But he recovered his power and again won the confidence and esteem of nearly all of the people and in 1222 they again made him Speaker for the second time. It is quite probable that Snorri repented of his plan to betray Iceland to Norway and we know that his excuse was to save Iceland from immediate invasion. It is to be regretted that Icelanders did not fully understand his reason. Most of Snorri’s troubles came from feudal strife with his own relatives, especially his nephew, Sturla. At one time this ungrateful nephew appropriated all of his uncle’s estates in Borg and endeavored to make himself the mighty man of Iceland. We can not enter into the long conflict, how the people took sides with both parties, how a thousand armed men marched down on peaceful Borg, how Snorri in sorrow returned to Norway, tarried awhile and then came back to his home in Borg only to meet death in the cellar of his own house. It may all be read in the story written by his nephew, Sturla Thordson.
Snorri was a man of peaceful disposition, avoiding arms when arbitration could be employed, a man of business but not a man of action as men were active in his day. He did not choose the turmoil of political strife into which he was drawn. It was love of wealth and vanity that led to his weakness at the court of Hakon and which was misunderstood in Iceland and which gave his enemies an opportunity. This was the one great mistake of his life and he endeavored to atone for the weakness, but his enemies, though they never knew the full story of this affair, never forgave him. He paid for his error by being hewn to pieces in the cellar of his home at Reykholt on September 22, 1241. The mound of the great house that was pulled down upon his remains has never been disturbed and the beautiful marguerites have bloomed above it for centuries.
As a historian Snorri will always hold high rank. The Heimskringla, the Story of the Kings of Norway, is a faithful picture of the times, impartial, straightforward,—it is the story and not the historian that the reader has before him when he opens these pages. Only once in that long history is there any comment by the author. There is none of the so called “philosophy of history” which has fogged so many historical pages that have been written in modern days. Writers may well take a lesson from Snorri, who “let facts deliver the verdict, keeping his own judgment to himself.” Here in the dale of Reykholt, beside his steaming springs and with his flocks and herds about him, Snorri writes of the great kings of Norway, of their wars and their wanderings, their labors for Christianity and the uplifting of their subjects. He bears us away to Scotland and to England and often to Ireland, we learn of the correspondence with the Emperor Frederick and King Louis of France, we learn of James of Aragon, of William the Conqueror and Alphonse of Castile,—he takes us to far away Algeria, to Tunis and to Greece, to Venice and Constantinople and to holy Jerusalem. In 1300 he was described as “a man to our knowledge most wise and fair-minded.”
Snorri’s language is simple, yet dignified, clear in thought and vivid in the picture portrayed and in scenes described. His sentences are short and graphic, clear and concise. His dialogs are frequent and to the point. Silence, where it is sure to arouse the interest of the reader, is artfully employed as is shown in the kidnapping of Harek and in the mysterious loss of two of King Olaf’s ships at Faroe. In humor, also, Snorri is a master and brings into his story bits of mirth and wit that make his pages sparkle and give point to the story he is writing. Witness the good wife who objected to the King’s using the middle of the towel in the morning to wipe his face when he should have used the lower end in the morning, the middle at noon and the top at night, thus saving her two towels. His wit and his stories give point to his writings and will insure their life as long as people love to dwell upon the customs of their predecessors. Impartial, faithful, clear, Snorri brings the story of the ancient times among the Norsemen down to his own day, weaving into his warp the threads of fact that bound the Viking to the British Isles, the sunny Mediterranean and the Holy Land as well as to his beloved Iceland. He has erected for himself an enduring monument.
It is a tumbled mound, this grass-grown pile at Reykholt, but it is all that is left of Snorri’s stately manor. In the quiet of the evening I stood upon the heap, and the past of Iceland’s history rushed before me, its long Viking period, the coming of the Cross and the troublesome times that followed; in the story of Snorri I had learned of Norway’s ancient days and Iceland’s matchless heroes. It is the same quiet meadow at my feet and the same blue ridge in the distance that met the gaze of Snorri, the people are the same in race and customs but in other things how changed. The Cross has wrought its full influence. Were this mound in other lands the spade would long since have explored its recesses in search of relics and mementoes of this great man. It is sacred to the Icelander and has never been disturbed.
Beside the mound is Snorrilaug, Snorri’s Bath. Next to the Heimskringla the bath is his greatest monument and serves better to perpetuate the memory of the Sage of Reykholt than any thing that other hands could have wrought. It is circular in form, fifteen feet in diameter and constructed of split stones which were fitted in an exact manner and joined by means of a cement made on the spot by Snorri himself out of the pulverized geyserite. The floor of the bath is of split tufa and cemented with care. A stone bench, capable of seating thirty persons is built around the inside of the bath with the wall for a back. A hot spring, called Scribla, is located 500 feet from the bath and from Scribla to the bath Snorri constructed an underground passage out of stones all carefully cemented together. In 1733 this conduit was shaken by an earthquake and the Rev. Finn Jonson, Bishop of Skálholt, repaired it. Aside from this incident, the bath stands to-day as when Snorri was killed beside it. The steps from his house led directly down into the bath. It is a masterpiece of work that remains intact after the centuries so that one may turn on the hot water from Scribla and use it to-day as did Snorri during the first half of the thirteenth century.
The valley of Reykholt contains many excellent hot springs, some of which have lost part of their former power and do not spout because of the disarrangement of their tubes by recent earthquakes. On a quiet day steam rises from many places in the valley and along the banks of the river. There is one spring of unique formation and peculiar in its situation, the Áhver, River-Hot-Spring. It is in the middle of the river that divides the valley. The river is broad but shallow and the water is cold. In the middle of the stream rises the mound of the hot spring several feet above the water. This mound contains three orifices out of which boiling water pours vigorously. We waded out to this hot mound and climbed to the top. There is no danger of being scalded because the springs no longer spout as in former days on account of the before mentioned earthquake, which has disturbed the tubes. In place of the former periodical spouts of hot water there is now a continuous flow in which the water rises one or two feet above the mouth of the tubes and escapes with much spluttering and accompanied with large volumes of steam. These tubes are a foot or more in diameter. It is a singular location for a hot spring but there is another phenomenon even more surprising. Below the mound of geyserite in the channel of the river there is a long series of holes in the river bed out of which boiling water spurts with such violence in places as to eject steam up through the cold water. Our ponies in fording this stream were quite shy of these hot holes in the bed of the river and insisted on going far down stream.
The valley is rich in grass, with many fine herds of cattle and flocks of sheep. It was one of these rich pasture lands at the foot of the snowy mountains, in Iceland that led Henderson, who realized how dependent was the farmer upon the grass, to quote from Proverbs as follows:—
“Be thou diligent to know the state of thy flocks and look well to thy herds; for riches are not forever, nor doth the crown endure to every generation. The hay appeareth and the tender grass showeth itself, and the herbs of the mountains are gathered. The lambs are for thy clothing, and the goats are the price of thy field. And thou shalt have goat’s milk enough for thy food, for the food of thy household and for the maintenance of thy maidens.”
Yes, Iceland, the grass is thine and the flocks are thine. Nature has cruelly deprived thee of mines and forests, of warmth for cultivating thy rich soil; but she has peopled thee with a noble race, cradled amidst thy fire-born hills which are crowned with everlasting ice. She has given to thee sufficient grass for thy numerous flocks that thou mayest be clothed and fed. An Arctic ocean “laves the feet of the White Lady” and its every billow teems with the choicest of fish. In exchange for these the merchant brings to thy marts those products of modern life which Europe calls necessities but which to thee are luxuries.
A land of wonder is thy birthright, marvellously wrought by fire and ice. It appeals to him who four times has visited thy shore and has explored the inmost recesses of thy deserts, it appealed to thy ancestors ten centuries since as a haven of liberty; mightily it appeals to thee to-day. Thy sons upon Dakota’s plains, thy daughters by the Winnipeg,—truants from thy hallowed dales and sloping greens,—oft feel the wrenching of the heartstrings and oft turn back to fatherland and home. Thy thousand years and more of warfare with the elements and thine own internal strife, thy centuries of thraldom to priestly power and greed of foreign merchant, thy years of famine and devastation by shaking earth and burning mountain have left their mark deep graven in thy forehead. But,—Thou art FREE. Before thee the future opens with promise her ever widening portals, a promise radiant as the bow of Baldar which oft spans thy misty vales. Let not internal strife, the copying of foreign fashions and the jealousy of prospering neighbor be thy undoing. Out of the terrible past hast thou come with many a reprimand and many a sign to point the way which thou shouldst go, as plainly as thy varðr guide the fog-bound traveller upon thy mountain moors.
If a foreigner, who has long studied the factors of thy problem and knows something from experience of thy living struggle, may offer advice and not offend,—it would be the quoted wisdom of Solomon:—
“Be thou diligent to know the state of thy flocks,” and then the words of the poet will be thy experience:—
and thine own saying will be full of truth:—
“ICELAND IS THE BEST PLACE ON WHICH THE SUN SHINES.”
[1] See The Story of Harald Hairfair, Saga Library, Vol. III.
[2] Fell is an isolated mountain while fjall is the termination applied to a mountain showing that it is a portion of a group or a range.
[3] Fljót and á each mean river but there is the same distinction between them as between river and brook. Fljót is a large river with broad lake-like expansions and á is an ordinary stream.
[4] Swinestye is ironical for Swinefell, Swine Hill, the home of Flosi, the man who did the burning.
[5] With the exception of the last records, 1854 and 1913, this data is compiled from the letters of Von Troll, Upsala, Sweden, 1777.
[6] Through fires placed under deceitful ashes.
[7] This was Baron Axel Klinckowström, of Stockholm, a member of our scientific corps.
[8] About seventy-five per cent. of the molluscs that lived at this period of the world’s history are represented by living species to-day.
[9] Heimskringla, Vol. I, Chap. LXXX.
[10] Ibid.
Accent:—The stress is always on the first syllable.
Vowels:—The vowel sounds vary considerably from the modern English and much resemble the old Anglo-Saxon. Some changes have taken place in these sounds since the classical period of the Icelandic literature which was in the eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth centuries.
The following key will assist the reader to pronounce the Icelandic terms in this volume.
| a | is pronounced | like | A | in | far. |
| á | ” | ” | OU | ” | loud. |
| e | ” | ” | E | ” | let. |
| é | ” | ” | YE | ” | yellow. |
| i | ” | ” | EE | ” | meek. |
| í | ” | ” | I | ” | pit. |
| o | ” | ” | OA | ” | road. |
| ö | ” | ” | U | ” | murmur. |
| ý | ” | ” | EE | ” | meet. |
| ae | ” | ” | I | ” | prize. |
| au | ” | ” | OI | ” | coin. |
| ey | ” | ” | AY | ” | hay. |
| ei | ” | ” | AY | ” | hay. |
Consonants:—The alphabet was taken from the Latin with the addition of two characters Þ thorn and ð ith. The two have the sound of TH in thin; the first is initial and the second may be in any syllable if it is not initial, as ð in Seyðisfjörðr, pronounced say-this-fur-thur.
The consonants have practically the same values as in English except the following, which should be noted:—
f before L or N has the sound of B, thus,—
Krafla is pronounced as if spelled Krabla.
Hrafn, (raven,) is pronounced as if spelled Hrabn.
h is given its breathing sound.
h before VI has the sound of Q, thus,—
Hvitá is pronounced as if spelled Quee-tow, O like O in cow.
ll when L is doubled the first L has the sound of T, thus, fell is pronounced fetl.
ð is sounded like TH in thin.
There is a tendency among the uneducated people to lisp or to smother their words behind closed lips. When spoken by an educated person the language is musical and pleasing.
Page 82,—Family Names:—The system of nomenclature given in Chapter VII is the prevailing one, still there are a few family names in Iceland. This is due to settlers from foreign lands, who have kept their family names and bequeathed them to their children. As an illustration I mention the Zoëga family, which, if my informant is correct, came from Italy many years ago.
Page 84,—Kárastaðir:—Possibly a more probable derivation of this name lies in the fact that in the early days of the settlement of this portion of the country one of the settlers bore this name, Kára. Thus it should be translated, the stead or the farm of Kára.
Page 89,—Öxerá:—It was not till the summer of 1913, a year after Chapter VII was written, that I learned a most interesting thing about this river so famous in Icelandic history. It seems that in ancient days the river followed a natural channel near the ridge that rises above the heath near Kárastaðir. It did not enter the lake, Thingvallavatn, by the way of Almannagjá as it does to-day.
The Vikings dispatched Geitskour in 965 throughout the country to choose a suitable place for the meeting of the Althing. After a summer of travel he chose this sunken valley and named it Thingvallir. The Vikings then turned the river from its ancient bed and caused it to tumble into this rift. What joy there must have been in the hearts of those sturdy old fellows as they stood on the opposite wall and watched the torrent make its first plunge into the abyss! Hence Axe River, the river whose channel was fashioned by their axes.
Page 92,—Measuring Stone:—Various authors have perpetuated the story of this peculiar stone, as given in Chapter VII, that stands in the church yard at Thingvellir. They tell us, and so do the guides, that it was the standard of measurement adopted by an ancient Althing, from which all linear measures in the country were taken.
Since writing Chapter VII, I have had another opportunity, in 1913, to examine this stone with more care. I emphatically state that it was not made by the hand of man and that the so-called “measuring marks” on it are nothing but steam holes blown through it by the great pressure when the stone was molten and cooling. The stone has been split open and the marks have the appearance of having been placed there by man. To further substantiate this I would refer to the fact that in 1913 Mr. J. C. Angus of York, England, and myself saw numerous blocks of lava in various places at Mývatn with identical markings. Mr. Angus fully agrees with me in the above statement about the “measuring stone.”
Further, if the people who examine this stone in the future will go around it, examine it on all sides and near the ground they will find actual holes that penetrate deeply into the stone in several places. These have evidently escaped the eyes of those who like to point to this as the “first standard of linear measurement ever prepared by the people of northern Europe.” It is a pretty story and affords the guides a lot of amusement,—but facts are facts.
Page 104,—Brúará:—There is another story differing from the one I gave in Chapter VIII, though that one is correct, relative to the way in which this river received its name of Bridge River. In the old days there was a natural lava arch spanning the stream just below the site of the present bridge. The story relates that a woman on the side of the river nearest to Geysir was widely known for her hospitality. In those days it was the custom of the people to go “guesting” in the autumn and stay until spring. The Sagas are replete with such incidents.
At length this good lady became weary because of the large number of her uninvited guests from across the river. She dispatched two of her thralls in the autumn to break down the lava arch. This they did but they both lost their lives in the flood when the arch fell. The natural arch gave this stream the name of Bridge River. The illustration facing page 114 was taken from the present bridge.
Page 134,—Galtalaekur:—During the severe earthquake that preceded the eruption of Hekla in the latter part of April 1913 these ancient buildings were entirely demolished. It was one of the oldest of Icelandic turf houses. It has sheltered nearly all the people who have ascended Hekla for many generations.
Page 215,—Skútustaðir:—This should be derived, not from the Icelandic skúti, cave, but from an old Viking who settled here by the name of Skúti. I am indebted for this correction to Thorður Floventsson of Svatákot.
Page 216,—Kraká:—This word is more correctly derived from the Icelandic Kraká, the name of a witch. In Chapter XIII I derived it from kraki, crow or raven. The following story was related to me in 1913, while struggling along its boggy margin by my guide, Ólafur Eyvindsson.
“There was a witch by the name of Kraká who lived in the mountains up the valley. She became angry with a farmer over a piece of fine meadow land which he refused to convey to her under any condition. Thereupon she threatened to destroy it if he did not yield at once. He remained obstinate. Soon a river poured out from the mountains, laid waste the farm and flooded the great meadow, as may be seen to this day, especially if the traveller goes from Skútustaðir to Svatákot, Black-River-Farm, as we are now doing. In this instance his route will be across Graenavatn, Green-Lake.”
Graenavatn is a mighty meadow with water over all of it, but so shallow that the grass stands in most places out of the water. It is only along the edge of the river, Kraká, where the water has thrown up the black sand, that it is possible for ponies to proceed.
Railway:—I have seen several paragraphs going the rounds of the American press relative to a railroad in Iceland. I had a chance to ride on this railroad in 1913. It is less than two miles in length. It is merely an improvised affair to transport rocks from the quarry to the two great breakwaters that are being built to protect the harbor of Reykjavik.
There is some discussion in the Althing, (winter of 1914,) about the construction of a railway from Reykjavik into the rich grazing land near Eyrarbakki. At the present writing nothing definite has been done. It seems that it would be unwise to employ steam and ship the coal from Scotland, when an electric road can be made much more cheaply and there is such an abundance of water power for electricity.