Book 1 — CHAPTER I. DENMARK. (continued 4)

|995.|

The motives of this rustic force were soon known to Hako. His first object was to conceal himself until he had collected troops enough to crush the insurrection. What follows is exceedingly romantic; and we give it as we find it in the authorities before us, leaving the reader to exercise his own judgment in what he may reject or admit. We may, however, observe that, if some of the incidents have been too strongly coloured by posterity, the substance of the relation is true.—Accompanied by his domestics, Hako fled from his villa into a deep valley, which has ever since borne his name. As it was supposed that he would hasten to his ships, which were at some distance along the coast, and were under the guidance of his son Erleng, the paths which led to the coast were more narrowly watched than those in the neighbourhood of the valley. At nightfall, he despatched some of his men to the station where his 219vessels lay, commanding his son to meet him off a more southern portion of the coast; the rest he sent to their own homes, keeping one serf only, Thermod Kark, who had been his companion from infancy. Feeling that his present retreat was not secure, he plunged further into the solitudes. On reaching the banks of a lake, which was frozen over, he dismounted, made a hole in the ice, thrust his horse into the aperture, and left his mantle beside it, so as to make his pursuers believe that he had perished in the waters. He then crossed the ice, and, with his slave, found refuge in a solitary cave in the mountains. Both being much fatigued, they soon fell asleep; but the slave started, and awoke his master to acquaint him with an awful dream which he had just experienced. He had seen a man of a dark, dreadful countenance, approach the cave, stand for a moment before it, and, after exclaiming, “One is dead!” ascend the hill. This mysterious denunciation was thought by Hako to allude to Erleng; for, after a moment’s reflection, he said, “Thy dream appears to indicate the death of my son!” The interpretation, say the sagas, was a true one. Olaf had just arrived off the coast; Erleng, with three vessels only, could not make head against the superior fleet which he rightly judged to be that of an enemy; and, to escape captivity, he and a few of his companions, after approaching the shore as near as they could, quietly descended into the water, and began to swim. In this state they were overtaken by the vessel in which Olaf was. According to Snorro, it was Olaf himself who, with an oar, broke the head of the young jarl as he was buffeting the waters; according to Gunlaug, it was one of his mariners. Both agree that Erleng perished within a few yards of the coast; that many of his companions perished with him; that the vessels became the prize of Olaf, who learned, for the first time, the flight of Hako, and the insurrection of the rustics.^[215]

|995.|

After this dream, proceeds the Saga, the slave had 220another, which frightened him so much that he made a distressing noise, like one afflicted with the nightmare. Being awoke by his master, he said that he had seen the same dark man approach the cave, stop at the entrance as before, and say, “Tell thy master that all the passages to the sea-coast, and the coast itself, are blocked up!” The jarl thought his days were numbered; but he said nothing. He would, however, no longer remain in the cave; and both proceeded towards the villa inhabited by Thora. When at a distance from it, he despatched Kark with a request that she would secretly meet him in the forest. She obeyed the summons, and showed, by her affectionate behaviour, that whatever are the crimes of men, women can be faithful to the last. Hako asked her if she could furnish him with some hiding place for a few nights. “That will be difficult,” replied Thora; “my house will soon be searched; not a corner of it will escape scrutiny, for all people know I shall save thee if I can. Yet there is one place where nobody would expect to find a prince like thee—it is under the pig-sty.” They went to the place; the slave enlarged the cave; provisions, lights, and other necessaries were brought; and Hako, accompanied by Kark, descended into the cavern. The earth which had been recently dug up was removed; wooden rafters were laid over the hole; over them straw and dung were spread, and the swine were turned in to tread down the covering, so as to confound the recent marks. In addition, the entrance to the sty was blocked up by a large stone. Having taken these precautions, Thora returned to the house, none of her domestics being aware that she had seen the jarl. The prisoners were, therefore, left to themselves; but how they were to breathe in such a place, we are not informed.—The enemies of Hako, with Olaf at their head, soon arrived. They had found the mantle on the ice of the lake, and had been induced to return, until suspicion of the stratagem arose, and induced them to continue the pursuit. On reaching the house of Thora, 221they broke open the doors, examined every part within and without, and desisted only when search was manifestly vain. If any faith is to be placed in either of the authorities before us, Olaf, on issuing from the house, sat on the very stone which blocked up the entrance to the sty, and stimulated his followers to search in other districts, by offering splendid rewards to any one that should take or kill the jarl. His loud voice penetrated to the cave where Hako and his slave sat; and, as the former looked at the latter, he saw his countenance change. “What means that look?” demanded the master; “dost thou wish to betray me?”—“No,” replied the other, “but I tremble at that voice; it is the one I heard in my dream.”—“Both of us,” rejoined Hako, who was very superstitious, and had often consulted the oracles of the country, “were born on the same day, and the same day will close the life of both!” Towards nightfall Olaf departed, and the master and slave were left to their own reflections, or what was still worse, to their conversation. Hako durst not sleep, lest his slave should assassinate him; nor Kark, lest the same advantage should be taken by his master. At length, however, the slave closed his eyes, and dreamed that he and his master were in the same ship, of which he was the helmsman. This required no interpretation; as Hako observed, they were, indeed, in the same vessel, and the fate of both was in the hands of the slave. Again the latter dreamed: he was now at the court of Olaf, who fastened a golden chain around his neck. “That chain,” observed Hako, “will be a bloody one to thee, if ever thou comest into the presence of Olaf; it portends thy doom: yet be faithful to me, and all will be well!” At length nature was too much for both, and they slept; but, towards the break of day, the slave was awoke by the horrid noise made by his master, who seemed as if in a cruel nightmare, as if struggling with some nightly demon, or with his own evil genius. Kark arose, drew a knife from his belt, and cut the throat of Hako. The head he then separated from the 222body, and hastened with it to Olaf, who was now proclaimed king. “What led thee to this deed?” was the demand of the prince. “Chiefly,” replied the slave, “the great reward which I heard thee offer, and partly the confusion of my senses at the condition of Hako.”—“Thou shalt have the reward,” rejoined the king; “but thou shalt also die. If Hako was a bad man, he was still thy master, and a benefactor to thee; and thy fate must be a warning to thy fellows, not to lift their hands against those whom they ought to defend.” The slave was then beheaded; and the prophecy, that he and Hako should die within a day of each other, was literally fulfilled.^[216]

Thus perished the son of Sigurd,—a man of great talents, great enterprise, and, until the last few years of his life, of great public utility. Previous to that period, his enemies could not deny him noble birth, great valour, consummate prudence in the art of government, and success in war. He was, besides, liberal to his dependents, and magnificent to his friends. His chief defects were dissimulation, treachery, falsehood; a superstitious regard for the pagan religion, and a hatred of Christianity. Formerly, he had been called Hako the Good; he was henceforth to be called Hako the Bad. He died in his fifty-eighth year, thirty-three of which he had exercised the sovereign power under the title of jarl.^[217]

|996.|

The death of Hako enabled Olaf Trygveson to take possession of the whole kingdom, as fully as had ever been done by fair-haired Harald. The people, indeed, would hear of no other king. One of his first objects was to introduce Christianity; and he commenced with Vikia, the province where his mother (the wife of Lodin) and all his family connections lived, and where he knew he should find the least resistance to his efforts. To his friends he expressed his resolution, either to 223convert the whole kingdom, or to perish in the attempt. Having first prevailed on his numerous family connections to embrace Christianity, and to promise a cordial co-operation in his designs, he called an assembly of the province, and, like most royal missionaries, intimated his command, rather than his request, that all should receive the baptismal rite. The chiefs, whom he had previously secured, immediately signified their assent, and their example constrained the multitude. Here, as everywhere else, if any refused to forsake their old faith, he would not condescend to argue with them; some he exiled, some he mutilated, others he put to death. This was a sure method of producing outward obedience to the new religion; and, in one year, the whole of Vikia was—not christianised, but baptized. Accompanied by a strong force, the royal missionary next transferred his labours to Agder and Hardaland. Here, the same alternative was proposed,—conversion or death; and the smaller evil was naturally chosen. Rogaland was the next province to benefit by his apostolic efforts, and they had the usual success. It appears, however, that the inhabitants were less inclined to the novelty than their countrymen of Vikia; and three of the leading chiefs were besought to answer the monarch in full assembly. But who would venture to resist the king, especially when he denounced the severest vengeance on all who should refuse to obey him? One of the speakers was suddenly seized by a cough; another began to stammer; the third had conveniently a sore throat; so that no answer being returned to the most gracious message from the throne, silence was taken for consent, and all present were within a few days hurried to the baptismal font. In one province the assembled chiefs, who were all kinsmen, promised to embrace the new religion on this condition,—that one of their number should receive the hand of Astridda, sister of the monarch. At first the princess, who had forgotten the humble fortunes which had lately been the lot of all her family, refused the match, as beneath her dignity; she 224wanted a prince. Olaf adorned her own hawk in magnificent plumes, and sent it to her, with an intimation that it was no less easy for him to ennoble the humblest peasant in Norway. The ambitious lady then consented; the province became Christian; and Erling, the brother-in-law of Olaf, became a powerful jarl. Proceeding northwards, the royal apostle assembled the inhabitants of the Fiords and of Raumdal. On this occasion, a whole army was with him; doubtless because he apprehended more opposition than he had yet encountered. But his mode of argument was too convincing to be resisted;—“Receive baptism, or fight me!” and the easier alternative was selected. From this meeting he repaired to Laden, where there was a magnificent temple of the gods: the idols he despoiled, threw them to the ground, and consumed the building by fire.^[218]

|997 to 999.|

But if this coercive mode of proselyting was, in many places, immediately effectual, it was not so in all. So enraged were the inhabitants of Raumdal at the destruction of the temple at Laden, that they sent forth the arrow, and an armed multitude rose at the summons. But Olaf proceeded to the south, where they could not follow him, and there he passed the winter. This opposition only rendered him the more ferocious against the pagans and all their superstitions. In the next assembly over which he presided, he denounced the magicians, and caused a decree of banishment to be pronounced against them: if they did not voluntarily leave the country, all were to be arrested, brought before him, and put to death. Eyvind Kella, a descendant of Harald Harfager, was at the head of a college of magicians. These the king invited to an entertainment, and set fire to the house in which they were assembled. Eyvind, however, was not there; but he was afterwards taken, with a considerable number of other proficients in the art, and were thrown from a high rock into the sea.—Olaf, like all the men of his time, was 225a believer in these pretended arts; and he was sure that, unless they were repressed, religion must suffer. His people were not less superstitious than he; and they doubted not that he had personally to contend with Odin himself. One evening, as he was holding a festival in the retired manor of Augvald, an old man, with a high cap like one of the Persian magi, and only one eye, was admitted to the table. So eloquent was his discourse, so varied his knowledge, that Olaf was delighted with his guest. Many were the abstruse questions which he put to him; equally wise and ready were the answers. Thus the night wore away. At length Olaf asked the stranger who was that Augvald to whom the house in which they were had once belonged, but who had long been dead. Augvald, replied the guest, had a cow, to which he paid divine honours, which always accompanied him, and supplied him with milk. At length he fell in battle, and in the neighbourhood of this house was buried, in one tomb, while the cow was buried in another.—Still the night wore away, and the stranger showed no desire to go: at length the king pulled off his clothes, and laid down on the bed, the mysterious guest being seated before him. But the bishop entered, to inform the king that it was time to sleep; and at the sight of him the guest departed. The rest of the monarch, however, was short; he could not sleep; and to pass away the time he sent for the stranger, who was nowhere to be found. The morning following, he inquired of his cooks and butler whether they had seen him. They replied that a man answering the description had appeared amongst them while they were preparing the feast; had asserted that the meat they were cooking was of the worst kind, and unfit for the royal table; and had presented them with two noble barons of beef, which he had assisted them to prepare. In great consternation Olaf ordered what remained to be thrown away; the stranger, he was sure, was no other than Odin, who had some deep purpose in view; but never would he be the victim or the instrument of his 226fiendish designs. The gravity with which such adventures are related by Snorro is the best illustration of the opinions and intellect of the times.^[219]

|998.|

But Olaf had seen more sturdy antagonists than wine-bibbing deities. Repairing to the north, he found that his attempts to convert the people were not always to be successful. To the states of Drontheim, which he had convoked at Froste, they repaired, all armed, and evidently intent on some important measure. After the assembly had been legally opened by Olaf, he commanded this people to embrace the Christian religion. A great clamour arose; and the people did what they had never yet dared—assert their superiority over him, command him to be silent, and threaten that, if he refused to obey, they would drive him from the kingdom. They had overpowered Hako, the godson of Athelstane, and they did not think Olaf in any respect superior to that monarch. The tone of Olaf was soon altered; he saw that the formidable body, who had been raised by the fatal arrow, could not be resisted on this occasion; and he expressed his wish to live on the best terms with all his people. In reply to their next demand, that he should join in the sacrifices, he promised to be present on the next great solemn festival, and then choose which religion he would follow. By this promise, and by his unusually placid manner, the wrath of the people was disarmed; and it was agreed that they should meet him at Laden, in the province of Moria. In the interval he prepared for the struggle. With a stronger force than he had yet brought to such assemblies, he proceeded to Laden. Before the business of the meeting was opened, he gave to the assembled people a magnificent entertainment, and all drank deeply, so as to become intoxicated,—the usual result of all northern feasts. The next morning, after the legal opening of the Thing, he arose, and thus addressed them:—“Countrymen! you well know what passed in the last assembly at Froste, and that we are here met 227to restore the pagan sacrifices which you so much desire. You also know with what contumely I have treated the gods,—how often I have thrown them to the earth, and burned their temples, and defied them to their faces. Now, according to your own creed, such deeds can be only forgiven by extraordinary oblations. If I must sacrifice, I will, as the chief pontiff, select such victims as I may approve. They shall be human victims,—yea, and the noblest amongst you!” With much solemnity, and in a most emphatic manner, he then mentioned the names of twelve chiefs,—the noblest in Norway, who were all present,—that were to be immediately immolated; and he called on his followers to lead them into the temple. The result may be anticipated: the terrified chiefs who were thus doomed, and all who feared the same fate, left the matter of religion to the king—they would no longer oppose him: the multitude were constrained by their example; and both the high and the low, young and old, were led to the baptismal font.^[220]

|998.|

Encouraged by the success of this policy, Olaf now hastened into Drontheim, where the provincial states were assembled. Here, however, he experienced the same opposition. The people insisted, not only that he should leave them to the undisturbed exercise of their worship, but that he should, without delay, join in their sacrifices. Accordingly he entered the temple, accompanied by some of his own party, and of theirs. The chief idol, Thor, was seated in much barbaric grandeur, being covered with gold and precious stones. Olaf gazed for a moment; then, seizing a ponderous mallet, he struck the idol with such force that it reeled from the pedestal, and fell heavily on the floor of the temple. This was the signal for the rest of his followers, who, with the rapidity of lightning, hurled the remaining gods from their seats, with shouts of derision. At the same time, the leader of the opposition, a noble pontiff, was killed 228outside the temple. Olaf then addressed the multitude, and left them the choice whether they would be baptized, or fight him. They were willing enough to choose the latter alternative; but having no chief who could lead them on, they yielded, and were immediately regenerated in the sacred font. For their good behaviour in future, they were compelled to give hostages. To conciliate the family of the deceased pontiff, Olaf, who was now a widower, married Gudruna, the daughter; but he had soon to separate from her, since, on the first night of their nuptials, she attempted his destruction.—Olaf was not yet satisfied; the districts north of Drontheim, especially Halogia, were yet pagan; and he longed to convert, that is to baptize, the natives. When any of them, by accident, or stress of weather, touched in the ports of Norway, he hurried them away to the miraculous font; or, if they refused to go, he punished them for their obstinacy. Eyvind, a native of Halogia, furnishes an illustration of the manner in which the royal missionary attempted the conversion of individuals. Being brought into the presence of Olaf, he was exhorted to embrace Christianity; but he refused. Mild, persuasive language, in which the bishop (and there was always one in the royal precincts) joined, was at first adopted; but without success. Olaf then offered him large domains, to be held by the feudal tenure; still no assent. “Then,” added the enraged apostle, “thou shalt die!” A chafing dish of burning coals was brought, and laid on the belly of the pagan, whom death soon released from suffering. To avert the odium which must attach to the deed, a report was spread that, before his death, Eyvind had acknowledged that he was an evil spirit in the human form.^[221]

|999.|

When the favourable season arrived, Olaf, with a large band of armed men, proceeded into Halogia to convert the people. In the south of that province they 229were unprepared for resistance, and the good work was unusually prosperous. But two chiefs in the north,—Raude and Thorer,—both zealously attached to paganism, both rich and powerful, equipped ships to oppose him. They were defeated; and Raude, who was a great magician, raised a wind by which he escaped. Not so Thorer, who was driven to the shore: though, from his swiftness, he was called the Stag, he could not outstrip the Irish dog, Vikia, which Olaf despatched after him.^[222] Turning round, he wounded the animal; but a spear from Olaf entered his side. The victor now hastened after Raude, who had found a refuge in the island of Godey; but the magician raised such a tempest that there was no approaching the island. At the end of a week he proceeded farther to the north; and, after a successful course of preaching, again returned to the coast opposite to Godey. Still the elements raged. “What shall we do?” demanded the king, of Sigurd the bishop; “Defy the tempest,” replied the other, “and the demon who has raised it!” Saying this, Sigurd arrayed himself pontifically, took his seat at the helm, held out his censor smoking with incense, raised a huge cross, recited the gospel with many prayers, and sprinkled the ship with holy water. The effect was miraculous: where the vessel was there was a calm; on each side of it, the billows rose furiously. During the passage, the same wondrous phenomenon was seen: before them the sea was smooth as glass; to the right and left the tempest remained unabated. On reaching the bay, a huge dragon, that is, a ship, stood on the sands. Olaf heeded it not; but, hastening to the house of Raude, he bound the magician with fetters, killed some of the domestics, and captured others; and the same fate was inflicted on the military companions of the chief. Raude was then invited to receive baptism; if he did so, he should not be despoiled of his substance. Not only was the invitation spurned, but heavy curses were uttered on the king and his faith. This was not to be endured; and the royal 230missionary determined that this wretch should leave the world by a novel death. Raude was fettered and gagged; a serpent was brought to his mouth, and attempts made to force the animal down his throat; but it recoiled in affright. A horn was then passed between the magician’s teeth; the adder entered at one end, passed through the mouth into the stomach of Raude, and speedily ate for itself a way out again. Great was the spoil which awaited the victor: but his greatest pleasure was to execute such of the magician’s dependents as refused baptism. After these notable exploits, he returned into Drontheim.^[223]

|998.|

Though Olaf was as much disposed to enforce the conversion of individuals as of large bodies of men, he was not equal to both tasks; and, in the former case, he sometimes devolved on others the important duty of a missionary. A story preserved by Gunlaug, the Icelandic monk, will illustrate the manner in which he exacted revenge when his efforts had been unsuccessful. Halfrod, the royal poet, was accused to Olaf of being still idolatrous in heart, and of worshipping a little image of Thor, which he carried in a bag. The accuser was Kalf, another domestic of the palace. The poet being summoned into the royal presence, indignantly denied the charge; and, in proof of his innocence, turned the bag in question inside out. “After this charge,” said the king, “you cannot both remain in the same house; let Kalf return to his farm.” Turning to the poet, whose sincerity he probably wished to test, he said, “Halfrod, thou must be my emissary to the uplands. There resides a man called Thorleif the Wise, who will not be converted. Formerly, I sent many persons to reason with him, but they had no influence over him. Now, I send thee, with an order either to kill or blind him: take with thee as many men as thou pleasest.”—“This commission,” replied the poet, “scarcely becomes a freeman; yet I will go wherever thou commandest. As my companion, I will take thy 231uncle Jostein, with twenty-two horsemen.” Away they rode; and, on reaching the wood near to the dwelling of Thorleif, they dismounted. Halfrod, who knew that the number of his followers would be insufficient if force were required, said to them, “I will go alone to Thorleif’s house; wait for me here three days; and if, at the expiration of that time, you see me not, return to your homes.” He would not permit even Jostein to accompany him. His first care was to disguise himself so completely that no eye could recognise him. In a mendicant garb, his face discoloured with the appearance of squalid wretchedness, he took his staff, and, when near to the house, began to move slowly and wearily, as if consumed alike by age and misery. Thorleif was sitting on a bench, in front of his house; the poet dragged himself along, and saluted him. “Who art thou?” was the demand of Thorleif. Halfrod told a piteous tale of his wanderings, his misery, his ill luck, his dangers: he had been so unfortunate as to be seized by the domestics of king Olaf, and hurried into the royal presence. As usual, conversion or death had been set before him; but he had escaped, and had, ever since, been the sport of the elements. He thought, however, that if he had continued rest, and good living, he should be restored to a portion of his former vigour. “Fame says that thou art liberal, and I hope thou wilt be so towards me.”—“Of the truth of thy story,” replied Thorleif, “I cannot judge; but if thou art an old man, thou must have seen much and learned much: but thy tongue runs somewhat smoothly for one so decrepit.” If the poet was not old, he had travelled enough to answer the questions of Thorleif. “There is a man,” proceeded the latter, “at the court of Olaf, by name Halfrod, of whom I have heard much.” Probably Thorleif began to suspect that the poet was before him; he knew that he should not long remain in peace; that his refusal to embrace the new religion must bring on his head the vengeance of Olaf; for, he added, “No doubt the emissaries of Olaf will soon be here.” In 232reply to his question concerning Halfrod, the pirate had a ready answer. He then, as if wholly exhausted, leaned on the bench, and the moment he saw Thorleif off his guard, he seized him with rapidity, and with a giant’s strength; but Thorleif struggled, and they both tumbled on the ground, the poet uppermost. In another moment one of Thorleif’s eyes was out of its socket. “What I have long foreseen,” said the pagan, “has now happened. I doubt not that the king has commanded thee wholly to blind or to kill me; I pray thee, however, to leave me the use of the other eye, and I will give thee rich presents.”—“I cannot accept thy gifts,” replied the poet, who had more fits of generosity than less tuneful minds, “but I will leave thee that eye, and take the responsibility upon myself.” He then arose, and returned to his men in the wood; nor did Thorleif display his misfortune until they were far enough from the neighbourhood to defy pursuit. But if Halfrod was sometimes generous, he was also vindictive. As they returned by the farm of Kalf, he said to Josteim, “Let us kill this man!” The other refused; but the poet rejoined, “It is not just that we should blind a good man, yet leave this wretch uninjured.” Saying this, he went to Kalf, who was throwing the seed into the ground, seized him, and put out one eye. On reaching the palace, Olaf inquired what he had done. “I have made Thorleif blind.”—“That is well,” rejoined the king; “show me the eyes!” In the hurry of the moment, the poet produced the one of which he had deprived Kalf. “This is not Thorleif’s eye,” observed the king; “thou hast done more than I commanded thee.” The other was produced. “This is Thorleif’s eye,” said the king; “now tell me all that thou hast done.” Halfrod did so, and was pardoned.^[224]

|999.|

The success which through life had attended this extraordinary man did not continue to the close. On his separation from Gudruna, he sought the hand of Sigrida, surnamed the Imperious,—the Swedish princess 233who had destroyed Harald Grenske. She accepted him; many gifts passed between them; and an interview was appointed on the limits of the two kingdoms. Among the gifts was a huge ring of gold, which Olaf had taken from the temple of Laden. Two goldsmiths declaring to her that the metal was not pure, she caused the ring to be opened, and perceived that the interior was of brass. Indignant at the discovery, she declared that it was only one in many cases where she had been deceived by the king. Yet, at the appointed time, she met him, and the marriage was arranged. But Olaf insisted that she should renounce paganism, and receive the baptismal rite; but she refused to do either; and observed, with some wisdom, that as she should not interfere with his worship, she had a right to expect that he would not constrain her conscience. But the royal preacher was not fond of opposition; he called the queen by the most opprobrious epithet,—worse than an old heathen hag,—threw his glove in her face, and both separated for ever. Sigrida was not of a temper to bear this insult, and her future life was given to revenge. When, on the death of Gunhilda, daughter of Borislaf, a duke of Pomerania, Sweyn of Denmark, became a widower, she accepted the hand of that monarch, with the view of hastening her revenge. At the same time, Borislaf sought the hand of Thyra, sister of Sweyn, a young and beautiful princess, who, however reluctant, was forced by her brother to marry him. By this union she became entitled to the domains which her sister-in-law, Gunhilda, had enjoyed in Pomerania. But she detested the old pagan and his court. During the first week of her nuptials she abstained from food; on the eighth evening, accompanied by her foster-father, she hastened to a ship which was lying off the coast, embarked, and was landed in Denmark. Knowing, however, that, if her brother saw her, she should be sent back to the court of Borislaf, she concealed herself until a vessel was found to convey her to Norway. By Olaf she was well received; and, in a few days, she became 234his bride. By what casuistry he, who preached Christian morals to his subjects, reconciled to his conscience this double adultery,—he, the husband of Gudruna, marrying the wife of Borislaf, or how she, who also professed Christianity, consented to the match,—we need not inquire. History, which deals with facts rather than motives, has now to relate, that this scornful rejection of one princess, and this illegal marriage to another, led to the destruction of Olaf.^[225]

|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 235with 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 236agility. 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 237to 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 238which 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 239the 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, 240destroyed 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 241against 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 242be 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]

|1014.|

When Sigurd drew near his house, he perceived the ensign of Olaf advancing in the opposite direction. The prince, followed by a hundred companions, all in magnificent costume, he kindly saluted, and invited to share his hospitality. The mother received the royal guest with a kiss; and freely offered him and his followers all the worldly substance that she had,—her house, and lands, and servants. Thanking both parents, Olaf, with his chiefs, was led into the hall. The feast was prepared, and Sigurd, who was invested with the regal title, ascended the chief seat, which was at the head of the table, and was much higher than the rest. But Olaf did not visit his parents for idle parade; and in a day or two after his arrival, he invited Sigurd, his mother, Asta, and Rane, his preceptor, to counsel him as to his future proceedings. In a discourse of some length, he expatiated on his past dangers, on the rights of his family, on his own claims to both the inheritance of his father and of Olaf Trygveson; and expressed his resolution to obtain empire, or to die. Sigurd, like 243a prudent man, replied, that for one so young, and with so few resources, he had entered on a rash path; that to defy such men as the kings of Sweden and Denmark was not the part of wisdom; that little dependence was to be placed on popular applause; that the present attempt was above his abilities and his means. He concluded, however, by observing that, if the other chiefs of the uplands—kings as he called them—were favourably disposed to his cause, he would not be wanting in the support which his fortune might enable him to give; and he even proposed to accompany Olaf in a visit to those chiefs. Asta, whose turn it was next to advise, spoke like a true descendant of fair-haired Harald. She advised him to persevere in his undertaking; and added, that she would rather see him in possession of empire, were he to enjoy it briefly, as the son of Trygve, than that he should grow old, a powerless king, like Sigurd. When this council was over, Olaf and his father-in-law went to meet the upland kings. “There were many at this period,” says Snorro,—a proof that the destruction of the supreme power by the death of Olaf Trygveson was hurrying the kingdom into all the anarchy from which it had been extricated by Harald Harfager. The sway of Eric and Sweyn, sons of Hako, had been so mild, or rather so loose, that the country was become again the prey of numerous independent chiefs.^[235]

|1014.|

In the assembly of upland kings, Sigurd showed that he was no enemy to the elevation of his step-son; on the contrary, he exalted the valour, the enterprise, the success of Olaf, in so many parts of Europe; and besought them to assist him alike by their arms and counsel. The first chief who replied was not favourable to the proposed enterprise; his motive was evident: he feared that if a monarch of vigour, such as Olaf promised to be, ascended the throne of Norway, there would soon be an end of the provincial kings. The 244next voted for the insurrection. If they must have a chief ruler, better was one of their own country and of their own blood, than a Dane or a Swede. In the end, many of the assembled princes, but not the majority, offered him their aid on the condition of his respecting their existing privileges. The states of the upland province were next assembled: the claims of Olaf were laid before them; the chiefs recommended it to their support; and with one voice he was acknowledged monarch of Norway. With three hundred armed followers, he proceeded into the neighbouring districts; and he everywhere found the people willing to acknowledge him. He now hastened into Drontheim, the suffrage of which, as he well knew, would influence the rest of Norway. At his approach, the arrow was sent forth, and the rustics assembled in arms; but he had the address to draw them over to his own party. Though naturally furious and irritable, he had sufficient command over himself to control his bad passions; and every one that approached him left him with a full conviction of his exceeding good nature. As he drew near Nidaros,—the present city of Drontheim,—Sweyn, the son of Hako, prepared a vessel to leave the port. At this moment, two of Olaf’s vessels were entering, and Sweyn, to avoid recognition, steered farther to the north, cut down some trees which were near the coast, placed them by the sides of his vessel in such a manner that he could not be seen, and boldly returned through the bay, on his way to the north. The men of Olaf saw the vessel, and, believing it to be a cargo of timber, made no effort to detain it. Landing at Froste, the seat of his government, which he preferred to Drontheim, he counselled with Eric about the steps which were now to be taken,—whether he should collect forces and risk the fate of a battle, or have recourse to policy. The result was, that he should, if possible, wait until the yule festival, when so many thousands would be gathered together, and made the umpires between him and Olaf. But the course of events hurried both parties 245on; they collected troops, and with a body of two thousand proceeded towards Drontheim. About the middle of the night Olaf was awakened by the news that his outposts had discovered a strong hostile column approach. Hastily rising from bed, the king took all the provisions he could find, and, accompanied by a small body of followers, went on board the vessels which lay in the river. He had scarcely stood out to sea when the army of Sweyn entered the city and set it on fire.^[236]

|1015.|

This, to Olaf, was an unexpected disaster, and it was one that ordinary prudence might have avoided. He now was under the humiliating necessity of retiring to the uplands to acquaint his kindred that he had been driven from his capital by the son of Hako. But he was better received than he expected or deserved. Several of the chiefs supplied him with men and provisions; and Sigurd Syr, his step-father, showed as much zeal in his cause as any of his blood, and more effectually served him. When spring approached he repaired to Tunsberg, where new forces daily joined him. On his part, Sweyn, during the whole winter, was no less active in raising ships and men, and he was equally successful. The day before Palm Sunday, the two armaments were off the coast of Vikia, near to each other. One hundred vessels accompanied Olaf; those of his enemies were not inferior in number. Early on the morning of Sunday, Olaf, with the banner of the cross displayed from his own ship, led the attack. The battle was long and doubtfully contested: if Sweyn had a larger force, that of Olaf was better disciplined. At length victory declared for the king; many of the enemy submitted; the rest fled. Among the latter was Sweyn, who hastened to the court of his father-in-law, the king of Sweden, to solicit reinforcements; while Erling remained to harass the victor. From Sweden the jarl never returned. The king offered him troops; but he 246preferred a peaceful government in that country, until the course of events in Norway were more favourable to his views. After a piratical expedition to the coast of Gardarik, he fell sick and died. From this time, Olaf may be more truly called the monarch of Norway. The people of Drontheim, who had been much attached to the jarl, now transferred their allegiance to him. Erling, indeed, held out another year, and some of the smaller chiefs were tardy in the payment of tribute; but when he submitted, there remained only the two foreign powers who could trouble the king.^[237]

|1016.|

After these successes Olaf began the work of legal reformation. The laws which Hako the Good had introduced were often neglected; some of them were no longer applicable, and new ones were demanded by the necessities of the people. The manner in which he proceeded in this object evinces his good sense. At a certain hour he met the wisest of his people as well as the noblest,—the low as well as the high,—clergy and laity,—all in whose judgment he could place any confidence. He then caused one of Hako’s laws to be recited, and asked their opinion of its justice no less than its fitness. Sometimes it was rejected; but generally some improvements were made in it by common consent. At other times he propounded new ones; but it may be doubted whether any of them were obligatory until they had received the formal sanction of the Thing. Ecclesiastical matters next occupied the royal attention. Such portions of the canon law as were applicable to the circumstances of a barbarous, half-pagan kingdom were gradually introduced. His great object was to abolish what yet remained of paganism—a religion which had been considerably observed since the death of Olaf Trygveson. He would not tolerate it; wherever his jurisdiction extended he caused the temples to be destroyed, and rude wooden churches to be built on their ruins. Nor was he regardless of the spiritual wants of the 247Orkneys, Iceland, and other dependencies of his kingdom. To them he despatched missionaries, and inculcated on all the necessity of zeal, of perseverance, of unwearied industry. His own conduct was, in this respect, a lesson to his people. He rose early, heard matins and mass before he entered on public business or broke his fast. It was his regular attendance on public worship which, more than any other cause, led to his subsequent canonisation. He was, indeed, the first of the Norwegian kings that punctually observed the ordinances of religion. Hako the Good was as well disposed; but Hako, as we have shown, was compelled to revert into idolatry. Olaf, the son of Trygve, was too fond of the mead cup, and of continuing his potations into the silence of night, to attend early prayers. The present Olaf was, therefore, the first whom the clergy could decently canonise. Not that he was without his faults. He was vindictive, hasty, intemperate, exacting the severest vengeance from those who disputed his commands, and not sparing of human blood. Yet he was affable, indulgent to his dependents, and liberal to such as he had reason to esteem.^[238]

|1016.|

That the kings of Sweden and Denmark should make no effort to recover their Norwegian possessions, was not to be expected. In about a year after Olaf’s accession, two ambassadors, with a suitable retinue, arrived at Drontheim from the former kingdom. On their way, however, and immediately after passing the mountain barrier, between the two states, they had endeavoured to prevail on the rustic landholders to pay tribute, not to Olaf, but to the Swedish king. Little do the majority of any country care for the reigning sovereign; the rustics of Norway no more than any other people. They professed their willingness to pay the foreign king, provided Olaf would not require the same taxes a second time. This conduct was treasonable. 248One of the ambassadors felt that it was so, and proposed that they should return into Sweden; but, constrained by the other, both proceeded to Olaf’s court. Here the same man acted still more insolently: he advised the king to become the vassal of his Swedish namesake, for no inferior step could screen him from the vengeance of a monarch so much greater than he. The king so far restrained himself as to bid them depart and announce to their master his willingness to meet him on the frontiers of the two countries. They left the palace, but soon returned, demanding, with much insolence, to see the monarch, who was then at table. The porters were commanded to drive them from the door. This conduct, which could not have been borne even by a private individual, was deeply offensive to Olaf. When he heard that, instead of retiring into Sweden, one of them remained in the provinces to collect tribute, he sent a small armed band in pursuit of them; and the ambassador, with his suite, were suspended from a public gallows. To guard himself against the vengeance of his rival, Olaf now went through the whole of his kingdom, holding assemblies of the people in every province, receiving the homage of all, propounding new laws, and laying more solidly the foundations of the new church. Finding that the districts bordering on Sweden were claimed by that power,—that the limits of the two kingdoms were not observed by it,—he slew the governor of West Gothland, the lieutenant of the Swedish king, who had been long harassing the Norwegian subjects of the frontier. To prevent all future mistake as to that frontier, he caused a ditch to be dug, and a parallel mound to be raised along the disputed line; and, to protect the colonists, he remained there with a considerable force during the whole of the following winter. To avenge these insults, the Swedish king began to arm. He threatened to subdue the whole of Norway, and to drive the sea king into exile.^[239]

249|1017.|

The proposals for peace originated with Olaf of Norway; but they were long destined to have no effect: the wrath of the Swedish Olaf was too great to be allayed by ordinary negotiations. In 1016, an ambassador departed on this mission; but so unfavourable were the accounts which he received of the Swedish monarch’s disposition, that he proceeded no farther than the house of Rognevald, one of the most peaceful of the jarls, or provincial governors of the kingdom. But he had an Icelander with him, Hialt by name, who offered to undertake the embassy, and to brave the wrath of the Swede. Hialt was a poet, and his profession was esteemed at every court of the north. Accompanied by another poet, and also, like himself, a wit, he hastened to the Swedish capital. By Olaf they were well received, because he knew not the object of their journey. Their love of the cup was so tempered by discretion, that, while they were the boon companions of royalty,—in those days every poet was,—they never lost sight of the respect which it always exacts. After some days, such was his familiarity with the king that Hialt alluded to the subject,—not as one that he had undertaken, but as one in which the interests of Sweden were deeply involved. A peremptory command to be silent afforded little hope of success: he was told that the name of Olaf the Fat (such was the epithet of the Norwegian monarch) was not even whispered at the Swedish court. But Hialt persevered. Knowing that a matrimonial alliance with the royal family of Sweden was the highest ambition of the Norwegian Olaf, he solicited the interest of Ingigerda, daughter of the Swede. The princess readily accepted both the proffered hand of Olaf and the delicate task of turning her father’s mind to the subject of peace. One day, when Olaf was in high spirits,—which, to do him justice, was frequent,—she alluded to the policy of leaving Norway to its own kings. The people were an obstinate people, much attached to their own regal line, and if the conquest were effected, it would not be enduring; while 250on the opposite coast of Finland were regions which had formerly belonged to Sweden, and which might be easily subdued. The lady was rendered eloquent by the hope of a husband; but she was immediately silenced by the king. “So, Ingigerda, thou wouldst see me lose Norway that thou mightest become the bride of this Olaf the Fat? That day will never arrive; I will conquer Norway.” Not daring to renew the subject, she retired to acquaint Hialt with the ill success of her interference. They could only await the course of events, in the hope that the states of the kingdom which had no private resentments to gratify would require the king to make peace with his rival. Rognevald, at the suit of Ingigerda, and from his attachment to Norway, where most of his kindred abode, undertook to mention the subject in the approaching assembly at Upsal; and he had the address to interest in his behalf the venerable Thorgnyr, the oracle of the law, the most influential of the Swedish chiefs. After the assembly had been legally opened, and some ordinary business transacted, the Norwegian ambassador rose, and besought the attention of king and states while he laid before them the mission with which he had been intrusted by his royal master. But before he could explain it, the angry monarch arose, and sternly commanded him to be silent. The free-born nobles of Sweden were not thus to lose their privilege of consulting on the affairs of the monarchy. Rognevald arose, and dwelt at large on the present state of their relations with Norway. So long as the frontier was disputed, West Gothland would be exposed to depredations; so long as the two kingdoms were thus hostile, there could be no prosperity for Sweden. Olaf the Fat was desirous of peace; he had sent ambassadors for that purpose; and, in proof of his sincerity, besought the hand of the princess Ingigerda. At the close of his speech, the monarch arose, and sharply upbraided Rognevald for his advocacy of the interests of an enemy. “To this,” observed the king, “he has been instigated by his wife, a Norwegian lady, 251and of the same family as Olaf the Fat. Rognevald, as the friend, perhaps the ally, of Sweden’s enemy, was a traitor, and ought to suffer the punishment of one,—to be deprived alike of his dignity and possessions, and banished the realm.” The irritated monarch then resumed his seat, but only to hear what would displease him the more. The venerable Thorgnyr, whose beard descended to his knees, whose wisdom was celebrated throughout the north, and whose presence was so majestic as to inspire every one with reverence, was the next speaker. The assembly were hushed as he rose; and such is the ascendancy of wisdom, when associated with virtue and rank, that every one felt that his opinion would decide the controversy. They rose at the same time,—an unconscious tribute of respect to this Nestor. His speech, illustrative as it is of the times, and of Swedish freedom, we give entire. “The kings of the Swedes are not what they once were. My grandfather could remember Eric the son of Emund, when in the vigour of manhood. That king, each summer, undertook some warlike expedition, adding to his empire Finland, Carelia, Esthonia, Courland, and other regions,—exploits of which the lofty mounds visible at this day are triumphant proofs; yet Eric was not too proud to be advised; nor did he refuse to hear every one that addressed him. My father was long the companion and friend of Biorn, whose character he thoroughly understood, whose reign was uninterruptedly flourishing,—no part of the kingdom escaping his salutary care; yet Biorn was indulgent to his friends, easy of access, and always inclined to good advice. And I remember Eric the Victorious, whose companion I was in so many expeditions; he enlarged the bounds of the kingdom, and nobly defended what he had thus acquired; yet he was always ready to follow good counsels. Now we have a king whose negligence has occasioned the loss of some tributary regions; yet he would leave to no one the freedom of speaking any other thing than what he is pleased to 252hear; and to check the honest use of the tongue is his constant aim. More ambitious than his valiant predecessors, he really aspires to the conquest of all Norway, and thus disturbs the public tranquillity. King Olaf! it is the wish of the country that thou shouldst make peace with Olaf the Fat, and give him thy daughter Ingigerda. If it be thy wish to recover the possessions which thine ancestors once held in the east, we are all ready to accompany thee in the expedition. If, on the other hand, in regard to Norway, thou art unwilling to follow the advice we have given thee, know that we will no longer tolerate thy frequent violations of the public tranquillity, and of the constitutional laws; with our swords we will fall upon thee, and give thee to destruction. Such was the custom of our forefathers, who were greater than we. In the assembly of Mula, did they not cast five kings into the deep pit, because those princes were, as thou art to us, insultingly proud to their people? Choose, therefore, and instantly choose, whether thou wilt follow our counsel!” This bold speech—so characteristic of the Swedish nobles in their best days—was received with tumultuous applause by the assembled multitude; sword and shield rang together, and every man was ready to follow the bidding of the venerable asserter of his rights. The humbled monarch rose; his will was that of his people; his predecessors had always left matters of grave import to their decision; and the present business should be left entirely to them. In a moment the tumult was hushed; the chiefs of the assembly, with the sanction of the rest, decreed peace with Norway, named the ambassadors who were to be sent, and declared that Ingigerda should be the wife of Olaf the Fat. Rognevald was intrusted with the care of betrothing; and the princess sent many gifts, as pledges of her affection, to her intended husband.^[240]

|1013.|

Omnipotent as was the authority of the states over 253the king of Sweden, when they were dissolved he was again supreme. He resolved to evade the performance of his pledge; and, instead of proceeding with his daughter to the confines of the two kingdoms, to deliver her into the arms of Olaf, he forebore even to mention the journey, nor would he allow others to mention it in his presence. He was, above all, indignant with the jarl Rognevald, to whom he attributed his humiliation at the recent meeting of the states,—for Thorgnyr was above his vengeance. At length the anxiety of Ingigerda could not be suppressed; and she resolved, whatever the cost, to learn from her father when he intended to commence his journey. One day, as he was returning from his favourite sport of hawking, and, from unusual success, was in high spirits, she advanced to meet him, and congratulated him. “Didst thou ever know a monarch,” demanded he, “whom so much good fortune attended in so short a time?” “Truly,” replied the maiden, “this morning’s sport has been successful; thou hast taken five birds: but was not Olaf of Norway the better sportsman, seeing that, in one morning also, he took five kings, and annexed their possessions to his own?”^[241] The father dismounted, then looking at her, said, “Listen, Ingigerda! Whatever thy affection for this fat king of Norway, he will never be mate of thine!”—In vain did Olaf advance to the frontiers to receive his bride; neither of her nor of her father could he obtain the least tidings; and, in great mortification, he returned to Drontheim. Rognevald, whom Ingigerda acquainted with the disposition of the Swede, laid her communication before the king of Norway, whose rage was equal to his disappointment. His first impulse was to lay waste the Gothlands; but from this step he was dissuaded by his counsellors, who justly observed, that this kind of vengeance was unworthy of a monarch; that he should wait for the assembly of his states, demand forces equal to the enterprise, and then march into Sweden to obtain satisfaction for his wrongs. 254When he heard that the princess had been promised by Olaf to Jarislaf, duke of Holmgard, he would assuredly have instantly marched, had not another consideration detained him. Olaf had another daughter, Astridda by name, who was then on a visit to the princely Rognevald. In his anxiety to preserve harmony between kings with whom he was so closely connected, the jarl one day asked a favourite poet and emissary of Olaf whether his master would be willing to receive the hand of that princess, in the place of Ingigerda. If he would, there was the lady, and the marriage might be celebrated without consulting her father. The poet immediately repaired to Olaf, praised the beauty, the wit, the accomplishments of Astridda, who was in no respect inferior to her sister, and informed him that the princess would be ready to marry him without the consent of her father. Olaf accepted the proposal; but his motive was the vexation he should cause the Swedish king, rather than attachment to the princess. The poet was sent for her; and in a short time, accompanied by Rognevald, she passed into Norway. The sponsal ceremony was immediately performed; and, in a few days, it was followed by their nuptials. This proceeding of Rognevald would have brought ruin on his head, had not circumstances befriended him. Olaf, anxious that his daughter Ingigerda should marry Jaroslaf, endeavoured to obtain her consent. As she had lost all hope of the Norwegian, now her brother-in-law, and was offended at the manner in which he had treated her, she no longer resisted, provided she might select, as her companion and friend, any Swedish chief she wished to reside with her at the court of Holmgard. The promise was given, and she selected Rognevald. Olaf was indignant, but he could not revoke his pledge; and he only added that, if the odious jarl did not appear in his sight, and embarked without his knowledge, he would not forbid the appointment. Thus Ingigerda sailed to Gardarik, and became the wife of Jaroslaf. Hitherto 255she had not seen Olaf of Norway; but they were destined to meet many years after this event.^[242]

|1018.|

The conduct of the Swedish Olaf was resented by the states in their next assembly. He had not given his daughter to the Norwegian; he had not made peace with Norway; and, notwithstanding the recent marriage of Olaf with the Swedish princess, West Gothland was in hourly danger of war. In the next diet, the proceedings were stormy. A powerful body raised to the throne Jacob Omund or rather Emund, the son of Olaf, a child scarcely twelve years of age. In great consternation, the Swedish king proposed to meet his rival, and to make peace on a double basis. The two kings did meet; and the Swede, who had been taught a lesson, was not merely affable, but kind. To set at rest the dispute between them, in regard to the boundary, they agreed to leave it to the chance of the dice; and the Norwegian was the winner in the game. From this day to the death of Olaf, there was no war between the two kingdoms. The Swedish Olaf was too anxious to gratify his subjects to oppose their interests or wishes. They allowed him to retain the sceptre, but a portion of his kingdom was placed under the administration of his son.^[243]

On his part, Olaf of Norway was no less desirous of peace. The internal state of his kingdom was far from satisfactory. Many of his subjects, however they might outwardly conform to Christianity, were still pagans, and practised their rites in secret. In a tour through the uplands, in the summer of 1018, he discovered many whom the severity of his predecessor and his own had rendered apostates;—many who had been forced to receive baptism, but who, on the departure of their tyrant, had insensibly relapsed to their ancient faith. Great was his wrath at the discovery, and he evinced it in a manner worthy of the age. Some of the delinquents—those, probably, who had any substance to fill his coffers—he banished for ever; the hands and feet 256of some he mutilated; others he blinded; some he beheaded; others he suspended from lofty gibbets. In short, says the historian, “he did not spare one that refused to serve God.” These enormities were not to be borne. Even those who had conscientiously embraced Christianity revolted at them; and, as many had relations and friends whom no argument could induce to forsake their hereditary errors, a spirit of discontent, a smothered cry for vengeance, was soon heard in the lonely defiles of the mountains. Five upland kings,—for the royal title had been left to them by Olaf, and, we may infer, so also had their religion,—Ruric of Raumarik, Gudred of the Dales, Ring of Hedmark, with the kings of Hadaland and Ringarik, entered into a secret conspiracy against his authority and life. They had not been injured by him; but their friends and kindred had been his victims: and who could say how long they should be spared? It was, at length, agreed to fall upon him in his passage through Hedmark. Sending spies to watch his motions, they hastened to a point on the road through which he had to pass, and named its vicinity as the place where their own followers should join them. However safe this secret might have been, so long as it was confined to the kings alone, when communicated to the inferior chiefs, whose co-operation was necessary, it could scarcely remain undivulged. Ketil, one of the chiefs whom Olaf had befriended, proceeded to meet the king, and acquaint him with the danger before him. At a solitary house near the lake Miors, in the higher regions of Raumarik, Olaf was acquainted with the meditated deed. With about 400 men, he instantly departed for the villa where the five kings were, and arrived there long before their followers. Approaching it at midnight, he caused it to be surrounded by his little band, so as to prevent ingress or egress; and, at the early dawn, all were in his power. Ruric, the soul of the conspiracy, was doomed to the loss of both eyes; Gudred, to the loss of his tongue; the remaining three were exiled, on their promise never 257to revisit Norway. The inferior actors did not escape punishment; some being mutilated, others exiled; but the majority, who had only acted in obedience to their chiefs, were pardoned. The domains which all had held since the days of Olaf Trygveson, were next invaded, and annexed to the crown. If this was a cruel, it was a politic step; it rendered Olaf not merely the nominal, but the only, king of Norway.^[244]

|1019.|

Of the two kings who were thus retained in the country, Olaf feared Ruric only, whom he always took with him. Ruric had his servants, his regal apparel, and his high seat at the table. He was noted for his revengeful disposition, and for his taciturnity. His domestics were so ill-treated that they refused to remain with him, until Sweyn, one of his own kindred, and formerly his vassal, was placed near him. It was now his constant object to prevail on Sweyn to join him in the murder of Olaf, and the man at length consented. One evening, as the king was going to vespers, Sweyn took his station at the gate, with a sword concealed beneath his cloak. But he had not courage to strike; and his agitation was such as to attract the notice of his intended victim. “Why that troubled countenance, Sweyn? Hast thou a design on my life?” Throwing away his sword, and letting his cloak fall behind him, the domestic knelt, and could only say, “To God and thee, O king, I resign myself!” He was immediately fettered; but was soon released and exiled. The only punishment inflicted on Ruric was, that his chair was taken from the royal table, and placed in another apartment; that his bed was removed to a less honourable place, and two domestics ordered to attend him night and day. After this event, he grew moody and capricious: sometimes he talked with amazing volubility, and, what was more important (for his talents were great), with wit or judgment, as the humour predominated; at other times a sullen taciturnity for days 258together, rendered him as disagreeable as he had before been captivating. When in these moody fits, he was evidently devising the means of revenge, or at least of escape. One night, when Ruric had retired to rest, somewhat intoxicated, a man called the Little Finn, who had been his domestic in his prosperous days, entered the apartment, with a large vessel of mead. This he presented to all the domestics who slept in the same apartment as his master, and it was so potent that it immediately sent them to sleep,—the more easily as they were previously half drunk. In a short time, Ruric awoke his two guards, under the pretext that he wanted to go outside the house. Rubbing their eyes, and gaping, they accompanied him, but were immediately slain by twelve men whom the Little Finn had brought to the spot, and who hurried the king on board a vessel which lay near the shore. One of the royal party, having occasion to visit the court-yard, found the two corpses yet bleeding and warm. In great alarm, he awoke Thord, the bearer of the royal banner, and acquainted him with the tragedy which had just been perpetrated. Both wished to awake the king; but who durst presume to do so? It was at length agreed to ring the bells of the neighbouring chapel; and Olaf, thinking that the time of matins was come, suddenly rose, and was made acquainted with the disappearance of Ruric, and the murder of the two guards. The household was soon in motion, and the fugitives pursued. Accompanied by thirty men, one of Olaf’s captains leaped into a vessel, and stood out to sea. Dawn soon appeared, and the vessel which carried Ruric, and which was manned by an equal number of men, was descried. The pursuit was vigorously maintained; when an arrow from the bow of the Little Finn, the best marksman of his age, found its way to the leader’s heart. Still the pursuit was continued; until the companions of Ruric, apprehensive of being taken, drew close to the shore, and plunged into the neighbouring woods, leaving him to his fate. The blind chief was conveyed back 259to Tunsberg, and consigned to closer custody than before. But even now he indulged in the dream of revenge, and fortune seemed to furnish him with an opportunity of realising it. Easter was at hand, and Olaf, with his whole household, attended divine service in the church. His seat was in a kind of crypt at the north end of the choir. Here, such was his thoughtlessness, he was accompanied by Ruric, for whose conversion he was singularly anxious, and to whose crimes he was unusually indulgent. On the conclusion of the service, when the congregation were departing, Ruric drew a concealed dagger, and aimed it at the king. The blow entered his garments, but did not touch his skin. Leaping from his seat, a second blow was aimed at him, but without effect; and in another moment, the ferocious chief was taken and fettered, and led out of the church. Olaf was exhorted to put the rebel to death; but he refused, and substituted banishment into the dreary wastes of Iceland. There, in a few years, Ruric paid the debt of nature.—Strange that Olaf should pardon the murderer, yet execute the pagan! That he should deem the most horrible of crimes less heinous than conscientious, however mistaken, belief! But such has always been the policy of the Roman Catholic church.^[245]

|1020 to 1021.|

The uplands were not the only parts of Norway in which idolatry was to be found. While at Nidaros one winter, he learned that in Halogaland, Naumdal, and the interior of Drontheim, even the outward forms of Christianity were disregarded. To judge for himself in so important a matter, Olaf, when spring arrived, proceeded into Naumdal, where he held assemblies of the people. He soon found that there were delinquents enough, and he resolved not to spare them. He afflicted them, says the historian, with grievous penalties, not sparing the powerful any more than the humble; and he made all the inhabitants promise that in future they 260would preserve the holy faith incorrupt. By passing through the most sequestered districts, he discovered what would otherwise have escaped him. On his return to Nidaros, he learned that in the interior of the province, at the yule festival, the horns and cups were, as of yore, consecrated to the gods; that oxen were still sacrificed, and the altars sprinkled with their blood. In great anger, yet eager to examine into the truth of the charge, Olaf sent for many of the farmers, to interrogate them on the subject. But they asserted that their convivial meetings had nothing to do with religion; that, like their fathers, they indulged over their cups, but were not so foolish as to be the slaves of heathenism. Though he was forced to dismiss them, he was not satisfied; and about the middle of winter he sent for them a second time, laying before them the information which he had subsequently received. Again was the charge denied; and they were again dismissed, but not without the assurance that Olaf would soon judge for himself. After the Easter festivities, he accordingly repaired into that district; and sending for Thorold, one of his vassals, questioned him closely as to the existence of idolatry in his neighbourhood. At first the man was unwilling to speak; he dreaded the vengeance of the Pagans; but being assured of the royal protection, he said that most of the people had not yet been baptized; that those who had, had certainly reverted to the worship of Thor and the other deities; that there were scarcely any Christians in heart; that sacrifices were still offered, at the ancient seasons; and that at their meetings, which they asserted were purely convivial, twelve men officiated as priests. Hearing these charges, for the truth of which he had no guarantee,—nothing beyond the bare word of Thorold,—Olaf summoned his vassals, hastened to the place of entertainment, put the leaders to death, imprisoned others, and plundered all. But the most arbitrary and most unjust part of his conduct was that which authorised his followers to visit the houses of the suspected, and kill or bind or plunder them at 261pleasure. That the innocent, if they had any substance, or any enemies, suffered with the guilty, is undoubted. Of both, many escaped before their persecutors arrived. Of the prisoners, some were put to death, some mutilated, others fined, and many banished.^[246]

|1021.|

Having left many priests, and caused many churches to be erected, in Naumdal, Olaf proceeded into the uplands, for the purpose of rooting out the remains of paganism. Here, too, he found many who had not been baptized,—and many who, if they had been, were more than suspected of being addicted to the ancient religion. From the more considerable persons he demanded hostages, as pledges of their fidelity in future; the rest were more summarily dealt with. But the force he had with him was inadequate to the chastisement of all the delinquents,—for whole districts had neglected the new religion. He therefore sent out the arrow, and being joined by his vassals, issued an edict that those who refused to embrace Christianity with all their hearts must either fight him or see their lands devastated and themselves punished. As before, hypocrites enough hastened to him to profess obedience to his command, while the more conscientious, or the more indigent, fled into other districts. Hearing of these transactions, Godbrand of the Dales, a powerful man and a pagan, having sent forth the arrow, addressed his warriors at some length:—“There has arrived on the margin of the Loar a man called Olaf, commanding us to follow a religion different from that which we have hitherto followed, breaking all the images of our gods, and asserting that his God is greater and more powerful than they. To me it seems marvellous that the earth does not swallow him,—that our gods suffer him to live. Of this I am quite sure,—that, if we take the statue of Thor from the temple near us, and bear him towards the enemy, he will destroy their God, Olaf himself, and all his companions.” These words 262will show that there were parts of Norway which paid only a nominal obedience to the monarchs of Drontheim, which had preserved their stormy independence from a remote age to the eleventh century. These were the mountainous parts, especially the dales, which were scarcely accessible to an army, where defence was more easy, where a great number of invaders could not find subsistence. The speech of Godbrand was received by the hearers with acclamation. All cried that they would not forsake their gods; that if Olaf came into their peaceful valleys, he should not leave them alive. Seven hundred men were immediately placed under the command of Godbrand’s son, and with them he proceeded to the entrance of the Dales. His example was followed by other rustics; so that the opposition which awaited Olaf in these defiles threatened to be more formidable than any which he had yet encountered. On reaching the ground where they were encamped, he caused a trumpet to be sounded, and a herald to bear his command that they would instantly receive Christianity. They rejected it with contempt; but they were soon defeated and compelled to flee. Some were taken prisoners, among whom was the son of Godbrand. Olaf could sometimes act with policy as well as humanity; and on this occasion he dismissed the humbled chief, bidding him tell the father that the victor would soon be in the centre of the dales. Touched with this generosity, the young man besought his father not to contend with Olaf. How, indeed, could he, with only 200 men remaining? By the old pagan he was sharply reproved for this pusillanimity, and told that, for his sins, he had been accompanied by some evil genius. The question of peace or war was again proposed to the Thing, or assembly of the people; and they resolved that twelve men should be sent to Olaf, to obtain the most favourable conditions that could be granted, and to invite him to meet them. The two parties did meet in those solitary wilds; and Olaf, amidst a heavy shower of rain, which continued the whole day, 263proceeded to explain the leading doctrines of Christianity. His explanation, however, was not very clear to the assembled pagans. “We know nothing of the God thou preachest,” said Godbrand, “and how can we, since neither thou nor anybody else has ever seen him? But we have a god whom we can all see whenever we please. To-day he does not appear on account of the rain; but if he should come to this meeting, you could not withstand his looks: he would frighten you all,—for he is a terrible god.” The old man concluded by saying that, if the Christian God should work a palpable miracle, he would then believe in his power. After the assembly had been dismissed, and Olaf, with the son of Godbrand, had retired to his temporary abode, the former had the curiosity to ask what was the construction of the image to which Godbrand had alluded. He was informed that it was a vast statue of Thor, with crown and mallet and costly ornaments, and hollow within. Every day, four loaves of bread, and a corresponding portion of flesh, was presented to this idol. That night, says the historian, the king could not sleep, such was his anxiety to convince the people of God’s power and of Christ’s divinity. The truth is that he was more anxious for his own safety; for the countrymen were resorting, in greater numbers than before, to the scene of action. To be secure in case of attack, he despatched one of his chiefs for a reinforcement. The following day, Thor was wheeled to the place where the assembly deliberated. As it approached, the people rose and saluted it. It was placed in the midst of the place,—having the pagans on one side and the Christians on the other. Godbrand, rising, said,—“Here, king, is our god; but where is thine? He is, I suppose, in some obscure corner, with downcast looks. Thou art not so confident as thou wast; no more is that horned^[247] man who sits beside thee, and is called your bishop. This our god, who rules all things, looks upon you with angry eyes; you are evidently afraid; you 264dare not lift up your eyes. Wherefore, lay aside your vain superstition, and believe in the present god, who has your fate in his hands.” Telling one of his attendants to have a huge club in readiness, Olaf arose, and replied to the speech of Godbrand. “Their god was blind and dumb, who could do nothing for himself or others; he could not even move from his place without being carried.” “Our God,” added he, “is in the east,” alluding to the sun as the brightest emblem of the Deity. Hearing this, the people unconsciously turned their looks in that direction. This was the signal for the chief who held the mace. One ponderous blow broke the deity to pieces; and from the fragments, as they fell, crept serpents, rats, and spiders, in great numbers. Seeing this, most of the people fled; but they were soon recalled by the king, who wished to converse amicably with them. Having ridiculed their prostrate deity, he left them the usual option,—of fighting him or embracing Christianity. Godbrand was the first to set the example. As his god could not help or revenge itself, it had manifestly no power, and he would now believe in the Christians’ God. He was followed by the rest; and, in a short time, a church arose in each valley. From this place Olaf repaired into Hedmark, Raumarik, and Hadaland, where such districts as were not already Christians were speedily made so, in the Roman Catholic sense of the word,—that is, the people were baptized. Of instruction nobody thought; or, if they did, it was left to time. But if Olaf had been as enlightened as he was ignorant, he could not, with the few priests at his disposal, have effected much good. Until England and Germany sent more ecclesiastics, and some provision was made for their education in Norway itself, little good was or could be effected.^[248]