Scarcely was Eric, who, from his sanguinary actions, was surnamed the Bloody Axe (Blodöxe), the nominal sovereign of Norway, when he called on his brothers to recognise his title, and pay him the tributes which they had paid to his father. Instead of complying, Olaf and Sigurd exacted the usual tributes in their respective kingdoms,—an undoubted act of sovereignty. To chastise their presumption, the indignant Eric equipped an armament, and hastened to Tunsberg, the seat of their domination: he was met by the two kings on the declivity of a hill near the city; but, his forces being much superior in number, they were defeated and slain. The same fate would have befallen Trygve, the son of Olaf, and Godred the son of the murdered Biorn,—both nephews of Eric,—had they not consulted their safety by repairing to the inaccessible fastnesses of the uplands. The tyrant was now hated more intensely than before, and a majority of the people began to look for a deliverer of the race of the Ynglings. But where could one be found, seeing that all Eric’s brothers had either paid the debt of nature, or perished untimely? There was one exception to this fate: Hako, the last of Harald’s sons, was still alive, and in England. From our own historians, no less than from Snorro, it is evident that friendly relations had always subsisted between Athelstane of England and Harald, and that presents had passed between them. One of them was a magnificent sword, which Athelstane sent to Harald; and Harald, in return, sent a magnificent ship, with his infant son Hako to be educated in the polite court of the Saxon. This simple narrative has been much embellished by Snorro. He informs us that when the ambassador delivered the splendid sword to Harald, and the monarch had seized the handle, the ambassador exclaimed, “Now art thou the liege man of our lord the king, in that thou hast received his sword!”—alluding to the most ordinary symbol of investiture. The proud Norwegian was exasperated; but, on reflection, he retaliated in a manner equally ingenious. Causing a magnificent ship to be prepared, he despatched in it his son Hako, under the care of a trusty chief. On reaching the court of Athelstane, he entered the palace, and laying the young child—then about seven years of age—on the knees of the king, said, “King Harald commands thee to educate his bastard!” The facts are as we have represented them on the authority of English contemporary writers,—facts which an ancient chronicler of Norway, Theodric, also admits. The writers of both countries agree that Athelstane nobly discharged the duty which he had undertaken. Hako was educated well, was of course baptized, and taught the truths of Christianity; and in the English king he found a counsellor, a friend, a father. He was about fourteen when he heard of Harald’s death, and of his brother Eric’s accession. The following year brought him so many reports of Eric’s cruelty, and of the desire of many Norwegians to rid themselves of the tyrant, that he began to regard the throne as his future inheritance. He had ambition; but in a virtuous mind, ambition, like every other feeling, may become an instrument of good. Hako longed to be a king,—not merely from the desire of power, but from a wish to benefit his countrymen, especially by diffusing among them the blessings of Christianity. When, therefore, many emissaries from Norway arrived at the English court, and besought him to rescue the country from the yoke, he readily obeyed the call. Being supplied with ships, men, money, by his generous friend, about two years after his father’s death, he sailed towards Norway.[[184]]
|937 to 946.|
Hako landed at Drontheim, and the inhabitants here assembled in a Thing, or general meeting, when every free-born head of a family, who had land, was permitted to vote, or at least to sanction, by outward expressions of applause, the opinions of the chiefs. Though most of them were friendly to the royal youth, they dreaded the vindictive character of Eric. But in that meeting the cause of Hako was eloquently advocated by Sigurd, one of the most powerful jarls. And when Hako himself arose, so like his father was he, that a murmur of applause ran through the multitude. When he spoke, all were attentive; when he promised, on the condition of their making him king, to abolish the oppressive obligations of feudality, and restore the lands to their ancient allodial tenure, one universal shout proclaimed him king of Norway. The report spread through the kingdom that Harald was restored in his son, but that the son had not the worst quality of his father,—that of oppressing the people by feudal exactions. The joyful news that the allodial tenure was to be restored, spread, quick as lightning, over the country. From Drontheim, Hako proceeded into the uplands, where a Thing was assembled, and he was received in the same manner. Here he was joined by many chiefs; among others, by Drygve and Sigurd, on whom he conferred the regal title, with the government of Westfold to the latter, and Raumarik with Vingulmark to the former. This condition accompanied the investiture,—that half of their revenues should be paid into the treasury of Hako, the other half be retained by themselves. Those revenues, it was manifest, would be much less than they had been while every estate was a fief belonging to the crown: allodial property has always been lightly taxed. Hako now returned to Drontheim, to raise troops and prepare ships for a contest with his brother Eric, who was then in the province of Vikia. The case of the latter was evidently hopeless; though he called the people to his aid, few obeyed him; and the men who were with him at the time of Hako’s embarkation, left him, one by one, to swell the ranks of his rival. He had no hope of security, but in flight; and he repaired to the Orkneys. There collecting all the ships and all the men he could, he proceeded to the south, ravaging the Scottish coast as he passed along, until he arrived in Northumbria. This province had never been well affected to the Anglo-Saxon yoke, which, indeed, was a very recent one. It had been held for some time by Danish chiefs; half its population was Danish or Norwegian; and it had been the prey of the sea kings from the eighth to the tenth century. Athelstane thought that if Eric would become his vassal, embrace Christianity, and defend Northumbria against the pirates of the north, he would be a far more useful subject than any of the Saxon thanes. A messenger from the English king met the exiled monarch: the proposals of the former were eagerly embraced; Eric and his whole family were baptized; homage was done for the province; and York was chosen as the seat of the new government. But on the part of Athelstane this was an impolitic step. From common report he must surely have known something of Eric’s character,—that neither peace nor obedience could be expected from a turbulent, ambitious, cruel, and ungrateful man. During the reign of Athelstane, indeed, he committed no depredations on the English coast, but he ravaged those of Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, without intermission. The fame which he acquired in these expeditions brought many Norwegians, many Swedes, many Danes to his standard. During the reign of Edmund the Elder, he appears to have been absent from Northumbria; and so he was during the first year of Edred’s reign. He then returned, and laid waste the English coast. Edred marched against him, and compelled the Northumbrians to do homage to him instead of Eric. The latter collected new forces, and again contended for the kingdom; but he contended in vain; he was signally defeated, and, if Snorro be correct, slain on the battle field. But Matthew of Westminster asserts that, after his defeat, he was betrayed by one of his chiefs, and slain in the wilds of Yorkshire. However this be, from this time Northumbria became an English province: Eric, as the chronicler of Mailros observes, was its last king. The widow and sons of this exile being driven from Northumbria, took refuge in the Orkneys and Shetlands, where the latter resumed their piratical depredations wherever prey was to be found. Subsequently, as we shall perceive, they were entertained at the court of the Danish king. The character of Eric of the Bloody Axe needs no comment. He was a favourite with all pirates, and, for this very reason, with Odin himself.[[185]]
|939 to 940.|
By the departure of Eric, Hako was the sole monarch of Norway, though, as we have before related, he imprudently left the regal title to two princes of his family. His first hostilities were against the Danes, who infested his dominions, but whom he pursued into Jutland, and defeated a second time. But they came from Zealand and other islands of Denmark; and in Zealand he sought and extirpated them. Those of Gothland were next chastised by him. Harald Blaatand, the Danish king, offended with the presumption of Hako in thus entering his bays and destroying the vessels of his people, threatened revenge. To annoy his brother sovereign and fellow Christian, he received, with much ceremony, Gunhilda, the widow of Eric Blodöxe, and her children, and furnished them with ample means of support. The sons of Eric had been taught the profession of piracy; and on their settlement in Denmark, they built vessels, and committed frequent depredations on Vikia, one of the southern provinces of Norway. In return, the chiefs of Hako, especially king Trygve, desolated the coasts of Denmark. The Norwegian monarch was no less a warrior than his pagan ancestors; but though he thus violated the spirit, he was not insensible to the forms, of Christianity. One of his objects, as we have before observed, in striving for the Norwegian throne, was the diffusion of the Christian religion. He did not, however, for some years, openly interfere with that of his subjects. He had need of their aid; and he had no wish to estrange them by an ostentatious display of his own worship. For some years, therefore, he worshipped in silence. By degrees he drew his friends, his courtiers, to embrace the new faith. He next extended his favour to all who consented to be baptized. The number of converts increasing, he thought that he might now act more openly: he accordingly sent to England for a bishop and priests to become the harbingers of the new faith throughout Norway. On their arrival, he destroyed some of the heathen temples in Drontheim and the neighbouring districts. Many of the pagans showed a philosophical indifference to both religions: some, south of Drontheim, would do what the people of that city should do themselves; the majority were anxious to be guided by the decrees of a Thing. An assembly was therefore convoked in Drontheim; but the members being alarmed at the magnitude of the change proposed by the king, devolved the decision on a more general one, which should be convoked at Froste. It was evident that the zeal of Hako was impelling him too rapidly in the career of reformation.[[186]]
Amidst these transactions, Snorro gives us some interesting facts respecting the religious customs of the Northmen. When the public sacrifices were to be offered,—which, as we have before related, was obligatory three times in the year[[187]],—the whole of the neighbouring population hastened to the nearest temple, bearing provisions and mead. On these occasions, cattle of all kinds, and numerous horses, were sacrificed. The blood of the victims was called klot; the basins in which the blood was received, klot-bollar; and klotteinar were the names of the instruments with which the blood was sprinkled over the altars, the pedestals, the walls of the temple within and without, the assembled multitude, and the provisions which were about to be eaten. In the centre of the temple was an open space where the fires were burning; and over them were suspended the cauldrons and pots destined to cook the sacrificial meats. The entertainment which followed was under the care of the sovereign; and it was his duty to consecrate the meats and cups before they were used by the people. The first cup was emptied to Odin for victory and prosperity in war; the second, to Niord and Freyr, for an abundant season and for peace; and when these were drunk, it was customary, in many places, to pour a libation from an overflowing horn, in memory of deceased heroes and kings. Then horns were emptied in memory of inferior personages,—of relatives and friends,—and these were called the minne, or smaller cups. To these sacrifices, and to the pagan rites in general, jarl Sigurd, who had done so much to procure the election of Hako, was much addicted. He was as zealous, says the historian, as Harald Harfager had ever been. And he was exceedingly liberal: in the absence of the king, when it was his duty to consecrate the food and drink, he often bore the whole of the expense,—no slight one, where so many hundreds of cattle had to be sacrificed, and so many thousands of people entertained. Hence his fame was much diffused; and as he was Hako’s uncle by the mother’s side, he had considerable weight in the royal councils.[[188]]
|941.|
On the day appointed, the national Thing was assembled; and Hako, after proposing a body of laws which were readily adopted, and to which we shall advert in a future chapter[[189]], openly adverted to the all-important subject. He besought the whole multitude, rich and poor, noble and serf, young and old, the happy and the wretched, to embrace Christianity,—to acknowledge one only God, and Jesus, the son of Mary, as his son and equal. He implored them to abandon the rites of heathenism,—to refrain from labour every seventh day, and observe it as a festival,—and to fast another day in the seven. At these words a murmur went through the multitude,—all freemen, be it remembered, all proprietors of slaves, all landowners. Were two days out of the seven to be thus lost?—for who could work on a fast-day? If this novelty were adopted, assuredly the ground could not be cultivated, nor could there be a sufficiency of food for the people. A rich and popular landowner of Gaulandal, the oracle of the assembled multitude, then arose. “When thou, O king, wast first elected by us in the public assembly of Drontheim, and didst restore to us the lands of our forefathers, we all thought that the highest happiness was to be our lot. But now we are in the greatest uncertainty whether thou hast really made us free, or art preparing for us a new slavery, by this strange proposal that we should abandon the religion of all our fathers—men far more excellent than we—a religion which has always been advantageous to Norway. Through the great love which we bore thee, we conferred on thee the privilege of introducing new laws. The code of laws which thou hast this day proposed, and which we have promised to maintain, we shall all of us inviolably maintain. All of us will follow thee as our leader, and honour thee as our king,—while any one of us shall live,—so that thou wilt proceed moderately, and ask not from our love what we cannot lawfully grant. But if, as now seems to be the case, thou not only requirest this change from us, but art preparing to force our inclinations to it, know that we have all determined to abandon thee, and to choose another king, under whose sway we may be permitted to observe a religion so dear to our hearts.” The good sense of this reply might have been despised by Hako; but the menace was to be regarded, when it was received with applause by the assembled multitude. This was a critical moment, and Sigurd, whose authority, alike from his dignity and character, was so great, now came forward. As soon as the tumult had subsided, he assured them that the king wished what they wished, and that the good understanding between them would never be destroyed. The people replied,—“Then let king Hako do as his father did,—offer sacrifices to the gods for abundance and peace!” When the assembly was dissolved, Sigurd besought the king to reserve his intention of proselyting for more suitable times, and, above all, not to incense nobles and people by refusing some show of compliance with what all had demanded.[[190]]
|942 to 956.|
The proceedings which we are now relating doubtless occupied many years, though, by most historians, they have been crowded into three or four. We are told that the above assembly, in which the laws of Hako were passed, was held in 941; and we know that, in 956, he was still labouring for the introduction of the new faith. Hako, though he saw the prudence of complying with Sigurd’s advice, was loth to follow it; probably he hoped to discover some way of evading even the slightest homage to the old faith. At the sacrificial time, however, he was compelled to go to the temple; nor could he avoid sitting on the throne, as president of the ceremonies. The office of high-priest was performed by Sigurd, who, after filling the cup, delivered it to the king for consecration to Odin. As Hako received it, he drew upon it the sign of the cross,—a thing never seen before, and highly disagreeable to all present. “How is this?” cried a chief; “does the king refuse to consecrate, and sacrifice to the gods?” A tumult arose; but it was allayed by the philosophic Sigurd, who observed that Hako had consecrated to Thor, by making on the cup the sign of that deity’s mallet. The following day he was present at the festival. The people insisted that he should taste of the horse-flesh,—he refused; that he should drink from the consecrated cup,—still he refused; that, at least, he should taste the gravy which flowed from the roasted meats,—he hesitated. The temple was in an uproar; and violent hands were about to be laid on him, when Sigurd interfered, and said that the king would do what was amply sufficient to satisfy the gods,—he would hold his head over the caldron, the handle of which he would touch with his lips, and inhale the fumes arising from it. Accordingly, the monarch approached the caldron, and was observed to cover the handle with linen before the application of his lips; he then inhaled the odour, and returned to his seat gloomy and discontented, but not more so than many of the spectators. The following year, when the yule festival, the most important of all, was to be celebrated, and the people of Drontheim were assembled together, with eight of the princely pontiffs, Hako could not avoid attending. These had agreed, not only that they would pluck up by the roots what little Christianity had yet been planted in Norway, but that they would force the monarch to sacrifice with them. In conformity with this resolution, they had destroyed three Christian churches, and killed three priests. On the first day of the sacrifices, which were celebrated in the great temple of Moria, Hako was peremptorily required to join in the rites. By the authority of Sigurd, the demand was so far modified that, if he would eat of the horse-flesh, and consecrate all the horns presented to him, he would satisfy the audience. He did so; nor did he, as before, make the hated sign of the cross, in offering the mead to the gods. This was guilty condescension, and he felt it: he felt, too, that he had done wrong to be present; and his anger was excited against both Sigurd and the whole pagan population of Drontheim. He vowed to be revenged,—to fall on the inhabitants with an armed force, as soon as spring appeared.[[191]]