Americanæ_ for their reproduction of the original records on which the
history and the legends of Vinland rest. They found only too willing
recipients of the theories and assumptions with which they supplemented
the genuine narrative; nor has the uncritical spirit of credulous
deduction wholly ceased. In the untimely death of Professor Munch, the
historian of Norway, the University of Christiana lost a ripe and
acutely critical scholar in the very flower of his years. But in Dr.
Gustav Storm a successor has been found not unworthy to fill his place,
and represent the younger generation of Northern antiquaries, who have
now taken in hand, in a more critical spirit, yet with no less
enthusiasm, the work so well begun by Rafn, Finn Magnusen, and
Sveinbiorn Egilsson. In the same year in which Leif Ericson’s statue was
set up in Boston, and all the old enthusiasm for the identification of
the lost Vinland was revived, there appeared in the _Mémoires de la
Société Royale des Antiquaires du Nord_ a series of _Studies on the
Vineland Voyages_, from the pen of Professor Storm, embodying a critical
analysis of the evidence relating to the Vinland voyages, which is
treated still more fully in his _Studier over Vinlandsreiserne, Vinlands
Geografi og Ethnographi_. The whole is now available, along with
valuable additions, including photographic facsimiles illustrative of
the original MSS., in Reeves’ _Finding of Wineland the Good_.[7] The
evidence has to be gleaned from two independent series of narratives:
the one the Icelandic Sagas and other embodiments of the Vinland
tradition; the other the more amplified, but less reliable narratives of
Norwegian chroniclers. The earliest Icelandic accounts are derived
directly or indirectly from Ari froði, more particularly referred to on
a later page, whose date as an author is given as about 1120; thereby
marking the transmission of the narrative to a younger generation before
it was committed to writing. Ari froði, _i.e._ the learned, derived the
story from his paternal uncle Thorkell Gellisson of Helgufell, who lived
in the latter half of the eleventh century; and so was a contemporary of
Adam of Bremen, who, when resident at the Danish Court, about the year
1070, obtained the information relating to the Northern regions which he
embodied in his _Descriptio insularum aquilonis_. Ari’s uncle, Thorkell,
is said to have spoken, when in Greenland, with a man who, in the year
985, had accompanied Erik the Red on his expedition from Iceland; so
that the authority is good, if the narrative were sufficiently ample;
but unfortunately, though Ari’s notes of what he learned from his uncle
are still extant in the _Libellus Islandorum_, they are exceedingly
meagre. The Vinland explorations had no such importance for the men of
that age as they possess for us, and are accordingly dealt with as a
very secondary matter. Professor Gustav Storm, in his _Studies on the
Vineland Voyages_, notes that Thorkell seems to have told his nephew
most about the colonisation of Greenland. In Professor Storm’s
_Studies_, and in the exhaustive _Finding of Wineland the Good_, by
Arthur Middleton Reeves, the entire bearings of the evidence, and the
relative value of the various ancient authorities, are discussed with
minute care; and lead alike to the inevitable conclusion that any
assignment of a site for the lost Vinland, either on Rhode Island, or on
any part of the New England coast, is untenable. The deductions of
Professor Rafn from the same evidence were accepted as a final verdict,
until the too eager confirmation of his Rhode Island correspondents
brought them into discredit. Now when we undertake an unbiassed review
of them, it is manifest that too much weight has been attached to his
estimate of distances measured by the vague standard of a day’s sail of
a rude galley dependent on wind and tide. This Professor Rafn assumed as
equivalent to twenty-four geographical miles. But very slight
consideration suffices to show that, with an indefinite starting-point,
and only a vague indication of the direction of sailing, with the
unknown influences of wind and tide, any such arbitrary deduction of a
definite measurement from the log of the old Northmen is not only
valueless, but misleading.
A reconsideration of the evidence furnished by the references to the
fauna and flora of the different points touched at, shows that others of
Professor Rafn’s deductions are equally open to correction. Helluland, a
barren region, of large stone slabs, with no other trace of life than
the Arctic fox, presented the same aspect as Labrador still offers to
the eye of the voyager. But there is no need to traverse the entire
Canadian and New England coasts before a region can be found answering
to the descriptions of a forest-clad country, of numerous deer, or even
of the vine, as noted by the old explorers from Greenland. To the eye of
the Greenlander, the Markland, or forest-clad land, lay within sight no
farther south than Newfoundland or Cape Breton. To those who are
accustomed to associate the vine with the Rhine land, or the plains of
Champagne, it sounds equally extravagant to speak of the Maritime
Provinces, or of the New England States, as “Vinland the Good.” But
numerous allusions of voyagers and travellers of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries refer with commendation to the wild grapes of
North America. Jacques Cartier on making his way up the St. Lawrence, in
his second voyage, gave to the Isle of Orleans the name of the Isle de
Bacchus, because of the many wild vines found there; though he notes
that, “not being cultivated nor pruned, the grapes are neither so large
nor so sweet as ours”—that is, those of France. Lescarbot, in like
manner, in 1606, records the grape vine as growing at Chuakouet, or
Saco, in Maine, and in the following year they are noted as abundant
along the banks of the river St. John in New Brunswick.
To voyagers from Iceland or Greenland many portions of the coast of Nova
Scotia would present the aspect of a region clothed with forest, and, as
such, “extremely beautiful.” Deer are still abundant both there and in
Newfoundland; and as for the grapes gathered by Leif Ericson, or those
brought back to Thorvald by Hake and Hekia, the swift runners, at their
more northern place of landing, the wild vine is well known at the
present time in sheltered localities of Nova Scotia. Having therefore
carefully studied the earliest maps and charts, of which reduced copies
are furnished in the _Mémoires_, and reviewed the whole evidence with
minute care, Professor Storm thus unhesitatingly states the results:
“Kjalarnes, the northern extremity of Vinland, becomes Cape Breton
Island, specially described as low-lying and sandy. The fiord into which
the Northmen steered, on the country becoming _fjorthskorit_, _i.e._
‘fiord-indented,’ may have been one of the bays of Guysborough, the
county of Nova Scotia lying farthest to the north-east; possibly indeed
Canso Bay, or some one of the bays south of it. Therefore much further
to the south in Nova Scotia must we seek the mouth of the river where
Karlsefn made his abortive attempt at colonisation. . . . The west coast
of northern Vinland is characterised as a region of uninhabited forest
tracks, with few open spots, a statement admirably agreeing with the
topographical conditions distinguishing the west coast of Cape Breton
Island, which in a modern book of travels is spoken of as ‘an unexplored
and trackless land of forests and mountains.’ Hence to the south of this
region search has to be made for the mouth of the streamlet where
Thorvald Eriksson was killed.” Various points, accordingly, such as
Salmon river, or one of the rivers flowing into Pictou harbour, are
suggested as furnishing features of resemblance and inviting to further
research.
Here, then, is the same problem submitted to the historical antiquaries
of Nova Scotia which those of Rhode Island took up upwards of half a
century ago, with unbounded zeal, and very surprising results. Nor is
there a “Dighton Rock” wanting; for Nova Scotia has its inscribed stone,
already interpreted as graphic runes, replete with equally suggestive
traces of the Northmen of the tenth century. The inscribed rock at
Yarmouth has long been an object of curious interest. So far back as
1857 I received from Dr. J. G. Farish a full-sized copy of the
inscription, with the following account of it: “The inscription, of
which the accompanying sketch is an exact copy,
[Illustration: Inscription, Yarmouth Rock, Nova Scotia.]
was discovered forty-five years ago, at Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. The rock
on which the characters are engraved is about two feet in diameter, of
an irregular hemispherical shape, with one naturally smooth surface. It
lies on the shore of a small inlet, at high-water mark, and close to the
bank, on which it may formerly have rested. The stone has been split
where a very thin vein of quartz once traversed it, but the
corresponding half could never be found. The tracing has been done with
a sharp-pointed instrument carried onward, by successive blows of a
hammer or mallet, the effect of which is plainly visible. The point of
the instrument barely penetrated the layer of quartz, which is almost as
thin as the black marks of the sketch. The inscription has been shown to
several learned gentlemen,—one intimately acquainted with the
characters of the Micmac and Millicet Indians who once inhabited this
country; another, familiar with the Icelandic and other Scandinavian
languages; but no person has yet been able to decipher it.” Again, in
1880, I received from Mr. J. Y. Bulmer, Secretary of the Nova Scotia
Historical Society, a photograph of the Yarmouth rock, with an
accompanying letter, in which he remarks: “I am directed by the council
of the Nova Scotia Historical Society to forward to you a photographic
view of a stone found near the ocean, in Yarmouth county, N.S., and
having an inscription which, if not runic or Phœnician, is supposed by
many to be the work of man. As ancient remains are most likely to be
preserved by calling attention to all such works and inscriptions, we
thought it best to forward it to you, where it could be examined by
yourself and others likely to detect a fraud, or translate an
inscription. The stone is now—or was one hundred years ago,—near, or
in fact on, the edge of the sea. It has since been removed to Yarmouth
for preservation. It was found near Cape Sable, a cape that must have
been visited by nearly every navigator, whether ancient or modern.”
The earlier description of Dr. Farish is valuable, as it preserves an
account of the rock while it still occupied its original site. He
speaks, moreover, definitely as to the period when it first attracted
attention; and which, though more recent than the “one hundred years” of
my later correspondent, or a nearly equivalent statement in the
_Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society_, that “it has been
known for nearly an hundred years,” is sufficiently remote to remove all
idea of fraud, at least by any person of the present generation. The
description given by Dr. Farish of the apparent execution of the
inscription by means of a sharp-pointed instrument—meaning thereby no
doubt a metallic tool,—and a hammer or mallet, clearly points to other
than native Indian workmanship, whatever may have been the date of its
execution. As will be seen from the accompanying copy, it is in
arbitrary linear characters bearing no resemblance to the abbreviated
symbols familiar to us in Indian epigraphy; and at the same time it may
be described as unique in character. Having been known to people
resident in its vicinity for many years before the attention of students
of the early monuments of the continent was invited to it, it appears to
be beyond suspicion of purposed fraud. I did not attempt any solution of
the enigma thus repeatedly submitted to my consideration; but it was
this graven stone that was referred to when, in the inaugural address to
the section of History and Archæology of the Royal Society of Canada, in
1882, the remark was made: “I know of but one inscription in Canada
which seems to suggest the possibility of a genuine native record.”
On nearly every recurrence of an inscription in any linear form of
alphabetic character brought to light in the western hemisphere, the
first idea has been to suggest a Phœnician origin; and this is, no
doubt, implied in the statement of its runic decipherer, in the
_Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society_, that “the glyphs
have been at various times copied and sent abroad to men of learning who
have made more or less attempts at deciphering them, more than one
savant seeing traces of Semitic origin.” But latterly with the reported
discovery of any linear inscription on the eastern seaboard, the
temptation has been to refer it to the Northmen of the eleventh century.
To this accordingly the allusions of both of my Nova-Scotian
correspondents pointed. But the characters of the Scandinavian futhork
are sufficiently definite to satisfy any one familiar with Scottish and
Manx runic inscriptions, or with Professor George Stephens’ ample
illustrations of them as they are found in the native home of the
Northmen, that it is vain to look to either for a key to the graven
legend on the Yarmouth rock. The presence of the Northmen, not only in
Iceland and Greenland, but as transient visitors on some portion of the
North American mainland, now rests on satisfactory historical evidence.
In Greenland they left indisputable literate records of their
colonisation of the region to which they gave the inapt name it still
retains. The runic inscriptions brought to Copenhagen in 1831 not only
determine the sites of settlements effected by the companions and
successors of Eric, but they serve to show the kind of evidence to be
looked for, alike to the north and the south of the St. Lawrence, if any
traces yet survive of their having attempted to colonise the old
Markland and Vinland, whether the latter is recovered in Nova Scotia or
New England. Their genuine memorials are not less definite than those
left by the Romans in Gaul or Britain; and corresponding traces of them
in the assumed Vinland, and elsewhere in the United States, have been
perseveringly, but vainly, sought for. One unmistakably definite
Scandinavian inscription, that of the “Huidœrk,” professedly found on
the river Potomac, does not lay claim to serious criticism. It was
affirmed to have been discovered in 1867 graven on a rock on the banks
of the Potomac; but to any student familiar with the genuine examples
figured in the _Antiquitates Americanæ_, it will be readily recognised
as a clever hoax, fabricated by the correspondent of the _Washington
Union_ out of genuine Greenland inscriptions. It reads thus: =hir
huilir syasy fagrharrdr avstfirthingr iki a kildi systr thorg samfethra
halfthritgr gleda gvd sal henar=. To this are added certain
symbols, suggested it may be presumed by the Kingiktorsoak inscription,
from which the translator professes to derive the date A.D. 1051.
In the interval between the dates of the two communications previously
referred to, a rubbing of the inscription on the Yarmouth rock was
forwarded to Mr. Henry Phillips jr., of Philadelphia. It appears to have
been under consideration by him at intervals for nine years, when at
length it was made the subject of a paper read before the American
Philosophical Society, and printed in its _Proceedings_ in 1884. After a
description of the locality, and the discovery of the inscribed stone on
its original site, “about the end of the last century, by a man named
Fletcher,” Mr. Phillips states the reasons which sufficed to satisfy him
that the inscription is a genuine one. He then proceeds thus: “Having
become imbued with a belief that no deception was intended, or
practised, I entered upon the study of the markings with a mind totally
and entirely free from prejudice. So far from believing that the
inscription was a relic of the pre-Columbian discovery of America, I had
never given any credence to that theory.” Thus, not only entirely
unbiassed, but, as he says, “somewhat prejudiced against the
authenticity of any inscription on this continent purporting to emanate
from the hardy and intrepid Norsemen,” he proceeded to grapple with the
strange characters. “As in a kaleidoscope, word after word appeared in
disjointed form, and each was in turn rejected, until at last an
intelligible word came forth, followed by another and another, until a
real sentence with a meaning stood forth to my astonished gaze:
_Harkussen men varu_—Hako’s son addressed the men.” On reverting to the
old Vinland narrative this seemed all unexpectedly to tally with it, for
Mr. Phillips found that in the expedition of Thorfinn Karlsefne, in
1007, one named Haki occurs among those who accompanied him. Still more
noteworthy, as it appears, though overlooked by him, this oldest record
of a European visitor to the Nova-Scotian shores, if actually referable
to Hake, the fellow-voyager of Thorfinn, was no Northman, but a Scot!
For Thorfinn himself, the old Saga, as reproduced in the _Antiquitates
Americanæ_, claims a comprehensive genealogy in which his own Scottish
ancestry is not overlooked. In the summer of 1006, according to the
narrative of the “settlement effected in Vinland by Thorfinn,” “there
arrived in Greenland two ships from Iceland; the one was commanded by
Thorfinn, having the very significant surname of Karlsefn (_i.e._ who
promises, or is destined to be an able or great man), a wealthy and
powerful man, of illustrious lineage, and sprung from Danish, Norwegian,
Swedish, Irish and Scottish ancestors, some of whom were kings of royal
descent. He was accompanied by Snorre Thorbrandson, who was also a man
of distinguished lineage. The other ship was commanded by Bjarne
Grimolfson, of Breidefiord, and Thorhall Gamlison, of Austfiord. They
kept the festival of Yule at Brattalid. Thorfinn became enamoured of
Gudrida, and obtained the consent of her brother-in-law, Leif, and their
marriage was celebrated during the winter. On this, as on former
occasions, the voyage to Vinland formed a favourite theme of
conversation, and Thorfinn was urged both by his wife and others to
undertake such a voyage. It was accordingly resolved on in the spring of
1007.” This later narrative distinctly sets forth an organised scheme of
permanent settlement in the tempting land of the vine. Thorvald, who was
in command of one of the three ships fitted out for the expedition, was
married to Freydisa, a natural daughter of Eric the Red. “On board this
ship was also a man of the name of Thorhall, who had long served Eric as
a huntsman in summer, and as house-steward in winter, and who had much
acquaintance with the uncolonised parts of Greenland. They had in all
160 men. They took with them all kinds of live stock, it being their
intention to establish a colony, if possible.” Then follows the notice
of their observations of the characteristic features, and of the fauna
and flora of Helluland, Markland, and subsequent points; to the last of
which, characterised by “trackless deserts and long beaches with sands,”
they gave the name of Furdustrandir. After passing this, the
characteristic feature is noted that the land began to be indented by
inlets, or bays. Then follows the notice of Hake, the Scot, to whom Mr.
Phillips conceives the Yarmouth inscription may be due. The reference,
accordingly, with its accompanying description of the country, has a
special claim to notice here. “They had,” says the Saga, “two Scots with
them, Haki and Hekia, whom Leif had formerly received from the Norwegian
King, Olaf Tryggvason,” it may be assumed as slaves carried off in some
marauding expedition to the British Islands. The two Scots, man and
woman, it is added, “were very swift of foot. They put them on shore
recommending them to proceed in a south-west direction, and explore the
country. After the lapse of three days they returned, bringing with them
some grapes and ears of wheat, which grew wild in that region. They
continued their course until they came to a place where the firth
penetrated far into the country. Off the mouth of it was an island past
which there ran strong currents, which was also the case further up the
firth. On the island there was an immense number of eider ducks, so that
it was scarcely possible to walk without treading on their eggs. They
called the island Straumey (Stream Isle), and the firth Straumfiordr
(Stream Firth). They landed on the shore of this firth, and made
preparations for their winter residence. The country was extremely
beautiful,” as we may readily imagine a sheltered nook of Nova Scotia to
have appeared to voyagers fresh from Iceland and the Greenland shores.
It may be well to note here that the incident of the discovery of the
vine and the gathering of grapes reappears in different narratives under
varying forms. It was a feature to be specially looked for by all later
voyagers in search of the Vinland of the first expedition, that set out
in search for the southern lands of which Bjarni Herjulfson is reported
to have brought back an account to Greenland. Nor is the discovery of
the vine by successive explorers along the American seaboard in any
degree improbable, though it can scarcely be doubted that some of the
later accounts are mere amplifications of the original narrative. It is,
at any rate, to be noted that the scene of Haki the Scot’s discovery,
was not the Hóp, identified by the Rhode Island Historical Society with
their own Mount Hope Bay. As for Thorhall and his shipmates, they turned
back, northward, in search of Vinland, and so deserted their
fellow-voyagers before the scene of attempted colonisation was reached,
and were ultimately reported to have been wrecked on the Irish coast.
Such is the episode in the narrative of ancient explorations of the
North American shores by voyagers from Greenland, in which Mr. Phillips
was gratified by the startling conformity, as it seemed to him, of the
name of Haki, with the Harkussen of his runes; though, it must be
admitted, the identity is far from complete. If, however, there were no
doubt as to the inscription being a genuine example of Northern runes,
the failure to refer them to Hake, or any other specific member of an
exploring party, would be of little moment. Here, at any rate, was
evidence which, if rightly interpreted, was calculated to suggest a
reconsideration of the old localisation of Vinland in the state of Rhode
Island; and to this other evidence pointed even more clearly. Reassured,
accordingly, by a study of the map, which shows the comparatively
trifling distance traversed by the assumed voyagers from Greenland, when
compared with that from their remote European fatherland, Mr. Phillips
submitted his interpretation to the American Philosophical Society “as
worthy of consideration, if not absolutely convincing.” To the
topographer of the maritime coasts of Canada, a genuine runic
inscription which proved that Norse voyagers from Greenland did actually
land on the shores of Nova Scotia, in A.D. 1007, and leave there a
literate record of their visit, would be peculiarly acceptable. But
whatever be the significance of the Yarmouth inscription, it fails to
satisfy such requirements. It neither accords with the style, or usual
formula of runic inscriptions; nor, as will be seen from the
accompanying facsimile, is it graven in any variation of the familiar
characters of the Scandinavian futhork. The fascinating temptation has
to be set aside; and the Hake or Harkussen of its modern interpreter
must take rank with the illusory Thorfinn discovered by the Rhode Island
antiquaries on their famed Dighton Rock, which still stands by the banks
of the Taunton river.