We began with Erik the Red and Leif Erikson and have now come to the brothers, Ole and Ansten Nattestad. Ole K.
Nattestad was born December 24, 1807; died May 28, 1886. His wife died September 15, 1888. Ansten K. Nattestad was born August 20, 1813; died April 8, 1889.
The fourth Norwegian settlement in America and the first in Wisconsin was founded by Ole Knudsen Nattestad (changed in America to Natesta) who was accordingly the first Norwegian to set foot on Wisconsin soil. He came to Clinton, Rock County, Wisconsin, July 1, 1838, and this was the beginning of the so-called Jefferson Prairie settlement, which occupies the southeast corner of Rock County and extends into Boone County, Illinois. They came from Vegli, Rolloug Parish in Numedal, Norway, by way of Gothenborg and Fall River, Massachusetts.
When the Beaver Creek settlement was abandoned, Ansten Nattestad, in the spring of 1838, returned to Norway, taking with him the Ole Rynning manuscript and also the manuscript of a journal kept by his brother, Ole Nattestad. Ansten stated that this manuscript of his brother was published in Drammen, Norway, that same year but in spite of the most diligent search I have never been able to secure a copy of that edition. In Norway copies of all publications are placed in the University Library. I had this library searched for a copy of Nattestad’s book but none could be found. In an interview published in Billed Magazin in Madison, Wisconsin, in 1869, Ansten Nattestad made the following statement:
In the spring of 1838 I went from Beaver Creek, Illinois, by way of New Orleans to Liverpool in England and thence to Norway to visit friends and acquaintances in my native land. I brought with me letters from nearly all the earlier Norwegian emigrants whom I had met and in this way information was scattered far and wide in Norway. My brother’s journal was published in Drammen and Ole Rynning’s work on matters of the new world appeared at the same time in Christiania. Of Rynning’s book I brought the manuscript with me from America. The Rev. Mr. Kragh in Eidsvold read the proofs and left out the chapter about the Norwegian clergymen who therein were accused of intolerance in religious matters and inactivity in questions concerning the betterment of the people in temporal affairs and in questions concerning the advancement of education.
In 1869 Ole Nattestad gave the following account of himself in the Billed Magazin referred to above:
As the next oldest of three brothers, I did not have the right of primogeniture to my father’s farm which, according to law, and custom, would go to the oldest son. My ambition was to become a farmer, and I hoped some day to be able to buy a farm in my own neighborhood. Then my brother entered the military school in Christiania and I was to manage the farm during his absence. I entered upon my task cheerfully, worked with all my might and kept a careful account of income and disbursements. To my great surprise, I soon found that in spite of all my toil and prudence, I did not make much headway. When the year was ended, I had little or nothing left as a reward for my labor and it was clear to me that it would not do to buy an expensive farm and run in debt for it. Farming did not pay in the locality where I was born. I then tried the occupation of an itinerant merchant. I could earn a living in this way, but the laws were against me and I did not like to carry on a business of such a nature that it was necessary to keep my affairs secret from the lensmand [undersheriff]. Then I worked awhile as a blacksmith. This furnished me enough to do, but it was difficult to collect the money I earned. The law did not permit me to work at my trade in the city. Then [in 1836] my younger brother, Ansten, and I went across the mountains to the western part of Norway to buy sheep which we intended to sell again. While we were stopping in the vicinity of Stavanger, we heard much talk about a country which was called America. This was the first time we heard this word. We saw letters written by Norwegians who were living in America and we were told that Knud Slogvig, who, many years before that had emigrated in a sloop [Restaurationen] from Stavanger, had lately visited his native land and had given so favorable a report about America that about 150 [should be 200] emigrants from Stavanger Amt and from Hardanger had gone back with him and had sailed that very summer [1836] in two brigs from Stavanger across the ocean. They had gone in spite of all sorts of threats and warnings about slavery, death, and disease. This was the first large exodus after the emigration of the sloop party in 1825. All that we here saw was so new and came to us so unexpectedly that we were not at once able to arrange all the reports into a systematic whole and thus get a correct idea of conditions in the new world. But when I spent the following Christmas with Even Nubbru who was a member of the Storthing from Sigdal we discussed the hard times in my native valley and I suggested that I might have better luck in some other part of the country. In replying Even Nubbru remarked that wherever I went in the world, I would nowhere find a people who had as good laws as the Americans. He had accidentally just had the opportunity of reading something about America in a German newspaper and he described the free institutions of America. This information had a magic effect on me as I looked upon it as an injustice that the laws of Norway should forbid me to trade and not allow me to get my living by honest work as a mechanic wherever I desired to locate. I had confidence in the judgment of the member of the Storthing and I
compared his remarks with what I had heard about America in the vicinity of Stavanger. Gradually I got to thinking of emigration and while considering the matter on my way home, the idea matured into a resolution. My brother Ansten did not have to be asked a second time. He was willing at once; he approved of my plans and in April, 1837, we were ready for our journey. When we left home, we had together about eight hundred dollars, Norwegian money, but this sum gradually grew less on account of our expenses on the way and besides we lost considerable in changing our money into American coin. Ansten also paid the passage for Halsten Halvorsen Braekke-Eiet who now [1869] resides in Dodgeville [Wisconsin], and is looked upon as an excellent blacksmith.
Our equipment consisted of the clothes we wore, a pair of skis, and a knapsack. People looked at us with wonder and intimated that we must have lost our senses. They suggested that we had better hang ourselves in the first tree in order to avoid a worse fate. We went on skis across the mountains from Rolloug to Tin and thence in a direct line over hills and through forests to Stavanger, where we expected to get passage across the sea. We did not worry about the roads for all three of us were experts on skis and our baggage caused us no inconvenience. In Stavanger we told everybody that we were going to America and wanted to secure passage across the sea. This open-heartedness came near spoiling our plans. The report of three mountaineers soon spread over the whole city and high government officials came to see our passports. We were now told that the bailiff’s passport only permitted us to go to Stavanger while the certificate from the pastor correctly stated that we intended to leave the country and emigrate to America. We were not versed in such things and thought our papers were in order, especially as the documents we carried gave testimony that we were men of good habits and Christian conduct. No suspicious remarks were made but in the evening there came a man who was angry on account of the wrong the officials were going to do us and related that it had been resolved that we were to be arrested the following day and then to be sent from lensmand to lensmand to our native valley as we intended to leave the country without permission being given in the passport from the bailiff. The government here, he said, was in a bitter rage against all emigrants and we could not count on any mercy. On this man’s advice we departed secretly from Stavanger under cover of night in order to avoid the danger that threatened us and without attracting any attention we got to Tananger. Here we met a skipper who, with his yacht loaded with herring, was ready to sail to Gothenborg. He promised to take us on board, but when we told him what had happened to us in Stavanger, he became doubtful. He praised our honesty, and on further assurance that we would assume all responsibility if we got in trouble, he decided to accept us as passengers. We acted discreetly while we were ashore and we felt greatly relieved when we finally got to sea. In Gothenborg we had no mishaps, and we secured passage in a vessel loaded with Swedish iron and bound for Fall River, Massachusetts. The journey lasted thirty-two days and we paid fifty dollars each for transportation and board. From Fall River we went to New York where we met a few Norwegians who helped us to get to
Rochester. Here we talked with some of our countrymen who, twelve years ago, had come in the sloop from Stavanger that brought the first Norwegian immigrants to America. Rochester and vicinity did not meet our expectations in regard to the new world. Many of the first immigrants had left the first settlement in Kendall and had gone west to find new lands, particularly to La Salle County, Illinois, near Ottawa on the Fox River. The Fox River colony received a very considerable increment by the great exodus from Stavanger in 1836, that is, the year before I came to America. The most of these immigrants had located in that settlement. This we learned in Rochester, and there we heard for the first time the name Chicago. We determined to go west and see what we could find. When we had reached Detroit, I was walking in the streets to look at the town. There I accidentally met a man by whose clothes I could see that he was from the western coast of Norway. I greeted the man and he returned my greeting, and the meeting was like that of two brothers who had not seen each other for years. He informed me that he had left Bergen some months before, together with about seventy [should be eighty-four] passengers and that the whole company of which the University secretary, Ole Rynning, was the leader, had been waiting a week for transportation to Chicago. We were glad to meet our countrymen and we joined the party, in which there was at least one [Rynning] who could speak English. On landing in Chicago we met Bjorn Anderson Kvelve [the father of the present editor] from the Stavanger company. He had come to America the year before [1836] and had travelled through various parts of Illinois but all that he had heard and seen had only served to make him dissatisfied with this side of the ocean. Broken down in soul and body, he stood before us as a victim of misery and produced a scene so terrible that it never will be blotted from my memory. “God bless and comfort you!” said he. “There is neither work nor land nor food to be had and by all means do not go to Fox River; there you will all die from malarial fever.” These words had a terrible effect on our little flock, many of whom had already lost all courage. Like demons from the lower world, all the evil warnings about the terrors that awaited the emigrants to America were now called to mind and even the bravest were as by magic stricken by a panic which bordered on insanity. The women wrung their hands in despair and uttered terrible shrieks of woe. Some of the men stood immovable like statues with all the marks of frightful despair on their faces, while others made threats against those whom they regarded as the promoters of emigration and the leaders of the party. But in this critical situation Ole Rynning’s greatness appeared. He stood in the midst of the people who were ready for mutiny; he comforted those in despair and gave advice to those who doubted and hesitated and reproved those who were obstinate. He was not in doubt for a moment and his equanimity, courage, and noble self-sacrifice for the weal of others had acquired him influence in the minds of all. The storm abated and the dissatisfaction gave place to a unanimous confidence. A couple of Americans with whom Rynning talked advised him to take the immigrants to Beaver Creek, directly south of Chicago in Iroquois County.