HAAKON HAAKONSSON THE OLD (1217-1263).
The first act of the Birchlegs, after the death of King Inge, was to
give Haakon a body-guard, which was to follow him night and day. Earl
Skule, on his side, opened a campaign of intriguing and chicanery, in
which he was faithfully supported by the new archbishop, Guttorm, and
the canons of the cathedral chapter in Nidaros. In spite of all their
underhand measures, however, Haakon was proclaimed king at Oere-_thing_
by the Birchlegs, and Skule, who did not feel himself strong enough to
defy the general sentiment, had to acquiesce in what he could not
prevent. It was of no avail that the canons of the chapter locked up the
shrine of St. Olaf upon which the king was to swear to keep the laws;
the Birchlegs determined to dispense with the shrine rather than to
dispense with their king. Nor did the negotiations of the earl with
Philip, the so-called king of the Baglers, lead to anything; for Philip
died shortly after King Inge, leaving no children; and Haakon sailed
southward with a large fleet and took possession of Viken and the
Oplands, which since the treaty of Hvitingsoee in 1208 had been under the
dominion of the Baglers. By a wise policy of conciliation he induced
the chiefs of the rebels to acknowledge his overlordship, on condition
of their being permitted to keep one half of the fiefs which had been
granted to Philip. The following year, they also consented to give up
their old party name, which recalled the times of civil dissension and
strife, and to fight side by side with the Birchlegs, against a new band
of rebels, called the Slittungs (Ragamuffins), which had been organized
under the leadership of a priest, named Benedikt or Bene Skindkniv
(Skin-knife). This arrant impostor professed, like so many of his
predecessors, to be the son of King Magnus Erlingsson, and in spite of
the utter improbability of his story, upwards of a thousand men soon
gathered about him and began robbing and plundering. It was merely to
furnish an excuse for a breach of the peace that they professed belief
in Bene's pretensions. Robbers, footpads, and all sorts of nomadic
vagabonds could, in those days, give themselves a semblance of
respectability by providing themselves with a candidate for the throne.
A great many credulous people could then be induced to join them and
their depredations were called war instead of robbery.
A war, and especially a civil war, always drags in its wake a long train
of disastrous consequences. The longer it lasts, the more difficult is
the return to peace. The miserable internecine strife which had lasted,
with brief interruptions, since Harold Gille's ascension of the throne
(1130), had weaned a whole generation from the pursuits of peace,
accustoming it to scenes of bloodshed and violence. It had added to the
natural risks of industrial occupations, and made rebellion, as it
were, a legitimate profession. The thousands of homeless vagabonds who
infest every imperfectly organized society, and the numerous class who,
by nature, are criminally inclined, will always seize such an
opportunity to support themselves, at the expense of society, and will
far rather endure the dangers and hardships of a perpetual war than the
wearing routine and sustained activities of peace. The material was
therefore at hand for continued rebellion, and as long as the supply of
pretenders showed no signs of giving out, there was every prospect that
the king would have his hands full. Only the gradual destruction of the
turbulent and the greater chances of the survival of the friends of
order would, in the end, decide the struggle in favor of the latter. The
problem is, however, more complicated than it appears to be, for the
gradual destruction of the turbulent came, in the course of time, to
mean the destruction of the warlike spirit itself. And a century after
peace had been concluded, a period of decline set in, which continued
for four hundred years.
A greater danger than the rebellion of the Slittungs was, however,
threatening King Haakon from one who called himself his friend. The role
of intriguer and mischief-maker, which during King Inge's reign had been
filled by Haakon Galen, appeared to have devolved with his other
dignities upon his brother, Earl Skule. To see royal honor bestowed upon
a fourteen-year-old boy, who had done nothing to merit it, galled his
proud soul. Like Haakon Galen, he had long stood so near to the throne,
that he could not comprehend, why it should always remain beyond his
reach. After the brief campaign against the Slittungs, he began again
his machinations, aided as usual by the archbishop and the clergy, who
seemed yet to cherish their ancient grudge against Sverre's house. When
Haakon arrived in Nidaros, two weeks before Easter (1218), the
archbishop treated him with studious discourtesy, while he did every
thing in his power to distinguish the earl. When the king on Palm Sunday
went up to place his offering upon the altar, the prelate did not even
turn toward him, or in any way appear to be conscious of his presence.
When taken to task for his incivility, he replied boldly that he was
acting deliberately on the advice of all the bishops and many
chieftains, who, like himself, had doubts as to whether the king was the
son of Haakon Sverresson. Haakon, young as he was, saw at once the plot
that was here concealed. But so great was his confidence in the justice
of his cause, that he consented to have his mother bear glowing irons,
to prove his origin. Inga had before offered to submit to this ordeal,
but had been prevented by the archbishop, who for some reason did not
then desire to pronounce upon her son's claim, possibly because he had
not yet arranged his terms with Skule. It was of course unheard of, that
a king, actually in possession of the realm, should be put to the
humiliation of proving who he was; and his friend Dagfinn Peasant
expressed the general sentiment when he said: "It will be hard to show
another instance of such a case; that the sons of peasants and cottagers
have ventured to prescribe such humiliating terms to an absolute king.
* * * I think it were just as well to bear another kind of iron, viz.,
cold steel, against the king's foes, and then let God judge between
them."
[Illustration: WEST FRONT OF DRONTHEIM CATHEDRAL.]
As Earl Skule's plot seemed now in a fair way to succeed, he became
suddenly affable and affectionate toward the king. He felt positive that
his clerical friends would manage to have the ordeal result in
accordance with his wishes. Nevertheless, to make assurance doubly sure,
he bribed a foreigner in his service, named Sigar of Brabant, to
approach the king's mother, and offer her an herb which, he asserted,
had the power to heal burns; but a guard of devoted Birchlegs, among
whom was Dagfinn Peasant, surrounded the church in which she was
fasting, preparatory to the ordeal, and the earl's emissary was,
therefore, compelled to confide his errand to the latter. Dagfinn
replied: "No art or healing will we employ here, except such as Christ
in his mercy will grant. Begone with thy twaddle, or disaster will
overtake thee, if thou darest again utter such speech."
Inga was then warned of the plot and told to be on her guard. For if it
could be proved that she had used healing herbs, the test would be
invalid, and opprobrium would have overwhelmed both her and her son. All
the machinations of her enemies, however, came to naught; she endured
the ordeal triumphantly. It is difficult to explain how this result came
about, for the odds were certainly against her. The earl had, perhaps,
from over-confidence, neglected some link in his long chain of
precautions. However that may be, he had, after this severe check, to
start all over again--to spin, with painstaking care, a fresh web of
intrigue, in order slowly to undermine the king's power. His plan seems
to have been to alienate Haakon's trustiest friends from him, or to get
them removed to such a distance that they could no longer be of any help
to him; then to set them by the ears mutually, so that one slew the
other and the king punished the survivor. But ingenious as this plot
was, it was not entirely successful. The king's forgiving disposition,
and a suspicion, on his part, that the earl was really at the bottom of
these mysterious enmities and slayings, impelled him to act contrary to
the latter's expectation. It was obvious to all that he bought the
earl's pretended friendship at too high a price, and many of his men
would have preferred open warfare to this suppressed suspicion and
hypocritical good-will. There was, indeed, ample opportunity for strife
between the two parties, and quarrels and bloody fights between the
"earl's-men" and the "king's-men" were of frequent occurrence. All the
conditions for another civil war were, in fact, at hand, and it was only
the disinclination of the king to let loose, once more, the dogs of war,
which preserved even the semblance of peace. The fact that the king was
under the guardianship of a man who spent his time in plotting against
them, seemed to the Birchleg chiefs to call for precautions, on their
part; and the idea occurred to them to convert Skule's hostility into
friendship, by identifying his interests with those of the king. For
this purpose they proposed a marriage between Haakon and the earl's
ten-year-old daughter, Margaret. The king, though he was not eager for
such a marriage, yielded to the representations of his counsellors, and
Skule, after some hesitation, consented to have the betrothal take place
(1219). The actual marriage was preliminarily postponed, on account of
the tender age of the bride. But those who had supposed that Skule could
be made to abandon his scheming, because the king was his son-in-law,
had made a miscalculation. Circumstances, however, compelled him, soon
after the betrothal, to fight in defence of the crown, against a new
band of rebels, called the Ribbungs, who had absorbed their
predecessors, the Slittungs, and added largely to their number. This
band owed its origin to the former Bagler chief, Gudolf of Blakkestad,
who had been appointed a prefect by Haakon, but had later been deprived
of his office, on account of his unpopularity with the peasants. To
avenge himself, he raised the banner of rebellion, and provided himself
with a candidate for the throne in the person of Sigurd, an alleged son
of the Bagler king, Erling Stonewall. All those who had a real or an
imagined cause for discontent, and many who were merely intent upon
plunder, now rushed together under the standard of the Ribbungs. These
made considerable progress in Viken, defeated and chased away the royal
prefects, and gained much booty. They were secretly supported by that
hoary mischief-maker, Bishop Nicholas, who, in spite of his professions
of friendship, yet remained consistent in his hatred of Sverre's race.
The earl, too, who was sent to destroy the rebels, was less energetic
than he might have been, giving himself an appearance of zeal in his
master's behalf, but being really disinclined to strike an effective
blow. It was, rather, in his interest to keep them in the field, for the
purpose of injuring the king and preventing him from growing too
powerful. In the various fights which he had with the Ribbungs in Viken
(1221), he did, indeed, inflict considerable injury upon them, and in
the battle of Svang, at Lake Mjoesen (1222), killed one hundred and fifty
of their number. But immediately afterward he made peace with Sigurd
Ribbung, who had the impudence to demand one third of the kingdom and
the earl's daughter for his wife. Skule replied that neither had he
brought up his daughter to live in the woods, nor was he minded to give
up any part of his fiefs. But if the king was inclined to consider
Sigurd's proposition, the earl promised to use whatever influence he had
with his son-in-law in his behalf. On these conditions the rebel chief
dismissed his band, and, on the promise of safe-conduct, betook himself
to the earl's camp where he was treated with great distinction. The
moment for pushing his claim was, however, not a favorable one, as the
relation between the king and the earl, at this time, took a sudden turn
for the worse. It appeared that Skule had levied troops and
contributions, outside of his own fief, accordingly in the king's
domain, and Haakon was so incensed at this fresh infringement of his
rights that he wrote him a letter, in which he threatened him with war,
in case he persevered in disregarding their agreement. The earl
replied to this letter by immediately setting sail for Denmark. He had
evidently taken a great resolution. What this resolution was is easy to
guess.
[Illustration: OLD NORSE CAPITALS.]
The kings of Denmark had, since the days of Harold Bluetooth, claimed
overlordship over Viken, and they had repeatedly fomented rebellion in
Norway for the purpose of regaining the lost province. Skule's intention
was now to thrust Haakon from the throne by the aid of Valdemar the
Victorious, and to take the entire country in fief from him. But to his
unutterable astonishment, when he arrived in Denmark, Valdemar was
nowhere to be found. He had been captured, five days before, by Count
Henrik of Schwerin, and was now languishing with his son in a prison in
Mecklenburg. Bitterly disappointed, Skule returned home, and was
compelled to resume his mask of benevolent interest in his son-in-law's
affairs. The latter had just filled his eighteenth year, which, in the
case of princes, was regarded as the age of majority. He needed,
therefore, no longer a guardian, and custom seemed to demand some
ceremony on his formal assumption of the government. An assembly of
notables was therefore summoned to meet in Bergen (1223), where
Archbishop Guttorm, who, in the meanwhile, by concessions, had been
bribed to take the king's side, solemnly reaffirmed his right to the
throne. Sigurd Ribbung's claim was pronounced invalid, as was also that
of Squire Knut, the son of Haakon Galen and Christina, who had sent
representatives to the meeting. Earl Skule saw from the beginning that
the sentiment of the assembly was so overwhelmingly in Haakon's favor,
that it would be of no use for him to urge his pretensions. He therefore
contented himself with extorting as favorable terms for himself as
possible at the renewal of his compact with the king. After many
negotiations he exchanged his southern fief for the northern third of
the country, extending from the North Cape to the southern boundary at
Soendmoere. But he still remained, in name at least, a royal vassal, and
was compelled to swear allegiance to the king; although he enjoyed all
the royal revenues from his fiefs, and paid no tax or tribute to any
one.
In accordance with this agreement Haakon now moved southward and took up
his residence in Oslo. This city, which had recently been burned down,
he rebuilt with great care, and came thereby into frequent contact with
the ancient enemy of his race, Bishop Nicholas. This venerable scoundrel
succeeded actually in gaining his confidence for a time, and obtained
during this brief friendship substantial advantages for himself and his
see. Haakon always took pleasure in showing his zeal for religion by
liberality toward the Church, and the wily bishop was the man to take
advantage of such a disposition. He persuaded him on the death of
Archbishop Guttorm (1223) to give the weight of his recommendation to
his enemy, Peter of Husastad, who, in accordance with the advice of
Nicholas, feigned friendship, until he had got the mitre securely on his
head.
It was not in accordance with the earl's plans to let the king sit
quietly in Viken, increasing his popularity and power. He was therefore
scarcely grieved, when he heard of Sigurd Ribbung's flight; nay, it is
even probable, that he gave the rebel chief the opportunity to escape,
if he did not actually persuade him to renew the rebellion. The
Ribbungs, who were not loath to resume their former activity, gathered
again in large numbers about their leader, and began plundering and
killing the king's adherents as of old. Whenever they were pursued, they
made their escape across the frontier into the Swedish province,
Vermeland, only to return as soon as their pursuers had turned their
backs on them. King Haakon wrote repeatedly to the Swedish king, or
rather to his guardians, as he was himself a child, complaining of the
protection which Sweden afforded his enemies. Prominent among the
counsellors of King Erik was then Eskil Lawman, who had married
Christina, the widow of Haakon Galen. This unscrupulous woman, who had
hated Haakon from his childhood, now exerted her influence against him
at the Swedish court; the consequence was that the counsellors
disregarded his remonstrance, and continued to give the Ribbungs an
asylum. Their audacity naturally grew, in proportion as they became
conscious of this protection; and Haakon was at last compelled to invade
Vermeland with an army of 2,400 men, in the middle of winter (1225). He
burned many farms, and ravaged several parishes, but had no chance to
fight any decisive battle, either with the Ribbungs or the Swedes. The
latter had fled to the woods, and the former had availed themselves of
the king's visit to Sweden to make a foray into Vestfold, and attack
Tunsberg. The former Bagler chief, Arnbjoern Jonsson, who was close on
their heels with his troops, was detained in Oslo by Bishop Nicholas,
who by his double dealing succeeded in insuring the escape of the
rebels.
In April, 1225, the king, in the midst of his protracted campaign
against the Ribbungs, celebrated his wedding in Bergen with his
betrothed, Earl Skule's daughter. The bride was then about seventeen
years old, the groom twenty. If it was Skule's intention, when he gave
his consent to the marriage, to secure himself an ally at court, he was
disappointed. For Margaret, from the moment she became queen, made
common cause with her husband, and in no wise favored her father's
schemes. She was a gentle and affectionate wife and a good mother.
The Ribbungs in the meanwhile continued their guerilla warfare, having
taken possession of the Helgeoe, an island in Lake Mjoesen, whence they
made forays into the fertile parishes that border on the lake, and
practically controlled the Oplands. Earl Skule, who was again sent out
to quell the rebellion, dawdled as usual, nursing his secret treason and
being at heart more anxious to injure the king than his enemies. In
order to destroy the Ribbungs, it was necessary to reach the island, and
ostensibly for this purpose he began to build ships on the shores of the
lake. He built them, however, deliberately in such a fashion that they
leaked, and could scarcely be kept afloat. The Ribbungs, instead of
being frightened by his preparations, grew daily bolder, and sent
messengers to the king in Oslo, proposing to give him battle. Haakon
accepted the offer, and advanced with his army to the appointed place of
meeting (Eidsvold), while the earl, instead of hastening to meet him,
took the road across the mountains to Nidaros, after having burned his
worthless ships. Here was the most incontrovertible proof of treason;
and there are also indications that in a correspondence between Bishop
Nicholas and the Ribbungs which had fallen into the king's hands, the
earl was seriously compromised. Nevertheless, Haakon chose to feign
blindness rather than call the traitor to account. Possibly he did not
feel himself strong enough to fight Skule and the Ribbungs at the same
time, preferring to get rid of one enemy before engaging the other.
After having waited in vain for the Ribbungs at Eidsvold, Haakon
returned with his army to Oslo, where he learned that Bishop Nicholas
was lying upon his death-bed. The old prelate, with whom falsity and
double-dealing had become a second nature, seemed yet to feel some
anxiety as to his fate in the hereafter. He therefore summoned the king
to his bedside, made him a full confession (not, however, until the king
had shown him the evidence of his treason), and implored his
forgiveness, which was readily granted. The bishop died in November,
1225, seventy-five years old, having spent his long life in fomenting
rebellion, and in ravaging and destroying his native land. His great
talents proved a curse both to himself and his people. Not long after
his demise, Sigurd Ribbung died (1226), and Haakon Galen's son, Squire
Knut, was induced by his guileful mother to take his place. He brought
with him a large band of Swedes, thereby giving his warfare the
appearance of a foreign invasion, and arousing the hostility of the
peasantry of the Oplands, who had formerly been friendly to the
Ribbungs. In a fight at Aker he was defeated by a united army of
Birchlegs and peasants, and during the following months he suffered
repeated disasters, and was deserted by many of his best men. After a
dastardly attempt to capture the king by inviting him to a conference,
under promise of safety,--an attempt which failed by the merest
chance,--Squire Knut dismissed his band (1227), submitted to Haakon, who
not only forgave him, but for his father's sake gave him fiefs, and
treated him with distinction. The young man, as soon as he was removed
from his mother's influence, gave up all thought of rebellion, married,
some years later, a younger daughter of Earl Skule, and became one of
the king's most devoted friends.
[Illustration: ON THE SOGNE FJORD.]
As the Ribbungs were now out of the way and could no longer be made to
serve his purposes, the earl hatched a new plot which, on account of its
ingenuity, ran less risk of premature detection. He professed a desire
to take the cross, and began warlike preparations on a grand scale. He
obtained from the Pope permission to exact one twentieth of all the
ecclesiastical revenues of the province of Nidaros in aid of his
enterprise, and satisfied his conscience by endowing the Church, in
return, with his great family estate, Rein, which was converted into a
nunnery. Extreme caution was characteristic of Skule; and he meant,
this time, to leave nothing to chance. He began at once to build ships,
and to gather warriors about him from all parts of the country. As the
Danish king, Valdemar the Victorious, had now regained his liberty, he
could also count upon his aid, and a formal agreement was made between
them in accordance with which Skule should assist the king in recovering
his lost provinces. In return for this service Valdemar promised to put
Skule on the throne of Norway. That some such agreement must have
existed is obvious from the fact that the earl actually set sail for
Denmark (1227), without asking Haakon's permission, but was met on his
way by the latter and informed of the disastrous defeat of his ally at
Bornhoeved. He then concluded to await developments; as he would run too
great a risk in visiting Denmark, while Valdemar's enemies had the upper
hand. Putting on a bold face, he joined his fleet to that of his
son-in-law and returned to Bergen. The king, although he did not deceive
himself as to Skule's purposes, kept his counsel and feigned ignorance.
Nay, he even carried his generosity so far as to lend the traitor ships
and provisions when, the following year, (1228) he set out once more to
visit the king of Denmark. Since his defeat at Bornhoeved, Valdemar was
indeed much less formidable than before his captivity, and the warlike
spirit had wellnigh left him. Haakon may therefore have suspected that,
surrounded as he was with enemies, both on the south and the west, he
would scarcely care to add another on the north. Moreover, Haakon had by
this time secured the friendship of the German emperor, Frederick II.,
who was a bitter enemy of Denmark, and he might, therefore, have a
chance to keep Valdemar in check, in case he should lend a favorable ear
to the earl's persuasions. Under these circumstances he hardly exposed
himself to any risk, nay hoped, perhaps, by facilitating his
father-in-law's approach to the Danish king, to convince him of the
futility of all his plottings. If that was his intention, he must have
been disappointed in the result. For when Skule returned he had added to
his power for mischief, by obtaining the northern half of the Danish
province of Halland in fief, thereby becoming the vassal of a foreign
prince, who, moreover, was the enemy of his own king.
One would have supposed that he was now ready for a decisive blow. But
he hesitated again, and seemed half inclined to retrace his steps. There
was always something lacking in the completeness of his preparations,
and another delay was always necessary. He is, indeed, an interesting
figure, this wily and ambitious intriguer, who has the courage to plot
treason, nay takes pleasure in perfecting all the details of his plot,
but always pauses before taking the irretrievable step. Like Schiller's
Wallenstein, he fondles the thought, plays with it, utters it cautiously
and hypothetically, but leaves himself always, as he supposes, a path of
retreat, until his own acts spin a web about him and bar him the road
back to safety. Year by year he compromises himself more irretrievably;
his treasonable letters fall into the hands of the king, and when, after
twenty-two years of covert treason, he drifts into open rebellion, it is
because there is apparently no other alternative left to him.
[Illustration: A STORM ON THE FJORD.]
In the meanwhile, the king left no means untried to keep the earl to his
allegiance. In 1233 he summoned him to an assembly of notables in Bergen
(_Rigsmoede_), at which the archbishop, the bishops, and a great number
of secular dignitaries were present. The king here called his
father-in-law formally to account for his actions, and the liegemen
rose, one after the other, and cited proofs of the earl's disloyalty.
When the turn came to Skule to defend himself, he began in this wise:
"I know a ditty: 'The eagle sat on a stone,' and I also know another
which runs like this: 'The eagle sat on a stone,' and a lot more which
all run the same way. Thus it is here to-day. Every one talks in his own
way, but they all finish up with the same ditty, viz.: to bring
accusations against me."
He made a long and eloquent speech, and, as it is said, defended himself
with great adroitness. It is doubtful, however, if anybody believed him,
and it was only the king's reluctance to resort to the sword, which
saved him, on this as on many previous occasions. A new agreement was
drawn up which was no more effective in restraining the earl's
treasonable scheming than the previous ones had been. On the contrary,
he was no sooner left to his own devices than he resumed his activity
for the overthrow of the king. His purpose this time was to involve
Haakon in a quarrel with the Church, in order afterward to crush him
with the formidable weapons which the Church had at its command. He
shrewdly provided himself with a cat's paw in the person of Bishop Paul
of Hamar, who was his devoted adherent. The archbishop, at this time,
Sigurd Tavse, was a partisan of the king, but zealous for the welfare of
the Church, and therefore, as Skule reasoned, capable of being alienated
by a controversy in which the interests of the Church and those of the
king were in conflict. Bishop Paul accordingly produced a document,
alleged to have been issued by the Bagler king, Inge, in 1226, in which
the Helgeoe in Mjoesen, which was the property of the crown, was presented
to the episcopal see of Hamar. The king naturally contested the validity
of this document, as Inge, a rebel chief, had no right to give away the
property of the crown which had never been his. An appeal was now made
to the Pope, Gregory IX., and a campaign of intrigue and mendacity was
begun. The excellent and honorable Haakon was systematically reviled and
slandered, until the Pope came to believe that he was a villain of the
deepest dye. Bishop Paul, virtually as the ambassador of the earl,
though nominally in the interest of the Church, betook himself to Rome,
where he succeeded in prejudicing Gregory IX. against all the king's
adherents, and even against his own superior, the archbishop. Skule, on
the other hand, was represented in the most flattering light, as the
munificent friend of the Church, and its defender against the
encroachments of the unscrupulous king. The object was to procure a
ban-bull against Haakon.
The plot was spoiled, however, by being prematurely revealed. An
Icelander, named Sturla Sighvatsson, a nephew and an active enemy of the
historian Snorre Sturlasson, met Bishop Paul in Rome and started
homeward in his company. Whether he gained the confidence of his
travelling companion, or otherwise obtained an insight into his
intrigues at the Roman Curia, is not known. At all events, he
immediately sought the king, on his arrival in Norway, and acquainted
him with the doings of his enemies. The king summoned the earl once more
to meet him in Bergen; but this time Skule's courage failed him. Instead
of going to Bergen, he went with his army to Nidaros, and thence across
the mountains to the Oplands, which was the king's territory. This was
about equivalent to a declaration of war, but as usual, he took only
half measures, hesitated, talked threateningly, but refrained from
actual hostilities. At the intercession of Archbishop Sigurd, he was
induced to promise to keep the peace during the winter (1235-6) on
condition of receiving one third of the royal prefectures (_Sysler_) in
the Oplands and Viken. It seems to indicate weakness on Haakon's part
that he was willing to make such concessions; and his readiness to yield
had naturally the effect of encouraging the earl's adherents and making
them screw their demands still higher. During the following year (1237)
a new agreement was made, in accordance with which Skule was confirmed
in the possession of his territory in the south, and was raised to the
rank of duke--a rank which had never before been conferred upon any man
in Norway. There was but one title, however, which could satisfy Skule's
ambition, and as long as Haakon refused to grant that, he felt himself
justified in continuing his agitation. With increasing recklessness he
defied the king's will, gathered great numbers of warriors about him,
built ships, and conducted himself in every way as an independent ruler.
It became the fashion at his court to ridicule the king as a cowardly
busybody who only talked, but lacked the heart to strike. The
Varbelgs [A]--thus the partisans of the duke were called--invented for
him the nickname, Haakon Sleepy. His reluctance to assume the
responsibility for civil war, they mistook for fear, and his
conscientiousness for pusillanimity.
[Footnote A: The same name had been borne by another band of rebels
which, under the boy Vikar, had fought against King Sverre.]
When the spirit of rebellion which the duke had bred in his surroundings
had thrown away all restraint, it began to react upon himself, spurring
him on to deed, and counteracting his natural indecision of character.
He was now nearly fifty years old, and if he ever were to gain the
crown, there was no time to be lost. Accordingly he mustered courage in
1239 to summon the Troenders to Oere-_thing_, and to proclaim himself
king of all Norway. When the canons of the cathedral refused to permit
the shrine of St. Olaf to be used for the ceremony, Skule's son,
Peter,[B] jumped up on the altar, pulled the coffin up, and had it
removed, by force, to the _thing_. In order that Haakon should gain no
intelligence of what had taken place, all the roads which led out of the
city were guarded, but for all that, one man, named Grim Keikan, managed
to make his escape and to warn the king of the threatening danger. It
was in the middle of the night that the king received this message, and
he went instantly to the queen's rooms and demanded admittance. The
queen, aroused from her sleep, asked anxiously what news he brought.
[Footnote B: Peter was an illegitimate child. His mother was the wife of
Andres Skjaldarband.]
"Only this trifle," he said, "that there are now two kings in Norway."
"Only one is the right king," she answered gravely, "and that one are
you."
It had been Skule's first plan to surprise Haakon in Bergen, and capture
him. But he soon learned that the king had heard of his exploits, and
was prepared to receive him. He then sent out bands of warriors to
different parts of the country to kill the royal prefects and all
prominent friends of the king. A great many excellent men, who were
utterly unprepared for hostilities, were thus foully murdered; churches
were violated, and many atrocities committed. The duke, in the
meanwhile, remained quietly in Nidaros where he occupied himself in
writing letters to foreign princes and potentates, informing them of the
step he had taken, and endeavoring to stir up difficulties for Haakon by
unscrupulous misrepresentations. When, however, he learned that the king
was coming with a large force to attack him, he started (Feb., 1240)
with six hundred men across the mountains to the Oplands. Here he was
met by his son-in-law, Squire Knut, who had been appointed earl in his
place, and defeated him and the able commander, Arnbjoern Jonsson, at
Laaka. It was now high time for the king to appear upon the scene, if he
were to prevent the rebellion from assuming such proportion, as to be
beyond his power to quell it. The danger suddenly developed in him a
decision and promptness of action, which went far to raise the sinking
courage of his men. He declined the archbishop's offer to open
negotiations once more; arrived, after a voyage of unprecedented
rapidity, in Viken, and rowed, under cover of a fog, up the Folden Fjord
to Oslo. In view of the possibility of his death, he had made all
preparations for the succession, but he was resolved to sell his life
dearly. The Varbelgs, who had not the faintest suspicion that he was
near, were sleeping soundly after a night's carouse, when suddenly the
war-horn resounded, and the storm-bell rang. The prows of the royal
fleet were then seen emerging from the fog and making for the piers. The
duke, as soon as the alarm was given, tumbled out of bed and flung on
his clothes. The dawn was just reddening in the east, and the fog was
lifting. The ships were now at the piers, and the troops were
disembarking. The Varbelgs supposed, at first, that it was Earl Knut,
who had come to revenge his defeat at Laaka. But they were soon
undeceived. When they caught sight of the royal banner they knew that
King Haakon was not far away. Strangely enough, though they saw him
storming forward, every moment exposing himself to danger, nay, even
rushing on ahead of his men, they were not eager to kill him. They
feared that the duke's cause was lost, and though they fought bravely,
they had no hope of victory. The duke fled and was pursued by the
Birchlegs; but they did not succeed in overtaking him. Many men fell in
that fight, but many more sought refuge in the churches and were
pardoned.
It was, indeed, the duke himself, as we have seen, who was the
originator as well as the leader of the rebellion. He was not the
expression and embodiment of a disloyal feeling among the people, as
many previous pretenders had been, but the rebellion was solely due to
his own personal ambition. As long as he was alive, therefore, the
brands of civil war might at any moment be rekindled. It was this
reflection which prompted the king, in this instance, to smother all
natural feeling for his father-in-law and not to shrink from punishing
him as he had deserved. Seven days after the battle of Oslo he sent
fifteen well-manned ships to Nidaros, whither the duke had fled, under
the command of Aasulf of Austraat, a resolute man and one of Skule's
bitterest enemies.
On his arrival in Nidaros, Skule fled to the woods, roaming about for
two days and nights with a few friends who would not desert him. At last
the friars of the monastery of Elgeseter took pity on him, provided him
and his followers with cowls, and hid them in a tower. The tidings soon
reached Aasulf that some strange-looking monks had been seen to enter
the cloister, and he immediately set out with his men and demanded their
surrender. When the friars refused, some of the Birchlegs set fire to
the monastery. Others endeavored to put out the fire, but their efforts
were futile. The smoke and the heat now compelled the duke and his
companions to descend from the tower. As he stepped out of the gate he
held his shield above his head, saying: "Hew me not in the face; for it
is not meet thus to treat chieftains." Instantly the Birchlegs fell
upon him and slew him (1240).
The death of Skule ended the rebellion. There was now no man in Norway
who was strong enough to contest the power of the king; probably no one
who had the desire. It is a remarkable fact, considering the duration of
the civil war, since the death of Sigurd the Crusader, that the country
apparently recovered so soon from its effects. The period of stagnation
and decline did not occur until nearly a century later, and may then
have been in part attributable to other and more immediate causes. The
seed, however, of destruction had been sown during this disastrous
epoch, even though it required a century to sprout.
The return of peace left the king free to further an ambition which he
had long had at heart. In a half unacknowledged way, he regarded his
illegitimate birth as a blot upon his 'scutcheon which he was anxious to
have removed. For this purpose he desired to be crowned. He had made an
effort to gain the Pope's consent to such a ceremony during Skule's
lifetime, but his ever-active enemy had frustrated his plan. Gregory IX.
was now dead, as was also his successor, Celestin IV., and St. Peter's
chair was occupied by Innocent IV., who had no prejudice against Haakon.
The bishops, as usual, endeavored to exact fresh privileges, in return
for their good offices in this matter, proposing that the king, on
assuming the crown, should swear the same oath as Magnus Erlingsson had
sworn, acknowledging himself the vassal of the Church, and taking the
crown in fief from St. Olaf. But here they were met by a firm refusal.
"If I should swear such an oath as King Magnus swore," Haakon replied,
"then methinks my honor in being crowned would be diminished, instead of
increased. For King Magnus did not care what he did in order to attain
that to which he had no right. But by God's help I shall not need to buy
of you what God has rightly chosen me to be, after my father and my
ancestors."
When the Pope's consent was obtained, Cardinal William of Sabina was
sent to Norway to set the crown upon the king's head. But on arriving,
he, too, incited by the native prelates, was disposed to exact
conditions. Haakon, however, secure in his right, maintained his
attitude with firmness and dignity, and in the end the cardinal had to
accept his terms. The coronation took place with great pomp on St.
Olaf's Day, July 29, 1247, in Christ's Church in Bergen. The guests at
the banquet which followed the ceremony were so numerous that the royal
mansion could not hold them, and it became necessary to fit out a huge
boat-house as a temporary banqueting hall. The feast continued for three
days, and outdid in magnificence any thing that had hitherto been seen
in the North. Then followed a five days' _fete_ in honor of the cardinal
and the other dignitaries. When the festivities were at an end, a
meeting was called at which affairs of state were discussed, and the
king voluntarily made several concessions to the clergy. The right of
the Church to choose its own servants was confirmed, as also its right
of separate jurisdiction. Ordeals were solemnly abolished, because, as
the cardinal expressed it, it was not seemly for Christian men to
challenge God to give his verdict in human affairs.
At his departure from Norway, the cardinal received a present of 15,000
marks sterling, or about half a million francs, for his master the Pope,
besides a munificent compensation for his own services.
The remainder of Haakon's reign was externally uneventful, and for that
very reason beneficial to the country. The king was wise enough to see
that the noisy deeds of war bring no enduring blessing, while the
industries of peace produce sound prosperity and progress. He therefore
devoted himself with unflagging energy to the furtherance of agriculture
and trade. His chief interest was, however, architecture. Cloisters,
churches, and fortifications were built in different parts of the
country. His love of splendor he indulged in the erection of a
magnificent royal mansion in Bergen, and his benevolence in the erection
of a hospital for lepers. In Tromsoe he put up a church, which long
enjoyed the distinction of being the northernmost church in the world.
The laws of succession were so amended as to exclude illegitimate sons;
the civil and criminal codes were improved, and the number of lawmen
increased to eleven. A well-equipped fleet of 300 ships was maintained,
which, in the hands of a peace-loving king, was a guaranty of peace
rather than a menace of war. By embassies, by exchanges of gifts with
foreign princes, and by the power and splendor which he displayed at
home and abroad, Haakon gained a place among the rulers of Europe,
which had been accorded to no Norwegian king before him. The German
emperor, the noble and gifted Frederick II., sought his friendship, and
maintained communication with him until his death. The Russian grand
duke, Alexander Newsky, applied for the hand of his daughter, Christina,
for his son, and King Alfonso the Wise of Castile wooed her for his
brother. The suit of the latter was accepted, and Christina married in
1257 the Spanish prince, Don Philip. The Pope, Alexander IV., endeavored
to extort from Haakon a promise to participate in a crusade, and the
king of France, Louis IX., offered him, "in view of his power and
experience on the seas," the command of an allied Norse-French fleet;
and to crown his honors, it is said that the Pope in 1256 urged him as
his candidate for emperor of Germany.
What gave King Haakon, in spite of the remoteness of his country, this
extraordinary influence abroad was particularly his fleet. During a
brief war with Denmark in 1256 and 1257, the awe which the sight of this
strong naval force inspired was so great, that it induced the Danish
king, Christopher, to make peace on Haakon's terms without venturing a
battle. The Icelanders, enfeebled and brutalized by perpetual
internecine feuds, acknowledged his supremacy and promised to pay him
tribute (1261). The few and scattered inhabitants of Greenland likewise
recognized his overlordship. A dispute concerning the Orkneys and the
Shetland Isles led to war with the Scottish king, Alexander III. Haakon,
determined to maintain his power over these distant dependencies, which
had already cost Norway so much blood and treasure, started with his
fleet for Scotland (1263), but suffered severely from a storm which
wrecked many of his ships. He sailed around to th western side of
Scotland, ravaged the coasts of Cantire and Bute, and fought a battle at
Largs (near the entrance to the Firth of Clyde), in which, according to
the account of the Scots, the Norsemen were defeated, while, according
to the sagas, they were victorious. At best, however, the battle
afforded them no advantage. For Haakon retired, immediately after, to
the Orkneys, where he determined to spend the winter, hoping to renew
the campaign again in the spring. Here he was suddenly taken ill and
died in Kirkevaag, December 15, 1263. During his illness he had the
sagas of his ancestors read aloud to him, from Halfdan the Swarthy down
to the days of his grandfather, King Sverre. During the reading of
Sverre's saga he passed quietly away.
[Illustration: NORWEGIAN STABBUR, OR STORE-HOUSE.]
All records agree in the judgment that Haakon Haakonsson was a wise and
noble king. He was not a man of genius, not endowed with the brilliant
gifts of his grandfather. But he was what we call a safe man. He
possessed strong common-sense; was generous and forgiving, yet resolute
and firm where justice demanded severity. His noble heart and his
clear-sighted intelligence led him invariably to choose the right. He
was therefore a great king, without being necessarily a great man,
unless a well-balanced combination of all average good qualities
constitutes in itself greatness. His enemy, Duke Skule, was in many
respects a more brilliant personality, and yet what a misfortune it
would have been to Norway, if Skule had displaced Haakon!
In appearance Haakon resembled his grandfather. He was, like him, of
middle height, and had the same large and wondrously expressive eyes. He
looked taller when he sat than when he stood, but his presence was
always dignified and impressive. He was fifty-nine years old when he
died, and had ruled over Norway forty-six years.