Discovery of the Island by Naddodr in 861.—Gardar.—Floki of the Ravens.—Ingolfr and Leif.—Ulfliot the Lawgiver.—The Althing.—Thingvalla.—Introduction of Christianity into the Island.—Frederick the Saxon and Thorwold the Traveller.—Thangbrand.—Golden Age of Icelandic Literature.—Snorri Sturleson.—The Island submits to Hakon, King of Norway, in 1254.—Long Series of Calamities.—Great Eruption of the Skapta Jökul in 1783.—Commercial Monopoly.—Better Times in Prospect.
The Norse vikings were, as is well known, the boldest of navigators. They possessed neither the sextant nor the compass; they had neither charts nor chronometers to guide them; but trusting solely to fortune, and to their own indomitable courage, they fearlessly launched forth into the vast ocean. Many of these intrepid corsairs were no doubt lost on their adventurous expeditions, but frequently a favorable chance rewarded their temerity, either with some rich booty or some more glorious discovery.
Thus in the year 861, Naddodr, a Norwegian pirate, while sailing from his native coast to the Faeroe Islands, was drifted by contrary winds far to the90 north. For several days no land was visible—nothing but an interminable waste of waters; when suddenly the snow-clad mountains of Iceland were seen to rise above the mists of the ocean. Soon after Naddodr landed with part of his crew, but discovered no traces of man in the desert country. The viking tarried but a short time on this unpromising coast, on which he bestowed the appropriate name of Snowland.
Three years later, Gardar, another northern freebooter, while sailing to the Hebrides, was likewise driven by stormy weather to Iceland. He was the first circumnavigator of the island, which he called, after himself, Gardar’s holm, or the island of Gardar. On his return to his native port, he gave his countrymen so flattering an account of the newly-discovered land, that Floki, a famous viking, resolved to settle there. Trusting to the augury of birds, Floki took with him three ravens to direct him on his way. Having sailed a certain distance beyond the Faeroe Islands, he gave liberty to one of them, which immediately returned to the land. Proceeding onward, he loosed the second, which, after circling for a few minutes round the ship, again settled on its cage, as if terrified by the boundless expanse of the sea. The third bird, on obtaining his liberty a few days later, proved at length a faithful pilot, and flying direct to the north, conducted Floki to Iceland. As the sea-king entered the broad bay which is bounded on the left by the huge Snäfells Jökul, and on the right by the bold promontory of the Guldbringe Syssel, Faxa, one of his companions, remarked that a land with such noble features must needs be of considerable extent. To reward him for this remark, which flattered the vanity or the ambition of his leader, the bay was immediately named Faxa Fiord, as it is still called to the present day. The new colonists, attracted by the abundance of fish they found in the bay, built their huts on the borders of a small outlet, still bearing the name of Rafna Fiord, or the Raven’s Frith; but as they neglected to make hay for the winter, the horses and cattle they had brought with them died of want. Disappointed in his expectations, Floki returned home in the second year, and, as might naturally have been expected from an unsuccessful settler, gave his countrymen but a dismal account of Iceland, as he definitely named it.
Yet, in spite of his forbidding description, the political disturbances which took place about this time in Norway led to the final colonization of the island. Harold Haarfager, or the Fair-haired, a Scandinavian yarl, having by violence and a successful policy reduced all his brother-yarls to subjection, first consolidated their independent domains into one realm, and made himself absolute master of the whole country. Many of his former equals submitted to his yoke; but others, animated by that unconquerable love of liberty innate in men who for many generations have known no superior, preferred seeking a new home across the ocean to an ignominious vassalage under the detested Harold. Ingolfr and his cousin Leif were the first of these high-minded nobles that emigrated (869–870) to Iceland.
On approaching the southern coast, Ingolfr cast the sacred pillars belonging to his former dwelling into the water, and vowed to establish himself on the spot to which they should be wafted by the waves. His pious intentions were for the time frustrated, as a sudden squall separated him from his penates, and91 forced him to locate himself on a neighboring promontory, which to this day bears the name of Ingolfrshofde. Here he sojourned three years, until the followers he had sent out in quest of the missing pillars at length brought him the joyful news that they had been found on the beach of the present site of Reykjavik, whither, in obedience to what he supposed to be the divine summons, he instantly removed. Ingolfr’s friend and relative Leif was shortly after assassinated by some Irish slaves whom he had captured in a predatory descent on the Hibernian coast. The surviving chieftain deplored the loss of his kinsman, lamenting “that so valiant a man should fall by such villains,” but found consolation by killing the murderers and annexing the lands of their victim. When, in course of time, he himself felt his end approaching, he requested to be buried on a hill overlooking the fiord, that from that elevated site his spirit might have a better view of the land of which he was the first inhabitant.
Such are the chronicles related in the “Landnama Bok,” or “Book of Occupation,” one of the earliest records of Icelandic history.
Ingolfr and his companions were soon followed by other emigrants desirous of escaping from the tyranny of Harold Haarfager, who at first favored a movement that removed far beyond the sea so many of his turbulent opponents, but subsequently, alarmed at the drain of population, or desirous of profiting by the exodus, levied a fine of four ounces of silver on all who left his dominions to settle in Iceland. Yet such were the attractions which the island at that time presented, that, in spite of all obstacles, not half a century elapsed before all its inhabitable parts were occupied, not only by Norwegians, but also by settlers from Denmark and Sweden, Scotland and Ireland.
The Norwegians brought with them their language and idolatry, their customs and historical records, which the other colonists, but few in numbers, were compelled to adopt. At first the udal, or free land-hold system of their own country, was in vigor, but every leader of a band of emigrants being chosen, by force of circumstances, as the acknowledged chief of the district occupied by himself and companions, speedily paved the way for a demi-feudal system of vassalage and subservience. As the arrival of new settlers rendered the possession of the land more valuable, endless contests between these petty chiefs arose for the better pastures and fisheries. To put an end to this state of anarchy, so injurious to the common weal, Ulfliot the Wise was commissioned to frame a code of laws, which the Icelanders, by a single simultaneous and peaceful effort, accepted as their future constitution.
The island was now divided into four provinces and twelve districts. Each district had its own judge, and its own popular “Thing,” or assembly; but the national will was embodied and represented by the “Althing,” or supreme parliament of Iceland, which annually met at Thingvalla, under an elective president, or “Logmathurman,” the chief magistrate of this northern republic.
On the banks of the river Oxeraa, where the rapid stream, after forming a magnificent cascade, rushes into the lake of Thingvalla, lies the spot where, for many a century, freemen met to debate, while despotic barbarians still reigned over the milder regions of Europe. Isolated on all sides by deep volcanic chasms, which some great revolution of nature has rent in the vast lava-field92 around, and embosomed in a wide circle of black precipitous hills, the situation of Thingvalla is extremely romantic, but the naked dark-colored rocks, and the traces of subterranean fire visible on every side, impart a stern melancholy to the scene. The lake, the largest sheet of water in the island, is about thirty miles in circumference; its boundaries have undergone many changes, especially during the earthquakes of the past century, when its northern margin collapsed, while the opposite one was raised. The depth of its crystal waters is very great, and in its centre rise two small crater-islands, the result of some unknown eruption. The mountains on its south bank have a picturesque appearance, and large volumes of steam issuing from several hot sources on their sides prove that, though all be tranquil now, the volcanic fires are not extinct. Only a few traces of the ancient Althing are left—three small mounds, where sat in state the chiefs and judges of the land—for as the assembly used to pitch their tents on the borders of the stream, and the deliberations were held in the open air, there are no imposing ruins to bear witness to a glorious past. But though all architectural pomp be absent, the scene hallowed by the recollections of a thousand years is one of deep interest to the traveller. The great features of nature are the same as when the freemen of Iceland assembled to settle the affairs of their little world; but the raven now croaks where the orator appealed to the reason or the passions of his audience, and the sheep of the neighboring pastor crop undisturbed the grass of desecrated Thingvalla.
53. THINGVALLA, LÖGBERG, AND ALMANNAGJA.
Mr. Ross Browne thus describes the scene: “After a slight repast I walked out to take a look at the Lögberg, or Rock of Laws, which is situated about93 half a mile from the church. This is, perhaps, of all the objects of historical association in Iceland, the most interesting. It was here the judges tried criminals, pronounced judgments, and executed their stern decrees. On a small plateau of lava, separated from the general mass by a profound abyss on every side, save a narrow neck barely wide enough for a foothold, the famous “Thing” assembled once a year, and, secured from intrusion in their deliberations by the terrible chasm around, passed laws for the weal or woe of the people. It was only necessary to guard the causeway by which they entered; all other sides were well protected by the encircling moat, which varies from thirty to forty feet in width, and is half filled with water. The total depth to the bottom, which is distinctly visible through the crystal pool, must be sixty or seventy feet. Into this yawning abyss the unhappy criminals were cast, with stones around their necks, and many a long day did they lie beneath the water, a ghastly spectacle for the crowd that peered at them over the precipice. All was now as silent as the grave. Eight centuries had passed, and yet the strange scenes that had taken place here were vividly before me. I could imagine the gathering crowds, the rising hum of voices; the pause, the shriek, and plunge; the low murmur of horror, and then the stern warning of the lawgivers and the gradual dispersing of the multitude. The dimensions of the plateau are four or five hundred feet in length by an average of sixty or eighty in width. The surface is now covered with a fine coating of sod and grass, and furnishes good pasturage for the sheep belonging to the pastor.”
Christianity was first preached in Iceland about the year 981, by Friedrich, a Saxon bishop, to whom Thorwald the traveller, an Icelander, acted as interpreter. Thorwald having been treated with great severity by his father, Kodran, had fled to Denmark, where he had been converted by Friedrich. He returned with the pious bishop to his paternal home, where the solemn service of the Christians made some impression on Kodran, but still the obstinate pagan could not be prevailed upon to renounce his ancient gods. “He must believe,” said he, “the word of his own priest, who was wont to give him excellent advice.” “Well, then,” replied Thorwald, “this venerable man whom I have brought to thy dwelling is weak and infirm, while thy well-fed priest is full of vigor. Wilt thou believe in the power of our God if the bishop drives him hence?” Friedrich now cast a few drops of holy water on the priest, which immediately burnt deep holes into his skin, so that he fled, uttering dreadful curses. After this convincing proof, Kodran adopted the Christian faith. But persuasion and miracles acted too slowly for the fiery Thorwald, who would willingly have converted all Iceland at once with fire and sword. His sermons were imprecations, and the least contradiction roused him to fury. Unable to bear so irascible an associate, the good bishop Friedrich, giving up his missionary labors, returned to Saxony. As to Thorwald, his restless disposition led him to far-distant lands. He visited Greece and Syria, Jerusalem and Constantinople, and ultimately founded a convent in Russia, where he died in the odor of sanctity.
Soon after Thangbrand was sent by the Norwegian king, Olaf Truggeson, as94 mission............