In addition to The King’s Mirror, there are a number of writings in Old Norse about nature and cosmology, mostly translations and adaptations of Latin sources. The Mirror is an example of the practical use of European learning in Scandinavia, as a foundation for reforms in legislation and jurisdiction and for both the king’s exercise of power and the obedience his subjects owe him.
The moderate influence of advanced theology in Norway and Iceland has as its corollary the fact that pre-Christian culture was to a relatively large degree preserved in these countries. The Older Edda, which survives in an Icelandic manuscript of around 1275 but is clearly based on an older original, contains poems about pagan gods and heroes, at least some of which are considered to have been transmitted orally from the pagan period. The Younger Edda, composed by the Icelandic chieftain Snorri Sturluson (1179–1241), deals extensively with pagan mythology, referring a number of stories about the ancient gods, allegedly as an aid to skaldic poets or for interpreting this poetry. Thus, there seems to have been considerable interest in the pagan religion, as well as knowledge about it in Iceland and probably also in Norway as late as the thirteenth century. We of course do not know how reliable these thirteenth-century accounts are. Although the extant texts are Icelandic or preserved in Icelandic manuscripts, the Norwegian king and court were an important audience for the poetry as well as the storytelling. This survival of ancient mythology should not be understood as a revival of pagan religion or as imperfect Christianization; there is nothing to indicate that Snorri and his audience believed in the pagan religion. It should rather be compared to the uses made of classical mythology in contemporary Europe, as an aesthetic resource and a mark of learning. Moreover, in the introduction to his Edda, Snorri also sees in ancient mythology marks of “natural religion” that reflect man’s faltering knowledge of God before the Christian revelation.
The preservation of mythology, then, does not indicate a reaction against Christian learning, but derives instead from pride in national culture and traditions and a will to preserve them. This is also expressed in the widespread use of the vernacular as a literary language in Iceland and Norway in contrast to Denmark and Sweden, where most writing was in Latin until the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Admittedly, this is less original than is often believed; there was an increasing use of the vernacular from the twelfth and particularly in the thirteenth century in most countries of Western Europe, probably as the result of increased literacy among the laity.
In Iceland, however, the vernacular was not only used for most literary purposes, but became in itself an object of study. This was highly unusual. There was a considerable interest in language and grammar in learned circles of medieval Europe, but the object of such studies was normally Latin. The reason for this was partly practical, as Latin always had to be learnt as a foreign language, but it was also in part a consequence of the prestige of this language and of a tradition of grammatical studies going back to Antiquity. The Icelanders, however, made a point of studying their own language theoretically. In The First Grammatical Treatise, which dates from the twelfth century and deals mainly with phonetics and orthography, the author states that languages are phonetically different and should therefore have their own alphabets, capable of rendering correctly their specific sounds. He adds a number of examples of sounds that are specific to the Icelandic language and thus require letters not available in the Latin alphabet. The author is familiar with the main grammatical works in Latin but adds a number of original observations that have impressed modern scholars. In The Third Grammatical Treatise, which also covers stylistics and poetry, the author, Oláfr Hvitaskald (1216–1259), a nephew of Snorri Sturluson, claims that skaldic poetry is essentially similar to that of Ancient Greece:
From this book one can learn better that it is the same art, the poetry that the learned Romans learnt from the Greeks in Athens and then translated into Latin and the meter and poetry that Odin and the men of Asia brought northwards to the northern half of the world. And men learnt this art in their own language, as they had made and learnt it in Asia, where there was most of beauty and wealth and wisdom in the world.
The Rules and the Hearts: Scandinavian Christianity
To what extent did Christianity really penetrate Scandinavian society at levels below the clerical elite? The opinion that the Scandinavians did not really become Christian has been fairly widespread, particularly in the older literature. This view is probably kin to the romantic notion of an original, Germanic culture with its heartland in Scandinavia, which to some extent was able to resist the ecstatic, superstitious, and “unhealthy” aspects of European Catholicism: its belief in miracles, its extreme asceticism and rejection of sexuality and the body, and its unquestioning acceptance of ecclesiastical authority. Romanticism was here reinforced by Protestantism, for it was in the nature of Protestantism that it would approve a “healthy” resistance to the more questionable aspects of Catholicism without offering outright defense of paganism.
We have little evidence of how much ordinary people knew about Christian doctrine, to what extent they obeyed the rules of the Church, or how much Christianity influenced their daily lives. There was certainly a distance between the ideal and reality, but on the other hand, a population devoted 100 percent to the Christian religion in keeping with the ideals of either Catholicism or Protestantism is unlikely to have existed anywhere. If we acknowledge that delving into the inner soul of medieval man is beyond the historian’s craft and look at the external evidence alone, there can hardly be any doubt of the profound influence of the Catholic Church on Scandinavian society. And this holds true if we regard Catholicism in the strictly religious sense of that word as well as in its broadly cultural meaning. During the eleventh and particularly the twelfth century, a network of churches joined the occasional rune stones and crosses from the period of the conversion, thus enabling the entire population to attend Christian services regularly. The ecclesiastical organization was well developed, and, with the exception of Iceland in the Free State period (until 1262), the Scandinavian Church was at least as wealthy relative to the wealth of the countries as the Church in the rest of Europe. As it received its property through donations from the laity, it is difficult to imagine that such wealth would have been achieved without the laity believing in its message. Further, despite the various criticisms that can be directed against the ignorance and laziness of medieval priests, the strong ecclesiastical organization must have been a powerful instrument in establishing Christianity as the dominant cult and doctrine. A large devotional literature in the vernacular has been preserved from Norway and particularly from Iceland, and from the later Middle Ages also from Denmark and Sweden.
Figure 16. The Virgin Mary, woodcarving from Nystad (Uusikaupunki) Church (Finland), early fifteenth century, now in the National Museum, Finland. As often in this period, the Virgin is depicted as the woman in the Revelation: “And there appeared a great wonder in the heaven; a woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of twelve stars … and she brought forth a man child, who was to rule all nations ….” (Rev. 12:1–5). Photo: Markku Haverinen. Copyright © Nasjonalmuseet i Finland.
From the point of view of the common people, the most important cultural imports were ecclesiastical art and architecture. The ornamental art characteristic of the Viking Age (as represented by the Jelling stone) continued to be used in churches in the following centuries, notably in Norwegian stave churches, but it was eventually replaced by European models. Most church buildings in Scandinavia resemble local churches in Germany, France, or England, as do their decorations. The Norwegian stave churches, around twenty of which have been preserved, are a partial exception to this rule, although similar churches may have existed in other countries but been destroyed. Opinions differ as to their origins and development, with some viewing them as rooted in pre-Christian architecture, others as a translation of the Romanesque basilica into wood. Both Denmark and Sw
eden still have a large number of medieval churches, whereas there are fewer in Norway, probably because the majority of Norwegian churches were built of wood and thus more likely to perish. The churches were decorated with altarpieces, statues, and wall paintings that transmitted the Christian message to the mostly illiterate parishioners.
Thus, there is hardly reason to doubt the general importance of Christianity in Scandinavian society in the Middle Ages. Its exact character in the various countries and regions, however, is another and more complicated matter. As in the rest of Europe, most of our source material regarding religion originates in the elite classes, so that considerable caution and ingenuity must be exercised to draw from it information about the common people. Sermons, which have been preserved from all the Nordic countries, give some impression of typical preaching. Extant Scandinavian sermons belong to both of the two main phases of medieval preaching, the early one, based on the tradition of the Church Fathers, and the later, introduced by the mendicants in the thirteenth century. The early tradition employed two main types of addresses, the homilia, exegesis of a biblical text, and the sermo, which was a freer exposition of a particular theme. The two tended to merge in the Middle Ages. Allegorical interpretation was frequently used in both types. The novelties introduced by the mendicants were the more extensive and systematic use of exempla, i.e., concrete stories intended to capture the interest of the audience and underline the preacher’s religious and moral message; and an infusion of scholasticism, which led preachers to attempt rather elaborate compositions and to try to convince their audience with logical arguments. The Norwegian and Icelandic books of homilies, both probably dating from the twelfth century, belong entirely to the early phase, containing sermons that are largely adaptations of writings by late antique and early-medieval authors: Gregory the Great, Caesarius of Arles, Bede, and several Carolingian authors. Most extant Danish and Swedish sermons belong to the second phase, dating from the fourteenth century onwards. A considerable number of them stem from Vadstena. So far it is mostly the Danish examples that have been subject to examination by modern scholars. They make extensive use of exempla, but, with the exception of some sermons clearly intended for a learned audience, show no influence of scholasticism.
The general impression made by Scandinavian sermons is that they are not very different from sermons in the rest of Europe. On the positive side, this conclusion confirms the impression that Scandinavia was well integrated into Western Christendom, and suggests, further, that written sermons give a fair representation of actual preaching. On the negative side, the sermons were hardly the products of great and original minds. Their lack of originality makes it difficult to decide whether references in sermon texts to the particular sins or habits of the audience or an emphasis on particular aspects of doctrine or ethical teaching are the preacher’s reaction to specifically Scandinavian realities. Often, what appears to be inspired by conditions particular to Scandinavia turns out to be directly derived from foreign sources. But then again, it is possible that quotations or allusions from foreign sermons were chosen by the preacher because they applied very specifically to his audience. The problem for modern scholars is to distinguish between these two possibilities.
As to their contents, the sermons have in common a practical orientation, urging their audience to seek salvation by believing in the doctrines of the Church, performing good deeds, and avoiding sin. In accordance with the broader pattern in medieval Christianity, a certain change of emphasis can be traced from the collective to the individual. The early sermons are mainly addressed to a collective audience, while the later ones seem mainly concerned with the individual, emphasizing the relationship between God and the individual soul, and positioning the Church as an institution rather than a community of the faithful. This change is expressed particularly clearly when it comes to eschatology. The Norwegian Book of Homilies mainly focuses on the Last Judgment and even contains two sermons devoted specifically to this theme. Danish sermons are almost exclusively concerned with the judgment of each soul immediately after death, in accordance with the general trend in the later Middle Ages towards a more individualized theology.
Earlier sermons are in a sober style, appealing to the intellect more than to the senses by presenting the doctrines of the Church and the alternatives facing the audience in this life and after death, though without elaborating on them. By contrast, later sermons are often strongly emotional, appealing to the senses with dramatic tales of sin and virtue, gloomy reflections on the great majority of mankind ending in hell, and a detailed preview of the sufferings of the damned. However, the greater emphasis on the individual does not lead to a corresponding emphasis on the subjective aspect of morality. Sin is normally understood in a very concrete sense as actions, and drastic punishments are meted out in hell for sins against the ritual commandments or the dogmas of the Church, without any reference to intent or circumstances.
Late medieval art gives a similar picture. A large number of wall paintings have been preserved from the fifteenth and early sixteenth century in Denmark and parts of Sweden, mainly in local churches, and in recent years they have been the subjects of extensive iconographic analysis. There are the standard Old and New Testament scenes from the history of salvation, but these paintings excel in horrific depictions of the devil’s temptations and the punishments in hell, an emphasis that echoes sermon exempla. The popular character of these paintings may indicate that local peasants had some influence on the choice of themes and thus may give some indication of popular religion, although there is no firm evidence to support such a theory.
These changes in religious expression, observed in art as well as in preaching, have often been explained as expressions of a new mentality of fear and hysteria brought on by the Black Death. No doubt, the frequent outbreaks of this terrible disease must have occasioned fear. Nevertheless, the idea of the entire period being dominated by terror seems extreme, the result of modern scholars imagining their own reactions to such disasters. Medieval people had after all far more familiarity with disease and sudden death than do we. Moreover, most religious expressions of the brevity of life and the terrible punishments in hell pre-date the Black Death. A gradual change in the direction of more vivid and emotional representations of these ideas from the late thirteenth century onwards should probably be understood instead as in part a change in rhetorical expression from abstract symbols to the concrete representation of visual reality, and in part as an attempt by the Church to draw the laity into a more active participation with religious life. These two explanations probably overlap in their impact, and both seem largely to be a result of the new piety introduced by the mendicants.
Sources on the religion of the ordinary people are meager. When it comes to the nobility, more information is available, but it has not been explored extensively up to now. The numerous written sources from the later Middle Ages that originate with the nobility give the impression that the influence of the Church and religion was strong and pervasive. God is frequently referred to in correspondence, whatever the subject matter, in phrases like “by God’s will,” “if God allows,” “may God protect you,” and so forth. Such expressions are of course not evidence of personal piety, but they do give some indication of the atmosphere—in the same way as their absence in present-day society reflects its secular character. Extant testaments show nobles leaving enormous sums to the Church, a generosity not always appreciated by society. Relatives clearly had interests that ran counter to the interests of the Church, and we know that they often contested what they considered excessive donations, sometimes successfully.
On the other hand, the value that the aristocracy placed on honor, revenge, and secular display must have been difficult to reconcile with Christian ethics (even if any apparent tension would have been somewhat eased by the fact that prelates and secular aristocrats often held the same values and acted in similar ways). Ecclesiastical criticism of aristocratic values was expressed in serm
ons and religious art attacking an obsession with the pleasures of this world and pointing to the narrow path that leads to salvation. We are badly informed about how this ethical conflict was experienced or possibly resolved by individual nobles or by the class as a whole. However, it is not simply a question of ideals versus practice. When failing to adhere to Christian norms, the medieval aristocrat often acted in accordance with a specifically aristocratic ethics and set of values. Thus, the noble had to maneuver between various ethical codes. Only on his deathbed would he fully embrace Christian values. With this in mind, one might regard great generosity to the Church as payment for persisting in a specifically aristocratic ethics and lifestyle. The issue may have been less troubling for women, who seem generally to have been more pious than men. This may also have been the case in Scandinavia, but our information is limited.
Generosity to the Church should not of course be regarded solely as an expression of piety, for it could also amount to a display of the ostentation that was so essential a part of the lifestyle of the nobility. Funerals and death anniversaries were celebrated with particular pomp and circumstance. The rite of leading the horse of the deceased into the church at his funeral is an especially impressive example. The horse was guided to his master’s coffin in the church, thus symbolically following him to his grave, and offered as a sacrifice to the church. The heirs subsequently redeemed the horse for a large sum of money. Despite all the aristocratic ostentation, the displays—of pride, and care for the pleasures and wealth of this world, noble funerals nonetheless served to unite the ideals of the two estates of society, for they created an occasion for showing off piety as well.
Cross and Scepter Page 19
