Cross and Scepter (29 page)

The main differences between Latin and Old Norse historical writings can be illustrated by a comparison between the ways in which the two greatest Scandinavian historians, Saxo and Snorri, treat the same story about of St. Olav punishing himself for inadvertently cutting slivers from a stick on a Sunday by burning the slivers in his hand. Snorri creates with words a setting for his story. He describes Olav's deep thoughts which make him forget what day it is and then lets a servant remind him with the words, “It is Monday tomorrow, Mylord.” The king then asks for a candle and burns the slivers in his hand. Snorri ends with a brief remark about Olav's willingness to do what was right. Saxo sets no scene. There is no servant and no exchange of words, just enough of the story to give its moral point, which is then elaborated in considerably greater detail than in Snorri. Being convinced that punishment awaits sinners, Olav prefers to suffer temporarily on this earth rather than permanently in Hell. He also thought about the importance of setting a good example and refused to excuse his error on grounds of simple negligence. Finally, Saxo tells the story in his complicated rhetorical Latin, alluding both
to the Roman hero Mucius Scaevola, who let his hand be burnt to demonstrate Roman virtue, and to the words in the Bible about cutting off a hand if it presents a temptation to sin.

Heimskringla'
s version represents classical saga narrative. It is objective, in the sense that the author remains neutral and abstains from comment; visual, in its vivid description of persons and events; and dramatic, in allowing the players to confront one another with brief, succinct, intensely meaningful sentences, delivered in a calm tone and often with understatement that heightens the drama. The sagas generally prefer direct address, in contrast to classical Latin prose, which prefers indirect speech. In this way, the actors in the drama are presented on the stage without interference from the author. The Latin tradition does the exact opposite. The author is constantly present, with comments and analysis, praise or blame, and in some cases offering allegorical or typological interpretations and parallels between the events narrated and the history of salvation.

Most important, the retreat of the author and the focus on dramatic narrative do not make the sagas more “popular” or less “learned” than contemporary Latin works. Most of the sagas have, in fact, a more precise chronology than Saxo's. Although Saxo makes comments on his sources in his prologue, Snorri's approach to this question is more sophisticated. In his discussion of skaldic poetry, he introduces the important principles of contemporaneity and the stability of tradition. The skalds performed their poems in the presence of the king and his men and, because of the meter, these poems are likely to have been transmitted unchanged from their original composition to the present. Although the skalds were not objective reporters—their profession was to praise their patrons—it is not likely that they would have attributed to these people deeds they had not performed, as that would have read as blame and not praise. Consequently, their substantive information should be accepted as truth, as opposed to their
praise and embellishments. These conclusions are certainly open to debate, and, in practice, Snorri's attitude to his sources certainly differed radically from those of a modern historian. His observations are nevertheless remarkable set against their medieval background.

Nor does their focus on dramatic narrative mean that the sagas are only concerned with individual episodes; a closer reading often shows a very deliberate composition, aimed at creating a consistent plot. This is particularly characteristic of the
Sverris Saga
(c. 1220) and the
Heimskringla
(c. 1230), whereas some others, notably the earlier sagas, are more episodic. The best example of coherent composition is Snorri's saga of St. Olav, originally written as a separate work and later integrated into the
Heimskringla.
Here Snorri organizes his extensive material—the saga fills around 250 pages in modern editions and is derived from oral as well as written sources—in a coherent narrative that adheres to a strict chronology and provides a detailed account of Olav's movements. He then makes a structural distinction between Olav's first ten years, which were successful, and the last five, which were increasingly difficult, leading up to his exile and death in the battle of Stiklestad (1030) at his return. Particularly in this second division, Snorri manages to integrate the various episodes into a coherent plot, showing how Olav, largely through his own intransigence, fell out with one after the other of the Norwegian chieftains, until it became impossible for him to remain in the country. Here he maneuvers between hagiography and political history. Olav was Norway's national saint and thousands of pilgrims sought his shrine in the cathedral of Nidaros. How then could Snorri write about him as if he were just any ruler, with his good and bad sides, his successes and failures? He solves the problem by delivering most of the hagiography, in concentrated form, towards the end of Olav's life, after he has been exiled from Norway. Although Snorri is respectful of Olav throughout
the saga, depicting him as a good Christian, this arrangement enables him to give a vivid account of Olav's conflicts, and one that does justice to the point of view of his adversaries as well to that of his devotees.

The composition of the sagas seems to depend on the relative importance of various elements. Particularly dramatic and important events get more space, and there is a tendency to link events together to explain success and failure. More abstract schemata, like the history of salvation or numerical symbolism, are less prominent, although there are some tendencies in this direction. By contrast, such schemata largely determine the composition of Saxo's work. It consists of sixteen books, seven dealing with the pagan period and seven with the Christian, while two cover the transition from paganism to Christianity. Thus, the history of salvation is strongly present. Further, Saxo's sixteen books can be divided into groups of four, which in various ways show parallels between the history of Denmark and that of Rome. Books I–IV cover the period from the beginning to just before the birth of Christ. In Book I, Dan rather than his brother Angul gives the country its name, in the same way as Rome was named after Romulus and not his brother Remus. Book V is entirely devoted to the reign of Frotho, the great king, conqueror, and legislator, whose long reign ends in a period of peace lasting thirty years. Frotho is thus both a contemporary and a parallel to Augustus. During this period, Christ was born. The next three books cover the period up to the reign of Charlemagne, when Christianity reached the border of Denmark, and here Saxo directly mentions the Roman Empire for the first time. In Book VIII, the Danish and the Carolingian empires are about to confront each other. Charlemagne prepares to engage in battle with the Danish King Gøtricus but is summoned to Rome at the last moment. The next four books cover the period of the establishment of the Church in Denmark, and the last four deal with the period after
the foundation of the Church province in 1104. In the second half of the
Gesta Danorum,
Denmark's relations to the Roman Empire become an important theme. At the first stage, Christianization leads to subordination under a “Roman,” i.e., “German” archdiocese (Hamburg-Bremen), while at the same time Denmark's imperial power is greatly extended with the conquest of England. The liberation from “Roman” dominance with the foundation of the Church province is dealt with at the end of Book XII. However, there is still a Roman threat in the following books, when Frederick Barbarossa claims feudal suzerainty over King Valdemar I, although Saxo tries to downplay this as much as possible. He ends his work with the crusades in the Baltic region under the joint leadership of the king and his own patron, Archbishop Absalon. In this way, Saxo creates a link between the history of Denmark and the history of salvation, while at the same time presenting Denmark as a northern parallel to the Roman Empire.

The emphasis on dynastic continuity and national independence in the historical writings corresponds to the importance of these phenomena in the actual history of the Scandinavian countries. Saxo and Snorri, as well as most other historians, insist on the ancient origins of their respective dynasties and, at least to some extent, on the antiquity of their nations. On this point, Saxo is more explicit than Snorri, as the link between dynasty and nation is ever-present in his work, whereas Snorri only brings the dynasty into Norway at a comparatively late stage. Whereas Saxo was closely connected to the contemporary rulers of Denmark, Snorri's relationship to their Norwegian counterparts is more difficult to determine. As an Icelandic chieftain during the period of independence, he seems to have had a somewhat ambivalent attitude to the Norwegian king. During a visit to Norway (1218–1220), he was commissioned by his friend, Earl Skule Bårdsson, then acting ruler of the country during King Håkon's minority, to convince the Icelanders to accept the king of Norway
as their ruler. Apparently, he used his connection to Skule more to further his own interests in Iceland than those of his patron for he ended by being killed by King HÃ¥kon's Icelandic ally (1241).

Some scholars have therefore regarded Snorri as a kind of Icelandic freedom fighter and interpreted his work as anti-royal propaganda, whereas others have detected in him a more positive attitude towards the Norwegian monarchy. Based on the
Heimskringla,
which only covers the period until 1177, a year or two before Snorri's birth, it is very difficult to uncover a consistent attitude to the Norwegian monarchy and its relationship to Iceland. It is quite clear, however, that Snorri is not a spokesman for the theocratic ideology expressed in
The King's Mirror
and the official documents issued by the king and his council in the second half of the thirteenth century. Snorri's work reflects the competitive society of the previous period, when unpopular kings could be killed by the people and victory and defeat depended on personal charisma and political skill rather than legal claims and divine vocation. This is largely the case also in Saxo. When Knud is rejected in a royal election, Saxo almost has to excuse him for not taking up arms against his brother. Knud is above all a warrior hero, fighting for his own honor. The reason for the rebellion against him is not his piety but that his lazy and cowardly people were unwilling to risk their lives in an expedition against England. Although Saxo strongly condemns Knud's killers, his reason for this is that Knud deserved better, not that it is a crime to kill a king. Saxo's account of the internal conflicts in the mid-twelfth century resembles Snorri's of the contemporary struggles in Norway; neither of them is much concerned with ideas of lawful succession or with the ideal of the
rex iustus.

The preeminent example of a royal biography based on the idea of the king holding his office from God and ruling according to the Christian principles of justice is the
Saga of HÃ¥kon HÃ¥konsson
, composed in 1264–5, shortly after the king's death in 1263. This
saga can to some extent be characterized by Beryl Smalley's term “civil service historiography,” given its rather bureaucratic environment and greater focus on civil government. This saga is a goldmine of detailed information for later historians, but it is often considered dull in comparison with the earlier sagas, as it is largely without the dramatic confrontations in which they excel. Moreover, its protagonist, HÃ¥kon, comes across as a pale figure. He is depicted as a good Christian and a good ruler, but he is rarely shown in action or in relations with other people. The reason seems to rest in the greater prestige of the royal office in this period and the stronger influence of Christian
rex iustus
ideology. In contrast to his predecessors, HÃ¥kon does not compete with other prominent men, nor does he use charm or eloquence to attract adherents; he rules in virtue of belonging to the dynasty and because he is God's elected representative on earth. HÃ¥kon's election at the age of thirteen is described in great detail, and the author insists that it took place because he was the rightful heir to the throne. HÃ¥kon refuses to take up arms to secure the kingdom, trusting that God will grant to him what is rightfully his. Later in the saga, HÃ¥kon defends the royal office against encroachments from the Church, the unity of the kingdom against rebels, and the possessions of the king of Norway against other kings, as when he launches a great expedition against Scotland to defend Norwegian possessions in the west, the Hebrides, and the Isle of Man. The saga ends with HÃ¥kon's death, followed by a detailed account of his character and his achievements as a ruler. The latter include a number of civilian accomplishments normally neglected in the saga literature: building projects, revisions of the laws, and a Christianizing mission among the Sami.

The later Middle Ages saw a decline in historical writing in Denmark, Norway, and Iceland, but its apex in Sweden. Here a revival of historiography took the form of the rhymed chronicle. Whereas prose had earlier been the usual medium for historical
and other narrative writing—even French verse romances were translated into Old Norse prose—most late-medieval Swedish chronicles were composed in verse, probably under the influence of German models. The first and, according to most scholars, from a literary point of view the best work in this genre is the
Erikskrönikan
(the chronicle of Erik), composed between 1322 and 1332, but a series of other such chronicles were composed from the 1430s onwards, eventually forming a continuous history of Sweden from around 1250 to the 1520s.

Having traced the history of Sweden back to Didrik of Bern (above, p. 170), the author moves to the mid-thirteenth century, narrating the history of Sweden until 1319/20. Around three quarters of the work deals with the reign of King Birger Magnusson (1290–1319), with the main emphasis on the conflict that began in 1304 between Birger and his two younger brothers, the dukes Erik and Valdemar. Erik, “gentle Duke Erik,” is the main hero. He is the perfect knight—brave, courteous and generous, but also clever. Two dramatic events mark the climax of the narrative. The first is the “HÃ¥tuna game” in 1306, which saw the dukes taking their brother captive and forcing him to divide his kingdom with them. King Birger was celebrating Michaelmas at his manor HÃ¥tuna without his brothers. “The king did not invite them / although they would have liked to see him.” The dukes prepare carefully, ordering their men to travel by different routes, so as not to arouse suspicion, before gathering together near HÃ¥tuna, while they themselves make the journey by sea. They catch Birger unawares and take him and the queen captive; only his son, aged six, escapes. King Birger is brought to Nyköping, where he is kept in captivity but given all he needs, both food and beer—this in contrast to what later happens to the dukes.