Book: Comic History of England

B >> Bill Nye >> Comic History of England




Gildas was the first historian of Britain, and the scathing remarks
made about his fellow-countrymen have never been approached by the most
merciless of modern historians.

The book was highly interesting, and it is a wonder that some
enterprising American publisher has not appropriated it, as the author
is now extremely dead.

[Illustration: A DISCIPLE OF THE LIQUID RELIGION PRACTISED BY THE
SAXON.]



CHAPTER IV.


THE INFLUX OF THE DANES: FACTS SHOWING CONCLUSIVELY THEIR INFLUENCE ON
THE BRITON OF TO-DAY.


And now, having led the eager student up to the year 827 A.D., let us
take him forward from the foundation of the English monarchy to the days
of William the Conqueror, 1066.

Egbert, one of the kings of Wessex, reigned practically over Roman
Britain when the country was invaded by the Northmen (Swedes,
Norwegians, and Danes), who treated the Anglo-Saxon as the Anglo-Saxon
had formerly treated the poor Briton.

These Northmen were rather coarse people, and even put the Anglo-Saxons
to the blush sometimes. They exercised vigorously, and thus their
appetites were sharp enough to cut a hair. They at first came in the
capacity of pirates,--sliding stealthily into isolated coast settlements
on Saturday evening and eating up the Sunday victuals, capturing the
girls of the Bible-class and sailing away. But later they came as
conquerors, and boarded with the peasantry permanently.

Egbert formed an alliance with his old enemies, the Welsh, and gained a
great victory over the Northmen; but when he died and left Ethelwolf,
his son, in charge of the throne, he made a great mistake. Ethelwolf was
a poor king, "being given more to religious exercises than reigning,"
says the historian. He would often exhibit his piety in order to draw
attention away from His Royal Incompetency. He was not the first or last
to smother the call to duty under the cry of Hallelujah. Like the little
steamer engine with the big whistle, when he whistled the boat stopped.
He did not have a boiler big enough to push the great ship of state and
shout Amen at the same time.

Ethelwolf defeated the enemy in one great battle, but too late to
prevent a hold-up upon the island of Thanet, and afterwards at Shippey,
near London, where the enemy settled himself.

Yet Ethelwolf made a pilgrimage to Rome with Alfred, then six years old
(A.D. 855). He was gone a year, during which time very little reigning
was done at home, and the Northmen kept making treaties and coming over
in larger droves.

Ethelwolf visited Charles the Bald of France at this time, and married
his daughter Judith incidentally. Ethelwolf's eldest son died during the
king's absence, and was succeeded as eldest son by Ethelbald
(heir-apparent, though he had no hair apparent), who did not recognize
the old gentleman or allow him to be seated on his own throne when he
came back; but Ethelwolf gave the naughty Ethelbald the western half of
the kingdom rather than have trouble. But Baldy died, and was succeeded
by Ethelbert, who died six years later, and Ethelred, in 866, took
charge till 871, when he died of a wound received in battle and closed
out the Ethel business to Alfred.

The Danes had meantime rifled the country with their cross-guns and
killed Edmund, the good king of East Anglia, who was afterwards
canonized, though gunpowder had not then been invented.

Alfred was not only a godly king, but had a good education, and was a
great admirer of Dickens and Thackeray. (This is put in as a titbit for
the critic.)

He preferred literature to the plaudits of the nobility and the
sedentary life on a big white-oak throne. On the night before his
coronation his pillow was wet with tears.

And in the midst of it all here came the Danes wearing heavy woollen
clothes and introducing their justly celebrated style of honest sweat.

Alfred fought as many as eight battles with them in one year. They
agreed at last to accept such portions of the country as were assigned
them, but they were never known to abide by any treaty, and they put
the red man of America to shame as prevaricators.

Thus, by 878, the wretched Saxons were at their wit's end, and have
never been able to take a joke since at less than thirty days.

Some fled to Wales and perished miserably trying to pronounce the names
of their new post-office addresses.

[Illustration: ALFRED, DISGUISED AS A GLEEMAN, IS INTRODUCED TO
GUTHRUN.]

Here Alfred's true greatness stood him in good stead. He secured a
number of reliable retainers and camped in the swamps of Somersetshire,
where he made his head-quarters on account of its inaccessibility, and
then he made raids on the Danes. Of course he had to live roughly, and
must deny himself his upright piano for his country's good.

In order to obtain a more thorough knowledge of the Danes and their
number, he disguised himself as a harper, or portable orchestra, and
visited the Danish camp, where he was introduced to Guthrun and was
invited to a banquet, where he told several new anecdotes, and spoke in
such a humorous way that the army was sorry to see him go away, and
still sorrier when, a few days later, armed _cap-a-pie_, he mopped up
the greensward with his enemy and secured the best of terms from him.

While _incog._, Alfred stopped at a hut, where he was asked to turn the
pancakes as they required it; but in the absence of the hostess he got
to thinking of esoteric subjects, or something profound, and allowed the
cakes to burn. The housewife returned in time to express her sentiments
and a large box to his address as shown in the picture.

[Illustration: ALFRED LETTING THE CAKES BURN.]

He now converted Guthrun and had him immersed, which took first-rate,
and other Danes got immersed. Thus the national antagonism to water was
overcome, and to-day the English who are descended from the Danes are
not appalled at the sight of water.

As a result of Guthrun's conversion, the Danes agreed to a permanent
settlement along the exposed portion of Great Britain, by which they
became unconsciously a living rampart between the Saxons and other
incursionists.

Now peace began to reign up to 893, and Alfred improved the time by
rebuilding the desolated cities,--London especially, which had become a
sight to behold. A new stock-law, requiring the peasantry to shut up
their unicorns during certain seasons of the year and keep them out of
the crops, also protecting them from sportsmen while shedding their
horns in spring, or moulting, it is said, was passed, but the English
historians are such great jokers that the writer has had much difficulty
in culling the facts and eliminating the persiflage from these writings.

Alfred the Great only survived his last victory over the Danes, at Kent,
a few years, when he died greatly lamented. He was a brave soldier, a
successful all-around monarch, and a progressive citizen in an age of
beastly ignorance, crime, superstition, self-indulgence, and pathetic
stupidity.

[Illustration: ALFRED ESTABLISHED SCHOOLS.]

He translated several books for the people, established or repaired the
University of Oxford, and originated the idea, adopted by the Japanese a
thousand years later, of borrowing the scholars of other nations, and
cheerfully adopting the improvements of other countries, instead of
following the hide-bound and stupid conservatism and ignorance
bequeathed by father to son, as a result of blind and offensive pride,
which is sometimes called patriotism.

[Illustration: KING ALFRED TRANSLATED SEVERAL BOOKS.]



CHAPTER V.


THE TROUBLOUS MIDDLE AGES: DEMONSTRATING A SHORT REIGN FOR THOSE WHO
TRAVEL AT A ROYAL GAIT.


The Ethels now made an effort to regain the throne from Edward the
Elder. Ethelwold, a nephew of Edward, united the Danes under his own
banner, and relations were strained between the leaders until 905, when
Ethelwold was slain. Even then the restless Danes and frontier settlers
were a source of annoyance until about 925, when Edward died; but at his
death he was the undisputed king of all Britain, and all the various
sub-monarchs and associate rulers gave up their claims to him. He was
assisted in his affairs of state by his widowed sister, Ethelfleda.
Edward the Elder had his father's ability as a ruler, but was not so
great as a scholar or _litterateur_. He had not the unfaltering devotion
to study nor the earnest methods which made Alfred great. Alfred not
only divided up his time into eight-hour shifts,--one for rest, meals,
and recreation, one for the affairs of state, and one for study and
devotion,--but he invented the candle with a scale on it as a
time-piece, and many a subject came to the throne at regular periods to
set his candle by the royal lights.

[Illustration: CAME TO THE THRONE AT REGULAR PERIODS TO SET THEIR
CANDLES BY THE ROYAL LIGHT.]

Think of those days when the Sergeant-at-Arms of Congress could not turn
back the clock in order to assist an appropriation at the close of the
session, but when the light went out the session closed.

Athelstan succeeded his father, Edward the Presiding Elder, and
resembled him a good deal by defeating the Welsh, Scots, and Danes. In
those days agriculture, trade, and manufacturing were diversions during
the summer months; but the regular business of life was warfare with the
Danes, Scots, and Welsh.

These foes of England could live easily for years on oatmeal, sour milk,
and cod's heads, while the fighting clothes of a whole regiment would
have been a scant wardrobe for the Greek Slave, and after two centuries
of almost uninterrupted carnage their war debt was only a trifle over
eight dollars.

Edmund, the brother of Ethelstan, at the age of eighteen, succeeded his
brother on the throne.

One evening, while a little hilarity was going on in the royal
apartments, Edmund noticed among the guests a robber named Leolf, who
had not been invited. Probably he was a pickpocket; and as a royal
robber hated anybody who dropped below grand larceny, the king ordered
his retainers to put him out.

But the retainers shrank from the undertaking, therefore Edmund sprang
from the throne like a tiger and buried his talons in the robber's
tresses. There was a mixture of feet, legs, teeth, and features for a
moment, and when peace was restored King Edmund had a watch-pocket full
of blood, and the robber chieftain was wiping his stabber on one of the
royal tidies.

[Illustration: EDMUND THROWING LEOLF OUT.]

Edred now succeeded the deceased Edmund, his brother, and with a heavy
heart took up the eternal job of fighting the Danes. Edred set up a
sort of provincial government over Northumberland, the refractory
district, and sent a governor and garrison there to see that the Danes
paid attention to what he said. St. Dunstan had considerable influence
over Edred, and was promoted a great deal by the king, who died in the
year 955.

He was succeeded by Edwy the Fair, who was opposed by another Ethel.
Between the Ethels and the Welsh and Danes, there was little time left
in England for golf or high tea, and Edwy's reign was short and full of
trouble.

He had trouble with St. Dunstan, charging him with the embezzlement of
church funds, and compelled him to leave the country. This was in
retaliation for St. Dunstan's overbearing order to the king. One
evening, when a banquet was given him in honor of his coronation, the
king excused himself when the speeches got rather corky, and went into
the sitting-room to have a chat with his wife, Elgiva, of whom he was
very fond, and her mother. St. Dunstan, who had still to make a speech
on Foreign Missions with a yard or so of statistics, insisted on Edwy's
return. An open outbreak was the result. The Church fell upon the King
with a loud, annual report, and when the debris was cleared away, a
little round-shouldered grave in the churchyard held all that was
mortal of the king. His wife was cruelly and fatally assassinated, and
Edgar, his brother, began to reign. This was in the year 959, and in
what is now called the Middle Ages.

Edgar was called the Pacific. He paid off the church debt, made Dunstan
Archbishop of Canterbury, helped reform the church, and, though but
sixteen years of age when he removed all explosives from the throne and
seated himself there, he showed that he had a massive scope, and his
subjects looked forward to much anticipation.

He sailed around the island every year to show the Danes how prosperous
he was, and made speeches which displayed his education.

His coronation took place thirteen years after his accession to the
throne, owing to the fact, as given out by some of the more modern
historians, that the crown was at Mr. Isaac Inestein's all this time,
whereas the throne, which was bought on the instalment plan, had been
redeemed.

Pictures of the crown worn by Edgar will convince the reader that its
redemption was no slight task, while the mortgage on the throne was a
mere bagatelle.

[Illustration: EDGAR SURMOUNTED BY HIS CROWN.]

[Illustration: EDGAR CAUSES HIS BARGE TO BE ROWED BY EIGHT KINGS.]

A bright idea of Edgar's was to ride in a row-boat pulled by eight kings
under the old _regime_.

Personally, Edgar was reputed to be exceedingly licentious; but the
historian wisely says these stories may have been the invention of his
enemies. Greatness is certain to make of itself a target for the mud of
its own generation, and no one who rose above the level of his
surroundings ever failed to receive the fragrant attentions of those who
had not succeeded in rising. All history is fraught also with the
bitterness and jealousy of the historian except this one. No bitterness
can creep into this history.

Edgar, it is said, assassinated the husband of Elfrida in order that he
might marry her. It is also said that he broke into a convent and
carried off a nun; but doubtless if these stories were traced to their
very foundations, politics would account for them both.

He did not favor the secular clergy, and they, of course, disliked him
accordingly. He suffered also at the hands of those who sought to
operate the reigning apparatus whilst his attention was turned towards
other matters.

He was the author of the scheme whereby he utilized his enemies, the
Welsh princes, by demanding three hundred wolf heads per annum as
tribute instead of money. This wiped out the wolves and used up the
surplus animosity of the Welsh.

As the Welsh princes had no money, the scheme was a good one. Edgar died
at the age of thirty-two, and was succeeded by Edward, his son, in 975.

The death of the king at this early age has given to many historians the
idea that he was a sad dog, and that he sat up late of nights and cut up
like everything, but this may not be true. Death often takes the good,
the true, and the beautiful whilst young.

However, Edgar's reign was a brilliant one for an Anglo-Saxon, and his
coon-skin cap is said to have cost over a pound sterling.

[Illustration: EDGAR THE PACIFIC.]



CHAPTER VI.


THE DANISH OLIGARCHY: DISAFFECTIONS ATTENDING CHRONIC USURPATION
PROCLIVITIES.


Edgar was succeeded by his son Edward, called "the Martyr," who ascended
the throne at the age of fifteen years. His step-mother, Elfrida,
opposed him, and favored her own son, Ethelred. Edward was assassinated
in 978, at the instigation of his step-mother, and that's what's the
martyr with him.

During his reign there was a good deal of ill feeling, and Edward would
no doubt have been deposed but for the influence of the church under
Dunstan.

Ethelred was but ten years old when he began reigning. Sadly poor
Dunstan crowned him, his own eyes still wet with sorrow over the cruel
death of Edward. He foretold that Ethelred would have a stormy reign,
with sleet and variable winds, changing to snow.

During the remainder of the great prelate's life he, as it were, stood
between the usurper and the people, and protected them from the
threatening storm.

But in 991, shortly after the death of Dunstan, a great army of
Norwegians came over to England for purposes of pillage. To say that it
was an allopathic pillage would not be an extravagant statement. They
were extremely rude people, like all the nations of northern Europe at
that time,--Rome being the Boston of the Old World, and Copenhagen the
Fort Dodge of that period.

The Norwegians ate everything that did not belong to the mineral
kingdom, and left the green fields of merry England looking like a
base-ball ground. So wicked and warlike were they that the sad and
defeated country was obliged to give the conquering Norske ten thousand
pounds of silver.

Dunstan died at the age of sixty-three, and years afterwards was
canonized; but firearms had not been invented at the time of his death.
He led the civilization and progress of England, and was a pioneer in
cherishing the fine arts.

Olaf, who led the Norwegians against England, afterwards became king of
Norway, and with the Danes used to ever and anon sack Great
Britain,--_i.e._, eat everybody out of house and home, and then ask for
a sack of silver as the price of peace.

Ethelred was a cowardly king, who liked to wear the implements of war on
holidays, and learn to crochet and tat in time of war. He gave these
invaders ten thousand pounds of silver at the first, sixteen thousand
at the second, and twenty-four thousand on the third trip, in order to
buy peace.

Olaf afterwards, however, embraced Christianity and gave up fighting as
a business, leaving the ring entirely to Sweyn, his former partner from
Denmark, who continued to do business as before.

The historian says that the invasion of England by the Norwegians and
Danes was fully equal to the assassination, arson, and rapine of the
Indians of North America. A king who would permit such cruel cuttings-up
as these wicked animals were guilty of on the fair face of old England,
should live in history only as an invertebrate, a royal failure, a
decayed mollusk, and the dropsical head of a tottering dynasty.

In order to strengthen his feeble forces, Ethelred allied himself, in
1001, to Richard II., Duke of Normandy, and married his daughter Emma,
but the Danes continued to make night hideous and elope with ladies whom
they had never met before. It was a sad time in the history of England,
and poor Emma wept many a hot and bitter tear as she yielded one jewel
after another to the pawnbroker in order to buy off the coarse and
hateful Danes.

If Ethelred were to know how he is regarded by the historian who pens
these lines, he would kick the foot-board out of his casket, and bite
himself severely in four places.

To add to his foul history, happening to have a few inoffensive Danes on
hand, on the 13th of November, the festival of St. Brice, 1002, he gave
it out that he would massacre these people, among them the sister of the
Danish king, a noble woman who had become a Christian (only it is to be
hoped a better one), and married an English earl. He had them all
butchered.

[Illustration: ETHELRED WEDS EMMA.]

In 1003, Sweyn, with revenge in his heart, began a war of extermination
or subjugation, and never yielded till he was, in fact, king of England,
while the royal intellectual polyp, known as Ethelred the Unwholesome,
fled to Normandy, in the 1013th year Anno Domini.

But in less than six weeks the Danish king died, leaving the sceptre,
with the price-mark still upon it, to Canute, his son, and Ethelred was
invited back, with an understanding that he should not abuse his
privileges as king, and that, although it was a life job during good
behavior, the privilege of beheading him from time to time was and is
vested in the people; and even to-day there is not a crowned head on the
continent of Europe that does not recognize this great truth,--viz.,
that God alone, speaking through the united voices of the common people,
declares the rulings of the Supreme Court of the Universe.

On the old autograph albums of the world is still written in the dark
corners of empires, "_the king can do no wrong_." But where education is
not repressed, and where that Christianity which is built on love and
charity is taught, there can be but one King who does no wrong.

Ethelred was succeeded by Edmund, called "the Ironside." He fought
bravely, and drove the Danes, under Canute, back to their own shores.
But they got restless in Denmark, where there was very little going on,
and returned to England in large numbers.

Ethelred died in London, 1016 A.D., before Canute reached him. He was
called by Dunstan "Ethelred the Unready," and had a faculty for erring
more promptly than any previous king.

Having returned cheerily from Ethelred's rather tardy funeral, the
people took oath, some of them under Edmund and some under Canute.

Edmund, after five pitched battles, offered to stay bloodshed by
personally fighting Canute at any place where they could avoid police
interference, but Canute declined, on what grounds it is not stated,
though possibly on the Polo grounds.

[Illustration: SONS OF EDMUND SENT TO OLAF.]

A compromise was agreed to in 1016, by which Edmund reigned over the
region south of the Thames; but very shortly afterwards he was murdered
at the instigation of Edric, a traitor, who was the Judas Iscariot of
his time.

Canute, or "Knut," now became the first Danish king of England. Having
appointed three sub-kings, and taken charge himself of Wessex, Canute
sent the two sons of Edmund to Olaf, requesting him to put them to
death; but Olaf, the king of Sweden, had scruples, and instead of doing
so sent the boys to Hungary, where they were educated. Edward afterwards
married a daughter of the Emperor Henry II.

Canute as king was, after he got the hang of it, a great success, giving
to the harassed people more comfort than they had experienced since the
death of Alfred, who was thoroughly gifted as a sovereign.

He had to raise heavy taxes in order to 'squire himself with the Danish
leaders at first, but finally began to harmonize the warring elements,
and prosperity followed. He was fond of old ballads, and encouraged the
wandering minstrels, who entertained the king with topical songs till a
late hour. Symposiums and after-dinner speaking were thus inaugurated,
and another era of good feeling began about half-past eleven o'clock
each evening.

[Illustration: THE SEA "GOES BACK" ON CANUTE.]

Queen Emma, the widow of Ethelred, now began to set her cap for Canute,
and thus it happened that her sons again became the heirs to the throne
at her marriage, A.D. 1017.

Canute now became a good king. He built churches and monasteries, and
even went on a pilgrimage to Rome, which in those days was almost
certain to win public endorsement.

Disgusted with the flattering of his courtiers, one day as he strolled
along the shore he caused his chair to be placed at the margin of the
approaching tide, and as the water crept up into his lap, he showed them
how weak must be a mortal king in the presence of Omnipotence. He was a
humble and righteous king, and proved by his example that after all the
greatest of earthly rulers is only the most obedient servant.

He was even then the sovereign of England, Norway, and Denmark. In 1031
he had some trouble with Malcolm, King of Scotland, but subdued him
promptly, and died in 1035, leaving Hardicanute, the son of Emma, and
Sweyn and Harold, his sons by a former wife.

Harold succeeded to the English throne, Sweyn to that of Norway, and
Hardicanute to the throne of Denmark.

In the following chapter a few well-chosen remarks will be made
regarding Harold and other kings.



CHAPTER VII.


OTHER DISAGREEABLE CLAIMANTS: FOREIGN FOIBLES INTRODUCED, ONLY TO BE
EXPUNGED WITH CHARACTERISTIC PUGNACITY.


Let us now look for a moment into the reigns of Harold I. and
Hardicanute, a pair of unpopular reigns, which, although brief, were yet
long enough.

Queen Emma, of course, desired the coronation of Hardicanute, but,
though supported by Earl Godwin, a man of great influence and educated
to a high degree for his time, able indeed, it is said, at a moment's
notice, to add up things and reduce things to a common denominator, it
could not be.

Harold, the compromise candidate, reigned from 1037 to 1040. He gained
Godwin to his side, and together they lured the sons of Emma by
Ethelred--viz., Alfred and Edward--to town, and, as a sort of royal
practical joke, put out Alfred's eyes, causing his death.

Harold was a swift sprinter, and was called "Harefoot" by those who were
intimate enough to exchange calls and coarse anecdotes with him.

He died in 1040 A.D., and nobody ever had a more general approval for
doing so than Harold.

Hardicanute now came forth from his apartments, and was received as king
with every demonstration of joy, and for some weeks he and dyspepsia had
it all their own way on Piccadilly. (Report says that he drank! Several
times while under the influence of liquor he abdicated the throne with a
dull thud, but was reinstated by the Police.)

[Illustration: "KING HAROLD IS DEAD, SIRE."]

Enraged by the death of Alfred, the king had the remains of Harold
exhumed and thrown into a fen. This a-fensive act showed what a great
big broad nature Hardicanute had,--also the kind of timber used in
making a king in those days.

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