orders was that his daughter Kristina be named as heir-presumptive to the throne of Bohemia, and that she become engaged to her cousin Karl Gustav [12].
Gustavus Adolphus suffered repeated seizures for two more weeks, and on 27 May slipped into a coma from which he would never awake. He died on 3 June 1633. After his death the Swedish campaign in Bohemia and Bavaria lost focus. Wallenstein, while now fighting for the Protestants, also counselled that informal enquiries be made to see what peace terms the Catholics would consider.
In the western theatre during 1632-1633, the Spanish-led Catholics had more success. Frederick V had raised a new army, but could not establish a strong position within the Empire. He found support from Calvinist rulers such as William V, Landgrave of Hesse-Kessel, but he could not make much headway against the Spanish. Frederick V was only spared major defeat because the Spanish were also busy in their separate war with the Netherlands; the Dutch had invaded the Spanish Netherlands and besieged Antwerp.
The course of the war took another turn in 1634, thanks to another consequence of the plagues. The Duchy of Lorraine had a long history, but just before the plagues swept through, there were only three surviving male members of the House of Lorraine: the former Duke Francis II (who had abdicated in 1624 and would die in 1632), and his two sons, Nicolas and Charles. Nicolas had taken holy orders and was now a cardinal, while Charles had been ruling the duchy as Charles IV since 1624, although he had yet to father a male heir.
Both brothers caught the Dutch curse, but survived; Charles IV escaped the pink cough with no significant symptoms, while Nicolas Francis was reportedly "fatigued" ever since (later physicians would interpret this as mild scarring of the lungs). Four years later, when the Turkish flu swept through Lorraine on its way into France, Charles IV was among his victims, dying suddenly on 9 February 1632. Nicolas Francis caught the disease too, and became even more "fatigued", but he was now the only heir to the duchy apart from an elderly and ill Francis II.
Much diplomacy ensued, as France in particular had a keen interest in who would rule Lorraine, and Spain did not want a hostile ruler to threaten their Spanish Road. Of course, there was only one possible heir. Nicolas, a man of devout faith, did not want to resign as cardinal, but did not see that he had any choice. He relinquished his religious offices, married his cousin Claude Françoise [as he did historically in 1634] and became Duke Nicholas II of Lorraine.
Sadly, the legacy of two respiratory illness had taken their toll on Nicholas's health, and left him vulnerable to further diseases. In early 1634, he caught an unexpected chill and died of pneumonia on 30 January. The Duchy of Lorraine was now heirless.
Three claims emerged on the vacant Duchy of Lorraine. Gaston, Duke of Orléans, had married Marguerite of Lorraine (Charles and Nicolas's sister) in 1631 [13], and through this marriage, he asserted a claim to Lorraine.
Two more distant claimants appeared, although their claims were mired in another unresolved succession dispute within the Empire. Francis II's sister Antoinette had married John William, Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Berg, although that marriage had produced no children. After John William's death, the succession of the Duchy was contested through John William's surviving sisters. Those claims had passed to the Catholic Wolfgang William, Count Palatine of Neuburg, and the Calvinist Georg Wilhelm I, Elector of Brandenburg-Prussia. Both of them asserted their claims on the entirety of Jülich-Cleves-Berg, and through the same descent, they both laid claim to Lorraine.
The Orleanist claim was notionally the strongest, but few within the Empire were willing to let the claim go to a potential heir to the French throne. Within France, both King Louis III and De Chaulnes were broadly satisfied with the course of the war (ie the Habsburgs getting curtailed). They were not prepared to invade directly in support of Orleans' claim, since it risked giving Spain a reason to become even more involved in the war.
Cardinal-Regent Ferdinand was eventually called to arbitrate the disputed succession. After some consideration, he deemed that Georg Wilhelm's claim was the strongest, and awarded the House of Hohenzollern the Duchy of Lorraine.
Near-simultaneously, and entirely coincidentally, Georg Wilhelm declared that he had considered his position on the matter of the imperial election, and had decided to vote for Ferdinand Charles. That led Ferdinand Charles to proclaim that he was now uncontested Holy Roman Emperor, since he had enough votes to assume the imperial dignity, regardless of how the claims to Bohemia and the Palatinate were viewed.
Protests followed from Sweden, Saxony and even from Christian IV of Denmark, who argued that electoral votes could not be changed once cast. The three spiritual Catholic Electors, though, said (with remarkably straight faces) that the Elector of Brandenburg was simply clarifying what would otherwise be an impossible election. From this point on, Ferdinand Charles was broadly if grudgingly recognised as Emperor, and Frederick V's position was near-fatally weakened.
All the same, retaliation followed. Christian IV had already been considering re-entering the war. Partly out of frustration at the failure of Frederick V to become Emperor, partly because Sweden re-offered the island of Rügen as an incentive, partly wanting to have a voice in any broader peace negotiations, and mostly to secure the claims which had been granted to Prince Ulric, Christian IV declared war on the Emperor once more. His public justification was that the peace he had concluded had been one made personally with Wallenstein, but now that he had changed sides, the peace was void.
Sweden and Saxony, in turn, declared war on Georg Wilhelm. Their plans for an invasion of Bavaria were abandoned as they adopted defensive positions in Bohemia and turned on the House of Hohenzollern. Brandenburg was invaded and overrun in 1634, although Prussia itself was left alone to avoid any risk of Polish intervention.
With Wallenstein's defection and Denmark's re-entry into the war, the burden of defending Catholicism and the Emperor fell largely to Spain. The Spanish found themselves fighting on three fronts: against the Dutch in the Spanish Netherlands and nearby regions, against the combined forces of Denmark and Frederick V who pushed into south-western Germany and threatened Cologne and Munster, and in the east where they fought with the Catholic League against the Swedes and Saxons in Bohemia, and at times in Austria and Bavaria.
The weight of numbers told against the Spanish, though some of their generals were still capable of remarkable victories. Most notably, Gómez Suárez de Figueroa, Duke of Feria, took command of the Imperial forces in Bohemia and Bavaria. He routed the Swedish forces in the Battle of Deggendorf in August 1635; the first decisive defeat of the seemingly-invincible Swedes. The action in that theatre returned to Bohemia, as the already-ravaged province suffered even more predation from the war [14].
Despite a few victories, Spain paid an immense cost to support the war. The population at home had already been severely reduced by the plagues, particularly the disproportionate loss of young adults from the Turkish flu. Military recruitment drew more young men into the army to fill those gaps, leading to less productive farms and towns. That, together with the spiralling war costs, led to repeated increases in taxation, to the point where many of the people found themselves unable to pay.
The result, in March and April 1636, was near-simultaneous revolts in Catalonia and Portugal. The former was an unplanned uprising which led to the formation of an irregular militia to fight against Spanish rule – or at least against Spanish taxation. The latter was a meticulously-planned coup organised by discontented Portuguese nobility who believed that the increases in taxation were planned to bankrupt them and hand their lands over to Spanish aristocrats. The Portuguese nobles, with popular support, named John, Duke of Braganza, as the new monarch.
Faced with these internal troubles and an ever more difficult military situation, Philip IV of Spain sought peace negotiations. For their part, most of the Protestant nations in Germany were exhausted by nearly two decades of war. Denmark had re-entered the war with the aim mainly of securing its earlier gains, plus some minor further concessions, and was willing to negotiate any peace which secured those goals. Without the driving leadership of Gustavus Adolphus, and facing some military reversals, Sweden was also prepared to discuss peace terms. The only parties who preferred to continue the war were the Emperor Ferdinand Charles, who was too young to be taken seriously, and the anti-Emperor Frederick V, who had no capacity to keep fighting if his allies deserted him.
Peace negotiations opened in Nuremberg in September 1636. Separate negotiations between the Dutch and the Spanish began a month later in Hamburg. These negotiations dragged on for nearly two years, and the fighting continued in the interim, as both sides sought to use military gains to their diplomatic advantage. Denmark, in particular, pushed south into Munster and Cologne during 1638, although it found little gain from doing so, since both the Netherlands and the other Protestant German powers were rather unwelcoming of any further Danish gains within Germany.
Peace finally came in August 1638, in two separate treaties. The Peace of Nuremberg was signed between the Holy Roman Emperor, Spain, Bavaria and allies, and Sweden, Denmark, and allies, and ended what would become known as the Twenty Years' War. The separate Peace of Hamburg between the Dutch and Spanish saw final recognition of the Netherlands as an independent nation outside of the Holy Roman Empire, and ended what would be known as the Seventy Years War.
*
Between them, the two peace treaties signed in 1638 remade the Holy Roman Empire. The accord at Hamburg recognised formally what had been truth for some time; that the Netherlands were not and would never again want to be part of the Empire. The pact at Nuremberg contained a great many provisions both of territorial changes and of other guarantees, but the most important part was not written into the treaty: the greater princes of the Empire had become rulers of de facto independent states.
The Peace of Hamburg settled the differences between Spain and the Netherlands, both within Europe and across their sprawling colonial empires. In Europe, the Dutch gained what they most craved: formal recognition of their independence from Spain. The Peace also recognised their various territorial acquisitions during the later stages of the war, ie the seizing of Antwerp and its environs, and the separate conquests of Upper Guelders and eastern Limburg. Likewise, the Dutch ceded all claims to the remainder of the Spanish Netherlands [15].
Outside of Europe, the Peace recognised the current colonial borders between Spain and the Netherlands, although it remained distinctly silent about the status of Portugal. Most notably, Spain recognised the Dutch acquisitions in northern Brazil, and "all existing Dutch territory in the East Indies", a term which in the understanding of the times included the existing Dutch claims in Aururia (mostly the Atjuntja).
The Peace of Nuremberg followed the same broad principles as the historical Peace of Westphalia in terms of recognising the established religion of particular states, tolerance of Catholics, Lutherans and Calvinists in each other's territories (the Anabaptists and other radical faiths were still excluded), and acceptance of the sovereignty of each member state over its lands and people. Likewise, it recognised the independence of Switzerland and the Netherlands from the Empire.
Much else changed, though.
Perhaps the most dramatic transformation was that involving the Hohenzollerns [ie the former royal family of Brandenburg-Prussia]. That family's former territories of Brandenburg-Prussia were lost entirely, being divided up between other powers. Instead, the Hohenzollerns were recognised in their control of Lorraine. With the Emperor backing their claims, the Hohenzollerns also gained control of the entirety of Cleve-Mark and Jülich-Berg [16].
In one of the many odd bits of diplomacy which characterised the Peace of Nuremberg, the Hohenzollerns were also made the Prince-Bishops of Würzburg. This bishopric bordered Bavarian lands, and had been occupied by the Protestant powers late in the war. During the peace negotiations, the Hohenzollerns repeatedly sought to regain their lands in Brandenburg, but were unable to do so. They were awarded Würzburg as a compromise. This was given a veneer of legitimacy because the House of Hohenzollern, several centuries earlier, had started as Burgraves of neighbouring Nuremberg. As a practical matter, awarding Würzburg to the Hohenzollerns meant that with their relatives ruling neighbouring territories in Bayreuth and Ansbach, there was now a united front to block potential Bavarian expansion in this area.
As a result of the Twenty Years' War, the Hohenzollerns were thus transformed from a growing power in north-eastern Germany to a regional power in south-western Germany. The Electoral dignity continued with their house [17], and they were henceforth known as Electors of Lorraine rather than Electors of Brandenburg. As soon as the treaty was signed, the invalided Georg Wilhelm abdicated his throne, leaving his eighteen-year-old son Friedrich Wilhelm [who would historically have been called the Great Elector] as the new Elector of Lorraine, with his Catholic Chancellor Schwarzenberg as de facto regent for the first few years [18].
In all of their territories, the Calvinist faith became the established religion. While Friedrich Wilhelm would in fact turn out to practice religious toleration, in the first couple of years, many Catholics in Lorraine and Jülich-Berg fled Hohenzollern territories for some of their Catholic neighbours.
Bavaria emerged from the Peace of Nuremberg as one of the major powers within the Holy Roman Empire. In the treaty, Bavaria gained formal recognition of the territories it had previously acquired in Inner Austria and the Upper Palatinate. It also gained confirmation of the Electoral dignity which had previously belonged to the Palatinate, although as happened historically, Maximilian would usually be called the Elector of Bavaria rather than Elector Palatine.
The Austrian Habsburgs, while still confirmed as Holy Roman Emperors, found themselves holding more scattered possessions. They maintained their rule of Austria proper, Further Austria, Tyrol, and their Hungarian and Croatian possessions outside the Empire. The Habsburgs also took control of the Lower Palatinate. Bavaria was confirmed as ruler of Inner Austria, and Silesia was ceded to Sweden.
The Habsburgs also held onto most of Bohemia, with a couple of exceptions, through another political compromise. The arrangement reached (at Swedish and Saxon insistence) was that Frederick V would be King of Bohemia until the Peace of Nuremberg was ratified by the Emperor, but that after that he would cede control to the Habsburgs. As part of that arrangement, Frederick V recognised the religion of Bohemia as Lutheran. In keeping with the broader principles of the Nuremberg treaty, the established religions of Imperial states were those which were recognised by monarchs at the time of ratification. Any later conquests or acquisitions by princes of a different faith, or conversion of particular princes, did not change the established religion of that territory. So, under this arrangement, Bohemia had a Catholic monarch ruling a Protestant territory, and who could be required to persecute Catholics in that territory who broke the restrictions on public worship [19].
A few territories in Bohemia were separated entirely from Habsburg rule. Two members of the House of Lichtenstein were kept as rulers of the Duchy of Teschen (under Gundakar) and the Duchy of Troppau & Jägerndorf (under Karl II Eusebius); two small, officially Catholic islands in a Protestant sea. Wallenstein, that most morally supple and politically flexible general, was confirmed in his control of the core of his confiscated Bohemian estates, as the independent Duchy of Friedland.
Denmark did not make many direct territorial gains from the Peace of Nuremberg itself beyond what had previously been recognised at the Treaty of Lübeck. However, these gains became more important because when the Treaty of Lübeck was signed in 1630, Prince Ulric (a younger son of the King of Denmark), was named Prince-Bishop of Verden, Bishop of Schwerin, and the designated heir of the Lutheran Prince-Archbishop of Bremen. Since that time, John Frederick, Prince-Archbishop of Bremen died in September 1634, and Denmark's Chosen Prince [ie designated heir] Frederick died in February 1637, leaving Ulric as ruler of Verden, Schwerin and Bremen, and heir to the Danish crown. This made his inheritance more contentious, to say the least, but Denmark successfully had Ulric's claims recognised at Nuremberg.
As part of the peace treaty, Denmark also successfully argued for a "clarification" of the Treaty of Lübeck that the claim on Bremen included the city of Bremen, not just the surrounding Archbishopric. It also obtained recognition of the island of Rügen as its territory [20]. Christian IV established Rügen as a personal possession of the Danish crown, because of his ancestral claim to be King of Vends. As a practical matter, that meant that Rügen was withdrawn from the Empire and placed under personal control of the Danish monarch; neither the Holy Roman Empire (via the Reichstag), the Emperor, or the Rigsraadet (the Danish Council of the Realm) had any say on the governance of Rügen.
Of all the powers, Sweden gained the most from the Twenty Years' War and the Peace of Nuremberg. Sweden took control of all of Pomerania, except for Rügen and for the minor realm of the Bishopric of Cammin, held by Ernst Bogislaw von Croÿ, the grandson of the last independent Duke of Pomerania. With the partition of Brandenburg, Sweden gained eastern Mittelmark and Neumark (with the rest going to Saxony). Most valuable of all, in territorial terms, was Silesia, which Sweden detached from the Bohemian crown and claimed as its own territory. In exchange, Sweden recognised Habsburg rule of Bohemia proper (after Frederick V handed it over to them), and abandoned Kristina's claim as Queen of Bohemia. In turn, Sweden was recognised as the defender of the Protestant faith in Germany. As part of the conquest of these new territories, Sweden more or less broke all of the local noble estates in these acquisition; the Swedish monarchs had absolute power in their new territories [21].
The Electorate of Saxony was another power which gained considerably from the war. As well as western Brandenburg (Altmark and western Mittelmark), Saxony gained Lusatia, Magdeburg, and Mansfeld. These new acquisitions gave Saxony some regions with rich soils and considerable potential agricultural wealth. As with Sweden, Saxony broke the power of the local estates in its new acquisitions, which were largely ruled directly by the monarchy.
As a result of the war, Saxony also gained control of most of the Elbe between Denmark-Holstein and Bohemia. The exception was the Duchy of Saxe-Lauenburg, backed by the restored Dukes of Mecklenburg, who did not want to be the only state standing between Denmark and Sweden.
With Brandenburg proper swallowed by Sweden and Saxony, the Hohenzollern territories of Prussia were given to Courland, since any Swedish claims would have risked Polish intervention.
As for Frederick V himself, former Elector Palatine, one-time contender for the Imperial Crown, while he lived longer allohistorically, he did not end up much happier. The Imperial Ban on him remained even when almost everyone else was pardoned, his title as Count of the (Lower) Palatinate was still lost, and he lived out a longer but still mostly unhappy exile in the Netherlands.
His eldest son, Frederick Henry, was more fortunate. The Protestant princes were rather concerned about the prospect of having a son losing his titles for the actions of his father. No number of remonstrations could persuade the Habsburgs to grant the Lower Palatinate to Frederick Henry, for the Habsburgs themselves were feeling like they had lost too much territory. As a compromise, a new Duchy of Münster was created and granted to Frederick Henry. Unlike what happened historically, though, this did not lead to Frederick Henry being granted a new Electoral dignity. Frederick V was still alive and held in too much contempt to be given such a new honour; the number of Electors remained, for the moment, only seven.
The Habsburg acquisition of the Lower Palatinate also meant that this territory was recognised as Catholic rather than Calvinist. This would lead, in time, to large-scale emigration of Calvinists, particularly to now-Calvinist Lorraine, and also to Münster.
All in all, the Peace of Nuremberg reshaped the map of the Holy Roman Empire, nearly broke the power of the Austrian Habsburgs, and created some new or increased powers whose appetite for expansion had only been whetted by this war, no matter what its length.
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"I did not expect to find the kingdom of Bohemia so lean, wasted and spoiled, for between Prague and Vienna everything has been razed to the ground and hardly a living soul can be seen on the land."
- Swedish Field Marshal Johan Banér to Chancellor Axel Oxenstierna, 1635
--
"The road to absolutism began with the Twenty Years' War."
- Lars Løvschøld, "The Development of Early Modern Europe"
--
[1] Defenestration is one of those words which sounds even worse than it is.
[2] ie according to a certain online encyclopaedia.
[3] This consideration involving the Emperor recognising Saxon control of the region of Lusatia.
[4] The Palatinate held strategic significance out of all proportion to its size, because it was the only non-friendly territory on the land route which the Spanish used to attack the Dutch Republic after 1621 (the Spanish Road).
[5] Although as with just about any concept in politics or history, there are innumerable arguments on this topic, such as whether it was Westphalia which established the principle of sovereignty, or even if there is such a thing as Westphalian sovereignty.
[6] John George's actual cause of death was kidney failure caused by side-effects of the pink cough, although the medical science at the time had no way of determining that.
[7] The terms of the allohistorical Treaty of Lübeck are more generous to Denmark than their historical counterpart (where Denmark essentially got its occupied lands back in exchange for withdrawing from the HRE). Allohistorically, the Imperial forces are more hard-pressed due to Tilly's death and reliance on the less than trustworthy Wallenstein as their main general. Ferdinand II was rather more concerned with the cessation of Danish support for other Protestant rulers, so that he could focus his efforts on quelling them. The additional concessions which Denmark obtained were at the expense of other Protestant rulers, so Ferdinand II decided he could tolerate that, although it did leave Denmark with a stronger position in northern Germany.
[8] Or, at the very least, Maria Anna may have seen Maximilian I as the least unpalatable of the alternatives.
[9] ie Styria, Carinthia, Carniola and the Windic March, Gorizia, the city of Trieste and assorted smaller possessions.
[10] Bavaria had not actually been a particularly powerful nation with the Empire before this time, but several factors granted Maximilan I his decisive influence. Firstly, his quick action to marry Maria Anna gave him a useful claim on large chunks of the Habsburg heritage, in an era where existing holdings were often divided. Secondly, his French alliance gave him a useful chunk of cash, which he used both to raise troops and for some notable bribes. Thirdly, while not everyone recognised the Bavarian claims to an electorate, the Habsburgs already had, which made it more important for them to keep Bavaria onside.
[11] A similar term arose after the historical sack of Magdeburg on 20 May 1631. Allohistorically, Magdeburg was spared a similar sack, since the Protestants and Catholics largely fought in other theatres.
[12] Karl Gustav would historically become King Karl X Gustav of Sweden in 1654, after Kristina's abdication.
[13] Historically, Gaston and Marguerite met in Lorraine when Gaston fled there after taking refuge from Cardinal Richelieu's wrath, and were married a year later than happened allohistorically (ie in 1632). In allohistory, Gaston became friendly with De Chaulnes, the post-Richelieu chief minister, met Marguerite earlier while visiting Lorraine, and had no problem gaining royal recognition for his marriage.
[14] The consequences of the war and the plagues lead to more extensive depopulation of Bohemia, since more of the fighting is conducted there. After the war, this will lead to more German emigration into the emptier land; in the long run, more of the population will be Germanophone.
[15] With the seizure of Antwerp the Dutch could, in fact, have acquired rather more of the Spanish Netherlands; they had captured the main port which allowed the Spanish access to that region. The Dutch did not push further for a combination of foreign policy and domestic political reasons. The Dutch preferred to have a weakened Spain there as a buffer against gaining a land border with the French. The Dutch were also opposed to too much expansion because of domestic concerns; it would require greater military expenditure, and so risked increasing the power of the Stadtholder.
[16] The Jülich-Berg and Cleve-Mark split was related to the previously mentioned dispute over the Lorraine succession. As had happened historically, the former United Duchies of Jülich-Cleves-Berg were disputed between the Catholic Count Palatine of Neuburg and the Hohenzollerns. This was eventually resolved historically by dividing it into the Catholic territories of Jülich-Berg (to Neuburg) and the Protestant territories of Cleve-Mark (to the Hohenzollerns). Allohistorically, with the Emperor supporting the Hohenzollerns and opposing anyone related to the anti-Emperor Frederick V of the Palatinate, the entirety of this region was given to the Hohenzollerns. The various Protestant powers, of course, hardly cared that territory was being taken from a minor Catholic prince to be handed to a Calvinist one.
[17] The Hohenzollerns kept their Electoral vote because a Protestant Elector was needed for religious balance within the Empire. No-one (apart from the Swedes themselves) wanted to have a Swedish claimant as Elector, so any claims which the Swedes might have made from annexing parts of Brandenburg were disregarded. Saxony, likewise, already had an Electoral vote and could thus not acquire any claims from taking the rest of Brandenburg. Raising another Protestant state to an Electorship was not in keeping with tradition, and in any case the main Protestant contender would have been Holstein (ie the King of Denmark as Duke of Holstein), which was no better than Sweden. So the Hohenzollerns kept the title and the vote, although as happened historically with Bavaria, they were soon usually called the Electors of Lorraine.
[18] From a historical point of view, the Hohenzollerns have done poorly here. From Lorraine, they are not in the same position to unify Germany as they would have done historically. From an immediate point of view, though, they have acquired some respectably wealthy territories and are if anything better off financially than they were before the war (although without gains such as Pomerania which they would have had historically).
[19] While this may sound odd to modern readers, a similar arrangement happened historically in Saxony, which was recognised as Protestant territory, but its monarchs converted to Catholicism. This led to Catholic monarchs persecuting Catholics in Saxony.
[20] Gaining Rügen and the city of Bremen was minor in territorial terms, but actually represented a huge financial windfall for the Danish monarchy, since it allowed them to tax North German trade. Combined with their other taxation opportunities (it's not piracy if a government does it) from the Treaty of Lübeck, such as Hamburg, the Danish crown will find itself swimming in money over the next few decades.
[21] The new Swedish acquisitions have roughly doubled the country's population. In the short term this strengthens them against their main rival, Poland. In the longer term, this means that Sweden has entered the big league of powers, and conversely it is also seen as much more threatening by its neighbours.
--
Thoughts?
Author's Note: This chapter is about the history of the Thirty Years' War and how it has changed with the discovery of alt-Australia. It's perforce rather detailed about the many small and medium sized entities which made up the Holy Roman Empire, made worse by royalty's tendency to recycle a few chosen names for many individuals. It's also extremely long, even by my standards. If this doesn't sound like your thing, feel free to skip over this chapter - knowing what happens in this chapter isn't necessary to follow the rest of the timeline.
--
"Call no man happy, until he is dead."
- Herodotus, Histories I. xxxii
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"Everything that belonged to the use and commodity of man was and is there... Nature seemed to make the country [Bohemia] her storehouse and granary."
Jedidja Frühling-Feld, History of the Twenty Years' War, 1869.
--
In history as it is usually known, the conflict which would be called the Thirty Years' War became one of the most devastating wars that Europe had ever seen. Fought mainly in the territory of what would later become Germany, what began as a religious struggle within the Holy Roman Empire expanded into a broader struggle which drew in most of the major European powers, and became the longest-lasting continuous war in modern history.
The war originated from unresolved religious conflict within the Holy Roman Empire, which had been temporarily halted by the Peace of Augsburg in 1555. That peace established that, in most cases, the ruler of a state could choose the religion of their realm, and require their subjects to convert to that faith (cuius regio, eius religio). Exceptions were made for Lutherans living under the rule of a Catholic prince-bishop, who were still permitted to follow their religion, although a prince-bishop who converted to Lutheranism would be required to relinquish his realm.
Augsburg was an incomplete peace, since the only religions it recognised were Lutheranism and Catholicism. It ignored the more radical Anabaptist sects, and did not address the emergence of Calvinism as a separate faith in the second half of the sixteenth century. Moreover, Augsburg's provisions were often unenforced; some bishops who changed religions refused to abandon their realms, leading to fresh struggles.
Religious conflict returned to the Holy Roman Empire during the later sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Neighbouring powers had a keen interest in this contest, whether from genuine religious fervour or as a pretext for territorial and economic gains. The staunchly Catholic Spanish branch of the Habsburgs were displeased over the relative religious tolerance of their Austrian relatives, and directly intervened in some struggles. Conversely, the Lutheran realms of Denmark and Sweden sought to support their co-religionists, partly from religious unity, and partly from a desire to extract economic concessions in northern Germany.
The immediate trigger for what became the Thirty Years' War was a contest over the inheritance of Bohemia. Matthias, Holy Roman Emperor and King of Bohemia was elderly and had no immediate heirs. On his death, his lands would be inherited by the devout Catholic Ferdinand II, Archduke of Austria. Several of the Protestant notables of Bohemia feared Ferdinand's succession as a threat to their religious liberty, and supported an alternative Calvinist candidate, Frederick V, Elector of the Palatinate. Nevertheless, in 1617 Ferdinand II was duly elected as heir apparent by the Bohemian estates.
In May 1618, Ferdinand II sent two Catholic emissaries to administer Bohemia in his absence. A group of Protestant notables responded by hurling the emissaries out of the palace window into a pile of manure. This event, famously called the Defenestration of Prague [1], marked the start of the Bohemian revolt, and the beginning of the Thirty Years' War.
As events played out historically, the Thirty Years' War is traditionally [2] divided into four stages: the Bohemian revolt, the Danish intervention, the Swedish intervention, and the French intervention.
The Bohemian revolt saw religious conflict spread throughout the Bohemian estates, and into neighbouring regions such as Austria. The Protestant Bohemians named Frederick V, Elector Palatine, as King of Bohemia, and he eventually accepted. The revolt had some early success, with one Bohemian army reaching Vienna, but it was gradually crushed by a combination of Imperial and Spanish forces. Not all of the divisions were along religious lines; after due consideration [3], the Protestant John George I, Elector of Saxony, invaded Bohemia in support of the Imperial forces.
Bohemia was re-occupied before the end of 1620; Frederick V's brief reign (almost exactly a year) saw him derisively referred to as the Winter King. The war continued in the Palatinate, Frederick V's ancestral lands, which were invaded and gradually occupied by the Spanish [4]. Frederick V was outlawed from the Holy Roman Empire, with his lands given to Catholic rulers, and his title as Elector handed to his distant relation, Maximilian I of Bavaria.
Frederick V withdrew to exile in the Dutch Republic, which in 1621 had restarted a separate war with the Spanish. From there he agitated for restoration of his ancestral lands, without success. He remained banned by Imperial edict. He had a boating accident in January 1629 where he nearly drowned, and he lost his eldest son Frederick Henry. The near-drowning had severe effects on Frederick V's health, and he died in November 1632.
In 1624, the war nearly ended. The Protestant forces were reeling, with the Bohemian revolt crushed and the Palatinate occupied. However, the situation changed when Denmark intervened in support of the Protestants. Christian IV, King of Denmark, was also the Duke of Holstein, part of the Holy Roman Empire, and feared the success of the Catholic forces. He also received generous French subsidies to support his armies; national interest trumped religion here, since Catholic France held strong fears about being encircled by the equally Catholic Habsburgs.
The Danish intervention lasted from 1625-1629. As with the Bohemian revolt, despite early success, most of the military victories were on the Catholic side. Denmark was a wealthy kingdom, and received French subsidies, but found itself strategically isolated. England stood aside, France was busy with internal religious struggles, Sweden was engaged in a war with Poland, and the northern German Protestant powers of Brandenburg and Saxony preferred to maintain their precarious peace.
The leading Catholic generals were Albrecht von Wallenstein, who had grown rich by confiscating the estates of Protestant Bohemian nobles, and Johann Tserclaes, Count of Tilly. Between them, Wallenstein and Tilly pushed the Danish forces out of the Holy Roman Empire, and eventually occupied mainland Jutland. Nevertheless, they lacked the naval power to occupy the Danish islands, and eventually the two sides negotiated the Treaty of Lübeck. This stipulated, in effect, that Christian IV could keep Denmark provided that he withdrew his support for Protestant forces in the Holy Roman Empire.
With the withdrawal of Danish support, the course of the war turned even worse for the Protestants. The remaining Protestant forces were largely crushed; only the single Baltic port of Stralsund remained defiant against Wallenstein and the Imperial forces. In 1629, the Emperor announced an Edict of Restitution which claimed to be enforcing the provisions of the Peace of Augsburg. In practical terms, the Edict meant that significant parts of Protestant territory and property were to be transferred to Catholic rule, and interfered with some Protestants' practice of religion. In some ways this was a miscalculation on the Emperor's part. The Edict widened the war from a religious contest into a dynastic struggle for control of territories, and turned many lesser German princes against the Emperor.
Still, in the short term, the war was apparently almost won. Forces within Ferdinand II's court, led by Maximilian I of Bavaria, turned against Wallenstein. While an excellent general and in command of a large personal army, his political loyalty was questioned, and he was dismissed from service in September 1630.
With hindsight, Ferdinand II probably considered that a mistake.
For on 20 July 1630, Swedish forces under the command of Gustavus II Adolphus landed at Stettin, in Pomerania, marking the beginning of the Swedish intervention in the war (usually dated 1630-1635). Gustavus Adolphus's motives for entering the war have never been entirely clear, but he shared a common religion with the Lutherans, was suspicious of the power of the Holy Roman Emperor, and stood to gain economic benefits from control of more of the Baltic coastline.
Sweden's armies were well-trained and equipped, and adept in new military techniques such as lighter and more mobile artillery. Like Denmark before them, Sweden received generous French subsidies to fight the Habsburgs. The Swedish forces won several critical battles between 1630-1632, including the Battle of Rain in April 1632 which led to Tilly's death. Due to these setbacks and the loss of his most prominent general, Ferdinand II recalled Wallenstein to service.
Wallenstein and Gustavus Adolphus met at the Battle of Lützen on 6 November 1632. The Swedish forces proved victorious, but Gustavus Adolphus died while leading a cavalry charge. While Sweden remained in the war after the death of their monarch, their campaign gradually lost political and strategic direction, and the Imperial forces and their Spanish allies regained the initiative. Wallenstein brought himself under suspicion in 1633 when he tried to mediate between the two sides, and he was dismissed, arrested, and then assassinated by one of his men.
With the Swedish forces lacking focus, the Spanish and Imperial forces gradually drove them out of southern Germany. Most notably, at the Battle of Nördlingen on 6 September 1634, an army under the control of the Spanish Cardinal-Infante Ferdinand (later governor of the Spanish Netherlands) routed the Swedish army.
While Sweden did not abandon the war after Nördlingen, its influence was curtailed. German Protestants opened negotiations with the Emperor, which led to the Peace of Prague in 1635. This peace essentially repealed the Edict of Restitution and replaced it with a new understanding that Protestants could keep what they had held in 1627, but with some restrictions on their political power. The Peace also forbade formal alliances between states in the Empire, or with foreign powers. It created a notionally unified command for all armies within the Holy Roman Empire to defend it from invasion. The Peace extended amnesty to rulers who had taken up arms against the Emperor, with the notable exclusion of the descendants of Frederick V, the disgraced and now-dead Winter King.
The Peace of Prague did not, in fact, end the war. Sweden had no part in the negotiations, and Spain was also not bound by it. Most importantly, though, the terms of the peace alarmed France. Under Cardinal Richelieu, France had been indirectly supporting opponents of the Habsburgs, with subsidies at various times going to the Dutch, the Danish and the Swedish. With the Protestant opposition to the Holy Roman Emperor nearly ended, France intervened directly, declaring war on Spain in 1635 and the Holy Roman Empire in 1636.
This began the longest, and in many ways the bloodiest stage of the war, the French intervention (1635-1648). The French fought in the Holy Roman Empire as allies with the Swedish, but also fought separately against the Spanish within and outside the Empire. Sweden regained the military initiative in northern Germany, while France was at first unsuccessful with many of its own territories invaded and ravaged by Spanish and Imperial forces. With the resources available to both sides, though, the war continued for many years, at the cost of much blood and treasure and devastation of much of the fought-over territory.
Denmark and Sweden fought a local war (1643-45) as part of the broader struggle, nicknamed the Torstenson War after the leading Swedish marshal. Sweden had naval victories and extracted territorial and economic concessions from Denmark, marking the beginning of a rivalry which would continue long after the Thirty Years' War ended.
The cost of the war provoked internal revolt in Spain. Catalonia erupted into revolt in 1640, beginning a bitter struggle of regular and then irregular warfare which would not be fully suppressed for about two decades. Portugal, too, resented Spanish encroachment which it viewed as an effort to turn it into another Spanish province and break the power of the Portuguese nobility. This provoked a Portuguese revolution in 1640 which named John IV Braganza as king of Portugal. This revolution re-established a separate Portuguese crown, although Spain would not recognise it until 1668, after a long period of diplomatic standoffs interrupted by bouts of warfare.
By the mid-1640s, both sides were suffering from the long war, and negotiations opened between several of the powers. The Thirty Years' War ended not in a single treaty, but a series of treaties between the various powers. Concluded in 1648, these were collectively called the Peace of Westphalia, and marked not just the end of the Thirty Years' War, but the much longer Eighty Years' War between Spain and the Netherlands. Westphalia did not, however, resolve all the warfare; France and Spain continued their war until 1659.
The Peace of Westphalia broadly established the principle that princes could choose the established religion of their states, with certain exceptions, and did not allow a prince who changed religion after 1648 to change the established religion of their state. Calvinism was recognised as a religion, and a degree of toleration was established for Catholics, Lutherans and Calvinists who lived in a state which had a different established religion. Other faiths, most notably the Anabaptists, were still excluded.
Westphalia involved many territorial changes, including those which established Swedish territory within the Empire, recognised the independence of the Netherlands and Switzerland from the Empire, and which granted Bavaria control of the Upper Palatinate, and a recognised vote as Elector. Charles Louis, the second son of the now-dead Frederick V, was restored to the Lower Palatinate only, and had a new Electorship created for him.
Westphalia also established the concept of sovereignty for each member state over its lands and people. This concept of Westphalian sovereignty would later be seen as the foundation of the modern conception of a sovereign state [5]. In practice, Westphalia broke most of the power of the Holy Roman Empire as a supranational entity. While the Empire was not abolished, after Westphalia, many of the states within the Empire established de facto independence.
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In allohistory as it is about to become known, the course of the four-staged struggle would be wrenched into a new course.
The first stage of the war, the Bohemian revolt, passed largely unchanged. The first blow in that war was struck before Frederik de Houtman made the first landing in the Atjuntja lands in south-western Aururia. The key battles in that stage were fought when the gold, drugs and spices of Aururia were but distant and mostly unheeded rumours of a new spice island. The extra gold flowing into Dutch coffers buoyed their war effort with Spain after their truce expired in 1621, meaning that they needed fewer French subsidies. The Netherlands even provided some subsidies of their own to Denmark after Christian IV declared war, as he had done historically.
The early course of the Danish intervention, too, passed much as history knew it. Outmatched in the field by the Imperial forces commanded by Wallenstein and Tilly, the Danish forces were pushed out of the Empire. Jutland itself was invaded, though the Danish isles were protected by their fleet.
Lacking a fleet on the Baltic, Wallenstein made preparations to capture the port of Stralsund, which had the facilities to build a suitable fleet to invade insular Denmark. However, Wallenstein's plans for a siege of Stralsund were overwhelmed by a much larger event: the outbreak of a strange new epidemic which swept through Europe.
At the time, the inhabitants of the Holy Roman Empire knew it only as the Dutch curse, a horrible malady which saw its victims coughing up fluid, and often blood, and which later afflicted some of the initial survivors with a fevered delirium that spelled nigh-inevitable death to any who exhibited those symptoms. This disease appeared in Amsterdam in August 1627, causing a heavy death toll there, and spread across the Netherlands and into the Holy Roman Empire later that year. In 1628, particularly in the spring and early summer, the Dutch curse swept across Germany, bringing death on a scale not seen since the Black Death.
The new disease was no respecter of rank. Ferdinand II, the Holy Roman Emperor himself, was severely afflicted by the pink cough. It did not claim his life, but took his health: he had severe breathing difficulties from that time on. His last surviving brother, Leopold, died from the Dutch curse in April 1628. Count Tilly was even less fortunate; while he survived the pink cough in November 1627, he was one of the first to be claimed by delirium two months later, and after a futile struggle he breathed his last on 9 February 1628. Wallenstein was luckier, catching only a mild dose of the pink cough in March 1628. Still, the deaths amongst his troops and in broader Germany were severe enough that, for now, he suspended his plans to besiege Stralsund.
Protestant rulers were not spared from the epidemic either. John George I, the Protestant Elector of Saxony who had supported the Emperor during the Bohemian revolt, died of vomiting and 'blood in the urine' associated with the pink cough. Christian IV survived the Dutch curse with no major ill effects, but his children were less fortunate. His son Frederick [who would later have become King Frederick III], succumbed to delirium. The designated heir, Prince Christian, survived with severe scarring of his lungs that caused him breathing problems and vulnerability to infection, and which ultimately would shorten his life. Georg Wilhelm, Elector of Brandenburg and Duke of Prussia, was permanently invalided by breathing problems, and for governance he largely relied on his Catholic chancellor, Adam, Count of Schwarzenberg.
The disease casualties were heavy for both sides' armies, but for the moment this worked in Denmark's favour. With Tilly's death and the related chaos, the armies of the Catholic League were temporarily withdrawn. Danish forces liberated parts of Jutland, with Wallenstein forced to respond there and abandon his thoughts of Straslund. The result was a year of inconclusive manoeuvring in Jutland, with the two sides fighting several engagements but without a decisive victory. War exhaustion still told heavily on both sides, and by mid-1629 they sought peace terms.
The outcome, in April 1630, was an allohistorical Treaty of Lübeck. Denmark had its occupied possessions of Jutland and royal Holstein restored, and had their allies the Dukes of Mecklenburg likewise returned to their rule. This concession was significant because Wallenstein had confiscated estates in Mecklenburg; he was compensated by estates around Stettin in central Pomerania, which gave him the bonus of collecting tolls from river trade along the Oder. (There are benefits to being the chief negotiator.)
Denmark obtained a number of smaller concessions as part of the negotiations. The Duchy of Holstein was granted joint overlordship of Hamburg. Prince Ulric, Christian IV's younger son, collected the titles of Prince-Bishop of Verden and Bishop of Schwerin, and was named as the heir of the Lutheran Prince-Bishop of Bremen, when the incumbent died.
In exchange for these concessions, Christian IV agreed to withdraw all Danish forces from elsewhere in the Holy Roman Empire, and not to provide any further support to Protestants in Germany [7].
Ferdinand II had only been generous with Denmark because the Imperial forces needed an end to external intervention to subdue the Protestant forces in southern Germany. To some degree he was successful, since during the de facto ceasefire in mid-1629 the Imperial forces acted against Protestant rulers in the south, even while the negotiations continued. In May 1629, Ferdinand II issued an Edict of Restitution which was similar to its historical counterpart in seeking to restore Catholic control over former ecclesiastical lands that had been taken over by Protestants since the Peace of Augsburg. The reaction to this Edict was similarly polarising.
The Treaty of Lübeck itself, though, gave the Emperor only momentary respite. For while the negotiations in Lübeck were drawing to a conclusion, a secondary wave of the Dutch curse swept through Sweden and Danish-ruled Norway. Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden, caught the pink cough in May 1630, less than a month after the treaty was signed. He survived that cough with no major ill-effects, but by now the symptoms of the disease were notorious; Gustavus Adolphus knew that he faced a three-year wait to see whether he would be consumed by a fatal delirium.
Gustavus was of no mind to wait around for death. He had already been considering intervention in the Holy Roman Empire, in the name of the Protestant faith, and saw the Danish failure as a betrayal of the Protestant cause. Now, with Germany in chaos, glory beckoned, and he sought to secure his legacy. Swedish forces landed near Stettin in June 1630, with Gustavus Adolphus at their head and with conquest on his mind. He occupied Pomerania from a military standpoint, but did not yet lay formal claim to it, while using it as a base to push further into Germany.
As with Denmark before them, the Swedish cause was generously funded by French subsidies; the death of Richelieu did not mean the death of Realpolitik. Gustavus sought to bring Denmark back into the war, too, and offered the Baltic island of Rügen as an incentive. Christian IV declined the offer, though, on the grounds that he was too busy rebuilding his country. (Or, less charitably, too busy seeing which way the winds were blowing and looking for a legitimate causus belli.)
Despite their monarch's grand intentions, the Swedes spent the remainder of 1630 consolidating alliances and control in northern Germany, most notably securing the alliance of the duchies of Mecklenburg. Diplomacy played a part here, too; France had also subsidised Bavaria to maintain neutrality, and wanted Sweden to honour this pact. The most notable battle of the year was fought near Brunow, in Mecklenburg, in September 1630, where the Swedish forces defeated Wallenstein's personal army. Wallenstein remained politically suspect, but with the death of Tilly, the Emperor had no real alternative but to rely on Wallenstein to fight the Swedish.
In February 1631, in a deliberately timed announcement while winter still held, Brandenburg-Prussia confirmed its neutrality in "the matter of Sweden". Brandenburg's territories offered a useful route for Sweden to march further south, but neither the unwell Georg Wilhelm nor his Catholic chancellor trusted the Swedish monarch's intentions.
Brandenburg's neutrality blocked what was reportedly Gustavus Adolphus's earliest intention: to march south and persuade or pressure the young John George II, the new Elector of Saxony, to take up the Protestant cause rather than follow his father's previous support for the Empire.
Gustavus Adolphus chose, for the moment, to push into the Empire via a more westerly route, via Mecklenburg and Brunswick-Lüneburg, and thence toward Saxony. He knew that this would bring him into further conflict with Wallenstein and with the forces of the Catholic League, and hoped that another victory there would sway Brandenburg, Saxony and the lesser Protestant princes of northern Germany to his side.
In May 1631, the Swedish forces under Gustavus Adolphus again met Wallenstein's forces near Brunlem, northeast of Hidesheim. Wallenstein's forces had been bolstered by allies from the Catholic League, but this proved insufficient, and again the Swedes claimed the victory. The diplomatic consequences of this victory were immense; with Swedish military prowess confirmed, more of the Protestant princes in northern Germany began to pledge support, although Brandenburg and Electoral Saxony still reserved judgement. In turn, the victory alarmed Maximilian I of Bavaria, who had previously maintained neutrality due to French subsidies, but who now expressed support for the Catholic League.
These diplomatic manoeuvrings were soon overtaken by another devastating epidemic. In June 1631, the first word came of a strange, devastating form of influenza ravaging Ottoman lands. As the summer rolled on, this disease swept through Hungary and into the Holy Roman Empire, with the Habsburg lands of Austria and Bohemia the first victims.
This malady was recognisably a form of influenza, but with distinctive symptoms: a particularly intense fatigue immediately after onset, and the faces and lips of its victims turned blue. Europeans knew the disease as Turkish flu, and the Habsburgs in particular would have reason to fear it. For while Turkish flu was overall less deadly than the Dutch curse which preceded it, the new disease took a particularly heavy toll on young adults, including the men of military age. Armies were severely weakened on both sides as the Turkish flu swept through the Empire in 1631 and 1632.
The most prominent victims of Turkish flu were found among the Austrian Habsburgs themselves; the disease devastated their family. Contrary to what most people believed then and later, Ferdinand II, the Holy Roman Emperor, was not among those victims. On 6 September 1631, the Emperor died of pneumonia brought on by lung damage from the previous epidemic, the Dutch curse. His children, though, were of the most vulnerable age to the new epidemic, and the effects were devastating.
Ferdinand III had only succeeded his father for six weeks – and even then, not officially elected as Emperor – before he succumbed to the Turkish flu on 18 October 1631. His only brother, Archduke Leopold, did not even live that long, dying on 5 October. The only surviving children of Ferdinand II were two daughters, Cecilia Renata and Maria Anna, and Cecilia herself survived only a few more weeks, dying on 9 November.
The only surviving close male relative of the Austrian Habsburgs was a three-year old boy, Ferdinand Charles, Archduke of Further Austria, posthumous son of the elder Leopold who had died from the Dutch curse. This unfortunate child had never known his father, but on his young shoulders rested the legacy of the Austrian Habsburgs. As the poet Johannes Schmidt would later write in a much-quoted line: "Only one heir, young and slender, but a host of pretenders."
Chaos was the initial result on all sides, with all previous plans forgotten by the new circumstances of no clear Emperor, and what seemed like a divine blow to dispossess the Austrian Habsburgs.
The fastest monarch to move was Maximilian I of Bavaria. His first wife had already been ill, and died of the Turkish flu in October. While Maximilian mourned his wife, this did not stop him seeking the most politically promising replacement: Maria Anna, Archduchess of Austria. Maximilian hastened to Vienna, where he paid his respects to both dead Ferdinands, but took the opportunity to more or less force Maria Anna into marriage [8]. Based on this marriage and existing Bavarian claims, Maximilian began to make overtures about the possibility of acquiring Inner Austria, Bohemia, and the entirety of the Palatinate.
In Bohemia, the restive Protestant population began fresh calls for a Protestant monarch. In Denmark, Christian IV started to consider whether to abolish his peace deal with the Empire. In Brandenburg and Saxony, the respective Electors pondered what was usually a simple decision: who should be elected Emperor.
And, in his exile in The Hague, Frederick V, Elector Palatine, saw what seemed divine opportunity. He had already been more fortunate than he had been historically; the disruptions of the Dutch curse meant he never suffered the boating accident in 1629 that invalided him, and his heir Henry Frederick also survived. Acting on this apparent miracle, Frederick V not only reasserted his claims on his ancestral lands of the Palatinate, but proclaimed a much bolder bid: he sought to be named Holy Roman Emperor.
The election of a new Emperor required the votes of four out of the seven Electors: the three spiritual Electors, the Archbishops of Mainz, Trier, and Cologne, and the four lay Electors, the King of Bohemia, the Margrave of Brandenburg, the Count Palatine of the Rhine, and the Duke of Saxony.
This election, already contentious, was made even more controversial because of rival claimants to some of the electoral titles. Maximilian I asserted his vote as Elector Palatine, which had been awarded to him when Frederick V was outlawed, but this claim was not universally recognised. Frederick V himself still claimed this title, even in his exile.
Likewise, the Austrian Habsburgs claimed the title of King of Bohemia, and while the majority of the Empire had backed that claim, the people of Bohemia were themselves more supportive of Frederick V.
Naming an Emperor would prove problematic since not all of the claimants could even meet the Electors during their deliberations; Frederick V was, after all, still outlawed within the Empire. The election was managed, at first, by the various Electors publicly stating their preferences or, in some cases, by rather more publicly not stating any preference.
The three spiritual Electors were undecided whether to back Ferdinand Charles or another Catholic prince. The young Ferdinand Charles did not even speak on his own behalf, but his Habsburg relatives had named his Spanish cousin, Cardinal-Infante Ferdinand, as his regent. Insofar as the spiritual Electors took a position, the Archishops of Trier and Mainz broadly favoured the Habsburg claim; it was entirely coincidental, of course, that they were neighbours to the Spanish Habsburgs. The Archbishop of Cologne did not express any position publicly, but privately preferred to support whoever was named by his brother, Maximilian I of Bavaria.
Frederick V continued to assert that he had claims both as King of Bohemia and Elector Palatine, even though the Catholics did not recognise these claims. Of course, he faced another problem: one man could not claim two votes as an Elector. Frederick V devised a novel solution, abdicating as Count Palatine in favour of his son Henry Frederick. As well as the immediate benefit of a claim for two electoral votes, he knew that this meant that even if he lost his claim to Bohemia, his son would have a greater chance of retaining the Palatinate.
Ferdinand Charles – or, more precisely, Cardinal-Infante Ferdinand – claimed the electoral vote of Bohemia, but the Protestants did not recognise this claim. Indeed, John George II, the new Elector of Saxony, was far less cautious than his father, and more inclined to listen to his Protestant relations. He publicly proclaimed his support for Frederick V as Holy Roman Emperor.
Georg Wilhelm of Brandenburg vacillated, as he had done throughout much of his reign. He mistrusted the Swedes and Saxons both, but was caught between them, so voting for any Catholic candidate could have proved problematic. In the end, he reluctantly announced support for Frederick V, hoping that a Calvinist Emperor would in turn have influence to help him with the Seudo-Saxon vice now gripping his country.
In the midst of all the electoral manoeuvring, Maximilian I found himself in an odd position. He had refused to become a candidate for the Imperial throne over a decade before, but now ambition tempted once more. He had at least two electoral votes, if he chose to make a bid. However, the practice was that electoral votes could not be recast once made, and so he held off his own claims to the Imperial crown while he evaluated the situation.
Eventually, Maximilian decided that he could not secure the Imperial diadem, and opted for a compromise which suited his interests almost as well. At the time, Ferdinand Charles had already been named as heir to Further Austria and Tyrol, but had never been named as ruler of Inner Austria, since that title was held by Ferdinand III until his death.
Through his marriage to Maria Anna, Maximilian asserted his right to inherit Inner Austria [9], and for continued imperial recognition of his right to the Upper Palatinate, including the Electoral vote. In exchange, he yielded his family claim to Bohemia. That left Ferdinand Charles with Further Austria, Bohemia, Silesia, parts of Hungary and Croatia, and the Lower Palatinate. With that deal concluded, Maximilian I exercised his vote as Elector Palatine, and named Ferdinand Charles as Holy Roman Emperor, with Cardinal-Infante Ferdinand (formerly of Spain, now of Austria) as regent [10].
In March 1632, after Maximilian's proclamation, the spiritual Electors fell into line behind him, announcing their support for Ferdinand Charles as the Holy Roman Emperor.
That now meant there were five votes for Ferdinand Charles: three Archbishop-Electors, Maximilian as Elector Palatine, and Ferdinand Charles himself as King of Bohemia. However, Frederick V also claimed four votes: the Duke of Saxony, the Margrave of Brandenburg, Frederick V himself as King of Bohemia, and his son Henry Frederick as Elector Palatine.
Two men thus claimed the title of Holy Roman Emperor. With good reason, the third stage of the war would be known to allohistory as the War of the Habsburg Succession.
Under Gustavus Adolphus's aegis, most of the Protestant states in Germany formed the Protestant Union, a successor of sorts to the earlier Protestant Union which had been dissolved in 1621 at the order of Ferdinand II. The Union formally backed Frederick V as the Holy Roman Emperor. The notable exceptions were the Danish-aligned areas of north-western Germany, which remained neutral, and Brandenburg, which granted Sweden transit rights into Habsburg lands, but did not join the war.
Still in exile in the Netherlands, Frederick V did not have an army of his own, but soon found support. Under the guidance of chief minister De Chaulnes, France continued to provide aid to anyone who fought against the Habsburgs. The subsidies which had previously been provided to Bavaria were now redirected to Frederick V, and with those funds he raised a fresh army of his own.
The Catholic forces in the War of the Habsburg Succession fought in the name of the Holy Roman Emperor, but in practice there were two powers that mattered: the Spanish, fighting on behalf of their Austrian cousins and seeking to bring them more into their orbit; and the Catholic League, dominated by Bavaria, which fought against the Protestants with religious fervour, but which also quietly opposed having too strong an Emperor.
The military campaigning in 1632-3 had two main theatres. In eastern Germany, the Swedes and Saxons sought to occupy the Habsburgs possessions of Bohemia and Silesia. The conquest of Bohemia was in the name of Frederick V, although Saxony expected to gain some concessions there, while Sweden had designs on Silesia. Gustavus Adolphus also had plans for his legacy: while Frederick V might be named King of Bohemia, so far his heir had been designated as ruler of the Palatinate only. Gustavus wanted to have his daughter Kristina named as heir to Bohemia after Frederick V's death. In the west, Frederick V fought against the Spanish and sought to reconquer the Palatinate.
The Bohemian campaign saw what became the most notorious action of an already destructive war. The Protestant population of Bohemia were already resentful of Habsburg rule, and viewed the death of Ferdinand II and the subsequent chaos as an invitation to revolt. Unfortunately, their actions were premature. Wallenstein fought against the Protestants in Silesia, and while he could not force a decisive victory, he was capable enough to keep the Swedes and Saxons busy there while the Bohemian revolt was quelled.
The task of subduing Bohemia fell to the Catholic League, which essentially meant Bavaria. Since the death of Tilly, Count Johann von Aldringen had taken command of the League's armies. He hastened to Bohemia, and sought to subdue the Bohemians with fire and sword. Aldringen routed the Bohemian Protestant militias, and encircled Prague in a siege which lasted eight months, from April to November 1632.
The city finally fell after parts of the walls were mined, and the League's forces broke into the city. The attacking troops went berserk, massacring most of the inhabitants. Prague caught fire during the final assault, although reports differed as to whether it had been fired by the defenders to deny it to the enemy, or if the fires had been set by the attacking troops. In any event, before Aldringen regained control of his troops, most of the city had been ruined and its inhabitants killed.
No-one knew exactly how many people were killed in the sack of Prague. The city had around sixty thousand inhabitants before the war started, and many of them had died or fled the city during the first Bohemian revolt, but nonetheless, tens of thousands died from fire or the sword. After it was over, Prague had fewer than four thousand inhabitants left alive.
By all reports, Aldringen did not plan or authorise the massacre. Nevertheless, his name became associated with it, and for Protestants in Germany from that time on, the Sack of Prague, on 20 November 1633, became a day which would live in ignominy. From that time on, whenever Catholic forces tried to surrender or sought quarter, the common Protestant response was to offer "Prague justice" and execute them [11].
Silesia fell more or less entirely to the Swedes and Saxons by November 1633, too late to spare the people of Prague. The Suedo-Saxon forces could not move into Bohemia until the following spring. When they did, the war-ravaged population were sympathetic to the Protestants, but could offer little tangible support.
Wallenstein had gradually reformed his armies after the plagues and defeats, and had started to refine his tactics to counter the Swedish advantages. In addition, he was reinforced by Aldringen. Between them, these two generals held their own in two major battles against the Protestants; neither side could inflict a major defeat on the other.
In the circumstances, Wallenstein took it upon himself to try to mediate a peace between Sweden and the Empire. The content of these negotiations has been lost to history, but the rumour was that he disliked the Edict of Restitution, and that he sought to present the new Emperor with a peace treaty as a fait accompli.
Regardless of the reason, with the rumours that Wallenstein was negotiating with the enemy, he was deemed to be a traitor. The Cardinal Regent gave orders for his assassination, but Wallenstein was warned, and in early May responded by changing sides to the Protestant cause, taking his personal army with him.
The defection of Wallenstein and his forces should have been seen as a great boost to the Swedish cause. But it coincided with a rather more monumental event. Throughout the first week of May, Gustavus Adolphus had been suffering from headaches and a creeping fever. On 10 May, the same day that Wallenstein announced his defection, Gustavus suffered a seizure.
This seizure was not severe in itself, but confirmed a hideous truth. Gustavus Adolphus had held off the delirium for three years, an astonishing length of time, but this seizure meant that he had not been spared from the second stage of the Dutch curse after all. From here, death was inevitable, and sanity itself would slowly slip away.
The Swedish monarch took advantage of what moments of sanity remained. He issued his final orders, and dictated his last testament, which would be nicknamed "The Legacy of the Lion". In that testament he laid out his vision for Sweden, including how he foresaw a future where "on every shore of the Baltic flies the yellow cross on blue", and that the recently-founded outpost of Gustavsburg [Bangor, Maine] would become the capital of "a New Sweden over the waves". One of his final orders was that his daughter Kristina be named as heir-presumptive to the throne of Bohemia, and that she become engaged to her cousin Karl Gustav [12].
Gustavus Adolphus suffered repeated seizures for two more weeks, and on 27 May slipped into a coma from which he would never awake. He died on 3 June 1633. After his death the Swedish campaign in Bohemia and Bavaria lost focus. Wallenstein, while now fighting for the Protestants, also counselled that informal enquiries be made to see what peace terms the Catholics would consider.
In the western theatre during 1632-1633, the Spanish-led Catholics had more success. Frederick V had raised a new army, but could not establish a strong position within the Empire. He found support from Calvinist rulers such as William V, Landgrave of Hesse-Kessel, but he could not make much headway against the Spanish. Frederick V was only spared major defeat because the Spanish were also busy in their separate war with the Netherlands; the Dutch had invaded the Spanish Netherlands and besieged Antwerp.
The course of the war took another turn in 1634, thanks to another consequence of the plagues. The Duchy of Lorraine had a long history, but just before the plagues swept through, there were only three surviving male members of the House of Lorraine: the former Duke Francis II (who had abdicated in 1624 and would die in 1632), and his two sons, Nicolas and Charles. Nicolas had taken holy orders and was now a cardinal, while Charles had been ruling the duchy as Charles IV since 1624, although he had yet to father a male heir.
Both brothers caught the Dutch curse, but survived; Charles IV escaped the pink cough with no significant symptoms, while Nicolas Francis was reportedly "fatigued" ever since (later physicians would interpret this as mild scarring of the lungs). Four years later, when the Turkish flu swept through Lorraine on its way into France, Charles IV was among his victims, dying suddenly on 9 February 1632. Nicolas Francis caught the disease too, and became even more "fatigued", but he was now the only heir to the duchy apart from an elderly and ill Francis II.
Much diplomacy ensued, as France in particular had a keen interest in who would rule Lorraine, and Spain did not want a hostile ruler to threaten their Spanish Road. Of course, there was only one possible heir. Nicolas, a man of devout faith, did not want to resign as cardinal, but did not see that he had any choice. He relinquished his religious offices, married his cousin Claude Françoise [as he did historically in 1634] and became Duke Nicholas II of Lorraine.
Sadly, the legacy of two respiratory illness had taken their toll on Nicholas's health, and left him vulnerable to further diseases. In early 1634, he caught an unexpected chill and died of pneumonia on 30 January. The Duchy of Lorraine was now heirless.
Three claims emerged on the vacant Duchy of Lorraine. Gaston, Duke of Orléans, had married Marguerite of Lorraine (Charles and Nicolas's sister) in 1631 [13], and through this marriage, he asserted a claim to Lorraine.
Two more distant claimants appeared, although their claims were mired in another unresolved succession dispute within the Empire. Francis II's sister Antoinette had married John William, Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Berg, although that marriage had produced no children. After John William's death, the succession of the Duchy was contested through John William's surviving sisters. Those claims had passed to the Catholic Wolfgang William, Count Palatine of Neuburg, and the Calvinist Georg Wilhelm I, Elector of Brandenburg-Prussia. Both of them asserted their claims on the entirety of Jülich-Cleves-Berg, and through the same descent, they both laid claim to Lorraine.
The Orleanist claim was notionally the strongest, but few within the Empire were willing to let the claim go to a potential heir to the French throne. Within France, both King Louis III and De Chaulnes were broadly satisfied with the course of the war (ie the Habsburgs getting curtailed). They were not prepared to invade directly in support of Orleans' claim, since it risked giving Spain a reason to become even more involved in the war.
Cardinal-Regent Ferdinand was eventually called to arbitrate the disputed succession. After some consideration, he deemed that Georg Wilhelm's claim was the strongest, and awarded the House of Hohenzollern the Duchy of Lorraine.
Near-simultaneously, and entirely coincidentally, Georg Wilhelm declared that he had considered his position on the matter of the imperial election, and had decided to vote for Ferdinand Charles. That led Ferdinand Charles to proclaim that he was now uncontested Holy Roman Emperor, since he had enough votes to assume the imperial dignity, regardless of how the claims to Bohemia and the Palatinate were viewed.
Protests followed from Sweden, Saxony and even from Christian IV of Denmark, who argued that electoral votes could not be changed once cast. The three spiritual Catholic Electors, though, said (with remarkably straight faces) that the Elector of Brandenburg was simply clarifying what would otherwise be an impossible election. From this point on, Ferdinand Charles was broadly if grudgingly recognised as Emperor, and Frederick V's position was near-fatally weakened.
All the same, retaliation followed. Christian IV had already been considering re-entering the war. Partly out of frustration at the failure of Frederick V to become Emperor, partly because Sweden re-offered the island of Rügen as an incentive, partly wanting to have a voice in any broader peace negotiations, and mostly to secure the claims which had been granted to Prince Ulric, Christian IV declared war on the Emperor once more. His public justification was that the peace he had concluded had been one made personally with Wallenstein, but now that he had changed sides, the peace was void.
Sweden and Saxony, in turn, declared war on Georg Wilhelm. Their plans for an invasion of Bavaria were abandoned as they adopted defensive positions in Bohemia and turned on the House of Hohenzollern. Brandenburg was invaded and overrun in 1634, although Prussia itself was left alone to avoid any risk of Polish intervention.
With Wallenstein's defection and Denmark's re-entry into the war, the burden of defending Catholicism and the Emperor fell largely to Spain. The Spanish found themselves fighting on three fronts: against the Dutch in the Spanish Netherlands and nearby regions, against the combined forces of Denmark and Frederick V who pushed into south-western Germany and threatened Cologne and Munster, and in the east where they fought with the Catholic League against the Swedes and Saxons in Bohemia, and at times in Austria and Bavaria.
The weight of numbers told against the Spanish, though some of their generals were still capable of remarkable victories. Most notably, Gómez Suárez de Figueroa, Duke of Feria, took command of the Imperial forces in Bohemia and Bavaria. He routed the Swedish forces in the Battle of Deggendorf in August 1635; the first decisive defeat of the seemingly-invincible Swedes. The action in that theatre returned to Bohemia, as the already-ravaged province suffered even more predation from the war [14].
Despite a few victories, Spain paid an immense cost to support the war. The population at home had already been severely reduced by the plagues, particularly the disproportionate loss of young adults from the Turkish flu. Military recruitment drew more young men into the army to fill those gaps, leading to less productive farms and towns. That, together with the spiralling war costs, led to repeated increases in taxation, to the point where many of the people found themselves unable to pay.
The result, in March and April 1636, was near-simultaneous revolts in Catalonia and Portugal. The former was an unplanned uprising which led to the formation of an irregular militia to fight against Spanish rule – or at least against Spanish taxation. The latter was a meticulously-planned coup organised by discontented Portuguese nobility who believed that the increases in taxation were planned to bankrupt them and hand their lands over to Spanish aristocrats. The Portuguese nobles, with popular support, named John, Duke of Braganza, as the new monarch.
Faced with these internal troubles and an ever more difficult military situation, Philip IV of Spain sought peace negotiations. For their part, most of the Protestant nations in Germany were exhausted by nearly two decades of war. Denmark had re-entered the war with the aim mainly of securing its earlier gains, plus some minor further concessions, and was willing to negotiate any peace which secured those goals. Without the driving leadership of Gustavus Adolphus, and facing some military reversals, Sweden was also prepared to discuss peace terms. The only parties who preferred to continue the war were the Emperor Ferdinand Charles, who was too young to be taken seriously, and the anti-Emperor Frederick V, who had no capacity to keep fighting if his allies deserted him.
Peace negotiations opened in Nuremberg in September 1636. Separate negotiations between the Dutch and the Spanish began a month later in Hamburg. These negotiations dragged on for nearly two years, and the fighting continued in the interim, as both sides sought to use military gains to their diplomatic advantage. Denmark, in particular, pushed south into Munster and Cologne during 1638, although it found little gain from doing so, since both the Netherlands and the other Protestant German powers were rather unwelcoming of any further Danish gains within Germany.
Peace finally came in August 1638, in two separate treaties. The Peace of Nuremberg was signed between the Holy Roman Emperor, Spain, Bavaria and allies, and Sweden, Denmark, and allies, and ended what would become known as the Twenty Years' War. The separate Peace of Hamburg between the Dutch and Spanish saw final recognition of the Netherlands as an independent nation outside of the Holy Roman Empire, and ended what would be known as the Seventy Years War.
*
Between them, the two peace treaties signed in 1638 remade the Holy Roman Empire. The accord at Hamburg recognised formally what had been truth for some time; that the Netherlands were not and would never again want to be part of the Empire. The pact at Nuremberg contained a great many provisions both of territorial changes and of other guarantees, but the most important part was not written into the treaty: the greater princes of the Empire had become rulers of de facto independent states.
The Peace of Hamburg settled the differences between Spain and the Netherlands, both within Europe and across their sprawling colonial empires. In Europe, the Dutch gained what they most craved: formal recognition of their independence from Spain. The Peace also recognised their various territorial acquisitions during the later stages of the war, ie the seizing of Antwerp and its environs, and the separate conquests of Upper Guelders and eastern Limburg. Likewise, the Dutch ceded all claims to the remainder of the Spanish Netherlands [15].
Outside of Europe, the Peace recognised the current colonial borders between Spain and the Netherlands, although it remained distinctly silent about the status of Portugal. Most notably, Spain recognised the Dutch acquisitions in northern Brazil, and "all existing Dutch territory in the East Indies", a term which in the understanding of the times included the existing Dutch claims in Aururia (mostly the Atjuntja).
The Peace of Nuremberg followed the same broad principles as the historical Peace of Westphalia in terms of recognising the established religion of particular states, tolerance of Catholics, Lutherans and Calvinists in each other's territories (the Anabaptists and other radical faiths were still excluded), and acceptance of the sovereignty of each member state over its lands and people. Likewise, it recognised the independence of Switzerland and the Netherlands from the Empire.
Much else changed, though.
Perhaps the most dramatic transformation was that involving the Hohenzollerns [ie the former royal family of Brandenburg-Prussia]. That family's former territories of Brandenburg-Prussia were lost entirely, being divided up between other powers. Instead, the Hohenzollerns were recognised in their control of Lorraine. With the Emperor backing their claims, the Hohenzollerns also gained control of the entirety of Cleve-Mark and Jülich-Berg [16].
In one of the many odd bits of diplomacy which characterised the Peace of Nuremberg, the Hohenzollerns were also made the Prince-Bishops of Würzburg. This bishopric bordered Bavarian lands, and had been occupied by the Protestant powers late in the war. During the peace negotiations, the Hohenzollerns repeatedly sought to regain their lands in Brandenburg, but were unable to do so. They were awarded Würzburg as a compromise. This was given a veneer of legitimacy because the House of Hohenzollern, several centuries earlier, had started as Burgraves of neighbouring Nuremberg. As a practical matter, awarding Würzburg to the Hohenzollerns meant that with their relatives ruling neighbouring territories in Bayreuth and Ansbach, there was now a united front to block potential Bavarian expansion in this area.
As a result of the Twenty Years' War, the Hohenzollerns were thus transformed from a growing power in north-eastern Germany to a regional power in south-western Germany. The Electoral dignity continued with their house [17], and they were henceforth known as Electors of Lorraine rather than Electors of Brandenburg. As soon as the treaty was signed, the invalided Georg Wilhelm abdicated his throne, leaving his eighteen-year-old son Friedrich Wilhelm [who would historically have been called the Great Elector] as the new Elector of Lorraine, with his Catholic Chancellor Schwarzenberg as de facto regent for the first few years [18].
In all of their territories, the Calvinist faith became the established religion. While Friedrich Wilhelm would in fact turn out to practice religious toleration, in the first couple of years, many Catholics in Lorraine and Jülich-Berg fled Hohenzollern territories for some of their Catholic neighbours.
Bavaria emerged from the Peace of Nuremberg as one of the major powers within the Holy Roman Empire. In the treaty, Bavaria gained formal recognition of the territories it had previously acquired in Inner Austria and the Upper Palatinate. It also gained confirmation of the Electoral dignity which had previously belonged to the Palatinate, although as happened historically, Maximilian would usually be called the Elector of Bavaria rather than Elector Palatine.
The Austrian Habsburgs, while still confirmed as Holy Roman Emperors, found themselves holding more scattered possessions. They maintained their rule of Austria proper, Further Austria, Tyrol, and their Hungarian and Croatian possessions outside the Empire. The Habsburgs also took control of the Lower Palatinate. Bavaria was confirmed as ruler of Inner Austria, and Silesia was ceded to Sweden.
The Habsburgs also held onto most of Bohemia, with a couple of exceptions, through another political compromise. The arrangement reached (at Swedish and Saxon insistence) was that Frederick V would be King of Bohemia until the Peace of Nuremberg was ratified by the Emperor, but that after that he would cede control to the Habsburgs. As part of that arrangement, Frederick V recognised the religion of Bohemia as Lutheran. In keeping with the broader principles of the Nuremberg treaty, the established religions of Imperial states were those which were recognised by monarchs at the time of ratification. Any later conquests or acquisitions by princes of a different faith, or conversion of particular princes, did not change the established religion of that territory. So, under this arrangement, Bohemia had a Catholic monarch ruling a Protestant territory, and who could be required to persecute Catholics in that territory who broke the restrictions on public worship [19].
A few territories in Bohemia were separated entirely from Habsburg rule. Two members of the House of Lichtenstein were kept as rulers of the Duchy of Teschen (under Gundakar) and the Duchy of Troppau & Jägerndorf (under Karl II Eusebius); two small, officially Catholic islands in a Protestant sea. Wallenstein, that most morally supple and politically flexible general, was confirmed in his control of the core of his confiscated Bohemian estates, as the independent Duchy of Friedland.
Denmark did not make many direct territorial gains from the Peace of Nuremberg itself beyond what had previously been recognised at the Treaty of Lübeck. However, these gains became more important because when the Treaty of Lübeck was signed in 1630, Prince Ulric (a younger son of the King of Denmark), was named Prince-Bishop of Verden, Bishop of Schwerin, and the designated heir of the Lutheran Prince-Archbishop of Bremen. Since that time, John Frederick, Prince-Archbishop of Bremen died in September 1634, and Denmark's Chosen Prince [ie designated heir] Frederick died in February 1637, leaving Ulric as ruler of Verden, Schwerin and Bremen, and heir to the Danish crown. This made his inheritance more contentious, to say the least, but Denmark successfully had Ulric's claims recognised at Nuremberg.
As part of the peace treaty, Denmark also successfully argued for a "clarification" of the Treaty of Lübeck that the claim on Bremen included the city of Bremen, not just the surrounding Archbishopric. It also obtained recognition of the island of Rügen as its territory [20]. Christian IV established Rügen as a personal possession of the Danish crown, because of his ancestral claim to be King of Vends. As a practical matter, that meant that Rügen was withdrawn from the Empire and placed under personal control of the Danish monarch; neither the Holy Roman Empire (via the Reichstag), the Emperor, or the Rigsraadet (the Danish Council of the Realm) had any say on the governance of Rügen.
Of all the powers, Sweden gained the most from the Twenty Years' War and the Peace of Nuremberg. Sweden took control of all of Pomerania, except for Rügen and for the minor realm of the Bishopric of Cammin, held by Ernst Bogislaw von Croÿ, the grandson of the last independent Duke of Pomerania. With the partition of Brandenburg, Sweden gained eastern Mittelmark and Neumark (with the rest going to Saxony). Most valuable of all, in territorial terms, was Silesia, which Sweden detached from the Bohemian crown and claimed as its own territory. In exchange, Sweden recognised Habsburg rule of Bohemia proper (after Frederick V handed it over to them), and abandoned Kristina's claim as Queen of Bohemia. In turn, Sweden was recognised as the defender of the Protestant faith in Germany. As part of the conquest of these new territories, Sweden more or less broke all of the local noble estates in these acquisition; the Swedish monarchs had absolute power in their new territories [21].
The Electorate of Saxony was another power which gained considerably from the war. As well as western Brandenburg (Altmark and western Mittelmark), Saxony gained Lusatia, Magdeburg, and Mansfeld. These new acquisitions gave Saxony some regions with rich soils and considerable potential agricultural wealth. As with Sweden, Saxony broke the power of the local estates in its new acquisitions, which were largely ruled directly by the monarchy.
As a result of the war, Saxony also gained control of most of the Elbe between Denmark-Holstein and Bohemia. The exception was the Duchy of Saxe-Lauenburg, backed by the restored Dukes of Mecklenburg, who did not want to be the only state standing between Denmark and Sweden.
With Brandenburg proper swallowed by Sweden and Saxony, the Hohenzollern territories of Prussia were given to Courland, since any Swedish claims would have risked Polish intervention.
As for Frederick V himself, former Elector Palatine, one-time contender for the Imperial Crown, while he lived longer allohistorically, he did not end up much happier. The Imperial Ban on him remained even when almost everyone else was pardoned, his title as Count of the (Lower) Palatinate was still lost, and he lived out a longer but still mostly unhappy exile in the Netherlands.
His eldest son, Frederick Henry, was more fortunate. The Protestant princes were rather concerned about the prospect of having a son losing his titles for the actions of his father. No number of remonstrations could persuade the Habsburgs to grant the Lower Palatinate to Frederick Henry, for the Habsburgs themselves were feeling like they had lost too much territory. As a compromise, a new Duchy of Münster was created and granted to Frederick Henry. Unlike what happened historically, though, this did not lead to Frederick Henry being granted a new Electoral dignity. Frederick V was still alive and held in too much contempt to be given such a new honour; the number of Electors remained, for the moment, only seven.
The Habsburg acquisition of the Lower Palatinate also meant that this territory was recognised as Catholic rather than Calvinist. This would lead, in time, to large-scale emigration of Calvinists, particularly to now-Calvinist Lorraine, and also to Münster.
All in all, the Peace of Nuremberg reshaped the map of the Holy Roman Empire, nearly broke the power of the Austrian Habsburgs, and created some new or increased powers whose appetite for expansion had only been whetted by this war, no matter what its length.
--
"I did not expect to find the kingdom of Bohemia so lean, wasted and spoiled, for between Prague and Vienna everything has been razed to the ground and hardly a living soul can be seen on the land."
- Swedish Field Marshal Johan Banér to Chancellor Axel Oxenstierna, 1635
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"The road to absolutism began with the Twenty Years' War."
- Lars Løvschøld, "The Development of Early Modern Europe"
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[1] Defenestration is one of those words which sounds even worse than it is.
[2] ie according to a certain online encyclopaedia.
[3] This consideration involving the Emperor recognising Saxon control of the region of Lusatia.
[4] The Palatinate held strategic significance out of all proportion to its size, because it was the only non-friendly territory on the land route which the Spanish used to attack the Dutch Republic after 1621 (the Spanish Road).
[5] Although as with just about any concept in politics or history, there are innumerable arguments on this topic, such as whether it was Westphalia which established the principle of sovereignty, or even if there is such a thing as Westphalian sovereignty.
[6] John George's actual cause of death was kidney failure caused by side-effects of the pink cough, although the medical science at the time had no way of determining that.
[7] The terms of the allohistorical Treaty of Lübeck are more generous to Denmark than their historical counterpart (where Denmark essentially got its occupied lands back in exchange for withdrawing from the HRE). Allohistorically, the Imperial forces are more hard-pressed due to Tilly's death and reliance on the less than trustworthy Wallenstein as their main general. Ferdinand II was rather more concerned with the cessation of Danish support for other Protestant rulers, so that he could focus his efforts on quelling them. The additional concessions which Denmark obtained were at the expense of other Protestant rulers, so Ferdinand II decided he could tolerate that, although it did leave Denmark with a stronger position in northern Germany.
[8] Or, at the very least, Maria Anna may have seen Maximilian I as the least unpalatable of the alternatives.
[9] ie Styria, Carinthia, Carniola and the Windic March, Gorizia, the city of Trieste and assorted smaller possessions.
[10] Bavaria had not actually been a particularly powerful nation with the Empire before this time, but several factors granted Maximilan I his decisive influence. Firstly, his quick action to marry Maria Anna gave him a useful claim on large chunks of the Habsburg heritage, in an era where existing holdings were often divided. Secondly, his French alliance gave him a useful chunk of cash, which he used both to raise troops and for some notable bribes. Thirdly, while not everyone recognised the Bavarian claims to an electorate, the Habsburgs already had, which made it more important for them to keep Bavaria onside.
[11] A similar term arose after the historical sack of Magdeburg on 20 May 1631. Allohistorically, Magdeburg was spared a similar sack, since the Protestants and Catholics largely fought in other theatres.
[12] Karl Gustav would historically become King Karl X Gustav of Sweden in 1654, after Kristina's abdication.
[13] Historically, Gaston and Marguerite met in Lorraine when Gaston fled there after taking refuge from Cardinal Richelieu's wrath, and were married a year later than happened allohistorically (ie in 1632). In allohistory, Gaston became friendly with De Chaulnes, the post-Richelieu chief minister, met Marguerite earlier while visiting Lorraine, and had no problem gaining royal recognition for his marriage.
[14] The consequences of the war and the plagues lead to more extensive depopulation of Bohemia, since more of the fighting is conducted there. After the war, this will lead to more German emigration into the emptier land; in the long run, more of the population will be Germanophone.
[15] With the seizure of Antwerp the Dutch could, in fact, have acquired rather more of the Spanish Netherlands; they had captured the main port which allowed the Spanish access to that region. The Dutch did not push further for a combination of foreign policy and domestic political reasons. The Dutch preferred to have a weakened Spain there as a buffer against gaining a land border with the French. The Dutch were also opposed to too much expansion because of domestic concerns; it would require greater military expenditure, and so risked increasing the power of the Stadtholder.
[16] The Jülich-Berg and Cleve-Mark split was related to the previously mentioned dispute over the Lorraine succession. As had happened historically, the former United Duchies of Jülich-Cleves-Berg were disputed between the Catholic Count Palatine of Neuburg and the Hohenzollerns. This was eventually resolved historically by dividing it into the Catholic territories of Jülich-Berg (to Neuburg) and the Protestant territories of Cleve-Mark (to the Hohenzollerns). Allohistorically, with the Emperor supporting the Hohenzollerns and opposing anyone related to the anti-Emperor Frederick V of the Palatinate, the entirety of this region was given to the Hohenzollerns. The various Protestant powers, of course, hardly cared that territory was being taken from a minor Catholic prince to be handed to a Calvinist one.
[17] The Hohenzollerns kept their Electoral vote because a Protestant Elector was needed for religious balance within the Empire. No-one (apart from the Swedes themselves) wanted to have a Swedish claimant as Elector, so any claims which the Swedes might have made from annexing parts of Brandenburg were disregarded. Saxony, likewise, already had an Electoral vote and could thus not acquire any claims from taking the rest of Brandenburg. Raising another Protestant state to an Electorship was not in keeping with tradition, and in any case the main Protestant contender would have been Holstein (ie the King of Denmark as Duke of Holstein), which was no better than Sweden. So the Hohenzollerns kept the title and the vote, although as happened historically with Bavaria, they were soon usually called the Electors of Lorraine.
[18] From a historical point of view, the Hohenzollerns have done poorly here. From Lorraine, they are not in the same position to unify Germany as they would have done historically. From an immediate point of view, though, they have acquired some respectably wealthy territories and are if anything better off financially than they were before the war (although without gains such as Pomerania which they would have had historically).
[19] While this may sound odd to modern readers, a similar arrangement happened historically in Saxony, which was recognised as Protestant territory, but its monarchs converted to Catholicism. This led to Catholic monarchs persecuting Catholics in Saxony.
[20] Gaining Rügen and the city of Bremen was minor in territorial terms, but actually represented a huge financial windfall for the Danish monarchy, since it allowed them to tax North German trade. Combined with their other taxation opportunities (it's not piracy if a government does it) from the Treaty of Lübeck, such as Hamburg, the Danish crown will find itself swimming in money over the next few decades.
[21] The new Swedish acquisitions have roughly doubled the country's population. In the short term this strengthens them against their main rival, Poland. In the longer term, this means that Sweden has entered the big league of powers, and conversely it is also seen as much more threatening by its neighbours.
--
Thoughts?
Maps: Holy Roman Empire
Let there also be a map of the Holy Roman Empire as it was changed at the end of the war. This map is designed courtesy of Kaiphranos and Valdemar I of AH.com. This map is also extremely large, so I've contained it in spoiler tags for those with slow-loading connections.
Baron Steakpuncher
Hopeful Idealist
- Location
- Australia
So is it possible to have a summary of the prescise changes and how they differ from OTL ( I get the general gist, the protestants did somewhat better and the French somewhat worse, Czechs got screwed over ) I'm just prone to missing small bites of key info and i'd like to stay informed.
Oh and nice chapter BTW.
Oh and nice chapter BTW.
Oh wow, the sheer level of research, historical context, political insights both from real and imagined history in this piece were truly staggering, even a touch overwhelming XD But suffice to say, the impact of the disease, the ever shifting flow of politics not being built around alt-Australia but still being influenced by it as people adapted and adjusted to the ripple effects in their own kingdoms, empire and the like was truly enthralling. What's more I loved the details given to stuff such as rebellions which was really neat, kudos!
- Location
- Great Khanate of Scotland
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Luckily I'm familiar with the Thirty Year's War from reading the Ring of Fire series
Sure. I've included a summary of the main changes. Some minor bits may have been omitted, but then it's hard to give a full list when there were hundreds of small polities within the HRE.
- The Dutch have seized some additional territory compared to the same point in OTL, most notably Antwerp, and also chunks of Limburg and Upper Guelders
- France has been spared considerable bloodshed due to less war involvement, but is slightly smaller than in OTL, due to not capturing what in OTL is French Catalonia and a few territories near Lorraine
- The Hohenzollerns, rulers of OTL Prussia-Brandenburg, have been uprooted entirely from Brandenberg-Prussia. Their former territories have been partitioned, mostly between Sweden, Saxony and Courland. They have gained Lorraine, Julich-Berg and some other territory in OTL Southwest Germany, which together with territories controlled by cadet branches, forms a small bloc of territory which helps to block potential Bavarian expansion
- Bavaria did considerably better than in OTL, keeping the Upper Palatinate which they got in OTL, and the Electoral dignity, and also Inner Austria (Styria, Carinthia and Carniola) and a seaport at Trieste. Their new territories are however not contiguous with Bavaria proper; there is an ecclesiastical state in the way.
- The Habsburgs remain Holy Roman Emperors, but have suffered a variety of territorial losses. Bavaria has taken Inner Austria, Sweden has taken Silesia, and a couple of small chunks have been taken out of Bohemia for various reasons. The only major Habsburg gain was the Lower Palatinate. They still have their Hungarian and Croatian possessions outside of the HRE, and various other chunks of territory such as (most of) modern Belgium.
- Sweden has gained most of Pomerania, Silesia, and the eastern part of Brandenburg. Sweden is also recognised as the defender of Protestantism in the HRE.
- Denmark has gained Rugen, Verden, Schwerin, Bremen (the territory, not the city) and joint overlordship of Hamburg
- Portugal has successfully broken away from Spain, a little later than in OTL, while Catalonia is still up in the air
- Electoral Saxony gained significant territory: the western half of Brandenburg, plus Magdeburg, Lusatia, Mansfeld, and a few smaller chunks of territory formerly held by cadet branches
- Bohemia did a bit worse in terms of war devastation, had a couple of small territories carved out, but was recognised as Protestant territory despite being under the Habsburgs (it's complicated)
- A new Duchy of Munster (but no Electoral dignity) was created for the former ruling house of the Palatinate
- Courland got Prussia as a remaining nominal vassal of Poland
In addition, the Holy Roman Empire is in general slightly more consolidated than in OTL because the plagues have wiped out some of the minor branches/ entities, leading to more of them being integrated into larger entities. Though certainly not all of the small polities have gone.
Yes, Saxony is one of the powers which have done generally better than in OTL. The other main ones which have likewise benefitted are Bavaria, Sweden, Denmark and the Netherlands.
Glad you liked it. That was a complex tale to write, and it's not necessarily easy to follow everything, but I think it mostly hangs together.
Ironically enough most of the main players from the Ring of Fire series got killed by the Aururian plagues. That was not entirely coincidental.Luckily I'm familiar with the Thirty Year's War from reading the Ring of Fire series
Lands of Red and Gold #55: The Lord’s Prayer
Lands of Red and Gold #55: The Lord's Prayer
"Knowing yourself is wisdom;
Knowing others is insight;
Knowing how to act is essential."
- Congxie saying
--
Dawson (formerly Unega) [Montgomery, Alabama]
Alleghania
Sometimes, Myumitsi Makan feels that he has lived an eternity in this town that the unegas [1] call Dawson. Other times, he feels as if only yesterday he came to this town to make a new name and find men who could not remember his old name.
Tonight, he most definitely feels the former. In his head, he knows that it has been only three years since he first came to Dawson. Now, though, he looks upon the mass of Congxie who have come at his urging, and he thinks that it should have been much longer. Dawson has simply grown so fast. This place of mills [factories] and workshops, this place for the reshaping of cotton, iron, and timber, is a lodestone for the dispossessed, the adventuresome, and, amongst unegas, the avaricious.
The flickering whale oil lamps are not particularly bright, but they suffice to show him how many people have crowded into this place. A large Christian church, built most foolishly by optimistic unega plutocrats who believed that the Congxie would abandon the Seven-fold Path and become slaves to a hanged god.
Most days, even their Sundays, this church stands empty of Congxie. Tonight, though, it is filled to the rafters. Literally; the smaller child labourers have been passed up to where they can sit on the cross-beams.
Voices fill the church; the Congxie are not a quiet people at the best of times. Makan makes his way slowly to the pulpit to address the workers. For what will be a sermon, in fact, if not one which the Christian priests would endorse.
"Silence for Mr Jenkins!" several people call out, and by degrees, quiet falls. As quiet as a gathering of Congxie ever gets, that is.
"Tell us, Mr Jenkins!" someone calls out.
Makan smiles. Mister Jenkins. An essential honorific, that. Unegas would call him by his assumed surname alone, if they had their way, and the tale is that many of them used to try with other Congxie, in the first days. Newcomers to Dawson still try, often-times. They soon learn.
If Congxie are going to be called by a surname chosen in English, of all languages, then they will be shown respect. If an unega refers to him by surname alone, Makan hears only the wind. Most Congxie in Dawson act in like manner. It is this accomplishment, more than anything else, which has persuaded him to organise the morrow's bold endeavour.
"My friends, this is the night for planning, and tomorrow is the day for decisiveness!"
"Say it, mister!" a woman shouts, to general acclaim.
Makan gives the woman a nod – Cordiality, he thinks her name is – and continues speaking. "Together we must stand," he says, to another round of acclamation.
"Together, we must strike a great blow," he says. "Our actions are born of new circumstances, in this new town the unegas have built." On land they had forcibly stolen from the Congxie, but that is something which Makan does not let himself dwell on.
"Remember: the unegas speak of this land as a new world. In truth, it never was new. Our forefathers dwelt here since time immemorial." Relative silence falls, now. Is that because they are considering, or just that they are bored? He does not know, but this message still needs to be heard.
"The true new world comes from knowledge, not from exploration. This modern age is a time of machines, of learning how metal and timber can be crafted by the fires of the earth. This is the age of machines... and we labour in the mills for the bosses who own those machines."
"We slave, you mean!" someone calls out.
"Oft-times, yes," Makan says. "But hear me, my friends: there is more to this new age than just a few bosses who care naught for the difference between a slave and a Congxie."
This time, he thinks that the silence is thoughtful. All to the good.
"This is a new world. A world with new ways of working. With new rules. There is no yindewarra [2]. No proper tradition." He pauses again to let that be considered, then adds, "Even when the bosses are good men, they have no yindewarra to guide them how to act. Not in this new world, where the rules have changed."
The crowd starts to descend into angry mutters. Makan says, "We must teach them new rules, proper rules. And we must do it together. If we stand alone, each of us will be nothing. Alone, all the power is with the owners. With the bosses. Only by acting together can we balance their power. We must stand in..." he pauses, then chooses an English word, since it seems to fit better. "We must stand in solidarity."
"Solidarity!" The crowd repeat the word over and over, until it becomes a chant.
When the noise subsides again, someone asks, "Can we really do this, Mr Jenkins?" The crowd believes it, of course, or they would not be here. All the same, they want reassurance.
Makan smiles broadly, even though he is not sure how many can make it out. Not for the first time, he is glad that he is known by an assumed surname. The surname Makan is not an auspicious one, these days.
"Remember our forefathers. Remember how the Congxie were born. They rejected the new rules which the unegas sought to impose on them, even then. They rose as one. They acted as one. And they triumphed!"
This time, cheers ring out. Once the crowd quietens again, he says, "Spread the word. Let everyone know. The mills will fall silent tomorrow. No Congxie will work at their mills, by their rules. We will not work tomorrow, and we will not work again until they listen to us."
--
[1] "Unega" is literally translated as "white"; the word is of Cherokee origin. In the Congxie language, it has become one of their words for people of European descent. The word is not particularly respectful, although in Makan's era it is not an explicit insult. (It would later become derogatory.)
[2] Yindewarra is a Congxie word which is roughly translated as "tradition", but with stronger connotations: it refers to the proper, established way of doing things. In accordance with Plirite morality, people are expected to act with propriety, in accordance with their station and with established conducts of behaviour. Behaving without yindewarra is seen as breaking the Second Path. In an established Plirite society, it is a good way to get condemned, ostracised or, if a ruler, deposed.
--
Thoughts?
"Knowing yourself is wisdom;
Knowing others is insight;
Knowing how to act is essential."
- Congxie saying
--
Dawson (formerly Unega) [Montgomery, Alabama]
Alleghania
Sometimes, Myumitsi Makan feels that he has lived an eternity in this town that the unegas [1] call Dawson. Other times, he feels as if only yesterday he came to this town to make a new name and find men who could not remember his old name.
Tonight, he most definitely feels the former. In his head, he knows that it has been only three years since he first came to Dawson. Now, though, he looks upon the mass of Congxie who have come at his urging, and he thinks that it should have been much longer. Dawson has simply grown so fast. This place of mills [factories] and workshops, this place for the reshaping of cotton, iron, and timber, is a lodestone for the dispossessed, the adventuresome, and, amongst unegas, the avaricious.
The flickering whale oil lamps are not particularly bright, but they suffice to show him how many people have crowded into this place. A large Christian church, built most foolishly by optimistic unega plutocrats who believed that the Congxie would abandon the Seven-fold Path and become slaves to a hanged god.
Most days, even their Sundays, this church stands empty of Congxie. Tonight, though, it is filled to the rafters. Literally; the smaller child labourers have been passed up to where they can sit on the cross-beams.
Voices fill the church; the Congxie are not a quiet people at the best of times. Makan makes his way slowly to the pulpit to address the workers. For what will be a sermon, in fact, if not one which the Christian priests would endorse.
"Silence for Mr Jenkins!" several people call out, and by degrees, quiet falls. As quiet as a gathering of Congxie ever gets, that is.
"Tell us, Mr Jenkins!" someone calls out.
Makan smiles. Mister Jenkins. An essential honorific, that. Unegas would call him by his assumed surname alone, if they had their way, and the tale is that many of them used to try with other Congxie, in the first days. Newcomers to Dawson still try, often-times. They soon learn.
If Congxie are going to be called by a surname chosen in English, of all languages, then they will be shown respect. If an unega refers to him by surname alone, Makan hears only the wind. Most Congxie in Dawson act in like manner. It is this accomplishment, more than anything else, which has persuaded him to organise the morrow's bold endeavour.
"My friends, this is the night for planning, and tomorrow is the day for decisiveness!"
"Say it, mister!" a woman shouts, to general acclaim.
Makan gives the woman a nod – Cordiality, he thinks her name is – and continues speaking. "Together we must stand," he says, to another round of acclamation.
"Together, we must strike a great blow," he says. "Our actions are born of new circumstances, in this new town the unegas have built." On land they had forcibly stolen from the Congxie, but that is something which Makan does not let himself dwell on.
"Remember: the unegas speak of this land as a new world. In truth, it never was new. Our forefathers dwelt here since time immemorial." Relative silence falls, now. Is that because they are considering, or just that they are bored? He does not know, but this message still needs to be heard.
"The true new world comes from knowledge, not from exploration. This modern age is a time of machines, of learning how metal and timber can be crafted by the fires of the earth. This is the age of machines... and we labour in the mills for the bosses who own those machines."
"We slave, you mean!" someone calls out.
"Oft-times, yes," Makan says. "But hear me, my friends: there is more to this new age than just a few bosses who care naught for the difference between a slave and a Congxie."
This time, he thinks that the silence is thoughtful. All to the good.
"This is a new world. A world with new ways of working. With new rules. There is no yindewarra [2]. No proper tradition." He pauses again to let that be considered, then adds, "Even when the bosses are good men, they have no yindewarra to guide them how to act. Not in this new world, where the rules have changed."
The crowd starts to descend into angry mutters. Makan says, "We must teach them new rules, proper rules. And we must do it together. If we stand alone, each of us will be nothing. Alone, all the power is with the owners. With the bosses. Only by acting together can we balance their power. We must stand in..." he pauses, then chooses an English word, since it seems to fit better. "We must stand in solidarity."
"Solidarity!" The crowd repeat the word over and over, until it becomes a chant.
When the noise subsides again, someone asks, "Can we really do this, Mr Jenkins?" The crowd believes it, of course, or they would not be here. All the same, they want reassurance.
Makan smiles broadly, even though he is not sure how many can make it out. Not for the first time, he is glad that he is known by an assumed surname. The surname Makan is not an auspicious one, these days.
"Remember our forefathers. Remember how the Congxie were born. They rejected the new rules which the unegas sought to impose on them, even then. They rose as one. They acted as one. And they triumphed!"
This time, cheers ring out. Once the crowd quietens again, he says, "Spread the word. Let everyone know. The mills will fall silent tomorrow. No Congxie will work at their mills, by their rules. We will not work tomorrow, and we will not work again until they listen to us."
--
[1] "Unega" is literally translated as "white"; the word is of Cherokee origin. In the Congxie language, it has become one of their words for people of European descent. The word is not particularly respectful, although in Makan's era it is not an explicit insult. (It would later become derogatory.)
[2] Yindewarra is a Congxie word which is roughly translated as "tradition", but with stronger connotations: it refers to the proper, established way of doing things. In accordance with Plirite morality, people are expected to act with propriety, in accordance with their station and with established conducts of behaviour. Behaving without yindewarra is seen as breaking the Second Path. In an established Plirite society, it is a good way to get condemned, ostracised or, if a ruler, deposed.
--
Thoughts?