Chapter XVI: Section I: In England, France, and Ireland (1)

EARLY EXPEDITIONS OF THE NORTHMEN TO THE COASTS OF THE ROMAN
PROVINCES.—CAUSES WHICH LED TO THEM.—POVERTY OF THE SOIL, FAMINE,
COURAGE.—DOMESTIC PIRACY.—TRIBES OF PIRATES.—INVASION OF ENGLAND BY
THE SAXONS AND DANES.—AUTHORITY OF SAXO GRAMMATICUS.—DEPREDATIONS IN
ENGLAND PRIOR TO THE REIGN OF ATHELSTANE.—VICTORY OF THAT
MONARCH.—RAVAGES OF THE NORTHMEN IN FRANCE.—HASTINGS.—ROLLO THE
GREATEST OF THE SCANDINAVIAN PIRATES.—HIS CONQUEST OF NORMANDY, OF
WHICH HE WAS THE FIRST DUKE.—THE NORTHMEN IN IRELAND.—EARLY
COMMUNICATION BETWEEN THE IRISH AND THE NORTH OF EUROPE.—FIRST RAVAGES
OF THE NORTHMEN.—THEIR ALARMING PROGRESS IN THAT ISLAND.—VICTORY
OBTAINED OVER THEM BY KING BRIAN.—THEIR SUBSEQUENT DEPREDATIONS AND
DECLINE.

THAT the expeditions of the Northmen were not confined to the shores of the Baltic, long before the period which is usually assigned to them, is evident from the whole course of the later Roman history. During the domination of the empire in Gaul and Britain, the local governors, whatever their zeal, were unable to prevent the depredations which the maritime inhabitants of Friesland and Jutland made on the more southern coasts. The Saxons and Franks were among the earliest pirates of the north. In the third century we find them on the coast of Gaul; in the fourth and fifth, they were no less troublesome on that of Britain. Even from the time of Cæsar, the tribes on the maritime coast, from the mouths of the Rhine to the Baltic Sea, were beginning to learn the piratical life. Their position was highly favourable to such pursuits. Located in the vicinity of rivers, friths, and bays, where the soil is unproductive, their wants must have led them to regions where Nature was more lavish of her gifts. This was more especially the case of the people on the sandy shores of Friesland and the Baltic; and, in those regions, they become pirates, just as the Arabs become robbers,—from necessity. But other causes were also at work, and probably at a period still earlier. Amidst the endless migrations of the barbarous tribes who occupied central and northern Europe, the impulse must have been extended to more distant shores. When, for instance, Asiatic Scythia sent forth her swarms to conquer and to colonise, the original inhabitants either bent their necks to the new yoke, or escaped from it by retiring farther to the west. Those of Scandinavia were compelled to look for settlements in the south; and this object could only be obtained by means of ships. There is reason to believe that these emigrations, or maritime expeditions, came to our own islands before the birth of Christ; this, indeed, is expressly affirmed by Bede, who mentions the first arrival of the Picts in these islands. They came, he informs us, from Scythia; and, sailing round the southern coast of Britain, landed on that of Ireland, where the Scots were then settled. As there was not room for both people, the new comers, in conformity with the advice of the Scots, proceeded to the opposite shores, viz., those of Galloway and Argyle. This could not have been a solitary immigration into these islands; the Scots themselves were a conquering and a new tribe when the Picts arrived. If this is true of the western, it is still more so of the eastern, coasts of England and Scotland, especially of the latter. Danish expeditions, before our Saviour’s birth, are frequently mentioned by Saxo; and, absurd as his chronology often is, we think that there is some foundation for his statement, corroborated as it is by that of Bede. But we must not lose sight of the fact, that the two writers are speaking of events in themselves dissimilar. Bede alludes to the emigration of whole tribes, Saxo to piratical expeditions.[260]

That at a barbarous period, when agriculture was little understood, and in barren countries, where the greatest industry was unavailing, there must have been many seasons of famine, would be admitted, if it were not supported by the positive testimony of history. When they arrived, the younger and more vigorous class of the people naturally betook themselves to more southern regions. He that once visited those regions, would be in no hurry to return. The long duration of winter, the uncertainty of an early spring, the coldness and humidity of the atmosphere, which often prevented the fruits of the earth from arriving at maturity, must have appeared to striking disadvantage when contrasted with the greater regularity of seasons in the south. Nor was this the worst. The north was covered with endless forests, or with extensive fens, or with bleak mountains, where industry might labour in vain; in the south, nature produced, with small labour, what was necessary for the support of man. Since, in the former, wars between one tribe and another were of so frequent occurrence, the condition of the people must have been dreadful; they must have been often thinned by famine. Hence the expatriations, whether voluntary or compulsory, of which we read so much in the ancient history of the north. One of the earliest on record is that which took place under Snio, a prince of Jutland. A sore famine arriving, he published an edict, that, to economise the grain, none should be used in the brewing of beer. But this law was ineffectual; the people were too fond of indulging in the beverage to be thus forced; and a national Thing was convoked to devise the means of public safety. That a law was passed for the destruction of the old, the very young, and those unable to carry arms, or to cultivate the ground, is affirmed by several writers; but the statement is incredible. There is greater truth in another,—that banishment was substituted, and lots were cast to determine the individuals. Sweden furnishes us with a second instance, though not so ancient as the preceding. We have already seen that, during the pressure of a famine, Olaf Trætelia was sacrificed to the gods.[261] The remedy, however, was unavailing; the scourge became still greater, and the people removed into Norway. Two centuries after this period, one third of the Danes, says Peter Olaf, were thus driven into exile; and they selected Prussia, Carelia, Samogitia, and other shores of the Baltic, as their future abodes. This evil was more ancient than we usually suppose. We find laws, permitting the exposure of infants where the parents were unable to support them, before Christianity was known to the Franks, or Bavarians, or Swabians, or any other of the Germanic tribes. Where no temporary law was made for the expatriation of a certain number of the people, the more adventurous would often retire of their own accord. The Scandinavians were no strangers to the sea; from their childhood they were accustomed to fish in their bays, gulfs, mouths of rivers, and other parts of their coasts. This exercise made them familiar with the management of small vessels, and led them to regard the watery element as no less friendly than land. As they became inured to the business, and extended their voyages, they learned where particular species of fish were most abundant. It is probable that at a very early period all the coasts of the Baltic were thus visited.[262]

These circumstances combined will explain the superior dexterity of the Scandinavians and other Baltic nations in the management of vessels. If want of subsistence led them to the deep, whether through expatriation, or the hope of successful fishing, other causes made them pirates. It was easier to take a vessel well laden with that useful commodity than to catch it; and when, in these practices, the crew of one hostile tribe met the crew of another, a battle was sure to follow. By degrees, vessels for piracy alone were equipped; nor were the objects of plunder confined to fish: the houses near the sea-coasts had other articles of food, other commodities, which would enrich the pirate’s home. The dangers attending a profession where the crews were necessarily armed, were not likely to damp the spirit of adventure. Courage was a part of the Northman’s religion; death in battle was a good, since it introduced him at once to the enjoyments of Odin’s hall,—enjoyments far exceeding whatever this world could furnish. Piracy, then, was the necessary result of the Scandinavian’s position; and it must have been practised more anciently than most historians admit. Tacitus tells us that in his time the Suiones were formidable by their fleets. Navigation, indeed, could not be in its infancy, when such colonies as that of the Picts undertook voyages so long and hazardous. It could not be in its infancy during the third century, when Caransius was nominated by the Roman authorities of Gaul to protect, at the head of a powerful fleet, the coasts daily menaced by the barbarians.[263]

That domestic piracy—viz., piracy confined to their own coast—distinguished the Scandinavians long before their expeditions into the south, is undoubted. First, they had to struggle with the hostile races who had preceded them in the north,—whom on their arrival they had to dislodge, and who for so many ages preserved a vindictive remembrance of the outrage. The Goth and the Finn must have been enemies from the beginning; and both must have been equally hostile to the Vends, a Slavonic tribe of Pomerania, much addicted to piracy. Position, no less than race, made tribes hereditary enemies. The Frisons and the Saxons were rivals, and therefore enemies; so were the Swedes and the Danes; so were the Scanians and Norwegians. Their fleets watched the coasts of each other, ready to fight it whenever the opportunity was presented. Thus, while the Norwegians were delighted in making predatory irruptions into Quenaland, which was inhabited by Finns, the Vends were harassing the Danes, and the Jutes the Saxons. In the fifth century—how long before we have not individual instances to select—the Vends were powerful enough to infuse terror into the whole of Denmark. Ismar, their king, ravaged Fionia, defeated king Sivar, and took prince Jarmeric captive. In the sixth century, a Slavonian fleet was defeated by Halfdan, king of Scania. Saxo is full of maritime contests between the two people; and though his chronology is wrong, the facts themselves are indisputable. In general, the Vends exceeded the Scandinavians in ferocity. Both had great advantages for maritime adventures. Lithuania, Esthonia, and Livonia were as well provided with timber as Norway or Sweden; and each country had a multitude of natural bays and creeks, where refuge could be sought when the tempest was severe, or when an enemy appeared too formidable to be resisted.[264]

But the coasts of the Roman provinces offered the greatest inducements to piracy. They were Saxons and Franks whom Caransius had chiefly to oppose. In the following century, they were more formidable to the local governors. “In the beginning of the fourth century,” says Turner, in his valuable history of the Anglo-Saxons, “the Saxons were not alone on the ocean; other states, both to the south and north of their own locality, were moving in concert with them, whose nominal distinctions were lost in the Saxon name. This addition of strength multiplied the Saxon fleets, gave new terror to their hostility, and recruited their losses with perpetual population. The league extended. Their depredations increased their population, affluence, and celebrity; and these results extended their power. What emulation, policy, or rapacity may have first prompted, success and fear made more universal. They who would not have been tempted to unite, dreaded the wrath of those whose proffered alliance they refused: and at length most of the nations north of the Rhine assumed the name, strengthened the association, and fought to augment the predominance of the Saxons. Towards the south, between the Elbe and the Rhine, the Chauci seem to have led the way. The Frisii, urged by kindred passion and a convenient position, willingly followed. The precise date of the accession of others is not so clear; but in some period of their power, the Chamavi, and at last the Batavi, the Toxandri, and Morini, were in their alliance. North of their territorial position the Cimbri, the Jutes, the Angles, and others not so discernible, added their numbers to the formidable league; which lasted until their expedition to Britain, and then began to dissolve. Without detaining the reader by a detail of the modern chorography answering to the position of these tribes, it may be sufficient to state, concisely, that the progress and leagues of the Saxon states enlarged gradually from the Elbe to the Weser; from the Weser they reached to the Ems; and, still augmenting, they diffused themselves to the Rhine with varying latitude, as the Franks, many of whose allies they seduced, quitting that region, and abandoning their exploits on the ocean, marched upon Gaul. The extension of this new confederation was favoured by the change of policy and position adopted by the Franks. As this people stood foremost to the Roman vengeance, they experienced its effects. They had many distressing wars to maintain, which in time compelled them to abandon maritime expeditions, and to consolidate their strength for their continental conflicts. Their ultimate successes made this warfare the most popular among them. Hence, the nearer we approach the period of the invasion of England, we find the Franks less and less united with the Saxons on the ocean, and even wars begin to be frequent between the rival friends. As the former moved onward, to the conquests of Belgium and Gaul, the Saxons appear to have been the only nation, under whose name the vessels of piracy were navigated. Saxons were the enemies every where execrated, though under this title several nations fought. Some of the tribes on the maritime coast, who had composed the league of the Franks, abandoned it, to share the easier warfare and ampler booty of the Saxons. At last this successful people diffused themselves into the interior of Germany so victoriously, that the vast tracts of country embraced by the Elbe, the Sala, and the Rhine, became subjected to their power, in addition to their ancient territory from the Elbe to the Eyder. An old Belgic chronicle, in rhyme, makes Neder Sassen, Lower Saxony, to have been confined by the Scheid and the Meuse; but this is a larger extent than others admit.”[265]

In contemplating the piratical expeditions or maritime conquests of the Northmen, during the pagan age, greater clearness will be attained by classing them under the head of each country visited by those people.

1. _Britain._ The Jutes and the Angles were the most prominent allies of the Saxons. The league was joined by other people of the north,—by adventurous Danes no less than Slavonic Pomeranians. At the head of maritime forces so numerous and so powerful, the Saxons became dreadful scourges to Gaul and Britain. “In the latter country, their depredations were rendered more secure by the frequent irruptions of the Picts and Scots into the northern counties, who, like them, were joined in a confederation. Had the Saxons or the Picts been left to their own efforts, the Roman governors would not have been so much pressed by the pirates as they were from the fourth century downwards. In a similar combination of hostilities, Nectaridus, the commander of the Saxon shore, was slain, and the general of the island, Fullo-faudes, perished in an ambush. Several officers were sent by the Roman emperors to succeed them; but their exertions being inadequate to the necessity, Theodosius, an experienced and successful leader, was appointed by Valentinian in their room. The Picts and the co-operating tribes attacked from the north, while the Saxons and their allies assaulted the maritime coasts. Theodosius, from Richborough, marched towards London, and dividing his army into battalions, correspondent to the positions of the enemies, he attacked the robbers encumbered with their plunder. The bands that were carrying away the manacled inhabitants and their cattle, he destroyed, and regained the spoil; of this he distributed a small share among his wearied soldiers; the residue he restored to its owners, and entered the city, wondering at its sudden deliverance, with the glories of an ovation. Lessoned by experience, and instructed by the confessions of the captives and deserters, he combated this mixture of enemies, with well-combined artifice and unexpected attacks. To recall those who in the confusion, from fear or from cowardice, had abandoned their ranks or their allegiance, he proclaimed an amnesty; and to complete the benefit he had begun, he prosecuted the war with vigour in the north of Britain. He prevented, by judicious movements, the meditated attack; and hence the Orkneys became the scene of his triumphs. The Saxons, strong in their numbers and intrepidity, sustained several naval encounters before they yielded to his genius. They ceased at last to molest the tranquillity of Britain; and the addition of a deserved surname, Saxonicus, proclaimed the service of Theodosius. He added the province of Valentia to Roman Britain, restored the deserted garrisons, and coerced the unruly borderers by judicious stations, and a vigilant defence. The Saxon confederation might be defeated, but was not subdued. Such was its power, that they were now bold enough to defy the Roman armies by land, and invaded the regions on the Rhine with a formidable force. The imperial general was unable to repulse them; a reinforcement encouraged him. The Saxons declined a battle, and sued for an amicable accommodation. It was granted. A number of the youth fit for war were given to the Romans to augment their armies; the rest were to retire unmolested. The Romans were not ashamed to confess their dread of the invaders, by a perfidious violation of the treaty. They attacked the retreating Saxons from an ambush; and, after a brave resistance, the unguarded barbarians were slain or made prisoners. It is to the disgrace of literature that the national historian of the day has presumed, while he records, to apologise for the ignominious fraud. Such an action might dishonourably gain a temporary advantage, but it could only exasperate the Saxon nation. The loss was soon repaired in the natural progress of population, and before many years elapsed, they renewed their depredations, and defeated Maximus. At the close of the fourth century they exercised the activity and resources of Stilicho. The unequal struggle is commemorated by the encomiastical poet, whose genius gilds, with a departing ray, the darkening hemisphere of Rome. After his death the Saxons commenced new irruptions. They supported the Armorici in their rebellion, awed the Gothic Euric, began to war with the Franks, and, extending the theatre of their spoil, made Belgium, Gaul, Italy, and Germany tremble at their presence.” It must be remembered that under the word Saxons many tribes were included,—those of Denmark as well as those of Holstein.[266]

[Sidenote: 408.]

The settlement of the Saxons, the Angles, and the Jutes—all comprehended within the geographical limits of Denmark—in Great Britain, has been recorded in two historical volumes of the Cyclopædia.[267] Thus, in 446, Hengest laid the foundation of the kingdom of Kent, which, under eighteen successive kings, subsisted to the close of the eighth century. In 477, Ella, another Saxon chief, called a smaller one, that of Sussex, into existence. Of this state the names of the two first princes only have descended to posterity. In 519, the more powerful kingdom of Wessex was founded by Cerdic, and its princes were destined to unite the other states into one monarchy within three centuries after its establishment. By Ida, the kingdom of Bernicia was founded in 547; By Ella, that of Deira, in 560. These states, being united in 644, formed the important kingdom of Northumberland, which subsisted, with some interruptions, until it was finally annexed, by Athelstane, to the Saxon monarchy. Mercia, founded, in 586, by Crida; East Anglia, by Uffa; and Essex, by Eswin; were all ultimately absorbed in the rising sphere of Wessex. All these royal chiefs boasted of their descent from Odin; all were of Scandinavian origin; all spoke the same language, and followed the same piratical profession. That hordes of obscure adventurers—mere sea kings—should thus subdue a great country, has been matter of surprise to many writers. But we should remember that, at the period in question, England was not a monarchy,—that, like the north, it was subject to many kings, and that the conquest occupied a century and a half.[268]

That during this period the Danes, if not the Norwegians, were brought into relation with the kings of Scotland, is asserted by Saxo. Frode III., according to that historian, gave his daughter Ulvilda in marriage to Thubar king of the Scots. Frode reigned in the fourth century, not, as Saxo assures us, early in the first. Whether Hamlet of Jutland, and other Danish princes, were really in Scotland, cannot be proved; but there is nothing improbable in the relation. That country, like England and the north, was divided among many chiefs, who assumed the regal title; and that their domains should escape the depredations which so afflicted the southern part of the island, is not to be credited. Beyond all doubt, Scotland was visited by piratical bands as early, at least, as England. Nor must we forget that the Saxon kingdom of Bernicia comprehended, besides the north of England from the Tees to the Tweed, all the east and centre of Scotland from the latter river to the Frith of Forth. At what period the inhabitants north of that Frith were first molested by the Danes and Norwegians would be a vain inquiry; we may only infer that it was much earlier than is generally supposed.[269]

As the inhabitants of the Danish islands and of Norway had no share in the spoils of England, they were not bound to respect the coasts after their kindred had established the kingdoms of the polyarchy. Their ravages, indeed, were experienced by the English chiefs before Northumbria became a kingdom. Offa of Mercia, whose domains were invaded by them, had the valour to defeat, and the generosity to pardon, his foes. It has, however, been contended that we find no satisfactory account of the Danes being here in such numbers as to command the notice of history, before the eighth century. In this case, the authority of Saxo is rejected as unworthy of credit. “Some documents for his history Saxo may have derived from poems of the ancient Scalds, from inscriptions on stones and rocks, from an inspection (yet how imperfect!) of the Icelandic authors, and from the narrations of his friend. We may even grant to him, that such men as he enumerates, such actions as he so eloquently describes, and such poems as he so diffusely translates, once appeared; but the chronology and succession into which he arranges them are unquestionably false. The boasted fountains of the history of the ancient Scandinavians, their memorial stones and funeral runæ, the inscribed rings of their shields, the woven figures of their tapestry, their storied walls, their lettered seats and beds, their narrative wood, their re-collected poetry, and their inherited traditions, may have given to history the names of many warriors, and have transmitted to posterity the fame of many battles: but no dates accompanied the memorials; even the geography of the incidents was very rarely noted. Hence, however numerous may have been the preserved memoranda, their arrangement and appropriation were left to the mercy of literary fancy or of national conceit. Saxo unfortunately emulated the fame of Livy, instead of becoming the Pausanias of Scandinavia; and instead of patiently compiling and recording his materials in the humble style or form in which he found them, which would have been an invaluable present to us, he has shaped them into a most confused, unwarranted, and fabulous chronology. The whole of his first eight books, all his history anteceding Ragnar Lodbrog, can as little claim the attention of the historian, as the British, history of Jeffry, or the Swedish history of Johannes Magnus. It is indeed superfluous, if we recollect the Roman history, to argue against a work which pretends to give to Denmark a throned existence, a regular government, and a tissue of orderly and splendid history for twenty-four royal accessions before the birth of Christ. Saxo, on whose history many others were formerly built, refers to the Icelandic writers; but this only increases our depreciation of his narratives, for they are at irreconcileable variance with all his history before the ninth century.”[270] Yet we are far from subscribing, in its most rigorous sense, to this unfavourable character. Saxo’s chronology we condemn as much as any writer; but we do not think that his facts, however distorted by tradition, are not, for the most part, founded in truth. That the authority of Snorro is superior to Saxo’s we readily admit,—superior, we mean, as to chronology; for that the latter must have been better acquainted with the actions of the Danes themselves few will be so rash as to deny. Yet even Snorro assures us that Ivar Vidfadme, a prince of the seventh century, conquered a fifth part of England.[271] By this expression Northumbria is usually understood; and there is nothing improbable in the opinion that the kingdom of Bernicia—that portion of Northumbria north of the Tweed—was overrun by this prince.[272]

[Sidenote: 793 to 868.]

The alleged depredations of Ragnar Lodbrog in Northumbria, to which we have slightly alluded in the first chapter of this volume[273] have in them so much of the romantic that we can place little dependence on them. There is but one circumstance that can be made to lend them even the appearance of probability. About the period of Ragnar’s death, a formidable body of Danes descended on the island of Lindisfarne, plundered the church which contained the shrine of St. Cuthbert, massacred the ecclesiastics, defiled the altars, and consumed the building by fire. The lay inhabitants of the island were not more fortunate; the men were massacred, the women were forced, the children tossed on the points of the Danish lances. In the following year (794) the monasteries of Wearmouth and Jarrow were visited with the same fate. During full seventy years,—that is, to the period when the weak brother of Alfred allowed the centre of England to be overrun, and when Alfred himself, by his flight, left the whole kingdom to their mercy,—their depredations on the eastern coast, from the Frith of Forth to the Humber, were, however desultory, however interrupted, most harassing and most destructive. The Saxon kings of Northumbria, we are told, were too much occupied in private feuds to have either time or means for defending the country against the invaders,—if, indeed, there were any Saxon kings at this time,—if the Danes were not the actual sovereigns of the province. It is certain that all the historians of Denmark (who are confirmed by the Icelandic chronicles) speak of such a dynasty, and assure us that the sons of Ragnar Lodbrog were its kings. We see no reason to dispute this statement. There is, however, a sad confusion in the chronology. If Ragnar died in 794, and his sons avenged him in little more than a year afterwards, they could not be at the head of the armament which, in 866, appeared off the coast. Probably they and their successors reigned from the close of the eighth to the tenth century, and the confederated armament of 866 was one on a larger scale, and headed by other leaders. What confirms this inference is the fact that at this time Harald Harfager was subduing the petty kings of Norway; and that many of them, preferring freedom to the despotism of a master, left the country with their bravest warriors. During this period, all the churches and monasteries of the province were destroyed. In 828, the Danish power in Northumberland must have been great, or they would not have been powerful, enough to defeat Egbert, the conqueror of so many Saxon kingdoms, and the founder of the English monarchy. After the year 866, when, as we believe, there were many Norwegians in England, new atrocities were committed,—atrocities which threw all former ones into the shade. The monastery of Tynemouth, which had been restored, was soon in flames; that of Lindisfarne shared the same fate; yet the monks were so fortunate as to escape with the relics of St. Cuthbert. From the smoking ruins of Lindisfarne, Halfdan, one of the chiefs, hastened to the monastery of Coldingham. “According to Matthew of Westminster and succeeding writers, the nuns of Coldingham nobly redeemed the reputation of their establishment from the stain which had covered it in the time of St. Cuthbert. The monastery was now, as in the former case, governed by an abbess, named Ebba; who, if the historian be credible, deserves the honours of canonisation somewhat better than her predecessor. Hearing that it was the custom of the barbarians first to violate, and then to destroy, virgins consecrated to God, she assembled the sister-hood in the chapter house, and exhorted them to save their chastity at the expense of their beauty. With a knife she dreadfully disfigured her countenance; and her example was followed on the spot by all the nuns. The Danes soon forced their gates; but turned with horror from their embraces, and quickly consumed both them and their nunnery. Though the monk of Westminster lived so long after the time, he might follow some better guide than tradition—some record now lost; nor is the fact itself either improbable or unparalleled. The same noble conduct is related of the nuns of Ecija, during the Mohammedan invasion of Spain. During seven years similar depredations followed throughout most of Northumbria. Wherever the Danes penetrated, ecclesiastics were massacred, churches and monasteries were levelled with the ground; the whole country, in fact, became a Danish province, governed by princes of the royal house of that kingdom. Great as was the evil produced by these merciless pagans; though the monks, as an order, were almost wholly annihilated, and civilisation was destroyed, yet the invasion itself led to the conversion of the invaders. Resolved to remain in the country which they had conquered, to cultivate the lands which they had divided among themselves, they were compelled to enter into relations of amity with the inhabitants, from whose example, or by whose persuasion, they soon embraced the faith of Christ. That the Danish princes were soon no less devout than their Saxon brothers appears from the splendid donation of all the country between the Wear and the Tyne, made by Guthred to the cathedral of St. Cuthbert, now transferred to Chester-le-Street.” Out of evil comes good,—a proof of God’s particular providence.[274]

[Sidenote: 868 to 876.]

But the atrocities of the Northmen at this period are most graphically described by the abbot Ingulf. After the destruction of Bardney, the pirates hastened to the monastery of Croyland. “It was midnight: the abbot Theodore and his monks had risen to matins when the enemy drew near: the younger brethren the abbot immediately commanded to seek a place of refuge, with their papers, relics, and jewels; while he himself, accompanied by the more aged monks, and some children, awaited whatever fate might be reserved for them. Perhaps he hoped that the grey locks of some, and the infancy of others, might awaken pity even in pagans. But they forgot, says Ingulf, the old verse,

“Nulla fides pictasque viris qui castra sequuntur.”

But he was prepared for any event,—to live or fall with his establishment. Having taken an affectionate leave of about thirty junior monks, he and his devoted companions returned to the church, finished the matins, and celebrated mass. They had just communicated when the pagans arrived, forced the gates, and rushed into the cloisters. The silence which they found might have induced them to believe the monastery was utterly forsaken, had not the distant chaunting of the monks fallen on their ears. They hastened to the church and burst into the choir; one chieftain instantly seized the abbot by the hair with his left hand, while the right severed the head from the body. The officiating clergy shared the same fate at nearly the same moment: the children and the aged monks were tortured for the purpose of discovering whither the treasures had been conveyed; but as the former were unable, and the latter unwilling, to disclose the secret, their sufferings were soon terminated by death. Of all these helpless inmates, one only was saved,—a boy ten years old, whose innocence made an impression on one of the chieftains. He had fled to the refectory with the sub-prior, whom he saw murdered, and whose fate he begged to share; but the chieftain tore the cowl from his head, threw a Danish cloak over him, and commanded him to follow him. The three succeeding days were passed in plunder,—in minutely examining every corner or crevice where treasure might be buried. The shrine of St. Guthlake was overthrown; the marble monuments around it, containing the mortal remains of saints and benefactors to the house, were opened, in search of rings, chalices, and other precious effects which the Saxons entombed with the bodies of the great; the bones were thrown on the ground, and the sculpture defaced. On the fourth day the extensive pile was on fire. Medeshamstede, or Peterborough, also an abbey of royal foundation, was next visited. Its noble library, its numerous treasures, which there had not been time to remove, its magnificent architecture, rendered it one of the proudest monastic establishments in the island. Within its gates many of the neighbouring inhabitants had placed their most valuable effects, and thither many had fled for protection. For a while the edifice made a noble stand; but a stone thrown by an unknown hand having mortally wounded the brother of Ubbo, the Danish king, the barbarian and his followers made a more desperate attack, forced the gates, and commenced the massacre. With his own hand Ubbo sacrificed the hoary abbot and eighty-three monks to the shade of his brother; while the strangers fell under the hands of his followers. The booty was immense; but the value was trifling compared with that of the MS. treasures which were consumed with the monastery. The conflagration continued a fortnight. While it raged, the monks who had fled from Croyland returned to their former abode, sat themselves down amidst the smoking ruins, and wept. So overcome were they by the melancholy sight, that some time elapsed before they proceeded to bury the scorched bodies of their brethren. Having performed this sad office, and elected another abbot, they were solicited to perform the last duties to the monks of Medeshamstede. With sorrowful hearts they deposited the bones of the abbot and the eighty-three monks in the same grave, over which Godric, their superior, raised a monument, engraven with the history of this sad tragedy. From Medeshamstede the pirates, exulting in their success, hastened to the Isle of Ely, to inflict the same fate on the flourishing convent which had been founded by the piety of St. Edilthryda. Its cloisters were inhabited by the noblest ladies of England. Some fled; but the greater number preferred the death which they knew awaited them. The place was taken; the nuns were ravished and slaughtered; and the holy pile was reduced to ashes. That such atrocities could be committed would be incredible were they not too well attested to admit of scepticism.[275]

[Sidenote: 870 to 924.]

The struggles of Alfred with the ferocious Northmen have been detailed in more than one volume connected with the present.[276] During this period, there was a Danish monarchy in Northumbria, which, as we have already observed, had been probably founded by the sons of Ragnar Lodbrog. That monarchy subsisted in the reign of Edmund, the son of Alfred; and, it was in full vigour on the accession of Athelstane. So powerful, indeed, was Sigtrug, king of that province, that Athelstane, to insure his friendship, conferred on him the hand of his sister. The condition of this marriage was that Sigtrug should embrace Christianity, and become the vassal of Athelstane. In five years, however, the restless barbarian put away his wife, and relapsed into idolatry. To punish the insult, Athelstane invaded Northumbria; but Sigtrug died before his arrival; and the two sons of Sigtrug, Anlaf and Godfrey, fled,—the former into Ireland, the latter into Scotland; and Athelstane annexed Northumbria to his English crown.[277]

[Sidenote: 924 to 934.]

That Athelstane should so immediately raise the power of the Saxon kingdom, as not only to defeat the Danes and Northmen, but to subjugate a province which had always been hostile to it, shows what may be effected by the energies of a single mind. Not satisfied with expelling the enemy from Northumbria, he pursued them into Scotland, far north of the boundary which had hitherto arrested the progress of English victory: his fleets penetrated into Caithness, ravaging the coast as they proceeded. And he is believed, at this period, to have located a multitude of English colonists in the southern provinces of Scotland, and thus to have laid the foundation of the present lowland population. But Northumbria was too recent a conquest, and too dissimilar from the rest of the monarchy, to remain secure. The chiefs of Denmark and Norway, who had so long regarded England as a kind of inheritance, armed in greater numbers than before, to check the rising power of Athelstane. They were joined by all the noted sea kings of the age; by many of the jarls or kings who had settlements in Ireland and Scotland; by the king of the Scots, and by several Welsh chiefs. Never, we are told, had so formidable an armament menaced England as that which, in 934, entered the Humber. It consisted of 615 ships, headed by Anlaf, whom Constantine of Scotland had induced to make the attempt. Anlaf, who, on his father’s death, had obtained for himself a principality in Ireland, had a reputation for skill and valour equalled by none of his countrymen. Of the two thanes whom Athelstane had placed over Northumbria, one was defeated and slain; the other, after the battle, fled to acquaint the English monarch with the defeat. He prepared for the contest with courage; and, to gain time until his forces were collected, entered into negotiations. When his army was completed, he hastened into the north, and was in presence of the pirates before they knew he had left the Saxon provinces. If any faith is to be placed in either Saxon or Norwegian writers, Anlaf, assuming the disguise of a harper, penetrated to the tent of Athelstane, and entertained that monarch with his art. His object, we are told, was to ascertain the position of the tent previous to a nocturnal attack, which had been determined by the confederate chiefs. But this incident, no less than the recognition of Anlaf by one of the Saxon outposts, is too romantic to be easily credited. What appears to be certain is, that Athelstane removed his tent to another part of the field; and that the bishop of Sherburn, who encamped in the place which he had abandoned, was slain before the morning’s dawn. In the night there was a skirmish, which caused much effusion of blood, and was advantageous to neither party. When day arrived, the celebrated battle of Brunanburgh was fought. That town has escaped the researches of antiquaries; and all that can be conjectured is, that it was in some place north of the Humber. That the struggle was a desperate one might be inferred alike from the character of the combatants, and from the magnitude of the interests involved. Victory declared for Athelstane; Constantine of Scotland was nearly taken, and his son killed; the Cumbrians and Britons and Irish were destroyed, or put to flight, and the bravest warriors of the north remained on the field. This splendid advantage raised England in the esteem of all Europe, and impressed the Northmen with a salutary terror.[278]

[Sidenote: 934.]

The intercourse between Athelstane and Eric of the Bloody Axe we have before mentioned.[279] We have also related in what manner Sweyn of Denmark[280] defeated Ethelred II., and eventually became king of England. The history of that monarch brings down that of the Scandinavian expeditions to the year 1014.

[Sidenote: 400 to 840.]

2. _France._ The devastations of the Saxons and the Jutes on the coasts of Gaul commenced as early as those on the coast of Britain. We read of them in the third and every succeeding century, until France was too strong to be assailed with impunity,—until piracy was extinguished in the north of Europe. In the fifth century, the pirates besieged Orleans, and formed many settlements on the western coast. About the middle of the sixth, Hamlet of Jutland is said to have fought the Franks in person, and to have been defeated. The period, however, of Hamlet, is purely conjectural; and his descent on the coast is equally so. But that the Normans were there is affirmed by the contemporary Gregory of Tours, who describes their ravages with much interest. Under the Carlovingians, the piratical armaments were more powerful than at any preceding time. In 795, the Danes ravaged Friesland; from 800, the coasts of Flanders and France were infested; nor could the genius and vast resources of Charlemagne punish their audacity. On witnessing their fugitive depredations, he is said to have predicted the trouble which they would cause his successors. Such a prediction required no supernatural discernment; but it proves that the monarch had formed a correct estimate of northern piracy. For the greater part of a century, however, they did not appear in any overwhelming numbers on the French coast. The forces of the Northmen were too much scattered over the deep, in England, Ireland, the Orkneys, and the Baltic, to admit of any considerable concentration at a given point. Their efforts, however destructive, were desultory, and might have been easily repelled, had there been any wisdom or any vigour in the government. But the sons of the emperor Louis were too eager to destroy each other, to have time for the chastisement of obscure pirates; and every year added to the severity of the scourge. In 840, Rouen was burnt; and many great monasteries of that province, defended as they were by numerous vassals, shared the same fate. The banks of two rivers—the Seine and the Loire—were ravaged from their mouths to the interior of France. Amboise was next burnt, and Tours was besieged; but St. Martin saved his city.[281]

[Sidenote: 840.]

The man whose ravages were to eclipse all former pirates was Hastings, who headed the expedition into Touraine. Of him we have no mention in the annals of the north; our only information respecting him is from the French writers,—Dudo of St. Quentin, William of Jumvieges, William of Poictiers, Orderic Vital, Robert Wace, and Benedict of St. Maur. In this absence of Scandinavian authority, the critics of the north have endeavoured to identify him with such of the Swedish, Danish, or Norwegian chiefs, as bore a name kindred with his own. But the account of Wace, however inaccurate in its details, is the only one that can be followed. There was a king of Denmark, says this ecclesiastic, Lotroc, an old man, who had a son called Biorn, surnamed Ironside, from his defensive armour. Finding that his kingdom was too populous, he revived an ancient law, which forced all the sons of a family except one, to seek their fortunes on the deep. A considerable number of vessels being prepared, Biorn was placed over the fleet; but, as his years were yet tender, he was subjected to the councils of Hadding, or Hasting, a veteran chief of the pirates. Who was this king? Modern writers unanimously affirm that he was the celebrated Ragnar Lodbrog. In this case, Biorn could be no other than Biorn Ironside, who, on the death of his father in 794, ascended the throne of the Swedes. Yet how will this chronology agree with the facts? The expedition of Hastings must be referred to the middle of the ninth century; when, if any dependence is to be placed on the critical historians of the north, Biorn had been dead forty years. But wherever the name of this Lodbrog occurs, there is the same chronological confusion; nor can we be surprised that Suhm makes two heroes of that name,—one of the eighth, the other of the ninth century.[282]

[Sidenote: 842 to 844.]

When Hastings arrived off the coast, he divided his fleet into two squadrons. One ascended the Somme, set fire to the towns which lay on its banks, and murdered the inhabitants. The other proceeded to the mouth of the Loire, and committed the same depredations on its banks. Nantes was taken, and all who had sought refuge in the cathedral were put to death. Churches, monasteries, towns, hamlets,—everything which lay in the passage of the invaders, was destroyed. Proceeding to the south, they ravaged the coasts of Galicia, but were defeated by the king of Leon. This check forced them from Spain; but they spread their wild hordes over the south of France, from Thoulouse to the Pyrenees. As they had established a kind of wooden fortress on the Loire, they now erected one on the Garonne. But they were not satisfied with the failure of their arms against Spain; they were determined, by future successes, to blot out the memory of this disgrace; and, with a larger fleet, they returned to that peninsula. Lisbon, then an inconsiderable town, was plundered; passing to the south and east, the armament ascended the Guadalquivir, and assailed the important city of Seville, then in the power of the Mohammedans. Strange was the chance which thus brought the robbers of Scandinavia and those of the Arabian deserts into collision with each other. But the followers of Odin had the advantage over those of Mohammed; doubtless because the latter were few in number, and unprepared for the attack. From this city they made some predatory excursions into the neighbouring country; but the Arabs, by surprising a part of their fleet, counter-balanced the advantage they had just gained.[283]

[Sidenote: 845 to 859.]

Whether Hastings was present in the expedition to Spain may be doubted. There were several chiefs of the pirates, from all parts of Scandinavia; and while one was laying waste the maritime coasts of the South, others were equally active on those of France. Hastings, however, was at the head of the party which, proceeding by way of Fescamp and Rouen, extended its ravages over most of Neustria and Bretagne, and even to the gates of Paris. All France was in consternation. The monks especially were surprised that their holy relics had no power to arrest the progress of the barbarians. St. Martin had saved Tours; but there was no saint to defend the magnificent religious houses which were now destroyed by the Northmen. When the enemy approached, the monks retired with the relics, heaping curses loud and deep on these “men of hell,” these “spawn of the devil.” But their curses were ineffectual as their relics, and the tide of destruction flowed on. Many were the presents which the Carlovingian kings made to the invaders to remove the scourge. As in England, the money was received, but the depredations were only transferred to some other part of the kingdom. But, so many were the armaments which every year arrived from the North, and so many the chiefs to be bribed, that the resources of the country were insufficient for the purpose. It was probably this circumstance which led Hastings into the Mediterranean. He had heard of Rome; and the glory no less than the advantage of sacking that celebrated city, led him to the shores of Italy. On his way, he plundered the coasts of Spain, of Africa, and those of the islands which he passed. Disembarking in Tuscany, he assailed Luna, which he is absurdly said to have mistaken for Rome; and failing in his attempt to carry it by storm, he recurred to an experiment which we have more than once read in the history of the north. He caused the inhabitants to be informed that he was disgusted with his manner of life; that he would repent; that he was the victim of an incurable disease; that he wished to be baptized before his death. The credulous ecclesiastics obtained a suspension of hostilities, and prepared for the ceremony which was “to wash this Ethiop white.” On the day appointed, he was carried in a litter to the cathedral; and he acted his part to admiration. He received the holy rite with much appearance of devotion; all must see that his days were drawing to their close; and he begged that his bones might be deposited in one of the vaults beneath the church. That was sacred ground; and when surrounded by the ashes of saints and martyrs, he might hope to escape the pursuits of the evil one. Who could refuse so humble a request? He was borne to his ship, which he was scarcely expected to see alive. No sooner was he on board, than he cast away his disease, and mentioned to his followers the plan which he had devised for the capture of the city. In a short time, a loud cry of grief was heard on board his vessel; the neophyte was dead, and preparations were made for the funeral. When the day appointed by the clergy arrived, the coffin, attended by all the chiefs, and a great number of warriors, was slowly borne from the ship to the cathedral. It was placed on a bier, near the choir of the church, and the funeral service was commenced. The congregation to witness the ceremony was great; it comprised the bishop, the clergy, the governor, the military, and the principal inhabitants. Mass was sung; the funeral hymns were chaunted; prayers for the requiem of the new-born soul were humbly offered; and the attendants advanced to the bier to lower the corpse into its last resting-place. At this moment, Hastings arose; his warriors drew their swords from beneath their long cloaks, which were at once thrown on the pavement; the doors were fastened; the work of carnage commenced, and every one present was laid dead in the place. The city was easily won; the inhabitants were massacred; the most precious effects borne to the ships, and the city consumed by fire. This may seem to be romance rather than history; but it is attested by so many writers, and is so conformable with the character of the pagan Scandinavians at once violent and treacherous that we dare not wholly reject it. The circumstances may be embellished; but the foundation of the story is probably true.[284]

[Sidenote: 858 to 863.]

While Hastings was in Italy, Biorn was pursuing the work of destruction in France. In vain did Charles the Bald endeavour to expel him from the kingdom. Arms being ineffectual, negotiation was tried, and for a large sum Biorn consented to leave France. On his return, feeling that he was indisposed, he landed on the coast, and there died. While the French were congratulating themselves on this unexpected deliverance, they were thrown into consternation by the news that Hastings was just returned from Italy, and renewing his ravages. A misfortune which he had sustained on the passage—that of being compelled through the violence of the storm to throw overboard his numerous captives and most precious effects—made him the more eager to repair his fortunes. Entering the Rhone, and forming another entrenchment, he sent or headed detachments, which plundered Arles, Nismes, and most of the towns between the Alps and the Pyrenees. While thus occupied, another formidable body in the Seine, which had not shared in the treaty made by Biorn, ravaged the country to the gates of Paris. A third soon landed from the north, and commenced its career by the destruction of Amiens; while a fourth was equally mischievous in Flanders. Charles had, as before, recourse to negotiation. To the party which had destroyed Amiens he engaged to pay three thousand pounds weight of fine gold—an immense sum, and surely an exaggeration. It is, however, certain that a heavy tax was levied on the whole kingdom, and that in twelve months it was not wholly collected. But while the negotiation was pending, other armaments arrived, and even the king began to perceive that to purchase the retreat of one while so many others were left to pursue their depredations, was great folly. The negotiation, consequently, assumed a new character: and the pirates were now to be paid, not for leaving the kingdom, but for assisting to expel other bodies of their countrymen from it. Accordingly, there followed some desultory hostilities between these kindred robbers: but while they were thus occupied, other bands were carrying their depredations into the heart of France. In the end, however, two of the armaments were persuaded to leave the shores—probably to join in the conquest of England, now governed by the feeble brothers of Alfred. But two yet remained that of Hastings, and one stationed in the Loire. As the former was so dreaded, his neutrality, at least, was to be purchased on any terms. The abbot of St. Denis repaired to the head quarters of the chief, and with some difficulty prevailed on him to accept the royal offers. These were, a large sum of money, and the fief of Chartres with the title of count, on the condition of his embracing Christianity, and, as a French vassal, of aiding his liege superior against all enemies. The conditions were accepted, and the fierce pirate of the Baltic became one of the noblest peers of France.[285]

[Sidenote: 863 to 876.]