ERIC THE RED.
The fiord on the border of which stands the colony of Julianashaab
is now known as the fiord of Igalliko, meaning, “the fiord of
the deserted homes:” the deserted homes being the desolate and
long-abandoned ruins of the Norse buildings which are scattered along
its picturesque banks.
Its ancient name was Ericsfiord, so named by Red Eric, in
commemoration of his discovery, and for the perpetuation of his
fame—a sad commentary, truly, upon the instability of human designs,
that a name meant to recall the memory of a great achievement should
be replaced by one expressive of decay and ruin.
This fiord is a grand inlet from the sea, and is from two to five
miles wide. To all appearances, it is a great river, flowing along
majestically between its banks. It does not, however, stand alone,
for there are many others in Greenland that much resemble it. It
is one of a multitude of similar inlets that give such peculiar
character to the Greenland coast. In fact, there is no other coast
like it, if we except that of Norway. But, unlike the fiords of
Norway, glaciers descend into nearly all of them. These glaciers, by
their steady growth, have changed the aspect of the country greatly
since the Northmen first went there and gave it the name which it
at present bears. That it is a misnomer, need hardly be mentioned,
though the application of it came about in a very simple way. Davis’s
“Land of Desolation” suits the country much better than Eric’s
“Greenland.”
The name Ericsfiord, like that of Magellan’s Strait, Hispaniola,
etc., commemorates a discovery. Perhaps I should rather say, like
that of America, it commemorates a _re_-discovery; for as America
was known long before Columbus’s time, so also was Greenland before
Eric’s, if we are to credit (and we have no reason to doubt them) the
ancient sagas of Iceland. According to these, one Gunnibiorn landed
in Greenland in the year 872.
Eric was a high-spirited son of a jarl of Jadar, in Norway, who,
opposing the encroachments of the king upon his feudal rights, in
common with his class, was forced to flee the country. Escaping with
his son, he established himself in Iceland, which was then being
peopled by such refugees from tyranny and wrong, and a society was
being formed which, for love of liberty and the actual possession of
republican freedom, has never been excelled. These Icelanders were
then, and they continued to be for centuries afterwards, the most
intellectual and refined people of the north of Europe; and this is
not surprising when it is remembered that the best blood of Norway
and Denmark went to swell its population. In fact, Iceland gave
literature and laws to the whole of Scandinavia. The child was wiser
than the parent. Her writers first put in shape the Norse mythology;
and many of the most distinguished families of Norway and Denmark are
now proud to trace their origin back to the old freedom-loving jarls
and sea-kings who founded a nation upon a rock which had been forced
up by terrestrial fires into an atmosphere so cold and forbidding
that the snows gathered upon its lofty summits, while volcanic heat
wrestled in the bowels of its mountains.
Eric received his surname of Red, or Rothe, from the color of his
hair; and his corresponding disposition doubled the significance of
the name when it was made to signify “he of the red hand,” as well
as of the red head. The truth is, he was, according to all accounts,
much addicted to the then popular pastime of cutting people’s
throats; and for his last offense of this description he was banished
from Iceland for a space of three years. The immediate offense
was for killing a churlish knave who would not return a borrowed
door-post, which was always a sacred object, and was preserved with
pious care by the Scandinavians. Perhaps if the borrowed article had
been a book instead of a door-post, as in the case of fighting St.
Colomba, the decree might have been different.
Being banished, where should Eric go? He could not return to Norway,
and there was no place where he could set his foot with any safety.
So he bethought him of the legendary land of Gunnibiorn, for,
according to the Iceland Landnama, or Doomsday-book of Aré the Wise,
that was the name of the man who had visited the land to the west of
Iceland. This land Eric would go in search of, and risk his life and
every thing upon the hazard.
He set sail from Bredifiord, in Iceland, some time during the summer
of the year 983, in a small half-decked ship, and in three days he
sighted land. Not altogether liking the looks of it, he coasted
southward until he came to a turning-place, or _Hvarf_, now called
Cape Farewell. Thence he made his way northward to the present site
of Julianashaab, where he passed the three years of his forced exile.
He liked the country well, as much as he had disliked it before when
he saw it from the other side. Upon the meadow-lands beside the fiord
immense herds of reindeer were browsing on the luxurious grass;
sparrows chirruped among the branches of the little trees. He thought
the place would do to settle in, and named it Greenland.
But to be precise, as it is always well to be, I quote from an old
Norse saga of the before-mentioned Aré the Wise—a saga written in
Iceland about the year 1100, the original of which was in existence
up to 1651, and a copy of which is still preserved in Copenhagen.
Thus runs the tale:
“The land which is called Greenland was discovered and settled
from Iceland. Eric the Red was the man from Bredifiord who passed
thither from hence [Iceland] and took possession of that portion of
the country now called _Ericsfiord_. But the name he gave the whole
country was _Greenland_. ‘For,’ quoth he, ‘if the land have a good
name, it will cause many to come hither.’ He first colonized the land
fourteen or fifteen winters before Christianity was introduced into
Iceland, as was told by Thorkil Gelluson in Greenland, by one who had
himself accompanied Eric thither.” This Thorkil Gelluson was uncle to
Aré the Wise, and the historian was pretty likely, therefore, to be
accurate in his information.
Upon returning to Iceland, Eric was graciously received; and what
with the fine name he had given to his new country, and the fine
promises he held out, he had no trouble in obtaining all he asked
for—that is, twenty-five ships loaded with adventurous people, and
all the appliances for building up a colony. Thus provided, he set
sail in the year 985; but only fourteen of these ships ever reached
their destination. Some of the remaining eleven were lost at sea;
others were wrecked upon the eastern coast of Greenland; others put
back to Iceland in distress.
Eric was resolved to found a nation for himself, and these fourteen
cargoes of people gave him a sufficient nucleus. He went far up his
fiord and began a settlement. A house was also built nearer to the
sea—probably a look-out-house; for Eric expected other ships, and
he, like a prudent man that he was, would set a watch for them. The
ruins of this house may still be seen, and are not five minutes’ walk
from the pastor’s house at Julianashaab.
According to his expectations, other ships arrived, bringing cattle,
sheep, and horses; likewise his wife, and sons and daughters. The
settlement grew and prospered. Norwegians, Danes, Icelanders,
people from the Hebrides, from the British Isles, from Ireland,
and even from the south of Europe, came there in ships to trade.
Emigrants poured in, new towns were built, new farms were cleared,
and ambitious and adventurous men searched up and down the coast for
other fields whereon to display their enterprise. How far north the
most adventurous went we can not certainly know; but Rafn places
one of their expeditions in latitude 75°, a point to which the
stoutest ships of modern times can not now go without encountering
serious risk. And all this was ventured, eight hundred years ago, in
half-decked ships and open boats. It is positively known that one
of their expeditions reached as far as Upernavik, latitude 72° 50´,
a stone having been discovered near there, in 1824, by Sir Edward
Parry, bearing the following inscription in Runic characters:
“Erling Sighvatson and Biorn Thordarson and
Eindrid Oddson on Saturday before
Ascension week raised these marks
and cleared ground. 1135.”
Think of “clearing ground” in Greenland up in latitude 72° 50´! What
kind of ground would now be found to clear? Naked wastes alone;
and the desert sands are not more unproductive. But, as intimated
already, the climate has certainly changed during the seven hundred
years since this event happened; in evidence of which, it is not
unimportant to observe that, in the old chronicles of the voyages of
those ancient Northmen, there is very little mention made of ice
as a disturbing element in navigation. And this brings us back to
where we started—to the growth of glaciers in the Greenland fiords.
From these glaciers come the icebergs, and a fiord which receives a
glacier is not habitable.
There was no glacier in Ericsfiord when Eric went there, and there
are none now, but it is surrounded by them. The mountains are of
such peculiar formation that they keep back the frozen flood from
Ericsfiord itself; and thus it was that this spot of earth was and
still is fit for human life—an oasis in a desert, a patch of green in
a wilderness of ice. But to this subject we shall have occasion to
refer hereafter more at length.