The Kensington Runestone hoax

During the early 20^th century much excitement was caused by the “discovery” of an ancient stone that seemed to prove that Scandinavians had colonised part of what is now the United States in the 14^th century.

The Kensington Runestone

Kensington is a small community in central Minnesota, which is well-known for having attracted relatively large numbers of immigrants from Scandinavia. However, a reported discovery in 1898 seemed to suggest that the area was home to Scandinavians centuries before the Minnesota Territory became a state in 1858.

In 1898 a farmer of Swedish extraction, named Olof Ohman, claimed to have found on his land a stone slab that was carved with an ancient inscription in runic lettering – runes are a type of alphabet that was once widely used in northern Europe, including by the ancient Vikings.

It was known that explorers from northern Europe had reached the North American continent about 500 years before Columbus set sail, but could they possibly have advanced as far as Minnesota? The runes on the stone slab seemed to suggest that this was possible.

The message of the runes

When translated, the inscription read as follows:

 “Eight Goths and 22 Norwegians on an exploration journey from Vinland to the west. We had camp by two skerries one day’s journey north from this stone. We were out [to] fish. One day after we came home [we] found 10 men red of blood and dead. AVM Save [us] from evil. [We] have 10 men by the sea to look after our ships 14 days’ travel from this island. [In the year] 1362.”

(A skerry is a small rocky island. AVM is an abbreviation for Ave Maria)

 Quite clearly a fake

There are many reasons to suppose that the Kensington Runestone was a fake.

For one thing, one has to wonder why a group of explorers who had set up camp and lost some of their number to a raid (presumably by Native Americans) would have bothered to go to the trouble of carving a message on a stone which they clearly had every intention of leaving in place before heading back to their ships. Who did they expect would read it? And what would the purpose have been of leaving such a message?

On the other hand, a farmer with Scandinavian roots who was also a former stonemason might well have thought that this was a good way of establishing some sort of ancient claim to the territory for his fellow Scandinavians. 

People who have examined the Runestone have been quick to point out that nobody writing in 1362 would have expressed themselves in the language used on the stone. It uses phrasing that was common among Swedes and Norwegians living in 19^th century Minnesota but not 14^th century Scandinavia.

The runes are a mixture of letters known to have been used in the 9^th to 11^th centuries, plus some homemade symbols. However, by the 14^th century runes were only used for monumental and celebratory inscriptions, and not for general messages. On the other hand, they would not have used Arabic notation for the date.

Could a Scandinavian expedition have taken place?

When the Kensington Runestone was first “discovered” by Olof Ohman there were plenty of people who were perfectly happy to accept it as genuine. Many settlers from Europe were unhappy with the notion that they were usurpers in someone else’s land, and they therefore welcomed evidence of former settlement by people of the same genetic background as themselves. 

However, there is no evidence that any such event as detailed on the stone could have happened. Mention is made of “Vinland”, this being an area – possibly in what is now the Canadian province of New Brunswick – that was settled very briefly by Viking explorers in the early 11^th century. It was certainly not in Viking hands in the mid-14^th century.

Various claims have been made for the authenticity of Viking “finds” on mainland North America, but none have been convincing. The only item that looks to be at all genuine is an 11^th century Norwegian coin that was found at a Native American site in Maine. However, there is nothing to suggest that this could not have been “planted”.

The evidence all points to the fact that, although Scandinavians did reach the mainland of North America towards the end of the 10^th century, they did not stay for long. They had little reason to settle, and did not do so.

© John Welford

HMS Dreadnought and the Abyssinian princes

One day in 1910 the crew of HMS Dreadnought played host to a rapidly arranged royal visit. The ship, which was the British Navy’s flagship and its pride and joy, was lying at anchor in Weymouth Bay off the Dorset coast as part of the Home and Atlantic Fleets. The visitors, so the ship’s officers were informed, would be four princes from Abyssinia, who were to be made welcome, shown every courtesy, and – in effect – treated like the royalty they were. A telegram, signed by the Under-Secretary of State at the Foreign Office, made this abundantly clear.

At about the time that the telegram was being received, the stationmaster at London’s Waterloo Station was being harangued by a man in a posh suit and a top hat who told him that he was Herbert Cholmondesly from the Foreign Office and that he needed a special VIP coach to be added to the next train to Weymouth so that four princes from Abyssinia could be conveyed on a visit to the Royal Navy. They would, of course, need to be welcomed appropriately at the other end of the line.

And that is what happened. The coach was duly provided, the princes boarded it, and a few hours later they arrived at Weymouth to be given the full VIP treatment with a guard of honour.

They were ferried out to HMS Dreadnought where they were piped aboard the ship which had been duly decked with flags and bunting. One problem was that the ship did not have a flag of Abyssinia that they could fly, nor did the ship’s band have the music for the Abyssinian national anthem. They did the next best thing, in their view, by running up the flag of Zanzibar and playing the Zanzibar national anthem. They might have been concerned that the princes would be offended, but in the end their worries were groundless – these “princes” were none the wiser, because they were not from Abyssinia or anywhere remotely close to it.

The Royal Navy, and the stationmaster at Waterloo, had fallen victim to a superbly organized prank, courtesy of William de Vere Cole, who must count as one of the greatest practical jokers Britain has ever produced. It was he who sent the telegram to HMS Dreadnought and he was the man who claimed to be Herbert Cholmondesly of the Foreign Office.

The four princes were nothing of the sort. One of them was actually the novelist Virginia Woolf! The four friends of de Vere Cole were fully made up and costumed by a professional theatre make-up artist – another friend of the joker. They were accompanied on the trip by Woolf’s brother Adrian (as “interpreter”) and de Vere Cole himself.

Once on board HMS Dreadnought the “princes” performed their roles in ways that would have excited the suspicion of anyone who knew anything about life in Abyssinia, but fortunately for them that did not include any of the people they met.

The jokers handed out visiting cards printed in Swahili and spoke in Latin, disguised by what they hoped was a passable East African accent. The only non-Latin expression they uttered was “bunga-bunga!”, which was their appreciation when shown anything of interest.

As they were shown around they bestowed Abyssinian military honours on the senior officers. At sunset they requested prayer mats. However, they refused all offers of refreshment, this being done just in case any of their false lips fell off while eating or drinking.

There were two occasions on which the hoax might have backfired. The first was when half of one of the princes’ moustaches flew off when he sneezed – he was able to recover it and stick it back on before anyone noticed.

The second was when the group was introduced to an officer who was not only related to Virginia Woolf but was also well acquainted with William de Vere Cole, who was not in disguise. Either the officer really did not recognize them or he realized that the arch-joker was up to his tricks again, and spilling the beans would cause far too much embarrassment all round.

After photographs were taken (see above), the visitors returned to shore and thence to London, presumably laughing all the way.

There must have been red faces at the Admiralty when the story emerged that all it took for the pride of the Royal Navy to be boarded by perfect strangers was a fake telegram and a brilliant piece of theatrical make-up. Fortunately, military security has been improved in the century since this trick was pulled off with such great success!

© John Welford