|830 to 852.|

The pope and the emperor were much gratified by the unexpected opening in the North. To reward Anscar, and stimulate him to greater exertions, he was made archbishop of Hamburg, with a jurisdiction over all the Scandinavian kingdoms, when he should have converted them to Christianity. In addition he was invested with the legatine authority over these regions; but it was shared with Ebbo, who knew less of the people, of their wants, and of their disposition, and who certainly had not either the zeal or the prudence of the other. One of Ebbo’s first acts was to consecrate a bishop, Gansbert, whom he dispatched into Sweden, while Anscar sent a vicar. It was evidently not the saint’s intention to return. He thought, and justly, that Denmark was a field sufficiently wide for his own exertions, and that he might superintend the Swedish mission from his new metropolis. That mission slowly but surely gained ground; while his own exertions in the more southern portion of his immense diocese corresponded, if not with his wishes, probably with his hopes. Both he and Gansbert, however, had the fault of all Roman catholic missionaries; they baptized before they had sufficiently instructed. Hence they had the mortification to see many of their converts join the worship of Odin and Thor with that of Christ; and many to forsake their new profession with as much levity as they had embraced it. Other misfortunes arrived. Hamburg was assailed by pirates: the sacred buildings were consumed by fire; the same fate attended the books which the saint had collected; and would, no doubt, have befallen him and his clergy, had they not fled from the danger. These pirates were headed by a king—Eric of Jutland and Frisia. For some time the work was nearly at a stand. Another disappointment—the loss of a monastery, which Anscar had held with the archbishopric, and from which the chief support of the mission was derived—paralysed his exertions. A misfortune no less serious was the expulsion of Gansbert from Sweden. This event is wrapt in some obscurity. It could not be entirely caused by religious persecution; for the king was still tolerant. Perhaps Nithard, the companion of Gansbert, and the nephew of Anscar, abused the popular deities and their worshippers. There was a great commotion; the mission-house was plundered and destroyed; Nithard was killed; the bishop with his clergy forced to leave the kingdom. All this, however, was “non-jussu regis,” which the Swedish historians convert into “Berone nesciente.” Yet Anscar did not despair. Though poor, he contrived still to instruct some of the Danish children, whom he designed as missionaries for both kingdoms. Being afterwards sent ambassador to Eric—the very prince who had burned his cathedral, and who by Harda-Canute’s death had become king of all Denmark—he so far softened that monarch as to obtain permission to preach without hinderance. At Sleswic he was allowed to build a new church; the number of converts increased; and their ardour was increased by the extension of their commerce with the Christian empire. Such converts, indeed, could do little credit to religion; still toleration was an advantage which in time might, he hoped, effect all that could be desired.

|852.|

Unfortunate as had been the issue of the mission to Sweden, Ardgar, a hermit of much sanctity, was persuaded to renew it. He was soon joined by some Danish converts. By Herigar, one of the chief nobles of the country, who had sincerely embraced Christianity at the first preaching of Anscar, they were received with joy. Through his influence the infant worship was again permitted at Birca; but it made little progress; and Ardgar, whose heart yearned for his old anchoretical life, at length resigned his missionary office, and left the country. Still Anscar was not discouraged. The see of Bremen being united with that of Hamburg, offered him more ample means to prosecute his meritorious enterprise. In the same view, he prevailed on the German sovereign to send him ambassador to both kingdoms. From Eric, the Danish king, he bore a letter to Olaf[[127]] of Sweden, containing an honourable recommendation of his character and conduct. Eric asserted that he had never known so good a man as the archbishop; he had therefore allowed him to labour in his own way for the good of the people. But on his arrival in Sweden he found new obstacles. The Odinic priests were seriously alarmed at the efforts which during above twenty years had been made to establish Christianity in the North. The imposture to which they had recourse affords a good illustration of the popular character, no less than of their religious notions. Just as Anscar and his clergy arrived at the capital, a man suddenly appeared there, who asserted that he was the bearer of a communication from the gods to king Olaf and his people. The substance of it was, that the ancient deities had conferred great prosperity on Sweden; that hitherto they had no reason to complain of ingratitude in their worshippers; that now, however, there was a sad lack of zeal, their altars being comparatively deserted for those of a new and hostile divinity; that if the people were anxious for another god, why go out of their own country for one? “If,” added they, “you really wish for another, we will readily admit your late king, Eric, to the honours of deification!” Gross as the imposture was, it was undisputed; the hearts of the Swedes began to warm towards the Aser, and a temple was erected to Eric, when altars smoked with continued sacrifices.

|853 to 865.|

The aspect of affairs was so unfavourable, that the companions of the archbishop urged him to leave the country. But he would not a second time abandon his post. He had been successful with Eric of Denmark, and he endeavoured to be equally so with Olaf. Inviting that king to a feast, he redoubled his attentions, which coming as they did not merely from an archbishop, but from the ambassador of a powerful monarch, were peculiarly grateful to Olaf. Yet Olaf was a limited sovereign; though he readily promised to afford the missionaries all the liberty he could, he was bound to consult the will of the people, and even that of the gods. In the true pagan spirit, he believed that other countries might have local deities as well as Scandinavia,—deities as powerful and as able to protect their worshippers. He advised the archbishop to send a deputy to the next Al-Thing, or general meeting of the freemen, promising that he would use his influence to obtain the requisite licence for the celebration of the new worship. “Olaf first mentioned the subject to his chiefs; lots were cast; and the gods were declared—probably through some intrigue of the king’s—not to be unfavourable to the preaching of Christianity. When, according to the Germanic custom, the people were assembled in their annual plaids, Olaf caused the subject of the French embassy to be proclaimed by a herald. In the discussion which followed, much murmuring was heard; one party condemning the innovation as disrespectful to their ancient gods; another vindicating it as necessary to the well-being of the kingdom. A venerable old man at length spoke:—‘King and people, listen to me! The worship of this new god is already known to us, and we also know that he often assists those who call on him. This many of us have experienced amidst the perils of the deep, as well as on other occasions: why then should we reject what we know to be useful? Formerly many of our people went to Dorstadt, to embrace this advantageous faith; now, as the passage thither is dangerous, why should we reject a good which is brought to our own doors?’—‘We have often found our own gods unpropitious: let us cultivate the favour of this god, who is as willing as he is able always to aid his servants.’ The shrewd barbarian succeeded, because he touched in the hearts of his hearers a chord that responded to his own. Neither he nor they had much notion of a religion which did not confer temporal blessings; all had been disappointed at one time or other in their invocations for them; all, therefore, were disposed to receive favourably proposals from a god who promised them a constant succession of such blessings. This was a poor foundation on which to build; but it was better than none. A proclamation was now made that churches might be built, and that whoever pleased was at liberty to embrace the faith of Christ. While these things were passing in Sweden, a revolution in Denmark was fatal to Eric, and, for a time, to the new religion, which the next king prohibited. But this time was a brief one; for the prudence of Anscar, who now returned from Sweden, fully repaired the disaster. The ecclesiastics whom he sent to both countries he enjoined to imitate the example of St. Paul,—to labour for their own maintenance, so as to be chargeable to no one. It was probably this necessity of manual labour that rebutted many, even more than the persecutions they endured; for during the whole of his pontificate, he had great difficulty in providing the infant churches with pastors.”[[128]]

|865 to 889.|

The work which Anscar had so well commenced, was as well continued by his disciple, his companion, his friend, his biographer, St. Rembert, who immediately after his death succeeded him in the archiepiscopal dignity, with the full approbation of the pope and the Germanic sovereign. He had, indeed, indicated to the clergy the propriety of electing his friend, to whose merits he had borne this splendid testimony:—“Rembert is more fit to be archbishop than I am to be a humble deacon.” To the success of this prelate’s labours, ample testimony is borne by writers nearly contemporary. He founded several churches, not in Sweden and Denmark only, but among the Slavi. His virtues equalled his zeal. To redeem Christian captives from pagan thraldom, he sold the very plate of the altar. One day, for the redemption of a virgin, he gave the horse on which he was riding. His time was always occupied; scarcely did he allow himself leisure for eating or sleep. During the twenty-three years that he presided over the united sees of Hamburg and Bremen, he was no less zealous than he had been in company with his predecessor. Towards the close of his life he chose as his coadjutor Adalgar, a monk of New Corbey, whom he wished to succeed him.—Of this eminent ecclesiastic, as many miracles are recorded as he himself had related of his predecessor, St. Anscar. That he believed them is certain; that his biographers believed those recorded of him, is equally so. We should have been glad to perceive them wrought for nobler occasions. With all their zeal, Anscar and Rembert left few native Christians in Sweden,—few, we mean, compared with the population, and scarcely perhaps with the advantages they possessed. But to them be due praise! If they did not effect all that we could wish, probably they effected all that they could. Their sense of responsibility was strong enough; but their diocese was too extensive, their duties too numerous, to allow of their devoting as much time as they would otherwise have done, to the Northern mission. Nor must we omit the inveterate bigotry of some pagans, the indifference of others, and (a still worse evil) the hardness of heart which a vicious system of religion had engendered.

|889 to 936.|

The successor of St. Rembert did not imitate the zeal of his predecessors. To extend his authority was apparently a dearer object than to extend religion. It is certain that he never visited Sweden: it is probable that he sent no missionaries to that kingdom; nor do we read that he showed any zeal in regard to Denmark. Hoger, his successor, was not more active. Of him the canon of Bremen expressively says: “Unde fuerit, aut qualiter vixerit, Deo cognitum est.” Yet Hoger was half a saint; he prayed and read when he should have slept, and still more, when he should have attended to urgent duties. Too many have been the churchmen of this selfish character,—esteeming every moment lost that was not devoted to their own salvation; and expressing only barren wishes for that of others. It is, however, but justice both to Adalgar and Hoger to observe that their pontificate was very brief; and that, had their lives been prolonged, history might have left some record of their zeal, if not of their success. Unnus, the next archbishop (916–936), was of a different character. When the invasions of the Huns and the pagan Northmen had been repressed by his imperial master, he proceeded to the court of Gorm, king of Denmark, whom, however, he vainly endeavoured to dispose in favour of the Christians. With Harald; the son of Gorm, he was more successful. Though this prince did not immediately embrace Christianity, he viewed it with a favourable eye; and he protected, as far as he could, all who professed it, especially the priests. From Denmark he proceeded into Sweden, which had not been visited by any Hamburg archbishop, for above sixty years. No wonder then that, as Adam of Bremen informs us, he found Christianity nearly extinct. Still he did find Christians, whom he endeavoured to establish in the faith. As Helmold asserts, whatever might be the persecution of the Swedish kings towards their pagan subjects, from the first dawning of the gospel, there was never an entire cessation of Christian worship. This excellent prelate died in the vicinity of Birca. His best eulogium is in the words of the canon Adam, who advises the idle, luxurious, worldly-minded bishops of the time to follow his example: “Look, ye bishops, who constantly remain at home, wholly given to pomp, lucre, eating and sleep, and who have no delight in the most urgent duties of your post—look, I say, at this ecclesiastic, poor in the world’s estimation, but rich in the sight of God,—one whose end was so glorious, and who has left an example to posterity that no disasters of the times, no distance of place, can be an excuse for idleness.” But what except idleness, except indifference could be expected at a period when the popes themselves were so worthless?