The Childhood of King Erik Menved.

by Bernhard Severin Ingemann.

PREFACE.

The author has given no preface to this romance; and the translator would be contented to follow his example, had the author already enjoyed an English celebrity, or could the name of his translator of itself suffice to recommend his work to the English public.

But the names of Danish writers are comparatively little known in England, and the literature and language of Denmark have not here received that degree of attention which they so justly merit. While the names of the poets and novelists of France and Germany are familiar to a numerous section of the reading public, they have yet, in a great measure, to become acquainted with the names of Ingemann, Andersen, Baggesen, Heiberg, Oehlenschlaeger, and many other Danes of recent times, whose productions as poets, novel's, and dramatists, would do honour to the literature of any country. It is only in comparatively recent times, however, that Denmark has produced a cla.s.s of writers of any considerable note in the higher walks of literature. During the last century, with the exception of Holberg's "Niels Klim" and "Peder Paars," there are scarcely any other works, unless of a scientific and historical character, that have acquired anything of a European celebrity. To investigate fully the causes of this dearth of elegant writers would require more than the limits of a preface. They may be sought for partly in the depression of the national spirit, consequent upon the decay of the kingdom of Denmark, which, from the proud position it occupied during the middle ages, as one of the first powers of Europe, has gradually dwindled to a third-rate monarchy; and, partly, in the undue preference awarded by its own scholars and men of letters to the productions of French, German, and English writers. But, whatever the causes, within the last thirty years there has been an evident desire on the part of the Danes to possess a literature of their own, and to take their stand among the _literati_ of Europe in every department of the _belles-lettres_. To accomplish this, it was necessary to arouse the dormant spirit of the people--to remind them of their former greatness--to revive the memories of the ancient heroes of Denmark--to reproduce their old chronicles, sagas, and ballads--and, by dwelling on the glories of the past, to kindle bright hopes of the future.

None have laboured with more success in this vocation than Ingemann.

Already known as a poet and a dramatist, he had still to earn a reputation among his countrymen as a novelist. Seizing upon the romantic materials of Denmark's former history, he revived the memory of the great Waldemars, and the proudest periods of the Danish monarchy, investing the heroes who still live in ancient ballad and story with greater charms of interest; and he has succeeded in winning a place in the hearts and estimation of his countrymen as an author and a patriot. He has written wholly for his countrymen, and in the purest spirit of the historical romance. His characters are real characters; his facts are the facts of his country's history, gleaned from her ancient chronicles and popular song, and woven together with the slightest texture of fiction, sufficient only to redeem his narrative from the character of a dry chronicle.

In this respect his romances must suffer when compared with those of Sir Walter Scott, where history is made subordinate to fiction, and poetic licence usurps the place of historical truth; but they possess this advantage--that they are truer transcripts of the past, and present us with the men, manners, and inst.i.tutions of by-gone times, with a fidelity that enhances our interest in the history, and with fiction enough to make the reading of the history attractive.

In present romance Ingemann introduces us to an interesting period in the history of Denmark--the last year of the reign of Erik Glipping, and the commencement of the reign of his son and successor, Erik Menved. He gives us a portraiture of the state of society at the time--glimpses of old laws and old customs--s.n.a.t.c.hes of ancient fable--and places men before us as they lived and acted towards the close of the thirteenth century.

The translator has endeavoured, in the purity of faithfulness, to present the reader with both the letter and the spirit of his original.

In the course of his narrative the author alludes to matters familiar enough, no doubt, to his own countrymen, but with which the English reader can scarcely be expected to be acquainted. In many of these cases the translator has subjoined a note explanatory of a particular pa.s.sage, which, in a work of this description, might otherwise be regarded as an editorial impertinence. For the adoption of occasional Scottish words and phrases, in translating the various fragments of old Danish ballads scattered throughout the narrative, the translator can only plead the example of Sir Walter Scott, Jamieson, and others, who have followed this course in rendering several of the Kaempeviser.

Indeed, the close similarity of language and phraseology in many of the old Scottish and Danish ballads, furnishes an irresistible temptation to this mode of translation.

_London_, _November_, 1846.

THE CHILDHOOD OF ERIK MENVED.

PART I.

One evening in the month of May, 1285, a crowd of seamen and porpoise-hunters was a.s.sembled on the quay of Gremermarsh, below Hindsgavl's meadows, near Middelfert. They regarded, with strained attention, a large skiff which had left Snoghoj, and was struggling against wind and tide to approach the quay, where the landing was less dangerous than in the bad haven of the town. A storm, unusual at this mild period of the year, stirred up the unquiet waters of the Little Belt. The more experienced ferrymen shook their heads, and thought it was most advisable that the skiff should seek shelter under Fanoe or the Jutland Weald.

"Nonsense, fellows!" said a deep, gruff voice; "here they can and shall land. They get on bravely, and must have a gallant steersman on board. But why stand you here prating? Set light to the brand on the quay-head, that they may keep it in sight; and lay out the porpoise-boats, that we may fish them up, should they be capsized."

The man who gave these orders was foreman of the ferrymen and porpoise-hunters, old Henner Friser, or Henner Hjulmand, as he was sometimes called. He had hitherto been quietly seated on a large stone, observing the vessel's motions with a keen look; but now he rose like a king among his subjects, and the submissiveness with which they heard, as well as the activity with which they obeyed him, sufficiently showed the respect in which he was held among these st.u.r.dy, daring seamen. He was uncommonly tall and muscular, and, notwithstanding that he bordered upon seventy years, appeared to possess sufficient vigour to enable him to attain the age of fourscore. He boasted of being a brother's son of the renowned Frisian, Swain Starke, who, in the time of Waldemar the Victor, gained a great name among his countrymen.

For three and thirty years, Henner Friser had resided in Middelfert, or Melfert, as it is commonly called, where he had set on foot the fishing or hunting of porpoises, and, by his ability, had obtained presidency in the guild of these daring fishers, who, at the same time, attended to the ferrying over of pa.s.sengers. He was skilled in the art of boat-building, and, in his youth, had been a wheel-maker, whence his by-name of Hjulmand (wheelman), although he no longer followed that occupation. That he had taken an active part in the civil wars under Erik Ploughpenny and King Abel was generally believed, and contributed much to his importance among the seamen, although he always expressed himself cautiously on the subject. He appeared to have forsaken the marshy sh.o.r.es of Friesland for a reason which he was proud of, and yet did not find it prudent to talk about; but that it was for some bold and daring act was surmised by everybody.

In his s.p.a.cious dwelling near the ship-quay of Middelfert, the fraternity of porpoise-hunters had a place of deposit for their large captures between Martinmas and Candlemas. There met the new guild of King Erik; and there had Henner Friser established, likewise, a kind of inn for travellers, of which he had sole and sovereign control. Here, when the porpoise-hunters held their guildmotes, they often regarded with awe the old warrior's armour, which consisted of a kind of long javelin, a Danish battle-axe, a steel bow, with a rusty arrow, together with a light linen harness. In his everyday dress, old Henner was not distinguished from the other ferrymen and porpoise-hunters. Like them, he wore a short jerkin of blue wadmel, or of dark canva.s.s in summer; a pair of large wading boots, which came high over the knees; and over his s.h.a.ggy gray locks he wore, both summer and winter, a large seal-skin cap. His long wrinkled visage was expressive of energy and harshness of manner; and his keen look evinced a determination and a feeling of superiority, which operated strongly on all his subjects, whose esteem and attachment to him was, at the same time, blended with what was peculiar to these people--an unusual dread of strife.

This was, perhaps, chiefly owing to his extraordinary strength, of which, even in advanced years, he had given astonishing proofs; and he could even now, without exertion, compel the strongest of the porpoise-hunters to bend on their knees, merely by pressing his hands upon their shoulders.

A word from this man was sufficient to set all the idle spectators in motion. A light soon blazed on the large stone at the pier's end, and thirty hardy fishermen were at work, with ropes and poles, to launch a large boat, for the purpose of rendering a.s.sistance to those in distress. As soon as Henner Friser saw that his orders were punctually executed, he again seated himself quietly, and with an air of indifference, upon his stone.

"It must be another cargo of n.o.bles for the Danish court on the day after to-morrow," he muttered. "Should Duke Waldemar be among them, it were, perhaps, better for kingdom and country, that we let them go to the bottom, neck and crop."

"Why so, neighbour Henner?" inquired a burgher who stood by his side, and whose leather ap.r.o.n, leather cap, and s.m.u.tty face, proclaimed him a smith. "The young duke is a discreet and gracious n.o.bleman: he once bought a dagger of me, and paid me twice as much for it as I asked.

Every time he comes this way, you earn more dollars than I earn shillings in a month; and then he talks so civilly to folks, that it is a pleasure to hear him."

"Gold and silver and fair words he does not spare; that we allow,"

growled the old man; "and if, by so doing, he could throw dust in the eyes of every Dane, in twelvemonths and a day he might, perhaps, be King of Denmark."

"Marry, then! think you that his thoughts run so high?" inquired the armourer, hastily, scratching his ear; "there may be something in it: who knows how it may turn out? The old king, Waldemar the Victor, was certainly his great-grandfather; the young lord is just twenty years old: he may come to be chosen king one day. But there is time enough for that yet," he added; and, after a little reflection: "our king is still a young man: according to my reckoning, he cannot be more than six and thirty now; and his young son, who succeeds him--let me see--he can be scarcely eleven yet. Nay, nay, it is not to be thought of."

"What cares the grandson of King Abel about that, think you?" replied the old man, in a tone of bitterness. "The young braggart does not want daring. He had scarcely cut his colt's-teeth, when he set himself in opposition to the king, and would submit himself neither to rod nor snaffle; and now it is said for certain, that he will claim the whole kingdom; and, if he does not receive from the court of Denmark what he aims at, that he will instantly bring down the Swedes upon our heads.

We have already to thank him for the present outbreak with the Norwegians. Nay, nay--he is a fellow we must look after, neighbour Troels. We knew his grandfather; and the race of a fratricide no Dane shall trust again."

The old man was silent, and became absorbed in deep thought.

"You may well say that, neighbour Henner," resumed the armourer; "we have experienced disasters enough, and may well cross ourselves when we think on what has happened in the country since old King Waldemar Seier closed his eyes. His sons, all three, were kings,[1] as was said and predicted to him; but G.o.d shield us from such kings and from such ends!

In troth, it is awful to think of: I have not yet reached my threescore, and the present king is the fifth I can remember; and three of these, one after the other, were miserably murdered."

"Murdered?" repeated Henner Friser. "Nay, neighbour--that was the case with two only of Waldemar's sons, if it be true, as people say, about our king's father and the condemned priest in the New Cloister. G.o.d forgive me, and all good Christians, their sins! but priests should be pious men of G.o.d; and, when they can forgive kings and princes with G.o.d's own holy body, then the worst murder of a layman by sword or dagger should be reckoned next to nothing. Nay, two only were murdered, neighbour," he continued, after a thoughtful pause, and rising up; "n.o.body shall say that King Abel was murdered: he fell by his own conduct, and shamefully enough for himself; but still in open warfare with true and valiant subjects, who would not suffer themselves to be flayed by the coward who had murdered his brother, and deprived us of our lawful king."

The old man's voice waxed loud, and he spoke with great vehemence. He appeared to observe a tendency to the same in his neighbour's manner, and remarked, in a subdued tone, "We must not talk too loud about this matter, neighbour. These are unquiet times, and traitors are abroad.

Should Duke Waldemar and the great n.o.bles come to rule, we shall have to listen to a new tale, which may be worse than the first." Henner was again silent, and resumed his seat, in deep thought.

"I must say, nevertheless, neighbour Henner," began the armourer anew, "that there is nothing so bad, that it may not be good for something.

If the n.o.bles had not courage to lay restraints on King Erik Christopherson, mischief would be the result, for both gentle and simple. It were sin to say our king is not severe enough, as he imposes penalties on both burgher and peasant; but he cares for neither law nor justice; and was compelled, last year, to a compact respecting the rights and liberties of the kingdom. Much has not come of that yet: and had not Marsk Andersen denounced him, and put him in terror of his life, at the last Thing[2] at Viborg, none of us at present could have said that his wife or daughter was safe from him."

"That is true, neighbour," replied old Henner, waking up as if from a dream, and appearing only to hear the latter sentence. "A vile story was that, regarding Stig Andersen's wife; and I will say that, had I been in the marsk's[3] stead, I would, perhaps, have done something more than merely threaten. And yet--the Lord preserve our king and his son, say I, for the kingdom and country's sake! The father is good for nothing: others may call him a villain; yet G.o.d preserve the rotten stem, for the sake of the fresh shoot! The little Erik has Waldemar Seier's eagle eyes; and, should the Lord keep his hand over him, it may yet be worth an honest man's while to live in Denmark. It is a fortunate thing for him, and for the kingdom, that he has the brave Drost[4] Hessel for his instructor in the use of arms. Without Peter Hessel, old John Little, and David Thorstenson, it would be a lamentable case for all of us."

"If the handsome young drost stand as well with the queen as is reported," observed the smith, smiling, "no wonder he takes so kindly to the young prince. He may be a wise and virtuous man; but little human frailties he must possess, as others do; and, when King Glip-eye has eyes for every other woman but the queen only, she cannot be greatly blamed for being so willing to ride a-hunting with the young drost."

"So you, too, believe the d.a.m.nable t.i.ttle-tattle!" cried the old man, with vehemence and indignation. "I have seen Queen Agnes once, and Drost Peter twice only: that was in the guild of our murdered King Erik; and, if it be true, as I believe, that every woman's child bears its character in its open eyes--and I have so read the characters of both high and low, for these seventy years past--our queen, on this point, is as pure, in G.o.d's sight, as is the sun; and so is Drost Peter Hessel--a man who, in all respects, would sooner lose his life than forget the oath he openly swore in our guild, or in any way betray his country or the royal house. But so it is: when the head is good for nothing, the whole body soon bears witness to it; and King Erik Christopherson does not blink with his small buck-eyes for nothing."

"I believe, neighbour Henner, you can read more in an eye than many a priest can in his big book; and people with reason hold you to understand somewhat more than your paternoster. You have given a good reason, too," continued the smith, smiling, "why you lock up your pretty little Aase, every time King Glip-eye comes over the Belt. I saw very well how she stood in the pantry yesterday, while the king mounted his horse outside, before you."

"Ay, then, saw you that, my good Troels?" replied the old warrior, somewhat ruffled. "It was a piece of foolery; and I shall tell you how it happened. He saw her once, and paid her a little more attention than I exactly care for. She is my granddaughter, and the apple of my eye, as you know. That I lock the cage when the cat is in the room, follows of course; otherwise I should have to take the biggest tom-cat by the neck, and throw him out of the window, if he proved saucy. It comes to this, that my little Aase, as you may, perhaps, have observed, is a Sunday's bairn:[5] that may easily be seen in her complexion. She is somewhat palefaced; and, however blithe and sprightly she may be, she is, nevertheless, now and then troubled with a kind of dreaming fit.

But that will wear off as she gets older. Her mother was so troubled before her; and I believe it runs in the family, as I am not entirely free from it myself. I do not give much heed to such dreaming now; but she has never yet said anything, while in this state, that has not proved in a manner true; though she can discern nothing, by night or day, more than others may do when they are in their senses."

"My G.o.d! is it not quite right with your little Aase?" asked the smith, sympathisingly, and pointing with his finger to his forehead.

"She is too sagacious for her years," answered the old man; "and that will not do for this world. But when once she is married, and has other matters to think of, this will pa.s.s over; and in other respects she has a good sound const.i.tution. But this is what I was about to tell you.

Last night, she rose in her sleep, and came to me: she was frightened, and said that the king had returned from hunting, with a death's head under his hat, and wanted to come in to her. I awoke her, and then she knew nothing of the dream. She laughed, and skipped carelessly to bed.

I was much inclined to frighten her about what she had told me; but, yet I did not want the king to see her yesterday, when he crossed my threshold to change his garments; and so I locked her up, as if by mistake."

"This only helps you a little way, my good, careful neighbour,"

observed the smith, with a sly laugh. "A good hen can lay an egg among nettles; where there is a will there is a way. The king saw her very well: when he rode off, your grand-daughter, from curiosity, peeped out between the bars of your pantry, just as the king's horse made a spring on one side. I saw, by the blink of his eye, that he had perceived her; and twice he looked behind him towards the little window, after she had withdrawn her charming little face."

"Nonsense, nonsense!" growled the old man. "It shall not happen again, I warrant you. You must not talk about this matter, neighbour. It is nothing in itself, but would soon give rise to gossip. I shall be quiet, for the child's sake. So, now let the matter drop."

"But what does the king's chamberlain still do in the village? asked the smith.

"Chamberlain Rane!" exclaimed Henner, starting: "did he not follow the king yesterday?"

"He did, certainly; but, early this morning, I saw him, and two men-at-arms of the king's, go by your house. They stopped under the end window, and whispered together, and, as we came out, I saw their horses at your back gate."