The year 1000 A.D. was one of strange history. Its advent
threw the people of Europe into a state of mortal terror.
Ten centuries had passed since the birth of Christ. The
world was about to come to an end. Such was the general
belief. How it was to reach its end,--whether by fire,
water, or some other agent of ruin,--the prophets of
disaster did not say, nor did people trouble themselves to
learn. Destruction was coming upon them, that was enough to
know; how to provide against it was the one thing to be
considered.
Some hastened to the churches; others to the taverns. Here
prayers went up; there wine went down. The petitions of the
pious were matched by the ribaldry of the profligate. Some
made their wills; others wasted their wealth in revelry,
eager to get all the pleasure out of life that remained for
them. Many freely gave away their property, hoping, by
ridding themselves of the goods of this earth, to establish
a claim to the goods of Heaven, with little regard to the
fate of those whom they loaded with their discarded wealth.
It was an era of ignorance and superstition. Christendom
went insane over an idea. When the year ended, and the world
rolled on, none the worse for conflagration or deluge, green
with the spring leafage and ripe with the works of man,
dismay gave way to hope, mirth took the place of prayer,
man regained their flown wits, and those who had so
recklessly given away their wealth bethought themselves of
taking legal measures for its recovery.
Such was one of the events that made that year memorable.
There was another of a highly different character. Instead
of a world being lost, a world was found. The Old World not
only remained unharmed, but a New World was added to it, a
world beyond the seas, for this was the year in which the
foot of the European was first set upon the shores of the
trans-Atlantic continent. It is the story of this first
discovery of America that we have now to tell.
In the autumn of the year 1000, in a region far away from
fear-haunted Europe, a scene was being enacted of a very
different character from that just described. Over the
waters of unknown seas a small, strange craft boldly made
its way, manned by a crew of the hardiest and most vigorous
men, driven by a single square sail, whose coarse woollen
texture bellied deeply before the fierce ocean winds, which
seemed at times as if they would drive that deckless vessel
bodily beneath the waves.
This crew was of men to whom fear was almost unknown, the
stalwart Vikings of the North, whose oar-and sail-driven
barks now set out from the coasts of Norway and Denmark to
ravage the shores of southern Europe, now turned their prows
boldly to the west in search of unknown lands afar.
Shall we describe this craft? It was a tiny one in which to
venture upon an untravelled ocean in search of an unknown
continent,--a vessel shaped somewhat like a strung bow,
scarcely fifty feet in length, low amidships and curving
upwards to high peaks at stem and stern, both of which
converged to sharp edges. It resembled an enormous canoe
rather than aught else to which we can compare it. On the
stem was a carved and gilt dragon, the figurehead of the
ship, which glittered in the bright rays of the sun. Along
the bulwarks of the ship, fore and aft, hung rows of large
painted wooden shields, which gave an Argus-eyed aspect to
the craft. Between them was a double row of thole-pins for
the great oars, which now lay at rest in the bottom of the
boat, but by which, in calm weather, this "walker of the
seas" could be forced swiftly through the yielding element.
[Illustration: VIKING SHIPS AT SEA.]
Near the stern, on an elevated platform, stood the
commander, a man of large and powerful frame and imposing
aspect, one whose commands not the fiercest of his crew
would lightly venture to disobey. A coat of ring-mail
encircled his stalwart frame; by his side, in a
richly-embossed scabbard, hung a long sword, with hilt of
gilded bronze; on his head was a helmet that shone like pure
gold, shaped like a wolf's head, with gaping jaws and
threatening teeth. Land was in sight, an unknown coast,
peopled perhaps by warlike men. The cautious Viking leader
deemed it wise to be prepared for danger, and was armed for
possible combat.
Below him, on the rowing-benches, sat his hardy crew, their
arms--spears, axes, bows, and slings--beside them, ready
for any deed of daring they might be called upon to perform.
Their dress consisted of trousers of coarse stuff, belted at
the waist; thick woollen shirts, blue, red, or brown in
color; iron helmets, beneath which their long hair streamed
down to their shoulders; and a shoulder belt descending to
the waist and supporting their leather-covered
sword-scabbards. Heavy whiskers and moustaches added to the
fierceness of their stern faces, and many of them wore as
ornament on the forehead a band of gold.
They numbered thirty-five in all, this crew who had set out
to brave the terrors and solve the mysteries of the great
Atlantic. Their leader, Leif by name, was the son of Eirek
the Red, the discoverer of Greenland, and a Viking as fierce
as ever breathed the air of the north land. Outlawed in
Norway, where in hot blood he had killed more men than the
law could condone, Eirek had made his way to Iceland. Here
his fierce temper led him again to murder, and flight once
more became necessary. Manning a ship, he set sail boldly to
the west, and in the year 982 reached a land on which the
eye of European had never before gazed. To this he gave the
name of Greenland, with the hope, perhaps, that this
inviting name would induce others to follow him.
Such proved to be the case. Eirek returned to Iceland, told
the story of his discovery, and in 985 set sail again for
his new realm with twenty-five ships and many colonists.
Others came afterwards, among them one Biarni, a bold and
enterprising youth, for whom a great adventure was
reserved. Enveloped in fogs, and driven for days from its
course by northeasterly winds, his vessel was forced far to
the south. When at length the fog cleared away, the
distressed mariners saw land before them, a low, level,
thickly-wooded region, very different from the ice-covered
realm they had been led to expect.
"Is this the land of which we are in search?" asked the
sailors.
"No," answered Biarni; "for I am told that we may look for
very large glaciers in Greenland.
"At any rate, let us land and rest."
"Not so; my father has gone with Eirek. I shall not rest
till I see him again."
And now the winds blew northward, and for seven days they
scudded before a furious gale, passing on their way a
mountainous, ice-covered island, and in the end, by great
good fortune, Biarni's vessel put into the very port where
his father had fixed his abode.
Biarni had seen, but had not set foot upon, the shores of
the New World. That was left for bolder or more enterprising
mariners to perform. About 995 he went to Norway, where the
story of his strange voyage caused great excitement among
the adventure-loving people. Above all, it stirred up the
soul of Leif, eldest son of Eirek the Red, then in Norway,
who in his soul resolved to visit and explore that strange
land which Biarni had only seen from afar.
Leif returned to Greenland with more than this idea in his
mind. When Eirek left Norway he had left a heathen land.
When Leif visited it he found it a Christian country. Or at
least he found there a Christian king, Olaf Tryggvason by
name, who desired his guest to embrace the new faith. Leif
consented without hesitation. Heathenism did not seem very
firmly fixed in the minds of those northern barbarians. He
and all his sailors were baptized, and betook themselves to
Greenland with this new faith as their most precious
freight. In this way Christianity first made its way across
the seas. And thus it further came about that the ship which
we have seen set sail for southern lands.
This ship was that of Biarni. Leif had bought it, it may be
with the fancy that it would prove fortunate in retracing
its course. Not only Leif, but his father Eirek, now an old
man, was fired with the hope of new discoveries. The aged
Viking had given Greenland, to the world; it was a natural
ambition to desire to add to his fame as a discoverer. But
on his way to the vessel his horse stumbled. Superstitious,
as all men were in that day, he looked on this as an evil
omen.
"I shall not go," he said. "It is not my destiny to discover
any other lands than that on which we now live. I shall
follow you no farther, but end my life in Greenland." And
Eirek rode back to his home.
Not so the adventurers. They boldly put out to sea, turned
the prow of their craft southward, and battled with the
waves day after day, their hearts full of hope, their eyes
on the alert for the glint of distant lands.
At length land was discovered,--a dreary country,
mountainous, icy; doubtless the inhospitable island which
Biarni had described. They landed, but only to find
themselves on a shore covered with bare, flat rocks, while
before them loomed snow-covered heights.
"This is not the land we seek," said Leif; "but we will not
do as Biarni did, who never set foot on shore. I will give
this land a name, and will call it Helluland,"--a name which
signifies the "land of broad stones."
Onward they sailed again, their hearts now filled with
ardent expectation. At length rose again the stirring cry of
"Land!" or its Norse equivalent, and as the dragon-peaked
craft glided swiftly onward there rose into view a long
coast-line, flat and covered with white sand in the
foreground, while a dense forest spread over the rising
ground in the rear.
"Markland [land of forest] let it be called," cried Leif.
"This must be the land which Biarni first saw. We will not
be like him, but will set foot on its promising shores."
They landed, but tarried not long. Soon they took ship
again, and sailed for two days out of sight of land. Then
there came into view an island, with a broad channel between
it and the mainland. Up this channel they laid their course,
and soon came to where a river poured its clear waters into
the sea. They decided to explore this stream. The boat was
lowered and the ship towed up the river, until, at a short
distance inland, it broadened into a lake. Here, at Leif's
command, the anchor was cast, and their good ship, the
pioneer in American discovery, came to rest within the
inland waters of the New World.
Not many minutes passed before the hardy mariners were on
shore, and eagerly observing the conditions of their
new-discovered realm. River and lake alike were full of
salmon, the largest they had ever seen, a fact which
agreeably settled the question of food. The climate seemed
deliciously mild, as compared with the icy shores to which
they were used. The grass was but little withered by frost,
and promised a winter supply of food for cattle. Altogether
they were so pleased with their surroundings that Leif
determined to spend the winter at that place, exploring the
land so far as he could.
For some time they dwelt under booths, passing the nights in
their leather sleeping-bags; but wood was abundant, axes and
hands skilful to wield them were at hand, and they quickly
went to work to build themselves habitations more suitable
for the coming season of cold.
No inhabitants of the land were seen. So far as yet
appeared, it might be a region on which human foot had never
before been set. But Leif was a cautious leader. He bade his
men not to separate until the houses were finished. Then he
divided them into two parties, left one to guard their homes
and their ship, and sent the other inland to explore.
"Beware, though," he said, "that you risk not too much. We
know not what perils surround us. Go not so far inland but
that you can get back by evening, and take care not to
separate."
Day after day these explorations continued, the men plunging
into the forest that surrounded them and wandering far into
its hidden recesses, each evening bringing back with them
some story of the marvels of this new land, or some sample
of its productions strange to their eyes.
An evening came in which one of the explorers failed to
return. He had either disobeyed the injunctions of Leif and
gone too far to get back by evening, or some peril of that
unknown land had befallen him. This man was of German birth,
Tyrker by name, a southerner who had for years dwelt with
Eirek and been made the foster-father of Leif, who had been
fond of him since childhood. He was a little,
wretched-looking fellow, with protruding forehead, unsteady
eyes, and tiny face, yet a man skilled in all manner of
handicraft.
Leif, on learning of his absence, upbraided the men bitterly
for losing him, and called on twelve of them to follow him
in search. Into the forest they went, and before long had
the good fortune to behold Tyrker returning. The little
fellow, far from showing signs of disaster, was in the
highest of spirits, his face radiant with joy.
"How now, foster-father!" cried Leif. "Why are you so late?
and why have you parted from the others?"
Tyrker was too excited to answer. He rolled his eyes wildly
and made wry faces. When words came to him, he spoke in his
native German, which none of them understood. Joy seemed to
have driven all memory of the language of the north from his
mind. It was plain that no harm had come to him. On the
contrary, he seemed to have stumbled upon some landfall of
good luck. Yet some time passed before they could bring him
out of his ecstasy into reason.
"I did not go much farther than you," he at length called
out, in their own tongue "and if I am late I have a good
excuse. I can tell you news."
"What are they?"
"I have made a grand discovery. See, I have found vines and
grapes," and he showed them his hands filled with the purple
fruit. "I was born in a land where grapes grow in plenty.
And this land bears them! Behold what I bring you!"
The memory of his childhood had driven for the time all
memory of the Norse language from his brain. Grapes he had
not seen for many years, and the sight of them made him a
child again. The others beheld the prize with little less
joy. They slept where they were that night, and in the
morning followed Tyrker to the scene of his discovery, where
he gladly pointed to the arbor-like vines, laden thickly
with wild grapes, a fruit delicious to their unaccustomed
palates.
"This is a glorious find," cried Leif. "We must take some of
this splendid fruit north. There are two kinds of work now
to be done. One day you shall gather grapes the next you
shall cut timber to freight the ship. We must show our
friends north what a country we have found. As for this
land, I have a new name for it. Let it be called Vineland,
the land of grapes and wine."
After this discovery there is little of interest to record.
The winter, which proved to be a very mild one, passed away,
and in the spring they set sail again for Greenland, their
ship laden deeply with timber, so useful a treasure in their
treeless northern home, while the long-boat was filled to
the gunwale with the grapes they had gathered and dried.
Such is the story of the first discovery of America, as told
in the sagas of the North. Leif the Lucky was the name given
the discoverer from that time forward. He made no more
visits to Vineland, for during the next winter his father
died, and he became the governing head of the Greenland
settlements.
But the adventurous Northmen were not the men to rest at
ease with an untrodden continent so near at hand. Thorvald,
Leif's brother, one of the boldest of his race, determined
to see for himself the wonders of Vineland. In the spring of
1002 he set sail with thirty companions, in the pioneer ship
of American discovery, the same vessel which Biarni and Leif
had made famous in that service. Unluckily the records fail
to give us the name of this notable ship.
Steering southward, they reached in due time the lake on
whose shores Leif and his crew had passed the winter. The
buildings stood unharmed, and the new crew passed a winter
here, most of their time being spent in catching and drying
the delicious salmon which thronged river and lake. In the
spring they set sail again, and explored the coast for a
long distance to the south. How far they went we cannot
tell, for all we know of their voyage is that nearly
everywhere they found white sandy shores and a background of
unbroken forest. Like Leif, they saw no men.
Back they came to Vineland, and there passed the winter
again. Another spring came in the tender green of the young
leafage, and again they put to sea. So far fortune had
steadily befriended them. Now the reign of misfortune began.
Not far had they gone before the vessel was driven ashore by
a storm, and broke her keel on a protruding shoal. This was
not a serious disaster. A new keel was made, and the old one
planted upright in the sands of the coast.
"We will call this place Kial-ar-ness" [Keel Cape], said
Thorvald.
On they sailed again, and came to a country of such
attractive aspect that Thorvald looked upon it with longing
eyes.
"This is a fine country, and here I should like to build
myself a home," he said, little deeming in what gruesome
manner his words were to be fulfilled.
For now, for the first time in the story of these voyages,
are we told of the natives of the land,--the Skroelings, as
the Norsemen called them. Passing the cape which Thorvald
had chosen for his home, the mariners landed to explore the
shore, and on their way back to the ship saw, on the white
sands, three significant marks. They were like those made by
a boat when driven ashore. Continuing their observation,
they quickly perceived, drawn well up on the shore, three
skin-canoes turned keel upward. Dividing into three parties,
they righted these boats, and to their surprise saw that
under each three men lay concealed.
The blood-loving instinct of the Norsemen was never at fault
in a case like this. Drawing their swords, they assailed the
hidden men, and of the nine only one escaped, the other
being stretched in death upon the beach.
The mariners had made a fatal mistake. To kill none, unless
they could kill all, should have been their rule, a lesson
in practical wisdom which they were soon to learn. But,
heedless of danger and with the confidence of strength and
courage, they threw themselves upon the sands, and, being
weary and drowsy, were quickly lost in slumber.
And now came a marvel. A voice, none knew whence or of whom,
called loudly in their slumbering ears,--
"Wake, Thorvaldt! Wake all your men, if you would save your
life and theirs! Haste to your ship and fly from land with
all speed, for vengeance and death confront you."
Suddenly aroused, they sprang to their feet, looking at each
other with astounded eyes, and asking who had spoken those
words. Little time for answer remained. The woods behind
them suddenly seemed alive with fierce natives, who had been
roused to vengeful fury by the flying fugitive, and now came
on with hostile cries. The Norsemen sprang to their boats
and rowed in all haste to the ship; but before they could
make sail the surface of the bay swarmed with skin-boats,
and showers of arrows were poured upon them.
The warlike mariners in turn assailed their foes with
arrows, slings, and javelins, slaying so many of them that
the remainder were quickly put to flight. But they fled not
unrevenged. A keen-pointed arrow, flying between the ship's
side and the edge of his shield, struck Thorvald in the
armpit, wounding him so deeply that death threatened to
follow the withdrawal of the fatal dart.
"My day is come," said the dying chief. "Return home to
Greenland as quickly as you may. But as for me, you shall
carry me to the place which I said would be so pleasant to
dwell in. Doubtless truth came out of my mouth, for it may
be that I shall live there for awhile. There you shall bury
me and put crosses at my head and feet, and henceforward
that place shall be called Krossanes" [Cross Cape].
The sorrowing sailors carried out the wishes of their dying
chief, who lived but long enough to fix his eyes once more
on the place which he had chosen for his home, and then
closed them in the sleep of death. They buried him here,
placing the crosses at his head and feet as he had bidden,
and then set sail again for the booths of Leif at Vineland,
where part of their company had been left to gather grapes
in their absence. To these they told the story of what had
happened, and agreed with them that the winter should be
spent in that place, and that in the spring they should obey
Thorvald's request and set sail for Greenland. This they
did, taking on board their ship vines and an abundance of
dried grapes. Ere the year was old their good ship again
reached Eireksfjord, where Leif was told of the death of his
brother and of all that had happened to the voyagers.
The remaining story of the discoveries of the Northmen must
be told in a few words. The next to set sail for that
far-off land was Thorstein, the third son of Eirek the Red.
He failed to get there, however, but made land on the east
coast of Greenland, where he died, while his wife Gudrid
returned home. Much was this woman noted for her beauty, and
as much for her wisdom and prudence, so the sagas tell us.
In 1006 came to Greenland a noble Icelander, Thorfinn by
name. That winter he married Gudrid, and so allied himself
to the family of Eirek the Red. And quickly he took up the
business of discovery, which had been pursued so ardently by
Eirek and his sons. He sailed in 1007, with three ships, for
Vineland, where he remained three years, having many
adventures with the natives, now trading with them for furs,
now fighting with them for life. In Vineland was born a son
to Thorfinn and Gudrid, the first white child born in
America. From him--Snorri Thorfinnson he was named--came a
long line of illustrious descendants, many of whom made
their mark in the history of Iceland and Denmark, the line
ending in modern times in the famous Thorwaldsen, the
greatest sculptor of the nineteenth century.
The sagas thus picture for us the natives: "Swarthy they
were in complexion, short and savage in aspect, with ugly
hair, great eyes, and broad cheeks." In a battle between the
adventurers and these savages the warlike blood of Eirek
manifested itself in a woman of his race. For Freydis, his
daughter, when pursued and likely to be captured by the
natives, snatched up a sword which had been dropped by a
slain Greenlander, and faced them so valiantly that they
took to their heels in affright and fled precipitately to
their canoes.
One more story, and we are done. In the spring of 1010
Thorfinn sailed north with the two ships which he still had.
One of them reached Greenland in safety. The other,
commanded by Biarni Grimolfson, was driven from its course,
and, being worm-eaten, threatened to sink.
There was but one boat, and this capable of holding but half
the ship's company. Lots were cast to decide who should go
in the boat, and who stay on the sinking ship. Biarni was of
those to whom fortune proved kindly. But he was a man of
noble strain, fit for deeds of heroic fortitude and
self-sacrifice. There was on board the ship a young
Icelander, who had been put under Biarni's protection, and
who lamented bitterly his approaching fate.
"Come down into the boat," called out the noble-hearted
Viking. "I will take your place in the ship; for I see that
you are fond of life."
So the devoted chieftain mounted again into the ship, and
the youth, selfish with fear, took his place in the boat.
The end was as they had foreseen. The boat reached land,
where the men told their story. The worm-eaten ship must
have gone down in the waves, for Biarni and his comrades
were never heard of again. Thus perished one of the world's
heroes.
Little remains to be told, for all besides is fragment and
conjecture. It is true that in the year 1011 Freydis and her
husband voyaged again to Vineland, though they made no new
discoveries; and it is probable that in the following
centuries other journeys were made to the same land. But as
time passed on Greenland grew colder; its icy harvest
descended farther and farther upon its shores; in the end
its colonies disappeared, and with them ended all
intercourse with the grape-laden shores of Vineland.
Just where lay this land of the vine no one to-day can tell.
Some would place it as far north as Labrador; some seek to
bring it even south of New England; the Runic records simply
tell us of a land of capes, islands, rivers, and vines. It
is to the latter, and to the story of far-reaching
forest-land, and pasturage lasting the winter through, that
we owe the general belief that the Vikings reached New
England's fertile shores, and that the ship of Biarni and
Leif, with its war-loving crews, preceded by six centuries
the Mayflower, with its peaceful and pious souls.