In 1876, German theatergoers were abuzz about a hot new ticket in town. Titled Der Ring
des Nibelungen, or The Ring of the Nibelung, Richard
Wagner’s musical drama played out over an astounding 15 hours and portrayed Norse and
German legends all vying for a magical ring that could grant them untold power. To make
his characters look especially formidable, costume designer Carl Emil Doepler made sure
they were wearing their trademark horned helmets. The whole thing made the cast look like a
herd of stampeding bison. It’s a miracle no one lost an eye. These 19th-century German
theaters didn’t have actors’ unions, you know.
Over time, horned helmets became practically synonymous with Vikings. But wait a second.
Did Vikings actually wear those trademark horned helmets, or was that simply a figment
of someone’s overly active imagination? Since this is a video about misconceptions,
and I’m Justin Dodd, who loves pointing out historical inaccuracies, you probably
know where this is going.
Before we really stick it to Doepler, let’s talk about what we mean when we say Viking.
From the late 8th century to the middle of the 11th century, Scandinavians were scanning
the seas and sailing to whatever parts of Europe they could. Modern-day Russia, Iceland—even
Greenland and Newfoundland, outside of Europe, were among their destinations. Their reputation
for mercilessness has made them infamous in world history.
Or you might just know them from Hägar the Horrible, the beloved comic strip character
who was a Viking but kept all the savagery off-panel. Hägar, what kind of hijinks will
you get up to next? I swear.
It was fiction like Hagar that helped reinforce the myth that Vikings went out to plunder
and pillage while wearing helmets with horns on them. In fact, most any portrayal of a
Viking you see in the media today will feature this headgear. But the historical record doesn’t
support horned helmets—especially not in battle. Viking helmets were typically made
of iron or leather, and it’s possible some Vikings went without one altogether, since
helmets were an expensive item at the time. In fact, archaeologists have uncovered only
one authentic Viking helmet, and it was made of iron and sans horns, which some historians
and battle experts believe would have had absolutely no combat benefit whatsoever. Horns
probably would have just gotten caught in tree branches. Ridiculous.
So where did Carl Emil Doepler, our influential costume designer, get his idea for horned
helmets? There were earlier illustrations of Vikings in occasionally horned but more
often winged helmets, and he may also have been inspired by the idea that Norse and Germanic
priests wore horned helmets for ceremonial purposes. This was centuries before Vikings
turned up, though. Some historians argue that there is *some* evidence of ritualistic horned
helmets in the Viking Age, but *if* they existed they would have been decorative horns that
priests wore—not something intended for combat.
Composer Richard Wagner was not all that pleased with this turn of events. He didn’t want
his opera to be mired in cheap tropes or grandiose costumes. Wagner’s wife, Cosima, was also
irritated, saying that Doepler’s wardrobe smacked of “provincial tastelessness.”
That was probably an awkward opening night afterparty.
So how did Doepler’s rendering of Vikings become the enduring one? Der Ring des Nibelungen
went on tour. The production traveled through Europe for years in the late 19th and early
20th centuries. Other artists were inspired by the look of the musical and began using
Viking helmets in their own depictions, including in children’s books. Pretty soon, a horned
helmet was standard Viking dress code. Hägar, you amused us with your pithy takes on married
life, but you also lied to us. It’s a complicated legacy to leave.
When tales of Viking action spread throughout Europe, they were sometimes accompanied by
ferocious-sounding nicknames. Eric the Strong, Eric the Merciless, and Eric
the Insurance Claims Adjuster are just a few that we made up. But these kinds of nicknames
did exist. They may have been a handy way to refer to Vikings with reputations for being
hardcore because Viking surnames were in short supply. If you wanted to separate yourself
from others with the same name, you needed a nickname. But plenty of Vikings also had
less intimidating labels.
Take, for instance, Ǫlvir the Friend of Children. Sweet, right? Actually, Ǫlvir
got his name because he refused to murder children. Whether that name was bestowed upon
him by grateful villagers or by Vikings mocking him for having a moral code is not known.
You want more Viking nicknames? We’ve got them.
Hálfdan the Generous and the Stingy with Food was said to pay his men very generously,
but apparently didn’t feed them, leading to this contradictory nickname.
Ragnarr Hairy Breeches was said to have donned furry pants when he fought a dragon, as one
does.
Other unfortunate-but-real Viking names include Ulf the Squint-Eyed, Eirik Ale-Lover, Eystein
Foul-Fart, Skagi the Ruler of S***, and Kolbeinn Butter Penis. While the historical record
is vague on how these names came to be, the truth is never going to be as good as whatever
it is you’re thinking right now.
When someone like Kolbeinn Butter Penis died, it would only be fitting that they were laid
to rest with dignity. And if you know anything about Vikings from pop culture, you know that
meant setting them on fire and pushing them out to sea.
While that is extremely metal, it’s not accurate. Vikings had funerals similar to
pretty much everyone else. When one of them died, they were often buried in the ground.
Archaeologists in Norway uncovered one such burial site in 2019, where at least 20 burial
mounds were discovered.
The lead archaeologist on the site, Raymond Savage of the Norwegian University of Science
and Technology, told Atlas Obscura that, quote:
“We have no evidence for waterborne Viking funeral pyres in Scandinavia. I honestly do
not know where this conception derives from, and it should be regarded as a modern myth.
Normal burial practice was that people were buried on land, in burial mounds.”
The flaming ship myth may have come from a combination of two real Viking death practices.
Vikings did sometimes entomb their dead in their ships, although the vessels remained
on land where they were buried. And they did sometimes have funeral pyres. At some point
in the historical record, someone may have combined these two scenarios and imagined
that Vikings set ships ablaze before sending them out to sea with their dead still on board.
These are probably the same people who were responsible for painting murals on the side
of their band’s vans, but we cannot confirm that at this time.
Another Viking fact? Those higher up the community’s hierarchy, like respected warriors, would
get bigger burial mounds than others. Vikings would even bury entire homes or use them as
morgues.
Viking burial sites have also revealed one other misunderstanding about these proud pillagers—that
they didn’t like to have a quiet night in once in a while. Many Viking burial boats
that were later examined by archaeologists were found to have board games that were placed
with the dead. The boards and pieces were made of ivory, bone, glass, whalebone, or
amber and included games like hnefatafl, which was a little like chess. In life, the
games were probably used to pass the time on boats. In death, they may have been buried
with people to help Vikings pass the time in the afterlife.
When I say the word Viking, you probably imagine a large and formidable individual swinging
a sharp weapon at someone’s head before taking their valuables. While it’s true
Vikings were violent, they weren’t necessarily the most experienced or talented warriors
of their day. In fact, they were mostly normal people who decided plundering would be a great
side hustle in the gig economy of Europe.
Historians believe Vikings were made up mostly of farmers, fishermen, and even peasants rather
than burly Conan the Barbarian types. They were more like live-action role players than
seasoned combat veterans—but, ya know, with pointier weapons. Considering that the coastal
villages they attacked probably didn’t put up much resistance, one could be a Viking
and not even have to fight all that much.
You can blame this fierce rep on the one squad of Vikings that actually fit the bill. Known
as berserkers, these particular Vikings worshipped Odin, the god of war and death, and took Odin’s
interests to heart. Some Vikings were said to have fought so fiercely that it was as
though they had entered a kind of trance. If they were waiting around too long for a
fight to start, it was said they might start killing each other.
Unfortunately, having an attack squad of incredibly violent soldiers could sometimes backfire
on Vikings who were more into strategy. When Olav Haraldsson was fighting in the Battle
of Stiklestad in 1030, he placed a group of berserkers in place to hold
the line. Instead, they went berserk and attacked, losing the battle and paving the way for one
Leeroy Jenkins.
So while it’s true not all Vikings were LARPers who would have been just fine with
a foam sword, the majority just wanted to make a quick buck, and relatively few went
berserk in battle.
Have you ever stopped to think about what a Viking must smell like? All that time at
sea, all that sweat, dirty clothing, and lack of hot water? Depictions of Vikings would
have you believe that they smelled like a marathon runner’s armpit. Don’t fall for
it. Vikings were actually fond of manscaping.
Archaeologists have unearthed a significant amount of personal grooming products over
the years that belonged to Vikings, including tweezers, combs, toothpicks, and ear cleaners.
Vikings were also known to have bathed at least once a week, which may not sound like
a lot, but when you’re in 11th century Europe basically qualifies you as a germaphobe—if
you knew what germs were, which you wouldn’t. The point is, these were clean people, or
about as clean as you’re going to get without a body wash and a loofah on hand.
Vikings put so much attention on bathing that Saturday was devoted to it. They called it
Laugardagur, or bathing day. They even had soap made from animal fat.
Hygiene was only one aspect of their routine. Vikings put time and effort into styling their
hair and sometimes even dyed it using lye. Their beards were neatly trimmed. They also
were known to wear eyeliner. All of this preening was said to make Vikings a rather attractive
prospect to women in villages they raided, as other men of the era were somewhat reluctant
to bathe.
Sure, a Viking could decimate a community, but they were also ready for the nighttime
club scene—which may have involved actual clubbing, but you get what I’m saying.
Grab a random depiction of a Viking battle and it will probably feature a ton of dudes.
And it’s true Vikings had a very nuclear family approach to domesticity. Women were
expected to focus on housework while the men went to the office. And by office, I mean
murdering people with axes.
But considering the times, Vikings actually had a fairly progressive approach to gender
roles. Women could own property, challenge any kind of marriage arrangement, and even
request a divorce if things weren’t working out at home. To do so, at least as one story
tells it, they’d have to ask witnesses to come over, stand near her bed, and watch as
she declared a separation. Bingo, instant divorce.
If a woman’s husband died, she assumed the role of head of household. One woman, Aud
the Deep-Minded, organized a migration to Iceland where her spouse passed away. I say
passed away like he wasn’t killed in bloody battle. I’m just trying to keep it respectful.
In addition to having a relatively high degree of independence, Viking women were also known
to pick up a weapon and bash some heads on occasion. The historical record of a battle
in 971 CE says that women had fought and died alongside the men. A woman who donned armor
was known as a “shieldmaiden.” Once again, so metal. They were trained in combat and
not to be underestimated. According to legend, over 300 shieldmaidens fought in the Battle
of Brávellir in the eighth century and successfully kept their enemies at bay.
One of the most notable shieldmaidens was a warrior named Lathgertha who so impressed
a famous Viking named Ragnar Lothbrok—he of the Hairy Breeches—that he became smitten
and asked for her hand in marriage. Honestly, better than most rom com plots I’ve seen.
That’s it for all the positive Viking PR for today. Let us know which board game you’d
like to be buried with in the comments below. Thank you for watching.