Part 4

To the south of Watlinga-Stræt, which had already often been agreed upon between the Danish conquerors and the Anglo-Saxon kings as the boundary between the Danish and Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, Edmund Ironsides received his share of England by agreement with Canute. It was in these districts that the Anglo-Saxon kings had always found their truest and most numerous adherents, and they had therefore generally been the theatre of the more important battles between the Anglo-Saxons and the Danes. Near Wareham, in Dorsetshire, Alfred purchased peace with a host of the latter, who swore on their armlets to observe it; but, though this oath was regarded by the Danes as very sacred, they are said to have broken it immediately. During his exile Alfred concealed himself for a long time at Athelney, in Somersetshire; and near Eddington he again beat the Danes. In the neighbourhood of Athelney, Alfred also induced Gudrun (Gorm), the king of the Danish Vikings, to receive baptism. The oppressed inhabitants were in these parts scarcely ever free from the devastating attacks of the Vikings and conquerors. The Danes frequently established themselves in castles near the coast, as at Exeter, in Devonshire; Dorchester and Wareham, in Dorsetshire; Winchester, in Hampshire; and Chichester, in Sussex. At Southampton, in Hampshire, and under the Isle of Wight, they generally wintered with large fleets. Thence they made incursions into the land of the Anglo-Saxons; and if they could not entirely expel them, and colonize the south of England in their stead, they at least endeavoured to weaken and exhaust it as much as possible.

On the whole, it would not have been very easy for the Danes to settle themselves entirely in any parts of the south, or south-west, of England; not even on the coasts near the harbours, though regularly visited by the ships of the Norwegian Vikings. The inhabitants in these parts were mostly of pure Saxon descent, and consequently already prejudiced against the Danes, on account of the old disputes between the Scandinavian and Saxon races; at all events, they somewhat differed from the Danes in character, manners, and customs. These districts were, besides, too remote from Denmark; and in case of an attack from the Anglo-Saxons, which might naturally be expected to take place, assistance might come too late. The Danes were not so safe there as on the east coast of England, which lay opposite to Jutland, and where, if any danger threatened them, a ship could easily be sent with a message to their friends over the sea, so that, with a tolerably favourable wind, a strong fleet could be speedily brought within sight of the Anglo-Saxons. The Angles, whose descendants inhabited these eastern and northern districts, seem too, with regard to language and national manners, to have borne a greater resemblance to the Danes than the inhabitants of any other part of England, so that it was by no means difficult for the Danes speedily to amalgamate with them. In addition to this, the eastern coasts offered much the same allurements to the Danes as the more southern provinces. They were remarkable for their fertility and for the riches of their inhabitants, acquired as well by agriculture as by trade with Saxony, Belgium, and Gaul. Precisely on the east coast, indeed, were situated at that time some of the largest commercial towns in England.

It is not surprising, therefore, that, with the exception of London and its environs, there are not found in the south of England, as is the case farther north, many names of places of well-defined Danish or Norwegian origin, which have preserved the old northern forms down to the present day, and which thus clearly testify that a genuine Scandinavian population must long have lived there. It is only at the extremities of the coasts that an occasional promontory, or “Næs,” and small islands whose names end in _ey_ and _holm_, remind one of the Northmen; as Flatholmes (_Dan._, Fladholmene) and Steepholmes in the Severn, where there are said to be remains of Danish fortifications; Grasholm (_Dan._, Græsholm), to the west of Pembrokeshire; Bardsey, west of Caernarvonshire; Priestholm (_Dan._, Præsteholm), near the northern inlet of the Menai Straits; and several others.

In the south of England one cannot discover any striking resemblance to the Danes either in the language, features, or frame of body of the people. What they have chiefly left behind them here is a name, which will certainly never be entirely eradicated from the people’s memory. Centuries after the Danish dominion was overthrown in England, the dread of the Danes was handed down from one generation to another, and even to this day they occupy a considerable share in the remembrance of the English nation. Throughout England the common people—nay, even a great number of the more educated classes—know of no other inhabitants of the north of Europe than “the Danes;” and as they include under this name both Swedes and Norwegians, the idea of the unity of Scandinavia has unconsciously taken root amongst them. That they have so implicitly awarded the first place in Scandinavia to the Danes, has not originated solely from the fact that, anciently, the Danes were really regarded as the leading people in the north—whence also the old Norwegian language was often called “dönsk tunga” (Danish tongue); nor because the Danes at that time undoubtedly exercised a more important influence on the British Isles than the other inhabitants of the north; it may, likewise, have arisen from the circumstance that, partly in consequence of its situation, Denmark has continued to stand, even down to our time, in much closer relations both of peace and war with England, than Sweden has; and that the separation of Norway from Denmark is still too recent an event to have completely penetrated to the knowledge of the less informed part of the English people. Even had the remembrance of the Danes in England lain slumbering there, such events as the battle in Copenhagen roads in 1801, and the seizure of the Danish fleet in 1807, must at once have brought all the old tales respecting the doings of the Danes in England to the lips of the English people.

Legends about “the Danes” are very much disseminated among the people, even in the south of England. There is scarce a parish that has not in some way or another preserved the remembrance of them. Sometimes they are recorded to have burnt churches and castles, and to have destroyed towns, whose inhabitants were put to the sword; sometimes they are said to have burnt or cut down forests; here are shown the remains of large earthen mounds and fortifications which they erected; there, again, places are pointed out where bloody battles were fought with them. To this must be added the names of places; as, _the Danes-walls_, _the Danish forts_, _the Dane-field_, _the_ _Dane-forest_, _the Danes-banks_, and many others of the like kind. Traces of Danish castles and ramparts are not only found in the southern and south-eastern parts of England, but also quite in the south-west, in Devonshire and Cornwall, where, under the name of _Castelton Danis_, they are particularly found on the sea coast. In the chalk cliffs, near Uffington, in Berkshire, is carved an enormous figure of a horse, more than 300 feet in length; which, the common people say, was executed in commemoration of a victory that King Alfred gained over the Danes in that neighbourhood. On the heights, near Eddington, were shown not long since the entrenchments, which, it was asserted, the Danes had thrown up in the battle with Alfred. On the plain near Ashdon, in Essex, where it was formerly thought that the battle of Ashingdon had taken place, are to be seen some large Danish barrows, which were long, but erroneously, said to contain the bones of the Danes who had fallen in it. The so-called dwarf-alder (_Sambucus ebulus_), which has red buds, and bears red berries, is said in England to have germinated from the blood of the fallen Danes. It is therefore also called _Daneblood_ and _Danewort_, and flourishes principally in the neighbourhood of Warwick; where it is said to have sprung from, and been dyed by, the blood shed there, when Canute the Great took and destroyed the town.

Monuments, the origin of which is in reality unknown, are, in the popular traditions, almost constantly attributed to the Danes. If the spade or the plough brings ancient arms and pieces of armour to light, it is rare that the labourer does not suppose them to have belonged to that people. But particularly if bones or joints of unusual size are found, they are at once concluded to be the remains of the gigantic Danes, whose immense bodily strength and never-failing courage had so often inspired their forefathers with terror. For though the Englishman has stories about the cruelties of the ancient Danes, their barbarousness, their love of drinking, and other vices, he has still preserved no slight degree of respect for Danish bravery and Danish achievements. “As brave as a Dane” is said to have been an old phrase in England; just as “to strike like a Dane” was, not long since, a proverb at Rome. Even in our days Englishmen readily acknowledge that the Danes are “the best sailors on the Continent;” nay even that, themselves of course excepted, they are “the best and bravest sailors in all the world.” It is, therefore, doubly natural that English legends should dwell with singular partiality on the memorials of the Danes’ overthrow. Even the popular ballads revived and glorified the victories of the English. Down to the very latest times was heard in Holmesdale, in Surrey, on the borders of Kent, a song about a battle which the Danes had lost there in the tenth century.

Amidst the many memorials of “the bloody Danes,” the name of Canute the Great lives in glorious remembrance amongst the English people. It is significant that later times have ascribed to Canute the honour of important public undertakings for the common benefit, which, however, at most, he can only have continued and forwarded. In the once marshy districts towards the middle of the east coast of England, there is a ditch several miles long, called the Devil’s dyke (in Cambridgeshire), the formation of which is by some attributed to Canute, although it existed in the time of Edward the Elder. Canute’s name is also given to a very long road over the morasses near Peterborough (Kinges or Cnutsdelfe), although it was made before his reign. Canute’s name is also preserved in Canewdon (Canuti domus), near London, and close by the battle-field of Ashingdon, in Essex, where he is said to have frequently resided. In like manner a bird, said to have been brought into England from Denmark, has been called after him _Knot_ (_Lat._, Tringa Canutus seu Islandica).

It may be asserted, with truth, that not many English kings have left a better name behind them than Canute. He does not owe this only to the favour he showed the clergy, the authors of most of the chronicles of ancient times. He acquired it by his numerous and excellent laws, by the power he exerted in restoring order and tranquillity in the kingdom, by his wisdom in suppressing the ancient animosities between the Danes and Anglo-Saxons, as well as by the care he took to promote the knowledge and piety of his people. He issued severe laws against heathenism, and endeavoured to wipe out the traces of his forefathers’ devastations by re-building convents and churches. He even caused the corpse of Archbishop Elfeg, so cruelly murdered by the followers of Thorkel the Tall, to be conveyed with great solemnity from London to Canterbury, and deposited in the cathedral. To these traits may be added his many excellent personal qualities, his sincere repentance for the acts of violence which he committed in the heat of passion, and his profound humility before God. The story of his shaming some of his courtiers, who flattered him when walking on the seashore whilst the tide was flowing, is, if possible, still better known in England than in Denmark. It would be difficult to find any one who is not acquainted with all the particulars of it, and who has not heard it stated that Canute, from that very day, placed his golden crown on the altar of Winchester cathedral, and never wore it more. This is one of those traits of true nobility and greatness of soul that are imperishable in all times and ages.

Canute was first buried in the old convent of St. Peter’s at Winchester; but his body was afterwards removed into the grand choir of the cathedral, where both his and his son Hardicanute’s tombs are still to be seen. Over Hardicanute’s, in the wall that surrounds the middle of the choir, was placed (1661) a stone, on which a ship is carved, and the following inscription:—

Qui jacet hic regni sceptrum tulit Hardicanutus; Emmæ Cnutonis gnatus et ipse fuit. In hac cista Lo. 1661. Obiit A.D. 1042.

Or, “Hardicanute, who lies here, and who was a son of Emma and Canute, bore the kingdom’s sceptre. He died in the year of our Lord 1042, and was placed in this coffin in 1661.”

The form of the ship on the tombstone shows it to be of no older date than the seventeenth century; but it was possibly carved there because a ship of war had previously adorned the tomb of Hardicanute. At all events, it indicates his relationship with the powerful Scandinavian sea-kings, and his descent from those Northmen who for centuries were absolute on the ocean.

Above the before-mentioned wall, in the grand choir, there stands to the left of the entrance a rather plain wooden coffin, decorated with a gilt crown, half fallen off, with the inscription:—

“In this and another coffin, directly opposite, repose the remains of Kings Canute and Rufus, of Queen Emma, and of the Archbishops Winde and Alfvin.”

In Cromwell’s time, the coffins of the kings in the grand choir of Winchester cathedral were broken open, and the bones dispersed; but they were afterwards collected together, as far as this could be done, and again placed in the grand choir in coffins like the one just mentioned. Thus Canute the Great, whose ambition could not be bounded even by three kingdoms, has not retained so much as a grave for himself and his beloved Emma. The presentiment of the perishableness of all earthly power that seized him when he deposited his golden crown in the same place has, in truth, been fulfilled!

The other royal coffins that surround the grand choir in Winchester contain the bones of several old Saxon kings. That the Danish kings Canute and Hardicanute should be entombed among them, in the midst of Anglo-Saxon south England, is a sufficient proof of the immense change that had taken place with regard to the Danes in England since their first appearance there as barbarous heathen Vikings. Instead of their kings seeking renown by the destruction of churches and convents, and by murdering or maltreating the clergy; instead of their despising any other kind of burial than that in the open fields, on hills under large cairns, or monumental stones, their successors were now regarded as the benefactors and protectors of the Church, and as such worthy to repose in the most important ecclesiastical edifices, even in the principal district of their former mortal enemies. Nay, the clergy there were indefatigable in handing down their glory to the latest ages; and thus a statue of Canute the Great was long to be seen in the cathedral of Winchester.

But this also affords a striking proof that the Danes and Anglo-Saxons no longer regarded each other so much in the light of strangers, or with such mutual feelings of enmity as before; and that Canute had thus happily broken through the strong barrier which had hitherto separated Saxon south England from Danish north England.

SECTION V.

The Wash.—The Five Burghs.—The Humber.—York.—Northumberland.—Stamford Bridge.

The Thames certainly brought many Danes in ancient times to the country south of Watlinga Stræt; but the large bay on the eastern coast of England, called the “Wash,” and the rivers Humber, Tees, and Tyne, attracted still more of them to the eastern and northern districts. The Wash especially seems to have been one of the landing places most in favour with them. Whether it were its situation, directly opposite to Jutland on the one side, and on the other, on a line with the fruitful midland districts of England; or whether it were rather the rapid current which sets in there that attracted the ships of the Vikings, is a point that we must leave undecided. This much, however, is certain, that the first and richest settlements of the Danes were around this bay; and from it afterwards extended itself quite up to the frontiers of Scotland, the so-called “Danelagh;” which was a district so considerable as to comprise fifteen of the thirty-two counties, or shires, then existing in England, and amongst them the extensive county of Northumberland.

South of the Wash, and extending towards the Thames, lay East Anglia (Norfolk and Suffolk); which, a century after the commencement of the Vikings’ expeditions, was already in the hands of the Danes. Alfred the Great was compelled to cede it, together with several adjacent tracts of country, by formal treaty, to the Danish King Gudrun, or Gorm. It is certain that it had at that time, like Kent, received many Danish settlers, particularly from the neighbouring Jutland, and their number continually increased. Yet in East Anglia they seem to have been scarcely more in a condition to compete with the Anglo-Saxons, in regard to population and power, than in Kent. It was only on the coast, and indeed only on that of Norfolk, that they had any settlements, as the Scandinavian names of places still preserved there show. These districts lay too near to the main strength of the Anglo-Saxons. The Saxon inhabitants did not easily suffer themselves to be expelled, and the Danish dominion there could not, consequently, become of permanent importance.

But to the north and west of the Wash the Danes obtained a very different footing. In the province called Mercia (or the Marches), which formed the centre of England, and in that of Lindisse (or, in old Norsk, Lindisey), which extended from the Wash to the Humber, they were not only in possession of a great number of villages and landed estates, which they had selected to settle on, but had likewise made themselves masters of several towns, and particularly the five strong fortresses of Stamford, Leicester, Derby, Nottingham, and Lincoln. These places, which as early as Alfred’s reign belonged to the Danes, and which were distinguished by their size, their commerce, and their wealth, obtained the name of “The Five Burghs” (Femborgene). They formed, as it were, a little separate state, and possessed in common their own courts of judicature, and other peculiar municipal institutions. The hostile and dangerous neighbourhood of the Saxons naturally compelled them to coalesce together as much as possible; and for a very long period they formed the chief support of the Danish power in England. Protected by them from all attacks from the south, the Scandinavian settlers were enabled securely to continue establishing themselves in the more northern districts. To arrest the sudden attacks of the Britons in the west, the Danes also had, on the north-eastern frontier of Wales, the city of Chester, whose name (_Anglo-Saxon_, Lægeceaster, from the Latin castra, a camp) shows that it had been a fortified place still earlier, under the Romans.

Chester formed one of the principal entrances from Wales into the midland parts of England, as well as into what was then called Northumberland: under which name was comprised, at least by the Danes and Norwegians, all the country to the north of the rivers Mersey and Humber, from sea to sea, and up to the Scottish frontier. Covered by the “Five Burghs,” it was here that the greater part of Danish England lay. It was a country filled, particularly in the north-west, with mountains, and intersected by numerous rivers. Near these, valleys opened themselves in every direction, of which the largest and most considerable lay around the tributary streams of the Humber, in what is now Yorkshire. A separate kingdom had existed here from the oldest times; and here the Danes, like the Britons, the Romans, and the Anglo-Saxons before them, possessed the most important city in the north of England. Built on the river Ouse, which falls into the Humber, it carried on an extensive trade; and, as the principal seat of the Northumbrian kings and chiefs, was doubly important. The Britons called it “Caer Eabhroig,” or “Eabhruc,” the Romans “Eboracum,” the Anglo-Saxons “Eoforwic,” and the Danes “Jorvik;” whence it is plain that the form “York,” now in use, is derived.

The Humber and York were for the north of England much what the Thames and London were for the south. It is not therefore surprising that York came to possess within its walls the largest and most splendid cathedral in England, which still towers aloft, a proud and awe-inspiring monument of the power and religious enthusiasm of the middle ages; nor that the history of York comprises, so to speak, the whole of that of Northumberland.

The soil of south England received the dust of the Christian Danish kings, and of Canute the Great, the hero of Christendom. But the north of England held the bones of many a mighty Danish chieftain, who had never renounced his belief in the ancient gods; and, in the neighbourhood of York, one of the most renowned of heathen heroes, King Regner Lodbrog, met his death. The names of Regner and his sons were reverenced and feared in England from their earlier Viking expeditions. When about to invade England, he suffered shipwreck, and together with only a few of his men saved himself on the coast of Northumberland. The Saxon king, Ella, advanced against him from York; a battle ensued, and, after the bravest resistance, Regner was overcome and made a prisoner. With true northern pride he would not make himself known to Ella, who caused him to be thrown into a pen filled with snakes; and it was not till the dying Regner had sung his swan’s-song, “Grynte vilde Grisene, kjendte de Galtens Skjebne” (How the young pigs would grunt if they knew the old boar’s fate), that Ella too late observed to his terror that he had exposed himself to the fearful vengeance of the king’s sons; who, guided by the shrewd Ivar Beenlöse, had long been silently preparing for the conquest of Ella’s kingdom. Ella was vanquished and made prisoner; and, according to the Norwegian legend, Regner’s sons, to avenge their father’s miserable death, caused a blood-eagle to be carved on Ella’s back. The place of Ella’s death is said by some to have been near the town of “Ellescroft,” or Ella’s Grave. The English accounts make Regner’s sons, Ingvar and Ubbe, revenge their father’s death in the year 870, by murdering in a most horrible manner King Edmund (who was afterwards canonized) at the castle of Æglesdon, in East Anglia. They shot at him as at a mark, then cut off his head, and lastly laid the body among thorns, in the same forest where their father had been put to death.