ETHELRED THE UNREADY.
"And when they talk of him, they shake their heads,
And whisper one another in the ear;
And he that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist;
While he that hears, makes fearful action,
With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes."
SHAKSPERE.
The ambitious hopes of Elfrida were justly doomed to meet with
disappointment: the power she sought to obtain by the assassination of
Edward eluded her grasp, and Dunstan, though aged and infirm, still
stood at the head of his party, triumphant. The Saxons looked with
disgust upon a woman who had caused her son-in-law to be stabbed at her
own castle-gate; and there is but little doubt that the primate, for
a time, so successfully raised the popular indignation against her,
that she was compelled to seek shelter in a nunnery until the storm
subsided. On the head of the son of the murderess, the primate placed
the crown, in 978; and it is recorded that, instead of pronouncing
a blessing upon it, the stern churchman gave utterance to a bitter
malediction, foreboding that a reign which was begun with bloodshed
and murder, could only end in sorrow, suffering, and dishonourable
humiliation. Ethelred possessed not those qualities which, by their
sterling worth, weigh down all unpopular opinion; where the darkness
had once settled, it remained; for he illuminated it not by the
brilliant achievement of glorious deeds. In the eyes of the Saxon
nation the blood of Alfred was at last contaminated; the wisdom which
had so long governed England peaceably, had waned away; and the arm
which had struck terror into the hearts of five nations on the field of
Brunanburg, was now weak and powerless; for the throne of England was
at last occupied by the child of a murderess, whom Dunstan, from his
apparent apathy, had already nick-named "The Unready."
England had long been rent asunder by civil dissensions, which the
accession of Ethelred only tended to increase instead of assuaging:
the sceptre had before-time fallen into young and helpless hands
without diminishing the kingdom's strength, but there were then none
of those private heart-burnings to contend against; none of that
party bitterness which divided family against family, for the state
was supported by the united strength of its nobles, and its councils
swayed by a feeling of union and harmony. It was not the monks and the
secular clergy that this long contention alone affected; almost every
town and village was divided against itself, for the quarrel extended
to the domestic hearth. Dunstan could not drive a married priest from
the church without making enemies of the whole family: there was the
insulted wife as well as the husband to appease; then came a wide
circle of relations and friends, while, on the part of the monks, no
such extensive ramifications were arrayed. Thousands were therefore
found ready to overthrow a government which was headed by the primate.
Such internal dissensions as these could not pass unnoticed by the
Danes, who were ever on the alert to shake off the Saxon yoke when
an opportunity presented itself; and rumours of the discords which
reigned in England were soon blown over the Baltic; and many an anxious
eye began to look out over the sea for succour; for the northmen had
long pined for a king of their own nation to reign over the territory
which they occupied in England. Dunstan, who had lent his powerful
aid in supporting the sceptre throughout three reigns, had, by this
time, grown old, and feeble, and helpless; Elfrida had weakened the
power she once possessed, by the very means she took to strengthen
it; and two years after the accession of Ethelred, Danish ships again
began to appear, and pour out their pirates to ravage as of old, and
spread terror along the English coasts, for the tidings soon reached
the rocky shores of Norway, that there was no longer the wisdom of an
Alfred to guide the government, nor the arm of an Athelstan to protect
the English throne. While, to add to this state of disunion and broken
government, it is believed many of the influential Saxons were in
league with the Danes, and covertly encouraged the new invaders.
Passing over the minor invasions, which first consisted of seven ships,
and then of three, and of the trifling engagements which succeeded,
and in which the Saxons were at one time defeated, and at another
victorious, we shall commence with the first formidable force, which
was commanded by Justin and Gurthmund, and which was opposed by a
strong Saxon force, headed by Byrhtnoth, the governor of Essex. The
sea-kings first sent a herald to the Saxon court, demanding tribute;
the Saxon nobleman raised his buckler, and, looking sternly at the
messenger while he shook his javelin in his face, exclaimed--"Herald of
the men of the ocean, hear from my lips the answer of this people to
thy message. Instead of tribute, they will bestow on you their weapons,
the edge of their spears, their ancient swords, and the weight of their
arms. Hear me, mariner, and carry back my message of high indignation
in return. Say, that a Saxon earl, with his retainers, here stands
undaunted; that he will defend unto death this land, the domain of my
sovereign, Ethelred, his people, and his territory. Tell the Vikingrs
that I shall think it but dastardly if they retire to their ships with
the booty, without joining in battle, since they have advanced thus
far into our land." A river divided the hostile forces, and the Saxon
earl allowed the invaders a free passage across it unmolested, before
the battle commenced. One of the sea-kings fell early in the conflict;
Bryhtnoth selected the other for his opponent, and the bold Vikingr
accepted the challenge. The first javelin which the sea-king hurled,
slightly wounded the Saxon leader; Bryhtnoth then struck the sea-king
with his spear, but the Dane "so manoeuvred with his shield, that the
shaft broke, and the spear sprang back and recoiled." The next blow
struck by the Saxon earl pierced the ringed chains of the sea-king's
armour, and the pointed weapon stuck in his heart. The Dane had no
sooner fallen, than the Saxon was struck by a dart: a youth, named
Wulfmor, "a boy in the field," who appears to have been the earl's
page, or armour-bearer, with his own hand drew out the javelin which
had transfixed the body of Bryhtnoth, and hurled it back at the Dane
who had just launched it, with such force, and so sure an aim, that it
struck him, and he fell dead. The Saxon earl was already staggering
through loss of blood, when one of the pirates approached him, with
the intent of plundering him of "his gems, his vestment, his ring, and
his ornamental sword." But Bryhtnoth had still strength enough left to
uplift his heavy battle-axe, "broad and brown of edge," and to strike
such a blow on the corslet of the Dane, that it compelled him to loose
his hold. After this he fell, covered with wounds, but uttering his
commands to the last moment. Although the battle was continued for some
time after his death, the Saxons were defeated.
Turn we now to Ethelred. While here and there a Saxon chief was found
bold enough to make head, like Bryhtnoth, against the invaders, the
dastardly sovereign assembled his witena-gemot, to consult as to what
amount of tribute should be paid to the invaders, to induce them to
abandon the island. Siric, the successor of Dunstan, is said to have
been the first who proposed this cowardly measure. Had the old primate
been alive, with all his faults, he would have seen England drenched
with Saxon blood, and been foremost in the ranks to have spilt his
own, ere he would have seen his country degraded by such an unmanly
concession. Ten thousand pounds was the disgraceful grant paid to
purchase a temporary peace with the Danes. The invaders received their
money, departed, and speedily returned with a greater force to demand
a larger sum. The northmen found no lack of allies in a land where
their countrymen had so long been located, who, shaking off their
allegiance to England, flew eagerly to arms, and joined the new-comers.
But the old Saxon spirit was not yet wholly extinct. There was still
remaining amongst the nobles a few who were resolved not to be
plundered with impunity. With great effort they at last succeeded in
arousing the lethargic king; and by his command, a few strong ships
were built at London, and filled with chosen soldiers; and to Alfric,
the governor of Mercia, was entrusted the guidance of the Saxon fleet.
His first orders were to sail round the southern coast, and to attack
the Danes at some particular port, in which they could easily be
surrounded. A duke and two bishops were also joined with him in the
command. Alfric turned traitor, communicated to the Danes the meditated
mode of attack, then carried with him what force he could in the night,
and secretly joined the invaders. The rest of the fleet remained true
to their unworthy king, and honestly executed their duty; although,
through the frustration of their able plans, they found the Danish
ships in full flight, and at first were only able to capture one of
the enemy's vessels. But that courage and perseverance which have so
long distinguished the English navy, were, even in this early age,
frequently evinced; and before the Danish ships were able to regain a
safe harbour, many of them were captured by the Saxons, and, amongst
the rest, were those which the traitor Alfric had carried over to the
enemy; he, however, contrived to escape; and Ethelred,--who had been
trained in the barbarous school of Elfrida,--to avenge the crimes
committed by Alfric, ordered the eyes of his son, Algar, to be put out.
The next attack was made upon Lincolnshire, but the command of the
Saxons was again entrusted to three chiefs of Danish origin, who appear
to have crossed over, and joined their countrymen at the commencement
of the battle.
It was in the spring of 994 that a formidable fleet entered the Thames,
consisting of nearly a hundred ships, and commanded by Olaf, king of
Norway, and Swein, king of Denmark. On first landing, they took formal
possession of England, according to an ancient custom of their country,
by first planting one lance upon the shore, and throwing another into
the river they had crossed. Although some resistance was offered,
and they were compelled to abandon their original plan of plundering
London, they were enabled to over-run Essex and Kent; and satisfied
with the plunder they obtained in these counties, they next turned
their arms successfully against Sussex and Hampshire, and in none of
these places did they meet with opposition of sufficient importance to
draw forth a word of comment from the ancient chroniclers--a strong
proof of the disaffection that must have reigned amongst the Saxons,
and of the unpopularity of Ethelred's government.
Instead of arming in the defence of his kingdom, Ethelred again had
recourse to his exchequer, and despatched messengers to know the terms
the Danes demanded for a cessation of hostilities. Sixteen thousand
pounds (though some of our early historians have named a much larger
sum) was the price the northern kings now claimed for the purchase
of peace. It was paid; and the king of Norway, after having received
hostages for his safety, paid a visit to the Saxon court. While he was
Ethelred's guest he was baptized, and, as it appears, not for the first
time, for the sea-kings cared but little for changing their creed, when
rich presents accompanied the persuasions of the Christian bishops.
But whether Olaf departed a pagan or a Christian, he solemnly promised
never more to invade England, and religiously kept his word.
After the lapse of about three years, Swein, king of Denmark, again
resumed his hostilities. Wessex, Wales, Cornwall, and Devonshire,
were this time ravaged. The monastery of Tavistock was destroyed, and
although laden with plunder, so little dread had the Danes of the
Saxons that they boldly took up their quarters for the winter in the
island. It is true they were not allowed to carry on their work of
destruction without molestation; but no sooner was an attack planned
and a battle arranged, than either treason or accident overthrew or
checked the operation. A spirit of disaffection reigned amongst the
people. That earnestness of purpose, and determined valour, which had
hitherto so strongly marked the Saxon character seemed all but to
have died out. As for Ethelred, though like his mother, handsome in
features, and tall of stature, he had neither the abilities to figure
in the field nor the cabinet. William of Malmesbury pictured his
character in three words, when he called him a "fine sleeping figure."
While Swein was engaged in a war with Olaf of Norway, another army of
Danes landed in England, though under what leader has not transpired.
At every new invasion the Danes rose in their demands, and this time
their forbearance was purchased by the enormous sum of twenty-four
thousand pounds.
We now arrive at one of the darkest pages of English history--a
massacre which throws into shade the sanguinary slaughter committed
by the command of Hengist, at Stonehenge. By what means this vast
conspiracy was formed is not clearly stated, although it is on record
that letters were sent secretly from the king to every city and town
in England, commanding all the Saxon people throughout the British
dominions to rise on the same day, and at the same hour, to slaughter
the Danes. On the day that ushered in the feast of St. Brice, in the
year 1002, this cruel command was executed, though we trust that there
is some exaggeration in the accounts given by the ancient chroniclers,
which state, that all the Danish families scattered throughout England;
husbands, wives, children, down to the smiling infant that pressed the
nipple with "its boneless gums," were, within the space of one brief
hour, mercilessly butchered. Even Gunhilda, the sister of Swein, the
Danish king, who had married a Saxon earl, and become a Christian, was
not saved from the inhuman massacre; and her boy, though the son of a
Saxon nobleman, was first slain before her face, ere she herself was
beheaded. For nearly five generations had the Danes been settled down
in England; yet we fear this dreadful order spared not those whose
forefathers had been born on the soil. Through the eye of imagination
we look with horror upon such a scene. We picture near neighbours
who had lived together for years--who had, when children, played
together--who had grown up and intermarried;--we picture the wife
rising up against the husband, the father slaying his son-in-law; for
neither guest, friend, nor relation appear to have been spared. The
insolence, and excess, and brutality of the Danish soldiers formed no
excuse for the slaughter of the more peaceable inhabitants who had so
long been allowed to occupy the land, and had become naturalized to
the soil. Pomp and grandeur, and military array, to a certain extent,
disguise the horrors of war, though they lessen not the effect such
scenes produce upon a sensitive mind: but here there was nothing to
conceal cold-blooded and naked murder from the open eye of day. But
Swein is already at the head of his fleet, riding over the billows,
and to him we will now turn, as he stands upon the deck of his vessel,
breathing vengeance against the Saxons.
The army which Swein led on is said to have consisted of only the
bravest and noblest soldiers. There was not a slave, nor a freed
man, nor an old man amongst the number. The ships in which they were
embarked rose long and high above the waters, and on the stem of each
was engraven the same figure as that which was wrought upon the banner
of its commander. The vessel which bore the king of Denmark was called
the Great Sea Dragon: it was built in the shape of a serpent, the prow
curving, and forming the arched neck and fanged head of the reptile,
while over the stern of the ship hung the twisted folds which resembled
its tail. On the heads of others were semblances of maned bulls and
twined dolphins, and grim figures of armed men, formed of gilt and
burnished copper, which flashed back the rays of sunlight, and left
trails, like glittering gold, upon the waves. When they landed, they
unfurled a mysterious flag of white silk, in the centre of which was
embroidered a black raven, with open beak, and outstretched wings, as
if in the act of seizing upon its prey. This banner, to secure victory,
according to the Scandinavian superstition, had been worked by the
hands of Swein's three sisters in one night, while they accompanied
the labour with magic songs and wild gestures. Such was the formidable
array which, in the spring of 1003, approached the shores of England.
When the Danes landed, they seized upon all the horses they could meet
with, and thus formed a strong body of cavalry; they then attacked
Exeter, slew many of the inhabitants, and plundered the city. The
county of Wilts was next ravaged, and savagely did Swein avenge the
murder of his countrymen. Castles and towns were taken in rapid
succession, and wherever they passed, they left behind them desolating
traces of fire and sword. When they were met by the Saxon army, the
leader Alfric feigned illness, and declined the contest; thus, without
scarcely a blow having been struck by the English, the Danes ravaged
and plundered the country, and slew thousands of the inhabitants; then
escaped in safety with the spoil, and regained their ships, leaving
behind them a land of mourning, which a grievous famine was now also
afflicting.
In the following year, Swein returned to England with his fleet, and
destroyed Norwich. Some slight opposition was offered to him by the
East Anglians, but it was not sufficient to prevent him from reaching
his ships, and escaping, as usual, with the plunder. Turketul, who
had an interview with Swein, drew the following vivid picture of the
miseries of England at this period. "We possess," said he, "a country
illustrious and powerful; a king asleep, solicitous only about women
and wine, and trembling at war; hated by his people, and derided by
strangers. Generals, envious of each other; and weak governors, ready
to fly at the first shout of battle."
In 1006, the Danes again appeared, and this time they received
thirty-six thousand pounds to forbear their hostilities. They, however,
attacked Canterbury, and made Elfeg, the archbishop, prisoner. He
was secured with chains, and removed from one encampment to another;
for they believed him to be rich, and were resolved not to part with
him, unless he first paid a heavy ransom. The price they fixed upon
was three thousand gold pieces. "I have no money of my own," said the
archbishop, "and am resolved not to deprive my ecclesiastical territory
of a single penny on my account." It was in vain that the Danes urged
him, day after day, to raise a ransom. The archbishop was firm, and
said, "I will not rob my poor people of that which they have need of
for their sustenance." One day, when they had been drinking freely, the
primate was brought before the Danish chiefs for pastime, bound, and
seated upon a lean, meagre-looking horse. In this pitiable plight, he
was led into the centre of the enemy's encampment, in which was placed
a huge circle of stones, and on these the sea-kings and their followers
were seated. Around them were scattered heaps of bones of oxen, the
remains of their rude repast. Some of the chiefs sat with their
drinking-horns in their hands, others resting idly with their hands
on the hilts of their swords and battle-axes. As soon as the primate
appeared in the circle, they raised a loud shout, and exclaimed: "Give
us gold, bishop--give us gold! or we will compel thee to play such a
game as shall be talked of throughout the whole world." Elfeg calmly
answered: "I have but the gold of wisdom to offer you; receive that,
and abandon your superstitions, and become converts to the true God."
The drunken chiefs, considering this as an insult to their religion,
hastily rose up from their mock tribunal, and, seizing upon the
legs and thigh bones of the oxen which they had been devouring, they
beat him until he fell prostrate upon the ground. He endeavoured in
vain to kneel, and offer up a last prayer, but sank forward, through
weakness; when a Danish soldier, whom he had formerly baptized, stepped
forward, and dealt him a heavy blow on the skull with his battle-axe,
and terminated his sufferings. The body of the murdered bishop was
purchased by the Saxons, and carried to London, where it was buried.[9]
The next method which Ethelred had recourse to, was to lay an
oppressive tax upon the land; every 310 hides of land was assessed
to build one vessel, and every eight hides to furnish a helmet and
breastplate. Thus a naval force was raised which consisted of seven
hundred and eighty-five ships, together with armour for 30,450 men.
This fleet assembled at Sandwich. But treason and misfortune seem now
to have dogged every step which the Saxons took. Wulfnoth, who was
appointed one of the commanders, carried off twenty ships, and set up
pirate. Brihtric, another leader, pursued him with eighty vessels, part
of which the tempest wrecked, while the remainder fell into the hands
of the traitor and pirate, Wulfnoth, and he burnt them. Such events as
these extinguished the last ray of hope that dimly gleamed upon the
disheartened Saxons. The Danes had now only to command and receive.
Sixteen counties were at once given up to them, together with the sum
of £48,000. Ethelred was now king of only a portion of England; every
day the people began to secede from him, and to shelter themselves
under the sovereignty of the king of Denmark. It would only be a dry
and wearisome catalogue of names, to run over the roll of cities,
as they one after another, opened their gates to the Danish king.
London remained faithful to the last, and it was not until Ethelred
fled to the isle of Wight, and afterwards to Normandy, where he was
kindly received by the duke, whose daughter he had married, that the
metropolis of England acknowledged Swein as its sovereign, for the
Saxons had at last become weary of being plundered by the Danes, and
of the oppressive taxes which they had been constantly called upon
to pay to their own king; so that they sat down sternly with folded
arms, under a new sovereignty, conscious that it could not be worse
than the old. Swein, however, did not survive long to wear his regal
honours, but died the year after his elevation to the English throne.
Where the ancient town of Gainsborough looks down upon the silver
Trent, that goes murmuring for miles through the still wild marshes of
Lincolnshire, did Swein, the king of Denmark and of England, breathe
his last; and a majestic pile of ruins, yet in parts inhabited, stands
upon the site of the Mercian castle in which he died. After the death
of Swein, the Danish population of England chose his son Canute, or
Knut, as their sovereign; while the Saxon nobles sent messengers over
to Normandy, offering to restore the crown to Ethelred, if he would
"govern them more righteously than he had done before." The king
dispatched his son Edmund with the necessary pledges, demanding in
return that they should hold every Danish king an outlaw, who should
declare himself monarch of England; to this they consented, and having
pledged himself "to amend all that had been complained of," Ethelred,
the Unready, returned to England.
Canute was, however, resolved to maintain the crown which his father
had won, and in order to intimidate the Saxons, he landed at Sandwich
the hostages which Swein had received from the English as pledges
of their good faith and submission, after having cruelly cut their
hands and faces; these chiefly consisted of the sons of the Saxon
nobility--a savage retaliation for the Danish massacre which Ethelred
had authorized.
Following the policy adopted by Athelstan, Ethelred now made an offer
of high rewards to every warrior, of whatever country, who chose to
come and fight under the Saxon standard--many came, and amongst the
number, Olave, a celebrated Vikingr, who afterwards obtained the crown
of Norway. Canute also secured the aid of one of the Norwegian earls,
named Eric.
Edmund, surnamed Ironside, who was the illegitimate son of Ethelred,
now began to distinguish himself by his opposition to the Danish king,
and to him the Saxons already looked up as a deliverer, even before
his father died, which event took place at the close of the year 1016.
As the struggles between the English and the Danes were carried on
with great vigour by Edmund Ironside and Canute, they become matter of
history which are connected with the next brief reign.
We find a gloomy picture of the miserable state of England, during
the sovereignty of Ethelred, in the following complaint made by a
Saxon bishop who was living at the period: "We perpetually pay the
Danes tribute," says this old divine, "and they ravage us daily. They
burn, spoil, and plunder, and carry off our property to their ships.
Such is their successful valour, that one of them will in battle, put
ten of our men to flight. Two or three will drive a troop of captive
Christians through the country, from sea to sea. Very often they seize
the wives and daughters of our thanes, and cruelly violate them before
the great chieftain's face. The slave of yesterday becomes the master
of his lord to-day, or he abandons his master, flies to the sea-kings,
and seeks his owner's life in the first battle that is waged against
us. Soldiers, famine, flames, and effusion of blood, are found on every
side. Theft and murder, pestilences, diseases, calumny, hatred, and
rapine, dreadfully afflict us. Widows are frequently compelled into
unjust marriages; many are reduced to penury and are pillaged. The poor
men are sorely seduced, and cruelly betrayed, and though innocent, are
sold far out of this land to foreign slavery. Cradle-children are made
slaves out of this nation, through an atrocious violation of the law
for little stealings. The right of freedom is taken away; the rights
of the servile are narrowed, and the right of charity is diminished.
Freemen may not govern themselves, nor go where they wish, nor possess
their own as they like. Slaves are not suffered to enjoy what they
have obtained from their allowed leisure, nor what good men have
benevolently given for them. The clergy are robbed of their franchises,
and stripped of all their comforts."[10] Such was England at the period
when the sceptre was all but wrested from the descendants of Alfred,
and about to be wielded by the hand of a Danish king. At the last
struggle which was made to retain it, before the Saxon glory was for a
time eclipsed, we have now arrived.