|1107 to 1111.|
The name of Sigurd I. is celebrated in the annals of the North alike for his pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and his exploits during the voyage. To aid in the recovery of the holy places from the hands of the infidels might enrich an adventurous monarch, and would surely open to him the gates of heaven. Influenced by this two-fold advantage, and by the hope of booty on the passage, Sigurd, with sixty ships, sailed from the North. During the first winter he remained in England, and was hospitably entertained by our Henry I. The second winter, at least the greater part of it, he passed near the shrine of Santiago in Gallicia: he was a pilgrim, no less than a champion of the cross. On his way to Lisbon, he captured some infidel privateers, and destroyed several Moorish settlements on the coast, especially one at Cintra. All who refused baptism he put to the sword. Lisbon, according to the Northern chroniclers, was divided into two parts, one inhabited by the Moors, the other by the Christians. The former he assailed, took it, and with much booty proceeded through the straits of Gibraltar in quest of new adventures. Having passed these straits, he conquered a whole fleet of the infidels, and this was the fifth battle since he left Norway. In vain did the Mohammedan pirates on the African coast resist him: his valour overcame every thing. Landing in Sicily, he was magnificently entertained by Roger, sovereign of the island, who had expelled the Saracens. Roger was of Norman descent: he remembered the land of his sires; and so far did he carry his goodwill as to insist on serving Sigurd at table. Continuing his voyage, he landed at Acre, and proceeded to Jerusalem, where the offer of his sword was most welcome to Baldwin. From that king he received what he thought a valuable treasure—a fragment of the true cross, which he promised to deposit in the shrine of St. Olaf. He promised too, at the instance of his new friends, to establish an archiepiscopal see in Norway, to build churches, and to enforce the payment of tithe. His last exploit in these regions was to join in the siege of Sidon; and when that city was taken, half the booty became his. On his return through Constantinople, his reception by the Greek emperor was a noble one; but much of what the Northern annalists relate bears the marks of invention. Such are, the opening of the golden gate; the carpetting of the streets; the three large presents made him by Alexis, with their immediate distribution among the followers of Sigurd; and the gift by the latter of his sixty ships to Alexis. Such fables may gratify a Northern imagination; but history can only say that in 1111, the king arrived in Norway after an absence of four years.
|1111 to 1123.|
That this remarkable expedition redounded greatly to the honour of Sigurd, is certain: he was thenceforth much venerated throughout the North. He married, and attended to the duties of government, especially to the extirpation of idolatry. His expedition (undertaken at the request of the Danish king) against the inhabitants of the isle of Smaland, was one congenial to his feelings. They had received Christianity, but, like many other portions of the Scandinavian population, had returned to idolatry. Even Sweden had its pagans and apostates, some too of royal dignity.[[164]] Great was the punishment inflicted by Sigurd and his ally Nicholas on the pagans whom they had vanquished; but mercy to infidels, and still less to apostates, formed no portion of their creed.
|1124 to 1130.|
In his latter days, Sigurd seems to have occasionally lost the use of his reason, or perhaps he was visited by some bodily infirmity which gave him the appearance of insanity. But he never relinquished the duties of royalty. One of his last cares was to fortify Konghella on the river Gotha, to ornament it with a fine Gothic church, and to place in that sacred edifice some of the pictures which he had brought from the East. But with all his attachment to the church, he was not without his delinquencies. Of these one of the most noted was his dismissal of his queen to make room for a concubine, Cecilia by name, whom he resolved to marry. A great entertainment was provided for the occasion, and many were the guests assembled at Bergen. The bishop of the district, hearing of the intention, hastened to the town, and expostulated with the king on the guilt of dismissing one wife to take another, when there was no charge against the former, and consequently no way of annulling the marriage. Great was the wrath of Sigurd, who held a drawn sword in his hand, and who, at one moment, seemed disposed to use it on the neck of the prelate. If he so far restrained his passion as to walk away, he persevered in his design, and the union was celebrated. The truth is, that his heart was so fixed on the maiden, that no earthly consideration could induce him to abandon her. Some time afterwards he was afflicted with his last illness, which was regarded by many as the judgment of Heaven on his crime. His courtiers urged him to dismiss her; and she, out of regard for him—to save him from renewed guilt—really wished to leave him. Such was the attachment he bore her, that he could not give his consent to the separation. She departed, however, and with her departed the only solace which had been left him. In a few days he was no more. Previously to his death, he had caused his son Magnus to be recognised as his successor, and had prevailed on the states to swear that they would obey him.
|1130.|
From the death of Sigurd I. to the union of Norway with Denmark, there is little in the history of the former country to interest us. During the whole of the twelfth century we perceive nothing but anarchy and bloodshed occasioned by disputes for the throne. In a country where illegitimacy was no bar to the succession, and where partition of the sovereign power was frequent, there could not fail to be numerous candidates. Sigurd I. was succeeded by his son Magnus IV., to whom, as we have related, the states of the realm had sworn fealty before the death of Sigurd. How little dependence could be placed on such a guarantee soon appeared. In the reign of the preceding monarch, an adventurer, Harald Gille, had asserted—probably with justice—that he was a natural son of king Magnus Barefoot. As he could produce no satisfactory proof of that connection, recourse was had to the decision of Heaven, and he was made to pass over nine red-hot ploughshares. This ordeal, merely to prove his parentage, was thought to be severe; but he shrinked not from it; and led by two bishops, he sustained it unhurt. To resist the divine pleasure was impossible, and Harald’s claim was allowed even by Sigurd, on the condition that he would not insist on the advantage to which his relationship entitled him, before the death of his son Magnus IV. Scarcely, however, had this Magnus succeeded to the throne, than Harald came forward to assert his right; and from the number no less than the influence of those who espoused his interests (among them were the kings of Denmark and Sweden), he had every thing to hope from a civil war. In this emergency, Magnus consented to a division of the kingdom, the very year of his accession.
|1130 to 1152.|
|1134.|