Finding Atlantis: A True Story of Genius, Madness, and an Extraordinary Quest for a Lost World

by David King

One main challenge to anatomists in Rudbeck’s day was how to find bodies for dissection. Cases of grave robbing, body snatching, and other macabre means to obtain specimens were well known in early modern Europe. After Rudbeck was named professor of medicine, he would write several letters to his patron, De la Gardie, trying to receive help in gaining access to bodies. See, for instance, his undated letter in 1682, Bref III, 187.

  The discovery of the lymphatic glands was described by Rudbeck himself in an often cited letter, for instance Eriksson (2002), 58–59. The discovery is discussed in there, 59–65, as well as in Robin Fåhræus, “Rudbecks upptäckt av lymfkärlssystemet,” UUÅ (1930), 3–9; Lindroth’s Stormaktstiden, 416–17; and Lindroth’s “Harvey, Descartes and Young Olaus Rudbeck,” in the Journal of the History of Medicine (1957). Rudbeck’s discovery of the lymphatic glands was “the first and for a long time the only significant Swedish contribution to European medical research” (Stormaktstiden, 414).

  My discussion of Queen Christina’s court is based on a number of works, particularly Susana Åkerman’s Queen Christina and Her Circle (1991), Sven Stolpe’s Christina of Sweden (1966), Ernst Cassirer’s, Drottning Christina och Descartes (1940), and Lindroth’s Stormaktstiden, 197–204, 121ff. Descriptions of Queen Christina’s voice and face are from the French diplomat Pierre Chanut, and the opening of her grave is reported in von Platen’s Queen Christina of Sweden: Documents and Studies (1966). For more on Descartes’ life, see Jack Rochford Vrooman’s René Descartes: A Biography (1970) and Richard Watson’s Cogito, ergo sum (2002). The story of Descartes’ skull remaining in Sweden after his death comes from Jerker Rosén’s “Kristina’s hovliv,” in Drottning Kristina: Vetenskap och kultur blomstrar, in Den svenska historien VI (1979), 144.

  Uppsala castle and Christina’s mannerisms were described by English diplomat Bulstrode Whitelocke, who got to know the queen and the court rather well on his stay in the country 1653–54. Queen Christina’s “chair of state of crimson velvet” is noted in Bulstrode Whitelocke’s A Journal of the Swedish Embassy 1653 and 1654 (1855), 23 December 1653, 231. The queen’s reaction to the demonstration was, in Rudbeck’s words, “fire and flames” (eld och lågor). The young Uppsala student described another visit to Queen Christina’s court, when he sang the part of a shepherd boy and the queen a kammarpiga (Atl. I, 437; II, 442).

  There is some uncertainty, actually, about which “beautiful day” in the spring of 1652 Rudbeck performed his public demonstration. He always said April, though there has been speculation that it was actually May. This is because Rudbeck could have been translating the Swedish Julian calendar into the Gregorian; the latter was the calendar then in use in the Netherlands, where he happened to be at the time (and this would also mean a change of ten days, no small advantage in a debate over awarding priority for the discovery of the lymphatic glands). The dispute with Bartholin would rage fiercely, with one of the Danish physician’s students, Martin Bogdan, being particularly aggressive. For more on this conflict, see Eriksson (2002), 51, and Lindroth’s Stormaktstiden, 419–21. See also Johannes Rudbeck’s “Bibliografiska anteckningar om Olof Rudbeck den äldres anatomiska skrifter och striden med Thomas Bartholin” Samlaren (1904).

  For more on the Swedish Age of Greatness, see David Kirby’s Northern Europe in the Early Modern Period: The Baltic World 1492–1772 (1990), and just about anything by Michael Roberts. The size of the Swedish empire is discussed by Roberts in The Swedish Imperial Experience 1560–1718 (1979), 7–9, 83, 97. Sven Lundkvist’s essay “The Experience of Empire: Sweden as a Great Power,” in Michael Roberts, ed., Sweden’s Age of Greatness 1632–1718 (1973), 20–57, is also valuable. Roberts calls the administration “one of the best developed, most efficient and most modern administrations in Europe” in Gustavus Adolphus: A History of Sweden 1611–1632 (1953–58), vol. I, 278.

  Strindberg discusses the poverty, the beggars, and the bands of outlaws roaming the country (1937), 102–5, with the image of them filling the roads on page 112. On page 25, Strindberg paints a vivid picture of war consuming national resources, and worsening the country’s social problems. The book, still controversial in some academic circles, is an opinionated and lively read. Descriptions of Stockholm in the narrative are taken from Whitelocke’s Journal (1855): the accounts of the roads and the inns, 30 November 1653, 175ff. The forests are described in many places, including 9 December 1653, 195–96.

  The Västerås wizard was Matthias Andreas Biörk (or, in his Latinized name, Biörkstadius), also known in Sweden for his mathematical work. Thanks to Gunnar Eriksson (2002), 27, for information about Biörk. Rudbeck’s relationship with his father is discussed by Eriksson (2002), 17–23, and with his mother, 23–24, as well as by K. W. Herdin, “Olof Rudbeck d.ä.s födelse och tidigare ungdom,” in Rudbecksstudier (1930). See also, among others, Hans Cnattingius, Johannes Rudbeckius och hans europeiska bakgrund. En kyrkorätts-historisk studie in Uppsala universitets årsskrift (1946), and H. Scheffer, Johannes Rudbeckius: En kämpagestalt från Sveriges storhetstid (1914). The stories of Rudbeck playing on a hobbyhorse and the clothes are from a letter written in 1696 and printed in several accounts. “To sit on his bottom” were Rudbeck’s own words on the occasion. Rudbeck’s mother as “glittering sunshine” comes from Isak Fehr’s article in Ord och Bild (1897).

  CHAPTER 2: ORACLE OF THE NORTH

  Benjamin Franklin’s words are cited in Edmund S. Morgan, Benjamin Franklin (2002), 33. Rudbeck’s stay in Holland was, by all accounts, significant. Fries noted how few places would be better suited for his development than seventeenth-century Netherlands (Den svenska odlingens stormän 1: Olof Rudbeck den äldre, Urban Hiärne och Jesper Svedberg [1896], 7). For more on the achievements of the Dutch at this time, see, among others, Jonathon Israel, The Dutch Republic: Its Rise, Greatness, and Fall 1477–1806 (1995); Simon Schama, The Embarrassment of Riches: An Interpretation of Dutch Culture in the Golden Age (1987); Paul Zumthor, Daily Life in Rembrandt’s Holland (1963); and Mike Dash, Tulipmania: The Story of the World’s Most Coveted Flower and the Extraordinary Passions It Aroused (1999).

  One contact Rudbeck made in the Netherlands, his former teacher the Leiden University professor of anatomy Johannes van Horne, would later encourage him to pursue his goal of writing a Nova animalium Fabrica, and, in effect, accomplish for animal physiology what the anatomist Vesalius had achieved for human anatomy, 12 July 1657, printed in Auctarium Testimoniorum (1685) in Atl. IV, 65, 234. He wrote again on 15 February 1666, Atl. IV, 240. Rudbeck’s offers of employment were noted in a letter describing his early years, 9 February 1685, Annerstedt, Bref III, 208–9.

  The early history of Uppsala’s botanical garden was described in his letters, Rudbeck calling it his “firstborn son,” 1 March 1685 (Annerstedt, Bref III, 218). For scholarly accounts, see, among others, Eriksson (2002), 198–207; Rutger Sernander, “Olof Rudbeck d.ä. i den svenska botanikens historia,” UUÅ (1930), 10–22; and M. B. Swederus, “Olof Rudbeck den äldre: Huvudsakligen betraktad i sin verksamhet som naturforskare. En skildring,” in Nordisk Tidskrift (1878). Rudbeck’s botanical garden can be seen today most commonly in the background of the 100 Swedish kronor note. This garden is now the Linneträdgård, named after his successor Carl Linnaeus. Olof Rudbeck’s son, Olof junior, played an important role in Linnaeus’s early botanical career, even hiring him as a tutor for the Rudbeck children.

  The reputation of a happy marriage for the Rudbecks was also confirmed by Eriksson (2002), 88 and 159, and the description of the various items in their house is from a contemporary description cited on page 170. A discussion of the alleged Caesarean section is found in O. T. Hult’s “Några ord om det Rudbeckska ’kejsarsnittet,” in Rudbecksstudier (1930), 116–20. For a sample of the reception in learned circles, see the letter to Rudbeck by Oldenburg at the Royal Society, 23 July 1670 (RS, LBC.4.49).

  “When France catches cold” were the words of Klemens von Metternich, describing the revolution of 1830, and are cited in Raymond F
. Betts, Europe in Retrospect (1979), 34. My description of Olof Rudbeck is based on many surviving portraits, including van Mijten’s oil painting (1696). The single best source for seeing the various images over the years is Rudbeckius’s analysis of Rudbeck portraits in Rudbecksstudier (1930), 35–62. The mustache is Rudbeck’s own description, Atl. III, 517, and the fashion reference comes from Rudbeckius, Bibliotheca Rudbeckiana (1918), 36. Johan Esberg’s speech (1703) noted the cheeks, eyes, shoulders, and clothes as well.

  The contents of the Uppsala anatomy theater come from Esberg’s description in his memorial speech: “Laudatio funebris qua polyhistori magno medico longe celeberrimo, dn Olao Rudebeckio patri in regia universitate Upsaliensi . . .” (1703). Rudbeck described one interesting skeleton with the arteries and veins colored in, kept in the theater, already made by the end of Queen Christina’s reign (1654), in a letter of 9 February 1685 (Annerstedt, Bref III, 207). Håkan Håkansson’s Anatomens öga: Bildvärld och världsbild på kunskapens näthinna (1995) has a valuable discussion of early modern anatomy and anatomy theaters. One important primary source is a letter Rudbeck wrote on 7 March 1685 (Annerstedt, Bref III, 219–23). Opinion differs on the capacity of the theater; Rudbeck said it could hold as many as five hundred, and Eriksson agrees (194), though other observers have pointed to two hundred, which some have even doubted as too high.

  Rudbeck’s architectural work can be seen in the Atlas volume to Atlantica, though it must be remembered that the reproduced images do not always show the buildings as they actually appeared in Rudbeck’s day. Some of the drawings were plans, never fulfilled, and others purely dream projects. See, for instance, Josephson, Det hyperboreiska Uppsala (1945), 11.

  Rudbeck’s inventions, such as a technique for improving Archimedean hydraulics, his means of recycling old screws, and a device for hoisting boats into the air in order to repair all the sides at will, are found in many of his letters, including Rudbeck to Bengt Oxenstierna, 23 April 1695 (KB, Autograf samling); Rudbeck to Bengt Oxenstierna, 2 December 1700 (Annerstedt, Bref IV, 381); Rudbeck to Baron Johan Hoghusen, 3 December 1699 (ULA, Länsstyrelsen i Uppsala län: Landskansliet biographica I. D.IV.A 64). The claim that Rudbeck was born under a lucky star is from Esberg’s “Laudatio funebris” (1703).

  CHAPTER 3: REMARKABLE CORRESPONDENCES

  The opening quotation is taken from Fyodor Dostoyevski’s Crime and Punishment, translated by David Magarshack (1987), 20. The reference to Tyrfing as the “keenest of all blades” comes from Christopher Tolkien’s translation, The Saga of King Heidrek the Wise (1960), 2. Tolkien’s edition also prints the opening of Verelius’s Uppsala manuscript in appendix A. For more on how the Hervararsaga was read in the late seventeenth century, see Schück’s KVHAA and Vilhelm Gödel’s Fornnorsk-isländsk litteratur i Sverige (till antikvitetskollegiets inrättande) (1897).

  Rudbeck’s mapmaking skills were well known among his contemporaries. His work for Carl Gustav Wrangel comes from his letters of 16 May 1674 and 21 May 1674 (RA, Skokloster samlingen N:O 75–E 8202). In another example of how Rudbeck’s expertise was valued among the Swedish elite, King Charles XI requested his help in the selection of land surveyors, mining officials, and other experts for work in the Baltic. Rudbeck’s response is preserved in a letter to the king, 3 June 1688, RA, Skrivelser till konungen Karl XI, vol. 32.

  “It was like a dream” was how Rudbeck described the sensation in a letter, 12 November 1677, KB, Engestr.b.iv.1.30 (N:o2), printed in Klemming, Anteckningar om Rudbecks Atland (1863), Supplement A. Another valuable source is his dedication of Atl. I, 3–5. On tracing the origins of the project, Johan Nordström’s De yverbornes ö (1930), most notably, argues in favor of a connection through the legendary Hyperboreans. The narrative builds upon Nordström’s thesis and a comparison with Verelius’s Hervararsaga (1672), which Rudbeck used in making his map.

  Homer’s description of life in the Elysian Fields as “the dream of ease” is in the Odyssey IV, line 601, and the description of its games, dances, and “brilliant light” in Virgil, Aeneid VI, line 637, with the meadows and riverbanks, VI, lines 674–75. Rudbeck discusses the idyllic Elysian Fields most fully in Atl. I, 341–45, 352. Later treatments follow, developed and enlarged, including an examination of the Odödsåkern, a polar paradise in the Hervararsaga and broadly reminiscent of the classical Elysian Fields. The lack of snowfall, storms, or powerful rains common in classical accounts are, for Rudbeck, descriptions of the land during the summertime.

  Rudbeck’s words on “peace of mind” and “pen to paper” are found in his letter of 12 November 1677 in Klemming (1863), A. The time of Rudbeck’s insight is not known for certain. Many older accounts simply assert, without much support, the early 1670s, but the late 1660s seems more likely. Verelius was working on the Norse Hervararsaga by at least 1663, lecturing regularly in the late 1660s. The work was already well enough advanced by August 1669 to have a test printing ready, and to be sent off to De la Gardie. Rudbeck’s letters in the late 1660s also show a heightened interest in antiquities, and his references to the ancients become more frequent. Gunnar Eriksson is another person who believes the origins lie in the late 1660s (Atlanticans naturalhistoria: En antologi, 7).

  The study of Norse sagas in Sweden essentially opened with Verelius, according to Gödel (1897), 216, and more in depth, 241–55. Verelius used Rugman’s manuscript for Götrek and Rolf’s Saga (251) and Herraud and Bose’s Saga (254). Verelius’s title, position, and background are summarized by Lindroth, 275–82, and more fully in KVHAA. Gödel also printed the official list of Verelius’s duties as Professor of the Antiquities of the Fatherland (1897), 245–46. Verelius’s lectures were assessed by Schück as among the “very best held at Uppsala University in the seventeenth century,” KVHAA I, 231–32. Beginning at 8:00 A.M. and the few students in attendance come from Gödel (1897), 246. Rudbeck’s appreciation of Verelius’s insights can be found in many places in Atlantica, particularly his dedication, unpaginated in the original, page 3 in the modern 1937 edition. It is no coincidence that the first volume of Atlantica would be dedicated to Verelius, “its first cause” and “its beginning.”

  Excerpts of Verelius’s letter to the chancellor on behalf of Rudbeck’s project, written 20 December 1673, are cited in Atl. I, 3–4. Another, though smudged, copy is found at UUB, Palmsk. samlingen (344). Loccenius’s letter in support of Rudbeck’s project, 22 December 1673, can be found in the same two places. Loccenius’s reaction was noted in Rudbeck’s letter of 12 November 1677, in Klemming (1863), A, and Loccenius’s words on Atlantica’s potential in his letter of 22 December 1673. As for the Saxo and Shakespeare stories, compare Amleth, Gurutha, Feng, and an unnamed “fair woman” with Hamlet, Gertrude, King Claudius, and Ophelia in The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.

  My discussion of the Norse Renaissance is based on the work of Gödel, Schück, and many others, including Thor Beck’s Northern Antiquities in French Learning and Literature 1755–1855 (1934), Anton Blanck’s Den nordiska renässansen i sjuttonhundratalets litteratur (1911), and Frank Edgar Farley’s Scandinavian Influences in the English Romantic Movement (1903). Jørgensen has discussed the Danish context in Historieforskning og historieskrivning i Danmark indtil aar 1800 (1931). Gifts, exchanges, and piracy, among other things, caused the sagas to circulate in early modern Scandinavia. The phrase “dragon brooding” comes from Lee M. Hollander’s commentary (citing a contemporary) in Poetic Edda, xi.

  The great infusion of sagas and eddas in the seventeenth century, including the seizure of Jörgen Seefeldt’s library at Ringsted, and De la Gardie’s purchase of Stefanus Johannes Stephanius’s large collection of books and manuscripts, is discussed in many sources, e.g., Gödel (1897), 104–6, 90–95. Rugman’s manuscripts are analyzed here, too, 95ff., 113–22, and 122ff. On Rugman selling many manuscripts to Verelius, see Gödel, 158. Rugman’s arrival in Uppsala as a “gift of heaven” comes from Schück, KVHAA I, 203–4.

  My account of the relationship betw
een the Greeks and the barbarians is based on many works, including Momigliano’s Alien Wisdom: The Limits of Hellenization (1975), Paul Cartledge’s The Greeks: A Portrait of Self and Others (1993), and E. J. Bickerman’s “Origines Gentium,” in Classical Philology 47 (1952). Edith Hall’s Inventing the Barbarian: Greek Self-Definition Through Tragedy (1989) shows the richness of the material by focusing on the stage of Attic tragedy. Rudbeck’s analysis of the ancient term barbarian is elaborated more fully in Atl. I, 433–34. Of the many works providing an understanding of early modern Gothic romanticism, Svennung’s Zur Geschichte des Goticismus (1967) overviews both the European phenomenon and its impact in Sweden (68–96). Lindroth, Stormaktstiden, 249–74, was also very helpful, as well as his Medeltiden: Reformationstiden, 166–72, 288–309. Strindberg recounts the history of the phenomenon against a background of poverty and want (1937), 40–77. See also Nordström (1930); Greenway (1977), 73–82; and Kurt Johannesson, The Renaissance of the Goths in Sixteenth-Century Sweden: Johannes and Olaus Magnus as Politicians and Historians, translated by James Larson (1991), as well as Holmquist, “Till Sveriges ära. Det götiska arvet,” Stormaktstid. Erik Dahlbergh och bilden av Sverige (1992).

  Anatomical dissections are discussed many times in Rudbeck’s letters. The comment about carrots and turnips comes from one of his letters to De la Gardie, July 1658, printed by Anders Grape, Bref af Olof Rudbeck d.ä. rörande Uppsala universitet efterskörd in Uppsala universitets årskrift (1930), 5–8. One of Rudbeck’s lessons in architecture survives and was printed by Josephson, Det Hyperboreiska Uppsala, 85–89. Given his discussions here as well as in Atlantica, Josephson calls Rudbeck Sweden’s “first architecture theorist,” 12.

  Rudbeck’s love of fireworks and his collection of small cannon are related by many sources. Complaints were made about the noise coming from Rudbeck’s workshops, which often disturbed the sleep of the neighbors (Fries, [1896], 11–12). Of the various descriptions of the waterworks, see Rudbeck’s letter of 7 March 1685 (Annerstedt, Bref III, 223–26). For Rudbeck’s many other activities, see Eriksson (2002). For his engineering and technical work, see Per Dahl’s dissertation (1995).