|870 to 924.|
The struggles of Alfred with the ferocious Northmen have been detailed in more than one volume connected with the present.[[276]] During this period, there was a Danish monarchy in Northumbria, which, as we have already observed, had been probably founded by the sons of Ragnar Lodbrog. That monarchy subsisted in the reign of Edmund, the son of Alfred; and, it was in full vigour on the accession of Athelstane. So powerful, indeed, was Sigtrug, king of that province, that Athelstane, to insure his friendship, conferred on him the hand of his sister. The condition of this marriage was that Sigtrug should embrace Christianity, and become the vassal of Athelstane. In five years, however, the restless barbarian put away his wife, and relapsed into idolatry. To punish the insult, Athelstane invaded Northumbria; but Sigtrug died before his arrival; and the two sons of Sigtrug, Anlaf and Godfrey, fled,—the former into Ireland, the latter into Scotland; and Athelstane annexed Northumbria to his English crown.[[277]]
|924 to 934.|
That Athelstane should so immediately raise the power of the Saxon kingdom, as not only to defeat the Danes and Northmen, but to subjugate a province which had always been hostile to it, shows what may be effected by the energies of a single mind. Not satisfied with expelling the enemy from Northumbria, he pursued them into Scotland, far north of the boundary which had hitherto arrested the progress of English victory: his fleets penetrated into Caithness, ravaging the coast as they proceeded. And he is believed, at this period, to have located a multitude of English colonists in the southern provinces of Scotland, and thus to have laid the foundation of the present lowland population. But Northumbria was too recent a conquest, and too dissimilar from the rest of the monarchy, to remain secure. The chiefs of Denmark and Norway, who had so long regarded England as a kind of inheritance, armed in greater numbers than before, to check the rising power of Athelstane. They were joined by all the noted sea kings of the age; by many of the jarls or kings who had settlements in Ireland and Scotland; by the king of the Scots, and by several Welsh chiefs. Never, we are told, had so formidable an armament menaced England as that which, in 934, entered the Humber. It consisted of 615 ships, headed by Anlaf, whom Constantine of Scotland had induced to make the attempt. Anlaf, who, on his father’s death, had obtained for himself a principality in Ireland, had a reputation for skill and valour equalled by none of his countrymen. Of the two thanes whom Athelstane had placed over Northumbria, one was defeated and slain; the other, after the battle, fled to acquaint the English monarch with the defeat. He prepared for the contest with courage; and, to gain time until his forces were collected, entered into negotiations. When his army was completed, he hastened into the north, and was in presence of the pirates before they knew he had left the Saxon provinces. If any faith is to be placed in either Saxon or Norwegian writers, Anlaf, assuming the disguise of a harper, penetrated to the tent of Athelstane, and entertained that monarch with his art. His object, we are told, was to ascertain the position of the tent previous to a nocturnal attack, which had been determined by the confederate chiefs. But this incident, no less than the recognition of Anlaf by one of the Saxon outposts, is too romantic to be easily credited. What appears to be certain is, that Athelstane removed his tent to another part of the field; and that the bishop of Sherburn, who encamped in the place which he had abandoned, was slain before the morning’s dawn. In the night there was a skirmish, which caused much effusion of blood, and was advantageous to neither party. When day arrived, the celebrated battle of Brunanburgh was fought. That town has escaped the researches of antiquaries; and all that can be conjectured is, that it was in some place north of the Humber. That the struggle was a desperate one might be inferred alike from the character of the combatants, and from the magnitude of the interests involved. Victory declared for Athelstane; Constantine of Scotland was nearly taken, and his son killed; the Cumbrians and Britons and Irish were destroyed, or put to flight, and the bravest warriors of the north remained on the field. This splendid advantage raised England in the esteem of all Europe, and impressed the Northmen with a salutary terror.[[278]]
|934.|
The intercourse between Athelstane and Eric of the Bloody Axe we have before mentioned.[[279]] We have also related in what manner Sweyn of Denmark[[280]] defeated Ethelred II., and eventually became king of England. The history of that monarch brings down that of the Scandinavian expeditions to the year 1014.
|400 to 840.|
2. France. The devastations of the Saxons and the Jutes on the coasts of Gaul commenced as early as those on the coast of Britain. We read of them in the third and every succeeding century, until France was too strong to be assailed with impunity,—until piracy was extinguished in the north of Europe. In the fifth century, the pirates besieged Orleans, and formed many settlements on the western coast. About the middle of the sixth, Hamlet of Jutland is said to have fought the Franks in person, and to have been defeated. The period, however, of Hamlet, is purely conjectural; and his descent on the coast is equally so. But that the Normans were there is affirmed by the contemporary Gregory of Tours, who describes their ravages with much interest. Under the Carlovingians, the piratical armaments were more powerful than at any preceding time. In 795, the Danes ravaged Friesland; from 800, the coasts of Flanders and France were infested; nor could the genius and vast resources of Charlemagne punish their audacity. On witnessing their fugitive depredations, he is said to have predicted the trouble which they would cause his successors. Such a prediction required no supernatural discernment; but it proves that the monarch had formed a correct estimate of northern piracy. For the greater part of a century, however, they did not appear in any overwhelming numbers on the French coast. The forces of the Northmen were too much scattered over the deep, in England, Ireland, the Orkneys, and the Baltic, to admit of any considerable concentration at a given point. Their efforts, however destructive, were desultory, and might have been easily repelled, had there been any wisdom or any vigour in the government. But the sons of the emperor Louis were too eager to destroy each other, to have time for the chastisement of obscure pirates; and every year added to the severity of the scourge. In 840, Rouen was burnt; and many great monasteries of that province, defended as they were by numerous vassals, shared the same fate. The banks of two rivers—the Seine and the Loire—were ravaged from their mouths to the interior of France. Amboise was next burnt, and Tours was besieged; but St. Martin saved his city.[[281]]
|840.|
The man whose ravages were to eclipse all former pirates was Hastings, who headed the expedition into Touraine. Of him we have no mention in the annals of the north; our only information respecting him is from the French writers,—Dudo of St. Quentin, William of Jumvieges, William of Poictiers, Orderic Vital, Robert Wace, and Benedict of St. Maur. In this absence of Scandinavian authority, the critics of the north have endeavoured to identify him with such of the Swedish, Danish, or Norwegian chiefs, as bore a name kindred with his own. But the account of Wace, however inaccurate in its details, is the only one that can be followed. There was a king of Denmark, says this ecclesiastic, Lotroc, an old man, who had a son called Biorn, surnamed Ironside, from his defensive armour. Finding that his kingdom was too populous, he revived an ancient law, which forced all the sons of a family except one, to seek their fortunes on the deep. A considerable number of vessels being prepared, Biorn was placed over the fleet; but, as his years were yet tender, he was subjected to the councils of Hadding, or Hasting, a veteran chief of the pirates. Who was this king? Modern writers unanimously affirm that he was the celebrated Ragnar Lodbrog. In this case, Biorn could be no other than Biorn Ironside, who, on the death of his father in 794, ascended the throne of the Swedes. Yet how will this chronology agree with the facts? The expedition of Hastings must be referred to the middle of the ninth century; when, if any dependence is to be placed on the critical historians of the north, Biorn had been dead forty years. But wherever the name of this Lodbrog occurs, there is the same chronological confusion; nor can we be surprised that Suhm makes two heroes of that name,—one of the eighth, the other of the ninth century.[[282]]