Cross and Scepter

by Bagge, Sverre

  Compared to the manners and etiquette at the great courts of the seventeenth century, the rules in the Mirror were quite simple, but they had essentially the same aim, to make obedient royal servants out of unruly and quarrelsome warriors. Thus, through a number of more or less complicated rules of etiquette and behavior, the contemporary Norwegian monarchy sought to unite the aristocracy under its leadership, teaching them respect for the king and urging them to mutual solidarity. This aim was achieved in part by the rules, but also through the emphasis placed on the difference between the king’s retainers and the population in general.

  The King’s Mirror gives a glimpse of how exactly these rules were formulated and transmitted to the members of the court. The chivalrous literature that was introduced during the same period, and which gives evidence of a new literary taste, also provides examples of behavior that accords with the same rules and attitudes. This can be illustrated by a story from Strengleikar, the song of Gujamar. Gujamar is a noble and courteous young man, strikingly handsome and such a brave and skillful knight that he defeats all others. However, he lacks one quality; he is unable to love a woman. One day he goes hunting and shoots a white hind. The animal is wounded, but the arrow flies back and hits Gujamar in the thigh. Before she dies, the hind tells him that she has avenged her death by giving him a deadly wound that can only be healed by a woman. Severely injured, Gujamar walks away and at length sees a beautiful ship with a lavishly decorated bed on board. Tired from walking, he lies down on the bed and is suddenly transported to a strange country and brought before its king, who is old but has an incredibly beautiful wife whom he jealously guards against all other men. “For old men who have no appetite for women and want what they cannot do and nature denies them, they hate and envy those who are young.” Gujamar and the young woman fall in love and start a relationship. The jealous husband learns about it, Gujamar has to flee, and only after a much danger and suffering do the two lovers become united.

  This is a kind of fairytale, similar in many ways to the folktales collected by the brothers Grimm and others in the nineteenth century, but it also contains reflections on the nature of love. The two lovers belong to each other as they are the best man and the best woman. Their fates are similar, but also different: the man rejects love because he finds no one who is worthy, while the woman rejects love because she has been given to an unworthy husband. Gujamar’s wound is apparently his punishment for killing the hind—it is no coincidence that she is a female animal—but in reality love’s revenge. The hind is also described in a way that makes it a symbol of love. Its white color as well as the fact that it has only one horn points to a similarity with the unicorn, the symbol of pure and innocent love. Thus, Gujamar is punished on account of his contempt for love, a punishment that is both physical and spiritual, but which also makes him a better and nobler human being. His perfection in the beginning of the story turns out to be an illusion, for he lacks love. Only the experience of love can make him perfect and at the same time give meaning to his warrior skills; he must defeat an enemy and conquer his castle to be united with his beloved. Finally, the mysterious ship that leads to the meeting between the two lovers shows that the whole order of the world serves love, which is the strongest force in the world.

  It would be difficult to imagine two forms of literature more different than this fairytale and the classical saga with its terse, matter-of-fact representations of wars and conflicts between men ruled by a combination of honor and interest. Courtly culture was indeed a radically new phenomenon, and it had a close connection with the new monarchy. To some extent it may be regarded as a kind of “cultural rearmament” directed by the king. This is explicitly mentioned in some of the prefaces, e.g., that of the Strengleikar. There the translator points to the importance of reading the stories of the past so as to learn virtues and the fear of God from them, adding that his translation was made on King Håkon’s initiative. Considering the actual contents of the collection, one is not quite convinced of this noble purpose, for the stories celebrate illicit love and sensual pleasure. It is matter for debate to what extent this literature was introduced because its contents were considered suitable and to what extent it was attractive simply by dint of its foreignness. This latter possibility accords with Gellner’s theory that elites were created by increasing the separation of their members from the ordinary population, while increasing their similarity to elites in other countries. The widespread use of the vernacular in the Nordic countries might seem an argument against this. But writing in any language was exclusive to the elite, and the contents of this imported literature was more different from popular taste than the sagas, although it would be an exaggeration to regard the latter as a genuinely popular literature. There is thus a clear connection between political, social, and cultural development. As the court was an important instrument in linking the aristocracy to the king’s service, courtly culture may be regarded as a further means to this end. One might then assess to what extent this connection was a result of the king’s deliberate policy and to what extent it can be understood instead as the result of the changing tastes of thirteenth-century Norwegian aristocrats, who were becoming more closely attached to the king and more exposed to foreign influence.

  Some modern scholars, notably the famous Norwegian writer Hans E. Kinck (1857–1924) had only contempt for the romantic literature and regarded its introduction as a tragedy because it destroyed the authentic Old Norse culture represented by the sagas. Implicit in this criticism is the romantic notion of a Volksgeist, the spiritual essence of a people. Whereas the Norwegian elite had previously been part of a larger national community, it had now become isolated from the people under the influence of a foreign elite culture. It may be objected to this that the sagas and the skaldic poetry were also mainly for the elite and that there are traces of romance in some of the sagas. We do not know how contemporaries reacted to the two cultures, but there is no direct evidence of cultural conflict in thirteenth-century Norway. Maybe people at the time were able to enjoy widely differing literary genres, in much the same way as we can enjoy Shakespeare, Ibsen, Beckett, and popular detective stories. Nevertheless, the introduction of courtly literature does point to some changes in the direction of a more exclusive aristocratic elite, similar to the introduction of new rules of behavior in The King’s Mirror.

  Whereas The King’s Mirror, despite its concern for the king’s honor and proper manners at court, gives little impression of great luxury, and chivalrous literature mostly describes a world far removed from the Scandinavian kingdoms, the Chronicle of Erik represents a courtly culture nearer to home. When Duke Erik visits his future father-in-law, King Håkon, in Oslo for the first time, the townspeople are full of wonder, remarking that “God has made him well.” He completely charms the queen as well, who “addressed sweet words to him from her rosy mouth.” His failure to delight his fiancée in a similar way was caused by the fact that she was only one year old. When he leaves, the queen calls him her “friend and Christmas brother,” and he addresses her as “my dear sweet mother,” and promises to serve her wherever he finds himself. As he goes his way out of town, all the ladies lean out of their windows to watch him.

  The Chronicler also dwells in some detail on the dukes’ wedding in Oslo in 1312. Before leaving for Norway, the dukes give their men two or three new outfits. The brides are the most beautiful women ever seen; no man, however full of sorrow, can watch them without joy in his heart. The guests receive beautiful clothing as well, and good horses; they leave richer than they have arrived. There are tournaments, dances and games, pleasant words and great joy. Even more magnificent are the festivities Duke Erik gives the following year. He builds a large hall for the purpose and fills it with velvet and beautiful textiles. In a cellar under the earth, he stores wine, mead, and all kinds of food. The king and the court arrive from Norway. The celebration lasts for four days with feasting, drinking, tournaments, and rich gifts for the guests. The first di
sh is served by knights, followed by gifts of horses and clothes. Many men are knighted, including two Germans who receive the accolade from Duke Erik.

  Tournaments are mentioned already in the sagas. Snorri lets King Sigurd boast of having participated in one on his expedition to the Holy Land, and Sverre challenges his rival Magnus to fight from horseback. The King’s Mirror also includes a description of such contests. However, none of these sources can be regarded as evidence that actual tournaments took place in Norway in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. The Chronicle of Erik furnishes the earliest near-contemporary evidence, although we cannot exclude the possibility of earlier occurrences. King Magnus of Sweden and King Erik Klipping of Denmark fought a tournament during their meeting in 1275. There are several other examples, all suggesting that Scandinavian tournaments were largely confined to royal and princely circles. Evidence from the Chronicle of Erik leads us to conclude that other aspects of the courtliness described in the romantic literature also were put into practice by the aristocracy. Gifts and parties are of course traditional means of gaining followers and keeping them, but the chronicle suggests greater refinement and luxury in these gifts than ever before and gives some substance to the idea of new manners in the wake of the introduction of chivalrous romance. As a whole, however, the chronicle pays more attention to war than to romantic love and courtly behavior towards women.

  This examination of Scandinavia’s elite culture has confirmed the impression of increasing European influence after Christianization, but has shown also that there was a specifically Scandinavian reception of this culture. This is particularly prominent in vernacular literature from Norway and Iceland, notably the sagas and the skaldic poetry, but also in Saxo’s Danish patriotism and his elaboration of traditional myths and tradition. Moreover, Saxo was not only a recipient of the common Latin culture, but also made an original contribution to it. The examination of Scandinavian culture also shows a connection between trends in the cultural sphere and the political and social trends discussed previously; namely, the formation of royal and ecclesiastical institutions and increased social stratification.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Later Middle Ages: Agrarian Crisis, Constitutional Conflicts, and Scandinavian Unions

  THE MID-FOURTEENTH CENTURY marks a new epoch all over Europe. A new and terrible disease, the Black Death, arrived from Eastern Asia late in 1346 and spread from Italy to the rest of Europe over the course of the following years. Calculations of mortality vary from one third to half of the population. Moreover, the disease returned at irregular intervals until the mid-seventeenth century (and in some places well into the eighteenth century), although its spread and mortality seem gradually to have decreased. Thus, the relationship between land and people changed drastically; there was now plenty of land but few people to cultivate it. From the point of view of ordinary people who survived the disease, this was in many ways an ideal situation. There are also many indications that their standard of living improved; it has even been maintained that in many places it was better than at any time before the second half of the nineteenth century. By contrast, the landowning classes suffered drastic reversals after their expansion in the previous period.

  In the 1960s and ’70s, a large research project looked at the consequences of the Black Death in Scandinavia. Although its sources are meager, posing a number of problems, the project has given some indication of the rates of farm desertions and declines in land rent. The calculations show great differences between the countries, with Norway the most seriously affected according to both criteria. In fifteen of the nineteen Norwegian areas that have been examined, more than 40 percent of the farms were deserted. An equally high percentage is found in only one of the areas studied in Denmark. Similarly, the land rent was reduced to somewhere between 20 and 25 percent of its previous level in Norway, while the reduction was considerably less in Denmark and Sweden, where the peasants continued to pay well over 50 percent of the previous rents. To some extent, this difference can be attributed to the way the research was conducted and the available source material. The Norwegian researchers went further in the attempt to reconstruct old farms on the basis of much later sources than did their Danish and Swedish colleagues. It was also easier to trace desertions of farms in Norway than in Denmark and the main agricultural areas of Sweden, because individual farmsteads were the rule in Norway in contrast to village settlement patterns favored in the other countries. Nevertheless, there is hardly any doubt that the numbers also indicate real differences. This is evident particularly from the decline in the land rent, which was clearly greater and lasted longer in Norway.

  There is no reason to believe that mortality in Norway was higher than in the other countries; on the contrary, it seems more likely that it would have been lower, since the population was more widely dispersed. However, two other explanations are possible. The first is the nature of the terrain. In Norway most of the cultivated area consisted of small and scattered farms, many of which were deserted. It would have been more difficult for the landowner to use these farms himself for pasture or other purposes than in Denmark or England, where owners turned to animal husbandry, to sheep in England and oxen in Denmark. Second, and for the same reason, it was easier for the owners to force the peasants to pay more rent than they would have if the rent had been determined solely by market conditions, the more so as the aristocracy in these countries was stronger than in Norway.

  In general, landowners suffered more as a consequence of the agrarian crisis than did public authorities. Tithes and taxes were reduced approximately in proportion with the decline in the number of taxpayers, while land rents declined considerably more. Moreover, the king could compensate for reduced revenues by imposing extra taxes, which is known to have happened with considerable frequency. Consequently, the Church and particularly the king were better off than the lay aristocracy, and within the Church, the bishops fared better than the monasteries, which often suffered heavy losses during the later Middle Ages, and not only because of the agrarian crisis. They were also negatively impacted by competition from other forms of devotion and other institutions of learning. The lay aristocracy as a class suffered the heaviest losses, but the losses were not the same for all its individual members. As the number of dioceses, bishops, and canons was probably more or less the same before and after the crisis, each individual’s income would have been reduced by about the same amount, even if the death rate among the higher clergy were the same as in the population at large. By contrast, the loss for individual aristocrats might be lessened by a reduction in the number of aristocrats, because survivors would inherit the land of their deceased relatives. The wealthiest and most fortunate of the class might actually have profited from the crisis. They could buy large stretches of land previously owned by the deceased or by their less fortunate colleagues and use it for pasture. The result was a reduction in the number of aristocrats as well as greater inequality within the class as a whole. The members of the lower aristocracy were largely reduced to serving as retainers or servants of the leading magnates.

  Turning to the political consequences of the crisis, we might expect to find a reversal of some of the trends discussed earlier. We might expect to see a strengthening of the monarchy and to some extent of the Church, and above all a reduction in the power for the upper classes relative to the peasantry. What we actually find is just the opposite. The later Middle Ages is the age of aristocracy. The movement we have seen towards the greater exclusivity of the ruling elite becomes more pronounced; there is increasing rivalry between the monarchy and aristocracy; the council of the realm is at the height of its power and the constitutional ideology that was detected in the previous period is developed further.

  Common to all three countries was the institutionalization of the aristocracy. We saw the beginnings of this process in the previous pages, but it progressed during the later Middle Ages. Whereas the state in the previous period had been largely identical with the
king and institutional conflicts restricted to disagreements between the king and the Church, the following period saw the increasing institutionalization of collective bodies representing the “people” against the king, notably the council of the realm, dominated by the aristocracy and the bishops. Admittedly, this is not the whole picture; there were also trends that reflected the economic development. The peasants did strengthen their position at the local level in all three countries, but only in Sweden did they have significant influence at the national level. Those who did, however, were not the tenants in the central areas who had their land rent reduced, but the freeholders and miners in the outskirts, particularly in the north, who had held a strong position even in the previous period. Moreover, we find no evidence of an increase in the number of freeholders. As for the relationship between the king and the aristocracy, increasing competition for len among the members of the latter and the attempts of the class as a whole to reserve them for itself may be connected to some degree with the crisis, but it was also a continuation of trends from the previous period. The reduction in the number of len, particularly in Norway, is also connected to the crisis; larger districts were needed to give castellans sufficient incomes, while a reduced population would also make it easier to govern larger areas.

  In Scandinavia, the later Middle Ages are known not only as the period of the Black Death but also as the period of the Scandinavian unions. Some scholars have pointed to a connection between the two phenomena: the union was a means both to reduce the cost of government and to protect a weakened Scandinavia against aggression from abroad, particularly from Germany. The clearest connection between the Black Death and union is to be found in Norway, whose elite seems to have regarded a union with one or both the neighboring countries as inevitable and which eventually succumbed to Denmark. Otherwise, it is difficult to find a clear connection. In any case, the origins of the union must be sought on the dynastic and political level rather than in the economic and social consequences of the Black Death. As we will discover, these origins go far back in history.