So many efforts and so much foresight must necessarily have proceeded from a great and enlightened mind. Alfred had neglected nothing in order to add to his stock of knowledge. He had not studied during his childhood, in spite of his ardent desire to acquire knowledge, for there were no intellectual resources at the court of King Ethelwulf. The ancient kind of erudition which had already been remarkable in England, where the means of study, at the beginning of the eighth century, were far superior to anything of the kind which could be found upon the Continent, had become extinct during the wars with the Danes. "When I began to reign," wrote Alfred the Great in the preface to his translation of the Pastoral of Gregory I., "very few people on this side of the Humber could say their daily prayers in English, or could explain in English a Latin epistle, and I suspect that there was not a greater number on the other side of the Humber." It was thus that, notwithstanding his eagerness to instruct himself, Alfred had arrived at the age of thirty-five years without understanding Latin, and he only began the study of it in 884, after having made prodigious efforts to secure masters who were to instruct himself and his people. In the way of embassies, presents, negotiations, he spared no trouble in order to attract John, the old Saxon of the monastery of Corbie; Grimbald, monk at Saint-Omcr; and Plecmund, a learned Mercian, who had taken refuge in a solitary island of the county of Chester during the Danish wars, and whom he made archbishop of Canterbury; finally, he invited the monk Asser, living at the extremity of Wales, in the convent of St. David, and whom he soon secured, not only as a master, but as a friend. It is to Asser that we owe a biography of Alfred, so minute in its details that it proves beyond question the great intimacy which existed between the monarch and the historian.
Alfred was looking about in all parts for learned men, and was studying Latin like a schoolboy; but he understood that the period of purely classical education had passed away. His childish taste for Saxon poetry had not been obliterated, and his reverence for his native tongue stimulated him to spread education among those of his subjects who were not in a position to devote themselves to the Greek and Latin languages. "It has appeared to me very useful," he wrote to Bishop Wulfsege, "to choose a certain number of books, those which it is most important to render easily accessible to all, and to translate them into the language which we all understand. We shall thus easily insure, with God's help, and if peace continues, that all the youth of this nation, and particularly the young men of rich and free families, shall apply themselves to the study of letters, and shall not sacrifice their time in any other exercise than that of learning the Anglo-Saxon writers. The masters shall then teach the Latin language to those who shall wish to know more, and to attain a higher standard of instruction. After having reflected upon the nature of this instruction, I have chosen the book which is called in Latin Pastoralis, and which we call The Book of the Pastor. The learned men whom I have around me explained it to me, and when I fully arrived at the precise meaning of it, I translated it into Anglo-Saxon, sometimes literally, sometimes taking only the thoughts, and writing them in the manner which appeared best in order to make them easily comprehensible, and I have sent a copy of the work to each bishop in the kingdom."
After having begun this great work of clothing in a scarcely formed language the beauties of classical literature, Alfred did not remain idle. Impossible labors have been attributed to him; a translation of the entire Bible; the revision of a portion of The Saxon Chronicles, &c. It is positively known, however, that he translated, besides The Pastor, long fragments of The Soliloquies of St. Augustine, which he called Culled Flowers; The Ecclesiastical History of Bede; the historian Orosius; and the book of Boethius on The Consolation of Philosophy. There even exist of his, some poems, translations or rather imitations of the verses which Boethius had scattered throughout his book, and which Alfred often altered to suit his own taste and the tastes of the race of men for whom he was writing.
How can such great tasks, which would have sufficed to fill up the lifetime of an author, have been accomplished during that of a king whose reign was partly taken up by his wars against the Danes? The good order which prevailed in all the undertakings of Alfred can alone answer this problem. Subject to violent attacks of sickness, loaded with work and with cares, he had divided his time into three parts: the first belonged to his regal duties; the second to his religion, to prayer and study; the third was devoted to his repasts, to sleep, and to bodily exercise; but the portion allotted to sleep was very short. The king was often awake during a great portion of the night, and having neither a clock, nor a sand time-measurer, he was struck with the idea of having some tapers or candles made, which should burn for a certain time, and by means of which he should be enabled to count the hours. Unluckily, however, a gust of wind would sometimes penetrate into the royal tent and make the candles burn too rapidly, and then the king would suddenly lose all means of reckoning the time, until the sun came to give him its infallible direction.
His strength was quickly consumed in this struggle against human weakness. When scarcely fifty-two years of age, Alfred was dying. He sent for his son Edward: "Come and stand beside me," he said; "I feel that my last moment is near; we must part. I am going to another world, and you will be alone with all my riches. I beg you, for you are my beloved child, strive to be a good master and a father to your people. Relieve the poor, support the weak, and apply yourself with all your might to the redress of wrongs. And then, my son, govern yourself according to your own laws; then the Lord will help you and will grant you His supreme reward. Invoke Him that He may advise and direct you in your difficulties, and He will help you to accomplish as well as possible your designs." It was in the same manner that, three hundred and fifty years later, when dying upon the shore at Tunis, St. Louis recommended his son to France. Great kings and great Christians both, although very different in character and ideas, Alfred and St. Louis both deserved the name of "pastors" of their people, which the gratitude of Englishmen has accorded to Alfred.
He died on the 20th of October, 901, after having reigned twenty-nine years, and he was interred at Winchester, in the monastery which he had founded there. It is not there, but at Wantage—at the spot where he was born—that the grateful memory of England caused the celebration of the jubilee on the occasion of the thousandth anniversary of the birthday of Alfred the Great. On the 25th of October, 1849, a vast concourse of people went to Wantage to do honor to the memory of a king so much beloved. The assemblage decided on the publication of his complete works, a monument less durable than the gratitude graven by his deeds on the heart of his people.
One hundred and sixty-five years elapsed between the death of Alfred and the Invasion of England by William the Conqueror. Two dynasties reigned during that period in England: first, the Saxon, which numbered ten sovereigns, and secondly, the Danish, which was represented by four princes. The first of the Saxon kings, Edward, the son of Alfred, did not enjoy a very brilliant reign, but contrived to make his authority recognized, with the help of his sister Ethelfleda, widow of Ethelred, the viceroy of Mercia. He drove back the Danes into their territory, a portion of which he conquered, and, at the death of his sister, he annexed Mercia to his states, which he left thus augmented, to his son Athelstan, when he died, in 925.
This young prince was brave as well as able. He placed the Welsh tribes, always ripe for revolt, under subjection, and imposed upon them an annual tribute of gold, silver, and cattle; he repelled the people of Cornwall, who had never been thoroughly subjected by Alfred. But the Danes had not accepted their defeat. King Olaf, who was established in Northumbria, and who had recently pushed his conquests so far in Ireland as to capture the town of Dublin, ascended the Humber with more than 600 vessels: the Scots at the same time attacked the frontiers, and the Britons from Wales once more revolted. So many enemies rising suddenly did not daunt Athelstan. He triumphed over his opponents: five Danish kings remained on the soil, as well as the king of Scotland's son. They all retired into their territories, there to remain until the end of the reign of Athelstan, whose court attained a degree of luxury hitherto unknown to the Saxon kings. It was there that Louis d'Outre-Mer took refuge when driven from France, and it was thence that he was recalled to the throne at the death of Charles the Simple. All England recognized the laws of Athelstan, and he had taken the title of king of the Anglo-Saxons, instead of the less assuming one of king of Wessex, when he died in 940, at the age of forty-seven years, leaving the throne to his brother Edmund. The reign of the latter, like that of his brother Edred, presents nothing remarkable with the exception of a series of battles with the Danes, who were sometimes daring and victorious, and sometimes beaten and repulsed. At the death of Edred, in 955, the Danes of Northumbria were apparently almost entirely subjected; their chiefs had lost the title of kings, and their territory was governed by an earl chosen by the Saxons. The progress had been great since the time of Alfred.
Young Edwy, the son of Edmund, was only fifteen years of age when he succeeded to the throne. The Danes left him in peace; but he commenced a struggle against the clergy of his kingdom, enemies more powerful than the "Sea-Kings." He had married Elgiva, a young and beautiful princess whose family was related to his own within the degree of kinship prohibited by the Church, and he refused to abandon his wife, as also to submit to be reproved by the archbishop of Canterbury, Odo, who was supported by the famous abbot of Glastonbury, Dunstan, renowned throughout England for his austere mode of living. On the occasion of the coronation of the young king, Dunstan, being annoyed, retired during the banquet. Edwy flew into a passion, and threats were so quickly followed by action, that Dunstan was obliged to make his escape and was immediately pursued by the emissaries of the king, who were instructed to burn out his eyes.
Archbishop Odo, however, had remained in England at the head of the austere party of the Church. The disagreement between the king and the clergy was growing more and more serious, when a revolt of the Danes took place in Northumbria and extended into Mercia. Soon afterwards Edgar, a younger brother of Edwy, until then king of Mercia, was declared the independent sovereign of the two provinces. Family afflictions assailed the young king at the same time: his wife had been seized in one of his castles by a wandering band of soldiers, and carried to Ireland, where her beautiful face had been disfigured by red-hot irons. Dunstan had just reappeared in England after a short period of exile, at the time when the young queen, who had been tended and looked after by the friends whom she had made in Ireland, and had now recovered from the effects of her disfigurement, was returning to England to rejoin her husband. She was stopped, however, near Gloucester by her implacable enemies, who no doubt credited her with a fatal influence over her husband. She was so cruelly mutilated by them that she died a few days afterwards. Edwy survived her but a short time, and died at the age of nineteen in 958 The beauty of his personal appearance had gained him the title of Edwy the Beautiful.
When Edgar ascended the throne of his brother Edwy, Dunstan shared it with him, and whatever may have been the part played by him in the events of the last reign, the authority of the king bore, in the hands of the monk, the fruits of order and justice. The Danes, attached to young Edgar, who had been brought up amongst them, submitted voluntarily to his authority. Their territory was divided and placed under the rule of several earls; the fleet, greatly augmented, kept the "Sea-Kings" in constant fear, and the young sovereign of England, assisted by his able minister, who had become archbishop of Canterbury, traversed his state every year, presiding at courts of justice and gathering around him the principal chiefs of each province. Ardent and ambitious, Dunstan was at the same time of a firm disposition and character; his practical knowledge was as conspicuous as his religious zeal. He was one of that great race of priests, whose influence, preeminent in the middle ages, was the source of much good and evil alike, until the period when the magnitude of their pretensions and the abuse of their power brought about the great revolt of the Reformation. It was under King Edgar that the Welshmen saw their annual tribute of gold and silver commuted for an annual presentation of three hundred wolves' heads, a measure which insured the destruction of these ferocious animals, who were very numerous in England.
King Edgar, who was under the authority of Dunstan, contrived, however, sometimes to escape from his influence and to indulge in all kinds of excesses; but the archbishop on such occasions would reprove him severely. He imposed upon him as a penance, for a serious transgression, the disuse of his golden crown during a period of seven years—a severe punishment for the vain Edgar, who dearly loved to bestow upon himself titles as pompous as those of the Oriental princes. Death soon put an end to this penance. Edgar died in 975, leaving two sons. The elder, Edward, who succeeded him, had been born of his first wife; the younger, Ethelred, was the son of the beautiful but treacherous Elfrida, for whom the king had conceived a violent passion, and whom he had married after the death of her husband. Edgar was even accused of having wilfully killed the latter in the hunting-field.
Whatever crime may have been committed by the king in order to gain the hand of Elfrida, the expiation fell to the lot of his children. From the commencement of his reign, the young Edward, although supported by Archbishop Dunstan, sat very insecurely upon his throne, which was undermined by intrigues in favor of his brother Ethelred. Three years after his accession, Edward was hunting one day in Dorsetshire, when he conceived the fatal idea of paying a visit to his brother, who was then residing in Corfe Castle. It may be, that on his arrival he was struck with a terrible presentiment at the sight of his step-mother Elfrida, for he refused to dismount, and asked only for some refreshment in order to drink to the health of the queen. A goblet was brought to him; but, while he was carrying it to his lips, a dagger was plunged in his back. His body quivered with agony, and the horse, alarmed, rushed away, carrying across the forest the body of the young king, held fast by the stirrups. When the body was found, it was disfigured by the shrubs and stones of the roads, and the long fair hair of the martyred king was clotted with blood and dirt. Queen Elfrida had accomplished her object, but not without trouble; for the young Ethelred, grieved at the death of his brother, burst in tears, which irritated his mother to such a degree that he nearly fell a victim to her blows. There remained no other heir to the throne; Dunstan and his friends decided, not without some reluctance, to recognize the claims of the son of Elfrida; but in crowning him, Dunstan, it is said, gave utterance to some sinister predictions concerning the misfortunes which threatened his reign, and it was he who gave to this young king that title of "careless," which the latter seemed only anxious to justify.
For several years the Danes, who were established in England, seemed to have identified themselves with the Saxon race; the invasions of the Norsemen had ceased, occupied as they were with devastating the coasts of France, which were but badly defended by the feeble Carlovingians. But a new dynasty was about to be established in France, more powerful and more warlike than the descendants of Charlemagne. Already the Danes began to return to their old habits, and to turn their vessels towards the English coasts. The son of the king of Denmark, Prince Sweyn, resolved to seek his fortune in foreign lands. A band of bold adventurers gathered round him, and after several little preliminary expeditions, they landed in 991 on the coast of East Anglia, between Ipswich and Maldon. They hoped to find friends there among the Danes who had formerly settled in that territory; but Earl Brethnolte who was in command there, although a Dane by birth, remained faithful to his new country and religion; he fought valiantly against his brothers from across the seas, and was killed in battle. King Ethelred became frightened; he sent offers of money to the Norsemen. The latter accepted ten thousand pounds of silver which they stowed away in their long vessels; and carrying with them the head of Count Brethnolte, they started to return to their own country. But the plan of defence, so often resorted to by the Carlovingian kings in France, was a sure means of bringing back the "Sea-kings" the following year. Soon Ethelred found himself compelled to establish a regular tax which was known as "danegelt" (Danish money), and which served to pay the ever-increasing tribute exacted by the pirates. In 993, the Danes of Northumbria and of East Anglia rose up to support their countrymen in invading the country. Sweyn had become king of Denmark, and had the whole forces of that country at his command. In 994 his ships appeared off the English coasts, accompanied by the vessels of Olaf, king of Norway, his ally. The invaders encountered no resistance from the king, nor any serious opposition from his subjects. Silver was again offered, but this time, as though to lessen the humiliation of the treaty, the Saxons demanded the conversion of the Danes to Christianity. Sweyn did not hesitate to accede to this: he caused himself to be baptized, a ceremony which was considered very unimportant by the majority of the pirates, some of whom openly boasted that they had been washed twenty times in the baptismal water. But Sweyn's ally, King Olaf, who was sincerely touched, and moved, no doubt, by the grace of God, made a vow never to return to invade England, and kept his promise. Sweyn reappeared alone the following years. In 1001 the Danes overran the country, from the Isle of Wight to Bristol, without meeting with the slightest resistance. The price of their withdrawal that year amounted to twenty thousand pounds of silver.
The Danes had disappeared; but the unlucky king of England had become involved in fresh difficulties, through his quarrels with Richard, duke of Normandy. A fleet was being raised against him on the Norman coast when Richard died, leaving to his son Richard II. the burden of carrying on the war. The interference of the Pope put an end to the quarrel, which was followed by the marriage of Ethelred with the Countess Emma, sister of Richard, who was called the "flower of Normandy." Ethelred already had six sons and four daughters by his first wife.
The young queen had just arrived in England, and the rejoicings were scarcely at an end, when a prolonged cry was heard throughout the country. Either by a spontaneous movement, or in consequence of secret orders, the Saxons had risen in every direction and had slaughtered the Danes who were established in their midst, and whose reiterated insults had become unendurable. "A Norseman is equal to ten Saxons," the Danish lords haughtily said; but the ten Saxons united had triumphed over the Norsemen. Taken by surprise on the 13th of November, St. Brice's Day, "women, old men, and children, good and wicked, big and little, pagans and Christians," succumbed under the effects of the popular hate and revenge. The sister of King Sweyn, Gunhilda, who had embraced the Christian faith in order to marry Palric, Earl of Northumbria, a chief of Danish extraction, saw her husband and children murdered before her eyes, and afterwards encountered the general fate herself. "My brother will drown your country in blood when he revenges me," she exclaimed when dying.
Gunhilda had not been mistaken. Already the news of the crime which had been committed in England had spread to Denmark; an immense fleet was being prepared. The Norsemen, actuated this time by their thirst for revenge as well as by their natural love of plunder, were gathering eagerly round their king; not a serf, not a freedman, not an old soldier was admitted into this chosen band; the freemen, in the flower of their youth and strength, alone had the privilege of avenging their brothers slaughtered in a foreign land.
The ships of the Sea-kings were resplendent with the golden and silver ornaments with which they were decked, from prow to stern, when the great Dragon, with King Sweyn on board, was the first to land, in the neighborhood of Exeter. The defence of the town had been entrusted to a Norman, Count Hugo, who had come from France with Queen Emma. He betrayed King Ethelred, and gave up the town to the invaders. Having pillaged and burnt down Exeter, the Danes spread throughout Wiltshire. On arriving at a farm or at a house, or a village, they would order the trembling inmates to prepare a meal; then, having satiated their appetites with meat and mead, they would murder the inmates upon the threshold of their huts, which they would then burn down, and remount their horses to go forth and extend their fearful ravages.
The Saxon king, meanwhile, was organizing an army; but he had entrusted the command of it to the Mercian Elfric, the chief who had already upon a previous occasion betrayed him, and whose son's eyes had been put out in consequence as a punishment. Arrived before Sweyn and his army, Elfric declared that he was taken ill, and recalling his soldiers, who were prepared for the struggle, he allowed Sweyn to pass with the enormous booty that he was going to place on board his ships before descending upon the Eastern Counties, which all suffered in the same manner. When the Danes returned into their country, in 1004, they were escaping, not from the Saxon arms, but from the famine which their ravages had brought upon England.
In vain did King Ethelred solicit the help of his father-in-law, Richard, the Norman duke; the disdain which he evinced towards his young wife had irritated the Normans to such a degree that their duke had caused to be thrown into prison all English subjects who happened to be within his dominion. Ethelred therefore found himself alone and a prey to the pirates, who reappeared in 1006 upon the English coasts. England was exhausted. Scarcely had the Danes left a house, after exacting a ransom for each member of the family and for each head of cattle, than the king's collectors would follow in their steps, demanding the sums necessary for paying off the invaders, and imposing a fresh penalty for the punishment of the unhappy wretches who had given money to the Danes.
While the Saxon king was plundering his subjects in order to pay an ever-increasing "danegeld," while the people, exhausted, were writhing under the double extortion of the conquerors and of the legitimate sovereign, an old man was enabled, single-handed, to resist the demands of the proud Danes. The archbishop of Canterbury, Elphege, had for twenty days defended his town against the reiterated assaults of the enemy, when a traitor opened the gates to the Danes. They rushed into the place, mad with anger and thirsting for revenge. They sent for the old archbishop, who had not sought refuge in any hiding-place. He was brought forth, bound in chains, before their chief, Thurkill. "Buy your life," cried the chief, touched with compassion. "I have no money," the archbishop calmly replied. The Danes were beginning to close round him. "He is a servant of God," said Thurkill; "perhaps he is poor." And he suggested a small sum as ransom for the archbishop. "Prevail upon your king to collect together the value of all his property, so that we may leave England," he added. The old man looked at him impassively. "I have not the money which you ask for," he repeated, "and I shall not urge the king to further oppress his people in order to purchase your departure." The eyes of the Dane flashed with anger; he no longer endeavored to protect the archbishop against his soldiers. But the firmness of the old man had produced a wonderful effect upon them: he was led into prison without suffering the slightest injury. Towards dusk, when he was alone, his brother found a means of reaching him; he brought the sum fixed upon for the ransom of the archbishop. "No," the latter said, "I cannot consent to enrich the enemies of my country." The Danes came hourly, urging the old man to purchase his freedom. "You will urge me in vain," at last said Elphege; "I am not the man to provide Christian flesh for pagan teeth, by robbing my flock to enrich their enemies." The pirates had lost all patience; it was late; they were already heated with drink; they dragged the old man out of prison. "Gold, bishop! Give us gold!" they all cried together, and they closed round him threateningly. The old man was silent; he was praying. Hustled, beaten, wounded, the archbishop fell upon a pile of bones, the remains of the rude banquet. His enemies seized these primitive weapons, and he fell under their blows. A Dane, to whom he was still preaching the Gospel an hour before, and whom he had baptized with his own hands, at length took a hatchet and put an end to the old man's agony.
While Elphege was resisting and dying, Ethelred was submitting and paying an enormous sum of money, abandoning at the same time several counties to the Danes. Thurkill settled in England, after swearing fidelity to the Saxon monarch. His conquests excited the envy of Sweyn. In the following year a large fleet appeared in the Humber, and landed near York. This time the invaders planted their lances in the ground or threw them into the rivers, to intimate that they took possession of the soil. The Saxons offered no resistance. Sweyn had overrun all the Midland and Northern Counties, and, leaving the fleet to the care of his son Canute, he marched towards the South. He was stopped near London, where the king had taken refuge, and where the brave citizens stood firm behind their massive walls. Sweyn did not attempt to conquer their town; he turned towards the West, and all Devonshire received him with open arms. He was proclaimed king at Bath. Ethelred was gradually losing the little power which he still retained. He suddenly left London, which surrendered soon afterwards, and he took refuge in the Isle of Wight. From thence he sent his wife Emma to Normandy with the two sons whom she had borne to him, Edward and Alfred. In spite of his disagreements with his brother-in-law, the duke Richard received his sister with so much kindness that Ethelred soon followed her, and arrived at Rouen while Sweyn was taking the title of King of England (January, 1013).
Titles are easily taken, but conquests are sometimes difficult to keep. Six weeks after the flight of the Saxon king the Danish king died suddenly at Gainsborough, and the power was slipping from the hands of his son Canute. The nobility and people of England had recalled Ethelred to the throne; they added, however, the words "providing that he will govern us better than heretofore." The king did not rely entirely upon the promises of his subjects. He sent his son Edward to negotiate with the principal chief. When he re-entered London his first care was to declare that no Danish prince could have any pretensions to the throne; but Canute had already been proclaimed king by his army and by the Danes established in England, and the war had recommenced. Ethelred died in the year 1016, in the midst of all this confusion, and at the time when the Danes were preparing to lay siege to London.
Three sons by his first wife yet remained to Ethelred. One of them, Edmund, called "Ironsides," on account of his strength and prowess, had already commanded the armies during the lifetime of his father; he was proclaimed king. But the country was divided: the Danes established throughout the kingdom were powerful and numerous; treason crept even into the most intimate councils of the new king. Twice he delivered London when besieged; he fought five pitched battles, and repulsed on several occasions the Danes, driving them northwards. At length he proposed to Canute that they should decide their pretensions to the crown by the fate of arms in a single combat. Unlike the majority of his race, Canute was not tall, and he was quite unfitted to sustain a struggle against the gigantic stature of Edmund. "Let us rather divide the kingdom, as our ancestors did before us," he said. The two armies received this proposition with acclamation. The North of England was allotted to Canute, and Edmund contented himself with the South, with a nominal right of sovereignty over the whole kingdom. One month afterwards, the Saxon king was dead, and Canute, convoking the "wittenagemot" of the South, protested that the treaty contained no stipulation in favor of Edmund's heirs. The chiefs declared themselves of the same opinion; the Dane was proclaimed King of all England, and the children of Ironsides were placed in his hands.
Canute had proclaimed an amnesty; but on seizing power, he immediately proscribed all the partisans of Edmund whom he did not put to death. "Whoever brings me the head of an enemy shall be dearer to me than a brother," said he. Many heads were brought to him. The wittenagemot which had until then excluded from the throne all the Danish princes, voted the same sentence against the Saxon princes. Canute, however, had not assassinated the children of Edmund; he sent them to his ally, the king of Sweden; no doubt, with sinister intentions; but the innocence and beauty of his victims touched the heart of the proud Scandinavian: he could not keep them by his side, and he therefore sent them to the court of the king of Hungary, St. Stephen, who received them kindly and brought them up carefully. One of them, Edmund, died early; the second, Edward, subsequently married Agatha, daughter of the emperor of Germany, and we shall see his children reappear in history.
The Duke Richard of Normandy did not protest, in the name of his nephews against the elevation of Canute; on the contrary, he even offered his sister, widow of Ethelred, in marriage to the Dane. Canute accepted this offer, and the Norman princess found herself placed for the second time on the throne of England, which was so dear to her heart that, in order to reach it, she stifled all her natural instincts. As soon as she had borne a son to Canute, she lost all affection for the children whom she had left in France, and who became more and more Normans by habit during their prolonged absence from England.
Power has different effects upon different men: it hardens and corrupts some, while it humanizes and exalts others. Canute made good use of his power, and when he was delivered from the enemies whom he dreaded most, his government became less severe and more regular than that of the recent Saxon kings. The English followed their new chief in all his wars, and fought valiantly at his side to secure to him the crowns of Denmark, Sweden and Norway. The viceroy of Wales refused to render homage to Canute, whom he treated as a usurper; Malcolm, king of Scotland, upheld the rights of the descendants of Ethelred to the throne of England. The Normans did not lend any help in these demonstrations, and Canute triumphed over the Welsh and the Scotch.
The influence of the Christian religion was slowly but surely producing a good effect on the fierce Danes. Sweyn had been baptized, but he had afterwards sunk again into pagan practices. His son constructed churches and monasteries, and made a solemn pilgrimage to Rome, on foot and with a wallet on his back to obtain forgiveness for the crimes which he had committed. Already, in the midst of a warlike life, a sense of justice seemed to have developed itself in his soul; he had been guilty of killing a soldier in an outburst of passion; he descended from his throne, convoked his chiefs, and asked them to impose a penalty upon him.
Canute By The Sea-shore.
All remained silent. The king insisted, however, promising not to be offended. The chiefs left it to his own discretion, and Canute condemned himself to pay a fine of three times as much as the sum fixed by the Danish law, as the penalty for murdering a soldier, adding at the same time nine golden talents as compensation.
Having returned to England after his pilgrimage to Rome and a journey to Denmark, Canute applied himself to the administration of the laws which he had promulgated, "I will have no money acquired by unjust means," he had said in a letter to Archbishop Elfric. The latter portion of the reign of the Dane was not characterized by any crime or act of oppression. Canute had learnt that there was a tribunal above to which he owed respect and submission. One day as his courtiers were overrating his power, the king ordered that his throne should be placed upon the margin of the sea. The tide was rising: Canute, seated on the beach, ordered the waves to stop in their onward course. "Ocean," he said, "the earth upon which I sit, is mine; you form a portion of my dominions; do not rise as far as my feet; I forbid you." The sea still continued rising; it was already bathing the king's mantle, when he turned to his flatterers. "You see," he said, "what human power is compared to that of Him who says to the sea: 'Thou shalt go no further.'" And, depositing his golden crown in the cathedral of Winchester, he refused thereafter to wear that emblem of sovereignty.
Canute died in 1035, leaving three sons: Harold and Sweyn, born of a Danish mother; and Hardicanute, son of Princess Emma. He had divided his states among his children, leaving England to Harold, Denmark to Hardicanute, and Norway to Sweyn. These two last princes already, no doubt, exercised some authority in their dominions, for both were in the North when their father died. But England was wont to have a voice in questions of succession, and Canute left behind him a powerful favorite, who was inclined to further the interests of Hardicanute. This favorite was Earl Godwin, a nobleman of Saxon extraction, formerly but a simple herdsman in the county of Warwick. During the struggle between Edmund and Canute, a Danish chieftain, named Ulf, had lost his way in a forest, in the evening after a battle. He had walked in vain all night when, at daybreak, he met a young countryman who was driving a herd of cattle. "What is your name?" asked the Dane. "I am Godwin, son of Ulfuoth," said the young man, "and you are a Danish soldier." The warrior hesitated. "It is true," he said at length. "But could you tell me the way to my countrymen's ships, on the sea coast?" Godwin shook his head. "He is a very foolish Dane," he said, "who expects a favor from a Saxon." And he hurried on his cattle. Ulf insisted. "There are many of my country men close to us," replied the herdsman; "they would spare neither me nor you if they should meet us." The chieftain silently offered him the heavy golden ring which he wore on his finger. Godwin looked at him. "I will accept nothing from you," he said; "but I will try and show you the way."
They came to Godwin's hut. He invited the Dane in. "Remember," said the herdsman's father to the Dane, "that he is my only son, and that he sacrifices his safety for you. Try and find employment for him at your king's court." Ulf promised to do so, and kept his word. Canute took a fancy to the young Saxon, who had attained the rank of governor of a province when the king died. He immediately declared himself in favor of the son of Emma, who was not so thoroughly Danish as his brothers. Leofric, governor of Mercia, took up the cause of Harold, in common with all the Northern chiefs. The town of London followed their example. War was about to break out; but the Wittenagemote convoked at Oxford allotted all the provinces North of the Thames to Harold; and those on the South to Hardicanute.
While Queen Emma and Godwin were thus striving to secure the power for the young king of Denmark, the latter lingered in his Northern possessions, and had not yet set his foot in England. His Norman brothers, sons of Ethelred and Emma, had been more prompt. Scarcely had the news of the death of Canute reached Normandy, when the elder of the two princes, Edward, who subsequently became Edward the Confessor, landed at Southampton with a few ships. But Queen Emma's natural affection was confined to her son by Canute: she raised the country against her eldest child, who was obliged to retire precipitately. His ill-success did not discourage his brother Alfred, and, the following year (1037), the two princes received a letter, coming, it was said, from their mother, urging them to come secretly to England, where the people were anxious to have a king of Saxon origin to rule over them. Alfred immediately embarked for England, followed by some troops from Normandy and Boulogne.
He landed in the neighborhood of Herne Bay. Godwin had come to meet him and appeared friendly; but, either from premeditated treason, or from annoyance at seeing the strangers who accompanied the prince, Godwin altered his mind, and took Alfred to Guildford, lodging the Normans in the houses of that town. In the dead of night, while the little band of soldiers were asleep, Harold's soldiers surrounded Guildford; the Normans were made prisoners, Godwin meanwhile not appearing on the scene to defend them, and a fearful massacre took place at daylight. Six hundred men, it is said, were slaughtered in cold blood, and the unhappy Alfred was dragged to London, from whence Harold sent him, bound hand and foot, to the isle of Ely. He appeared before a Danish council of war, and was condemned to have his eyes put out, as a disturber of the public peace. He died a few days afterwards. Harold soon sent Queen Emma into exile, and Godwin having sworn allegiance to him, he was proclaimed king of all England, not, however, without some dissatisfaction on the part of the Saxons. The archbishop of Canterbury, Ethelnoth, who was a Saxon, refused to crown him. Depositing on the altar the royal emblems, he exclaimed: "I will not give them to you. I do not forbid you to take them, but I refuse to bestow my benediction upon you, and no bishop shall consecrate your throne." It is said that, thereupon, Harold seized the crown, and placed it upon his head with his own hands. Some chroniclers state that he subsequently found favor with the archbishop; but the Dane was more than half pagan; he had abandoned the Christian Church. When divine service was being celebrated, when the bells were ringing, and the priests were mounting the altars, he would let loose his dogs, and start for the forest to enjoy the pleasure of hunting or racing; a fondness for which pastimes won him the name of "Harefoot." He died in 1040, at the time when his brother Hardicanute had just repaired to Flanders, where Queen Emma had taken refuge, to consult her preparatory to attempting an invasion of England. Soon afterwards an embassy of Danish chieftains and English counts came unsolicited and offered him his brother's throne. He thereupon came to England with his mother.
Hardicanute, like his predecessors, was thoroughly Danish by nature; he gave himself up to the pleasures of the table, surrounding himself at the same time by the chieftains whom he had brought over with him from the North; despising and oppressing the Saxons, from whom he still exacted danegelt, as in the old times of the invasions. He had attributed his brother's misfortunes to Godwin; but the count had been able to justify himself before a council, in spite of public opinion which condemned him. The presents which he had offered to the king had had the effect of putting an end to the prosecution. Hardicanute had accepted from him a magnificent ship covered with burnished metal, ornamented with gold, and manned by eighty warriors furnished with every kind of weapon. By degrees power had returned entirely into the hands of Godwin and Emma, when, in 1042, Hardicanute, at a banquet, fell a victim to the excesses of every kind to which he was accustomed.
The Saxon earl had resolved to deliver his country from the Danish yoke. He immediately sent for Prince Edward, who was still in Normandy, and was more a monk than a prince. The popular feeling in his favor which enabled Edward to return to England, was shared and fostered by the very man to whom he attributed his brother's death; but the new king was powerless and a stranger in the country which recalled him after an exile which he had endured during nearly the whole of his lifetime. He dissembled and accepted the hand of Edith, daughter of Godwin, a good and gentle princess, who "was born of Godwin as the rose is born in the midst of thorns," the chroniclers say. Edward was always cold towards her, and he manifested something more than coldness towards Queen Emma. He could not forget how she had repulsed him, and how she had failed to do anything to defend her son Alfred—even if she had not actually allured him to his ruin. He ordered her to remain within her domains, which had been greatly reduced, and refused to see her any more.
The power which Edward had regained was, however, scarcely more than nominal. The "Great Earl," as Godwin was called, had exacted the value of his services. He and his six sons held possession of nearly all the South of England. Besides this, his rival, Earl Leofric, was all powerful in Mercia. Siward held the whole of the North, from the Humber to the frontiers of Scotland. Happily for the king, all these chieftains were opposed to each other. Edward took advantage of their rivalries, trying from time to time to redress the wrongs of the people, who were oppressed and deprived of all power. But in vain did he suppress the danegelt; in vain did he inspire an almost superstitious veneration towards himself in his subjects by reason of the austerity of his life: the English never forgave him for the affection which he manifested towards the Normans and his preference for them, which induced him not only to surround himself with the friends of his younger days, but to lavish all the favors on them which he had at his disposal. The king's ordinary conversation was carried on in the Norman language; he dressed in Norman fashion; he raised to clerical dignities the Norman priests who had come over with him, and thus contrived to excite considerable jealousy in the people, all which increased the influence of Godwin.
An event happened which caused their animosity to break out openly. Eustace of Boulogne, the brother-in-law of King Edward, who had married the latter's sister, the Lady Goda, landed in England with a numerous suite of troops from Boulogne and Normandy. He was received in a very friendly manner by the king, and loaded with presents. He was returning home, when, on arriving at Dover, some of the inhabitants resisted the action of the strangers in unceremoniously taking up their quarters in the town. Eustace's soldiers, greatly incensed, killed those who closed the gate at their approach. The whole town rose against them in consequence of this act; they were beaten and routed. They took refuge in Gloucester, where King Edward was staying, who ordered Earl Godwin to impose a punishment on the inhabitants of Dover. Godwin told the king to inquire into the affair. Edward, however, summoned Godwin to appear before him. The earl was in no hurry to do so. Uneasy at the king's projects, he began to raise troops throughout his dominions, and his son Harold did likewise. Godwin soon found himself at the head of a considerable force. The king summoned to his aid Leofric, Count of Mercia, and Siward, Earl of Northumbria. These two great rivals of Godwin immediately advanced with an army; but the old hatred between the Danes and the Saxons had almost worn itself out. The soldiers from the North considered themselves English as well as those from the South, and they all murmured at the idea of coming to blows. It was agreed to lay the subject before the Wittenagemot; but, in the meanwhile, before the meeting of the assembly, Godwin's soldiers, who were nearly all volunteers, were slowly dispersing, while the king had collected together a numerous army. When the Wittenagemot began to sit, the earl and his sons were summoned to appear and establish their innocence. They hesitated, however, being unwilling to trust to the impartiality of the judges; and, in consequence of the decision which was come to in their absence, they were banished, driven from England within five days, and condemned to have all their goods confiscated. Godwin, his wife, and three of their sons sought refuge at the court of Flanders. Harold and his brother Leofwin fled to Ireland. Edward consigned to a convent the only person of Godwin's family remaining in England, Queen Edith. "It is not advisable," said the Norman courtiers, "that she should live in luxury and with wealth at her command, while her relations are suffering from such misfortunes."
Delivered of the ambitious and powerful Godwin, Edward was beginning to feel himself a king in reality. He took advantage of this to surround himself with those persons only who were personally devoted to him. Among others whom he wished to see at his court was the Duke of Normandy, William the Bastard, as he was called, his mother being the daughter of a tanner at Falaise. Edward was still an exile in Normandy, when the Duke Robert, William's father, conceived the idea of making a pilgrimage to Jerusalem to obtain forgiveness for his sins. These expeditions were of frequent occurrence among the Normans. The barons represented, however, to the duke that it would be inexpedient to thus leave his dominions without a ruler. "By my faith," answered Robert, "I will leave you no lord! I have a little bastard son who will grow up, please God; select him in the meanwhile, and I will appoint him my successor afterwards." The Normans did as the duke proposed, "because it suited them to do so," the chronicle says, and all the chiefs came, one after the other, and placed their rough hands between those of the child, swearing allegiance to him.
But scarcely had the duke, his father, started than the murmuring began. The Normans were proud, restless, unmanageable; it was repugnant to their feelings to live under the dominion of a child and a bastard; a war soon broke out; the partisans of young William carried him off, but the King of France came to their aid. When the child had reached manhood he soon manifested rare courage and a strong and ungovernable will, as well as that ambitious disposition which was destined to make the fortune of himself and his partisans. He was twenty-seven years old when he came to England in 1050 to the court of King Edward.
He might almost have imagined that he was not really out of his dominions; a Norman was in command of the fleet near Dover; Norman soldiers were in possession of a fort near Canterbury; and as he advanced into the country, other Normans, priests and laymen, gathered round him. King Edward received him in a very friendly manner, and made him presents of arms, horses, dogs, and hawks; it is not known whether William was incited by any hint from Edward to claim the inheritance of this rich kingdom which was to be without a master at the death of the king. Edward did not mention it, and the duke could keep his secrets.
He had just returned to Normandy, when Count Godwin appeared upon the coast of Kent with three ships; he had sent some emissaries to his numerous friends, and the entire population had risen in his favor. At the same time his sons Harold and Leofwin, coming from Ireland, joined him with a small army.
The father and his sons sailed round the coast, and everywhere met with followers. When they at length landed at Sandwich, nobody ventured to resist them. King Edward was in London, collecting together his warriors, who came forward very slowly. Godwin's vessels had ascended the Thames and found themselves under the very walls of London. They soon passed the bridge, and landed their troops. The king meanwhile did not stir.