Denmark part 3 — Moesgård
In mid-June, I moved north for a few days to Ajstrup Strand Camping. It’s near Århus, which is sometimes rendered Aarhus and is pronounced much like a Glaswegian would refer to his place of residence.
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Japanese Rose at Ajstrup Strand
The site is part of the same group as at Kolding but is far more attractive. There are trees and shrubs throughout and the site has its own entrance to a clean sandy beach.
Roses were in bloom everywhere and a lovely fragrance filled the air. They were Japanese Rose (Rosa rugosa), in both red and white varieties. This shrubby rose has established itself all over Denmark and, I later discovered. much of Sweden. It is virtually a weed.
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Main house, Moesgård
I made one major excursion from there, to Moesgård, for the museum. This is associated with the university of Århus and is based on an old manor house — more a stately home — in which administration and research departments have offices.
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Front entrance, Moesgård
The museum itself is in two small buildings in front of the main block. The permanent displays are in the left hand of these.
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There were four main sets of exhibits when I visited. These were on the history of mankind in the area from earliest times, on the spoils of an ancient battle nearby, of runic memorial stones and a ‘bog man’ from Grauballe. There was also a temporary exhibition of beads and beadwork from around the world. It was all beautifully laid out and lit, much of it labelled in English as well as Danish.
Most of the right-hand block was given over to an exhibition celebrating the archaeological activities of Queen Margrethe II, whose 70th birthday was this year. The woman at reception kept directing me towards this. It had no interest for me, an idea she found hard to grasp. The Danes seem to like their royals more than we do.
Anglo-Saxon similitudes
Some years ago, during a break from a business trip to Copenhagen, I visited the Danish National Museum there. I felt an affinity with many of the Viking exhibits, because they were inevitably about the history of England as well as of Denmark. Both my parents came from eastern England so, probably fancifully, I imagine I have a genetic connection with those infamous seaborne raiders.
The display at Moesgård had a similar effect. It offers photographs, diagrams, maps, artefacts, models, dioramas, videos and explanatory panels that take you from Stone Age times to the Middle Ages and beyond. I found it engrossing.
Until visiting Denmark I didn’t realise that “Viking” is as much a job description as an ethnic identity. It means pirate and properly applies only to the plunderers from Scandinavia, not the whole people. (Here is a list of other modern English words with Scandinavian origins.)
It’s easy to forget that the Vikings were just another set of northern European invaders of the British Isles. The people they warred against — the Anglo-Saxons — were themselves invaders, being mainly German plus a few wandering Jutes. (These came from Jutland, the north-south peninsula forming the western part of Denmark.) All sides could understand the others’ speech.
Even the Norman invasion was by a set of Vikings. Led by their chief, Rollo the Walker, they had been transplanted to France 150 years before. (Rollo was reportedly too big for any horse to carry him.) They spoke a French dialect to which they had added many Norse terms and usages.
According to popular belief, somewhere in that Germano-Franco-Scandinavian mélange resides the quintessence of Englishness.
Kings and dates
If you are like me, much of this is recent understanding. The only history of the time I remember from school was akin to that parodically served up by Messrs Sellar and Yeatman. Details like this lodge in the mind:
Canute had two sons, Halfacanute and Partacanute, and two other offspring, Rathacanute and Hardlicanute, whom, however, he would never acknowledge, denying to the last that he was their Fathacanute.
The reality is nearly as dotty, with the appearance at various times of figures such as Ragnar Hairy-Breeks, Ívarr the Boneless, Eric Bloodaxe and Swein Forkbeard, not forgetting Harald Bluetooth, who centuries later gave his name to an ingenious way of draining the battery of a mobile phone.
Illerup Ådal — Face of the Enemy
The Vikings invaded one another as well the rest of the known world. This display celebrates the discovery near Århus of a strange victory rite after a failed invasion attempt about 1,800 years ago.
Having overcome a large ship-borne force, the home side broke or tore everything recovered from the enemy and dropped it into a lake at Illerup Ådal. Why they did this is uncertain today but water had powerful religious symbolism then (and today — ask any Baptist or user of a mikvah).
Horse fittings, Moesgård
Eventually the lake became a mire. Draining it for building work in the 1950s revealed what lay within and a long process of discovery, restoration and interpretation began. The results are what the museum shows today. These fittings from horse harnesses are typical of the beautiful work found.
There is also evidence of mass production and of ancient trade routes. Many of the swords were Roman, with spears and other swords made to Roman designs. This was despite what we would now call an arms embargo imposed by Rome in 200 CE. Arms smuggling is an ancient trade.
There is more about the excavation and findings at this Web page.
Rune stones
Runic was a Germanic script built of straight lines, suitable for cutting into wood or stone. It is the oldest written language in Scandinavia; examples have been found from around 200 BCE to the late Middle Ages. Over such a long period, the style, language and use of runes changed greatly (see here).
Rune stone, Moesgård
The Runic Hall at Moesgård contains seven large rune-bearing stones, all discovered in or near Århus. This dramatically illustrated example is about 4 feet (1.2 metres) high. Known as the Mask stone, it carries an inscription that, translated, reads:
Gunnulf, Øgot, Aslak and Rolf raised this stone in memory of Ful, their fellow, who died… when kings fought.
The terseness is typical, most inscriptions being to the same, almost perfunctory, formula.
Runes sometimes had a magical purpose and even (or especially) today, you can buy them on the Internet, complete with ‘readings’. Here is a typical example of the guff that accompanies them.
Historically, the magic was not always beneficent. M.R. James, in everyday life a mediaeval scholar, exploited this in Casting the Runes, one of his horripilous* ghost stories. It was later adapted for film as Night of the Demon.
*They give you goose pimples.
Grauballe Man
For thousands of years, northern Europe’s climate was colder and damper than in recent centuries. Bogs covered much of the land. Composed mainly of sphagnum moss and, in the far north, lichens, these are acidic habitats.
As the moss grew it squashed the older growth below it, creating peat. Humans have long used this for fuel and as a crude building material. Latterly, gardeners have used it as a planting matrix.
Below the surface, peat bogs are cold and airless. These characteristics, with bogs’ acidity and sphagnum’s antibiotic qualities (it’s a good wound dressing), make them excellent for preserving organic material embedded within, such as trees (‘bog oaks’) and animals, especially humans.
Over the last 150 years, several hundred ancient human bodies have been discovered in European bogs. One such was found in 1952 by a peat digger working near the village of Grauballe, about 15 miles west of Århus. The body has been dated to 55 BCE and is now on show at Moesgård.
Grauballe Man, Moesgård
I could devote a whole posting to this object, which is at once fascinating, beautiful, horrifying, sad and instructive.
The photograph is from the landing above his glass case. (I almost wrote “sarcophagus” but that literally means flesh-eater, the reverse of what the container is there to do.)
In the picture I have tried to bring out the statuesque quality of the body, which looks like something sculpted by Rodin and copied in resin. I also wanted to exploit the reflections above and below, which emphasise the darkness of the void in which the remains seem eternally suspended.
Seamus Heaney had a different response in his poem about the body. You can read more about the Grauballe Man here.
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There’s much more on the site, which extends to the coast, but I’d seen all I wanted on that visit. Besides, I needed to let Jenny out of the van; it was a hot day. It’s just as well or I’d never finish writing!
A little behind with her studies, Moesgård
I’ll end with a picture instead. This young lady, herself statuesque, was one of many students using the museum. It’s not just for tourists.
