The Fall Of Christian Ii The Tyrant
It was in November, 1520, that Christian II. of Denmark was crowned king
of Sweden. Norway was his as well and he was monarch of the whole
Scandinavian world. He had reached the highest point in his career, but
so great had been his cruelty and treachery that all men feared and no
man trusted him and he was on the brink of a sudden and complete
overthrow. The man who had worn the crowns of three kingdoms was to spend
y
ars within the narrow walls of a dungeon, with none to pity him in his
misery, but all to think that he deserved it all and more. Barely has
tyranny met with such retribution on earth, and the "Fall of the Tyrant"
will serve as a fitting title to an impressive tale.
So sudden and successful was the rebellion of the Swedes under Gustavus
Vasa, that in the summer of the year after the massacre in the Great
Square of Stockholm the Danes held only that city and a few other
strongholds in Sweden. One after another these fell, Calmar and Stockholm
in 1523, and in June of that year Gustavus was chosen king of the land
which his hand had freed. A young man still, he was at the beginning of a
great and glorious reign.
Before he became king, Christian, his great enemy, had ceased to reign.
He had shown the same inhuman spirit in Denmark and Norway as in Sweden
and had sown his whole dominion thick with enemies.
This is the way his fall was brought about. In 1522 he issued a code of
laws for Denmark of a wise and progressive character, especially in
freeing the peasantry from the slavish condition in which they had been
held, they before being open to purchase and sale like so many brute
animals. Christian declared that every man should be his own master and
took steps to limit the power and wealth of the clergy and to improve the
commerce of the kingdom.
These changes, while wise and important, were difficult to introduce
against the opposition of the lords and the clergy and needed the hand of
a prudent and judicious administrator. Such Christian was not. He
undertook them rashly and endeavored to enforce them by violence. Even
the people, whom the new laws so favored, were incensed by a great
increase in their taxes. No one trusted him; every one hated and feared
him. Even the monarchs of other countries detested him and would not aid
him in his extremity.
The details of the blood-bath in Stockholm had reached the ears of the
Pope and he sent a legate to inquire into the atrocities committed under
the implied sanction of the Church. As they were not to be concealed,
Christian attempted to excuse them, and, driven to extremity, accused one
of his chief favorites, Didrik Slaghoek, as the originator of the
massacre.
Slaghoek had just been named archbishop of Lund, but was brought to
Copenhagen, examined under torture, condemned to death, and carried to
the gallows and thence to a funeral pile on which he was burned alive,
Christian leaving the town that he might not witness the cruel death of
his late favorite.
This cowardly sacrifice of his devoted friend and servant, instead of
winning the favor of the people, redoubled their abhorrence of the
bloodthirsty tyrant. Shortly afterwards the Luebeckers invaded the
kingdom, and Christian, not trusting his people, called in foreign
soldiers to repel them. Needing money for their pay, he called a diet to
meet on December 10, 1522. Few attended it, and in anger he called a new
meeting for the following January.
Before the date arrived rumors were set afloat that he intended to
butcher the Danish nobles as he had done those of Sweden, that chains
were being provided to secure them, and that he would have disguised
executioners among his guards; also that new and heavier taxes were to be
laid on the peasants.
These rumors, widely circulated, incensed and frightened the nobility and
a meeting was held by the nobles of Jutland in which they determined to
renounce their allegiance to Christian and offer the crown to his uncle,
Frederick, duke of Holstein.
Magnus Munk, one of these lords, was chosen to deliver their decision to
Christian and sought him for this purpose. But it was far from safe to
offer King Christian such a document openly, and Munk pretended to be
making a friendly visit, conversing and drinking with the king until a
late hour of the night. On rising to retire, he thrust into Christian's
glove, which had been left on the table, the letter of renouncement of
the Jutland nobles.
Instead of going to bed, Munk hastened to the vessel in which he had come
and sailed to Holstein, where he made to Frederick the offer of the
crown. As may be imagined, there was little hesitation in accepting it.
The next morning a page of the palace found the king's glove on the table
and took it to him. On reading the letter which he found in it the tyrant
was filled with fear and fury. He sent guards to seize Munk, but when
told that he was not to be found, his terror grew intense. He knew not
where to turn nor what to do. He might have gathered an army of the
peasants, to whom he had just given freedom, to fight the nobles, but
instead he wrote to the lords, abjectly acknowledging his faults and
promising to act differently in the future.
They were not to be won, no one trusting him. Then the terrified tyrant
hurried to Copenhagen and rode round the streets, imploring the citizens
with tears to aid him, confessing his errors and vowing to change his
ways. Many of the people, unused to see a king in tears, were moved by
his petitions, but no wise man trusted him, few came to his assistance,
and the sedition rapidly gained strength.
At length he took a desperate step. In the harbor lay twenty large
warships, which he might have used for defence, but in his terror he
thought only of flight. All the treasure he could lay hands on was
carried to these vessels, even the gilt balls on top of the church spires
being taken. Sigbrit, a detestable favorite, who had given him much evil
counsel and dared not show herself to the enraged people, was carried on
board in a chest and placed among his valuables. He, his wife and
children, and a few faithful servants, followed, and on the 20th of
April, 1523, he set sail from his native land in a passion of grief and
despair. A violent storm scattered his ships, but the one that bore him
reached Antwerp in safety. Sigbrit, who had crept from her trunk, sought
to console him by saying that if he could no longer be king of Denmark he
might at least become burgomaster of Amsterdam.
Thus did this cruel and contemptible coward, who less than three years
before had been unquestioned monarch of all Scandinavia, lose the crown
he was so unfit to wear, and land, a despised fugitive, in a Dutch city,
with but a handful of followers. His fall was thoroughly well deserved,
for it was an immediate consequence of the detestation he had aroused by
his deed of blood in Stockholm, and there was scarce a man in Europe to
pity him in his degradation.
It was a sad thing that the salutary laws he had promulgated in the last
year of his reign came from so evil a source. Frederick was forced by the
nobles to whom he owed his throne to abrogate them, and the code was even
burned as "a dangerous book contrary to good morals." The peasants fell
back into their former state of semi-slavery and for centuries afterwards
failed to enjoy the freedom accorded to the people of their sister states
of Norway and Sweden.
In the years that followed the deposed king went from court to court of
the German princes, seeking help to regain his throne, but meeting with
scorn and contempt from some of them and refusal from all. He still
retained much of the wealth of which he had robbed Copenhagen, and now,
in despair of obtaining assistance, he took into his service a number of
soldiers of fortune whom a treaty of peace had lately thrown out of
employment.
With these sons of adventure, twelve thousand in all, he ravaged Holland,
which had recently afforded him refuge, doing so much mischief that he
was at length bought off. The emperor, Charles V., then ruler over
Holland and brother-in-law to the adventurer, paid him the fifty thousand
gulden still due on his wife's dower and gave him twelve battle-ships in
addition. The Dutch whom he was plundering helped in this as the easiest
way to be quit of him, and, with a body of experienced troops, with
funds and a fleet, the hope of winning back his old dominions arose in
his soul.
There were many malcontents then in Sweden, ready to aid him in an
invasion, and the clergy and nobility of Norway, dissatisfied with
Frederick's rule, subscribed large sums in money and plate for his aid.
Finally, thus strengthened and encouraged, Christian set sail for the
Northland with twenty-five ships and an army of eight thousand men.
Unfortunately for him the elements proved adverse, a violent storm
scattering the fleet and sending nearly half of it to the bottom. He had
only fifteen ships and a reduced number of men when, in November, 1531,
he landed at Obslo, Norway.
The nobles and people, however, discontented with Frederick's government
and eager for a king of their own choice, declared for him and at a diet
held at Obslo proclaimed him king, only a few nobles dissenting. These,
however, held the strongest fortresses in the kingdom. One of these was
Magnus Gyllenstierna, governor of Aggerhus. Against this stronghold
Christian led all his force and might easily have taken it, for it was
lacking in provisions, but for a stratagem by which Magnus saved himself
and his fortress.
He sent word to Christian that the place was too weak for him to attempt
to hold and that he had seen the king's success with pleasure; but, to
save himself from the imputation of cowardice, he begged leave for time
to ask King Frederick for assistance. If none came before the 1st of May
he would willingly surrender the place.
Adept in deceit as Christian was, he this time suffered himself to be
tricked. At the suggestion of Magnus a thousand men were sent from
Denmark, and led by secret paths over mountains and through forests in
all haste, throwing themselves into Aggerhus while Christian was watching
the seas to intercept them. In a rage he hurried back to renew the siege,
but the shrewd commandant was now strong enough to defy him.
Ture Joensson, one of the Swedish nobles who had joined Christian, led a
portion of his forces against the fortress of Bohus, writing to its
commandant, Klass Bille, a letter in which he set forth the great change
for good which had come upon King Christian and begging him to side with
his Grace. He closed in the manner customary in those days: "Commending
you, with your dear wife, children, and friends, hereby to God's
protection."
On the next day he received the following answer:
"Greeting suited to the season.
Learn, Ture Joensson, that I yesterday received your writing with
some of your loose words with which you sought to seduce me from my
honor, soil my integrity and oath, and make me like yourself, which
God, who preserves the consciences of all honest men, forbid. To the
long and false talk which your letter contains, I confess myself,
by God's providence to be too good to give you any other answer than
this which my letter conveys. You have so often turned and worn your
coat, and it is now so miserably thread-bare on both sides, that it
is no longer fit to appear among the apparel of any honest man. No
more this time, I commend you to him to whom God the Father
commended that man who betrayed His only Son,
Ex Bohus.
Sunday next before Lady-day, 1531."
Klass Bille proved as good with an answer by balls and blows as by pen,
and the Castle of Bohus defied all attempts to take it.
Meanwhile the Swedish exiles were writing to their friends at home, and,
elated by the capture of a Swedish fort, Christian marched his army
towards the frontier, and made ready to invade the kingdom from which he
had been driven two years before.
But Gustavus and Frederick were not idle. They recognized the danger of
this invasion and prepared to meet it, renewing their treaties that they
might work loyally together. Gustavus wrote to his officers not to fight
with Christian unless they were from four to six times as strong, as he
wished to give him a reception that would cure him of all future desire
to return to Sweden.
The forces of Christian and Gustavus first met at Kungelf, where
Christian looked with disturbed eyes on his antagonists as he saw them
marching across a frozen river, among them three thousand men in armor of
polished steel. Turning to Ture Joensson, who stood beside him, he said
wrathfully:
"You said that there was not a man-at-arms in Sweden. What see you
yonder? Do you think those old women?"
The next morning Ture Joensson's body was found lying headless in the
street, whether thus punished by Christian for his lies or by some Swede
for his treason, is not known.
The war began with equal fortune at first to each side, but later fortune
turned in favor of the Swedes, while food grew scarce in Christian's
army, his foragers being beaten back wherever they appeared. Soon, with
an army dwindled to two thousand men, he was forced to march back to
Obslo.
So far Gustavus's army had been fighting alone, and it was not until
March, 1532, that some Danish ships of war arrived. But their coming soon
ended the war. They burned Christian's vessels and reinforced Aggerhus,
and in May sailed towards Obslo.
Christian's hopes of success were now at an end. He had made his final
effort and had failed. His men were forsaking him in troops and
resistance to his foes became impossible. As a last resort he tried a
crafty expedient, contriving to get some forged letters distributed in
the Danish camp to the effect that twenty Dutch men-of-war, with five
thousand troops, were coming to his aid.
The Danish commander, alarmed at this report, hastened to conclude peace
with him, on condition that all who had taken part in the rebellion
should be pardoned. Christian was to cross to Denmark, and if he could
not agree with Frederick was to be free to go to Germany, on giving a
solemn oath never again to make any attempt on the three Scandinavian
kingdoms.
Before this treaty was confirmed messengers arrived from Frederick who
discovered the condition of Christian to be hopeless and insisted on an
unconditional surrender. But Knut, the Danish admiral, who had been given
full power to act, took Christian on his ships and sailed with him to
Denmark, where he insisted that the conditions he had made should be
observed.
Frederick and his council were in a strait. To let this tiger loose again
was too dangerous, and finally some pretext for breaking the treaty was
made and Christian was sentenced to a life imprisonment in the Castle of
Sanderberg on the island of Femern. Frederick and his son were obliged to
confirm this sentence by a written promise to the Danish nobles that they
would never release the detested prisoner.
When Christian learned that the convention had been broken he wept
bitterly, lamenting that "he had fallen into the hands of men who cared
neither for oaths, promises, nor seals."
These complaints no one heeded. He was taken deep into the dungeons of
Sanderberg Castle, and locked up in a dark and narrow prison vault
destitute of every convenience, his only companion being a half-witted
dwarf who had long been in his service. With the harshness common in
those days, and which in his case was well deserved, the door of the
cell was walled up, only one small opening being left through which he
could receive the scanty allowance of food brought him, and a little
barred window through which some sparse light could make its way.
In this dreadful prison the captive remained twelve years without the
slightest amelioration of its conditions. Then the door was opened and
fresh air and other conveniences were allowed him, but a strict watch was
kept up. Finally in 1549, five years later, it being believed that no
harm could possibly come from an old man sixty-eight years of age, he was
taken to Kallendborg Castle, where he was permitted to entertain himself
by hunting or in any other manner he pleased. He lived ten years later,
ending in 1559 a life whose misfortunes were a just reward for his
faithlessness and cruelty in his day of power.