One Viking Daughter
The life story of Bothilda Larsson Lundgren
Mother of Mons Monson

The family of Mons (Mans) Jonsson and Bothilda Larsson Lundgren
He was born July 5 1811 in Lyngsjo, Krisyianstadlan, Sweden, the son of Jons Mansson and Ingar Bengtson. He married Bothilda Larsson Lundgren on December 30, 1852 at Ahys, Kristianstad, Sweden. He died December 26 1861 at Olserod, Kristianstad, Sweden. Bothilda was born April 5 1829 at Becklunda, Kristianstad, Sweden, the daughter of Lars Hansson Lundgren and Maria Norgren. She died March 2 1914 at Pleasant Grove Utah.

Children
Jens (Jons) Monson Born Oct 30 1850 Lyngsjo, Krist. Sweden
Nils Monson Born May 9 1855 Lynsgjo, Krist. Sweden
Died 1864
Olaf Monson Born April 6 1857 Olserod, Krist. Sweden
Swen (Sven) Monson Born Jan 14 1860 Olserod, Krist. Sweden
Mons (Mans) Monson (twin) Born July 22 1862 Olserod, Krist. Sweden
Peter (Par) Monson (twin) Born July 22 1862 Olserod, Krist. Sweden
Nils Monson (twin) Born Feb 12 1867 Vittskovle, Krist. Sweden
Johanna Maria Monson (twin) Born Feb 12 1867 Vittskovle, Krist. Sweden

One Viking Daughter
The Story of Grandma Bothilda Monson, by Casse L. Monson
Foreword
It has been a thrill to write a story for Grandma Bothilda. To have lived to intimately with her for these past weeks, has been a rewarding experience. She has come to be someone special, with courage, faith and high standards. In spite of her mistakes, she was honest and true, even in unethical situations.
The lack of documented accounts has made it necessary to assume her problems and use of honestly as possible, the answers that came with assumption.
Her humility, her true devotion to the Gospel and the Lord’s attention to her prayers, is great evidence that her imperfections were forgiven her.
She needs no apology. Her life of service to her loved ones, her willingness to suffer for them, stands as bright testimony of the kind of Viking stuff our Grandma Bothilda was made of.

Casse L. Monson







A Viking Daughter
The long long winter nights were past; everywhere songs of delight rang over the land, as a sun hungry people swarmed into the joy of returning sunlight, for it was planting time. Leaf buds and bright new grass of early April, made the fertile plains of the Skane province, seem like a fairyland after the long dark winter months.
For Lars and Maria Lundgren, the winter had been doubly dark, and nor even the returning sunshine could dry away the tears that still came so easily. It had been little more than three months since their only son, little Karl, age two had closed his eyes for the last time and the cries of illness were still. The happiness of Christmas just four days past was suddenly shut away in awful gloom.
In this awkward, tender way, Lars looked at his quiet little son and felt the helpless heartache a father must feel at the loss of his pride and joy. Maria only cuddled the little one in her arms and wept, the sweet relief of tears easing the soreness of her heart. The small sisters, Kirsti going on seven and Johannah, almost five, wept because Mama wept, but mostly they watched with solemn eyes as their little brother was carried away. Nor could they understand the throng of silent or weeping relatives, who had laughed and sung lusty songs at Christmas, that seemed just yesterday.
But now April was here! Spring had really come. Kirsti and Johannah ran in the sunshine, shouting their joy. It was past time for their supper before their father called to them. They came immediately at the urgency of his voice, but stopped in wonder when they found mother Maria in bed and Lars, their father, in an unhappy struggle to prepare their supper. Maria beckoned them quietly and they ran to the bed. Gently she moved the cover to show them a new baby cuddled at her breast. At first the little girls were speechless, only gasping their surprise, but then their tongues found wings and flew in a chorus of laughter and questions, where did it come from who brought it, was it a boy or a girl, and what would be its name? A gruff “Hush” from their father reminded them that he was in no mood to hear their chatter. They stood silently, unable to understand his lack of rejoicing with them. At last Maria whispered, “Be good children and eat quietly. Papa wanted the little one to be a boy,” “Oh,” Kirsti sighed, “Is it then a girl?” Maria nodded and the little girls went softly to the table.
There is no document that says so, but who could blame Lars for his disappointment? Still shaken by the loss of his little son, he looked helplessly now at his four female family and felt greatly outnumbered and a little forsaken.
And so on this fifth day of April 1829, when all of nature dons gay attire for new beginnings, life began for a tiny girl of Viking decent, whose path would carry her through sorrow and poverty, into a foreign country and the joy and peace of a new way of life. They called her Bothilda.
Lars grumpiness could not long endure when this new woman child began to smile at him and when she was twenty-seven months old, Maria bore him another son. He promptly named the little one Karl and strutted around with a happy swagger. Oh but the swagger was short lived. Little Karl lived only eighteen days and died, having scarcely begun to be. The young parents and their daughters mourned the loss, but to Lars, summer suddenly lost its beauty and the harvest its joy. He felt only half a man.
Two winters came and went with their good and bad places and little Bothilda was five when Lars began to hope for another boy. But when the little one came on the 2nd of August 1824, it was tiny Catherine would live only six days and the unhappy family began to wonder if they would ever be able to keep a little one.
Bothilda was going on ten, when deep in the November winter of 1838; a son was born at last to the Lundgren’s on the 19th. They named him Hans after Lars father. Perhaps Lars was afraid to swagger, but who could believe he was not overjoyed to have at last a son in this family of females. A son is a son!
By this time Kirsti was seventeen and no doubt had eyes and thoughts toward her own home. Johannah was thirteen and Bothilda was no longer the baby of the family. It was nearing Christmas season and the Lundgrens were, according to tradition, caught up in its joyful preparation. Maria would be well enough to join in the festive gatherings and all of the family savored the pride Lars felt in having a son to celebrate this most happy Christmas.
For nearly ten years Bothilda was the baby of the family and ordinarily we might believe her to have been spoiled and pampered, as is so often the case. It is sad that no document or journal is available to give us more detail. However we do know that up to this time, there was no one to help Lars with his task of keeping the family warm and fed, but his four women folk. This task was not an easy one. Lars was a farmer and his living was wrested from the soil, mostly from the strength of his back and hands. That the Lundgren women were pressed into service in the fields, garden and pasture is almost certain since their equipment was both primitive and meager. Their hay was cut by hand, using a scythe and draped over poles or fences to dry before it was gathered and piled for use. Lucky was the farmer who owned a horse and cart, otherwise his back did the hauling.
Our records tell us that Bothilda was born in Lyngsjo that her parents were married in Ahus and most of our records speak of our people coming from Kristianstad, which is the name of a county in the province of Skane in the south end of Sweden. Here the country is low and rolling, sloping gently away from the Baltic Sea. The warm breezes of the Gulf Stream temper the climate of this beautiful place, making it a Garden of Eden in the far north. The farms are surrounded by picturesque forests of beachwood and pine. Lakes and streams invite grass and flowers. In easy walking distance, is the sea with its pleasant beaches and the song of the waves, to say nothing of the ships, fishing vessels and small boats sailing there in the harbor. Fascinating as these are, they are only a part of the charm of this land of Skane where Bothilda was born and grew. All over the land, among the farms, on the sea shore, in the forest and by the lakes, are the ancient medieval castles of the Lords and Barons of early times. Most of them are occupied by the descendants of the old families who built them. Some of them are complete with motes and watch towers. Those who live there are generally well off, but still do work on their land. Many writers have spoken of the Skane country as one of the most delightful places on earth. Mark Twain lived there for some years and wrote of it as paradise.
Surely in this charming land, little Bothilda would have found time to explore some of those intriguing, mysterious places. Did she sometimes sit by the sea shore and watch the boats sail past as she listened to the roar of the waves? Sometimes did she hear the song of the forests as she walked there in its cool shade to gather abundant mushrooms? Did she stare in awe at the castles nearest herm or perhaps, did she know the people?
Nevertheless, it stands to reason that she did work and work hard. It is not difficult to think that Lars, her father, may have extracted extra labor from her, since she came to them instead of the boy he sorely wanted. Nor is it to be imagined that she was excused from the kitchen and doing her full share there to make and serve the pickled herring, the lutofisk, limpa bread, sweet soup and other dishes common to those hard working people. We must also assume that she also learned to knit and sew, for what self respecting man would rear a daughter without adequate preparation to be a wife?
Charles XIV John was King when Bothilda was born. At last Sweden had a King to establish and hold peace for his country. Long long years before him had been distraught with devastating wars. The country is dotted with the tombs of those Viking giants who took what they wanted and trod with a harsh foot over their enemies. Some of the Swedish people were disappointed when the King announced his intention to keep his country at peace, but it has prospered ever since and has adhered solidly to his no war policy.
Just two years before his death, King Charles made education compulsory and Sweden began to become a literate nation. At this time Bothilda was thirteen years old and according to custom might have been considered of marriageable age. Up to his time any education she may have had, was given her by her parents or by someone with whom they had made arrangements. They were permitted to leave school at the age of fourteen, so it is doubtful that she ever attended a public school, but somehow among her full days, she did learn to read and write. Later she taught her own children to read before they were seven and it is possible that she herself was taught in her very early years.
Bothilda was sixteen when the whole country celebrated a new law, made by their new King Oscar, which in that year of 1845 gave women equal property rights with men. Up to this time women themselves had been considered something the same as property.
With her even features, wide blue eyes and dark hair, together with robust health and ability to work, Bothilda would have been an attractive young woman, but if our assumption is correct that her father did really need her help, we may assume further that he discouraged any suitors she may have had in order to take advantage of her continuing help. Especially would this be true if his other daughters had married. Kirsti would now be twenty three years old and Johannah twenty one and in a country of early marriages, they most surely would have taken their own mates. The little Hans, only six could be but small help and the girl Bothilda would have been the main stay for both father and mother.
What loneliness was hers, what longings filled her heart, we can only surmise and we find that she could not entirely submit herself to her father’s wishes. Living nearby was one Mons Johnson, not wealthy but well fixed and highly respected in their community. He was a very religious man and staunch Lutheran. He was sober, honest, and clean of speech and habit. It is possible that his very high ideals had kept him single. He was eighteen years older than Bothilda, but even so a man of such worthy standing that any girl would have been proud of his attentions. He had watched the lonely Bothilda as she worked in the fields. It is possible that in being kind to her, he had not taken into account the depth of her loneliness, at any rate; he was not prepared when she came tearfully to whisper a secret that he must share with her. At one time, he may have aspired to love her, but now as he looked at her and listened to what she had to say, his feelings were not even akin to love and he sent her away.
But alas, Bothilda could not so easily dismiss a hard situation and neither could she look for sympathy and understanding. How sad that most of us are prone to believe that we must sit in cold judgment on those among us who make mistakes. With a heavy heart Bothilda carried on alone and October 1850, became the mother of a little boy. Wed or unwed, she treasured that little fellow and hated to leave him when she must go to the tasks that were hers.
If her father had been hard on her before, we must assume that he made her life most uncomfortable now and it was none the easier for him that this daughter of his should be given a son, when he would so much love to have that son for his own.
For almost three years, Mons Johnson watched Bothilda as she continued to work in the fields, carrying the little boy on her back or having him toddle at her side and at last he realized that the only way he could keep the honesty he had prided himself on having for his own, was to marry this God fearing young woman who was the mother of his son. It is possible that during this time he satisfied himself that she had been untrue to him. They were married on December 30, 1852. Even for her wedding, Bothilda must wait until after the crops and harvests were all in and Christmas over so that her service might be spared.
It is unthinkable that being reared after the standards of her day that she would have been anything but a good and loyal wife, doing all in her power to help. The life of a farm wife was not easy even if she took on no more duties than her kitchen and family, but it she helped in the fields, there was very little time she could call her own. Bothilda worked willingly doing her full share and always giving thanks to the Great Giver of all blessings. Her husband though not wealthy, stood to inherit a goodly farm and it would seem to be a good marriage. That he was a good man, there is no doubt, that she loved him or he her, we can only wonder about.
It was five years and seven months before she was blessed with another son. Nils was born May 9, 1855 when fields and gardens were at planting time and all the earth beautiful. Even so it must have been difficult to work in the fields up to the time her little one came and go out again almost as soon as he was properly diapered and fed. It is very likely that it never entered her mind to complain as the years rolled along bringing her ever more responsibility. Olof came on April 6, 1857 when Jens was six and could watch his little brother Nils, while Bothilda tied the new babe on her back and continued her work in the fields.
Olof was two and a half when Swen was born January 14, 1860 and Bothilda had four little sons, which must have been the envy of their Grandpa Lundgren since he had only one son.
With a good husband, four sons and the farm, it looked as if Bothilda might soon be relieved of some of her hard work, but alas her happy dream was shattered and her security swept away and she found herself alone with those four little fellows, the oldest only nine the baby just a year and another one soon to come, when they day after Christmas her husband passed away on December 26, 1861. Did her parents come to comfort her; did her minister cone to visit her? Did she have friends to help and lean upon? It is not written. Nor does it say anywhere how they tramped wearily through the snow for the funeral and burial, nor how, when at last her boys were tucked into bed, the full impact of what had happened, swept over her, bringing her to her knees in tears of deep humility to plead for strength and courage.
There is no record describing a tender love between Bothilda and her husband, neither is there any to the contrary. We can only suppose that, even though he was a good man, her life with him had been hard. That she had accepted her lot without complaint and had given her best to their mutual home and well being cannot be questioned. Had he lived, she most certainly would have continued in unfailing devotion to that duty, home and family. But now after only eleven short years of marriage, she stood alone between the wants and needs of her family and an unfriendly world of hunger and cold.
According to their father’s desire, she had her boys confirmed members to the Lutheran faith as they became old enough. She taught them the bible and she taught them to pray. She sent them to church and no matter how weary she may be she saw to it that she taught them to read before they were seven so that they could make a good account of themselves when they would attend school. The blood of Bothilda’s Viking ancestors was not wasted in her veins. They had taken what they wanted, she would take what she must have, and calling on all the strength her God could give her. She lifted her head, squared her shoulders and resolutely faced the future.
God does move in mysterious way, and he answers our prayers according to the way it will do us the most good. As Bothilda knelt there in the darkness after the funeral, tears streaming down her comely face, she could not in her wildest moments, have imagined the wonderful blessings God had in store for her.
According to the Bible, god truly loved the women he blessed with sons. If this is any indication, he did love and approve of his handmaiden Bothilda, for after she and Jens had done the best they could at planting a garden and the summer was spreading loveliness everywhere, God once more sent her, not one but two sons. They came July 22, 1862 and Bothilda named the oldest one Mons after his father and the other boy Peter.
It is doubtful that any mother feels completely fulfilled without one little daughter to be her special little flower of joy. Bothilda thanked the Lord that her twins were well and perfectly formed, but in her secret heart, did she perhaps weep that one of them was not the little girl she had dreamed of?