On the death of Ragnar, the sceptre of at least a portion of Denmark—perhaps Scania and the isles—passed into the hands of Sigurd II. (or Siward[[93]]), surnamed Snogoje, or Snake-eyed. At the same time, Jutland was possessed by other kings, whether as tributaries, or independent, there would be rashness in deciding. We read, indeed, that Hemming was contemporary with him; that Harald succeeded Hemming in some part of Jutland; that this latter prince was exiled through an insurrection of the sons of Godric, or Godfrey, who fought for the inheritance of their father; that this Harald became a Christian, and sought the protection of Louis le Debonnaire; that the Carlovingian monarch assisted him to return triumphant; but that, about the year 828, being again deprived of his throne, he passed his days in religious contemplation. His name will always be memorable for his solemn baptism at Ingleheim, in presence of the emperor’s court; and for his efforts to introduce Christianity into Jutland. Under his auspices St. Anscar, the apostle of Scandinavia, penetrated into Jutland; and though the labours of this pious missionary, owing to the troubles of the country, were attended with little success, the merit of this first Christian prince of Denmark is not the less. It was, indeed, his attachment to the new religion which, more than any other cause, led to his failure. Sigurd, the other Danish king, had no wish to imitate the example of Harald; but he is celebrated as a peaceful, good, and enlightened ruler. For this reason, his reign affords no materials for history. On his death, in 803, he was succeeded, say the Icelandic chroniclers, by Harda Canute, his son; but, according to Saxo, by his son Eric I. How shall we decide? We can only conjecture that both princes reigned, at the same time, over different parts of the monarchy; but that Eric died early, while Harda Canute survived to the middle of the ninth century. By the same hypothesis only can we reconcile the names of the kings who succeeded Eric and Harda Canute. By referring to the list at the head of this chapter[[94]], the reader will perceive that it allows of only two sovereigns between Eric I. and Harold Blaatand,—king Eric II. and Gorm the Old; while Saxo admits five, viz., Canute the Little, Frode VI., Gorm Anglicus (so called from his birthplace), Harold V., and Gorm the Old; thus rejecting Eric II., and adding four others. To us, the mode of reconciliation appears simple. While Eric II. and Gorm ruled over the islands and Scania, the other princes mentioned by Saxo reigned in another part of Jutland. This hypothesis is confirmed by one important fact,—that the life of Gorm was unusually protracted; and that, by conquest or negotiation, by open force or cunning, he obtained the government of all the states now comprising the Danish monarchy. Seeing the conduct of the Jutland princes, their civil wars, their consequent weakness and unpopularity, he fell on them, and put an end to their stormy independence. Over the reign of Gorm, indeed, there hangs much obscurity, which the researches of northern critics have by no means dissipated. That he performed many great actions; that, in a few years, he conquered Jutland; that he humbled the Saxons, and made some temporary accessions to his states on the side of Mecklenburg and Pomerania; appear to be undoubted facts. The Frankish writers, however, affirm that he was defeated by Henry the Fowler, his newly incorporated monarchy conquered as far as Sleswic, a margrave established in that place, and he himself compelled to admit the missionaries of Christianity into his states. Against this statement, which principally depends on the authority of Adam of Bremen, the native historians of Denmark make a stand; they will not allow that their country, or any portion of it, was ever thus subdued. But what counter authority can they oppose to this? Where are their native writers, if not contemporary, at least as near to the period as Adam, to contradict this relation? They have no such writers; they have nothing in the shape of authority before the close of the twelfth century: for the materials of their history, they must recur to the very writers whom they would thus undervalue. The statement of Adam, a canon of Bremen, who during so long a period collected materials for his ecclesiastical history, is too minute, too reasonable, too well confirmed by allusions, however incidental, in other writers (especially in the biographers of a few saints), to leave room for scepticism on the subject. Nor does this detract, in the least degree, from the merit of Gorm. By incorporating into one compact monarchy insignificant states, which had so often refused even a nominal obedience to the kings of Ledra, or Jutland, and by destroying so many piratical chiefs, whose arms were turned now against one another, now against their royal superiors, he effected more good than any preceding king of Denmark. This is his true glory. In another respect, he is less deserving of our praise;—he was hostile to the diffusion of Christianity. Yet he had married a Christian lady, whose beauty and virtues were the theme of admiration, and who certainly had considerable influence over him. While persecuting the missionaries in the rest of his states, he appears to have allowed her the exercise of her religion,—her chapel and priests. Some writers assert that, though he did not like, he never seriously opposed, the preaching of Christianity in any part of his states; and, in confirmation of this statement, they assert that he allowed his sons, Canute and Harald, to be baptized, and Jutland, at least, to make daily progress in the new faith. Yet Saxo assures us that he demolished the churches which had been erected in the preceding reign; that he restored the pagan temples; that he put to death, or exiled, the teachers of Christianity. This testimony is too positive to be evaded. But, though always a bigoted pagan, he might have been more intolerant at one period of life than another: probably he was a fierce persecutor until his marriage, and the virtues of his queen had mitigated his hatred of Christianity, and, by degrees, induced him to tolerate it. Though he might have allowed his sons to be baptized, he took care that their habits should be pagan. They were the most noted pirates of the age, and he rejoiced in their success. One of them, however, was killed near Dublin, and the blow is said to have proved fatal to him. He died, says Adam of Bremen, in 935; probably, however, he resigned his power in that year, and survived six years longer.[[95]]
|935 to 964.|
Harald II. surnamed Blaatand, or Blue-tooth, seems, during the last six years of his father’s life, to have been either associated in the government with that king, or to have ruled as his deputy. In 941, however, on the death of Gorm, he was the undisputed heir of the monarchy. The early part of his reign was most brilliant; the latter disastrous. Soon after his accession, his aid was implored by his countrymen in Normandy. Most readers are aware that, in the latter half of the preceding century, Rollo, assisted by perpetual reinforcements from the north, had wrested that province from the kings of France, and, in 912, on his baptism, had been declared the lawful duke of his new conquest. In 927, the veteran warrior, exhausted by age and fatigue, had resigned the dignity to his son William Longsword. In 943, this duke was assassinated, and his son Richard, a child, was left exposed to the hostilities of Louis d’Outremer, who naturally wished to recover that fine province, and confide the government to a French, not to a Norman, vassal. Louis led an army into Normandy, defeated the troops which the regency opposed to him, and obtained possession of the young duke’s person. In this emergency the Normans applied for aid to Harald, whose warlike actions were well known to them. In 944, that is, in a year after duke William’s assassination, the Danish king appeared off Cherburg, with a considerable armament. Alarmed at the danger, Louis had recourse to negotiation; and at the personal interview which followed, the dispute would, in all probability, have been amicably arranged, had not some chiefs of both armies begun to quarrel. This quarrel led to a general engagement, in which Louis was vanquished, and made prisoner. To obtain his liberty, he was compelled to release the young duke, whose right to the fief he also recognised. This was a proud day for Harald, who returned to Denmark with a reputation unrivalled in the north. His next exploit was similar—to place on the throne of Norway (now a monarchy) the sons of Eric, whom Hako, the reigning king, had driven into exile. His arms were successful; and he restored to Harald Grafeld the sceptre of the father. Twelve years afterwards, this prince being assassinated (an event of very usual occurrence in the history of the north), the Danish king went a second time into Norway, subdued the country, and divided it into three kingdoms. One portion he confided, under the ordinary feudal obligations, to Harald Grenshi, a prince of the family; a second, subject to the same homage and service, was bestowed on jarl Hako; the third, which was the lion’s share, was reserved to the Danish crown; and from all a large annual tribute was exacted. This policy was injurious enough to Norway, however useful it might be to Denmark. And it was scarcely less hurtful to England, since it augmented the power of the Danish kings, so as to render them formidable enemies to this island. In his next expedition, which was against no less a personage than the emperor Otho I., he was less happy. Embracing the cause of a rebel whom Otho had placed under the ban of the empire, and learning that the monarch was absent in Italy, he made a fierce irruption into Saxony, and, we are told, put to death the ambassadors of Otho. He had little difficulty in driving the imperial garrison from Sleswic, and in destroying that important fortress. On the return of Otho, however, who lost no time in avenging the indignity offered to the empire, Holstein was speedily overrun, and he driven into the north of Jutland. He was compelled to treat with the victor; and his states were left him on the condition of his baptism, and that of his son Sweyn, and of helping, instead of impeding, the progress of Christianity in his dominions. That on this occasion he did homage for them to the emperor, is asserted by the German, and denied by most native, historians. The subject may occupy our attention for a few moments.[[96]]
|964.|
That Harald did homage to Otho for the whole of Denmark,—that country being subdued and rendered tributary by the latter,—is expressly asserted by Sweyn Aggesen, a Danish writer of the twelfth century.[[97]] It is equally affirmed by Adam of Bremen, who wrote within half a century of Harald’s death, and who is better acquainted with the transactions of Holstein and Jutland than all the writers of his age.[[98]] And it is inferred, from a privilege granted by Otho to the church of Hamburg, exempting the lands of three bishoprics just created in Denmark—Aarhuus, Sleswic, Rypen—from all contributions to the state, from all dependence on the secular government; and extending the same privilege to all the lands which those churches might hereafter possess throughout Denmark. To weaken the effect of these testimonies has been the object of native writers. But what are their reasons? Too feeble to have any weight out of Denmark. They insist that Sweyn was misled by the authority of Adam of Bremen; that Adam, himself, was an ignorant ecclesiastic, who readily assented to whatever Otho assumed; and that the privilege in question, of which the authenticity cannot be denied, is of no weight,—a pure formula of the imperial chancellor, dictated, indeed, by an ambitious, all-grasping court, but founded on no real conquest, much less vassalage. To answer such objections would be an insult to the reader’s understanding. There can be no doubt of the emperor’s feudal supremacy over Denmark, any more than over Bohemia, or Poland, or Lombardy. It has, indeed, been contended that if Otho had a spiritual, he had no temporal jurisdiction; that he might be the protector, the superintendent, the head of the rising church, without having the least authority over the state. But this allegation is at variance with all reason and with all history. Would a sovereign have the insane effrontery to say what lands shall, and what shall not, pay taxes, unless he had some authority over them? Would he exempt them from contributing towards the support of the crown, unless that crown were in some degree dependent on him? And where is there any example of such unlicensed interference? But we all know that vassalitic obligations were of various kinds, some oppressive enough, others little more than nominal; and we may admit that though Harald was compelled to do homage, and even to pay a yearly tribute, he remained independent so far as his internal administration was concerned. It was the policy of Otho to christianise the kingdom—to transform restless barbarians into civilised creatures—to humanise the fiercest of pagans by the influence of a mild and powerful religion. Without such a change, he saw no security for his northern frontier. But in striving to attain this object, great moderation was necessary: he did not wish to exasperate, where his interest was so obviously to induce the most friendly relations; still less would he, by severe exactions,—exactions, however, which his position as conqueror might have enabled him to enforce,—indispose the minds of a high-spirited prince and a warlike people, against the faith which he wished them to embrace.[[99]]
|964.|
But miracles were no longer wrought in the time of the Othos. If Harald and some of his people outwardly conformed to the religion of Christ, they were still influenced by that of Odin. Besides, to both the national independence was dear; and we cannot be surprised at the hostile feeling with which the Danes regarded the Germans. During the life of the first Otho, indeed, there was outward harmony; but in about a year after the accession of the second (974), he joined the party of Henry duke of Bavaria, then a rebel, and made several irruptions into Saxony. On the defeat of that powerful vassal, Otho penetrated into Jutland, and advanced as far as the Sound which bears his name. With the result of this war we are not acquainted; but probably Harald submitted. The events, however, of both wars, which have been frequently confounded into one, are very doubtful. A more certain fact is, that the good fortune of Harald now forsook him. He failed in an expedition against Norway, which had thrown off its vassalage. Nor was this the worst: his son Sweyn, who had been baptized with him, rebelled against him. The motives which led the prince in this undutiful conduct are unknown. Probably the chief was the desire of power; and as his nature was ferocious, he scrupled not to bear arms against his father. There is also some reason to believe that he was the instrument of a great party,—the old pagans, who could not behold with much pleasure the gradual progress of the new faith, and the consequent decline of their own. His conversion was not, like his father’s, very sincere; or, perhaps, he cared not for either religion, so that his ambition was gratified. As the pagans were still the more numerous subjects of the state, he became at once their patron and their tool. The war was short, and Harald was compelled to flee. He sought a refuge in Normandy, and by duke Richard, we are told, was restored to at least a portion of his dominions. How far this relation is true, we cannot, in the absence of contemporary authority, decide. A more certain fact is, that, in 991, he was assassinated by the procurement of his own son. He was walking on the skirts of a wood, when an arrow from the bow of a Jomsberg pirate belonging to a band in the pay of Sweyn, laid him in the dust.[[100]]
Such was the fate of a monarch whose memory was dear to the early Christians of Denmark. He was the first monarch that openly professed the new religion; and the constancy with which he adhered to it affords indisputable proof of his sincerity. From Ledra, the ancient seat of the Odinic superstition, he removed his court to Roskild, where he erected a cathedral to the most holy Trinity. This was a politic step; connected with the new capital were no ancient recollections to remind the idolater of the faith of his fathers. The foundation of three other bishoprics attested his zeal. The reverence in which this monarch was held in the centuries immediately following his death, and a passage, of which the application was mistaken, in the History of Adam of Bremen, nearly led to his canonisation.[[101]]
|991.|
On the tragical death of Harald, the sceptre devolved to the unnatural Sweyn. As the majority of the people were still pagans, the accession of this prince was beheld with satisfaction; for though, perhaps, he did not openly apostatise, he encouraged the old religion, and rebuilt many of the temples which had been destroyed. And he was the ally of the Jomsburg pirates, the leader of whom shot the arrow which had proved fatal to Harald. Yet Harald was the founder of that city,—one of the most famous in the annals of the world. It was situated near the great lake of Pomerania, on the site of the modern Wollin. It was avowedly built for a piratical fortress; yet the founders could not anticipate the greatness which it afterwards retained. Its first governor, who was also its legislator, was a pirate chief, Palnatoko, whose skill as an archer was never equalled in the north. He decreed that no man who had ever shown the slightest fear, even in the greatest dangers, should be a member of the new community. No Christian was admitted, because Christianity was supposed to enfeeble the mind; but people of all other religions and of all countries were received; and each of the great European nations had a street of its own. It was the last place of the north which was humanised by the religion of Christ; and probably it would longer have defied the general influence of that faith, had not its riches enervated the vigour of its inhabitants, and intestine dissensions still further weakened it, so as to render it a prey to its enemies. Palnatoko, the assassin of Harald, had been long resident at the Danish court, and had been the tutor of Sweyn; and to that barbarous deed he was, we are told, excited by a personal injury. His skill in archery was the quality on which he most prided himself, and he was accustomed to boast that he could hit an apple, however small, on the top of a pole. This boast, which was regarded as an arrogant display, made him some enemies. It reached Harald, who insisted that the archer’s own child should supply the place of the pole; and threatened, that if the first arrow missed its aim, his own head should bear the penalty. As there was no hope of changing the royal determination, Palnatoko warned his child to be steady—not to flinch hand or foot—not to move a muscle of his body, when the arrow approached. On the day appointed, the dreaded experiment was tried; and the apple was cloven, while the child remained uninjured. But the archer had three arrows, and being asked what he had intended to do with the remaining two, he replied, that had he been the death of innocence, the guilty contriver of the experiment should not have escaped.—Such is the story which Saxo has preserved. That it has given rise to the fabulous one of William Tell, must be apparent to the reader; for the Danish historian wrote a full century before the Swiss patriot flourished. Nor do we think that Saxo’s account is the original one: the circumstance probably took place centuries before the reign of Harald Blaatand, and became a portion of the “legendary lore” the origin of which is so mysterious. Whether this incident be true or false in regard to Harald and this archer, the latter joined Sweyn, and, as we have already related, caused the death of the former.[[102]]