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[Illustration: The Story of Burnt Njal
From the Icelandic of Njal Saga]
THE STORY OF BURNT NJAL
[Illustration: GUNNAR REFUSES TO LEAVE HOME]
"_Fair is Lithe: so fair that it has never seemed to me so fair; the
corn fields are white to harvest, and the home mead is mown: and now I
will ride back home, and not fare abroad at all._"
The Story of Burnt Njal
From the Icelandic of the Njals Saga
By the late Sir George Webbe Dasent, D.C.L.
_With a Prefatory Note, and the Introduction, Abridged, from the
Original Edition of 1861_
New York E. P. Dutton & Co.
London Grant Richards
1900
THE ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS LIMITED
_The design of the cover made by the late James Drummond, R.S.A.,
combines the chief weapons mentioned in_ The Story of Burnt Njal:
_Gunnar's bill, Skarphedinn's axe, and Kari's sword, bound together by
one of the great silver rings found in a Viking's hoard in Orkney._
PREFATORY NOTE TO THE ONE-VOLUME EDITION.
_SIR GEORGE DASENT'S translation of the Njals Saga, under the
title The Story of Burnt Njal, which is reprinted in this volume, was
published by Messrs. Edmonston & Douglas in 1861. That edition was in
two volumes, and was furnished by the author with maps and plans; with a
lengthy introduction dealing with Iceland's history, religion and social
life; with an appendix and an exhaustive index. Copies of this edition
can still be obtained from Mr. David Douglas of Edinburgh._
_The present reprint has been prepared in order that this incomparable
Saga may become accessible to those readers with whom a good story is
the first consideration and its bearing upon a nation's history a
secondary one--or is not considered at all. For_ Burnt Njal _may be
approached either as a historical document, or as a pure narrative of
elemental natures, of strong passions; and of heroic feats of strength.
Some of the best fighting in literature is to be found between its
covers. Sir George Dasent's version in its capacity as a learned work
for the study has had nearly forty years of life; it is now offered
afresh simply as a brave story for men who have been boys and for boys
who are going to be men._
_We lay down the book at the end having added to our store of good
memories the record of great deeds and great hearts, and to our gallery
of heroes strong and admirable men worthy to stand beside the strong and
admirable men of the Iliad--Gunnar of Lithend and Skarphedinn, Njal and
Kari, Helgi and Kolskegg, beside Telamonian Aias and Patroclus, Achilles
and Hector, Ulysses and Idomeneus. In two respects these Icelanders win
more of our sympathy than the Greeks and Trojans; for they, like
ourselves, are of Northern blood, and in their mighty strivings are
unassisted by the gods._
_In the present volume Sir George Dasent's preface has been shortened,
and his introduction, which everyone who is interested in old Icelandic
life and history should make a point of reading in the original edition,
has been considerably abridged. The three appendices, treating of the
Vikings, Queen Gunnhillda, and money and currency in the tenth century,
have been also exised, and with them the index. There remains the Saga
itself (not a word of Sir George Dasent's simple, forcible, clean prose
having been touched), with sufficient introductory matter to assist the
reader to its fuller appreciation._
_Sir George Webbe Dasent, D.C.L., the translator of the Njals Saga, was
born in 1817 at St. Vincent in the West Indies, of which island his
father was Attorney-General. He was educated at Westminster School, and
at Magdalen Hall, Oxford, where he was distinguished both as a fine
athlete and a good classic. He took his degree in 1840, and on coming
to London showed an early tendency towards literature and literary
society. The Sterlings were connected with the island of' St. Vincent,
and as Dasent and John Sterling became close friends, he was a constant
guest at Captain Sterlings house in Knightsbridge, which was frequented
by many who afterwards rose to eminence in the world of letters,
including Carlyle, to whom Dasent dedicated his first book, Dasent's
appointment in 1842 as private secretary to Sir James Cartwright, the
British Envoy to the court of Sweden, took him to Stockholm, where under
the advice of Jacob Grimm, whom he had met in Denmark, he began that
study of Scandinavian literature which has enriched English literature
bu the present work, and by the_ Norse Tales, Gísli the Outlaw, _and
other valuable translations and memoirs. On settling in London again in
1845 he joined the_ Times _staff as assistant editor to the great
Delane, who had been his friend at Oxford, and whose sister he married
in the following year. Dasent retained the post during the paper's most
brilliant period. In 1870 Mr. Gladstone offered him a Civil Service
Commissionership, which he accepted and held until his retirement in
1892, at which time he was the Commission's official head. He was
knighted "for public services" in 1876, having been created a knight
of the Danish order of the Dannebrög many years earlier._
_In addition, to his Scandinavian work, Sir George Dasent wrote several
novels, of which_ The Annals of an Eventful Life _was at once the most
popular and the best. He died greatly respected in 1896._
E. V. LUCAS.
SIR GEORGE DASENT'S PREFACE
(ABRIDGED.)
What is a Saga? A Saga is a story, or telling in prose,
sometimes mixed with verse. There are many kinds of Sagas, of all
degrees of truth. There are the mythical Sagas, in which the wondrous
deeds of heroes of old time, half gods and half men, as Sigurd and
Ragnar, are told as they were handed down from father to son in the
traditions of the Northern race. Then there are Sagas recounting the
history of the kings of Norway and other countries, of the great line of
Orkney Jarls, and of the chiefs who ruled in Faroe. These are all more
or less trustworthy, and, in general, far worthier of belief than much
that passes for the early history of other races. Again, there are Sagas
relating to Iceland, narrating the lives, and feuds, and ends of mighty
chiefs, the heads of the great families which dwelt in this or that
district of the island. These were told by men who lived on the very
spot, and told with a minuteness and exactness, as to time and place,
that will bear the strictest examination. Such a Saga is that of Njal,
which we now lay before our readers in an English garb. Of all the Sagas
relating to Iceland, this tragic story bears away the palm for
truthfulness and beauty. To use the words of one well qualified to
judge, it is, as compared with all similar compositions, as gold to
brass.[1] Like all the Sagas which relate to the same period of
Icelandic story, Njala[2] was not written down till about 100 years
after the events which are described in it had happened. In the
meantime, it was handed down by word of mouth, told from Althing to
Althing, at Spring Thing, and Autumn Leet, at all great gatherings of
the people, and over many a fireside, on sea strand or river bank, or up
among the dales and hills, by men who had learnt the sad story of Njal's
fate, and who could tell of Gunnar's peerlessness and Hallgerda's
infamy, of Bergthora's helpfulness, of Skarphedinn's hastiness, of
Flosi's foul deed, and Kurt's stern revenge. We may be sure that as soon
as each event recorded in the Saga occurred, it was told and talked
about as matter of history, and when at last the whole story was
unfolded and took shape, and centred round Njal, that it was handed down
from father to son, as truthfully and faithfully as could ever be the
case with any public or notorious matter in local history. But it is not
on Njala alone that we have to rely for our evidence of its genuineness.
There are many other Sagas relating to the same period, and handed down
in like manner, in which the actors in our Saga are incidentally
mentioned by name, and in which the deeds recorded of them are
corroborated. They are mentioned also in songs and Annals, the latter
being the earliest written records which belong to the history of the
island, while the former were more easily remembered, from the
construction of the verse. Much passes for history in other lands on far
slighter grounds, and many a story in Thucydides or Tacitus, or even in
Clarendon or Hume, is believed on evidence not one-tenth part so
trustworthy as that which supports the narratives of these Icelandic
story-tellers of the eleventh century. That with occurrences of
undoubted truth, and minute particularity as to time and place, as to
dates and distance, are intermingled wild superstitions on several
occasions, will startle no reader of the smallest judgment. All ages,
our own not excepted, have their superstitions, and to suppose that a
story told in the eleventh century,--when phantoms, and ghosts, and
wraiths, were implicitly believed in, and when dreams, and warnings, and
tokens, were part of every man's creed--should be wanting in these marks
of genuineness, is simply to require that one great proof of its
truthfulness should be wanting, and that, in order to suit the spirit of
our age, it should lack something which was part and parcel of popular
belief in the age to which it belonged. To a thoughtful mind, therefore,
such stories as that of Swan's witchcraft, Gunnar's song in his cairn,
the Wolf's ride before the Burning, Flosi's dream, the signs and tokens
before Brian's battle, and even Njal's weird foresight, on which the
whole story hangs, will be regarded as proofs rather for than against
its genuineness.[3]
But it is an old saying, that a story never loses in telling, and so we
may expect it must have been with this story. For the facts which the
Saga-teller related he was bound to follow the narrations of those who
had gone before him, and if he swerved to or fro in this respect, public
opinion and notorious fame was there to check and contradict him.[4] But
the way in which he told the facts was his own, and thus it comes that
some Sagas are better told than others, as the feeling and power of the
narrator were above those of others. To tell a story truthfully was
what was looked for from all men in those days; but to tell it properly
and gracefully, and so to clothe the facts in fitting diction, was given
to few, and of those few the Saga teller who first threw Njala into its
present shape, was one of the first and foremost.
With the change of faith and conversion of the Icelanders to
Christianity, writing, and the materials for writing, first came into
the land, about the year 1000. There is no proof that the earlier or
Runic alphabet, which existed in heathen times, was ever used for any
other purposes than those of simple monumental inscriptions, or of short
legends on weapons or sacrificial vessels, or horns and drinking cups.
But with the Roman alphabet came not only a readier means of expressing
thought, but also a class of men who were wont thus to express
themselves.... Saga after Saga was reduced to writing, and before the
year 1200 it is reckoned that all the pieces of that kind of composition
which relate to the history of Icelanders previous to the introduction
of Christianity had passed from the oral into the written shape. Of all
those Sagas, none were so interesting as Njal, whether as regarded the
length of the story, the number and rank of the chiefs who appeared in
it as actors, and the graphic way in which the tragic tale was told. As
a rounded whole, in which each part is finely and beautifully polished,
in which the two great divisions of the story are kept in perfect
balance and counterpoise, in which each person who appears is left free
to speak in a way which stamps him with a character of his own, while
all unite in working towards a common end, no Saga had such claims on
public attention as Njala, and it is certain none would sooner have been
committed to writing. The latest period, therefore, that we can assign
as the date at which our Saga was moulded into its present shape is the
year 1200....
It was a foster-father's duty, in old times, to rear and cherish the
child which he had taken from the arms of its natural parents, his
superiors in rank. And so may this work, which the translator has taken
from the house of Icelandic scholars, his masters in knowledge, and
which he has reared and fostered so many years under an English roof, go
forth and fight the battle of life for itself, and win fresh fame for
those who gave it birth. It will be reward enough for him who has first
clothed it in an English dress if his foster-child adds another leaf to
that evergreen wreath of glory which crowns the brows of Iceland's
ancient worthies.
BROAD SANCTUARY.
_Christmas Eve, 1860._
It will be seen that in most cases the names of places throughout
the Saga have been turned into English, either in whole or in part,
as "Lithend" for "Lfaðrendi," and "Bergthorsknoll" for
"Bergthorshvól". The translator adopted this course to soften the
ruggedness of the original names for the English reader, but in
every case the Icelandic name, with its English rendering, will be
found in the maps. The surnames and nicknames have also been turned
into English--an attempt which has not a little increased the toil
of translation. Great allowance must be made for these renderings,
as those nicknames often arose out of circumstances of which we
know little or nothing. Of some, such as "Thorgeir Craggeir," and
"Thorkel foulmouth," the Saga itself explains the origin. In a
state of society where so many men bore the same name, any
circumstance or event in a man's life, as well as any peculiarity
in form or feature, or in temper and turn of mind, gave rise to a
surname or nickname, which clung to him through life as a
distinguishing mark. The Post Office in the United States is said
to give persons in the same district, with similar names, an
initial of identification, which answers the same purpose, as the
Icelandic nickname, thus: "John _P_ Smith."--"John _Q_ Smith". As a
general rule the translator has withstood the temptation to use old
English words. "Busk" and "boun" he pleads guilty to, because both
still linger in the language understood by few. "Busk" is a
reflective formed from 'eat búa sik,' "to get oneself ready," and
"boun" is the past participle of the active form "búa, búinn," to
get ready. When the leader in Old Ballads says--
"Busk ye, busk ye,
My bonny, bonny me,"
he calls on his followers to equip themselves; when they are thus
equipped they are "boun". A bride "busks" herself for the bridal;
when she is dressed she is "boun". In old times a ship was "busked"
for a voyage; when she was filled and ready for sea she was
"boun"--whence come our outward "bound" and homeward "bound". These
with "redes" for counsels or plans are almost the only words in the
translation which are not still in everyday use.
SIR GEORGE DASENT'S INTRODUCTION.
(ABRIDGED).
THE NORTHMEN IN ICELAND.
The men who colonized Iceland towards the end of the ninth century of
the Christian æra, were of no savage or servile race. They fled from the
overbearing power of the king, from that new and strange doctrine of
government put forth by Harold Fairhair, 860-933, which made them the
king's men at all times, instead of his only at certain times for
special service, which laid scatts and taxes on their lands, which
interfered with vested rights and world-old laws, and allowed the
monarch to meddle and make with the freemen's allodial holdings. As we
look at it now, and from another point of view, we see that what to them
was unbearable tyranny was really a step in the great march of
civilization and progress, and that the centralization and consolidation
of the royal authority, according to Charlemagne's system, was in time
to be a blessing to the kingdoms of the north. But to the freeman it was
a curse. He fought against it as long as he could; worsted over and over
again, he renewed the struggle, and at last, when the isolated efforts,
which were the key-stone of his edifice of liberty, were fruitless, he
sullenly withdrew from the field, and left the land of his fathers,
where, as he thought, no free-born man could now care to live. Now it is
that we hear of him in Iceland, where Ingolf was the first settler in
the year 874, and was soon followed by many of his countrymen. Now, too,
we hear of him in all lands. Now France--now Italy--now Spain, feel
the fury of his wrath, and the weight of his arm. After a time, but not
until nearly a century has passed, he spreads his wings for a wider
flight, and takes service under the great emperor at Byzantium, or
Micklegarth--the great city, the town of towns--and fights his foes from
whatever quarter they come. The Moslem in Sicily and Asia, the
Bulgarians and Slavonians on the shores of the Black Sea and in Greece,
well know the temper of the Northern steel, which has forced many of
their chosen champions to bite the dust. Wherever he goes the Northman
leaves his mark, and to this day the lion at the entrance to the arsenal
at Venice is scored with runes which tell of his triumph.
But of all countries, what were called the Western Lands were his
favourite haunt. England, where the Saxons were losing their old dash
and daring, and settling down into a sluggish sensual race; Ireland, the
flower of Celtic lands, in which a system of great age and undoubted
civilization was then fast falling to pieces, afforded a tempting
battlefield in the everlasting feuds between chief and chief; Scotland,
where the power of the Picts was waning, while that of the Scots had not
taken firm hold on the country, and most of all the islands in the
Scottish Main, Orkney, Shetland, and the outlying Faroe Isles;--all
these were his chosen abode. In those islands he took deep root,
established himself on the old system, shared in the quarrels of the
chiefs and princes of the Mainland, now helped Pict and now Scot, roved
the seas and made all ships prizes, and kept alive his old grudge
against Harold Fairhair and the new system by a long series of piratical
incursions on the Norway coast. So worrying did these Viking cruises at
last become, that Harold, who meantime had steadily pursued his policy
at home, and forced all men to bow to his sway or leave the land,
resolved to crush the wasps that stung him summer after summer in their
own nest. First of all he sent Kettle flatnose, a mighty chief, to
subdue the foe; but though Kettle waged successful war, he kept what he
won for himself. It was the old story of setting a thief to catch a
thief; and Harold found that if he was to have his work done to his mind
he must do it himself. He called on his chiefs to follow him, levied a
mighty force, and, sailing suddenly with a fleet which must have seemed
an armada in those days, he fell upon the Vikings in Orkney and
Shetland, in the Hebrides and Western Isles, in Man and Anglesey, in the
Lewes and Faroe--wherever he could find them he followed them up with
fire and sword. Not once, but twice he crossed the sea after them, and
tore them out so thoroughly, root and branch, that we hear no more of
these lands as a lair of Vikings, but as the abode of Norse Jarls and
their udallers (freeholders) who look upon the new state of things at
home as right and just, and acknowledge the authority of Harold and his
successors by an allegiance more or less dutiful at different times, but
which was never afterwards entirely thrown off.
It was just then, just when the unflinching will of Harold had taught
this stern lesson to his old foes, and arising in most part out of that
lesson, that the great rush of settlers to Iceland took place. We have
already seen that Ingolf and others had settled in Iceland from 874
downwards, but it was not until nearly twenty years afterwards that the
island began to be thickly peopled. More than half of the names of the
first colonists contained in the venerable Landnáma Book--the Book of
Lots, the Doomsday of Iceland, and far livelier reading than that of the
Conqueror--are those of Northmen who had been before settled in the
British Isles. Our own country then was the great stepping-stone between
Norway and Iceland; and this one fact is enough to account for the close
connection which the Icelanders ever afterwards kept up with their
kinsmen who had remained behind in the islands of the west....
SUPERSTITIONS OF THE RACE.
The Northman had many superstitions. He believed in good giants and bad
giants, in dark elves and bright elves, in superhuman beings who tilled
the wide gulf which existed between himself and the gods. He believed,
too, in wraiths and fetches and guardian spirits, who followed
particular persons, and belonged to certain families--a belief which
seems to have sprung from the habit of regarding body and soul as two
distinct beings, which at certain times took each a separate bodily
shape. Sometimes the guardian spirit or fylgja took a human shape; at
others its form took that of some animal fancied to foreshadow the
character of the man to whom it belonged. Thus it becomes a bear, a
wolf, an ox, and even a fox, in men. The fylgjur of women were fond of
taking the shape of swans. To see one's own fylgja was unlucky, and
often a sign that a man was "fey," or death-doomed. So, when Thord
Freedmanson tells Njal that he sees the goat wallowing in its gore in
the "town" of Bergthorsknoll, the foresighted man tells him that he has
seen his own fylgja, and that he must be doomed to die. Finer and nobler
natures often saw the guardian spirits of others. Thus Njal saw the
fylgjur of Gunnar's enemies, which gave him no rest the livelong night,
and his weird feeling is soon confirmed by the news brought by his
shepherd. From the fylgja of the individual it was easy to rise to the
still more abstract notion of the guardian spirits of a family, who
sometimes, if a great change in the house is about to begin, even show
themselves as hurtful to some member of the house. He believed also that
some men had more than one shape; that they could either take the shapes
of animals, as bears or wolves, and so work mischief; or that, without
undergoing bodily change, an access of rage and strength came over them,
and more especially towards night, which made them more than a match for
ordinary men. Such men were called hamrammir, "shape-strong," and it was
remarked that when the fit left them they were weaker than they had been
before.
This gift was looked upon as something "uncanny," and it leads us at
once to another class of men, whose supernatural strength was regarded
as a curse to the community. These were the Baresarks. What the
hamrammir men were when they were in their fits the Baresarks almost
always were. They are described as being always of exceeding, and when
their fury rose high, of superhuman strength. They too, like the
hamrammir men, were very tired when the fits passed off. What led to
their fits is hard to say. In the case of the only class of men like
them nowadays, that of the Malays running a-muck, the intoxicating fumes
of bangh or arrack are said to be the cause of their fury. One thing,
however, is certain, that the Baresark, like his Malay brother, was
looked upon as a public pest, and the mischief which they caused,
relying partly no doubt on their natural strength, and partly on the
hold which the belief in their supernatural nature had on the mind of
the people, was such as to render their killing a good work.
Again, the Northman believed that certain men were "fast" or "hard";
that no weapons would touch them or wound their skin; that the mere
glance of some men's eyes would turn the edge of the best sword; and
that some persons had the power of withstanding poison. He believed in
omens and dreams and warnings, in signs and wonders and tokens; he
believed in good luck and bad luck, and that the man on whom fortune
smiled or frowned bore the marks of her favour or displeasure on his
face; he believed also in magic and sorcery, though he loathed them as
unholy rites. With one of his beliefs our story has much to do, though
this was a belief in good rather than in evil. He believed firmly that
some men had the inborn gift, not won by any black arts, of seeing
things and events beforehand. He believed, in short, in what is called
in Scotland "second sight". This was what was called being "forspár" or
"framsýnn," "foretelling" and "foresighted ". Of such men it was said
that their "words could not be broken". Njal was one of these men; one
of the wisest and at the same time most just and honourable of men. This
gift ran in families, for Helgi Njal's son had it, and it was beyond a
doubt one of the deepest-rooted of all their superstitions.
SOCIAL PRINCIPLES.
Besides his creed and these beliefs the new settler brought with him
certain fixed social principles, which we shall do well to consider
carefully in the outset.... First and foremost came the father's right
of property in his children. This right is common to the infancy of all
communities, and exists before all law. We seek it in vain in codes
which belong to a later period, but it has left traces of itself in all
codes, and, abrogated in theory, still often exists in practice. We find
it in the Roman law, and we find it among the Northmen. Thus it was the
father's right to rear his children or not at his will. As soon as it
was born, the child was laid upon the bare ground; and until the father
came and looked at it, heard and saw that it was strong in lung and
limb, lifted it in his arms, and handed it over to the women to be
reared, its fate hung in the balance, and life or death depended on the
sentence of its sire. After it had passed safely through that ordeal, it
was duly washed, signed with Thor's holy hammer, and solemnly received
into the family. If it were a weakly boy, and still more often, if it
were a girl, no matter whether she were strong or weak, the infant was
exposed to die by ravening beasts, or the inclemency of the climate.
Many instances occur of children so exposed, who, saved by some kindly
neighbour, and fostered beneath a stranger's roof, thus contracted ties
reckoned still more binding than blood itself. So long as his children
remained under his roof, they were their father's own. When the sons
left the paternal roof, they were emancipated, and when the daughters
were married they were also free, but the marriage itself remained till
the latest times a matter of sale and barter in deed as well as name.
The wife came into the house, in the patriarchal state, either stolen or
bought from her nearest male relations; and though in later times when
the sale took place it was softened by settling part of the dower and
portion on the wife, we shall do well to bear in mind, that originally
dower was only the price paid by the suitor to the father for his good
will; while portion, on the other hand, was the sum paid by the father
to persuade a suitor to take a daughter off his hands. Let us remember,
therefore, that in those times, as Odin was supreme in Asgard as the
Great Father of Gods and men, so in his own house every father of the
race that revered Odin was also sovereign and supreme.
In the second place, as the creed of the race was one that adored the
Great Father as the God of Battles; as it was his will that turned the
fight; nay, as that was the very way in which he chose to call his own
to himself,--it followed, that any appeal to arms was looked upon as an
appeal to God. Victory was indeed the sign of a rightful cause, and he
that won the day remained behind to enjoy the rights which he had won in
fair fight, but he that lost it, if he fell bravely and like a man, if
he truly believed his quarrel just, and brought it without guile to the
issue of the sword, went by the very manner of his death to a better
place. The Father of the Slain wanted him, and he was welcomed by the
Valkyries, by Odin's corse-choosers, to the festive board in Valhalla.
In every point of view, therefore, war and battle was a holy thing, and
the Northman went to the battlefield in the firm conviction that right
would prevail. In modern times, while we appeal in declarations of war
to the God of Battles, we do it with the feeling that war is often an
unholy thing, and that Providence is not always on the side of strong
battalions. The Northman saw Providence on both sides. It was good to
live, if one fought bravely, but it was also good to die, if one fell
bravely. To live bravely and to die bravely, trusting in the God of
Battles, was the warrior's comfortable creed.
But this feeling was also shown in private life. When two tribes or
peoples rushed to war, there Odin, the warrior's god, was sure to be
busy in the fight, turning the day this way or that at his will; but he
was no less present in private war, where in any quarrel man met man to
claim or to defend a right. There, too, he turned the scale and swayed
the day, and there too an appeal to arms was regarded as an appeal to
heaven. Hence arose another right older than all law, the right of
duel--of wager of battle, as the old English law called it. Among the
Northmen it underlaid all their early legislation, which, as we shall
see, aimed rather at regulating and guiding it, by making it a part and
parcel of the law, than at attempting to check at once a custom which
had grown up with the whole faith of the people, and which was regarded
as a right at once so time-honoured and so holy.
Thirdly, we must never forget that, as it is the Christian's duty to
forgive his foes, and to be patient and long-suffering under the most
grievous wrongs so it was the heathen's bounden duty to avenge all
wrongs, and most of all those offered to blood relations, to his kith
and kin, to the utmost limit of his power. Hence arose the constant
blood-feuds between families, of which we shall hear so much in our
story, but which we shall fail fully to understand, unless we keep in
view, along with this duty of revenge, the right or property which all
heads of houses had in their relations. Out of these twofold rights, of
the right of revenge and the right of property, arose that strange
medley of forbearance and blood-thirstiness which stamps the age.
Revenge was a duty and a right, but property was no less a right; and so
it rested with the father of a family either to take revenge, life for
life, or to forego his vengeance, and take a compensation in goods or
money for the loss he had sustained in his property. Out of this latter
view arose those arbitrary tariffs for wounds or loss of life, which
were gradually developed more or less completely in all the Teutonic and
Scandinavian races, until every injury to life or limb had its
proportionate price, according to the rank which the injured person bore
in the social scale. These tariffs, settled by the heads of houses, are,
in fact, the first elements of the law of nations; but it must be
clearly understood that it always rested with the injured family either
to follow up the quarrel by private war, or to call on the man who had
inflicted the injury to pay a fitting fine. If he refused, the feud
might be followed up on the battlefield, in the earliest times, or in
later days, either by battle or by law. Of the latter mode of
proceeding, we shall have to speak at greater length farther on; for the
present, we content ourselves with indicating these different modes of
settling a quarrel in what we have called the patriarchal state.
A fourth great principle of his nature was the conviction of the
worthlessness and fleeting nature of all worldly goods. One thing alone
was firm and unshaken, the stability of well-earned fame. "Goods
perish, friends perish, a man himself perishes, but fame never dies to
him that hath won it worthily." "One thing I know that never dies, the
judgment passed on every mortal man." Over all man's life hung a blind,
inexorable fate, a lower fold of the same gloomy cloud that brooded over
Odin and the Æsir. Nothing could avert this doom. When his hour came, a
man must meet his death, and until his hour came he was safe. It might
strike in the midst of the highest happiness, and then nothing could
avert the evil, but until it struck he would come safe through the
direst peril. This fatalism showed itself among this vigorous pushing
race in no idle resignation. On the contrary, the Northman went boldly
to meet the doom which he felt sure no effort of his could turn aside,
but which he knew, if he met it like a man, would secure him the only
lasting thing on earth--a name famous in songs and story. Fate must be
met then, but the way in which it was met, that rested with a man
himself, that, at least, was in his own power; there he might show his
free will; and thus this principle, which might seem at first to be
calculated to blunt his energies and weaken his strength of mind, really
sharpened and hardened them in a wonderful way, for it left it still
worth everything to a man to fight this stern battle of life well and
bravely, while its blind inexorable nature allowed no room for any
careful weighing of chances or probabilities, or for any anxious prying
into the nature of things doomed once for all to come to pass. To do
things like a man, without looking to the right or left, as Kari acted
when he smote off Gunnar's head in Earl Sigurd's hall, was the
Northman's pride. He must do them openly too, and show no shame for what
he had done. To kill a man and say that you had killed him, was
manslaughter; to kill him and not to take it on your hand was murder. To
kill men at dead of night was also looked on as murder. To kill a foe
and not bestow the rights of burial on his body by throwing sand or
gravel over him, was also looked on as murder. Even the wicked Thiostolf
throws gravel over Glum in our Saga, and Thord Freedmanson's complaint
against Brynjolf the unruly was that he had buried Atli's body badly.
Even in killing a foe there was an open gentlemanlike way of doing it,
to fail in which was shocking to the free and outspoken spirit of the
age. Thorgeir Craggeir and the gallant Kari wake their foes and give
them time to arm themselves before they fall upon them; and Hrapp, too,
the thorough Icelander of the common stamp, "the friend of his friends
and the foe of his foes," stalks before Gudbrand and tells him to his
face the crimes which he has committed. Robbery and piracy in a good
straightforward wholesale way were honoured and respected; but to steal,
to creep to a man's abode secretly at dead of night and spoil his goods,
was looked upon as infamy of the worst kind. To do what lay before him
openly and like a man, without fear of either foes, fiends, or fate; to
hold his own and speak his mind, and seek fame without respect of
persons; to be free and daring in all his deeds; to be gentle and
generous to his friends and kinsmen; to be stern and grim to his foes,
but even towards them to feel bound to fulfil all bounden duties; to be
as forgiving to some as he was unyielding and unforgiving to others. To
be no truce-breaker, nor talebearer nor backbiter. To utter nothing
against any man that he would not dare to tell him to his face. To turn
no man from his door who sought food or shelter, even though he were a
foe--these were other broad principles of the Northman's life, further
features of that steadfast faithful spirit which he brought with him to
his new home....
DAILY LIFE IN NJAL'S TIME.
In the tenth century the homesteads of the Icelanders consisted of one
main building, in which the family lived by day and slept at night, and
of out-houses for offices and farm-buildings, all opening on a yard.
Sometimes these out-buildings touched the main building, and had doors
which opened into it, but in most cases they stood apart, and for
purposes of defence, no small consideration in those days, each might be
looked upon as a separate house.
The main building of the house was the stofa, or sitting and sleeping
room. In the abodes of chiefs and great men, this building had great
dimensions, and was then called a skáli, or hall. It was also called
eldhús, or eldáskáli, from the great fires which burned in it.... It had
two doors, the men's or main door, and the women's or lesser door. Each
of these doors opened into a porch of its own, andyri, which was often
wide enough, in the case of that into which the men's door opened, as we
see in Thrain's house at Grit water, to allow many men to stand in it
abreast. It was sometimes called forskáli. Internally the hall consisted
of three divisions, a nave and two low side aisles. The walls of these
aisles were of stone, and low enough to allow of their being mounted
with ease, as we see happened both with Gunner's skáli, and with Njal's.
The centre division or nave on the other hand, rose high above the
others on two rows of pillars. It was of timber, and had an open work
timber roof. The roofs of the side aisles were supported by posts as
well as by rafters and cross-beams leaning against the pillars of the
nave. It was on one of these cross-beams, after it had fallen down from
the burning roof, that Kari got on to the side wall and leapt out, while
Skarphedinn, when the burnt beam snapped asunder under his weight, was
unable to follow him. There were fittings of wainscot along the walls of
the side aisles, and all round between the pillars of the inner row,
supporting the roof of the nave, ran a wainscot panel. In places the
wainscot was pierced by doors opening into sleeping places shut off from
the rest of the hall on all sides for the heads of the family. In other
parts of the passages were sleeping places and beds not so shut off, for
the rest of the household. The women servants slept in the passage
behind the dais at one end of the hall. Over some halls there were upper
chambers or lofts, in one of which Gunnar of Lithend slept, and from
which he made his famous defence.
We have hitherto treated only of the passages and recesses of the side
aisles. The whole of the nave within the wainscot, between the inner
round pillars, was filled by the hall properly so called. It had long
hearths for fires in the middle, with louvres above to let out the
smoke. On either side nearest to the wainscot, and in some cases
touching it, was a row of benches; in each of these was a high seat, if
the hall was that of a great man, that on the south side being the
owner's seat. Before these seats were tables, boards, which, however, do
not seem, any more than our early Middle Age tables, to have been always
kept standing, but were brought in with, and cleared away after, each
meal. On ordinary occasions, one row of benches on each side sufficed;
but when there was a great feast, or a sudden rush of unbidden guests,
as when Flosi paid his visit to Tongue to take down Asgrim's pride, a
lower kind of seats, or stools were brought in, on which the men of
lowest rank sat, and which were on the outside of the tables, nearest to
the fire. At the end of the hall, over against the door, was a raised
platform or dais, on which also was sometimes a high seat and benches.
It was where the women eat at weddings, as we see from the account of
Hallgerda's wedding, in our Saga, and from many other passages.
In later times the seat of honour was shifted from the upper bench to
the dais; and this seems to have been the case occasionally with kings
and earls In Njal's time, if we may judge from the passage in the Saga,
where Hildigunna fits up a high seat on the dais for Flosi, which he
spurns from under him with the words, that he was "neither king nor
earl," meaning that he was a simple man, and would have nothing to do
with any of those new-fashions. It was to the dais that Asgrim betook
himself when Flosi paid him his visit, and unless Asgrim's hall was much
smaller than we have any reason to suppose would be the case in the
dwelling of so great a chief, Flosi must have eaten his meal not far
from the dais, in order to allow of Asgrim's getting near enough to aim
a blow at him with a pole-axe from the rail at the edge of the platform.
On high days and feast days, part of the hall was hung with tapestry,
often of great worth and beauty, and over the hangings all along the
wainscot, were carvings such as those which ... our Saga tells us
Thorkel Foulmouth had carved on the stool before his high seat and over
his shut bed, in memory of those deeds of "derring do" which he had
performed in foreign lands.
Against the wainscot in various parts of the hall, shields and weapons
were hung up. It was the sound of Skarphedinn's axe against the wainscot
that woke up Njal and brought him out of his shut bed, when his sons set
out on their hunt after Sigmund the white and Skiolld.
Now let us pass out of the skáli by either door, and cast our eyes at
the high gables with their carved projections, and we shall understand
at a glance how it was that Mord's counsel to throw ropes round the ends
of the timbers, and then to twist them tight with levers and rollers,
could only end, if carried out, in tearing the whole roof off the house.
It was then much easier work for Gunnar's foes to mount up on the
side-roofs as the Easterling, who brought word that his bill was at
home, had already done, and thence to attack him in his sleeping loft
with safety to themselves, after his bowstring had been cut.
Some homesteads, like those of Gunnar at Lithend, and Gísli and his
brother at Hol in Hawkdale, in the West Firths, had bowers, ladies'
chambers, where the women eat and span, and where, in both the houses
that we have named, gossip and scandal was talked with the worst
results. These bowers stood away from the other buildings....
Every Icelandic homestead was approached by a straight road which led up
to the yard round which the main building and its out-houses and
farm-buildings stood. This was fenced in on each side by a wall of
stones or turf. Near the house stood the "town" or home fields where
meadow hay was grown, and in favoured positions where corn would grow,
there were also enclosures of arable land near the house. On the uplands
and marshes more hay was grown. Hay was the great crop in Iceland; for
the large studs of horses and great herds of cattle that roamed upon the
hills and fells in summer needed fodder in the stable and byre in
winter, when they were brought home. As for the flocks of sheep, they
seem to have been reckoned and marked every autumn, and milked and shorn
in summer; but to have fought it out with nature on the hill-side all
the year round as they best could. Hay, therefore, was the main staple,
and haymaking the great end and aim of an Icelandic farmer.... Gunnar's
death in our Saga may be set down to the fact that all his men were away
in the Landisles finishing their haymaking. Again, Flosi, before the
Burning, bids all his men go home and make an end of their haymaking,
and when that is over, to meet and fall on Njal and his sons. Even the
great duty of revenge gives way to the still more urgent duty of
providing fodder for the winter store. Hayneed, to run short of hay, was
the greatest misfortune that could befall a man, who with a fine herd
and stud, might see both perish before his eyes in winter. Then it was
that men of open heart and hand, like Gunnar, helped their tenants and
neighbours, often, as we see in Gunnar's case, till they had neither hay
nor food enough left for their own household, and had to buy or borrow
from those that had. Then, too, it was that the churl's nature came out
in Otkell and others, who having enough and to spare, would not part
with their abundance for love or money.
These men were no idlers. They worked hard, and all, high and low,
worked. In no land does the dignity of labour stand out so boldly. The
greatest chiefs sow and reap, and drive their sheep, like Glum, the
Speaker's brother, from the fells. The mightiest warriors were the
handiest carpenters and smiths. Gísli Súr's son knew every corner of his
foeman's house, because he had built it with his own hands while they
were good friends. Njal's sons are busy at armourer's work, like the
sons of the mythical Ragnar before them, when the news comes to them
that Sigmund has made a mock of them in his songs. Gunnar sows his corn
with his arms by his side, when Otkell rides over him; and Hauskuld the
Whiteness priest is doing the same work when he is slain. To do
something, and to do it well, was the Icelander's aim in life, and in no
land does laziness like that of Thorkell meet with such well deserved
reproach. They were early risers and went early to bed, though they
could sit up late if need were. They thought nothing of long rides
before they broke their fast. Their first meal was at about seven
o'clock, and though they may have taken a morsel of food during the
day, we hear of no other regular daily meal till evening, when between
seven and eight again they had supper. While the men laboured on the
farm or in the smithy, threw nets for fish in the teeming lakes and
rivers, or were otherwise at work during the day, the women, and the
housewife, or mistress of the house, at their head, made ready the food
for the meals, carded wool, and sewed or wove or span. At meal-time the
food seems to have been set on the board by the women, who waited on the
men, and at great feasts, such as Gunnar's wedding, the wives of his
nearest kinsmen, and of his dearest friend, Thorhillda Skaldtongue,
Thrain's wife, and Bergthora, Njal's wife, went about from board to
board waiting on the guests.
In everyday life they were a simple sober people, early to bed and early
to rise--ever struggling with the rigour of the climate. On great
occasions, as at the Yule feasts in honour of the gods, held at the
temples, or at "arvel," "heir-ale," feasts, when heirs drank themselves
into their father's land and goods, or at the autumn feasts, which
friends and kinsmen gave to one another, there was no doubt great mirth
and jollity, much eating and hard drinking of mead and fresh-brewed ale;
but these drinks are not of a very heady kind, and one glass of spirits
in our days would send a man farther on the road to drunkenness than
many a horn of foaming mead. They were by no means that race of
drunkards and hard livers which some have seen fit to call them.
Nor were these people such barbarians as some have fancied, to whom it
is easier to rob a whole people of its character by a single word than
to take the pains to inquire into its history. They were bold warriors
and bolder sailors. The voyage between Iceland and Norway, or Iceland
and Orkney, was reckoned as nothing; but from the west firths of
Iceland, Eric the Red--no ruffian as he has been styled, though he had
committed an act of manslaughter--discovered Greenland; and from
Greenland the hardy seafarers pushed on across the main, till they made
the dreary coast of Labrador. Down that they ran until they came at last
to Vineland the good, which took its name from the grapes that grew
there. From the accounts given of the length of the days in that land,
it is now the opinion of those best fitted to judge on such matters,
that this Vineland was no other than some part of the North American
continent near Rhode Island or Massachusetts, in the United States.
Their ships were half-decked, high out of the water at stem and stern,
low in the waist, that the oars might reach the water, for they were
made for rowing as well as for sailing. The after-part had a poop. The
fore-part seems to have been without deck, but loose planks were laid
there for men to stand on. A distinction was made between long-ships or
ships of war, made long for speed, and ... ships of burden, which were
built to carry cargo. The common complement was thirty rowers, which in
warships made sometimes a third and sometimes a sixth of the crew. All
round the warships, before the fight began, shield was laid on shield,
on a rim or rail, which ran all round the bulwarks, presenting a mark
like the hammocks of our navy, by which a long-ship could be at once
detected. The bulwarks in warships could be heightened at pleasure, and
this was called "to girdle the ship for war". The merchant ships often
carried heavy loads of meal and timber from Norway, and many a one of
these half-decked yawls no doubt foundered, like Flosi's unseaworthy
ship, under the weight of her heavy burden of beams and planks, when
overtaken by the autumnal gales on that wild sea. The passages were
often very long, more than one hundred days is sometimes mentioned as
the time spent on a voyage between Norway and Iceland.
As soon as the ship reached the land, she ran into some safe bay or
creek, the great landing places on the south and south-east coasts being
Eyrar, "The Eres," as such spots are still called in some parts of the
British Isles, that is, the sandy beaches opening into lagoons which
line the shore of the marsh district called Flói; and Hornfirth, whence
Flosi and the Burners put to sea after their banishment. There the ship
was laid up in a slip, made for her, she was stripped and made snug for
the winter, a roof of planks being probably thrown over her, while the
lighter portions of her cargo were carried on pack-saddles up the
country. The timber seems to have been floated up the firths and rivers
as near as it could be got to its destination, and then dragged by
trains of horses to the spot where it was to be used.
Some of the cargo--the meal, and cloth and arms--was wanted at home;
some of it was sold to neighbours either for ready money or on trust, it
being usual to ask for the debt either in coin or in kind, the spring
after. Sometimes the account remained outstanding for a much longer
time. Among these men whose hands were so swift to shed blood, and in
that state of things which looks so lawless, but which in truth was
based upon fixed principles of justice and law, the rights of property
were so safe, that men like Njal went lending their money to overbearing
fellows like Starkad under Threecorner for years, on condition that he
should pay a certain rate of interest. So also Gunnar had goods and
money out at interest, out of which he wished to supply Unna's wants. In
fact the law of debtor and creditor, and of borrowing money at usance,
was well understood in Iceland, from the very first day that the
Northmen set foot on its shores.
If we examine the condition of the sexes in this state of society, we
shall find that men and women met very nearly on equal terms. If any
woman is shocked to read how Thrain Sigfus' son treated his wife, in
parting from her, and marrying a new one, at a moment's warning, she
must be told that Gudruna, in Laxdæla, threatened one of her three
husbands with much the same treatment, and would have put her threat
into execution if he had not behaved as she commanded him. In our Saga,
too, the gudewife of Bjorn the boaster threatens him with a separation
if he does not stand faithfully by Kari; and in another Saga of equal
age and truthfulness, we hear of one great lady who parted from her
husband, because, in playfully throwing a pillow of down at her, he
unwittingly struck her with his finger. In point of fact, the customary
law allowed great latitude to separations, at the will of either party,
if good reason could be shown for the desired change. It thought that
the worst service it could render to those whom it was intended to
protect would be to force two people to live together against their
will, or even against the will of only one of them, if that person
considered him or herself, as the case might be, ill-treated or
neglected. Gunnar no doubt could have separated himself from Hallgerda
for her thieving, just as Hallgerda could have parted from Gunnar for
giving her that slap in the face; but they lived on, to Gunnar's cost
and Hallgerda's infamy. In marriage contracts the rights of brides, like
Unna the great heiress of the south-west, or Hallgerda the flower of the
western dales, were amply provided for. In the latter case it was a
curious fact that this wicked woman retained possession of Laugarness,
near Reykjavik, which was part of her second husband Glum's property, to
her dying day, and there, according to constant tradition, she was
buried in a cairn which is still shown at the present time, and which is
said to be always green, summer and winter alike. Where marriages were
so much matter of barter and bargain, the father's will went for so much
and that of the children for so little, love matches were comparatively
rare; and if the songs of Gunnlaugr snaketongue and Kormak have
described the charms of their fair ones, and the warmth of their passion
in glowing terms, the ordinary Icelandic marriage of the tenth century
was much more a matter of business, in the first place, than of love.
Though strong affection may have sprung up afterwards between husband
and wife, the love was rather a consequence of the marriage than the
marriage a result of the love.
When death came it was the duty of the next of kin to close the eyes and
nostrils of the departed, and our Saga, in that most touching story of
Rodny's behaviour after the death of her son Hauskuld, affords an
instance of the custom. When Njal asks why she, the mother, as next of
kin, had not closed the eyes and nostrils of the corpse, the mother
answers, "That duty I meant for Skarphedinn". Skarphedinn then performs
the duty, and, at the same time, undertakes the duty of revenge. In
heathen times the burial took place on a "how" or cairn, in some
commanding position near the abode of the dead, and now came another
duty. This was the binding on of the "hellshoes," which the deceased was
believed to need in heathen times on his way either to Valhalla's
bright hall of warmth and mirth, or to Hell's dark realm of cold and
sorrow. That duty over, the body was laid in the cairn with goods and
arms, sometimes as we see was the case with Gunnar in a sitting posture;
sometimes even in a ship, but always in a chamber formed of baulks of
timber or blocks of stone, over which earth and gravel were piled....
CONCLUSION.
We are entitled to ask in what work of any age are the characters so
boldly, and yet so delicately, drawn [as in this Saga]? Where shall we
match the goodness and manliness of Gunnar, struggling with the storms
of fate, and driven on by the wickedness of Hallgerda into quarrel after
quarrel, which were none of his own seeking, but led no less surely to
his own end? Where shall we match Hallgerda herself--that noble frame,
so fair and tall, and yet with so foul a heart, the abode of all great
crimes, and also the lurking place of tale-bearing and thieving? Where
shall we find parallels to Skarphedinn's hastiness and readiness, as axe
aloft he leapt twelve ells across Markfleet, and glided on to smite
Thrain his death-blow on the slippery ice? where for Bergthora's love
and tenderness for her husband, she who was given young to Njal, and
could not find it in her heart to part from him when the house blazed
over their heads? where for Kari's dash and gallantry, the man who dealt
his blows straightforward, even in the Earl's hall, and never thought
twice about them? where for Njal himself, the man who never dipped his
hands in blood, who could unravel all the knotty points of the law; who
foresaw all that was coming, whether for good or ill, for friend or for
foe; who knew what his own end would be, though quite powerless to avert
it; and when it came, laid him down to his rest, and never uttered sound
or groan, though the flames roared loud around him? Nor are the minor
characters less carefully drawn, the scolding tongue of Thrain's first
wife, the mischief-making Thiostolf with his pole-axe, which divorced
Hallgerda's first husband, Hrut's swordsmanship, Asgrim's dignity,
Gizur's good counsel, Snorri's common sense and shrewdness, Gudmund's
grandeur, Thorgeir's thirst for fame, Kettle's kindliness, Ingialld's
heartiness, and, though last not least, Bjorn's boastfulness, which his
gudewife is ever ready to cry down--are all sketched with a few sharp
strokes which leave their mark for once and for ever on the reader's
mind. Strange! were it not that human nature is herself in every age,
that such forbearance and forgiveness as is shown by Njal and Hauskuld
and Hall, should have shot up out of that social soil, so stained and
steeped with the blood-shedding of revenge. Revenge was the great duty
of Icelandic life, yet Njal is always ready to make up a quarrel, though
he acknowledges the duty, when he refuses in his last moments to outlive
his children, whom he feels himself unable to revenge. The last words of
Hauskuld, when he was foully assassinated through the tale-bearing of
Mord, were, "God help me and forgive you"; nor did the beauty of a
Christian spirit ever shine out more brightly than in Hall, who, when
his son Ljot, the flower of his flock, fell full of youth, and strength,
and promise, in chance-medley at the battle on the Thingfield, at once
for the sake of peace gave up the father's and the freeman's dearest
rights, those of compensation and revenge, and allowed his son to fall
unatoned in order that peace might be made. This struggle between the
principle of an old system now turned to evil, and that of a new state
of things which was still fresh and good, between heathendom as it sinks
into superstition, and Christianity before it has had time to become
superstitious, stands strongly forth in the latter part of the Saga; but
as yet the new faith can only assert its forbearance and forgiveness in
principle. It has not had time, except in some rare instances, to bring
them into play in daily life. Even in heathen times such a deed as that
by which Njal met his death, to hem a man in within his house and then
to burn it and him together, to choke a freeman, as Skarphedinn says,
like a fox in his earth, was quite against the free and open nature of
the race; and though instances of such foul deeds occur besides those
two great cases of Blundkettle and Njal, still they were always looked
upon as atrocious crimes and punished accordingly. No wonder,
therefore, then that Flosi, after the Change of Faith, when he makes up
his mind to fire Njal's house, declares the deed to be one for which
they would have to answer heavily before God, "seeing that we are
Christian men ourselves"....
One word and we must bring this introduction to an end; it is merely to
point out how calmly and peacefully the Saga ends, with the perfect
reconciliation of Kari and Flosi, those generous foes, who throughout
the bitter struggle in which they were engaged always treated each other
with respect. It is a comfort to find, after the whole fitful story has
been worked out, after passing from page to page, every one of which
reeks with gore, to find that after all there were even in that
bloodthirsty Iceland of the tenth century such things as peaceful old
age and happy firesides, and that men like Flosi and Kari, who had both
shed so much blood, one in a good and the other in a wicked cause,
should after all die, Flosi on a trading voyage, an Icelandic Ulysses,
in an unseaworthy ship, good enough, as he said, for an old and
death-doomed man, Kari at home, well stricken in years, blessed with a
famous and numerous offspring, and a proud but loving wife.
ICELANDIC CHRONOLOGY.
A.D. 850. Birth of Harold fairhair.
860. Harold fairhair comes to the throne.
870. Harold fairhair sole King in Norway.
871. Ingolf sets out for Iceland.
872. Battle of Hafrsfirth (Hafrsfjöðr).
874. Ingolf and Leif go to settle in Iceland.
877. Kettle hæng goes to Iceland.
880-884. Harold fairhair roots out the Vikings in the west.
888. Fall of Thorstein the red in Scotland.
890-900. Rush of settlers from the British Isles to Iceland.
892. Aud the deeply wealthy comes to Iceland.
900-920. The third period of the Landnámstide.
920. Harold fairhair shares the kingdom with his sons.
923. Hrut Hauskuld's brother born.
929. Althing established.
930. Hrafn Kettle hæng's son Speaker of the Law.
930-935. Njal born.
930. The Fleetlithe feud begins.
933. Death of Harold fairhair.
940. End of the Fleetlithe feud; Fiddle Mord a man of rank;
Hamond Gunnar's son marries Mord's sister Rannveiga.
941. Fall of King Eric Bloodaxe.
c. 945. Gunnar of Lithend born.
955-960. Njal's sons born.
959. Glum marries Hallgerda.
960. Fall of King Hacon; Athelstane's foster-child, Harold
Grayfell, King in Norway.
963. Hrut goes abroad.
965. Hrut returns to Iceland and marries Unna Mord's daughter.
968. Unna parts from Hrut.
969. Fiddle Mord and Hrut strive at the Althing; Fall of King
Harold Grayfell; Earl Hacon rules in Norway.
970-971. Fiddle Mord's death; Gunnar and Hrut strive at the Althing.
972. Gunnar of Lithend goes abroad.
974. Gunnar returns to Iceland.
974. Gunnar's marriage with Hallgerda.
975. The slaying of Swart.
976. The slaying of Kol.
977. The slaying of Atli.
978. The slaying of Brynjolf the unruly and Thord Freedmanson.
979. The slaying of Sigmund the white.
983. Hallgerda steals from Otkell at Kirkby.
984. The suit for the theft settled at the Althing.
985. Otkell rides over Gunnar in the spring; fight at Rangriver
just before the Althing; at the Althing Geir the priest
and Gunnar strive; in the autumn Hauskuld Dale-Kolli's
son, Gunnar's father-in-law, dies; birth of Hauskuld
Thrain's son.
986. The fight at Knafahills, and death of Hjort Gunnar's brother.
987. The suit for those slain at Knafahills settled at the Althing.
988. Gunnar goes west to visit Olaf the peacock.
989. Slaying of Thorgeir Otkell's son before, and banishment of
Gunnar at, the Althing; Njal's sons, Helgi and Grim,
and Thrain Sigfus' son, go abroad.
990. Gunnar slain at Lithend.
992. Thrain returns to Iceland with Hrapp; Njal's sons ill-treated
by Earl Hacon for his sake.
994. Njal's sons return to Iceland, bringing Kari with them.
995. Death of Earl Hacon; Olaf Tryggvi's son King of Norway.
996. Skarphedinn slays Thrain.
997. Thangbrand sent by King Olaf to preach Christianity in
Iceland.
998. Slaying of Arnor of Forswaterwood by Flosi's brothers at
Skaptarfells Thing; Thangbrand's missionary journey;
Gizur and Hjallti go abroad.
999. Hjallti Skeggi's son found guilty of blasphemy against the
Gods at the Althing; Thangbrand returns to Norway.
1000. Gizur and Hjallti return to Iceland; the Change of Faith
and Christianity brought into the law at the Althing on
St. John's day, 24th June; fall of King Olaf Tryggvi's
son at Svoldr, 9th September.
1001. Thorgeir the priest of Lightwater gives up the Speakership
of the Law.
1002. Grim of Mossfell Speaker of the Law.
1003. Grim lays down the Speakership.
1003 or 1004. Skapti Thorod's son Speaker of the Law; the Fifth Court
established; Hauskuld Thrain's son marries Hildigunna
Flosi's niece and has one of the new priesthoods at
Whiteness.
1006. Duels abolished in legal matters; slaying of Hauskuld
Njal's son by Lyting and his brothers.
1009. Amund the blind slays Lyting; Valgard the guileful comes
back to Iceland; his evil counsel to Mord; Mord begins
to backbite and slander Hauskuld and Njal's sons to one
another.
1111. Hauskald the Whiteness priest slain early in the spring;
suit for his manslaughter at the Althing; Njal's Burning
the autumn after.
1112. The suit for the Burning and battle at the Althing; Flosi
and the Burners banished; Kari and Thorgeir Craggeir
carry on the feud.
1113. Flosi goes abroad with the Burners, and Kari follows them;
Flosi and Kari in Orkney.
1114. Brian's battle on Good Friday; Flosi goes to Rome.
1115. Flosi returns from Rome to Norway, and stays with Earl
Eric, Earl Hacon's son.
1116. Flosi returns to Iceland; Kari goes to Rome and returns to
Caithness; his wife Helga dies out in Iceland.
1117. Kari returns to Iceland, id reconciled with Flosi,
and marries Hildigunna Hauskuld's widow.
CONTENTS.
Introduction
The Northmen in Iceland--Superstitions of the Race--Social
Principles--Daily Life in Njal's Time--Conclusion.
Icelandic Chronology
CHAPTER
I. Of Fiddle Mord 1
II. Hrut Woos Unna 2
III. Hrut and Gunnhillda, Kings' Mother 4
IV. Of Hrut's Cruise 7
V. Atli Arnvid Son's Slaying 8
VI. Hrut Sails out to Iceland 10
VII. Unna separates from Hrut 13
VIII. Mord claims his Goods from Hrut 15
IX. Thorwald gets Hallgerda to Wife 17
X. Hallgerda's Wedding 19
XI. Thorwald's Slaying 20
XII. Thiostolf's Flight 22
XIII. Glum's Wooing 25
XIV. Glum's Wedding 28
XV. Thiostolf goes to Glum's House 29
XVI. Glum's Sheep Hunt 30
XVII. Glum's Slaying 31
XVIII. Fiddle Mord's Death 34
XIX. Gunnar comes into the Story 34
XX. Of Njal and His Children 35
XXI. Unna goes to See Gunnar 35
XXII. Njal's Advice 37
XXIII. Huckster Hedinn 39
XXIV. Gunnar and Hrut Strive at the Thing 42
XXV. Unna's Second Wedding 44
XXVI. Of Asgrim and his Children 45
XXVII. Helgi Njal's Son's Wooing 45
XXVIII. Hallvard comes out to Iceland 46
XXIX. Gunnar goes Abroad 47
XXX. Gunnar goes a-sea-roving 48
XXXI. Gunnar goes to King Harold Gorm's Son and Earl Hacon 52
XXXII. Gunnar comes out to Iceland 53
XXXIII. Gunnar's Wooing 54
XXXIV. Of Thrain Sigfus' Son 57
XXXV. The Visit to Bergthorsknoll 59
XXXVI. Kol Slew Swart 60
XXXVII. The Slaying of Kol, whom Atli Slew 63
XXXVIII. The Killing of Atli the Thrall 65
XXXIX. The Slaying of Brynjolf the Unruly 69
XL. Gunnar and Njal make Peace about Brynjolf's Slaying 70
XLI. Sigmund comes out to Iceland 71
XLII. The Slaying of Thord Freedmanson 73
XLIII. Njal and Gunnar make Peace for the Slaying of Thord 74
XLIV. Sigmund Mocks Njal and his Sons 76
XLV. The Slaying of Sigmund and Skiolld 79
XLVI. Of Gizur The White and Geir the Priest 82
XLVII. Of Otkell in Kirkby 83
XLVIII. How Hallgerda makes Malcolm Steal from Kirkby 85
XLIX. Of Skamkell's Evil Counsel 86
L. Of Skamkell's Lying 90
LI. Of Gunnar 92
LII. Of Runolf, the Son of Wolf Aurpriest 94
LIII. How Otkell Rode over Gunnar 95
LIV. The Fight at Rangriver 97
LV. Njal's Advice to Gunnar 99
LVI. Gunnar and Geir the Priest Strive at the Thing 101
LVII. Of Starkad and his Sons 104
LVIII. How Gunnar's Horse Fought 106
LIX. Of Asgrim and Wolf Uggis' Son 108
LX. An Attack against Gunnar agreed on 109
LXI. Gunnar's Dream 111
LXII. The Slaying of Hjort and Fourteen Men 112
LXIII. Njals Counsel to Gunnar 115
LXIV. Of Valgard and Mord 116
LXV. Of Fines and Atonements 118
LXVI. Of Thorgeir Otkell's Son 120
LXVII. Of Thorgeir Starkad's Son 121
LXVIII. Of Njal and those Namesakes 122
LXIX. Olaf the Peacock's Gifts to Gunnar 124
LXX. Mord's Counsel 126
LXXI. The Slaying of Thorgeir Otkell's Son 127
LXXII. Of the Suits for Manslaughter at the Thing 129
LXXIII. Of the Atonement 130
LXXIV. Kolskegg goes Abroad 132
LXXV. The Riding to Lithend 135
LXXVI. Gunnar's Slaying 135
LXXVII. Gunnar Sings a Song Dead 139
LXXVIII. Gunnar of Lithend Avenged 141
LXXIX. Hogni takes an Atonement for Gunnar's Death 143
LXXX. Of Kolskegg: How he was Baptised 143
LXXXI. Of Thrain: How he Slew Kol 144
LXXXII. Njal's Sons Sail Abroad 147
LXXXIII. Of Kari Solmund's Son 148
LXXXIV. Of Earl Sigurd 150
LXXXV. The Battle with the Earls 151
LXXXVI. Hrapp's Voyage from Iceland 152
LXXXVII. Thrain took to Hrapp 156
LXXXVIII. Earl Hacon Fights with Njal's Sons 162
LXXXIX. Njal's Sons and Kari come out to Iceland 165
XC. The Quarrel of Njal's Sons with Thrain Sigfus' Son 166
XCI. Thrain Sigfus' Son's Slaying 170
XCII. Kettle takes Hauskuld as his Foster-Son 175
XCIII. Njal takes Hauskuld to Foster 176
XCIV. Of Flosi Thord's Son 177
XXCV. Of Hall of the Side 177
XCVI. Of the Change of Faith 178
XCVII. Of Thangbrand's Journeys 179
XCVIII. Of Thangbrand and Gudleif 180
XCIX. Of Gest Oddleif's Son 183
C. Of Gizur the White and Hjallti 185
CI. Of Thorgeir of Lightwater 186
CII. The Wedding of Hauskuld, the Priest of Whiteness 187
CIII. The Slaying of Hauskuld Njal's Son 191
CIV. The Slaying of Lyting's Brothers 195
CV. Of Amund the Blind 197
CVI. Of Valgard the Guileful 198
CVII. Of Mord and Njal's Sons 199
CVIII. Of The Slander of Mord Valgard's Son 200
CIX. Of Mord and Njal's Sons 203
CX. The Slaying of Hauskuld, the Priest Whiteness 203
CXI. Of Hildigunna and Mord Valgard's Son 205
CXII. The Pedigree of Gudmund the Powerful 206
CXIII. Of Snorri the Priest and his Stock 207
CXIV. Of Flosi Thord's Son 207
CXV. Of Flosi and Hildigunna 209
CXVI. Of Flosi and Mord and the Sons of Sigfus 211
CXVII. Njal and Skarphedinn Talk Together 213
CXVIII. Asgrim and Njal's Sons pray Men for Help 214
CXIX. Of Skarphedinn and Thorkel Foulmouth 219
CXX. Of the Pleading of the Suit 221
CXXI. Of the Award of Atonement between Flosi and Njal 223
CXXII. Of the Judges 225
CXXIII. An Attack planned on Njal and his Sons 228
CXXIV. Of Portents 232
CXXV. Flosi's Journey from Home 232
CXXVI. Of Portents at Bergthorsknoll 233
CXXVII. The Onslaught on Bergthorsknoll 235
CXXVIII. Njal's Burning 237
CXXIX. Skarphedinn's Death 241
CXXX. Of Kari Solmund's Son 245
CXXXI. Njal's and Bergthora's Bones Found 248
CXXXII. Flosi's Dream 251
CXXXIII. Of Flosi's Journey and his Asking for Help 252
CXXXIV. Of Thorhall and Kari 256
CXXXV. Of Flosi and the Burners 260
CXXXVI. Of Thorgeir Craggeir 262
CXXXVII. Of Eyjolf Bolverk's Son 262
CXXXVIII. Of Asgrim, and Gizur, and Kari 267
CXXXIX. Of Asgrim and Gudmund 270
CXL. Of the Declarations of the Suits 271
CXLI. Now Men go to the Courts 274
CXLII. Of Eyjolf Bolverk's Son 284
CXLIII. The Counsel of Thorhall Asgrim's Son 285
CXLIV. Battle at the Althing 290
CXLV. Of Kari and Thorgeir 299
CXLVI. The Award of Atonement with Thorgeir Craggeir 303
CXLVII. Kari comes to Bjorn's House in the Mark 305
CXLVIII. Of Flosi and the Burners 307
CXLIX. Of Kari and Bjorn 309
CL. More of Kari and Bjorn 312
CLI. Of Kari, and Bjorn, and Thorgeir 315
CLII. Flosi goes Abroad 317
CLIII. Kari goes Abroad 318
CLIV. Gunnar Lambi's Son's Slaying 320
CLV. Of Signs and Wonders 323
CLVI. Brian's Battle 324
CLVII. The Slaying of Kol Thorstein's Son 330
CLVIII. Of Flosi and Kari 332
THE STORY OF BURNT NJAL.
CHAPTER I.
OF FIDDLE MORD.
There was a man named Mord whose surname was Fiddle; he was the son of
Sigvat the Red, and he dwelt at the "Vale" in the Rangrivervales. He was
a mighty chief, and a great taker up of suits, and so great a lawyer
that no judgments were thought lawful unless he had a hand in them. He
had an only daughter, named Unna. She was a fair, courteous and gifted
woman, and that was thought the best match in all the Rangrivervales.
Now the story turns westward to the Broadfirth dales, where, at
Hauskuldstede, in Laxriverdale, dwelt a man named Hauskuld, who was
Dalakoll's son, and his mother's name was Thorgerda. He had a brother
named Hrut, who dwelt at Hrutstede; he was of the same mother as
Hauskuld, but his father's name was Heriolf. Hrut was handsome, tall and
strong, well skilled in arms, and mild of temper; he was one of the
wisest of men--stern towards his foes, but a good counsellor on great
matters. It happened once that Hauskuld bade his friends to a feast, and
his brother Hrut was there, and sat next him. Hauskuld had a daughter
named Hallgerda, who was playing on the floor with some other girls. She
was fair of face and tall of growth, and her hair was as soft as silk;
it was so long, too, that it came down to her waist. Hauskuld called out
to her, "Come hither to me, daughter". So she went up to him, and he
took her by the chin, and kissed her; and after that she went away.
Then Hauskuld said to Hrut, "What dost thou think of this maiden? Is she
not fair?" Hrut held his peace. Hauskuld said the same thing to him a
second time, and then Hrut answered, "Fair enough is this maid, and many
will smart for it, but this I know not, whence thief's eyes have come
into our race". Then Hauskuld was wroth, and for a time the brothers saw
little of each other.