|999 to 1000.|
No sooner was Thyra the wife of Olaf, than she began to complain of her poverty. She had only what her husband was disposed to allow her, which, though equal to her wants, did not suit her dignity as queen of Norway. Yet, in Pomerania, she had ample possessions, which, if restored to her, would enrich her, and make her no longer burdensome to him: Borislaf, she was sure, would, if asked by Olaf, quietly surrender the domains. By degrees, she prevailed on him to equip a fleet for the coast of Pomerania. In the summer of the year 1000, he departed on this expedition. On the confines of Sweden, he married his sister, Ingeborg, to Rognevald, a prince of that nation; and then, proceeding on his voyage, soon reached the coast of Pomerania. In the mean time, the arts of Sigrida prevailed, and Sweyn resolved to join the enemies of Olaf. Actuated by ambition, no less than by the hope of revenge, he wished to obtain some portion of a kingdom which, before the time of Halfdan the Black, had frequently been subdued by his ancestors; and to punish Olaf for presuming to marry his sister without his consent. Nor had Sigrida much difficulty in prevailing on her near kinsman, Olaf of Sweden, to join her husband in the war. Eric, the exiled son of Hako the jarl, whom Olaf had succeeded, and who had always found a welcome home in Denmark and Sweden, acceded to the confederation. But a more formidable opponent still was Sigvald, a pirate chief of Jomsberg, whose close connection with the Danish court has been related.[[226]] Sigvald was the more dangerous from his treachery. So far from openly declaring war against the Norwegian, he met that monarch, for whom he professed the highest esteem, and whom it was his object to detain on the coast of Pomerania, until the united forces of Denmark and Sweden arrived to crush him. At length, when he knew the hostile fleets were in the Danish islands, he persuaded Olaf to return, the office of pilot being intrusted to him. With his own ships—which were eleven in number—in the van, he led the Norwegian fleet into the midst of the enemy, who lay concealed near the present Stralsund. Not all the ships, however, were there; some had taken to the open sea; so that Olaf, with only a portion of his armament, was suddenly assailed by overwhelming numbers of the enemy. With his usual gallantry he defended himself, and great was the carnage which he made among the hostile ranks. But the contest was too unequal; the valiant champions of Norway fell round their master; the Long Serpent, as the ship of Olaf was called, was boarded by the son of Hako; a desperate struggle on the deck followed; and when few of the Norwegians remained alive, Olaf, with three or four of them, plunged into the sea, and was seen no more. Such, at least, is the relation of Snorro, which is supported by reason; but the two Icelandic biographers of this king—Gunlaug and Oddur—insist that he saved himself by swimming, repaired to the coast of Vinland, in Pomerania, was cured of his numerous wounds by the sister of his first wife, went on a pilgrimage to Rome, and, after many years, died in the Holy Land.[[227]]
From the space which we have devoted to the exploits of Olaf, his character may be easily inferred. The sagas add, that he exceeded all men in two bodily qualities, which are very rarely combined,—strength and agility. On one occasion he is said to have climbed a steep precipice to extricate one of his courtiers, who had ascended to a great height, and could not move upwards or downwards: taking him under one arm, the king descended with him safely to the plain below. With both hands he was equally expert. One of his amusements was to toss three sharp swords into the air, and catch each by the handle as it descended, and, without intermission, again to throw them, singly, far above his head. This game is supposed to be of Indian origin; and, probably, Olaf is the only king that ever played it. He was fond of poetry, especially that which commemorated the deeds of heroes; he was liberal to all his dependents, accessible to all the world, jovial in temper. His attention to commerce was one of his most useful qualities; and whatever arts he had seen practised in other countries he introduced into his own. He founded, at the mouth of the river Nid, a city which was long called Nidross, but the name was afterwards superseded by that of Drontheim, from the province that contained it. In ship-building, navigation, and the arts dependent on them, he had no equal. But, to the close of life, he was a barbarian: he indulged in habitual drunkenness; and he shed blood so arbitrarily as to prove that at no time, except when an assembly was actually occupied in the public business, was he restrained by law. He was, in the truest sense of the word, a despot. Though a milder sovereign could not have so completely triumphed over heathenism,—and he was, therefore, of incalculable benefit to his country, in removing an insuperable barrier to civilisation and morals,—this fact does not in the least atone for his ferocity. In many points, he bears great resemblance to Peter the Great of Russia; though, in all good and great qualities, he was inferior to that monarch. In his reign many important voyages were undertaken; and to these we shall advert in the chapter on the maritime expeditions of the Northmen.
|1000 to 1012.|
On the death of Olaf, the two allied kings hastened to divide Norway, or, at least, the greater portion of it, between them. Their lieutenants were the two sons of Hako the jarl, who had assisted them so effectually in the defeat of Olaf. The administration of these princes is mentioned with respect by Norwegian and Icelandic writers. Though some of the local jarls were oppressive, they were no tyrants; and, though Christians by profession, they did not persecute, but left the progress of their faith to time and reason. Twelve years they exercised the government, when Eric received a summons from his liege superior, Sweyn, king of Denmark, to aid that monarch in the final conquest of England.[[228]] Leaving his son Hako, then about seventeen years of age, with the administration of the government, and confiding the youth to the mature counsels of Einar the Archer, he sailed, with all the force he had been able to collect, for the coast of England, never to return. But a rival was now to appear on the scene, before whom his own power and his brother Sweyn’s was to dissolve into air.[[229]]
In a former page[[230]], we have related the tragical fate of Harald Grenske, who did not live to see the birth of his son, Olaf the Saint. Fearing the vengeance of Hako the jarl, then ruler of Norway, Asta, the widow of Harald, no sooner heard of his death than she repaired to her father’s house in the uplands, where she brought forth her son. Under her father’s roof the child felt not the loss of a parent. Though she married a second time, his education was not neglected. Sigurd Syr, the second husband, was an easy, good-natured man, whose time was wholly occupied by his immense estates, and who left the instruction of his step-son to one better qualified for the task,—Rane, one of the favourite chiefs of the deceased Harald. As Olaf was destined to be a saint, miracles enough are recorded of his infancy, and of the period which preceded it. These, as we are arrived at the historic period, we shall omit. Great praise is bestowed on the precocious talents of young Olaf. To us they appear indicative of the spoiled child. One day, says Snorro, Sigurd, being desirous to ride into the country, commanded him to saddle one of his horses,—a menial office, but one that the noblest youths were accustomed to discharge. He brought a goat instead of a horse or mule, properly accoutred, and with provoking officiousness proposed to assist him in mounting. “Thus it always is!” observed Sigurd; “any command of mine becomes the subject of ridicule.” In the military exercises of the age Olaf was a proficient. He could bend the bow, or dart the spear, or handle the sword, with as much dexterity and as much strength as any youth of the province; and in swimming he had few rivals. Nor was he less attentive to the manufacture and repair of armour,—a very necessary accomplishment to a warrior, and especially to a king, at a time when smiths were not numerous and were seldom at hand. Of Christianity he acquired as much knowledge as could be expected, when the priests, themselves, were ignorant of its leading doctrines, and when its purest rites were alloyed by superstition and heathenism. His godfather was no other than Olaf Trygveson, after whom he was named.[[231]]
|1007 to 1014.|
When Olaf had reached his twelfth year, which was the seventh after the death of his godfather, he was sent on his first piratical expedition, under the care of Rane, his preceptor. On this occasion he assumed the title of king, which was given to all sea captains who were sprung from a royal family. The coast of Denmark and Sweden were the first to experience his ravages; yet why in time of peace—when in addition Norway was dependent on both kingdoms—this should be permitted, is not explained. We do not read that either Eric or his brother Sweyn attempted to throw off the yoke. But at this lawless period, when pirates of all nations, from Ireland to Russia, swarmed on every coast, it would have been impossible to discern the author of the depredations, and, if they had been known, to punish them. Besides, the subjects of one power were as guilty as those of another; and where both kings were equally injured and equally aggressive, neither had a right to complain. To Sweden, in particular, Olaf bore a strong hatred. In that country his father had been murdered, and revenge was his first duty. On the southern coast he fought his first battle,—not against the Swedes, but against other pirates. These he subdued; and, emboldened by his success, he succeeded to the eastern shores, disembarked in the vicinity of lake Meler, and recommenced his depredations. To chastise his presumption, the Swedish king put an armament in motion; but he escaped, and returned home in triumph. When spring arrived, he renewed his piracy on the coast of Sweden, and extended it to that of Finland. In the latter country he experienced, say his biographers, what so many had experienced before him,—the influence of magic. Missiles from unseen hands were showered upon his little band: with his spoil he retreated to the shore, where, to prevent his embarkation, a furious tempest awaited him; but he sailed, and his perseverance triumphed.—As he grew in years, he naturally grew in enterprise. The following season witnessed his depredations in Jutland; the next, in Friesland; the next, in England. But he did not come, we are told, to fight against the Saxons; the Danes were the objects of his hostility; and, as the ally of Ethelred, he assailed them with vigour. It appears, however, that he was sometimes the ally of prince Canute, the son of Sweyn. Probably he was ready to transfer his services from one prince to another, as the tide of victory turned, or as he obtained a greater reward from one than from another. He appears to have been one of the ferocious monsters who, in 1012, destroyed Canterbury, and its good archbishop St. Elphege.[[232]] “He was a leader of the army,” says Snorro, “which consumed that city.” From this exploit few could have predicted his future saintship; but saints then, as more recently, were easily made. In these troubled times, his object was to collect all the plunder he could—whether from pagans or Christians little concerned him. In France as in Finland, in Kent as in Jutland, in Ireland as in Pomerania, his sword was equally active and equally pitiless.[[233]]
|1014.|
After the death of jarl Eric, and Sweyn king of Denmark, Olaf ventured to Norway. As a prince, he could not be without ambition; as a piratical chief, he had based his trust in his own valour: and the present conjuncture he justly considered as a favourable one for his views. Eric was no more; Sweyn, his brother, and Hako, his son, were not descendants of the revered Harald Harfager; Erling, a brother-in-law of Sweyn, was a tyrant; and the Norwegians were dissatisfied with a foreign yoke. Yet in this voyage, in which two vessels only accompanied him, his motive must have been, not conquest, but the desire of ascertaining the state of the popular mind. He landed on an island on the western coast, where, hearing that Hako was in his neighbourhood, with one vessel only, he resolved on the bold enterprise of making that chief captive. It was easily carried into effect, and Hako was brought into the presence of Olaf, who admired the unusual comeliness of his person. “All that I have heard of your bodily qualities,” said Olaf, “is, I perceive, true; but your family is again doomed to be the sport of fortune.” “We have always been so,” was the reply; “nor we nor our enemies have been her favourites; and so strange are the vicissitudes of this life, that, for anything I know, we may again be in the ascendant.” “If I pardon thee,” added the king, “wilt thou engage never to bear arms against me,—never to revisit Norway?” The jarl promised, and was suffered to depart, with such of his companions as chose to accompany him. By Canute of Denmark, then in England, he was well received, and intrusted with a share of the administration. Olaf, therefore, was rid of one rival; but Sweyn and Erling still remained. His next object was to visit his native region, where his kindred and friends were ready to receive him. As he passed along many individuals swore fidelity to him; but the majority waited the issue of events. The manner in which his mother received him may illustrate the domestic economy of the times. Hearing of his approach, she commanded her servants, male and female, to prepare everything as for a distinguished guest. Four women prepared the hall of entertainment with benches, chairs, and cushions; two strewed the floor with rushes; two laid out a large side-table with drinking cups and horns, and a two-handled jug filled with mead; two laid out the table; two brought in the dishes that would be required; two drew the beer; two were sent to fetch such things as were not in the house; and the rest of the servants, of both sexes, were occupied in the back court-yard. To Sigurd, who was occupied in farming, such garments were sent as became a king, and with them a horse magnificently caparisoned. Four domestics went to invite guests for the entertainment, such as should do the more honour to Olaf. The rest of the servants,—those, we suppose, whose duty it was to wait on the guests, were commanded to put on their gayest apparel, and “such as had none were to be supplied by those who had.” The manners of the age and the character of the man are equally visible in the reply of Sigurd to the messengers of his wife, when urged to appear with becoming splendour. “Asta has before now received her friends with much pomp, but never has she showed much respect to mine. On all occasions she exhibits as much ambition as if the greatest advantage were to be derived from her display; and I suppose we shall be required to pay the youth the same honours at his departure as at his arrival.” He then alluded to the charge of the entertainment,—to the umbrage which the kings of Denmark and Sweden might take at it,—and concluded by hoping that all would end better than he feared. But Sigurd was a prudent man, and he exhibited no such spirit in the presence of his wife. Knowing that he must obey, he sat down while one servant pulled off his agricultural vestments; another helped him to draw on a costly pair of boots; a third fastened the spurs; another held his mantle and cloak: the addition of a helmet and sword transformed the honest farmer into a noble baron. But he must not alone approach the son of his wife. From his peasantry, hitherto busy in the labours of the harvest, he selected thirty as a kind of a body guard, and with them he rode in silent dignity towards his villa.[[234]]